Headline, May16, 2013


The offices of the J.P.Morgan Company were at 23 Wall Street. The great financier came to work one morning dressed in a dark blue suit, a black overcoat with a collar of lamb's wool and a top hat.

He affected fashions slightly out of date When he stepped out of his limousine the car robe fell around his feet. One of the several bank officers who had rushed out to meet him disentangled the robe and hung it over the e rail on the inside of the door.

The chauffeur thanked him profusely. Somehow the speaking tube had come off its hook and another officer of the bank replaced it. In the meantime Morgan had marched into the building:
assistants, aides, and even some of the firm's customers circling him like birds.

Morgan carried a gold-headed cane. He was at this time in his seventy-fifth year of life  -a burly six-footer with a large head of sparse  white hair, a white moustache and fierce intolerant eyes set just close enough to suggest the psychopathology of his will.

Accepting the obeisances of his employees, he strode to his office, a modest glass-paneled room on the main floor of the bank where he was visible to everyone and everyone to him.

He was helped with his hat and coat. He was wearing a wing collar and an ascot He sat down behind his desk, and ignoring the depositor's accounts which were usually the first thing he looked at, said to his aides I want to meet that tinkering fellow.

''What's his name. The motorcar mechanic. Ford''

With respectful dedication to all the Investment Banks in the world. The world at large would have never reached these prosperous levels and this quality of life, without  them.

Good Night & God Bless!

SAM Daily Times - the Voice of the Voiceless


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