During the early 70's I was appearing on talk shows in Toronto, mainly with Pierre Berton, produced by Elsa Franklin. She had some sort of disagreement with George Plimpton and hired me to prank him with a grand hoax, nothing criminal or physical. And I was to secretly record it on audio tape for verification.
I knew a lot about Plimpton and his amusing escapades....playing quarterback for the Detroit Lions, performing on the triangle with the New York Philharmonic and boxing with Archie Moore, among many others. At the time, his magazine, The Paris Review, was in serious financial difficulty and he was seeking funds to keep it alive.
My plan was to call him, posing as a rich fan and offering to help with a nice sum of money. I used the name Harrison T. Rogers, he answered my phone call and I was invited to have lunch with him at his apartment, on the east side of New York City, the next day. So far so good. I had a tape recorder hidden in my briefcase and an hour for recording this session.
I arrived promptly at 1 pm and George was waiting, with his wife Freddy. They were both quite excited over the sudden, unexpected opportunity to raise some funding from a complete stranger. They never challenged me, we engaged in small talk, lunch was a plate of tasty sandwiches and iced tea. My banter consisted of talking about how I had sold liquid fertilizer (yes, I did that for a few weeks years earlier), made a fortune and sold my formula to Monsanto.
After lunch, we got down to business. George wanted to know how much I could invest and what I wanted in return. I offered to invest $25,000 in exchange for a 25% interest in his magazine forever. He winced at the last condition. George counter offered that percentage for $100,000. I hesitated and said I would have to think it over. Meantime, my watch indicated I only had five minutes before the tape recorder would click and stop recording.
It was time to say goodbye, quickly, which I did. They ushered me to the front door with a hand shake and Freddy planted a kiss on my cheek. I thanked them for their hospitality and took off, with a sigh of relief. As they shut the front door, a loud click came from my briefcase. Wow. close call. Also, I had claimed to have the $25,000 in cash in my brief case. That was foolish. What if George decided to accept my initial offer?
When I reached home, I played the tape for my wife, Jeanne, and we both found ourselves laughing throughout. It was all bold face comedy! Here I am improvising about liquid fertilizer while George is bragging about The Paris Review and its plans for furure publications with my funds.
After making a copy of the tape cassette, I sent the original to Elsa Franklin in Toronto. She, Pierre Berton and their staff at the CBC station in Toronto found it hilarious. To my knowledge, George Plimpton never learned of the hoax. That's just as well. I felt a bit sheepish about pulling the wool over this sheep's eyes. He was a very talented guy and deserves to rest in peace.
I did write him a note with thanks for lunch and a decision not to invest after all.
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