DIGS O' THE DAY (2008-01-17): EAST BEACH, OLD COAST GUARD STATION, SATILLA SQUARE
lordmarcovan
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DIGS O' THE DAY (2008-01-17): EAST BEACH, OLD COAST GUARD STATION, SATILLA SQUARE
On Thursday, January 17, 2008, I thought I’d try a beach hunt for a change. Unlike many detectorists who live near the coast, I don’t do much beach hunting. Instead, I prefer to chase older coins and relics on inland sites. Some nice jewelry can be found on the beaches, however, and even though I personally have never found anything that old on the beaches of Georgia’s Golden Isles, I did manage to find a couple of nice gold and gemstone rings when I last used a detector on the beach in the late 1990s.
Since the temperatures were pleasantly mild enough to wear short sleeves, it seemed a good day for another outing. Today’s plan was to shoot some pictures and then detect at East Beach on Saint Simons Island. I figured that if I didn’t find anything on the beach, I would at least get some pictures. Then, if I lost interest there, I could always return to the parks on the mainland for some coinshooting.
As I crossed the Torras Causeway to St. Simons Island, a light rain had begun to fall. By the time I arrived at East Beach by the old Coast Guard Station, it had become a steady drizzle that was strong enough to dampen my hopes of detecting.
I noticed the old Coast Guard Station was open, and never having been inside, I decided to check it out, as it is now a museum. I spent an enjoyable forty minutes or so inside, watching the film and wandering through the exhibits.
The old Coast Guard Station was built in 1935. Primarily intended as a lifesaving station for ships in distress, its role changed dramatically when the United States entered the Second World War. Unlike most of the nation, the Golden Isles, and St. Simons Island in particular, were a real battlefront during the war, as the events of April 8, 1942 were to reveal.
On that night, the German submarine U-123 torpedoed two tankers just off the beach at St. Simons, killing 22 seamen. The survivors were brought to the Coast Guard station and several of the victims were buried as “unknown seamen” in Palmetto Cemetery in Brunswick. It was not until 1998 that their identities were established. Local lore has it that the blasts caused by the torpedoes were heard on the mainland, and even shattered windows there. I personally believe the part about the sound traveling to the mainland, but I rather doubt it shattered windows in Brunswick. Another local legend had it that the U-123 sent English-speaking sailors ashore, who traveled into Brunswick in civilian disguise on a spying mission, and even watched a movie at the Ritz Theater! This myth was dispelled by the German captain when he was interviewed in 1998, however.
The U-123 was cruising the U.S. east coast as part of a U-boat offensive known as Paukenschlag, or “Drumbeat”. It was a time when America’s coasts were poorly defended, and the surprise attacks of “Operation Drumbeat” cost the United States many ships and men. The tables later turned, however, and the U-boat hunters eventually became the hunted. Only about 20 to 30 percent of Germany’s U-boat sailors survived the war, and Kapitänleutnant Reinhard Hardegen, commander of the U-123, was one of the lucky few. He is apparently still alive in Germany today, at age 94. Reportedly an avid golfer, he was once quoted as saying, “Now I sink putts. Not ships.”
My brief sojourn in the museum helped me to wait out the rain, and when I stepped back outside it had stopped. Birds chirped and flitted from branch to branch in the trees behind the dunes. A warbler of some kind flew by, but he was too fast for me to follow with the camera. I did manage to “shoot” two birds, but they were nothing particularly exotic- just a blue jay and what appeared to be a mockingbird. Alas, no roseate spoonbills or painted buntings crossed my lens today. (I have yet to see my first painted bunting, actually, but spotted some spoonbills not long ago.)
I strolled down the boardwalk to the beach, carrying the camera but not the detector. I figured if the tide was low, I might try the detector later.
When the ocean came into view, I could see that the tide was fairly high, and the wind was sweeping the surf up. Today’s surf was about as choppy as it gets, unless there's a storm. A lone seagull strutted through beached drifts of cream-colored foam churned up by the wind.
Looking down the beach, I could barely make out the King and Prince Beach Resort where I used to work. Small clusters of people walked by in twos and threes, their heads down in the windblown spray. Though still cloudy and overcast, it was relatively warm, but I just didn’t feel the urge to detect here today. I’d leave it for some clear moonlit night, when the tide is out and there's nobody else around. That’s a peaceful time to be on the beach.
