#Thrill of the chase bookstore how to

And after so many years of talk, if he was really going to do it, wouldnвЂ™t he have done it already? For another, the treasure was worth a fortune - seven figures, most likely - and not even Fenn was crazy enough to just give something like that away. For one thing, the man was a born raconteur who readily admitted to embellishing his stories. Certainly, few of them expected heвЂ™d actually hide it. Occasionally, heвЂ™d test out its amazement quotient on friends, who tended to view the whole thing as just another amusing Fennian lark. Fenn tinkered with its contents constantly, aiming to create a stash that would dazzle anyone who opened it: gold coins, Ceylon sapphires, ancient Chinese carved-jade faces, Alaskan gold nuggets the size of chicken eggs - some of these items coming from his own private collection, others acquired just to add to the hoard.ДЇor the next 20 years, Fenn kept the chest in a vault in his Santa Fe home, covered with a red bandanna. He held on to the chest heвЂ™d bought, an ornate bronze lockbox, and spent years filling it.

Yet he couldnвЂ™t let go of his treasure idea. вЂњI think they didnвЂ™t like the idea of me dying out in the trees someplace,вЂќ Fenn said.ДЇennвЂ™s failure to launch this scheme was no great disappointment, however, for the simple reason that his cancer treatment worked. I said, вЂGod, Forrest, thatвЂ™s a terrific storyвЂ…-вЂ…youвЂ™re the guy whoвЂ™s going to take it with you!вЂ™вЂќ Still, Preston didnвЂ™t go for the idea (although he did appropriate it, with FennвЂ™s blessing, for his 2003 thriller The Codex), and neither did any of the other writers.

вЂњHis plan was to inter himself with the treasure, so that anyone who found it could essentially rob his grave.

вЂњForrest told me the idea at lunch one day,вЂќ recalled the bestselling author Douglas Preston, a longtime friend and one of the first writers Fenn approached. вЂњBecause there was no point in hiding it if no one knew I hid it,вЂќ Fenn said. All he needed was someone to write and publish the book in which heвЂ™d place the poem. Then, late one night, Fenn had an idea: What if he followed in his fatherвЂ™s footsteps, but with an adventurous spin? He would stuff a treasure chest with glittering valuables, write a clue-laden poem that would point to its location, and then march out to his favorite spot on earth to take some pills and lie in eternal repose with the gold, like a doomed conquistador in an Indiana Jones movie.

#Thrill of the chase bookstore how to

I donвЂ™t want somebody holding my hand, everybodyвЂ™s crying - Jesus.вЂќ What he didnвЂ™t know was how to end things on his own terms. вЂњDying is something I want to do by myself,вЂќ he said. Fenn already knew he didnвЂ™t want to wither slowly away either. Fenn, youвЂ™ve just got an uphill battle.вЂ™вЂќ Two years earlier, FennвЂ™s father had also been diagnosed with advanced cancer, and he had taken what Fenn saw as the dignified way out: a handful of sleeping pills. вЂњI kept asking the guy who gave me radiation what my chances were, and all he would say was, вЂMr. вЂњI thought I was gonna die,вЂќ Fenn explained recently in his feathery Texas drawl. It would also act as a cryptic guide to a treasure chest that Fenn was planning to hide somewhere in the Rocky Mountains - along with his own corpse. Yet this particular biography would have a secondary purpose. Naturally enough, the book would include stories from his life: tales of being shot down in his F-100 over Laos, of searching for artifacts in deserted canyons, of peddling moccasins to Rockefellers and hand-carved corbels to Spielbergs. Fenn, then 58, was looking for someone to write his biography, he said. As anyone at all acquainted with him knows, Fenn is a rare character - a swashbuckling former fighter pilot who hustled his way into a lucrative business selling art to the stars out of his lavish Santa Fe gallery - yet even by his own standards, the scheme he was suggesting was an odd one. In the summer of 1988, not long after doctors removed his cancer-plagued right kidney, Forrest Fenn began approaching writers with a curious proposal.