I believe the term scam evolved from the French “escamote”, which is a magician’s ball. While the “marks” watched the magician shift the hidden ball his “escamoteur” (accomplice) would “escamoter” (steal away) with the mark’s purse. By 1893 Isabel Burton could write, “You have been robbing the public for the last quarter century, and only the other day you bought a bottle of ordinaire and escamote'd it into sixteen kinds of vins fin., a scam if ever I heard one.” (The Life of Captain Sir Richard F. Burton)
When the Dutch settled New Amsterdam, the chief gunner (or “Konstapel”) assigned to defend the harbor was granted land where the narrow Kill (or tidal channel) van Kull, runs past Staten Island (left of above frame), separating the bay of New York (foreground) from the bay of Newark (background). This land grant, called Constable Hook, was specifically the land jutting out from Bayonne, New Jersey, 10 miles south of Manhattan. In the late 1950’s (as it is today) Constable Hook was the unattractive home of industrial tank farms, including the 139 gray-green storage tanks, some, five stories tall, where Anthony De Angelis e-scam-tuer-ed with his investor’s purse.
The vegetable and fish oil in the tanks owned and leased by Allied Crude Vegetable Oil Refining Corporation was destined for shipment to factories worldwide to be converted into margarine, vitamin extracts, paints, soaps and toiletries, pharmaceuticals and, of course, salad oil. In order to measure the volume held in each tank American Express Warehouse instructed its inspectors to lower a ruled measure to the bottom of each tank. When the measure was withdrawn, the inspector would note the film of oil on the tape. American Express could then vouch for the amount of oil held by Allied at Constable Hook. The only problem was that all of the men working at Constable Hook for American Express were also working for Anthony De Angelis.
As already mentioned Thomas Clarkin was paid $500 a month by American Express as a custodian and to keep the inventory records, but Anthony paid Tommy $400 a week as a “messenger”. And, as Anthony later admitted, “He told me he needed a house for his wife and kiddies so I said, `Tommy I'll give you the money for your house.” And he did. Joe Lumuscio, another of Anthony’s ‘buddies’, was paid $6,000 a year as a custodian by AmEx, but pocketed $53,000 a year from Allied. And overseeing the entire scam was the General Manager of the Constable Hook facility, Leopold Bracconeri, who was Anthony’s brother-in-law.
Like all scams, this one was based on a simple slight of hand. When the inspectors verified the inventory Allied’s custodians were the ones who actually climbed atop each tank, lowered a tape measure, and read off the level of oil. The inspectors would rarely if ever check the tape. So Anthony’s boys could call out any number they wanted and that number would become the “official and verified” inventory. Gradually Anthony’s boys would fill the tanks with salt water, leaving a few inches of oil floating on the surface. Then when “inspecting” each tank, they would note the film of oil at the top of the tape, which was more than enough to lull any overly conscientious inspector. The captains of industry who ran American Express never visited Constable Hook, and certainly never climbed atop the tanks upon which so much of their fortunes and reputations were based.
According to author Norman C. Miller, Anthony had come to an amazing realization, that “…he always had more oil stored than he needed to satisfy customers' immediate demands…(and)As long as he could meet daily withdrawals, he might have almost any amount of oil in storage, for all the world knew.” Then, using the magic of the credit line AmEx had granted him, Anthony could convert any excess product he had at Constable Hook into cash, and then using the magic of “Commodity Futures” he could multiply that credit line by a factor of 95.
Wikipedia defines a futures contract as an agreement “… to buy or sell a specified commodity of standardized quality at a certain date in the future.” But in practice Futures are bought and sold as if they were stock, usually by speculators who have no intention of ever taking delivery on the commodity. The philosopher Thales had invented the idea in the 4th century B.C. when one summer he reserved olive oil presses for the fall harvest with a down payment. If the harvest was good, the presses would be in demand and Thales could charge more for their use. If the harvest was bad, Thales was out his deposit. It was a brilliant innovation, sharing the risk of producers with investors. But the system was rife with possibilities for fraud, which is why it languished for 2,000 years outside the mainstream of capitalism.
