With nearly 40 million albums sold and a business empire that includes clothing, fragrances, the New Jersey Nets, sports bars, liquor, and hotels, Jay-Z has transformed himself into one of the most potent brands in the world

By: Anthony DeCurtis

"With education comes refinement," Jay-Z observes late one Friday afternoon. He's lounging on a couch in a studio at the Chelsea Piers Sports and Entertainment complex on the far west side of Manhattan and speaking between nibbles of a takeout salad in a plastic container and sips from a bottle of water. In his everyday speech, as in his raps, Jay-Z is inclined toward aphorisms, the compressed expression of complicated ideas, delivered with rhetorical flair. It's hard-earned wisdom, graced by a poet's touch.

He is relaxing after a typically jam-packed day that included a photo shoot, an interview, and a meeting about his potential involvement in a forthcoming video game. He celebrated his 39th birthday the night before with the staff of his Rocawear clothing line, so a mild fatigue has set in. Slender and six feet three inches tall, Jay-Z is an imposing figure, even in relative repose. He's wearing distressed jeans that hang loosely from the middle of his hips, black sneakers, and a long-sleeved black T-shirt that has replaced the pristine short-sleeved white one he wore before changing for his photo shoot. The look is studiously casual...until you glance at his left wrist and notice a diamond watch so thick it could pass for a weight band.

The winter sky is growing gray in the bank of windows behind him as the sun sets over the Hudson River. Jay-Z returns to the narrative of what, in the 19th century, would have been called his sentimental education, the education of his emotional life. That journey to refinement began in the rugged Marcy Projects in Brooklyn's Bedford-Stuyvesant district, and now continues in arenas and boardrooms, in posh homes and VIP hideaways, around the world.

Jay-Z feels comfortable in all of these realms. "I've never looked at myself and said that I need to be a certain way to be around a certain sort of people," he explains. "I've always wanted to stay true to myself, and I've managed to do that. People have to accept that. I collect art, and I drink wine...things that I like that I had never been exposed to. But I never said, 'I'm going to buy art to impress this crowd.' That's just ridiculous to me. I don't live my life like that, because how could you be happy with yourself?"

Staying true to yourself might stand as a succinct summary of Jay-Z's philosophy of success. The notion goes back to Shakespeare's "To thine own self be true," and further back than that to the Greeks. But for Jay-Z, it has an urgently contemporary meaning. Even, or perhaps, especially, in recessionary times, amid the thousands of entertainment and lifestyle choices consumers have available to them, what separates winners from losers is a commitment to a single proposition: You are the product. If people believe in you, they will believe in what you create. Jay-Z understands this and is down with it.

By selling nearly 40 million albums and building a business empire that extends far beyond music into clothing, fragrances, the New Jersey Nets, sports bars, liquor, and hotels (to name just a few of his seemingly innumerable investments), Jay-Z has transformed himself into one of the most potent brands in the world. But that brand retains its power only if people remain convinced that the product they are purchasing somehow genuinely reflects Jay-Z and his tastes. As he famously put it in one of his raps, "I'm not a businessman/I'm a business, man."

"My brands are an extension of me," he says. "They're close to me. It's not like running GM, where there's no emotional attachment." The reference is apt, given the government's ongoing potential bailout of two major automobile companies. Jay-Z notes that resonance with a pause and a chuckle.

"My thing is related to who I am as a person," he says. "The clothes are an extension of me. The music is an extension of me. All my businesses are part of the culture, so I have to stay true to whatever I'm feeling at the time, whatever direction I'm heading in. And hopefully, everyone follows."

In conversation, Jay-Z's speech is slower, calmer, and more deliberate than in the propulsive, deep-voiced, and often incendiary raps that have made him a titan in the world of hip-hop, a man whose sales and staying power have elevated him above all but a handful of potential rivals. He's an engaged and animated speaker, quick to touch you in a friendly way to emphasize a point.

