As the news broke earlier this week that Lehman Brothers on Wall Street was to declare bankruptcy, Seán O'Driscollgauged the mood on the ground
OUTSIDE LEHMAN Brothers' New York headquarters this week, things were not going according to plan for the Revolutionary Communist Party.
As a lone supporter proclaimed the end of capitalism, his red flag ensnared the handlebars of an onlooker's scooter, dragging it along the footpath, the commotion drowned out by his shouts against "greedy bastards" and "global capitalism". After the scooter's owner ran after the flag and untied it, the one-man procession continued, predicting both the self-inflicted collapse of capitalism and the return of Soviet Russia.
Tim Barry, a driver with the Europe Limousine Service, was consumed with more immediate goals. "Once there were 150 cars leaving every day from these offices," he says, pointing to the front of the Lehman Brothers building. Now he is lucky to see a dozen. The five or six limos outside Lehman on Wednesday were all marked for executives of Barclays Bank, which this week agreed to buy Lehman's assets for more than $1 billion.
Barry, originally from Nigeria, has seen not just a severe drop in the numbers of cars used by Lehman, but also the length of time each limo is used. "Before, we would hire a car for hours while they talked over a deal in a restaurant. Recently they just hired a car to get someone from A to B," he says.
But even in the midst of a calamitous crash, which followed the bankruptcy of the 158-year-old investment house, some were making a small profit. In the New Balance sports store on the ground floor of the Lehman building, manager Quilvio Mena points to a pinkish sports bag.
"We did well with sports bags on Monday and Tuesday. A lot of people came to work to discover they had been fired. They needed something to carry their stuff in," he says. Mena, from the Dominican Republic, is bracing for a drop in overall sales, the sports bags but a short reprieve.
FOR THE LEHMANstaff, the first half of the week was as volatile as the ever-plunging stock market. It began on Sunday, with rumours, then confirmation, that the company would declare bankruptcy on Monday.
A staff member, who identifies himself only as Frank, was working in the office on Sunday. "Insiders working on the bankruptcy were streaming news through," he says. "People started instant messaging straight away. There was this sudden realisation - oh my God, we're going under."
Puffing on a cigarette outside Lehman's front door, Frank is cagey about revealing any personal details. "If they knew we were talking to the media . . . "
Some, however, abandoned any pretence of anonymity once the full horror of the collapse was revealed. Alan John Wargaski came out of the office on Tuesday afternoon with a look of unease. "It's normal, I never look happy," he says with a smile. Wargaski, who works in Lehman's bonds section, has three kids and is expecting a fourth.
He felt relief on Tuesday as news leaked out that Barclays was about to take over. "At first blush, there doesn't seem to be much of an overlap," says Wargaski of Lehman's core business and the subprime fiasco that engulfed it. Now, however, the market has lost faith and each transaction comes with a qualification: "Lehman Brothers North America" or "Lehman Brothers Holdings", and that creates more uncertainty.
Wargaski remains, despite it all, determinedly stoic. "Wall Street compensates very well. Part of that is the understanding that there is a lot of volatility in your job and that it could disappear some day. Just nobody expected it to be this dramatic."
As Wargaski prepared for his journey home to Mountainside, New Jersey, on Tuesday, the depressing gloom of Monday's bankruptcy was turning to a Barclays-led celebration. "They found their saviour," says Emmett O'Lunney, owner of an Irish pub of the same name on 50th Street, where hundreds of Lehman Brothers staff gathered to celebrate.
By Wednesday, Lehman staff were not as upbeat. "People are back to business getting their accounts ready for inspection by Barclays," says O'Lunney. He points to a few Bank of America staff near the window and a handful of Goldman Sachs execs in the bar. "I don't think there's even a single Lehman Brothers person here tonight. Its reality time for many of them."
Some employees were furious but still reluctant to break Lehman's no-media rule. After emerging from the headquarters Wednesday, many walked in semi-circles like nervous pigeons, before advancing: "Are you a reporter?"
