Author: A.T.

So this friend of mine deals in estate sales. Somebody dies, a bank happens to be the trustee, it calls in several estate liquidators to bid on the estate, and my friend is often one of them. He comes in to the bank and looks at the stuff — the jewelry, for example — or goes out to the house and eyeballs the furniture and the car, and he makes a bid.

If he’s the high bid, he uses his wits to dispose of everything in a way that will net him more than he bid.

That’s the game. It’s the free market working pretty well. None of the liquidators bids so much that they can’t make a decent living. But there’s enough competition that the estate generally gets a reasonably good wholesale price for its goods. (If the bank were willing to do more work, and parcel everything out itself — to auction houses, primarily — it might eventually get the estate the extra money the liquidator earns. But it generally doesn’t work that way, and bank trust departments often don’t have the expertise and savvy these nimble fellows do.)

So in he goes to one of the banks that regularly calls him in to bid (sadly, rich people die on nearly as regular a basis as anyone else), and he bids on the jewelry, a field he knows well — but not on the diamonds. Diamonds he doesn’t know so well.

“Oh, come on,” says the bank trust person handling this, “bid on the diamonds.”

“Well, you know, I really don’t know diamonds that well. I’d rather not.”

“Listen, do me a favor. You don’t have to bid high, you won’t get them, but I need to show five bids … help me out.”

So my friend (who may not know diamonds that well, but who sure knows them a heck of a lot better than you or I) looks at the diamonds, still in their settings, looks at the appraisal — they are graded “G” by a Gemological Institute of America-certified appraiser — and he bids $70,000.

You already see where this is going. Yes, he got the diamonds. And when he went to sell them, and a jeweler took them out of their settings and really looked them over in ideal light (not a bank vault), he found that really they were not “G” grade after all, but a few steps lower — “J.”

I don’t know what this means any more than you do, except that it means trouble.

My friend went back to the bank, explained what had happened, and asked for his money back.

No, the bank said, they couldn’t do that. The money had already gone into the deceased’s trust account. It couldn’t come out. The sale was clearly marked “As Is.”

“Yes, sure,” said my friend, “but ‘As Is’ included an appraisal. You represented these stones were ‘G,’ and that’s the way I took them. I relied on your representation that they were ‘G.’”

Sorry, said the bank.

To my friend — to almost any of us, really — $70,000 is a lot of money, and while “J”-grade diamonds are not worthless, they are worth a heck of a lot less than “G”-grade stones — nearly 40%. This was a serious disaster.

He got the bank’s annual report and wrote a letter to each of its directors. (It is a very big bank.) A couple of weeks later, he got a call from someone in headquarters that the bank would reverse the transaction … assuming he gave back the same stones. They sent the appraiser who had done the appraisal to pick up the stones for the bank. The appraiser measured the stones and said, “These are not the same stones.”

My friend’s heart began to race. They were indeed the same stones, but this appraiser had an incentive to think they were not — especially because now, removed from their settings and viewed in good light, the appraiser could see they were definitely not “G.”

“Measure them again,” said my friend. “And again and again and again.”

The appraiser did and reluctantly agreed they were the same stones.

“How could you appraise them ‘G’ if they are ‘J’?” my friend asked. Well, said the appraiser, he hadn’t been able to take them out of their settings, and the light in the bank vault was lousy. “Well then,” asked my friend, “how come you didn’t at least append a footnote to your appraisal noting that?” Mumble, mumble.

My friend showed up at the bank for his check, and they handed him a check drawn on the trust account. No, said my friend. “Every other bank I deal with takes my personal check, but you always require a cashier’s check. So I want a cashier’s check from you.” (Well, he was angry.) So the bank drew him a cashier’s check, and he had his $70,000 back. (This bank has not invited him to bid on an estate sale since.)

Later, he ran into one of the other guys he frequently bids against on these sales. A more senior veteran of these wars. “How come I got the diamonds?” my friend asked. “How come you didn’t bid on them.”

The other estate liquidator said, “Well, I never rely on a GIA appraiser — only on a GIA appraisal.”

An appraiser is just one guy who belongs to the Gemological Institute of America giving his opinion. A GIA appraisal means the stones have been sent to New York, removed from their settings, observed under ideal conditions, and appraised by a committee of three expert GIA-certified appraisers.

Why do I tell you this story? Because I find this kind of thing fascinating. Not diamonds per se (to me, the only fascinating thing about diamonds is why anyone would buy them when synthetic diamonds look — and are — essentially identical), but just the drama of everyday commerce … how the world works. And because, also, it shows yet again that when it comes to investments, the fellow with the most expertise and information and experience has a big edge. If you’re not that person, you should think twice — especially when you’re buying something that lacks an easily ascertained market price.

