We are in New York, 1924. Republican Calvin Coolidge has just been re-elected President of the United States, the maximum speed of automobiles has been decreed at 24 kilometers per hour for transit through cities and Jack Dempsey continues to hold the world title of heavyweights, unbeatable since 1919. The Broadway and Wall Street districts begin to establish their names on the island of Manhattan, respectively as meccas of entertainment and business. For their part, gigantic neighborhoods in Brooklyn or Newark continue to welcome European immigrants, who continue to reach the new world through the control established on the tiny Ellis Island.
It was in those twenties when a phrase became popular throughout the city to refer to a person who was too gullible, too naive: “If you believe that, then I have a bridge to sell you.” And not just a bridge: the old Madison Square Garden, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the tomb of General Grant or the Statue of Liberty were some of the “merchandise” that over several decades managed to sell hundreds of unwary rogue George C. Parker, one of history’s most daring criminal rogues. So much so that he has earned the title of “greatest con man of the 20th century” in his own right.
The bridge in question was none other than the Brooklyn Bridge, built over the East River to connect the neighborhood that gives it its name with the island of Manhattan, which is why it is an essential artery in the internal traffic of New York City. This magnificent engineering work, whose cost rose to 15.5 million dollars at the time, was inaugurated on May 24, 1883, and its construction was directed by a woman: Emily Roegling.
One of the attendees at its inauguration was a 23-year-old named George C. Parker. Of course, there were also those who knew him as James J. O’Brien, although he would still sign contracts as Warden Kennedy. And it is that Parker – we will call him by his original name – was a true master of the difficult and exquisite art of identity change. He had no choice, given that his trade for more than half a century was that of fraud.
George C. Parker was born in Brooklyn in 1860, into a humble Irish family that had just arrived in the flourishing American city in search of the then still promising American dream. Shortly after he reached adolescence he began, like so many others, to manage to survive in a bustling city, in which everyone was looking for the great opportunity to make gold.
The change of era was throbbing more and more strongly, and the arrival of urban sophistication, with all its laws, uses and customs, had not yet materialized, so there was still some confusion, some doubts and too many legal loopholes around it. many aspects of daily life.
One of them referred to the administration of urban assets. Were they all publicly owned and used, or could the burgeoning spirit of capitalism seize them and manage them at its discretion? That, coupled with the palpable greed of many of the go-getters and hustlers pouring in from the Old World, all eager to get it right quickly, gave young Parker the keys to launch his legendary career in the art of art. scam.
At the beginning of the 20th century, two of the most representative symbols of the United States were the Statue of Liberty and the Brooklyn Bridge. The two were in New York and they were the first thing they saw, crowded on the boats, the thousands of immigrants who came there from all over Europe. And that only added to the appeal of friend Parker’s scam object.
Let’s think about it: a bridge that connects the island of Manhattan with one of the main sprawling neighborhoods, Brooklyn. What if someone could charge for each person who wanted to cross from one side of the East River to the other? Sounds good right? Well, that’s exactly how George C. Parker managed to cajole dozens, hundreds of unsuspecting people: proposing to buy the bridge and install a toll booth for those who wanted to enter or leave the island of Manhattan.
Like all legendary con men, Parker had a way with people, knew how to move well in refined environments and never entered his victims directly. His technique was to present himself as one of those responsible for the design and construction of the bridge, and he adorned his story with numerous anecdotes that occurred during said work. In addition, he confessed that he was the person to whom he had entrusted the responsibility of managing it, a task that he did not like at all.
Once he had aroused the interest of the dupe on duty, he would release his reflection on the lucrative possibilities of acquiring ownership of said engineering work. When asked why he didn’t take advantage of the matter himself, he excused himself by saying that his thing was design, that he was passionate about his work, and that buying the bridge would mean settling in New York and dedicating himself exclusively to counting all the money he had. I would end up winning.
There was little more he needed to add, except perhaps to underscore that he was so eager to be free of his responsibilities that he was willing to sell his rights to the bridge well below its real price. Confirming the goodness of that bargain was a simple mathematical matter: several thousand people crossing each day in both directions, at a few cents a step… Well, the purchase price had already been amortized, which, based on the possibilities of the scammer calculated by Parker, could range from $75 to $5,000.
At that point in the negotiation, the potential victim was no longer listening to the alleged seller. In her mind she only saw long lines at the Brooklyn Bridge toll booth and him inside the booth, charging for each access. In subsequent meetings, of course, Parker would put on the table a title deed, duly stamped and signed, as well as a sales contract with all the legal requirements. The scam was ready.
Apparently, although at first he had more failures than successes, George Parker gradually refined his style. He even set up a very convincing office to which he invited his potential victims to finish convincing them. He was arrested a couple of times on charges of fraud, but the sentences weren’t very long.
He spent his time in prison studying how he could improve the scam, and when he got out, he would start it up again… And he would succeed again! Although some realized the deception, there were many who were blinded by greed and did not stop to think about the absurdity of a practice more typical of the still lawless territories of the Wild West.
George C. Parker was arrested dozens of times throughout his criminal career, so many that the chronicles at his death spoke that he had set a record not only for crimes, but also for prison stays. These, however, were generally so brief that, in any case, they served him to rest, recycle and project new scams, as we have already pointed out. And even in those situations of confinement of freedom, our protagonist showed off his ingenuity and self-confidence.
Luck abandoned him in 1928, when he was already 68 years old. He was arrested for delivering a bad check for $150 to a tailor’s shop. This time the prosecutor was hard on him, taking advantage of other pending charges. Despite pleas for clemency citing his advanced age, Parker was booked into Sing Sing Prison, where he would spend the next eight years, before finally dying in 1936.
Eleven years after his death, It Happened In Brooklyn hit theaters. In this film, a young and smiling Frank Sinatra, uniformed as a war veteran, sang to the Brooklyn Bridge and the girl of his dreams, and given the character’s fame as a womanizer, to assure the young woman that his love was sincere, He warned him in one of the verses: “Don’t let anyone tell you that I’ve been trying to sell you the Brooklyn Bridge.”
