I have had three financial advisors (stockbrokers) during my career before becoming eligible to draw my pension earned during the summer months making little green glass bottles containing a 100 percent sugar loaded soft drink that made a lot of Chattanoogans wealthy on initial $50-$100 investments.
My first advisor went to prison, the second one bought his own island in the Caribbean Sea on my stock portfolio and the present market analyst is under treatment for PTSD for attempting to tackle a 225 running back with his 160 pound frame for Coach Scrappy Moore. That was while attending the local university whose football mascot was a venomous snake or Indian shoe prior to being changed to a Mockingbird.
I recently discovered that the late Lewis Grizzard (LG) and I had shared similar disastrous stock market experiences which will be shared with my vast reading audience in two segments.
In his 1985 national bestseller (Ballantine Books, “Shoot Low, Boys- They’re Riding Shetland Ponies”), LG shared his experience and the advice he got from this broker friend, Willard “The Bull” Saperstein of Saperstein, Silverman, and Simpson, Inc., the brokerage house with the famous slogan “Yes, yes, yes, buy from SSS”.
Trusting his old friend with his financial fate LG heeded the following investment strategy:
“Cat food," Willard said the minute he answered the phone.
"Cat food?" I asked.
"Cat food is hot," he said. "More and more people are owning cats these days, and a cat has got to eat."
So I invested heavily in companies that manufactured cat food. A week later, a rumor circulated that Morris the cat had a severe case of indigestion. Nine Lives cat food plummeted two and a half down to just six and a half lives, and the bottom fell out of Puss 'n' Boots as well.
"Just an unlucky break," said Willard, who then suggested that he buy IBM stock for me. IBM has always been a sound company, so I gave him the go-ahead. Sure enough, a week later IBM announced a major break- through that sent the stock soaring.
I called Willard and told him to sell, expecting to make a handsome profit on my investment.
"You don't have that IBM," said Willard.
"What other IBM is there?" Lasked.
"I bought you International Banjo Makers. It's down eight points and falling fast.
I should have learned my lesson but didn't. Willard soon called with another hot tip.
“American Chinchilla," he said.
"Chinchillas?"
"You should buy every share of American Chinchilla you can get your hands on," said Willard. "It's going to be a cold winter, and there's going to be a heavy demand for chinchilla coats."
It wasn't long before that investment went sour, too, when American Chinchilla discovered that seventy-five percent of the male chinchillas it had bought for its large breeding farm in Oklahoma were gay.
"Don't buy me any more risky stocks," I told Willard.
"Well, why didn't you say so?" He immediately placed an order in my name for one hundred shares of Asbestos Toys. I lost another bundle.
Get away from me," I said to Willard the next time he called.
"You've just had a few bad breaks," he said. "Give me one more chance and I'll make it all up to you."
Fool that I am, I trusted him once more. Willard came back to me with a now portfolio of can't-miss stocks. He had International Cranberry; a blight killed most of the crop.
(Stay tuned. More solid stock investment advice coming in No. 2)
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If you have additional information about one of Mr. Summers' articles or have suggestions or ideas about a future Chattanooga area historical piece, please contact him at jsummers@summersfirm.com)
Jerry Summers