Annie Deihm and the Century Safe: Part 5
There is no safe big enough to contain the hopes, the energies, the abilities of our people,
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Release Date: March 10, 2026
No safe big enough
Despite a long list of “men and women of mark” with whom Annie Deihm had worked and rubbed elbows with over the course of her four-decade career in journalism; despite publishing family weeklies that circulated “among the most influential families in the United States,” and having been endorsed by U.S. Presidents and Supreme Court Justices, Annie’s death garnered no mention. No obituary was published. No look back at her patriotism, her work in preservation, her love of country was written. No mention of the Century Safe, her thirty-two-year effort to preserve 1876 for 1976, was made. 1
The only thing printed was a one-line entry in the New York Times under the title, “Yesterday’s Wills”:
Annie Deihm Hallett, died on April 5, 1911; left all her property to her friend, Emma R. Sutton. 2
Emma had been at Annie’s side when she’d died, and when her mentor and friend had been diagnosed with breast cancer two years earlier. She’d been there in 1893 when Annie had married Granville Hallett, and two months later when Granville had died leaving Annie a widow for a second time.
The two women had lived and worked together for most of the previous two decades and with Annie’s death, the closing of her estate was left to Emma: She would dedicate much of the next five years to that thankless effort.
Annie had died insolvent. Wholly reliant on the support of friends to survive. Her Union widow pension insufficient. Her publishing income nonexistent. Her debts far outweighing her assets.
And her gift to 1976 in peril.
Emma would take care of it all. The Century Safe included.
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In 1936, four decades before Annie’s Century Safe was to be opened, a New York reporter visited “a secluded spot under the great steps in the center of the east front of the United States Capitol.” What he found was a weathered, 3,500-pound iron safe. The front was rusting, and one of the two handles on the outer doors had been broke off.
“But it makes no difference,” noted the reporter, “for no one remembers the combination of the safe anyway…and the key to the inner doors of plate glass has disappeared, no one knows where. Thereby hangs the tale of a woman’s dream of doing something for posterity and how it didn’t work out as she had planned.” 3
What the reporter didn’t know – what he couldn’t know, was that someone did know where the key to Annie’s safe was.
Before she’d died, Annie had given Emma the key, and Emma had kept it. She’d kept it for the next twenty-one years, and she’d told her family – her sisters and her nieces and nephews – the story of Annie Deihm and her Century Safe, about the Centennial Exhibition in Philadelphia, about the autograph books and the photo albums, about the signatures and the lines.
About 1976.
Emma told her family everything, and before she died in January of 1932, she gave custody of the key to her niece, ensuring both it and the memory of Annie’s Century Safe would be safe.
Eventually, the key – kept in a small carved box and wrapped in a piece of paper on which Emma had carefully written the safe’s combination – passed to Thomas Lyon Watts, Emma’s grand-nephew.
Thomas had grown up knowing about the key, hearing stories about the old safe the key would open, about the U.S. Capitol. He wasn’t sure he believed all the stories, but he knew the key was part of his family’s history, that it was important. And that it was his job to keep it safe.
And that’s what he did. 4
In 1958, Congress approved what would be a $12 million extension of the U.S. Capitol’s East Front, and although groundbreaking wouldn’t begin until the next February, it was decided that Annie’s safe needed to be moved. It was boxed up and moved into storage. 1976 was still 18 years away.
By early 1971, the U.S. House of Representatives was beginning to think about the national celebration that would culminate in four years on July 4, 1976. Texas Representative Robert R. Casey had been in the House for a dozen years by then, and he’d heard rumors of a safe tucked away somewhere in the Capitol. A safe that had been set aside to be opened during America’s Bicentennial.
He reached out to the Architect of the Capitol’s office to see if they knew where the safe was located.
In May, the safe was found, but the whereabouts of the combination to the safe’s iron outer doors, and the key purported to open the glass inner doors was unknown.
Century old newspaper accounts suggested Annie had given both to the Smithsonian Institution for safe keeping. But when approached, the Smithsonian said they knew nothing about it, according to Representative Casey.
When Representative Casey asked George M. White, Architect of the Capitol, he said he figured the combination to the outer door was “somewhere in the Capitol files”. 5
With no key, no combination, and a safe which had spent nearly 80 years exposed to the weather under the East Portico, legislators were concerned: Would it even be possible to open the safe come 1976? And if so, how could they be certain the safe was real and not an embarrassing hoax?
