By KATHLEEN JORDAN
The business world was full of sharks like Marion Anderson. Wearing a gold silk dress, her bronze hair up, away from her delicately chiseled face, she was surrounded by staff, like a shark by cleaner fish. She had graceful lines, fluid movements, a keen mind, and a nose that could smell blood a mile away. She ran a security investment exchange, a corporate raider preying on little companies, like mine.
She’d bought stock in my company. A stock holder in my closely held company had sold out.