CHRISTMAS 2001 Dad would have been 100 years old this year. Robin remembered an incident that brought back memories of a peculiarity of his. Dad must have been a reincarnation of Till Eulenspiegel: he was always thinking about how he could play a prank on someone. Relatives, friends and business acquaintances - none were immune. That some may have become angry at his pranks never seemed to bother him. "They'll laugh after they think about it," he'd say.
Planter's Peanuts used to come in a cup-sized can. Somewhere dad acquired a single peanut, identical to those in the can but made of rubber. After warmly greeting a guest he'd open a fresh can of peanuts and, to divert suspicion, take a handful before offering some to the guest. Of course he'd concealed the rubber peanut between his fingers and slipped it into the can when he'd taken some. Once, a guest who'd had prior contact with dad pulled the rubber peanut out of his mouth and said in a matter of fact tone, "There must have been a defective one in this batch." This wasn't the hoped-for reaction, so dad thought fast. "Just before you arrived I tried the rubber peanut prank on the dog. It didn't have much effect on him either; he just spit out the rubber one and ate the rest. Unfortunately I didn't have time to wash the rubber peanut before you came."
When Uncle Lowell was new to the family dad knew that he wouldn't be expecting a prank so dad thought for a long time about a suitable one. The county was paving streets in our area and after the day's work they'd park a huge road roller in the vacant lot next to our house. The yellow roller had a large county logo and identification numbers. In those days the roller would have been worth $8,000-$10,000. This was an unexcelled opportunity! We'd recently received a tax bill from the county assessor's office. Dad cut off the top of the bill, glued it to a sheet of typing paper and had mom type: BILL OF SALE Sold to James W. Jedlicka, one road roller, county number 6348, for $35.00. Dad scribbled an illegible signature below. Mom said it'd never fly. Not only was the price ridiculous but the glued top portion would be instantly obvious. Dad insisted he could pull it off. That evening Uncle Lowell came over and dad told him of his recent good fortune - the county had been given some new road building equipment, surplus from the military, so they'd sold their good but used equipment on a first come, first served basis for ridiculous prices. He then added he intended to resell the roller for at least $1,000. Handing the bill of sale to Uncle Lowell he led him outside and stood proudly next to the roller. At first Uncle Lowell was incredulous but after carefully comparing the identification numbers he asked dad if the county had any more used equipment to sell. "No, I'm afraid not. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time."
Uncle Ed was one of dad's closest friends and dad could count on his cooperation on pranks. Uncle Ed made custom candy in a converted basement in his house and sold it in a small store in town. Just before April first and on other special occasions dad would help make an additional small amount of "special" candy. He'd cut up soap and cardboard, identical in size to the filling of a particular kind of dipped candy. Then he'd persuade Aunt Mildred, a skilled candy dipper, to dip these in both dark and milk chocolate, with the usual identifying symbol on top, so they couldn't be distinguished from real candy. He'd then leave with a couple of pound boxes of assorted dipped candy, about half of which were the adulterated fake ones, the locations of which he alone knew. After warmly greeting an unsuspecting visitor he'd open the candy box and extend it to the guest. If the guest selected a good piece dad would repeat the process. Of course, this only worked once per individual - members of the family would always break or cut any piece of dipped chocolate and examine it carefully before putting it in our mouths.