But as laid-back and accessible as he seems, he also exudes a calm air of confidence. He doesn't need to be aggressive or impose his will in a ham-fisted manner. Half a dozen people are floating around the studio, ready to read any sign of need or impatience on his part. He's cooperative and congenial in the way that only someone who knows he can immediately put an end to any experience that moves in an unpleasant direction can be. "Jay-Hova," he has called himself, echoing the name of the mighty, vengeful God of the Hebrew Bible. He has anointed himself the "God MC."

But he has also rapped that he "never prayed to God/I prayed to Gotti." Perhaps there is a distinction to be drawn between Jay-Z, the battle MC who to this day engages in raw exchanges with younger rappers looking to take him down, and Shawn Corey Carter, the far-sighted businessman who cofounded his own label, Roc-A-Fella Records, in 1996; who served as president and CEO of Def Jam Records from 2005 to early 2008 and helped launch the careers of Kanye West, Young Jeezy, and Rihanna; who sold his Rocawear clothing line in 2007 for $204 million, while retaining a major stake in the company; and who, following a path blazed by Madonna and U2, forged a $150 million deal last year with the concert-promotion firm Live Nation.

Last summer, Forbes ranked Jay-Z seventh on its "Celebrity 100" list of the ultrafamous and ultrapowerful. The magazine estimated his annual income at $82 million, and other sources have reported his net worth at $350 million. If that doesn't seem enviable enough, last year Jay-Z married Beyonce Knowles, one of the world's most desirable women. It is part of his attitude of ultimate cool that he never publicly talks about her.

Jay-Z moves in exclusive circles of all types. Musicians, actors, designers, politicians, captains of industry, and athletes all want to get next to him. He has developed an easygoing manner that enables him to cross these cultural boundaries in ways that make him seem accessible but still dignified, always aware of who he is. "I'm a mirror," he says. "If you're cool with me, I'm cool with you, and the exchange starts. What you see is what you reflect. If you don't like what you see, then you've done something. If I'm standoffish, that's because you are."

Occasionally, stereotypes rear their heads and uncomfortable situations arise. "It's hilarious a lot of times," he says. "You have a conversation with someone, and he's like, 'You speak so well!' I'm like, 'What do you mean? Do you understand that's an insult?' "

Growing up, however, Shawn Carter was far from the likeliest candidate for this sort of mind-boggling success. He was always recognized as bright--even today, the first word anyone who meets Jay-Z invariably uses to describe him is smart--and in the sixth grade, he tested at 12th-grade levels. But the Marcy Projects in Brooklyn were overrun by drugs and violence in the '80s. His father left the family when Carter was 11, and his mother had to raise him, his older brother, and his two older sisters. When he was 12, Carter shot his brother for stealing his jewelry. (They have since reconciled.) Carter attended high school with fellow Brooklynites the Notorious B.I.G. and Busta Rhymes, but dropped out to deal drugs in a region that extended from Brooklyn to Maryland and Virginia--as he details in his music--and to dabble in the still-nascent hip-hop game.

Along with the dealers who ran the neighborhood around the Marcy Projects, Jay-Z remembers identifying sports figures as his first models of success. "Growing up where I grew up, we looked to athletes," he recalls. "They were our first heroes. They came from the same places we came from. I mean, you can't watch TV and see someone who is successful that you can really relate to. That person isn't real, he doesn't exist. But athletes traveled the world, had these big houses, and gave their families a better life. We were like, 'Wow, that's really cool.' These guys get paid millions of dollars to play the game they love."

Around the same time that he began to identify with athletes, Carter experienced another revelation: hip-hop. He began writing nonstop in notebooks, keeping his mother and siblings awake at night as he pounded the kitchen table to create beats. He hooked up with local rapper Jaz-O, who brought him to England when he toured there. Carter recorded with Jaz-O and also with Big Daddy Kane. But despite the acknowledgment of his skills (and his growing anxiety that either violence or the law would eventually catch up with him on the streets), Carter was reluctant to give up dealing. He was rolling in a Lexus and making more money, as far as he could tell, than most rappers.

