Author Archives: Garry Rodgers

About Garry Rodgers

After three decades as a Royal Canadian Mounted Police homicide detective and British Columbia coroner, International Best Selling author and blogger Garry Rodgers has an expertise in death and the craft of writing on it. Now retired, he wants to provoke your thoughts about death and help authors give life to their words.

DID VINCENT VAN GOGH REALLY COMMIT SUICIDE?

Dutch Post-Impressionism master, Vincent Van Gogh, was a phenomenal force who helped shape modern art culture. His influence ranks with Shakespeare in literature, Freud in psychology, and The Beatles in music. Van Gogh was also plagued with mental illness, suffered from depression, and was tormented by psychotic episodes. Conventional history records that Van Gogh died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound in 1890 at the age of 37. However, an independent and objective look at the case facts arrives at an entirely different conclusion—Vincent Van Gogh was actually shot by someone else, and it was deliberately covered up.

This isn’t to say that Van Gogh was murdered as in a homicide case. As a former police investigator and coroner, I’m well familiar with death classifications. The civilized world has long used a universal death classification system with five categories. They are natural death, accidental death, death caused by wrongful actions by another human being which is a homicide ruling, self-caused death or suicide, and an undetermined death classification when the facts cannot be slotted into one conclusive spot.

I’m also familiar with gunshot wounds. Understanding how Vincent Van Gogh’s fatal wound happened is the key to determining if he intentionally shot himself, if he accidentally caused his own death, or if someone else pulled the trigger which killed Van Gogh. Before analyzing what’s known about the Van Gogh case facts, let’s take a quick look at who this truly remarkable man really was.

Vincent Willem Van Gogh was born in 1853 and died on July 29, 1890. During Van Gogh’s life, he produced over 2,000 paintings, drawings, and sketches. He completed most of these in his later years and was in his most-prolific phase when he suddenly died.

Van Gogh didn’t achieve fame or fortune during his life. He passed practically penniless. It was after death when the world discovered his genius and assessed his works of bright colors, bold strokes, and deep insight as some of the finest works ever to appear on the art scene. Today, an original Van Gogh is worth millions—some probably priceless.

Vincent Van Gogh achieved artistic saint status. It’s not just Van Gogh’s unbounded talent that supported his greatness. It’s also the mystique of the man and the martyrdom mushrooming from his untimely death that robbed the world of an artist—a starving artist and a man who lived on the fine line between genius and nut.

Most people know some of Van Gogh’s masterpieces. Wheatfield With Crows may have been his last painting. Café Terrace At Night, The Potato Eaters, Irises, Bedroom In Arles, The Olive Trees, and Vase With Fifteen Sunflowers are extraordinarily famous. So is The Starry Night. (I happen to have a hand-painted oil reproduction of Starry Night right on the wall in front of me as I write this, and my daughter has Café hanging in her home.)

Most people know the story of Vincent Van Gogh’s ear. It’s a true story, but the truth is he only cut part of his left ear off with a razor during a difficult episode with his on-again, off-again relationship with painter Paul Gauguin. The story goes on that Van Gogh gave his ear piece to a brothel lady, then he bandaged himself up and painted one of many self-portraits. I just looked at this portrait (Google makes Dutch Master shopping easy) and was struck by the image of his right side being bandaged. Then I realized Van Gogh painted selfies by looking in a mirror.

And most people know something about Vincent Van Gogh’s time in asylums. This is true, too, and he spent a good while of 1889 in Saint-Remy where he stared down on the town and painted The Starry Night from later memory. The celestial positions are uncannily accurate.

In late 1889, Van Gogh moved to a rooming house in Auvers-sur-Oise near Paris. His painting production went into overdrive, and he was at the peak of his game. On July 27, 1890, Van Gogh left his room with his paints, canvas, and easel. He returned empty-handed with a bullet in his belly.

Vincent Van Gogh’s spirit left this world at 1:30 a.m. on July 29. He passed without medical intervention on his bed, and the medical cause was, most likely, exsanguination or internal bleeding. There was no autopsy, and Van Gogh was buried in a nearby churchyard the next day.

There are various ambiguous statements purported from Van Gogh. He did not admit to shooting himself or intentionally attempting to commit suicide. However, the record indicates he didn’t deny it. The record can also be interpreted that he covered up for someone else.