PS — As I write this, I see in The Wall Street Journal a little ad for “Diamond Studs Priced Right.” Is this a good deal? I have no idea. (And aren’t buttons a lot easier anyway? Surely they are more economical.) But click www.e-diamonds.com if you want to take a look. “Inspect 10,000 fine diamonds with prices online.” They’ll even let you send anyone a “virtual diamond.”

PPS — My own instincts run more toward the financial instrument known as diamonds — stock symbol DIA — which more or less mimics the Dow Jones Industrial Average.

PPPS — Finally, should you be interested in the (lengthy and roundabout) details of how I obtained my own diamond from the Cheese of the Month Club once upon a time, it’s all in Chapter 13 of Money Angles, long out of print, but yours for the clicking.

There are a lot of things I could wish you for Christmas (or whatever holiday you celebrate). Indeed, I do wish you good health and peace, which I guess certainly top the list. But for the purposes of this column, I wish you two second-tier blessings: First, access to a speedy Internet connection of some kind — may your neighborhood get wired soon. Second, good luck.

Ah, luck.

I know I am supposed to be writing these columns myself, but quite often you send me messages that are much more interesting than what I had planned to write. So today’s column is by Stuart Altman, in Los Angeles. And luck is its topic. He writes:

"There is often an attitude — especially among the rich — that the rich deserve their wealth because they put one foot in front of the other, and if the lazy bums who didn’t had, they’d be rich, too. Which is certainly true some of the time. But luck seems to be the sine qua non a lot of the time, too. Especially in the world of movie stars (which certainly is a rarefied world, but nonetheless, I think they can be an example of luck changing lives).

"Critics often discuss movie stars who didn’t make their successes at 21 with an attitude of ‘Why did it take so long?’ As though these movie stars were an inevitable part of the cultural landscape, like volcanoes that were destined to erupt … and why didn’t they erupt sooner?

"One article in Esquire on Clint Eastwood said (more or less) ‘Eastwood was 33 when he had Fist Full [sic] Of Dollars as his first hit’ … as in, Why didn’t he have it when he was 23?

"Well, Eastwood had that hit by the SKIN OF HIS TEETH (and it’s that first hit that makes all the subsequent hits possible). Consider: Eastwood had a supporting part in the weekly TV western Rawhide. His agent said, ‘Want to do a western movie?’ He said, ‘I do a western every week for TV. I’m sick of westerns. No.’ He almost turned down Fist Full Of Dollars right then and there. But his agent said, ‘Just look at the script.’ He read the script, saw it was a rip-off of a Japanese movie he admired called Yojimbo, so decided to do it. So he flies to Italy to make the movie, and instant movie stardom follows, right? Not so fast.

"Sergio Leone, the director, thought that Fist Full Of Dollars was such a bad movie, he wanted to shelve it. He thought releasing it would ruin his reputation! But the Italian government helped finance the movie, and there was a law on the books that said that if the Italian government helped finance a movie, it had to be released in some capacity. So Leone reluctantly released the movie. He released it in Florence, far away from the Naples and Rome movie critics, who he was sure would butcher him if they saw it. He only planned to release it for a week, after which he planned to shelve it permanently. But the audience got bigger and bigger during the week, and it seemed only prudent to give it a wider release, that it got, making Eastwood a movie star. (But only a B movie star, really. And if Frank Sinatra had said yes to the lead in Dirty Harry, instead of no, Eastwood probably wouldn’t have been catapulted to legend status).

"The unknown Charles Grodin was cast in the part of Benjamin in The Graduate. He was on the set, and the cameras were all ready to roll. But he didn’t really hit it off with the director, Mike Nichols. So, out of pique … GRODIN ASKED FOR A RAISE. Grodin had been turned down for thousands of parts at this point, and here he FINALLY had a lead in a film with potential. But he asked for that raise. They told him no. He was warned, ‘Don’t blow your chance here.’ But he insisted on the raise. So they fired him — and hired the unknown Dustin Hoffman, who shortly after that was no longer unknown. Because The Graduate became at that point one of the few films to take in over $100 million. Making Dustin Hoffman a movie star … by a hair.

"Jack Nicholson had starred in some movies prior to Easy Rider. But they were the equivalent of what today would be straight-to-video junk. He was by no means a movie star. He was actually still debating whether to pursue writing, directing or acting, since nothing had clicked for him. Nicholson was asked for some advice by the producer of Easy Rider about some technical matters regarding the movie. Only then did the producer consider hiring Nicholson for the part of the boozy lawyer. So instant stardom followed? Not so fast.

"The producer called Dennis Hopper to his office and said, ‘Why don’t you hire Nicholson for the part of the lawyer?’

"Hopper said, ‘Absolutely not.’

