|
|||||||
|
|
|
|||||
|
|
|||||||
|
|
|
Edward Jones Stockbrokers Cater to Small Towns Like Fairfield
Chuck Espy and John Stever care about your money. Long-time Fairfield residents working for the Edward Jones investment firm, they care about you because they know you and your family. And since your families will probably continue to know each other for generations to come, they feel responsible for your financial welfare.
"We see people face to face at the grocery store and the little league," Stever says, which makes their customers even more important to them. Where do you find stockbrokers with that kind of concern about their business? In small towns like Fairfield, with only 10,000 people.
Fortune magazine referred to Edward Jones as being "the Wal-Mart of Wall Street. Planting offices in small-town America, fast growing Edward Jones is outflanking the giants of the brokerage industry."
"Watch this," Espy says to me. The three of us are seated in his office with three bronze eagles staring at me, all collectors' editions. One is about to fly from the upper left corner shelf, its legs gangly and its claws flared, and two more sedate ones sit looking at me from his desk. One is demurely cloaked in an American flag. I look up at Espy's ample-sized color computer screen.
"We have a satellite link to New York City, and we're electronically hooked up to the New York Stock Exchange." They have to be, to compete with major offices in New York. "I can enter the order and know the price within ten seconds." In less than a second, everything about Telegroup stock appears on the screen: what it's earning, how many different brokers are following it, and what their opinion is.
"Speed, right?" Espy says, his gray hair shining, neatly groomed, blue eyes amused, bright like the sky on a sunny day. Then he shows me a graph demonstrating how Telegroup stock has gone up and down, climbing like a jagged mountain. It doubled after the public offering.
Edward Jones has more offices than any other investment firm in the U.S. (That's because they only allow one or two brokers to an office, Stever says. We laugh.) Espy and Stever don't charge for consultations, and they'll meet with you in person in their homey office, decorated by Espy's wife. Edward Jones is the only member of the New York Stock Exchange that specializes in small towns, with over 4,000 branch offices. Brokers in urban areas might only speak to their clients on the phone, but here you can always meet face to face with them.
"We're going to be here for a long time," Stever says. "People know it, and that's why they trust us with their money." He leans back like a father with responsibility. He has black hair, an olive-skinned, thoughtful face, strong jaw, and a stocky but fit build.
This emphasis on personal service seems to be working because according to the Wall Street Journal, on February 5, 1998, a survey of 15 major firms showed Edward Jones came out best with an estimated return of 39.5 percent.
"Is there any way I can watch you while you work?" I ask them. It's private, discussing people's money, and for their clients' sake, they refuse.
• • •
Chuck Espy has had this business in Fairfield for 24 years, even though the sign out front says "since 1871," referring to the Edward Jones company. John Stever has been in the business for eight years, five here in Fairfield. They both worked at other firms prior to this.
"Did Chuck train you?" I ask Stever.
They clearly let me know that he's no rookie even though he looks to be in his early 30s. Stever worked in St. Louis and then moved to Ohio, running two offices there. "He was a veteran when he got here," Espy says. He leans back in his office chair.
"It's a great place to come back to and raise kids," Stever says. He has a two-year-old daughter and six-month-old twin boys.
Espy has two sons. I look at the picture on his desk more carefully and am surprised to see Jonathan Espy.
"Oh," I say to Chuck, "I know your son. We went to Fairfield Junior High School together."
"I thought you might," he says. Espy even recalled meeting my parents about ten years ago. He's still leaning back like a king in this small town.
"What are the safest and most lucrative type of investments?" I ask them.
"The objective is to help people make intelligent decisions," Stever tells me.
"Is it high stress work?" I ask.
"You bet," Espy says. "We watch our clients' assets very carefully."
One reason they exercise such vigilance is that they're helping people invest their life savings. "We tailor it according to the person we deal with, including their family and their kids. This is money they're trying to pass on from generation to generation," Stever says. He has faint, charcoal-colored circles under his eyes, looking like he'd lose whatever sleep he needed to, to protect his fellow man's livelihood.
First they define goals with a client, and determine where they want to be headed. They handle a lot of stock business.
"Many times people come in wanting the hot stock of the month," Stever tells me. "We show them what they need based on their risk tolerance, and show them how to get there down the road."
While we're talking, I recall that Fortune magazine also said, "Keeping that safety-first orientation in mind, Jones brokers forgo the selling of risky initial public offerings, options, or commodities."
"Let's say someone wanted to invest $1,000 in a penny stock," I ask them. "Would you do that for them?"
"There are usually problems with 'cheapie' stocks," says Espy. "They're typically junky and extremely difficult to get good information on. The trade is usually done based on rumor or on stories passed from person to person. And once you trace it back, it's hard to find the source of information." The Jones rule is, don't invest in stocks selling for less than five dollars.
So much for the fantasy of investing student loan money and paying back the loans within a month. I was getting tempted by a stock that had been trading at 1.5 cents and was expected to rise to 4.5 cents. The computer said it was at 2.5 cents today, so I still had a chance of getting in early.
Espy and Stever joke about penny stocks. "It's like Las Vegas without having to get on an airplane, or riverboat gambling without the water."
Edward Jones brokers play it safe. They want to help people reach their goals. As Fortune magazine said, "When selling to customers, Jones pushes only stable, large-cap equities, highly rated bonds, and mutual funds with proven track records. The mantra of Jones brokers: Buy and hold . . . and hold . . . and hold some more."
• • •
I look around and wonder if they know how pleasant this office is compared to the yelling and screaming commonly found in the money business in metropolitan areas. I recall my stockbroker friends in New York who always seem frantic, taking their work with them on weekends in the Hamptons. My friend Caroline had to sit up until midnight once, watching the statistics on the computer for her boyfriend so that he could get some sleep. He couldn't afford to miss any changes in the market that night. He told me that very few remain in the business after age 35 because it's so intense, and that's why a lot of guys get into it young and make their first million before they burn out. But that's New York.
• • •
As Espy meets with his 11:00 client, I sit in the lobby waiting room, with its pink and green checkered chairs, a stand cascading with money magazines, two vases arranged with flowers, and a basket filled with fresh flowers.
Titles of pamphlets are on display. One of a little girl looking fondly at her grandmother says, "Social Security. Your questions answered." Another one says, "A tax break is a terrible thing to waste."
All of the offices have windows around them so you can see in, even though the conversation is confidential. Espy is talking to a slender elderly woman with silver curls and glasses. She smiles as she sits holding her chin between her two fingers, looking at the computer screen as Espy explains options to her.
• • •
On my way out I notice a framed Rails For Trails article about a man who donated the land and over $2 million for the Katy trail in Missouri. The article is about Ted Jones, Edward's son. "Jones was one of those special people who do things for all of us, quietly, without seeking recognition," the article says. "They are the ones who accomplish things of worth, whether they share the spotlight or not, whether or not they gather power to themselves."
Ted Jones is a dark, staunch, robust-looking man, the one who kept the flag going, so that people in all the small towns of America could be as well-informed about investing as the people that race time and money in the nation's biggest cities. He looks strong, like he held a weight on his back, a bulldog for America's wealth.
Espy comes out, surprised to see me still here. "Was he a good friend of yours?" I ask.
"Yes, he hired me," Espy says.
I look down to see another bronze eagle on the coffee table, and am reminded that this is one of many such offices like it across the country that caters to small town America.