What is fairly clear is the description of Vincent Van Gogh’s gunshot wound. There are conflicting locations, (chest, stomach, abdomen), but this is explainable from Dutch/French to English translations. It’s highly probable that one bullet entered the left side of Van Gogh’s mid-section and traversed his intestines in a left-to-right direction. There was no exit wound and no serious spinal damage as Van Gogh had walked home from the shooting scene, up the stairs, and to his room where he expired a day and a half later.

There was no firearm found and absolutely no history of Vincent Van Gogh ever owning or operating a gun. He was a painter. Not a hunter or soldier. (Note: There was a rusted revolver found in an Auver field in 1960 which was said to be the weapon. There is no proof that it was.)

There was no suicide note or any deathbed confession. Aside from being an artist, Van Gogh was a prolific writer who documented many thoughts as he progressed from mental sickness to physical health. In late July of 1890, Van Gogh’s writings showed him to be optimistic and with plans to paint as much as possible before an anticipated period of blackness returned. Two days before his death, Van Gogh placed a large art supply order.

Suicide, in Van Gogh’s case, wasn’t surfaced in the early years after his death. There were murmurs among the villagers that “some young boys may have accidentally shot” Van Gogh as he went about his work in a nearby field. There was no coroner’s inquiry or inquest, but there is documentation of a gendarme questioning Van Gogh if he intentionally shot himself to which Van Gogh allegedly replied, “I don’t know.”

The first strong suicide suggestion came in 1956 with Irving Stone’s novel and movie Lust For Life. It was a documentary that took liberty with Van Gogh’s life and times. It concluded Van Gogh was a troubled soul—a beautiful soul—who ended his life intentionally. The book and movie were bestselling blockbusters and cemented the suicide seed to an adorning public.

It became ingrained in lore and public acceptance that Vincent Van Gogh was a desponded psychotic who suddenly up and killed himself rather than continue a tormented existence of interpreting beauty in nature and people. It was the gospel, according to Van Gogh historians, who were comfortable with a suspicious explanation.

Other people weren’t. In 2011, two researchers took a good and hard look into Van Gogh’s life and death. They had full access to the Van Gogh Museum’s archives in Amsterdam and spent enormous time reviewing original material. They found a few things.

One was a 1957 interview with Rene Secretan who knew Van Gogh well. Secretan admitted to being one of the boys spoken about by the villagers who were involved in Van Gogh’s shooting. Rene Secretan, sixteen years old in 1890, told the interviewer he wanted to set the distorted record straight that was misrepresented in the book and movie.

The interview documents Rene Secretan as saying the handgun that shot Van Gogh was his, and that it was prone to accidentally misfiring. Secretan self-servingly denied being present when the accidental shooting happened, claiming he was back in Paris and not at his family’s summer home in Auvers. Secretan failed to identify those directly involved or exactly what circumstances unfolded.

The researchers, Pulitzer Prize winners Steven Naifeh and Gregory White Smith who co-wrote Van Gogh: The Life, found corroborating statements placing Van Gogh near the Secretan villa on the afternoon of the shooting. They also sourced a leading expert on firearms and gunshot wounds who refuted any chance of Van Gogh being able to discharge a firearm with his own hands that could have caused the wound in its documented location.

Dr. Vincent Di Maio (a 2012 key witness in the Florida trial of George Zimmerman who shot African-American youth Trayvon Martin in a neighborhood watch altercation) concluded that Van Gogh, who was right-handed, could not possibly have held a firearm as it had to be; therefore the shot had to have been fired by another party. Dr. Di Maio also commented on the lack of reported gunshot residue on Van Gogh’s hands and clothes. In 1890, most cartridges contained black powder which was filthy stuff when burned at close range.

Researchers Naifeh and Smith also took a deep dive into what they could find on Rene Secretan’s background. They painted him as a big kid—a thug and a bully who was well known to have picked on wimpy Van Gogh throughout the month of July 1890. Secretan came from a wealthy Paris family who summered at Auvers with their second home within walking distance of Van Gogh’s rooming house.

According to the researchers of Van Gogh: The Life, Rene Secretan had seen the Buffalo Bill Wild West show in Paris, and Secretan fancied himself as a cowboy character. Secretan fashioned a costume to go with his cocky role of a western gunfighter, and he acquired a revolver that was prone to malfunction. They documented incidents where Secretan would mock Van Gogh as he painted, play pranks on him, and supply alcohol to Van Gogh who couldn’t afford it.

