I dug for 'The Secret' buried treasure in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park and it broke my heart - SFGATE
Just a few feet from the morning traffic on Fulton Drive, I drove a sharp metal probing rod 3 feet into the soil of Golden Gate Park ... and hit something.
I reached for my shovel and excavated the flower bed in search of an ornate plexiglass box that was rumored to be buried in the park 40 years ago. Dirt accumulated under my fingernails as I dug deeper and deeper, hoping this would be the most exciting day of my life.
My hunt began over a year ago when a stranger from Oklahoma named Larry Gladd sent me an email with the subject line "Buried Treasure." To the dismay of SFGATE's IT department, I opened it, and Gladd shared his theory about a book called "The Secret."
Published in 1982 by Byron Preiss and illustrated by John Jude Palencar, "The Secret" looks like the type of fantasy novel you might find on the bookshelf of a 13-year-old boy who is not particularly popular. The book features tarot-influenced illustrations and cryptic poems that offer clues to the whereabouts of 12 "casques" that the author buried in parks across North America, while disguised as a maintenance worker. Each casque holds a key that can be used to claim a big old-fashioned jewel. Preiss died in 2005 in a car accident, and it's thought that he took the solutions to the puzzles to his grave.
As of the morning of my quest, only three of the treasures had been unearthed, in Cleveland, Chicago and Boston. The most recent was discovered in Boston in 2019 by puzzle and game designer Jason Krupat, who found out about "The Secret" from the Discovery Channel show "Expedition Unknown," hosted by Josh Gates.
"I get emails every single day from people who have theories and complicated maps and all sorts of materials," Gates told me over the phone. "People come up to me on the street, and I can usually spot them because they have a whole bundle of papers. I've heard some crazy theories, but the trouble is that I've also heard so many that sound plausible."
The show has filmed three segments on the quest, two in which they came up blank and a third where they helped Krupat finish his dig.
Unlike many of the suspected locales, Golden Gate Park actually encourages hunters through an official permitting system. My source, who, for reasons he never explained, doesn't travel, first reached out to Recreation and Park Department general manager Phil Ginsburg to share his theory, right before the pandemic put digging permits on pause.
"I think Mr. Gladd has a truly viable theory on where this thing is. He picked out a lot of really good clues," said Ginsburg, who has recorded a podcast about "The Secret." "This is my third or fourth one of these, and I was convinced this would be the day."
'At the stone wall's door, the air smells sweet'
After speaking with Gladd in early 2021, we came to a finders keepers agreement that I would decide the fate of the jewel should I discover it — he was in it for the hunt, not the reward. I waited patiently for permitting to reopen, but another coronavirus wave delayed it, so I wrote a story about the history of "The Secret" instead.
After it published, my inbox filled with more Larry Gladd-type characters claiming they knew the exact location of the San Francisco treasure. The theories are fueled by two main clues: a painting and a poem. The painting shows a woman in a blue dress with a dragon design that resembles the layout of Golden Gate Park, with symbols and shapes matching several prominent landmarks in the park. The cryptic poem reads as follows:
"At the stone wall's door
The air smells sweet
Not far away
High posts are three
Education and Justice
For all to see
Sounds from the sky
Near ace is high
Running north, but first across
In jewel's direction
Is an object
Of Twain's attention
Giant pole
Giant step
To the place the casque is kept."
A few of the theories I received were strong, but none matched that of Gladd's. My story also caught the eye of JP Muncks, a 31-year-old engineer who began investigating the New York treasure. In the background of that painting, Muncks thought he saw an outline of a building next to St. Nicholas Park. More clues from the poem helped him narrow down the spot, but one metal detector permit and a dozen deep holes later, he came up blank.
"I found the deeper and deeper you go, just kind of get more and more disappointed," Muncks said. He's now unofficially given up on "The Secret," and turned his puzzle-solving attention to "Cain's Jawbone," which recently became a worldwide phenomenon in part thanks to a San Francisco TikTok creator.
One person who wasn't disappointed by his "The Secret" experience was Krupat, who found the Boston treasure in Christopher Columbus Waterfront Park after two years of searching. The clues brought him to a baseball field, and the line "you should feel at home" implied home plate. But the park doesn't allow digging, so Krupat thought he was out of luck, until one day he jogged past the field and saw a construction crew renovating the area.
"I stopped them and said, 'Hey, you're going to think this is crazy, but there's buried treasure on this field below home plate,'" said Krupat. Then he sent the construction worker a six-page email with details on the hunt. Months later, he received a text message with a picture of part of the casque.
