Most recent edit on 2007-11-12 20:42:40 by DaveV
Deletions:
lidardaro
Edited on 2007-10-26 21:38:56 by RopasOucna
Additions:
lidardaro
It was the mid-1980s. I was about 30, foot-loose and fancy-free, and was living in South Norwalk, Connecticut. So No (after So Ho in NYC) was a recently renovated section of Norwalk. Developers had transformed a run-down area into a new urban oasis, and lots of young professionals (called ‘Yuppies’ at the time) like me were quick to grab the apartments and condos, and retailers, club owners, and restaurateurs occupied the ground floors. A vibrant area, for sure, but one that was also largely surrounded by areas that had not been rehabilitated. Walking a few blocks to a late night convenience store often encouraged solicitations from one of the local ‘ladies’ plying her trade. You didn’t venture too far outside of So No. It was a perfect location for scoundrels.
It was a clear Sunday morning; still early for many people to be out and about. I was walking across the street towards a restaurant for breakfast with my thoughts occupied by the cute woman I had met the night before when I was approached by a man who was clearly upset. He seemed to come out of nowhere, sided right up next to me, and was talking very fast with a thick Island accent that was hard to understand. I turned my full attention to him and tried to comprehend what he was saying. He had a large amount of cash he pulled from his pocket, rolled up in a dingy handkerchief. I could make out a few words from the non-stop flow of his speech: “money … bus … station … bad men.” I asked him to repeat his story and “speak more slowly.” I was hooked.
The next thing I knew, the ‘Interpreter’ arrived. Again, seemingly out of nowhere. On one side of me was ‘Island Man’ still talking unintelligibly non-stop, on the other, a better dressed, soft-spoken man; they had me in the middle between them. The Interpreter earnestly “explained” the situation. You see, Island Man just arrived from Jamaica to visit his uncle. He had come to town via bus and left his belongings in a locker at the bus station (Island Man emphatically shows me a locker key). He was afraid to go back to the bus station because three tough guys saw his bankroll and tried to rob him. He just barely got away. Island Man shows me the money roll again and says (quite clearly), “Five thousand,” then starts talking non-stop again. I can make out “you have, you have!”
Interpreter “explains” he wants me to hold his money while they go to the bus station for his suitcase. I start to resist and Island Man takes my arm and implores, “You good, I trust, I trust.” Interpreter says something about how he sees I’m trustworthy and it will only be a few minutes. Somehow, I agree to this and confirm that it’s “only for a few minutes.”
Island Man now has my arm and I hear him say, “you money, you money!” I turn to the Interpreter who says, “He wants you to put your money in with his. He’s got $5,000. He wants your money with his as a sign of good faith. He’ll wrap all the money in the handkerchief for you to hold. Show him your wallet.”
I pull out my wallet and so quickly I was startled, Island Man took all the cash out of my wallet. I watch him put my bills with his $5,000. He wrapped all the money in the handkerchief, and shoved the thick wad into my jacket pocket. He looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Keep safe, keep safe,” as he and Interpreter quickly made their way up the street towards the Greyhound bus terminal several blocks away.
I remember I was feeling shaken. It was a bit of an unusual experience. I was trying to think it through and realized I had all his money! I put my hand in my pocket and felt the wad; it was very thick! I didnÂ’t dare take it out. I started to tremble. Five grand was a lot of cash.
I hurried into the restaurant and stood at the bar. I was still trembling, thinking what to do with all this money! My mind started racing with wild thoughts. I just had to see all this cash. I went into the men’s room, entered a stall and closed the door. I didn’t want anyone to see, of course. I pulled out the wad and opened the handkerchief. Newspaper! It was a shock at first – where’s all that cash? Then I realized: I’d been scammed!
I didn’t loose much; only $12.00, but only because I hadn't been to the ATM yet. I really had to admire those two. I thought I would ‘know better’ than to get taken so easily. After all, I knew sleight of hand. But they were good. I never saw it coming. And once I had ‘the money’ in my hot little hands, the avarice took over. It was a small price to pay to learn that, yes, indeed, it could very well happen to me.
He had a cardboard box set up with a newspaper for the ‘playing’ surface. He used the ace of diamonds and two black jacks (amazing I can recall those details some 30 years later!).
