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Among the products brought to my attention was a "leveraged real estate rental-property partnership"; an energy income partnership; a partnership in the Lorimar film company introduced at the screening of a new Lorimar film, Power; an Australian bond fund; and a "preferred futures fund." A common element in these diverse opportunities was the substantial sales charge, often as high as 7 percent. I didn't do a national survey, but my own experience gives me confidence in Useful Tip Number Eight:
The first thing the broker recommends will make him the highest commission
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As we headed toward Mickey's cubicle, I told him I was a very conservative investor, which is actually how I felt after having just visited Mr. Klein. Mickey applauded my conservatism and said something like, "There's no reason to throw away what you've worked so hard to earn."
After he sat me in the guest chair next to his desk, I expressed a sudden interest in options, just to see how Mickey would respond. Soon he was telling me about his new red Porsche and his decision to take more chances and live for today. Then he told me about a client of his who'd made a fortune in options, most recently in the Warner-Lambert July calls. He punched in the symbols for Warner-Lambert and the up-to-date call-option prices appeared on the screen above our heads. "Options can be amazingly profitable if you know what you are doing," he said. " Y o u have to be disciplined and not greedy. Plus you have to follow good research. At Merrill Lynch, we've got the best."
Though Mickey drew the line at commodities—"only fools would play commodities"—he sensed I'd do very well in options and that I had just the right personality for the job. I returned the compliment by guessing he'd do very well investing in options himself. "Me?" he laughed. "A broker? In this office, all the brokers have been killed playing options. Brokers don't make money on options. Brokers don't make money on any investments. Here, we even lose money on stocks."
Thanks to Mr. Todd's candor, I can pass along Useful Tip Number Nine:
Never invest in anything owned by your broker
After several days of walking in and out of offices and being no closer to finding the perfect broker than I'd been at the start, I pretty much decided to return to Richard Bermont, the Drexel Burnham man who'd been working with my wife. Certainly, I'd never even considered Linda Garrett of Prudential-Bache. The only reason I visited Ms. Garrett at her office was to ask her how she liked her new job. She'd been a secretary to an earlier broker of ours and had answered many of my frantic phone calls. Recently, she'd graduated from broker's school and had become a full-fledged stockbroker herself.
Most of her colleagues were stuck out in the middle of a big open room, but they'd given Ms. Garrett a private office along the wall. That impressed me. Also, she didn't used to dress this well. As a secretary, she looked like she worked for the Clamshell Alliance, but now she would have fit in at the Republican National Committee.
I'm mentioning these factors because I don't know which may have contributed to the surprising decision that followed. As the two of us sat in Ms. Garrett's private office, I could see the stocks displayed on her Quotron, rising in value by the second. These were her own picks, she said. One called Genentech went up two points as I shifted my weight in the chair. Ms. Garrett mentioned she'd been buying Genentech for several clients. A happy phone call from one of the clients interrupted our conversation.
There was a second, longer phone call from Philadelphia. I heard only Ms. Garrett's side of it, which I remember as: "over-the-counter," "chemical field," "maybe in line for government contracts," "likely to double by Christmas," and "if this works out, I'll buy you an ice cream."
"What works out?" I demanded to know, after she'd hung up. Ms. Garrett explained it was just some little stock she was buying for herself and close friends, wouldn't be suitable for regular clients, too speculative. She said she didn't really want to sell it to me. After all I'd been through, that alone was enough to insure my interest.
"How much is it?" I asked.
"About $1.50 per share last time I looked."
"What's this about it doubling by Christmas?" (It was December 12 at the time, and I'd been studying, researching, and investigating for nearly two months.)
"I don't know. He thinks it might."
"Who thinks so?"
"The person I was talking to."
She'd only tell me that her source was a knowledgeable investor, the one who'd get the ice cream if this recommendation worked out. How fortunate I felt to have intercepted this private gossip between two people in the know, the kind of chance an average investor rarely gets.
"Did you buy some for yourself?"
"Yes," said Ms. Garrett. "So did everybody else in the office."
Was this the opportunity I'd been looking for? A voice from within me that I couldn't control blurted out: "I'll take 5,000 shares."
Within minutes, my new Prudential-Bache account was opened, the 5,000-share order was sent in, and I was standing outside in the parking lot. Only then did I realize that: (1) I'd just chosen my new broker by default, (2) I'd ignored my own Tip Number Seven, and (3) 5,000 shares times $1.50 added up to nearly two-thirds of my investment stake. This putting most of my eggs in one basket made me think of Mr. Loeb.
Down the highway I stopped in a phone booth to call my wife and explain what I'd bought. As I was dialing, I realized I'd forgotten the name of the company, so I hung up before she could answer.
This article is excerpted from 'A Fool and His Money - The Odyssey of an Average Investor' by John Rothchild.
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