On June 1, 1971, an unnamed safecracker was escorted into the Capitol and tasked with opening Annie’s Century Safe for the first time since 1879. According to reports he “put his ear to the door, fiddled with the dial a minute and had it open in no time.” 6
Later in his report to Congress, George M. White elaborated on what took place that day:
“We engaged a locksmith to open the exterior door. No one that we could find had the combination or the key. They were supposedly deposited with the Smithsonian Institution but they knew nothing about it. So, we had a locksmith open the exterior door. We did not consider this to be in violation of the basic request since the history indicates that it had been opened many times before. We did not, however, open the interior.
“We understand from the locksmith who looked at it, that he could open the interior glass door in a few minutes. It is a simple key lock. We did not, however, disturb that.” 7
In Gainesville, Florida, Thomas Watts read about the safe in the Capitol. The safe that was to be opened in 1976. The safe that was missing both a key and a combination.
And something clicked.
“I didn’t know the full history of the safe,” said Thomas, “but I knew what I had.” 8
What he had was what Anne had trusted Emma with sixty years earlier, and what Emma had kept in the family: an old metal key, “a scrap of paper with a safe combination and the words, ‘combination to centennial safe’ written on it, and a printed folder giving directions for using the Imperial Combination Back Lock, manufactured by Marvin Safe and Scale Co.”
Thomas quickly reached out to local officials in Florida, then contacted the Capitol Architect’s office where he spoke with engineer, George Hayes.
George would later confirm Thomas had the very key and combination his organization had been looking for:
“The brand names on his key and the safe matched, and he knew certain things about the safe from the instructions he had that he couldn’t have known if it wasn’t genuine.” 9
While officials worked out the details of getting Thomas and his key to Washington, and how he might participate in the official opening of Annie’s Century Safe, Thomas, for his part, was more concerned with Congress finally making things right by officially accepting the safe, and giving Annie the credit she deserved.
If Congress did that, Thomas said he’d happily turn the key, combo and written instructions over to them.
If not, he’d “deliver the key to the President in 1976 for the opening of the safe” and then take it back and continue to keep it as a family keepsake. 10
Either way, he wasn’t in a hurry.
“Hell,” he said, “they’ve got five years.”
It took three years.
Three years of correspondence. Three years of legislative process. Three years of waiting.
On October 15, 1974, the House of Representatives passed House Concurrent Resolution 84.
The next day, October 16, the Senate passed it. 11
Ninety-five years after rejecting the Century Safe, Congress formally accepted Annie Deihm’s gift to the American people.
The safe was taken out of storage. It was cleaned, repaired and repainted black, shiny and fresh. And plans were made to have it displayed in an alcove under the Capitol’s East Steps as part of the Bicentennial celebration.
Exactly as Annie had wanted.
On January 19, 1976, the Bicentennial Session of Congress opened with a ceremony, a sneak peek at the safe which had endured nearly a century. The alcove was crowded with members of Congress jockeying for position, reporters scribbling notes, photographers adjusting their cameras. Invited guests. Everyone focused on Annie’s safe, finally, officially, property of the United States Government.
Thomas stood near the front. He was sixty-five years old and he’d brought the key from Florida. The key Emma had kept and he’d inherited. The key he’d be leaving in Washington.
Speaker of the House Carl Albert stood beside him. Senator Mark Hatfield, Capitol Architect George M. White and Representative Lindy Boggs, chairman of the Joint Committee on Arrangements for Commemoration of the Bicentennial were all on hand.
The outer steel doors – already unlocked by the locksmith back in June 1971 – swung open ceremonially.
“Applause and then whispers filled the alcove. The almost circus-style gold script on the inside of the safe’s doors proclaimed: “It is the wish of Mrs. Deihm that this safe may remain closed until July 4, 1976, then to be opened by the Chief Magistrate of the United States,”
On the other door is lettered the explanation: “In Memory of those whose names appear upon the pages of albums deposited within, who have rendered distinguished service to their country.” 12
Through the glass door behind them, the contents Annie had placed there nearly a hundred years before waited. Still sealed. Still locked. Waiting for the President.
President Gerald Ford stood in Statuary Hall on July 1, 1976.
The ceremony had been moved up a few days because the President couldn’t be there on the Fourth, but it was close enough. A hundred years, give or take.
Thomas stepped forward. He handed the key to the President.
Ninety-seven years earlier Annie had turned the key and locked her safe. Sixty-four years earlier Emma Sutton had inherited that same key and chosen to keep it.