I had been practicing 3CM from Vernon’s routine in Inner Secrets, and so naturally, I wanted to see the tosser and try to detect the hype. This was the first ‘live’ 3CM game I had ever seen. I remember he was quite good. There was a small group with a fair amount of money changing hands. I remember bets were $20-plus, which I thought was a lot at the time.
I tried to get in closer to get a better look, but kept getting edged out by the other ‘players.’ I was annoyed because there seemed to be a lot of action, though I couldn’t really see that well. After a while, I wasn’t getting close enough to see anything, and so just walked away.
It wasn’t until years later when I saw the School for Scoundrels three-card monte tape of the re-enactment of a Monte mob did I realize that most of the ‘players’ were part of the scam, and that they were keeping me out because they had a good fish on the hook.
Deletions:
It was the mid-1980s. I was about 30, foot-loose and fancy-free, and was living in South Norwalk, Connecticut. So No (after So Ho in NYC) was a recently renovated section of Norwalk. Developers had transformed a run-down area into a new urban oasis, and lots of young professionals (called ‘Yuppies’ at the time) like me were quick to grab the apartments and condos, and retailers, club owners, and restaurateurs occupied the ground floors. A vibrant area, for sure, but one that was also largely surrounded by areas that had not been rehabilitated. Walking a few blocks to a late night convenience store often encouraged solicitations from one of the local ‘ladies’ plying her trade. You didn’t venture too far outside of So No. It was a perfect location for scoundrels.
It was a clear Sunday morning; still early for many people to be out and about. I was walking across the street towards a restaurant for breakfast with my thoughts occupied by the cute woman I had met the night before when I was approached by a man who was clearly upset. He seemed to come out of nowhere, sided right up next to me, and was talking very fast with a thick Island accent that was hard to understand. I turned my full attention to him and tried to comprehend what he was saying. He had a large amount of cash he pulled from his pocket, rolled up in a dingy handkerchief. I could make out a few words from the non-stop flow of his speech: “money … bus … station … bad men.” I asked him to repeat his story and “speak more slowly.” I was hooked.
The next thing I knew, the ‘Interpreter’ arrived. Again, seemingly out of nowhere. On one side of me was ‘Island Man’ still talking unintelligibly non-stop, on the other, a better dressed, soft-spoken man; they had me in the middle between them. The Interpreter earnestly “explained” the situation. You see, Island Man just arrived from Jamaica to visit his uncle. He had come to town via bus and left his belongings in a locker at the bus station (Island Man emphatically shows me a locker key). He was afraid to go back to the bus station because three tough guys saw his bankroll and tried to rob him. He just barely got away. Island Man shows me the money roll again and says (quite clearly), “Five thousand,” then starts talking non-stop again. I can make out “you have, you have!”
Interpreter “explains” he wants me to hold his money while they go to the bus station for his suitcase. I start to resist and Island Man takes my arm and implores, “You good, I trust, I trust.” Interpreter says something about how he sees I’m trustworthy and it will only be a few minutes. Somehow, I agree to this and confirm that it’s “only for a few minutes.”
Island Man now has my arm and I hear him say, “you money, you money!” I turn to the Interpreter who says, “He wants you to put your money in with his. He’s got $5,000. He wants your money with his as a sign of good faith. He’ll wrap all the money in the handkerchief for you to hold. Show him your wallet.”
I pull out my wallet and so quickly I was startled, Island Man took all the cash out of my wallet. I watch him put my bills with his $5,000. He wrapped all the money in the handkerchief, and shoved the thick wad into my jacket pocket. He looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Keep safe, keep safe,” as he and Interpreter quickly made their way up the street towards the Greyhound bus terminal several blocks away.
I remember I was feeling shaken. It was a bit of an unusual experience. I was trying to think it through and realized I had all his money! I put my hand in my pocket and felt the wad; it was very thick! I didn’t dare take it out. I started to tremble. Five grand was a lot of cash.
I hurried into the restaurant and stood at the bar. I was still trembling, thinking what to do with all this money! My mind started racing with wild thoughts. I just had to see all this cash. I went into the men’s room, entered a stall and closed the door. I didn’t want anyone to see, of course. I pulled out the wad and opened the handkerchief. Newspaper! It was a shock at first – where’s all that cash? Then I realized: I’d been scammed!
