I Pass From Paris To London: ‘Malacoot’

Louis Kornitzer's book, Gem Trader, is partly autobiographical and partly woven round the lore of pearls. It's educational + explains the distribution chain of gems, as they pass from hand to hand, from miner to cutter, from merchant to millionaire, from courtesan to receiver of stolen goods, shaping human lives as they go + the unique characters in the gem industry.

(via Gem Trader) Louis Kornitzer writes:

One of my experiences at that time of my apprenticeship I mention, because it shows something of the way in which the trade regulates its business morals from within. A firm had given me a parcel of gems with instructions to sell in the open market at a price they had fixed as their lowest. Speed was the essence of the transaction, and they wanted results, and cash, the same day.

The instructions were verbal and unfortunately I had misheard the price; and being a novice, I did not realize that I was going to quote an exceptionally low figure, several hundred francs per carat below normal. I took the parcel to a certain M Behrens, to whom my people had been very kind when he was in Vienna. He was a sort of family friend, and when he had seen my goods he at once bought them with great goodwill and paid in cash, asking no questions. Back I went to hand over the money to my principals, who forcefully pointed out my mistake. I returned to M. Behrens, whose bonhomie had now somewhat abated, and who flatly refused to rectify the trouble, although he knew perfectly well what he was taking advantage of my inexperience, and that I was losing more than I could hope to make in a year.

At this point I thought to appeal to the good offices of the chairman of the Diamond Club, which is to the trade what the Jockey Club is to racing. Monsieur Behrens was cited before the committee, and it was pointed out to him in no equivocal terms that in the ordinary way he could not have hoped for such a bargain except with stolen goods. He was unusually tenacious. The opinion of his fellows appeared to leave him unmoved and he refused to obey the Club’s ruling. I only got out of my stupid mess by consenting to be mulcted of a penalty sum heavy enough to cripple a beginner.

A second early adventure is pleasing at this distance of time, because it displays one of those curiosities of human nature which constantly astound the most experienced students of that strange phenomenon.

A certain man in Paris was a personage of considerable means, a gem expert, and so big a buyer that his business connections in several continental centres made him a power to be reckoned with. He was also a notorious liar and thief, and everyone knew his reputation. I had been warned against him, but as he went out of his way to be friendly to me, I thought I knew better, particularly as he himself took pains to warn me against the very people who had impeached his character. Unfortunately I had been warned in vague terms and had not been told that he was no better than a common thief and that no broker or dealer would go near him without first counting the stones in each parcel and the number of parcels in his wallet. They would even watch his hands while he was examining the goods and count the stones before leaving.

He began by letting me make a safe profit in several small transactions. Then one day he asked to see a large parcel of jagers (Jagersfontein brilliants). I obtained the goods from a client, he looked them over, found fault with the price, and finally refused to make an offer. I came away disappointed and was presently thrown into great perturbation by the discovery that the largest and best stone in the parcel was missing. Its value was not less than £250 (today such a stone would easily fetch £900 in the open market). I was near collapse. My clients demanded to know the name of the potential customer. I mentioned it. Without a word the principal took his hat from the peg and motioned to me to follow him. We returned to the office whence I had come, and were received immediately.

At once my client stated in a menacing tone that the stone was missing. The suspect, not pretending to misunderstand the veiled accusation, became at once abusive and threatened to have us thrown out.

‘Sit down!’ thundered my client. ‘You are accusing yourself of I don’t know what. It is, after all, not uncommon when a man shows goods that he leaves a stone behind by mistake. But your attitude forces me to remind you, monsieur, that I know your reputation as well you know mine. If you do not produce the stone at once I shall knock you down and turn the place upside down until I find my property. And you know that I am a man of my word.’

I Pass From Paris To London: ‘Malacoot’ (continued)