The Lightning Rod Swindler Who Targeted the Courthouse
A traveling salesman tries to sell protection to a jury foreman, only to discover he’s been pitching his wares to the wrong building.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
You ought to put a lightning rod on your house; it is very dangerous. I'd like to offer you one of my rods. It's plated up and will stand fire well. I'll do the job in a heap.
"Certainly you may if you want to," said Summers, "I haven't the slightest objection."
During the next half hour the man had his ladder up and his assistants at work, and at the end of that time the job was complete. He called Summers out into the yard to admire it. He said to Summers:
"Now, that is well enough, but if it was my house I'd have another rod put on the other side. There's nothing like being protected thoroughly."
"That's true," said Summers. "It would be best."
"I'll put up another, shall I?" asked the man.
"Why, of course, if you think it's best," said Summers.
Accordingly the man went to work again and soon had the rod in its place.
"That's a first-rate job," he said to Summers, as they both stood eyeing it. "I like such a man as you are. Big-hearted, liberal, not afraid to put a dollar down for a good thing. There's some pleasure in dealing with you. I like you so much that I'd put a couple more rods on your house, one on the north end and one on the south, for almost anything."
"It would make things safer, I suppose," said Summers.
"Certainly it would. I'd better do it, hadn't I?"
"Just as you think proper," replied Summers.
So the man ran up two more rods, then came down and said to Summers: "There's that done. Now let's settle up."
"Do what?"
"Why, the job's finished, and now I'll take my money."
"You don't expect me to pay you, I hope."
"Of course I do. Didn't you tell me to put those rods on your house?"
"My house!" shouted Summers. "I never ordered you to put those rods up. It would have been ridiculous. Why, man, this is the court house, and I'm here waiting for the court to assemble. I'm on the jury. You seemed to be anxious to rush out your rods, and as it was none of my business I let you go on. Pay for it! Come now that's pretty good."
The Blossburg people say that the manner in which that lightning rod man tore around town was fearful. But when he got his rods off the court house, he left.
This 1890s tale of a high-pressure sales tactic targeting public infrastructure mirrors modern scams where contractors target homeowners or businesses with 'urgent' repairs they didn't authorize. It highlights the timeless vulnerability of civic spaces to opportunistic grifters who rely on confusion and authority bias.
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