Emerich Juettner was an elderly New Yorker who printed crude one-dollar bills and quietly spent them throughout his neighborhood. The counterfeits were so poor that they should have been easy to trace—yet he evaded the Secret Service for nearly a decade.
Regular contributor Bill Bryk tells the strange story of the harmless-seeming counterfeiter known to investigators as Mister 880. Juettner’s scheme eventually inspired a book and film, turning a minor criminal into an unlikely American folk figure.
📖 Read the Episode Transcript
This is Lee Habib, and this is Our American Stories. And we tell stories about everything here on this show, from the arts to sports, and from business to history, and everything in between, including your story. They’re some of our favorites. Send them to OurAmericanStories.com. We love telling you quirky stories from our history here on the show. And this one comes to you from Bill Brake, a friend from New Hampshire. It’s a story of the best-worst counterfeiter in American history.
Emeric Jutner, also known as Edward Mueller, who lived near Broadway and West Ninety-Sixth Street in Manhattan, eluded the counterfeiting laws from 1938 to 1948, longer than any other maker of the queer in American history. The first 63 years of Jutner’s life were upright and respectable. Short, blue-eyed, white-haired, mustachioed, and blessed with a winning, if toothless, grin. Jutner had learned the rudiments of photo-engraving in his native Austria. After emigrating to America at 13, he worked as a building superintendent while tinkering with numerous unsuccessful inventions. With his children grown, the newly widowed Jutner retired in 1937 to the Upper West Side, where he lived with his mongrel terrier. He worked as a junkman, picking up discarded appliances and old tires from vacant lots with a pushcart, but he wasn’t making enough to live on and soon found himself nearing destitution. So, using his ancient engraving skills, he photographed a dollar bill and recorded the images on sensitized zinc plates, which he then etched in an acid bath. With a little retouching and a small hand press, he was ready to make more money by, well, making more money. The U.S. Secret Service, which has chased counterfeiters since 1865 (protecting presidents became part of their mission only in 1901), first noticed Jutner’s activity when a phony one-dollar silver certificate turned up at a cigar store on Broadway near One Hundred Second Street. Even as the agency opened a new case file, numbered 880, agents felt everything about the bill was unusual. No one in recent times had considered singles worth the trouble to counterfeit. More importantly, the bill was obviously, laughably bad. While U.S. currency was printed on 75 percent cotton and 25 percent linen stock, with red and blue fibers of various lengths embedded in the paper, Jutner had used cheap bond paper from some corner store. The numbers were fuzzy; many of the letters were misshaped or illegible. Washington’s portrait was, as the Secret Service itself reported, poorly executed. “Washington’s right shoulder blends with the oval background. The left eye is represented by a black spot. The right eye is almond-shaped.” But the bogus singles kept turning up. Those that could be traced had been passed to the subway and elevated lines, and newspaper vendors, bartenders, and other small businesses that handled hundreds, if not thousands, of one-dollar bills daily. Jutner carefully passed his fakes only at busy times, such as rush hour on the subway. A five-cent fare paid with a phony dollar yielded a ninety-five-cent profit, and as the Secret Service later learned, Jutner never spent a fake in the same store twice and passed only one or two bills a day. By December 1939, File 880 contained some 600 counterfeits. The bills grew worse with time. While touching up the plates, Jutner misspelled the President’s name as “Wah Sington Wah Chingtun.” Nonetheless, he kept passing bogus singles throughout World War II, despite successive Treasury publicity campaigns. Apparently, many of those who found themselves holding a Jutner counterfeit kept it as a souvenir instead of turning it over to the government. By 1947, the Secret Service held over 5,000 of Jutner’s phony singles. Yet, despite what New Yorker writer asked, Saint Clair McElway called a “manhunt that exceeded in intensity and scope any other manhunt in the Chronicle of Counterfeiting.” Despite thousands of interviews and hundreds of thousands of flyers, the agency didn’t have a clue to his identity. A few weeks before Christmas 1947, Jutner’s apartment caught fire. New York’s bravest, in extinguishing the blaze, piled the old man’s junk in an alley where a sudden snowstorm buried it. The homeless old man, dating Queens with his daughter, while his apartment was being repaired. On January 13, 1948, several neighborhood youths noticed some 30 strange-looking one-dollar bills lying about the alley. Unlike countless businessmen who had accepted Jutner’s singles, the kids instantly realized the bills were bogus. One of their parents took some to the West One Hundredth Street station house, where detectives identified them as counterfeit. The Secret Service quickly identified the tenant whose singed furnishings had been dumped in the alley, and arrested Jutner when he returned to his apartment a few days later. Jutner had succeeded because he passed no more bogus singles than necessary for his survival, only knocking off a few bills whenever he needed food or help paying his 25 dollars monthly rent. Blandly admitting everything, Jutner was sentenced to a year and a day and fined one dollar. He was released after four months to live with his daughter and her family. After McElway profiled him in The New Yorker, Twentieth Century Fox filmed Mr. 880 with Edmund Gwenn, renowned as Kris Kringle in Miracle on 34th Street, in the title role. Jutner made more money from the film than he had as a counterfeiter.
And great job on that, Robbie. And thanks to Bill Brake, our friend from New Hampshire, for delivering this story. And my goodness, one dollar at a time, not twenties, not hundreds dollars at a time. This man had, of anything, great discipline, and what a great story! And we love telling, well, sort of funny stories. I mean, our whole team was laughing at this one. It was quite amusing. Bill Brake, thanks so much again, our friend from New Hampshire, and Emeric Jutner’s story: the best-worst counterfeiter in American history. Here on Our American Stories. Folks, if you love the great American stories we tell and love America like we do, we’re asking you to become a part of the Our American Stories family. If you agree that America is a good and great country, please make a donation. A monthly gift of $17.76 is fast becoming a favorite option for supporters. Go to OurAmericanStories.com now and go to the donate button and help us keep the great American stories coming. That’s OurAmericanStories.com.
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