I drove back to Brunswick and the mainland. Earlier, I had noticed that a large live oak tree in the median strip of Prince Street was now gone. For centuries, the giant oak had stood there, but in recent years it had apparently succumbed to disease and rot, and now the city had obviously cut it down and pulled the stump, then hauled everything away. When such a large tree disappears, there’s always a big hole in the ground, but now the spot was a patch of bare dirt. I do love “naked dirt” in the older part of town, so naturally this is where I began my detecting. Years before, I had dug an Extremely Fine 1894-O Barber quarter at about three inches deep in the median, just a block away, so I knew the removal of the big tree and the turning of the earth in that spot might have brought something interesting up. It wasn’t so, however- I got very few signals in the dirt there, and concluded that most of it had probably been brought in from somewhere else to fill the hole. The only thing I managed to find was a tiny .22 caliber shell, and it was not easy to pinpoint.
Passing an old house a few blocks further down, I noticed a man on the porch and actually got the nerve up to ask permission to detect his yard, which looked promising, but he refused. It was a polite and friendly refusal, though, and we talked for three or four minutes. I had tried a new angle this time- I actually offered him money- an hourly fee for the privilege of detecting there. Perhaps he just wanted his manicured lawn left alone, which is understandable. We shall see if the “pay-for-play” idea works elsewhere. If nothing else, it at least makes me feel like less of a bum when I approach people and come to their doors as a stranger. It’s awkward asking permission to detect on private property, which is one reason I hunt so many parks and public places, unless I am lucky enough to be invited into someone’s yard.
Parks and public places it was to be, then.
On to King’s Square, where I was suddenly surrounded by a swarm of noisy, inquisitive children. I nodded politely at their barrage of questions, but soon made my excuses and moved on.
Next stop: Crispen Square. I soon remember why I hadn’t hunted Crispen Square that much- it appears to have once been the repository of large amounts of big metallic trash items like car parts and electrical components. I found a corroded battery, then a long strand of wire.
My father pulled up to the curb, on his way to the library. He asked what I had found, and I told him it had been nothing so far but a battery and a piece of wire. “Well, all you need is some plastic explosives, and then you’ll be able to build yourself a bomb,” he laughed, and drove off with a wave. Since I lack the explosives and the old corroded battery wouldn’t work anyway, it appears my career as a terrorist is tragically cut short before it even began. It’s just as well- Al Qaeda probably wouldn’t hire me, anyway.
Next I went to Satilla Square, where I’d dug a 1914 Knights of Pythias medal on the previous Thursday. I met the same adjacent homeowner again, and he mentioned seeing me a week before. I told him about the medal and he said his wife would be excited to hear about it, since she had a detector. She came out and I told her she should really check her front yard if she hadn’t already. Their house was built around 1890, and I know there is bound to be an Indian cent or two and some silver hiding there. She said all she’d found so far was a few toys. Since they were friendly, I would have asked them for permission to detect in their yard, too, but the lady of the house should really have that as her private hunting ground.
Resuming in the area where I'd found the medal the week before, I found nothing but a few modern coins-twelve cents, to be exact. Next came part of an old toy cap pistol, and a strange looking wadcutter bullet. When the detector sounded off with a clear belltone coin signal at five inches (the exact depth I’d dug the 1914 medal from), I got excited.
My excitement vanished when I saw I had found an old metal toothpaste tube from around the 1950s or early 1960s. Remember metal toothpaste tubes- the kind you had to roll up with that little key? Of course you do, unless you’re one of these younger "Generation X" types. This was Colgate “Ribbon Dental Creme with Gardol”.
Ten or fifteen minutes elapsed before I got another tempting signal and found … ANOTHER one! Now there’s the fascinating thing about amateur archaeology- I can state, confidently, that at some point during the Eisenhower or Kennedy administrations, at least one person near Satilla Square had SUPERB dental hygiene!
With 6:00 PM approaching and twilight closing in, I finished up in the western half of the square, which I’ve not hunted much. Like Crispen Square, it seems to be full of large trash targets. But near the roots of a big old live oak, I got a signal at six inches, that read just below coin range.
It had all the signs and sounds of being an Indian Head cent.
So I dug, working my way between two large roots. The signal faded in and out, frustratingly. Then suddenly it was very loud, and in the pile of dirt I had excavated!
