Why Genealogy is Just So Dah Gone Fun  by Karla Stover

Several years ago, I rescued a book called, Strange Stories, Amazing Facts. It is what I would call "bathroom literature." It's an oldetr book, published before the Anastasia / Anna Anderson contraversary was settled by Prince Philip's DNA. Although, truth-be-told, I am a bit of a conspiracy theraist about that. Take a look at the side-by-side AI generated picture below. Their heighth, build, eye color, face shape, teeth issues, foot deformity, nose, and hair color were all the same. And if she had been genuine, the repercussions would have it would have been an embarassment to the Soviet Union and there would have been lawsuits over estates, jewelry, bank accounts and who knows what else.

                                                                   But I Digress

Included in the book was a short story about Emerich Juettner, known to the FBI as Mister 880 because his case number was 880. Over thre years, he had supported his family by working as a picture frame gilder, maintenance man, building superintendent, and junk collector. By age 62, his wife had died and Mr. Juettner was having a hard time making ends meet. And so he began making one dollar bills--poorly-made ones, at that. He drew the design by hand on a cheap zinc plate, he used a toy press and cheap paper, spelled Washington's name as Wahsington, and drew the president's picture.  I'll cut him slack because he was born in Austria-Hungary. He never used them at the same place and spread the wealth around for 10 years before being caught.

 Now, how does this fit into genealogy you might ask? Well, I have a counterfeiter in my family, only family legend says he made pennies. He was my dad's Uncle Irwin, and I used to tell Dad, Irwin didn't have much iniative is pennies were the best he could do. One day the San Francisco raided a two-room cave under the First Street approach to the Bay Bridge looking for squatters and found, instead, was what the paper called "an elaborately-equipped, one-man counterfeiting establishment" along with "molds. dies, metal, and spurious coins." The tip off came after a Bay Bridge highway patrolman glance hastily around before crawling into the cave. The Secret Service men amazed that my great uncle would have wasted time making pennies which, they said, were nearly perfect, but in fairness to Uncle Irwin, he was making other coins.

Uncle Irwin had other issues including being charged with adultry, and he end up being killed in a riot at Oregon State Hospital where, I just learned, his cremains are waiting to be claimed.