Regional Treasure

My name is Lou. I live in Lock Haven, Pennsylvania. I'm a writer, librarian, explorer, paranormal investigator, and museum curator. I get involved in a lot of stuff. And I write about it all here. So either you're welcome, or I'm really sorry, depending on what you're into.
It takes me five and a half minutes to get to work on my bike if I'm not screwing around. I've timed it. I parked it by the street sign out front, where I can see it from my office window, and locked it up. My other car is a UFO.
As I walked into the library, I was met by a tall woman with dark hair, waiting by the front desk. She smiled and shook my hand.
"Lou," she said. "Thanks for meeting with me."
"Thanks for coming, LaKeshia," I said. "Let's have a seat."
We walked back to my desk. She looked around. "So this is your office."
"I dream of walls," I said. "This is the oldest part of the building; Annie Halenbake Ross's funeral was held right here."
We sat down. She said,"So, as I told you on the phone the other day, I'm in charge of the PA Wilds home page. We promote tourism in the PA Wilds area of Pennsylvania, a thirteen-county area. We're looking for content. You and I worked together on the Eagle Eye and the Express, and I thought of you."
"You'd like me to write about local tourism for the website?"
"I would."
"I'm in."
She laughed. "I can give you more information about it...."
"If giving me more information will make you feel like you're doing your job, go ahead," I said. "But I don't see any downside to this. I've been looking for more ways to write and promote tourism. I'll be happy to contribute."
"Well, excellent," she said. "I'll be your editor. I'll need a headshot and a short bio for the site."
"I'll get you something," I said. "It'll be the usual, mostly, history and ghosts and adventures...."
"I'm familiar with your writing," she said. "That's perfect."

"What you doing, Daddy?" asked Paul.
"I'm gonna check some of my messages, little man," I said. I sat down at my desk. I'd woken up in my haunted house with the four dogs, made coffee, and now I was checking for any historic or paranormal e-mails. Paul's shirt had a UFO and said We come in pizza, and mine said Giwoggle: Official Monster of Clinton County. Typical morning.
Paul sat and played on the floor of my office with Duke and Gwen, the pugs. Mickey and Kasper, our new Schnauzers, were downstairs---They're afraid of steps. My office is on the second floor of my home; it contains a lot of my files and history books, as well as artifacts on the shelves. Shoemaker's Lost Chord, a peg from the old phone system, a bottle of bootleg whiskey, a glass jar with a demon in it. Tell me your office is decorated that cool.
 I got on my computer and found I had several messages.
"Hunh. Hey, Daddy's in demand today, little guy."
I opened the first of them.
Of course, it was about lost treasure.
Typical morning.

"So how was your day?" My wife asked. We were sitting at the Chinese restaurant in Mill Hall, having dinner with Paul. Paul's default position on almost all foods is that he doesn't like it, but he likes Chinese. He will turn up his nose at beef, pork, and almost every vegetable, but will happily eat an egg roll.
"Kinda busy," I said. "By the time I got up, I had three messages about the lost Civil War gold....You remember I looked into that once?"
"Kind of, yes."
"A shipment of gold from the Civil War, lost somewhere in the area. It was taken on a covered wagon by an Army unit, and disappeared. The one survivor, a guy named Connors, came into Lock Haven to recover, and when he was drinking, he said he knew where the gold was. The Army transferred him to a remote outpost. The gold has never turned up."
"So why are people suddenly asking you about it?"
"Because maybe it's now been found. A group of treasure hunters and the FBI are digging over in Elk County."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Funny thing is, I kind of saw this coming. A few weeks ago, I got calls from both the treasure hunters and the FBI, asking about the Lock Haven end of this. They asked me to keep it quiet, though as it's now national news, I guess it's safe to talk about it now."
"You think they've really found it?"
"Could be. It's hard to say. It'll make a great piece for the PA Wilds website, though. Oh, yeah, and I've been asked to do some writing for the PA Wilds website."
"When did this happen?"
"Yesterday, I worked with the woman who runs it on the Express and the Eagle Eye. She needed someone to produce some content, and she thought of me. This kind of opens up a whole new territory for me; I have thirteen whole counties to play with now."
"And you're going to start with the gold."
"It'll make a good article." I ate a piece of shrimp. "You know what bugs me? I'm jealous of the information they have. When the treasure hunter called me, he said he knew Connors's first name, and I've never found that out. He's holding it back for verification reasons. I'm not jealous of the gold; he can keep the gold. But that's what I'm jealous of---I want to know the first name."

