I had taken the check to the bank the day after I received it. I had had a passbook account since I was about eleven or so at Clifton Trust, a small community bank with a few branches. The closest was less than a mile away, and easy to get to on my bike. I had only a couple of hundred dollars squeezed out of allowances and money from mowing lawns. The deal I made with Dad was that I would keep five grand in the savings account, and the other fifteen would go to the brokerage. A few simple interest rate calculations showed him that by the time I got to college, I could make up that five grand easily.
In the lobby of the brokerage were pictures of all the brokers - white, middle-aged, graying temples, perfect smiles and perfect hair, looking like they all had just stepped out of a thirty-year-old-Scotch ad. All except one, a young girl, who looked barely in her twenties. It was the late Sixties, so I assumed she was the token woman, hired as much for her looks as any brains, and probably having to fight off a bunch of overaged Lotharios who should know better. Curious, I noted her name, and then glanced over at a Broker Of The Month plaque on the wall. Hardesty's name seemed the most prominent, but Melissa Talmadge was listed more than her share of the time. Interesting.
The receptionist answered her phone and then set it down, Standing, she asked us to follow her and she led us down a hallway lined with offices. As we went down, I noticed Melissa Talmadge's office a few feet beyond Hardesty's.
I enjoyed following that receptionist. She was a good looking lady, and wore a short skirt and high heels. This was one of the finest aspects to reliving the Sixties. This was the period of time when they invented the miniskirt! Even further, in many situations, women were prohibited from wearing pants, as a violation of the dress code. Back on my first go-around, I remember when two ninth grade girls dared to come to school in blue jeans; they were stopped at the front door, marched to the principal's office, and their parents were called to take them home. Meanwhile, skirts so short that a generation later would be considered suitable club attire were perfectly acceptable. It was a hell of a time to be young and male!
Hardesty rose when we got to his door. "Thanks, honey, I appreciate it.", he told the receptionist. Forty years later he'd have been slapped, but not then. He ushered us in, looking curiously at me. Dad was placed in an armchair next to his desk. I was put in a smaller chair at the back of the room. "It's good to see you, Charlie. I got the message you were coming over, but not what it was about. How can I help you?"
"It's about my son, actually. This is my oldest boy, Carling. He'd like to open an account."
For the first time, Hardesty looked me over, deciding to stop ignoring me. He put a big smile on his face and reached over the desk, thrusting out his hand. "Well I think that's tremendous, Carling! Give you a chance to see how business is done, hey?" He immediately turned back to my father and began talking to him again. "Are we figuring a weekly deposit, ten or twenty dollars? Or a small lump sum? We've got some great funds we can place you in?"
I cleared my throat, and Dad smiled and said, "Ask him. It's his money."
Hardesty looked over at me curiously. "Really? What did you have in mind, son?"
"How many shares of ITT common will $15,000 buy? I'm not looking for any odd block purchase fees, so some will end up in a money market account, preferably an equity growth account.", I replied.
Hardesty looked at me and blinked, and then turned right back to Dad. "I'll have to look that up, Charlie. I really don't think that's the way you want to go, though. I think you'll do much better with one of the mixed equity funds we've had you with for the last several years."
"It's not my money, it's his." Dad just pointed a finger over at me.
Hardesty looked back at me like I was growing a second head. "You want ITT common? You shouldn't be doing that son; you should be buying some money market mutual funds. Here, let me show you this brochure and tell you how they work." He couldn't have been more condescending and patronizing if he had tried.
"I'll be looking to actively trade equities, at least as a start, but I would expect that as opportunities arise, to also move into commodities. Additionally, I'll probably be doing some trades in options, both calls and puts, maybe some short sales.", I replied. "Is that going to be an issue?"
Hardesty looked back at my father. "Charlie, what is going on? Is this some kind of joke?"
Even Dad was getting a little pissed. "Bill, I already told you, it's his money. He has a check in his pocket, already made out in the name of the brokerage, for $15,000."
"Mr. Hardesty?" He looked over at me and I pulled a folded up check out of my pocket and unfolded it, although I kept it out of his reach. "I plan on being an active trader. Will you execute the trades I call in, or not?"
"Well, I suppose so, although I'll need to confirm them with your father..."
I stood up. "Come on, Dad. This isn't going to work." I tucked the check back in my pocket and walked back out into the hallway. Behind me I could hear Hardesty spluttering and asking my father what he thought he was doing.
I wandered down the hallway to see the cute young Miss Talmadge working at her desk. It was a much smaller office than Hardesty's. She was hanging up her phone when she saw me standing in her doorway. "Got a moment?", I asked.
She looked at me curiously, and motioned me forward. "How can I help you?"
I sat down at the armchair next to her desk. "I saw on the Broker of the Month plaque that you're number two around here. Is that true?"
She smiled at me. "Yes it is. Why?"
I placed the check down on her desk. "Is it true that number two tries harder?" This was the slogan of Avis Rent-A-Car at the time.
She eyed the check and then me again. "Yes, that is exactly what it means. Who are you and what are you up to?"
"I apologize for not introducing myself. My name is Carl Buckman and I'm looking to start an account."
"Really? You? You're a little young for that, don't you think?"
I gave her a soft smile. "I'll bet you've heard that said too."
She gave a quick barking laugh. "Okay, I earned that. You're serious?"
"Absolutely. Are you?"
"Yes and no.", she replied. "You're too young to open an account by yourself. Until you're eighteen, an adult has to be on the account as well."
"I have that already covered." Out in the hallway we could hear Hardesty and my father arguing, and looking for me as well. I raised my voice slightly, and said, "In here, Dad."
My father stuck his head around the corner. "Here you are. I thought we were leaving."
I pointed at Miss Talmadge. "She's number two, she'll try harder. Dad, this is Miss Talmadge. Miss Talmadge, my father, Charles Buckman."
"Pleased to meet you.", she said.
Hardesty stormed in. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Missy. You can't just steal my clients out from underneath me!"
I stood up and got between them. "Mr. Hardesty, I have never been your client, so she hasn't stolen me from you. I have no intention of being your client. And furthermore, this is not the behavior of a gentleman."
"How dare you speak to me like that, you little..." At that moment he noticed my father standing in the corner, and he stopped. He looked at Miss Talmadge, and yelled, "We'll see about this!", and then stormed out.