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Joan Anderson pitched the idea and the name for one of the best selling toys in history, sealed it with a handshake, and watched 100 million units sell without receiving a dime. This episode tells her story. On a trip back to her native Australia in the 1950s she saw schoolchildren twirling bamboo rings around their waists, a craze so strong that Sydney teachers used the hoops in physical education classes and department stores ran out of stock. She had her mother ship one across the Pacific, and she and her husband Wayne took it to Wham-O with a name attached: Hula Hoop.
The episode explains why a handshake seemed reasonable at the time. A circle cannot be patented, and the toy business ran on informal deals. It then follows the summer of 1958, when Wham-O's 42 inch Marlex hoops sold for 1.98 dollars and set off a national mania, and the 1960 lawsuit in which the company claimed it had made no profit. Along the way it reaches back to hoops of willow and grapevine from 500 BC and forward to fitness hoops and fire performers.
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The man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo is remembered through a music hall hit, a 1935 film, and a stage musical. The real Charles Deville Wells was a serial fraudster. Born in Hertfordshire in 1841 and raised in France, he grew up fluent in two cultures and able to vanish across the Channel whenever one country grew too hot. He was also a real engineer: in 1868 he invented a device to regulate ship propellers and sold the patent for 5,000 francs, about five times his yearly salary. This episode argues that the windfall taught him selling an invention was easier than building one.
What followed was a phantom French railway in 1879, bogus patents sold to British aristocrats, and then the 1891 run at the roulette tables that made him a legend. The episode explains what breaking the bank really meant, follows the winnings into a yacht with a ballroom for 50 guests, and tracks his arrest, his years in Portland Prison, and a final Paris scheme that ran a Ponzi operation a decade before Charles Ponzi.
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In 1902 a Paris court forced open the iron safe that had backed twenty years of bank loans. Creditors expected the Crawford millions in bearer bonds. They found old newspapers, a trouser button, and an Italian coin. This episode tells how Therese Humbert, born Therese Daurignac to a peasant family in 1856, built that illusion. She learned from a father who waved dubious parchments to claim noble blood, lied her way into marriage with Frederic Humbert, son of a future Minister of Justice, and kept her husband as a partner even after the lie came out.
In 1879 she began telling of an American millionaire, Robert Henry Crawford, whose life she saved on a train, and in 1881 announced he had left her everything. Two invented nephews with a rival will supplied the reason the safe could never be opened. She borrowed against it, entertained Marcel Proust and a future president, and sued her phantom rivals up to the highest court in France. The episode follows the collapse, the flight to Madrid, and the ordinary people left to pay.
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In 1983 Bernard Ebbers and three partners sketched a company in a motel coffee shop in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. Fifteen years later it completed what was then the largest corporate merger in United States history. This episode traces how Long Distance Discount Services became WorldCom by buying more than 60 telecommunications firms, outbidding AT&T and Sprint for Advanced Telecommunications in 1992 and taking MCI for 37 billion dollars in 1998. Growth by acquisition made Ebbers a titan and left a tangle of billing systems and debt underneath.
The machine stopped when regulators blocked a 129 billion dollar merger with Sprint, just as the dot-com bubble burst. Ebbers had borrowed heavily against his own shares to buy ranches, timberland, and a yacht builder, and the board lent him 408.2 million dollars so he would not have to sell. Then the books were changed. Line costs became capital assets, revenue was invented, and the lie grew to 11 billion dollars until an internal audit team working nights pulled it apart.
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Charles Van Doren was a Columbia University English professor from a family of Pulitzer Prize winning writers. In November 1959 he sat before Congress on national television and confessed to being the face of the biggest fraud in early broadcasting. This episode explains how he got there. A 1954 Supreme Court ruling let networks hand out large cash prizes, and NBC launched Twenty-One in September 1956. The first honest episode was a disaster of sweating contestants and dead air, sponsor Geritol was furious, and the producers decided to script the show.
Producer Dan Enright wanted a hero, and reigning champion Herb Stempel did not fit the part. Van Doren, who had auditioned for Tic-Tac-Dough, did. Stempel was ordered to lose on December 5, 1956, and his resentment began the unraveling that a grand jury and a House subcommittee finished. The episode follows Van Doren from adored celebrity to decades of silence, and shows how his ruin rewrote the law and changed who controls television programming.
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A banknote with a face value of 100 quintillion, a one followed by 20 zeros, could buy about 20 US cents of goods. That was the Hungarian pengo in 1946, the most extreme hyperinflation on record. This episode follows the currency from birth to death. It was introduced on January 1, 1927 with a League of Nations loan, replacing the ruined korona at 12,500 to one, and its name was chosen to evoke the ring of silver coins on a wooden table. Pegged to gold and backed by reserves that reached 51 percent by 1930, it was the most stable currency in its region.
