OK, I write the clues for the Pioneer Press Treasure Hunt.
There. Is everybody happy now?
I'm lying, of course, but that doesn't seem to make any more difference than when I tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I don't write the clues, but that hasn't stopped the bloggers, David W. Downing, chief among them. This Downing is a St. Paul fellow who plants the seeds of suspicion and doubt. The gullible treasure hunters read Downing's stuff, and then they call me and accuse me of making the clues too pointless, or too obtuse or too clever by half. There's also a guy named Stu who is so confused that he has called me in the summer and accused me of also writing the clues for the Minneapolis Aquatennial treasure hunt.
"There isn't one of those," I told Stu.
"That's what you say, sir." I did some research, people. This whole notion of me writing the clues started BECAUSE I DEFENDED TREASURE HUNTERS AGAINST BAD CLUES!
Yes, I went to bat for you and then you turned on me. Remember 2003? The regulars certainly do. That year, it occurred to me that a charming kind of simplicity and innocence had escaped us. We went from years and years of treasure hunts with words in the clues like backstop, picnic, grove and lake, to a literary tour de force of obfuscation and pretense.
In clue No. 4 of '03 you got the line, "The coldest star will guide you far," only to have it revealed that the coldest star referred to the Star of the North, or L'Etoile du Nord, the name of a French immersion school a couple of blocks from Como Park.
Good God.
But the smacker, the humdinger, that turned me into a raving ombudsman on behalf of you, the treasure hunter, occurred that year in clue No. 5:
"Treasure Hunt lifer, prepare to cipher.
This one's yours to keep.
Was it two or three, they seem not to agree
When St. Paul made a great leap."
I bet that one still smarts, especially after years of "look near the charcoal grill, it will be such a thrill, especially if your name is Bill."
It turns out that "two or three" referred to 1872 or 1873, meaning the year that Como became a park. And the word "leap" referred to Feb. 29, 1872, leap day, when the Legislature authorized the purchase of the land that became Como Park.
Not only did I decide right then that I was going to work for you, the treasure hunter, but I hoped with all sincerity that we had an employee assistance plan so the clue writer could get help for drug abuse.
There's an old saying for what has happened since 2003. No good deed goes unpunished. There's a faction of treasure hunters who believe I doth protest too much. For Downing, the proof this year came as early as clue No. 2. He heard me wrestling with it and thought that I was putting on an act. I wish I could say it was true. But it did not hit me — and had to be pointed out to me — that "son of pear" was Pearson. Pearson Candy. "Patty" and "nut" were in the same clue. Once it was explained to me, I realized that what might be taken from that clue was that the medallion is probably hidden in a Pearson candy wrapper.
And then a guy from the Pearson Candy Co. called me and wanted me to remind people that the medallion is hidden on public property. This guy had a bit of a Southern accent, by the way, probably wasn't from here and acted as though he was making the call while peeking from behind a curtain in his office. As hard as it might be to imagine, Pearson was overrun with hordes of treasure hunters Monday.
Stay off private property. I don't write the clues, and I have no idea where the medallion is, but I can assure you that the medallion is not hidden on the grounds of a candy manufacturing plant.
I'd be looking in a park, if I were allowed to look.
Copyright 2006 Pioneer Press.