Treasure Tracks & Black Books

I was raised by my Grandfather in small town Ohio If you saw a dog walking down the street you knew who the owner was. There was a roller rink on the outskirts of the village, other than that, adventures were guided by imagination

I was bullied. I spent hours in the library, a "safe zone." I became interested in magic and all things that were somehow related to it. The Great Houdini, Blackstone and all the legends I could read about plus a fascination with locks, safes, secret rooms and the hunting of treasure.

We had many railroad tracks and on a certain street it was easy to walk right on to them. So, if not at the library or doing a show, you could find me at the tracks.

My friends and I were at the tracks often; hopping trains, laying a quarter and a penny on the track to be smashed together and once in a while, chased away by the men in the caboose. In this case a red caboose which still had the old-time lanterns on it.

I found an old date book, not current but with some patience and a pen it would do. I kept show and adventure notes in it.

One day the train was stopped on the tracks with the back door open. Like a moth to a flame, I walked in. It smelled like old books and lamp oil. There was room for four people to sit, a desk, old photos and memorabilia. I was captivated by all of it until I saw a man reaching for the door.

"What are you doing in my car?" He was not threatening. We had seen each other many times. Pulling the datebook from my pocket, I said "I always wanted to see the inside, and the door was open, I wanted to write about what was here."

"Your Toms boy, aren't you?”. "Yes sir." He was in Bastogne with my grandfather. He was a bit withered and slightly unkempt, time tested but kind.

He asked to see my book. I showed it to him. He led me to a small cupboard, removing an old-time key from his coveralls, he unlocked it. Inside a stack of old Moleskin books, well worn.

"Got a few of these myself, been collecting them many years."

He explained how the railroad was all he had known, how he was on the train into Bastogne, where met my grandfather, an engineer for General Patton.

We talked of magic, I showed him a few tricks. We talked about Reader's Digest. I told him my favorite article was about treasure on the Island in Canada.

Two years later I was hired to do a magic show for his retirement. He looked even more "worn", his health was not good. There was a tear in my eye as we had a conversation after the show. He said he wanted to give me something and pulled out a little black book. It smelled of old leather and much like the caboose. The pages were well worn and filled with writing.

"For you" he said with a quiver in his voice. "I want you to have this. When you’re ready, study it, at the end you will find treasure." "All I ask, when you tell this story, mention old Bill the engineer.”

I shook his hand and thanked him. I read through the book and kept it in an old trunk. There it would stay until I was helping Mom move from Radford Virginia, I remembered something from it.

At a bonfire someone was telling a story of a lost ghost town and I knew I had seen it in Bills little black book.

The book was just where I left it. I blew off the dust and read it. It spoke of Bill’s adventures. The last one captured me. It spoke of a ghost town and a railroad that, in the late 1800's had been forgotten when tracks were turned. Of the engineers who would visit it and what they had to do to get there. It could not be seen from anywhere else and unmolested by man.

On the last page a new entry, not part of the original;

Magic, I wondered how long it would take. I know you’re up for adventure. Saw the treasure hunter in your young eyes. I was the last of five crazy old treasure hunters, pledged to keep our little ghost town a secret. Agreed by all, the last of us would pass this along to someone else.

The last person you see and his family are the closest people to the town. He knows you’re going to be there someday and he keeps his eye on the only way in.

When you have found the box I left, pass the papers you find to him. Thank you, Magic I knew you would come. Bill.

I took my friend Mark with me. We followed the clues that led us to one dirt road just as noted, there was nothing else here.

We followed it for miles. The next point, a grass and stone driveway on an incredible grade. We literally headed up the side of a mountain.

Close to the top, we found a shack and the barn that was leaning, just like the book said. We stopped and turned off the vehicle. With the key in my hand and hands in plain sight.

An old mountain man came out. Well weathered, his clothing looked old and hand made, but not dirty, even the shotgun looked time forgotten.

“Looking’ for something?" I told him I was a friend of Bills looking for forgotten tracks. He asks to see the book. I showed to him without incident.

