Solving the Puzzle

Moving swiftly one morning last week after a month of patient investigation, FBI agents in six states solved the puzzle of fraud in newspaper puzzle contests (TIME, March 9). In 86 minutes and twelve arrests they cracked the international racket that, by securing advance answers to the contests, swindled U.S. newspapers for more than a year. The transcontinental swoop bagged two key figures in Detroit: Walter Rex Johnston, 30, part-time car salesman whom the FBI identified as chief architect and brains of the swindle ring, and a key Johnston lieutenant, Harry H. Balk, 33, theatrical booking agent. Two Canadians who managed the flow of puzzle information were accused of using the mails and long-distance telephone to defraud, but were not arrested; the crimes are not extraditable.

How It Was Done. The two Canadians--George G. Dingman Jr., 34, whose father publishes the reputable Times-Journal (circ. 10,720) of St. Thomas, Ont., and a sometime salesman named Joseph Dyson--worked out of London, Ont. To milk the contests, they set up a nonexistent newspaper, rented a post-office box for a nonexistent bank. Then they solicited two of the several U.S. syndicates that peddle prize contests to newspapers and that insist on sending solutions, as a precaution, to banks (or some other unimpeachable agency). In due time the phony newspaper began receiving the puzzles--and the phony bank began getting the solutions.

Thus equipped, the ringleaders phoned appointed contacts in U.S. cities--Chicago, Detroit, Portland (Ore.), Philadelphia, Harrisburg (Pa.), Minneapolis--fed them the winning answers. Many of the participants were on the fringes of the entertainment business; Dingman was the only one with a newspaper connection. Often, time zones worked for the swindle; e.g., the phony London bank got its answers at least two hours before U.S. newspapers on the West Coast.

For months the racket worked like silk, as long as it relied on known and trusted contact men such as Lawrence A. Dyson, 32, South Philadelphia, brother of Joseph Dyson. Lawrence Dyson won $6,050 from the Philadelphia Bulletin. In the Bulletin case, the fixers overcame a last-minute effort to thwart their game: they learned that one letter in the solution had been changed, submitted 24 entries to cover all possibilities.

Eventually, the Canadians got too greedy. They expanded, hired outside amateurs--a chiropractor's wife and a TV repairman in Portland, a pretty secretary in Detroit, a dress-plant manager near Harrisburg--who would settle for peanuts: $150 to $300 cuts of $3,000 and $4,000 wins. The ringers were the ring's undoing. When in February the suddenly suspicious Portland papers called in the FBI, investigators concentrated on the weak links. After their shamed confessions, the FBI pieced together the whole story.

On with the Contests. Each of the twelve arrested last week faces a sentence of up to five years in prison, up to $10,000 in fines. But the gulled newspapers--and particularly the puzzle syndicates--must assume a big share of the blame. The puzzles were ripe for fixing, and in some cases newspapers, e.g., the Milwaukee Sentinel, ignored tips that the fix was on. And neither of the two syndicates--General Features and Superior Features--that sold services to the phony paper in Ontario bothered to check the client's false credentials.

Despite the scandal, the puzzle gimmick scarcely missed a beat. A few papers, e.g., the Philadelphia Bulletin, decided they had had enough, but most puzzle contests went right on. In a front-page statement, the Milwaukee Sentinel said that since the fraud had been exposed and "the leak" stopped, there is no reason why the puzzle game should not be more popular than ever.

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