PADirtfisher
Greenie
My "find" happened a couple weeks ago, as of this writing, and I'm very lucky to be able to write this now. My story takes place in Downingtown, PA - you can look up the news articles if you wish.
I've been a treasure hunter for many years. Usually I enjoy metal detecting, but I won't turn down a chance to cache hunt, either. I really enjoy digging through abandoned houses, looking for that overlooked something that tickles my fancy. That's why I went along enthusiastically when a friend of my brother-in-law, who invests in forclosures, offered to let us cherry-pick the house before the clean-out crews arrived. I had been told that the former owner had to be forcibly removed after being evicted, and had abandoned most of his stuff. It sounded like a fun time was to be had.
When we entered the circa 1920, 3-story duplex house, the smell just about knocked us off our feet. The evicted former owner had left a cooler full of food just inside the door, and it had spoiled into a nasty, lumpy goo. We quickly bypassed the ground floor, leaving the door open to air the place out.
On the upper floors, we found quite a bit of stuff, ranging from games to old bottles, military patches and ammo to old silver jewelry. In a closet I found an old china service and lots of football memorabilia. I found many small cedar boxes, which I love to use to hold my metal detecting finds. Though the stuff was not great, we felt we had found enough to justify our afternoon of searching.
Finally we were able to search the living room. Behind the tattered couch was a large wardrobe, with a closet on the right and drawers on the left. We managed to pry the swollen drawers open, and my brother-in-law started searching them while I concentrated on the closet. As I knelt there, he reached into the drawer at my head level and pulled something out.
"Hey, Frank, doesn't this look like a pipe bomb?" he asked me. It sure did. The object was pipe shaped, about ten inches long and wrapped in duct tape. The ends were smaller in diameter (about the size of a D-cell battery on each end), with what looked to be pipe caps on the ends. The really scary part was the large capacitor (like you'd find in an old stereo, with a heavy chrome edge) attached to the top of the pipe. One thin, curly white wire ran from the capacitor to one end of the pipe, and a thin, curly red wire ran to the other end. Two heavier black wires ran from the windings into the middle of the pipe.
I told him to gently set it on the nearest level surface. He did, and we quickly vacated the premises. A call to the owner of the house and to the police resulted in the bomb squad being called in. The device was determined to be a bomb. The neighborhood was evacuated, the road (a major highway) was closed and the device was safely removed and detonated by trained professionals. Bomb-sniffing dogs pronounced the house safe after that. A professional crew cleaned out the house thoroughly a few days later.
I found out later that the former owner of the house was a disabled Vietnam veteran who had wartime bomb building training and experience. He had stopped paying his taxes due to a beef with the local government, and was known to local officials for making frequent death and bomb threats. He had been evicted after something of a stand-off. I do not know if he is currently in custody or not.
I believe that what saved us was the fact that the eviction had occured last February. I believe that the batteries died on the bomb, in the intervening months. Had it still been active, then it would have detonated as the former owner planned, and both myself and my brother-in-law would have been killed. We are not, nor ever were, agents of the government, nor were we responsible for the guy's financial or personal difficulties. We were simply starting the clean-out of an abandoned house. And it nearly cost us our lives.
I am still jittery and nervy from this event. Don't get me wrong, I am still an avid treaure hunter, and this will not stop me from pursuing my hobby. Only now, I approach even the simplest of recovery operations with quite a bit more caution.
Frank B.
I've been a treasure hunter for many years. Usually I enjoy metal detecting, but I won't turn down a chance to cache hunt, either. I really enjoy digging through abandoned houses, looking for that overlooked something that tickles my fancy. That's why I went along enthusiastically when a friend of my brother-in-law, who invests in forclosures, offered to let us cherry-pick the house before the clean-out crews arrived. I had been told that the former owner had to be forcibly removed after being evicted, and had abandoned most of his stuff. It sounded like a fun time was to be had.
When we entered the circa 1920, 3-story duplex house, the smell just about knocked us off our feet. The evicted former owner had left a cooler full of food just inside the door, and it had spoiled into a nasty, lumpy goo. We quickly bypassed the ground floor, leaving the door open to air the place out.
On the upper floors, we found quite a bit of stuff, ranging from games to old bottles, military patches and ammo to old silver jewelry. In a closet I found an old china service and lots of football memorabilia. I found many small cedar boxes, which I love to use to hold my metal detecting finds. Though the stuff was not great, we felt we had found enough to justify our afternoon of searching.
Finally we were able to search the living room. Behind the tattered couch was a large wardrobe, with a closet on the right and drawers on the left. We managed to pry the swollen drawers open, and my brother-in-law started searching them while I concentrated on the closet. As I knelt there, he reached into the drawer at my head level and pulled something out.
"Hey, Frank, doesn't this look like a pipe bomb?" he asked me. It sure did. The object was pipe shaped, about ten inches long and wrapped in duct tape. The ends were smaller in diameter (about the size of a D-cell battery on each end), with what looked to be pipe caps on the ends. The really scary part was the large capacitor (like you'd find in an old stereo, with a heavy chrome edge) attached to the top of the pipe. One thin, curly white wire ran from the capacitor to one end of the pipe, and a thin, curly red wire ran to the other end. Two heavier black wires ran from the windings into the middle of the pipe.
I told him to gently set it on the nearest level surface. He did, and we quickly vacated the premises. A call to the owner of the house and to the police resulted in the bomb squad being called in. The device was determined to be a bomb. The neighborhood was evacuated, the road (a major highway) was closed and the device was safely removed and detonated by trained professionals. Bomb-sniffing dogs pronounced the house safe after that. A professional crew cleaned out the house thoroughly a few days later.
I found out later that the former owner of the house was a disabled Vietnam veteran who had wartime bomb building training and experience. He had stopped paying his taxes due to a beef with the local government, and was known to local officials for making frequent death and bomb threats. He had been evicted after something of a stand-off. I do not know if he is currently in custody or not.
I believe that what saved us was the fact that the eviction had occured last February. I believe that the batteries died on the bomb, in the intervening months. Had it still been active, then it would have detonated as the former owner planned, and both myself and my brother-in-law would have been killed. We are not, nor ever were, agents of the government, nor were we responsible for the guy's financial or personal difficulties. We were simply starting the clean-out of an abandoned house. And it nearly cost us our lives.
I am still jittery and nervy from this event. Don't get me wrong, I am still an avid treaure hunter, and this will not stop me from pursuing my hobby. Only now, I approach even the simplest of recovery operations with quite a bit more caution.
Frank B.
But this one was just too important not to share. I had nothing to do with the guy's bad fortunes, but I almost paid for them anyway. I still shake when I think about it, then I want to strangle the guy myself for putting me through that. I can understand his feelings, having lost his house, but that doesn't give him the excuse to possibly wipe out the neighborhood (not to mention the poor schlubs who had to clean up his mess). And believe me, that house was a MESS. The guy was a complete slob.
? I just went through an estate clean-out and poked my finger on a needle...fortunately it was a sewing needle as it turned out, not a syringe-type needle. We just never know what we'll find ANYWHERE. My personal motto: when in doubt, get the hell out! 
