Reborn in America, I am a legendary short seller on Wall Street.

Chapter 159 Goldman Sachs (4.6K)

At 10:30 a.m., Larry arrived at Morgan Trust Bank.

Larry explained his purpose to the lobby manager, who was dressed in a tuxedo, and immediately received a warm response. Following the same procedure as before, the lobby manager instructed an internal staff member to escort Larry to the third-floor reception room.

Larry arrived at the reception room, only to be told that Mr. Coster was out and might not be back until 11 o'clock, so Larry had to wait in the reception room for a while.

After the staff helped Larry to a sofa to wait, they went downstairs.

Today is Sunday, and although Morgan Trust Bank is operating normally, business is very slow. With few customers, Morgan Bank managers only work half a day, and some are already starting to pick up their briefcases and prepare to leave.

Larry sat on the sofa in the living room, feeling somewhat bored.

He first placed the small suitcase across his lap and tapped it rhythmically with his fingers, but after a while he got very bored and felt like a teenage fool, so he reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a mahogany cigar humidor.

Larry's cigar box was a gift from Kennedy, and Larry found it very useful, so he kept it.

Larry took a cigar out of the humidor, sniffed it, and smelled the pleasant aroma of cocoa, which already made him feel good.

Larry looked around but didn't find an ashtray. Then he remembered that Mr. Coster probably didn't like people smoking cigars there, so he got up and walked around the area near the drawing room.

Logically speaking, there should be a designated smoking room here.

Walking into the annex of the reception room, Larry indeed saw a small room about seven or eight feet square. Through the glass door, he could see a tall coffee table, an ashtray, and an open window.

This is the designated smoking room!

Larry pushed open the glass door, placed his small suitcase on the high coffee table, and eagerly lit a cigar, enjoying a leisurely smoke.

They had only taken two or three puffs when they heard voices coming from the reception room outside. It was still an internal staff member who led the two people into the reception room.

“Mr. Samuel Sachs, Mr. Henry Goldman, please wait here for a moment. Mr. Coster will be back around 11 o’clock.”

"Thank you, we'll wait here quietly," a deep, muffled voice replied.

The staff then went downstairs.

The two slowly strolled to the sofa next to the smoking room and sat down, seemingly deliberately keeping a distance from Mr. Coster's office.

Larry frowned slightly, pondering that those who had come to see Koster were most likely related to his recent purchase of the privately placed shares. However, he had just lit a cigar, and without Mr. Koster's guidance, there was no need to contact these people first.

Larry suppressed his urge to go outside and instead leaned against the wall of the smoking room, slowly enjoying his cigar.

The two men in the meeting room were silent for a moment. Then one of them lowered his voice and said, "Samuel, I suggest you seriously consider the plan I just mentioned. This railway stock issuance is clearly going to make us a lot of money. Why sell it to the client introduced by Koster?"

The man who had spoken earlier said slowly, "Impossible, that's not how our company operates. Not only would I disagree, but even my father wouldn't agree."

The first person to speak snorted coldly, and after a while, couldn't help but say, "...Are you all just content to be peddlers of securities on Wall Street forever? I don't understand, and I'm not content with that!"

After he finished speaking, he received no response for two minutes. After waiting a while, the person who had spoken first continued.

"Come on, that's 2 shares of New England Railroad stock. If we buy them ourselves, the stock will be listed on the NYSE in two weeks, and we'll make at least 45%! I just don't understand why we'd give away money that's already in our hands?"

Finally, his words elicited a response. The man spoke in a deep, slow voice, "But, Henry, what is the price?"

"What's the price? What's the price?" the man in the lead said angrily. "At most, we'll have to pledge 20% of the company's capital! But like I said, we'll get our money back with interest in two weeks!"

“No, that’s not what I meant.” The deep voice lowered its tone and continued, “If you take meat from Mr. Morgan’s mouth today, you might become that meat tomorrow… Morgan’s scraps are all traps!”

The last sentence was spoken very softly, and even Larry, with his ear on the other end of the wall, could barely hear what the other person was saying.

Larry slowed his breathing and tilted his head to listen to what the two were arguing about. The feeling of accidentally overhearing someone's private conversation was very exciting.

The man who had spoken first stood up angrily, his voice rising. He said furiously, "Be careful! Be careful! All you care about is that pittance from bill discounting! If you keep doing things like this, when will our company ever amount to anything?"

The man with the deep, gruff voice snorted, and after a few seconds, he said slowly, "My father started his business by hiding receipts in his top hat, relying on the principle of 'not touching business he didn't understand'! If you feel indignant, you can ask yourself, besides being my father's son, what great things have you done that made the company proud?"

