The List (5 page)

Dear Mr. Jacobson,

Please accept my condolences on the death of your father. As custodian of the List, he provided admirable leadership over the years. He will be missed by all who knew him.

Due to the deaths of your father and Mr. Taylor Johnston, there will be a meeting of the members of the List on August 25, at Rice Planter's Inn, Georgetown, South Carolina. You, as your father's heir and designee, and Mr. Joe Taylor Johnston, Mr. Johnston's heir and designee, will be installed at that time.

In addition, I am sure your father took care to furnish you with the location of the documents he held in trust as custodian. It is imperative that you bring these items with you to Georgetown so that we can conduct our business.

Please do not discuss these matters with anyone.

Respectfully,
Desmond R. LaRochette

The letter was copied to the names furnished by H. L. to Jefferson McClintock. The second sheet was a letter similar to Renny's sent to the other man whose father had recently died, Mr. Joe Taylor Johnston.

Leaning against the table, Renny folded the two letters and put them back in the envelope. Whatever it was, whatever it meant for his future, the List was real. His father did not prepare the taped message as a cruel joke with April Fools as the punch line. H. L. had held some sort of official position within the group; there were real people from several states involved; they held meetings; they communicated through specially designated post office boxes. In a few days he would see them face to face and find out…what? The amount of money involved would be a good start. He was going to have to trade in his fantasies about the wealth from his father's known estate for new ones funded by a different cache of money, which his father considered “far greater than my known estate.”

Walking outside, Renny was tired. Like a child who'd stayed too long at the amusement park, he was overloaded from the intense stimuli of the day. However, he still had one stop to make before returning to the Isle of Palms.

Following the quiet downtown streets to St. Michael's Alley, he pulled up to a dark, deserted Stillwell Gallery. Renny's family had built the cream-colored house in 1836. Partially held together by huge earthquake bolts, the structure had survived everything from the Civil War to Hurricane Hugo. It was a typical antebellum home. The original house, a separate cook's house, and an adjacent livery stable were now incorporated into the main dwelling. The building's only distinctive architectural feature was a third-story bay window extending five or six feet out over the street. Legend had it that an early Mrs. Jacobson, an invalid with keen eyesight, ordered the window built to provide an unobstructed view up and down the street so she could keep a close eye on her husband as he drove his buggy to his shipping office near the docks.

No colorful past put the Jacobson house on the cover of guide books or caused busloads of gaping tourists to stop and see a place where the shot was fired, the blood spilled, or the famous slept. Tourists came to shop for antiques, not to gather pieces of historical information.

Renny's family had not lived in the house since World War II. The Charleston waterfront area had deteriorated for many years, so H. L.'s parents sold the house and moved to the Isle of Palms in the late 1940s. When the older areas of Charleston made a comeback, the Jacobson house was renovated by a group of businessmen who bought it as an investment. Glenn Stillwell, owner of Stillwell Gallery, paid five thousand dollars a month for the privilege of displaying a good selection of Low Country antiques. Renny wished his family had never sold the house.

Parking under the bay window, he took a small flashlight out of his glove compartment and wondered if Mr. Stillwell had a security system designed to sense physical presence near the building after hours. Renny doubted it, but he nevertheless moved gingerly around the side of the shop to a small wooden gate leading to the backyard. Lifting an ancient iron latch, he pushed open the gate and stepped onto a slate stone patio that stretched half the length of the house before yielding to a small patch of grass ringed with narrow flower beds. A high brick wall enclosed the yard. The storage building, snugly set against the wall and covered with ivy, sat in the far corner of the grassy area.

Renny's flashlight generated a feeble beam that barely cut through the darkness. He couldn't remember if the storage building was wired with electricity or not. Moving slowly across the grass, he fished the skeleton key from his pocket as he quietly approached the door. Although not a naturally timid person, he had to banish sinister images from old Sherlock Holmes movies that crept into his mind as he approached the shed. Turning the knob, the door creaked open. Relieved, Renny cautiously stepped forward, then recoiled in horror as something suspended from the ceiling struck him in the face. It was a metal chain for an overhead light. Telling his heart to stop pounding, Renny pulled the chain, and a bare bulb illuminated the little room.

To one side was a rotary push mower, on the other side sat several cans of paint, a few garden tools, and against the back wall, a small wooden trunk, obviously old, probably an antique.

Renny picked up the trunk by ornately carved handles on its sides and positioned it under the light. A modern combination lock secured a metal latch plate on the chest's front. Renny pulled on it, but it didn't yield to his tug. Hoisting the trunk onto his left shoulder, he retraced his steps across the yard, alternately shining the flashlight ahead, behind, and to both sides. His booty secured, he drove northeast toward the Isle of Palms.

3

And they covenanted with him for thirty pieces of silver.

M
ATTHEW 26:15, KJV

W
hen he awoke in the morning, it took Renny a couple of seconds to orient his thoughts in light of the previous day's events. Once assured of his bearings, he dressed and, placing the wooden trunk on the table in the breakfast nook, examined his new possession in the morning light.

Not large enough for a transatlantic voyage or rough enough for storage in a barn, the old trunk was probably intended for use in a business. It was well constructed; the joints fit closely together, and each corner was reinforced with brass. From the dense texture of the wood, he guessed it was made of teak, consistent with an eighteenth-century craftsman's disdain for lesser woods such as oak or maple. The top was rounded and ribbed with a dark red mahogany, and each rib was decorated with the four stages of the moon. The brass lock plate stretched across one-third of the front. The trunk was most likely used as a strongbox that would have been filled with gold and silver coins after sale of the cotton and rice crops.