"‘Look, Dennis, I’ve given you everything you’ve wanted on this movie. I’m just asking you this one favor. Hire Nicholson.’

"‘If I cast Nicholson, he will ruin my movie! Absolutely not!’

"‘Just do me this one favor. That’s all I ask.’

"‘Okay. I’ll hire Nicholson. But I’m telling you. You’ve ruined my movie.’

"Nicholson got hired. Easy Rider became a hit, and Nicholson became a star … barely.

"These stars all subsequently became filthy rich, have likely had dinner at the White House, and have had many other goodies lavished upon them.

"I don’t hate the rich. I’ve actually got a decent sized chunk of change myself. But when rich people act as though they earned their money, and they deserve it ONLY, and that luck had NOTHING to do with it … well, sometimes I bristle, and think of the above examples. (The Eastwood Fist Full Of Dollars story I got from an issue of ‘Premiere.’ The Hoffman Graduate story I got from Charles Grodin’s book It Would Be So Nice If You Weren’t Here, and the Nicholson story I got from a Dennis Hopper interview on Bob Costas’ old 1:30 a.m. interview show.)"

Aren’t those fun stories? (This is me writing again.) I do think that somehow talents like Hoffman’s and Eastwood’s and Nicholson’s would have emerged sooner or later, but you never know. Anyway, just as I was about to click the SEND button, this postscript arrived:

"Wait! I forgot my favorite dumb-luck-movie-star story:

"Harrison Ford was a carpenter and had done a small part in George Lucas’s American Graffiti. But he was still a full-time carpenter who was about to leave town for good since he wasn’t amounting to anything in L.A. But he was called for a carpentry job at Francis Ford Coppola’s office. And so he went there and was working on the outside of the office when Lucas happened along. Lucas was borrowing Coppola’s office that day to audition actors for Star Wars. Lucas remembered Ford from Graffiti, and said, ‘Harrison, come in the office and help me audition these actors.’ He wasn’t even considering auditioning Ford himself. He just wanted Ford to read opposite the actors who were auditioning, after which Ford could go back to his carpentry.

"So Ford goes inside, helps these actors along. And Lucas likes how Ford read his lines. So he has him read for the part of Han Solo. And he got the part of Han Solo. A part in the biggest movie in history until Titanic.

"Now, L.A. is a big city. Think of all the addresses Ford could have been called to to do carpentry work. Even if he happened to be working on an office 30 feet away, Lucas might not have seen him, and there would go one of the biggest movie careers ever (Ford has acted in more top grossing movies than any other actor or actress). Or what if Coppola had needed his office that day, and Lucas couldn’t borrow it? Lucky.

"And even after Star Wars, Ford wasn’t a star. (Han Solo was a supporting part.) It took Indiana Jones to make him a star. And Tom Selleck was cast as Indiana Jones. But CBS wouldn’t let him out of his contract for the new series Magnum P.I. Speilberg and Lucas pleaded with CBS for them to let Selleck play Indiana Jones. But CBS wouldn’t allow it. So, because of this CBS brick wall, they had to cast Harrison Ford instead. Lucky. Luck ain’t all it takes. But it is part of what it takes."

Thanks, Stuart. I think you’re right. Luck — and, in the movie business, great teeth.

Here’s wishing you all a very merry Christmas and lots of luck in the New Year. (Don’t forget to floss.)

Several of you wrote last week to tell me I should not be writing about impeachment and/or to say I was dead wrong. Tomorrow, I return to Gummi Bears – but I want to mention two last things first:

• Late in the debate, I heard that Benjamin Franklin had called impeachment “the alternative to assassination.” When the leader simply had to be removed before his term was out, another country might just kill him. Our wise founders devised a more orderly course — impeachment. We shouldn’t trivialize what the president did. But as a huge majority of Americans seem to be saying in the polls, we shouldn’t kill him for it, either.

• Bob Livingston should not resign. Because if he should, then all the elected officials in the country who have ever been unfaithful should resign. And one could argue that anyone who made a vow “till death did them part” but then broke that vow — sanctimonious Georgia Congressman Bob Barr, who’s on his third marriage, comes quickly to mind — should resign. And the Jefferson Memorial should be torn down, and all those Kennedy high schools should be renamed, and George Bush, a fundamentally decent man, should never have been president, and Henry Hyde should be out, too. No. We should strive for perfection and honor it. Truly. But it should not be a requirement of service.

Now, on to the important stuff.

