DEL.ICIO.USMain Street blues: Crisis times get tighter
Sunday, October 12, 2008
While international finance ministers met at the White House on Saturday, another group just as concerned about the global economic meltdown gathered at another White House in Atlanta.
“My 401(k) is down at least 20 percent,” John Bormolini said as he dug into a cheese omelet in a back booth of the Buckhead restaurant with the presidential name.
LOUIE FAVORITE/AJC Staff
John Bormolini (left), with wife, Patty at the White House restaurant in Buckhead, says his 401(k) is down at least 20 percent.
LOUIE FAVORITE/AJC Staff
Ella Miller, taking a quick peek at TV news while working at the White House restaurant, says she does not pay attention to the stock market.
LOUIE FAVORITE/AJC Staff
‘It’s better not to look at your statements right now,’ says Juliet Asher (hand to mouth), with family at the restaurant.
Pouya Dianat/Staff Photographer
Barry Gang (right) and Steve Worch, both band parents at Walton High School pack up their pregame tailgate. Gang, who works in finance, has seen first hand the declining values of many peoples 401(k)s.
Beside his biscuit was a rolled-up copy of The Wall Street Journal, with a banner headline blaring: “Wild Day Caps Worst Week Ever For Stocks.” The 55-year-old project manager purposefully ignored it and pored through the AJC sports section instead.
Like many Atlantans, Bormolini did not have the stomach for more news of the sell-off that has withered retirement funds like so many autumn leaves. The Dow Jones industrial average has fallen almost 40 percent in the past year — 18 percent last week alone.
It’s the kind of spiral that makes people alter life plans, cancel purchases, lose sleep and generally feel lousy. It makes otherwise mature adults act like children as they approach third-quarter statements like a rock they don’t want to turn over because something slimy is sure to be lurking underneath.
Across Atlanta, the queasy reality of the worst stock market in decades sank in as Wall Street’s mess landed on Peachtree Street.
At Walton High School’s homecoming football game Friday night, east Cobb tailgaters grilled bratwursts and portobello mushrooms as they considered the financial flames licking at their portfolios.
“I’m just glad I’m young enough that I haven’t had to look at my 401(k),” said Barry Gang, 46, an employee benefits consultant. “Luckily, we’ll have time before we have to start cashing things in.”
Another Cobb father at the game, Dave Long, said he was putting brakes on his plans to buy a car for his 16-year-old daughter, Emily. “We’re setting priorities and putting off big spending plans. Saving for college is a priority. I told her that things are a lot tighter than they were a couple of months ago.”
On Saturday morning at the White House, where Buckhead professionals shed their weekday business attire for shorts and sweats, the setting seemed well-suited for the moment. The restaurant makes the most of its name, with a profusion of American flags, aprons bearing the presidential seal and portraits of chief executives running down one wall — almost all of them from Woodrow Wilson to Bill Clinton.
There was one conspicuous absence: Herbert Hoover, who occupied the real White House when Wall Street laid a three-egg omelet in 1929.
“I don’t think anyone’s missing him right now,” said Tasso Costarides, whose business card identifies him as the president of this White House.
As the breakfast crowd built, each booth seemed to have its own special order of anxieties.
“If the market’s down 40 percent, I’m probably down 40 percent,” said lawyer Michael Golden, 44, who sat in a front booth with his wife, Juliet Asher, and their 2-year-old daughter, Samantha.
Asher, a doctor, offered her husband some healthy advice.
“It’s better not to look at your statements right now,” she said. “You don’t need to see it in black and white.”
“But it has upset me,” Golden continued. “Retirement seems to get farther away every day. My brother’s the smart one. He has his own hedge fund in New York. He’s mostly in cash.”
Asher laughed. “His mantra is ‘The sky is falling’.”
Sooner or later, even Chicken Little is right.
A few booths away sat David and Carla Barrie. He’s 49 and in medical sales; she’s 44 and a vice president with Post Properties, the apartment developers.
“The market has been in the back of my head all week,” she said. “I’ve felt kind of depressed, and I finally realized that was why.”
The problem is not knowing what to do, her husband added.
“Do you pay the mortgage down,” he asked, “or should you keep your money on hand because you could lose your job?”
Carla Barrie phoned her stepfather, a broker with Wachovia. “He told us just to sit tight. Don’t move any of our money around. There’s no safe place to put it anyway.”
Bormolini, the man who was avoiding his Wall Street Journal, didn’t quite agree with that sentiment. “If you’ve got some money, this is the time to buy,” he said. “Stocks are on sale.”
His wife, Patty, a nurse, seemed warier. “We’re taking this day by day. We might have to tighten our belts.”
He nodded and allowed that they weren’t eating out as often.
“This is a splurge for us — going to the White House,” she half-joked, looking around the modest café.
Across the room, banker Earl Howell addressed a plate of sausage and eggs sunny-side up with his wife, Roz.
“I don’t look at my account totals from day to day,” he said, “but I’ll tell you what: I’m glad I’m 58 and not 68. I’d hate to be living on retirement withdrawals right now.”
“Like my parents,” his wife chimed in. “They’re in their 80s, and they are very worried. They live entirely on their investments.”
Howell put down his fork, and a serious look came over his face. “This is going to get better,” he predicted. “It’s a crisis of confidence. A lot of what we’re seeing is fear.”
The portrait of Franklin D. Roosevelt, who warned against the fear of fear itself, seemed to look down from the wall in approval.
One of the least worried people in the restaurant probably was the woman who brought many of the bankers and lawyers their breakfast. Waitress Ella Miller said she keeps her nest egg in annuities.
“I don’t pay attention to the market,” she said, pausing at the counter. “All I care about is that people come in here to eat. People have to eat.”
Just then, a customer slipped her a $16 tip, explaining that it was one dollar for each of the 16 years she’s worked at the White House. Miller broke into a smile and thanked him.
Finally, some good economic news.
Staff writer Marcus K. Garner contributed to this report.
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