Art McKee: The Godfather of Sunken Gold
- questfortreasures
- Aug 5
- 7 min read
Before Mel Fisher shouted “Today’s the day,” before metal detectors buzzed across Florida’s beaches, and before treasure hunting became mainstream, there was Art McKee.
He wasn’t just chasing sunken treasure.
He was inventing the playbook.
While most of postwar America was settling down into the suburbs, McKee was out diving the coral-strewn waters of the Florida Keys, recovering Spanish silver from the seafloor and proving that old legends still had teeth.
A Rogue in the Right Place
Arthur “Art” McKee, a WWII veteran and fearless diver, made the Florida Keys his playground and his battlefield. He knew what others had forgotten: that these turquoise waters were littered with the remains of Spain’s treasure-laden ships, many of which went down in violent storms between the 1600s and 1700s.
Most people saw paradise. McKee saw opportunity, and sunken fortune.
Armed with little more than rumors, crumbling maps, and post-war diving experience, he dove where no one else dared. Wreck after wreck, reef after reef, he worked his way through the shadows of forgotten ship routes, chasing cargo manifests inked two centuries earlier.
The 1733 Plate Fleet and the Making of a Legend
In 1733, a convoy of twenty-two Spanish treasure ships sailed out of Havana. Within days, a hurricane roared across the Straits of Florida and drove nearly every ship into the reefs of the Upper and Middle Keys. The fleet was obliterated, its cargo scattered, its sailors either drowned or stranded on coral islets.
By the time McKee took interest in the 1940s, the story was considered little more than a fable. A few coins had turned up over the years, but no one had seriously attempted a systematic search.
That changed when McKee, with the help of Florida locals and records from Spanish archives, began identifying potential wreck sites like Indian Key, Looe Key, and San Pedro Reef. He wasn’t just guessing. He was connecting dots between weather records, old salvage permits, and topography changes over time.
One of his best-known sites was the San Pedro, a galleon that had once sailed as part of the 1733 fleet. McKee dove the site with homemade gear, blasted away layers of silt, and recovered silver coins, musket balls, ceramic ware, and hull timbers that confirmed the ship’s identity. That discovery would eventually help establish the San Pedro Underwater Archaeological Preserve, one of Florida’s first protected wreck diving sites.
McKee’s discovery proved that the 1733 fleet wasn’t just legend. It was real, and it was recoverable.
From the Reef to the Museum
Instead of hoarding his finds, McKee opened one of the earliest treasure museums in the United States: the McKee Museum on Plantation Key. Part artifact showcase, part educational center, part adventurer’s clubhouse, the museum welcomed visitors from across the country.
Inside, they could handle real pieces of eight, examine preserved cannonballs, watch 16mm footage of McKee’s dives, and hear firsthand stories of hurricanes, shipwrecks, and the glittering cargo they left behind.
McKee didn’t just hunt treasure. He shared the story, helping cement public interest in maritime history long before treasure hunting became a pop culture obsession.
No Sonar, No Problem
It’s worth pausing here to admire what McKee accomplished without the technology we take for granted today.
There was no GPS to mark his dive zones. No sonar to scan the seabed. No digital maps or satellite imaging. No backup teams or marine archaeologists on standby. No dive computers or redundant scuba systems. And definitely no drones watching from above.
Instead, McKee worked with a surface-supplied air rig, an improvised metal detector, and a network of friends willing to help tow equipment behind boats built more for fishing than exploration.
He even pioneered a crude dredging method using boat engine exhaust to blast water down through a pipe, clearing away sand and silt from the wreck sites. While it wasn’t yet the refined system that would later be known as the “mailbox,” it was a functional forerunner. Mel Fisher would go on to perfect and popularize the mailbox technique during his Atocha hunt in the 1970s, but the idea of using boat power to uncover buried wreckage had already been tested by McKee decades earlier.
It wasn’t fancy, but it worked.
Pioneering Preservation
Unlike many treasure seekers of his era, McKee respected the historical and archaeological value of his finds. He kept field notes. He mapped out ballast piles. He documented where each item came from. Even when he sold or displayed items, he retained the story.
He also made efforts to work with museums and scholars, pushing the idea that context mattered—that a silver coin without its story was just a shiny object.
This mindset set him apart from salvors who followed. He didn’t just want gold. He wanted answers. Who was on the ship? Why was it there? What happened the night it sank?
