4
### (4) Became the Owner of JP Morgan’s Golden Account
Actually, I hadn’t received the 17 million dollars in cash yet.
The exchange, the clearing house.
In other words, the settlement office.
This was where deposits and withdrawals were settled and recorded as transaction records in the accounts of seat holders who possessed a seat.
The actual money would be received in the form of a check.
And this one check was worth 17.55 million dollars.
After settling the entire principal and paying the two percent commission, I looked at the money that remained and felt strange.
Even if 600,000 dollars could be considered the price of a house, this was an amount I had truly never imagined before.
“Good. Where are you going to deposit this money?”
“Huh, deposit? Ah, now that you mention it, I guess this can’t be handled through a wire transfer. Do I have to carry the actual currency around? As a check?”
“You really are a fellow who knows nothing. Who carries physical currency around in this day and age? Just deposit the check. Of course, that assumes you trust the bank.”
I looked at Baruch and handed him the check.
“Add another 100,000 dollars to the fee. Mr. Baruch, could you introduce me to a bank I can trust?”
I had essentially handed over 17.55 million dollars in one stroke.
Both Baruch and Selby naturally stood there with their mouths hanging open.
But I had something I could rely on.
Would Baruch really have handled only my transaction and stopped there?
He must have bought and sold for himself as well.
Besides, after watching my investment, he would naturally be thinking about the next trade, wouldn’t he?
But apparently, what surprised Baruch was something else.
“Puhahaha! 100,000 dollars! You really are a sucker, completely unlike the grandson of the Robber Baron! Fine, I’ll introduce you to a proper bank!”
Ah, so that was what surprised him?
But if I could buy a hidden Wall Street tycoon for 100,000 dollars, then that was cheap.
---
Late January 1927. America was truly in its financial golden age.
JP Morgan.
The bank named after the famous John Pierpont Morgan.
At this point in time, there was no law separating investment banks from commercial banks, so it handled both.
Then I should handle everything through JP Morgan.
Tap, tap, tap.
23 Wall Street.
In fact, Wall Street and Broadway were one-block-long streets running parallel to each other.
Three minutes on foot, or one minute if I walked a little faster.
The New York Stock Exchange was located directly across the corner from it.
Once, just seven years ago, this place had been a target of terrorism.
A bombing had actually taken place in 1920.
Apparently, Wall Street and JP Morgan had long been symbols of wealthy people whom the poor despised.
Numerous luxury cars stood in front of the building, as if proving that this was a temple of the rich.
Though to my eyes, they looked more like antique cars.
Suddenly, the smell of oil wafted up from the exhaust pipes.
Typical of an era that had absolutely no concern for air pollution.
“Who are you?”
At that moment, several people who appeared to be guards blocked my path.
23 Wall Street, New York, NY.
The plaque attached to the front of the stone building was clearly visible.
The doorman and security personnel were dressed in dark black double-breasted coats with military-style caps.
New York was cold in January.
If it snowed, it could pile up heavily.
So I understood the coats, but they were wearing suits underneath?
Moreover, I could somehow glimpse a gun holster beneath their coats.
Their buttons were decorated in gold.
“Wow, the bank guards in this era, or rather, in New York, are really gentlemen.”
“I asked who you are.”
“Obviously, I’m here to make a deposit, gentleman.”
Perhaps my words sounded like I was teasing them, because just as the guards began to frown,
my accompanying lawyer, Selby, handed them a name card.
It looked almost like a real card.
Howard Gould Jr.
Selby spoke with an expressionless face.
“Mr. Baruch should have already contacted you. Everything was arranged in advance. Now, please open the door.”
Baruch.
Even the doormen knew that name.
They hurried inside, and before long, a gentleman came walking out.
“Welcome, Mr. Gould. I hear you’re transferring funds to us today.”
“Yes. I came through Mr. Baruch’s introduction. Wasn’t the message delivered?”
“We’ve already heard everything. The deposit certificates have also all been transferred here. Please come inside.”
The moment the door opened,
the magnificent JP Morgan bank came into view.
A dome carved with classical decorations adorned the ceiling.
Golden lamps continued along the corridors in close succession.
Edison had invented the light bulb in 1879.