The man who spoke first became somewhat agitated and continued, "Then let them remain middlemen forever! Let their descendants bow down to Morgan!"

The other person didn't answer. After a full two minutes, he replied casually, "Transformation isn't a gamble, Henry."

From that point on, the two never spoke again.

Larry gently exhaled the smoke from his cigar, having roughly understood the situation. The two men speaking were not the ones Koster had described as giving up their stocks due to a lack of money, but rather stockbrokers.

The person who spoke first wanted to keep 2 newly issued railway shares for himself, but the person who spoke later disagreed and insisted on selling them to Koster.

Larry thought to himself that the latter one was quite cautious, and if he had a commission, he could let him do it.

A while later, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway outside the reception room, and Mr. Koster's crisp, clear voice appeared at the doorway.

"Oh? Just the two of you? Then come into my office!"

The two quickly stood up and followed Koster's receding footsteps into the distance.

Larry then put down the half-eaten cigar, picked up his small leather suitcase, and walked out in a few steps.

As Larry reached the entrance to the reception room, he straightened his clothes, then listened intently for the faint sounds coming from Mr. Koster's office. He took a breath and strode towards Mr. Koster's office.

Larry knocked on the door.

"Please come in!"

Upon hearing the voice, Larry pushed open the office door and entered. He saw Mr. Coster sitting behind his desk, wearing gloves, looking at a stack of receipts with a cold and serious expression. When he saw Larry enter, a slight change appeared in his eyes, but he still said in a businesslike tone, "Please sit down, Mr. Livingston. I'm checking the receipts for you."

Larry sat down and looked at the two people who had just entered. He noticed that one of them was tall and thin, standing at 1.86 meters, with a broad frame, deep-set eyes, and prominent cheekbones, which made his eyes appear as sharp as a hawk's.

The other man was stocky with a short, thick neck, thick, heavy eyebrows, and a full beard.

Both men were dressed formally, the only difference being that the shorter, stouter man's clothes were slightly worn. Larry smiled silently at them, and they returned the smile.

After reviewing the receipts in his hand, Koster nodded and handed the stack of receipts to Larry. "Mr. Livingston, please take a look at these shares and see if there are any problems?"

Larry nodded and took the stack of notes, only to discover that it was actually a stack of physical stock certificates.

This stack of stock certificates comes in two styles: the 100-share set uses heavy-weight cotton paper, while the 1000-share set uses parchment. Both have a rough texture and are rich in hemp fiber, ensuring they won't become brittle even after a century.

Stock certificates are typically 30*40 cm in size and can be folded in half and placed in a wax-sealed envelope for safekeeping.

Larry unfolded a stock certificate with a thousand shares. At the top center of the certificate was the company emblem, a neat locomotive surrounded by ears of wheat. Below, the company name was written in Gothic script: "New York, New Haven and Hartford Railroad Corporation." The shareholder information section was currently empty, and a red stamp was affixed below.

The short, stout man looked at Larry and explained in a deep voice, “Sir, once the company is officially listed, you can go to the railroad company’s board of directors to add your name to it. Of course, if you intend to sell directly, you can also entrust the shares to a securities firm and have them sell them on your behalf.”

Larry glanced up at him from his stock market gaze, made a mental note of this person he liked, and thanked him with a smile for his kindness.

After carefully counting the shares, Larry confirmed it was 2 shares. He grabbed the stack of stock certificates, nodded to Mr. Coster, and said, "The quantity is correct!"

Koster turned to the two of them, frowned, and said, "Can't you make it any cheaper?"

The short, stout man quickly smiled apologetically and said, "It's already very cheap. If Mr. Guy weren't so short of money, why would he sell these stocks at a discount when he could make a fortune in two or three weeks? Besides, our fees are always transparent, just a 1% discount."

Mr. Koster nodded, then turned to Larry and said, "It's still what we agreed on before: 20,000 railroad shares, totaling $250,000. They'll also offer a 4% discount, and they'll give you the discount money after they accept the shares."

Larry opened his small suitcase, took out a $25 bank draft from the National City Bank of New York, and handed it to the two men.

The short, stout man quickly took the promissory note, took out a monocle, and began to carefully distinguish its authenticity.

The tall, thin man frowned as he looked at the $25 promissory note, his face still showing resentment.

Larry thought he must be thinking to himself that if he kept those 2 shares as planned, he could make a fortune.

Two minutes later, the short, stout man looked up, smiled, and said to Coster and Larry, "The bill is fine. On Monday, we will accept the promissory note and return the 4% discount."