Still, he decided to take the plunge, but no record company was willing to offer him a contract. So with two partners, Carter formed Roc-A-Fella Records, and, in 1996, released his debut album, Reasonable Doubt, which established him as a major figure on the hip-hop scene. It was a heady moment, but Jay-Z barely realized it at the time. "I was naive," he recalls. "I made that album to impress my friends, so they would say, 'Oh, wow, look what you did!' It was my first album on the label that we owned. I was like, 'Okay, what happens now?' "

What happened was that Jay-Z left drug dealing behind and began to build his empire, moving steadily from "grams to Grammys" as he puts it in one song. But the process wasn't easy. The treachery of life on the streets, where he faced bullets at close range, turned out to be nothing compared with what he would encounter in the upper echelons of the music business. "I come from a world that's completely different from the music industry, and it wasn't recognizable to me at all," he says. "I come from a place where you had to keep your word, where people would stick with you no matter what. That's impossible in the music business, where if you're not hot, people are not talking to you. I just tried to be a man of my word."

The choice of Roc-A-Fella as his label's name would prove telling. On one hand, it's standard hip-hop braggadocio to establish a connection between a fledgling rapper and one of the richest and most powerful families in American history. But it also suggested the means through which Jay-Z would eventually establish his own business empire. The Rockefeller family and other 19th-century industrialists established a monopolistic hold on all aspects of the goods they produced. If you owned the mines that produced coal, for example, you also bought the railroads that transported it, the refineries that prepared it for market, and the utilities that provided its end product to the general population.

As Jay-Z's career has progressed in the past dozen years, he has sought to establish a similar hold on the lifestyle market for which his music provides the soundtrack, and in which he stands as the ideal model to emulate. Rather than providing anything as tangible as coal or oil, Jay-Z, through his myriad branded investments, manufactures a way of being that makes it at least theoretically possible to never leave the world of his products. You can enjoy his music while sporting Rocawear clothing (estimated as doing $700 million a year in business), wearing one of his fragrances, and sipping his Ace of Spades champagne. You can attend his concert and end the night at one of his 40/40 nightclubs. His videos, DVDs, and CD booklets provide free exposure for all of his products, all of which, in turn, enhance every other aspect of the Jay-Z brand.

The question then becomes how, with all this marketing and glossy brand extension, does Jay-Z maintain the credibility in the hip-hop world that made him such a marketable star in the first place? "We are excited to partner with an industry giant such as Elizabeth Arden," Jay-Z declared in the press release announcing his fragrance line, which made its debut last year. No matter how deeply you've absorbed the potency of Jay-Z's mainstream reach, that sentence still makes you do a double take. This is the man who took the film American Gangster as the inspiration for his most recent album? Jigga what?

But Jay-Z believes deeply in the aspirational power of hip-hop, the notion that the music's truest fans want to see their heroes succeed and want to emulate them. He draws a sharp distinction between hip-hop and rock 'n' roll, whose stars have often expressed disdain for business and success. "I noticed that difference early on, like if you were successful in rock 'n' roll, that was a really bad thing," Jay-Z says with a laugh. "You almost had to hide it. You had these guys selling 200 million records with dirty T-shirts on. I was like, 'Come on, man. Come on. We know you're successful.'

"Hip-hop is more about attaining wealth," he continues. "People respect success. They respect big. They don't even have to like your music. If you're big enough, people are drawn to you."

Consequently, any discussion of credibility, or keeping it real, elicits a response of disbelief from him. "That's an insecure emotion," he explains. "You make your first album, you make some money, and you feel like you still have to show face, like 'I still go to the projects.' I'm like, why? Your job is to inspire people from your neighborhood to get out. You grew up there. What makes you think it's so cool?"

Of course, Jay-Z has not been immune to those insecurities himself. In 1999, he was arrested for stabbing a record executive in a New York club, and in 2001, he was charged with possession of a loaded handgun. Against his lawyer's advice, he pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor charge in the stabbing case and was sentenced to three years' probation. The gun charge was dropped.

It's generally thought that those brushes with potential incarceration cured Jay-Z of the need to prove that he could still live the thug life. He has rapped about both of those arrests ("Put that knife in ya/Take a little bit of life from ya/Am I frightenin' ya?"), but has shown no further inclination to transform his words into deeds that would put an end to the extraordinary life he has created for himself. In fact, quite the opposite. He has been baited relentlessly by other rappers--Nas, to cite just one example, taunted "Gay-Z" for his "dick-suckin' lips"--and has responded in kind, but only in song. In real life, he has taken steps to ease those rivalries and ensure that tragedies such as the killings of Tupac Shakur and the Notorious B.I.G. never happen again.

