So there I was in a fox hole, minding my own business with all hell breaking loose on the ground and in the air. But I was confident that if anyone was going to get hit, it would be someone else. When you're young, you think that you are omnipotent. Something like those poor guys in Iraq in their Humvees.
My fox hole buddy was Jerry Maloney, a New York Irishman who was tough as nails. Suddenly I felt this awful thump on my left leg. I turned to Maloney and said "Jerry, I think I'm hit." His response was that I was full of shit. I kept insisting and he lost his patience and told me to look at my leg. I did and promptly went nuts. There was a hole in my leg that looked big enough to shove a silver dollar through it. I became furious and plenty indignant screaming that I had never heard of fucking Okinawa and what the hell was I doing there in that sea of mud anyhow.
The medics came and hauled my sorry ass to a tent to wait to be carried to a hospital ship. Then those God damn airplanes started roaring overhead again. I was under the bed before you could say "there is one scared Jew." That was only one of two times in my entire life that I was truly frightened.
I was shipped off to Saipan for recovery. Saipan was an experience in itself. There were Japanese still in the hills and very so often they would fire into the compound. They never hit anyone but did manage to keep us all very nervous. Once when I was in the Coca Cola line, they started firing and everyone scrambled and jumped in the ditch in a heart beat. The Coke wasn't worth taking another bullet.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
Her Idea
1959
If it was big it was bad. If it was new it was bad. And if it was my idea it was absolutely awful. Because I had worked in and out of 8 "careers" in 13 years, my first ex wife the Princess had little or no respect for my business judgment or me in general. She also suffered from NIH (The Not Invented Here illness). However, new ideas for spending money on her were never rejected.
A real estate friend of mine phoned me about 13 acres for sale in a place called Portola Valley, 10 miles outside of Palo Alto. I went out to see it without a word to the Princess. There were 10 home sites on a stunning piece of property with redwood, giant yew and copper beech trees. The sale price was $70,000. So after some negotiations I bought it for $65,000 (roughly $473,000 in today's money). The quickest way to give a Jew an ulcer is to take him up on his first offer (I started at $55,000). I then had to come up with a way to borrow the money and "sell" the Princess on buying this property.
Success with her meant that the purchase had to be her idea. Being an accomplished promoter, I organized a family picnic on the property which didn't have a real road to drive to and through. The Princess immediately fell in love with the property and asked me if it was for sale. I told that I thought so and would check on it. She then suggested that it would be a wonderful place to build a house and that I should urgently pursue its purchase not knowing that I had already bought it. I will explain in the next blog why it was one of the great buys and living experiences of all time. And, incidentally, it was 100% levered with a 90 day time fuse.
If it was big it was bad. If it was new it was bad. And if it was my idea it was absolutely awful. Because I had worked in and out of 8 "careers" in 13 years, my first ex wife the Princess had little or no respect for my business judgment or me in general. She also suffered from NIH (The Not Invented Here illness). However, new ideas for spending money on her were never rejected.
A real estate friend of mine phoned me about 13 acres for sale in a place called Portola Valley, 10 miles outside of Palo Alto. I went out to see it without a word to the Princess. There were 10 home sites on a stunning piece of property with redwood, giant yew and copper beech trees. The sale price was $70,000. So after some negotiations I bought it for $65,000 (roughly $473,000 in today's money). The quickest way to give a Jew an ulcer is to take him up on his first offer (I started at $55,000). I then had to come up with a way to borrow the money and "sell" the Princess on buying this property.
Success with her meant that the purchase had to be her idea. Being an accomplished promoter, I organized a family picnic on the property which didn't have a real road to drive to and through. The Princess immediately fell in love with the property and asked me if it was for sale. I told that I thought so and would check on it. She then suggested that it would be a wonderful place to build a house and that I should urgently pursue its purchase not knowing that I had already bought it. I will explain in the next blog why it was one of the great buys and living experiences of all time. And, incidentally, it was 100% levered with a 90 day time fuse.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Chasing Hookers
In the 70’s, before herpes and aids, N.Y. was "hooker heaven" and a "travellin' man's" paradise whatever his economic limits were. My oil and natural gas industry clients (the ultimate hooker chasing group) in N.Y. each had his particular routine. Not all chased hookers. The way to be sure of the woman's occupation was to ask "Are you a working girl"?
Set routines for my clients/friends were common place. With one of my favorite guys, we would start with a business dinner at Christ Cellar. Then we would walk up the street to a bar that was habituated by older, worn out hookers so nothing really happened except serious drinking. Then it was to Maxwell's Plum which was jam packed with amateurs interested in one night stands. But that wouldn't do, too much verbal foreplay at the bar. Bear in mind that, for me, it was boring going from one bar to the next since I wasn't drinking. Then it was to the Regency Hotel with very high priced hookers (in their late twenties early thirties).