Fingering the clump of dirt, I saw a coin! It was a greenish penny, and had come from six inches down, so I knew it was old! It HAD to be an Indian cent!
But no- it was a Lincoln cent. The reverse of the coin was totally encrusted, so I couldn’t see the wheat stalks, but I didn’t need to- the patina and depth of the coin told me it had been in the ground a long time. When I got it home and cleaned it enough to read the date, I was a little disappointed to see it was a fairly common later-date Wheat cent, and not in the best of shape, either. It was a 1940-D.
Thus ended my expedition, as darkness closed in and I found it time to go home. As you see, the results were less than spectacular. In terms of finds, I would grade this a D+ outing. But in terms of enjoyment, I’d give it a B. Finding at least one Wheat cent kept me from considering myself totally “skunked”, though my overall finds were rather pitiful.
As you can see, a lackluster day in the field didn’t stop me from filling the page with longwinded ramblings. I’ll level with you- most of my outings like this never reach the writeup stage. I thought I’d go ahead and write this one, though, and share the pictures, anyway, to give you a little local lore. This should give you an idea of my “typical” hunt, since one-third to one-half of my detecting trips turn out this way. Few treasure hunters take the time to write up their GOOD hunts, let alone their disappointing ones. If you've been patient enough to read this far, I salute you. I hope to provide more excitement next time.
The silver coins of Satilla Square remain in hiding. I haven’t found one there yet. They’re out there, though. Will one of them surrender to my coil next time?
We shall see.
-RWS
Postscript- some later Internet searches proved my hunch about the toothpaste tubes- they match ones in advertisements from 1956 and 1959. A sample of a 1956 ad is shown below.
Previously on DIGS O' THE DAY™ (2008-01-10): THE SMALL SQUARES OF BRUNSWICK- FIRST DIGS OF 2008!
On Thursday, January 17, 2008, I thought I’d try a beach hunt for a change. Unlike many detectorists who live near the coast, I don’t do much beach hunting. Instead, I prefer to chase older coins and relics on inland sites. Some nice jewelry can be found on the beaches, however, and even though I personally have never found anything that old on the beaches of Georgia’s Golden Isles, I did manage to find a couple of nice gold and gemstone rings when I last used a detector on the beach in the late 1990s.
Since the temperatures were pleasantly mild enough to wear short sleeves, it seemed a good day for another outing. Today’s plan was to shoot some pictures and then detect at East Beach on Saint Simons Island. I figured that if I didn’t find anything on the beach, I would at least get some pictures. Then, if I lost interest there, I could always return to the parks on the mainland for some coinshooting.
As I crossed the Torras Causeway to St. Simons Island, a light rain had begun to fall. By the time I arrived at East Beach by the old Coast Guard Station, it had become a steady drizzle that was strong enough to dampen my hopes of detecting.
I noticed the old Coast Guard Station was open, and never having been inside, I decided to check it out, as it is now a museum. I spent an enjoyable forty minutes or so inside, watching the film and wandering through the exhibits.
The old Coast Guard Station was built in 1935. Primarily intended as a lifesaving station for ships in distress, its role changed dramatically when the United States entered the Second World War. Unlike most of the nation, the Golden Isles, and St. Simons Island in particular, were a real battlefront during the war, as the events of April 8, 1942 were to reveal.
On that night, the German submarine U-123 torpedoed two tankers just off the beach at St. Simons, killing 22 seamen. The survivors were brought to the Coast Guard station and several of the victims were buried as “unknown seamen” in Palmetto Cemetery in Brunswick. It was not until 1998 that their identities were established. Local lore has it that the blasts caused by the torpedoes were heard on the mainland, and even shattered windows there. I personally believe the part about the sound traveling to the mainland, but I rather doubt it shattered windows in Brunswick. Another local legend had it that the U-123 sent English-speaking sailors ashore, who traveled into Brunswick in civilian disguise on a spying mission, and even watched a movie at the Ritz Theater! This myth was dispelled by the German captain when he was interviewed in 1998, however.