The original lock had been supplemented with a heavy-duty combination lock. Definitely twentieth century, stainless steel, Masterlock brand, probably from the local Ace Hardware.

Renny went into the den to look for the combination for the lock. Rummaging through the middle drawer of the desk, he found a Mont Blanc fountain pen, a few paper clips, a yellow notepad, and a slip of paper on which his father had written, “Combination to trunk: 42, 33, 51.”

“Hike,” he said.

Carrying the sheet back to the kitchen, he sat down in front of the trunk and tried a right, left, right sequence. The lock clicked and popped open. Sliding the lock out of the brass plate, Renny opened the lid and looked inside.

He wasn't expecting a cache of gold, silver, or diamonds. The trunk was too light for gold bullion or pirate treasure. In fact, it was almost empty. On top were a few envelopes with his father's name written on them, and underneath was an old, dark brown ledger. Renny's attention was immediately drawn to the book. Oversized by modern standards, it was about fourteen inches wide by eighteen inches long. “Ledger” had been stamped in faded gilt on a dark leather strip embedded in the brown cover. The inside was decorated in a zigzag pattern of different colors, a pattern common to nineteenth-century bookbinders.

Renny rubbed the front with his hand, enjoying the feel of the old book. Turning to the first page, he saw that all the writing, from beginning to end, was in black ink, some dimmed by age, the more recent, clear and distinct.

On the first two pages Renny read in bold, flowing script:

Georgetown, South Carolina, November 30, 1863

Whereas, the current state of civil and military affairs for the State of South Carolina and the Confederate States of America is deleterious to the preservation of domestic safety and security; and

Whereas, the undersigned recognize the need for common action and unified response to the current crises; and

Whereas, the undersigned desire to commit their lives and honor to the common goal of preserving their families during these difficult days; and

Whereas, the undersigned agree that a mutual covenant and commitment to accumulate resources for transfer to other countries is the best way to insure security for present and future generations:

Now, therefore, in consideration of the mutual promises recited herein, the undersigned hereby agree, covenant, and bind themselves and their male heirs as determined by the right of primogeniture as follows:

i. We each agree to transfer within thirty (30) days to a common fund held in trust at LaRochette & Co. the sum of $10,000.00 each in gold or silver, said sum to be transported to England for deposit in the Bank of England under the name of the Covenant List of South Carolina, Limited, hereinafter the List;

ii. We authorize Messrs. Smithfield and Weiss to arrange transport of said sum to England by sailing vessel as soon as practicable considering the current Northern blockade;

iii. We agree that neither Messrs. Smithfield nor Weiss shall be liable for any loss incurred should said ship be captured by Northern forces or lost at sea; iv. We agree that distribution of income and/or principal shall be made no more often than every five years from the monies put on deposit or at such other intervals as decided by majority vote of the subscribers hereto;

v. We agree that investment and distribution of all funds shall rest exclusively with the subscribers to the List free from outside influence or control. The subscribers hereto bind themselves and all successors to strict secrecy and confidence, revealing the existence and function of the List to none.

vi. We agree that the purpose of this fund is to perpetuate the financial stability and security of each subscriber family irrespective of the laws of civil governments.

vii. We recognize and acknowledge our dependence upon, and the authority of the Supreme Being who governs our lives and this world to bless us in the accomplishment of the munificent purposes herein.

viii. To the above preamble and recitation of covenant we swear, binding ourselves and descendants as described herein to all the rights and appurtenances hereinbefore recited.

This 30th day of November, 1863.

Renny half expected to see a Rockefeller, Rothschild, or Du Pont as one of the signers.

He knew the cumulative power of compound interest over a long period. A penny invested at 4 percent compound interest at the time of Jesus' birth would today exceed the gross national product of the United States. Depending on withdrawals, the original $110,000, a large sum in 1863, had been churning and percolating for almost 140 years. He again remembered his father's words on the tape, “Far more valuable than my known estate.”

Questions blinked in his mind like Christmas tree lights. Was the money still in England? How much and how frequently were distributions made? Who knew the details of the amounts of money and its location? Had there been diversification of investment? Had World War I, the Depression of the 1930s, or World War II affected the funds? Was it time for a distribution? What would be his share?

He examined his great-great-grandfather's signature, a strong first letter trailing off to illegibility at the end. J. F. Jacobson, the same initials as Renny. What did his initials stand for? What was he like? Renny knew some about the branches of his family tree and a little bit about the twigs, but as he stared at the old signature, he felt as if he were looking at the roots of an old oak.

The original Covenant document filled the first three pages of the ledger. Turning the pages, Renny read multiple entries in a common form for successors from each family.

The undersigned, eldest legal heir of _________, hereby enters into covenant under the terms and conditions of the Covenant List of South Carolina, Limited.

__________________________ Sufficient and confident proof of legal succession having been presented and upon administration of an oath of Covenant allegiance, ________________ is hereby accepted to full rights and privileges pursuant to the Covenant List of South Carolina, Limited.

This ____ day of __________, ____.

In addition to the original signatories, there were at least sixty or seventy subsequent subscribers. Beside each signature was a small brown smudge. Renny located three other Jacobsons: his father, H. L., signed in 1957, his grandfather Philip S. in 1921 and his great-grandfather Hiram T. in 1874. Renny wished each name could come to life, step from the page, and spend an evening telling his tale. He regretted the vow of secrecy and felt a pang of regret that it had prevented his father from sharing this with him. Could it have made their relationship different? A sense of family pride swelled in Renny's chest; he felt privileged, connected with the past, linked to his roots.