Chapter 14

Chapter XIV

It has always rankled in my mind that after I left Williamson & Brown’s

office the cream was off the market. We ran smack into a long moneyless

period; four mighty lean years. There was not a penny to be made. As

Billy Henriquez once said, “It was the kind of market in which not even

a skunk could make a scent.”

It looked to me as though I was in Dutch with destiny. It might have

been the plan of Providence to chasten me, but really I had not been

filled with such pride as called for a fall. I had not committed any of

those speculative sins which a trader must expiate on the debtor side

of the account. I was not guilty of a typical sucker play. What I had

done, or, rather, what I had left undone, was something for which I

would have received praise and not blame--north of Forty-second Street.

In Wall Street it was absurd and costly. But by far the worst thing

about it was the tendency it had to make a man a little less inclined

to permit himself human feelings in the ticker district.

I left Williamson’s and tried other brokers’ offices. In every one

of them I lost money. It served me right, because I was trying to

force the market into giving me what it didn’t have to give--to wit,

opportunities for making money. I did not find any trouble in getting

credit, because those who knew me had faith in me. You can get an idea

of how strong their confidence was when I tell you that when I finally

stopped trading on credit I owed well over one million dollars.

The trouble was not that I had lost my grip but that during those

four wretched years the opportunities for making money simply didn’t

exist. Still I plugged along, trying to make a stake and succeeding

only in increasing my indebtedness. After I ceased trading on my

own hook because I wouldn’t owe my friends any more money I made a

living handling accounts for people who believed I knew the game well

enough to beat it even in a dull market. For my services I received a

percentage of the profits--when there were any. That is how I lived.

Well, say that is how I sustained life.

Of course, I didn’t always lose, but I never made enough to allow me

materially to reduce what I owed. Finally, as things got worse, I felt

the beginnings of discouragement for the first time in my life.

Everything seemed to have gone wrong with me. I did not go about

bewailing the descent from millions and yachts to debts and the

simple life. I didn’t enjoy the situation, but I did not fill up with

self-pity. I did not propose to wait patiently for time and Providence

to bring about the cessation of my discomforts. I therefore studied

my problem. It was plain that the only way out of my troubles was by

making money. To make money I needed merely to trade successfully. I

had so traded before and I must do so once more. More than once in the

past I had run up a shoestring into hundreds of thousands. Sooner or

later the market would offer me an opportunity.

I convinced myself that whatever was wrong was wrong with me and not

with the market. Now what could be the trouble with me? I asked myself

that question in the same spirit in which I always study the various

phases of my trading problems. I thought about it calmly and came to

the conclusion that my main trouble came from worrying over the money

I owed. I was never free from the mental discomfort of it. I must

explain to you that it was not mere consciousness of my indebtedness.

Any business man contracts debts in the course of his regular business.

Most of my debts were really nothing but business debts, due to

what were unfavourable business conditions for me, and no worse than

a merchant suffers from, for instance, when there is an unusually

prolonged spell of unseasonable weather.

Of course as time went on and I could not pay I began to feel less

philosophical about my debts. I’ll explain: I owed over a million

dollars--all of it stock-market losses, remember. Most of my creditors

were very nice and didn’t bother me; but there were two who did bedevil

me. They used to follow me around. Every time I made a winning each of

them was Johnny-on-the-spot, wanting to know all about it and insisting

on getting theirs right off. One of them, to whom I owed eight hundred

dollars, threatened to sue me, seize my furniture, and so forth. I

can’t conceive why he thought I was concealing assets, unless it was

that I didn’t quite look like a stage hobo about to die of destitution.

As I studied the problem I saw that it wasn’t a case that called for

reading the tape but for reading my own self. I quite cold-bloodedly

reached the conclusion that I would never be able to accomplish

anything useful so long as I was worried, and it was equally plain that

I should be worried so long as I owed money. I mean, as long as any

creditor had the power to vex me or to interfere with my coming back by

insisting upon being paid before I could get a decent stake together.

This was all so obviously true that I said to myself, “I must go

through bankruptcy.” What else could relieve my mind?

It sounds both easy and sensible, doesn’t it? But it was more than

unpleasant, I can tell you. I hated to do it. I hated to put myself

in a position to be misunderstood or misjudged. I myself never cared

much for money. I never thought enough of it to consider it worthwhile

lying for. But I knew that everybody didn’t feel that way. Of course I

also knew that if I got on my feet again I’d pay everybody off, for the

obligation remained. But unless I was able to trade in the old way I’d

never be able to pay back that million.

