My trading floor coat

How many Volkswagon seat covers had to be sacrificed to make this jacket?

My trading floor coat. It always was a bit tight. Still is 28 years after last working on the Chicago trading floors.

A trading coat was one of the most important visual clues about how a person fit in on the commodity market trading floor. The coats identified the firm you worked for and/or your job. 

I was hired in March 1989 to work for Futures World News (FWN) covering the livestock futures and options on the Chicago Mercantile Exchange. FWN was a small wire service with roots in the agricultural markets and price charting. At the time, Knight Ridder Financial was the leading wire service covering the livestock and agricultural markets. Reuters and Dow Jones/Telerate were big in the interest rate, currency and stock index markets. Bloomberg was not a significant player at this time. 

Reporters wore civilian attire -- they did not have coats assigned to them by the exchange or their employer. I started my job wearing the standard-issue blue blazer that I brought from Washington, D.C. 

As I started my job, my boss introduced me around so I could start to build my sources. But, it was not easy. One reason I discovered was that FWN had a hard time keeping a regular livestock futures reporter. I was the third in the space of a year. Many livestock futures traders were understandably reluctant to talk to a reporter who would likely pull up stakes after a few months and move on. 

I had a challenge in front of me. I was having difficulty connecting with the trading floor community. I shared my troubles with colleagues at FWN and parent Oster Communications. Jeff Wilson, one of my predecessors, told a story of how he got people to talk to him. He wore the same shirt three days in a row. 

Big deal! How would anyone know? A white shirt is a white shirt is a white shirt. He wore a yellow shirt and it got noticed. 

I wanted to make a bolder statement. I needed my own hook. What would it be? 

There was one exchange employee whose coat was festooned with buttons from every new product launch. He was a pretty colorful dude and everyone knew who he was. I wasn’t going to copy him. I decided my coat would make “the impression”. But I didn’t know exactly how. I waited for inspiration.

A couple of weeks later, one Saturday morning I was walking home from a swimming workout when inspiration clobbered me over the head.. A church at the corner of Addison and Broadway (on Chicago’s north side) was having a bazaar. Wandering in, I started browsing the clothing racks and there it was . . . screaming my name.  It was an amazingly hideous 100% polyester plaid sports coat. It was orange, red, white, and blue. I tried it on. It fit. 

But, there was no price tag. It must have some value. Perhaps the sale organizers thought it was so ugly, no one would want it. But, this is a church bazaar. I’m sure they didn’t plan to give it away and I had to pay some money.

I finally found someone staffing the sale and asked “how much?”

“You really want to buy, that?!?”

“Yes!”

“Hold on, let me check.”

They wandered off to confer with management, or whoever. In a few minutes they were back.

“One dollar.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. What a bargain! I couldn’t open my wallet fast enough. “Here you go.”

I was pretty pleased with myself. This was better than I had imagined. Boy was it ugly!!

While I was willing to set aside my pride in order to wear this thing on the trading floor, I wasn’t eager to wear it in other public settings, such as on the Chicago Transit Authority as I commuted.

But, I had to get to work and wearing it on the El seemed to be my only option, for a few days. Then I got permission to hang it in the exchange’s coat room -- the member’s coat room. Now I only had to wear it on the floor.

Wearing it did provoke a reaction. I heard all kinds of jokes about Volkswagons missing seat covers and Herb Tarlek, the desperate salesman character from the 1970s TV show “WKRP in Cincinnati”. Generally, across the trading floor the comment I got was “Where did you get THAT jacket?”

In the currency, interest rate and stock index futures markets the “THAT” was voiced with a tone of disgust.

In the livestock futures, largely populated by older traders, the “THAT” was tinged with a tone of admiration. Well, these were my peeps. I needed to break the ice with them.

In either case, they knew who I was. 

A couple of asides: even those who expressed disgust at the jacket supported me. My co-worker, Debbie Sherman, gave me a plaid tie to wear with the coat. (Check out the above picture.) If I ran into traders off the floor in social situations -- mentioning that I was the guy who wore the “plaid” coat always broke the ice.

I kept the coat and wore it after I moved from FWN to Dow Jones Capital Markets Report a far-stuffier organization.

One morning while wearing the jacket I think I nearly caused an auto accident on Monroe Street. I was dashing across the street from the CME to the diner for breakfast. My Uncle Jerry was driving in to work from Lake Forest, Ill. He beeped his horn, rolled down his window, shook his head  and asked the universal question,  “Clifton! where did you get THAT jacket?!?”

We didn’t have a lot of time for extended chat -- because the traffic light changed to green, but I later told him the story. He still shook his head. 

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Note to readers: This blog is about more than my experiences. It is intended to be a collective experience of working on the commodity markets physical trading floor. If you or someone you know has a story please let me know I’d like to include it in this ongoing chronicle. I can be reached at linton122@gmail.com

© 2021 Clifton Linton