Before any action could begin, the bar tender had to be paid off. Then the hookers would interact with the John. This was out of my league at that time. We stayed at the Waldorf Towers with its small lobby and elevator operators where every one knew my friend, his wife and kids. So it was an exercise getting the hooker into the hotel and up to the room. The remarkable thing was having a lucid business meeting at 8:00 the next morning in Peacock Alley.
Set routines for my clients/friends were common place. With one of my favorite guys, we would start with a business dinner at Christ Cellar. Then we would walk up the street to a bar that was habituated by older, worn out hookers so nothing really happened except serious drinking. Then it was to Maxwell's Plum which was jam packed with amateurs interested in one night stands. But that wouldn't do, too much verbal foreplay at the bar. Bear in mind that, for me, it was boring going from one bar to the next since I wasn't drinking. Then it was to the Regency Hotel with very high priced hookers (in their late twenties early thirties).
Before any action could begin, the bar tender had to be paid off. Then the hookers would interact with the John. This was out of my league at that time. We stayed at the Waldorf Towers with its small lobby and elevator operators where every one knew my friend, his wife and kids. So it was an exercise getting the hooker into the hotel and up to the room. The remarkable thing was having a lucid business meeting at 8:00 the next morning in Peacock Alley.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Enjoying Being "In The Hole"
Circa 1980
"F..k You!" my banker said and hung up. My banker of that moment was a man of clean living except for his drink of choice, lots of wine. He was also a man of deep faith or so he said. Wouldn't say s..t if he had a mouthful.
I had just left his office after getting into a beef with him over a combination of debts and over drafts of over $900,000 secured by nothing except my sincere conviction that I would "do a deal" and repay him. He thought that I could give him a partial payment and that I was holding out on him. He refused to understand that I was supporting an ex-wife, helping my kids get started in business and living an above average life style starting with always flying first class. I hated the back of the "bus" for starters plus the time it took to deplane.
After leaving his office, I drove to the local pharmacy to pick up a prescription and noticed they were selling lottery tickets (lottery tickets had just entered the economy). I purchased 5 tickets and called the banker from the car and said "I have great news for you, I'm working on paying off my entire loan and overdraft." All excited, he virtually shouted "Great what are you doing?" I said "I just bought five lottery tickets." "F..k You!" he said and hung up.
I ultimately paid that loan down to $90,000 and was always current on my interest payments. But the big honchos in S.F. weren't satisfied. They said that I had turned that loan into an "evergreen loan." They threatened to take me to court to collect. I, in turn, threatened to sue them for lending me the money (Lender liability it was called). So we had a standoff. They proposed that I pay $50,000, and we could say goodbye to one another. I then called my friendly banker who went berserk and screamed that it would hurt his bonus. I volunteered to make up the shortfall which didn't suit him. After deciding that I really owed the money and I that didn't want my banker screwed on my account, I repaid the bank 100 cents on the dollar plus accrued interest…well over $100,000. The banker, in gratitude for paying off the loan, then refused me a small loan saying that he didn't want my name on his books.
The Italians have a proverb: "Unless you can stand ingratitude, never do anything for anybody."
"F..k You!" my banker said and hung up. My banker of that moment was a man of clean living except for his drink of choice, lots of wine. He was also a man of deep faith or so he said. Wouldn't say s..t if he had a mouthful.
I had just left his office after getting into a beef with him over a combination of debts and over drafts of over $900,000 secured by nothing except my sincere conviction that I would "do a deal" and repay him. He thought that I could give him a partial payment and that I was holding out on him. He refused to understand that I was supporting an ex-wife, helping my kids get started in business and living an above average life style starting with always flying first class. I hated the back of the "bus" for starters plus the time it took to deplane.
After leaving his office, I drove to the local pharmacy to pick up a prescription and noticed they were selling lottery tickets (lottery tickets had just entered the economy). I purchased 5 tickets and called the banker from the car and said "I have great news for you, I'm working on paying off my entire loan and overdraft." All excited, he virtually shouted "Great what are you doing?" I said "I just bought five lottery tickets." "F..k You!" he said and hung up.
I ultimately paid that loan down to $90,000 and was always current on my interest payments. But the big honchos in S.F. weren't satisfied. They said that I had turned that loan into an "evergreen loan." They threatened to take me to court to collect. I, in turn, threatened to sue them for lending me the money (Lender liability it was called). So we had a standoff. They proposed that I pay $50,000, and we could say goodbye to one another. I then called my friendly banker who went berserk and screamed that it would hurt his bonus. I volunteered to make up the shortfall which didn't suit him. After deciding that I really owed the money and I that didn't want my banker screwed on my account, I repaid the bank 100 cents on the dollar plus accrued interest…well over $100,000. The banker, in gratitude for paying off the loan, then refused me a small loan saying that he didn't want my name on his books.
The Italians have a proverb: "Unless you can stand ingratitude, never do anything for anybody."
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Upbeat in Down Beat Times
During the Depression my wonderful, genius, tough as nails immigrant father used to say in Yiddish "In America, the money is up to your knees. You just have to know how to bend down and pick it up." And he always espoused that well known saying (he did not believe in luck) that "the harder you worked, the luckier you got."
