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.