Life on Bay

Remember life on Bay?
It just seems like yesterday
The chalkdust in your hair
And the paper in the air
The heavy metal doors
And the scuffed up tile floors
Where everything was worn
Before most of us were born
But it had a certain feel
It was solid, it was real
You could work a post alone
On the move and on the phone
The digit counters click
As you'd add another tick
You could walk around the post
And not see a single MOST
Grab and stamp a ticket
Then stuff the tube and stick it
That's when work was fun
Cause it kept you on the run
And the food down in the caf
Was so bad you had to laugh
But the girls there were alright
Even though they looked a sight
And they served you pretty quick
And I never once got sick
From the peanut butter toast
That I snuck back to the post
Or the special of the day
What it was, I couldn't say
How about smoking by the stairs?
Twenty people, seven chairs
Or getting on the floor
By just walking through the door
The security was there
But for us they didn't care
No sirens and no hooters
No malfunctioning computers
You could check out your positions
And the odd lot/terms conditions
Without pushing through a hoard
You just looked up at the board
And if you felt you needed air
Well, the front door was right there
You could go out for a drink
Without raising a stink
The Corkroom down the street
Was the place for us to meet
It had an atmosphere
That you can't find around here
And the prices were OK
For my meagre Postie pay
Yeah, that bar belonged to us
With no pretense and no fuss
If you had a thirst to slake
You could go there on your break
I remember life on Bay
And I've got something to say
I didn't work there long
But I think leaving was wrong
I mean, sure, the place was old
But at least it wasn't cold
And now it's standing there
empty, dark and bare
A reminder of old days
And a different set of ways
The plaster's cracked and stained
The entrance locked and chained
No more crowding by the door
At lunch time and at four
Now all of that is gone
And the TSE goes on
But Bay Street was a friend
I was sad to see it end
But as I sit and reminisce
About this place I really miss
I realize that it can't fall
It lives within us, one and all

- Written by Peter Norville

Memories of the TSE Floor

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In this picture: Dave Turner

Profile of ROY HILL

As a young immigrant newly arrived from Ireland, I landed my first job as manager, Contracts Department, at Wood Gundy on May 8th, 1957. I soon moved into trading and as Gundy was then a bond house and didn’t have a stock exchange seat, we jitneyed our orders through Wills, Bickle.

I managed the equity trading dept. until 1977, at which time I switched to sales and established Gundy’s branch in Markham. During my tenure on trading I saw the Dow break the 1,000 level for the first time. I was trading at the time of President Kennedy’s assassination. I remember well the Kidd Creek discovery and many other exciting events. News and rumors traveled fast in those days and I’m not sure that modern technology has made the rumor mill any faster.

I joined A.E. Ames in 1978 in sales but was unaware they were already on a slippery slope. I was a lousy salesman anyway and I yearned to be back in a trading environment. I took a job with Bob Rose at Merit Investment and traded on the floor as well as CATS. I remained there until 1985 when I joined the TSE’s Market Surveillance working with Neil Winchester. In 1991, The OSC transferred COATS to the TSE and it was renamed Canadian Dealing Network. (“CDN”) Nobody wanted the job of managing CDN and as the saying goes, “fools rush in”. The over-the–counter market and CDN experienced exponential growth in the next nine years and it was like holding a tiger by the tail.

I retired in February 1999 after 42 years in the industry and if asked if I would do it again the answer is - “in a heartbeat”. I have lived through interesting times and worked with the greatest group of people. Retirement is good. I live in the London area now and keep active in various organizations. I enjoy playing banjo and guitar with my Dixieland and swing music groups as well as performing solo at banjo conventions throughout the USA.

Laugh of the Day

Click to enlarge

The Barbies

Also known as the External Communication department of the Exchange, 1985.

For left to right (bottom to top): Mary Revell, Jillian Clegg, Bettianne Henchey, Susan Hendrick, Roberta Wilton, Krys Jawlosewicz, Sharon Ofiara
Absent: Karlene Nation

Photographer Rudy von Tiedemann, at the request of the REVIEW magazine.

Camaraderie

Rick Craig & Jim Bagshaw
Ken Rathgeber & Fred Ketchen
Owen Ritchie, Bob Point, Barb Kovell









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The King of Bay Street

Here is a good article of Fred's 50th year on Bay Street:

The King of Bay Street
50 years and Fred Ketchen is still going strong

Sunday, September 16, 2007

BY LINDA LEATHERDALE, BUSINESS EDITOR, TORONTO SUN

In a Bay Street minute--Fred Ketchen has seen it all.
From meltdowns to mergers, to striking it rich, losing fortunes, and even suicide.

