J. J. carnes his bat A DEAFENING City send-off this
week for John — always J. J. — Warr. For 35 years a pillar of the money market (first with Union Discount, then with Clive, as deputy chairman) he is giving himself the time he needs as president-elect of the MCC. Fast bowler for Cambridge, Mid- dlesex, England, and the discount houses in their annual festive match against the Stock Exchange, well-informed observer of markets from Lombard Street to Tatter- salls, disciplinary steward of the Jockey Club, the City's most prized and funniest speaker, he leaves the place looking, in his absence, distinctly ordinary. In a class of its own among the J. J. stories is the story of his Binney Award, for civilian gallantry. Armed robbers escaping from a City bank ran down an alleyway off Cornhill — and straight into the top-hatted figure of J. J. on his money market round, looking about nine feet high and broad in proportion, blocking the way, refusing to budge. They threatened him. Finally, at close range, they fired at him. He felt nothing, but later found that his suit appeared to be dotted with moth-holes. They were powder- burns. By a mercy, the cartridge had contained powder but no shot. He was then asked what he had done when the raiders fired. 'At this point', said J. J., 'I decided to play for a draw.'
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