I didn’t loose much; only $12.00, but only because I hadn't been to the ATM yet. I really had to admire those two. I thought I would ‘know better’ than to get taken so easily. After all, I knew sleight of hand. But they were good. I never saw it coming. And once I had ‘the money’ in my hot little hands, the avarice took over. It was a small price to pay to learn that, yes, indeed, it could very well happen to me.
He had a cardboard box set up with a newspaper for the ‘playing’ surface. He used the ace of diamonds and two black jacks (amazing I can recall those details some 30 years later!).
I had been practicing 3CM from Vernon’s routine in Inner Secrets, and so naturally, I wanted to see the tosser and try to detect the hype. This was the first ‘live’ 3CM game I had ever seen. I remember he was quite good. There was a small group with a fair amount of money changing hands. I remember bets were $20-plus, which I thought was a lot at the time.
I tried to get in closer to get a better look, but kept getting edged out by the other ‘players.’ I was annoyed because there seemed to be a lot of action, though I couldn’t really see that well. After a while, I wasn’t getting close enough to see anything, and so just walked away.
It wasn’t until years later when I saw the School for Scoundrels three-card monte tape of the re-enactment of a Monte mob did I realize that most of the ‘players’ were part of the scam, and that they were keeping me out because they had a good fish on the hook.
Edited on 2007-07-26 02:23:35 by DaveV
Additions:
Here is where you can post accounts of your sightings of street cons in action. If you click on the "Edit page" button at the lower left corner of the window, you will be brougth to a window where you can edit anything on this page. Click in between two of the sets of double lines and type in your story. Tell as much as you can, with lots of detail, and include photos when you can.
Deletions:
Here is where you can post accounts of your sightings of street cons in action. If you click on the "Edit page" button at the lower left corner of the window, you will be brougth to a window where you can edit anything on this page. Click in between two of the sets of double lines and type in your story. Tell as much as you can, with lots of detail, and include photos when you can.
Edited on 2007-04-19 23:09:32 by Zr7A0m
Additions:
Well, Dad knew what was happening then for sure. He had heard about the Pigeon Drop, and he was trying to figure out how to get out of this with his skin intact. He was 70 years old and not in great shape.
Deletions:
Well, Dad knew what was happening then for sure. He had heard about the Pigeon Drop, and he was trying to figure out how to get out of this with his skin intact. He was 70+ years old and not in great shape.
Edited on 2005-12-15 01:11:02 by WhitHaydn
Additions:
I saw someone throw three-card monte for the first time in New Haven during the mid-1970s.
I remember it pretty well. It was on Chapel Street, and he had a small group involved.
He had a cardboard box set up with a newspaper for the ‘playing’ surface. He used the ace of diamonds and two black jacks (amazing I can recall those details some 30 years later!).
I had been practicing 3CM from Vernon’s routine in Inner Secrets, and so naturally, I wanted to see the tosser and try to detect the hype. This was the first ‘live’ 3CM game I had ever seen. I remember he was quite good. There was a small group with a fair amount of money changing hands. I remember bets were $20-plus, which I thought was a lot at the time.
I tried to get in closer to get a better look, but kept getting edged out by the other ‘players.’ I was annoyed because there seemed to be a lot of action, though I couldn’t really see that well. After a while, I wasn’t getting close enough to see anything, and so just walked away.
It wasn’t until years later when I saw the School for Scoundrels three-card monte tape of the re-enactment of a Monte mob did I realize that most of the ‘players’ were part of the scam, and that they were keeping me out because they had a good fish on the hook.
Deletions:
I saw someone throw 3CM for the first time in New Haven during the mid-1970s. I remember it pretty well. It was on Chapel Street, and he had a small group involved. He had a cardboard box set up with a newspaper for the ‘playing’ surface. He used the ace of diamonds and two black jacks (amazing I can recall those details some 30 years later!). I had been practicing 3CM from Vernon’s routine in Inner Secrets, and so naturally, I wanted to see the tosser and try to detect the hype. This was the first ‘live’ 3CM game I had ever seen. I remember he was quite good. There was a small group with a fair amount of money changing hands. I remember bets were $20-plus, which I thought was a lot at the time. I tried to get in closer to get a better look, but kept getting edged out by the other ‘players.’ I was annoyed because there seemed to be a lot of action, though I couldn’t really see that well. After a while, I wasn’t getting close enough to see anything, and so just walked away. It wasn’t until years later when I saw Whit’s 3CM tape of the re-enactment of a Monte mob did I realize that most of the ‘players’ were part of the scam, and that they were keeping me out because they had a good fish on the hook.