I nerved myself and went to see my creditors. It was a mighty difficult

thing for me to do, for all that most of them were personal friends or

old acquaintances.

I explained the situation quite frankly to them. I said: “I am not

going to take this step because I don’t wish to pay you but because,

in justice to both myself and you, I must put myself in a position to

make money. I have been thinking of this solution off and on for over

two years, but I simply didn’t have the nerve to come out and say so

frankly to you. It would have been infinitely better for all of us if

I had. It all simmers down to this: I positively cannot be my old self

while I am harassed or upset by these debts. I have decided to do now

what I should have done a year ago. I have no other reason than the one

I have just given you.”

What the first man said was to all intents and purposes what all of

them said. He spoke for his firm.

“Livingston,” he said, “we understand. We realise your position

perfectly. I’ll tell you what we’ll do: we’ll just give you a release.

Have your lawyer prepare any kind of paper you wish, and we’ll sign it.”

That was in substance what all my big creditors said. That is one

side of Wall Street for you. It wasn’t merely careless good nature

or sportsmanship. It was also a mighty intelligent decision, for it

was clearly good business. I appreciated both the good will and the

business gumption.

These creditors gave me a release on debts amounting to over a million

dollars. But there were the two minor creditors who wouldn’t sign off.

One of them was the eight-hundred-dollar man I told you about. I also

owed sixty thousand dollars to a brokerage firm which had gone into

bankruptcy, and the receivers, who didn’t know me from Adam, were on

my neck early and late. Even if they had been disposed to follow the

example set by my largest creditors I don’t suppose the court would

have let them sign off. At all events my schedule of bankruptcy

amounted to only about one hundred thousand dollars; though, as I said,

I owed well over a million.

It was extremely disagreeable to see the story in the newspapers. I

had always paid my debts in full and this new experience was most

mortifying to me. I knew I’d pay off everybody some day if I lived,

but everybody who read the article wouldn’t know it. I was ashamed to

go out after I saw the report in the newspapers. But it all wore off

presently and I cannot tell you how intense was my feeling of relief to

know that I wasn’t going to be harried any more by people who didn’t

understand how a man must give his entire mind to his business--if he

wishes to succeed in stock speculation.

My mind now being free to take up trading with some prospect of

success, unvexed by debts, the next step was to get another stake. The

Stock Exchange had been closed from July thirty-first to the middle of

December, 1914, and Wall Street was in the dumps. There hadn’t been any

business whatever in a long time. I owed all my friends. I couldn’t

very well ask them to help me again just because they had been so

pleasant and friendly to me, when I knew that nobody was in a position

to do much for anybody.

It was a mighty difficult task, getting a decent stake, for with the

closing of the Stock Exchange there was nothing that I could ask any

broker to do for me. I tried in a couple of places. No use.

Finally I went to see Dan Williamson. This was in February, 1915. I

told him that I had rid myself of the mental incubus of debt and I was

ready to trade as of old. You will recall that when he needed me he

offered me the use of twenty-five thousand dollars without my asking

him.

Now that I needed him he said, “When you see something that looks good

to you and you want to buy five hundred shares go ahead and it will be

all right.”

I thanked him and went away. He had kept me from making a great deal of

money and the office had made a lot in commissions from me. I admit

I was a little sore to think that Williamson & Brown didn’t give me a

decent stake. I intended to trade conservatively at first. It would

make my financial recovery easier and quicker if I could begin with a

line a little better than five hundred shares. But, anyhow, I realised

that, such as it was, there was my chance to come back.

I left Dan Williamson’s office and studied the situation in general

and my own problem in particular. It was a bull market. That was as

plain to me as it was to thousands of traders. But my stake consisted

merely of an offer to carry five hundred shares for me. That is, I had

no leeway, limited as I was. I couldn’t afford even a slight setback at

the beginning. I must build up my stake with my very first play. That

initial purchase of mine of five hundred shares must be profitable. I

had to make real money. I knew unless I had sufficient trading capital

I would not be able to use good judgment. Without adequate margins it

would be impossible to take the cold-blooded, dispassionate attitude

toward the game that comes from the ability to afford a few minor

losses such as I often incurred in testing the market before putting

down the big bet.

