Hyperinflation Gone Mad: When German Children Made Kites From Money

National Numismatic Collection, National Museum of American History, via Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain
National Numismatic Collection, National Museum of American History, via Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain

Early in 1922, the German Papiermark—the currency of the Weimar Republic—was valued at around 200 Marks to the U.S. dollar. By November 1923, that figure had risen to 4,200,000,000,000. Put another way, if you had just U.S. $1 to your name, in 1920s Germany you would have been a multi-trillionaire.

How did such an absurd exchange rate come about? Precisely what set the wheels of hyperinflation and devaluation in motion in post-war Germany is debatable, but arguably the entire process began almost a decade earlier, at the dawn of the First World War.

With its efforts to secure victory in Europe in full swing, the German government opted to suspend the Mark’s gold standard—the relationship between the value of currency and the price of gold—and fund its on-going and ever-enlarging military operations by borrowing. It was an immense risk, solely reliant on one thing to succeed: Germany had to win the war.

Victory in the war, Germany presumed, would solve everything. The annexation of other European nations and their economies and assets, as well as the costly war reparations paid by the soon-to-be-defeated Allies, would together offset all the economic consequences of such a risky strategy. But unfortunately for Germany, the plan backfired. They lost the war, and by 1918, the Mark had already almost halved in value and Germany had accrued colossal international debts.

Not only that, but being on the losing side of the war meant that the costly punitive reparations the German government had intended to profit from were now being imposed on them. This only served to worsen things throughout the early 1920s, and when the government began to buy foreign currency at any price just to meet its financial obligations, the value of the Mark collapsed ever further. Inflation soon spiraled into hyperinflation—eventually peaking at a rate of 3,250,000 percent per month—and Germany quickly fell behind on its repayments.

In response, France and Belgium took control of the country’s industrial heartland, the Ruhr, in 1923, but that only served to add fuel to the fire.

The German government called on workers in the Ruhr to put down tools and resist the occupation, promising that while doing so they would continue to receive a wage from the state. The strikes, protests and campaign of passive resistance that followed all but ground industry in the Ruhr to a halt, crippling the German economy even further, while the occupation sparked a new international crisis.

For some, the occupation of the Ruhr was considered controversial and a punitive step too far. Tensions grew between the French (who had their own post-war economic problems) and the British (some of whom grew sympathetic to Germany’s position, and saw the French response as a new imperialist threat). Finally, with growing pressure from the United States, an interim agreement was drawn up by future Vice President Charles G. Dawes that lowered and staggered Germany’s reparation payments. The Ruhr occupation was brought to an end, briefly kick-starting the German economy, and for his work on the crisis Dawes was the co-recipient of the 1925 Nobel Peace Prize (the other winner was Sir Austen Chamberlain). But in the long term, the Dawes Plan failed—and even by the time it was implemented the damage to the German economy had already been done.

To combat the French occupation, the Reichsbank was being forced to churn out ever more banknotes just to function on a daily basis. Printing presses were commandeered by the state for no reason other than to print ever greater quantities of cash. In May 1923, there were 8.6 billion Marks in circulation in the country; by November there were 400 quintillion. In response, the value of the Papiermark spiraled out of control.

As the numbers on German bank notes soared to 50 trillion, daily life for the German people became increasingly absurd.

A man using money as wallpaper.
Bundesarchiv, Bild / Pahl, Georg via Wikimedia Commons // CC-BY-SA 3.0 DE

Paper currency was by now next to worthless. Employees collected their wages in wheelbarrows and suitcases more valuable than the money inside them. Banknotes were used as wallpaper and kindling to light stoves. Children played with bundles of cash in the street, cut up piles of Marks to make confetti and paper chains, and even crafted kites out of money. Shopkeepers shunned currency altogether and switched to bartering to maintain the value of their goods and services. Astonishingly, the price of one egg in 1923 would have bought you 500 billion eggs just five years earlier.

Waiters in cafés and restaurants were now reportedly mounting tables to announce price changes to their menus every 30 minutes; by the summer of 1923, patrons might sit down to a meal in a German restaurant only to find they couldn’t afford it half an hour later. One famous anecdote involves a gentleman who drank two cups of coffee, priced at 5000 Marks each, at a coffee house in Hamburg, only to be presented with a bill for 14,000 Marks. When he queried the cost with his waiter, he was told that he should have ordered the two drinks at the same time—the price had nearly doubled in the time it had taken him to drink one cup.

