Search for Secrets of A Sunken Cannon - 28

After July 4, 1986 each day Bob Alcumbrack and crew saw fewer spectators. The Cannonsburg cannon's nostalgia was wearing off fast, but it was the best news for Bob Alcumbrack. The human pressure was off and the crew could now fix the broken machinery without spectators. He was more relaxed, his mind and body being more sound and his dowsing skills were better. Spectators and the media took their toll on his psyche, but what many do not understand is that it took Bob and crew 24 days more to get the box down to its maximum depth of 9 feet, which wasn't enough. We fought broken equipment daily and the box sidewall presssure was showing signs of metal fatigue. The missing cannon kept defying men with modern machinery from its image. The boxes depth wasn't enough. We couldn't go any deeper and still the cannon was 4-5 feet deeper. The boxes depth was two feet above grade level and the cannon was out of recovery range because of shifting sand.

Each time Bob and crew returned to the coffer box it had to be dewatered entirely before the crew could dig and probe the bottom with long metal rods. Bob had only one bilge pump. It had good suction, sometimes too good, and when it pulled up stones that's when the impellors were chewed and damaged so badly it lost suction. The influx of water like an open fire hydrant made it seem almost impossible to get water levels down to bottom and soon it was up to experienced scuba divers to dig and probe the bottom sediments with long iron rods.

As divers entered the water Bob would stand above them on planks and rechecked cannon disposition. Each diver used lead weights to get them to bottom, but the swim fins caused such turbulence they had to place their masts within three inches of bottom. The divers were 8-feet underwater and we only saw rising bubbles and we could hear them trying to probe the bottom with metal rods as I listened with my Emergency Medical Technician's stethoscope like the doctors and nurses use to take your blood pressure, heartbeat and respirations. I was eavesdropping on the box by listening to the stress noises and the diver's chattering and earth music. I got pretty good at deciphering the different noises made when the probe struck them, but gun metal wasn't heard.

The coffer box was being stressed - the creaking made the diver's nervous and the diver's finally got scared and refused to dive until more bracking was installed. What was interesting was the diver's reported they were striking larger stones and as fast as they removed sand, the holes would collapse more sand to replace what was removed. The rod sounds of probes striking stones was duller than metal and metal to stones was distinct. Metal to metal wasn't what we found and pounding probes underwater was almost impossible. Work stopped. Bob borrowed more bilge pumps which finally allowed him and Allen Janose to dig and probe on solid bottom without the water. Whenever Bob would pound down the metal rods and hit something solid he insisted the cannon was below. It increased out adrenalin and we dug harder and faster when we thought the cannon was within reach.

Bob's mind had convinced him that the five men rolled the cannon and carriage into a natural wash, it flipped and they covered it with soil and stones and it sunk into the spring. That's in the same hole as previously buried. His dowsing skills had indicated the cannon was upside down because the wheel rims made or iron hoops were closer to the surface, but we didn't find any and we thought the entire carriage with wheels was made of oak and that's why the wheels squeaked loudly. If metal hubs why didn't the men oil the carriage wheels? They could have made a better secret get away, but as it was the squeaking wheels is what woke Estella Ward from a sound sleep on July 5, 1885. She saw the five men dragging the cannon away passing he folks house.

Finally, the end of Bob's first streamside excavation site was in sight. Sorry to report he didn't find the cannon at the bottom. I provided Bob with a core sampler - a hard plastic tube that when pounded down where the cannon went under the box wall showed no soil disturbances, but it did capture many small granite, quartz, tungsten and blue and green stones stained and encrusted in heavy deposits of iron ore. A layer of black sand was laced with flecks of fine placer gold. The tungsten, blue and green stones were magnetized. This was Bob's worst day (July 28, 1986) as a cannon hunter. He was glad the public and news media didn't witness his humiliation. I couldn't imagine how he could misinterpret an underground streambed with connecting feeder streams of ice-cold water for a cannon and carriage? This was surreal.

Bob had assumed too many things in his attempt to locate his wildest dream cannon. Had he done the basics of writing down what was repeated to him in person instead of what was repeated in his nightly dreams we wouldn't have wasted a month of hard digging He couldn't recognize fact from fiction and vice-versa. We were constantly hoping to learn some secrets to the burial site, but he became blindsided by his distorted dreams. The old folks in Cannonsburg, the eyewitnesses were good bluffers and he couldn't get them to slip their tongues. He tried to trick them into revealing secrets and he thought Mr. Murray's constant tears were a dead giveaway to the cannon's secret burial site. Bob never gave up pestering the old folks -- he was the sandburr of youth -- a sticktight hoping to uncover a mysterious secret.

At the conclusion of Bob's big dig this site was not where the cannon was previously buried. The ground showed little disturbances one would expect if the cannon were buried by the five men. These men couldn't have dug a hole in one hour and sink the cannon, where we had spent 28 days trying to overcome shifting sand, magnetized stones and ice-cold water. We had to figure out how Bob could mistake the underground streambed for cannon and carriage. Bob's big dig was busted! We pressed onward into the future and in 1988 we found...

DAILY THOUGHTS:

People in Cannonsburg reported that Bob Alcumbrack was a pest for more than 50 years. He had been interested in the mysterious cannon's disappearance when he heard some comments about the tragedy in his youth. He was a bugger - sort of like our cat named Libby, short for her real name Liberty Belle. She can be sweet and a pest when hungry. She does all she can to make us get out of bed in the morning to feed her. We can't lay in bed peacefully if she knows we're awake. She hops up on the bed and walks on us, knuzzles and purrs. If that doesn't work she jumps to the nightstand and chews on the phone antenna until we chew her out. When she quits but still hasn't gotten us up she pushes her nose hard against the touch lamp twice and we get blinded by the light, jumps back to bed and trounches us and attacks our every movement. Libby knows how to get our attention and if we do get up she won't stop pestering until she gets what she wants 'Chicken and Salmon" in gravy. Libby and Bob Alcumbrack were pests -- but are well remembered as friends. Next time the journey to find the Cannonsburg cannon continues and I'll share what more secrets Bob and friends uncover.

Search for Secrets of A Sunken Cannon - 26

Over hill n' dale the Cannonsburg cannon went missing in the wee morning hours of July 5, 1885. Five men hauled the rickety carriage with cannon in tow past Estella Wards house on Joyce Street, then disappeared up the trail over the trail. Where it went and what happened in the forty-five minutes of so when the men returned was a mystery?

Never when questioning her as an adult did Estella Ward ever tell Bob how many horses nor did she describe the cannon to Bob. As a child of 8-years old she was sworn to secrecy. That's unusual for a child to keep such a secret even through adulthood. Two horses could pull a 6-pound cannon with carriage and without a caisson up, over and down a sandy hilltop trail. That's not a 3,850 pound unit. The forward weight would bear down heavily on two horses. Bob hadn't made this connection between cannon weight and horsepower until several months after his big dig started.

From now my daily or current thoughts are at the end of each post. That's so that we can get back to the nitty-gritty on the missing Cannonsburg cannon first and then you can check my sanity or memory for bugs. My memory is still pretty good, but like all humans sometimes we all make historical mistakes. The same was true for Bob Alcumbrack. His memory was flawed on more than one occasion when researching before he started digging. We weren't sure if his memory failure was accidental or made by faulty dreams. Whenever you do paper searches you always write down information you found and don't trust what you've learned to memory. Its probably the most important information you need before you begin physical labor.

Maggie McCarthy, the wife of cannon hunters, Harold and Matt McCarthy thought Bob had gone a little daft when he was telling her the size of the cannon. Often times she told Bob he was chasing a mythical cannon, but he refuted her notion it couldv'e been a smaller cannon. She asked him many times 'are you sure its over 9 feet long and will fit inside the coffer box. Bob was sure it was 10 feet below grade and buried in sand rippled with bubbling springs. My mind said, "No way!"

How could the five Cannonsburg men bury the cannon so deep within 45 minutes? Sound familiar? Remember the twin sister cannons of Texas? The five Texans buried the twin cannons, and this a direct historical quote, "so damn deep so fast no damn Yankees could ever find them." If all three cannons had been buried at water's edge they'd all strike water within a few feet and the weight of cannons wouldn't help them sink too fast even if rocks were placed upon the pieces. It is possible that the twin sister cannons no longer exist, because maybe someone else saw them bury them, dug them up and they did indeed go to a recycling foundry.

Bob Alcumbrack believed that since the men were only gone a short time they probably buried the old cannon on the Shoemaker property (1885) now the Luther Augustine property in 1986. He assumed they reburied the cannon where the town elders previously buried the cannon. Why not, the hole was half dug, but how the five men sink it so deep, not in mud along the stream, but in sand and gravel? Remember Fred Thomas wasn't with the five men. He was too drunk on hard cider and his mind and tongue might loosen when in a drunken stupor again. They couldn't chance the discovery of the secret hiding spot again, but Thomas would become a bright "beacon of light" approximately 103 years into the future. Thomas' destiny or collision with cannon hunter Bob Alcumbrack and his crew were written in the heavens long before the modern day hunters were ever born. Treasure hunters, too, should never surround themselves with alcohol drinkers. In drunken stupors they give away silent secrets.

After years of listening to eyewitness accounts of the Tompsett tragedy, Bob thought he had found the first burial site, because of his friendship with John Murray. Murray was 22 years old when he fired the cannon, but whenever Bob pestered and prodded him with trick questions Mr. Murray chose his words carefully so as not to tip off Bob where the cannon was buried. It was Murray's reaction when they took buggy rides down the trail and crossed the footbridge over the small stream that comes down from Pickerel Lake. The stream water was ice cold year-round. So cold was the water it could petrify the human body. Bare the body in Bear Creek as local Indians said, 'You'd be pertrified.'