It was during a mocking spat, the researchers surmise, that somehow Secretan’s revolver went off and struck Van Gogh in the abdomen. According to the theory, the boys fled, disposed of the weapon, and formed a pact of silence. If this was true, the question arises of why didn’t Vincent Van Gogh report the truth, and why has the suicide conclusion remained steadfast.

Naifeh and Smith address this in their book with this quote: When all this (accidental shooting theory) began to emerge from our research, a curator at the Van Gogh Museum predicted the fate that would befall such a blasphemy on the Van Gogh gospel. “I think it would be like Vincent to protect the boys and take the ‘accident’ as an unexpected way out of his burdened life,” he agreed in an e-mail. “But I think the biggest problem you’ll find after publishing your theory is that the suicide is more or less printed in the brains of past and present generations and has become a sort of self-evident truth. Vincent’s suicide has become the grand finale of the story of the martyr for art, it’s his crown of thorns.”

As an experienced cop and a coroner, I think Naifeh and Smith are on to something. There are two huge problems with a suicide conclusion in classifying Vincent Van Gogh’s death. One is the lack of an immediate suicide threat. The other is the gunshot nature.

I’ve probably seen fifty or more gunshot suicides. All but one were self-inflicted wounds to the head. The exception was a single case where the firearm was placed against the chest and the bullet blew apart the heart. I have never seen a suicide where the decedent shot themselves in the gut, and I’ve never heard of one.

Vincent Van Gogh didn’t leave a suicide note. He made no immediate suicide threats and, by all accounts, things were going well for the struggling artist. It makes no sense at all that Van Gogh would head out for a summer’s day, begin to paint, produce a gun from nowhere, shoot himself in the stomach from the most inconceivable position, then make it home—wounded—without finishing himself off with a second shot.

If I were the coroner ruling on Vincent Van Gogh’s death, I’d readily concur the cause of death was slow exsanguination resulting from a single gunshot wound to the abdomen. I’d have a harder time with the classification. Here, I’d have to use a process of elimination from the five categories—natural, homicide, accidental, suicide, or undetermined.

There is no possibility Van Gogh died of natural causes. He was shot, and that is clear. Was he murdered or otherwise shot intentionally? There is no evidence to support a homicide classification. Did the firearm go off accidentally? It certainly could have, and there is information to support that theory but not prove it.

Suicide? Not convincing. The available evidence does not meet the Beckon Test where coroners must establish beyond a reasonable doubt that the decedent intentionally took their own life. If the death circumstances do not fulfill the requirements of the Beckon Test, then a coroner is not entitled to register a suicide classification.

This only leaves undetermined. Coroners hate closing a file with an undetermined classification. It’s like they failed in their investigation.

Unfortunately, in Vincent Van Gogh’s case—from the facts as best as are known—there’s no other conclusion than officially rule “Undetermined”.

I’m no longer a coroner, though, so I’ll stick out my neck.

On the balance of probabilities, I find Vincent Van Gogh was accidentally shot, then sadly died from this unintended and terrible tragedy.

HAPPY NEW YEAR & WAZZUP FOR GARRY RODGERS WRITING IN 2021

Well, that was quite the ride. 2020, I mean, not my old ’69 428 Super Cobra Jet Mustang that I seriously regret selling. (But that’s for another story.) This time last year, there was absolutely no way I’d have thought “new normal” would be wearing a surgical mask outside the autopsy suite, lining-up in the rain—six feet apart—to score a cheap box of white wine, and applying online for a haircut then shaggily waiting to hear if I won the barbershop lotto. Thankfully, 2020 was actually a very good year for me. I’ll tell you about it, and also wazzup up for Garry Rodgers writing in 2021.

It was Monday, February 17th when I made the decision. The decision was committing to treat my book writing as a business, not a hobby. I’d been around the writing world for a while by then—going on ten years—and I’d written fourteen book publications, not to mention thousands of commercial web content pages, op eds & articles for online magazines, and blog posts.

Something changed that Monday morning, and I have to thank my friend Adam Croft for changing me. Adam and I have been friends for as long as I’ve been writing. I say it was back before Adam was famous and I still had hair. His mentorship taught me to develop The Indie Author Mindset, and that took my writing world to an entirely new plane.