Edited on 2005-12-05 12:23:59 by WhitHaydn
Additions:
Three-Card Monte in New Haven
I saw someone throw 3CM for the first time in New Haven during the mid-1970s. I remember it pretty well. It was on Chapel Street, and he had a small group involved. He had a cardboard box set up with a newspaper for the ‘playing’ surface. He used the ace of diamonds and two black jacks (amazing I can recall those details some 30 years later!). I had been practicing 3CM from Vernon’s routine in Inner Secrets, and so naturally, I wanted to see the tosser and try to detect the hype. This was the first ‘live’ 3CM game I had ever seen. I remember he was quite good. There was a small group with a fair amount of money changing hands. I remember bets were $20-plus, which I thought was a lot at the time. I tried to get in closer to get a better look, but kept getting edged out by the other ‘players.’ I was annoyed because there seemed to be a lot of action, though I couldn’t really see that well. After a while, I wasn’t getting close enough to see anything, and so just walked away. It wasn’t until years later when I saw Whit’s 3CM tape of the re-enactment of a Monte mob did I realize that most of the ‘players’ were part of the scam, and that they were keeping me out because they had a good fish on the hook.
I saw a lone guy tossing the broads on that very same street in the late 70's-early 80's. This guy wasn't very good at all. Had a very poor mexican turnover that he used as an out when the mark guessed right, and I saw him use the out quite a bit. Seemed that he stuck around three days or so, and left.
Guess it takes a real hustler to make it on the mean streets of New Haven.
Curtis Kam
Edited on 2005-12-05 12:18:28 by WhitHaydn
Additions:
Three-Card Monte at the Go-Kart Tracks
First short con I ever saw was the 3-card monte. I was probably 12 or 13 years old. My friends and I rode our bikes to a Go-Kart track. We took a few laps and were standing around deciding if we should go again or maybe hit the batting cages when two guys about our age but definately from the "otherside of the tracks" (we were middle class, naive, white kids. These kids weren't) walked up to us.
The one guy said "hey do you want to play a game?" and knelt down and started throwing the cards around. Something inside of me told me to stay away from it, but I wanted to play because they said we could win money. I watched a friend play and he actually won a hand, then lost one, then lost another until he lost 5 bucks. By this time I knew it was crooked because I was following along and I was wrong all of the time as well. Another friend jumped in and he lost a few dollars. They were tapped out. They guys asked me if I wanted to play, I said "no thanks" then they started bugging me to play. I said "I have no money" but my ever helpful friends said "you have money, come on." I refused to play. The the monte thrower started getting in my face calling me chicken and at the same time saying "come on, don't you want to win some money". This kid was alot smaller than me, but I was actually getting a little scared. I thought if I didn't play, they might just try and TAKE my money.
I said "no thanks" and just turned to walk away and get my bike from the fence. I was scared, I never looked back as I went to my bike, fully expecting someone to run up and jump on my back. I unlocked my bike from the fence and turned to look back. The monte kids were walking away and my friends were coming over to get their bikes. We took off. When I got home I asked my Mom what the game was called and she told me. The next day I hopped on my bike, but I didn't head over to the Go-Karts, I went to the Library. Thats where I saw the hype described for the first time. I never tried to throw monte until years later but I knew for a FACT that it was crooked at the age of 12 or 13. I never saw it one the street after that day. We did have one guy in the Marines who used to throw it for fun, but never took bets on it.
I am still friends with the guys that were there with me that day. One of them is a co-worker of mine. I've known him for 35 years, were both 38 years old. I just asked him if remembered that day and he said "I sure do".