After confirming that both parties had received their belongings, Mr. Koster frowned, waved his hand at them, and said, "This is none of your business..."

The two hurriedly stood up, but the short, stout man still asked Larry how he should find him on Monday and return the 4% discount to him.

Larry thought for a moment and told the two of them to wait for him in the bank lobby while he went there shortly.

The two thanked Mr. Coster and then left.

After the two men left, Koster took off his gloves with a look of disgust, turned to Larry, and asked...
"The stocks are fine; I've checked them all for you!"

Larry smiled and took $1.25 in cash from his briefcase, placing it on Mr. Coster's desk. "This is your 5% commission."

Mr. Koster did not refuse, and with a smile, he politely asked, "Do you have time tonight? We can have dinner together!"

Larry's mind raced, and he quickly said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Coster. We're heading back to Boston tonight, and I need to deliver these shares to a client. Otherwise, with so many notes on me, I won't be able to eat or sleep properly..."

“Oh, I see…” Mr. Coster sighed, frowning as he asked, “But how do you get the discounts and rebates from Goldman Sachs?”

As he spoke, Coster raised an eyebrow at Larry and said, "These four points should make you a lot of money, right?"

Larry, still caught up in what Coster had just said, casually replied with something like, "I owe you so much for the kickbacks I'm getting!" He then asked,
"What did you just say? What's the name of their company?"

Koster glanced instinctively in the direction the two had left, and said with a smirk, "Goldman Sachs. Goldman is the surname of the founder, Marcus Goldman, and the Sachs at the end of the company name is the surname of Marcus's son-in-law, the fat guy you just saw."

Larry was a little shocked. He hadn't expected that Goldman Sachs would deliver the stocks he needed. It seemed that they were now also acting as stock brokers!

“Where’s that tall, skinny guy who didn’t say much?” Larry asked, pointing to another spot.

Mr. Coster frowned and continued, “Oh, that’s Marcus’s own son, Henry Goldman… Humph, a bunch of filthy rats. I wouldn’t want to say a word to them if you didn’t need these stocks.”

Larry smiled, packed the stocks into his suitcase, stood up, and bid farewell to Mr. Coster.

"Mr. Koster, I owe you a favor. I'll treat you next time!"

Koster smiled gently and nodded, saying, "Okay!"
.
Larry took the elevator to the first floor and found two Goldman Sachs executives standing obediently in the bank lobby waiting for him.

Seeing Larry come out, the two men went to greet him, with Samuel Sachs smiling obsequiously.

"Sir, we still don't know your name. Where should we send the rebate tomorrow? That's $1!"

Larry smiled and gave his name, then pondered for a moment, "I need to get back to Boston tonight! Here's what we'll do: you take the money to Mr. Porter, the general manager of Paine Weber Securities' New York branch, and have him deposit it into my account. You know that place, right? The branch on the Upper East Side."

Samuel Sachs nodded emphatically and said with a smile, "Don't worry, the money will definitely be delivered."

Henry Goldman rolled his eyes, leaned closer, took out $500 from his pocket, slapped it into Larry's hand, and said in a low voice,
“Mr. Livingston, if your clients have any business in the future, they can contact Goldman Sachs directly. Our prices are very fair, and we will also offer you a greater discount.”

Larry stared blankly at the $500 in his hand, but then casually stuffed it into his pocket, thinking to himself that it would be a fool not to make money when it's available. He hadn't asked for the money; they had given it to him voluntarily.

“No problem! Can I have your business card? I can go directly to Goldman Sachs in the future!” Larry said with a smile.

Henry Goldman handed over his business card before Samuel Sachs could, and then said sincerely, "Not just bills, but whatever you and your clients encounter in New York, you can first consult Goldman Sachs. Let me put it this way, what Goldman Sachs can't do, no one else on Wall Street can necessarily do either."

Larry nodded, then suddenly remembered something and looked at the two men seriously, saying, "To be honest, I do have something I'd like to inquire about recently. Have you two gentlemen heard of the Waldorf Astoria Hotel that's being built on Fifth Avenue and 34th Street?"

The two replied in unison, "We know!"

"Help me keep an eye out for land or properties in the vicinity, with a budget of around $50. If there are particularly suitable ones, we can increase the budget accordingly. My requirements are simple: it must be cost-effective." As he spoke, Larry's eyes swept over the two men, his tone becoming more serious.

"If you do a good job, our cooperation can last for a long time."

The two exchanged a glance and said in a deep voice, "Alright!"

(End of this chapter)