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Richard Bostwick Reminiscences Welfare Office Stories
Prohibition Stories |
Buried Treasure I was driving for the Royal cab line which maintained several cabstands about town. The stand I was assigned to was the Northern Pacific depot which was one of the better stands the company owned. You could get more pick-ups there than in any other location. I had one third of my all night shift in on this nice warm summer evening. Several of our other cabs from around town had pulled up and parked behind my cab. All of us were loafing at the far end of the depot platform, awaiting the arrival of the North Coast Limited. I left the group and walked back to my cab to get a package of cigarettes from the glove compartment. As I opened the door of my cab, three characters came over to me and asked me if I knew where the local biscuit factory was. I said, “I sure do, but it is closed at this hour.” It being closed seemed to make no difference to them, for they all climbed into my cab and said, “Take us there.” I refer to them as ‘characters' because although they were of average size and well dressed, they seemed to have sort of a ‘hard boiled' look about them. They were definitely ‘out-of-towners.'
The local biscuit factory was a large square building about two stories high. It was located on the West Side of town right near the railroad yards, and it had a spur track running along side of it. This building was isolated from other buildings, it being in an open area which was covered with very tall grass. I parked a short ways this side of the building on orders from the spokesman of the trio. I turned off my lights and cut my motor, as further ordered. I could see the silhouette of the darkened building against the streetlights in the background. As we sat there, the conversation in the backseat was quite subdued, but I did manage to hear one of the fellows ask one of his companions if he thought he could find “it.” The companion said he was sure he could, whereupon he took off through the tall grass and was quickly swallowed up in the darkness. The two remaining passengers and I sat quietly in the darkness for about 15 or 20 minutes. All of a sudden my third passenger emerged from the tall grass. When he opened the cab door, the dome light came on and revealed that he was carrying a small package under his arm. It was not quite as large as a shoebox and it appeared to be wrapped in some kind of yellow material which was quite soiled. They all seemed quite jubilant over the recovery of “it.” The apparent leader of the group then instructed me to return them to the railroad station, which I did. During our absence from the depot, the Limited had arrived and was now preparing to deport. The baggage handlers were loading the last of the trunks and other luggage into the baggage cars. My passengers hurried out of my cab. Their spokesman asked me what the fare was. I told him, “$3.00.” He then handed me a $5.00 bill and said, “Keep the change and forget you ever saw me or my buddies.” The last I saw of them, they were boarding the North Coast Limited seconds before it pulled out. I don't know………perhaps your guess is as good as mine as to the contents of the package they had retrieved. Personally, I surmised it contained the proceeds of some felony committed at a previous time, perhaps in another town. Why did I not report the incident to the police? I admit, it did seem a little odd, but I had not seen, heard, or could not prove anything illegal had taken place. I watched the newspapers the next few days, but there was no report of any wrong doings regarding the local biscuit factory. |
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Institute for Regional Studies Home Page 701-231-8914 Published by the Institute for Regional Studies, NDSU Updated: 7/30/2007 |
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