It seems funny in this age of instant proof thanks to Internet connectivity that I'd offer you a tale for which I can furnish no bonafides at all and have never attempted to, though I have been tempted to...
Feel free to think of it as a parable but more bread than fishes and don't cast it on the water though I did steal today's title from a tune by Robert Wyatt, former member of Soft Machine. It's sort of about history, so if you're old or if you're young, it's about you; nearly.
It's set in Princeton, New Jersey, in the time of the Revolutionary War. The Hessians in the service of King George along with the Redcoats, surprised by Washington's advance across the Delaware River, are fleeing for their lives in a disorderly and disorganized rout before the advancing ragged Yankees who are in the hottest of pursuits.
As one of the cannon the Redcoats are withdrawing traverses the field in front of Nassau Hall, the ground beneath it gives way and despite struggles that cost men and horses their lives, the Redcoats cannot dislodge the field piece and abandon it, mired practically to its barrel in the front yard of what is to become in time the first building of Princeton University, at one time time called the College of New Jersey.
The cannon remained a mute testimonial to the bravery and sacrifice of our forefathers (and foremothers) for centuries. Until the morning, the story I've heard says, in the 1960's when, as people passed Nassau Hall, they noticed a very deep hole and a very large pile of dirt. They also noticed the cannon was nowhere to be found.
A search of the entire city ensued, with no success. The search soon spread across all of Mercer County and then adjoining areas throughout the state of New Jersey. Measurements were made of the width and depth of the hole and calculations on the tonnages of dirt that had been removed were developed. Law enforcement tracked every whisper of a clue, trying to understand the degree of organization and discipline it would have taken to remove such a large object from public view in one night without leaving a clue.
Speculation ran riot as to what had become of the cannon and what and where a private collector (since no one could reasonably expect to sell or melt down such a famous artifact) might have placed the purloined object. Days became weeks, became months (in the story as I've heard it) and no trace of the cannon was found.
Then one day a note, addressed to the Princeton Chief of Police, arrived directing that all backs bend and all shovels dig into the pile of dirt beside the hole at Nassau Hall. There, all was revealed and the mysterious disappearance of the cannon became the work of pranksters not thieves, who, realizing the weight was so great the piece could never be extracted in the course of one quiet night, chose to hide it in plain sight knowing those used to seeing it everyday would forget the exact placement of its location. They were correct.
With the benefit of decades of hindsight, many think there's a great lesson to be learned about appreciating what you have, when you have it and perhaps you are of that persuasion. However, as a Scarlet Knight of Rutgers University, the State University of New Jersey, I can only shake my head and wonder how Princeton underclassmen can even find the campus without a compass.
-bill kenny
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