Stock

Morning, noon, night, midnight-- the stream of cranks in and out of newspaper offices is in perpetual motion. Occasionally, one of them succeeds in having a young cub sent out to hear his tale.

Once out of a thousand times, the crank has a story--and then he is not a crank.

This "once" happened in the office of the New York Herald-Tribune last week.

A man said that he had recently invested a sum of money--modest, to be sure, a trifle of $250--in the stock of the De Forest Phonofilm Corporation of Manhattan. Regretting his investment, he had gone to the office of the Corporation, asked for a refund, had been advised that if he parted from his stock he would be sorry all his life. He then offered, he declared, to sell his holding for $150, was told, this time more brusquely, that he had bought the stock would have to keep it. An individual named Elliott was president of the sales corporation. Would the Herald-Tribune care to investigate?

Yes, indeed. To the reporter the city editor confided certain instructions. This James W. ("Jimmy") Elliott was a business man whose hard luck had made him famed. Already the public had invested over $7,000,000 in schemes of his, all of which had turned out to be rather less sound than Mr. Elliott had so confidently declared.

To the Elliott headquarters hastened the reporter. In his mind burned a vision of inextinguishable deviltry-pirates, in look-me-over clothes and patent leather pumps, dicing for stock certificates upon a keg of dynamite. Instead, he found the Elliott sales force met together for a sing-song and smoker. They were mostly young men, dapper but demure. A fake, the Phonofilm Corporation? Why, they told the reporter, President Coolidge himself knew of it. Sure enough, the investigator beheld a phonofilm of the sharp-faced President, on the White House lawn, reading a speech.

A telephone call to Washington revealed that the President had given the picture under agreement that, after it had been used at a single luncheon party (TIME, May 4, SCIENCE), it would be destroyed.

Meanwhile, at the meeting of the sales force, Elliott was giving his corps of go-getters (who recieve 35% commission on their sales) a lesson in salesmanship. Said he:

"If a man says he has no money, ask him for his insurance policy. He can borrow the money on his policy for his first payment and he can save up for the other payments. . .

"If he tells you that he has to consult his wife, go to his home and see the lady. . .

"If the wife is boss, talk to her until it is time to get the check. Then turn to the husband and suggest that, of course, he would like the stock certificates made out in his wife's name. From that minute on the wife is with you to the finish and the sale is sure."

The Assistant State Attorney General of New York began an investigation.