A flimflam man is a character generally associated with the American South, although I’m sure he can be found in cultures around the world. Several examples from American literature come to mind. Br’er Rabbit flimflams Br’er Fox into putting on a saddle so that Br’er Rabbit can ride him into town showing everyone who’s really in charge. Then there’s Tom Sawyer who flimflams his friends into painting his fence. Huckleberry Finn and the escaped slave, Jim, ride a raft going down the Mississippi with two flimflam men who are running from their last victims and keeping their eyes open for new ones. Flimflam men are con artists, tall tale tellers, and blame passers who are by nature positive people who know how to do everything better than you do and will gladly give encouragement and advice on any project as long as there’s something in it for them and it doesn’t involve physical labor.
The first impression of the flimflam man is that he is on top of the world but when you scratch the surface of one of these characters you will likely find a rather insecure little boy who tells tall tales in an attempt to get other people to pay attention to him. As time goes by he learns that even though most people don’t trust tellers of tall tales, P.T. Barnum was right when he said that there’s a sucker born every minute. So the flimflam man’s occupation becomes one of figuring out who the suckers are and convincing them that, although it may be wise to keep your money in your pocket, it is even wiser to give it to the flimflam man.
A few miles from our farm in Arkansas, there was another farm owned by a bunch of oil-field workers from southern Louisiana. Louisiana Jack, who lived on that farm, was definitely a flimflam man. He had a series of “stories” and “scenarios” that he would “perform” whenever there were people whom he could con out of their money. His repertoire ranged from card tricks and various forms of mind reading, to horses that could add and subtract. He would tell people that he could do something that seemed impossible and when asked to prove it he would ask for them to put up money to make it worth his while. If done right the crowd would pay their hard-earned money for the privilege of watching him perform the impossible before their eyes. He often worked with an accomplice who acted as if he was just one of the crowd. This person’s job was to encourage the suckers and to read the mood of the crowd so that things didn’t get out of hand. Nothing makes a fool angrier than being shown to be a fool so sometimes the accomplice made sure they had a get-away car idling outside. There’s a song about gambling with a chorus that goes, “You got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away, know when to run.” There was always the smell of danger in the flimflaming profession and knowing by intuition which of those four actions to take was what kept the flimflam artist coming back. When the flimflam man finally retires he will most likely become a used car salesman, a politician or the owner of a second-hand store
Louisiana Jack didn’t work for money when he was among friends. Instead he wanted to be acknowledged as the smartest person around. He would have liked to be worshiped as a great wizard, a person who knew the answer when confronted with a seemingly impossible situation that would require a special feat to accomplish it. One day just such a feat was required.
The Louisiana gang bought a plow from one of their neighbors and needed to move it to their farm. The first problem was that the plow had been left in a field that was twenty miles away so there was no tractor easily available to lift it. The second problem was that this was no ordinary plow! It was called a sub-soiler and was built to break up the subsoil between two and three feet below ground level. These plows took lots of power to move them so they were built of heavy steel. Six of us, including Jack, got in a pickup and went to see if we could lift it. We each walked around it several times and estimated the weight at well over 500 pounds.
When we had almost given up on the project, Jack told us that he knew how to do it. He told us to gather around the plow and to try to lift it with all our might. He said that this was a crucial step because we needed to know what we were up against. We gathered around the plow and tried to lift it but the plow remained exactly where it was. We all looked at one another and waited for the next part of the plan. After a minute or so Jack asked if anyone had any ideas and when no one did he proposed that we use “hand over hand levitation.” None of us knew what that was but we needed to get the plow into the truck so we agreed to continue.
Jack explained that the key to lifting the plow was getting all our force going in the same direction. To do that we were to gather around the plow and one at a time we would put our right hands over the plow and then our left hands so that when we were done we would have a stack of hands over the plow. He warned us that it wouldn’t work unless everyone believed that it would work which cut him a way out in case it didn’t work. He could then stand back and say, “Oh you of little faith” and put the blame on us. Of course if it did work he’d get the credit. It was one of those “heads I win, tails you lose” games that flimflam men love.
We stepped forward and one at a time put in first our right hands then our left hands. We closed our eyes and when the flimflam man said “Get ready to lift!” we took hold of the plow. “Lift on the count of three” We got ready. Jack called out “one, two, three” and everyone lifted. The plow left the ground and landed in the truck. I never felt any weight at all and everyone said that they felt the same thing. It was as if everyone else carried the load.
We all shook Jack’s hand and patted each other on the back. We all suspected that Jack had cheated somehow but no one could come up with any way he could have done it. All we could say was that Jack had somehow caused that plow to get into that truck. We told all the neighbors about Jack and the plow and he walked around high as a kite for a week or so. That’s what keeps a flimflam Man going.
Robert Pardun
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