The Great Depression II

The Sterling household was abuzz with a kind of urgency that would make even the New York Stock Exchange take a pause for observation. Natalia Sterling, the matriarch, was at the helm of this well-oiled machine, orchestrating the sale of their house. She moved through the process with a blend of elegance and brisk efficiency that could put Wall Street brokers to shame.

She was in her element, charming yet assertive with the real estate agents. "We're looking for a quick sale, gentlemen," she said, her voice a blend of sweet and stern, like a lemon meringue pie if it could talk. "But don't mistake our urgency for desperation. We know the worth of our home."

As for Natalia's bank visits, they became almost routine, a bi-weekly excursion where she withdrew a couple thousand each time. She'd saunter into the bank with a casual air, her charm turning every transaction into a social call. "Just taking out a bit for a rainy day," she'd quip to the tellers, who would laugh, unaware that the 'rainy day' she referred to was more of an economic thunderstorm.

The tellers, accustomed to the regularity of her visits, began to anticipate them. "The usual withdrawal, Mrs. Sterling?" one would ask, to which she'd reply, "Yes, but let's change it up a little today. Make it $1,500."

The house sale progressed with similar tenacity. Natalia fielded offers, negotiated terms, and managed viewings like a general commanding her troops. The potential buyers, ranging from eager young couples to more seasoned investors, were all met with the same level of courteous determination.

"Remember, we're not just selling a house; we're selling a home that's fully furnished," Natalia would say, her words painting the house not just as a structure of bricks and mortar, but as a repository of memories and dreams.

Natalia, in between phone calls and meetings, would often pause and glance around the house, her eyes lingering on the little imperfections that made it home. There was a sense of melancholy in her gaze, but it was quickly replaced by a steely resolve, a reminder that what they were doing was not just for survival, but for a future that promised much more.

As for Alexander, he found amusement in the hustle and bustle, often likening their situation to a heist movie where the planning phase was just as thrilling as the execution. "All we need now is a catchy soundtrack and slow-motion shots," he'd joke, lightening the mood.

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Meanwhile, equally bustling but with a different flavor, were Alexander and his father, Joseph. Their mission: to find an investment firm bold enough to match their audacious financial strategy.

Navigating Wall Street itself was a challenge, but their footsteps echoed a determination that was as solid as the concrete beneath.

Joseph, with the gravitas of a seasoned investor, led most of the discussions. He was the face of credibility, his years adding weight to their endeavor. Alexander, meanwhile, played the role of the strategic mastermind, his youthful energy cloaked in a veneer of seriousness.

They walked into the first of many brokerage firms, a place with more wood paneling than a forest. Joseph introduced their purpose, his voice steady, "We're interested in a firm that can accommodate high-leverage short selling. Something... unconventional."

The broker, a man with a mustache so perfect it could have been drawn on, raised an eyebrow. "Unconventional, you say? That's one word for it."

Alexander leaned forward, his eyes sharp. "The highest leverage you can offer. We understand the risks." His tone was as crisp as fresh dollar bills, betraying no hint of doubt.

Meeting after meeting, the Sterlings laid out their terms. Some brokers balked at the audacity, others humored them with a cautious interest. But none yet had agreed to the dizzying heights of leverage they sought.

Alexander found amusement in the happenings of it all, his humor a shield against the monotony and frustration of their search.

"Perhaps we should start our own firm," he mused aloud on their way to yet another meeting. "Sterling & Son, purveyors of fine financial risks. Our motto: 'Fortune favors the bold, or at least the slightly mad.'"

Joseph, normally a bastion of seriousness, couldn't help but crack a smile at his son's antics. "Let's try to find a firm before we start our empire, shall we?"

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The days were a blur. The Sterling's house sale inched closer to completion, a crescendo in their meticulously orchestrated symphony. Natalia, amidst packing boxes and paperwork, maintained her composure with the grace of a seasoned actress in a drama.

Meanwhile, the once-healthy balance in their bank account had dwindled to a mere whisper under the strain of regular withdrawals. Each trip Natalia made to the bank was a performance in itself. She'd saunter into the bank with a flair, greeting the tellers with her usual charm. "Just trimming the fat off my account," she'd say with a wink, handing over the withdrawal slip.

Alexander, in these times of mounting pressure, would inject a dose of levity into the air with an endless stream of quips and jests, "If this whole plan works out," he remarked one evening, " I'm buying a top hat. Every successful financier needs a top hat. It's like a crown for capitalists."

Joseph would just shake his head, a smile betraying his amusement. "Let's focus on getting through this without losing our shirts, top hats can wait."