Murray would stop his buggy horse on the trail's wooden bridge, but not say a single word. Tears streamed down his face, his eyes flooded with eye dew. Murray's eyes filled with tears before they even got to the bridge. Because of this fact Bob felt the cannon was buried closeby. His face was sullen and ash white. Murray at time sobbed, but when Bob asked a question Murray kept silent. Farther away from the bridge his silence ended. Bob thought Murray's body language exposed a silent secret. As Bob said, "You don't get tears in your eyes unless you remember something so bad or good that happened years ago."

Approaching the bridge his face turned sullen, never laughed or joked, just increased sniffling and tears flooded his eyes. Beyond the trail of tears, the better Mr. Murray's eyes improved. Bob spent years with his dowsing rods trying to pinpoint the cannon grave and "X" marked the mystery spot and placed the box atop where his signal readings were the strongest. The secrecy surrounding the cannon's disappearance showed the depth of their grief and respect for Tompsett. The 1885 men took the mystery spot to their graves. The cannon was at peace for 101 years, but the day of reckoning was close at hand 103 years later (1988).

"FLASH," who wrote the community "Cannonsburg Happenings" column for the Rockford Register in 1885 was silenced after Tompsett's death. "FLASH" was my nickname to work partners in 1986, but it's where I started talking. Destiny or coincidence? Bob requested I not inform you what happened to the Cannonsburg cannon until he died. I honored his request and will tell you the final secret, but not today, because you need to see what ends this legend to see if he failed or succeeded. Bob did discover an ultimate secret in 1988, a secret that John Murray and fellow cannon buddies never knew existed. Fred Thomas' grandfather (James Thomas) kept a secret from the original five men who buried the cannon. It lead to the biggest reward of our expedition, but it wasn't found until Bob's destiny collided with the elder Thomas. What do you think was found that lead to our silence?

Well, Bob was sure that Murray was the key to the burial site. Murray's body language; his eyes and where they started to fill with tears, where his voice began to crack and where the tears began to streak his face were indications the cannon was nearby. Murray showed the most remorse and sadness at the bridge crossing. Never did he look sideways, his head forever bowed. Bob's clue was to search on each side of the bridge along the stream. How far in each direction he wasn't sure, but Murray would start talking again the farther they got away from the bridge crossing. Murray's eyes watched the ground beneath the horse and never peered off across the fields. Murray kept his wits.

Bob began his intensive search. The sand bottomed stream below the bridge was nestled deep in a mosquito infested woodland setting now. The muddy bottomland made it a dark search. He searched up and down the creek and found the biggest power spot and "X" marked the spot. He dowsed the spot with his two brass dowsing rods, because electronic metal detectors of 1986 couldn't find brass objects. Brass cannons are non-ferrous meaning they are derived from 90% copper and 10% tin. Bob used nuclear metal range finders to flush out the cannon. He got directional power hits from distant locating and charted where the directional lines crossed. His pair of rods fine tuned the location. This was his most promising spot, but my first impression was "Why would the men bury the killer cannon so close to town in the same hole? Could it be because the hole was already half dug or was it buried fast because of an angry adrenalin rush?

The only reason they disappeared over a sandy hill is because wherever they buried the cannon so fast they didn't want others along the roadways to see the direction or where it was buried deep. If buried so rapidly how could they expect it to stay buried. Someone surely would have been suspicious of disturbed soil in a wheat field or pasture. How could they have buried the cannon in 11 feet of gravel and sand - no muck? Bob assumed they may have simply partially buried or just hidden the cannon from view for burial after Tompsett's funeral and burial?

Bob and crew struck ice-cold water at four feet down. It was a gusher like a burst fire hydrant, the water filling the coffer box within minutes. The bilge pumps labored hard, but eventually Allen Janose, Matt McCarthy and Bob Alcumbrack drew down the water level. Bob with perfect balance walked the planks atop the coffer box, the rods actions showed the cannon's dimensions and directional disposition. He had figured it out to the inch on his diagram designs. Bob's impression was that he found what Mr. Murray's eyes had not shown him. The cannon as within reach, but something was odd. The electronic metal detectors that wouldn't give a signal if brass suddenlyly squealed softly and his mind interupted what he found as meaning the cannon was here below him. Just because Mr. Murray's eyes filled with tears, never looked sideways at the bridge, but stared down at the horse's feet didn't mean that was positive prtoof it must be nearby.

It was possible, but Matt McCarthy and I thought the site nearby was the first burial spot and not the second, but what could make the rods act so favorably. Bob kept walking the oak planks over the watery grave like Captain Jack. What was more strange was the fact that Allen Janose and Harold McCarthy used Bob's rods, too, and mapped out Bob's same dimensions how the cannon was resting. Why couldn't the 1885 men have buried the cannon farther away? It was only one-fourth mile from accident to burial site. Was it because it was Sunday, a day of grief, prayer, reflections and remembranes of Tompsett? Could Estella Ward have simply lost track of time. No information was found about Tompsett's funeral or graveside services. Cannonsburg had witnessed a horrendous tragedy and the cannon's disappearance was silenced forever, or so they thought.

A new town physician arrived two months after the accident. His memoirs stated that when two citizens met on the street, the eyes were on the ground and they never acknowledged each other. He tried desparately to loosen the tongues between 1885-1889 with no success. At church functions people talked to each other, but not on the streets nor in shops and stores. Sadness and depression were everywhere. This proved the depth of the town's sorrow and the gloominess and silence was more than he could stand so he left, went to Grand Rapids and taught surgical skills to interns.

DAILY THOUGHT today!

My prayers go out to all those unfortunate innocent individuals who suffered greatly when a Texas man commited suicide by flying his small Cessna plane with 80-gallons of gasoline onboard into that building that houses the IRS, FBI and private corporations in Austin, Texas. His frustrations with the IRS caused severe anguish that lead to his insanity and he took out his anger against the people. This act of domestic terrorism was a home grown incident, but it goes to show what happens when Congress doesn't listen to the people and pass income tax laws on certain classes of people who feel singled out and robbed of their rights to earn a living as self-employed persons. SAD! All this happened partily because of a domestic disturbance with his wife and his festering anger towards the IRS caused the fireball rebellion. TRAGIC! It's even more tragic when media folks file first images of a man that set his house on fire with his wife and child inside. DISGUSTING rumors to glorify the situation. Increasing HYSTERIA is scrambling two military jets to shoot down other would be terrorists so the falling debris will kill hundreds perhaps thousands of other innocents on the ground. How does this LUNACY protect Americans?

Search for Secrets of A Sunken Cannon - 24

Stupid! That's exactly the truth. Why don't those who push the extremes in harsh weather dress appropriately and obey warnings about adverse weather and mountain climbing dangers before they embark on a hiking trip to the top of Mt. St. Helen's to take pictures? Did you hear about the hiker yesterday (Feb.15) who before leaving was warned that the mountain top was very unstable, but still climbed atop the rim? The hiker thought nothing of the warnings, stood about five feet from a cornice to snap a photo and the ledge collapsed. He catapulted into the crater and fell 1500 feet. Rescue helicopters flew into the crater, but strong winds made them abort a rescue attempt, but they did drop more adequate weather gear and supplies. Rescuers noted he didn't move and weren't sure he was alive. He wasn't totally stupid since during the night they heard him blowing his rescue whistle - that's a miracle, but will they be able to reach him before he freezes to death by excessive cold. Why is it some people don't listen to authorities and seem to push the envelope of adventure to such extremes as to place rescuers in such grave danger from avalanches between the inside crater walls and the live lava dome of an active volcano? "Stupid is as stupid does," said Forrest Gump, played by Tom Hanks.

Whether its extreme sports or treasure hunting its ego and the thrill of accomplishing the goals of dreams. Some love the hunt for adventure, while others just enjoy the thrill of doing something fantastic to prove their tenacity for life beyond good judgement Bob Aclumbrack had vision, endurance, courage and the energy to push himself and his crew of six men towards victory in his search for the sunken cannon. The same was true for the original seven men involved in the Cannonsburg cannon accident. To my thinking men are doers, not sitters and they can't stand being tied down without anything to do, but create trouble. Seems men are always getting themselves into serious jams and its others who must put their lives in danger to help or rescue those displaying their arrogant stupidity.

Weather leading up to the Fourth of July 1885, the people living in Michigan were experiencing the strangest weather. None of them could remember when the weather went to such extremes but the summers of 1847-49 were the most unbearable in Michigan history to pioneer settlers and it forced some to flee towards the gold fields near Ft. Sumpter California. Ottawa Indians said 1848 wasn't as bad as winter of 1831-32 and 1836 when more than 200 tornadoes ripped wide swaths of forest destruction across Michigan in one day. Spring and summer arrived on June 22, 1885, and not the first on March 21.

The winter of 1885 was cold and snowy and snowstorms ravaged Michigan until late May. Folks were miserable and the frozen ground, too hard for tilling and planting dampened their spring spirits. Then when the sun did start melting everything it turned our blazing hot in early June and the thaw was happening. The hot winds of change fanned their faces, but the fields and woods turned tinder dry and forest fires broke out. The people were tired of fighting flames and snorking smoke and then a cold snap with heavy frosts and bitter winds returned the third week of June. The weather extremes of 1885 were the same extremes of the 21 century (2009). From this historian's viewpoint global warming doesn't exist, but mans prolific use of concrete and asphalt causing heat to rise will alter and create weather extremes. The weather changed history in 1885. The pioneers were sick and tired of fighting with mother nature's tantrums and it was a bad year to deny the young seven men of their rights to fire the cannon. Independence Day picnics and festivities and cannon firing were the boredom breakers.

Lake Michigan was so low in 1848 freight bound for Grand Rapids was off loaded on pole boats over the sand bar at the mouth of the Grand River, then transferred and transported up the river by the flat-bottomed steamer called the HUMMINGBIRD.

