Operation Quack Quack, prom. 1957, U.S., fraud. In 1949, nature healers, or naturopaths, flocked to Texas because of easy licensing provisions. Eight years later, "Operation Quack Quack", an investigation into the dubious methods of these practitioners led to arrests of sixty-one people on criminal charges under medical malpractice. The Texas State Board of Medical Examiners sent investigators complaining of various maladies to various naturopaths around the state. One, Elsie May Keene, testified that she had been subjected to enemas, as a supposed cure for diabetes; that she had been fitted with an electric heat-ray machine around her neck, to cure pains in the throat; and that she was subjected to the "pendulum test", a piece of steel supported on chains between two rods, which showed that she had high blood pressure and a fast heartbeat. Others testified of a naturopath who determined that a woman's eye muscles were
too far apart, causing stomach pain; and of a hand massage as the cure for kidney stones. In December 1957, the investigation led to a finer definition of "healing arts", while forbidding the naturopaths from practicing medicine.

Orton, Arthur (AKA: Thomas Castro, The Tichborne Claimant), 1834-98, Brit., fraud-perj. Sir Roger Doughty Tichborne, the spoiled aristocrat whose disappearance sparked one of the costliest, and most infamous episodes in British legal history, was born in Paris on Jan. 5, 1829. He was the son of Henrietta Flicit and James Tichborne, whose family baronetcy dated back to 1135. Roger, who was expected to become the eleventh baronet of Tichborne, was enrolled in the Jesuit College at Stonyhurst. In 1849, he received a military commission in the Sixth Dragoons (or Carbineers). Young Roger eschewed the vulgar mannerisms of the military class. Orton preferred to associate with gentlemen of fine breeding and young women from titled families.

However, the parents of Roger's first cousin Katherine Doughty looked with disfavor upon their daughter's blooming courtship with the Tichborne heir. For one thing, Roger and Katherine were first cousins. Roger's profligate lifestyle was another concern. At last they decided on a three-year waiting period before the young couple exchanged their vows. At the end of that time, if the couple's feelings had not changed, Katherine's parents would consent to the nuptials. This arrangement was perfectly satisfactory to Roger, who then made hasty preparations to embark on a world tour. The 24-year-old sailed for Rio de Janeiro in January 1853. From South America he continued his sojourn to New York, sailing out on the Bella on Apr. 20, 1854. The vessel capsized due to an improperly balanced load of coffee, and all forty passengers and crew were thought lost at sea. An empty lifeboat and assorted debris were found floating in the ocean four days later by a passing vessel.

The news filtered back to England. Lawyers for the Tichborne estate executed Roger's will which had been filed shortly before he left on the voyage. Katherine, his beloved, married Sir James Radcliffe of Yorkshire. Roger's father was the next in line to inherit the estate, but he died in 1862. Alfred Joseph Tichborne became the next in line to inherit the title and estates, but Lady Henrietta did not like him. Hearing rumors that her son had miraculously survived the ship wreck, Henrietta placed advertisements in English, French, and Spanish newspapers soliciting information from anyone who might have seen Roger alive. She intimated that a large reward would be paid for such information, noting that her son was heir to a sizable fortune.

The news item was read with great interest by Thomas Castro, a butcher's son who was living in a shanty hut in Wagga Wagga, Aus. Castro, by an incredible coincidence had made the acquaintance of a servant named Bogle who had served as Sir Edward Doughty's valet for many years. Castro, whose real name was Arthur Orton, was facing financial ruin. He decided on a bold gambit. Through a Melbourne man named Cubitt, Castro-Orton passed himself off as the long-lost Roger Tichborne. Cubitt, anxious to curry the favor of Lady Henrietta, conveyed the happy news back to England. Bogle met Orton at the Metropole Hotel in Sydney, and though he was initially skeptical, he came to believe that Orton was indeed Roger. Lady Tichborne wired £400 to Australia to pay for her "son's" passage back to England. He arrived on Christmas Day, 1866, and began to familiarize himself with the family estate. Orton sought out the law clerk, who was employed by the family's solicitors, the firm of Dunn & Hopkins. The clerk, whose name was Rous, became convinced that Orton was indeed Roger Tichborne despite the striking lack of similarity between the two men. Tichborne had been reed-thin and Orton weighed in at over 300 pounds. He also lacked refinement. Yet he succeeded in hoodwinking many individuals connected with the Tichborne estate, including the dowager Lady Henrietta, who happily received her long-lost son in Paris in January 1867.

