The Arrogant Ascent to 10,000
By JOSEPH NOCERA
NORTHAMPTON,
Mass -- With the Dow Jones industrial average on the verge of closing over
10,000, I can't get my mind off a strange stock picker known as Tokyo Joe.
Tokyo Joe -- a.k.a. TokyoMex,
a.k.a. Joe Park -- is a 40-year-old South Korean immigrant who,
according to a recent article
in Money magazine, used to run a string of burrito restaurants in Manhattan.
A few years ago, he became
obsessed with the stock chat boards on the Internet. On several of them,
he
became a dominant figure;
other investors began investing in small-cap stocks on his say-so.
Soon he had gravitated to
day trading, where he claimed to be making a small fortune buying in and
out
of stocks in the space of
a day -- or more likely, an hour. Finally, Tokyo Joe set up a proprietary
Web
site, where he charges $100
a month for access to his stock picks. He is, without question, one of
the
most influential stock pickers
on the Internet.
Sixteen years into the greatest
bull market in American history, it no longer surprises when an amateur
investor like Tokyo Joe
decides to "go pro." No, the real twist here is his investing philosophy.
He believes that company
fundamentals, which have guided investors from time immemorial, are for
saps, and that long-term
investing is for losers. (He proudly calls himself a "speculator.") He
thinks
there's nothing wrong with
touting a stock to make it move, and then selling into the run-up.
("Otherwise what am I? A
charity?") And he thinks that if you have a problem with any of this, well,
too
bad.
"We're the new blood, man," he exulted to the writer from Money.
Here's the sad part.
He might be right.
Just check out the chat boards these days.
They're filled with people
who are day trading and speculating and trying to pump up stocks for a
quick
and easy gain.
And to me, they suggest what is truly significant about Dow 10,000.
It is not merely that this is the latest, greatest milestone in this astonishing bull market.
It is that, unlike 1987 when
the Dow Jones average hit 2,000, or even 1995, when it breached the 5,000
barrier, the stock market
in 1999 has become a different kind of place, populated by a different
kind of
investor.
At the heart of this change
is the Internet. Without question, the new medium has "empowered" investors
-- offering them tools that
have put them on a more equal footing with the smart money boys on Wall
Street. The proliferation
of cheap on-line trading has made it easy for investors to make their own
instantaneous buy-and-sell
decisions, instead of having to rely on brokers.
And on, and on.
But along with this empowerment has come an extraordinary bullishness that borders on arrogance.
In the view of many Internet
investors, stocks move up because, well -- who cares why they move up?
That's what they've always
done.
That's the natural order
of things. It doesn't matter that many of their favorite stocks -- Internet
stocks
especially -- don't have
earnings or well-tested business models.
That old-fashioned stuff
is for fuddy-duddies, people who are out of touch with this wondrous new
stock
market.
As it happens, I'm one of those fuddy-duddies.
So is my friend Herb Greenberg,
who last year left his job as a stock columnist at The San Francisco
Chronicle to join TheStreet.com,
a Web site that reports on the stock market (and of which The New
York Times Company is the
third-largest shareholder). Herb's stock in trade are stories that look
closely
at things like phony earnings
and accounting gimmickry -- and at the kind of fundamentals that used to
matter. But in bringing
his kind of skeptical reporting to the Web, he's gotten nothing but grief.
"I feel
like I'm whistling in the
wind," he told me recently.
That's how I feel, too.
But I also feel unnerved by what's happened in the market in the past few years.
To me, when a character like
Tokyo Joe arrives on the scene, it's a sure signal that the end of the
bull
market is near. But I'm
not sure I have the nerve to say that out loud anymore.
I've been burned too many
times these past few years. It's tough to believe in fundamentals when
the
market no longer seems to
care.
Joseph Nocera is an editor
at large at Fortune magazine.