By Joel Thurtell
This is Chapter One of the book I’m writing about a small-town banker who defied President Roosevelt and kept her bank open during the 1933 Bank Holiday:
“NatCity’s going down,” thundered the financial adviser who happened to phone me in fall 2008. “I’m telling everyone. ‘Get your money out of NatCity — ASAP!’ ”
Big deal, I thought. First, I don’t bank at NatCity, and where we do have accounts, we don’t have anything like a hundred thou to worry about.
Then, I had another thought: Gosh, isn’t she sort of like, well, inflaming the situation? Fanning the flames?
Is she, maybe, promoting a bank run?
Socially, isn’t that a BAD THING? Why, that’s the kind of loose talk than can start a, you know, a PANIC!
From U.S. History classes, I remembered reading about them: The Panic of 1837. The Panic of 1907.
Wasn’t the Great Depression in the 1930s started by a panic?
It reminded me of a story I wrote back in 1983 for the South Bend Tribune, where I once worked as a reporter. It was an unforgettable account from an unforgettable woman who did an unforgettable thing: She was president of a small bank, itself highly unusual, in that she may have been the only female bank head in those days. Her family-owned G.W. Jones Exchange Bank, state-chartered and a member of the Federal Reserve System, was, I believed, the only bank in the little town of Marcellus in southwestern Michigan. What was so amazing is that she stood up to the government during President Franklin Roosevelt’s 1933 Bank Holiday. When all other banks closed, she kept on cashing checks and letting customers withdraw deposits.
She told me her story in 1983. I listened, but I had a superior approach, as in: Panics? Thing of the past. Bank runs? Throwbacks to a benighted age.
Then, a few decades later, came those bubbles. There was the dot-com thing, then real estate tanked. Sub-primes? I doubt Donna Schurtz could have dreamed of such a scheme. Countrywide, the biggest mortgage lender in the country, collapsed. Then in the summer of 2008 the unthinkable happened – out in California, there was a run on deposits at a bank called IndyMac.
Wow! Isn’t that what happened in the Depression?
At the time the financial adviser called with her “NatCity’s going bust” news, Wachovia was in deep weeds, Lehman was in its death agony, Merrill Lynch was moribund and in need of a bailout from Bank of America which soon went south. More and worse bad news about banks lay in wait. I kept thinking about that little bank in Marcellus and the story I heard from 90-year-old Donna V. Schurtz, the woman who rebelled against FDR’s Bank Holiday. Was there something in that tale that spoke to me, to us, in the 21st Century? Was there more behind this story than I knew when I wrote it back in ’83?
When I retired from the Detroit Free Press, where I was a reporter for 23 years until 2007, I put seven steel file cabinets in my basement and packed them with the paper residue of a career based on interview notes and documents. Slowly, I’m making an index. In the summer of 2008, after IndyMac was rescued by the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation, I had an urge to re-read my old story about the Jones bank. But the file on the bank story eluded me.
Truth to tell, I wasn’t all that motivated until the financial adviser called with her panic-inducing speech about NatCity’s death agony. Suddenly, I was more than curious – I wanted to tell that old bank rebellion story on my blog, joelontheroad.com.
Finally, after poking through all 36 drawers and some cardboard boxes, I found my file on Marcellus and the Jones bank. But as I read my notes, including the hand-written transcript of my tape-recorded interview with Donna Schurtz and her daughter, Abigail Schten, I noticed some little problems. Inconsistencies.
For instance, Donna told me the Roosevelt Bank Holiday happened in 1932. I actually used that year in my January 29, 1984 story about her achievement in the South Bend Tribune’s Michiana Magazine. Oops.
In fall 2008, a quick check on Wikipedia showed me that the Roosevelt Bank Holiday actually took place March 6-10. But it was in 1933, not 1932. Oh well, no biggie. I corrected the date for the story I posted on my blog the morning of October 3, 2008.
