Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 8, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 January 1914 — DARING AND SPECTACULAR PLUNGER OF WALL STREET HAS GONE FOREVER [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

DARING AND SPECTACULAR PLUNGER OF WALL STREET HAS GONE FOREVER

Public’s Indifference Toward Stock Speculation Is Causing the Passing of One of the Most Picturesque Elements in Odr Public Life—Men of Jay Gould Type Are No More , ip Evidence.

York.—The twilight of Wall street, the daring and spectacular plunger gone forever, the public apathetic toward stock speculation, the passing of one of the most picturesque elements in our public life —these are some of the conclusions drawn from the great dullness on the New York stock exchange, the failures of brokers to make what they'consider a living, the dry rot.

Certain it is that we have no Jay Gould today—or an E. H. Harriman, or a Keene, or a Gates, or even a David Lamar. The days of the big market manipulator have apparently passed. These men are dead and there are none to take their places. If as big things are "put oyer” as in the old days, they are done now in secret, with the aid of much law and lawyers, through numerous agents and multitudinous blinds and devices. “It was not so in the older, days.” Way back in the Black Friday era, Jay Gould or Jim Fiske wouldn’t hesitate at all to appear in the public Bhare mart and flay the opposing crowd of either bulls or bears with the utmost freedom. Everybody knew what they were about and nobody thought of complaining in the sense of considering their faults as of a public character. ■_ .

Later came the great speculative eras of our national life, when a “million share day” was considered nothing, when doctors and lawyers and merchants gambled in stocks from every hamlet, when the little speculators were myriad and the big speculators were fierce, if slightly more cautious than in the seventies. Harriman flinging railroads into the gambling pit, John W. Gates and other pen of his type leading speculative campaigns which netted them tens of millions, foxy old James B. Keene, engineering pools—for many years the American people stood for them and simply laughed. '

Thgn the great outcries began. They’ve never led to the actual governmental reformation or abolition of the stock exchange, but they seem to have put it almost hers de combat simply by the force of public opinion. “Nobody’s buying!” the brokers cry“We never sell anybody from uptown,” complain the hungry-eyed oneß, meaning that the merchants who ac-

cumulate fortunes no longer follow the custom of retiring, seating themselves next the ticker, and proceeding to turn their hard earned wealth over to the men of stocks and bonds. The “men from uptown” are coming to realize that this is the broker’s game—not theirs. « And the broker is selling his automobile. He’s no longer known as the "Wine barer.” He's no longer known

as the patron saint of the chorus lady. He manages to keep Ws membership in his clubs and considers himself pretty lucky if he has 15 cents for a whisky and soda once in a while. It is related that a prominent broker came on the floor the day before' election and said to a group of friends: “Boys, we all ought to go up to the Sixth district and vote far Bill Snlzer

tomorrow —he’s the only man from uptown who’s bought anything from us for two years.” There was laughter at this, but of a mirthless variety. The stagnation in stocks is no joke to the brokers. They can Btand it for stocks to go up and

they can stand it for them to go down, hut when they stand still—good night* The exchange has recently had the worst day’s business since 1888,. 25 years ago. Only 58,000 shares of stock and 818 bonds changed hands. There are 1,100 members of the exchange. It was figured that each of them would have $1.40 for his day’s work if the commissions were divided equally. A dollar and forty cents, not the wages of a man who digs a ditch in these days—and for brokers whose business expenses might run to SIOO a day each. No wonder there ax£ “reorganizations” and a few failures. No wonder that staid old liras settle all their accounts and quietly go out of existence. - - For one thing each member of the “change” has lost about $40,000. This is the difference between the high quotation for a seat in 1909 and the price seats bring today. The floor of the exchange these days often resembles the lounging room of a clubhouse. The exchange Is A club in reality. Will it become one in name? Will it turn into a mere social organization, with traditions of business? Hardly, because there are more securities to be traded in each year. There muet be a public auction room where they can change hands. The trouble just at present is the brokerage machinery is too big for its purposes. It is built on a scale to handle great speculations and little speculations, and when it has to come down to calm and peaceful transfers, it is like a eightseeing automobile earring a single passenger. There Is no profit.

Bank of J. P. Morgan A Co.

Noon Hour in Wall Street.