The heady field of commodity futures traders usually worked on a 15% margin, which meant that for a million and a half in collateral (vegetable oil) Anthony could buy the contract for oil worth $10 million. But since Anthony was so well connected in the industry he was able to negotiate for a 5% margin from Wall Street brokerage houses Ira Haupt and Williston & Beane. That meant that with AMEX receipts claiming $ 1.5 million in inventory at Constable Hook, Anthony could commit to the purchase of $142.5 million worth of futures. And that was the temptation for Anthony’s boys to claim increasing quantities of oil the tanks did not contain.
With buying power like that Anthony was driving the price of soybean, cottonseed and corn oils up, thus profiting more from his fraudulent inventories. In reality, Allied was shipping up to 100 million pounds of vegetable and fish oil out of Constable Hook each week, $250 million worth in a year, 75% of US total exports of vegetable oils. But that was no longer enough for Anthony. Showing paper profits on his futures trades, Anthony began to dream of cornering the entire market on vegetable oils. His secretary, Josephine Salto, begin to carry her typewriter with her. At anytime Anthony might ask her to type up a blank AMEX Warehouse inventory receipt claiming a new figure; “a figure apparently unrelated to anything except Allied’s need for cash” (Miller).
By 1960 Allied’s operations, both legal and illegal, were beginning to show the strain. Anthony claimed to have spent $2 million to win a contract from the Spanish government. But the deal fell through after the U.S. Department of Agriculture charged Allied with back dating a 1958 contract. Other Spanish customers were claiming the oil they had bought was arriving spoiled. The USDA fined Anthony $1.5 million, and the little con man complained, “While I was brilliantly moving and selling all over the world, I had a very powerful force working against me.”
It was true. And the dark force working against Anthony turned out to be Anthony De Angiles.
The vegetable and fish oil in the tanks owned and leased by Allied Crude Vegetable Oil Refining Corporation was destined for shipment to factories worldwide to be converted into margarine, vitamin extracts, paints, soaps and toiletries, pharmaceuticals and, of course, salad oil. In order to measure the volume held in each tank American Express Warehouse instructed its inspectors to lower a ruled measure to the bottom of each tank. When the measure was withdrawn, the inspector would note the film of oil on the tape. American Express could then vouch for the amount of oil held by Allied at Constable Hook. The only problem was that all of the men working at Constable Hook for American Express were also working for Anthony De Angelis.As already mentioned Thomas Clarkin was paid $500 a month by American Express as a custodian and to keep the inventory records, but Anthony paid Tommy $400 a week as a “messenger”. And, as Anthony later admitted, “He told me he needed a house for his wife and kiddies so I said, `Tommy I'll give you the money for your house.” And he did. Joe Lumuscio, another of Anthony’s ‘buddies’, was paid $6,000 a year as a custodian by AmEx, but pocketed $53,000 a year from Allied. And overseeing the entire scam was the General Manager of the Constable Hook facility, Leopold Bracconeri, who was Anthony’s brother-in-law.Like all scams, this one was based on a simple slight of hand. When the inspectors verified the inventory Allied’s custodians were the ones who actually climbed atop each tank, lowered a tape measure, and read off the level of oil. The inspectors would rarely if ever check the tape. So Anthony’s boys could call out any number they wanted and that number would become the “official and verified” inventory. Gradually Anthony’s boys would fill the tanks with salt water, leaving a few inches of oil floating on the surface. Then when “inspecting” each tank, they would note the film of oil at the top of the tape, which was more than enough to lull any overly conscientious inspector. The captains of industry who ran American Express never visited Constable Hook, and certainly never climbed atop the tanks upon which so much of their fortunes and reputations were based.According to author Norman C. Miller, Anthony had come to an amazing realization, that “…he always had more oil stored than he needed to satisfy customers' immediate demands…(and)As long as he could meet daily withdrawals, he might have almost any amount of oil in storage, for all the world knew.” Then, using the magic of the credit line AmEx had granted him, Anthony could convert any excess product he had at Constable Hook into cash, and then using the magic of “Commodity Futures” he could multiply that credit line by a factor of 95.Wikipedia defines a futures