That's because too much is at stake now, far more than money or bling. At 39, Jay-Z is old enough to think about the cultural impact that hip-hop has already had, and the critical role he has played in it. "Hip-hop has done so much for racial relations, and I don't think it's given the proper credit," he says. "It has changed America immensely. I'm going to make a very bold statement: Hip-hop has done more than any leader, politician, or anyone to improve race relations.

"I'll explain why I say that," he continues. "Racism is taught in the home. We agree on that? Well, it's very hard to teach racism to a teenager who's listening to rap music and who idolizes, say, Snoop Dogg. It's hard to say, 'That guy is less than you.' The kid is like, 'I like that guy, he's cool. How is he less than me?' That's why this generation is the least racist generation ever. You see it all the time. Go to any club. People are intermingling, hanging out, having fun, enjoying the same music. Hip-hop is not just in the Bronx anymore. It's worldwide. Everywhere you go, people are listening to hip-hop and partying together. Hip-hop has done that." He pauses, as if marveling at the idea, and then repeats it for emphasis: "Hip-hop has done that."

Something else that hip-hop has done, in Jay-Z's view, is help to elect Barack Obama. "Rosa Parks sat so Martin Luther King could walk, and Martin walked so Obama could run," Jay-Z told a concert audience in the crucial swing state of Ohio shortly before the November election. "Obama is running so we all can fly, so let's fly." He recorded a get-out-the-vote message for robo calls to African-American voters during the primaries. Perhaps even more extraordinarily, after a particularly heated primary debate, Obama brushed off Hillary Clinton's attacks with a gesture of wiping lint off the shoulders of his suit, and hip observers recognized an unmistakable reference to Jay-Z's song, "Dirt Off Your Shoulder."

Jay-Z's eyes widen as he recalls that moment. "I felt like, man, what time are we living in, where a presidential nominee is making reference to a rapper?" he says. "What a beautiful place we've come to. Growing up, politics never trickled down to the areas we come from. But people from Obama's camp, and Obama himself, reached out to me and asked for my help on the campaign. We've sat and had dinner, and we've spoken on the phone. He's a very sharp guy. Very charming. Very cool.

"It's surreal," continues Jay-Z. "I couldn't imagine anything like that could happen. I didn't vote until I was an older adult. I didn't think I would ever vote, because it didn't matter who was in office. The situation never changed where we lived. Our voices weren't heard."

Jay-Z walks idly around the studio as crew members break down the set for his photo shoot. He's rapping along with a hip-hop track that's blasting in the room. When the sound system abruptly shuts off, Jay-Z continues rapping and moving to the music, like Wile E. Coyote in the moment before he looks down and realizes that he has run off the cliff. Jay-Z catches himself, looks around the room in mock surprise, and laughs. It's the sort of self-deprecating gesture he's good at, acknowledging that all eyes are on him, but humorously taking the edge off whatever intimidation factor his presence might have.

That's a quality he brings into the boardroom as well. He's far from just a figurehead or a media front man. He takes his businesses as seriously as his artistry, and he goes at both with the same level of determination. He's clear about his own views, willing to listen to others, eager to keep everybody loose and motivated, and far more interested in long-term strategy than short-term gain. Even in the current economic environment, which is challenging to say the least, he's insistent on executing his game plan rather than making changes that might not ultimately be right for his brands.

"He's smart as hell," says Neil Cole, chairman and CEO of the Iconix Brand Group, the company that bought Rocawear two years ago for more than $200 million. "He understands himself as a brand, and it's incredibly well thought out. We meet every week, and there's nothing impulsive about him. He's very consistent, and he won't settle. If something's not right, he's not going to do it for more money. He'll wait to get it right. He has a wonderful taste level about where he wants to take the brand. . .and himself."

