Hornswogglers, Fourflushers & Snake-Oil Salesmen Read Online Free PDF

incentive to be appreciated, but I am willing to forego convention for the sake of excitement.” As he spoke he arranged the pile to his satisfaction.
    By the time he’d finished speaking, he had before him a pyramid-shaped stack of neatly wrapped bars of soap, among which he’d interspersed the bars wrapped in money. All this he did in plain sight of the onlookers, who had become curiously silent.
    â€œI will now sell this soap to whoever is wise enough, whoever cares enough about their own skin, for $1 per cake. That’s it, that’s all, no other motivation on my end other than to introduce you all to the wonders of this fine product.”
    â€œI’ll take one!” shouted a stout-looking fellow with a wide face and black, boiled-wool suit. A dented black derby sat perched atop the pear-shaped man’s head as if it were afraid to topple off.
    â€œGood man,” said Smith as the stout man, none-too-gingerly, angled his girth through the crowd to stand before the soap sales display stand. The smiling salesman nodded and handed the man a neatly wrapped bar of soap as the man handed him a dollar bill. As the man walked back through the crowd, peeling the paper off his soap, he shouted, “Hey! Hey! Lookee here!” He ripped off the rest of the paper and waved a $5 bill in his pudgy fist above his head. “I won! I won me five dollars!”
    The salesman beamed and nodded. “That’s exactly what I hoped would happen! Now folks, if the soap’s quality won’t lure you in on its own merit, maybe the enticement of a few dollars for you to enjoy will help sweeten the deal, as the gamblers say.”
    But he needn’t have explained, since the crowd all but drowned him out as they pressed forward, waving dollar bills and grasping for the bars of paper-wrapped soap. Soon he saw the scattering of disappointed faces as people tore off the wrapping to see nothing but a cake of soap that was worth far less than the dollar they had invested in it. But then many of those same people would gaze at their fellows, see the same results, and surmise that the other wrapped parcels must have not yet been purchased.
    Just then, a happy shout bubbled up from a small, thin man to the side of the crowd near the front. “I’m a winner! A winner! Never in my life . . .” The smiling man rattled a crisp $1 bill and beamed at everybody near him.
    â€œHere,” a chorus of voices surged. “I’ll take another!” They waved their dollar bills at Smith, the salesman, the purveyor of soap. After another few minutes of this flurry of activity, Smith held up his hands and with the barest of smiles said, “I have good news!”
    The crowd quieted, all eyes forward.
    â€œThe $100 bill has not yet been sold. I repeat, the $100 bill is still hidden somewhere in this pile, available and ready for a new home.”
    The clamor to buy the remaining bars was great, but again the young man held up his large hands and slowly shook his head. “No, no folks, I cannot in all good conscience sell the remaining bars in such a manner.”
    â€œWhy not?” shouted a woman from the back row, her scowl doing its best to sear a path through the air toward him.
    â€œBecause, my good madam, folks such as yourself who are not near the front would not have a fair shot at the winning cake of soap. No, I wish this harmless game to be fair to all who took the time to come out and see me and my humble yet top-notch products. The fairest way to go about this, it seems to me, is to auction off the remaining wrapped bars of soap to the highest bidders in the crowd.”
    The announcement, as he knew it would, drew a few groans from the crowd, mostly from folks in the front row. The rest of the gathered folks fidgeted, ready to place their bids.
    All told, the “auction” drew swift response, with nearly everyone flailing a hand skyward at first. But as the figures crept