I think now that I found myself then at the most critical period of

my career as a speculator. If I failed this time there was no telling

where or when, if ever, I might get another stake for another try. It

was very clear that I simply must wait for the exact psychological

moment.

I didn’t go near Williamson & Brown’s. I mean, I purposely kept away

from them for six long weeks of steady tape reading. I was afraid

that if I went to the office, knowing that I could buy five hundred

shares, I might be tempted into trading at the wrong time or in the

wrong stock. A trader, in addition to studying basic conditions,

remembering market precedents and keeping in mind the psychology of

the outside public as well as the limitations of his brokers, must

also know himself and provide against his own weaknesses. There is no

need to feel anger over being human. I have come to feel that it is as

necessary to know how to read myself as to know how to read the tape. I

have studied and reckoned on my own reactions to given impulses or to

the inevitable temptations of an active market, quite in the same mood

and spirit as I have considered crop conditions or analysed reports of

earnings.

So day after day, broke and anxious to resume trading, I sat in front

of a quotation-board in another broker’s office where I couldn’t buy or

sell as much as one share of stock, studying the market, not missing a

single transaction on the tape, watching for the psychological moment

to ring the full-speed-ahead bell.

By reason of conditions known to the whole world the stock I was most

bullish on in those critical days of early 1915 was Bethlehem Steel. I

was morally certain it was going way up, but in order to make sure that

I would win on my very first play, as I must, I decided to wait until

it crossed par.

I think I have told you it has been my experience that _whenever a

stock crosses 100 or 200 or 300 for the first time, it nearly always

keeps going up for 30 to 50 points--and after 300 faster than after

100 or 200_. One of my first big coups was in Anaconda, which I bought

when it crossed 200 and sold a day later at 260. My practice of buying

a stock just after it crossed par dated back to my early bucket-shop

days. It is an old trading principle.

You can imagine how keen I was to get back to trading on my old scale.

I was so eager to begin that I could not think of anything else; but I

held myself in leash. I saw Bethlehem Steel climb, every day, higher

and higher, as I was sure it would, and yet there I was checking my

impulse to run over to Williamson & Brown’s office and buy five hundred

shares. I knew I simply had to make my initial operation as nearly a

cinch as was humanly possible.

Every point that stock went up meant five hundred dollars I had not

made. The first ten points’ advance meant that I would have been able

to pyramid, and instead of five hundred shares I might now be carrying

one thousand shares that would be earning for me one thousand dollars

a point. But I sat tight and instead of listening to my loud-mouthed

hopes or to my clamorous beliefs I heeded only the level voice of my

experience and the counsel of common sense. Once I got a decent stake

together I could afford to take chances. But without a stake, taking

chances, even slight chances, was a luxury utterly beyond my reach. Six

weeks of patience--but, in the end, a victory for common sense over

greed and hope!

I really began to waver and sweat blood when the stock got up to 90.

Think of what I had not made by not buying, when I was so bullish.

Well, when it got to 98 I said to myself, “Bethlehem is going through

100, and when it does the roof is going to blow clean off!” The tape

said the same thing more than plainly. In fact, it used a megaphone.

I tell you, I saw _100_ on the tape when the ticker was only printing

_98_. And I knew that wasn’t the voice of my hope or the sight of my

desire, but the assertion of my tape-reading instinct. So I said to

myself, “I can’t wait until it gets through 100. I have to get it now.

It is as good as gone through par.”

I rushed to Williamson & Brown’s office and put in an order to buy five

hundred shares of Bethlehem Steel. The market was then 98. I got five

hundred shares at 98 to 99. After that she shot right up, and closed

that night, I think, at 114 or 115. I bought five hundred shares more.

The next day Bethlehem Steel was 145 and I had my stake. But I earned

it. Those six weeks of waiting for the right moment were the most

strenuous and wearing six weeks I ever put in. But it paid me, for I

now had enough capital to trade in fair-sized lots. I never would have

got anywhere just on five hundred shares of stock.

There is a great deal in starting right, whatever the enterprise may

be, and I did very well after my Bethlehem deal--so well, indeed,

that you would not have believed it was the selfsame man trading. As a

matter of fact I wasn’t the same man, for where I had been harassed and

wrong I was now at ease and right. There were no creditors to annoy and

no lack of funds to interfere with my thinking or with my listening to

the truthful voice of experience, and so I was winning right along.

