"And I will give thee the treasures of darkness, and hidden riches of secret places that thou mayest know that I, the Lord which call thee by thy name, am the God of Israel." Isa. 45:3

The Opal Book , written by Frank Leechman, describes a famous opal named Burning of Troy as:"probably the largest and finest opal in the world in Napoleon’s day and was reputed to have measured 4 x 2-1/2 inches. On that basis, it would weigh it might be a Honduras opal on account of its black back. For a few short years in the French court it flashed like a soaring meteor, only to be suddenly extinguished and disappear. Napoleon at the height of his power bought it for his Empress, the lovely Josephine. She died five years after her divorce and the opal – if she still had it – was lost to the world. A hundred years later it was known to have been acquired by the city of Vienna, which valued it very highly. So much so, that when the beautiful Austrian capital was experiencing a period of great distress after the defeat of the Great War, the city fathers refused an offer of 25,000 Lire for it. Where it and the other marvelous opals which were in central Europe are now, must remain a matter for conjecture, but we may be sure that one day they will appear again to show their beauty to the world."

The world waits no longer.

The Treasures of Darkness collection exhibits the same qualities and derives from the same location as Napoleon’s Burning of Troy. These stones’ 30-year journey to their present location follows. A move to Memphis, Tennessee in 1975 ushered into my life a set of circumstances that eventually produced the beautiful opal collection sampled here. It was there that I took advantage of an opportunity to join a short-term missionary effort in Honduras – that of building a church for a poor community .

Finishing this project a few days ahead of schedule, our group took to the streets and rural roads of the area in sightseeing adventures. Almost everywhere we went, locals approached us with bottles of water containing chips of black opal, hoping to make a buck or two by their efforts. I obliged them with the purchase of a few. Noticing my interest in the local gems, our missionary contact suggested that I might want to visit the mine where the locals had gathered the chips. I was intrigued and he led the way.

The mine appeared less than spectacular. It was just an open field in the jungle, with ground disturbances here and there, but it was to yield its hidden riches to me.

The missionary, a friend of the mine owner, spoke to him in Spanish and, momentarily, the owner motioned for me to come to a particular area. Spanish conversation followed between the two men roughly translated as: "Here’s an area where we’ve recently noticed some really good ore. You dig what you want and we’ll weigh it on your way out." I brought out about 60 pounds of opal-bearing rock.

Fortunately, I had brought several suitcases on the trip. (Each of our group had provided his own food for the 10-day jaunt.) Having emptied one of them, I redistributed the rest of my belongings so as to provide room for some of the ore in each of my bags. Transporting them through the U. S. Customs inspection station, I presented my declaration: "Raw Opals" to the inspector.

"Raw opals, huh?", the inspector quizzed. "Do they have any commercial value?"

"I sure hope so," I replied.

"I’m pretty much of an opal expert, myself," he said. "Let me see them."

I opened the leading bag and extracted some ore samples. The inspector, an older gentleman whom I later learned was about to retire, began licking the ore and holding it up to the light.

My co-workers in line behind me, who had previously teased, "Marshall and his rocks!", quickly saw fodder for a continuation. "Now he’s gonna hit you with a big duty on those things," they chimed.

The inspector was unmoved by their taunting. He continued licking and looking. "Is this all you’ve got?"

I told him that I had placed some in each bag in order to distribute the weight and he asked me to open each one.

Inspection continued for an apparently longer than real amount of time and finally, "I’ve seen opals come through here for more than 30 years and these are the best ones I’ve ever seen," the inspector said rather matter-of-factly. He continued, "I’m gonna share a little secret with you that few people know," and, with that, he scratched some changes on my documentation and handed it back to me. "Now, because of the changes I’ve just made to your declaration, neither I, nor anyone else, can charge you any duty. I hope you make a fortune off them!", he said with obvious pleasure.

My friends’ mouths dropped open as I quickly closed the cases, thanked the inspector and walked into the U.S.A.

Back home in Memphis, I began puzzling about what to do with my ‘best ones’. An idea to sell small pieces of the raw stones in National Enquirer popped into my head, so I sent a small ad and the required fee of $500.00. I had offered the pieces for only $5.00 each. To my astonishment, I shortly received an envelope from N E which contained my check! National Enquirer had rejected my ad! It wanted a written appraisal of each stone! Go figure. The prospect of losing many dollars on each potential transaction loomed large in that scenario. Back to the drawing board.

Possessing no training or knowledge about black opals, I began to read everything I could get my hands on about the subject and looking into the possibility of polishing the stones myself. I bought a 6-wheel grinding machine and with bits and pieces of information gleaned from area laps, I ‘trialed and errored’ my way through a few pieces of rough.

The product of one of those efforts came out pretty well, I thought, so I took it to a local gemologist for an appraisal. The stone weighed about 14 carats and it very pleasantly surprising valuation was $14,000.00! Now, I began polishing in earnest, but the next time I took a stone for appraisal (to a different ‘gemologist’) I was told that the material was essentially worthless! This feast or famine appraisal experience continued for years. I later learned that the ‘famine’ appraisals were made by so-called ‘gemologists’ who weren’t really credentialed and hadn’t even seen that type stone before. One of these ‘gemologists’ told me that the material had been treated by cooking in sugar! Since I had brought them out of the ground, I KNEW that wasn’t true, but authentication as natural, untreated black opal had, thus far, eluded me.

In my research of the gem world, I discovered the Gemological Institute of America (G.I.A.), an organization of highest repute that trains gemologists and is considered the world authority on gem stone identification. Surely they could remove me from the quagmire of my dilemma. I called the G.I.A. and arranged to send 2 stones for their inspection, telling them to perform destructive tests, if necessary, in order to, once and for all, authenticate the material. A few weeks later came the long-sought credentials: "Natural, Untreated, Honduran Black Opal". I was elated. But, for all the G.I.A.’s credibility, integrity and expertise, it could not, alone, mitigate the appraisal inequities I had experienced.

Probably in an effort to protect a source of their income (Australian opal producers), some gemstone appraisers espouse the erroneous philosophy that the only good black opals come from Australia. When I questioned one such appraiser (who had just appraised one of my stones) about the identification and low valuation he had placed on the gem, while I watched and listened, he made three phone calls to the G.I.A. arguing his opinion. Although the G.I.A. could (and did) force him to give me an appraisal indicating the true identification and carat weight of the stone, it could not force him to value it at any certain price, and, in his anger at the G.I.A. for forcing the proper identification, he refused to change his valuation of the stone as if it had been a sugar-treated low quality variety. My quest for the stones’ proper validation, however, did not abate.