New York - The Novel

all this cash, so prices rose. And then, of course, giddy greed set in.
    Small investors, who should have been putting some savings in solid stocks, were buying wildly. Out of the total population of a hundred and twenty million, two, maybe three million were in the market now. That was a hell of a lot. And more than half a million of these little guys were even buying on a ten percent margin—putting down only a hundred dollars for every thousand they invested, with finance houses lending them the rest. Respectable brokerage houses like his own were lending clients two-thirds of the funds to purchase stocks. Money pushed stock prices ever higher. You couldn’t lose. And not only stocks. William knew damn well that some of the banks were parceling up their worst Latin American debt and selling it to suckers as valuable bonds. So long as everything went up, nobody noticed.
    And not just the man in the street—the brokers and traders were not much better. Seduced by their own success, most of them had never seen a bear market in their lives.
    William walked right across the park, until he was opposite the Dakota. Then, deep in thought, he walked slowly back.
    Maybe this market shock was a good thing. Maybe it was time for a shock to the system. Not only to the market, but to the whole city as well.
    The fact was, the whole of New York seemed to have forgotten its morals. What had happened to responsible investing? To hard work and saving? What had happened to the old puritan ethic in the world of speakeasies, and bootleggers, and gangland killings, and loose women? Life was too easy; they’d all gone soft. He himself was just as guilty as any of them. Look at Charlie. Charming, and all that, but at bottom, a spoiled rich kid. And it’s my fault as much as his, he thought. I let him get this way.
    So what was to be done? He was damned if he knew. But if this little crisis reminded people about the fundamentals of life, then maybe it was worth whatever it had cost him.
    Truth to tell, he wasn’t quite sure how much that was right now. The brokerage must have taken a hell of a hit, but they weren’t wiped out. He’d have to go over the books with his clerk in the morning.

    Charlie Master was in the office with his father all the time that week. Maybe it was something his mother had said, or perhaps an instinct for drama had drawn him there. If so, his instincts were rewarded. For Wall Street’s Black Monday and Black Tuesday were events never to be forgotten.
    During the weekend, the public had read the newspapers, pondered the reassuring statements of the bankers, and come to their own conclusion. It consisted of a single word. Sell.
    On Monday, Charlie watched as the market collapsed. That day the Dow fell over twelve percent. Yet Tuesday was even more dramatic. The percentage fall was almost the same, but it was the volume of shares that was so astounding. Over sixteen million shares changed hands. No one had ever seen anything like it. The number of transactions was so huge that the ticker-tape machines were two and a half hours behind. As he watched his father anxiously, he wondered if any brokerage house could withstand such carnage.
    Perhaps it was as well that William Master knew his son was watching him. It helped him get through. Courage under fire, grace under pressure: call it what you will, he did his best to set his son an example. As the market lost a quarter of its value in two days, his face never once broke intoeven a grimace. He was grave, but he was calm. On Wednesday morning, Joe drove him to his office as normal, in the silver Rolls-Royce. When he got out, he summoned all his people and told them: “Be vigilant, gentlemen. Very soon, perhaps even today, there will be a great buying opportunity.”
    And lo and behold, there was.
    On Wednesday, October 30, the market went back up by a staggering twelve and a half percent. A little before noon, William confided to Charlie: “I’m buying.” The next day, the market closed at lunchtime, up another five percent. As they left the office, he told Charlie: “I just sold again.”
    “Already?” said Charlie.
    “Profit-taking. I lost a bit of money last week, but I just made half of it back again.”
    The following week, however, the market slumped again. Five percent on Monday; nine percent on Wednesday. And it just kept sliding, day by day. By November 13, the Dow was at 198, only just over half its September high.
    Investors, small and