The Globe-Trotter, the Elks, and the $5,000 Wager

The statement was made, resting on what was thought to be good authority, that Emil C. Pfeiffer, whose travel name is Paul Jones, is a faker and deadbeat; that he had not been in Russia, Germany, India, China and other places; that his "experiences" in the Old World were simply romances and fairy tales; in short, that he was a fraud and had been deceiving the good people of Seattle, including the ladies who thought him a handsome fellow.

All this grew out of the fact that W. E. McKee, a member of the Elks Society, sent a telegram to the president of the Boston Press Club asking if he was a faker. A Mr. Hemenway answered that he was a faker and beat and that he had been shown up in the Police News as such. The Post-Intelligencer at once began an investigation, and the result is that Mr. Hemenway's estimate of him has been completely set aside. A telegram of inquiry about Pfeiffer was sent to the Post-Intelligencer's correspondent at Boston. His answer proves that the globe-trotter is just what he represented himself to be—a man traveling around the world on a wager, who had to earn $5,000 while en route or lose the wager.

The inquiry started because Seattle lodge No. 92 of the Benevolent Protective Order of Elks, of which J. R. Scoones is exalted ruler, desired to have the name of Paul Jones, the world circulator, enrolled among its members. It was mentioned delicately to him that the initiation fee was $50. Jones, or Pfeiffer, was at first staggered, but he afterwards said he would join if the initiation fee was paid for him. The Elks were delighted and started to raise the necessary sum. But it is a law of the order that before a man can be initiated in a lodge away from his home the consent of the home lodge must be obtained, so a telegram was sent to the exalted ruler of the Boston lodge asking this consent. He replied that he knew nothing about Jones. This aroused suspicion, and W. E. McKee sent the following dispatch: "Is Pfeiffer, alias Paul Jones, globe-trotter, a faker, or traveling on a wager? Answer." To this Mr. McKee received: "Jones is a fake and beat. He was shown up in the police news about a year ago. HEMENWAY."

The Post-Intelligencer's Boston correspondent then reported that Pfeiffer had made a wager at the Boston Press Club on February 12, 1894, to start from Boston without a cent and without clothes, travel around the world, and return in one year after having earned at least $5,000. Pfeiffer had been a public school teacher. He stripped at the Press Club, made a paper suit, and sold it to start his outfit. When he arrived at Springfield he was arrested for debt and lodged in jail. Pfeiffer was a Harvard graduate, rowed in the university crew, and one year was elected captain, but resigned before the race with Yale.

The Tacoma correspondent interviewed Jones. He was then head waiter at Chrisberg's restaurant. He said Hemenway was an enemy, although he once was his friend and traveled with him; suddenly he became an enemy and did everything possible to injure him and make his trip around the world unsuccessful. Jones did not think it unusual for Hemenway to denounce him as a faker. He accounted for the reference to the Police News by saying it grew out of a difficulty after he started out, when he was arrested and thrown into jail for not paying for a suit of clothes.

To show that he was trying to get together the $5,000, an incident happened last Saturday night. A representative of the Bohemia saloon hired Jones for $30 to lecture after 10 o'clock. Jones told the audience about the wager and said he had walked seven blocks barefooted in 18 inches of snow in his paper suit when he started out. He described the trip and said Seattle was the most hospitable and enterprising city he had struck since he started. He borrowed a knife from a spectator and gave him a cent for the use of it. With the grace of a Worth he cut out a paper suit, pasted it together, and gave a living picture by undressing and showing how he started out in Boston. He passed the hat and a shower of silver amounting to $17 flew into it. Auctioneer Scoones auctioned off the torn paper suit for $1; the borrowed knife sold for $4. Jones sold his autographs for 25 cents apiece. He left the saloon at least $62 richer. At the Rainier-Grand Hotel, where he stopped, he had acted like a perfect gentleman, was quiet and unostentatious, and paid his bill.