Have you combed your portfolio for losers? It’s not too late to sell them and use the losses to cancel out taxable gains — plus up to another $3,000 in ordinary income. (If your realized losses exceed your realized gains by more than $3,000, you get to carry the excess loss over to future years.) I assume you’ve already done this; but if you haven’t, it may be because you can’t bear selling something (or covering a short) at a loss. I know the feeling. And my own view, oft expressed, is that if something was a good buy at $20, say, it may be an even better buy here at $10. (The flip side of this is: Why do you think you’re so much smarter than the market? If with the market at record high valuations it thinks this thing’s only worth $10, then maybe there’s something you haven’t considered.) I certainly have some energy stocks like that. I figure that one day energy prices may start to rise again, and this abandoned sector will rebound. I don’t want to sell at the bottom. Of course, this may not be the bottom. And in any event, I could sell shares in my depressed oil-and-gas-related stock to get the tax loss and buy a like amount of some other depressed oil-and-gas-related stock.

The other thing to do this time of year is play the tax-loss bounce game. That is, identify a stock that has done so badly during the year that people are dumping it in droves for the tax loss … and whose prospects are so bleak, few bargain hunters are willing to sop up the supply. The trick is to find such a stock that, nonetheless, represents some value. Many of them get beaten down by year-end tax-selling but then beaten down some more by continued losses, and then beaten down in bankruptcy, and then just sort of disappear. I’ve had lots of those. Others survive, and when the tax-selling pressure is over, bounce back. Indeed, with some, most of the bounce comes in the first few days of January.

Recognizing this “January effect,” many folks have learned to anticipate it. They start shopping for these things in December — so it becomes the “December effect” — or even earlier.

One truly awful, dreadful stock this year was children’s book publisher Golden Books Family Entertainment — GBFE. It was over $8 just seven months ago, down from a high of $24, and is 34 cents as I write this. It will either be zero, ultimately — the most likely outcome, given its losses and debts — or perhaps a rescue will be arranged that salvages something for the stockholders. All I know for sure is that a lot of shareholders are dumping it in disgust to get the tax loss, without even taking the time to research its prospects. I am one of them. But I’ve only dumped the shares in which I have big losses. The ones I bought for under a buck I’ll hang onto. By next year — completely worthless — they could provide yet another tax loss. Or maybe I’ll get lucky and this will be one of the ones that survive.

My point is absolutely not that you should speculate in GBFE. I don’t know enough about it, and what I do know suggests to me it is essentially hopeless for today’s stockholders. (Maybe after a bankruptcy and a change in management, the company will come back to life; but in a bankruptcy, the common shareholders are generally left with nothing or next to nothing.)

On the other hand, I do think that as a class, these losers tend to be undervalued, because the same kind of irrational emotion that can drive winners to crazy heights can, when things are bad, work more or less the same way in reverse. Especially when you consider the tax incentives of selling. (If you paid $24 a share, who cares whether you get 60 cents or 34 cents or 8 cents when you sell? A wipeout is a wipeout. Plus, with a December 31 cutoff, you don’t have the luxury of waiting. So you sell at any price.)

So if you had $1 million and chose to spread $50,000 over five such stocks — 5% of your total portfolio channeled into this game — you might, on average, come out OK. (Or you might just have another $50,000 tax loss next year.)

Nor should you look only for the near-bankrupt stocks selling for pennies. There are some energy stocks these days, to take just one example, that — beaten down by events and tax-selling — are, nonetheless, far from broke. They might never bounce back, but they might. One such speculation I’ve owned for years, Canada Southern Petroleum (CSPLF), sells for under $5 and might be one of the five you play this game with.

But you really have to believe you could lose every penny of the money you speculate with this way, because you certainly could. And speculation itself can be a very dangerous, addicting thing. Let’s put it this way: The devil is not sitting around with a pitchfork hoping he can prod you into index funds.

Tomorrow: Gummi Madness

Let me not dwell on what I imagine wound up being a tragedy in the House of Representatives this weekend and return to the other tragedy in my life.

My short sale.

So here is Amazon back in the 285 range as I write Friday afternoon (400 as you read Monday morning?) – up from 24-and-change earlier this year – and I do have this thought: Is it possible that some of those investors looking for year-end tax losses to balance out gains are covering their short positions in Amazon, helping to drive up the stock? And is it possible that those who have huge gains in Amazon are figuring they’ll put off the tax bite a year by waiting a few weeks, until January, to sell?

I actually doubt this is a very big factor in today’s price, but it might be a little of the explanation. When you’re short a few shares, as I am, you will grasp at any straw.

Meanwhile, I just took a look at www.booksamillion.com (whose own stock, BAMM, has been a source of thrills and chills), where Tom Wolfe’s best-seller, A Man in Full, goes for $15.63. The same book is $20.26 at Amazon, or 29% more. Across the board, Books-A-Million prices beat Amazon’s, and by a pretty wide margin. (You do have to pay a $5 membership to get the best discount, however.) Personally, I would rather pay Amazon an extra few dollars with every order, because they’re nice people and, frankly, because I feel sorry for them. As most people know, they’re still losing money. Also, to be fair, once you include the $3.95 shipping that both charge, it’s really barely 23% extra you’re paying. And what’s 23% extra among friends?

