stjorthotic Chapter 331 Persistence is Death, Selling is Death
Chapter 331 Persistence is Death, Selling is Death
Chapter 331 Persistence is Death, Selling is Death
Ignoring Baruch's surprise, Larry pulled out his Citibank checkbook from his inner suit pocket, quickly filled out a $10,000 check for Baruch, tore it off, and handed it to Baruch with both hands.
Baruch instinctively waved his hand in refusal, but his lips parted slightly without saying "no."
Because this amount of money is truly too much! It's equivalent to two years' worth of my annual salary.
"Here you go!" Larry said with a smile, stuffing the money into Baruch's hand.
"What...what do you need me to do? Why are you paying so much?" Baruch was a little surprised. According to Wall Street practice, you only do what you're paid for. He was just a front desk manager, and even if he were to handle all the client's orders, he usually wouldn't receive more than $500 in commission.
From another perspective, $1 is enough to buy five lives in New York. Baruch was stunned by Larry's generosity and wondered if he was going to be sent by Larry to do some dirty work.
Larry raised an eyebrow and said, "Oh, sorry, I wasn't clear. This $1 isn't a commission for full agency, but rather a thank you for helping me recover my losses! I want to take this opportunity to thank you again; without you, my American Tobacco stocks would have been ruined! Commissions are separate—"
Upon hearing this, Baruch's eyes widened even more.
Baruch had considered that Larry might thank him. But none of his previous clients had ever been so generous. Wealthy people always felt that it was their due to others serving them, and they would only casually "tip" those who helped them, rather than "thank you."
A wealthy woman once lost her $8000 jewelry while watching a play on Broadway. A cleaner found the jewelry and returned it to its owner, but the woman only gave her 50 cents as a tip.
This is the reality of New York.
But Larry was different. He had just filled out and torn up a check for $1 and handed it over with both hands. This was enough to express his wealth, generosity, and sincerity.
After hesitating for a long time, Baruch finally said, "I... I don't think I deserve so much money! This gratitude is too heavy. To be honest, no one has ever offered such a high reward before."
Larry waved his hand and said earnestly, "I don't care about others, but I feel that your help to me is worth the price. And it's not just about the result, but your fair and just heart that moved me."
Seeing that Baruch hadn't spoken yet, Larry laughed. "Tell me, Bernard, will you maintain this character in the future?"
"Of course!" Baruch said without hesitation. "Even without a reward, I would have done it, because it's what a decent American should do."
"So, keep the check safe! And then do me a favor." Larry continued with a smile, "Don't worry, what I need you to do is very simple, it won't break the law or put you in a difficult position."
Baruch then sincerely thanked Larry, put away the check, and listened attentively to Larry's instructions.
Larry thought for a few seconds, organizing his thoughts, before saying to Baruch, "The commission has two parts. First, the stock—I need you to buy 2 shares of American Tobacco stock every other week for the next three months. The specific day is up to you, but preferably a relatively quiet day of the week. The purchase should be a single transaction, enough to stimulate the market."
"This—" Baruch was about to ask a question when he remembered Larry's condition for entrusting him with the task: to "catch the prey." He then changed the subject on the spot. "But what if the other party doesn't take the bait? Mr. Livingston, I'm worried that by only buying and not selling, you'll likely never get an attack from the other party, but you might end up with an overweight position—"
"It's alright, what I want is to hold more shares—" Larry patiently explained, "Even without considering the risk of exposure to our competitors, I want to buy American Tobacco. You can buy up to 5% of the total shares of American Tobacco that I hold. It's a strategic investment."
"Yes, Mr. Livingston."
Larry nodded and continued, "There's also futures trading, but it's a bit different. You need to trade randomly among several futures contracts, going long or short, trading one or two lots at a time, and selling them after four or five days at the latest."
Most importantly, when a futures contract generates a profit, no matter how small, it should be sold the following day to secure the gains; conversely, when a futures contract incurs a loss, it should be held for at least a week, unless the price falls below the 10% stop-loss level.
"You mean to cash in profits immediately and try to maximize losses—forgive my bluntness, Mr. Livingston, but your approach is destined to lose money in the long run, and it seems to be—"
Baruch hesitated, then Larry added with a smile, "Like a novice, right? That's exactly the effect I want. A novice holds onto losing trades for a long time and cashes in profits immediately—yes, that's the effect I want."
Baruch immediately understood. "Oh, I see—this is also part of your plan. Deliberately creating a flaw in the deal."
"Yes! Only by luring the snake out of its hole can our mongooses be most effective!" Larry said with a smile.
