The Joy of Finding Money in Westchester

Westchester writer Phil Reisman sounds off on the delight that comes with finding money unexpectedly.

When I look back at it now, I can honestly say I wasn’t poor, poor in the sense of collecting cans and eating government-issued cheese. Nothing like that. I had a job and was paid a salary commensurate with the going rate of a mid-level newspaper editor, a modest amount after taxes but sufficient to meet the rent and feed my two small children.

In other words, the wolf was not at the door.

Still, I was far from awash in money and feeling quite grumpy as I had recently bounced a check. Such was my state of mind one morning many years ago as I walked to the New Rochelle newspaper office, a nondescript dump that fronted North Avenue and was aptly situated between an animal hospital and a dive bar.

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At this funky end of town, the street was routinely littered with flotsam, including an occasional hypodermic needle. So, imagine my surprise when I came upon something out of the ordinary just sitting there on the sidewalk waiting to be picked up — a leather billfold stuffed with hundreds of dollars in $20 bills. What’s more, there was no owner identification, nothing to test my sense of ethics or dampen my greed. Yes, my conscience was clear.

Finders are keepers, I thought. Besides, I could really use this money. Five hundred bucks, was it?

This was my lucky day!

There are many good reasons to take long walks, but one benefit never mentioned by health experts is the serendipitous finding of lost cash. Even a small amount can substantially brighten one’s mental outlook.

There is no way of knowing how much money is lost and surreptitiously pocketed by strangers in any given year. But I suspect the figure surpasses the GDP of a small African country because it seems everyone has a story about discovering stray clumps of legal tender.

Reisman
Photo by Stefan Radtke

Finders are keepers, I thought. Besides, I could really use this money.

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I continue to find money, purely by accident. Earlier this year, my wife and I found around $10 near Bronxville Lake. Last year, we came across $47. But this was chicken feed compared to $700 in mud-covered bills a friend of mine discovered strewn about a park in northern Westchester.

Again and again, the principle of finders keepers was in play.

Sometimes too much money is involved, which could mean criminal activity, spelling imminent danger for the finder. The only question is how much is too much?

I pondered the question when I read the sensational story of a Queens couple who used a super-strong magnet to trawl for treasure in a lake and pulled out a safe containing $100,000 in soggy wads of $100 bills. An online New York Post reader, who may have been recalling No Country for Old Men, posted this comment: “When the ‘owner’ gets out of Rikers, he will come knocking at their door.”

Well, no one wants to meet up with a psychotic killer armed with a captive bolt gun and a bad haircut — least of all me! But I’m tempted to return to Bronxville Lake with one of those magnets. There must be more in the murky shallows than oversized goldfish.

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Truth is, with debit cards and payment apps, cash is no longer king. Except for drug dealers, no one carries large amounts of cash anymore.

Another fact of modern life: We are all being watched. So, if you’re picking up a bag of money that doesn’t belong to you, crack a smile and wave to the surveillance camera.

Robert Withington, 57, of Trumbull, Connecticut, found this out the hard way last year when he took a bag containing $4,761 that a town employee accidentally dropped outside a bank. The bag had the bank’s name on it and contained slips indicating that the cash was to be deposited by the tax collector’s office.

Caught on camera, Withington was easily identified and charged with theft. After making restitution, the charge was dropped. Rather than expressing relief that he wasn’t going to jail, Withington was incensed.

“They dropped the money,” he said. “Someone should be fired for being so irresponsible.”

This brings us back to my “lucky day” in New Rochelle. It turned out that somebody at the newspaper knew a man who had dropped the cash after leaving the American Legion Hall up the street. He practically cried in gratitude when I handed over the billfold.

“I don’t want my wife to find out,” he said. “This is for the racetrack.”

He insisted on giving me a $25 reward.

I took it. It was found money.

The opinions and beliefs expressed by Phil Reisman are his alone and do not necessarily reflect those of Westchester Magazine’s editors and publishers. Tell us what you think at edit@westchestermagazine.com.

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