Sons of Fortune

“True,” said Logan, “so the first thing we have to do is start playing the counting game.” He turned his attention to Julia. “How many shares have you picked up in the last few days?”

“Less than one percent,” she replied, “because someone out there keeps pushing the price up. When I asked my broker yesterday evening, he told me at close of business the shares had touched $5.20.”

“That’s way above their realistic value,” said Nat, “but there’s no way back for either of us now. I’ve asked Logan to join us this morning so he can give us his assessment of our chances of survival, as well as take us through what’s likely to happen during the next few weeks.”

“Let me bring you up to date as of nine o’clock this morning, Mr. Chairman,” continued Logan. “In order to avoid a takeover, Russell’s must have in their possession, or pledged to them in writing, fifty point one percent of the bank’s shares. The board currently holds just over twenty-four percent, and we know Fairchild’s already has at least six percent. On the face of it, that looks satisfactory. However, as Fairchild’s are now offering $5.10 a share for a period of twenty-one days, I feel it’s my duty to point out that should you decide to sell your shares, the cash value alone would net you in the region of twenty million dollars.”

“We’ve already made our decision on that,” said Tom firmly.

“Fine, then you’re left with only two choices. You can either make a higher offer than Fairchild’s $5.10 a share, remembering your chief executive’s judgment that they are already way above their realistic value, or you can contact all your shareholders, asking them to pledge their stock to you.”

“The latter,” said Nat, without hesitation.

“As I anticipated that would be your response, Mr. Cartwright, I’ve studied the list of stockholders carefully—as of this morning, there were 27,412 in all, mostly holding small amounts, a thousand or less shares. However, five percent remains in the portfolios of three individuals, two widows residing in Florida who own two percent each, and Senator Harry Gates, who is in possession of one percent.”

“How’s that possible?” asked Tom. “Harry Gates is known to have spent his entire public life living on a senator’s salary.”

“He has his father to thank for that,” said Logan. “It seems that he was a friend of the founder of the bank, who offered him one percent of the company in 1892. He purchased one hundred shares for one hundred dollars, and the Gates family has held on to them ever since.”

“What are they worth now?” asked Tom.

Nat tapped his calculator. “Close to half a million, and he probably doesn’t even realize it.”

“Jimmy Gates, his son, is an old friend of mine,” said Logan, “in fact I owe my present job to him. And I can tell you that once Jimmy finds out that Ralph Elliot is involved, those shares will immediately be pledged to us. If you can lay your hands on them, and reel in the two old ladies from Florida, you’ll be close to controlling thirty percent, which still means you’ll need another twenty point one percent before anyone can relax.”

“But from my experience of past takeovers, at least five percent won’t get back in touch with either of us,” said Nat, “when you consider changes of address, trust funds, and even those like Harry Gates who don’t bother to check their portfolios from year to year.”

“I agree,” said Logan, “but I won’t rest easy until I know you control over fifty percent.”

“So how do we go about getting our hands on that extra twenty percent?” asked Tom.

“Damned hard work, and hours of it,” said Logan. “To start with, you will have to send out a personal letter to all your shareholders, just over twenty-seven thousand in all. This is the sort of thing I have in mind.” Logan handed copies of a letter to each of the board members. “You’ll see that I’ve concentrated on the bank’s strengths, long history in the community, highest growth of any financial institution in the state. I’ve asked if they want one bank to end up with a monopoly.”

“Yes,” said Nat. “Ours.”

“But not yet,” said Logan. “Now, before we agree on this letter, I’d welcome your input, as it has to be signed by your chairman or chief executive.”

“But that’s over twenty-seven thousand signatures?”

“Yes, but you can split them between you,” said Logan with a smile. I wouldn’t suggest such a Herculean task if I wasn’t fairly sure our rivals will send out a circular headed “Dear Shareholder” with a stylized signature above the name of their chairman. The personal touch might well make the difference between survival and extinction.”

“Can I help in any way?” asked Julia.

“You certainly can, Mrs. Russell,” replied Logan. “I’ve designed a totally different letter for you to sign that should be sent to every female shareholder. Most of them are either divorced or widowed and probably don’t check their portfolios from one year to the next. There are nearly four thousand such investors, so that should take care of your weekend.” He pushed a second letter across the table. “You’ll see I’ve referred to your particular expertise in having run your own company, as well as being a board member of Russell’s for the past seven years.”

“Anything else?” asked Julia.

“Yes,” said Logan, passing her two more sheets of paper. “I want you to visit the two widows from Florida.”

“I could go early next week,” said Julia, checking her diary.

“No,” said Logan firmly. “Phone them this morning and fly down to see them tomorrow. You can be sure that Ralph Elliot has already paid them a visit.”

Julia nodded, and began checking through the file to find how much was known of Mrs. Bloom and Mrs. Hargaten.

“And finally, Nat,” continued Logan, “you’re going to have to get yourself involved in a fairly aggressive media campaign; in other words, let it all hang out.”

“What do you have in mind?” asked Nat.