Larry then drafted a legally binding power of attorney and gave it to Baruch. It stipulated that Bernard Baruch could dispose of his transactions freely within the scope of the power of attorney, and that he would accept the outcome of the transactions.
Only after this power of attorney is written can the other party feel at ease to conduct the transaction on their behalf.
As Larry handed the letter of commission to Baruch, he smiled and instructed, "Once the commission is completed, I will fulfill my promise and include my own commission as a reward. Please, Bernard, act like a real retail investor and let me find the mastermind behind this as soon as possible."
Baruch nodded and said, "Don't worry, Mr. Livingston."
"Okay, I'll come here from time to time. If there's anything urgent, just let Henry Goldman at Goldman Sachs know, and he'll find me."
"Okay, sir! Oh, by the way, do you need to convert the $120 million bank draft you have here into capital?" Baruch asked.
"No—why turn it into cash? Just leave it here like last time, just in case," Larry said.
Baruch was taken aback and asked, "But didn't you promise the branch manager that you wouldn't close the account and would even give them extra money?"
I thought you meant converting the previous $120 million bank draft into account funds.
Larry shook his finger. "No need for that. I'll just deposit another $100 million into your account later—I told you, this new funding is for you, and you have your own client targets to meet."
Baruch was stunned. The previous account was not withdrawn and the $120 million pledged was not touched. How could another $100 million be deposited into it so easily?
My God, who is this mysterious client? Why would they spend so much?
Who is the son of a wealthy tycoon?
Wait a minute—that's not right! I've seen him when he was down on his luck in Halford, desperately trying to save $1000. He didn't look like a landlord or capitalist's son at all.
Could it be that he really made such a fortune in just one year?
How...how is this possible? Is he the next James Keane?
After arranging the full delegation of authority, Larry and Lehman returned to the futures exchange.
As fate would have it, Larry had just mentioned Richard Reynolds to Lehman, and Lehman said that the man had just returned to North Carolina from New York three days prior after delivering goods. However, Lehman later inquired at Reynolds' home in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, and learned that the guy was still in New York looking for a bank loan and hadn't immediately taken the train back.
Upon hearing this, Lehman became anxious and immediately mobilized all his channels to find out where Reynolds was. At the same time, he rushed to the Reading Company to find Larry, fearing that any hesitation would delay this historic meeting between the two.
Larry was pleased to hear Lehman's message and immediately followed him back to the futures exchange.
It was nearing the close of trading, and Lehman arranged for Larry to meet in the office's reception area, informing him to wait for replies from various channels before returning to arrange the closing and settlements with some clients.
So Larry sat alone in the conference room, waiting. With nothing else to do, he mentally reviewed his actions of the day.
First, there's his own account. The New York bank previously paid $45 for land purchases, and today it paid another $20 in Lehman Brothers futures margin.
The New York bank's deposits dwindled rapidly, from $1,497,000 to only $847,000.
Meanwhile, the Citibank account previously held $310 million, then $1 million was transferred as equity payment for Manhattan United Industries, and now another $100 million has been transferred to the Reading Company account, along with a $100 bonus for Baruch. Therefore, the account now only has $109 million remaining.
It's such a mess—all these miscellaneous expenses.
Larry decided to make some changes: the New York Bank account would be used for equity expenditures, the Citibank account would be used for land purchases and other expenses, and the Morgan Trust Bank would be used for external accounts or coin accounts.
This will effectively clarify the allocation of bank income and expenditure.
Another point worth reviewing is the $1 thank-you bonus allocated to Baruch, and the promised $1 in trading fees.
Larry had actually mentally calculated this expenditure, since Bernard Baruch had helped him avoid a huge loss. Therefore, the root of this problem was the $120 million promissory note he had placed with Reading.
But it's clear that without Baruch's earlier warning and his subsequent protection when "Master Brother" attacked, his account at Reading would have been liquidated long ago.
That loss could amount to hundreds of thousands of dollars.
For that reason alone, paying him $1 is not too much at all.
At the same time, Larry also wanted to spend a lot of money to win over Baruch, because compared to Vanderlip, whom Mr. Porter recommended, Bernard Baruch was a truly decent person.
This guy has his own principles, a strong sense of justice, and is not afraid of powerful figures. He's also familiar with securities trading and management. He's the only person like him I've ever seen.
Such talent is priceless, and once missed, it will never come again.
For this kind of person, give them the full amount at once! Give until they are truly amazed. Never try to add more money later; they'll just think it's all their due and won't feel grateful for the money.
Instead of being stingy with money, feed him well all at once and then see if he faithfully carries out his requests.
