No Filter, Booze, Problem Drinkers, Pension Fund Managers

With no filter between my head and my mouth it was easy to severely annoy John Casey and my audience of big time pension managers. Not once but three times within the space of a few opening minutes.

With a kid with the name of Colleen you have to know that John Casey is as Irish as Paddy's pig. He is a regular God Damn ball of fire, the original man in motion. Probably suffers, as I do, from ADD.

Casey is an Irishman without the Irish curse called whiskey, booze to us street guys. In AA I learned that a queer Irishman is an Irishman that likes women better than booze.

Very smart guy, great promoter with DNA spliced with old fashioned Irish blarney. He ran a thing, still called Rogers Casey, an investment consulting firm that consulted to major corporate, state and city pension funds. John invited me to speak at an all day investment seminar that Rogers Casey was putting on for clients. Circa 1983...

An Irishman and a Jew make for a good combination most times, sometimes not. Casey introduced me to the audience, waving a piece of paper on which I listed my various 'careers' (Farming, peddling cars, furrier, rag salesman, etc.). He commented that those who came before me had big time, color brochures which extolled the virtues of their firm’s records and firms themselves while all I had was a handwritten list of my 'careers'

I began my talk by saying that I had made many presentations and had a standard opening that I used all the time and that in the interest of feeling comfortable I would start this one exactly the same way. So I started by saying, ‘My name is Bernie and I'm an alcoholic’. 

Every narcissistic, asshole, genius, self important, pension fund manager in the room snapped to attention. You could have heard a pin drop.

My guess? At least half of the people in the room had a drinking problem. 25% was a cinch. Problem drinkers are a dime a dozen. This is Noah talking about the fucking flood.

Then I proceeded to tell the audience that they wouldn't like my kind of deal. My deals, I told them, matured in 5-6 years. They wanted deals that matured in 10 plus years because by then they would have another job. No performance worries; a problem for their successors.

I went on to say that I was but one Jew, working out of a hotel room without a secretary and there wasn't any way that I was going to shoot $25,000 down a rat hole, for a brochure that they would throw away, probably unread. Instead I was giving everyone a table top book co-authored by Walter Cronkite, called North by Northeast, featuring photos of passenger ships of the thirties, forties, etc.

Sent one to Water Wriston, CEO of City Bank. He sent me a thank you note and said that he went to Europe, as a child, on the ship featured on the cover.

My Irish sponsor, John Casey, wasn't too happy with my opening, off the cuff shots. Not that I had any prepared notes. As Joe Pevehouse used to counsel me, "If you can't dazzle 'em with your footwork, blind them with your bullshit." And sometimes I think that I invented bullshit.

I made some great friends as a result of that talk…still actively in touch with a bunch of them 30 plus years later.

I did go on to talk about the deal that I was peddling at the time. It was a gas gathering pipeline deal with GE as the lead investor. I raised $110 million in 1980's dollars. The deal produced an Internal Rate of Return of 26% with an almost 3x cash return. GE's IRR was 36% due to preferential terms. Took six years, from beginning to end.

John Casey? Saw him one more time at the at SFO, in the eighties, with his wife where I complained to him that I sent him a book that he failed to acknowledge. His wife gave him a shot of Irish irritation by upbraiding him for his rudeness. Me? No regrets! What came into my head came out of my mouth.

Casey never invited me to another seminar. And no, I never met Colleen who is good friends with Jen Myers Keating a special friend of my mine. Two true blue, Irish broads.

Me? Still the same foul mouthed lower case Bronx Jew though now I work out of an apartment without a secretary and think that at almost 90 that I still have a bright future. Even without sex. My little head is strictly for pissin' while my big head is strictly for thinking.