Lady Tichborne gleefully exclaimed: "This is my son!" and she awarded him a generous allowance of £1000 a year. Although the old lady naively believed that her son had come back from among the dead, the other members of the Tichborne family were not so easily convinced. On May 11, 1871, the matter went before the Court of the Common Pleas. The debate over the "Claimant's" legitimacy was to become one of the longest ordeals in British legal history, dragging on through two trials before ending on Feb. 28, 1874. Hundreds of witnesses appeared before the bench, and the testimony they offered consumed some 10,000 pages. Sir John Coleridge led for the prosecution. His blistering cross-examination quickly discredited Orton and all he was trying to accomplish. "The first sixteen years of his life, he had absolutely forgotten while the few facts he had told the jury were either already proved or would be shown to be absolutely false or fabricated," Coleridge said.

Lord Bellow, a school chum of Roger Tichborne, was brought to the stand. He testified without reservation that Roger had tattooed the initials "RCT" on his arm. Orton's arm was examined, but there was no trace of a tattoo. Chief Justice Bovell ordered the claimant imprisoned on a charge of perjury, pending bail of £10,000. Nearly a year passed before the second trial convened. Although Orton claimed to have been rescued at sea by the ship Osprey, which had taken him to Melbourne, a check of the maritime records showed that no such vessel existed.

The prosecution proved that Roger was actually Arthur Orton. Orton was sentenced to fourteen years in penal servitude. He served just ten years before earning his freedom in 1884. Another decade passed before Orton gave up all pretenses and admitted to the colossal fraud. Driven by poverty he sold his story to People Magazine in 1895. Orton died on Apr. 1, 1898 All Fool's Day and was buried in a coffin that bore the curious inscription "Sir Roger Charles Doughty Tichborne; born 5, January 1829, died 1, April 1898."

Osman, Sulan, prom. 1920s-30s, Turk., fraud. One of the most accomplished confidence men in Turkey during the 1920s-30s was Sulan Osman. Born and raised in Istanbul, Osman preyed upon fellow natives beginning in his teen-age years as an inventive sharper. He sold things that did not belong to him, including fruit stands, jewelry stores, and apartment buildings. Osman spent a good deal of time inside jail cells, but no imprisonment seemed to dampen his ardor for fleecing suckers. The more outlandish the scheme, the more gullible buyers flocked to Osman. He sold the huge Galata Bridge spanning the Golden Horn in Istanbul for $2,000 to a merchant who wanted to turn it into his private toll bridge. After paying Osman, the merchant appeared at the bridge and began to set up barriers and tolls. He was immediately arrested but was released when he showed a bill of sale for the bridge and described the man who sold it to him, a description police knew matched that of the pesky Osman.

In 1936, Osman scored his biggest and most incredible coup. He sold the luxury passenger train, the Orient Express, to a wealthy Istanbul businessman, receiving $75,000. When the businessman showed up at the train station and began ordering train officials about and giving them his timetable for arrivals and departures of the posh train, he was carted off to an asylum. Days passed before he convinced local authorities that he had been swindled. Osman was tracked down for this offense and sent to prison for two years. When he was released, he disappeared into the chaos of WWII.

Otto, Stephen Victor (AKA: Stephanie the Gent, Otto de Beney, Stephanie Otto), prom. 1920s, Brit., fraud. Stephen Victor Otto was a master in the art of fraud who always worked alone. Otto's favored targets were members of the upper class. Although he came from relatively humble origins, Otto had a sound education and spoke six languages.

In one particular escapade, Otto posed as an attach to the Court of King Albert sent by the Belgian king to honor General Allen, commander of the American Army of Occupation, with the Croix de Guerre. While the officers were busy being impressed with their "distinguished visitor," Otto was cashing bogus checks with the officers. Scotland Yard detectives apprehended Otto when he called at Buckingham Palace to interview the Duke of York in preparation for a swindle involving airplane orders. He was charged with an old offense and sentenced to eighteen months; imprisonment with hard labor. Upon his release, he returned to his cons in New York and later in Buenos Aires with continued success. Otto later committed suicide in Brussels.

From the World Encyclopedia of Con Artists and Confidence Games