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As the four-week deadline drew to a close, the contract for the house sale was signed, and the funds were subsequently transferred, marking the finalization of the deal with a mix of nostalgia and eagerness for the future.

Simultaneously, Alexander and Joseph set out for their most crucial meeting yet, a visit to an investment firm recommended by one of Joseph's colleagues known for its bold strategies and willingness to push boundaries.

Upon walking into the firm's office, which exuded opulence and intimidation, Alexander felt a surge of adrenaline.

Joseph once again took the lead in this pivotal meeting, his confidence unshaken. "We're looking for a short selling position with a 100:1 leverage,' he stated, his voice firm, his gaze unwavering.

The firm's representatives exchanged glances, their expressions ones of intrigue. Such a request was bold, even by their standards. But Joseph's demeanor, coupled with the conviction in his proposal, compelled them to consider it seriously.

The lead representative, Mr. Hamilton, leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "Mr. Joseph, what you're proposing is not just bold—it's audacious. The risk involved in a 100:1 leverage is immense. Are you fully aware of the potential consequences?"

Joseph, unflinching, met Mr. Hamilton's gaze. "We understand the risks, but we also recognize the opportunity. We wouldn't be here if we weren't prepared to handle the volatility."

There was a brief silence as Mr. Hamilton and his team conferred in hushed tones. The tension in the room was palpable.

Finally, Mr. Hamilton turned back to them. "Alright. We're willing to proceed with this, but now let's talk about the fees. We'll charge a margin interest of 5% per annum and a commission of 25 cents per share. We know these fees are high but considering the aggressive trading leverage you're seeking, they are justified."

As Mr. Hamilton droned on about the terms, Alexander's brain went into overdrive, doing mental gymnastics with the numbers. 'A 5% margin interest and 25 cents per share in brokerage fees,' he thought, rolling his eyes internally. 'Big whoop. The stock I'm eyeballing isn't exactly bargain-bin material, so it's not like we're buying shares by the truckload. Plus, we're not exactly planning a long-term relationship with these stocks. Hit it and quit it, baby.'

Meanwhile, Joseph gave him the look. You know, the 'are we really doing this?' one. Alexander gave the slightest of nods, fighting back a smug grin. But, oh, the struggle was real. The corner of his lip twitched like a bad actor in a soap opera, 'Keep it together, Alexander,' he told himself. 'Don't let the evil grin win. Not yet.'

Amidst this silent exchange, the room's attention shifted back to Joseph. Turning to face Mr. Hamilton once more, his voice carried a note of firm resolve as he addressed the terms. "The terms are acceptable. We're prepared to move forward."

As the details were ironed out, Alexander reflected on how a Saturday night YouTube binge-watching session had sparked the genesis of this daring plan. The story of Jesse Livermore, who amassed a fortune during the Wall Street crash, had sown the seeds of this ambitious endeavor. He thought about the $20,000 they had managed to scrounge together, a sum that paled in comparison to Livermore's capital but was a fortune for their family. 

His parents, though trusting, insisted on keeping $5,000 as a safety net, a decision Alexander understood and respected. Besides, the $15,000 he had to play with was more than enough to set their plan in motion.

Mr. Hamilton's voice snapped Alexander back to the present. "Are we all in agreement then?" he asked, extending a hand across the table.

"Yes, we are," Joseph replied, sealing the deal with a grip that said, 'We're in it to win it.'

In that handshake lay the culmination of weeks of meticulous planning, of hope mingled with trepidation, of a daring leap into an unknown future.

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Apologies for the delay, guys. Researching the stock market and share prices of different companies from the 1920s and 1930s took way too long.

Fun Facts/Notes:

• Many companies in the Marvel Universe were based on real-life companies. For instance, The Roxxon Energy Corporation was inspired by ExxonMobil Corporation, formerly known as Standard Oil of New Jersey until 1973.

• October 24, 1929 - The Great Crash, also known as Black Thursday. This event marked the stock market crash, erasing billions of dollars in wealth and leading to the Great Depression.

• Brokerage fees in 1929 were based on the number of shares traded, usually a few cents per share, with 25 cents being on the higher end before the Wall Street crash. Unlike today, where it's either a fixed flat fee per trade or a percentage of the total transaction value.

• Margin interest/fees in 1929 (before the crash) ranged from 1-5% per year. Essentially, the more you borrowed, the more you had to pay as interest. With a leverage of 1:100, it means that for every $1 in Joseph's brokerage account, he can place a trade worth $100, meaning $99 is borrowed. You can do the quick mafs on the $15,000 they will be trading with.

• Jesse Livermore - an American stock trader, was reported to have made over $100 million during the 1929 market crash via short selling.