The indie author mindset is a mental state. It involves changing your thinking, and I guarantee it will change your writing career. Being in the right mind frame invigorates, energizes, and inspires you to believe in yourself, show up, and do the work.

The indie author mindset works so well that in 2020 (despite universal doom and gloom) I published six books not to mention carrying on with blog writing and try to figure out this thing they call marketing. One book was historical non-fiction (Sun Dance—Why Custer Really Lost the Battle of the Little Bighorn), one was self-help (Interconnect—Finding Your Place, Purpose, and Meaning in the Universe), and four were part of a based-on-true-crime series (From The Shadows, Beside The Road, On The Floor, and Between The Bikers).

My 2020 book sales exploded—literally. Not only did I produce more saleable products, I “went wide” by publishing on Kobo and Nook as well as still duke-ing it out on Amazon. I also began experimenting with pay-to-play advertising and tapping retailer support systems. This past year, I’ve had well over 20,000 eBook downloads in 56 different countries which definitely paid back. By some standards, that makes me an international bestselling author.

I’m fine with that. And I’m happy my website and personal blog here at DyingWords keep growing. I installed a stat counter on my site in April 2019 that shows 340,000 visitors since then. My mailing list of regular subscribers and followers also goes steadily up.

Print books, you ask? I only have one print publication out and that was my first crack at novel writing. I think No Witnesses To Nothing was my best effort and I’ve gone downhill from there, but that’s not what the stats say and I have to go by that. The problem I see with print books, as opposed to electronic ones, is the return on investment. Sure, it’s the same manuscript. However, there’s the cost of producing a back cover and spine which adds about $200 to the production overhead and that requires a lot of sales to pay off. Having said this, though, I do plan on putting the Based-On-True-Crime books out on paper via Ingram Spark.

What about audio books? That’s another income source to tap into, and it’s very tempting considering the big upswing in audio sales that occurred in the year of whose name shall not be spoken. But… audio books are even more expensive to put out considering the output requires a voice-over that can run 200 bucks an hour for professional results. One step at a time…

I had a real honor bestowed in June 2020, thanks to crime writer and crow lady, Sue Coletta. I was invited as a regular blog contributor on The Kill Zone. This is a popular site (One of Writers Digest Top 100s) composed of 11 top thriller and mystery writers who cover all aspects of that industry. TKZ posts range from helpful pieces on writing craft to hard reality in the publishing business.

A fun side project was helping a friend, Christine Orme, publish an illustrated children’s book titled We Need More Toilet Paper. This was timely and sent a positive message to youngsters bewildered by life changes caused by Covid regulations. I did the formatting while Sue Coletta, my BFF, helped with editing.

July brought a pleasant surprise. I planned a “stacked promotion” for In The Attic which is book number one in my based-on-true-crime series. “Stacked” simply means I placed multiple ads on different online book promotion sites. The result? In The Attic hit the #1 Bestseller spot on the overall Amazon Crime Thriller list. I framed the screenshot.

Another venture was publishing a collection or boxed-set of books. I packaged In The Attic, Under The Ground, and From The Shadows into one eBook. Sales have been so-so, but it’s part of the long-term vision that makes the core of the indie author mindset.

My book business strategy involves having as many products available for sale as possible. My tactics are to increase my inventory (backlist) and speed up my delivery (new releases). For example, one eBook on Amazon is one product. An eBook with print and audio options are three products. Multiply that by a dozen titles, and now there are thirty-six products. Expand the distribution to five separate retail outlets (Amazon, Kobo, Nook, Apple, and Google) and this gives one hundred eighty individual products for consumers to choose from.

It’s a numbers game, and the key to financially succeeding is distributing decent products (i.e. marketable stories with proper editing and professional covers) as widely as possible in multiple formats. As preached in the indie author mindset, it’s all about getting your “ass in the chair and fingers on the keys”. That’s the focus for 2021.

My plans for this coming year are to release six more books in my based-on-true-crime series. The seventh one, Beyond The Limits, is nearly done and should be on the eShelves by mid-January. After that, there are five more planned to finish this series which is doable over twelve months.