Michael Rapino, the president and CEO of Live Nation, echoes Cole's assessment of Jay-Z. "In meeting with superstars about potential deals, there are some who spit out 'How much can I get?' and the meeting is over, because you know you're starting out on the wrong basis," he says. "When we sat down with Jay-Z, 'How much money are you going to pay me?' came up in maybe the seventh conversation. The first conversation was, 'Can we change the business together?'

"Right there, we knew we had a common agenda," continues Rapino. "It was like, 'I'm hungry. The business is changing. I'm a change agent, and I have a lot of years left.' Then the creativity flows. You don't become the best in the world at what you do, and then flip the off switch. Jay-Z wants to win. And for him it's also about the integrity of the win. He's a true partner, always looking for the win-win. He's asking, 'How do we win together?' "

Indeed, part of the refinement Jay-Z has attained entails that big-picture vision of success. It's a vision that extends beyond business and beyond music. It's about what makes your life meaningful, and it goes beyond lifestyle to a way of life. "I'm hungry for knowledge," says Jay-Z. "The whole thing is to learn every day, to get brighter and brighter. That's what this world is about. You look at someone like Gandhi, and he glowed. Martin Luther King glowed. Muhammad Ali glows. I think that's from being bright all the time, and trying to be brighter.

"That's what you should be doing your whole time on the planet," he concludes. "Then you feel like, 'My life is worth everything. And yours is too.' "

Labels: Business, Entrepreneur, Hip Hop, Hustle, Strategy

How do conmen convince you to part with your money? Who are they? And how do they choose their victims? Learn their secrets from someone who has studied their dark arts. Magician Nick Johnson has some interesting insights into psychology of scams...and some suggestions on how to stop your money from going up in smoke!

Damien Carrick: Now from secrets that get lifted from government, to how you and I sometimes inadvertently hand over information or money to con men. How do scammers manage to convince people to hand over their hard-earned cash?

To find the answer, perhaps we could talk to a police officer or a criminologist. But someone with a lateral take is magician Nicholas Johnson. He reckons that both magicians and scammers use the same box of tools: psychology and sleight of hand. In fact he's studied the dark arts of the scamster, and has some suggestions on how to stop your money from going up in smoke.

Nicholas Johnson: I think what I love most about con artists and the world of scammers is that they're criminals who manage to get their victims to hand over their possessions freely. Most thieves and robbers and the like, tend to use force, or deception, in order for them to take things, whereas a con artist manages to get their victim to freely give up their stuff. And I think that's what really fascinates me the most.

Damien Carrick: What makes people susceptible to con men?

Nicholas Johnson: The main thing that really makes people susceptible to con artists is the idea that we're going to get something for nothing. So it really buys into our greed; it buys into sometimes our lust, and at the same time, sometimes even our sense that we're going to do something good, so we're going to get a great feeling from helping someone out, we're going to make some money, we're going to meet a beautiful girl—it really ties into our basest desires, and that's what the con artist relies on.

There was a study done in the UK just in train stations. They would go up to people and ask them to do a survey, and said 'If you could just answer these ten questions, we will give you a free pen at the end.' And one of the questions was 'What is your security number?' So your PIN, or your email number and so on. And a whopping percentage of people were more than happy to hand over that information to a complete stranger in a train station, in exchange for a free pen, because the person looked like they were official.

Damien Carrick: Not much of a bargain.

Nicholas Johnson: Not much of a bargain, no, it was a pretty nice pen, though.

[On stage: I think it's important that if you are going to be a con artist that you learn how to lie to people. So what I thought we should do is actually bring up here on the stage some of the best liars in the room and see whether we can spot who's really good at it, and who's really bad at it. So I'm just going to have a look. Just by looking at people who here looks as if they may be a good liar. So we're looking for people with sort of cold, dead eyes, the kind of people who would just stab you for your Metlink card. Oh, right there, brilliant, fantastic. Come up, and give him a big round of applause. Fantastic ... ]

Most con artists rely on this idea that the victim is in control. The victim is the one who is controlling the situation. So a great example of that is the classic Nigerian email scam, the person who writes to you and says, 'I've got this money that I need to get out of the country, and I need your help.' So you're in control, you can help them, you can do a good deed, you can make some money, you've got this fantastic opportunity, and the con artist needs your help. It's not the con artist doing you a favour. So really, you feel like you're the one who's controlling the situation when really it's the con artist who knows the real deal.

