The Silicon Valley Bank closed a few weeks back, making headlines and sending shockwaves. Although Janet Yellen, U.S. Treasury secretary said, “Our banking is still sound,” we have learned that other banks have suffered this same fate. Deregulation has been blamed for risk-taking in which banks have been involved. Fortunately, the FDIC (Federal Deposit Insurance Company) exists, providing an insurance up to $250,000 per depositor, per insured bank, on each account ownership category. Sadly, no such reassurance was available for the thousands of bank accounts that closed during the Depression era.
Although I was a youngster at that time, I still remember, quite vividly, the tragedy of our local Melrose Park Bank closing. Most of all, I remember the fortitude of my remarkable mother. She was able to keep both the family and our family business afloat. My parents owned a small work clothing and sports equipment store in Melrose Park. Our home was the two-room living quarters at the back of the store. My mother ran the store and managed to cook, clean, and be a loving mom. How she accomplished this, and always with a positive attitude, I’ll never understand.
Mom had an evening routine of placing the store’s daily earnings in the night depository of our local bank. Sometimes I’d join her on her evening trek. Frank, the friendly bank security guard, would often be outside the bank, puffing on his pipe, and ready to converse with anyone who walked by. I was usually treated to one of the lollipops he carried with him. It is almost impossible to imagine a bank guard today feeling secure enough to behave as casually as Frank did.
I shudder, recalling the day the bank abruptly closed. No account holder could retrieve any of his/her money. I still feel my mom squeezing my hand as we stood with others clamoring at the bank door. We could see Frank inside acknowledging us with a look of helplessness. Mom pounded on the door pleading for our funds. “Everything we have is in this bank. How can we live without it?” It was a traumatic, unforgettable experience for our family and for countless others.
Business at our store dwindled from very few customers to none. Many days no one even entered the store. It was at this time that my folks decided to just give much of the merchandise away, especially to those few who were able to work and needed work clothes. Dad wanted to close the store; Mom convinced him that we truly had no other place to go, nor another way to eke out a living. At least we were able to continue living in the back of the store. People who had accepted clothing from the store were very generous in return, giving us home-cooked meals, occasionally a dollar or two, and our saloon-keeper neighbor provided scraps for our dog, Flash. To pick up my dad’s spirits, I remember Mom teasing him, saying, “No customers, no nuisance returns. Isn’t that great?” Mom didn’t allow any of us to linger in self-pity.
One of our grateful neighbors who had received clothing from the store gifted my dad a pearl-handled gun. He told my dad it had great value, and selling it would make us some money. With much reluctance, my dad accepted it. He had never owned a gun nor felt a need to do so. A week later, two gun-toting robbers stormed into the store, demanding money and the pearl handled gun (we wondered how they knew about the gun). They were disgusted that the cash register had only $20 in it, the basic amount to begin the day’s business. As my terrified dad fumbled to open the kitchen safe to get them the gun, the robbers’ anger and impatience grew. They were equally annoyed by Flash’s furious barking and growling. Flash was tied, nearby, to the leg of the kitchen stove, as he was most days. One of the hoodlums ordered the other to “shut that goddamn dog up.” The other answered, “Hell, no! I’m not going near that animal.” As my dad continued to fumble, my mom who was shielding me, offered to lend a hand with the safe. With no provocation, one of the robbers viciously slammed the butt of his gun on my dad’s head. Spouting blood, Dad slumped to the floor, and Mom rushed to open the safe, retrieving the sought after pearl-handled pistol.
Dad survived the attack, but our lives were never quite the same. We endured the robbery and the Depression. Bank closures and instability impacted everyone in our country, in one way or another. In addition to financial horror, people’s ideas and interpersonal relationships changed. “Money for money’s sake” became the goal for many. Distrust, racism, greed, and jealousy became more commonplace. As a society, we became more selfish, with less kindness, care, and concern for one another.
In today’s world, I fear history is repeating itself. With financial insecurity and banks failing, will the pursuit of “money for money’s sake” become the norm? We have all witnessed the related growth of mean-spirited selfishness. Let’s not allow history to repeat itself.
How can we, as individuals and a society, make sure this doesn’t happen?