"Drive up till you can’t drive any more, walk down the hill to your right. You will see what looks like an old hand cart there, get on it and go forward till the track ends, don't drive off the end, you won’t be able to lift it back on. Keep your eyes open, you might just find a town.”

I'll save you the debate between Mark and me about turning back and all references to movies where people like us vanish and are never heard from again.

The "hill" on the right was about three hundred feet down with a not so gentle rock face. We found the cart. It was a work out.

The end of the track was marked by a pile of wood petrified in position. We followed the line of the track right to the old town. Four old buildings and a blacksmithing barn that had fallen over on itself. Two buildings were gutted on the inside, the roof had fallen into the second floor of them.

The others were in surprisingly good condition. Nature was reclaiming them, but they could still be explored. Building one: nothing but some really smelly dirt.

Building two: still had two tables with chairs, this must have been where the engineers met. There were old books, photos, and glassware that was so old the glass had run. We explored but had to keep an eye on time, we wanted to be off the mountain by dusk.

I found a black book out of place, inside was a single old key. I guessed it was early 1900's. We did end up finding an old box with a lock the key fit and we were amazed it still opened. Inside was a note;

"Magic, you found the box! Please give the contents of it to the last man you saw and keep the box if you wish. It’s from 1922. We could have been serious treasure hunters but fate had other ideas. We'll see each other sometime, till then be the son I never got to have, stay honest and “Magic." Engineer Bill.

I wiped the tears from my eyes and we made our way back to the shack and greeted the mountain man. We spoke of our adventure. He told us how his family had known Bill ever since he could remember.

Bills family started the town and gave his family 2000 acres of mountain land when they lost their farm in what he called the great fire. They named the town ‘Black Book’ after Bills love of keeping notes in his.

I gave him his paperwork. He asks me why I had not opened the envelope it was in. I told him it was not mine. He smiled and shook my hand. His grip was the strongest I had ever felt, his hands were like old rough leather.

We were walking away when he spoke. "That’s a mighty fine box you have, like to trade for it?" I walked back to him and said that this adventure and meeting him was the treasure. I asked him if he would take the box as a gift for watching over the entrance until I got there. He agreed. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a hand made stitched, black leather book that I swear had parchment in it.

"Could you write your mailing address in here? Next time we go into town I might want to send you something of Bills. I said sure. He shook my hand once more and said we had a deal.

The ride back was filled with stories. Once we got passed the 'I can’t believe you gave that old coot the only thing you had from this trip." After a day of rest, I discovered that somewhere along the way I had lost Bill's book. I was very sad.

The next day I headed out for a summer show, I would be gone for about two weeks. I told the story of bill every night at the meet and greet after each show.

I arrived back at my Grandparents house and my grandma nearly knocked me down at the door. In her hand she had a well-worn yellow envelope with my name and address on it.

Inside, Bills book with a note, “read first’ and a much newer white business letter size envelope. The note talked about real mountain men, honor and truth. "Magic you must have dropped this on my porch> There is nowhere it should be other than with you." It talked about Bill and his brothers, yes, the engineers involved were all brothers. It seems Bill was the last of 13 brothers and sisters, as he wrote, last man standing.

It cleared up a few things. The town, the mountain man and why he picked me for the hunt. A paraphrase of the list paragraph:

"Bet you never thought ya would here from me. This was my friend Bills last wish. A treasure hunt for the kid with the magic eyes and the soul of an adventurer. What is in that envelope comes your way because in the end you gave your treasure to me because you could see my love for it.

You went home with your love for treasure hunting and the adventure as your prize. Good life to ya. The letter was signed with a mark not a name. Inside the envelope with no other explanation, a cashier’s check in my name for twenty thousand dollars written on a bank in New York.

I kept that mysterious little black book all my life. Today at 61, I still have it. I never gave up Magic or treasure hunting.

That meeting with Bill and his mysterious little black book spawned an over five-decade series of treasure hunts and adventures, spurred by a twenty-thousand-dollar investment by some great people who could see beyond an appearance, perhaps into the world of true "Magic".