If the prominent sports sociologist Harry Edwards calls and asks you to lend some money to his nephew, who’s in your town and temporarily down on his luck, don’t do it.
The caller isn’t Harry Edwards. According to the real Harry Edwards, it is Curtis K. Jackson, a convicted criminal who has duped dozens of professors across the country and taken them, collectively, for more than $200,000 over two years.
Since 1995, Dr. Edwards says, Mr. Jackson has targeted academics in history, sociology, political science, and black studies. His background is sketchy. Florida officials say he served time, starting in 1989, for forging checks at the University of Central Florida. Illinois authorities say he has been arrested twice in Chicago, once in 1995 for forgery (he was convicted) and again in January 1996 for theft. In that case, police say, he used Dr. Edwards’s name to con a priest. Police say he is wanted in Chicago because he never showed up for his court date on the theft charge.
Dr. Edwards, a sociologist at the University of California at Berkeley who specializes in race and sports and consults for the San Francisco 49ers, has been tracking the scam for months. After a short respite, he says, he started hearing about it again in May 1996, around the time when the sociologist William Julius Wilson lost $175 to a man who identified himself as Curtis Jackson. Dr. Wilson, who was then at the University of Chicago, is now at Harvard University. The con man has since pretended to be Dr. Wilson.
His deception is similar to that depicted in the play and subsequent movie Six Degrees of Separation, which is based on the premise that everyone is linked to everyone else through a chain of no more than six acquaintances. A family that believes in the theory falls victim to a a con man claiming to be the son of Sidney Poitier. They later learn that he’s a brilliant hustler.
Some of the academics who fell for this con man’s line have acknowledged that at some level, they responded because they were flattered to be contacted by such a prominent scholar as Harry Edwards or William Julius Wilson.
The scam goes like this, according to Dr. Edwards and many of its victims: The con man calls an academic and claims to be Harry Edwards."Dr. Edwards” engages the victim in talk about scholarly pursuits, then says that his nephew,"Kevin Edwards,” has flown into the academic’s town for a job interview. Problem is,"Kevin’s” luggage, containing his wallet, didn’t make it."Dr. Edwards” asks the professor to help out by lending"Kevin” money for a hotel and a new suit.
In return,"Dr. Edwards,” who plans to be in the same town the next day, offers to reimburse the professor and to lecture on his campus or provide free tickets to a professional football game. Later,"Kevin” drops by the professor’s home, talks knowledgeably about the professor’s work, and asks for the money.
Police say Mr. Jackson is a 32-year-old black man. Victims describe his height as between 5 feet 7 inches and 5 feet 11 inches, and his weight from 280 to 300 pounds.
The spiel may seem less than credible, but it has worked time and again."The damn thing would be comical if it weren’t so tragic,” says Dr. Edwards. Over the past two years, he says, professors at 78 colleges have been swindled by someone claiming to be him.
Dr. Edwards says the hoax apparently began in October 1995 at Northwestern University. Dr. Edwards believes that the man learned to imitate his voice by calling his answering machine. In fact, the con man often gives out Dr. Edwards’s phone number to victims. After his latest arrest in Chicago, he tried to place a collect call to Dr. Edwards from the Cook County Jail.
Dr. Edwards says the con artist has also fleeced reporters and civil-rights groups.
But his specialty seems to be academics, usually sociologists. Rattling off some places the con artist has hit, Dr. Edwards names all of the Big Ten universities as well as the Universities of Massachusetts, Missouri, Nebraska, and South Carolina. This spring, he hit Drake University, along with the Universities of Kansas and Oklahoma, Fairleigh Dickinson University, and the University of Colorado at Boulder.
He wasn’t successful at all of those institutions. But on April 24, a professor at the University of Florida was duped out of at least $300. Gainesville police are investigating, as are police in other states where the con man struck. Some victims have reported the crimes to federal authorities.