The U-123 was cruising the U.S. east coast as part of a U-boat offensive known as Paukenschlag, or “Drumbeat”. It was a time when America’s coasts were poorly defended, and the surprise attacks of “Operation Drumbeat” cost the United States many ships and men. The tables later turned, however, and the U-boat hunters eventually became the hunted. Only about 20 to 30 percent of Germany’s U-boat sailors survived the war, and Kapitänleutnant Reinhard Hardegen, commander of the U-123, was one of the lucky few. He is apparently still alive in Germany today, at age 94. Reportedly an avid golfer, he was once quoted as saying, “Now I sink putts. Not ships.”
My brief sojourn in the museum helped me to wait out the rain, and when I stepped back outside it had stopped. Birds chirped and flitted from branch to branch in the trees behind the dunes. A warbler of some kind flew by, but he was too fast for me to follow with the camera. I did manage to “shoot” two birds, but they were nothing particularly exotic- just a blue jay and what appeared to be a mockingbird. Alas, no roseate spoonbills or painted buntings crossed my lens today. (I have yet to see my first painted bunting, actually, but spotted some spoonbills not long ago.)
I strolled down the boardwalk to the beach, carrying the camera but not the detector. I figured if the tide was low, I might try the detector later.
When the ocean came into view, I could see that the tide was fairly high, and the wind was sweeping the surf up. Today’s surf was about as choppy as it gets, unless there's a storm. A lone seagull strutted through beached drifts of cream-colored foam churned up by the wind.
Looking down the beach, I could barely make out the King and Prince Beach Resort where I used to work. Small clusters of people walked by in twos and threes, their heads down in the windblown spray. Though still cloudy and overcast, it was relatively warm, but I just didn’t feel the urge to detect here today. I’d leave it for some clear moonlit night, when the tide is out and there's nobody else around. That’s a peaceful time to be on the beach.
I drove back to Brunswick and the mainland. Earlier, I had noticed that a large live oak tree in the median strip of Prince Street was now gone. For centuries, the giant oak had stood there, but in recent years it had apparently succumbed to disease and rot, and now the city had obviously cut it down and pulled the stump, then hauled everything away. When such a large tree disappears, there’s always a big hole in the ground, but now the spot was a patch of bare dirt. I do love “naked dirt” in the older part of town, so naturally this is where I began my detecting. Years before, I had dug an Extremely Fine 1894-O Barber quarter at about three inches deep in the median, just a block away, so I knew the removal of the big tree and the turning of the earth in that spot might have brought something interesting up. It wasn’t so, however- I got very few signals in the dirt there, and concluded that most of it had probably been brought in from somewhere else to fill the hole. The only thing I managed to find was a tiny .22 caliber shell, and it was not easy to pinpoint.
Passing an old house a few blocks further down, I noticed a man on the porch and actually got the nerve up to ask permission to detect his yard, which looked promising, but he refused. It was a polite and friendly refusal, though, and we talked for three or four minutes. I had tried a new angle this time- I actually offered him money- an hourly fee for the privilege of detecting there. Perhaps he just wanted his manicured lawn left alone, which is understandable. We shall see if the “pay-for-play” idea works elsewhere. If nothing else, it at least makes me feel like less of a bum when I approach people and come to their doors as a stranger. It’s awkward asking permission to detect on private property, which is one reason I hunt so many parks and public places, unless I am lucky enough to be invited into someone’s yard.
Parks and public places it was to be, then.
On to King’s Square, where I was suddenly surrounded by a swarm of noisy, inquisitive children. I nodded politely at their barrage of questions, but soon made my excuses and moved on.
Next stop: Crispen Square. I soon remember why I hadn’t hunted Crispen Square that much- it appears to have once been the repository of large amounts of big metallic trash items like car parts and electrical components. I found a corroded battery, then a long strand of wire.
My father pulled up to the curb, on his way to the library. He asked what I had found, and I told him it had been nothing so far but a battery and a piece of wire. “Well, all you need is some plastic explosives, and then you’ll be able to build yourself a bomb,” he laughed, and drove off with a wave. Since I lack the explosives and the old corroded battery wouldn’t work anyway, it appears my career as a terrorist is tragically cut short before it even began. It’s just as well- Al Qaeda probably wouldn’t hire me, anyway.
Next I went to Satilla Square, where I’d dug a 1914 Knights of Pythias medal on the previous Thursday. I met the same adjacent homeowner again, and he mentioned seeing me a week before. I told him about the medal and he said his wife would be excited to hear about it, since she had a detector. She came out and I told her she should really check her front yard if she hadn’t already. Their house was built around 1890, and I know there is bound to be an Indian cent or two and some silver hiding there. She said all she’d found so far was a few toys. Since they were friendly, I would have asked them for permission to detect in their yard, too, but the lady of the house should really have that as her private hunting ground.
