"How a brilliant scientist went from discovering a mother lode of treasure at the bottom of the sea to fleeing from authorities with suitcases full of cash"
Following on the story of William Phips and his joint-stock company (and its 10,000% dividend) here's another.
From Narratively:
The Curse of the Ship of Gold
Part 1
The Scientist and the Ship
In
November 2018, a 66-year-old man named Tommy Thompson was wheeled into
Judge Laurel Beatty Blunt’s courtroom in Columbus, Ohio, clad in a dark
blue suit and looking like he had just served four years in federal
prison. Thompson’s hair, once thick black curls, had given way to a bald
pate, and with a long white beard and piercing eyes, he looked like a
slightly hairier Christopher Lee, the actor who played the wizard
Saruman in The Lord of the Rings.
Throughout the trial, Judge Blunt interrupted Thompson’s testimony to
reprimand him for veering wildly off course. Thompson had long insisted
that he suffers from neurological problems and chronic fatigue
syndrome, which impairs his memory, and that his meandering explanations
were a symptom of the distress foisted upon him.
But Judge Blunt, like other officials who’d presided over civil and
criminal cases against Thompson, claimed that his malingering was the
maneuvering of a hyper-intelligent con man. Indeed, Thompson’s legs were
shackled as he sat through his trial. As everyone knew, he’d already
fled from authorities once.
Thompson was genuinely sickened and overwhelmed, however, and he
found it extremely frustrating that nobody seemed to take his condition
seriously. He’d been living a hectic life for almost 30 years, and he
tried to make the jury understand the unique stress that had put him in
such a weak state. His problems had all begun when he’d discovered one
of the largest caches of gold in human history, a lost treasure at the
bottom of the sea. In the 30 years since, the weight of the find had
upended partnerships, ended his marriage, and set loose the specter of
greed. What began as a valiant mission of science turned into something
else entirely.
On September 11, 1988, about 7,500 feet
beneath the surface of the Atlantic Ocean, a set of glowing orbs moved
smoothly through the darkness and illuminated the mysterious world
below. That far down there are few currents, the water is close to
freezing, and it is almost pitch black. The only light typically comes
from the bioluminescent creatures that float by like ghosts, but in this
case the lights were from a six-ton, unmanned vessel. The Nemo,
looking like an industrial freezer with two robotic arms, made a small
adjustment to its thrusters and hovered above the scattered remains of a
sunken ship. Video of the wreckage was relayed to a vessel bobbing
above, giving the crew — and the world — the first look at a ship whose
location had stymied treasure hunters for generations. It was the SS Central America, a massive side-wheel steamship that sank in a hurricane off the coast of South Carolina in 1857.
Illustration of the S.S. Central America before its sinking. (Photo courtesy Library of Congress)
The find was remarkable for many reasons. The Nemo’s
technology, designed and built by a ragtag group of engineers from Ohio,
led by Thompson, allowed scientists to explore deeper than anyone had
ever gone before. The artifacts eventually recovered from the ship were a
window into a bygone era and gave voice to the hundreds of people who
were pulled into the abyss.
But the discovery was also a spectacular victory for pocketbooks —
the ship was carrying gold when it sank, and lots of it: coins, bars and
nuggets of every size surrounded the wreck and covered its decks and
rotting masts. And that was only what the crew could see — somewhere in
the remains were said to be between 3 and 21 tons of gold, a haul some
experts valued at close to half a billion dollars. For Thompson, the
Edisonian genius who masterminded the expedition, the discovery was the
first salvo of what looked to be a long, impressive career. He became an
American hero, a mix of brains and daring in the tradition of the
scientist-adventurers of yore. “I can imagine him becoming as well known
and famous as Cousteau,” one investor told Gary Kinder, whose 1998 book
Ship of Gold in the Deep Blue Sea chronicles the Central America mission.
But Thompson was subjected to a legal hell storm as soon as he set
foot on shore. Numerous people and companies were vying for their share
of the gold, and the unending litigation was compounded by the lawsuits
filed by investors who claimed Thompson had ripped them off. In 2012,
long after the litigation had sidetracked his calling, Thompson went
underground, allegedly taking with him suitcases full of cash and gold.
It was a strange turn of events that Thompson’s friends and foes
alike have tried to figure out: Was he a pirate corrupted by his own
discovery, or a hardworking genius exploited by powerful men lusting
after his gold?
Months later, Thompson was staying under an assumed name at a hotel
in Boca Raton, Florida, trying to keep his faculties in check. He was
unkempt, unwell and barely left his hotel room, as he had been on the
run from federal authorities for the past two and a half years. His
journey had taken him from Columbus boardrooms to the depths of the sea
to a Hoarders-esque mansion, and would culminate with a police raid that eventually led to Judge Blunt’s courtroom.
From the witness stand in Columbus, Thompson disclosed startling
information in a story already laden with tragedy and fortunes lost —
and shed light on the mystery of millions in still-missing gold....
