| In the eighties, an eclectic group of con artists dominated the market for promotional games, and rigged them—till it all came crashing down.  Illustration by Lily Lambie-Kiernan “By the late eighties, America was in the grip of a sweepstakes mania,” Jeff Maysh writes, about a staggering scam that involved major brands including Ford, Holiday Inn, Nabisco—and Donald Trump. Maysh tells the story of the orchestrators behind the “biggest sweepstakes fraud the country had ever seen,” who sold their services to some of the country’s biggest corporations, devising flashy grand-prize awards, persuading friends to pose as prize-winners, and stealing nearly two million dollars in cash and prizes. One scam involved the Trump Plaza Hotel and Casino, in Atlantic City, and the chance to redeem parking-validation stickers for “Walkmans, cash, an ‘Eternity of Vacations,’ or even a Cadillac”—prizes that entrants had no chance of winning. Years later, as a political candidate, Trump was still in the sweepstakes game, Maysh writes. “Supporters typically donate five or ten bucks for the chance to win a trip, all expenses paid, to meet him.” But, in at least one such competition, promising a dinner with Trump in New Orleans, the date of the event came and went, with no winner announced. —Jessie Li, newsletter editor Support The New Yorker’s award-winning journalism. Subscribe today » | 
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