Chapter 22 #2
We had left Los Angeles at five that morning, and it had taken us almost ten hours to travel up Route 101, with several stops to stretch our legs and refill the gas tank.
It had been a good time for us to catch up and reconnect.
I told him more about Sam and our adventure up the Yuba River.
He told me about his dreams for Bennett Studios and the next movie he wanted to make.
The only reason he had taken a day off from postproduction was because of the promise of gold. I still didn’t know how much it would be worth in 1929, but I was eager and anxious to find out.
“I left detailed instructions with the bank when I deposited the gold,” I told Papa.
“I gave your name as the designated receiver and asked for an eighty-one-year lease. They were a little perplexed, but they took my gold and guaranteed that a man named Grant Bennett from Los Angeles could access the box when he came for it. I think they thought I was a little insane, but gold has a way of talking.”
Papa smiled. “I hope we don’t have any trouble getting into it.”
“I hope so, too. It’s strange to think that there are people in this city who were alive in 1849,” I mused. “Only eighty years have passed since the original 49ers came out.”
“Maybe Hazel is still living,” Papa suggested.
I started to watch the passersby with newfound interest, though she would be in her late eighties and perhaps not well enough to walk the streets.
“It’s not a good idea to look for her,” Papa said. “I know the temptation might be strong, but she doesn’t know you’re a time-crosser, and it would be too hard for her to accept.”
“I know.” I didn’t want to look for Hazel for several reasons. One was that I was afraid she might not still be alive, and it was better to think of her as I knew her in 1849.
We found a space to park the Ford and stepped onto the sidewalk.
The building had been remodeled and expanded and looked very different compared to 1849, when it was one of the first brick structures in San Francisco.
It had been two stories tall with a front porch and balcony overhead.
Now, it was half the city block with gray columns and smooth granite blocks.
Papa opened the front door for me, and I stepped inside. The main lobby was cool and spacious. The marble floors gleamed, and several desks were positioned throughout the room between large columns.
Papa led the way to the counter, where a male teller with a name badge that said “Stanley” greeted us with a smile. “How may I help you?”
“I would like to retrieve a safety-deposit box,” Papa said.
“Of course, sir. I’ll just need you to fill out some information and provide identification.”
He handed Papa the form, and I held my breath, hoping and praying we would be able to retrieve the box without trouble. There should have been eight gold ingots inside. Each one was about three hundred and sixty-five troy ounces, or twenty-five pounds.
After Papa filled out the information, he pulled out his driver’s license and birth certificate and set them on top of the form.
Stanley smiled congenially as he took the information back, and then his smile fell as he looked up quickly. “You’re Grant Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“Grant Bennett from Los Angeles?”
Papa glanced at me and then at Stanley and nodded. “Yes.”
“Just a moment, please.” Stanley left us and went to a man at a nearby desk. He whispered excitedly into the man’s ear, and they both looked at us.
The man rose and approached, extending his hand to Papa.
“Mr. Bennett, my name is Soren Parker, vice president of this branch of the Wells Fargo Banking System. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir.
We’ve been curious about this deposit box for decades.
Each new employee is told all about it, and there is a bet running that no one would show up and claim it. ”
“Well, here I am.”
“It’s remarkable,” Mr. Parker said. “The deposit box was leased in 1849, the year the bank started, and it’s been moved through the years as the buildings have been remodeled.
The lease to the box expires in one year, and by California law, we must let it remain intact for three years beyond that before the courts step in.
I was afraid I’d have to wait four more years to look inside. ”
“You won’t need to wait any longer,” Papa said.
“What is the history behind the box, may I ask?” Mr. Parker studied Papa, eager to know. “How did someone eighty years ago know a man named Grant Bennett from Los Angeles would come and retrieve it?”
We had already discussed what we would say, and though it wasn’t a true story, it was the best we could do to explain.
“My great-grandmother, Ally Bennett, put gold in the safety-deposit box and left it there, passing it along to her son, Grant Bennett, my father. I was named after him, and I inherited the box, but I’ve only recently learned about it in my father’s will.”
“How marvelous for you. Under state law, we would have had to make every effort to find the inheritor, but I’m happy it didn’t come to that.” He smiled. “Are you ready to see what’s inside?”
“Very much so.”
“Good.” Mr. Parker accepted a key from Stanley, and the four of us walked through a set of doors and arrived at a massive safe. As we stood to the side with Stanley, Mr. Parker opened the safe, and we entered.
Hundreds of deposit boxes of varying sizes covered two walls, while several tables lined the center of the room. Mine had been safety-deposit box 201, and it had been chosen for its size.
