Confessions of a street addict / James J. Cramer.
p. cm.
Includes index.
1. Wall Street. 2. Hedging (Finance) 3. Stockbrokers. 4. Securities industry.
5. Journalism, Commercial. I. Title.
HG4572 .C78 2002 332.6'092dc21 2002022902
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
When TheStreet.com came public three years ago, we all knew it was going to be a red-hot deal. That meant we were given friends and family stock to dole out, knowing that we would be putting literally hundreds of thousands of dollars into the pockets of whomever we gave it toprovided they sold the opening, or dumped the stock fast. That caused me to sit down and figure out, Wall Street style, how much I could make for all my friends and family. I sat down and thought for days about how to distribute the stock and then said the hell with it, Id be nothing without my Dad, my sister, and my wife, so I gave it almost entirely to them.
Now, as I sit back to dedicate this book, giving thanks, not money, I reach the exact same conclusion. My father has worked his entire life to make me and my sister happy, first with sustenance, and then with kindness, love, and always with inspiration. He and my late mother always encouraged me to achieve; I took it to an extreme that neither cared for and both urged me to abandon, my mother before I started my career on Wall Street, and my father when I ended it. My dad has led his life in a way that inspired me to work hard and always tell the truth. He has been and will always be the greatest inspiration for any successes and accomplishments I may have in my life. He is also my best friend, which is something that few sons can say about their fathers, and I am so lucky for it. My sister bailed me out of unfathomable difficulties and setbacks, getting me out of my makeshift bed in the back of my Ford Fairmont and onto her living room floor in Greenwich Village, and encouraging me to come to Wall Street to realize my dreams. She, who has had to put up with me longer than anyone in the world. My wife? What can I say; read the rest of the book, and find out. I dont need to spend much time here detailing her role.
I would also like to thank Bob Bender and David Rosenthal at Simon & Schuster, both for believing I could do this, and for backing me. They are the best, and I hope to work with them for a very long time. And thanks to my agent, Suzanne Gluck, who also believed in me all the way.
Along the way there have been so many helpful people who have encouraged me, pushed me, stuck with me, even as I have, at times, abandoned them, most importantly Marty Peretz, my best man, who I let down miserably with my own petulance. He graciously accepted my apologies and extended his for a period when greed filled virtually every pore in my body. Jeff Berkowitz, my former partner at Cramer Berkowitz, who saved my life; how the hell else would I have gotten out of that hedge fund cauldron alive if he hadnt been there to take the darned money machine over? Jeannie Cullen, my assistant, who no longer needs workers compensation for all of the broken phone, smashed computer, and cracked coffee cup shards that flew her way as she did her best to protect me from my maniacal self when I was in pursuit of the perfect trading day. Jim Stewart, who always insisted that I keep writing even after I went to Wall Street, something that I probably would have let go by the wayside without his constant encouragement.
These days, I have a great time at TheStreet.com, in part because of Tom Clarke, the fantastic CEO, and in part because of David Morrow, our excellent editor-in-chief, who, at last, has turned the newsroom at TheStreet.com into one solid, terrific institution.
I also wish to thank Eric Seiler, my personal lawyer, who figured out how to keep me out of trouble I otherwise would make for myself. Hes amazing, someone who keeps me from hurting myself. Wish Id met him twenty years ago.
And, of course, I want to thank my mother who figured everything out in her short life and managed to get me to become a writer after all.
And, most of all, I want to thank my beautiful children, Cece and Emma, for not giving up on me when I was too stupid to see what I had become and what I was going to be if I didnt become a husband and a dad in time to matter.
To Karen, my father, and Nan.
CONTENTS
Early Years
Goldman
Money Man
Building a Hedge Fund
SmartMoney
The Birth of TheStreet.com
Dow Jones Again
Desai
The Man with Two Careers
Media Man
Cendant
Berkowitz
The Hiring of Kevin English
Crisis in 1998: Part One
Crisis in 1998: Part Two
Crisis in 1998: The Trading Goddess Returns
Inside the IPO: Part One
Inside the IPO: Part Two
Media Madness
Taking Back TheStreet.com
Repositioning Cramer Berkowitz
Getting Out
Confessions of an ExStreet Addict
Confessions of a Street Addict
CHAPTER 1 Early Years
W hen other nine-year-old kids bothered to look at a newspaper back in 1964, they turned to the comic strips, or maybe the ball scores. But when my dad brought home that three-star Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, I chucked Peanuts, Archie, and the standings and went right for the only section that has ever mattered to me: the business section, or more accurately, the stock tables. You see, I didnt care about layoffs or hirings or economic policy. I cared about the companies and the dollar signs next to them that gauged their value every day. I cared about that wonderful printed wall of abbreviations, GenlMot, SoCalEd, PhilMo, followed by a high figure, a low figure, another number, and a minus or a plus sign. I devoured those the way any normal Philadelphia boy might have devoured the batting averages of his beloved Phillies or Eagles or Warriors. I knew I could figure out where those numbers were going. I could figure out the patterns that drove those prices, and I could make money doing so, if only in my own well-played stock market game.
By fourth grade, I thought I understood the sequence of those numbers that came after those truncated names. I scrounged a used ledger book from my dads jobbing business, National Gift Wrap & Packaging Company, erased his all block capital letter tallies of boxes soldmens 9 by 12 locktops and 3 by 4 inch ladies jewelryand replaced the columns with stock names and predictions of where they would close that afternoon. I never missed a day and couldnt figure out why we had no pricings on Good Friday, Memorial Day, or election day. Didnt those companies keep ticking despite the holidays? I couldnt get enough, even when the rest of America clearly could. I wanted daily action.