This is the first in a series of articles about the discoveries found in the opening of the pyramid portion of the World’s Largest Time Capsule in Seward on July 4th. The main time capsule is scheduled to be opened on July 4, 2025.
For Kathryn Johnson, Seward’s World’s Largest Time Capsule is more than a roadside attraction.
“It’s weird to tell the story to people who have never been there now because I live in Seattle. Where do you start?” she said.
She tells them she grew up in the shadow of the pyramid.
And very literally, she did. Kathryn and her sister, Ann Leaf-Johnson, who now lives in St. Paul, Minnesota, spent many of their days with their grandparents, Harold “Budd” and Claire Davisson in the house just east of the time capsule, while their mother, Trish Davisson Johnson, ran the family business, Davisson Furniture Center, then just steps north of the time capsule.
Their parents, Trish and Harvey Johnson, lived on North Fifth Street for many years before moving into the Davisson house on Hillcrest about 25 years ago.
Kathryn was surprised when her mother sent photos of workers starting to open the pyramid sitting on top of the capsule before July 4, but arrived in Seward July 2 to participate in the unpacking of the pyramid.
Now she’s been studying the published anthologies of her grandfather’s folksy newspaper columns about Seward’s history and the making of the time capsule that is still scheduled to be opened July 4, 2025.
“I remember the building of the pyramid pretty well. I was 10-ish when all of that was going on. I had painted some of the murals on the walls.”
The 20-foot by 8-foot by 6-foot time capsule certified by the Guinness Book of World Records in 1977 was created in 1975 when she was a toddler.
The pyramid – which was not part of the original plan – was placed atop it to provide some protection from the elements for its contents. The cement was poured in 1984 and the concrete cured for a year to test its durability before they filled the new space.
Her granddad built a periscope through which he could peer into the lower chamber. Kathryn said the family still has the periscope, but its mirror is broken.
Davisson was a storyteller and a collector of the stories told by the odd items he often stocked in his store, which began as a farm supply outlet. Antiques, collectibles, trades, and items from his world travels were added to the farm supplies, chickens, and household furnishings over the years.
He loved to carry the newest gadgets and brought the first dishwasher into Seward County.
“That store building I would like to envision as an eventual museum when all kinds of stuff is pulled out of the time capsule,” Kathryn said.
But she is not sure whether the pyramid will be returned to its longtime home, as they prepare for next year’s opening of the buried time capsule underneath.
Her granddad left no instructions on how to get things out. They are not sure how protective the concrete capsule has been of the contents. But in many ways, the experimental nature of it all makes sense, she said.
“He left us voluminous writing. He had this eternal optimism of what kinds of technology they would have in 50 years,” she said.
She imagines Davisson, who died in 1999, was “optimistic that we would figure out a way to get this out. That’s why they built the pyramid.”
She is sure her granddad left things for her, her sister and their cousins in the capsule – even the ones not yet born in 1975. That’s the way he operated.
Her grandfather “chucked in” all sorts of items that told the story of Seward County’s daily life, she said, everything from movie posters from the family’s video rental business, random popular merchandise from the shelves, and even some of the farm auction notices that had been posted on the bulletin board, reflecting the more difficult rural economy in the mid-1980s.
“He never made this about himself. He said he wanted to preserve Seward, Nebraska, for his grandkids and everybody else’s grandkids. But we all want to be remembered.”
Keeping memories of her granddad is easy. Opening the pyramid has given the family more opportunities to reflect on their relationships with Davisson.
“He dove headfirst into everything he did,” she said.
“I feel incredibly lucky to have grown up with him and my grandmother.”
He was this quirky, on-the-move salesman, but her grandparents were also Kathryn and Ann’s main babysitters.
“We were almost his playmates,” Kathryn said. “Ann and I feel incredibly lucky to be a part of some of his goofy ideas.”
Their grandparents taught the girls the greatest hits of the 1940s, with her granddad whistling or singing all the time. Their grandmother gave them piano lessons. Kathryn said her grandparents nurtured relationships with their grandchildren who lived out of state, sending frequent packages she heard about from cousins many years later.
One of her granddad’s favorite outings with the Johnson sisters was “spitting in the creek.”
They would drive out to the I-80 rest area between the Seward and Milford exchanges, singing all the way. They would walk back to the creek where they ceremoniously stood on the bridge to spit in the creek – every time. They don’t know why.
Then they would walk the short trail to the modern art sculpture nestled in the trees, for which her granddad was vocal about his dislike. After that they would cross the bridge back to the car and sing all the way home.
“He was really good about building relationships,” she said of the man who came up with the idea to put Seward on the map with a “world’s largest” attraction.
“I had a lot of small moments with him. He was a great granddad.”
Next: A mother’s letter to her daughter.
