Every good thing has its imitation, and this includes money.
Counterfeiting dates back to the old Greek and Roman times, and the
despicable business has been kept up ever since, and probably always
will be. In some countries the laws are so severe that the conviction
of a maker or passer of spurious coin or bills means death. In America
the punishment is usually a long term of imprisonment. Nevertheless
people of dishonest tendencies seem to have a mania for wanting
to “shove the queer,” and are desirous of going into the business
extensively if they can only find a manufacturer of bad money who will
supply them. This demand has been the cause of establishing the trade
popularly known as “green goods” business. The operators are usually
in gangs, and they work scientifically. Perhaps you, respected reader,
have received ere this a very confidential letter from one Johnson, or
Bechtoldt, or Carruthers, or somebody else, (usually located in New
York, Jersey City or Chicago) telling you about the “green articles”
that they have to sell in denominations of “tens, twenties,” etc., and
assuring you that they are “perfect in every respect.” Enclosed with
the letter you probably found a clipping alleged to have been cut out
of a newspaper, telling how a crack counterfeit dealer had been caught
red handed but had passed the ordeal of a trial and had been acquitted,
because the counterfeits were so good that neither prosecutors, judge
nor jury would dare to say that the money in evidence was spurious.
Yet, the clipping goes on to say, that it is well known that the money
really was counterfeit, but had been printed from some plates that
had been stolen from the treasury department, and were, to a certain
extent, genuine.
As a matter of fact, no plates of money were ever stolen from the
U. S. treasury department, and the so called newspaper clipping is
a concoction of some ingenious rascal intended to convince you, if
dishonestly inclined, that you can handle the “green articles” with
perfect safety.
The letter doesn’t contain the address of the dealer; oh, no, he
doesn’t do business that way. You can only reach him by telegraph to
an address given by him, which is no address at all in reality except
perhaps the location of a graveyard or aqueduct. It has been alleged
that the Western Union Telegraph Company simply holds such telegrams
and they are called for by the men who expect them and whose swindling
game is understood by the telegraph people. The swindler sends back
an answer by letter, telling the countryman to come on at once, and
saying that he will meet him upon his arrival at the depot, or at some
hotel, and one is to know the other by means of a colored handkerchief,
a peculiar way of carrying the cane, or some other signal.
Well, the countryman goes to the city, meets the knave who shows him
in some quiet room, a package of crisp bills. The countryman opens his
eyes wide and visions of sudden wealth flit through his brain. Mr.
Counterfeiter suggests that they try some of the bills and see whether
or not they will pass without detection. They drop into a saloon,
and courteous Mr. Counterfeiter insists that the other have a drink.
Perhaps Mr. Wayback may be a prohibitionist, but that doesn’t matter
as he will certainly be willing to drink a little pop beer or ginger
ale, just to be social. The city rascal doesn’t even need to wink at
the bartender to cause the latter to drug the drink, as he is well paid
by the gang, and before the countryman and the city rascal have got
far Mr. Wayback begins to feel stupid, and can be easily induced to go
anywhere his leader suggests while they are “trying the counterfeit
money.” However, the bills are just as good as gold, being absolutely
genuine, and the “dealer in bad money” can safely lead his confiding
friend into any bank, and have one or two bills changed, just to
convince the jay. Perhaps Mr. Wayback is so thoroughly drugged that
he falls asleep when landed in one of the out-of-the-way rooms of the
gang. In that case it is an easy matter to drug him more and rob him of
all the good money he possesses, then take him out after nightfall and
leave him to sleep off the effects of his potion in some alleyway.
On the other hand, if the would be rascal of a countryman keeps awake
he will be introduced to one or two other jolly good fellows, and a
transaction will be made in the aforementioned room. The two or three
thousand dollars in real money (which the countryman supposes to be
excellent counterfeits) will be wrapped in a package and sealed. Then
the jay will be asked to produce the $300 or $500 that he is to pay
for the pile. While he is doing this, one of the confederates adroitly
substitutes another package for the one on the table, being exactly
similar in outward appearance and weight, but filled with sawdust. Mr.
Wayback doesn’t see all this, and the crooks are very clever withal.
About the time that he has his good money counted to pay over, one
of the gang looks out the window, whispers that two detectives are
approaching, and they suddenly skip, one of them, of course, grabbing
the countryman’s payment, and hastily suggesting that he take his
package and get out of the city as soon as possible. This he will do,
and ultimately find out how he has been swindled.
But what can he do?
He intended to be dishonest, and if he complains to the police he will
be liable to arrest. The swindlers have got his money, he has obtained
the experience and goes home a sadder but wiser man.
