Dating a senior compliance officer from around The Five Towns may be a perfect fit.
In 1989, Billy Joel filed a $90 million law suit against his former manager—who was also his former brother-in-law. (That's the sad thing about being rich: You can't trust anyone.)
The suit claimed "fraud and breach of fiduciary duty ."
Specifically, that the former manager "squandered or illegally diverted $30 million". The suit also sought $60 million in punitive damages. (Remember: Back in 1989, $90 million was actually worth something.)
So another pair of eyes watching the audit statements may prove very useful.
Ironically, Billy Joel hasn't always held all members of the banking community in the highest esteem:
From the Song 'Getting Closer' from the 1986 album 'The Bridge'
I'm a mark for every shyster
From Topanga to Berlin
And I should have learned to kick them out
As soon as they crawled in So to every bank in Switzerland
That stores my stolen youth.
I'm alright because despite the laws
You cannot hide the truth
I guess it's fortunate that she works for Morgan Stanley—and not UBS or Credit Suisse.
On the bright side, post embezzlement, Billy Joel has sold over 20 million new albums since 1989, based on my back of the envelop calculations.
And god only knows how many he's sold from the back catalog since then.
Perhaps it's not unreasonable to hope that there is some merit to the idea of muses—mythic, beautiful women who inspire artists to create. (Billy Joel hasn’t put out a pop album since 1993's 'River of Dreams'.)
I don't want to get too Chuck Klosterman about it this.
Really, I don't.
But the truth is this: Wall Street guys love Billy Joel.
Which makes perfect sense. Wall Street has always drawn kids with ambition from the outer boroughs and from New Jersey — and, of course, from the epicenter of Billy Joel fandom itself: Long Island.
There is something about growing up in the shadow of the greatest city on earth that inspires very big dreams.
And For a lot of those guys—who grew up here in the 70's, 80's, and 90's—Billy Joel is the soundtrack to their childhood.
(The author, of course, included. Hence, the lyrics: Which drifted up, unbidden, from the depths of memory after reading the Newsday piece.)
I'm talking about the real Wall Street guys—not the CEO's and managing directors from London. (Although, to be fair, probably a lot of them too.)
I mean the working guys. The junior bond traders and equity research assistants.
When Captain Jack—or Big Shot—comes on in a bar in Yorkville around last call, those guys are singing.
And when Piano man comes on at the end of a wedding reception in Nassau County, fuhgeddaboudit. Burly Jets fans link arms—and tears are possible.
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