Dr. Edwards estimates that professors have lost at least $200,000 to the man since 1995 -- and that’s counting only those who have come forward. He figures that others are too embarrassed to do so.
Norman Yetman, a sociologist at Kansas, fell prey to the swindle in March and lost $300. He even knows Dr. Edwards. Mr. Yetman, like others, says the impostor’s voice sounds similar to Dr. Edwards’s baritone. Mr. Yetman invited"Kevin” to his home, where the man referred to articles Mr. Yetman had written."He really spoke like he knew Harry well, and he was knowledgeable about issues of race and sport,” Mr. Yetman says.
The professor has since posted a warning about the con on several discussion lists on the Internet. The American Sociological Association has put out a warning on an Internet mailing list that goes to sociology departments and included a similar item in last month’s issue of its newsletter.
Dr. Edwards and some other sociologists have criticized the association’s failure to notify academics sooner. Felice J. Levine, head of the association, says the group learned of the scam in 1995 and promptly notified department heads. But Dr. Edwards and others dispute that, recalling that the association seemed uninterested in their concerns.
Ironically, sociologists say, the scam takes advantage of people who are supposed to be experts on human behavior.
Dr. Edwards knows of one professor, whom he will not identify, who gave"Kevin” $1,000 in cash, bought the con man an overcoat, put him up in a hotel, and bought him a bus ticket out of town.
Another case, which Dr. Edwards describes as"absolutely tragic,” involved an assistant professor coming up for tenure. “Dr. Edwards” told him that he would speak on the campus in exchange for lending his"nephew” $1,500. (The real Dr. Edwards charges at least $5,000 for lectures.) The assistant professor’s colleagues dipped into the department’s kitty for the money. When the victim later called the real Dr. Edwards and learned of the con, he said,"There goes my tenure.”
Last month alone, Dr. Edwards says, he was called by 28 people about the hoax. About a third of them had given the man money, and another third were calling to ask how much to lend his “nephew.”
“This has been a living nightmare,” says Dr. Edwards."The basic thing he is capitalizing on is my own reputation.”
Maceo C. Dailey, director of the black studies program at the University of Texas at El Paso, was contacted by the hustler late last month. The professor didn’t fall for it. He’s amazed that so many others have:"I suppose one’s interest in meeting Harry Edwards or in being affiliated with him will outweigh one’s good sense.”
John Slocum, an assistant professor of political science at Oklahoma, was nearly rooked out of $400 in March. This time, the caller used William Julius Wilson’s name. As it happens, Mr. Slocum was a graduate student at Chicago when Dr. Wilson taught there. The caller, identifying himself as"Bill Wilson,” made the Chicago connection and showed some knowledge of Mr. Slocum’s work. But the clincher was"Dr. Wilson’s” suggestion that he might be able to get Mr. Slocum a job at Harvard.
“I thought it was plausible that William Julius Wilson was calling me,” says Mr. Slocum now, laughing."It was improbable. But I had just gotten back from a trip. I was confused.” He adds:"I suspended disbelief and said I would wait for the call” from"Kevin Edwards.” Mr. Slocum was able to reach the real Dr. Wilson first.
Dr. Wilson actually met a man who identified himself as Curtis Jackson. The man showed up on the Chicago campus a year ago claiming to be a former student of Dr. Edwards’s who wanted to work with Dr. Wilson. He said he had lost his belongings. The professor says he told Mr. Jackson that he could get him a job in his research center for a week to help him get on his feet. When Mr. Jackson said he needed cash immediately, Dr. Wilson gave him $175, all that he had in his pockets. Within a day, the man was calling graduate students, asking to borrow hundreds of dollars. Dr. Wilson had him escorted off the campus by university police.
After realizing that he was a victim of a con artist, Dr. Wilson says,"I got depressed. I was so naive. The money didn’t matter, but how easily I was taken in.”
Meanwhile, Dr. Edwards refuses to watch Six Degrees of Separation. The tale hits too close to home."He seems a lot closer to me than six degrees.”