All of a sudden, as I was on my way to a sure fortune, we had the

_Lusitania_ break. Every once in a while a man gets a crack like that

in the solar plexus, probably that he may be reminded of the sad fact

that no human being can be so uniformly right on the market as to be

beyond the reach of unprofitable accidents. I have heard people say

that no professional speculator need have been hit very hard by the

news of the torpedoing of the _Lusitania_, and they go on to tell how

they had it long before the Street did. I was not clever enough to

escape by means of advance information, and all I can tell you is that

on account of what I lost through the _Lusitania_ break and one or two

other reverses that I wasn’t wise enough to foresee, I found myself

at the end of 1915 with a balance at my brokers’ of about one hundred

and forty thousand dollars. That was all I actually made, though I was

consistently right on the market throughout the greater part of the

year.

I did much better during the following year. I was very lucky. I was

rampantly bullish in a wild bull market. Things were certainly coming

my way so that there wasn’t anything to do but to make money. It

made me remember a saying of the late H. H. Rogers, of the Standard

Oil Company, to the effect that there were times when a man could no

more help making money than he could help getting wet if he went out

in a rainstorm without an umbrella. It was the most clearly defined

bull market we ever had. It was plain to everybody that the Allied

purchases of all kinds of supplies here made the United States the most

prosperous nation in the world. We had all the things that no one else

had for sale, and we were fast getting all the cash in the world.

I mean that the wide world’s gold was pouring into this country in

torrents. Inflation was inevitable, and, of course, that meant rising

prices for everything.

All this was so evident from the first that little or no manipulation

for the rise was needed. That was the reason why the preliminary

work was so much less than in other bull markets. And not only was

the war-bride boom more naturally developed than all others but it

proved unprecedentedly profitable for the general public. That is, the

stock-market winnings during 1915 were more widely distributed than in

any other boom in the history of Wall Street. That the public did not

turn all their paper profits into good hard cash or that they did not

long keep what profits they actually took was merely history repeating

itself. Nowhere does history indulge in repetitions so often or so

uniformly as in Wall Street. When you read contemporary accounts of

booms or panics the one thing that strikes you most forcibly is how

little either stock speculation or stock speculators to-day differ from

yesterday. The game does not change and neither does human nature.

I went along with the rise in 1916. I was as bullish as the next man,

but of course I kept my eyes open. I knew, as everybody did, that there

must be an end, and I was on the watch for warning signals. I wasn’t

particularly interested in guessing from which quarter the tip would

come and so I didn’t stare at just one spot. I was not, and I never

have felt that I was, wedded indissolubly to one or the other side of

the market. That a bull market has added to my bank account or a bear

market has been particularly generous I do not consider sufficient

reason for sticking to the bull or the bear side after I receive the

get-out warning. _A man does not swear eternal allegiance to either the

bull or the bear side. His concern lies with being right._

_And there is another thing to remember, and that is that a market

does not culminate in one grand blaze of glory. Neither does it end

with a sudden reversal of form. A market can and does often cease to

be a bull market long before prices generally begin to break._ My long

expected warning came to me when I noticed that, one after another,

_those stocks which had been the leaders of the market reacted several

points from the top and--for the first time in many months--did not

come back_. Their race evidently was run, and that clearly necessitated

a change in my trading tactics.

It was simple enough. In a bull market the trend of prices, of course,

is decidedly and definitely upward. Therefore whenever a stock goes

against the general trend you are justified in assuming that there

is something wrong with that particular stock. It is enough for the

experienced trader to perceive that something is wrong. He must not

expect the tape to become a lecturer. His job is to listen for it to

say “Get out!” and not wait for it to submit a legal brief for approval.

As I said before, _I noticed that stocks which had been the leaders

of the wonderful advance had ceased to advance. They dropped six or

seven points and stayed there. At the same time the rest of the market

kept on advancing under new standard bearers._ Since nothing wrong had

developed with the companies themselves, the reason had to be sought

elsewhere. Those stocks had gone with the current for months. When they

ceased to do so, though the bull tide was still running strong, it

meant that for those particular stocks the bull market was over. For

the rest of the list the tendency was still decidedly upward.