Resuming in the area where I'd found the medal the week before, I found nothing but a few modern coins-twelve cents, to be exact. Next came part of an old toy cap pistol, and a strange looking wadcutter bullet. When the detector sounded off with a clear belltone coin signal at five inches (the exact depth I’d dug the 1914 medal from), I got excited.
My excitement vanished when I saw I had found an old metal toothpaste tube from around the 1950s or early 1960s. Remember metal toothpaste tubes- the kind you had to roll up with that little key? Of course you do, unless you’re one of these younger "Generation X" types. This was Colgate “Ribbon Dental Creme with Gardol”.
Ten or fifteen minutes elapsed before I got another tempting signal and found … ANOTHER one! Now there’s the fascinating thing about amateur archaeology- I can state, confidently, that at some point during the Eisenhower or Kennedy administrations, at least one person near Satilla Square had SUPERB dental hygiene!
With 6:00 PM approaching and twilight closing in, I finished up in the western half of the square, which I’ve not hunted much. Like Crispen Square, it seems to be full of large trash targets. But near the roots of a big old live oak, I got a signal at six inches, that read just below coin range.
It had all the signs and sounds of being an Indian Head cent.
So I dug, working my way between two large roots. The signal faded in and out, frustratingly. Then suddenly it was very loud, and in the pile of dirt I had excavated!
Fingering the clump of dirt, I saw a coin! It was a greenish penny, and had come from six inches down, so I knew it was old! It HAD to be an Indian cent!
But no- it was a Lincoln cent. The reverse of the coin was totally encrusted, so I couldn’t see the wheat stalks, but I didn’t need to- the patina and depth of the coin told me it had been in the ground a long time. When I got it home and cleaned it enough to read the date, I was a little disappointed to see it was a fairly common later-date Wheat cent, and not in the best of shape, either. It was a 1940-D.
Thus ended my expedition, as darkness closed in and I found it time to go home. As you see, the results were less than spectacular. In terms of finds, I would grade this a D+ outing. But in terms of enjoyment, I’d give it a B. Finding at least one Wheat cent kept me from considering myself totally “skunked”, though my overall finds were rather pitiful.
As you can see, a lackluster day in the field didn’t stop me from filling the page with longwinded ramblings. I’ll level with you- most of my outings like this never reach the writeup stage. I thought I’d go ahead and write this one, though, and share the pictures, anyway, to give you a little local lore. This should give you an idea of my “typical” hunt, since one-third to one-half of my detecting trips turn out this way. Few treasure hunters take the time to write up their GOOD hunts, let alone their disappointing ones. If you've been patient enough to read this far, I salute you. I hope to provide more excitement next time.
The silver coins of Satilla Square remain in hiding. I haven’t found one there yet. They’re out there, though. Will one of them surrender to my coil next time?
We shall see.
-RWS
Postscript- some later Internet searches proved my hunch about the toothpaste tubes- they match ones in advertisements from 1956 and 1959. A sample of a 1956 ad is shown below.
Previously on DIGS O' THE DAY™ (2008-01-10): THE SMALL SQUARES OF BRUNSWICK- FIRST DIGS OF 2008!
0
Comments
I told the cops I knew nottin about it. I found here in the swimmin pool still naked. ( there was a little party going on)
Thats my story and I'm sticken toit!
Great post LordM, don't know about the dental cream tubes though, I reckon the so called naked lady could have dropped them on the way to the pool.
- Marcus Tullius Cicero, 106-43 BC
Well, at least you got to go. I believe the saying goes, "A bad day detecting is better than a good day at work.....or something like that."
I've been past that Coast Guard Station many times on my way down to East Beach where the rice relatives live. I've always wanted to stop and check it out, but we've always been running late....so no time to do "fun" stuff.
Enjoyed the read again....keep it up, and better diggin' next time!
wes
Too many positive BST transactions with too many members to list.
Wat is that item upper left in the pic of your haul and how come you wait to get home to check the dates on pennies?
I'd be too curious to wait.
