Codes & Mysteries

When my Father died, he left a lot of things behind. Things my brothers & I never knew he had. I found many of them when I cleaned out his office.

I found a letter written to him from Eleanor Roosevelt, FDR’s wife. She wrote my Dad a thank you note for escorting her when she visited Fort Benning, GA in the early 50’s. He was an Infantry Captain assigned to the Airborne School, and he served as her official escort on her visit. He never mentioned it to anyone. I think my Mom knew, but she never mentioned it either.

I found some figurines carved in ivory. A family of elephants carved into a small tusk. A strange ball within a ball within a ball, each with small intricate scenes of village life from the Far East. An ivory cup, also with carved scenes from life in the Far East. My Dad had spent years in Japan, Thailand, and Southeast Asia, but I had never seen these carvings before.

In one of his filing cabinets, I found a manilla folder stuffed with 8’ by 10’ black and white photos. These were photos of the US Army Expeditionary Force under Black Jack Pershing. Pershing and his force had spent 9 months in 1916-1917 chasing Pancho Villa and his ‘bandits’ around southern New Mexico, southern Texas and northern Mexico. Villa and his men had attacked a group of American miners in north Mexico, killing 18, and raided the town of Columbus. New Mexico, burning the town and killing 17 Americans. President Wilson sent General Pershing and 12,000 US troops to capture or kill Villa. My grandfather had been part of that force. The photos he passed to my father were of camp life while in the field.

I knew my father had led an interesting life, but obviously I did not know how interesting. He was the 3rd of what turned out to be 5 generations of US Army officers. He was born in the Philippines where my grandfather was stationed, chasing the Moro guerillas (Moslem insurrectionists) around the island of Mindanao. His brother, my uncle, was killed in France in 1945. My farther served in three wars over the span of a 33-year career in the Army. My brother and I followed him into the Army, and my brother’s son is now on active duty.

My father’s interesting life got even more interesting that day as I cleaned out his office. As mentioned, I found many mementos of a life spent traveling the world. Mementos I knew nothing about. But the last thing I found, seemingly innocuous at the time, was in the back of the bottom drawer of his desk. It was a little black book. You know, one of those notebooks you use to keep addresses, or shopping lists, or reminders to yourself. Or, at least people used to keep notebooks like this. Now, all that is kept in your smart phone, using one or more apps.

I set the book aside and did not return to look at it for a few days. As I leafed through it, I noticed that he had dated each entry. The first was from 1971, when my Dad was in Vietnam for the last time. All the entries were in his hand, and they were all somewhat cryptic. Things like “R 100, D50 FFE,” “Maj. K – nice note to fam” and “Nan needs a hand.” Some of them I could decrypt. “R100, D50 FFE” for example are directions to adjust artillery fire on a target. The reference to “Nan” had to be about my Mom (Nancy). I have three brothers and I know we could be a handful at times, so I got that reference.

I continued to page through the notebook. The entries were haphazard, with years between them. The last entry was dated a few months before his death. It was also cryptic; “BSTM, WHB 475. K on C.”

This one aroused my curiosity, as I had no idea what it meant. I asked my Mom about it. She was as puzzled as I.

I set this minor mystery aside to deal with all the minutia of death. Unless you have gone through it, you have no idea about the paperwork that death entails. There is the death certificate, the will to get probated, the various insurances to notify, the accountants to meet with, the banks to visit. A life of 78 years, lived as my Father lived his, leaves a lot behind. Add to that that my Mom wanted to get the house cleared out and sold. The memories were just too painful for her at that time.

So, it took me a few weeks until I saw that notebook again. I again leafed through the pages – small discrete visions into my father’s life. And that last page kept drawing me.

As it happened, that day I was dealing with the final closing of several of my father’s bank accounts. I had bank statements on the desk in front of me, and one caught my eye. It was a checking account he had at Wood Haven Bank – a small local bank near their home.