There was no need to be perplexed into inactivity, for there were

really no cross currents. I did not turn bearish on the market then,

because the tape didn’t tell me to do so. The end of the bull market

had not come, though it was within hailing distance. Pending its

arrival there was still bull money to be made. _Such being the case,

I merely turned bearish on the stocks which had stopped advancing and

as the rest of the market had rising power behind it I both bought and

sold._

The leaders that had ceased to lead I sold. I put out a short line of

five thousand shares in each of them; and then I went long of the new

leaders. The stocks I was short of didn’t do much, but my long stocks

kept on rising. When finally these in turn ceased to advance I sold

them out and went short--five thousand shares of each. By this time I

was more bearish than bullish, because obviously the next big money was

going to be made on the down side. While I felt certain that the bear

market had really begun before the bull market had really ended, I knew

the time for being a rampant bear was not yet. There was no sense in

being more royalist than the king; especially in being so too soon. The

tape merely said that patrolling parties from the main bear army had

dashed by. Time to get ready.

I kept on both buying and selling until after about a month’s trading

I had out a short line of sixty thousand shares--five thousand shares

each in a dozen different stocks which earlier in the year had been the

public’s favourites because they had been the leaders of the great bull

market. It was not a very heavy line; but don’t forget that neither was

the market definitely bearish.

Then one day the entire market became quite weak and prices of all

stocks began to fall. When I had a profit of at least four points in

each and every one of the twelve stocks that I was short of, I knew

that I was right. The tape told me it was now safe to be bearish, so I

promptly doubled up.

I had my position. I was short of stocks in a market that now was

plainly a bear market. There wasn’t any need for me to push things

along. The market was bound to go my way, and, knowing that, I could

afford to wait. After I doubled up I didn’t make another trade for a

long time. About seven weeks after I put out my full line, we had the

famous “leak,” and stocks broke badly. It was said that somebody had

advance news from Washington that President Wilson was going to issue

a message that would bring back the dove of peace to Europe in a hurry.

Of course the war-bride boom was started and kept up by the World War,

and peace was a bear item. When one of the cleverest traders on the

floor was accused of profiting by advance information he simply said he

had sold stocks not on any news but because he considered that the bull

market was overripe. I myself had doubled my line of shorts seven weeks

before.

On the news the market broke badly and I naturally covered. It was the

only play possible. _When something happens on which you did not count

when you made your plans it behooves you to utilise the opportunity

that a kindly fate offers you._ For one thing, on a bad break like

that you have a big market, one that you can turn around in, and that

is the time to turn your paper profits into real money. Even in a bear

market a man cannot always cover one hundred and twenty thousand shares

of stock without putting up the price on himself. He must wait for the

market that will allow him to buy that much at no damage to his profit

as it stands him on paper.

I should like to point out that I was not counting on that particular

break at that particular time for that particular reason. But, as I

have told you before, my experience of thirty years as a trader is that

such _accidents are usually along the line of least resistance on_

which I base my position in the market. Another thing to bear in mind

is this: _Never try to sell at the top._ It isn’t wise. _Sell after a

reaction if there is no rally._

I cleared about three million dollars in 1916 by being bullish as long

as the bull market lasted and then by being bearish when the bear

market started. As I said before, a man does not have to marry one side

of the market till death do them part.

That winter I went South, to Palm Beach, as I usually do for a

vacation, because I am very fond of salt-water fishing. I was short

of stocks and wheat, and both lines showed me a handsome profit. There

wasn’t anything to annoy me and I was having a good time. Of course

unless I go to Europe I cannot really be out of touch with the stock or

commodities markets. For instance, in the Adirondacks I have a direct

wire from my broker’s office to my house.

In Palm Beach I used to go to my broker’s branch office regularly.

I noticed that cotton, in which I had no interest, was strong and

rising. About that time--this was in 1917--I heard a great deal about

the efforts that President Wilson was making to bring about peace. The

reports came from Washington, both in the shape of press dispatches and

private advice to friends in Palm Beach. That is the reason why one

day I got the notion that the course of the various markets reflected

confidence in Mr. Wilson’s success. With peace supposedly close at

hand, stocks and wheat ought to go down and cotton up. I was all set as

far as stocks and wheat went, but I had not done anything in cotton in

some time.

At 2:20 that afternoon I did not own a single bale, but at 2:25 my

belief that peace was impending made me buy fifteen thousand bales as

a starter. I proposed to follow my old system of trading--that is, of

buying my full line--which I have already described to you.

That very afternoon, after the market closed, we got the Unrestricted

Warfare note. There wasn’t anything to do except to wait for the market

to open the next day. I recall that at Gridley’s that night one of the

greatest captains of industry in the country was offering to sell any

amount of United States Steel at five points below the closing price

that afternoon. There were several Pittsburgh millionaires within

hearing. Nobody took the big man’s offer. They knew there was bound to

be a whopping big break at the opening.

