‘King of the Fleecers’: Honolulu con man reveals his secrets

I’m frequently asked where I get the inspiration for my stories. Most of the time, it’s from readers sharing a story or asking a question. Recently, though, Honolulu Star-Advertiser Managing Editor Ed Lynch passed along an unusual request: Two Hollywood producers were looking for unsolved Hawaii crimes from the 1940s and 1950s for a possible film.

The unsolved or unusual crimes I could think of, right off the bat, were from different eras: the mysterious death of Jane Stanford at the Moana Hotel in 1905, the infamous Massie case from 1931, and the 1985 disappearance of Diane Suzuki.

I had trouble coming up with anything from the 1940s and 1950s. Eddie Croom at the Honolulu Police Department’s Law Enforcement Museum suggested I check out John Jardine’s book, “Detective Jardine: Crimes in Honolulu.”

Jardine, who was 21 when he joined HPD in 1923, investigated a number of murder, robbery, public corruption, theft and forgery cases, and was one of the investigators in the Massie case. He retired in 1968 and was posthumously inducted into the HPD Hall of Fame in 2009.

One case in his book that caught my eye from the 1940s and 1950s — but not a mystery — was about the man reporters called the “King of the Fleecers,” Alex Sumida. It may or may not be Hollywood material, but I think it’s a good fit for “Rearview Mirror.”

Sumida was born in Hiroshima, Japan, in 1893 and moved to Hawaii island when he was 13. He wanted to go to school but his parents could not afford it.

During Prohibition, Sumida was involved with bootlegging okolehao in Honolulu. After Prohibition, he moved on to confidence rackets — conning people out of their money.

In 1952, after being convicted of narcotics possession — something he actually wasn’t involved in — he admitted to stealing more than $2.6 million (in today’s dollars) from more than 50 individuals. Sumida told his story to The Honolulu Advertiser, which ran it over eight days.

“I was the King of the Fleecers,” he told reporter Richard MacMillan. “I think I can safely say that from 1938 until I began serving my present sentence in Oahu Prison, I swindled more Honolulu people out of more money than any other person or gang in the racket.”

Sumida never served a day in prison for his fleecing activities, he said, partly because he paid off key police officers. “It was also partly because the suckers that were swindled don’t like to tell the police about it. Generally, they are under the impression they’re going to make money the easy way by some shady, illegal transaction. When they find they were fleeced, they can’t admit their part in such a deal.”

Why talk about it now? MacMillan asked. “Mostly, I want to tell my story as a warning to gullible people who have some money saved and are ready to listen to any slicker who comes along with the get-rich-quick plan.

“P.T. Barnum said, ‘There’s a sucker born every minute.’ I believe it. I found it was easy to get a person to part with his money if I went about it the right way.

“When I talk about a sucker, I mean someone with money and who was greedy at the same time. Everyone with money is not a sucker.”

THE LOVE POTION SWINDLE

One of his more unusual cons, Sumida told the newspaper, was the “love potion swindle.”

One day, an informer told him about a man who wanted to find a girlfriend and get married. The man had money.

“So I told the informer to tell this man that I was acquainted with some very nice girls and maybe he could find a wife among them. I had this man meet me at a bar one night. Before I went, I got some ti leaves and squeezed the juice into a bottle.”

He told three paid female accomplices to be at the bar. “The victim and I went and sat down at the next table. I said to him, ‘There are three nice girls. Do any of them appeal to you?’ He pointed to one.”

When the three went to the ladies’ room, Sumida put one drop of his “magic potion” in the glass of the girl the dupe liked. When the girls came back and had another sip, the one with the love potion winked at the man. He was very pleased and went over and talked to her. She was friendly but not too friendly.

The next day, the man came to Sumida and wanted more of his magic potion. Sumida told him it was very expensive and hard to get. He would sell him his last batch for $5,000. The man said he was willing to pay for it because he liked the girl very much and wanted to marry her.

The next night, the man came to the house and gave him $5,000 and Sumida gave him the jug. He cradled it in his arms very carefully, as if it was a baby. When he backed away, Sumida pulled a hidden rope that caused the victim to drop and break the jug.

“He asked if I could get more and I told him it came from Mexico and would cost another $5,000. He said he would come back but he never did. I guess he did not have any more money.”

Sumida paid his informer and female accomplices and pocketed the rest.

THE FAKE PACKAGE DEAL

“I have worked the fake package deal more times than I can remember,” Sumida told MacMillan.

The word “con” is short for “confidence.” The perpetrator first gains the confidence of the victim by appearing to make lots of money quickly in front of them.

The sucker would see Sumida “buy” a mysterious package for $1,000 from one confederate. Soon after, he’d take it to a home or office and appear to “sell” it to another confederate for $2,000. “The sucker thinks it’s easy money,” Sumida said, and wonders, “‘Why don’t I get in on this?’”

One woman Sumida fleeced was set up with a $20 loan that returned $40 to her in a few hours.

The next day, she gave Sumida $300. “I made ‘another deal’ and gave her $630. Her eyes lit up! Then came the inevitable Big Deal. She withdrew $9,000 from her bank. I returned to the car with a fake certified check for $52,000 and promised her we would cash it on Monday. Then she would get $25,000. I kept stalling her and finally she gave up.”

THE FAKE OPIUM AND FAKE POLICE

Sumida told the reporter there was often an elaborate setup involved in fleecing customers. On one occasion, he heard about a taxi driver with lots of cash. Sumida had a confederate get in the driver’s taxi. The confederate had the driver pick up Sumida at a third person’s house.

To gain the driver’s confidence, they let him see how easy it was to double their money. They proceeded to “sell” a package of what they said was opium for $2,000. The driver “overheard” them saying it had cost them only $1,000. They tipped the driver $40. They repeated this the next night.

The driver spoke up. “You make money good quick. How do you do it?”

It’s easy, Sumida told him. “If you have any money I’ll show you how.”

The next day the taxi driver came back with $3,500. Just as they were about to make the “sale,” a fake cop showed up. (He was known as the “bump-off man,” Sumida explained, and was paid $100 for the job.) Everyone ran in separate directions and the fleecer had the victim’s money.

“Sumida managed for years to convince his victims and even his friends that he was a wealthy, retired businessman with an eye for a good deal,” Jardine said in his book.

“He threw lavish parties in various nightspots and tipped so generously that his mere presence created a sensation among waitresses, bartenders and managers.”

In October 1953, Gov. Samuel Wilder King granted Sumida executive clemency after a year in jail on the condition he immediately leave the country.

Sumida had claimed he was old and diabetic and didn’t have much time left. He wanted to visit his mother’s grave before he died.

Shortly after arriving in Japan, Sumida was arrested for passing $500 in bad checks. Police said he looked like a vagrant when he was picked up.

Sumida died in a prison hospital in May 1954. Despite stealing millions over the years, all he had when he was arrested was 28 cents.

What might Sumida have accomplished if his parents had sent him to school when he was a boy? Jardine wondered. “Would he have started a legitimate business and prospered? Or would he have become an even more adept fleecer? I’ve never been able to even guess at the answer.”

I passed this story and several others to the Hollywood producers and will let you know if anything comes of it.

Bob Sigall, author of “The Companies We Keep” series of books, looks through his collection of old photos to tell stories of Hawaii people, places and companies. Contact him via email at sigall@yahoo.com.