The entertainment can never be overdressed....except in burlesque
FWIW...I used to correspond with the commander of U-123...have some neat letters and photos he shared with me. He passed away in the last few years.
RAH
Not to mention the history lesson.
I always like these.....GL next time !!
<< <i>Remember metal toothpaste tubes- the kind you had to roll up with that little key? Of course you do, unless you’re one of these younger "Generation X" types. This was Colgate “Ribbon Dental Creme with Gardol”. >>
Wow, you "old guys" had toothpaste back then!
Thank you so much for sharing your stories.
<< <i>Well, at least you got to go. I believe the saying goes, "A bad day detecting is better than a good day at work.....or something like that." >>
Wes, that sums it up pretty nicely. Oh, BTW, surprise of surprises- management smiled upon my request for time off, so the Macon show is a green light, unless something on the family front prevents my going. Of course I am still stinkin' broke, but oh well. I can still have fun. Maybe that will be my mission- take X-amount of dollars to the show as a budget (a SMALL budget), and go cherrypickin' junk bins. If I use my treasure hunting mentality, it might just be a blast, who knows? In the past, I always thought being poor or broke at a coin sucked rocks.
<< <i>Wat is that item upper left in the pic of your haul and how come you wait to get home to check the dates on pennies? >>
Hey ALF, umm... I mean Swampboy. The item at upper left is the "hammer" from an old toy cap pistol.
The other doohickey next to it is a Mark VII freem drive manipulator from a Znutorian star destroyer. Actually, I have no idea what the orangish doohickey is. Smoething electrical, I suspect. Fuse, maybe? As to why I waited until I got home to ID the date on the Wheatie, it was only a matter of eyesight- too dark, no loupe, middle aged eyes. Plus the crustiness. I've now decided to start carrying a small wire brush (toothbrush sized) in my dig vest, for quick crust-removal in the field.
<< <i>FWIW...I used to correspond with the commander of U-123...have some neat letters and photos he shared with me. He passed away in the last few years.
RAH >>
RAH- was it Hardegen, or one of the previous commanders? Interesting!
In that hour, I got only two signals I could track down (and two or three "phantoms").
One signal was just what the detector said it would be- foil. The other was a zinc cent (or a "zincoln", as some detectorists call them).
I quickly remembered why I don't do the beach much. It's booooooring, from a detecting standpoint. You can go hundreds of yards without a single signal.
It's pleasant enough place to walk, though, of course. There were several horseshoe crab shells there, and lots of little mussels and things that the seagulls were snapping up.
'Twas much colder yesterday. No short sleeves- had a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, and still got a bit chilly.
BTW... LM.... I just love your posts... and pix!
-sm
The Maddy Rae Collection
CURRENT BST OFFERINGS
Summary? The Quick Draw II is a good machine, in my opinion. Lots of bang for the buck, as with most of the Bounty Hunter models. To make an automotive comparison, Bounty Hunter is kind of like the Kia or Hyundai of detectors. The machines are rather lightweight and perhaps not as well-built as some of the competition, but they work just fine and are usually a good value for the money. The Quick Draw II is a lower-end model but it has what it takes to find the goodies, including older goodies. I didn't use my Quick Draw for very long, but managed to find a couple of Indian cents, a 1911-D Barber dime, and some pre-Civil War buttons with it.
<< <i>SpaceMonkey- the Bounty Hunter Quick Draw II is the successor of the original Quick Draw model I used for a while in the late 1990s. They are cheap machines, in both the good and bad senses of the word. Cheap, as in a little bit flimsy, but also cheap, as in inexpensive, and a good value for the money. My old Quick Draw cost me a tad less than 200 bucks at the time, and I never had a problem with it. It outperformed my more expensive Garrett GTA-500 in many operations, and the somewhat "flimsier" construction, rather than being a drawback from my point of view, was actually a plus, since the machine was extremely lightweight and I could swing it all day long without muscle fatigue. (Try that with the monster I swing now- ugh- somebody just gave me an arm sling to help avoid "detector elbow"!)