If there's nothing wrong with it professionally.
Larry was determined to bring the other party under his control.
Furthermore, according to the general manager of Reading's sales department, Mr. Bush, who led outsiders to swindle them, has already gone to Europe by sea.
I don't know who hired or ordered me around, but it's clear that the mastermind behind it all was shrewd and immediately cut off all leads to him.
This is a bit tricky. I imagine the information we got from the New York mob should be about the same.
It seems that I will most likely have to rely on unusual activity in my account to wait for my opponent to slip up again.
The opponent must be a master; now we can only wait quietly for them to make a mistake.
As Larry was pondering this, Herbert Lehman walked into the office. "Mr. Livingston, I have some good news for you. We've found Richard Reynolds. He heard you're interested in the tobacco business and plans to visit you at the sales office this afternoon."
Larry nodded. "Okay—oh, what else did your people say? Aren't they currently negotiating a loan with a bank?"
Has he found a bank willing to lend him money?
Lehman smiled. "Him? He couldn't even get a loan in North Carolina, how could he possibly get one in New York? Besides, New York banks don't recognize his factories and land in the South—the reason he hasn't left for three days is because things aren't going well!"
Larry smiled and nodded, thinking to himself that bad news was good news, because it meant he could make his demands even more stringent.
Larry stayed in the meeting room for another half hour. The June afternoon was already getting sultry. The blinds were half-closed, cutting the scorching sunlight into golden lines.
Cigar smoke floated in the air. Larry smoked at least two cigars a day, and whenever he had a spare moment, he would pick one up between his fingers.
Just then, the door opened again, and Lehman stepped forward, turning back to the people behind him and saying, "Mr. Reynolds, this way. Mr. Livingston is waiting for you here."
Larry felt a chill run down his spine, knowing that the person in charge had arrived. He tossed the half-smoked cigar next to the ashtray and stood up.
Immediately, a lean but upright middle-aged man appeared at the door, his dark suit impeccably pressed. His style was old-fashioned, perfectly embodying the various prejudices Americans held against Southern rednecks at that time.
The man also spotted Larry at a glance, and a look of surprise appeared on his face. Clearly, he hadn't expected this "big shot who wanted to invest in his business" to be so young.
"This is Mr. Reynolds, the tobacco merchant from North Carolina!" Lehman continued explaining without hesitation, "This is Mr. Livingston."
"It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Reynolds." Larry smiled and extended his hand first to shake hands with Reynolds.
Reynolds, as if waking from a dream, quickly replied, "Sorry I'm late!"
The two sat on either side of the sofa, and Lehman busied himself having his assistant bring out some black tea. Once everything was settled, Larry smiled and offered him a cigar.
"Mr. Reynolds, I wonder if you enjoy smoking cigars? After all, you are a tobacco merchant, but cigars are something I can offer you—"
Reynolds quickly accepted the cigar, smiling as he said, "I mainly sell chewing tobacco, but young people might not like that. Your cigar is just right for me."
Larry then offered Lehman a cigar, and after Lehman lit it, he said, "I've heard that you're standing at a crossroads of an era?"
Reynolds narrowed his eyes. He knew this was a test, but after a moment's thought, he slowly nodded and said, "A fork in the road? I think it's a dead end—"
As he spoke, Reynolds lit a cigar and took a deep drag. Through the swirling smoke, Reynolds spoke frankly and directly, "My grandfather made chewing tobacco, my father made chewing tobacco, and I've been making chewing tobacco for ten years now. The Reynolds Company employs 300 people in Winston and produces 200 million pounds of chewing tobacco annually. But the market—suddenly became saturated—"
At this point, Reynolds stood up, walked to the window, widened the blinds, and pointed with his chin, saying, "Did you see that? What's that kid on the street corner smoking?"
Larry and Lehman stood up and looked in Reynolds' direction. The newsboy was puffing on a cheap cigarette.
"Europeans call it cigarettes, we Americans call it 'rolled cigarettes,' but whatever you call it—" Reynolds paused, his tone somewhat detached, "this stuff is convenient, clean, and fashionable. Young people love it, and women are starting to try it. And my chewing tobacco? Only old miners and plantation foremen still use that. I'm not selling tobacco, I'm selling the past—"
Larry stared into the other man's eyes, unsure whether his frankness stemmed from his personality or was a calculated move to back down.
Reynolds turned to Larry and said solemnly, "To be honest, I'm almost at my wit's end. I don't want to die, but holding on means death, and surrendering my factory also means death—Mr. Livingston, can you give me some advice?"
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