We were in a dense forest searching for Colonial-era cellar holes. Those old stone cellars are what is left of the homes that once stood upon them.
We wanted to metal detect the areas around the empty stone holes. There were quite a few and we assumed they were from the Colonial era. But it's hard to date those sites until you pull a relic from the ground and observe it.
My best friend and metal detecting/treasure hunting pal, and the co-host of my TV series, “Exploring History’s Treasures,” John, was approximately ten feet from me. He was kneeling in a patch of ferns and myrtle next to one of the old cellars.
As always John was talking to himself while he dug a small hole to retrieve a relic. Even with my metal detector headphones on I could hear him.
“Damn roots. I hate roots. Pain in the ass to cut through. It’s probably a piece of rusted iron. I hate iron. Son-of-a-b----.”
I continued to metal detect but shook my head and quietly laughed while listening to him have a conversation with himself.
“Where the heck is it?” He said as he continued to dig. A pile of dirt four inches high surrounded the hole he was digging.
“It’s probably junk. I hate junk. But my detector shows it’s a coin at six inches.” Damn it. I’m halfway to China now. I’m hungry. I’m gonna eat that Snickers bar.” He told himself.
I continued to laugh, ignoring him, and just kept on swinging my detector around the empty cellar hole.
A few minutes later John yelled.
“HEY, FRANK. LOOK WHAT I FOUND?”
I walked toward my friend. He lifted his hand to show me something.
“I found an old rusted lid to a jar. And I had to cut through an inch round tree root to dig it. ” He pointed to the hole. “And look. There’s broken glass in the hole.”
“Wow. Nice finds John. You should be excited, and proud,” I joked. “Now you can add them to your home collection. They're so nice. Maybe donate them to the state museum. The archaeologists there would love them.”
“What did you find today? Nothing, right?” He remarked while laughing. Then he stood up and swung his detector over the hole.
“And there’s still something down in there.” He said. “Cause my detector is giving off multiple signals. And they’re registering as coins.”
“Okay, well, good luck pal,” I told him. “I’m going to detect around the well.”
As I walked away, John was kneeling over the hole, again talking to himself as he continued to dig. “I gotta piss. And then I’ll eat that Snickers bar.” He stood up and walked toward a large 150-year-old elm tree.
“Oh boy, oh boy,” He said as he relieved himself in front of the tree.
“HEY FRANK,” he yelled, “I’M GONNA TAKE A BREAK AND EAT MY SNICKERS BAR.”
I raised my hand and nodded to him.
I wasn’t having much luck detecting around the well. So I worked my way toward an old apple orchard. Most likely it was planted by the family that settled there.
After twenty minutes of swinging my detector inside the orchard, John yelled again.
“HEY FRANK. YOU AREN’T GONNA BELIEVE WHAT I FOUND.”
Kidding, I shouted. “If I have to walk over there. It better be good.”
I approached him. John was sitting on the ground.
“You laughed at me,” He said. “You gonna put them in your collection? Maybe donate them to the museum. Well go ahead and laugh at these.”
In his hands were a number of old coins. And there were coins on the ground in front of him.
“Awesome,” I told him.
“They were in a glass jar,” John said. “Most likely the glass jar broke open because that thick tree root grew over it and forced it further down into the ground. That pressure broke the jar.”
I slapped John on the back and told him,” Nice find pal.”
“You made fun of me Frank,” He answered. “Just for that. I’m not giving you that Snickers bar I bought for you. I’ll eat it.”
“But you bought two Snicker bars. One for each of us. And you already ate one,” I told him.
“I’m hungry Frank. I worked my ass off cutting through that damn tree root.”
He proceeded to eat the second Snickers bar in front of me.
That was John, always the joker. Always a pain in my butt.
It’s been years since that day. So I don’t remember what the dates of those coins were. But I can say there were many Seated Coins. Those coin were issued in 1836. There were also a few British Coppers. Those coins dated from the early 1800s. Those had the image of King George III on them.
John finding the Seated coins and the King George coins were definite proof that the area we were in, and the stone cellar holes we located were definitely from the Colonial era of America.
R.I.P. my friend!
That's a great story of you and John! My hunting buddy is Brian and man, have we been in some places. The abandoned old mines down here in the Georgia mountains during the Gold Rush of 1828. And also old structures deep in the woods. And of course the famed wagon train robbery from the Confederate treasure and banks of Richmond in 1865. That one we hit it big, baby!
A good friend to hunt with is a lot of fun. My most reliable partner was an east German Shepherd dog took his eyes off of me. Save me twice from people with bad intentions.
Chased for troublemaking gangbangers back to their car, I don’t even know what they look like because I knew the dog would take care of them without my asking. I did have a human partner until he passed away. Known him since second grade, Big old guy named Phil. Phil would get a few feet away from my SUV and decided he had to take a cigarette break. He would pet the dog for a while. Then he would swing the detector around and ask me how to pinpoint the darn thing. He had a bad back so he would ask me to dig whatever it was. Then he would take a break and play with the dog. Once we hunted a creepy old house And he’s for that there was someone in the upstairs window with arrival. I told him he was crazy. He said let’s go in and kick him out of the house. I said Phil it’s not our house. Leave him alone and he’ll leave us alone. Besides, if the guy had enough money to own a rifle, what would he be doing in a creepy old house in the middle of nowhere? Since we were kids, Phil had a big imagination, and I knew that no one was in the house. We hunted until about finding a few. Continued to boast about going in the house and throwing the guy out, I continue to insist that there was no guy there. Just before dark, Phil walked across the front of the house one more time and I yelled out, look out there he is. Of course nobody was there, but I wanted to see how brave Phil was. Just like when we were kids, Phil jumped and ran like a scalded dog. His arms and legs going in all different directions, I’m laughing myself silly while Phil is referring to me as a particular part of the human anatomy. Phil got Covid during the pandemic And refused any treatment.