Annually, on September 11, the U.S. grapples with the memory and lessons of a great tragedy, now 25 years in the past, but still fresh in many minds. The following day, September 12, marks another anniversary worth remembering, marking an important event from several generations ago, the sinking of the S.S. Central America and the greatest lost treasure in U.S. history.

History or past personal experience are the only factual models to inform decisions about the present or to devise plans for the future. This is summarized in the proverb, “The past is prologue.” Some ancient Greeks felt this strongly, developing a worldview in which humans had their backs to the future, with eyes that could only see the past. Thus, history has importance, and it should be studied, celebrated, and commemorated for the many lessons it holds, since those lessons are the only light on an otherwise blind pathway.

The Old Testament offers another lesson.

“Remember the days of old, reflect on the years of previous generations. Ask your father, and he will tell you; your elders will inform you.” – Deuteronomy 32:7 –

This is instruction for all generations, young and old, to study, learn, and teach history. Commemorations are an important part of remembering.

My father, Larry Evans, was a U.S. Navy veteran of World War II. Dad did not serve in combat. He joined the Navy in February 1942, shortly after Pearl Harbor, at the age of 28. Quick-witted and very literate, Larry had an English degree from Hanover College in southern Indiana. He gained experience with fingerprinting during a job he landed with the FBI in 1938. When the Navy found out about this experience, they gave him the petty officer rank of Specialist X, and stationed him at the Potomac River Naval Command in greater Washington, D.C. My father identified countless incoming fingerprints sent from the front lines by unit commanders, thus identifying the dead. This service deeply affected him.

As I grew up in suburban Columbus, Ohio, my father was the Chaplain of his American Legion post, which was composed solely of Navy and Marine veterans. Dad was very good at public speaking, and every year on Memorial Day he would deliver the prayer for a ceremony set up on the Broad Street bridge in downtown Columbus, as members of his post dropped a floral-draped cross into the Scioto River beneath. I was often in attendance, no doubt sometimes in protest when I was younger. But I learned about commemoration. Larry Evans performed this function until he was no longer able.

Annually, I try to commemorate the sinking of the Central America, an event that has shaped my professional life, and led me into strange and wonderful times and places. I have spent a lot of time pondering the thoughts and practices of the people who were swept into history by “The Great Storm of 1857.” The S.S. Central America Project afforded many of its participants the opportunity to come face-to-face with the richness of history. We studied the survivors’ accounts of the sinking and found the clues used to find the shipwreck. We opened the luggage of mid-nineteenth century steamship passengers and discovered historical and scientific wonders. We were informed of the identity of the owner of one of the trunks by a letter of introduction he had been carrying in it 134 years previously. We handled the gold of the forty-niners. Tossing in our bunks on the dark Atlantic, we weathered storms, reminded of that stormy evening when the crippled steamer foundered. Such an intimacy with historical matters instills a sense of place in the fabric of time.

Last month I spent a week at the American Numismatic Association’s annual summer convention, known as the World’s Fair of Money. This year’s event was in Pittsburgh, near enough to my eastern Ohio home that I could carry my exhibit of “shipwreck science stuff” and share these curiosities and wonders with friends, new friends, and the public at large. I shared a generously provided exhibit space with other ANA members, a collector from southern Illinois who has assembled a collection including some of my favorite S.S. Central America artifacts, and a couple who run non-profit educational programs covering the decade beginning in 1857. Events like these serve both as wonderful social gatherings as well as a kind of “focus group” for me, informing me of specific topics that people find interesting. I know the answer for most of their questions, and I have stories about almost every subject.

I hear one question a lot, particularly from the non-numismatic public, but even from some coin collectors. “Why have I never heard about this shipwreck/disaster/treasure?” The disaster, and the treasure, are huge. The question is valid. Timing was everything. Timing is still everything.

In 1857, people all over the United States heard about the loss of the SSCA. It was big news, spread by that technological miracle of the age, the telegraph. The story of the “Appalling Disaster” raced throughout the eastern states, carried by “the lightnings.” Information for California, hobbled by the “only twice per month” schedule of the mail steamers, did not reach San Francisco until November, creating an outcry of mourning and calls for retributions.

Still, the importance of this truly national news event, and the loss of 425 lives, a coast-to-coast disaster, diminished with time, even among members of the generation that experienced it. The Civil War dominated the reminiscences of that generation, for how does the loss of 425 lives compare with the 3,654 killed and 17,301 wounded in a single battle at Antietam/Sharpsburg? Millions of Americans were affected directly by the great calamity of the War Between the States. So, America’s greatest lost treasure became hidden in the pages of history, as surely as it hid for 131 years at the bottom of the Atlantic.

There are many reasons to learn the lessons of the S.S. Central America, and to commemorate the anniversary of its loss. The folly of the worship of human technology is seen here, in the idea that human-designed steam power installed on huge wooden ships could defy the power of nature’s great storms. Iron vessels with water-tight interior bulkheads were to follow in the succeeding decades, as well as a little greater respect for the weather.

Runaway technology continues to be a concern in 2026.

The rescue of 100 people by lifeboat represents a shining example of the chivalrous practice of “women and children first.” The women, even able-bodied California frontier women, were not allowed to help bail the ship. The modern mind might wonder if these social practices would be applied in the same way today.

The captain of the ship, Commander William Lewis Herndon, USN, who perished in the disaster, is a great American peacetime hero. The commonality of all classes, First Class and Steerage, passengers and crew alike, all led by Herndon, joining together to try to save the ship and rescue the women and children, is a story of heroism equal to any.

I have written and spoken at length about the importance of the Central America treasure as a time capsule of economic life in 1857, both in big business and among the general population.

This critical period of American history is fertile ground for instruction and insights. It is well worth remembering the days of old.

This evening, around 7PM eastern daylight time, marks the hour when the S.S Central America passed into history, right around sundown.

Please join me, sometime today, and spend a moment of contemplation, in remembrance.

Thank you,

Bob Evans