The crisis finally abated in the winter of 1923, when the German government introduced a new currency, the Rentenmark, backed up by the mortgage value of agricultural and commercial land. Valued at the old rate of 4.2 to the dollar, one Rentenmark was ultimately equivalent to 1,000,000,000,000 of the Weimar’s Papiermarks, and returned the Mark to the same exchange rate it had been at before the war. The “Miracle of the Rentenmark,” as it was hailed, brought to an end one of the most extraordinary periods of hyperinflation in history.

More Than 350 Franklin Expedition Artifacts Retrieved from Shipwreck of HMS Erebus

Drone image above the HMS Erebus shipwreck.
Drone image above the HMS Erebus shipwreck.
Parks Canada's Underwater Archaeology Team

From a shallow Arctic gulf, a treasure trove of objects from the HMS Erebus shipwreck has been brought to the surface for the first time in more than 170 years. The items could offer new clues about the doomed Franklin expedition, which left England in 1845 to search for the Northwest Passage. All 129 people perished from still-uncertain causes—a mystery that was fictionalized in the AMC series The Terror in 2018.

Marc-André Bernier, head of underwater archaeology at Parks Canada, said in a teleconference from Ottawa that this year’s research season was the most successful since the discovery of the HMS Erebus shipwreck in 2014. Parks Canada divers and Inuit located the HMS Terror, the second ship of the Franklin expedition, in 2016.

Parks Canada diver at HMS Erebus shipwreck
A Parks Canada diver retrieves a glass decanter at the HMS Erebus shipwreck.
Parks Canada's Underwater Archaeology Team

From mid-August to mid-September, 2019, the Parks Canada and Inuit research team began systematically excavating the large and complex shipwreck. “We focused on areas that had not been disturbed since the ship had sunk,” Bernier said. “Right now, our focus is the cabins of the officers, and we’re working our way toward the higher officers. That’s where we think we have a better chance of finding more clues to what happened to the expedition, which is one of the major objectives.”

Over a total of 93 dives this year, archaeologists concentrated on three crew members’ cabins on the port side amidships: one belonging to the third lieutenant, one for the steward, and one likely for the ice master. In drawers underneath the third lieutenant’s bed, they discovered a tin box with a pair of the officer’s epaulets in “pristine condition,” Bernier said. They may have belonged to James Walter Fairholme, one of the three lieutenants on the Erebus.

HMS Erebus shipwreck epaulets
A pair of epaulets, which may have belonged to third lieutenant James Walter Fairholme, was found at the HMS Erebus shipwreck.
Parks Canada's Underwater Archaeology Team

In the steward’s pantry, where items used to serve the captain were stored, divers carefully brushed away sediment to reveal dozens of plates, bowls, dish warmers, strainers, and more— about 50 serving pieces total. Bernier said some of the most exciting finds were personal objects that could be linked to individuals, such as a lead stamp with the inscription “Ed. Hoar,” for Edmund Hoar, the 23-year-old captain’s steward. They also found a piece of red sealing wax with a fingerprint of its last user.

Dishes at HMS Erebus shipwreck
Divers found dishes in the steward's pantry at the HMS Erebus shipwreck.
Parks Canada's Underwater Archaeology Team

Other intriguing items brought to the surface include a glass decanter, found in the officers’ mess area on the lower deck, which may have held brandy or port; a high-quality hairbrush with a few human hairs still in the bristles; and a cedar-wood pencil case. All of the artifacts are jointly owned by the Government of Canada and Inuit.

Hairbrush from HMS Erebus shipwreck
A hairbrush discovered at the HMS Erebus shipwreck still had a few human hairs in the bristles.
Parks Canada's Underwater Archaeology Team

The extensive recovery was made possible by a new research barge, which was moored over the shipwreck and provided hyperbaric chambers and hot-water suits. While wearing the suits, divers were able to stay in the frigid waters for about 90 minutes at a time; they spent over 100 hours examining the wreck this year.

The HMS Erebus’s size and excellent state of preservation mean there’s much more to discover, Bernier said. The Erebus is 108 feet long, and though the upper deck has collapsed, there are 20 cabins on the main deck. They’ve examined only three so far. “There are tens of thousands of artifacts still there,” Bernier tells Mental Floss. “We’re going to be very focused and save what needs to be saved, and go to places [in the wreck] where there are good chances of finding the most information that is valuable for the site.”

