The grifters, revisited

>> David W. Maurer's classic work of criminology

by JULIET WATERS

In 1940, when professor of linguistics David W. Maurer wrote The Big Con, the Golden Age of the American confidence man was already over. According to the introduction of the recently published second edition, this Golden Age peaked between 1914 and 1923. It was a time of unprecedented prosperity, where advances in technology had created a roller coaster stock market, credit was easy to come by and anyone who wasn't making easy money felt like a loser. A time not unlike our own.

But it was a time that will remain unique because of the lingo. There will never be another High Ass Kid, Slobbering Bob or Christ Kid. A bad cop these days might be known by many monikers, but he will never again be known as a Tin Mitten (because he likes to hear the coin clink in his hand). And we'll never hear a conversation like this one between two grifters, John and Jimmy, who are about to "fleece a mark with the hides," i.e. use a fake gambling store to con a tourist out of money. John wants to know what kind of mark they'll be dealing with, so he asks Jimmy:

"What kind of egg is he?"

"He's no lop-eared mark... He knows what it's all about. He's a hefty baby with plenty of moxie. I'd guess he'll be hard to cool out."

"If he gets fractious, he'll get the cackle bladder. That cools out those tough babies..."

What John and Jimmy are planning here is a typical big con, a con so elaborate it will probably involve a couple of dozen people, a big store (a fake swanky gambling club) and possibly a few Tin Mittens.

Jimmy is "the roper." It will be his job to find the mark (let's call him Mr. Fink) and set him up. They meet in a bar, strike up a conversation and then Jimmy "finds" a wallet stuffed with money and a few fake press clippings about a notoriously successful gambler. After asking around, they find the owner of the wallet (who is actually John in disguise). In gratitude, John gives Jimmy and Fink a few gambling tips that pay off well.

As the three get to know each other, John confides to Fink that he has a way of finding out the race results before they are telegraphed to the gambling club. His act is so convincing that Fink is talked into betting higher and higher sums, until eventually a colossal mistake will be made. Jimmy will bet Mr. Fink's money on a horse to win, while John will swear he told him the horse was only going to place. If Fink is hard to cool off (if he becomes violent), Jimmy might pretend to shoot John, who will "die" with a bladder of fake chicken blood spurting from his mouth (i.e. the cackle-bladder.) And Mr. Fink will flee never even knowing he was conned.

If this scenario sounds familiar, it's because you might have seen it in The Sting, a movie based on Maurer's book. But it's not really the mechanism of the big con that makes Maurer's sociological study such an entertaining read. It's the charm with which this subculture is documented. Maurer maintains such a naive respect for the confidence man that there's something almost poignant about his academic style. He remains convinced to the end of the latent nobility in these "aristocrats of the grifters," believing that they never con an honest man and never resort to violence (though this purity is hard to believe of a subculture where to "get a hard-on" means to pull a gun).

And finally, while the history of the confidence man is such an important staple in American folklore, it's interesting that the most grandiose anecdotes originate in Canada. According to Maurer, the greatest roper of the era was Ottawa native, Eddie Mines. And the biggest con ever pulled was reportedly in Montreal, when the Hashhouse Kid took a British tourist for $350,000 (approximately $3.5 million U.S. in today's currency). :

The Big Con by David W. Maurer, Anchor Books, pb, 314 pp, $19.95