
Foreword
depression which was a 'tempering' influence against excessive enthusi-
asm.
"At age 90 my activities are confined to 'growth' stocks and safe
investments. I am no longer interested in 'speculation.'" So he wondered if
I would be interested in his chart book.
Indeed, I was. I gladly accepted in exchange for a signed copy of one
of Joe Granville's books.
The book was published in 1931 by Robert Rhea, the famed disciple of
Charles Dow and of the oldest form of technical analysis, the Dow Theory.
It covers the years 1896-1948, with each page devoted to one year's
trading of both averages.
It is one big faded green rectangle, measuring 11 inches high and 18
inches across. Its heavy cardboard covers are held together by a couple of
rusty screws.
I browse through it once in awhile, marveling at its simplicity. Each
day's closing value is designated by a single horizontal hash mark meticu-
lously notched on the graph paper. Nothing fancy. No intra-day highs and
lows, no trendlines, no points or figures; just a simple daily record of the
debits and credits of civilization.
There is the market panic in December of 1899, when the Industrials
plunged from 76 to 58 in just 13 trading days.
There is the period from July to December of 1914, when, incredibly,
the market was closed on account of World War I. Eerily, half the page
devoted to that year is blank.
And, of course, there is 1929, when the Industrials peaked on Septem-
ber 3 at 381.17 and hit bottom, three pages later, in July of 1932 at 41.22.
The book means a lot to me. Between its covers there is a bit of
history, some mathematics, a dose of economics, and a dash of psychol-
ogy. It has taught me much about a discipline that I once considered
voodoo.
Good journalists are supposed to maintain an open mind about the
stories they cover. Political reporters, for example, should be neither Re-
publican nor Democrat. And successful financial reporters should avoid
being either bullish or bearish. And they should also be familiar with both
fundamental and technical analysis.
Foreword
I remember the first time I interviewed a technical market analyst in
the fall of 1981, when I was still cutting my teeth on business news. This
analyst spoke of 34-day and 54-week market cycles and head-and-shoulder
bottoms and wedge formations. I thought it was so much mumbo-jumbo
until the summer of '82 when the bull market was launched, and the
fundamental analysts were still bemoaning the depths of the recession that
gripped the economy at the time. That was when I realized the technicians
may have something there.
He doesn't know it, but Greg Morris taught me a lot about technical
analysis. Or, more accurately, his N-Squared software did. For a couple
years during the mid-80's, I hand-entered the daily NYSE advance/decline
readings and the closing figures of a few market indices into my computer.
I used N-Squared to build charts and draw trendlines. (I hadn't yet learned
about modems and down-loading from databanks.)
The slow, painstaking process gave me a hands on, almost organic, feel
for the markets. And watching various repetitive chart patterns unfold on
the computer screen was a great lesson about supply and demand and
about market psychology.
I think I understand how technical analysis works. It's the why that
still puzzles me. I understand the supply and demand implications of
support and resistance levels, for example, and I appreciate the theories
behind pennant formations and rising bottoms.
But I still marvel at what ultimately makes technical analysis work:
that intangible something that causes technicians to anthropomorphize the
markets without even realizing it. The market is tired, they say. Or the
market is trying to tell us this or that. Or the market always knows the
news before the newspapers do.
That something, in my mind, is simply the human side of the market,
which I suggest American technicians tend to ignore. Technical analysis
is, after all, as much art as it is science. But too many analysts have a
mathematical blind spot, and I blame that on computers. Yes, charts rep-
resent numerical relationships. But they also depict human perceptions
and behavior.
Enter Sakata's Candlesticks, which combine the highly quantitative
ratiocination of American technical analysis with the intuitive elegance of