Back in 1983, Donna Schurtz boasted to me that she’d persuaded officials in the FDIC in Washington, D.C., to permit her bank to stay open. If I’d been a more knowledgeable historian, I might have noticed something amiss in that statement, too.
I was living in Marcellus at the time my Tribune story about Donna and her bank was published. My wife and I had a checking account at the Jones Bank, a dignified stone building in a village so small you could hear cows lowing at one end of town and smell pig manure from the other side. There were 1,134 men, women and children living in Marcellus in 1980.
Marcellus is in the northeast corner of Cass County, a rolling, heavily wooded region with lots of streams and lakes. In 1980 there were slightly less than 50,000 people and a bit shy of 200,000 pigs living in Cass County. Hogs were not the only agriculture in Cass County. There were corn and soybeans, of course, and a few fruit orchards in the northwest corner. But that rolling terrain also was ideal for a cash crop that had to be concealed, sometimes in the middle of a cornfield. Yes, those rugged hills and woods made great cover for some sizable marijuana plantations, which the sheriff would raid, directing cops to the spot from the county helicopter and later phoning reporters like me to come shoot photos of wagonloads of weed.
If you needed a bank, the Jones bank was the only one for miles around, but I knew people from as far off as Three Rivers, where there were other banks, who lived through the Great Depression and still did all their banking at the Jones bank. They remembered how Donna Schurtz let them take money out of their accounts in 1933 when every other bank was locked.
The Jones Bank was founded by Donna’s grandfather, George Washington Jones, a Quaker who went to California during the Gold Rush. Her grandfather was still in California in 1850 when he learned that his father was sick back in Michigan. He strapped gold around his chest in leather moneybags and went home to pay off the family debts. So one story goes. Family members argue over whether he actually had much gold — maybe it was only enough to make a gold wedding ring. The key thing is that he dropped his quest for riches and went home to help.
The Joneses had come from Ohio and along with other Quakers had settled in central Cass County in a township they named after William Penn, the benefactor of Quakers in Pennsylvania. In 1869, G.W. heard a railroad was coming through and somehow got a rough idea where the tracks would be laid. He bought land around what is now Wakelee, and he platted another town, Marcellus. In 1870, the Peninsular Railroad missed Wakelee but came through Marcellus, and G.W. made money selling lots in the fledgling village. Then he made $14,000 on a clover and timothy seed deal.
In 1877, he started the bank. By 1884, its assets were $86,561.35. By 1893 – the Panic of ’93 – the bank was broke.
In those days, there was no federal deposit insurance. If a bank failed, you were out of luck. My paternal grandparents, Howard C. and Harriet Thurtell, lost all their savings when their bank failed in the Depression. That would have been around the time Donna Schurtz was battling the feds to keep her bank open.
In 1893, the Joneses anted up money and re-started their bank. In the 1880s, the Jones bank didn’t pay interest. People considered themselves lucky to have a safe place to store their cash. It was safe, of course, unless there was one of those hysterical phenomena known as a “run.”
Competition changed things. In Marcellus in 1907, the year of another big panic, a new bank was founded and it offered higher interest than the 3 percent G.W. Jones by then was paying. The Jones bank responded to the rival by handing out pencils stamped “Better sleep on 3 percent than lie awake on higher rates.” It was good advice, it turned out.
By the early 1930s, the Jones bank was still competing against a First State Savings Bank in Marcellus. Vaughn Bartlett, onetime mayor, fire chief, postmaster, village marshal, county treasurer told me how he was warned the First State Bank was about to go under.
“An old-timer fellow said to me one day, ‘Vaughn, the bank’s gonna go broke here in a few days.’ ”
“I says, ‘How do you know?’ ”
“He says, ‘I saw Sam Lowry, the cashier, working there with his derby on — he’s ready to run out of there any minute.’
“My sister-in-law had a lot of money in there (the First State Bank) and she got 50 cents on the dollar,” Bartlett told me.