This vessel ran up the river to Eastmanville and Grandville docks twice each day. The shallow 12-inch draft vessel had a small 1/2 pound swivel cannon, like Mike Fink's, lashed to her deck to announce she was within one mile of her destination. This vessel actually brought the Cannonsburg cannon up the Grand River from Grand Rapids in 1848 to Plainfield/Austerlitz and LeGrand Cannon personally delivered the cannon with rental wagon to Cannon Township officials. The small cannon had been fired for 38 years without any accidents until 1885.

When the Independence Day celebratory speeches and picnic banquet feast was done, the seven young men rushed down to prime the cannon and a thunderous "BOOM" shook the picnic grounds. The cannon roared, the ground shook and big bellows of rising white smoke filled the air until Walter Tompsett and two other friends made a deadly mistake in judgement while loading.

Right around 1:00 p.m. for some unknown reason Tompsett was standing in front of the muzzle when it was being loaded with gunpowder. The man thought to be Fred Thomas seated the powder, released his hand just as the cannon prematurely discharged, the ramrod rocketed out in a burst of bellowing smoke and struck Tompsett's knee. Either Tompsett wasn't thinking or he was somehow distracted by conversations while the cannon was being primed.

"BOOM!" The cloud of ashen-white smoke filled the air, the ramrod shattering Tompsett's knee, the bones and muscles splattered across the grass. Tompsett screamed in sheer agony and was thrown by the concussion and severely burned before he hit the ground. The cannon's roar ceased, but Tompsett's screams brought the entire festive celebration to an instant halt. Mother's covered the ears of their children when they saw Tompsett screaming and saw him writhing on the ground holding what was left of his leg, his face grimaced in unimaginable pain. All six men were thrown backwards from the concussion. Aid rushed down to Tompsett and it was an awful bad scene.

William S. Johnson, Frank Ladner, Cornelius Harvey and James Thomas, the town elders who buried the old cannon 18 hours earlier knew the outcome of their inability to bury the cannon and keep it secretly buried. They ran down to Tompsett yelling, "We knew it, we knew this was going to happen, the government said it was going to happen, why didn't you leave it buried?" See what happened! Angry words flew out, too, probably a some expletives and colorful metaphors that need not be printed here. Put yourself in the picture as the father of a son firing the cannon. What would your response be to the accident unfolding?

Can you see the hysteria and panic of the women and children all watching and listening with heads bowed, some already crying wondering who was injured? They knew by the screams that the carnage was terribly bad. Listening to the screams of agony was bad enough, the children didn't need to see the injuries. As men and officials rushed to Tompsett's aid some young women were crying hysterically as Dr. Patterson tried to comfort them. Someone yelled out it was Tompsett and Rena, his wife put her one-year old son Walter in the arms of another woman and ran to the accident scene. The men kneeled around her husband and she burst into tears and staggered back at the unsightly wound. His blood gushing from his severed leg, the bones splintered, the flesh burned. With tears streaking down her face she tried to comfort Walter as someone else tried dressing the nearly amputated leg to stem the flow of blood She knew amputation surgery was the only way to save his life. His knee was gone, the upper leg and lower leg held together by only bloody skin.

The men gathered around and picked up Tompsett who screamed in unbelievable pain and laid him in a wagon. Each bump down the hill he screamed louder and finally arrived at Dr. Patterson's house. The journey must have felt like eternity -- the same feelings as ambulance rides today on bumpy roads and highways. The picnic was over. Many packed up and left in a sober mood, while the eye witnesses to the tragedy gathered outside Dr. Patterson's praying for a miracle that God would save Tompsett.

Word was dispatched to Edgerton and Walter Tompsett's mother and father were summoned, but it was a full days ride from Edgerton to Cannonsburg. Dr. Patterson assumed control and sent for Dr. Hyser at Plainfield and Dr. Johnson, a surgeon from Grand Rapids. It'd be a full days ride for them, too, but before they arrived young Tompsett had bled to death and died 12 hours after the tragic accident. Dr. Patterson was a preacher and could only attend to his soul. Tompsett laid in agony on a table, stretcher or bed and Rena literally watched her husband bleed to death. Upon his death the crowd swelled in silence and prayed for the Tompsett family in Cannonsburg, formerly known as Churchtown before 1847.

It must have been a horrific 12 hours for Rena Tompsett watching and listening to the love of her life; husband, son and friend for life die so painfully. Tompsett's cannon firing friends and town elders who couldn't keep silent the cannon's burial secret probably argued until his death where to dispose of the killer cannon.

Gruesome as it all sounds, this is the beginning vision about the Cannonsburg cannon accident. Each time you read the gruesome story the picture will be more fine-tuned, but Tompsett's tragedy will be the same. Only when I repeat the story in more detail will you discover the unknown secrets the Cannonsburg eyewitnesses took to their graves. Walter Tompsett's death made them the ultimate secret society. Never again as long as they lived would they talk about the accident that shook them to silence until... destiny 101 years into the future would the secrets unfold. Next time I'll we'll see what happens to the cannon. The tragedy view above is fictional and the real scene is only known by those who witnessed the tragedy and God, but it was the closest to reality for the accuracy of the story.

Search for Secrets of A Sunken Cannon - 23

The first cannon burial by the Cannon town elders was a dreadful mistake that ultimately was responsible for the death of Walter Tompsett. Town elders William S. Johnson, Frank Ladner, Cornelius Harvey and James Thomas met in the wee hours before sunrise and hitched up several horses and dragged the old Cannonsburg cannon from storage and preceded to bury it in a not to distant secret location. Someone had overheard or saw the township elders whisk the cannon away and bury it beside a glacial stream not far from Cannonsburg. As senior elders it took longer dig a shallow hole alongside of the stream under a hot blazing July sun. The salty sweat poured off their foreheads into their eyes, while they took turns resting, swatting deer flies and mosquitos. After the cannon was buried they returned to town thinking they had stopped the first cannon casualty and would relax on the Fourth of July.

Hindsight from 101 years into the future (1986) I couldn't help but wonder why the officials decided to bury the cannon instead of smashing, destroying or recycling the old weapon? Could it be they felt since the cannon was an honorable gift given by the township's namesake it wasn't their right to destroy it? Surely they could have just disabled the vent or poured molten iron into the chamber plugging the bore. Actually they had hoped to preserve the cannon by burying it getting it safely someplace else before something happened and it premature burst like the Federal government was warning. Burying it they felt was the most logical choice and it would be out of site for the holiday festivities. They could have done many things to the old cannon, but they didn't want to accept the responsibility or liability should someone find or fire a sabotaged cannon. They had hoped the burial spot could be kept secret, but alas, they made the mistake of burying it too close to town and wagging their tongues and the result was that several young men weren't going to be denied the right to fire the old cannon. For too long they had watched their fathers have fun firing the cannon for 38 years and they weren't going to be denied firing it again.

Still Bob Alcumbrack didn't have answers to questions and this haunted his dreams both day and night. I was as perplexed as the cannon digging crew. Bob had concentrated so hard on what the oldest residents told him about the cannon - the awesome blast when it barked and how the blast echoed up and down valleys. Bob only investigated hearsay town folk, but he never investigated all the township officials and men that fired the cannon between 1848-1885. Bob believed that the first burial spot was the last burial spot for the cannon. Since the five men were gone only a short time they couldn't have gone very far so it must be buried in the same hole. Because Bob hadn't put found the answers to early questions Maggie McCarthy was sure he was chasing a "ghost cannon." What he did know was that the cannon was pre-Civil War manufactured, but what he didn't know was how old and his mind plus the newspaper article and history book sentences, well his mind said it had to be a small military cannon - a six-pounder. That was the smallest in the U.S. Army of the time period.

The biggest reason township elders buried the cannon is because it still gave them a sense of community pride and geographical importance. They had scruples and heeded the governments warnings, but felt it wasn't their sole responsibility to destroy the cannon. They just wanted it out of sight for safety until after the Fourth of July so they could dig it back up and formally decide its fate, which more than likely was recycling it into hitching posts, signs or other products.

Recycling useless objects was a concept whose roots sprang from English history more than 300 years ago and not just the 20th and 21st century versions of American environmental correctness. Early cannon makers invented the environmental concept of saving this planet called Earth. When the English were short on cannonballs and cannons they captured these guns were recycled into larger cannons. During that time the Brits lacked copper and tin to produce brass cannons. During war periods British peasants stripped the rooftops of lead shingles and smelted them down for cannonball production and recyled decripit cannons into more modern cannons. The art of English recycling was a lucatrive business, because nearly every king or queen was engaged in war and His Majesty's or Her Majesty's precious artillery was either being seized in lost combat or vessels sunk at sea. American's didn't even know the word "recycle." We just tossed everything into bottomless kettle ponds, bogs, cisterns and honey holes.

Bob had reason to believe the cannon was made of bronze, but what he didn't know the age of the old cannon. It was an ancient bronze cannon and it was no where near a six-pound military field cannon. Some in Cannon Township at the time Bob was digging thought he was on a fool's errand and that the cannon's legend was a hoax. Some business owners use the legend about the cannon as ways to promote business sponsored treasure hunts today. A dentist in the Bella Vista area has gone to great lengths to discredit tragedy of Walter Tompsett and has gone so far to say that the only reason someone got hurt is because some teenagers got careless and two Rockford newspapers last summer validated this claim and newspaper editors fell in with this faulty attitude of political incorrectness. Poppycock!

On July 4th 1885 seven young men aged 25-41 years old gathered together and hitched up some plough horses. They mounted a search party for the missing cannon that was buried 18 hours earlier. In morning twilight they found the cannon's grave beside the small stream. It was so easy an child could find the burial spot. Disturbed soil and discolored soil gave away its secret spot. The young men wrestled it from the hole, cleaned off the soil, mud, grass and decaying vegetative matter. Grinning from ear to ear they dragged it jokingly back through town to the dismay of township elders and repositioned it atop the hill near the old-two story Cannonsburg School and fired off a celebratory shot. The thunderous noise echoed up and down the valleys announcing that festivities would soon begin in earnest around 11:00 a.m.. Townskeepers said the cannon let out an "awesome blast" each time it belched fire and smoke. Shopkeeper windows rattled with each blast.