Vandy Grift
Edited on 2005-12-05 12:14:42 by WhitHaydn
Additions:
It was the mid-1980s. I was about 30, foot-loose and fancy-free, and was living in South Norwalk, Connecticut. So No (after So Ho in NYC) was a recently renovated section of Norwalk. Developers had transformed a run-down area into a new urban oasis, and lots of young professionals (called ‘Yuppies’ at the time) like me were quick to grab the apartments and condos, and retailers, club owners, and restaurateurs occupied the ground floors. A vibrant area, for sure, but one that was also largely surrounded by areas that had not been rehabilitated. Walking a few blocks to a late night convenience store often encouraged solicitations from one of the local ‘ladies’ plying her trade. You didn’t venture too far outside of So No. It was a perfect location for scoundrels.
Deletions:
It was the mid-1980s. I was about 30, foot-loose and fancy-free, and was living in South Norwalk, Connecticut. SoNo (after SoHo in NYC) was a recently renovated section of Norwalk. Developers had transformed a run-down area into a new urban oasis, and lots of young professionals (called ‘Yuppies’ at the time) like me were quick to grab the apartments and condos, and retailers, club owners, and restaurateurs occupied the ground floors. A vibrant area, for sure, but one that was also largely surrounded by areas that had not been rehabilitated. Walking a few blocks to a late night convenience store often encouraged solicitations from one of the local ‘ladies’ plying her trade. You didn’t venture too far outside of SoNo. It was a perfect location for scoundrels.
Edited on 2005-12-05 12:13:44 by WhitHaydn
Additions:
Gypsy Switch in Connecticut
It was the mid-1980s. I was about 30, foot-loose and fancy-free, and was living in South Norwalk, Connecticut. SoNo (after SoHo in NYC) was a recently renovated section of Norwalk. Developers had transformed a run-down area into a new urban oasis, and lots of young professionals (called ‘Yuppies’ at the time) like me were quick to grab the apartments and condos, and retailers, club owners, and restaurateurs occupied the ground floors. A vibrant area, for sure, but one that was also largely surrounded by areas that had not been rehabilitated. Walking a few blocks to a late night convenience store often encouraged solicitations from one of the local ‘ladies’ plying her trade. You didn’t venture too far outside of SoNo. It was a perfect location for scoundrels.
It was a clear Sunday morning; still early for many people to be out and about. I was walking across the street towards a restaurant for breakfast with my thoughts occupied by the cute woman I had met the night before when I was approached by a man who was clearly upset. He seemed to come out of nowhere, sided right up next to me, and was talking very fast with a thick Island accent that was hard to understand. I turned my full attention to him and tried to comprehend what he was saying. He had a large amount of cash he pulled from his pocket, rolled up in a dingy handkerchief. I could make out a few words from the non-stop flow of his speech: “money … bus … station … bad men.” I asked him to repeat his story and “speak more slowly.” I was hooked.
The next thing I knew, the ‘Interpreter’ arrived. Again, seemingly out of nowhere. On one side of me was ‘Island Man’ still talking unintelligibly non-stop, on the other, a better dressed, soft-spoken man; they had me in the middle between them. The Interpreter earnestly “explained” the situation. You see, Island Man just arrived from Jamaica to visit his uncle. He had come to town via bus and left his belongings in a locker at the bus station (Island Man emphatically shows me a locker key). He was afraid to go back to the bus station because three tough guys saw his bankroll and tried to rob him. He just barely got away. Island Man shows me the money roll again and says (quite clearly), “Five thousand,” then starts talking non-stop again. I can make out “you have, you have!”
Interpreter “explains” he wants me to hold his money while they go to the bus station for his suitcase. I start to resist and Island Man takes my arm and implores, “You good, I trust, I trust.” Interpreter says something about how he sees I’m trustworthy and it will only be a few minutes. Somehow, I agree to this and confirm that it’s “only for a few minutes.”
Island Man now has my arm and I hear him say, “you money, you money!” I turn to the Interpreter who says, “He wants you to put your money in with his. He’s got $5,000. He wants your money with his as a sign of good faith. He’ll wrap all the money in the handkerchief for you to hold. Show him your wallet.”
I pull out my wallet and so quickly I was startled, Island Man took all the cash out of my wallet. I watch him put my bills with his $5,000. He wrapped all the money in the handkerchief, and shoved the thick wad into my jacket pocket. He looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Keep safe, keep safe,” as he and Interpreter quickly made their way up the street towards the Greyhound bus terminal several blocks away.