World War II turned the national bank into a printing press. Silver coins gave way to aluminum, steel, and zinc, and the presses were evacuated to Veszprem and kept running. After the war, with no tax base and reparations due, the government used inflation as a hidden tax until prices doubled about every 15 hours. The episode explains the milpengo and bilpengo, the indexed tax pengo that killed the original currency, and the day the forint wiped away 29 zeros.
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The email from a foreign prince offering 20 million dollars looks like a joke, yet advance fee fraud takes in billions every year. This episode traces its lineage to the Spanish Prisoner letters of the late 18th century and the Letter from Jerusalem documented by Vidocq in the 1830s, then to Nigeria in the 1980s and 90s, where an oil price crash, youth unemployment, and cyber cafes produced the Yahoo Boys. The name comes from Section 419 of the Nigerian Criminal Code, though the senders may now sit in Amsterdam, Spain, South Africa, or Jamaica.
The central insight comes from Microsoft researcher Cormac Herley: the bad grammar is a filter. Sending ten million emails costs nothing, but grooming a reply takes hours, so absurd messages repel skeptics and leave only the most susceptible. From there the episode follows the money through Western Union and cryptocurrency mixers, the invented fees that trigger the sunk cost fallacy, and the newer bait of puppies, romance, jobs, and phone towers. It ends with the people who embezzled, were kidnapped, or were killed.
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Charles Ingram admitted on national television that he did not know what a googol was, chose it anyway, and won one million pounds on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. No champagne followed, only a criminal investigation. This episode looks at the man in the hot seat: born in Derbyshire in 1963, son of an RAF wing commander, a Sandhurst graduate who became a major in the Royal Engineers and served a UN tour in Bosnia. His wife Diana and her brother had each already won 32,000 pounds on the show, and he trained daily on a homemade fastest finger machine.
After a dismal first day that left him at 4,000 pounds with one lifeline, Ingram returned and began reversing himself on answer after answer, from Craig David to Baron Haussmann's Paris. Producers at Celador withheld the prize and found coughs from waiting contestant Tecwen Whittock on the tapes. The episode weighs both readings of the 2003 trial at Southwark Crown Court, a planned heist or confirmation bias in an editing suite, and follows Ingram's fall into reality television and a second fraud conviction.
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In the summer of 1897 the ships Excelsior and Portland docked with holds full of raw gold, and Seattle's streetcar drivers, policemen, and even its mayor walked off the job. This episode separates the romantic myth of the Klondike from what the journey really demanded. The find itself came on August 16, 1896 at Rabbit Creek, made by George Carmack, Skookum Jim, and Tagish Charley, with the claim filed in Carmack's name because an Indigenous man's claim might not have been honored. The stampede followed because the panics of 1893 and 1896 had left the world starved for gold.
About 100,000 people set out and only 30,000 to 40,000 arrived. The Mounties required each traveler to haul roughly a ton of supplies, which meant relaying 65 pound loads over the Chilkoot Pass or wading the mud of the White Pass, then building boats to run the Yukon River. Dawson City greeted them with typhoid, scurvy, staked claims, and frozen ground that had to be thawed with fire. The episode also covers the displaced Han people, the women who earned more from laundry than men did from mining, and the sudden exit to Nome.
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J. Paul Getty was the wealthiest private citizen on the planet, and he installed a coin-operated payphone in the hallway of his 72-room English mansion so guests could not run up his bill. This episode tries to reconcile the two men. It starts in Minneapolis in 1892 with strict Methodist parents, follows him to Berkeley and Oxford, and lands on the wound that shaped him: when his father died in 1930 leaving 10 million dollars, the scandal-prone Paul received only 500,000.
He answered by building something larger. During the Great Depression he bought up Pacific Western, Tidewater, and Skelly Oil for pennies on the dollar, then paid Ibn Saud 9.5 million dollars in cash for rights to the Saudi Arabian Neutral Zone and drilled dry holes for four years before striking oil in 1953. The same cold arithmetic governed his five marriages, his dying son, and the 1973 kidnapping of his grandson in Rome, where even a severed ear did not stop him from negotiating.
From the publisher's feed
pplpod is a podcast about people, places and lots of other stuff. Each episode takes a deep dive into the lives, choices, and legacies of fascinating figures from history, culture,…
Thoughtful, engaging, and story-driven, pplpod explores what makes these lives extraordinary—and what we can learn from them today.