Back in the day, the analogue and offline day, when a plenitude of images did not circulate, one of the most vital jobs in the newspaper industry was that of the "picture-snatcher" -- the reporter, often a cub/cadet, who would accompany a senior colleague to the house of a grieving widow whose family member had just been trampled by a horse/died of dropsy/ etc, and, while the bereaved was being engaged in conversation, snatch a picture of the decedent from the mantelpiece, and then sprint back to the office with it.

As the writer and polemicist Ben Hecht recalled it in his memoir A Child of the Century -- one of the greatest ever pictures of urban life, turn of 20th century Chicago in that case -- some men never left the picture-snatching game at all, and commanded huge sums for their services. Eventually under pressure of competition, they began breaking into peoples' houses, impersonating police officers, and eventually, simply forcing their way in, breaking the frame, pulling the picture out -- perhaps one of the few still owned by the family -- and force their way out again.