I remember I was feeling shaken. It was a bit of an unusual experience. I was trying to think it through and realized I had all his money! I put my hand in my pocket and felt the wad; it was very thick! I didn’t dare take it out. I started to tremble. Five grand was a lot of cash.
I hurried into the restaurant and stood at the bar. I was still trembling, thinking what to do with all this money! My mind started racing with wild thoughts. I just had to see all this cash. I went into the men’s room, entered a stall and closed the door. I didn’t want anyone to see, of course. I pulled out the wad and opened the handkerchief. Newspaper! It was a shock at first – where’s all that cash? Then I realized: I’d been scammed!
I didn’t loose much; only $12.00, but only because I hadn't been to the ATM yet. I really had to admire those two. I thought I would ‘know better’ than to get taken so easily. After all, I knew sleight of hand. But they were good. I never saw it coming. And once I had ‘the money’ in my hot little hands, the avarice took over. It was a small price to pay to learn that, yes, indeed, it could very well happen to me.
Gary Dayton
Edited on 2005-10-25 22:12:17 by WhitHaydn
No differences.
Edited on 2005-10-25 22:11:46 by WhitHaydn
Additions:
If you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas
Deletions:
If you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas
Edited on 2005-10-25 11:17:30 by MagicGuy
Additions:
If you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas
My sister in law got taken last night at a Casino in Louisiana.
She was playing the slots.
A guy walks up to her, and he's reaching for his wallet. He says, "Can you give me five ones?"
So my sister in law says, "Sure," and counts out five one dollar bills. She holds out her hand expecting the guy to hand over a five, but he slips the five ones in his wallet and walks away.
"Hey," she shouts. "Where's my five?"
He waves at her as he disappears into the casino labyrinth, "Baby, I'm going to the buffet!"
And that's the last she saw of him.
Magic Guy
Edited on 2005-10-15 12:56:30 by WhitHaydn
No differences.
Edited on 2005-10-15 12:56:10 by WhitHaydn
Additions:
You Can't Beat the Monte
You Can't Cheat and Honest Man
Paying for an Education
Edited on 2005-10-12 02:52:59 by WhitHaydn
Additions:
-- Magic Guy (2005-10-10 11:30:30)
Deletions:
-- MagicGuy (2005-10-10 11:30:30)
Edited on 2005-10-12 02:52:13 by WhitHaydn
Additions:
It was 1965. I was 13 years old and had mowed yards all week to earn $15, specifically for the purpose of having a great time at the Tennesse State Fair in Knoxville.
My dad had warned me not to play any of the games. "They're rigged."
Nonsense, thinks I.
I walked through the gate and the first stall on the right was a ring-toss alibi joint. Up on the shelf was the shiniest motor scooter I'd ever seen, which I could win for just three accurate tosses.
Five minutes later I was broke.
I spent the remainder of my seven hours at the fair walking around looking at all the rides I might have ridden, no hotdogs or cotton candy, and nothing to drink. I also watched the guy at the ring toss take a few more fools.
That guy was my angel, and that was a very well spent $15. I haven't placed a bet since.
ed
-- MagicGuy (2005-10-10 11:30:30)
Edited on 2005-10-11 00:16:31 by ThreeEyedWilly
Additions:
"Let's go into the doctor's office here, and he will take care of it."
Deletions:
"Let's go into the doctor's office hear, and he will take care of it."
Edited on 2005-10-11 00:15:49 by ThreeEyedWilly
Additions:
Dad told the Jamaican he should put his money in a bank. "No, they will steal my money, and sic their dogs on me."
"No they won't! You can get your money any time you want to. And they don't have any dogs."
Bill Palmer
Houston, Texas
Deletions:
Dad told the Jamaican he should put his money in a bank. "No, they will steal my money."
"No they won't! You can get your money any time you want to."
Bill Palmer.
Edited on 2005-10-11 00:14:08 by ThreeEyedWilly
Additions:
This didn't happen to me. It happened to my father, and he thought he was an idiot for what took place. When you see how it ended, you will understand the truth of the old saying "you can't cheat an honest man."
Dad had back trouble. One afternoon, he was leaving the chiropractor's office, and as he backed out, he heard a loud "THUD!" A middle-aged Jamaican guy was standing there holding his leg. "You hit my leg, mon."