I firmly predict that Amazon’s customers will always be happy to pay 20% or even 29% more than they have to, for one simple reason: They all own the stock.

Seriously … Amazon does do an awfully good job. And Books-A-Million – and others – may not be able to undercut it forever. Then again, a big part of the price difference would appear to be this: BAMM gives YOU the extra discount rather than rebating it to “associates” who funnel business their way. (Me, for example – at andrewtobias.com.) So the price differential may be supportable after all.

To some, it’s actually worth a few extra bucks to be able to click a book title and go straight to “one-click” check-out at Amazon or Barnes & Noble and be done with it. If it saves two minutes, that can be a big deal. Nothing is more precious than our time. But others may choose to spend the extra two minutes to save $4, or even $1. After all, even $1 for two minutes is $30 an hour, tax free. That’s like earning $90,000 a year.

Anyway, the incredible Amazon saga continues. I continue to root for the company but not the stock. And I note with awe and fascination just how far the little sucker has come since I first wrote about it here, two and a half years ago. An analyst at Oppenheimer now predicts it will earn $10 a share in five years. So today you can snag it for just 29 times hoped-for-earnings. Just sit tight for five years, and if he’s right, the stock could then actually be worth today’s price.

To those of you who do own Amazon (Dorothy – do you still have it?), hats off to you. And don’t forget to drop a share or two into the Salvation Army bucket.

Depending on what happened yesterday, I am either immensely relieved or deeply saddened — or we’re at war. But I can’t keep writing about impeachment every day, and I write most of these comments a few days in advance (which is why I don’t yet know what happened yesterday), so I am going to make a stab at resuming our irregularly scheduled programming. You know: Gummi Bears and Amazon.com shorts — all that.

Today, two true stories.

Story #1

This friend of mine was on the phone with Delta trying to get a cheap round-trip from the Miami area to Washington, D.C. He’s a journalist and needed to go interview some hotshot. Fewer than 7 days in advance, no Saturday stay-over. In other words: He was dead meat.

So while the Delta agent is sorting through things, he’s tinkering with www.travelocity.com. She finds him a round-trip in the high “twos” — $298 or some such. He finds a round-trip fare (I couldn’t believe this) of $148. She couldn’t believe it, either, but when he told her the flight number, sure enough, there it was: his for $148 round-trip.

In short, this business about being able to click your way around the Web really does have its advantages and should only improve. (My friend lives in Miami Beach, one of the few places you can get Internet access via the cable TV company. So his connection is almost as fast as the one you have at the office. Ah, what I wouldn’t give for a T1 line.)

Story #2

This other friend of mine got it into his head a few weeks ago to sell short a slew of soon-to-expire, way-out-of-the-money calls on Amazon.com and Yahoo. Both were selling at such ridiculous prices (and the market itself was so high) that it was almost free money. Unless each one went up yet another 20 or 30 points, he could just keep the ridiculously generous premiums he got for writing those soon-to-expire calls. Free money! End of story. And even if — it’s a strange world we live in — they did suddenly vault yet another 30 points, or even 40 or 50 points, well, he was a big boy and could handle the risk.

A couple of clicks and the positions were his.

A week later (this is a true story), Amazon had vaulted 100 points and my friend, gazing out at the Pacific from his Santa Monica condo, had lost his entire fortune, everything he had worked his entire life to earn.

Click with care. There are huge advantages to Internet trading — I constantly marvel at being able to make trades for $13 that until recently cost me $300 — but it is easier than ever to ruin yourself. Be careful.

I don’t know what’s going to happen with the impeachment vote, but I think it’s important we look at the bright side. Namely, that this nation cares, deeply, about honesty and the rule of law.

Some believe the president should be removed from office for dancing around narrow definitions and pretending “not to recall” when asked, in a politically motivated civil lawsuit, about his private sex life. In the history of this nation, no president has ever been removed from office, but perhaps no president has ever committed an offense so grave – or been caught doing it. Finally, after 222 years, a president has committed Treason. Or taken Bribes. Or committed other High Crimes and Misdemeanors.

Most believe this is an incredibly partisan witch-hunt – but that, obviously, the president did not tell the “whole truth and nothing but the truth.” And so, like the first group, we believe some kind of punishment is, regrettably, called for.

(I say regrettably, because I think this situation was largely manufactured by the president’s enemies. And that private relations between consenting adults should be, and should have been, allowed to remain private.)

As a nation we mostly agree. Truth matters. The law matters. Untruthfulness should have consequences.

