Escambia County’s premier educator at the end of the nineteenth century was Professor James M. Tate. After he retired about 1914, he wrote several articles about his loved community for a Pensacola newspaper. Some of his early contributions contained stories of buried treasure which quickly garnered much interest. Several local residents were among many folks who decided that the tales were true and made efforts to seek out the prize. One of these was a neighbor of the old professor - a religious but superstitious farmer identified in the articles as Billy Nimrod.
One day the professor and his brother Clarence were sitting on the front porch where they often discussed philosophical issues. On this day the discussion was “Is the conscience an infallible guide?” They were directly debating the pros and cons of allowing people to continue thinking the professor’s treasure stories were serious. Professor James took the position that it was unkind to allow the pursuit of imagined fortune to folks like Billy. Clarence gave the opinion that the pursuit was a harmless positive experience. He said that it should be considered little different than spending hours by a pond with a pole expecting to get a great catch - something that he had seen his brother do often. While the duo were in the midst of the debate, Billy Nimrod arrived on the porch.
“Gee, but ain’t it hot” said Billy, taking off his hat and pulling from the crown a large bandana, he proceeded to mop his perspiring countenance.
“Colonel Nimrod, shake hands with my brother, Professor Clarence Tate.”
Greeting were exchanged and Billy again added that it was very hot. Clarence agreed, saying that the thermometer showed it up in the nineties, to which Billy responded, “Mr. Thornton is gone up in the mountains, did you say?”
Due to his little problem of hearing and exuberant nature, Billy soon diverted the brother’s attention to a long rambling story of a dentist, a well-known tooth yanker who became involved in a dispute with his cousin’s husband over payment of an incorrect tooth pull. The error created weeks of private hostility, until the dentist was publicly charged to be a tinhorn by the husband. The story later ends with the husband finally paying his debt with a bandana full of Jack-Ass teeth pulled from an old jawbone.
Light of day was now beginning to fade. The brothers asked if they may visit Billy’s nearby watermelon patch. After a tour of the field and a sumptuous meal of ripe melon, the conversation of the trio drifted to treasure hunting.
“With an air of dignified mystery and importance Billy pulled from his pocket a buckskin bag and loosening the string which gathered its mouth, extracted therefrom a cylindrical object – about three inches long, covered with a tin foil embellished with stars and crescent moons, and appended to a yard’s length of silver cord. Holding this before our eyes Billy Nimrod in the raucous tones of a circus spieler began to descant on its merits as follows.
“Now, gen-til-men, I want to show you my infallerble silver treasure finder, and right here I want to say it won’t find no ripe watermelon. It won’t find no paper money, neither. If finds nuthin but silver, and it’s duly warranted to find any amount of silver from a silver sixpence up to a shot bag of silver, and I want to say up to a thousand bags. I am under word of honor not to tell from who I got it nor from where I got it. Now I jest walks over the ground when I’m huntin’ silver jest as I’m doing now. The finder swings backwards and forwards, jest so, and when I gits over the hidden silver, it jest stops perpendicular stock still without moving nary bit and thar’s the silver.” Saying this, he in admiration handed us the instrument for inspection.
“That is certainly wonderful,” said I. “Very wonderful,” added Brother Clarence, “and I now thoroughly understand its manipulations: the diviner oscillates until you get over the silver and –“
“No, it don’t do that,” interrupted Billy. “It jest swings backward and forards and as soon as Brother Tate here can tell you, I always generally say a word of prayer and ask before I start searching, if my finding the treasure don’t make me a better man or make me give more help to my nabor, then not to allow me to find it. You may think it foolish but I alers do it.”
“No, I don’t think if foolish at all. It is an earnest belief of your beautiful faith, and anyone who would ridicule you for so doing has never himself walked with the Master,” seriously replied my brother.
Billy noticed that his hearers had been deeply impressed by his honest declaration, and being himself affected, drew from the crown of his broad brimmed hat his bandana, wiped the perspiration from his brow, forgetting not in the meantime to permit a portion of its ample folds to fall below and absorb the moisture gathering in his eyes; then, in a subdued tone said: “Brother Tate, if you have objections I’ll step down yonder by your old fish pond where I tried onc’t before, you know, and I’ll experience again.”
Nodding my assent, I motioned to my brother to go with me. Slowly we retraced our steps, passed through the gate and turning to see what had become of Billie, we discovered him kneeling at the base of a gnarled bay tree near the margin of the pond, the effulgent rays of the setting sun bathing him in its glory, the balmy odors of the whispering pines making the evening air redolent with its perfume; then closing the gate we in chastened mood resumed our steps homeward, leaving Billy Nimrod alone in his devotions, but in company with his – experience.”