"Did you get my message about the Civil War gold?" Norman asked me, sitting at the microfilm machine in the library. Norman is a good friend of mine, a historian over in Centre County. He's sort of the Lou equivalent across the border, and we talk about this stuff a lot. Buried treasure, ghosts, monsters. Guy stuff.
I laughed. "You and three other people. I had my inbox crammed with that by the time I woke up. I was talking about it down at Piper this morning."
"Your new intern mentioned to me that you guys spent an hour talking about Batman and your Star Wars action figures."
I took the Wookiee toy off my desk and held it up. "You're gonna have to say that in front of Chewbacca, pal."
Norman laughed. "You really think they found it?"
"I don't know. I'm working on an article about it, but my pet theory is that it was up around Altar Rock."
"Most of the researchers think it's further west than Altar Rock."
"Yeah, well, most of the researchers haven't actually found it yet, have they?"
"A fair point. I'm not sure they've found it, either. I've been following the story, but the research looks kind of half-assed to me. These guys are all over the place, and there's a lack of primary sources. This could all come to nothing."
"Make a great article, though," I said. "I'm writing for the PA Wilds. This is a good one."
"You'd mentioned that. Sounds like fun."
"I'm excited. It gives me a new outlet, some stuff I haven't tried before. By the way, didn't you once have an encounter with the Ingleby Monster?"
"I did. You want to see my notes?"
"Yeah, thanks. Can I quote you? This will make a good piece, too."

Later, once I got off my desk shift, I went to research. I like working at the library, in the historic section---Everything I need is right by my desk.
I started with the Civil War file, and looked through that. Plenty of stuff, but nothing about lost gold. I looked through the history book on Elk County, too, and I found the suspected site on a map, but no details.
I pulled a couple of articles from the old newspapers, and then dug through another file and found a 2013 piece that I'd written myself. I looked it over, made sure I had all my facts straight.
Then I got to work writing.
These old legends aren't gonna publicize themselves.

"My uncle has an old photo from the newspaper," the woman said over the phone. "It's all beat up, and I'd like a new copy. When I called the newspaper, they sent me to you guys. Can you find it there?"
"It's possible," I said. "We have newspaper archives going back to 1813. Tell me about the photo."
"It's a group picture from a school. None of the people are named."
"Ah. Do we have a date it ran?"
"No, that part's torn off. It could have been anytime."
"Oh. That complicates things. We have a newspaper archive, but there's nothing to look up there. There's nothing that might appear in our index."
"So what's the process?" she asked. "How do I go about getting this?"
Sometimes I curse the businesses that make sure to provide you with whatever you want. History doesn't work that way. Some people think historic research is like fast food; you just explain what you want and it gets handed to you. It's not like that.
"That's what I'm trying to gently tell you, miss," I said. "Maybe you don't. The only way I can think of would be to go through them all, and that's very time-intensive."
"Well, I could try that. They don't run the old photos every day, do they?"
"They've actually been running them almost daily for about fifty years."
"Oh." She sounded deflated. "But if I did come, you could help me?"
"I can show you how to work the microfilm and look for it, yes."
"I'll talk to my uncle, and come by," she said. "Thanks."
My story had hit the site earlier in the day. Lost And Found. LaKeshia had e-mailed me the link, as if I hadn't been checking daily. I was looking at it on my computer screen at the library when Adam buzzed me over the phone.
"Hey, man, we got a guy here who needs to find two graves," he said. "Also there's a phone call on line one that you might want to handle."
"Send him back," I said. "Having an insane day. I'll help him, and then I gotta look up four obits for a lawyer friend of mine and run them down to him. I'll be back before my desk shift."
"You got it."
I picked up the phone. "Hello, can I help you?"
"Hi, I saw your article on the lost Civil War gold," said a voice with a southern accent.
"That was fast. I've been asked about that a lot lately."
"There was an old article in your local paper about that," said the guy. "I have the date. Would it be possible for you to find it and send it to me?"
I could do that while I worked the desk. "Sure, I can do that," I said. "I can get that in the mail today, no problem."
"That would be great. Thanks so much."
I got his information and hung up. Turning to the old guy whom Adam had sent back, I said."What can I do for you?"

Seven minutes after leaving the building, I walked back in. "Man," I said. "When you take documents down to a lawyer's office, do not make a joke about being there about a murder charge. No matter how funny you think it is, the receptionist won't get it."
"Noted," said Adam. "You ready to take the desk?"
"I'm on it. Give me the key."
I took over the desk, and I started working on the Civil War article. I can see the desk from the microfilm reader; I can do both at once. I got the roll and put it in the machine, scrolling through. These days, I can do microfilm in my sleep.
I found the article and skimmed through it.
Then I smiled.
And printed another copy for myself.

"How was your day, Daddy?" Paul asked, sitting at the kitchen table.
"Pretty good, little guy," I said, turning away from the stove. "I looked into some Civil War gold. Dinner's ready. Everyone go ahead."
Michelle, Tif, and Biz all gathered food onto their plates and sat down. "What's this I hear about Civil War gold?" Biz asked.
"An article I wrote," I said. "Some treasure hunters thought they found it, but it turns out they didn't. Their dig came up dry."
"So you still have a shot at it," Tif said.
"I've always thought it was up around Altar Rock, a big outcropping in the Keating area," I said. "If it is, it's entirely possible that they built Route 120 right over it. I could try digging, but I'd have to disguise it as a twelve-foot pothole, which is not unlikely."
"Maybe it'll never turn up," said Tif.
"Maybe not," I said. "But I'm happy. I got a good article out of it, and I learned a little more about the one survivor who came to Lock Haven. He's mentioned in an old article I found today." I smiled. "His name was Connors....James Connors."