Jacob Brown

“Our awardee has demonstrated an uncanny knack for identifying emerging pharmaceutical companies and investing the right amount of money at the right time. He will tell you it’s all luck, but ask him about any new medical therapy or any cutting-edge medical technology and you will immediately understand the old expression ‘drinking from a fire hose.’ Oh, I see by the nods that some of you think you know who the winner is. Well, we’ll see in a few moments if you’re right. Using all the knowledge he has acquired and relying on his outstanding judgment,” Chun said, bursting with admiration, “our winner selected companies like Abbott Laboratories, Medtronic, Idec, and Amgen, among many others, and watched his investment build thirty-fold, and in some cases even more, if you can believe it.”

As impressed as Chun with the winner’s success, the club members cheered and applauded for a feat they hoped to emulate. Over the dying applause, Chun continued, “Of course, tonights’s winner deserves our kudos for buying stocks like these when they were cheap, but he deserves our total everlasting, humble, worshipful adoration for selling them at the peak of their value and investing all, but what he calls his seed money in government securities.

“Besides his personal stock triumphs, this gentleman was a founding member of the original Lab Rat Investment Club, and he alone added ‘Ballroom Dancing’ to our title. It seems that he has a real passion for dance,” Chun said. “Oh, by the way, I might add that he financed this gala tonight, and you will see that wonderful word paid on your bill at checkout time tomorrow. Isn’t the Grand Aureate great?” Chun shouted over the applause. “How about the restaurant? It’s number two in the whole U.S. Our sponsor goes first class. “Now it gives—,” Chun began again, but paused, smiling. “If I couldn’t see your hands clapping I’d think there was thunder in this room. Now it gives me great pleasure to introduce our fabulous stock jock, Mr. Jacob Brown, or, as he is better known among his dancing friends, Mr. Six by Five.” Chun waved his arms, taking in the expanse of the room, and said, “I see some of you smiling. I know it’s a funny name, but it’s one he’s earned through excellence and he’s proud of it. Come on up here, Five, and accept this award.”

As Jacob walked to the podium, the band played a spirited version of “Mr. Five by Five,” and he couldn’t help moving to the rhythm of the music. At the podium, Jacob warmly embraced Chun and expressed his appreciation for the tireless work Chun had done on behalf of all the members of the club.

“Everybody, take a look at it,” Chun said, holding the statuette over his head. “It’s a gold-plated rat standing up straight, wearing a lab coat and safety glasses. For a retro touch, he has a slide rule dangling from his belt. Congratulations, Five!”

“Thank you, Chun,” Jacob said, taking the award from him. “I’m very pleased to get this award and to be able to have you all here tonight. Let’s give Chun a hand for his successful leadership of this club.”

Holding the statuette so the audience could see it, Jacob asked, “Anybody here know what a lab rat is? When he got no response, he continued, “Well, strictly speaking a laboratory rat is a member of the species ‘Rattus norvegicus’ which is bred and kept in cages for scientific research.

A lab rat, I like to think, is a human kept in a laboratory to do research who, by virtue of fate or choice, has no natural means of escape—escape to be a professor, or an independent academic researcher, or an industrial research manager, or a corporate marketing manager. So we lab rats excel wherever we can and the stock market is one of those places. A Ph.D. degree is not required to invest in the market, just good sense, an analytical mind and a lot of luck. “So, how come you get all the luck?” a woman three tables back from the podium asked with mock sincerity.

“Better to be born lucky than smart, my great-uncle always said,” Jacob answered, laughing. “Beyond investing, my great escape is and has been ballroom dancing, ever since I got out of high school.” Jacob took a handkerchief from his tuxedo lapel pocket, polished the Stock Jock Award lovingly, and placed it carefully on the podium.

“You may wonder how a man built like I am would be a passionate fan of ballroom dancing, or could even dance.” He paused and surveyed the faces focused on him as if he expected someone to answer his question. “How many of you saw me dancing earlier in the evening? I surprised even myself during the Swing dance with Shana. Did you see that spin she did when I launched her into midair? Anyone not notice that, or my dancing with other women? No one? Okay, point made.” The audience laughed.

“I noticed the muffled laughter when Chun called me Mr. Six by Five. No need to muffle your laughs. I’m proud of the title. I’m a big man, as you can see, and as is indicated by that nickname, the one so lovingly given to me by my dancing friends. The nickname comes from a Swing song that was a big hit in 1942, as the old-timers in the room will know. The song talks about a man who is five feet tall and five feet wide, but who can really move and dance. At first my friends called me Mr. Five by Five, but because I’m closer to six feet tall than five feet, they finally came around to Mr. Six by Five, and that nickname stuck.”