“I know right where it is.” Mr. Parker walked us over to the wall. “I’ll need some help, Stanley.”
Stanley stepped forward, and the two men removed the box, setting it on a nearby table. Then Mr. Parker handed the key to Papa.
“Do you mind if we stay?” Mr. Parker asked. “We’ve been dying to know what’s inside.”
“Not at all.” Papa nodded. “Please stay.”
My heart pounded hard as Papa inserted the key and opened the box.
There, lying just as I’d left them, were the four gold ingots. Each was stamped with the receipt number we’d been given at the assayer’s, the name F. D. Kohler, twenty-two karats, and the amount of money it was worth in 1849, which was 7,545.55 dollars.
“Look at that,” Mr. Parker said. “Genuine gold rush ingots.”
To me, the ingots were only a day old, but to Mr. Parker and Papa, they were eighty years old.
“Congratulations, Mr. Bennett,” Mr. Parker said.
I grinned at Papa, excitement bursting out of my chest.
“What is a troy ounce worth today?” I asked Mr. Parker eagerly.
“The same as it was worth in 1849.”
My smile fell as I stared at him. “I don’t think you understand what I mean. A troy ounce was worth twenty dollars and sixty-seven cents in 1849. How much is a troy ounce worth in today’s money?”
“Twenty dollars and sixty-seven cents. It briefly rose to almost fifty dollars an ounce during the American Civil War, but it returned to the same rate shortly after and has stayed consistent ever since. It has less buying power now than it did in previous generations, but sixty thousand dollars is still a good deal of money.”
I was speechless as I tried to comprehend what he was saying.
“There has been no inflation in the cost of gold?” Papa tried again.
“No. It stays consistent, thanks to the Gold Standard Act of 1900, which set the amount per troy ounce and does not allow it to increase or decrease.”
My stomach turned, and I was afraid I was going to be sick. We only had sixty thousand dollars?
“That’s not nearly enough to help you, Papa.” I put my hand on the table to steady myself. “It won’t even pay off your debts, let alone help you finish post—”
“It’s fine, Ally.”
“After all the trouble we went to, even if I had left all the money in the—”
“You don’t know what you’re saying.” Papa gave me a pointed look.
I glanced at Mr. Parker and Stanley. Both men were frowning as they gave me confused looks.
“Do I need to fill out any other forms to take the gold?” Papa asked them.
“The forms you filled out will be sufficient.” Mr. Parker still frowned as he looked between us, and I was afraid he might not let us take the money after all.
“Very good.” Papa looked around for a moment, as if trying to compose his thoughts. “Do you purchase gold here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Would you be able to purchase this gold?”
Mr. Parker snapped his finger at Stanley and said, “Start the paperwork.” He then smiled at Papa. “Of course, sir. Come this way.”
I glanced at the gold one last time, my disappointment mingling with the memories Sam and I had made in finding it together.
After we left the safe, Mr. Parker locked it again and motioned for us to follow him. He brought us to his desk and then ran off to find the president of the bank.
“I’m sorry, Papa,” I said when we were alone, my heart sinking. “I had hoped it would be worth so much more. I thought it would be enough to save Bennett Studios and finish the film and purchase back the Dodge and Mama’s jewel—”
“Quiet, Ally.” Papa put his hand on my arm to still my words. “You did so much for us. It’s not your fault that the price of gold hasn’t changed. Sixty thousand dollars will help us a great deal.”
“But it won’t be enough.”
“We’ll figure things out.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said again.
“Shh. You have nothing to be sorry about.”
I leaned back in my chair, feeling so defeated. Three weeks of hard work had not produced what I had hoped, and it had cost Sam an immeasurable amount of money, as well.
“We still have the movie revenue,” Papa said.
“I have faith that we can get the movie through postproduction and into theaters by November 1st, and then we’ll have the money we need to pay everyone back.
We just need to hold on for a few more weeks, and sixty thousand dollars will allow us to do that. ”
A few more weeks, and then we would see if the studio would make it. And I would have to say good-bye to one of my families.
My heart started to feel so heavy that tears gathered in my eyes.
But I still had Mr. Mayer’s offer. I nibbled my bottom lip as I thought about moving to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios. It wasn’t what I wanted, but if I could help my family, I would.
We just needed a few more weeks, and then we’d see how much money Little Women could make in the box office. If it was enough, I wouldn’t have to go to MGM. If it wasn’t, hopefully Mr. Mayer would still let me work for him.
I shuddered just to think about it.
None of it would matter if I could save Sam and stay in 1849. But I wouldn’t worry about it for now.
Tomorrow, I would marry Sam. It was all I wanted to think about.