contract as an agreement “… to buy or sell a specified commodity of standardized quality at a certain date in the future.” But in practice Futures are bought and sold as if they were stock, usually by speculators who have no intention of ever taking delivery on the commodity. The philosopher Thales had invented the idea in the 4th century B.C. when one summer he reserved olive oil presses for the fall harvest with a down payment. If the harvest was good, the presses would be in demand and Thales could charge more for their use. If the harvest was bad, Thales was out his deposit. It was a brilliant innovation, sharing the risk of producers with investors. But the system was rife with possibilities for fraud, which is why it languished for 2,000 years outside the mainstream of capitalism.The heady field of commodity futures traders usually worked on a 15% margin, which meant that for a million and a half in collateral (vegetable oil) Anthony could buy the contract for oil worth $10 million. But since Anthony was so well connected in the industry he was able to negotiate for a 5% margin from Wall Street brokerage houses Ira Haupt and Williston & Beane. That meant that with AMEX receipts claiming $ 1.5 million in inventory at Constable Hook, Anthony could commit to the purchase of $142.5 million worth of futures. And that was the temptation for Anthony’s boys to claim increasing quantities of oil the tanks did not contain.With buying power like that Anthony was driving the price of soybean, cottonseed and corn oils up, thus profiting more from his fraudulent inventories. In reality, Allied was shipping up to 100 million pounds of vegetable and fish oil out of Constable Hook each week, $250 million worth in a year, 75% of US total exports of vegetable oils. But that was no longer enough for Anthony. Showing paper profits on his futures trades, Anthony began to dream of cornering the entire market on vegetable oils. His secretary, Josephine Salto, begin to carry her typewriter with her. At anytime Anthony might ask her to type up a blank AMEX Warehouse inventory receipt claiming a new figure; “a figure apparently unrelated to anything except Allied’s need for cash” (Miller).By 1960 Allied’s operations, both legal and illegal, were beginning to show the strain. Anthony claimed to have spent $2 million to win a contract from the Spanish government. But the deal fell through after the U.S. Department of Agriculture charged Allied with back dating a 1958 contract. Other Spanish customers were claiming the oil they had bought was arriving spoiled. The USDA fined Anthony $1.5 million, and the little con man complained, “While I was brilliantly moving and selling all over the world, I had a very powerful force working against me.”It was true. And the dark force working against Anthony turned out to be Anthony De Angiles.- 30 -
SUNDAY: CREATIVE BOOK KEEPING, 103
As is proven by the pervasiveness of “con men” on Wall Street, success in business is no more a measure of personal intelligence or integrity than the ability to snake a sewer pipe or repair an automobile - as the script for the 1940 film “Citizen Kane” pointed out.
BERNSTEIN: Thatcher! That man was the biggest darn fool I ever met -
And that goes a long way to explain the career of con man Anthony ‘
Norman C. Miller tried to explain Anthony’s charm as a con man for the Saturday Evening Post; “There is something contagious about (his) guileless, open-handed manner….It infected people far outside of his usual social circles. A variety of big businessmen were happy to have a part in 
While still in his twenties Anthony had “…an exceptional ability in knowing how to process hogs. Some of my methods,” he claimed, “cut the cost of processing hogs enormously.” Anthony opened his own meat packing firm in the midst of the Great Depression and turned a $100,000 profit the very first year. By the end of WWII, like much of the rest of America, Anthony had a pile of capital ready to invest.
Then, in 1955, Anthony borrowed from his two biggest customers, Continental Grain Co. of New York and 
As proof that the oil existed in Allied’s storage tanks Anthony hired American Express. The banking firm had recently started a new division, 
The 27 year old Lt. John C. Fremont first met the 39 year old Charles Preuss just before Christmas of 1841. Fremont was an impulsive egomaniacal young officer with a character flaw, described succinctly by author Ferol Egan: “He lacked character.” Typical of his spontaneous nature was Fremont’s hiring of the methodical and dour cartographer on the spot because the father of two was broke. But if Fremont had rescued this European urbanite from poverty, he had also sentenced Preuss to five months of intensive labor, trapped in the wilderness with a lunatic, i.e. Fremont. The straight man and his second banana had met.
