By Al Jacobs
In one hour the securities market will close for the day. Kirk Mydis stares intently at the monitor on his desk, watching the values as each block of stock trades. Kirk—keen of eye, neatly dressed, smoothly shaven, and only a few weeks past his 24th birthday—had been hired two months earlier by Barkley, Briggs and Brady, one of the smaller and unquestionably the least prestigious brokerage firm in Los Angeles. With the official title of "Investment Analyst," he provides the firm's brokers with buy and sell recommendations for their clients. The bachelor's degree in business received from Desert University in Indio earlier that year provided the credentials, if not the training, for his hiring. In reality his 4-year course of study barely touched the rudiments of stocks and bonds. He realizes that most of the firm's customers probably know far more than he on every aspect of investment. As he watches each trade flash across the screen, his recollections stretch back to a corporate securities lecture attended at school. How might he justify his prediction earlier in the week that the value of a bank stock would rise when, in fact, it fell? It is no use—things are not going well at all.
A knock on the partition wall just outside his office interrupts Kirk’s concentration. A man, perhaps in his early 70s, steps through the open doorway, smiles briefly, and takes a seat in the chair by the desk. Dressed in a blue blazer with extremely narrow lapels, an equally narrow rep-striped tie, gray cuffed trousers and black wing-tipped shoes, this old fellow looks right out of a photo from the Eisenhower era, thinks Kirk.
"May I help you?" asks Kirk.
"No, but perhaps I can help you. You see, I've been assigned here by . . . no matter, you wouldn't know who. Let's just say it's my job to assist in improving certain things, and we’ve chosen you as our representative, if you're willing."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that with your cooperation, humanity can profit from economic predictability through enlightened control of securities prices. Whatever stock you should choose to rise or fall will do exactly that, essentially at your command."
"You almost make it sound as though I'd become a modern-day King Midas of sorts," said Kirk, with a chuckle.
"I guess so."
With that Kirk laughs and nods his head in assent. "Why not? I'm game for the joke, whatever it is. It doesn't sound any stupider than that I'm here in this job anyway."
The old man rises too his feet, smiles once again, and without another word makes his exit.
Several days pass following the old man's visit and Kirk has almost forgotten about it. Besides, far more important matters are pressing. The bank stock recommendation proved costly to many of the firm's clients, and if he hopes to keep his job, and the salary that goes with it, his future market guesses must improve. The sector he selected as this week's winner is the real estate investment trust market, but so far these stocks are not accommodating him. Peering once more at the monitor he glances at a block of Houston Properties Trust, down 0.50. Scanning a bit farther on the screen he spots a 10,000-share trade of Atlee Bay Communities, off a full point from 36.50 to 35.50.
"Damn! Atlee Bay is a decent company. It shouldn't be dropping. If anything, it should be up a point."
Suddenly the screen flashes, and the Atlee Bay display reveals the 10,000-share exchange at 37.50—the 1-point loss becomes instead a 1-point gain.
"M'God! What happened? I could have sworn it was down, not up. I must be seeing things. I need a cup of coffee."
While sitting in the lounge sipping from the Styrofoam cup, Kirk's thoughts drift back to the old gentleman's visit the week before. What a laugh, he thinks, as if my telling a stock to go up would actually make it happen. Wouldn't that be . . . and the thought causes him to shudder as he continues the sentence . . . kind of like what just happened with Atlee Bay? But surely that’s not possible.
Kirk’s imagination is racing. Is his mind simply playing tricks, or did something strange really occur? He must find out. With forty-five minutes until market close, he crumples the cup and throws it at the wastebasket as he bolts out the door, heading back to his office.
Once in front of the monitor, he tunes again to the tradings. A round lot sale of Dalyn Industries catches his attention, as it shows a decline from 48.75 to 48.35. O.K., he thinks, why not instead an increase to, say, 50.00 even? At that instant the screen flashes as before, and Dalyn Industries now shows on Kirk's screen as 50.00. The sale with a loss of 0.40 becomes a gain of 1.25.
Can it be screen troubles? He walks quickly across the hallway to a monitor on another desk, and clicks in. Sure enough, Dalyn Industries at 50.00.
He sits for a moment in disbelief, the realization coming over him as to what happened. This time it is no trick of the mind. He commanded a stock to rise and it did exactly that, just as the old man said. He turns off the computer, picks up his coat, and walks out to his car. This needs some figuring, he muses.
Four weeks after Kirk’s revelation, he sits in his office recalling the succession of events.
His first week’s Analysis Report said: "It appears that Niron Electronics is poised to capitalize on improved management, and its stock could well appreciate in the short term." As a small manufacturer of IBM-compatible products, Niron's earnings and per share value had fallen by over 50% during the prior four years. Kirk found nothing to generate any enthusiasm for the company; he chose the firm specifically for that reason.