This game is worked all the year around and it is astonishing how new
“suckers” are obtained so readily. Police and post office officials use
all sorts of methods to kill the business but their success is limited.
The “green goods” men make large sums of money and live high.
To all who are looking for counterfeit money let us say, “Don’t.”
You cannot get it anyhow, but even if you could, the chances are
nine in ten that you would soon occupy a felon’s cell. Seldom a
counterfeiter goes free for long, no matter how clever he may be.
Frequently the styles of “green goods” invitations are altered, and
to one who is bound to be dishonest, it might appear that, after
all, the special scheme offered him may be all right--that is,
dishonestly all right--and that the counterfeit money can be obtained
after negotiations. But it can’t. We do not deny but that spurious
money is passed, but only in the inner circle of crookdom are such
things arranged, and it would be as easy for a camel to walk through
a key-hole as for any but a “cut and dried” old time crook to get an
“inside” on the counterfeit money business.
Be honest; it pays. The writer sincerely hopes that this little volume
may be the means of saving the money of many a man, and of diverting
his ideas in a more legitimate direction. Let such as are tempted by
the “green goods” monster, and who have money that they could invest,
put such money in the savings bank at a small per cent. The result will
be a fair income, but better still, a _clear conscience_.
Extensive Mailing.
Here is a statement about the extensive mailing of “green goods”
circulars. The story was told by Van Buren before the Lexow committee
in 1894.
Benjamin D. Van Buren, a discharged chief clerk of the Jersey City post
office, told a startling story.
“I was chief mailing clerk,” said Mr. Van Buren. “My attention was
first called to the green goods business about eight years ago. The
first thing that I noticed was the hiring of boxes by green goods
men. I knew them by sight only. This lasted two or three months. Then
my attention was attracted to some stories in the newspapers about
the stopping of circulars at the New York post office. Large amounts
of mail were stopped there. Then came some men with big bundles of
circulars without the “return” stamp on them. I suspected they were
green goods circulars stopped at the New York post office. I went to
Postmaster Dickerson with my suspicions, and he told me to keep a
strict watch and see if I could find an envelope open. I did in a few
days, and found one of the regular circulars in it. I gave it to the
assistant postmaster, who took it to Inspector James in New York. Then
Postmaster Dickerson ordered me to send the matter out. Later on it was
discussed with Inspector Egerton of Philadelphia, who has charge of
the postal district in which Jersey City is located; and the rule went
forth to forward at once, regardless of character. Immense quantities
of green goods circulars were then handled from that office. After
a time the circulars came in such quantities that they were not put
through the windows, but taken around to the back door, the same as
other big users of the mails. Postage stamps were sold in big lots by
the assistant postmaster to the green goods men. I should say they must
have bought $500 or $600 worth a day.”
New Dodges.
The following interesting story appeared in the _New York Herald_
of February 10, 1895, and indicates that there has been but little
cessation in the “green goods” business:
Mr. Hace Ead, of Texas, who comes on to New York every spring to buy
“green goods,” and who each time takes home a valise full of bricks,
but who, nevertheless, returns to the business again, hoping against
hope, will have no more difficulty in making his purchases this year
than he had last. The “green goods” men are still at their games,
flooding the country with circulars and disposing of bags of rubbish at
fabulous prices.
The revelations before the Lexow committee did not have the effect of
driving the “sharps” into legitimate occupations. While the testimony
was being given against them they kept in retreat in Jersey City, but
even during the hearing of the “green goods” witnesses, “come-ons” were
arriving in shoals at all the Jersey City depots, and the brick maker
who supplies the swindlers at wholesale prices made his usual daily
deliveries at their offices. The bricks, carefully wrapped up in paper,
were distributed to the four corners of the United States.
John Sheffield, of Manchester, N. Y., who came to Jersey City recently
to rob the “green goods” men, and who did steal $1,600 from two of
them, says that a large part of the savings of residents in his town
has gone to the operators in this city. It was to get revenge and to
obtain some of these savings back that Sheffield came along. The place
where the operators said they would meet him at No. 87 West street, New
York, but he preferred to do business with them in his room at Taylor’s
Hotel, in Jersey City, where he kept his black jack, and where he
succeeded in disabling one of the men who wanted to jabe him in the eye
with an umbrella and recover the money.
The “green goods” men live in New York still. They always did a good
deal of their business in Jersey City, and they do it there now. Some
of the odd looking farmers who come from the central part of New York
State, and who have never seen a piece of water so large that it could
not be crossed by a bridge, are afraid to trust themselves to the
ferryboats. As soon as they see the river they rebel, and positively
refuse to leave dry ground. This necessitates a good deal of the
business being done in Jersey City. Another reason for the selection
of that town originally was the cheapness of police “protection” as
compared with its cost in this city.