"I literally dropped my phone," Krupat said.
The next thing he did was contact the Discovery Channel, who sent out a crew that helped him find the rest of the casque. He redeemed the key inside for a peridot stone, and Preiss' surviving family flew to meet him for a ceremony. In the three years since finding the gem, Krupat has received offers from strangers to buy the gem for a few thousand dollars, but isn't interested.
"It's not for sale. I call it pretty much priceless."
'Sounds from the sky, near ace is high'
As one might expect of a 40-year-old treasure hunt, plenty of people have theories. Because of the shape of the woman's dress in the image (and a dozen other clues), the casque is presumed to be in Golden Gate Park, but the consensus ends there. The San Francisco page of "The Secret" wiki site has 4,300 words' worth of research, with 157 comments (including an all-caps post announcing the day that the permit system reopened, March 8, 2022).
"There are people who have given an enormous amount of time to this game," Gates said. "It's kind of like a computer that's been left on, it's just been running for 40 years, and there are people who are legitimately obsessed with it."
One prominent theory involved the strawberry-shaped indentation in the center of her dress, perhaps a nod to Strawberry Hill, which is right next to Huntington Falls, whose shape matches the cascading mountains in the background of the painting. In 2019, a treasure hunter traveled from France to San Francisco to dig in this spot and found a casque within minutes — but after Golden Gate Park officials tried to confirm the casque's authenticity, they learned it was a fake.
"To our treasure ranger, it all seemed a little fishy, because we had been working on the riddle ourselves for quite some time," said Ginsburg.
On the "Expedition Unknown" episode that visits Golden Gate Park, a pair of hunters devised a theory that a totem pole removed in 1986 was the final clue, and that the shadow cast by the pole would mark the dig spot. The show created a digital 3-D model of the pole and used augmented reality technology to estimate the shadow, but once again, the treasure remained unfound.
Which brings us to my source, Gladd, who actually had successful treasure hunting experience (he'd found a Read and Seek treasure) and earned the endorsement of Ginsburg. Gladd's theory hinges largely on the line "an object of Twain's attention," which he takes to mean Mark Twain's interest in steamboats. And who helped invent the steamboat? Robert Fulton, which leads us to Fulton Street. The jewel in the painting is a pearl, so "in the jewel's direction" might reference Pearl Street, which is to the east of Highway 1 ("ace is high").
Gladd then narrowed things down to the Powell Street railroad park entrance pavilion. How? The painting includes a shadowy image of a cable car, and this building used to house cable cars. And is that a conductor's watch on the table? Then there's the stem of the rose in the painting, whose curved shape perfectly matches the sides of the iron bench inside the pavilion, and might also connect to the line "the air smells sweet."
But what really convinced me was that the woman's sleeve in the painting is made up of nine squares — the same number of blocks in the stone foundation of the pavilion. And the kicker — she's pointing at the fourth block, which is exactly where my probe struck something.
'Giant pole, giant step, to the place the casque is kept'
One might expect that a treasure hunter wielding a metal rod that looked like a cross between a medieval weapon and a pogo stick would draw a lot of attention from passersby, but only one stranger seemed to take notice — a 20-something smoking a morning blunt who stopped in his stride, paused for a long moment, then told me he hoped I have a great day.
When my metal probe struck something about 2 feet deep, I thought this would indeed be a great day. My mind raced ahead of my shovel, and I imagined selling the gem for a few thousand dollars, or donating it to the Park Department, which could incorporate the jewel into a commemorative statue of me to be constructed next to the flower bed where I was about to definitely find this treasure. I probably wouldn't need the money anyway, since I'd be flush with royalties from the film adaptation of this very article you're reading right now.
Turns out I hit a rock. Then another rock. Then a tree root. Then a shard of terra-cotta. We kept digging until the hole was nearly 6 feet across and 3 feet deep. SFGATE's photo director, who was the one doing most of the actual work, noted that it was not the biggest hole I've ever dug myself into in my career (zing!), but I've definitely never ended up with so much dirt in my shoes by missing a deadline.
The enthusiasm of the Park Department staff wore thin, shifting to a distinct let's-wrap-it-up vibe. I kept plunging the probe into the ground, stabbing at soil in hopes of hearing the clink of plexiglass, but the most valuable thing I found was an old Home Depot credit card. We even dug a smaller hole on the other side of the pavilion out of desperation, but after 90 minutes, I gave up.
This would not be the most exciting day of my life. In fact, it was one of the most disappointing.