The legend of Dutch Schultz’s lost fortune is one soaked in blood, paranoia, and greed. Somewhere in the misty Catskill Mountains, buried beneath layers of dirt and history, lies a cache of stolen wealth—millions in cash, gold, and bonds. It was hidden away in desperation, meant to be retrieved when the heat died down. But the heat never did. The man who knew its whereabouts was gunned down in a New Jersey steakhouse, bleeding out as he ranted in delirium. And so, the treasure remains, waiting, calling out to those reckless enough to chase it.
The Rise of Dutch Schultz
Arthur Flegenheimer—better known as Dutch Schultz—was not just another thug in a pinstripe suit. He was a specter of the Prohibition era, a ghost in the bloodstained streets of New York. A man who clawed his way out of the gutters of the Bronx and built an empire on bootlegged liquor, extortion, and brute force. Schultz ran Harlem’s illegal numbers racket with an iron grip, leaving bodies in his wake, drowning his enemies in cement and gunpowder.
But power breeds paranoia. By the early 1930s, the heat from law enforcement and rival gangsters was closing in. The IRS had him in their sights for tax evasion—a fate that had already sealed Al Capone’s doom. Facing prison time, Schultz made a desperate decision. If he had to disappear, his fortune would need to vanish with him.
The Hidden Fortune
According to legend, in the months leading up to his assassination, Schultz stashed away a metal box—possibly a waterproof safe—containing an estimated $7 million in cash, gold coins, and untraceable bonds. The location? Somewhere near Phoenicia, New York, in the vast, untamed wilderness of the Catskill Mountains. A place as unforgiving as the man himself.
The decision to hide his fortune wasn’t just paranoia—it was survival. The Feds were seizing assets, the Mafia was circling like vultures, and Schultz was preparing for the worst. With his trusted bodyguard, “Lulu” Rosenkrantz, he allegedly buried the box, marking the location with cryptic clues only he could decipher.
He planned to retrieve it when things cooled down. But fate had other ideas.
The Assassination
On October 23, 1935, Dutch Schultz sat in the Palace Chop House in Newark, New Jersey, surrounded by his closest men. Outside, unseen eyes were watching. The Commission—an organized crime council led by Lucky Luciano—had decided Schultz was too unpredictable, too dangerous to be left alive.
The hit squad struck without warning. Guns roared in the dimly lit restaurant, bullets tearing through flesh and bone. Schultz staggered to the men’s room, bleeding out from a gut shot. His men lay dying around him. Lulu, the man who might have known the treasure’s location, was shot to pieces, his body riddled with lead.
Schultz was rushed to the hospital, but the damage was done. As he lay on his deathbed, feverish and slipping in and out of consciousness, he rambled incoherently. Police gathered around, hoping for a confession or a last-minute clue. What they got instead was a stream of cryptic nonsense—fragmented words about a safe, a mountain, and buried money. Then, silence. Schultz was dead, and with him, the precise location of his fortune was lost forever.
The Hunt for the Treasure
Since that fateful night, countless treasure hunters, gangsters, and fortune-seekers have tried to unearth Schultz’s lost millions. Some claim to have seen maps or found mysterious markers in the woods. Others believe the treasure is nothing more than a myth, a story spun from the fevered mind of a dying gangster.
But the legend refuses to die. Metal detectors hum beneath ancient trees. Shovels bite into the cold earth. Year after year, new seekers arrive, drawn by the promise of untold riches, by the thrill of chasing ghosts through the misty Catskills.
Some never return.
The Curse of Schultz
Those who believe in the treasure also whisper of a curse. They say the money is stained with too much blood, that the spirits of the men Schultz murdered guard it in the afterlife. Strange accidents, eerie voices in the woods, and sudden disappearances haunt the area where many believe the treasure lies.
Superstition? Maybe. But death follows the money, as it always has. Dutch Schultz’s treasure—if it exists—may never be found. Or perhaps it’s waiting for the right person, the one willing to risk everything, to gamble their life on the same blood-soaked luck that made Schultz a king and left him dying in a pool of his own making.
Would you dare to look for it?
Penned by the Infamous C.F. Marciano – A Name You Don’t Forget