Parks Canada and Inuit archaeologists
Parks Canada and Inuit archaeologists set up instruments near the HMS Erebus shipwreck.
Parks Canada's Underwater Archaeology Team

As with the findings from previous research seasons, many questions about the shocking demise of the Franklin expedition remain unanswered. How and when did the HMS Erebus sink after both ships were abandoned in spring 1848, having been trapped in ice since September 1846? Which officers and crew were among the 24 men who had died by that time, and why so many?

Bernier tells Mental Floss there’s even a new mystery to solve. Near Edmund Hoar’s items, divers found another artifact that also bore the name of a crew member—mate Frederick Hornby. “Originally, when the ships set sail, he was not on Erebus, he was on Terror,” Bernier says. “So this object jumped ship at one point. How did that happen? Was Hornby transferred to Erebus; did they abandon one ship and put everybody on the other one? Was it something somebody recovered after he died? Was it given to somebody? With one object, we can start to see [new] questions. Hopefully, by piecing all of this together, we can actually start pushing the narrative of the story in some interesting direction.”

8 Things That Happened on Leap Day

On Leap Day in 1692, the first warrants were issued in the Salem Witch Trials.
On Leap Day in 1692, the first warrants were issued in the Salem Witch Trials.
Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain

Since Leap Day comes just once every four years, events that happen on February 29 are somewhat rare. Check out these eight events that are extra memorable thanks to their timing.

1. On Leap Day in 1940, Hattie McDaniel won an Academy Award.

Actress Hattie McDaniel took home an Oscar for Best Supporting Actress at the 1940 Academy Awards for her role as Mammy in Gone with the Wind. The win made her the first African American to receive the award.

2. Buddy Holly’s lost glasses were found on Leap Day in 1959.

Buddy Holly in his signature glasses
Buddy Holly in his signature glasses.
Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain

The singer's famous glasses disappeared for more than two decades after he died in a plane crash near Clear Lake, Iowa, in 1959. Holly’s trademark frames, along with the Big Bopper’s watch, were thrown clear of the plane wreckage. The items remained buried in the snow until the spring thaw, when they were turned over to the County Sheriff’s office and filed away in a sealed manila envelope, where they were forgotten. The envelope was rediscovered in 1980 by County Sheriff Jerry Allen, who came across it while looking for old court records. The discovery was announced on February 29, 1980. The glasses were returned to Holly’s widow, Maria Elena.

3. The Henriksen siblings—all of them—were born on Leap Day.

On February 29, 1960, Heidi Henriksen was born. Her brother, Olav, joined the family exactly four years later. And in 1968, to the day, Leif-Martin Henriksen entered the world. The Norwegian siblings held the Guinness record for most babies born on a Leap Day until 2012, when the Estes family from Utah tied them: Xavier Estes was born on February 29, 2004; Remington Estes in 2008; and Jade Estes in 2012.

4. Davy Jones died on Leap Day in 2012.

In 2012, the Monkee passed away after suffering a heart attack. He was just 66, leaving many fans in shock at his unexpected death.

5. Hank Aaron became the highest-paid Major League Baseball Player on Leap Day.

A $200,000-a-year contract might seem like peanuts for a MLB player today, but by 1972 standards, it was a big deal. So big, in fact, that the three-year contract Aaron inked to play for the Atlanta Braves made him the highest paid baseball player in the league.

6. The future Pope John Paul II was nearly killed on Leap Day.

Pope John Paul II riding in the Popemobile
Pope John Paul II riding in the Popemobile in 2004.

Back when he was just 24-year-old Karol Wojtyla, Pope John Paul II was walking home when a German army truck hit him and left him on the road for dead. The driver of a lumber truck picked him up and took him to the hospital, where Wojtyla remained unconscious for nine hours. It’s said that the incident inspired him to switch to a spiritual career path.

7. Family Circus debuted on Leap Day in 1960.

On February 29, 1960, Bil Keane’s long-running comic strip debuted as The Family Circle. Inspired by Keane’s own wife and children, Family Circus is now drawn by Keane’s youngest son, Jeff—the inspiration for “Jeffy” in the comic strip.

8. The first warrants were issued in the Salem Witch Trials on Leap Day.

Salem residents Sarah Good, Sarah Osborne, and Tituba were accused of witchcraft on February 29, 1692. After refusing to confess, Good was hanged and Osborne died in prison; Tituba, a slave, admitted to her supposed crimes and was released from jail a year later.

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