The Cardiff Giant – “A Sucker Born Every Minute”
The year was 1869, and the American public was captivated by a sensational discovery: a petrified giant unearthed in Cardiff, New York. What appeared to be a monumental archaeological find, seemingly confirming biblical passages about giants roaming the earth, was, in reality, a carefully orchestrated hoax. The story of the Cardiff Giant is a fascinating tale of deception, greed, and the remarkable gullibility of the masses, forever cementing its place in the annals of American folklore.
The genesis of this elaborate scheme can be traced back to a theological dispute between George Hull, a confirmed atheist from New York, and a devout Methodist preacher in 1868. Hull, a man with a penchant for intellectual sparring, found himself embroiled in a heated debate regarding the literal interpretation of scripture, specifically Genesis 6:4, which alluded to giants existing in ancient times. The preacher’s unwavering belief in the biblical account irked Hull, and a mischievous idea began to take root in his mind. He resolved to expose what he perceived as the naiveté of the faithful, embarking on a project that would ultimately become one of the most audacious hoaxes in American history, the tale of the Cardiff Giant.
Hull’s plan was meticulous and ambitious. He began by traveling to Fort Dodge, Iowa, a region known for its abundance of gypsum, a soft sulfate mineral. There, he discreetly purchased an acre of land along Gypsum Creek, a location that would later play a crucial role in his deception. Next, he hired local laborers, carefully concealing his true intentions. He commissioned them to quarry a massive block of gypsum, measuring twelve feet in length, four feet in width, and two feet in thickness. To allay suspicion, Hull fabricated a story, claiming that the massive block was intended for the creation of a monument dedicated to the late President Abraham Lincoln. The workers, unaware of the true purpose of their task, diligently extracted the gypsum block, unwittingly contributing to Hull’s elaborate charade.
With the massive gypsum block secured, Hull arranged for its transport to Chicago, a bustling metropolis with skilled artisans capable of transforming the raw material into his desired creation. In Chicago, he sought out Edward Burghardt, a German stonecutter renowned for his craftsmanship and discretion. Hull confided in Burghardt his audacious plan, enlisting his expertise in sculpting the gypsum block into the likeness of a human figure. Working in secrecy, Burghardt meticulously carved the stone, shaping it into a recumbent figure that resembled a colossal, petrified man. The details were painstakingly rendered, capturing the contours of the body and imbuing the statue with an air of ancient authenticity.
To further enhance the illusion, Hull and Burghardt employed a variety of techniques to "age" the giant’s skin, making it appear as though it had been buried for centuries. They applied stains and acids to the surface of the gypsum, creating a weathered and eroded appearance. Darning needles were used to painstakingly create minute pores on the giant’s body, adding another layer of realism to the fabrication. The attention to detail was remarkable, transforming a newly carved block of gypsum into a convincing artifact of seemingly ancient origin. The creation of the Cardiff Giant was now entering its final stages.
Once the carving and aging process were complete, Hull orchestrated the surreptitious shipment of the sculpted block to Cardiff, New York, the town that would forever be associated with the hoax. There, he enlisted the aid of his cousin, William Newell, a farmer who owned a plot of land on which Hull planned to bury his creation. Under the cover of darkness, the giant was carefully lowered into a pre-dug pit, concealed beneath the earth, awaiting its opportune moment of "discovery." Hull’s meticulous planning and execution had come at a considerable cost, with an estimated expenditure of $2,600, a sum equivalent to over $42,000 in modern currency. He had invested heavily in his scheme, confident that the potential rewards would far outweigh the financial burden.
Almost a year passed before Hull’s plan was set into motion. In October 1869, Newell hired two men to dig a well on his property, carefully selecting the spot where the Cardiff Giant lay buried. On October 16th, as the unsuspecting laborers toiled away, their shovels struck something large and unyielding beneath the surface. As they cleared away the soil, a colossal figure began to emerge, seemingly frozen in time. News of the astonishing discovery spread like wildfire throughout the region, drawing crowds of curious onlookers eager to witness the spectacle.
Newell, playing his part to perfection, wasted no time in capitalizing on the public’s fascination. He erected a tent over the giant, charging a fee of 25 cents for people to view what he claimed was irrefutable evidence that giants had once walked the earth. The "discovery" of the Cardiff Giant ignited a frenzy of excitement and speculation. Scientists and archaeologists flocked to Cardiff, eager to examine the enigmatic figure and offer their interpretations. While some experts quickly dismissed the giant as a fake, pointing to its obvious artificiality, others argued that it could be an ancient statue created by Jesuit priests in the early 17th century. The debate raged on, fueling the public’s interest and driving up attendance at Newell’s makeshift exhibition. Sensing an opportunity to further inflate his profits, Newell doubled the admission charge to 50 cents.
Hull, observing the unfolding events with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction, realized that the Cardiff Giant had become a far greater sensation than he had initially anticipated. Seeing the potential for even greater financial gain, he sold his partial interest in the giant to a syndicate headed by David Hannum for a staggering $23,000, equivalent to nearly half a million dollars today. Hannum, a shrewd businessman, relocated the giant to nearby Syracuse, New York, where he put it on display, attracting even larger crowds and generating substantial revenue.
The success of the Cardiff Giant did not go unnoticed by the legendary showman P.T. Barnum. Recognizing the immense public appeal of the spectacle, Barnum offered Hannum’s group $50,000 for the giant, a sum that was promptly rejected. Undeterred, Barnum, a master of deception himself, decided to take matters into his own hands. He commissioned the creation of a replica of the Cardiff Giant and put it on display in New York City, boldly claiming that his version was the authentic artifact and that the original was a fake. The audacious move sparked a fierce rivalry between Barnum and Hannum, each vying for the public’s attention and dollars.
Hannum, incensed by Barnum’s brazen attempt to undermine his operation, reportedly quipped to a newspaper reporter, "There’s a sucker born every minute." The quote, often mistakenly attributed to Barnum himself, perfectly encapsulated the cynical view that both men held towards the gullible public who were willing to pay to see the Cardiff Giant, whether real or fake.
Hannum eventually sued Barnum for libel, claiming that Barnum had damaged his reputation by calling the Cardiff Giant a fake. However, before the case could be resolved, George Hull confessed to his hoax on December 10th, effectively ending the legal dispute. In February 1870, the court ruled that Barnum could not be sued for calling a fake giant a fake.
Despite the exposure of the hoax, the Cardiff Giant continued to captivate the public’s imagination. In 1901, it made an appearance at the Pan-American Exposition, and in 1923, it was exhibited at the Hawkeye Fair and Exhibition. The story of the giant has been referenced in popular culture numerous times since its unveiling in 1869, solidifying its place in American folklore. The success of the Cardiff Giant inspired other hoaxers, including the infamous "Soapy" Smith, who in 1892, passed off a real corpse as a petrified man named "McGinty."
The original Cardiff Giant eventually found its way into the basement of an Iowa man, where it was used as a coffee table. In 1947, it was sold to the Farmer’s Museum in Cooperstown, New York, where it remains on display today, a testament to the enduring power of deception and the remarkable gullibility of the human spirit. Barnum’s replica is said to reside at a museum in Farmington Hills, Michigan. A third replica, created in 1972, is exhibited at the Fort Museum & Frontier Village in Fort Dodge, Iowa, commemorating the site where the original gypsum block was quarried and the hoax was born. The Cardiff Giant serves as a reminder that even the most convincing illusions can be shattered by the light of truth.