BLUE-BLOODED CAZENOVE AND THE MYSTERY OF A TRUE ANCIENT RELIC
BLUE-blooded City stockbroker Cazenove might have officially agreed to surrender the rest of itself to US investment bank JP Morgan, but something tells The Capitalist the die-hards won’t be ready to forget the firm’s noble heritage in a hurry.
Lunch yesterday was with a City chum who remembers Caz’s days at its old headquarters in Tokenhouse Yard only too well – especially a yellowed book residing in one of the glass display cases.
Apparently, said tome lays claim to being the first history of Caz ever written – preceding David Kynaston’s celebrated Cazenove and Co: A History – and was penned by a former partner who spent a good deal of cash on getting it specially published.
Specially published, that is, because only two copies of the book were ever printed – one of which our scribe kept for himself and the other of which is still with the bank.
I call up to enquire as to its current whereabouts, but draw a blank.
“Well that is a mystery, I’ve certainly never seen it,” is a spokeswoman’s response. “We do have an archive on our meeting room floor, full of mahogany cabinets with ancient banking ledgers and letters written by partners to members of the firm who served in the wars. But I’d wager this book would be in our proper archive, stored at the right temperature and humidity and all…”
Intriguing. Can anyone shed any more light on the conundrum? Or, come to think of it, reveal the existence of deliciously secret histories at other antiquated City banks?
STARS IN THEIR EYES
What is it with City types these days and their irrepressible desire for stardom?
James Clary, who works in the finance technology department at Royal Bank of Scotland, will be on stage tonight at the Luminaire in Kilburn, along with his band Meisha.
The band’s sound is one of trip-hop electronica – think Portishead or Massive Attack – and Clary tells me they’ve got their sights set on bigger things.
“It can be very tough when you’re working long hours,” he says. “We try and rehearse for four hours, three times a week, which doesn’t leave much time for anything else. At the moment it’s just a hobby because its tricky in the music business, but it’s always been a dream of mine. Muse didn’t give up their day jobs until they’d signed a £1m recording deal, so there’s hope yet!”
Aiming high, I see.
ROYAL BLESSING
After having received the (ahem) blessing of the Church of England, when church commissioners raised serious concerns about a planned EU crackdown before the House of Lords last month, the hedge fund industry now appears to have received a royal blessing too.
That’s right: none other than HRH Prince William has decided to become patron of 100 Women in Hedge Funds, the hedge fund education, networking and philanthropic organisation, for three years beginning in January.
Wills, refreshingly unswayed by popular opinion of any industry currently raking in the pennies, said the appointment was a “privilege”.
ON THE BLOCK
Here is truly a tale for our times.
The Green Door Steakhouse on Cornhill has just introduced to its Christmas menu a 5-bone, 4.9kg rib eye steak – which, in the interests of getting customers more involved with their food, is being offered up as “carve your own”.
That was until the blimmin’ ‘elf ‘n’ safety brigade turned up at the joint and promptly started laying down the law, demanding that unassuming diners would have to be provided with a special protective glove before using the 12-inch butcher’s knife.
So the restaurant, in turn, has now gone one better and is supplying resident carnivores with a chainmail tunic and shoulder glove, covering the entire upper body and making the diners look more like medieval knights than 21st century City slickers. Talk about an over-reaction.
UPS AND DOWNS
Further developments in The Capitalist’s ongoing saga studying alternative indicators of the health of the economy.
Having already discussed fluctuating hemlines and the length of cigarette butts, along pops an email from Astaire’s resident funny man Mark Brumby, who yesterday suggested some further barometers for consideration.
“I prefer other measures such as the speed at which people walk (versus the defeated shuffle at the end of a Hull City match), the steely determination in the eyes of commuters jostling to get on the tube at Bank station (compared with the pathetic resignation of the beaten and lost) or the length of the queue at Pret,” he ponders.
Any other suggestions welcome at the email address above.