Snapped by Their Own Suspenders Ouch!

By Margot Hornblower

O.K., so Michael Becker's woes won't bring tears to your eyes, but there's no need to snicker. Becker, 29 and single, works as a broker for Kidder Peabody on Wall Street. He earns a six-figure salary, likes his restaurants expensive and vacations in Africa, French Polynesia, Australia and London. This week he was scheduled to close on a loft apartment, but last week found him on the phone, pleading with his lawyer to extricate him from the contract. "I even told the shoeshine boy, 'I can't afford a shine today,' " he laments.

In the giddy rise of the stock market, no figures have been so celebrated -- and so scorned -- as the precocious young brokers and investment bankers reveling in million-dollar co-ops, BMWs and American Express Gold Cards. These are the yuppies, the generation of boastful baby boomers who had never before known a bear market. But last week's wild market gyrations, coming on top of recent layoffs on Wall Street, have left them breathless. "All of a sudden, people in my age group have come of age," says Ian Wiener, 26, a portfolio manager for Clemente Capital, a Manhattan money-management firm.

Gloating was inevitable, from the bad jokes making the rounds in San Francisco's financial district (What do you call a 28-year-old trader in suspenders? Hey, waiter!) to the hand-lettered sign in the window of Cafe Chameleon, a Manhattan nightclub: SO YOUR BROKER'S A LITTLE BROKER? Says Edward Singer, 62, a Portland, Ore., broker: "These younger money managers had become godlike in giving advice."

But at University of Pennsylvania's Wharton School, no one was smiling. Students clustered around a computer in a lobby to check their investments. More than 150 showed up for an impromptu forum last Tuesday to discuss the effect of the market's uncertainty on careers. "Let's put it this way: I was a future investment banker," says Harry Friedberg, 21, who used the $17,000 he made trading options last year to pay his tuition and room and board. But now, he says, "I'll look harder at marketing." For Neil Donnenfeld, 25, the panic only confirmed a decision last year to aim for a corporate career. Before he entered Wharton, he had been a broker at Evans & Co., making $75,000 a year. "I found the life-style absolutely unrealistic," he says. "I mean, how much champagne can you buy?"

Visions of Champale haunted young financial types as they mentally prepared themselves for a world with less Taittinger. "I used to shop at Chanel," says M.J. Caldwell, a Wall Street broker in her mid-20s. "Now I'll be doing my shopping at Labels for Less." Caldwell, who majored in art history at Barnard, earns a salary in the low six figures and she spends accordingly. "I have every credit card known to man, but this morning I cut some up," she admits. Caldwell plans to keep the mink coat she bought last month, but forget about those $100 dinners for two. "I'll be staying home more to cook the two things I know, an omelet and Lean Cuisine."

For brokers and traders threatened with layoffs, future employment may be limited. "When the highflyers making $500,000 or $1 million look for a job, it will be difficult," said Len Clark of Boyden International, a recruiting firm in Manhattan. "There aren't many chief executives who make as much money as some of these Wall Streeters."

Some of the savvier stars are not so worried, however. David Garfinkel, a 32-year-old broker for Drexel Burnham Lambert, has earned $600,000 in commissions so far this year. Married to another Drexel Burnham vice president, he suspected good times would end and prepared by salting away money for his three-month-old daughter's college education in zero-coupon municipal bonds. He would not be surprised if his income drops by half, adding, "I'm ready fiscally. Emotionally? Time will tell."

Those with slashed paychecks might take a tip from Wiener and battle their low spirits with humor. After the crash, he sent postcards of the Brooklyn Bridge to friends. His message: "Went here to jump, but there were too many people in line." Becker is trying to laugh, but besides having to buy that loft, he must also take a vacation in Costa Rica next month. Why? He can't get his deposit back. Remember, no snickering . . .

With reporting by Jeanne McDowell and Jeannie Ralston/New York