By now, American cities were almost 100 percent in the electric-light era, while even rural areas had surpassed 50 percent.
A bank, the fortress of capitalism, was no exception.
Step, step, step.
Everyone coming and going was a gentleman in an expensive suit and a fedora.
Only employees dressed in suits moved around inside.
The sound of shoes striking the marble floor rang out clearly.
This was JP Morgan.
The most successful investment bank in America, perhaps even in the world.
The banker guiding me suddenly stopped.
“This way.”
A staircase.
The building looked large, but it was actually only four stories.
Considering that the Empire State Building would be built around 1931, it was strange.
Even though high-rise buildings were already possible, this building was relatively low.
Perhaps it was because the so-called skyscraper competition had not yet begun ten years earlier?
After circling up the staircase for quite some time, we eventually reached the fourth floor.
The banker guided me into one of the rooms.
Inside, a square-jawed gentleman who had been looking out the window turned around.
“17 million dollars. It’s been quite some time since such a tremendous client came along, Howard Gould Jr.”
“You know me?”
“You’ll be getting to know me from now on. If it’s Gould, then of course I know. Your grandfather gave Morgan Bank quite a headache. Especially during the gold speculation scandal, ahem, excuse me. During that frenzy.”
The gentleman extended his hand to me and twisted the corner of his mouth into a smile.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Gould. Russell Leffingwell, a partner at Morgan Bank. Normally, with a client of this size, our CEO, Mr. Lamont, would come out personally, but he happens to be busy today.”
Yes, this was America’s finest investment bank.
17 million dollars was an enormous amount of money.
But I couldn’t exactly be called the bank’s most extraordinary client.
That was why one of the directors had come out instead of the bank president.
Of course, Leffingwell was not exactly a low-ranking figure either.
A former Assistant Secretary of State.
A man who would later become the CEO of Morgan.
I sat down and smiled.
“Would there really be any reason for the CEO to come out for a youngster?”
“Goodness, I wouldn’t dismiss someone who became a millionaire overnight as a youngster.”
“Then perhaps the grandson of a Robber Baron. It doesn’t matter, Mr. Leffingwell.”
At that moment, I asked first, taking the initiative.
“Can it be converted into gold? The deposit, I mean.”
Leffingwell stopped just as he was about to sit down.
Yes, gold was special even in this era.
Why?
Because this was the era of the gold standard.
Leffingwell remained standing and tapped the expensive wooden table.
“It isn’t impossible, but how much?”
“Ten million dollars. Please leave the rest in a form I can use immediately.”
“Hmm. Our reserve requirement is actually 13 percent.”
What I was asking to convert into gold ultimately meant this.
Don’t use the money.
However, a bank deposit contract meant that everything except the reserve requirement could be used by the bank.
Even so, 17 million dollars was certainly attractive.
That was why Leffingwell couldn’t simply refuse.
But I absolutely needed these conditions.
Why?
Because two years later, when the era of the great crash arrived, the only thing that would manage to survive was gold.
“Convert it all into gold. The reserve requirement can remain at 13 percent.”
“Really? If that is what you want, then certainly.”
“Instead, make the remaining 7 million dollars freely withdrawable deposits. I understand that JP Morgan Bank allows direct transactions. Directly from here to the stock exchange.”
Leffingwell’s previously delighted expression hardened.
There were still two years left.
There was no need to convert everything into gold and hold all of it.
I had deliberately brought up gold because I wanted this free-trading condition.
Even in this era, stock trades without physical cash, just like in the twenty-first century, were possible.
The bank would promise payment to the exchange, and only numbers would move around at the exchange.
But to do that, I needed a special account at the bank.
Leffingwell rolled his eyes before narrowing his brows.
“It is possible. But it is impossible.”
What was that supposed to mean?
“It’s a special private banking service. So, at present, it would be difficult.”
“What if I were a ten-million-dollar depositor? No, strictly speaking, 17 million dollars.”
“It’s true that we don’t have many depositors of that size among our clients. Besides, this is your first time as a client, and the name Gould…”
Was the reputation of the Robber Baron blocking my path here too?
The name Gould was definitely both an opportunity and a barrier for me.
But I also had a way to cross this threshold.
I stared directly at Leffingwell.
“Mr. Leffingwell, what if I became your exclusive client?”
