Where has this particular piece of history been? What has it been through? I can see it being loaded onto the Titanic as she prepared to make her maiden voyage. Was it made of iron or of steel? Regardless it would have taken several well muscled men to move it. Perhaps it lay on a wooden bed and was lifted and carried much as royalty was back in the day. Three men on either side, gripping wooden handles, moving slowly toward a room where valuables would be kept for the passengers.
Imagine this safe filled with gold and jewels. It’s countenance polished and gleaming as the doors are opened to add or remove something stored within. Men dressed in the fashion of the day, their ladies wearing fine gowns, stopping by to choose jewelry for the evening festivities.
It would stand as a sentinel on the rolling seas, on a ship that some said-even God couldn’t sink.
Was it found beneath the ocean? What great wealth might have been recovered and returned to the families of those who perished on board the fated ship? Was this safe there, safeguarding the valuables of the passengers, bearing witness to the devastation and fear?
Or was this particular safe stored in a bank in Dodge City or Tombstone? Back in the old west where stagecoaches traveled hundreds of miles to take money and gold to and from banks. Was it under the watchful eye of Matt Dillon or Wyatt Earp?
Let your mind travel back in time as a sleepy town awakens. If you listen carefully you will hear the sound of heavy boots moving quickly over wooden planks. Past the saloon, no time to wet your whistle on this particular morning. Past the general store where farmers are buying seed and corn, preparing for planting. Past the hardware store, moving toward the alley beside the bank. You pull your watch out of your pocket and note the time 8:52 am. A quick glance through the window satisfies your curiosity. The banker leans down, ear to the safe. As the tumblers turn, a smile touches the corners of your mouth. You glance at your watch again then make one more sweep of the streets. You’re looking for anything suspicious…or dangerous. You see the plume of dust rise even before you hear hoof beats approaching. You pull the bandana over your face, draw your six shooters and prepare to kill anyone who poses a threat.
Your name is Frank James. Your brother Jesse, Bob Ford and others careen to a stop in front of Wells Fargo. You are the James gang and you rob banks.
What images are conjured up when you look at this old safe? Where do you imagine it has been? What mysteries does your imagination uncover?