Christopher Gardner -- From the Gutter to The Street

Still attempting to join a brokerage, he supported himself by working odd jobs. Then, shortly before he was set for a big third interview at Dean Witter, a double whammy: His girlfriend split with their 18-month-old baby and Gardner, unable to pay $1,200 worth of parking tickets, was put in jail. Able to reschedule the job interview, he showed up immediately after release wearing the same clothes he'd worn in prison for 10 days. The awful truth, however, got him hired.

Soon after, his ex abandoned their son to Gardner. No kids were allowed at his boarding house, though; and Gardner's wages were too meager to pay for other housing plus day care. Thus, the Dean Witter employee found himself homeless, sometimes sleeping in Union Square.

Eventually, a church homeless shelter in San Francisco's Tenderloin neighborhood took in father and son. It would be almost a year before Gardner saved enough to rent an apartment. Not long after, he was recruited by Bear Stearns, where he stayed for four years.

Ultimately, says Gardner, he discovered that Wall Street "isn't a black thing. It isn't a white thing. It's a green thing." A wealthy Texas client, unaware that Gardner was African-American, routinely told him racist and ethnic jokes on the phone — followed by orders that earned the broker $25,000 commissions. "A lot of black folks have said, 'Weren't you offended?' recalls Gardner. "Hey, I just had to fight, scratch, crawl my way out of a gutter with a baby tied on my back just to get in the game. That was not the time to stand up and say, 'We shall overcome!' And for 25-grand, I used to call that guy a lot!"

By then, Gardner and his ex had had a baby daughter — after a brief reunion — who was living, along with her brother, with Dad.

On October 19, 1987, Gardner launched Gardner Rich & Co. "Trying to raise money right after that big market crash wasn't the best time," he recalls. But he persevered.

Now Gardner is helping the Rev. Cecil Williams of San Francisco's Glide Memorial Church raise $50 million to turn the Tenderloin into an affordable housing area. He remembers: "When I explained my situation to Rev. Williams, he let us stay at his shelter there: 'I'm homeless and have a child. I've got an opportunity to pursue a career on Wall Street. Can you please let me stay until I save enough for an apartment?'"

The above deal, says Gardner, "isn't the biggest one on Wall Street. But I gotta tell you, sometimes it's not business — it's personal."