On stage: That's a good guess, that is a very good guess. It's not a correct guess, you owe me $2. No, no, no, we'll settle up at the end of the night, that's fine. OK? What you really should have done is to actually bet on this one over here, but it's completely up to you whether you want to call me a liar and bet over here or whether you want to go with my choice which is right there. So what's it going to be? Are you going to bet there, or are you going to bet there? Am I telling the truth, or am I lying? OK, you do realise I'm a con man, that's $4 you owe me, OK, it's actually right there.]

Damien Carrick: Now you cut your teeth around carnival people and circus people, but have you also spoken to, or learned skills from the Real McCoy, the actual con men, the actual criminals?

Nicholas Johnson: Yes, I think the real con artists are the people who can really teach you the most. You can read books about it, you can talk to people who've had experience, the victims, but unless you can really get inside the mind of a con artist, you really won't ever understand exactly how it works. I've communicated a lot with some of the Nigerian scammers, the people who write those emails, because if they think maybe they're going to make a few dollars, they're always happy to spill the beans. And it's amazing that most of those people see it as a legitimate job. For them it's a bit like being a telemarketer, they're just working in an office, in a cubicle, sending out emails, trying to get leads just like a salesperson.

Damien Carrick: And they were happy to have an email dialogue with you?

Nicholas Johnson: They were, yes, but obviously they were fairly cagey about exact details of who they were and what they were doing, but I was surprised, many of them admitted that they were working for organised crime figures and organisations in their home country of Nigeria, and many of them were quite happy to say that they worked on commission and they made a bit of money based on how much money they brought in, and they were quite upfront about it. I think for a lot of con artists they're very proud of their work, and they like people to know exactly what they've gotten away with.

Damien Carrick: Tell me about some of the conversations you've had with people here in Australia.

Nicholas Johnson: I've met up with a few people who are pickpockets, and do small scale short cons, so they're the cons which are done on the street, door-to-door, some of them are people who've been caught and gone to jail and done their time, but some of them are still out there, and I was surprised how willing they were to sit down and have a beer and actually discuss what they do. The real thing I think about the Australian con artist, the ones we have here in Australia, particularly the short cons is that it's very much about personality, it's really—they love to buy into that whole idea of that sort of the larrikin Australian and the joker and the trickster that we love so much, and for many of them, they really feel like even if they get caught, or even if they don't get away with it, they feel like they're giving their victim a good story, you know, something to dine out over, something to discuss down at the pub. They think that's OK, you can scam somebody out of a couple of hundred bucks, because they're getting a good story in return.

Damien Carrick: That's one way of getting to sleep at night I guess.

Nicholas Johnson: Yes, it is interesting the justifications that con artists use. Some say it's a job, just like any other, 'I'm no different from a used car salesman, I'm selling a dream instead of selling a car.' So I like that one. The other explanation is, 'You can't con an honest man.' Now that's this idea that because you're buying into people's greed and their gluttony and their lust and so on, that those people are guilty. The victim is just as guilty as the con artist, and therefore they get what's coming to them.' Of course we know that's just not true and that it's really just an excuse that they're using.

Damien Carrick: Tell me about some of these short cons that the Australian people that you've spoken to engage in.

Nicholas Johnson: Sure. My all-time favourite one only makes the con artist a few dollars every time he does it, but I absolutely love it. These guys used to go door-to-door in the 1970s selling lightbulbs and they would offer to replace every single lightbulb in your house, so all your old lightbulbs would be replaced with a brand new lightbulb, and it would cost you, say $5, so a fraction of the cost of what new lightbulbs would cost. So the man comes in, he replaces each lightbulb, every single one in the house, and does it, you can check, and they all work, and then he takes all the lightbulbs that he's just taken from the person's house, goes next door and then sells them the same lightbulbs again. So it's really just moving lightbulbs from one house to another and charging people a fee to do it.

