It was the "Season" again and the con men, forgers, and now, counterfeiters, were giving us more gray hair than Jay Leno. We'd try to give the businesses a heads up when we became aware of a particular weasel, but, in those days before computer networks, we just weren't very effective.
Counterfeiters were a sporadic problem. When some crooked Rembrandt turned out some Primo plates or some creditable off-set printed fakes, there would be a flow for a while. When the clerks would finally figure out that the $20 dollar bills that didn't quite feel right, and had ink that smeared when you rubbed it, and all had the same serial number, were bogus, then counterfeiters would move on.
At the time there weren't any magnetic threads, or iridescent inks, or watermarks to help clerks insure that a bill was genuine. And, it being the Season, the clerks were harried and most didn't even try to pick out bad bills. Some were worse than others.
I took a bogus bill, that had been turned in with the regular receipts by a market on 5th Avenue South, back to the store. Showing it to the manager, he said he just couldn't understand how that could happen. His clerks diligently inspected all twenties (the most popular bill to counterfeit). I asked if I could try an experiment. He okayed it.
I went to the checkout counter and asked for a pack of cigarettes. The clerk handed me a pack and and I handed her a counterfeit twenty. Not just a bogus twenty, but one that had been stamped with red ink, in half-inch letters, twice on each side COUNTERFEIT. She immediately took it and gave me my change. I think the manager might still be sputtering.
So, we were being hammered by the bad guys--and gals--and still weren't making much of a dent in the crime rate. But, we finally figured out how to kick some criminal butt.
Next time you'll see how. I promise.
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