Mr. John Murray, was one of the five original cannon firing men and whenever Bob quizzed him about how awesome the blast was he always said the vibrations rattled windows for miles If that were true Bob surmised the cannon had to be spaded to the ground to keep it from recoiling or flipping over, but Bob could never get Murray to comment on the carriage architecture. Bob always said, "Murray's eyes misted or glassed over whenever he tried to get Murray to talk about the cannon accident. He was keeping the visual image of the accident and cannon description secret. He took that secret to his grave.

Other eyewitness accounts of the cannon's firepower said the cannon was tethered to the ground and its wheels were partially buried and blocked preventing recoil or flipping when fired. If the cannon were pre-Civil War it might of had recoil springs off the carriage axle leading to the trail spade. When fired the spade digs into the ground, the spring absorbs the recoil. On ancient cannons the spade was absent. Nobody ever told Bob if the cannon did or didn't have a spade. The carriage trail on an ancient cannon is very heavy, made of oak or iron, and up to twice the length of the cannon that's balanced on the axle. Knowing the length of the trail foretells the size of cannon and poundage. A six-pound cannon's carriage axle was six feet wide from wheel to wheel and the cannon was mounted in the center of a heavy carriage. This was precisely the measurements Bob witched above the coffer box indicating this massive cannon was at the bottom of his big dig site. If true it 'd weigh about 3,865 pounds. Bob's readings said 'the cannon was resting upside down, which meant he'd encounter woody debris in bilge water and concieveably tear apart the cannon carriage to recover the piece, but he might miss the brass plaque. His mind envisioned the entire cannon and carriage to be about 11 feet long and that was the reason for the cannon's awesome blast. He assumed that's why it took seven young men to dig up the cannon, but what I couldn't understand is how could four elder men bury such a large cannon the day before. Nobody that Bob ever interviewed gave any cannon dimensions. Never did the men reveal a physical description of carriage or cannon. This was an ultimate secret.

What Bob did know was that it took seven men to dig up the cannon, wrestle it from the burial spot and return it to its hilltop location. The group was comprised of Jake Eaton, Truman Hutchins, George Inwood, John Murray, Henry Schoomaker, Fred Thomas and Walter Tompsett. These young men had watched their father fire the ancient cannon and they were going to defy the town elders and didn't want to be robbed of their heritage of firing a peacetime celebratory cannon. Bob, when digging never knew who found the first burial site nor did he care. He was obsessed with the cannon.

The most probable suspect was Fred Thomas, since his grandfather was James Thomas, the highway commissioner and one of the men who buried the cannon. Fred led his friends to the exact burial site. I believed this to be true, yet it is circumstancial evidence. I couldn't find solid proof, but he is the second man of the original seven who didn't help his five friends rebury the cannon. I believe he was injured or in shock. Only Thomas was kin and the proof of his involvement in finding the cannon comes later when 'walls talk' that lead Bob and crew to the true identity of the cannon.

The cannon was ready for firing by mid-morning. The first celebratory shot woke up the Saturday morning folks from a sound sleep. The cannon's first salute announced Independence Day celebrations at the picnic site. Township elders shuddered and winched when the awesome cannon roared. They were shocked that someone had found the cannon's burial spot and were immediately saddened by the sight of seven young men firing it who had no formal artillery training. It is time to stop for tonight. The next segment describes the tragedy.

Search for Secrets of A Sunken Cannon - 22

UHUuh! UHHuh! Sounds like these mean only thing. Someone is in pain for shoveling too much snow. Seems those on the east coast have forgotten what shoveling too much snow for several days can do when you haven't used those muscles or exercised lately. "UHuhh" is the sound Rosy, that's George Jetson's robot maid said when she was ailin.' It's about time east coasters felt the pain we experience in the north country every winter. I heard a weather person talking to a pedestrian on the street in Florida. She complained it was too cold this morning to walk to work. "It's 39 degrees. " Didn't feel sorry for her. Hasn't been above freezing here for almost a month.

Well, the Search for Secrets of A Sunken Cannon continues. "UHuuh" is what Bob Alcumbrack and his cannon crew felt after several days of digging deep mosquito infested woods. We didn't like the spiders and snakes. Besides the missing Cannonsburg cannon, the area has another missing cannon, too. Back in Davey Crockett days around 1836, the threat of rampaging Indians was ever on the minds of Michiganians, too, once the Treaty of Greenville was signed. The most fearsome Indian north of the Grand River was "Saubo" who was thought to be a blood thirsty savage. He was actually a blowhard weasel with little backbone.

Pioneers settling in Michigan didn't want to meet Saubo and had a warranted fear of him so the Federal government dispatched a detachment of soldiers with two four-pound iron cannons into southern Michigan to counter any uprisings against settlers The military had possession of these two cannons and they were expendable only because the cannons didn't meet the strict military standards. These cannons were captured from the British during the War of 1812. Most cannons captured by US guerillas were foreign made and the capture dates were engraved upon them.

The Army detachment reached a favorable Grand River crossing near Portage, Michigan in Feb. 1836, the same month the Twin Sisters arrived in Texas. The snow was deep and river frozen over, but the steep bank elevations caused them to fear crossing the ice. The frozen ice made some "cracks", the blowhole water shimmered as it swirled underneath. It was a frightening crossing. Halfway across the ice broke, plunging one cannon with carriage into the bottom ooze, but the horses pulling the cannon were saved. The other cannon sunk into the ice, but removed, saved and transported towards Greenville, but its final destination wasn't known. The lost cannon has never been recovered. If found it could fetch a cool half million dollars or more depending on whether it was truly made or iron or bronze with engravings of its heritage. Might you be the first to find this cannon?

Historical documentation has placed the sunken cannon in the Grand River east of Ionia, or as the Indians of 1836 called it "Little Egypt," meaning "areas of vast wheat fields" all the way to Lyons, Muir and Portage. Secret history records say that the soldiers first had "to find a safer route down to the river's edge, because the riverbank was too steep." The terrian was initially too steep and feared the horses might slip under downward ordnance weight, be injured or drowned if they broke through the ice under a heavy burden. The cannons were heavy weights. Each four-pound military field cannon with carriage weighed in excess of 1400 pounds, that weight on a one axle carriage. Although captured during the war these cannons could still be used effectively against marauding Indians.

Documentation doesn't say how many horses pulled each cannon, but two horses each couldn't pull this much weight through deep snow in Michigan's winter wilderness or removed from broken river ice without losing a few horses. It was presumed that 4-8 horses were needed to move each piece over such rugged terrain during wet seasonal months. These cannons were serviced by 6-8 soldiers, too. This was a real U.S. Army mission into the wilds of Michigan and central Michigan was a very dangerous land. Consider the missing cannon lost in the Grand River as another treasure cannon that has vanished for 174 years. Since this is a public body of water keep your search secret. If you seek help from the MDNRE or EPA you must enjoy nightmares.

The secret of your success means do your own investigations, clandestine if your like, but run your mission silent, deep, explore, prod, poke, peak with underwater sonar and submersible metal detectors, but never become too conspicious or draw attention to yourselves. Have fun playing with aquatics, the crayfish and water snakes. Silence and secrecy is the key to adventure and discovery until you determine if you really want to recover this sunken legend. I've exposed some secrets so now its time for fun and games. Too avoid detection is legal, but to remove a military owned cannon from a public body of water might be hazardous to your wallet lest a tongue slip.

Although the Cannonsburg cannon vanished, too, we found that before you start digging up your wildest dream like Bob Alcumbrack. find, locate and document important historical information. Never trust what you've heard to memory. Write info down so you don't forget or let your mind twist what was said by accident. Bob's cannon grew to a length of 11 feet long only because of a newspaper article and a few sentence in the Cannon Township historical book, but the size was the entire length of a 6-pound US military field cannon mounted on a standard carriage and not just the "piece." A cannon and carriage this size might weight 3-4 tons -- that's encrusted iron weight, not brass.

He needed to find the brass plaque too if on the carriage for authentification as a historical artifact. When he started digging he was only hoping to find the cannon and didn't have a clue to carriage architecture. He couldn't call himself a historical preservationist if he tore apart the carriage and missed the engraving plaque? How could the Tompsett five men dig a big hole in a wetland and bury it so fast and be back in Cannonsburg within 45-60 minutes? The same analogy as the twin sisters of Texas fame.

Plaques and piece engravings are the only way to positively identify cannons of origin. Crests, seals and decorations can be quite intricate under a given king, queen, origin of country and date where cannon was manufactured. All that mattered to Bob was finding the "piece." Adding decorations or engravings after being manufactured becomes difficult to disasterous depending on what type of metal was used in construction. Engraving after manufacture especially in iron causes miniscule fractures that go unseen until cannon ruptures or explodes. Brass cannons are easy to engrave after casting, but not wrought iron. The practice of engraving cannons was halted around 1760.

Bob shouldn't have depended on the newspaper notation that said the Cannon Township cannon was a small military cannon. Private citizens could not buy or sell military cannons. Those caught were shackled, convicted and imprisoned for years. I wondered if the Tompsett five could have dismembered and burned the carriage, then smashed the cannon to bits and pieces? Bob turned white as a ghost when pondering this probability. His mission was to dig slowly and be a methodical excavator and archaeologist. He had to photograph all debris material flowing down slushways, being ever mindful to stop digging when something was found and tag that evidence like a forensic scientist, then make detailed 3-D underwater subsurface grids. He never imagined how painstakingly difficult it would be not only on dry land, but underwater in disturbed sediments to draw the carriage before the cannon was removed.

