Assigned to probe the causes of the 1929 crash, he led what became known as the “Pecora commission,” making front-page news when he called Charles Mitchell, the head of the largest bank in America, National City Bank (now Citibank), as his first witness. “Sunshine Charley” strode into the hearings with a good deal of contempt for both Pecora and his commission. Though shareholders had taken staggering losses on bank stocks, Mitchell admitted that he and his top officers had set aside millions of dollars from the bank in interest-free loans to themselves. Mitchell also revealed that despite making more than $1 million in bonuses in 1929, he had paid no taxes due to losses incurred from the sale of diminished National City stock—to his wife. Pecora revealed that National City had hidden bad loans by packaging them into securities and pawning them off to unwitting investors. By the time Mitchell’s testimony made the newspapers, he had been disgraced, his career had been ruined, and he would soon be forced into a million-dollar settlement of civil charges of tax evasion. “Mitchell,” said Senator Carter Glass of Virginia, “more than any 50 men is responsible for this stock crash.”

That was just the beginning. The proceedings became a “circus” and a media sensation. Read about how Pecora unearthed the dirty secrets of the banking industry that led to the Great Depression at Past Imperfect. Link

This specimen comes from the National Museum of American History at the Smithsonian.

When the Depression and resulting banking crisis hit their community, the residents of the coastal town of Pismo Beach, California picked an unusual but logical medium of exchange… The Chamber of Commerce and no fewer than eleven merchants issued clamshell scrip.

Each piece was numbered, and each piece was signed on the front and on the back. As with the stamp notes of the Midwest, it was necessary to sign each clamshell on the back in order to keep it in circulation. No formal requirements may have existed, but informal pressure certainly would have endorsed the practice.

Restwell Cabins issued “notes” in three denominations: twenty-five cents, fifty cents, and one dollar. The larger the amount, the larger the shell. The issue may have been partly intended as a spoof, or for sale to tourists, in the manner of German notgeld around 1920. Redemption would never be a problem because collectors would want to keep these pieces in their cabinets or trade them with their friends.

Link.

His real name was Sam Stone. “B. Virdot” was a combination of his daughters’ names—Barbara, Virginia (my mother) and Dorothy. My grandmother had mentioned something about his largesse to my mother when she was a young adult, but it had remained a family secret. Now, 30 years after her father’s death, she was comfortable letting the secret out.

Collectively, the letters offer a wrenching vision of the Great Depression and of the struggle within the souls of individuals, many too proud to speak of their anguish even to their loved ones. Some sought B. Virdot’s generosity not for themselves, but for their neighbors, friends or relatives. Stirred by their words, I set out to find what became of them, tracking down their descendants, wondering if the $5 gifts had made any difference. From each family, I received permission to use the letter.

Read some of the stories of those families at Smithsonian magazine. Link

Dorothea Lange captured some of the iconic images of the Great Depression.  As such she became one of the founding figures of the golden age of American photojournalism.  From sharecroppers to the Salvation Army, she recorded the times as they were then – and they were pretty harsh if the truth be told.

Lange took to roaming the streets taking pictures of homeless and unemployed people and this very quickly drew the admiration of local photographers. One thing led to another and she found herself employed by the rather harshly named Federal Resettlement Administration, later to become the Farm Security Administration (FSA). He job was to capture the lives and times of those affected by the Depression and to pass these images on – free of charge – to newspapers and magazines. The remarkable image of an ex-slave above was taken in 1938. Just over seventy years separates this shot and the Investiture of President Obama. One wonders if this woman – if informed of this future news by some errant time traveler – would choose to believe the shape of things to come.

Link

From the Upcoming ueue, submitted by taliesyn30.

“The picture came out in the paper to show the people what hard times was. People was starving in that camp. There was no food,” she says. “We were ashamed of it. We didn’t want no one to know who we were.”

The photograph helped define the Great Depression, yet McIntosh says her mom didn’t let it define her, although the picture “was always talked about in our family.”

“It always stayed with her. She always wanted a better life, you know.”

McIntosh talked to CNN about what her life was like in those days. She now lives in Modesto, California. Link -Thanks, Geekazoid!

(image credit: Gregg Canes/CNN)