ERSON
: There, at the Courant Institute the mathematical physiology of m any college or university.
e Dalton School, a prestigious de. Like Tavern on the Green, Century Association, Dalton is
K-12 rocket ship built for the
3SeS. in, who has no college degree,
‘his teens and already a teacher of sid” is the Dalton School's credo. ; adopted. For him, Dalton’s an
igh School. The kids he’s teach- yarents are extremely well con- tter-borough accent, he’s careful moment, he’s one parent-teacher ew world of possibilities.
lent student-to-teacher ratio, the te well. Before long, a Wall Street iberg has taken a special shine to
ring his son Ted.
me froma humble background. ity shopkeeper, he won a football , of Oklahoma, transferred to the
Firtuy Ricu
University of Missouri following a back injury, and graduated in 1949. That same year, he moved to New York and, after a series of rejections at white-shoe firms—places that never would hire a Jew— landed a job at Bear Stearns, earning $32.50 a week as a clerk.
By 1958, he'd been made a full partner. Built like a pit bull, Greenberg smoked cigars, performed coin tricks for his friends, and always dressed in a bow tie. He was an all-elbows trader— gruff, cheap, and, above all, impatient. He was also a champion bridge player, a hunter of big game in Africa, and the firm but loyal leader of the team he'd built at Bear Stearns—an unusual team made up mostly of men who'd grown up in New York’s outer boroughs.
Greenberg didn’t care about MBAs or Ivy League diplomas. What he cared about was raw talent and drive. Greenberg culti- vated risk takers, unconventional thinkers, and he looked high (and especially low) for his “PSDs”: men who, in his estimation, were poor, smart, and, above all, determined.
Jeffrey Epstein, the Dalton School teacher, fit Greenberg’s bill perfectly.
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