Bob wasn't about to let these problems stop him from digging. However would you have given up if you were looking up or down at the mountain of problems or would you find friends to help you and press onward? Bob didn't give up and he continued to face his fears and discovered what wasn't hidden in his coffer box. He didn't give up even though his mission was nearly impossible. He was going to conquer his wildest dream no matter what. He was driven by passion, his mind and hands were along for the experience. If we all gave up when we encountered problems we'd be living in the dark ages, but to be successful in cannon or treasure hunting it is most important to find as much information before you start digging. Most cannons and treasures are found by accident or are the result of good intel and planning, but few are found when everything is right.

The reason I told you about Texas' twin sister cannons, the U.S. Army's Grand River Expedition and the problems associated with the Cannonsburg cannon is because I wanted you to see how mysteriously they disappeared and what it takes to connect clues leading to possible discovery. Research and clue connections is necessary to find wayward cannons and one way is to research until you've exhausted the paper trails and theory. Find the answers before digging. Bob wasn't prepared for the unexpected mysteries we were to encounter and they did encapsulate us for two years after his first big dig failed. Pitfalls are everywhere in cannon or treasure hunting and not all historical facts are easily seen. Want to be a successful cannon or treasure hunter? Sharpen your memory skills by eating more fish. The endorphins sharpen memory skills and make it easier to accomplish tasks for success. I know I'm being "facetious, just facetious" as Deputy Barney Fife (Don Knotts) once said to the High Sheriff, Andy Griffith.

Bob's biggest fear was how as he going to salvage the precious Cannonsburg cannon without harming the environment or the integrity of the whole site should be find the cannon? He didn't want to become a bad or ugly treasure hunter, but a good cannon hunter. He was adventurous and not afraid of mysteries outside his level of comfortableness. Next time we'll get into the specifics of the killer cannon of Cannonsburg. Running parallel to this story will be more on the twin sisters and General Armstrong Custer's massacre and how the battle influenced a change in military history and not how Texas' weather changed history.

Search for Secrets of A Sunken Cannon - 15

'I don't quit' said President Obama during last nights State of The Union message on Jan.20, 2010, but he doesn't walk the talk. He blames Bush, the news media and descenting people for everything that's wrong during his first year in Office, but what did Obama ever do as Congressmen? I've never heard the fill in the blank answer. He hasn't learned the value of being a team player, because he never did anything as the team player. His mantra has been charismatic with 'change we can believe in.' He promised transparency between the dems and repubs and Americans, but he 'quit' on his campaign promises. You don't win brownie points with uneasy Americans by trying to cram health care down their throats to rationalize what they consider a bad plan. Saying 'I don't quit' is never a realistic goal if he 'hasn't started keeping his promises that got him elected' since 2008. He failed to follow his own mantra causing widespread descension and distrust of big government with skull duggery hands within the democratic party. Inflating numbers with fuzzy math and demo Congressmen meeting behind closed doors promising (buying) vote favors were glowing misjudgements of the public trust. Sniping at those who don't agree is not what America needs -- it already has too many terrorists trying to destroy us. They aren't combatants or criminals. Failing to call them terrorists emboldens the murderous thugs. Silent pandering to their whims shows weakness. Failure to call them what they are is arrogance. They are killers of innocents - terrorist radical Muslims who hate freedom borne Americans. He 'quit' on Americans before he 'started his speech' and didn't apologize to angry Americans for his first year shortcomings.

That's all I'll say. I said I wouldn't talk politics, but sometimes I must vent frustrated thoughts, like you, to a President and his party members that seemingly turned a deaf ear to people who don't agree, but ' I'll do better' would have been much better than 'I don't quit' to smoothe the ruffled feathers of angry People. Can we trust the President and Congress to work together for all the People instead of special interests or is it more of the status quo democratic politics with more hide n' seek games? Italics are my personal thoughts. Let's return to Search for Secrets of A Sunken Cannon.

When I think back about Robert Alcumbrack's quest to find the missing Cannonsburg cannon I can truthfully say that whatever Bob encountered he didn't 'quit' even when problems were insurmountable or stopped progress. Many strange twists of fate puzzled him. Mysteries surrounded him he couldn't explain. He always sought resolutions to problems outside his sphere of knowledge, but we couldn't keep our appointment with destiny if we quit as non-team players. We kept Bob going forward with his wildest dream. Got a dream? What's stopping you? Probably not enough extra income -- that was Bob's problem, too!

Mysteries of unknown sequences made him push harder, but all the while he had my help to unravel and educate the cannon crew about how not to become bad treasure hunters. When stumped with problems we had to search and educate ourselves the best we could knowing all too well we might get into something that was over our heads. For two years after the first big dig we practically drowned in mysteries we never knew existed, but Bob posted a letter to his crew that said, 'I won't quit' no matter how long it takes to understand and resolve unforeseen problems as the ultimate treasure hunter. He wouldn't quit on his wildest dream.

What was Bob's first big dig problem? I'll divulge a little secret and show you how Bob's destiny and mine were on a collision course to make our friendship solid. Our pre-destination to meet each other at a precise time in history was orchestrated by our Creator when we were born. There is a purpose to life and He will make sure we arrive at our destiny with others unless we do something foolish by accident and change our arrival destination with eternity. Have you ever felt you were at the right spot at the right time to meet that someone special in your life? Was it design or accidental? Or, was it the fault of two different atoms colliding with each other?

I believe God or higher spirits of belief can pre-destine people to interact in the lives of others at precise times to help them overcome problems they couldn't otherwise solve. I didn't have all the answers to help overcome Bob's expeditionary problems, but I and the 1986 recovery team did possess enough knowledge to solve his problems beyond his own comprehension and vice versa.

Bob and I met the second day of operations. I became the ninth member of his cannon recovery crew. It's ironic that nine men in 1885 were involved in the cannon's disappearance and nine men in 1986 were trying to resurrect the lost cannon after a 101-year absence? Now that's uncanny predestination!

Common interests and goals brought cannon and ultimate treasure hunters together. Interesting to note is that nearly 85% of all treasure hunters are searching for saleable artifacts. Depending on localities worldwide, the prospects of finding hidden treasures increases to 95% for self-serving bad treasure hunters. The last 5% can be divided into three groups, but most belong to historical organizations, institutions or museums. Of the 5% some 4% have good intentions to restore and donate their finds back to many fine institutions, but most fall short. The last one percent do it for pride of community spirit and the benefit of humanity. This was Bob's lofty goal. Do the right thing the first time, return and preserve our rich historical heritage.

This doesn't mean that everything that treasure hunters find is donated to a special institution. Some artifacts might be housed in personal collections or for lifelong case studies until a manuscript or book is published, but many are lost when the individuals creating them die. It becomes very important to "will" away an individuals prized historical artifacts lest they end up on auction blocks to the highest bidder, lost or discarded as unsaleable junk.

Among treasure hunting circles 'serious treasure hunters tend to be flamboyant and entrepreneurial by nature.' They either use their own capital or with investors fund to further their own goals. Some become public-trading entities selling shares to raise the necessary investment capital. They hire well paid professionals with the best equipment and extra money.

Bob didn't want investors or sponsors with capital. It was his turn to dig up the lost Cannonsburg cannon and realize his wildest dream. His team would share in the glory when the cannon was found. His team and researcher were highly trusted friends who could keep their mouths shut until the object of Bob's affection was found. We had become an ultimate secret society, too. That's a pre-requisite for treasure hunting.

Next time we'll start delving into treasure hunters versus preservationists. We'll be traveling around the world searching for treasure and cannons. Some names you'll remember and I might uncover secrets you never knew existed. History is only 'as dry as dust' if you are disinterested in the first place and don't have an open mind to see the sights from a different perspective. Only thru reading past historical passages can you appreciate the lengths treasure hunters must go to find treasures.

One final comment: Remember I'm a storyteller like Mark Twain and like him I sometimes slaughter the English language. Both his and my early years - we both suffered much illness and when we turned about 12 years old we ran wild with imagination and enjoyed hands-on life experiences. As always I welcome your comments to my written posts.

Search for Secrets of A Sunken Cannon - 14

It's amazing to what lengths marijuana growers will go to hide their pot growing gardens. In Kinston, NC an undercover drug sting led detectives to a pot garden. They knew it must be nearby. Finding it was about to yield several pounds of pot. What they didn't know is where the druggies were getting it so several officers for the Lenoir County Sheriff officers brought in a pot sniffing dog that led them to a rural residence. The search dog sniffed all over until it disappeared when it fell down the camouflaged trap door dropping it into a full-length school bus that was buried 8 feet deep under a backyard tool shed. Now wouldn't you think someone would spot the disturbed earth excavated for the hole. Better yet, how could the druggies keep it so secret. What an underground operation?

Marijuana has been the scurge of America for hundreds of years. To keep this drug secret takes growers lots of man hours, too, and lots of law enforcement officer hours to find them, but this little story above rekindles an old memory of my own from forty years ago shortly after I graduated from high school. One of the best deer hunting areas of my college years is today where Thousand Oaks Country Club is in Eastern Plainfield Township near the east end of Five Mile Road. To the south the large expanse of woods ended at Braman's apple orchard and the Four Mile Road landfill. To the west was Dutleman Lake and the East Beltline landfill. Plenty of two track roads led out towards Grand River Drive a mile away. Braman's had the best apples in the area. When hunting and thirsty we'd pluck them off the trees and put quarters on one tree with tape where we removed apples. Mr. Braman commented fall that he had a "money tree" near the woods and picked his change before the snow flew. His tree sparkled in sunlight. He wished he had more money trees.

One day me and a friend were coming up this two track road where several dead end spur roads connected where hunters could park their cars. When we went hunting in the morning, the slots were empty, but now two cars were parked back in the brush. "Ood." It's as if someone was trying to conceal them with broken tree branches. We continued past the roads and suddenly five men in camouflage and two with DEA burst out of the bushes and asked us if we'd been tending the pot garden. I confessed we weren't, but one officer said, "Then what's this?" The jagged leaf was caught on the bow string where it connects to the bow. He identified the plant. "Honest, sirs, we don't know anything about pot plants being growin' in these woods and these aren't our cars. They marched us up to our vehicles, read us our rights and asked if they could use the dogs to sniff our vehicles." The dogs found nothing of interest, but they continued to interrogate us and figured out we were innocent and were about to release us when several officers watching the road saw someone duck back into the brush.