Summary? The Quick Draw II is a good machine, in my opinion. Lots of bang for the buck, as with most of the Bounty Hunter models. To make an automotive comparison, Bounty Hunter is kind of like the Kia or Hyundai of detectors. The machines are rather lightweight and perhaps not as well-built as some of the competition, but they work just fine and are usually a good value for the money. The Quick Draw II is a lower-end model but it has what it takes to find the goodies, including older goodies. I didn't use my Quick Draw for very long, but managed to find a couple of Indian cents, a 1911-D Barber dime, and some pre-Civil War buttons with it. >>
thanks LM.... good info... i am really excited about getting out there... never did before... so should be fun. As soon as i put together me and the kids will be venturing out to our own back yard for a little expedition (and a little muddin')! If i find anything I of course will be sure to report.
-sm
The Maddy Rae Collection
CURRENT BST OFFERINGS
Worst case scenario- you can start your very own personal collection of vintage toothpaste tubes. Need a 1956 Colgate With Gardol? I have two now!
(At least until the trash goes out tomorrow...)
<< <i>I hope you will get out and use that soon, and start posting your own tales on the MD Forum. An old tavern site in CT? Geez, man... sounds VERY exciting!
Worst case scenario- you can start your very own personal collection of vintage toothpaste tubes. Need a 1956 Colgate With Gardol? I have two now!
(At least until the trash goes out tomorrow...) >>
yeah... he told me how his house sits on land where literally a tavern once stood... there is a stream behind his house which was once the main road. also... right next store is a Cemetery, on the property, of Civil War era graves... real creepy but oh so very cool.
-sm
The Maddy Rae Collection
CURRENT BST OFFERINGS
Coin's for sale/trade.
Tom Pilitowski
US Rare Coin Investments
800-624-1870
roaming through the desert looking for "old homestead coins", gold, etc. I'd better have some luck or she might be using
a brain detector on me....wish me luck.....maybe I'll find some old buried treasure that the bandidos hid from the lawmen back in
the 1800's. I'm just laughing out loud right now thinking of myself wandering through that desert, fighting off rattlesnakes,
coyotes, and scorpions with a metal detector in one hand, and a shotgun in the other.....
hunter....not quite as tranquil as the scenes you posted......I'll post later on how this turns out....if I survive it!
The Beatles
Yes...it was Hardegen....I corresponded with him for about 12 years.
One of my other interests is WWII Naval history....and since a kid super interested in submarines.....so U-Boats became a real interest to me since they operated off our coast during WWI and WWII.....I started writing the German commanders back in the early 80's...have a nice collection of signed photos and letters. Operation Drumbeat is an interesting campaign conducted by the Germans against the US east and gulf coast during the war.
RAH
When did Reinhard Hardegen die? When I did my Google research, I failed to find an obituary date for him, so I had to proceed on the assumption that he was still alive, albeit very old (94).
How fascinating that you corresponded with him.
My "15 minutes of fame" came about (very indirectly) due to him, in a way.
When I worked at the King and Prince Resort on the beach as a bellman in 1998, a reporter by the name of Bill Hendrick was doing a story on the U-123 attacks, and the story of the unknown sailors in the local cemetery who had just been identified. He was in the lobby of the hotel and asked me to help him find a telephone in a quiet place that he could use to make an international call. I fixed him up in one of the smaller vacant meeting rooms where there was a phone.
It turns out he was calling Hardegen for an interview, and when he told me snippets of the story, I was hooked, because I had already developed a fascination with U-boats in general (since seeing the movie "Das Boot"), and the local attacks and legends in particular. At the time, the story as I knew it was very sketchy and mostly based on the myths, like the one about the German sailors coming ashore to watch a movie, etc. I told Hendrick these stories but of course mentioned that they were unsubstantiated local legends. Perhaps the stories I shared with him were what made him ask Hardegen about the movie theater myth.
Anyway, it was really interesting to be on the sidelines for that one. Mr. Hendrick, the reporter, was grateful for my help and during our conversation it came up that I was a treasure hunter. I guess he wondered why a low-paid hotel bellman would be so well-versed on obscure local legends like that.
When I mentioned that I had found a coin that looked like a clue to the location of a long-lost Spanish mission, he took interest, and I jotted down a sort of handwritten press release if he wanted to print the story. He did just that, giving me my own sidebar article in the Atlanta paper, and the wire services picked it up and ran it all over the country, where it got reprinted in some of the treasure hunting magazines. I opened a copy of one publication and was astonished to see my story reprinted there, completely without my prior knowledge. Someone I didn't know, in another part of the country, had clipped the article and submitted it to the magazine!
That was my 15 minutes of fame.