The biggest new venture, however, is taking on a podcast. Podcasting is something I’ve been interested in for the past couple of years. This medium is not a sunset industry by any means, and the plan is to increase my writing exposure, or discovery, plus have some fun. I’ve spent the past month researching how successful podcasts are properly done, and I think I have a general handle on the technology.

I don’t want to slip the bag off the cat or pull the sheep over your face. But, I’ll hint I’m going to co-host a program… PostMortemPod — Two Crime Writers Dissect Famous Murder Cases. And I’m not going to mention my BFF co-host’s name either unless she wants to leave it in the comments. What we’ll do is have video/audio chats trying to make sense out of high-profile homicide and suspicious death files like JonBenet Ramsey, Natalie Wood, and the Black Dalia. You never know… we might take on a serial killer or two.

That’s an ambitious agenda, I know. However, it’s work I love doing, and this writing gig is not just a job for me. It’s my life. It’s what I do. I also love reading and learning new things which I did a lot of in 2020. My vocabulary extended to new Caronacoinage words and phrases like Covidiot, Doomscrolling, Quazz, Sanny, Miss Rona, Social Distancing, Coronacoaster, Locktail Hour, Flatten The Curve, Miley Virus, Liquor-Lockdown, Isobar, Isodesk, Blursday, Zoombombing, WFH, Healthcare Hero, Quarrantini, and this beaut from an Aussie, “Strewth mate, the Rona bought out all the Bogan magpies, so I cracked the shits and opened a coldie”.

Thanks to everyone for supporting my work. Thank you. I truly appreciate hearing from you regardless if comments are good, bad, up, or down. That’s how life goes, and I hope your life in 2021 is full of goods and ups!

WHAT REALLY BECAME OF CAPTAIN KIDD’S BURIED TREASURE?

Treasure. The very word is intriguing, invigorating, and—to some—even intoxifying. There’s something magical about lost treasure whether sunken, hidden, or buried beneath the earth in a clandestine location. Such is the lure of Captain Kidd, the infamous pirate, whose hoard of richness may still be out there, stashed in some secret site and silently awaiting discovery.

There’s no doubt Captain William Kidd buried some treasure. That’s an indisputable fact, as his chests containing gold, silver, and a few emeralds were dug up on Gardiners Island in now-New York State in 1699. Kidd’s treasure was inventoried, forfeited to the British Crown, and entered as evidence during his trial for murder and piracy. Captain Kidd was convicted and hung in 1701. Then, his body was garroted and suspended in public display as a warning to other pirates.

By all accounts, William Kidd was not your typical pirate. Kidd wasn’t a swashbuckling Johnny Depp—Jack Sparrow character, nor was he a homicidal psychopath like Blackbeard or Black Bart. No, Captain Kidd was a gentleman of high status who got sucked into the job by the British King and got screwed in the end. You could say Kidd got royally shafted.

Captain Kidd is long dead. But the legend of his remaining treasure lives on, and there may be some real truth to folklore that the bulk of Kidd’s bounty was never seized by authorities. Are Kidd’s real valuables—precious gems, coins, ivory, opium, and ornaments—buried somewhere and lost in time? Let’s look at who Captain Kidd truly was and the highly-suspicious circumstances that led to his easily-convertible, common commodities of gold and silver being found for the Crown while priceless pieces somehow disappeared.

——

William Kidd was a Scotsman. He was born in 1655 to a seafaring family. From the time Kidd was a kid and could put on boots and a slicker, he was onboard sailing ships that crossed the Atlantic. William Kidd received a Captain position within the British merchant marine. He was not a Navy man, but he was well-skilled with navigation and vessel armaments. This was the historical period when piracy ruled the Seven Seas, and civilian vessels needed all the protection they could get.

Captain Kidd relocated to New York City around 1690. He had given service to England’s King George III as a “privateer” commissioned to hunt down “buccaneers” and “pirates”. Kidd did an admirable job. He seemed to be in the King’s favor when he returned to normal life and married a wealthy American socialite.

Kidd temporarily boxed-up his sexton and settled into land-based businesses. However, King George III had different designs for William Kidd’s seagoing talents. Several events were going on where the King needed civilian help in the naval department. England was at war with France and Spain. As well, the age of piracy was at its peak, and the King wanted to take advantage of the situation.

