The Art of the Con (2 page)

Your first lesson begins right here. I'm going to teach you how to spot a potential “mark,” someone who could genuinely fall for a scam. It's simple:
Look in a mirror
.

After thirty-six years of research, study, obsession, and practice, I still look at my reflection and remind myself that to someone, I'm just another mark, waiting to get clipped. As the old saying goes, if you're playing cards and don't know who the sucker is, it's you. What matters is how quickly you realize that it's time to walk away from the table.

I learned my first scam when I was eight years old. It wasn't a money drop or a lost ring game or even a proposition bet. It was a simple sleight-of-hand maneuver that allowed me to cheat at the game of Gin. That was the first step on a road that has taken me around the world and allowed me to study the art of the con without ever resorting to a life of crime.

My journey has been a unique one. A childhood fascination grew into an adult obsession that would eventually help me build a singular career, first advising for film and television, then working in front of the camera to execute real cons on real people. Since 2005, I have arguably pulled more scams than anyone, and along the way, I have learned more than I could ever have hoped or expected. In this book I will share those experiences to reveal the secrets of how and why con games work. I will take you inside con artists' minds and show how these criminals manipulate innocent people into handing over their hard-earned money. With a better understanding of these principles, you will learn to avoid con games and recognize the signs of deception. My primary goal is to turn you into a “tough mark.”

My journey began on Gibson Terrace, a row of tenement flats in the Fountainbridge area of Edinburgh, Scotland. While spending weekends with my grandparents as a child, I played cards constantly. One day, after losing for what seemed like the hundredth time, I started “rabbit-hunting”: turning over cards, looking for the one I needed.

My grandfather smiled. “Looking for the four of diamonds?” he asked, but I ignored him and kept turning cards. “It's on the bottom,” he told me.

I stopped and looked at him. He was smiling from ear to ear. Turning over the pile, I found the four of diamonds right where he said it would be. It's not much of a card trick, but I was completely baffled. How could he possibly have known?

The next time I carefully watched him shuffle, running cards from hand to hand in the overhand style. He dealt the cards as I collected my hand, still watching to see if he peeked at the basement. He didn't but I lost again and, again, he named the bottom card as I turned over the stub. How was it done? I had to wait weeks before he would tip the secret.

As it turned out, my grandfather had learned how to hold the bottom card in position during a shuffle. Glimpsing the card early on allowed him to shuffle, deal, and set without ever returning his gaze to the pack. This would later prove to be one of the easiest ways to control cards during a shuffle and, in the hands of a skilled gin player, it can guarantee an unbeatable edge, making the cheater lots of money. Except my granddad was not a professional, nor was he particularly good compared to my grandmother who—whether granddad knew the bottom card or not—could beat him nine times out of ten with her eyes shut. I would later learn that not all sleights are automatic winners. Some simply give the crooked player an advantage that'll pay off in the long run. Others are a complete lock and steal every penny at the table but are far more dangerous, requiring greater skill and courage on the part of the cheat.

That first card move ignited in me a lifelong passion for sleight of hand, magic, and con games. Shortly after, I saw the movie
The Sting
with Paul Newman and Robert Redford and I was completely hooked. There I was, eight years old and hungry for anything I could find about con games, cheating, and manipulation. But since I spent much of my time in a tiny Scottish apartment, there were few opportunities for me to find that kind of information, especially back in the 1970s. Over the years, I found the occasional book teaching magic tricks and a series of card manipulation booklets by Jean Hugard, but I would later learn directly from some of the finest exponents in the world.

Since those first experiences at my grandparents' house, I have eagerly sought out any information about cheating, con games, or ways to beat the system. By the time I reached my mid-twenties, I had spent most of my life perfecting sleight of hand, performing magic, and studying the art of deception. I was greatly influenced by “The Professor,” Dai Vernon, one of the most important magicians of the twentieth century. The Professor helped define a new approach to close-up magic, inspired by lessons he had learned from cheaters who used similar skills at the card table. Vernon spent much of his life seeking out crooked gamblers or con men; his tales of ne'er-do-well characters from that world fired my imagination and cemented my desire to learn everything I could on the subject.

I have always been particularly interested in con artists. Characters like Count Victor Lustig, Yellow Kid Weil, Titanic Thompson, Soapy Smith, and Charles Ponzi filled my imagination with possibilities. These people were crooks, certainly, but they were also heroic in a way, seemingly deceiving countless victims with cunning, inventing strategies that were almost magical to me. Today my library of books, pamphlets, magazine articles, and newspaper reports concerning con artists and their methods is extensive but by no means complete, though I'm fortunate to have access to much larger collections around the world.