At that moment, Leffingwell immediately grabbed my hand.
“Leave it to me, Mr. Howard Gould.”
“Junior. Howard Gould is actually my father.”
“Ah, I understand. Gould Junior. Then…”
Leffingwell shouted toward the secretary waiting outside.
“Bring the deposit certificate immediately! No, prepare it from scratch and bring it here!”
Why had he suddenly changed his attitude?
Because for someone at the partner level, sales performance directly affected his promotion and bonus.
17 million dollars was a large amount, but at Morgan, it was not enough to be considered decisive.
But for Leffingwell himself?
Even if he would eventually become the CEO of Morgan Bank, that was the bank that would later be divided up after the Great Depression.
And right now, he was merely a former State Department official who had only recently joined the bank and was adjusting to his new position as a partner.
Ultimately, how many clients like me he could secure would inevitably affect Leffingwell’s promotion.
The secretary soon entered and handed over the deposit certificate.
Huh, why was it so large?
The document placed in front of me looked almost like a certificate of stock ownership, complete with gold leaf.
Leffingwell smiled.
“All you need to do is sign, Mr. Gould Junior.”
Before signing, I turned to Selby.
Selby quickly began examining the deposit certificate.
This was why I brought a lawyer around.
There was no need for me to personally check complicated legal documents.
“It’s correct. Ten million dollars is payable in gold, and the remaining seven million dollars are free deposits.”
I immediately signed.
Scratch.
Selby handed over the check he had prepared.
It was the very check that broker Baruch had given me.
As Leffingwell accepted the check as though it were some kind of treasure, he suddenly handed me another box.
“Oh, and please take this as a souvenir.”
“What is it?”
“A Saint-Gaudens Double Eagle, gold. It’s from 1925.”
A gold coin bearing a double-headed eagle gleamed before my eyes.
Clink.
I lightly tapped the gold coin.
A clear sound rang in my ears.
Only then did it truly sink in.
This was the 1920s, an era when gold coins were genuinely used as currency.
I had become a rich man who could freely use gold coins in this era.
Of course, two years later, all of this could collapse.
I grabbed the gold coin and smiled.
“Wonderful.”
I put it in my pocket and left the bank with the gold coin in my hand.
Step.
Selby, following behind me, spoke as though he were moved.
“Wow. It was only twenty years ago that Jay Gould and Morgan were fighting each other. And now you’ve become a client here.”
At last, I had earned the qualifications to be counted among America’s wealthy.
By obtaining a private banking account at JP Morgan.
But that was only the beginning.
“Two years.”
“Yes?”
“Within that time, I’ll establish an unshakable position.”
Otherwise, everything would be swept away during the Great Depression.
The gold coins too.
Everything.
At that moment.
“RCA is up again today! Get your newspaper! Newspaper!”
I heard the voice of a newspaper boy shouting.
There would probably be plenty of people buying RCA again today.
I chuckled and turned around.
Now it was time to head to Wall Street.
To my hunting ground.
---
There was a public secret club on Wall Street.
“Everyone knows about this place. But not everyone can enter. That’s why they call it a public secret club.”
Baruch smiled as he removed his fedora.
11 Wall Street, Manhattan, the New York Stock Exchange building, on the seventh floor.
A private dining club that only members were allowed to enter.
From the outside, it looked like an ordinary restaurant, but getting inside this restaurant was not easy.
The Stock Exchange Luncheon Club.
Simply put, it was the stock exchange lunch restaurant.
Surprisingly, the New York Stock Exchange did not close for lunch.
Even in the twenty-first century, Japan stopped trading during lunch.
Instead, trading here began at 10 and ended at 3.
It was a place where members conducting offline trades could have lunch and socialize.
This was the New York Stock Exchange’s secret club, a place only invited guests could enter.
“I’m just a youngster. Am I really allowed inside?”
“Technically, no, right? It’s not a place you can enter just because you suddenly became rich. But if you’re Jay Gould’s grandson?”
“So I qualify. Well, my father has a seat, after all.”
Only invited guests could enter through the elegant wooden walls.
Red carpets, softly glowing crystal lights, and animal heads hanging on the walls.
I flinched.