McKee treated the ocean like a witness, not a loot chest.
Legacy in the Sand
By the 1970s, McKee had already laid the groundwork for the next generation. His wreck site maps were passed to Kip Wagner and later to Mel Fisher. His innovations in underwater exploration helped inform early salvage laws in Florida. And many of the sites he dove, including the San Pedro and San Felipe, are now listed as state-protected wrecks or archaeological preserves.
Though the McKee Museum eventually closed in the 1980s, many of his artifacts survive in private collections and historical societies across Florida. More importantly, his legacy lives on in every diver who straps on a tank and dreams of finding a piece of the past.
He was the prototype.
Gear Check: Then vs Now
To really appreciate McKee’s hustle, it helps to compare his gear with what modern treasure divers use today. In the 1950s, McKee relied on a surface-supplied air rig, the kind cobbled together from surplus parts. His metal detectors were homemade or adapted from land-based models, and his navigation tools were nothing more than a paper chart and a compass. He mapped wreck sites using pencil and waterproof sketch pads and relied heavily on local knowledge and word-of-mouth intel.
Now contrast that with today’s treasure hunters. Divers now operate with high-tech scuba systems that include dive computers, pressure gauges, and redundant air supplies. GPS and sonar allow them to zero in on anomalies on the sea floor. LIDAR data can reveal buried ship outlines even before the first dive. Underwater drones, pulse-induction metal detectors, and engineered airlift systems make locating and recovering artifacts far more efficient. But for all that modern tech, McKee was still finding real treasure with the bare minimum. That’s not just resourcefulness. That’s mastery.
Lessons from McKee: What Every Treasure Hunter Should Learn
Whether you’re a beachcomber with a metal detector or a diver plotting out your first wreck expedition, there’s a lot to take from Art McKee’s approach. First and foremost: start with research. McKee didn’t just jump off a boat and hope for the best. He studied old maps, translated Spanish shipping records, and picked the brains of locals who knew the waters. He built his own understanding of where the ships went down and why they were there in the first place.
Second, use what you’ve got. He didn’t wait for cutting-edge equipment or perfect conditions. He used what was available and often built the rest himself. His blower system wasn’t pretty, but it uncovered history. That’s the kind of problem-solving mindset every treasure hunter needs.
Third, tell the story. McKee valued context. A coin was never just a coin, it was a clue. He preserved broken pottery, ballast stones, musket balls, and timbers because they were all pieces of the bigger narrative. Every wreck, to him, was a sunken chapter in a forgotten book.
He also knew the power of sharing the passion. Through his museum, he turned curious tourists into inspired explorers. He didn’t gatekeep the adventure, he invited others in. And finally, perhaps most importantly, McKee had respect for the wreck. Even without formal archaeological training, he understood that treasure wasn’t just about gold and silver. It was about people. Sailors. Survivors. Histories.
In an era where treasure hunting can easily slip into exploitation or spectacle, McKee reminds us that the best treasure hunters are part historian, part explorer, and part storyteller.
Final Thoughts from the Field
Art McKee wasn’t famous when he started. He wasn’t rich, well-connected, or backed by any institution. What he had was vision, grit, and an unshakable belief that the sea still held secrets worth uncovering.
Today, it’s easy to overlook pioneers like him. There are no documentaries, no Netflix specials, no YouTube channels covering his dives. But every time a modern treasure hunter sets out with a scanner and a dream, they’re walking the trail he blazed.
He was the original.
The diver with a pipe dredge and a notebook.
The museum curator with salt in his beard.
The adventurer who turned whispers of the past into stories the world could see.
So next time you’re standing ankle-deep in surf, holding a detector, thinking about lost fleets and buried gold, tip your hat to Art McKee.
He was doing this before it was cool.
And thanks to him, we all get to chase the dream.
References
Florida Department of Commerce. (1950). Art McKee displaying treasure salvaged from a Spanish galleon - Plantation Key, Florida [Photograph]. Florida Memory. State Library and Archives of Florida. https://www.floridamemory.com/items/show/63318
Leffler, G. (1979). Art McKee working at the edge of a ballast pile on the Genovesa shipwreck site, Jamaica [Photograph]. Florida Memory. State Library and Archives of Florida. https://www.floridamemory.com/fpc/mckee/am0207.jpg
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