"Let's go into the doctor's office hear, and he will take care of it."
"No, mon, he will take my money. All I need is some ice." Then the classic Pigeon Drop started. "I need to go to this place to take my money to the captain of my ship. He will keep my money," and he pulled out a wad of bills about the size of your fist. But the outside bill was a $500.00 bill and almost all of those were out of circulation. Now my father knew that this was a con man of some kind, and was trying to get rid of him. The guy claimed that he could not read, but that he didn't trust my father or the doctor, because both of them were white. As Dad drove him around, the Jamaican spotted an African-American guy standing next to an Ice chest (with a sign that said "ICE.") Suspicious thing number two happened then, because the Jamaican could suddenly read the word ICE, even though he had said he could not read. "He is black like me, I can trust him." So they picked up the other guy.
Dad told the Jamaican he should put his money in a bank. "No, they will steal my money."
"No they won't! You can get your money any time you want to."
"I do not believe you. Wait, my leg hurts. I need to get some of that ice over there. Then I want to be with a woman."
So the Jamaican left the car, and went to get the ice. The second man said, "Does he have money?"
"Yes, enough to choke a horse."
"We can take him over to a gal I know who will keep him busy, and we can take his money."
Well, Dad knew what was happening then for sure. He had heard about the Pigeon Drop, and he was trying to figure out how to get out of this with his skin intact. He was 70+ years old and not in great shape.
So the Jamaican came back to the car with his ice. He said, "I don't believe you about the bank, mon. Prove it."
So Dad went over to the bank. He said, "Wait here. I will withdraw $10,000.00" And that's exactly what he did. He went in, withdrew the money, walked to the front door of the bank with it, waved it back and forth so they could see it, then went back and redeposited it. Then he came back to the car, while the guard stood by the door.
"Okay, let's have the money!"
"NO. I put it back in the bank. You see this button here that says 'ALARM?' I'm going to push the button, and that policeman will come over here and shoot both of you for trying to pull a scam on me."
Suddenly the Jamaican could read. So could the other guy. They took off very fast. And left a bag of ice in the back of the car.
Dad felt like an idiot because he had gotten played as far as he had. I told him that it proved he was honest, because you can't cheat an honest man. Anyone else would have tried to go for that big roll with the $500.00 bill on the outside.
Bill Palmer.
Oldest known version of this page was edited on 2005-10-09 22:26:57 by WhitHaydn []
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Scoundrels Sightings
Here is where you can post accounts of your sightings of street cons in action. If you click on the "Edit page" button at the lower left corner of the window, you will be brougth to a window where you can edit anything on this page. Click in between two of the sets of double lines and type in your story. Tell as much as you can, with lots of detail, and include photos when you can.
Sometimes tiny details can reveal a lot of great value.
Please sign your stories if you don't mind, but we will take these accounts unsigned as well.
It is easy to make a mistake when first editing a page like this. The most likely of these will be to lose or disarrange the formatting--the wrong things are bold, for example. It is also possible to lose a whole section of the page or erase the page. This is not a problem. Don't be timid. Every change is backed up and we can always return to a previous state.
If you make some mistake with the formatting and can't figure out how to fix it, don't worry. Just leave it. Someone else will come along after you and set it right. The information is the important thing. The formatting will be taken care of by the staff, if not by our other members. So publish what you can, and don't worry about making mistakes or doing damage. Others will fix your spelling errors or syntax or formatting. We are like bees building a honeycomb. Some bring the material, others put it into place, and so on. This is an extremely resilient and exciting medium. You can do no wrong. Have fun.
Several years ago (maybe 20?) I was watching a broad tosser on the streets around Times Square in New York (I was there on business and spent my lunch break watching the real work). A guy in a nice suit, carrying a briefcase, was the mark. He was being expertly played. At the climax, they had him up to a $300 bet.
Turns out he was playing the Mob, and picked right card for the $300. The operator hesitated, then picked up all the money (including the mark's bet) and took off running. No skill, just outright theft. This middle-aged guy in suit with a briefcase watched his $300 fleeing down the street (I think it was 42nd St). That's when I
knew that you can't beat a monte mob. Even when you pick the right card, you lose the money. Anyway, that's a true story.
Jim Surprise
Memphis, Tennessee
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WhitHaydn