Some of the strongest denunciations come from a Lehman loyalist, who identifies himself as "Raj". Originally from the Punjab province of northern India, he blames the Federal Reserve for inaction. "How come they rushed in to save Freddie Mac, Fannie Mae, AIG?" he asks, referring to the US government's recent decisions to bail out the three lending giants. "People are pissed off, they are angry. They want to know why Lehman has been left out like this."
AFTER LAUNCHING INTOsome potentially libellous comments about the treasury secretary Henry Paulson and his former employers, Goldman Sachs, he eventually concedes that the credit crisis left Lehman with some very serious problems. "Okay, the collapse might have been inevitable," he says, biting on an apple. "But it could all have happened in a different way. It didn't have to be this brutal."
He was in Boston on Sunday when he heard the news that the company was about to go under. "Nobody, nobody expected that to happen. It felt like any attempt to save it became an academic exercise. It suddenly became inevitable, that's what I don't understand."
If there is a gender imbalance in this article, it is not from lack of trying. To a woman, every female Lehman Brothers employee declined to comment to either myself or a female Spanish journalist. As we contemplate the social implications of this, another male Lehman begins the semi-circular pigeon dance around us.
His name is Jose, he has worked for Lehman for two years and is confident he can keep his job. After Monday's gloom, the turning point came with an address from Lehman's trading floor by Bob Diamond, the head of Barclays' investment banking division. Diamond reassured staff that the takeover was in their best interests. "Basically, we've been told that if you are good you will keep your job," says Jose.
SO WHAT DOthousands of workers do all day in a bankrupt company that has become a financial pariah?
"We're in maintenance mode," says Jose. "We are basically making sure the books are in order, talking to customers, making sure nothing gets screwed up over the next few days. If something gets screwed up, and it's your fault, Barclays are going to pull the plug on you."
It is amid this very tense atmosphere that Alan Tobias, owner of Martinique jewellery store, is trying to operate. Located directly across the street from Lehman's front entrance, Martinique relies very heavily on Lehman traffic. Here, with necklaces and engagement rings, Lehman staff have proven their love, had their hearts broken, got married, won social acceptance. It all seems so quaint compared to the bitter layoffs of the last few days.
"It has been bleak for many but at least they have hit rock bottom," says Tobias. "They are being reborn again - life will go on for all of us."
Back across the road, Joan Marie Palmer, who works for a venture capital company, is busy taking a photo of the Lehman Brothers sign outside the offices. She is one of many people who have stopped here for a morbid look into the Lehman Brothers lobby. "I wanted to capture it for posterity, before the building has a Barclays sign outside it," she says.
Afraid for her investments, she is watching a stock market awash with uncertainty. A broker friend of hers cannot get a job and has moved into low-paying "blue collarish work" to pay the bills. "There is a much wider crisis here," she says.
"The trust factor is gone. It started with Enron, then WorldCom. There is a feeling that profits have become meaningless pieces of paper.
"It is going to take decades before anyone knows what's going on."
MR WALL STREET: WHO IS THE AVERAGE NEW YORK TRADER?
SALARY:an average of $500,000 after five years, and $1 million after 10-15 years.
GENDER:The glass ceiling is intact - 86 per cent of top earners are male, while 65 per cent of average Wall Street earners are male.
RACE:Despite what the glossy advertisement photos may show, Wall Street is still very white. An analysis of 2005 census figures by Prof Andrew Beveridge shows that securities and investment workers on Wall Street making $347,000 or more are 93 per cent white, compared to just 59 per cent of Manhattan workers making $35,000 or more.
FASHION:Anything that screams "I am tailor-made". Traders appreciate extra details such as plaids, windowpane patterns and large chalk pin-stripes, according to Wall Street fashion expert Chris Hogan. Off-the-rack allowables include Brioni, Kilgour, Canali and Ralph Lauren. Slip-on loafers are in.
THE WATCH:Yes, long after the 1980s the Rolex still rules.