Ford turned that key in the lock and the glass door swung open. One of the gold pens clattered to the floor.
The President reached into the safe carefully. One of the first artifacts he pulled out was a faded photograph, an albumen print, of a woman of solid presence, her face full and steady, her gaze direct but guarded; the look of someone who’d carried responsibility for others and was unwilling to be diminished.
Peering closely at the nearly 100-year-old image, President Ford quipped, “I don’t have any indication of her name, but she looks mighty pretty.” 13
Annie had once said that she’d attended every Presidential Inauguration since that of Franklin Pierce in 1853. And there she was – 24 presidents later, in the presence of another Chief Magistrate of the United States. 14
Ford continued unpacking. He moved slowly. The items were fragile. Archivists from the Library of Congress stood ready to preserve each piece.
The massive albums came out first. Red Russian leather, six inches thick, stamped in gold: “Citizens’ Autographs.” Thousands of signatures from ordinary people who’d visited the Centennial Exposition. Each signature had a blank line underneath. Annie’s plan: descendants would sign beneath their ancestors’ names when the safe opened.
Nobody had signed. No descendants had come forward.
Ford lifted out the silver inkstand carrying the mark of Tiffany & Co., New York. Tarnished but still elegant. This inkstand had been used by nearly eighty thousand people to sign their names a century before.
A scroll with the names of every member of the 44th Congress.
The Blue Book. Eighty thousand government employees in 1876. Ford noted that today the government employed 2.9 million civilians, not counting the military.
Elizabeth Thompson’s book on temperance.
Framed photographs. Most of the subjects were unknown now. Ford held one up. “This is a photograph of an early statesman,” he said. “I don’t know his name.” A moment later he found a card. M. F. Cooker, an electoral commissioner. “They all seem to get their picture in,” Ford said.
The President removed about half the contents. The rest would be taken out later by curators. Cameras flashed. The items would be catalogued, sent to the Smithsonian, the Library of Congress. Preserved.
But before the ceremony ended, Ford spoke.
He talked about what the safe meant. Not just as a collection of old photographs and signatures. As a symbol.
[This historic Century Safe] symbolizes much more than a valuable collection of mementos. It symbolizes something about the United States of America that is so mighty and so inspiring that it cannot be locked up in a safe. I mean the American spirit.
“There is no safe big enough to contain the hopes, the energies, the abilities of our people,” Ford said. “Our real national treasure does not have to be kept under lock and key in a safe or a vault.”
He talked about wealth. Not in material objects, but in heritage. In freedom. In belief.
“America’s wealth is not in material objects,” he said, “but in our great heritage, our freedom, and in our belief in ourselves.”
He talked about 1876. About Americans looking forward to 1976. About 1976 looking forward to the third century.
When this safe was sealed, Americans looked forward to the future – to this year of 1976. There was no doubt in their minds that a President of a free government would participate in a ceremony here, in the United States Capitol Building.
And about the unfinished pyramid on the Great Seal, representing work that remained to be done.
“The Latin motto below is freely translated: “God has Favored our Undertaking.” said the President. “Two hundred years later, we know God has.”
“Though we may differ, as Americans have throughout the past, we share a common purpose. It is the achievement of a future in keeping with our glorious past. The American republic provides for continued growth through a convergence of views and interests. But that growth must be spiritual as well as material.
“As we look inside this safe, let us look inside ourselves. Let us look into our hearts and into our hopes. Let us look inside ourselves to unleash the God-given treasures stored within. And let us look outside ourselves to the needs of our families, our friends, our communities, our Nation, and our moral and spiritual consciousness.” 15
The ceremony ended. Statuary Hall emptied slowly. Annie’s Century Safe stood open, half-empty, its contents scattered to archives. Its job finished.
The items themselves disappointed some people. Archivists had worried the contents might turn to dust when exposed to air after nearly a century. They didn’t. The photographs and albums and silver were intact, but they weren’t spectacular. Just signatures. Just photographs. Just ordinary memorabilia from 1876.
One observer noted that “Mrs. Deihm did not have a very good concept of what would be important and interesting 100 years later.” 16
But that wasn’t the point.
Ford had said it: “There is something about the United States that is so mighty and inspiring that it cannot be locked up in a safe.”
Annie’s vision hadn’t worked out perfectly. The Senate had rejected her in 1879. Congress hadn’t formally accepted the safe for ninety-seven years. The combination was lost. The safe had been boxed up, forgotten, shoved outside for decades. No descendants signed the albums. No one added new items for 2076. There would be no continuation.