“Those are souvenirs members brought back after going on safari. A rather bad taste, I suppose. Heh.”
Safari, meaning hunting African animals.
In the twenty-first century, it would be something that could get you sued and condemned by animal-protection organizations.
But this was the early twentieth century.
Hunting was considered a noble pastime.
The moment we entered, even the air felt different.
The smell of tobacco, whiskey, and rib steak was particularly strong.
Wasn’t that a little excessive for lunch?
Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle.
What was even more unusual was that there was a fireplace built into the wall.
It wasn’t decoration. It was actually burning.
Somehow, it felt like an interior design choice that was going to damage my lungs.
Then again, America seemed to still have fireplaces in homes even in the twenty-first century.
Howard naturally walked over and sat at a round table beside the fireplace.
The people sitting at the table turned to look at us.
Everyone appeared to already be drinking coffee rather than eating.
I wanted food.
“Hey, Baruch! It’s been a long time.”
“How have you been, Mitchell? You still look healthy.”
“Ha, my doctor told me to stop smoking. Nonsense. Once you’ve digested your food, a cigar is the best. Hoo.”
A bespectacled middle-aged man who looked friendly greeted Baruch before turning toward me with a smile.
“Are you the freshman who abandoned us and went to Morgan? Heh.”
“Abandoned you? What do you mean?”
“Oh, I’m late with my introduction. Charles Edwin Mitchell. Chairman of First National City Bank.”
Citibank!
The bank that still existed in the twenty-first century. Was its CEO sitting right in front of me?
But I was a Morgan client.
In other words, this really was an American secret club where the biggest financial tycoons gathered.
Then again, the man who had brought me here was Baruch, the hidden tycoon of Wall Street.
Then what about the other two men sitting at this table?
At that moment, an elderly man with a rough-looking appearance sitting across from me, and a serious-looking middle-aged man sitting in front of him, looked at me.
“Wow, the grandson of the Robber Baron? I thought you only dealt in railroads.”
“Come now, Mr. Durant. That’s rude. Mr. Jay Gould was a financier by nature. He simply operated on a very heavy scale.”
“Heh heh, Rockefeller Junior. Aren’t you upset that he didn’t deposit his money in your bank?”
What? Rockefeller?
The famous Rockefeller, or perhaps his grandson?
Damn, he really knew Gould?
In fact, although Gould was known in modern times as the Railroad King, his actual profession was securities trading.
Or should I say, stock manipulation?
Even the railroads were largely things he acquired while making money through stocks.
Then the rough-looking man in his sixties spoke to me.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m William Durant, formerly kicked out of GM. These days, I’m creating a new automobile company and investing as well.”
Once again, I was stunned.
“My goodness, Mr. Durant? Aren’t you the man who created Chevrolet? Good heavens!”
“I’m the owner of Durant Motors now. I was pushed out of Chevrolet too. Tsk!”
“How? You’re a man who sees innovation in automobiles!”
Everyone knows who created Ford.
Of course, Ford.
But who created GM, General Motors?
The man standing before me, William Crapo Durant.
But unlike Ford, who focused on production, Durant focused on acquisitions.
Because of that, he acquired numerous companies before eventually being pushed out.
Afterward, the company Durant founded was none other than Chevrolet, which still existed in modern times.
But apparently, he had been pushed out again after that.
At that moment, the serious-looking man in his fifties smiled gently and answered in his place.
In other words, Rockefeller Junior.
“Business is separate from innovation. Well, our father was driven out by the government, too. Your grandfather was probably similar, wasn’t he?”
Durant snorted.
“Hmph, I’m late introducing this side. You know Rockefeller, right? This fellow is Rockefeller II. He’s a junior, just like you.”
“Come now, why speak that way to someone young enough to be my son? What year were you born?”
“I was born in 1907, Mr. Rockefeller.”
The famous Rockefeller’s son, Rockefeller Junior, nodded before taking my hand and shaking it.
“Then you’re exactly the age between my eldest and second sons. Heh heh. Pleased to meet you. To think I’m seeing Wall Street’s new nova. This is truly wonderful.”
Nova, meaning a new star.
This was an era when space was still not properly understood.
A nova that suddenly appeared in the sky was something mysterious.
Was I already being called that?
And by Rockefeller’s son, no less?