I would add that in order to "know how to bend down" you must believe in yourself. Remember, "it doesn't make any difference how many times you get knocked down. What really counts is how many times you get back up." These are difficult times for everyone emotionally and for many, financially. Belief in ourselves and those we love will see us and America through these never seen before times. May God bless everyone, and may we all have the wind at our backs and only good roads and good weather in our lives.
I would add that in order to "know how to bend down" you must believe in yourself. Remember, "it doesn't make any difference how many times you get knocked down. What really counts is how many times you get back up." These are difficult times for everyone emotionally and for many, financially. Belief in ourselves and those we love will see us and America through these never seen before times. May God bless everyone, and may we all have the wind at our backs and only good roads and good weather in our lives.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
In the Tank to the Bank
Circa 1972
"He said that he was going to jump out the window of his 9th floor room in the Century Plaza Hotel in L.A.!" My first ex-wife's response to my poor banker's frantic phone call was "So what do you want me to do about it?" Then she hung up. My whole world was coming to an end. I was a big time stock broker in Palo Alto, CA, and the stock market was in the tank. I was drinking A LOT and in those perilous times I decided to raise money to drill for oil in Israel (a story in itself).
I was in L.A. calling on a few executives of the now gone bye, bye MCA which was loaded with big time rich Jews. I wanted to see if they would participate in my drilling adventure. It was a labor of love for me…I had become an ardent Zionist. But the MCA office was like a tomb. Most of the executives had borrowed money against their MCA stock whose price had fallen off a cliff. They were underwater, and their bankers were calling it to their attention.
After my unsuccessful visit, I went back the the hotel and stretched out for a few minutes before going to the bar. The phone rang, and my banker informed me that the bank examiner would be at the bank the next day. He asked me what was I going to do about my outsized, underwater loan. He had loaned me too much money on non transferable, investment letter stock. I said "Look Walter, I'm down here in L.A at the Century Plaza hotel. I'm busted on my ass. What the hell do you expect me to do?" He screamed that I had to do something. "Okay", I said, "I'm on the 9th floor of the Century Plaza Hotel. I'm going to lay the phone down, open the window and go out of it!" and I hung up. He panicked and called my first ex-wife who basically told him that she would look forward to hearing the news of my demise. I had a ton of life insurance as well as her hard core dislike/resentment of me.
That night at the downstairs bar and restaurant, I was overwhelmingly depressed by my impending doom. A hooker came up to me and asked if I'd like a "trick". I said,"Listen sweetheart, if Gina Lollobrigida got on top of me naked I'd probably piss". That really turned the hooker off, and she was gone in a flash. No follow up requests. I was grateful.
For the record, when my life moved back up the roller coaster, my shaky bank loans were ALWAYS repaid…although very, very slowly. Incidentally, threatening suicide is very a old school Jewish thing (and I am old). It gets everybody's attention.
"He said that he was going to jump out the window of his 9th floor room in the Century Plaza Hotel in L.A.!" My first ex-wife's response to my poor banker's frantic phone call was "So what do you want me to do about it?" Then she hung up. My whole world was coming to an end. I was a big time stock broker in Palo Alto, CA, and the stock market was in the tank. I was drinking A LOT and in those perilous times I decided to raise money to drill for oil in Israel (a story in itself).
I was in L.A. calling on a few executives of the now gone bye, bye MCA which was loaded with big time rich Jews. I wanted to see if they would participate in my drilling adventure. It was a labor of love for me…I had become an ardent Zionist. But the MCA office was like a tomb. Most of the executives had borrowed money against their MCA stock whose price had fallen off a cliff. They were underwater, and their bankers were calling it to their attention.
After my unsuccessful visit, I went back the the hotel and stretched out for a few minutes before going to the bar. The phone rang, and my banker informed me that the bank examiner would be at the bank the next day. He asked me what was I going to do about my outsized, underwater loan. He had loaned me too much money on non transferable, investment letter stock. I said "Look Walter, I'm down here in L.A at the Century Plaza hotel. I'm busted on my ass. What the hell do you expect me to do?" He screamed that I had to do something. "Okay", I said, "I'm on the 9th floor of the Century Plaza Hotel. I'm going to lay the phone down, open the window and go out of it!" and I hung up. He panicked and called my first ex-wife who basically told him that she would look forward to hearing the news of my demise. I had a ton of life insurance as well as her hard core dislike/resentment of me.
That night at the downstairs bar and restaurant, I was overwhelmingly depressed by my impending doom. A hooker came up to me and asked if I'd like a "trick". I said,"Listen sweetheart, if Gina Lollobrigida got on top of me naked I'd probably piss". That really turned the hooker off, and she was gone in a flash. No follow up requests. I was grateful.
For the record, when my life moved back up the roller coaster, my shaky bank loans were ALWAYS repaid…although very, very slowly. Incidentally, threatening suicide is very a old school Jewish thing (and I am old). It gets everybody's attention.
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