Here’s where William Kidd came in. The British Lords decreed (with the King’s royal assent) that all goods aboard French, Spanish, and pirate vessels could be commandeered for the financial benefit of the Crown. It was a strategic way of paying for war costs and subduing the enemy at the same time.

One of the British Admiralty’s tactics was to commission or charter civilians like Kidd to “privateer” and profit-share spoils with the uppers. A privateer, by definition, is  “a private person or ship that engages in maritime warfare under a commission of war”. Buccaneers are basically unsanctioned privateers, while pirates are common thieves on the water.

Through the King, a group of nobles enlisted Captain Kidd’s privateer services in a way he couldn’t say no. As a man with Kidd’s social status, it would appear disloyal to refuse a royal request. Kidd acquiesced his commander and returned to England in 1696 where he received a Letter of Marque authorizing him to set forth and prey on French, Spanish, and pirate property.

The deal was sealed. Kidd’s role was to collect and share spoils with his financiers—noble Whig Lords, Earls, and Knights before which 10 percent was skimmed by the King. The arrangement was still profitable for Kidd and his crew, provided they could locate plunderable targets. That proved problematic.

Things started bad and went worse for Captain Kidd. He weighed anchor in September 1696 in the Adventure Galley, a 284-ton hybrid ship equipped with sails and oars as well as 34 cannons. Kidd had hand-selected his crew of 150 and felt confident as he headed down the Thames for the Cape of Good Hope and hunting off the coast of Madagascar.

Still on the Thames, Kidd’s Adventure Galley passed a British Naval frigate whose commander knew not of Kidd’s mission. Kidd failed to offer a courtesy salute which offended the Naval Commander who heaved-to the Adventure Galley and summarily pressed one-third of Kidd’s men into naval service. Kidd changed course for America where, in New York, he hired replacements.

Kidd’s replacement crew was not from the cut-above. Rather, the available stock were criminals and societal rejects who the Governor of New York was glad to see go. Other fine sailors abandoned ship in New York because the Adventure Galley was a poorly and hastily-built piece of shit that leaked like a sieve and steered like a stone.

Many flocked to Kidd from all parts. Men of desperate fortunes and necessities, in expectation of getting vast treasure. It is generally believed here that if he (Kidd) misses the design named in his commission, he will not be able to govern such a villainous herd.”  ~ Governor Fletcher of New York Colony.

But Captain Kidd was no quitter. He accepted a bag of rag tags and set forth on his chartered commission. Before Kidd reached the Cape, a cholera outbreak plagued the ship and another third of his compliment perished. Now Captain Kidd was at a distinct disadvantage at controlling the crew and murmurs of mutiny floated about.

Kidd had no luck at all. Not only was his crew a band of devious deviants, much like the cutthroats of lore, Kidd’s officers were also disloyal. William Kidd commanded his ship according to the rules of maritime law and legal engagement. Pirate hunting was poor in the Indian Ocean as was locating valid targets sailing under French and Spanish flags. Kidd refused to engage ships under Dutch registration or anything that resembled a British subject.

A year passed. Kidd’s charge had no income and little left to pay or outfit his men. Open revolt was on deck and led to violence on October 30, 1697, when Captain Kidd and gunner William Moore got into a fight. Kidd hit Moore on the head with an iron-strapped bucket, and Moore died the next day of a brain injury.

Word of Kidd’s poor performance got back to the Whig backers. They were displeased and began undermining Kidd’s credibility. Rumors that Kidd may have gone rogue and turned from privateer to pirate circulated through dispatches distributed through the British colonies and far-reaching colonial interests.

Kidd, however, knew or did anything of the sort. He was simply a victim of changing times when France and Spain were tiring of war and their interests in the Indian Ocean dried up. The pirates, once finding less and less loot, left the area and returned to plunder the Caribbean.

On January 30, 1698, Captain Kidd and the Adventure Galley finally found a victim. It was the 400-ton Quedagh Merchant which was Armenian registered and French flagged. The ship was bound from Bengal to Surat in India, and Kidd engaged it near Kochi on the southwest tip of the subcontinent.

The engagement was peaceful. The Quedagh Merchant’s captain was an Englishman employed by a Dutch firm and crew operating for India’s Grand Mughal. The ship had a written pass from the French East India Company and all was in good order. The Quedagh Merchant was also loaded with highly-prized valuables—silk bales, opium chests, satin fabrics, muslins, sugar, tobacco, and tea. In its hold was a mass of gold, silver, and gemstones along with jeweled and ornate artifacts fit for the Mughal.