(We also agree that private relations should remain private, that overzealous government prosecutors are scary, and that Monica’s dress is a long way from Whitewater, which had nothing to do with the presidency in the first place.)

That’s the good news. Soon the House will decide what consequences are appropriate – censure and a fine, as most of their constituents want – or something more.

When I was a little boy and television was a new medium, the most popular weather guy in New York – his name escapes me, but one of you will remember – used to draw some kind of big doodle or cartoon as, occasionally looking back over his shoulder at us viewers, he “did the weather.” I don’t know that Magic Markers had been invented then, but it was that kind of idea: a big sketch of a droopy dog, say, on a two-by-three-foot easel pad, and won’t this dog be sad when it starts to drizzle later this afternoon. Annoys the heck out of me that I can’t think of his name, but I can still hear his voice. He was a good guy.

Weather forecasting has come a long way since then, but the post of the local weather guy/gal remains one that’s often filled by a ham or a happy-face or a full head of hair; i.e., we’re not talking rocket science here.

Well, actually, at Weather Headquarters it is a bit like rocket science. (Perhaps you saw National Geographic‘s documentary on the March 1993 “Storm of the Century”?)

But down at the local TV station it’s somebody grabbing the weather report off the wire service and then pointing at a blank green wall, which appears to us to be the weather map, and pointing out all the precipitation. (He manages to do this by watching his hand on a TV monitor to see what it appears he is pointing at. But to someone in the studio watching him, he is pointing at a blank green wall.)

There are exceptions. There are some local weather folk who actually understand meteorology. Indeed, there are a few who are not just “nice, bright people” but nice, really bright people, like Bryan Norcross, who does the weather in Miami.

He’s the guy widely credited with “saving Miami” from hurricane Andrew, so much so that NBC made a TV movie about his heroism. How many local weather guys have TV movies made about them? Not, of course, that he was able to divert Andrew – that would have been the stuff of a $100 million Spielberg epic, not some two-bit TV movie. But by understanding the gravity of the situation long before any of his competition and then staying on air nonstop for something like a million hours without sleep, he was able to make a real difference. Even today, people stop him on the street to thank him for the practical life- and property-saving advice and admonitions he dispensed hour after hour.

Today Norcross sees another potentially devastating storm. Only this one, happily, we can avert. So – like many of us, whatever our normal professions may be – he’s jumped into the debate to try to do just that. Avert it.

What follows (with his permission) are excerpts from his letter to Rick Lazio, a good guy who represents part of Long Island. I have no idea whether Congressman Lazio has found time to read Bryan’s letter – like his colleagues, I am sure he is positively deluged with constituent mail and e-mail and phone calls. But even if he hasn’t read it, I thought it might be of interest to you as you make up your own mind and contact your own congressperson:

#

Dear Congressman Lazio,

You have been identified in the media as a “moderate” Republican. I found you to be very fair during the hearing in which I participated at the National Hurricane Center some years ago. I am sure you are agonizing over the critical vote you are about to make. I think this event may affect our governmental system for the rest of our lives. Therefore, I feel compelled to offer you my thinking.

In the strongest terms I urge you to find the resolve and political will to act in the best interests of the country and vote AGAINST impeaching the President. In my opinion, this politicized impeachment process is the most dangerous governmental event of my life, even worse than Watergate. In 1974 the system worked. Now, I think it has not.

The Congress has NO responsibility to punish or even condemn an official who has sinned, or even violated the law, UNLESS the transgression is impeachable, in which case it must be a “high crime.” The power to punish lesser sins lies with the people. The fact that the House is hell-bent on doing something viewed as punishment, in my opinion, shows disdain for the people who elected them.

In my opinion, the risk to our form of government is GREATER because of this process than anything that Mr. Clinton has been alleged to have done. This politicized constitutional process will likely cause permanent harm to the carefully crafted Balance of Power that is our governmental system. The power of impeachment should only be used for the most threatening times and events.

Why are we suddenly so anxious to rip our government apart when we have used judgement in the past?

I just returned from Europe. I can tell you that 100% of the doctors and attorneys with whom I discussed the Clinton situation thought continuing to pick apart his tawdry affair, and all the vague and misleading statements about the details, is absurd and damaging, not only to the United States, but to the stability of the world. To them, it reflects much worse on the judgement of the Congress than on the President. In the totality, it reflects extremely badly on our country.

In addition, any objective view of the process that brought us to this point has to make a fair-minded person uncomfortable. Look at a small part of the list:

• A private federal lawsuit is filed years after the event, encouraged and funded by an enemy of the President.

• The so-called Independent Council, operating under a law that many members of Congress have said will not be renewed in its present form, has some peripheral involvement.

• Illegal wiretaps are involved.