"I remember walking down Bay Street, seeing a commotion, and then a body lying on the sidewalk," Ketchen said. "Some poor broker jumped."

Working on Bay Street is not for the faint of heart.

But despite the stresses, there are many highs and Ketchen, 72, couldn't envision his life anywhere else.

In fact, if this stock market guru was to die, he wouldn't choose heaven or hell. He'd choose to come back and do it all over again. On Bay Street.

It was 50 years ago today, on Sept. 16, 1957, that a 22-year-old from Port Credit, with huge ambitions, joined brokerage firm McLeod Young Weir & Co. There he was, his adrenalin pumping, making trades on the floor of the old Toronto Stock Exchange building at 234 Bay Street, now the Design Exchange.

He knew the building well. His father, Mansell, was vice-president of administration at the TSE from 1927 to 1965. Back then, there was Saturday morning trading. Ketchen remembers tagging along with dad and waiting for him in the Member's Lounge.

"There were beautiful chesterfields, posh rugs and a big radio," Ketchen recalls. "And I thought, this is where I should be."

But Ketchen, who bought his first shares at age 14, didn't set out to be a broker. When he graduated from Port Credit High in 1954, he headed off to Ottawa to study journalism at Carleton. There were six children in the Ketchen household and money was tight. So, after a year he headed home and pounded the pavement for a job.

He landed one, as a young reporter for the Toronto bureau of the Wall Street Journal/Dow Jones. Only problem was, the pay was miserable. "I made $27 a week, and was told if I did a good job, I'd get a raise after a year," he said. Ketchen was praised for his work, but it took six months to get a raise, and when he got, it was a disappointing $27.50 a week.

He quit.

McLeod Young Weir is where he would make his mark and money.

For five years, he was on the trading floor, where he'd proudly wear his McLeod tartan jacket. "It was a fascinating place to be," he said. It was sad day, when the trading floor -- which later moved to the Exchange Tower -- closed for good in the late 1990s, when electronic trading took over..

After five years, Ketchen moved to the trading desk at McLeod Young Weir, and he worked hard on building wealth for his clients. He even reached for the stars, when in a bold move, he solicited Elizabeth Taylor when she was visiting Toronto.

"I sent a letter to her hotel room telling her how I could make her money grow," he said. He never heard back.

Ketchen helped break a code of silence on Bay Street, which would drive business journalists on deadline mad, and which led to Ketchen becoming a media darling.

It was in the early 80s, interest rates were going skyrocketing, and Ron Adams of CBC Radio (now 680 News) wanted comments from Ketchen. So, off Ketchen trotted, into chairman's Austin Taylor's office and asked, "Well, can I?"

Taylor trusted Ketchen. And Ketchen was good at convincing that Bay Street needed to get out of the ivory towers and meet with Main Street.

In 1988, McLeod Young Weir was swallowed up by Scotiabank in a flurry of brokerage takeovers by the big banks. Ketchen was made a senior v-p of the newly-formed ScotiaMcLeod, as well as director of equity trading -- and his new playground was the trading floor on the 65th floor at Scotia Plaza.

In 1989, he was elected a governor of the TSE (now the TSX), then served as vice-chairman and chairman. Dad, who passed in the mid-1980s, would be proud.

Meanwhile, you couldn't turn on a radio or TV, without hearing from Ketchen..

None of this celebrity status, though, has gone to his head. Neath the starched shirts and impeccable suits, some made by Don Cherry's tailor, is a modest and charitable man.

I know. My daughter Skye can't thank him enough for his generous support of her fundraising efforts for cancer research. His charitable projects are many, but closest to his heart is the Trillium Health Centre, which saved his life. He had two heart attacks in 1991, then was back at the centre this past May. Another angioplasty and two more stents, and Ketchen feels like "a brand new man."

It's been 50 years of setting the alarm clock for 5 a.m., driving the QEW, arriving at his desk at 7 a.m., and working 12-hour days -- so will Ketchen ever slow down?

"One day I may retire, but not yet," he said.

Meanwhile, the legacy of Ketchen and stocks lives on, with his daughter Sherilyn, now on maternity leave, working with him at ScotiaMcLeod.

- Photo courtesy of Fred Ketchen, 1984
- Article courtesy of Linda Leatherdale at the Toronto Sun

Profile of SAM BIANCO

I started at the Toronto Futures Exchange in 1985 as an Independent Trader. Later I started doing jitney trades for Scotia Capital. In 1989, I interviewed with Dean Wells at Scotia and was hired for options and futures trading. Still here, only a little crazier, because I sit next to Fred Ketchen.

"Do I miss the floor? Every damn day."