Profits, profits, profits. My confidence was at its height. This was
clearly not Canada. Here everything I touched turned to gold. By the
end of May, my $10,000 had grown to $14,600.
Occasional setbacks did not bother me. I regarded them as slight,
inevitable delays in the upward climb towards prosperity. Besides,
whenever a trade was successful I praised myself; when I lost, I blamed
it on the broker.
I continued to trade constantly. I telephoned my broker sometimes
twenty times a day. If I did not conduct at least one transaction a day
I did not feel I was fulfilling my role in the market. If I saw a new stock
I wanted to have it. I reached out for fresh stocks like a child for new
toys.
These transactions in which I was involved in Wall Street around July
1954 will show the energy I expended for very small returns: