The Millionaire on the Beach:
The Language of Get-Rich-Quick Plans
Originally published in Etc.: A Review of General
Semantics, 47 (1990), pp. 239-248)
Randall Bytwerk and Quentin Schultze
CAS Department
Calvin College
Grand Rapids, MI 49546
Fax: (616) 526-6601
One of the best-selling books of recent years never hit the bookstore
racks. Joe Karbo's The Lazy Man's Way to Riches has sold over three
million copies worldwide since ads boasting of his life of ease on the
beach first appeared fourteen years ago. All were peddled through the
mail, according to the president of the firm.1 It is not listed
in Books in Print.
Karbo died a millionaire in 1980, but few knew he was gone. The company
he founded still runs the ads--and they still work. Sales are dropping
now, but the Karbo's self-help tome still sold almost 50,000 copies in
1986. In the same year, John Wright's The Royal Road to Riches
sold 61,450 copies, according to a mailing list company to which both
firms sold the names of customers.2
Karbo is a legend in "direct response" marketing, a $200-billion-a-year
industry where thousands of entrepreneurs hope to make it big by selling
ideas and products directly to consumers. Most direct response marketers
are legitimate vendors of real products. Others sell ideas about
how to make it big. Karbo's firm, and a hundred others, promise readers
that for $10 or $12.95 or $24.95 or more, with little work or skill, they
too can make millions. All one needs is the right "secret plan."
David Bendah, whose Lion Publishing Company offers dozens of books promising
instant and easy wealth, claims to spend close to a million dollars a
year placing twenty different full page ads in fifty publications.
There is a dazzling abundance of such plans. They are advertised in period-
icals such as Time or Popular Mechanics, but also in at
least a dozen periodicals devoted to money-making schemes with titles
like Income Opportunities, Success Opportunities, Successful Opportunities,
or New Business Opportunities. Direct mail is also a common
way of marketing the plans, as those who buy even one of them will discover
as their mailboxes fill with other plans.
In this paper, we analyze the strategies used by purveyors of get-rich-
quick plans, strategies notable less for originality than for adroit application
of ancient and tested ways of misusing language. We are interested not
in plans that clearly state what kind of business the customer will learn
about for his or her money, rather at the multitude of schemes which,
often in thousands of enticing words, promise enormous wealth without
giving an intimation as to how that wealth will come.
Basic Techniques
Most get-rich-quick pitches use techniques Karbo pioneered. They seldom
reveal what the buyer will get for his money; more often they tell what
the plan isn't rather than what it is. A typical pitch contains:
- a confession that the person selling the plan was an uneducated failure;
- a picture of the promoter standing in front of an expensive car or
a palatial mansion;
- testimonials from ordinary folk;
- claims of uniqueness and ease;
- criticisms of competing plans (some even say the author tried other
schemes and failed--until he hit upon one that works);
- a limited time offer;
- a money-back guarantee, sometimes even more than that if the customer
is not satisfied. Buyers are often urged to postdate checks a month
or more.
Our emphasis is on the language used to sell the plans, not the plans
themselves, since buyers usually have no idea of what they are purchasing.
The language is invariably more sophisticated than the product.
The average get-rich-quick plan is cheaply printed common sense or nonsense,
commonly the later. In this business, the real product is typically the
hope of success, not the book or pamphlet. At best, buyers receive useful
but readily available information about how to run a particular business.
At worst, they receive information that, if followed, will lead to financial
catastrophe. Karbo's book is typical, a combination of positive thinking
and mail order techniques. Gary Elliston of Costa Mesa, California, boasts
a plan "quite different from anything you have ever seen or heard."
$24.95 buys a cheaply printed book advocating positive thinking and promotional
product marketing (e.g., selling advertising on plastic cups used in hospitals).
Other plans include "sure-fire" ways to beat the horses, win
the lottery, sell mailing lists, arrange loans, help people get money
from the government, benefit from multi-level marketing schemes, or peddle
travel club memberships.
What persuades people to send in real money in the hope of improbable
millions? To that we now turn.
Identification
Among the most quoted passages in Kenneth Burke's work is his sentence
on identification: "You persuade a man only insofar as you can talk
his language by speech, gesture, tonality, order, image, attitude, idea,
identifying your ways with his".3 Get-rich-quick
promoters are not close readers of Burke, but they know that persuasion
and identification are inseparably related. In one way or another, these
pitches identify the successful entrepreneur with the common person.
The promoters aim at people of limited means who want somehow to escape
their financial woes. Nearly every pitch claims to be written by a one-time
failure with no skills or qualifications who, by good fortune about to
be shared with any reader able to part with $15.95, found financial salvation.
The writers adopt a direct, personal, informal style, often with grammatical
errors, using the second person, addressing the reader as a friend.
Karbo's classic ad explains: "You think you've got problems? Well,
I remember when a bank turned me down for a $200 loan.... I remember the
day my wife phoned me, crying, because the landlord had shown up at the
house, demanding his rent--and we didn't have the money to pay it."
Ruth Aycock from Salt Lake City confesses:
A little while ago, my life was so miserable. I had just gotten married
and my husband lost his job.... To make matters worse, I got pregnant
and yet we had no money for a doctor or insurance. The only thing we owned
were a few dishes that I had collected before I got married. We were getting
ready to sell our little car that was all smashed up in the front, but
we would have ended up paying an additional $1,000 to the bank.4
The point is that the author is like the readers, only more so. His or
her problems were as bad, in fact probably worse, than those of the reader.
The authors present themselves as having been uneducated failures, broke,
desperate, without hope. The strategy appeals to those in like straits,
but perhaps also to those in the lower middle class who earn enough to
survive, but see no prospects of real financial success. If Joe Karbo
can do it, how much more likely it is that they can too.
Credibility Building
As a further way of identification, the pitches typically include testimonials
from those who supposedly have applied the plan and earned their fortunes,
usually identified only by their initials. Joe Karbo's ads, for example
include these testimonials:
- In February 1974 you sent me (for ten bucks) your Lazy Man's Way to
Riches. Since then I have made approximately 50 grand ($50,000) just
fooling around on the basis of your advice. You see, I really am lazy--otherwise
I could have made 50 million! Thank you!
-
--Mr. R. McK., Atlanta, GA
- Two years ago, I mailed you ten dollars in sheer desperation for a
better life... One year ago, just out of the blue sky, a man called
and offered me a partnership... I grossed over $260,000 cash business
in eleven months. You are a God sent miracle to me.
-
--B.F., Pascagoula, Miss.
Don Joseph of Thornton, Illinois mails seven pages of testimonials from
101 delighted customers to potential buyers. No addresses or phone numbers
are provided, though his letter notes the original letters are available
at his office, for those who want to travel a thousand miles to check
on a $12.95 purchase.
The better-known get-rich-quick gurus cite media "endorsements"
of their plans--or so they suggest. Karbo's ads quote Time's 1973
description of him as "the prototype for...the `The Lazy Man's Way
to Riches.'" The ads ignore the magazine's judgment that the book
was "part rip-off, part a paean to the potential of positive thinking."
Some promoters invent imposing organizations to lend credibility to their
products. Christ Steele, for example, claims that his plan has precociously
been named the "Best Money-Making Program of the 1990's" by
the "Consumer Wealth Research Institute," whose anonymous president
is cited in his ads as saying "If you can't become a millionaire
with this program, you can't become a millionaire at all." That is
probably true.
Many follow Karbo's lead and provide the names of their bankers or accountants,
or lists of their recent bank deposits, for those doubting their millionaire
status. And many print their pictures, standing in front of a Rolls Royce
or a mansion, visible evidence of their success.
In short, not only is the author like the reader, so apparently are large
numbers of other once unfortunate souls who found prosperity though the
plan being offered. Buyers need not believe the seller; they can trust
all of the other successful buyers.
Fantastic Claims
The headlines alone of get-rich schemes are rhetorical marvels. "The
Royal Road to Riches" is offered by John Wright. Other current ads
claim: "JUST MAIL TWO LETTERS...AND `Make $15,000 in ONE (1) MONTH,'"
"How to Become An Instant Millionaire," "Rich Texas
Man Will Send You $10,000 In 3 Days!," or "$100,000 per
Year While Vacationing in Europe." Such fantastic claims add curious
plausibility to the schemes--readers realize they are not likely to make
a million, but surely the advertiser wouldn't make such astounding claims
unless there was at least some truth to them.
These outrageous claims enhance the persuasive value of mystery. Each
plan typically claims to be original, unlike anything else in recorded
history. Steele asserts that his plan is "Not Anything that is Advertised
by Anyone Else in this Magazine." Promoters regularly list a dozen
or more things their plan is not, encouraging the reader to believe that
finally he or she has found the secret of instant wealth. Each plan is
portrayed as a unique system that can be used by any common person with
mysteriously fantastic results.
The mystery is emphasized by many words. The typical ad or letter contains
thousands of words, words which however convey no information other than
that buyers can make great sums of money without working hard. The reader
is likely to scan the pitch for details, but none emerge. The abundance
of words, typically a full magazine page ad or a multi-page letter, provide
no clues. Often, only the illusion of information is given. Steele, for
example, writes:
Let me tell you more about this "unique" money-making secret.
With this secret the money can roll in fast. If you can follow easy instructions
you can get started in a single afternoon and have ready cash in your
pocket the next morning. In fact, this is the fastest legal method to
make money ever invented in the history of this world. It is practically
risk-free and it is not a dangerous gamble. Everything you do is tested
and proven-effective and you can get started for less money than most
people spend for a night on the town. The method is simple. It would be
hard to make a mistake even if you tried. You don't need any degree or
diploma. All you need is a little common sense and the ability to follow
simple, easy, step-by-step instructions. You can use this secret to make
money no matter how old or how young you are. There is no physical labor
involved and everything is so easy it could be done by a teenager or a
100 year old man.
After a full page of small print, Steele still has not given the reading
the slightest indication of what he is offering. The profusion of verbiage
serves a useful function. The startling headline claims entice the reader
into reading the text, hoping to learn at least something. After several
thousand words readers are as curious as at the beginning; in fact, they
are probably more curious, having taken several minutes to at least scan
the pitch. That investment of time, a form of partial commitment, makes
the reader likelier to order the plan.
Steele's plan is typical in its promise of effortless wealth. Karbo's
ads describe his life of ease on the beach. Wright claims: "It will
take you only two hours to learn how to use this secret. After that everything
is almost automatic. After you get started you can probably do everything
that is necessary in three hours per week." Tom Daniels of San Leandro,
California offers to explain how to "make up to $3,000.00 or more
per week without leaving home." David Alan of Las Vegas claims he
and his wife can make a million dollars in a few hours while watching
television. His plan turns out to be a simple pyramid scheme requiring
20,000,000 people to receive a mailing before the person on top makes
his million.
Scarcity and the "Lucky Break"
The persuasive value of scarcity is well established. The get-rich-quick
pitches regularly suggest that each appeal may be our last opportunity
to purchase the plan. Elliston sent us two "Third Notices,"
requesting urgent action, though we never got notices one and two. Frank
Wallace sends his offer for a new system for controlling other people
(costing $69.95) by first class mail, with a postmark deadline for buyers
of about two days after they receive it. So far, we've heard from him
twice, both times with a tight deadline. Magazine ads often state that
the offer is good for "30 days," when in fact the same ads may
appear for a decade. The LASER ACCESS SYSTEM offers "YOUR LAST CHANCE
TO FINANCIAL SUCCESS." Just as salesmen often win buyers by announcing
"prices go up tomorrow," the get-rich-quick schemers create
artificial scarcity.
Consistent with the scarcity argument is the idea, regularly stressed
in these ads, of the "lucky break," a break which by definition
may never recur. George Ropchan explains: "Several years ago I sat
across the table from an elderly, wealthy man, who taught me a secret
money-making program so powerful, that within minutes of listening to
him I knew it would change my life completely.". Laura Johnson explains
that she was having lunch with a friend who had obviously found a way
to make great sums. At first the friend kept quiet, but "after two
or three glasses of wine, her face lit up and she began to talk. She told
me one of the most incredible secrets I've ever heard." The point
is also consistent with the alleged incompetence of the plan's purveyor,
a person who by his or her own confession is not sufficiently clever enough
to think up the plan.
The reader, by good fortune, has chanced across the plan just as the plan's
inventor once did. All that remains is to seize the opportunity. Wealth
is presented in these plans as the result of magic, good luck, or divine
providence. Magic is indeed the only way many plans could function, so
astounding are their claims. Steele's ad, for example, promises two "free
gifts" of redoubtable power on top of the secret of instant wealth:
"The first bonus will guarantee that you accomplish anything that
you want in life. The second bonus will show you how to achieve the one
thing that money cannot buy: Perfect Health." All this for only $19.
Objections
Readers of tempting promises of easy wealth naturally have some suspicions
that it might not be as easy to live on the beach as Karbo and his ilk
proclaim, particularly since many will have been disappointed by previous
promoters. In this genre, the pitches themselves anticipate and answer
objections, without in the process revealing any information about the
product. They offer general defenses to generic objections.
Probably nothing is more convincing to skeptical readers of get-rich-
quick pitches than the money-back guarantee. Such guarantees answer the
most important objection of all: "What if the the plan is worthless?"
Karbo pioneered the idea of holding the buyer's check for 30 days before
cashing it. Wright now offers a full year to return his plan. He even
offers a bonus of $20 to those dissatisfied with it. Buyers learn only
after sending in $12.95 that to get the "bonus" they must first
try selling something by placing an ad somewhere--at a cost likely to
exceed the $20 bonus. Tom Scott of New York City offers triple the price
of his plan back to those dissatisfied. But they must try the plan for
a year and keep a log before he will send the refund.
We took five established promoters up on their offers of money back. They
all came, though in one case it took repeated requests. The newer ones
are chancier. In Grand Rapids, Michigan, the Postal Service closed down
a first-time seller after he admitted to having made up a full-page newspaper
ad from his imagination, impressive sounding testimonials included. He
told postal authorities that he had yet to write the book he was advertising.
That is not unusual, by the way--Karbo started writing his book only after
receiving the first $50,000 in orders. Aycock held off printing hers until
1500 orders had arrived.
Get-rich-quick promoters do not lose much by their money back offers.
Karbo some years back had a 7% return rate, entirely acceptable in a business
where 15% is tolerable. Guarantees lure many buyers who otherwise would
pass the ad over. The seller "trusts" the buyer not to order
the plan, learn its secrets, then mail it back for a refund. That "concession"
on the part of the seller imposes an obligation on the reader, an obligation
making it likelier that the reader will buy. And although most customers
will be dissatisfied with what they get, sending the material back is
a considerable bother. To return the plan means admitting once more to
having been taken, a painful admission to make. It also means wrapping
the material up and taking it to the post office to find how much postage
is needed--hardly worth it for the small cost of most plans.
And even if the book is returned, the promoter makes money selling names
and address to other promoters. Aycock claims to sell her list twenty
to thirty times monthly for a nickel a name. From the mail we have received
after buying her book, we believe her. After ordering six plans, we received
over 200 pieces of mail from other promoters offering us "unique"
ways to make our fortunes.
A hapless buyer, likely to have been disappointed by previous schemes,
needs some encouragement before parting with another $20. Get-rich-quick
pitches usually state that the plan is different from all the others,
which don't really work. This is important, since people who fall for
one plan will usually fall for others, but only if they think the others
are fresh. As Elliston writes: "I know you've probably heard this
same kind of story before, and it would be foolish of me not to at least
briefly address myself to your skepticism." He then claims his scheme
is unique, without giving any idea of what it involves. Scott writes:
"I short-changed our skimpy food allowance sending away for one money-making
plan after another. I found out what you probably already know. They all
turned out to be baloney. The only one who made money were the companies
who sold them." Scott lists fifteen things his plan is not, but not
what it is. A standard strategy is to commiserate with the reader over
money wasted on worthless plans, always with the injunction that here,
finally, is one that works.
