Part 41

“I didn’t give you any tip,” said Westlake, frowning.

“Sure you did. And it was a Jim Hickey of a tip too. I made sixty thousand dollars.”

“Made sixty thousand dollars?”

“Sure! Don’t you remember? You told me to sell Reading; so I bought it! I’ve always made money coppering your tips, Westlake,” said John W. Gates pleasantly. “Always!”

Old Westlake looked at the bluff Westerner and presently remarked admiringly, “Gates, what a rich man I’d be if I had your brains!”

The other day I met Mr. W. A. Rogers, the famous cartoonist, whose Wall Street drawings brokers so greatly admire. His daily cartoons in the New York Herald for years gave pleasure to thousands. Well, he told me a story. It was just before we went to war with Spain. He was spending an evening with a broker friend. When he left he picked up his derby hat from the rack, at least he thought it was his hat, for it was the same shape and fitted him perfectly.

The Street at that time was thinking and talking of nothing but war with Spain. Was there to be one or not? If it was to be war the market would go down; not so much on our own selling as on pressure from European holders of our securities. If peace, it would be a cinch to buy stocks, as there had been considerable declines prompted by the sensational clamorings of the yellow papers. Mr. Rogers told me the rest of the story as follows:

“My friend, the broker, at whose house I had been the night before, stood in the Exchange the next day anxiously debating in his mind which side of the market to play. He went over the pros and cons, but it was impossible to distinguish which were rumors and which were facts. There was no authentic news to guide him. At one moment he thought war was inevitable, and on the next he almost convinced himself that it was utterly unlikely. His perplexity must have caused a rise in his temperature, for he took off his derby to wipe his fevered brow. He couldn’t tell whether he should buy or sell.

“He happened to look inside of his hat. There in gold letters was the word WAR. That was all the hunch he needed. Was it not a tip from Providence via my hat? So he sold a raft of stock, war was duly declared, he covered on the break and made a killing.” And then W. A. Rogers finished, “I never got back that hat!”

But the prize tip story of my collection concerns one of the most popular members of the New York Stock Exchange, J. T. Hood. One day another floor trader, Bert Walker, told him that he had done a good turn to a prominent director of the Atlantic & Southern. In return the grateful insider told him to buy all the A. & S. he could carry. The directors were going to do something that would put the stock up at least twenty-five points. All the directors were not in the deal, but the majority would be sure to vote as wanted.

Bert Walker concluded that the dividend rate was going to be raised. He told his friend Hood and they each bought a couple of thousand shares of A. & S. The stock was very weak, before and after they bought, but Hood said that was obviously intended to facilitate accumulation by the inside clique, headed by Bert’s grateful friend.

On the following Thursday, after the market closed, the directors of the Atlantic & Southern met and passed the dividend. The stock broke six points in the first six minutes of trading Friday morning.

Bert Walker was sore as a pup. He called on the grateful director, who was broken-hearted about it and very penitent. He said that he had forgotten that he had told Walker to buy. That was the reason he had neglected to call him up to tell him of a change in the plans of the dominant faction in the board. The remorseful director was so anxious to make up that he gave Bert another tip. He kindly explained that a couple of his colleagues wanted to get cheap stock and against his judgment resorted to coarse work. He had to yield to win their votes. But now that they all had accumulated their full lines there was nothing to stop the advance. It was a double-riveted, lead-pipe cinch to buy A. & S. now.

Bert not only forgave him but shook hands warmly with the high financier. Naturally he hastened to find his friend and fellow-victim, Hood, to impart the glad tidings to him. They were going to make a killing. The stock had been tipped for a rise before and they bought. But now it was fifteen points lower. That made it a cinch. So they bought five thousand shares, joint account.

As if they had rung a bell to start it, the stock broke badly on what quite obviously was inside selling. Two specialists cheerfully confirmed the suspicion. Hood sold out their five thousand shares. When he got through Bert Walker said to him, “If that blankety-blank blanker hadn’t gone to Florida day before yesterday I’d lick the stuffing out of him. Yes, I would. But you come with me.”

“Where to?” asked Hood.

“To the telegraph office. I want to send that skunk a telegram that he’ll never forget. Come on.”

Hood went on. Bert led the way to the telegraph office. There, carried away by his feelings--they had taken quite a loss on the five thousand shares--he composed a masterpiece of vituperation. He read it to Hood and finished, “That will come pretty near to showing him what I think of him.”

He was about to slide it toward the waiting clerk when Hood said, “Hold on, Bert!”

“What’s the matter?”

“I wouldn’t send it,” advised Hood earnestly.

“Why not?” snapped Bert.

“It will make him sore as the dickens.”

“That’s what we want, isn’t it?” said Bert, looking at Hood in surprise.

But Hood shook his head disapprovingly and said in all seriousness, “We’ll never get another tip from him if you send that telegram!”

A professional trader actually said that. Now what’s the use of talking about sucker tip-takers? Men do not take tips because they are bally asses but because they like those hope cocktails I spoke of. Old Baron Rothschild’s recipe for wealth winning applies with greater force than ever to speculation. Somebody asked him if making money in the Bourse was not a very difficult matter, and he replied that, on the contrary, he thought it was very easy.

“That is because you are so rich,” objected the interviewer.

“Not at all. I have found an easy way and I stick to it. I simply cannot help making money. I will tell you my secret if you wish. It is this: I never buy at the bottom and I always sell too soon.”