As I walked into the Cork Room it seemed like almost everyone, I had seen on the floor all day was now here. The noise level was almost as bad as it was on the trading floor for the opening and closing bells, when everyone is screaming loudest. It was like a party. No, it WAS a party. The place was absolutely thick with cigarette smoke and reminded me of a 1940's black and white movie. The only thing missing was the piano player in the corner. That actually made sense because it was rumored that the bar opened as a private lounge for the early stockbrokers when the original TSE building opened in 1912. This place didn't really need the piano player character in the corner...it was filled wall to wall with characters.
The decor was not exactly what you would expect when you think about where stockbroker types might hang out for a few after work. The bar was classic, the lighting was dim at best, and the best part of its design was the large number of darkened areas where one could duck away for a quick whatever you wanted. Basically, fill in the blank and that's what was available. There were lots of girls from the floor there and there were also a lot of other single girls, office workers and secretary types that knew this was where the 'brokers' played. So, if you were interested and after a few drinks who wasn't, you could meet and greet and hook-up without too much effort. This was equally true for all consenting adults. I don't think it was any kind of great pick-up bar, it was just where people in our business congregated, and people do what people do. On a Friday night you could get just about anything you wanted and most of the younger guys were into everything that you have ever heard people in this business might be into. Sex, drugs and rock & roll baby!
With the volume level in the bar firmly on 11, I could barely hear Steve as he was explaining to me that we were arbitrage traders and that everybody hated us. Everybody! He went on to explain that we were basically the pirates of the industry. We were the guys that tried to take advantage of every gap that might exist in the markets and information, real information was everything. This sounded like something I was going to enjoy. I mean, who didn't want to be a pirate! He told me that was one of the reasons it was so important to develop relationships with as many other traders as possible and what better place to do it than here, at the Cork Room.
Chris was just up the bar in the middle of a small crowd, holding a stubby bottle of Carlsberg and talking to a cute blond while an equally cute brunette waited her turn to catch some of Chris's attention. Chris didn't seem overly concerned with much of anything I had to say to him. Of course those chicks were offering some pretty stiff competition, so I just kind of sat back and watched. After a little while he asked me if I wanted to come down to the can for a minute. I wasn't sure what for, but I admit I was excited at the mere thought of what it might be. There was a small group of us crowding into a tiny area in the pisser and a couple of joints flared to life and the lines of blow were being chopped and ready. I knew I was well on my way to earning my first 'come in with the men' hangover. The 12 or so drinks I consumed that night didn't allow me the luxury of remembering too much after that and perhaps that was for the best.
Many generations of traders consumed way too many cocktails at the Cork Room. The place reeked of history, beer and piss. It was an unbelievable, unpredictable ride. Every night brought something new. Lots of black eyes that walked onto the floor in the morning after had received their lumps courtesy of an evening at the Cork Room the night before. More importantly, many, many deals were put together over too many beers at the Cork Room. Steve was right, this is where the afterhours action started but rarely ended for most of the crazies on the old TSE trading floor. Most of the people on the old floor qualified for that designation...crazy!
Freddy was the favored bartender because he was simply the best. This guy had heard and seen more bullshit in his job than any beef farmer ever shoveled. It would be hard to even imagine the Cork Room without Freddy. Then there was Nat. Nat was a self-created stereotypical shylock character who sole almost anything you could imagine. I bought more weird crap from that guy than I could ever imagine. Upstairs in his barely lit office, you felt like you were in another world. He like a one-man dollar store long before such a thing was even a Chinese wet dream. If the TSE had trade relations when Nat was dealing, he would have owned the Exchange! He regularly sold snow to Eskimos (pre political correctness remember) and everything else to the traders. He was a very cool guy, and you just couldn't say no. When the Toronto Stock Exchange closed the old floor, 234 Bay St. wasn't the only piece of historic real estate to die. It took a little while, but the Cork Room died from an overdose of progress as well.
The last thing I remember that first night at the Cork Room was Steve asking me if I wanted to come with him and some of his friends for Kentucky Fried Chicken. I don't know if I did or not, but I smelled pretty greasy when I woke up in my clothes the next morning.
Stay Tuned For "ARBITRAGE"...is that french?
With the volume level in the bar firmly on 11, I could barely hear Steve as he was explaining to me that we were arbitrage traders and that everybody hated us. Everybody! He went on to explain that we were basically the pirates of the industry. We were the guys that tried to take advantage of every gap that might exist in the markets and information, real information was everything. This sounded like something I was going to enjoy. I mean, who didn't want to be a pirate! He told me that was one of the reasons it was so important to develop relationships with as many other traders as possible and what better place to do it than here, at the Cork Room.
Chris was just up the bar in the middle of a small crowd, holding a stubby bottle of Carlsberg and talking to a cute blond while an equally cute brunette waited her turn to catch some of Chris's attention. Chris didn't seem overly concerned with much of anything I had to say to him. Of course those chicks were offering some pretty stiff competition, so I just kind of sat back and watched. After a little while he asked me if I wanted to come down to the can for a minute. I wasn't sure what for, but I admit I was excited at the mere thought of what it might be. There was a small group of us crowding into a tiny area in the pisser and a couple of joints flared to life and the lines of blow were being chopped and ready. I knew I was well on my way to earning my first 'come in with the men' hangover. The 12 or so drinks I consumed that night didn't allow me the luxury of remembering too much after that and perhaps that was for the best.
Many generations of traders consumed way too many cocktails at the Cork Room. The place reeked of history, beer and piss. It was an unbelievable, unpredictable ride. Every night brought something new. Lots of black eyes that walked onto the floor in the morning after had received their lumps courtesy of an evening at the Cork Room the night before. More importantly, many, many deals were put together over too many beers at the Cork Room. Steve was right, this is where the afterhours action started but rarely ended for most of the crazies on the old TSE trading floor. Most of the people on the old floor qualified for that designation...crazy!
Freddy was the favored bartender because he was simply the best. This guy had heard and seen more bullshit in his job than any beef farmer ever shoveled. It would be hard to even imagine the Cork Room without Freddy. Then there was Nat. Nat was a self-created stereotypical shylock character who sole almost anything you could imagine. I bought more weird crap from that guy than I could ever imagine. Upstairs in his barely lit office, you felt like you were in another world. He like a one-man dollar store long before such a thing was even a Chinese wet dream. If the TSE had trade relations when Nat was dealing, he would have owned the Exchange! He regularly sold snow to Eskimos (pre political correctness remember) and everything else to the traders. He was a very cool guy, and you just couldn't say no. When the Toronto Stock Exchange closed the old floor, 234 Bay St. wasn't the only piece of historic real estate to die. It took a little while, but the Cork Room died from an overdose of progress as well.
The last thing I remember that first night at the Cork Room was Steve asking me if I wanted to come with him and some of his friends for Kentucky Fried Chicken. I don't know if I did or not, but I smelled pretty greasy when I woke up in my clothes the next morning.
Stay Tuned For "ARBITRAGE"...is that french?