That gives you some idea of the banking industry in Marcellus, where peppermint farming was big and farmers would store their refined mint — worth big buycks — in the bank vault.
When I lived in Marcellus, running the South Bend Tribune’s Cass County News Bureau from the front porch of our house in the early 1980s, there was a drinking fountain near the teller windows with a sign that said, “A FREE DRINK.”
In 1921, Donna Schurtz took over the bank. She was 28. She’d earned a bachelor’s degree from the University of Michigan in 1916. Her major: Latin. She’d planned on teaching, but when she graduated in 1916, her father’s health was poor and her mother convinced her she was needed at the bank.
When I interviewed Donna, she was 90 and still reading Cicero in Latin. Her daughter, Abigail, was listening.
Donna said her grandfather, G.W. Jones, had walked to California. “Well, he did have some common sense, and he decided he wasn’t going to walk back. So he went south to Panama, rode up the Mississippi home.”
“Well, now, mother,” said Abigail, “How would he get from Panama to the Mississippi River?”
Donna burst into laughter: “You tell me!”
When the order came to shut the bank, she told me, “Well, we phoned down to Washington and said, ‘Now we’re perfectly sound. Our community is unused to what you have requested.’ ”
“Well, you had to allow the public to have some money it its pocket, or they would have gone crazy!
“We had quite a balance in Detroit (in a correspondent bank), and we had asked the teller — the currency department — to send us $40,000.
“They said, ‘Forty thousand dollars!’ ”
“And I said, ‘You send that to us, or we’ll come right up there and look after you.’ Well, we got it. Nothing to be polite about.”
She had the currency stacked on counters and window-sills. Then she invited townspeople to come into the bank and see that it had money.
Spreading a rumor that a man wearing a derby hat means a bank is going bust is one way to start people withdrawing their funds in droves.
But stacking packets of real currency where everybody can see it is a way to stop a bank run from happening.
Now, I can hear people saying, “That’s a quaint story from yesteryear, but stacking hundred dollar bills in the windows of hundreds of Wachovia branches ain’t gonna save that bank.”
They would be right.
But think about it: Wouldn’t the financial bailout plan of Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson and Federal Reserve Chairman Ben Bernanke accomplish roughly the same thing Donna Schurtz managed to do in tiny Marcellus back in ‘33?
She knew that if her customers could see the money, they would not be so likely to stampede her teller windows and actually demand to have their savings.
She bolstered their confidence that the micro-economy surrounding her little G. W. Jones Exchange Bank was sound.
It’s 2009 now, and we’re talking macro-macro-macro, but the logic is the same.
Isn’t spreading $700 billion of cash through the financial system sort of like stacking currency on a bank’s counters?
It might just be what it takes to keep our economy — and we’re talking the world’s economy — from slapping on its derby hat and hightailing it.
We’re talking faith, but sometimes faith needs a kick-start.
Still, there are differences, it seems to me, between Donna Schurtz’s stunt in 1933 and the plans for a massive bailout of banks today. In 1933, President Roosevelt was imposing discipline and REGULATION on financial institutions with the creation of safeguards like deposit insurance and watchdogs like the Securities and Exchange Commission. But the Clinton and Bush regimes dismantled and defanged those watchdogs, leading us back to a situation more like my grandparents faced under the Republican pro-business Herbert Hoover.
Then too, Donna Schurtz’s $40,000 – worth more than $630,000 in 2007 — was backed by something of substance — gold.
What’s behind the Treasury’s $700 billion today?
Faith — and a mammoth printing press.
There was nothing inflationary about what Donna Schurtz did. Can we say the same about creating hundreds of billions of new money?
The biggest difference of all between 1933 and today, of course, is that back then the nation had someone in charge — someone who cared more about the common good than about the good of corporations.
Keep the faith, for sure, and keep your fingers crossed.
Drop me a line at joelthurtell(at)gmail.com