“We set out on the morning of the 10th (of June, 1842)”, wrote Fremont, as his 21 men left the site of present day Kansas City, seeking to map the eastern half of the Oregon Trail. The expedition was “well armed and mounted, with the exception of eight men, who conducted as many carts, in which were packed our stores, with the baggage and instruments…” Once truly upon the sea of grass Fremont waxed poetic. “Everywhere the rose is met with…It is scattered over the prairies in small bouquets, and, when glittering in the dews and waving in the pleasant breeze of the early morning, is the most beautiful of the prairie flowers.”
The same terrain failed to find the poet in Mr. Preuss, writing in German for his personal diary. “Eternal prairie and grass… Fremont prefers this to every other landscape. To me it is as if some one would prefer a book with blank pages to a good story….I wish I were in Washington”. And always hovering over Mr. Preuss there was the energetic and annoying commander. “There was such a hurry this morning, that Fremont became angry when my horse urinated. He whipped its tail when it had only half relieved nature.”
In Fremont’s record the expedition seems triumphant over any obstacle. “We reached the ford of the Kansas late in the afternoon of the 14th…(it) was sweeping with an angry current. The man at the helm was timid on water, and in his alarm capsized the boat…” The timid man at the helm was, of course, Preuss, who blamed his near drowning on the decision to chance the current. “It was certainly stupid of the young chief to be so foolhardy where the terrain was absolutely unknown.”
Unaccustomed to horseback, Preuss’ thighs quickly became chapped and Fremont ordered him to ride in a cart. But the Prussian was not grateful. “I have bruised my nose in this cart because of the bumpy road….I miss my wife.” A few days later Preuss insists on halting to sketch a distant cluster of trees, until the forest moved. He had spotted the expedition’s first herd of buffalo.
This became the occasion for a feast described by Fremont (“At any time of the night might be seen pieces of the most delicate and choicest meat, roasting…on sticks around the fire”) and by Preuss (“We start with the bullion which is, of course, not skimmed off. If one could eliminate the dirt it would be a delicate broth. The marrow was too raw and too fat for my taste, the ribs, likewise, too raw”) It is almost as if they are on separate picnics.
On July 10th Fremont notes, “For a short distance our road lay down the valley of the Platte, which resembled a garden in the splendor of fields of varied flowers, which filled the air with fragrance.” Meanwhile Preuss struggles to learn the art of survival from men like scout Kit Carson. “I have decided to imitate one of our hunters by keeping my shirt on my body until it falls off.” But experience eventually leads him to a happier solution. “I was lucky to engage one of the men to do my laundry.” Still, by Fort Laramie in present day Wyoming, Preuss is wearing two pairs of pants at a time “…so that one can cover the holes in the other.”
In mid August, with Preuss having mapped the south pass through the Rockies, Fremont picks a mountain almost at random and drags the party on a six day, five night exertion through snow and ice to the peak. 
It was an inspiring moment, soon to be recorded in paintings and poetry, but as Preuss suspected Fremont had not climbed the highest mountain in the Rockies. He had not even climbed the highest mountain in Wyoming. But he took the time while on the summit to insist his freezing companions suffer through to a speech. And only then was Mr. Preuss allowed time to read his barometer and sketch the landscape. Then, Preuss groused to his journal, “As on the entire journey Fremont allowed me only a few minutes for my work….After about fifteen minutes we started on our return trip.” On the way back down the mountain in the dark Preuss fell and tore his only pair of pants. He began to refer to Fremont as “The Field Marshal”.
On October 10th, the expedition returned to the mouth of the Kansas River, and by the end of October Fremont and Preuss were back in Washington. In spring of 1843 Fremont’s report was released (AN EXPLORATION OF THE COUNTRY LYING BETWEEN THE MISSOURI RIVER AND THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS…), and “touched off a wave of wagon caravans filled with hopeful emigrants” heading west. Fremont became famous as “The Pathfinder”, even though all the paths he found were already found, and it was Preuss who drew the maps of them.
But Preuss’ diary would not be translated and published until the 1950’s. And only then would it become clear that John C. Fremont, long ago written off as a pompous self promoter was actually one of the funniest writers in American history. As a social commentator once observed, “Life is full of second bananas. But they are never really funny without a straight man.”
Did the American born wife of the British commander betray his secrets to Paul Revere? Gage thought so. After his twin disasters at Lexington Green and Concord Bridge, Gage complained to a fellow officer that, “I communicated my design to one person 
