Chapter 1

"You're not wet?" I asked.

"No ... What happened?" June, the girl with All the answers asked back.

"I dunno." I replied, "Seems like you did something to the watch."

"I know that. What happened?"

"If you're not going to the beach, I have chores," Mom said.

"Yes ma'am." We started footing it over to the pier.

Our house used to be the lake house for the boat shed at the foot of the yard ... there are legends ... and that might be why Mom got it cheap when Daddy died on the Fitzgerald. No one rolled ashore during the days that followed that awful November 10th storm. Daddy didn't ... and since there wasn't a body, Mom got half the insurance. After seven years she got the other half and the double indemnity part for accidental.

It's sorta odd, knowing you're swimming in the water your father died in ... and he's still in it. Eww.

Bridge street is where the bridge to the south shore used to be ... we're not old enough to remember that but the lake freighter that took it out is the foundation of Billy's house. It sunk ... mostly ... Billy's Dad said right there and he was pointing at the concrete block part of their house.

"Yessir ... right under our feet," he would start the Halloween ghost story that way every time. He'd stamp and his wife down in the block part of the house would hit this big piece of steel with a hammer. Naturally ... we didn't know she was down there.

Billy's Dad ... Stepdad actually. That's why Billy was a Johansen and his 'Dad' was a Jorgensen. Billy and I had two things in common ... twin sisters and a father that didn't come back from the Fitz.

He'd stomp and Mrs. Jorgensen would smack that sheet of steel and Mr. Jorgensen would stop..."Hear that? I'll bet that's old Andropolis trying to get out..."

The story was Nick the Greek was sleeping it off in his little motor shack on the side of the bridge ... it wasn't until I was much older... 15 ... before I knew what the 'it' he was sleeping off was. I'd wished ... for days ... that I still didn't know what 'it' was.

Anyway Nick was asleep when that old Lake boat hit the bridge end on and stabbed the steel rails under the tarmac right through the bow. Jorgensen would troop us kids out of the house and down to the yard and shine a really bright light down on the water ... the murky silhouette of a bridge and a bit of the bow of the freighter stuck out from under their house. And we believed every word ... every year ... until the Pentwater Historical Society published what really happened.

Never let it be said that anyone in the town cared ... or even changed their perception of what happened.

Nick the Greek was the bridge operator ... he was never seen again after the bridge was gone and there really a was a sunk lake freighter under the Jorgensen's house. That Nick the Greek was never seen again after 1928 and the bridge was removed in 1955 were conveniently ignored facts that spoiled a good story.

To get to Bridge Street from the front door is a simple matter of two left turns and one right. To get to Bridge through the backdoor meant walking down to the pilings at our little seawall and turning right, threading your way through the cedar hedge while crawling on your belly and taking a moment to climb the rock, then you had to jump from rock to rock alongside Bridge Street until you came to the galvanized ladder and climbed up on the pier.

Which way did we take? You already know that!!

Halfway west on the pier, there used to be a Coast Guard Lifeboat Station ... they got REALLY mad if you trespassed ... really mad. But the station was abandoned when the Guard started widespread usage of helicopters. The lifeboat crews were transferred to other stations.

In 1965 the station was torn down, the boat bay filled in and the pier extended past the open spot. We could walk the pier from end to end and not have to either get wet by swimming past the No Trespassing signs or cutting through the Jeffersons back yard. You have to understand ... WE ... my sister and I never had to swim or go around. Mom used to tell us stories about when she was a girl.

Mom said, the Jeffersons were ok until their boy graduated from bicycles to cars. They lost their sense of humor after that. She did have to admit the Coasties put in a pier ladder on both sides on their property so you could swim past the boat bay. That was very nice.

The three houses on the west side of the Coast Guard cut out were abandoned due to ferocious termites. So if you hiked instead of swum (honest to god real word.) you didn't have to worry about the west side neighbors ... before the cut was filled in. After the cut ... no worries.

It's actually closer to the beach to go out the front door turn left on Green, right at Bridge and left at Lowell ... where's the fun in that? In two more years ... at 15 ... after I found out what sleeping off 'it' meant ... I couldn't get June to go anywhere exciting. The wench even sold her bicycle!!

We walked out to the pier ... it was crowded ... the perch were running ... so ... we went north past where

Old Baldy and the frog pond used to be and is all trailer campsites now and into the woods. We hiked up to the base of the old firetower and sat on the concrete pilings. It's at least a half mile in any direction before you run into nosy neighbors.

From the base of the old tower you can see the iron pipe monstrosity that replaced the lighthouse on the south pier.

"What do you think, Jimmy?"

"I don't know June ... if this watch does control time ... I don't think we should sit on the pilings."

"Ah ... right." We moved.

