From Shocking Gullibility
The great lies and ruses perpetrated throughout history are as varied and nuanced as humanity itself -- as are the shocking amounts of gullibility on the receiving end. Here's a true-life treasury of some of the wildest pranks ever pulled.Carbo Loading
On April Fools' Day 1957, the British Broadcasting Corporation tried a startling trick on its news show Panorama. Journalist Richard Dimbleby offered viewers a tour of a "spaghetti harvest" in Ticino, Switzerland. "The last two weeks of March are an anxious time for the spaghetti farmer," Dimbleby earnestly reported as a family was shown plucking strips of pasta off trees. "There's the chance of a late frost, which, while not entirely ruining the crop, generally impairs the flavor." The story concluded, "For those who love this dish, there's nothing like homegrown spaghetti."
After the report ran, the BBC was flooded with calls from people asking where they might get a spaghetti tree. They were reportedly told to "place a sprig of spaghetti in a tin of tomato sauce and hope for the best."
Luney Tunes
In 1835, the New York paper The Sun published a six-part series about exotic life on the moon. The series described vast oceans and lakes, abandoned temples of sapphire, and buffalo-like creatures that roamed expansive plains. One of the most fantastic revelations was the discovery of human-like creatures with wings -- batmen of sorts, who feasted off the land and apparently enjoyed vigorous sex lives. The moon hoax was a smash, with New Yorkers snatching up installments as fast as they were printed.
Plenty of people believed in the moon discoveries, even those in academic circles. "Yale College was alive with staunch supporters," a reporter wrote years later. "It was the absorbing topic of the day."
Monumental Hoaxes
Seeing PurpleAttending school in the nation's capital, the boys of Gonzaga College High School had a unique platform for their 1969 prank. They tricked the Department of the Interior into allowing them to turn the Washington Monument purple and white, the school's colors, just before the annual football game against their rivals, St. John's College High School.
"We convinced [the government] that we were doing a science project to test the effects of casting light through a semipermeable membrane on a white oblique object," recalls Mark Smith, who led the caper. A forged letter on the headmaster's stationery apparently sealed the deal.
On the night of November 11, the boys brought yards of purple celluloid in wooden frames to many of the monument's gigantic spotlights. Park police kept visitors to the area at bay, and at 7:05 p.m., when the celluloid stations were ready, the boys placed them over the spotlights. Two sides of the monument suddenly turned purple -- and stayed that way for 35 minutes. As city residents gaped at the transformation, Smith and his friends celebrated. "We thought, This is the greatest moment of our lives," he remembers. Press coverage included dramatic photos.
Vice President Spiro Agnew condemned the defacement of a national monument, as did U.S. National Park Service superintendent William Failor. He wrote the headmaster, warning, "In the future, any requests from your institution will be closely screened and documented."
Home Delivery
English author Theodore Hook took a feud with his society-lady neighbor, Mrs. Tottenham, to new heights in 1810 by rigging what's become known as the Berners Street Hoax. He arranged for a multitude of London merchants to deliver their wares straight to Mrs. Tottenham's door -- all on the same day. Complete chaos ensued as all manner of tradesmen came calling with pianos, paintings, coal, groceries and a variety of other goods.
Mrs. Tottenham must have been horrified to find, among the other deliveries, a coffin, built to her exact measurements -- accompanied by an undertaker. Hook was never caught, though 20 years later he admitted his audacious caper in a semiautobiographical novel, Gilbert Gurney.
Yours Truly
A Frenchman named Vrain-Denis Lucas passed off a series of absurd forgeries -- more than 27,000 -- to his client, mathematician Michel Chasles, from 1861 to 1869. There were letters from Alexander the Great to Aristotle, and from Cleopatra to her "dearly beloved" Julius Caesar, all written in French. One letter was even said to be written by Lazarus after he was resurrected. Chasles was thrilled and paid for a steady supply.
It was only when the forger ceased delivery, it seems, that the relationship between the men deteriorated. Chasles alerted officials; Lucas was arrested. At his trial, the forger's amazing fraud was exposed. And so was Chasles's credulity.