Captain Kidd was in a quandary, for sure. On one hand, Kidd viewed the Quedagh Merchant as a non-viable engagement. It was not a pirate ship by any standards and belonged to an entity not in conflict with British rule. On the other hand, this was the first chance Kidd’s crew had at getting paid, and they threatened to cut Kidd adrift if he didn’t seize the ship and its contents.

Kidd succumbed to his crew. He justified that the Quedagh Merchant was French authorized under the pass and set forth to commandeer the vessel with a privateer claim for the British Crown. This pissed off the Indian Grand Mughal to no end. His goods were now gone, and he loudly complained to the British High Commission that, in turn, reported back to the King.

Captain Kidd was a practical man as well as a competent sailor. Rather than transfer goods to the leaky Adventure Galley, he made port in Kochi, dismissed the Dutch crew, and made off with their Quedagh Merchant. Kidd renamed it the Adventure Prize and set sail for the Caribbean’s West Indies.

Kidd and his converted merchant vessel stopped in Madagascar in April 1698. Here, more of Kidd’s crew jumped ship and joined a pirate venture captained by Robert Culliford who was a notorious man and a long foe of Captain Kidd. Port tensions rand high, so Kidd slipped away on the newly-named and treasure-laden Adventure Prize.

He arrived at Catalina Island off the south side of the Dominican Republic in late 1698. Here, Kidd anchored in a secluded lagoon and made arrangements for a smaller vessel, a sloop, to take him with a select small crew to New York to bargain with the British Crown. Captain Kidd was now well aware of the piracy accusations levied against him.

Massachusetts Governor Bellomont was Kidd’s long-time acquaintance who Kidd thought he could trust. T’wasn’t so. Kidd was a wary sort, so he took treasures from the Quedagh Merchant’s cargo that could be easily converted into negotiable currency—gold, silver, gems, and elaborate jewelry and ornaments. This was Kidd’s insurance policy—his bargaining chips—that he held for safekeeping.

Kidd cautiously approached the American Atlantic coast in June 1699. He was well-familiar with the region and many New York area inhabitants. That included the Lion Gardiner family and their private 3,318-acre island rightfully called Gardiners Island situated at the northeast tip of Long Island.

Here, Captain William Kidd arranged with the Gardiners to offload treasure and bury it on Gardiners Island. Exactly what was buried or how many burial spots Kidd used remain unknown. This is where the legend of Captain Kidd’s lost treasure began.

Captain Kidd sent a lawyer-delivered letter to Governor Bellomont in Boston stating he was back and ready to negotiate a pardon for piracy accusations against him. Throughout Kidd’s time on this three-year privateer voyage, he firmly believed he was acting according to his royal Commission and his noble backers would soundly support him.

Kidd was wrong. Politics changed during his absence, and the new Torrie powerbrokers in England planned to use Kidd as a pawn to help impeach his Whig patrons. Even the King turned on William Kidd. Governor Bellomont replied with a letter to Kidd stating:

I have advised with His Majesty’s Council and showed them your letter, and they are of the opinion that, if you can be so clear as you said, then you may safely come hither. And I make no manner of doubt but to obtain the King’s pardon for you and those few men you have left who, I understand, have been faithful to you and have refused as well as you to dishonor the commission you have from England. I assure you on my word and honour, I will perform nicely what I have promised.

It was a trap. Captain William Kidd fell for it, and he was arrested on July 6, 1699, as soon as he set foot on Massachusetts land. He was transported to London where he went to trial and lost. Captain Kidd was convicted in a sham of a trial where he was not allowed to testify on his own behalf nor cross-examine witnesses. On May 23, 1701, Kidd was hung by his neck and strung out to rot in a body cage for privateer and pirate viewing.

——

So what became of Captain Kidd’s buried treasure? Some of this is well documented. Other portions—possibly the majority of his take—is not. Part of Kidd’s defense strategy was to offset his predicament by buying his way out. Somehow, through someone, the Gardiner family produced treasure from Captain Kidd and turned it over to Governor Bellomont.