Wood Haven Bank . . . WHB. Was that what was referenced in that last entry? But if so, why? I looked at the entry again . . . BSTM . . . hmm. As I mentioned, I have three brothers; Bill, Steve and Mike. In order of birth we are Bill, Steve, Tom and Mike. That certainly fit. So, this had something to do with all us brothers and Wood Haven Bank. The account number did not fit the 475 in the reference. But, what else are there at banks? Of course!

I called my Mom and asked her, “Did Dad have a safe deposit box?”

Her answer was Yes. They had one at their main bank.

“Did you have one at Wood Haven Bank,” I asked?

“Not that I know of” she replied. I told her of my discovery, which puzzled her. As far as she knew, My Dad kept an account there to pay for groceries, and to get cash when he needed it.

I knew the next step. I called the bank and asked if they have safe deposit boxes. The woman on the phone said yes, they sure do. I told her that my Father had recently died and I asked if he had a box there. She asked his name and I told her. She remembered my father and offered her condolences on his passing. She also said he had rented a box there just 6 months ago. She also said that they have a procedure to go through for someone other than him to open it, but they needed the key.

A key. The little back book entry “K on C.” The ‘K’ could be for key. The ‘C’? I remembered a bunch of keys on a small chain in his desk drawer. I had just dropped those in a box with all the other desk detritus. All the boxes were in a storage unit, saved until a more permanent solution for all the stuff could be determined.

I jumped in my truck and drove to the storage facility. Of course, that box was at the back of the unit, but after an effort, I had it out, opened and the bunch of keys in hand. And, yes, there was what looked like a safe deposit box key in the bunch.

I again contacted the bank to tell them I had the key, and to see what we needed to do to get access to the box. A copy of the death certificate was required, along with proof I was my father’s son.

My brothers all live out of state, but I called them to let them know what I had discovered, and told them I would call when we found out what was in the box.

The following day my mother and I went to the bank and presented the key and the paperwork to the bank manager. He took us into the vault and used both keys to open the box. It was one of middle size, sufficient for papers but not for anything of bulk. He handed the box to me. I put it on the table and opened it.

Inside was two envelopes, one small and one large. The small envelope was addressed to my brothers and I, and the large one was plain.

I opened the small envelope and read the letter inside, with tears in my eyes. These were the last words from my father, and it was somewhat wrenching to read them.

“Boys,” the letter read. “I found these in my file cabinet. My father got them in south Texas and California in 1916 and they are a mystery to me. He never mentioned them and I have no idea of their value. I thought to set up a little mystery of my own for you all to have some fun deciphering. Check on these and maybe there will be a little something in them for each of you. I took good care to make your Mother financially comfortable, so you all split anything of value evenly between you.”

“I love you all very much. Take good care of your Mother or you will answer to me in the next life.”

“Your Father”

After wiping the tears from my eyes, I carefully put the letter away for my brothers to read. I took up the large envelope and opened it. There were several large stock certificates inside. Certificates for two mining companies, one in El Paso, TX and the other in Sacramento, CA, 20 shares of each. Both were dated in 1916. All 40 shares cost my grandfather a whopping $40.

I figured this would make a good story to tell people over drinks and that is about it. But I had to check.

When I got home, I got on the Internet to do a little research. I could find nothing on the El Paso company, but the one in CA had some references, nothing current, but some mention at least.

I then called a stock broker friend of mine and gave him something to do other than his usual day-to-day. I also took pictures of the certificates and texted them to him.

It took him a few days to get back to me, but he was excited the next time he called. He said my shares had caused quite a stir in his office. Nobody had even seen shares this old, and they all pitched in to see what they could find out about them.

The Texas company was long gone, and the shares were useless for anything but wall art, but the California company!

It seems that that company had been bought by another in the 20’s, and that one by another in the 50’s. That third company was indeed active and mining gold in California and Nevada. The twenty shares had divided a few times and were now 800 shares in the current company. And that stock was worth $100 per share. So, the whole thing was worth $80,000!

My grandfather made a wise investment although he never knew. My father made a nice mystery for his sons to solve, and my brothers & I pocketed $20,000 each.

While the money is nice, I would really rather have my Father here.