Federal Bureau of Genealogical Investigation

Every day when I come home from work these days, I check the mail for a letter from the FBI...

My mother's father Samuel Barnet Snyder was one of six kids.  I didn't meet them all. Grandpa's oldest brother, Lou, was one I had only heard of.  Unlike all the others, Lou spelled his last name Schneider. His family lived in Boston.  Everyone else had moved to New York and then, of course, Florida.  Most intriguingly, it was said that Lou got involved with organized crime during and after prohibition.  Many families have such a story but in our family the specific buzz is that  Lou went to prison, taking a fall for Joe Adonis.

Sam's son, my Uncle Phil... (we call him Plain Phil, to distinguish him from the uncle who is my father's brother-in-law.  We call him Big Phil.)  Anyway, Plain recalled that as a kid, in the 40s, it was noticed that Uncle Lou wasn't around much any more.  "Where's Uncle Lou?" he and the young cousins would ask?  "Uncle Lou's on a trip," came the answer.  No more would be said.

Sam and Lou's youngest sister Ethel was also reluctant to speak about her brother Lou's dealings  "Lou did what he did," she once told Plain in later years deflecting a direct question.  Another time, however, while giving an oral history she related a story about meeting her brother for lunch.  The waitress came over to take their order.  "My kid sister," Lou told the server.  She gave them a doubting look.  During the meal Lou handed Ethel a moderately sized package and asked her to put it in a safety deposit box.  She assented.  Not long after, she was stunned to hear that Lou had been arrested.  What was in the package?  "I always assumed it was money," Ethel reported.

I have done some poking around looking for Lou's prison records.  There is a Louis Schneider who did  time at Leavenworth for violating drug laws in the 1920s but the National Archive in Missouri said that that Louis named his mother as Rachel.  And besides, the dates are too early.  In any case, Plain thinks that Lou did his time in Joliet.  The State of Illinois, however, keeps prison records confidential for 75 years so if Lou went in in 1945, I'll have to wait until 2020 to hear about it from them

It turns out that Lou, 10 years older than my grandfather, had brought some of his younger siblings along on the occasional early jobs.  While Lou had stayed involved, Sam had not, nor had a middle brother, Barney.  Still, Sam had met a few of the figures of the day.

Another family tale

During the days when  Grandpa Sam ran with Uncle Lou, Sam also met Joe Adonis.  Many years went by and Sam found himself in a hotel bar.  As a salesman he frequently struck up conversations with strangers and he found himself chatting with a man.  "What brings you here?" Sam inquired.  The man said, "Actually, I work for the FBI and I'm here checking up on Joey Adonis." Presumably, he didn't know that Sam might be a 'known acquaintance.'  The two men ended their conversation and some time later in walks Joe Adonis himself.  Joe scans the room, spots Sam, who he has not seen in many years, and walks over.  "Hello, Freckles!" say Joe, clapping Sam on the back.  "Hi Joe.  That guy over there works for the FBI."  "Goodbye, Freckles," replied Joe, without missing a beat.  He turned on his heel and walked out.

I realized that if Joe Adonis (and Dutch Schultz and Lucky Luciano, also associates of Lou) were of interest to the FBI, maybe Lou had made it onto the radar of some G-Men as well.  And if Lou, why not Sam or Barney?  So, I went to FBI.gov and did my own investigating as to how one makes a request under the Freedom of Information Act.  (Spoilers: you fill out a web form.)  I submitted a request asking what the FBI might have on the activities of Lou, Sam and Barney Schneider (a.k.a. Snyder) in the 1940s.  A few days later I received an envelope from Virgina acknowledging receipt of my inquiry regarding the three persons.  The internal review had been initiated and I would be hearing from them.  Exactly one week later I received a letter, the merits of which lie mostly in what was not said.  In essence it stated, "We have nothing on Barney."  That was a month ago.  So each day, when I come home, I check the mail to see if the other shoe has dropped.

Oh goodie, a new blog

Recently I have been digging into my genealogy.  I've been bitten by this bug a few times over the years and it's got a hold of me again.  And this time the game changer is THE INTERNET.  Gevalt!  Back in '97, the last time I poked around these questions, the main approach (after interviewing your oldest living family members) was to send inquiries off to random governmental offices around the country.  You included some key names and a personal check for an amount that seemed trifling if you succeeded and exorbitant if you struck out.  Then in some number of weeks they might send you faded copies of faded documents.  But I recently caught an episode of Who Do You Think You Are on TV.  Things have really changed.  There is a lot of instant gratification.  Type, click, SHAZAM!  You can practically Google your family history.

My uncle warned me that it can be addictive.  He has a friend who's been spending thousands traveling to Europe to chase after original documents or some such.  But there's a thrill when you reveal a new piece of the puzzle and it clicks into place.  A new door opens and you can see a few more down the hall.  So you just have to keep going.  ...Actually, maybe that's the definition of addiction so...good point, Uncle Michael.

In any case, my wife Jill, has played witness to a variety of passing fascinations of mine.  Back in Chicago, exorcising old high school demons, I retook calculus at a community college.  (Take that, Mr. Geller z"l!)  She wondered if my need truly extended to calc 2?  I picked up knitting and made a bunch of clothes for the baby while he was...in development.  He'll soon outgrow my biggest items and at this rate who can keep up?  Besides, my hands aren't free anymore.  How long will this genealogy trip last, she might be wondering.  And how much money will he want to spend on it?  (In our home we call this "The Husband Game."  People of any gender can play.  All you have to do is look at your partner with concern and ask, "What's that gonna cost me?")  So, a few days ago, reflecting on the (ahem)  intensity of this recent obsession, she pointedly asked, "So what are you going to... do with all this information you're gathering."

"Do with it?" I though.

"DO with it!?" I harrumphed.

"Is it not knowledge for it's own sake?!" (This line is best read aloud with full defensive self-righteousness.)

For years she's encouraged (nudged? pestered? harangued) me to write a play about my family.  I keep replying that I have great characters (you know who you are!) but no plot.  However, the process of doing genealogy provides a genre and narrative framework.  It's a time-traveling, detective story.  Tracking each of my illusive Great Great Great Whosimawhatsises back to Europe or wherever.  I don't feel ready for a play, but a blog...  that's a contemporary medium well-suited to my sub-clinical attention-deficient style.  And if blogs are already passe, then it's the perfect time for me to show up to the party.

Will anybody care?  

Jill and I have son, Eli.  Any minute now he'll be one year old.  Over this year, I have become aware that not everyone is as convulsed with giddy joy looking at his pictures as we are.  Expanding on that hard won self-awareness, I wonder if anyone will give a half a rat's tuchus about the deeper history of my family.  So I'll state here and now that ultimately I'm doing it for me.  And I suppose for Eli's legacy.  But if anyone else gets a vicarious thrill at my discoveries, or if they resonate with your own family's journeys, or if they make you curious to do your own digging, then...you're welcome.