This is Dimon's 1974 yearbook senior page from the Browning School, the upper-east-side private academy he attended. We first learned about the yearbook in Duff McDonald's biography Last Man Standing, and knew that we needed to see the whole thing for ourselves. We put out some calls to find the rest of it and got a friendly source to scan in Dimon's whole page from the Grytte.

Sadly, Dimon didn't share Neel Kashkari's high-school obsession with sports cars. But he did clearly fit in with the waning hippie look of the mid-1970s.

Dimon's still got a reputation as something of a poor dresser. Here's how Last Man Standing biography describes his sartorial acumen:

He also eschewed the traditional uniform of the B-school student-khakis and button-down shirts-and wore jeans and often a blue leather jacket. His classmates actually remember that of the 75 students in their year, Dimon was the absolute worst dresser.

[snip]

His casual weekend wear was black jeans and a black t-shirt. "Jamie was dressed like Johnny Cash," laughs one executive. "I guess he thought he looked cool. But he didn't."

And here's what Andrew Ross Sorkin's new bailout book has to say about his jeans preferences:

A fed staffer announced to all the CEOs that Paulson, Geithner, and Cox would soon be coming downstairs. When Jamie Dimon, dressed in tight blue jeans, black loafers, and a shirt showing off his muscles, wandered into the room, Colm Kellcher whispered to John Mack, "He's in pretty good shape for his age."

You'd think someone who made $30 million in 2007 would be able to afford to pay someone to dress him better. Here are some close-ups of the good pictures.

The educational mission at Browning's is to turn out "Browning gentlemen," and Dimon sure looks like a gentleman, doesn't he? Right down to the ruffled jeans-and-tie bit and the long-haired Himalayan searcher pose.

Dimon chose to adorn this photo the Hamlet motto, "This above all: To thine own self be true," rounding out the nonconformist-outsider theme of the page. We wonder if he once shared former Bear Stearns chief Jimmy Cayne's penchant for pot—which would be funny, seeing as how Dimon earned his reputation as Wall Street's last man standing after he bought Bear Stearns at a measly $2-per-share, averting a financial catastrophe.

He's thankfully trimmed his hair down to a more manageable—and less androgynous—length.

Dimon, you see, was on Charlie Rose's TV show last night, where he said the following about the fall of investment bank Bear Stearns:

Where there is smoke, there's fire... I think the Securities and Exchange Commission should investigate it, okay? I think if someone knowingly starts a rumor or passes on a rumor, they should go to jail.

Set aside, for the moment, the absurd notion of financial markets functioning without the free flow of all kinds of information, rumor included.

Consider, instead, how Dimon's proposed censorship would impact his onetime fan Kneale in light of how Vanity Fair described Kneale's own role in the spreading gossip about Stearns:

By noon, when CNBC anchor Bill Griffeth opened Power Lunch, Bear’s stock was down more than $7, to $63. “There are rumors out there that some unnamed Wall Street firm might be having liquidity problems,” Griffeth noted. A correspondent on the show, Dennis Kneale, a veteran of The Wall Street Journal, said, “The speculation at this point is that it’s Bear Stearns. They’re down the most in the market today. Supposedly, a couple of weeks ago, they started looking at a way to try to shop their clearing operations [They] couldn’t find a buyer. At least that’s what one guy says.”

Does Kneale think it's something other than rumormongering to pass on the "supposed" information that comes from "what one guy says?"

More likely, he is just slower on the uptake than his rival Gasparino, who was also depicted by Vanity Fair spreading unvetted information and thus another likely victim of Dimon's prison policy. Perhaps if Dimon has his way, Kneale will have the chance at an extended tutorial of some sort from Gasparino, in their cell.

[Dealbreaker, Vanity Fair]

On a conference call after the buyout agreement is reached:

Messrs. Geithner and Dimon led off with some brief remarks, noting that J.P. Morgan would be guaranteeing Bear Stearns's debts and that if the pact hadn't come together, the market impact may have been catastrophic. During the question-and-answer session, Citigroup Inc.'s new CEO, Vikram Pandit, spoke up.

Mr. Pandit — who did not initially identify himself — asked a shrewd but technical question: How would the deal affect the risk to Bear Stearns's trading partners on certain long-term contracts?

The query irked Mr. Dimon. "Who is this?" he snapped. Mr. Pandit identified himself as "Vikram." Offended that Mr. Pandit was taking up time with what he considered granular inquiries, Mr. Dimon shot back, "Stop being such a jerk." He added that Citigroup "should thank us" for staving off further mayhem on Wall Street.

Dimon rallies his new employees:

Standing on the dais with two senior lieutenants, Mr. Dimon tried to strike a conciliatory tone.

Bear Stearns's "shotgun marriage" to J.P. Morgan "is not the sort of thing we set out to do," he told the audience. Noting the pain for Bear Stearns managers facing the prospect of unemployment and big losses on their Bear Stearns stock, he added: "We can't begin to imagine how difficult this is."

In the tense question-and-answer session that followed, Ed Moldaver, a stocky, 40-year-old broker, stood up.

"This isn't a shotgun marriage," he said. "This is more like a rape."

As some in the room shook their heads and muttered uncomfortably, Mr. Dimon stared stonily at the crowd.

[WSJ]