April 17th 2005

Today Mike had a permission in St. Bernard, a northern suburb of Cincinnati. The house was an 1865. He had probed up a stone liner and said it was the only hole on the lot. We arrived and re-probed the walls and marked the sod, then removed the sod and got ready to fling some dirt.

Away we went, with little or no sign, down to about 7 feet. At 7 feet we started finding ABM slick flasks and crown beer tops. At 8 feet, our lovely excursion took an unpleasant twist as the pit started filling with water. A quick probing told us the pit was about 10 feet deep. We dug a bailer hole next to the wall and started bailing out the water.

As long as the water level is kept a few inches below where we stand, the rest of the dirt in the pit remains dry. Once the water level is lowered from bailing, we can take out more contents without it being wet or too heavy or messy.

We got down to the bottom to find a skimpy layer just a few inches thick. The age we were hoping for never materialized, and more broken crown tops were pulled right off the gravel bottom.

Look here folks, if I don't start finding some decent old glass in one of these pits pretty soon, I'm going to lose my gourd.
I post these dreary results to let folks know, it isn't all glory and fame. It's mostly filthy, sweaty, back breaking work that hands back nothing in return. But that's OK, because the bottle Gods need to see dedication before the rewards are passed out. I still get as giddy as I ever did, digging these time capsules. I still dream of pulling out amazing bottles when I sleep. I am still burning hot with the fever. The colored and pontiled glass still beckons to me like a vampire at the window, and I have no will to resist.

Coming next; A recently discovered deep woods Midwestern ghost town with privy pits sunk down enough to lose a hound in.

Stay tuned.....