But there's all sorts of those homemaker scams, people offering to seal your roof so they say, 'We'll put a fresh coat of tar on your roof', or 'We'll re-seal your driveway'. In actual fact all they do is get old black sump oil and smooth it over the roof or smooth it over the driveway. You come home and it looks like wet tar, and so 'Don't step on it for 24 hours', and of course 24 hours later they're long gone with the money, and you're left with a sticky, smelly driveway.

Damien Carrick: You've spoken to some of the con artists. Have you ever spoken to any of the victims?

Nicholas Johnson: I have. I've spoken to a lot of victims. I get a lot of emails from victims and for me, I really love the world of the con artist and I have a real grudging respect for what they do, and I love hearing the stories. But hearing from the victims, you really realise that these scams have a real financial and emotional impact on the people involved. I spoke to a man just the other day who'd lost $5,000 investing in what he thought was an internet marketing company, and it was just a scam, it was basically an American-based pyramid scheme where the only way you make money is of course to try and convince other people to sign up to the scam. And he was absolutely heartbroken. He could afford to lose the money, for him it was only a few thousand dollars, but it wasn't that he lost the money that upset him so much, it was the fact that he really lost control, that he thought he was in control of what was going on, and that he really felt like that he couldn't trust the internet, couldn't trust other people making particular offers to him, that he couldn't really trust himself and his decision-making abilities. And that's really I think for a lot of people, where they feel the hardest hit.

[On stage: All right, so we're going to bet them. Here we go. You bet $1 and then I see your dollar and raise $10, then you bet $10 I bet $100, and then I bet $1,000, then it'll be your shoes, I bet my jacket, you bet your wife, I bet my first-born child. We put everything we own on the table, I reach into my pocket, put my last dollar down on the table and call, What do you have?' Two sixes. Yes, I think I've got you beat, because I have one, two, three, four, five, six of a kind. Six kings, ladies and gentlemen. Give him a big round of applause though anyway. Thank you very much for playing. Thank you.]

Damien Carrick: When I saw your show the other night, you hammered a nail up your nostril and it was horrible, it was funny, and it was compelling. And how common are scams involving that kind of physical illusion, and what kinds of motivations do they have?

Nicholas Johnson: Sure. What you're referring to there is what they call 'psychic surgery', so you'll see photographs of people and video of people reaching inside somebody's stomach, blood spurting everywhere, they'll pull out a tumour which they'll throw into a bowl, wave their hands over the person's stomach and they're instantly as good as new and restored with absolutely no cut whatsoever. Or in the case of the nail in the head, they'll get a nail and actually hammer it into somebody's face, just below the nostrils, that's sticking out horizontal. You maybe get a pair of forceps and sort of force them in there and pretend to pull something out, and these kind of gruesome, disgusting displays are so compelling to watch and so intense to experience that people feel that it must be doing you some good, it must be medical and it must be worth paying for. And sadly, lots of people hand over cash for these bogus operations.

Damien Carrick: And that happens here in Australia, or are we talking about vulnerable uneducated people in Third World countries?

Nicholas Johnson: No, it happens all over Australia. We had a guy in the Western Suburbs of Sydney trying to pull this a few years ago, and he was using a technique and a particular device which can be bought for $10 from any magic shop. So it's like a magic trick, and he was using it in order to pretend to be reaching into someone's stomach and pulling out guts and disgusting things. So it happens in Australia, it happens overseas more often, however because people in Western countries have perhaps more money and more resources, what happens is you'll get tour organisers will get together and they will get a group of people who are very sick and actually fly over to the countries, pay thousands of dollars, say in the Philippines, get themselves 'cured', and then come back to Australia. So you've actually got not only are the people performing the surgery making money, you have tour operators, hotel operators and various other people along the chain actually making money from the sick and the vulnerable, even though they're not performing the scam themselves.

Damien Carrick: Magician Nicholas Johnson, who likes to refer to himself as 'Australia's Honest Con Man'.

Damien Carrick: That's The Law Report for this week. A big Thank You to producer Erica Vowles and also to technical producer, Joel Church.


Guests

Nicholas Johnson
Magician

Presenter

Damien Carrick

Producer

Erica Vowles

Labels: Hustle, Stuff