Bob Cassidy - Side Effects.pdf - Bob Cassidy - kitekk9

As though we'd lost all count of time,

And so must climb for evermore.

Yet, all too soon, we reached the door—

The black, sun-blistered lighthouse-door,

That gaped for us ajar.

From - “Flannan Isle”

ilfrid ilson Gibson

It’s not what you do that counts.

It’s what they think you do.

- David Lustig

Bob Cassidy

Side Effects – an e-book

Eureka Springs, Arkansas 1907

Fifteen year old Alvin Thompson and Carlo, his water spaniel, spent the morning

hunting before they headed to the old fishing hole. That’s where they met the stranger.

He was a city slicker, judging by his store-bought clothes and fishing rod, but he

was friendly enough and didn’t seem to mind that Carlo, who was now splashing about

in the pond, had effectively ended his hopes of catching a quick lunch. The man laughed

at the dog’s antics and Carlo, happy to meet a new friend, dashed out of the water and

dropped a wet stick at the man’s feet.

“Throw it out into the pond,” Alvin said, smiling proudly. “He wants to show you

what a good swimmer he is.”

The man tossed the stick out into the pond and, at the same time, Carlo bolted

into the water, snatching the stick in his jaws the moment it bobbed up to the surface

and swiftly swimming it back ashore, where he dropped it again at the man’s feet.

Side Effects

The game continued until Carlo finally decided to chase after a crow who had

begun heckling him from a nearby tree. Turning to the boy, the man said, “That sure is a

fine dog you have there, son. You wouldn’t be interested in selling him, would you?”

“Oh, no sir, I couldn’t do that,” Alvin replied. “I could never sell Carlo. It wouldn’t

be right. I raised him since he was a pup and taught him everything he knows. He’s the

best hunting dog in the whole county, probably in all of Arkansas. There ain’t nothing he

can’t find and fetch.”

They sat silently for a moment and the boy’s eyes lingered for a moment on the

store-bought fishing pole that lay at the man’s side.

“But I tell you what I will do, mister. Would you like to make a bet?”

“I’ve been known to place a wager on occasion, “ replied the man. “What sort of a

bet did you have in mind?”

The boy picked up a rock and removed a knife from the pocket of his overalls. He

scratched an ‘X’ across the rock and said, “I’ll bet you that if you throw this here rock out

into the middle of the pond, where its about thirty feet deep, that Carlo can dive down

and fetch it back.”

“And what if he can’t?” asked the man.

“I guess you win Carlo, then. But if he does do it, I win your fishing pole.”

The city man, barely hiding his eagerness, took the bet. When Carlo returned,

having chased off the obnoxious corvine heckler, the boy showed him the rock. Carlo

sniffed at it and Alvin handed it to the man who tossed it to the deepest part of the pond.

Carlo swam out to where the rock hand landed and dove underwater. After about

fifteen seconds, he came back to the surface and swam ashore. In his mouth was a wet

rock that he dropped at the man’s feet. The man picked it up and saw it had the ‘X’ on it.

“Well, I guess I’ll just take that fishing pole, then,” said the boy.

The man laughed. “C’mon, boy, I was only kidding with you. I wouldn’t bet an

expensive pole like that against no mongrel dog.”

The boy, who wasn’t smiling anymore, said, “He’s a spaniel, mister. A water

spaniel.

“ I have another bet for you,” he continued as he picked up his .22 rifle and

pulled the bolt, “You hold onto that rock and I bet I can shoot it out of your hand.”

The man gave Alvin the fishing pole.

Bob Cassidy

Years later when he related the incident, Alvin laughingly added, “Now Carlo was

a really smart dog but I never believed in taking chances. About a week before I covered

the bottom of that pond with about three hundred rocks that had ‘X’s’ on them. I didn’t

want the damn dog coming up with the wrong rock.”

By that time, though, nobody called him Alvin anymore. He had become the

greatest proposition hustler of his era and was known as Titanic Thompson, a name still

spoken with reverence when old-time gamblers meet.

Paris, France 1925

The two men sat across from each other in the Parisian café. The Count, who had

been reading the newspaper, circled an article with his pencil and tossed it to the table in

front of the other man.

“Look at this, Danny. Do you see the possibilities?”

Dan Collins was an American whom the Count employed as his personal aide. He

picked up the paper and read the story the Count had marked. It was about the failing

condition of the Eiffel Tower and its high maintenance costs. Built in 1889 for the Parisian

Exposition, the article pointed out that the tower was never intended to be a permanent

monument. In fact, it was supposed to have been taken down in 1909.

Danny looked up at the Count. “I don’t get it, Vic. Where’s the angle?”

“It seems there is some sentiment that the tower is not worth saving. This, Danny,

presents us with an excellent opportunity.”

right?

Collins smiled knowingly. “I get it. You want to raise money to save the tower,

“No, Danny. I propose to sell it.”

Had anyone else made the suggestion, Dan Collins would have laughed aloud.

But Victor “The Count” Lustig was the man who had, two years previously, conned Al

Capone out of five thousand dollars. Given the obviously fatal consequences of failure, it

was a scam that only an idiot or genius would even consider. And Lustig wasn’t an idiot.

Capone never even realized that he’d been conned.

If Victor Lustig said he was going to sell the Eiffel Tower, Danny had no doubt

that he could pull it off.

Side Effects

Victor laid out the key parts of his plan and in the weeks that followed, they

worked out the details. What followed was one of the greatest masterpieces of deception

ever seen.

____________________________________

Using forged government stationery proclaiming him to be “Deputy Director

General of the Ministry of Posts and Telegraphs”, Lustig sent letters to six major scrap

metal dealers, inviting them to a private meeting at the prestigious Hotel Crillon, to

discuss a matter of pressing importance to the government of France.

He played his role perfectly as he explained to the businessmen that the costs of

maintaining the Eiffel Tower could no longer be justified.

“But as you are certainly aware, gentlemen, there would undoubtedly be a great

public outcry should our decision to sell the tower for scrap be revealed prematurely.

The plan, therefore, is to remain a strict secret until all arrangements have been made.

“You have been selected to attend this meeting because of your reputations as

honest businessmen. And to me has fallen the responsibility of determining who among

you will be selected to carry out the task. Before I discuss with you the manner in which

bids are to be submitted, however, I invite all of you to accompany me on an inspection

tour of the tower.”

The businessmen were taken, in a rented limousine, to the tower where Lustig

showed off the nearly 15,000 prefabricated parts from which it had been constructed.

With the eye of a master con artist, he carefully watched the men and observed their

reactions. When they got back to the hotel, he reminded them that the matter was to be

kept secret and advised them that bids had to be submitted by the following day.

But Lustig had no intention of accepting the highest bid. Instead, he would select

the best “mark.” And he had already decided who that would be.

Andre Poisson was obviously the most eager of the prospects and also exhibited a

certain insecurity about his status in the business community. Lustig sensed that Poisson

saw the proposition as a rare opportunity to establish himself as a major player in the

scrap metal business.

Back at the café, Lustig explained the situation to Collins. “This is our man, Danny.

Tomorrow I will accept his bid and tell him that the contract is to be completed within

the week. Make certain our bird does not stray from the nest.”

Collins understood. He was to make sure the mark wasn’t spooked. If Poisson

started asking the right people the wrong questions, the results could be disastrous.

Bob Cassidy - Side Effects.pdf

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