The officer asked, "Since you know this country is there any where the owners of these cars could go where we could miss them." One officer pointed at the green pot on our bow and asked "Do you know where you got this?" We do, but honest officer we didn't know of the pot growing operation, but we did see some unusually high plants last week in a peat bog down this trail, bear right, bear left, go up and over the flat hill and when it dips there's a bog off to the right. "It's about forty by 90 feet long and the deer love it because they've been bedding down or someone has in the middle. We hunt along the ridge along the backside." We saw slashings this morning, but we bypassed it this morning. Too easy to spook the deer. Nothing but slashings. Before the officers got to the swale they heard a truck or something rumbling further down the trail, but they never saw anyone until they returned and the two extra vehicles had left. Nobody saw the druggies leave the area, but the cops had the license numbers and VIN numbers and important data on the cars. The next morning we learned that Sheriff and DEA personnel had found and confiscated all the pot plants and several senior high school football students were arrested for growing and harvesting the marijuana. Strange how the school bus marijaua sting could rekindle such a fond memory of my early bow hunting days.

Strange as it may seem six months after Bob Alcumbrack's first big dig failed a security guard in Disney World caught me on camera wading in the landscape gardens looking at cannon's. "Uh, hmm! What you doing in those plants?" I replied, "Well I'm not squashing flowers, but I'm interested in the cannons." He knew who I was the minute I raised my head because he recognized me from a CNN documentary, the same documentary that was pitting the Cannonsburg cannon hunters against the Twin Sister Texas group. We were the two groups of elite cannon hunters in the United States in 1986. He thought he knew my mug shot from the closed circuit TV surveillance cameras. Disney was excited about the prospects of having two different cannon hunters inspecting their cannons, since the previous week one member of the Texas group had done what I was doing inspecting cannons. It had been many years since anyone had been interested in trying to find lost cannons on America soil.

Discovery of the Twin Sisters would correspond to their latest achievement "The Legend of Davey Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier" starring Fess Parker as "Crockett" and Buddy Ebsen as "Georgie Russell. Ebsen starred as tramp in an Andy Griffith show and Jed Clampett of the Beverly Hillbillies. The security guard shook my hand so hard I thought he was going to tear it off. Since I hadn't trodden a single bloom he let me inspect any cannons wherever I found them. I was asked by tourists if I was the gardener for Disney World. I was one of the few historian's in Cannonsburg who wasn't camera shy like Bob. As this cannon story progresses you'll get sneak peaks into my memoirs as to who I am - not quite an angel since my halo continues to flicker, but as time passes you'll get a sharper picture of the Tompsett tragedy. This entire story takes on the characteristics of that movie called "Groundhogs Day," starring Bill Murray. Each time the story line repeats itself it gets better and the true age of the cannon will expose itself. All I ask is that you have an open mind. This story is about people, the history of our lives and secrets hidden for 125 years of so. Each of us have different talents and expertise, but blend the two together and you get team players dedicated to secrecy, too.

Bad treasure hunters give us all black eyes, but good treasure hunters happen so infrequently. Bad treasure hunters prey upon private property owners and strip them of archaeological treasures rather than preserving local history. Not all professional archaeologists are pure preservationists. Some fall from grace when they feel they aren't amply rewarded, that's monetarily speaking, and succumb to piracy themselves and pilfer from storage facilities. Items are given to museums for protection, to be shared with the public, but many end up stolen from within and sold to the highest bidder.

This wasn't what Bob had in mind when he launched his expeditionary mission to recover the lost Cannonsburg cannon. He was doing it out of community pride and spirit. We rallied around his efforts to find the cannon and rallied to make Bob's dream reality. Finding that cannon was a wild dream, the wildest dream of his life.

It was Maggie McCarthy's who desired for me to help Bob realize his dream, but she wasn't sure Bob knew what cannon he was supposed to find buried deep in Luther Augustine's mosquito infested woods. She thought I had I could find the right sized cannon before Bob spent too many brain cells, time and money looking for his lost ghost cannon of imaginary size. After watching Bob's facial expressions for two days I sensed his positive attitude and saw the size of his energy field as he walked the planks carefully atop the coffer box. Bob was tense on several occasions and it rattled his psyche when Luther Augustine began putting the liability seed in his mind when so many spectators were crawling all over his property to get a closer look at the operation. Bob's voice trembled and the tension between Bob and Luther was being strained.

All my life I've been an observer, the people watcher. Study, listen and talk little. I'm a loner, but God gave man two eyes, two ears, two nostrils and one mouth. HE didn't mean for us to talk more than we see or hear. People talk incessantly on cell phones. They base what they know on phone conversations and faulty web info, but don't check the hard copy (books and newspaper) for documentation. Drivel entertainment is why America's school children do so poorly in school. The average student is online an average of six hours each day.

Did Bob find the Cannonsburg cannon... uh, read on! I'm smilin', but the halo flickers, too. What Bob shunned were investors and sponsors with capital. He didn't need the aggravation nor stress to produce it fast. Most treasure hunters are described as being flambouyant and entreprenurial by nature, but that wasn't Bob. He was humble and shy.

Search for Secrets of A Sunken Cannon - 13

Strange how I lose track of time. Haven't written anything for 8 days. Not for lack of trying because I've been busy with some other historical research running in the Rockford Independent newspaper about its founding father Smith Lapham. His descendants suddenly appeared mysteriously all seeking my info on lost family members. Little distractions can elevate one's perspective of pioneer days. I reveled in the fact they weren't just seeking the genealogy, but rather info about their lives. This is the most rewarding aspect of history - the stories of their lives, the trials and tribulations. Haiti suffered a disastrous earthquake Jan.12. 2010. It's bad - authorities believe up to 500,000 people from the poorest nation on earth may have been killed. Millions of dreams extinguished this day. Don't dwell on this fact!

Bob Alcumbrack dared to dig up his wildest dream. He acted upon his dream. Once he started he didn't quit no matter what the roadblock. He did stumble around blind on several occasions, but only because he got engrossed in problems for which he didn't have answers. It took his crew and I to overcome his shortcomings and we all worked collectively as team players. Would you let a surgeon operate on you without a help? A surgeon is only as good as his team of skilled professionals. Treasure hunters need the expertise of their group.

Bob Alcumbrack wasn't a treasure hunter, but rather a cannon hunter, but many treasure hunters still lump him inside their world, for cannon hunting is considered by most archaeologists to be the ultimate treasure. Cannon with engravements intact is a rare find on American soil - the Cannonsburg cannon vs. Texas' Twin Sister cannons. Three mystery cannons of American heritage that disappeared because of man's ignorance to preserve historical artifacts in their own time period.

The world has a wide assortment of mysteries. Some were created by mortal man, but perhaps millions of others were created by God and it'll be a long time before man unravels all the complexities and mysteries that surround us. The bad and ugly treasure hunters unfortunately will be with us to eternity. Historical significance means nothing. Case in point is Disney World in Orlando, Florida. Many seaside marinas have many cannons littering - I mean loosely - their flower gardens. Most are reproductions of the originals minus the coat-of-arms, crests and decorations of the original makers. The original ancient cannons were recycled into larger cannons for two world wars. None were sketched or photographed as to shape, size, date and under which flag the cannon was manufactured. The cannons heritage was lost. The only exception were brass plaques on carriages.

Gone are many cannons of English Wars of Britian and Ireland from 1373-1885, the American Revolutionary War 1775-1783, the War of 1812 from 1812-1818 between America and England, and the American Civil War 1861-1865. Cannons from all these wars were ancient and many were made of recycled cannons themselves, but the legends were engraved upon them. This what two world wars erased. After the Civil War there existed a time period when many four to six pound cannons were made of iron. These were the deadly cannons killing so many Americans at Fourth of July celebrations. The ancients were made of iron, too, but many were made of brass - cannons less likely to prematurely explode.

All the cannons at Disney World or Mackinaw Island, in Michigan, are predominantly reproduction cannons - smooth cannons, without ancient engravements. They lack all authenticity, the engravings of past history. The 32-pound cannon at rest in the park below the fort, the gateway entrance to the majestic Grand Hotel complex is Admiral Perry's only real cannon. After the Rush-Bagot Treaty of 1818 was signed between America and Canada, the remainder of Admiral Perry's fleet was sunk into the depths of Lake Huron.

It is this treaty which prohibits warships from America or Canada from operating on the Great Lakes, but with the exception of Coast Guard vessels. Live war-like-simulation excercises are prohibited, but warship building is excluded. Once all vessels are launched they must leave the Great Lakes for sea trials. This is why you'll never see missile boats, battleships or submarines sailing beneath the Mighty Mac bridge. After 911 Coast Guard officials entertained the thought of mounting guns on vessels to protect us from terrorists by conducting live-fire exercises, but without the concensus of both countries, the plan was dropped. They may from time to time be forced to employ such weapons to protect shipping or prohibit illegal entry and counter drug smugglers.

Well I'm nearing my cutoff time on posting. Both countries have produced some fine warships on the Great Lakes. In fact, the first aircraft carriers were built out of old Great Lakes steamers and river boats. In 1942, the Naval Corp. taught inexperienced navy pilots in wouthern Lake Michigan to take off from small carriers, but they had to land at the Naval Air Station in Chicago. They couldn't return for fear of doing a nose dive off the bow.

Lake Michigan did present itself with a problem for navigators. This fresh water sea has a triangle of mystery and superstition just like the Bermuda Triangle has off Florida. Small squadrons of planes flew into it and disappeared off radar. Boats sail into both, the compasses go crazy and zip they disappear. Did Atlantis swallow them? Are these demon places on earth?
Eels from American and Europe all migrate to spawn in the Bermuda Triangles - City of Atlantis. Some scientists don't believe Atlantis exists despite underwater archaeology photography that shows ruins of a lost civilization in hundreds of feet of sea water.