It wasn’t what Annie imagined when she sealed that safe on Washington’s birthday in 1879.
But the bridge she’d built between 1876 and 1976 had held.
And that was enough. Not because the vision was perfect, but because someone cared enough to see it through.
Copyright 2026 Lori Olson White
| Part 5 of 5 | Start from the Beginning| ← Previous Chapter |
The Century Safe Method teaches you Annie Deihm’s pioneering approach, refined with 150 years of hindsight and adapted for family-scale projects today and into the future
This isn’t a vague “make a time capsule” guide. This is a complete methodology for creating a Century Safe that:
Actually gets opened (most time capsules don’t)
Engages future recipients (not just passive viewing)
Survives decades of moves, transitions, and forgotten promises
Creates traditions that continue for generations
Your bridge to 2076 is waiting.
In 2076, someone will open what you’re creating.
They’ll read your letters. See your photos. Discover the “Five Things” about you that no historical record captured. Read your Good Ancestor statement and understand what you wanted to be remembered for.
They’ll sign the signature page beneath your name, answering the questions you posed across fifty years. They’ll feel connected to someone they never met but who thought about them anyway.
And maybe - just maybe - they’ll decide to build a Century Safe for 2126, continuing the chain you started.
That’s legacy. That’s bridge building. And it’s possible.
Get your copy of The Century Safe Method today.
The Story Catalog is not an archive in the usual sense. What you’ll find here is a living catalog of Lost & Found Stories – deeply researched historical narratives told in parts, discovered through newspapers, letters, court records, logs, and the stubborn human habit of leaving traces behind.
Have you read the incredible true story of Aimee Henry and Mary Martha Parker? Call Me a Bastard is my longest serialized story to-date, and the one that started it all here on the Lost & Found Story Box. Check out the story from the beginning.
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End Notes
1 “Our Second Century” Published by C. F. Deihm, Office 27 Union Square, New York
2 “Yesterday’s Wills,” The New York Times, New York, NY, May 17, 1911, P. 13.
3 “Official Safecracking,” The Angelica Advocate, Angelica, New York, September 24, 1936, P. 3.
4 Thornton Hartley, “Has US Centennial Safe Key, Alachuan Says,” The Florida Times-Union, Jacksonville, FL, June 4, 1971, P. 9.
5 “Centennial Safe Needs a Key,” North Penn Reporter, Lansdale, PA, May 28, 1971, P. 13.
6 “Centennial Safe Opened; Ready for President in ’76,” The Morning Union, Springfield, MA, June 2, 1971, P. 5.
7 1972 Congressional Record
8 “Right From Aunt Emma: That Centennial Safe? Heck, The Key’s Down Here in Gainsville!” The Daytona Beach News-Journal, Daytona Beach, FL, June 4, 1971, P. 16.
9 “Right From Aunt Emma: That Centennial Safe? Heck, The Key’s Down Here in Gainsville!” The Daytona Beach News-Journal, Daytona Beach, FL, June 4, 1971, P. 16.
10 Thornton Hartley, “Has US Centennial Safe Key, Alachuan Says,” The Florida Times-Union, Jacksonville, FL, June 4, 1971, P. 9.
11 “Congressional Record, 1976”
12 “Centennial Safe to be Opened for Bicentennial,” Suffolk News Herald, Suffolk, VA, March 14, 1976, P. 5.
13 “Centennial Safe included in Observations,” News-Pilot, San Pedro, CA, July 7, 1976, P. 9.
14 “Inauguration Notes,” The Critic and Record, Washington DC, February 21, 1889, P. 1.
15 “Presidential Remarks at Opening of Centennial Safe”, July 1, 1976, Gerald R Ford Presidential Library
16 “Mrs. Deihm’s Centennial Safe: Autographs, Photographs and a Book on Temperance,” Bicentennial Times, 1976
I love this series, Lori! Annie’s Century Safe isn’t just about the objects inside, it’s about foresight, care, and hope for the future. Your storytelling makes her, Emma, and Thomas come alive, and that line,“There is no safe big enough to contain the hopes, the energies, the abilities of our people”, fantastic writing! Brilliant work.
Fantastic research and storytelling, Lori. I was holding my breath and hoping it ended well! I am so very glad for her sake and all of ours! Eagerly awaiting the next update!