“Man, we’re going to be rich. Rolling in dough, I tell you.”
The breathless voice on the other end of the phone belonged to my brother-in-law, Woody, who with his wife Wanda Sue recently moved from Tifton, Georgia, to Minneola, Florida, to raise alpacas.
“You mean the alpaca business is already paying off?” It had been less than a year since they started their alpaca business, and I suspected the alpacas would leave them rolling in something other than dough.
“No, not the alpacas, although those darling little critters will pay off for sure. We won a big prize from Publishers Clearing House. Can you believe that?”
“That is unbelievable,” I replied. “Congratulations to you both. Is this one of those money-for-life things I’ve seen on TV?”
He hesitated and I could hear paper rustling.
“I’m not exactly sure. See, we got this letter in the mail from the PCH people — that’s how they refer to themselves, don’t you know? PCH. Anywho, it says we’re a winner of at least 10 million dollars.”
The paper rustled again, and I heard Woody clear his throat before continuing with his good luck story. “We’ll find out exactly how much we’ve won and all the details of the payoff after we wire them $6,500 to cover taxes and fees. Wanda Sue is at the bank now withdrawing the money. Between you and me, that’s about all we have left in our savings, but hey, we’ll be depositing millions soon enough.”
Loud warning bells were blasting in my head, and I said, “I’m pretty sure PCH doesn’t send letters, Woody. They show up at your door. Have you checked with Publishers Clearing House to be sure this is legitimate?”
I heard a series of stuttering sounds before he answered, “Well, no, but this letter looks awful official. It has the PCH logo on top and the correct address. I checked that on the Google.”
“Woody, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but along with sunshine and hurricanes, Florida is known as the epicenter for con men and scammers. And I’m afraid that the lottery scam is one of the most popular scams, along with inheritance scams, bank examiner scams and dozens of others. I was even part of one a few years back.”
“What, you tried to scam someone?” I knew Woody didn’t have the highest opinion of me since I didn’t drive a pick-up truck, but that really hurt.
“I wasn’t doing the scamming, Woody. Someone must have hacked my address book because I began hearing from friends asking if I was okay. Apparently, they had received messages purportedly from me, saying I had been in an accident while traveling overseas and had lost my wallet. The message said I needed several thousand dollars to pay my hospital bill and buy a plane ticket to return home.”
“Wow, I don’t remember that. Did they send you the money? We would have been glad to help if you asked us.”
“No one sent money because I wasn’t hurt — or traveling. It was a scam. And I’m afraid that letter is, too. If I’m not mistaken, I believe all PCH prizes are tax free. Do me a favor and before you wire that $6,500, check it out. I’d hate for you to lose all your money.”
The line went silent for a long minute before he said, “I better call Wanda Sue and tell her to leave the money in the bank.”
“At least you didn’t invest in that cryptocurrency scam,” I added, hoping to make him feel better.
“What?” Woody said before abruptly ending the call. I was sorry my brother-in-law had been scammed and I started thinking about how the state I’ve lived in for most of my life had a long history of corruption. Like Woody, I turned to the Google, and began scanning for scammers. Here’s what I found:
In the early 1800s, a con man from New York named Warner Thompson got rich selling Florida swamp land to gullible people, telling them they could find gold and gems on the property. Along with the Miami Dolphins and frequent flooding, the South Florida region is well known for its many cons. Novelist Carl Hiaasen, a former investigative report and columnist for The Miami Herald, once said, “The Florida in my novels is not as seedy as the real Florida. It’s hard to stay ahead of the curve. Every time I write a scene that I think is the sickest thing I have ever dreamed up; it is surpassed by something that happens in real life.”
I was surprised to learn from my online research that one of the world’s biggest swindlers lived in Jacksonville for a short time. He was an Italian named Carlo Pietro Giovanni Guglielmo Tebaldo Ponzi. Yes, that very same Charles Ponzi, father of the infamous pyramid scheme later made even more infamous by Bernie Madoff. Ponzi’s scheme was eventually discovered, and he was charged with 86 counts of mail fraud but served only three-and-a-half years. The state of Massachusetts later convicted him of larceny, and he was sentenced to seven to 10 years, but he was out again after serving only two years.
Ponzi was afraid of another indictment and decided to migrate to a friendlier environment where his talents would be appreciated. So, of course, he came to Florida. In 1925, he set up shop in the Springfield section of Jacksonville where he launched the Charpon Land Syndicate selling tiny tracts of swamp land in Columbia County. He promised investors a 200% return in 60 days. Ponzi was soon indicted by a Duval County grand jury, tried and sentenced to a year in prison, but he posted a $1,500 bond and skipped town. He fled to Texas where he tried to leave the country disguised as a crewman on a merchant ship, but he was caught and returned to Massachusetts where he served seven more years in prison before being deported to Italy.
The government never learned what happened to the millions of dollars he had bilked from the investors in his various schemes. Perhaps someone living in Springfield will be surprised one day while renovating one of those old homes. But I suspect there’s as much chance of that happening as winning $5,000 a week for life from Publishers Clearing House.
Vic DiGenti, aka Parker Francis, is an author, ghostwriter, editor and publisher with 14 books to his credit. He lives and works in Ponte Vedra Beach. Visit him at www.parkerfrancis.com.
