William Gaddis - J R

— We’ll try not to take a lot of your time, Mister Crawley, said Mrs Joubert. — We just wanted the class to learn something about actually buying stock through a broker…

— No trouble no trouble at all, for you. Shirley? Get that Diamond Cable certificate out, the one…

— Yes sir. Telephone.

— For me…? Davidoff’s arm shot out and the reach of heavy tweed over his shoulder came near garroting him with its cord. — If it’s Monty better let me…

— Crawley here. What? No, I don’t know what the hell’s going on there nobody does… What? no, it’s not just two or three stocks, it’s the whole market… do what? Certainly not. If you want to quote me you can say the long overdue technical readjustments taking place in our present dynamic market situation offer no convincing evidence of the sort that has characterized long-term deterioration in past major business downturns. What might appear at this ah, this juncture as conflicting behavior, the conflicting behavior of prevailing economic forces… right. Expect a certain leveling off period when… right. Right. Any time… Shirley? any more papers call tell them I’m out, he finished handing back the phone, turning, — now. These young ladies and gentlemen are here to buy some stock are they?

— Right this way boys and girls.

— They, wait a minute here…!

— Just want to get them inside for the pictures.

— Pictures?

— It’s Mister Moncrieff, sir.

— Oh here, wait! sorry… Davidoff let the door go in their faces — he said he’d call me here if…

— Monty? Crawley here.

— Tell him I…

— Hold on a minute. Just get them settled in there will you Dave? I’ll be right along. Now, Monty? You did, eh? So did I. Nobody knows what the hell’s going on over there… Box? How the hell would he know he’s right in the midst of it, he… you will? What time do you leave for Washington, I’ll be… close that door there will you Shirley? I said I’ll be…

— Boy!

— More!

— Still no snakes?

— What’s that skinny one up there with the great big eyes, it looks sad.

— You’d be sad too if you…

— It says kudu.

— Well now, said Davidoff sitting, — we’re a long way from that old buttonwood tree aren’t we, boys and girls… and he’d barely shot his cuffs, treating them all to a double bolt of sapphires, when the panel door easing open brought him to his feet. — What is it, Shirl…? But the blonde stopped a step inside to bend over Mrs Joubert, who nodded and excused herself. — Yes, well… he sat again slowly watching the door ease closed, — are there, does anybody have a question?

A sweatered arm shot up from a distant bastion of brown leather. — What’s a warrant?

— A stock warrant, eh? I think that had better wait until you boys and girls know a little more about the price of apples, you with me? Now first off, what’s the whole point of this stock market, anyhow. It’s to bring together people who want to buy with people who want to sell. Now if you’re selling something, something definite… He shaped the space before him with empty hands into — a basket, baskets let’s say. You may have a tough time finding somebody that wants to buy exactly your kind of baskets. But if you own stock in a company that makes baskets, you can sell it in a minute. There’s always a buyer waiting somewhere, maybe five thousand miles away, somebody you don’t know and never even have to see. Are you with me?

— Yeah but what about all these baskets? Like suppose this here company makes all these baskets which they can’t sell them either?

— Well, we start right off with the old law of supply and demand don’t we, they probably wouldn’t have started making baskets in the first place unless…

— They’re stuck with all these here lousy baskets they made which nobody wants to buy them, so who wants their stock?

— Yes, well, something like that would cause the price of the stock to decline wouldn’t it, and the old law…

— So this old law of supply and decline with all these baskets happens with their stock too so what’s the difference? Like everybody’s buying it and selling it which they all want to get rid of it at once so like how does anybody know how much it’s worth? Like we saw all these guys tearing up all this paper all over the floor which nobody knew what they were doing, so like now we buy this stock of Diamond Cable with our money so what if there’s all this here cable nobody wants like nobody that didn’t buy all those baskets so it just ends up all these guys are running around tearing up paper all over the floor like where does that leave us?

— Hold on now, hold on. First, you’re not going to get stung with Diamond Cable, you can take my word for it. Second, every one of those guys out on the Stock Exchange floor knows what he’s doing, he knows to the penny where the stocks he handles stand. And third, stock prices don’t just fly out of control because a lot of those guys, as you call them, those men out on the floor of the Exchange, a lot of them are what are called specialists…

— Sorry there… Crawley held the door wide for Mrs Joubert before he strode in to pause at eye level with a bighorn and match profiles. — Well, boys and, you little… ladies and gentlemen, getting right down to business, eh? That’s what brings us all together, eh? Business, Dave why don’t you just sit right down over there. That’s what brings people together, eh? Now then… He came crowding the blotter where Davidoff’s hands untangled ducking the reach for a button, — Shirley…?

— Better have her check on that photographer…

— Shirley? Where’s that Diamond Cable certificate? These young people are here on business, let’s not waste their time.

— I’ll bring it right in sir, her boxed voice blurted at the fist doubled on the blotter.

— Yes the, time is money, isn’t it. I guess you’ve, we’ve all heard that haven’t we… hands opening and grasping closed on nothing he glanced up and sought refuge from one blank face in the next till he found Mrs Joubert’s — maybe the ahm, your little people have some questions while we’re waiting…? he drummed off the blotter’s limits.

— I think they’d like to hear what you…

— Did you kill all these animals yourself Mister Crowley?

— Crawley…

— That tv on your desk is it color tv?

— This, this is called a Quotron. Just by pressing a button or two I can ask it for the latest information on any stock, number of shares traded, latest bid and asked prices…

— Is that you in that picture up there with that dead horse you just shot?

— Horse? horse? That’s a, a hunter’s hartebeest, got it in Kenya there’s its head right over there, yes. Now then…

— What are futures?

— Futures? Crawley reared his chin toward the dim recess of dark leather.

— Here where it says the effect on nickel futures of the new government cobalt stockpile requirements which…

— What are you reading there!

— Nothing just, just this here let…

— Mister Beaton returning your call sir, the box blurted as Davidoff rounded the turn with the papers scooped from the low table in the corner to drop them on the desk blotter blinding the oval of burnished gold at Crawley’s cuff with a burst of sapphire, confiding — better let me have a word with him, Monty wants…

— Beaton? Crawley here, what’s… the what…? No still got one certificate down here, this last option he picked up it’s… that’s right… he paced a step away from the desk, two steps back as though chained there before the eyes fixed on him from all directions as his own rose to the door panel abruptly jarring the dismal black on gray pattern backed against it, breaking out with an arm reaching the scrimshaw handed through. — That’s right just call it a blind trust, better than going in there with this public disclosure drag things out for a month and… probably will yes I’ll send it up… and he got the phone down before Davidofif’s lurched — Monty wants… could reach it.