• A convoluted definition of a phrase in the dictionary (sexual relations) is used (even the Judge said, “I don’t know what to do” with the definition). The President is never asked, “did you have oral sex?” (Could it be because an honest answer to that would have circumvented a future perjury claim?) Remember, Jennifer Flowers said years ago that the President does not consider oral sex to be sex. (Might the attorneys have known that?)

• And there is much more.

These are all reasons to feel uncomfortable with the underpinnings of this case. (Republicans on the Judiciary Committee even expressed some concerns). In our system, the underpinnings count. How can we consider impeaching a President, with the incredible cost to the nation, over a situation whose beginnings smell so political? The entire process lacks credibility. In fact, one after the other, prosecutors have indicated that this sort of legal case would not be likely ever to see a courtroom. Should we impeach a president, with all of the financial and political turmoil that it will bring, over a case that would likely never be tried? How can a “high crime and misdemeanor” be such a low crime as to not be worthy of prosecution?

Yes, the President acted like an idiot in fooling around with an intern. But when the risks are weighed, the opinion of the American people is considered, the tainted process is noted, and history is remembered, the United States is better off allowing the President to continue to serve. Thank you for your consideration of my opinion.

-Bryan Norcross

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What makes it all so bizarre is that no one imagines the Senate would vote to convict. So we have a practical choice: Go through months more of Monica Lewinsky and have the President stay in office. Or not go through those months and have the President stay in office.

Two routes to the same result.

If all that were at stake were a few more months of interminable and embarrassing C-Span, it might not matter which we chose. But investor psychology and economic confidence are fragile, skittish, unpredictable things. Leave aside, for a moment, what a partisan impeachment vote and a months-long, all-consuming impeachment trial could do to the future of our political process. What might it do to the fragile world economy and to hundreds of millions of people for whom life is already a struggle at best? Possibly, it would have no effect at all. But why on earth take the gamble?

So here’s what I asked a couple of months back. If perjury is such a big deal — and it is — what about those seven tobacco-company CEOs in 1994, when they raised their right hands and swore to Congress they did not believe nicotine was addictive?

This lie was part of a decades-long attempt to addict millions of people to a product that, in about 400,000 cases a year in the U.S. alone, leads to premature death often preceded by terrible suffering.

Why is that perjury not worth even a little investigation or censure? Yet the Republican-led Congress — financed not insignificantly by the same tobacco interests that so hate Clinton — has in four years called for no action whatever in this regard.

So come on, everybody. Let’s get real. What the president did was wrong. But it wasn’t treason, it wasn’t bribery, it wasn’t assassinating a political rival or some other egregious “High Crime.” He just couldn’t bring himself to admit to an embarrassing affair. (And what has the world gained, really, now that it knows? Are we so much better off? Are Linda Tripp and Ken Starr and Richard Mellon Scaife heroes we should be thankful to for all of this?)

Though I feel for the president, I agree with the Republicans, and many Democrats, who think he really did something unacceptable. And I suppose he must pay the consequences. (I say “I suppose” because, in the face of all the good he’s done, in my view, one might make the case for forgiveness.) But what are the appropriate consequences? An historic censure and loss of a year’s pay would certainly chasten you or me. If people feel the need, I suppose they could even attempt to put him in jail on criminal perjury charges after he leaves office. He could be prosecuted for this like anyone else. But in the meantime, we should get back to the business of running the country and trying to help lead the world away from the financial precipice.

And hey, Mr. Hyde. Hey, Mr. Chabot and the rest of you fellows — what about those seven tobacco CEOs? Is it just that they helped fund your campaigns that kept you from saying a peep when they lied under oath?

Punish the president — but don’t punish the country (and the rest of a fragile world) by putting us through an unnecessary, unwarranted impeachment trial that almost all seem to agree will fail to result in conviction anyway.

And when you’re done, don’t forget to punish the guys who not only lied under oath but also compounded the sin significantly by lying about something important.

I suppose it seems odd to be reading about auto insurance reform — three of last week’s columns — when the whole nation is on the brink of shooting itself in the foot.

I don’t think we will go over the brink, but we sure are coming close. (With brinks, can one ever not?)

I speak here, of course, of the possibility that the House, against the wishes of a majority of the people it represents, will impeach the president. It is very Alice-in-Wonderland-like if for no other reason than this: Everyone agrees the president will not be convicted and removed from office. (To be sure, some feel he should be, but no one thinks two-thirds of the Senate will so vote.)

So this is purely an exercise in theater. We would be choosing to tie up the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court and the entire Senate and no small portion of the executive branch (how can they not be consumed by this, even if not directly involved?) — for months — for the purpose of making a point. The point: that no one, least of all a president, should lie — in common sense terms if not in legal technicality — and especially not under oath.

It is an important point.

