Gone in 60 Seconds

economies run the way they do. From Kensian is m to the Freedman theory to the Fisher effect, economists have worked for years to describe the relationships between supply and demand, interest rates and inflation, and a lot more. One man, however, traveled the holy different path. His name was Henry George, and during the nineteenth century his beliefs flew in the face of the prevailing theories of the time. Even today,

Georgeism stands out as the antithesis of modern capitalism. In georgis Um, it was believed that the value produced by the people should be owned by the people, and a single land tax would be far more beneficial to society as a whole, rather than a series of taxes. Affecting the poor and the working class. Georgis um counted a

monet supporters a young woman named Elizabeth. Elizabeth was born in eighteen sixties six and moved to Washington, d c. In the eighteen eighties to build a new life for herself. She stood as a proud feminist, getting a job as a stenographer and writing fiction on the side. She also performed for the stage and worked as an engineer, earning a patent for improving the paper feeding system of the typewriter.

Her father, an abolitionist, had instilled a certain set of values in her value she carried with her all her life. They were reflected in her option of Georgism and her advocacy of a universal land tax. The amounts of the tax would depend on the size, location, and viability of the land in question, and once the government had taken a portion of the funds, the rest would be given back to the people. Elizabeth was of the people and fought on their behalf, but had trouble teaching the problems

of land grabbing. She wanted others to understand that the current model of landlords wielding all the power while tenants languished in poverty, could not last any longer, so she found a solution. In fact, she made one a game. She called it The Landlord's Game, filing a patent for it in nineteen o three. The premise of the game centered around hoarding money, but evolved over the next several years into different versions where the objectives grew beyond simple

wealth building. In one iteration, the player who owned the most industries on the board won the game. The other version, called Prosperity, took an opposite approach and forced players to make goods, coordinating their movements with all the other players. Elizabeth's success as a game creator helped her launch her own company with the Georgists, which she called The Economic

Game Company. The Landlord's Game continued to be published well into the nineteen twenties, where it found a particularly interested audience in a man named Charles Darrow. Darrow had lost his job after the stock market crash of but found solace in Elizabeth's game. Everyone seemed to be playing it, and not just playing it, but changing it. As was customary at the time, games were not merely bought and

played with friends and family. Players often modified them to increase or decrease the difficulty levels, sometimes changing them so much they became entirely different games. And that's what Darrow did with the Landlords game. He learned how to play it with the help of Charles Todd of Atlantic City, New Jersey. Todd had switched the street names on Elizabeth's original board with the names of streets in Atlantic City,

and Darrow appreciated that change. He carried it over to his version, adding colors to each of the property spaces, as well as cards for the players to draw when they landed on specific areas of the board. He started selling his version of the game and department stores in the early nineteen thirties, where it became quite popular. In After Darrow had acquired a patent for his unique revamp

of Elizabeth Maggie's original work, one company took interest. They saw something special in what Darrow had done and bought the patent for it. After one year, they had turned his modestly popular game into a smash hit and their company name Parker Brothers. Darrow's fortunes had turned around. He had gone from a down on his luck salesman to a millionaire overnight. And as for the board game that

had tried to educate players about the dangers of land grabbing. Well, it ended up teaching generations of players how to be ruthless property owners. Instead, you might say it cornered the market on capitalism based games. Hence it's simple yet clever name monopoly. In times of trouble, it's not often that someone steps into help those in need. Should our car break down in the middle of nowhere and we can't call for help, it's likely that most people passing by

won't stop to lend a hand. Horror movies and sensationalist news stories have conditioned us not to trust strangers, and with good reason. It was morning on December tenth of nine and four employees of the Nihan Shintaku Bank in Tokyo were on the move. In their possession was two nine four million yen or about ten million U S dollars today. They were on their way to the Toshiba factory in Fuchu to deliver yearly bonuses to the employees there.

The money had been dashed away safely in metal boxes, which were then placed in the trunk of the car. A short time into their trip, a uniform police officer from the Motorcycle Division pulled them over he was panicked. Apparently someone had just blown up their branch manager's home and he needed to get them to safety. Someone either had a vendetta against the bank or they were looking for a quick score. Because their next targets were sitting right in front of them, the officer told the men

to exit the car slowly. The bomber had planted dynamite somewhere on the vehicle, which could explode at any time. The bank employees had no reason to not believe him, after all, he was wearing a uniform and their boss had already received several menacine letters in the mail. Once the bankers were far enough away, the officer then got on his hands and knees to investigate the underside of the car. Without warning, a blast of heat erupted, followed

by plumes of smoke. The officer jumped to his feet. He screamed at the four employees to run for cover. The car was about to explode, and they did as they were told, hiding from the blast at a safe distance. Except that blast never came, and when they looked at the spot where the car had been, it had disappeared. Investigators arrived at the scene shortly after to gather as statements from the bank employees. They had no idea why the police officer had stolen their car. That was probably

because he wasn't a police officer. He was a thief, and he just made off with three hundred million yen. The flash of heat and smoke had been caused by a flare left behind by the suspect. When the real cops finally tracked down the stolen vehicle, it was found empty and the boxes with the money inside had been moved to another stolen car he'd had waiting for him all along. The employees gave the police as much information as they could remember, and described his appearance to a

sketch artist. The drawing was then released to the media, who referred to the case as the three hundred million yen robbery. It had become a major story and a stain on the Tokyo Police Department. Investigators believed whoever had fooled the bank employees had either been a part of the police force or related to someone who was. Their uniform and demeanor had been too convincing to be fake, yet what they'd left behind had confounded the real officers.

Over one item's retreat from the scene were entered into evidence, including the motorcycle the thief had been driving. It was a regular motorcycle painted white to look like an official police vehicle. The nineteen year old son of a local officer was brought in for questioning as a potential suspect. He had the means to commit the crime and no alibi, but before the questioning could go further, the young man

took his life, leaving the officers at a loss. The investigation grew into the largest ever undertaken by Japanese police, with one seventy thousand officers getting involved. They worked for seven years trying to track down the elusive faker who had fooled four hapless bank employees into handing over three hundred million yen, but he was never found. Even after the statute of limitations expired in the mid seventies, the

culprit refused to come forward. To this day, no one knows what happened to the money or the identity of the person who had committed the perfect crime. Instead, it seems he had done what Hollywood has taught us to expect. He'd driven off into the sunset, never to be seen again. I hope you've enjoyed today's guided tour of the Cabinet of Curiosities, subscribe for free on Apple Podcasts, or learn more about the show by visiting Curiosities podcast dot com.

The show was created by me Aaron Manky in partnership with how Stuff Works. I make another award winning show called Lore, which is a podcast, book series, and television show and you can learn all about it over at the World of Lore dot com. And until next time, stay curious. Yeah,