 Five noted men are swindled by two uneducated minors. A man buys a few dollars worth of brass for $3,000. The Battle of Bunker Hill never occurred. Can you imagine that? Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is Lindsey McCarrie back again with another assortment of odd facts and news items with which to regale you for the next few moments. Until we return to prove those statements, we hope you'll wait around for us just a moment or two, will you? Thank you. The Battle of Bunker Hill never occurred. And that is correct. The Battle of Bunker Hill never occurred. Why? Well, the fact is that during the War of the American Revolution on the evening of June 16, 1775, colonial forces under the command of Major General Israel Putnam and Colonel William Prescott started to entrench on an elevation north of Boston known as Bunker Hill. But probably because the soil was hard and unmanageable, they retired to another hill known as Breeds Hill. And there they dug in their trenches and waited for the British forces under the command of General Thomas Gage. At length, the two armies met. When the British forces arrived, General Gage had lengthed the two armies met with considerable loss on both sides. Not on Bunker Hill, but on Breeds Hill. And so today the famed Bunker Hill Monument is really completely misnamed. Well, here's a very interesting story that proves how the first flush of an exciting discovery may blind everyone to the use of common ordinary horse sense. It was in the summer of 1871 that two tanned leathery skin prospectors showed up at the Bank of California in San Francisco. Slouching up to the teller's window, the spokesman for the two prospectors asked, Hey, meet my pardoner here. He'd like to know if we could store so to cash away some valuables in this here bank. Valuables? Oh, I suppose so. You could rent a safety deposit box and put the valuables in it, but it'll cost money. And so? Well, I didn't expect to get nothing for nothing here. All right, we can pay for it. Very well. Your name, please? My name is John Slag. This is my partner, Phillip Arnold. Howdy. How do you do? And the valuables? Right here in this sack. Here, I'll dump them out for you. There you are, son. Lock them till we get back. And hey, what are you standing there with your mouth wide open for? Did you ever see diamonds, rubies, and emeralds before? Well, I've never seen that many in one place. Well, lock them up and give me the key. Me and my partner's got to get back to our diggings to get some more of these toys. Come on, Phillip. And leaving the bank clerk staring after them, the two miners slouched off. Immediately, the clerk rushed to the head of the bank, William C. Ralston, a shrewd, intelligent man with a flair for speculation. Ralston found the two miners, talked with them, and offered to buy a half-share in their discovery. But Ralston didn't do it before he heard the reports of geologists, one of whom said, Mr. Ralston, I've never seen anything like this in my life. Why, why those stones are up there ready for anyone to pick them up. And they're real. No fakes. It's amazing. Why do you realize that we've barely begun to dig out the wealth on the earth? This mine and this region will soon rival South Africa as a diamond-producing center. And San Francisco can become greater than Amsterdam as a cutting and polishing center. With that report ringing in his ears, William C. Ralston got together men like Horace Greeley, General George B. McClellan, Charles Lewis Tiffany, founder of the famed Tiffany's in New York, and wonder of wonders, Baron Rothschild, head of the far-famed banking house. The men were enthusiastic, and they met the two miners, Slack and Arnold. Mr. Slack, Mr. Arnold, my partners and I are prepared to offer you a top price of $700,000 for your half-interest in your mines. Now, that's reasonable considering that you're to share in the final profits, and we put up the money for developments, equipment, and labor. Now, what do you say? Well, I ain't hankering to let go of it for so little. Your experts told you them stones would worth close to a million, and we brung in another bag full of diamonds worth easy that much. Ah, yeah, but $700,000 is as high as we'll go. And you'll realize greater profits from your half-interest when we start to work the mines. Well, all right, I reckon you're playing fair. We'll take it. And take the $700,000 they did. Ralston and his associates organized a company with a capital of $10 million. Gorgeous offices were opened, and it was announced that San Francisco would soon replace Amsterdam as the center of the diamond industry of the world. Then, when things were running along smoothly, two government geologists got a little suspicious. They went to the mine and take a look at this. This stone shows the marks of a lapidary tool and cut. There aren't any stones in nature that you'll find already cut. It's too good. Yeah, and I found diamonds, rubies, and emeralds in the same matrix, in the same mother stone, and that just doesn't happen in nature. Boy, somebody's been taken to the tune of plenty of money. Why, these stones aren't worth over $10,000 at the most. They're all second-rate. What happened? How did a man of Ralston's