Sure enough, the next morning the stock and commodity markets were in

an uproar, as you can imagine. Some stocks opened eight points below

the previous night’s close. To me that meant a heaven-sent opportunity

to cover all my shorts profitably. As I said before, _in a bear

market it is always wise to cover if complete demoralisation suddenly

develops_. That is the only way, if you swing a good-sized line, of

turning a big paper profit into real money both quickly and without

regrettable reductions. For instance, I was short fifty thousand shares

of United States Steel alone. Of course I was short of other stocks,

and when I saw I had the market to cover in, I did. My profits amounted

to about one and a half million dollars. It was not a chance to

disregard.

Cotton, of which I was long fifteen thousand bales, bought in the last

half hour of the trading the previous afternoon, opened down five

hundred points. Some break! It meant an overnight loss of three hundred

and seventy-five thousand dollars. While it was perfectly clear that

the only wise play in stocks and wheat was to cover on the break I was

not so clear as to what I ought to do in cotton. There were various

things to consider, and while I always take my loss the moment I am

convinced I am wrong, I did not like to take that loss that morning.

Then I reflected that I had gone South to have a good time fishing

instead of perplexing myself over the course of the cotton market. And,

moreover, I had taken such big profits in my wheat and in stocks that

I decided to take my loss in cotton. I would figure that my profit had

been a little more than one million instead of over a million and a

half. It was all a matter of bookkeeping, as promoters are apt to tell

you when you ask too many questions.

If I hadn’t bought that cotton just before the market closed the day

before, I would have saved that four hundred thousand dollars. It shows

you how quickly a man may lose big money on a moderate line. My main

position was absolutely correct and I benefited by an accident of a

nature diametrically opposite to the considerations that led me to

take the position I did in stocks and wheat. Observe, please, that the

speculative line of least resistance again demonstrated its value to

a trader. Prices went as I expected, notwithstanding the unexpected

market factor introduced by the German note. If things had turned out

as I had figured I would have been 100 per cent right in all three of

my lines, for with peace stocks and wheat would have gone down and

cotton would have gone kiting up. I would have cleaned up in all three.

Irrespective of peace or war, I was right in my position on the stock

market and in wheat and that is why the unlooked-for event helped.

In cotton I based my play on something that might happen outside

of the market--that is, I bet on Mr. Wilson’s success in his peace

negotiations. It was the German military leaders who made me lose the

cotton bet.

When I returned to New York early in 1917 I paid back all the money

I owed, which was over a million dollars. It was a great pleasure to

me to pay my debts. I might have paid it back a few months earlier,

but I didn’t for a very simple reason. I was trading actively and

successfully and I needed all the capital I had. I owed it to myself as

well as to the men I considered my creditors to take every advantage of

the wonderful markets we had in 1915 and 1916. I knew that I would make

a great deal of money and I wasn’t worrying because I was letting them

wait a few months longer for money many of them never expected to get

back. I did not wish to pay off my obligations in driblets or to one

man at a time, but in full to all at once. So as long as the market was

doing all it could for me I just kept on trading on as big a scale as

my resources permitted.

I wished to pay interest, but all those creditors who had signed

releases positively refused to accept it. The man I paid off the last

of all was the chap I owed the eight hundred dollars to, who had made

my life a burden and had upset me until I couldn’t trade. I let him

wait until he heard that I had paid off all the others. Then he got his

money. I wanted to teach him to be considerate the next time somebody

owed him a few hundreds.

And that is how I came back.

After I paid off my debts in full I put a pretty fair amount into

annuities. I made up my mind I wasn’t going to be strapped and

uncomfortable and minus a stake ever again. Of course, after I married

I put some money in trust for my wife. And after the boy came I put

some in trust for him.

The reason I did this was not alone the fear that the stock market

might take it away from me, but because I knew that a man will spend

anything he can lay his hands on. By doing what I did my wife and child

are safe from me.

More than one man I know has done the same thing, but has coaxed his

wife to sign off when he needed the money, and he has lost it. But I

have fixed it up so that no matter what I want or what my wife wants,

that trust holds. It is absolutely safe from all attacks by either of

us; safe from my market needs; safe even from a devoted wife’s love.

I’m taking no chances!