Confidential File

As Humans Manage to Be Very Inhuman

On
the first day of June, Robert Greer, 79, received his old age pension
check. It came in the mail, as always, to his small apartment at 920 W.
11th St. It was for $106.

He folded it, put it in his pocket and walked to the neighborhood supermarket. Mr. Greer walks slowly. He uses a cane.

At the market, the old man cashed his check and purchased $10 worth of groceries — enough to last him a week or 10 days.

On
his way home, he rested a couple of times with his load of bags. Each
time, he'd stoop over painfully to pick them up again. Mr. Greer used
to be a handy man but he isn't so handy anymore.

On arriving at his first floor apartment he put his groceries away.

Then
he walked over to the landlady's apartment, counted out $40 for the
month's rent and stuffed the remaining bills back into his coin purse.
And he returned the purse to his hip pocket.

He went back to his room.

No
sooner had he closed the door than another man appeared in the hallway.
The man was short, thin, about 30 and wearing a dark suit. He was a
stranger.

The stranger approached another tenant who was passing by in the corridor, "Which is the old man's room?" he asked.

"You mean Mr. Greer?" she said. "Apartment 106."

Mr. Greer's apartment number is the same as the amount on his monthly check.

The stranger went to Mr. Greer's door, knocked, and was invited in.

"I'm a surgeon at General Hospital," the man said. "I can see where you need some attention."

"I've been there three or four times," Mr. Greer told him. "My knees, my legs — they're pretty weak."

The visitor explained that he lived in the neighborhood about four blocks away.

"I know a lot of old folks around here," he said. "It's a shame the way people nowadays neglect their old folks."

Then
he continued: "Take yourself, for example. You'd feel a lot better if
some of your neighbors took the time every day to give you a rubdown."

Mr. Greer answered that he was proud of his neighbors. They were fine people. They helped him a lot.

"Would you mind," the visitor continued, "if I took a look at your back?"

The man gasped. "Spots! You've got spots!"

He
ordered Mr. Greer to lie down on the bed on his stomach. Then, with
gentle but firm hands, he began massaging the old man's shoulders and
back. For 30 minutes he massaged.

"Feel better?" he asked finally.

"Much better," answered Mr. Greer. "It was very kind of you."

"What
you really need," continued the man, "is some heat on those spots. I've
got a heat lamp in the car, if you'd like me to get it."

"I certainly don't want to put you  to any more bother," replied Mr. Greer.

"No bother," said the man. "You just wait here and relax. I'll be right back."

He walked out the door.

Of course he didn't return, he wasn't a doctor.

We Sympathize, Mr. Greer

And,
of course, when Mr. Greer became suspicious, about 20 minutes later,
and removed his coin purse from his pants pocket, it was empty.

The "rubdown" is an old, old con game.

Undoubtedly,
it ranks with the most vicious of them all. Because always its victims
are kindly and trusting old people who aren't in very good shape,
either physically or financially.

People like Mr. Greer.