Mackintosh Peters was a snake oil salesmen in the Arizona Territory in the 1870s, and made a good living selling worthless gum Arabic and corn syrup mixtures to the Piute and Navajo. 'Works like a charm', Mack told the Indians, 'take a swig in the morning and one in the evening, and it'll cure what ails you'.
Which was arthritis, impotence, scabies, catarrh, and suppuration and anything else he could conjure up. He was long gone before the Indians knew they had been had, but the placebo effect has been around for centuries, so many of his customers told their friend and families how good they felt after only a day's dosage. If for some reason he found himself back in the same village and was accosted by the Indians he had duped, he had a ready reply. 'Ahh, of course', he said. 'I said two swigs in the morning and two at night, not one.'
'What's a swig?' asked an elder of the tribe.
'Why, like this', Mack said, swilling a half-bottle down in one gulp. 'Ya see, ya wasn't takin' nearly half as much', and with that, he lit out of town, his racks of phials and bottles clinking and rattling in the back seat of the wagon as he drove.
'There's a sucker born every minute', said the circus impresario, P.T. Barnum, and with that under his belt, he made millions off the rubes who wandered into his tents. His freak show was the most popular - two headed babies, bearded dwarves, and half-man, half-woman giants. The gawkers always came back, sometimes the same day to see the unbelievable creatures assembled in Barnum's side show.
Along the trail with Mack Peters were scores of shell game wizards and con artists of every kind, fleecing unsuspecting rural folk out of their money. There were get-rich-quick schemes, virility potions, games of 'chance', temptingly easy card games, and more inventive scams you can imagine. It seemed that the business of rural America in the early years was the scam.
At the same time as the nation industrialized, there was plenty of room for bamboozling. Real estate agents, mortgage lenders, horse traders, and used car salesmen all made a bonanza. It was remarkably easy to bilk money out of consumers in those days, and even at the highest level of finance, trickery and chicanery was rife. Property owners inflated prices, hid structural defects, paid off inspectors and politicians and ran off with thousands. When the buildings sold collapsed or rotted, they were long gone.
'Let the buyer beware' was the meme of the times, and beware he certainly had to be in an environment of endemic corruption, fraud, and larceny. It was a free-for-all where if you were canny and deftly underhanded, you could become wealthy.
Evangelism was another classic American scam. Itinerant preachers, following in the footsteps of Macintosh Peters and his lot, bilked thousands from naive farmers who filled their revival tents hoping to find Jesus. These preachers were masters at oratory, drama, and duplicity; and since they were dealing with a product which could never be examined or returned, their job easy.
'Prayer', shouted Isaiah Jones. 'Prayer is the answer'. Here he paused, wiped his brow, looked to the' billowing folds of the tent, and went on. 'And Jesus will listen. He, the magnificent, the forgiving, the loving, and the merciful will come to you only if you ask him. Get down on your knees...go ahead, get down right now and ask his forgiveness, pray for his intercession, ask him to come down to this very place and save your souls...'
Hundreds of worshipers flocked in the aisles, raising their arms in supplication as they made their way forward to the Reverend Jones. Some shouted that they had found Jesus, that he had come among them, and that they were saved. Others simply cried and shouted thanks and welcome. It was a jamboree, a parade, a marvelous event and when it was over, Jones counted his reward.
Today is no different, nor why should it be? Scamming is part of the American ethos, our way of life, the rough edges of our competitive free market. Con men use the same entrepreneurial energy as the honest businessman, only with subterfuge and underhandedness.
You've got to hand it to Bernie Madoff who bilked $17 billion out of wealthy investors, many of whom were his Jewish friends, in a Ponzi scheme the likes of which federal investigators had never seen. When he was finally caught, there was no money found at all.
The Justice Department, waking up to the fact that if this happened in Minnesota, it probably happened in other states as well and has begun investigations in California which was a recipient of some of the largest federal grants.





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