A steel mill in Oakland was putting in large electrical furnaces, 8' in diameter, 20' deep. These were lined with firebricks laid by pairs of bricklayers working from a hanging scaffold. At every sixth course the firebricks had to include exactly 52 ceramic insulators, called ducks, on which an electrical resistance element would later be hung. A hod carrier, assigned to each pair of bricklayers, remained above and lowered buckets of bricks and ducks as needed. To insure exactly 52 ducks would be installed, the general contractor told the hod carrier it was his responsibility to count precisely 52 ducks and lower these at the appropriate time. The bricklayers were upset by their work being supervised by someone to whom they were used to giving orders. The hod carriers, however, were overjoyed by their promotion. Dad and I were at the bottom of a retort and were being served by the hod carrier's business agent, a fellow with a loud, commanding voice. Dad could hardly wait to try a prank. On the pretext of needing to use the toilet he climbed up the ladder to the main floor and left the area. On his return he walked by the supply of ducks and secreted two in his overalls. When the next duck course was due he bent over the bucket of ducks and slipped in one from his overalls. After the course was completed dad sent up the bucket with the "extra" duck, saying there were 53 instead of 52 in the bucket. Our hod carrier was speechless. As the next duck course neared we could hear him repeatedly counting to 52. When we again sent the bucket up with a duck remaining, the man left and reported us to the contractor. The contractor returned with him, and after ordering us out, counted and recounted the last two duck courses. He then made some remarks to the hod carrier in a voice that we could not hear. Dad could hardly wait to announce his prank at lunch - the bricklayers laughed and the hod carriers made unprintable remarks.
In 1937, the worst of the Great Depression, Uncle Charlie, a general contractor, landed a job to build a mansion at Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. Dad and cousin Bud Carroll were employed by him along with a number of local Wisconsin artisans to build the house. When the huge roof was being sheathed dad was put on this job to accompany 3 or 4 highly skilled carpenters to nail on the roof sheathing. After several days of hammering in 8-penny nails morning to night with the three experts dad was in the mood for a prank. He casually said that he was told that a highly skilled carpenter could sink an 8-penny nail with 3 blows of his hammer. Dad knew that this was impossible. At that point conversation stopped and the sound of hammer blows intensified: Bam! bam! bam! dammit! Bam! bam! bam! This hammer is worn out! Bam! bam! bam! Damned poor nails! Uncle Charlie noticed the loud hammering going on and climbed to the roof to see what was afoot. He shouted, "Look at all of the bent nails sticking out of the roof! I thought I'd hired professionals!" The carpenters were in no mood to respond. I never found out whether dad had the courage to own up to his prank.
My earliest recollection of one of dad's pranks occurred during a visit from Uncle Jim and his family. This was during prohibition but plenty of alcohol was available in Chicago. He brought some and drank it. Dad invited Uncle Jim to a game of checkers in the basement where he said that there was less noise. He took me aside and whispered to follow them to the basement and watch carefully. The first thing I noticed was that Uncle Jim took longer to decide where to move. Soon dad was jumping checkers. But when he removed a jumped checker he also removed an additional one of Uncle Jim's each time. In no time the game was over and Uncle Jim cried that he had never lost so quickly in his life. After their family left dad explained to me that alcohol numbs the senses; if Uncle Jim had been sober he would have immediately recognized the prank.
Dad was eager to show his homemade kaleidoscope to anyone who came around. This he made by starting with a piece of thin pipe and taping a cellophane cover over one end. Then he took a large thermos bottle cork, drilled a hole through its center and taped this to the other end of the pipe. Finally he held the cork over the gas-stove burner until it was well charred on its end. Now he needed only a guinea pig to perfect his technique. I believe he chose me. "Look through this device. You will see amazing things." "But I don't see anything." There was no black ring around my eye. "You weren't holding it against your head. Hold it so it contacts your head and then rotate it slowly." At this point he held it firmly against my head and rotated it. Then he produced from his pocket a mirror and let me look at the black ring around my eye.
One time I found an old telephone and hooked it up in the garage, connecting it to our house telephone. I could see the wheels turning in dad's head. One of his bricklayer friends stopped by on his way to a new job in Oregon. Dad took me aside and explained his prank. I went to the garage where I could see his friend's car. Using the telephone repairman's special number, I was able to make the telephones ring. Dad answered and told his friend the call was for him. "Mr. John Tellefson?" I said, "This is the Palo Alto police department. Do you own a blue 1937 Ford, license number AWG653, with a damaged left front fender? You were speeding on Euclid Avenue and we've written you a ticket. You can stop by our department and pay today." After hanging up the telephone, John turned to dad and said, "How did they trace me here? Yes, I was speeding but I'm not going to pay the ticket. I'm leaving for Oregon right now and they'll never find me."
Jim (aka, "Fat")