This is perfectly documented, and the recorded inventory shows a tally of 1,111 ounces of gold, 2,549 ounces of silver, and a small bag of emeralds weighing 66 ounces. The value at that time, in July of 1699, put Kidd’s treasure at 5,453.6 British pounds. In today’s USD, his gold, silver, and emeralds would be worth about 2.1 million dollars.

Most people at the time, and most historians today, feel Captain Kidd’s total treasure taken from the Quedagh Merchant was far more than that. Far, far more. It’s somewhat safe to say that Kidd left the bulky treasure—silk and satin bales, barrels of tea, crates of coffee, and sacks of sugar—on the hidden ship in the Caribbean. Once Kidd was doomed, the remaining crew disbursed what was left and burned the ship. Salvagers discovered the wreckage in 2007 exactly where Kidd was suspected to have anchored it.

But what became of other valuables known to be on board the Quedagh Merchant when Kidd took it under full authority of the British Monarch? Riches like precious gems of sapphire, rubies, diamonds, topaz, and opals? What about jewelry such as pearl strings, tiaras, and clusters in brooches? Chalices? Porringers? Candlesticks? Crucifixes? And religious figurines? What became of the other stuff that was really worth something?

You probably don’t need to look further than those privy to Kidd’s treasure on Gardiners Island—the Lion Gardiner family.

This circles back to the central question—what really became of Captain Kidd’s buried treasure. It’s obvious what the Gardiners turned over to the British Crown was mainly gold and silver. These commodities were not proportionately worth in 1699 what they are in 2020. Gold and silver were strictly regulated in price, and there would be no disputing their market value by weight. That made gold and silver predictable in price and easy to exchange.

The same couldn’t be said for precious stones or man-made artifacts embedding their beauty in artwork. Some of the Kidd treasure, assuming it was there, would be most challenging to price. Rightfully, some of the pieces would be priceless, and it’s these treasured works that are gone.

Let’s look at who the Gardiner family was and where they are today. Lion Gardiner was a British immigrant to Connecticut. In 1639, he bought the island from the chief of the Montaukett tribe for (reportedly) “a large black dog, some powder and shot, and a few Dutch blankets”. Lion Gardiner moved his wife, children, and a few workers to the island and began subsistence farming.

It was fertile land, and Lion Gardiner was an enterprising farmer. He was also a shrewd operator. Gardiner senior sought a royal patent with the clause that he and his family had the “right to possess the land forever”. This “in-perpetuity” clause remains in effect and today Gardiners Island is the oldest single landholding in the United States. Old Gardiner even got the King to sign-off on foreshore rights with the interesting measure of owning all sea shore out from land “as far as a large ox can wade before his belly gets wet”.

The Gardiner family is one of the wealthiest groups of generational folks in America. “Old money” that is, and not quite to current standards of Gates, Buffet, Bezos, and Zuckerberg. No, the Gardiners are more in line with the names Forbes, Rockefeller, Astor, and DuPont. It’s clear how Gardiner counterparts got their dry-land start, but there’s murkiness in Gardiners Island waters.

Shortly after Captain Kidd died, the Gardiner family showed signs of unusual income. They spent more than could logically be earned by marketing apples and corn and eggs and milk in New York markets. Successive Gardiners got progressively richer. They acquired large land tracts and secured lucrative lending arrangements.

Robert Lion Gardiner, 16th Lord of the Manor, with a ring and artefact from the “Kidd Collection”.

Over the years, the heads of the Gardiner dynasty (who got a royal peerage “Lord of the Manor”) held lavish parties on Gardiners Island. The who’s who of society, old money and nouveau riche included, attended by invitation and hobnobbed in lavishly catered exclusivity. A Gardiner became an American First Lady and First Ladies like Jacqueline Kennedy were part of the Gardiners Island scene.

Robert David Lion Gardiner was the last Lord of the Manor at Gardiners Island. He was a colorful character, albeit eccentric, and all but confirmed where the family fortune arose. Robert Gardiner, the 16th Lord, showed many people artifacts from the “Kidd Collection” that remained in his family’s possession. He died in 2004 with no biological heirs.

Today, Gardiners Island (that once held colony status) is solely owned by a reclusive Gardiner relative, a removed niece named Alexandria Goelet. Estimators say the island property is worth several billion dollars, and no one publically knows the Gardiner family fortune’s mass. Maybe this wealth is what really became of Captain Kidd’s buried treasure.