Was it a sea monster as Christoper Columbus wrote in his diaries that pulls boats down or are there underwater aliens from outer space living on the bottom, then reaching up to pull or zap them down with electromagnetic ray technology? Why the yellow sky? Why the calm waters for months? Why so much sea weed? Why do sea grapes collect in the triangle of death? What's your explanation for these strange disappearances? Are these manfestations from our own subconcious minds that recorded too much sci-fi movie data? Is watching Captain Jack's ghost and "Pirate's of the Carribean" bad for our psyche? Search for Secrets of A Sunken Cannon does rival unexplained mysteries.

"Oops, see how easy it is to go off course with mysteries of earth."

Search for Secrets of A Sunken Cannon - 12

I witnessed a love affair today between two crows. Interesting is how the male sorts the best table scraps I threw out beneath a suit feeder. The big male sorts the best scraps, then stacks em' and flies up to a branch in the tree. He sits opposite her and scoots down sideways towards her, flips around and presents her food. She takes the food into her beak and then both rub their beaks together like knights in jousting match. Crows are pairing up and c0urtship rituals are beginning in snow country. Love is a strange thing among naturals as well as humans. Being divorced Bob Alcumbrack's true love was trying to find the cannon and he spent a small portion of his meager earnings on machinery and so it is now time to put treasure hunting in the proper perspective. As a treasure hunter Bob had to deal daily with 'what if another treasure group was watching.' He desired to do the right thing.

In Michigan, it is Public Act No. 184 of 1980, that prohibits plundering of underwater shipwrecks by outlaw divers and treasure hunters. Plundering, such as destroying timbers, rigging and booty treasures is an illegal practice, but some treasure hunters feel it worth the excitement to try to perfect that perfect crime. If they don't tip their hands and file with the state for salvage permit it is a 'felony'. The unscrupulous may try to escape paying taxes to the IRS, but any wind of impropieties and its a double wammy and its still a stiffer felony.

Bad and ugly treasure scuba divers can be charged with a felony rap if they recover bottomland artifacts within specific Great Lakes bottomland preserves, but may escape this if its for historical and scientific preservation. If recovering and destroying bottom property (treasure) that at fair market value exceeds $100.00 you receive the bad felony rap if convicted. The excitement of trying to outwit the state carries a conviction fine, a mere pittance of $5000.00, a two-year imprisonment, or both, and confiscation of all equipment associated with the illegal act. Some love the intrigue of trying to get away with the perfect crime of robbing from Caesar.

Other state laws and EPA regulation protect public inland bottomlands like streams, lakes and rivers. Remote and wilderness parks prohibit the use of electronic metal detectors to find lost coin caches and jewelry on government property, but it doesn't prohibit the use of such electronics on private property. The people as a whole own public property rights, but not individuals. Little do you know that a good compass can find buried treasures. The magnetic north hand will not point north when passing over precious metals buried in the ground. Dowsing rod, willow rods and hickory sticks are not considered metal detectors.

Legal permit holders are prohibited from damaging, injuring, harming or polluting any underwater archaeological site or property and are not authorised as such to remove any artifacts during or after salvage operations. All treasure or artifacts found, the finders must record and document items with detailed drawings. All must create underwater grids showing disposition of vessel and artifacts removed.

In a nutshell, the government wants to make sure everything found is accounted for prior to removal. The slipshod days of treasure salvaging for booty in Michigan is over. Just because you found the wreck and filed all the paperwork doesn't guarantee you'll ever see a dime from what you recovered. The vessels owners and the countries they hail from can challenge the treasure hunters and state's rights in court. They own all salvage rights whether found in the Great Lakes or the world's vast oceans. Case in point, the HMS Victory.

But wait there's more bad news. Sport scuba diving on wrecks is dangerous - so dangerous that Michigan law prohibits divers from suing Michigan for injuries being entangled in fishing nets, whether state or federal or any injuries associated with diving on sunken aircraft or water craft. That's old wooden vessels or big ships made of heavy steel. Diving on inland lakes, the fresh water seas and oceans is a dangerous sport. Michigan makes it illegal to remove any historical artifacts or cannons from any inland public bodies of water.

Absolutely nothing prohibits treasure hunters from attempting to discover something of value, but if the intent is to remove artifacts all must file a detailed plan of reclamation with the MDNR or Secretary of State. Items removed for personal gain or garnishing monetary gain is prohibited. But, if deemed historical preservation, the treasure groups or hunters should prepare themselves for years of paperwork for engineering studies, environmental impact statements and mountains of legal mumbo-jumbo that is sure to make them blow a gasket.

Bob Alcumbrack and his crew had to keep all this in their minds, because yes, we had to use scuba divers, too, but it wasn't in public property. However, he was sinking a coffer box in what was considered to be a protected wetland off streams. It was a historical and archaeological dig on private property. Spring water flooded the coffer boxes so deep scuba divers had to be incorporated in the removal of sediment and stones and to probe the bottom below for the missing cannon. Bob always felt that MDNR fleas were watching, but didn't interfere in the historical dig most thought was a local phenomena. It went far beyond local control. I felt the eyes of the DNR is probably what started Bob's big bear paranoia. He gave the DNR no reason to question his operation and how digging was handled, but Bob did worry about the liability for his crew and divers.

Today 25 years after Bob's big dig started treasure seekers now find cannons using GPS, ground penetrating radar tomography and behind vessels water towed electromagnetic sonar. Commercial fishermen dragging nets sometimes ensnare cannons from old wooden shipwrecks causing immense destruction of decaying ruins of vessels. Case in point in 2009, the discovery of the English vessel the HMS Victory that sank about 1744. The invested finders out of Miami, Florida, USA found the ship, but England and Spain have laid claim to the vessel and nothing can be harvested.

Shallow water divers once they find wrecks within reach have been known to rip them from naval carriages and they don't care about the architecture of what the ordinance was cradled upon. They sometimes discard engraving placques on the carriages that document the cannon's historical legend. These are the bad and ugly treasure divers who discard the historical significance. When I found Bob he didn't have a clue that in order for him to claim the cannon was authentic he had to find the brass placque, because it was extremely difficult to engrave a cannon. Those who engraved old metal caused miniature fractures in the metal, which can fatigue and caused so many premature explosions that were killing so many innocent civilians at Fourth of July celebrations between 1866-1894. The federal government wanted these destroyed, recycled or rendered useless.

Bob was glad he wasn't digging for the ultimate treasure on public property, because the mountainwork of paper legalities would be insurmountable. He just made sure he didn't environmentally damage a wetland. Have a good day!

Search for Secrets of A Sunken Cannon - 11

Treasure hunters come in all sizes, but more important is their classification as treasure hunters. The bad and ugly ones tend to spoil the whole bunch of treasure hunters. The bad and ugly think riches to behold and to devil with preservation. Their passion replaces heritage with money. Bob's ultimate passion was searching for the lost Cannonsburg cannon. Nothing else mattered. He just knew in his heart he was going to be the best preservationists of an archaeological artifact. It wasn't going to be resurrected and sold to the highest bidder. Nobody was going to see the flash of cash in his eyes.

This was the immense difference between Bob Alcumbrack and treasure hunters. Any artillery ordnance found on American soil is the ultimate of treasure hunting. They are still the hottest treasure if found buried or sunken. It is rare to find real cannons, because so many of the cannons were recycled during two world wars. Most cannons replaced after the wars are reproductions that lack engravements on the piece.

Trouble is 90% of treasure hunters are hunting for the richest treasures, the mother lodes seeking fame and fortune as opposed to the other 10% who want to preserve historical artifacts for humanity. Even in the 21st century treasure hunters will kill to protect what they found while others like Somali pirates seize ships and hold shippers and cargos for ransom. Safe return is not guaranteed. Pirates today are paid huge ransom money to support terrorist activity.

Rewards of $50,000 are offered for good information that leads prospecting cannon hunters to treasured ordnances that lead to recovery. Pirate treasures from hundreds of years ago can fetch prices up to 1 billion dollars, but what they find doesn't necessarily mean they get to keep it - it still belongs to the countries that lost it who consider the find on the bottom of the sea as graveyards. Lots of haggling between finders and losers exists and it can get downright ugly and court challenges take years to settle. Usually the bad and ugly treasure hunters use their new found booty to pay off bills and reward themselves with extra profits to pay off investors who sank funds in the dreams of others. Cannons found by unscrupulous hunters are cash cows or crops often sold to the highest bidder. Bad and ugly treasure pirates become secret entities outwit the IRS. In some ways you can understand how divers feel. They found the treasure, expended money to find it, but are denied any reward for finding it. Why didn't the countries try to recover what they lost? All circle like vultures scavenging for the bulk of treasure. Not right either - everyone loses. Everyone feels ripped off!

Our group wasn't safe from other cannon hunters. Quite the contrary, we kept our silence for fear of tipping them off to clues we found. We had to deal effectively with other undisciplined and greedy treasure hunters living in our midst. Treasure and cannon hunting is an elite society of silent secrets. Most want the mother lode that puts the long green in the wallet. Treasure hunting is the sport of secrets and silence. Spill your guts to eavesdroppers and you won't find a dime. You never tell friends and you work beside trusted friends within your group. Be wary of those who profess to be working members of local treasure hunting clubs. They disguise themselves as research and recovery, but this is squat to preservationists, archaeologists, historians, scholars and unique individuals like Bob Alcumbrack.

Often research clubs lack credibility. Preservation of history isn't their niche. Artifacts are sold and never see the light of day until the buyer dies and its thrown in a landfill or sold again. Some claim that treasure hunting is an exercise hobby to find lost coins, jewelry, precious metals such as, river diamonds, emeralds, gold, silver, uranium and copper. Such great wealth litters the bottoms of the Great Lakes and the worlds oceans. Bootleg and outlaws literally tear apart shallow water wrecks to find the spoils and care little about ship architecture. Forget the underwater grids to sketch vessel disposition of wreckage or photographing all at rest on the silty bottom. Finders keepers is not possible in the Great Lakes and its not even possible on the high seas because of GPS technology and towed sonar tomagraphy.