But why is the secret of the ages being offered for $12.95? If the plan
really works, why is its promoter bothering to offer it to others? Many
promoters take the time to answer the question. Aycock writes that "because
of the great joy and happiness I'm now experiencing with my husband and
family, I've decided to write my little secret in a book. I want so badly
to share my happiness and my little secret that no one else knows."
Her little secret turns out to be the same secret offered by dozens
of others--she recommends selling things through the mail. Steele, who
offers "the most powerful millionaire-maker in history!!!" writes:
Why, you may ask, am I willing to share this secret with you? To make
money? NO WAY. First, I already have all the money and possessions I will
ever need in this life. Second, I am tired of seeing the poor and the
disadvantaged being used and abused by the rich and powerful.... Third,
nothing satisfies me more than sharing my secret only with those who realize
a golden opportunity and get on it quickly."
The point is not that the justifications are compelling, rather they at
least answer the question the reader has. A variety of research demonstrates
that a bad reason is often more persuasive than no reason.
As an additional spur to immediate action, many have imitated Karbo's
classic line: "A month from today, you can be nothing more than 30
days older--or you can be on your way to getting rich. You decide."
Put that way, what's $10?
Conclusion
Why do people buy plans without having any idea what they will receive?
Like the lottery, the movies, romance novels or diet products, most plans
sell cheap dreams.
Few people would pay $24.95 for Elliston's cheaply printed manual if they
had an opportunity to see it first. But his tantalizing prose suggests
that his plan, different from all the rest, is the way to financial security.
Just as lottery ticket buyers are largely in the lower income groups,
so are buyers of these plans, and with much the same motivation--the hope
that financial problems may be solved by a miracle. Indeed, marketers
of mail order lottery tickets are big buyers of the names of those who
have purchased get- rich-quick schemes. And just as there is always next
week's lottery drawing, there is always another "unique" way
to riches. In short, these plans appeal to the same needs met by television
shows like The Millionaire or Fantasy Island. For a modest
price, they offer the chance to dream.
Many plans tie their pitch into the American tradition of positive thinking
within a vaguely religious framework. The ordinary, uneducated person,
given the right break, can make it big. The promoters write almost as
evangelists. Having found financial salvation, they wish to spread the
blessing as eagerly as any evangelist. As Joe Karbo said in 1974: "Honestly,
this is a religious outlet for me. I have zeal, and expect everyone who
works for me to have zeal.5
The very outrageousness of the claims may be part of their persuasiveness.
Humans are easily able to ignore evidence that they do not wish to see.
Those wishing to earn effortless cash know that the secret of prosperity
is not for sale for $10. But they would like it to be. One they have begun
reading the seductive prose, they have already committed themselves in
part to the argument, a commitment requiring only a modest investment
for something they very much want to be true.
The buyer's own part in the process makes it harder to send the plan back
for a refund. Few buyers probably really expect that they will be able
to make millions while watching television in their living room. It is
hard to be angry at someone who has explained, for $14.95, that the way
to wealth is to think positively and sell things through the mail. The
buyer is more likely to feel embarrassed.
Get-rich-quick ads and letters demonstrate that not only was P. T. Barnum
correct in estimating the birth rate of gullible persons, but that the
old misuses of language remain as effective today as they ever were.
Notes
- J. Flanagan, personal communication, July 22, 1987.
- Mega Media Associates, personal correspondence, November 23, 1987.
- Kenneth Burke, A Rhetoric of Motives, Berkeley: University
of California Press, 1969, p. 55.
- This and other quotations from get-rich-quick promotional material
comes from mailings in the files of the authors.
- H. Minetree, "Why is this man loafing?," Money, September,
1974, p. 58.
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