Sublime

J. S. Morgan’s core business was short-term trade finance, “discounting bills,” as it was called. Its primary customers were American cotton or iron merchants. They typically sold their goods on credit, taking back a piece of paper, or “bill of exchange,” which could be cashed at a specific bank such as Barings at some set future date. If a merchan

(As his predecessor John Pierpont Morgan had said about a banker’s reputation at the Pujo hearings in front of the House Banking and Currency Committee in 1912, “[It] is his most valuable possession; it is the result of years of faith and honorable dealing and, while it may be quickly lost, once lost cannot be restored for a long time, if ever.”)

His power was real, grounded in his unique role in channeling the ballooning trove of American savings. One way or another, through control of boards, investment partnerships, or just implicit understandings that a bank’s or an insurance company’s investment committee would follow Morgan’s lead, he and his partners disposed of perhaps 40 percent of

Anthony Drexel, of the long-established Philadelphia banking family, changing the firm to Drexel, Morgan & Co., with the older man again named first.

Morgan made his specialty the refinancing, reorganization, and rationalization of America’s badly overextended and overcapitalized railroads; his “clients” included some of the largest, such as the Erie, the New York Central, and the Pennsylvania.

“He has an amazing sense of risk,” says his former colleague at Smith Barney, Bob Lessin, currently vice chairman of investment bank Jeffries & Company. “He understands it intuitively better than anyone alive, so he doesn’t do stupid things. The industry has a recent history of dramatically mis-pricing risk relative to return. Jamie never fell