13. Foul Play

Following September 11th, our makeshift offices for Cramer Berkowitz were located next to a small airport in Westchester. Every time a private jet took off, we collectively flinched as the roar of the engine shook our trading desk. We were riddled with anxiety, but there was no quit in us, despite the freefall that occurred in the market and by extension our portfolio.

I wrote all day, every day, while at the same time, trying to steady our fund and lead our staff. Jeff never said a word about my double duty. He knew that Jim, who was no longer with the fund, wanted me to write, and perhaps that had something to do with his patience.

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