Much of the country and many of the Republicans in the House, given the choice, would opt for censure to make that point — and so would I. (In truth, it seems to me the point has already been made.) “Censure and move on” is the operative phrase.

Censure is no trivial thing. Clinton would be only the second president in history to be censured (and Andrew Jackson’s censure was later repealed). And maybe they’d dock him a full year’s pay. This is a very big deal. Point made!

But three or six more months of Monica Lewinsky?

Hello … we have Iraq and a global financial crisis and Russia and the Year 2000 problem to deal with. Not to mention education and Fast Track and Social Security and everything else.

If we absolutely had to do this, because the president were attempting to subvert our democracy by, say, setting the IRS upon his political enemies, as Nixon did, or by using the CIA to thwart an FBI investigation into illegal wiretaps of the opposition party, as Nixon also did, or by authorizing operations to break into a psychiatrist’s office to obtain patient files … then of course we would do so. (And it wouldn’t just be theater; the chances are, there would be a conviction.)

But the president was just trying to keep from admitting an embarrassing sex thing between himself and a consenting adult.

That really is different.

If the president were robbing us blind, we might put ourselves through this. (Nixon wasn’t robbing us blind, but he did commit serious income tax fraud — a terrible example to set to the American people. Yet neither the Democrats nor the Republicans on the House Judiciary Committee at the time felt that this rose to the level of Treason, Bribery, or other High Crimes and Misdemeanors. It was deemed a personal infraction.)

The president was not robbing us blind. No, the Whitewater prosecutor (who reported no presidential wrongdoing with Whitewater) found only that the president gave in to sexual temptation with a consenting adult and then did all he could to keep it from coming out.

The world should not be paralyzed over this. We shareholders do not deserve to see our portfolios plummet if the market loses confidence during an impeachment trial. People at the bottom of the economic ladder do not deserve to have their jobs jeopardized over this if a gloomy mood leads to recession here, or to prolonged agony in the already depressed economies overseas. We need our government’s attention focused on the real problems. Censure and move on.

I’m not predicting apocalypse if there were an impeachment trial. But don’t underestimate the possible impact, the power of psychology in markets and economics.

Remember when the world was in crisis just a few weeks ago and — bang — the crisis passed when the Fed lowered interest rates a quarter of a point between regularly scheduled meetings? Overnight, an amazing change in world confidence. It wasn’t the quarter point that mattered, it was the psychology of the thing. Psychology and confidence and moods matter in markets. I don’t know for sure what the impact would be of our being mired in months more of this mess, but I do know it couldn’t possibly be a plus. And that it could possibly be a big minus.

So why do this to ourselves? Are we that certain this is what Thomas Jefferson and the others had in mind when they wrote of Treason, Bribery and other High Crimes and Misdemeanors? If we’re not certain (and many of us, of course, are certain this in fact is not the case), then let’s give ourselves a break. Censure — for only the second time in the nation’s history! — and move on.

And that’s all I have to say.

(Except that through the miracle of hyperlinks, for those who do want to split a few hairs — irrelevant to the larger points made above — click here.)

The president and Monica knew their behavior was wrong, just as, presumably, a married 42-year-old Henry Hyde and the married woman he had a five-year affair with knew it was wrong and Thomas Jefferson and the slave with whom he had a long affair and a child knew it was wrong.

And so, like many in this situation, they tried to keep it secret. There’s more one could say about how inappropriate this was — an intern? the Oval Office? But he really didn’t have much option to go to a Motel 6. And this was hardly an unwilling child reluctantly seduced.

So the president gambled that he and Monica could get away with keeping their secret, thus sparing themselves and their families and his office and the nation the embarrassment. He lost.

Did he lie in the Paula Jones testimony? Well, the part about not recalling having been alone with Monica seems by any stretch to have been a lie. This is a guy who remembers everything. I think he remembered that. But on top of feeling an incredible invasion of his privacy (this never happened to Kennedy!), I wouldn’t be surprised if the president didn’t also feel this: He really did try to restrain himself. He really didn’t “go all the way,” as we used to say in high school. He really didn’t have a full-fledged affair of the type Henry Hyde or Thomas Jefferson had. And so (one can imagine his feeling, as he agonizes over this) doesn’t he get any credit for that? He obviously resisted some temptation, just not enough. And the first definition of “sexual relations” in my dictionary is “sexual intercourse.” (The problem is that, at least in my dictionary, the alternate is: “any sexual activity between individuals.”) To the two of them, what they were doing — stopping so far short of “the act,” so far short of ski-chalet weekend trysts — was, technically, not the real deal.

Of course, it’s just this kind of legal bobbing and weaving that got him in so much trouble, so I’m not making the case that backed into a corner by his political enemies, he didn’t screw up. He truly did. He agrees. He should be censured, maybe fined. We should move on.