We moved up hill to the very top of the dune. It is taller than the top of the tower ... if the tower was still there. This tower was for watching the South shore all the way to the Silver Lake Dunes. Back then there weren't any roads past the end of South Bridge Road ... about a mile on the Big lake side.

Up top there's a big clear spot where the grass and trees never grow because of the fierce winter lake winds.

"Cross your fingers and get ready to push in the stem."

"Huh?"

June said... "It might be too far back ... too far back is Lions, Tigers and Bears."

"Oh."..."My."

We experimented. One click wasn't even noticeable. But it only took five tries to realize we had to push in the stem after each experiment. Clicks added up. One click ... nothing ... two clicks was actually three clicks ... and three clicks on top of that was six ... four more made ten and there was a crew building the tower. The pier was made of wood and there was a wood lighthouse.

Five clicks on top of the ten made 15 and there were only sailing ships on the lake, no pier and no lighthouse. Somewhere between 1700 and 1850.

The tower was built by the sawmill in the early single digits of the twentieth century. Its position was on the side of a sand dune and it was soon discovered that sand is very unstable. The tower was never really finished. A platform was built but living quarters were unfinished. It completely collapsed after 1959, but all the kids in town knew where it was. Some enterprising young vandal cut it up and sold the angle iron for scrap.

"Well ... we've got it ... what can we do with it?"

"Get rich!"

"How?"

"Stock Market."

"You have to have money to play the stock market."

"Buried treasure?"

"How do you know where it's going to be buried?"

"Gold mine?"

"In Michigan?"

"Sure ... gold has been found over by Hart."

"Tell you what ... see if you can order a gold pan from Gustafson's."

"Don't have to ... they've got some."

"Well?"

"I have a dollar. They don't even know they have them. Maybe I can get a deal."

Gustafson's is the town's Department Store ... all three stories above ground and a very messy basement. The place has been leased a dozen times in as many years and no one knows what is or isn't in stock The back door has been inoperable for years ... unless you know the secret ... I do.

First I made sure of my target ... yup ... a clear dozen rusty steel pans ... sloped sides and flat bottom.

"Hi Mr. Mack." His name is McKinnon but we all call him Mr. Mack.

"Jimmy. How's your Mom?"

My Mom, for all she's a widow and the mother of 13 year old twins, is one of the main attractions of the town. Most of the girls and unmarried women constitute a real set of coon dogs. Pentwater is UGLY city as far as the fair sex goes ... except Mom ... and ... gag ... June. More than one unmarried man ... and several married Chicago millionaires have thought Mom would make a nice addition to their stable ... No Dice ... Mom does use a lot of batteries though. I've seen them in the trash. Not that I know what she puts them in. She seems happy though.

"She's fine, Mr. Mack."

When it comes to the subject of my Mom, the men in town mumble a lot. My ears are pretty good.

"That she is Jimmy ... that she is."

"Sir?"

"Oh, nothing ... can I help you?"

"I'm looking for a flat bottomed round pan..." I held up my hands to about the size. "And about this deep."

"I don't think ... but you're welcome to look."

"Thanks, Mr. Mack."

Just so he wouldn't think I knew before I asked, I started at the top floor and worked my way down to the basement. Many's the time I've been fingering the guns and some summerfolk has come in looking for just 'That' thing and I was able to say, "Sure, we've got it ... I know where it is." And fetch it ... correct size and color ... because I've been through the shelves before. I've even been known to hit it a lick with the price gun ... for twice what the tag I scraped off said. It's a tourist town ... people expect it.

So, when I came up the stairs I had an even dozen of what I wanted ... with the rusty ones on top and bottom and a price tag from 1910 for ten cents each ... Mr. Mack was amazed.

"It's not exactly what I wanted but ... can't be choosy ... it's close enough."

"God, Jimmy ... that's a bunch of crap ... they're all rusty."

DING

"I think I can clean 'em up. Why don't you wait on her before we dicker."

Pretty quick, I'd be saying, "Yes ma'am ... what color?" as Mr. Mack was telling her Sorry.

"Jimmy, how old are you?"

"Same as last time, Mr. Mack. 13.

"Grow older quicker and I'll hire you just for knowing what I have here. Take them pans with you when you go. They're all rusty and I'd have to throw 'em away."

"I can't do that ... I've got a dollar ... take it."

"I recognize that dollar ... you got it for your birthday."

"Yes Sir ... when I turned 11. I almost cried."

"Ok ... say ... who is that?"

I watched him in the mirror as he slid a Five in-between the pans.

"Never saw her before ... no ... wait ... she's staying at the park." I thought a minute. "Space 16."

He rang up my buck ... gave me forty cents change and a Coke from the nickel machine.