By Seth Putnam
COLUMBUS — It”s not exactly clear where the treasure was found. All Joe Nowell knows is that it”s his now.
The 25-pound rock is the biggest fossil the 71-year-old has ever had, and it almost didn”t come to him.
“About five people were trying to swindle each other for it,” he said.
In the end, though, Nowell got it because the man who found it in North Columbus owed him some money and gave it to him to pay off the debt. The man never told Nowell where he found it, because he thought there might be more. Nowell wanted to keep his friend anonymous because the man “might or might not” have a warrant out for his arrest.
“Everybody knows me as the fossil man,” Nowell said. “Wherever I”m at, I hunt rocks. Someone can be looking for fossils, and I can come right behind them and find tons.”
He insured it for $5,000.
“I”d say it”s worth that at least,” he said.
He mailed it to his sister-in-law in Little Rock, Ark., this morning.
“It”s kind of a housewarming gift,” he said. “I”m going to urge her to loan it to a museum.”
Nowell may have overpaid. Brenda Kirkland, an assistant professor of geology at Mississippi State University, said that although the specimen is old, it”s not worth much because of its relative ubiquity in this area of the state.
“My guess is that it is a fossil rudist, which is a type of really large oyster relative that lived in the Cretaceous period, more than 65 million years ago.” Kirkland said. “I don”t think it is a particularly valuable or significant fossil–not like a T-Rex bone. However, I think it is really pretty and interesting, but I”m biased towards pretty rocks.”
Valuable or not, Nowell didn”t want it for the money anyway. He finds his comfort in the small things.
The oldest of nine children, Nowell originally came to Columbus 18 years ago from Arkansas, where most of his family still lives.
He”s a thin man with a shaved head and a thick goatee. He spends most of his time collecting fossils and knives and making decorative spears out of knife blades and whatever solid poles he can find. He mismatches knick-knacks to create bizarre designs. In one corner of his trailer is the small, mounted skull of a young buck. The head of a doll is attached to it.
“I”m a pack rat,” Nowell said. “The modern term is ”hoarder,” I think. If I weren”t such a cranky old grouch, I”d have a woman out here with me.”
Clutter is everywhere. Dishes overflow from the sink so that the counter is nearly hidden. There are scattered mason jars, packed with colorful, layered or imprinted rocks. He estimates he has a good 2,000 pounds of fossils. On the couch, there”s a plaque with new names with a heart and a cloverleaf between them.
“Jo loves lucky Joe,” Nowell beamed as he remembered Jo, the woman for whom he made an identical plaque when they were engaged 20 years ago. He found the materials the other day and made another one to remember her.
“I”m crazy about women,” he said. “I got around a little bit. She was a couple of years older, and she decided that I liked younger women too much. I still like that old girl. One of my nieces tried to look her up one time but couldn”t get a hold of her.”
Other than a hawk that has been stealing some of his cats, the fossil is about the most interesting that has happened to him in a long time. Life has slowed down since prison.
Nowell got an early start on the wrong side of authority. He was kicked out of school in the seventh grade after he retaliated when a teacher hit him with a belt and cut his hand.
“I knocked her over the first three rows of desks,” Nowell said.
He never went back, but he finished his GED while he was serving a drug-related sentence for the first time. He was in and out of jail for the next 14 years.
“I used to break any law I didn”t like,” he said.
“I was doing $2,500 of heroin a day for about two years,” he said. “I was putting that much in my arm and having to sell that much in order to do it again the next day. You dang near die if you go too long without it.”
Now, however, Nowell thinks drug laws aren”t harsh enough.
“I think they should be stiffened,” he said. “I hadn”t realized what damage drugs do to the country when I was using.”
For Nowell, prison was the only way to break his addiction.
“In jail, you”ve got to kick it,” he said. “I was one sick puppy for about two weeks.”
Even so, he doesn”t think that going to jail is effective for everyone.
“I think about 90 percent of the people who go to prison eventually go back again,” he said. “Born that way, I guess.”
During his time in prison, Nowell studied. In 1985, he earned three associate degrees in art, science and applied science at the Vienna, Ill., Correctional Center, which was “more like a college campus than a prison.”
His diplomas are loose in his bedroom, interspersed with clippings about him from a newspaper the inmates produced. After he got out of jail, he went back to the job he had always known: welding.
“I often wonder what would have happened if I”d had the chance to go to college,” Nowell said. “I”ve always done the best I could in whatever I was doing.”
Now that he”s retired, he said he plans to write a book someday.
“That used to be my excuse for all the dumb stuff I did,” Nowell said. “I said, ”Well, I”m writing a book. How can you write something if you ain”t done what you”re writing about?””
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