ability happen to be taken in on such an old dodge as a salted mine? Well, remember that it happened in the days when the United States was in a fever of excitement over nature's wealth buried under the ground. Gold and silver had been found in vast quantities. Why not diamonds, emeralds, and rubies? At any rate, it remains as one of the most gigantic swindles in the history of confidence games. Ralston and his associates repaid all the money advanced, but for a long time, they were accosted on the streets by rude persons who asked... Say, I got some diamonds here. I'd like you to take a look at. And thus ended the gigantic diamond swindle of 1871 when two famous bankers, a leading journalist, a noted soldier, and the man who founded one of the leading jewelry concerns of the world were all taken in by two leathery-skinned, rough-talking miners. And here's another case in the American Southland where the principal character learned that all is not gold but glisters. And by the way, that's the way Shakespeare said it originally. All is not gold but glisters, not glitters. Anyway, it was on February 1, 1939 that three men walked into the malt shop of Herbert Segal of Los Angeles, one of them a rather tall, elegant-looking gent wearing a monocle remark. Say, I'd like to settle down here and own a little shop like this. I imagine you do a pretty good business. Oh, it's not so bad. What would you take for it? Well, I really don't know. Well, uh, how about $2,000? I'll offer you that. Oh, thank you. Well, I hadn't thought about selling, but that's a pretty fair price, all right. If you're anxious to buy, I'll sell for that. The elegant gentleman wearing the monocle had only $1,000 in cash on his person, so said his partner to Mr. Segal. Tell you what, I've got a box here with dental gold in it. The gold's worth $5,300. $5,300? Say, isn't it pretty dangerous? Well, I don't know. I don't know. But I'll tell you what we'll do. My friend here will give you the $1,000 he has in cash. I'll give you this gold. And you give me $3,000 for the gold. And we'll come back later with the sales forms. And I'll buy back my gold. Uh, let me see the gold. All right, there you are. Well, uh, it looks like a lot of gold. All right, it's a deal. Mr. Segal, pay for it. All right, it's a deal. Mr. Segal paid $3,000 for the gold. The men left with the money and left Mr. Segal holding not the bag, but the box filled with dental gold. Mr. Segal waited and waited and waited. Then he went to the police who told him, Mr. Segal, you've been swindled. Swindled? These aren't gold dental fillings. They're brass. And you paid $3,000 for them. And so, Mr. Herbert Segal of Los Angeles, his eyes blinded momentarily by the flagrant flash of brass, paid $3,000 for a few dollars' worth of junk. Can you imagine that? Well, well, well, what's this? Oh, what's the annual banquet of my lodge? Youses. Some fun, huh? There'll be speeches, jokes, paper hats, many cigars, and then the annual election of officers. And when that's all over and the new president is announced, the whole gang will rise and sing. For he's a jolly good fellow For he's a jolly good fellow For he's a jolly good fellow Nobody can deny Which nobody can deny Which nobody can deny For he's a jolly good fellow For he's a jolly good fellow For he's a jolly good fellow Which nobody can deny We won't go home until morning We won't go home until morning We won't go home until pier Till daylight does appear Till daylight does appear We won't go home... Yes, sir. For he's a jolly good fellow. I have no doubt that you've sung that very same song many many times in your days, but where did it come from? Well that I'm afraid is more or less of a mystery. One thing sure it's very very old, older than any student of the history of music can vouch for. For instance, one source I found says that this tune, known to us today as for he's a jolly good fellow or we won't get home until morning, has been known for many centuries by the Arabs of Egypt as Malbruk Saffir Lel Harbi. Another source reveals that there is a possibility that the tune was carried into the land of the heathen by Christian crusaders. And still another authority claims that that song commemorates the unsuccessful attempts of John Churchill, first Duke of Marlborough, to undermine the monarchy of Louis XIV of France. At any rate the tune is certainly an old one, and the oldest lyrics we've been able to find seem to bear out the latter story of the Duke of Marlborough. Here we have our male quartet singing an English translation of ancient verses to the original of the melody we know today as for he's a jolly good fellow. To fight the foe in battle, mit-a-toe, mit-a-toe, mit-a-taina To fight the foe in battle, Sir Malboreau has gone, Sir Malboreau has gone, Sir Malboreau has gone To fight the foe in battle, mit-a-toe, mit-a-toe, mit-a-taina To fight the foe in battle, Sir Malboreau has gone And despite the story in that song, the words meritom, meritom, meritina have absolutely no meaning. Can you imagine that? Well, I guess it's about time once more to turn you over to your own announcer. And until we meet again on another session of Can You Imagine That, this is Lindsey McCurry saying goodbye now.