Despite my lifelong fascination, I have never felt the desire to make a living stealing from people. That's not to say I haven't crossed the line from time to time. I've found myself uncomfortably on the wrong side of that line on several occasions but have resisted the temptation to go further. Some might say that this is a weakness on my part, a fear of getting my hands dirty, perhaps. I would argue that it takes much greater strength of character to resist the urge to make easy money and stronger character to recognize the true cost of a life lived in the shadows. This creates a dilemma: Having a sincere interest in con games that you cannot, in good conscience, practice means that no matter how much you read, discuss, or study, there is no way to truly understand how con artists think or why con games work. It's like being fascinated by the ocean without ever getting your feet wet.

Con artists come in all shapes and sizes and from every walk of life. There's no way to identify one unless you recognize the actions of a master deceiver in advance or when it's too late and your money's long gone. Most con men are naturally gifted with the skills to manipulate people and situations, weaving webs of complex simplicity and charm to convince anyone of anything. The ability to con people is accompanied by other traits that are almost universal to con men: an automatic detachment from the consequences of their actions, a lack of empathy for the victim, and no sense of guilt or responsibility whatsoever. Without these qualities a human being wouldn't last long as a grifter. I'm proud to say that while I have developed an ability to think and act as a con artist, I have never lost my sense of right and wrong and have managed to stay (mostly) on the right side of the law.

My television career started in 2002, right after working on the film
Shade
, written and directed by my friend Damian Nieman. I had been initially hired as an expert consultant on cheating methods and con games but soon found myself with a small role in the film, spending a week on camera with Stuart Townsend, Mark Boone Jr., Gabriel Byrne, and Jamie Foxx. From there I was hired as second unit director and by the time production was over, I was hungry to do more. Damian and I developed a number of ideas for television, including a drama series and a reality concept where I would pull cons, attempt heists, and even cheat casinos. We bounced around Hollywood for a few months pitching these ideas until, eventually, one of them was picked up.

The Takedown
was produced by MPH for Court TV in New York. Each episode featured me and a team of experts trying to beat casinos, rip off companies, and even steal art from a busy art gallery. A lot of the show was filmed in Nevada with the blessing of the gaming authorities thanks to the fact that the on-camera performers were magicians and had no criminal background. The show did good business, but by the time a second season was prematurely announced, I had already moved back to the UK and was working for the BBC.

The Real Hustle
began in 2005 and continued for eleven seasons until 2012. I was approached in 2004 to help write and develop the show after creating and producing
The Takedown. The Real Hustle
sought to combine the genre with a “Candid Camera” format where multiple scams would be shown in a single episode.

The principles I had learned and developed producing my first show in America proved essential when working on
The Real Hustle
for the BBC. For
The Real Hustle
, I would be presented with the opportunity to perform a greater number of scams and perhaps have the chance to gain a better understanding of why they worked. After a lifetime of study, I was a natural for a show like this, but I could not have predicted how much I was going to learn about the art of the con.

By the time I started the first season of
The Real Hustle
, I was pretty sure of myself. I have friends who have come directly from the world of cons, and over the years, they have rewarded me with inside knowledge, information, and insights that you won't find in any literature. Their objective was never to analyze or study what they were doing. At best they might question the ethics of their actions, but when asked to explain the reasons why scams work, their answers were all too predictable: People are greedy or stupid or naive and all a grifter needed to do was set the trap and wait for pigeons to land.

I have always had trouble believing that. It confused and frustrated me that the public held the same view about those who fall victim to con games: that they are motivated by greed, taken advantage of because of stupidity, or are foolish about the ways of the world. Perhaps these doubts kept me from cynically taking my own sheep to market. It wasn't until I found myself in the back of a truck, holding fistfuls of cash, that I fully understood that these con games really worked, that there was a great deal to discover about why they worked and that, despite all my years of study, I had so much more to learn.

This book will reveal the lessons I've learned from these experiences. It will share my insights into the mechanics of cons and scams, from crooked carnival games to big cons that steal billions from innocent people each year. Along the way you will develop your own “grift sense” and learn to identify the elements of a confidence trick, no matter how it might be re-invented or dressed up. You will learn how to protect yourself, your family, and your colleagues with a few simple rules and discover how society can identify a scam much sooner and defend those most vulnerable. In short, I am going to break the grifter's golden rule: “Never wise-up a mark.”