These vessels aren't for the pleasure of finding treasure that is saleable. The bottomland ruins are graveyards. I wonder how'd they feel if someone else desecrated the graves of their loved ones to find something of wealth. No matter how long its been resting on bottom it is still a grave. Put yourself in the shoes of a surviving Titanic or Edmund Fitzgerald family member. Would you want someone disturbing your departed family members?

I posed a similar question to Bob Alcumbrack on the second day of digging. I asked him, "What gives you the right to dig up the cannon others buried out of grief for Walter Tompsett?" He answered, 'because the cannon belonged to the people of the township and not government officials.' With a little beligerent tone in his voice he quipped it wasn't a graveyard burial. The original five men buried it to dispose of it, but it was still a killer cannon. It was the spur of the moment tragedy. Tompsett died as a result of township official negligence - it was their fault because they failed to keep the first burial secret. Burying the cannon preserved it and he was going to resurrect the township namesake.

Years ago some shipwreck divers found the decaying remains of a French vessel called the "Griffin, or Griffen," but no mater its sank in northwest Lake Michigan in 1679. The finders sought exclusive salvage rights to harvest any and all found artifacts to the vessel. However, the vessels owners have staked their claim and its now tied up in litigation. Just because the divers found the wreck doesn't mean squat. Governments can bankrupt the finders keepers. Find a treasure assume the worst, because in Michigan they'll try to stop underwater excavations from happening - not finders or losers. Would you have given up trying to fight city hall, as they say, to get money out of your treasure find of a lifetime?

It's important for you to understand how treasure hunters think and what separates the good, from the bad and ugly treasure hunters. Until tomorrow - keep warm for its cold outside.

Search for Secrets of A Sunken Cannon - 10

"CRASH, WHOMP, THUD." Something hit the floor inside a closet in 2009. Glass, plaster, wood littered the interior floor. It came from someplace outside, but nobody was injured in the house. What a mess? The two-pound cannonball did lots of structural damage. Who could be the moron that fired a cannon? Well, it was none other than William Maser, 54, a Pennsylvania history buff who made a reproduction cannon. It was his longtime hobby and he fired off a shot from his 19th century cannon from his Georges Township property near Pittsburgh. Simply put he miscalculated the old naval cannon's elevation and the two pound iron cannonball hit a neighbors house nearly 400 yards away. That's nearly a quarter mile downrange. Not a smart thing. State police charged him with disorderly conduct, reckless endangerment and criminal mischief. He apologized, said he was sorry and promised everyone he wouldn't shoot it on his property again. These small cannons are as dangerous today as they were four hundred years ago.

Patience was our guide when searching for secrets of a sunken cannon. It became an obssession. Treasure hunters must have all the patience in the world, but we were curious enough to stay the distance.

Oh my, I'm starting to mimic Walter Cronkite, the documentary host. We all thrived on PBS-WGVU-35 program motto of "Be curious..." of your world. That was our mission statement. Be not afraid of the unknown, but know what you like or dislike. Searching for cannons is the same as hunting for treasure, but cannon hunting is the ultimate treasure. Find a cannon with historical documentation and it could fetch upwards of a quarter million dollars. That's why Bob Alcumbrack and crew kept silent. The world didn't need to know the secrets before the treasure cannon was found.

The first few days of watching Bob Alcumbrack using his dowsing rods at the big dig site made me skeptical. I couldn't believe my eyeballs. Surely two metal rods couldn't find the cannon, but each time he walked the planks above the coffer box, the rods framed the dimensions of the cannon. What made me skeptical was the cannon's overall size. My mind kept repeating "How could five men unearth, remove the cannon from its burial spot and after the accident how could five men haul it secretly out of town and be seen by one person, who was only 8 years old?

The cannon Bob had located was 11-14 feet long - a six-pound military field cannon. That's the smallest cannon in the US Army prior to the Civil War. How could he raise a 3000+pound cannon from a watery grave? How was he going to document the carriage, because he was witching cannon plus carriage? In his mind he thought all he had to do was find the cannon, but I threw a monkey wrench into his gears the third when I announced he had to grid sketch the carriage, because being sunk in water for 101 years the carriage architecture would be mush. Disturbed soil and water currents would dissolve the carriage rendering the find void. He'd be no better than archaeological theives who tear shipwrecks apart or plunder Egyptian Temples for extra cash rather than historical preservation.

Bob had no idea how he was going to sketch carriage and cannon. These things he didn't investigate and he made no provisions for them. On top of that he had to find the engravement plaques to authenticate the cannon -- name and date given to Cannon Township. The placque was reportedly made of brass, but the cannon could have been engraved, but not if it were made of iron. Without cannon authentication it would be worthless, but Bob didn't care about monetary value. It was to find, restore, preserve and protect for future generations, but without authentification how do you prove it is the correct cannon. Without proof positive its another worthless marina or landscape cannon without a pedigree. No proof of its historical heritage.

Bob, the crew and I used the 'best' of our time and technology searching for his dream cannon, but Bob found out he didn't have all the answers to problems encountered. We learned things we never knew existed. We found out we are young once and foolish until we die. We don't have all the answers, but Bob and friends waited 55 years to play in ice-cold water and experience Sandbox 101 engineering activites that challenged and taxed our brains. Bob felt old at 55. He knew his health was changing. His physical body was racked with muscle pain, but he overcame them with medication that worked when excavating tons of sand. His mind convinced him he was still young, but it was time to dig up his wildest dream - the Cannonsburg cannon.

All of us, that includes you reading this post facto, will never know everything, except for teenageers who hit ages 13-16 who magically swallowed an imaginary "wisdom pill" in know it all class and believe anyone older than themselves know nothing. Adults suddenly are disfunctional. Trouble is, those with all book knowledge don't have time to stop and play mindless video games. Know it alls must keep reading forever and never stop. Book knowledge without life experiences makes one stupid. Know it alls are never afraid to admit they don't know the answer. They make up false answers to make themselves look smarter than they really are. In life journey, wherever it takes you, never be afraid to admit you don't know an answer to perplexing problems.

Ask for professional help, but beware of those with schooling degrees who lack hands-on experience and give unproven answers just to fill in the blanks to sound more intelligent than you. Know in your heart and mind what's right or wrong for many will lead you astray and cost you money better spend elsewhere. Sure we met a few loud-mouthed dunderheads in our journey. We needed skilled individuals, but not if they drank booze. Booze was their folly to blab secrets and we couldn't trust them to keep silent or use their talents. The core group had to trust each other. We were a tight knit team players who spoke softly.

Whether cannon or treasure hunting those doing the physical work must have confidence in each other's abilities and limitations. Trust is the key to successful endings. Bob was finally digging up his wildest dream, but the TV cameras and news media personnel made Bob and his friend Alan Janose, his air injector and compression specialist, the shy guys. Whenever possible they hid behind trees as did Luther Augustine whose red hat and lower cheeks were wider than trees. Cameramen were always yelling questions at Bob that broke his concentration when dowsing. They challenged his leadership. Bob wasn't happy and hadn't planned on TV cameras documenting his progress. They were always yelling questions to Bob with "Are you ahead of the Texas group in digging?"

Low and behold on July 1, 1986 it had become a race to uncover three historical cannons. The Cannonsburg cannon was being pitted against the recovery operations for the two cannons of Texas known as the "Twin Sisters." Both groups were vying for top honors - the discovery and return of two different cannons from two different geographical regions on American soil. Both were expeditions of America's most important historical on American soil. The closeup TV camera shots made Bob paranoid. He didn't like the feeling that someone was always looking over his shoulder whether cameramen or spectator. It unnerved him.

We always joked with him that the Michigan DNR might have planted spies in the spectator's who might be just waiting to pounce on his operation for excavating in a wetland. Michigan's environmental personnel frown upon such operations, but Bob and crew made sure we made minimal disturbances of wetland streams. Mother Nature did more damage. Bob and crew didn't give the DNR any reason to squawk and stop his historical dig. We were wetland protectors.

Bob's step-father-in-law was Luther Augustine, who owned the big dig property upon which Bob was digging. Luther pondered his insurance liability limits when so many spectators arrived to watch Bob dig up the cannon. Luther's basic concern was someone other than Bob's crew might fall and get hurt as they walked around scanning Bob's dig from different angles. Luther was going to share in the limelight of cameras when the cannon was found. Every day the crowd got larger, more talking. Hundreds of people gathered to watch Bob make Michigan history when the cannon was rescued. Hourly updates were given. Excess chattering interrupted Bob's concentration. The crowd pitch grew louder and Bob's psyche and progress were challenged. Often he turned a cold shoulder to cameramen. Bob grew uncomfortable and his facial expressions showed extreme pressure and more solemn.

Walking journalists with powerful macro-lenses could count the number of whiskers on startled chipmunks a half-mile distant. Lip readers could tell what Bob was saying to his crew and that's why Bob hid behind trees, his lips to the ground as if talking to ants. Secrets we weren't willing to share. We hung our heads so nobody could read our lips. Our core group lips were hidden from view. The public realm wasn't to be privy to our conversations.

Freelance paparizzo's dogged our dark late night investigations at Moffit and Prospect Hills areas in Cannon Township. The camera flashes interrupted our dark night infrared photo ops. It was another reason Bob got paranoid. He felt bad vibes and they interrupted our mission. Too many probing eyes had shattered Bob's concentrations.

You now see what cannon and treasure hunters must avoid during searches for missing artifacts and treasure objects. It's too easy to tip our lips to other prying eyes. Secrets we didn't want to share with the public lest someone in another treasure group find the cannon first.