Herman Rabbitt, the Montgomery rancher who buried cash

The Washington Post
August 29, 2022

When it comes to cows, Montgomery County is better known for dairy than beef. As a rancher in a county of dairy farmers, Rabbitt stood out for another reason: he buried a fortune on his land that was only discovered after his death in 1972.

“He was definitely a well-known character, as they say,” said Sarah Hedlund, Archivist/Librarian at Montgomery History. “Everyone has a story about Herman Rabbitt and something eccentric he used to do. People remember him herding cattle down the road on a motorcycle.”

Hedlund opened up about Rabbitt’s fascinating life during one of the history society’s weekly history talks last week. You can view it at montgomeryhistory.org through Sunday.

Rabbitt was born in 1891. He owned various properties in different parts of the county – hundreds of acres in all. On some of them he raised cattle and leased other areas to tenants. He lived on a farm called Locust Grove near the intersection of Clopper and Longdraft streets in Gaithersburg.

Who knows what made Rabbitt suspicious of traditional financial institutions. Maybe it was the Great Depression when so many banks collapsed. Or maybe skepticism blossomed earlier, in 1925, as a Maryland Attorney John A Garrett was convicted of embezzling more than $50,000 from his private legal clients, including Rabbitt.

Whatever the reason, Rabbitt was unconventional in his finances.

“He never wanted to use banks,” Hedlund told me. “He gave people pieces of paper with his signature on them. That would be a check from Herman. He would write his accounts on his kitchen wall.”

Rabbitt wrote his accounts on the wall and pinned his receipts right there. At least he knew where everything was. Threatened with an audit, Rabbitt submitted a photo of the wall to the IRS, which reluctantly accepted.

Rabbitt was exceptionally frugal. Acquaintances never saw him otherwise than in overalls. He preferred doing business in his barn, which was warmer than his house, which he preferred not to heat.

“I’ll say one thing for him, though,” an acquaintance told the Post after his death. “He built up many a farmer here. Back in the Depression, he lent money to farmers who the banks would not lend money to.”

After Rabbitt’s death, those who knew him were surprised to learn that his estate was valued at more than $2 million. Much of his savings was in banks – he hadn’t avoided them entirely – but his lawyers found something when they searched his papers.

“It was basically a treasure map with directions on where to dig,” Hedlund said.

Sources are divided as to where that was, whether on a farm or in the dirt-floored fruit cellar beneath Rabbitt’s house — down the rabbit hole, so to speak. Six men had to dig all day to unearth three milk cans and an oil drum. They contained more than $500,000 in cash and coins. “This rabbitt’s hole is lined with money” was an inevitable headline.

It is sometimes said that where there is a will, a family will fight about it. And Rabbitt’s will – or wills – left room for interpretation.

“He had actually written a will in 1966 that left almost everything to his housekeeper,” Hedlund said. Her name was Bessie Mills. “Then in 1968 he revised this will to leave everything to a cousin of his, who also helped him in later years, Robert Stiles.”

There were also small bequests to various nieces and nephews.

Mills disputed the later will, claiming that Rabbitt promised her all the underground cash, which she said she buried under his direction.

“Then the people from the woodwork came,” said Hedlund.

This included a man from New York State named Karl Herman Rau. Rau had already left $1,000 in his will. He felt he deserved more. The reason? He said he was Rabbitt’s son. According to his birth certificate, he was.

Rabbitt’s five nieces and nephews were also pushing for bigger shares.

The legal battle lasted nearly three years. By the time a judge reviewed all of the competing claims, at least half of the nearly $3 million fortune had gone: to the helmsman and into the pockets of various attorneys.

In the end, the judge ruled that Robert Stiles, the cousin, would get most, about $500,000. But he had died by then, so his widow got it. Mills, the housekeeper, got about $300,000. The nieces and nephews shared $150,000. (One of them had also died by then.) Rau, the son, also got $150,000, but he had to file for bankruptcy, so it went to his creditors.

The Montgomery County Fairgrounds is located on land owned by Rabbitt. So does the National Institute of Standards and Technology.

Although $500,000 was dug up, Bessie Mills, the housekeeper, claimed she buried $700,000. Make what you want out of it.