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In 12 years as a retail financial consultant for Charles Schwab (SCH), George Pennock thought he had seen every kind of market. Then, on May 6, he and his 250 clients lived through something new. Pennock was in Schwab's office in Englewood, Colo., just outside of Denver, talking by phone with a retiree who moved his money to Schwab last year because he says he felt suckered by his old broker. While they spoke, Pennock kept an eye on his computer screen and saw the Dow drop 250 points, bounce sideways, then go into free fall—300, 400, 900 points down. His client was watching the same thing on CNBC.
"What's going on, George?" the retiree asked. "Do you have any explanation for this?" Pennock didn't. He was thinking he should end the call and contact clients who had pulled out of equities after getting clobbered in 2008 and 2009. Some left at the bottom, then sat on the sidelines while the market raced up 80 percent. Maybe they would see this as a buying opportunity.
He never got the chance. In minutes, the market anomaly was over and the Dow was heading back up. It wasn't until the next day that Pennock, 37, began to appreciate its impact on investor psychology. He arrived at his office the morning after to find 22 phone messages. By day's end he had 50—one-fifth of his client base. "A lot of the calls were nervous," he recalls. "It was, 'George, this is testing my risk tolerance.' They have deep-seated concerns that [the correction] will go on for a while and nobody knows how long or how bad it will be."
It took Pennock two weeks to catch up on all the calls. "These conversations are lengthy," he says. "They take a lot of hand-holding." Some clients wanted to retreat; he reminded them why they had made financial plans in the first place. A retired airline pilot wanted to know if the 30 percent of his assets invested in equities was too high. (Pennock assured him it wasn't.) Another investor, who had waited five months to get back into the market, worried he had missed his chance. Most simply wanted reassurance. The May 6 crash may have been a freak occurrence, but it felt like one more sign that the deck was stacked against the little guy. "They got burned very badly before," Pennock says, "and they don't ever want to be in that situation again."
Many small investors had only begun to tiptoe back into equities when the May 6 crash and the European credit crisis rocked the markets, completing a particularly cruel cycle. In the year prior—while the S&P 500 was rebounding 69 percent from its Mar. 9, 2009, bottom—individual investors withdrew a total of $11.5 billion from U.S. equity mutual funds and poured $506 billion into lower-yielding bond funds, according to TrimTabs Investment Research. By late spring, they had just begun to reverse course, venturing back into equities by channelling $13.9 billion into domestic mutual and ETF funds in March and $6.9 billion in April. By the third week of May, they'd withdrawn $29.3 million from U.S. equity mutual funds and poured an additional $8.2 billion into bonds. An American Association of Individual Investors survey taken the week of the May crash showed investor sentiment jumped to 36 percent "bearish," from 28 percent the week before. As of May 10, according to the Federal Reserve, money on the sidelines in bank and money market accounts had reached $9.36 trillion, compared to $7.44 trillion in May 2007.
The period since early 2008 "is the worst time since I began the company," says Charles Schwab, the father of the modern American individual investor. "These are the most violent markets. Most people are still in a state of fear. I'd say 98 percent are still very concerned. And for a lot of good reasons. Look at the headlines. You've got these scoundrels doing all this stuff. People wonder, 'Who can I trust?' "
Schwab is sitting in his San Francisco office—which has always been spare but these days seems downright spartan—looking out the window at the Bay Bridge and mulling the tortured psychology of the American investor. "Where are they?" he asks, then pauses and lets out a sigh. "This is the most violent period I've ever seen," he says finally. "It was the end of capitalism as we knew it. The whole definition of safety and soundness—what does it really mean any more?"
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