The day following his report, he scanned his monitor just as the market opened. For fifteen minutes he watched the trades until the first block of Niron Electronics appeared. It opened for the day at 9.15, down 0.37 from its prior close. He scrutinized it for a few seconds and then in a barely audible murmur said: "Niron, open at 9.80." He saw the now-familiar flash and Niron registered 9.80. He continued to peer at the screen for the next appearance of the stock. Within five minutes it showed again, this time at a transaction price of 9.40. Biting his lip he said: "Niron 10.15," and almost instantaneously amidst the flash, the number 10.15 appeared. As a grin slowly spread, Kirk experienced a feeling words could not not describe. For the rest of the morning he monitored the screen, permitting the stock to fluctuate in value, with the final trade at 12.37, representing an increase in share value of thirty percent for the day. With that, he thought, his recommendations might be taken a little more seriously in the future.
The second week after his discovery Kirk picked out Daytona Gas & Electric, a lackluster utility issue, to promote. Over a 3-day period he ran the share value from 28.17 to 35.50. And this time his efforts were not unnoticed. Ralph Glickman, the Chief Financial Officer of the brokerage, dropped by his office to compliment him on his shrewd analysis. "That was a fine prediction you made on Daytona," he said. "We certainly have our eyes on you." Kirk thought: I'm getting the hang of this.
By the third week the firm's sales representatives realized that a recommendation from Kirk Mydis could influence a client—which meant a commission. Within minutes after Southwest Semiconductor appeared as Kirk's selection in his weekly Analysis Report, brokers began to phone their clients. As Kirk watched his monitor, Southwest Semiconductor opened the day with a block of 1,000 shares up 0.25. Within minutes it appeared again, this time a block of 2,000 up another 0.40. By 10:30 that morning the stock's volume was seven times that ever before recorded, with its price up nearly 20 points. Within just three hours of trading, the security’s value increased sixty percent, and all this without a single prod by Kirk. His recommendation seemed to take on a life of its own.
On Thursday of that week Kirk reported to the corporate boardroom where the firm's principals greeted him. Even eighty-three-year-old founder, Amos Barkley, flown in from his home in Boca Raton, Florida, was present. Representatives from the major newspapers and television stations also attended. The firm clearly intended to get as much favorable publicity as possible from the turn of events. Daniel Brady, the Chief Executive Officer, effusively pumped Kirk's hand while smiling for the several television cameras as he addressed the gathering.
"We here at Barkley, Briggs & Brady have long valued the astute capabilities of our most valued analyst, Dr. Kurt Myless," he said, grotesquely mispronouncing every syllable of the name. "His presence here stands in tribute to the high qualities for which we strive." He then stepped to a cabinet nearby from which he produced a framed certificate that he handed to Kirk. After all three principals posed for the newspaper photographers, the assemblage descended on the buffet table. It seemed apparent that the hors d'oeuvres would never last the day.
That weekend the analysis abilities of Kirk Mydis became known to the nation. The financial section of The New York Times described the years of intense training that went to produce one of America's finest minds. Not to be outdone, the Wall Street Journal ran three full columns on its front page together with a spread of photos. The financial community waited in expectation for the next pronouncement by its duly anointed prima donna of investments.
Now on Monday of this fourth week, Kirk sits at his desk a full hour before the market is to open. It is with a certain degree of dread that he views what is to come. He realizes that the investment community will immediately pounce upon whatever security he might recommend, causing its value to skyrocket. He also recognizes that his prior selections, so rapidly risen, will soon face the cold scrutiny of reality, as their performance can never live up to expectations. Might he then be inclined to artificially raise their prices so to forestall the inevitable? What if one of the companies actually files in bankruptcy? Although he has the power to raise the market price, his ability does not extend to actually improving the performance of the business. As these thoughts pass uncomfortably though his head, he hears a knock on the partition. A familiar figure steps through the open doorway and takes a seat once again in the chair before him.
"Well, I see you've been busy since the last time we met," says the old man.
"Uh huh," replies Kirk, without a trace of emotion.
The old gent continues. "I'm back here to tell you that things haven't gone quite the way my sponsors expected. They've given it some thought and decided to end the project. I've just dropped by to let you know that your powers are rescinded. No hard feelings, I hope."
Kirk breathes a sigh of relief. "None at all. I’m in over my head. An invigorating experience for a bit, but I'm glad to be rid of it."
With a briskness that belies his age, the uninvited visitor rises to his feet and heads toward the doorway. At almost the same instant Kirk comes out of his chair and, with coat and briefcase in hand, follows calling out: "Wait for me. I'm coming with you. I've got no more business around here."