The untold story of how Patricia Walsh Chadwick became one of the first women of Wall Street

It was early in 1969. I was a twenty-year-old receptionist at the Boston office of Landenburg, Thalmann, an investment banking firm. Fascinated by the stock market, I had memorized the stock symbols of every company listed on the NYSE. During sporadic free moments, I would test myself by standing next to the trading desk as the stock symbols scrolled across the electronic ticker. The mood of the brokers and the partners was driven by how the market was doing and an especially tense day at the NYSE in 1969 led to me becoming known as the “Witch of Wall Street.”



“Down seven points!”



The gasp came from senior partner George Burden as the two of us stood side by side, our eyes glued to the stock market tape running across the far wall of the trading room. It was a solid sea of red—the telltale indication that stock prices were falling. Not a green uptick among them. On Wall Street, they called it a bloodbath.



A pin-drop moment might have been the way to describe the scene in what was normally a raucous trading room, with brokers yelling—even screaming—orders to buy and sell stocks. The tension was palpable as those brokers now stood in silence. From the corner of my eye, I glanced at George’s hands—they were shaking as he rubbed his fingertips together.



I did a quick calculation—seven points was a bit more than 1 percent. Wow , I thought, it’s fallen a whole percent in just an hour. I didn’t dare extrapolate that trend for a day, much less for a week or a month.



This was how 1969 opened—a far cry from the bull market of the year before.



The Dow was, at that time, the bellwether index for the US stock market—a time when the country’s economy was fueled by manufacturing giants that included General Motors, Goodyear Tire and Rubber, International Harvester, and Bethlehem Steel. The Dow had peaked at close to 1,000 points at the end of 1965 and was hovering around that level when I joined Ladenburg Thalmann a little over two years later, although there had been a marked increase in its volatility.



The postwar decades of the fifties and sixties had been robust years for the US economy, and for nearly twenty years, the stock market had reflected a sense of economic euphoria. By the mid sixties, however, the environment had changed, as the increasing financial and human capital expended on the unpopular and unsuccessful war in Vietnam led to rising inflation and growing social unrest.



The high-flying stocks of the prior decade had been dubbed “the Nifty Fifty.” They included Avon, General Electric, Merck, and Disney, as well as plenty of now-defunct companies such as Polaroid, Kresge, Simplicity Pattern, Control Data, Teledyne, University Computing, LTV, and more.



The combination of the inheritance from my great aunt and my bonus check was the impetus for me to explore making an investment in stocks—but which ones? I queried an elderly broker about what tips he had for me if I wanted to buy a stock. He seemed more than happy to offer his advice and strongly recommended Commonwealth United Entertainment, a company about which I knew nothing and that was far from a household name.



Thus, my first foray into the world of investing was based on trust—a purchase of fifty shares of the stock for a total of $1,210.69. In a matter of a week or two, my investment was in the red. Uncertain about what to do, I went back to the elderly broker who had displayed an air of wisdom. “What should I do with my stock?” was my plaintiff query. The shrug of his shoulders told me all I needed to know—I was on my own.



Fearful that I might lose all my money, I sold the stock a mere three months after purchasing it and incurred a loss of more than $300. Welcome to the world of investing.



The experience was painful but not enough to kill my appetite. Over the next few weeks and months, I talked to other brokers in the office. Each was ready to offer ideas, and I put my toe back into the water—not always with success, but I’d been bitten by the investment bug. My portfolio was anything but sophisticated, replete with names of now long-defunct companies like Riker-Maxson and Computer Learning Systems.



Trading was expensive—commissions were 2 to 3% on each trade, and that was with the discount I got for being an employee. Before long, I had my own small portfolio of stocks—an array of ideas I’d solicited from the now growing team of brokers in the firm. With a turbulent market, my performance was far from stellar, but I was learning—learning to pick up the pieces and try again if I made a mistake.



Investing made me feel like more than just the receptionist, and I wondered about becoming a broker. Convinced that I could pass the exam, I approached George Burden to get his permission. The worst that could happen was that he’d say no.



“I’d like to apply for my license as a New York Stock Exchange broker,” I said. “I’ll study hard, and I’m sure I can pass.”



George, as though not to dampen my perpetual enthusiasm, responded with a cheerful yes. “I’m sure you will pass.”



And so it was that I took a first step in the right direction for a girl who was destined to be buying and selling stocks for the next fifty years. During the next few weeks, I studied feverishly and felt confident on exam day. My memory of the exam itself has faded, but the notice I received some weeks later is clear. I was now a licensed stockbroker, at the age of twenty-one.







Excerpted with permission from the book Breaking Glass: Tales of The Witch of Wall Street,  by Patricia Walsh Chadwick . Copyright © 2024 by Patricia Walsh Chadwick. Published by Post Hill Press. Reprinted by permission.



Patricia Walsh Chadwick received her BA in economics from Boston University and had a successful 30-year career in the investment business, culminating as a global partner at Invesco, and today she sits on a number of corporate boards.  She is the author of two memoirs, Breaking Glass: Tales From The Witch of Wall Street and Little Sister (2019).