The Bank Messenger

Do you remember the “Bank messengers” ? You may have a parent, grandfather, or old uncle who talked to you about this old profession, which disappeared in the 1960s? If so, you may know that it was far from a risk-free activity. Attacks of all kinds, hijackings – indeed the bank messengers did not have such an easy life!

Let’s dive into some of the adventures that have shaped the history of this function, at a time when cash was still very present in the local economy.

We are in 1945. Mr. Ferdinand crosses the Boulevard Haussmann, carefully avoiding the buses and front-wheel-drive cars that are rambling across the streets of Paris. Firmly holding on to a small briefcase with its dangling safety chain, he slaloms between the muddy puddles to avoid soiling his smart uniform—a black tailcoat with small buttons, and his head topped with a two-pointed hat. Pinned to his chest is a small metal plaque reading “Banque Nationale pour le Commerce et l’Industrie,” (a one of the forerunner banks of BNP Paribas. Mr. Ferdinand is walking on the sidewalk with a determined step, keeping an eye on the comings and goings of other pedestrians, then he rushes into the metro station. Indeed, Mr. Ferdinand’s job is not a very reassuring one. He is a “bank messenger,” a trade now gone, but one that played a crucial role in the relationships between merchants, businesses, and banks until the 1960s. Mr. Ferdinand is a cash courier. He transports money, checks, and various payment instruments on behalf of the Banque Nationale pour le Commerce et l’Industrie.

It’s important to keep in mind that, in the mid-20th century, the local economy largely relied on the “discounting,” in other words, short-term credit Let’s see how it worked: Let’s consider Mr. Dubois, a carpenter  who sells furniture to the Ducreux company. Since the company is not able to pay Mr. Dubois right away, they request payment flexibility from Mr Dubois. The two parties thus agree via a bill of exchange or a promissory note – called commercial paper – to pay within 30 days. To get paid, Mr. Dubois can either quite wait for the agreed-upon time to receive his money as planned, or, but, if he wants the money sooner, he can also ask his bank to advance the money, minus a commission. This process is known as “discounting”. It is then up to the bank to collect the money from the Ducreux company 30 days later. And this is where Mr. Ferdinand, our bank messenger, comes into play. His task is to walk the city to collect the corresponding amounts.

This is a crucial job, and it’s not one given to just anyone. Contrary to what their job title might suggest, the bank messengers were not novices. They had to have a solid track record, which went under a thorough survey during the recruiting process. Preserved in BNP Paribas’ archives is Mr. Ernest’s file, who joined the profession in 1908. It contains the report of the morality inquiry to which he underwent :

After 15 years of service, Mr. Ernest is now a retired non-commissioned officer… I have gathered the best information regarding his conduct, work, and honorability. (He was in charge of the accounting books for the officers’ mess for several years.) An excellent servant, dedicated, active, and energetic, he can be totally trusted…
Mr. Ernest will be a conscientious employee who will continue to deserve the esteem of his superiors. (Captain Serre, 22nd Colonial Regiment, Hyères, May 3, 1908).

However, good good morals do not rule out all dangers, because bank messengers, with their smart uniforms, attracted greed. Although they were sometimes armed, they represented a prime target for criminals in the pursuit of a fine theft. Let’s go back to Mr. Ferdinand who has just come out of the « Commerce » subway-station and walks unsuspectingly into Rue Lakanal. The report from the general inspection service describes what happened next:

“As Mr. Ferdinand was about to cross Rue Gustave Larroumet, he was attacked from behind by two individuals who gagged him and covered his eyes, then threw him to the ground. His briefcase was torn off, and the attackers fled in a black front-wheel-drive Citroën.”

One could of course imagine that the distinctive uniform of the bank messengers would be the cause of their misfortune. But this is not the case. Not only does their uniform provide them with a dignity that keeps the small thieves at bay, but also, it turns out that it appears that the fact of not using the uniform does not preserve them in anything from more organised criminals. This is demonstrated in another investigation file, that of Mr. Jeanneau, who was attacked in 1947.

The start of the report sadly resembles that of Mr. Ferdinand:
“As he was going back to the agency on his bicycle… Mr. Jeanneau was stuck on the curb and overturned by a front-wheel-drive Citroën car. A masked individual, armed with a machine gun, immediately got out of the car, and, under the threat of his weapon, seised the briefcase that had slipped off the bicycle’s luggage rack, while two accomplices, also masked and armed with machine guns, appeared at the car door, ready to use their weapons if necessary.”

Later in the report, the inspector noted the following precisions:

“Mr Janneau was not wearing the uniform typically reserved for this position. Additionally, to avoid drawing attention, the briefcase containing the checks and cash was placed in a larger briefcase of the model used for carrying mail.”
The solution, therefore lies elsewhere, in the recommendations that the assistant inspector does not fail to note at the end of the report:
“It would be advisable for the bank messengers not to always follow the same invariable route… Their journey might thus be slightly longer, but this precaution could help them avoid more serious problems.”

Unfortunately, troubles don’t always come from the outside. Because of the large sums they are used to carry, some bank messengers sometimes see their integrity falter. This was the case for Mr. Seyer, whose personal situation had become very difficult. His wife was ill, he had to take care of his young daughter, and despite a loan from his employer and some advances in salary, he was struggling. Was he distracted by his thoughts, or did he really intend to divert this money? Whatever the case, he handed Mr. Thévenin, a client, a notice of payment – a document usually reserved for overdue payments – instead of a receipt. The anomaly went undetected for months. Mr. Seyer may have been an honest man, but necessity led him to crime. Within two days, he repeated the operation four times and pocketed 16,000 French francs. The investigation report reveals that, unfortunately for him, a lady customer quickly reported the anomaly to the bank, forcing the bank messenger not only to repay the proceeds of his larceny, but also to resign, which did not help solve his situation. The report concludes:

“It is most unfortunate that Mr. Seyer did not openly present his situation to his superiors, as, despite the advances already granted to him, this employee could certainly have benefited from arrangements that would have prevented him from resorting to the fraudulent actions he committed.”

Over the decades, other more or less ingenious subterfuges were used by bank messengers facing personal difficulties or with malicious intentions in mind. Each time, the General Directorate of BNCI tried to learn from the incidents in order to properly adjust its procedures.

Yet, despite incidents like those mentionned earlier as examples, the profession of  « bank messenger » continued to support the local economy until the 1960s, before gradually disappearing. The rise of modern payment methods such as bank transfers, and, later, credit cards, have made physical cash collections obsolete. Meanwhile, banking services became increasingly centralised, requiring larger funds transfers, such as the armored vans we are used to today.
But even though the bank messenegrs now belong to history, we will remember them as symbols of an era when tangible economy still largely relied on direct exchanges, trust, risk, and long walks around town.