This memoir narrates the inspiring story of the first woman to physically trade financial futures in the pits at the Chicago Board of Trade. It takes many skills to be a good bond trader. You have to have an ego and great nerve, and you must be smart, quick, and mentally strong. You have to learn from your mistakes, you have to know when to have patience, and you have to be physical. Author Joyce Selander has all of these. At barely five foot five and110 pounds dripping wet, she ventured into the hand to- hand, financial combat every day for thirteen years as the first woman to physically trade financial futures in the pits at the Chicago Board of Trade. In this memoir, she tells of standing toe-to-toe with five hundred shouting, sweating, testosterone-hyped male traders all trying to reach the top of the financial mountain. Through her work, Selander met diplomats and US presidents; dated secret service agents; and saw murder, mayhem, and a personal plot to overthrow the Taliban, and 9/11. Joyce, Queen of the Mountain provides an insider's look at the workings of the Chicago Board of Trade and the Chicago Mercantile Exchange and gives insights into the strategies and styles of its key players. A story of ethics, innovation, and visionary leadership, it narrates the inspiring memoir of one woman who rose to the top of her profession.
JOYCE, QUEEN OF THE MOUNTAIN
Female Courage and Hand-to-Hand Combat in the World's Largest Money PitBy JOYCE SELANDERiUniverse, Inc.
Copyright © 2011 Joyce Selander
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4620-4205-0Contents
First Day At School........................................................1The Chicago Mercantile Exchange - (CME)....................................4Chicago, 1968..............................................................8The International Monetary Market..........................................11The Chicago Board Of Trade.................................................16Joy Member, Chicago Board Of Trade.........................................24My Big Account.............................................................34The Trading Pit............................................................39Bimbos, Limos, And Lines...................................................45My Dad.....................................................................501982 - A New Floor, New Traders, And New Opportunities.....................52The Economic Indicators And Reports........................................66The MMI Pit................................................................72James Ritchie..............................................................76The Smith Brothers.........................................................80O'Connor & Associates......................................................84In The Pits................................................................87Black Monday...............................................................91The Municipal Bond Pit And The FBI Sting...................................96John T. Geldermann.........................................................100Electronic Trading Arrives.................................................104TakeYour Daughters To Work Day.............................................113Foreign Customers And Mock Trading.........................................117Agricultural Customers.....................................................1209/11.......................................................................128Politics...................................................................138Is This The End Or The Beginning?..........................................143
Chapter One
FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL
I was four-and-a-half years old when my mother took me to my first day of kindergarten at Trumbull Elementary. It was in Andersonville, a middle-class Swedish neighborhood on Chicago's north side. Hand-in-hand we walked into the classroom where my young eyes were surprised by the large number of crying children and their consoling mothers. "Who," I asked my mom, "are all these whiny kids?"
Looking tenderly at me she explained that these children were frightened because it was their first day of school and they would soon be left alone. Should she stay with me awhile? Mom clasped my hand tighter. No! I said immediately. I was fine on my own, then I proceeded to explore the classroom.
I found a newly filled sandbox with a giant mound of sand. Jumping on the pile, I screamed at the top of my lungs "I am Joyce, Queen of the Mountain!" But Johnny, the local bully, charged up the side shouting "No, I am the mountain King!" Like a boxer, I punched his chest with a closed fist and sent him flying. Anybody else? I thought, scanning the startled kindergarteners. No. Triumphant, I proclaimed again "I am Joyce, Queen of the Mountain!'
Little did I know then how hard it would be to stay on top. You see, on that day, there were no other challengers, but there have been plenty since I became the first woman to trade financial futures in the pits at the Chicago Board of Trade. Thirty year Treasury Bonds to be exact, that's actual U.S. government bonds, notes and t-bills, the biggest market in the world where numbers are king.
Now numbers, their adding and subtracting, multiplying and dividing have always come easy to me. A natural gift. I remember my kindergarten teacher asking, "Who can count to ten? Who can count above ten?" My right hand shot up and she called on me saying "Joyce, count for us." 12345678910 Jack Queen King Ace I answered proudly. My mother would have beamed and my father would have blushed. You see, I started playing family poker when I was four. I proved a fast learner and by age six, I could shuffle and set up a full house or straight on the bottom of the deck.
Maybe I knew something about numbers because my mother had graduated from college (rare in those days, the 1930s) and taken a job at a bank. When I turned fifteen she got me a part-time job working there on Saturdays. It was a neighborhood bank and by the time I was sixteen, the savings manager had taught me to balance her department. By the time I was 17, I knew how to balance the entire bank. Banking became my livelihood while I was attending college. I started working at a downtown Chicago bank as a teller and margin clerk. That meant I was in charge of computing margins on loans secured by marketable collateral such as stocks and bonds. One day, I received a call from a headhunter who asked me if I could calculate margins on commodities. I told her sure, why not. You take the daily value and fluctuation then use a percentage to figure out how much money the customer needs to maintain his position. On hearing my answer, the headhunter arranged an interview for me the very next week.
That interview turned out to be with Maurie Schneider, owner and president of M-S Commodities. His father, 80 year old Sol Schneider, was one of the founders of the Chicago Mercantile Exchange. Of course, Maurie hired me on the spot.
Two days after I started working at M-S, I strolled into Maurie's office and informed him that one of his branch offices was illegally moving funds. "What!" Maurie stared at me as I explained that someone was taking money from account A and moving it to account B. "That can't be," Maurie protested. His company had just been audited the week before I joined them. Immediately, he picked up the phone, called his auditors and said, "You'd better get over here immediately. I have a mini-skirted girl with a beehive telling me you guys screwed up."
The very next day Maurie sent me, mini-skirt, beehive and all, down to the trading floor of the Chicago Mercantile Exchange to see exactly what the traders at his M-S trading desk were doing. The moment I stepped onto that floor I knew this was it, what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. When the market closed and everyone left, I walked to the top of the trading pit and took it all in. I came, I saw, and now I wanted to conquer. I am Joyce, I said softly to myself, Queen of the Mountain.
Chapter Two
THE CHICAGO MERCANTILE EXCHANGE - (CME)
It was 1968 and the Chicago Mercantile Exchange (CME) was reinventing itself. There were 500 members including three women Kathy White, who ran a small desk for one of the large floor brokers; a second woman who had a membership but because of exchange rules was not allowed into the pit where the actual, physical trading takes place; and me. A lot of people would be intimidated by such a high pressure environment with a 500 to 3 ratio but those were My Kind of Odds. Besides, it was easy to make friends, lots of friends, all men.
I made many of these friends in a small, members only coffee shop where the big traders played cards when the markets were slow. Maurie would take me there and introduce me, which gave me the chance to...