Editor’s note: Jon Laging is taking a break from his sports column to write a book about his home town, Mountain Lake, Minn. Upcoming columns will be excerpts from the book until further notice.
The incident had its beginning in the spring of 1950. That May was extremely warm in Minnesota. The classrooms were hot and there was no relief to be had. Air conditioning was in its infancy and only found in large city movie theaters.
Perhaps the warmth was the reason squirt guns became so popular, especially among us 13-year-old boys. However, there was another reason for their popularity. When we were younger there was only one type of water gun, a black metal gun that held only a single load of water and, after one squirt, you were pretty much done.
Then came a technology breakthrough. A plastic squirt gun that held water in the barrel and handle of the gun. It not only held much more water, the stream it ejected was longer and more forceful. Soon, almost all boys, teenagers and younger, had bought out the Ben Franklin Variety Store of its stock of squirt guns.
Squirt gun fights were very common and there was conflict between the contestants and the teachers and most squirt guns came to reside in teachers’ desks. The water fights then took a different direction and, as with all standoffs, there came into being new and improved weapons. Water balloons made their appearance.
Our junior high building had second-floor windows above the entrance. These windows could be opened wide during hot weather and a guy could lean out of the window and drop his water balloon on another unsuspecting seventh-grade boy. We didn’t bomb the girls. I don’t think it was chivalry, rather we knew we would really get in trouble if we got the girls wet.
This water ballooning didn’t last long when the school clamped down. And soon it was time for class picnics at the Mountain where we played tag and softball and competed to see who could drink the most Dad’s Old-Fashioned Root Beer.
Summer came and while all the summer activities were fun, there was something missing. Water balloons! Good friend Roger and I were talking about the balloons and bemoaning the fact there was really no good place to ambush some poor unsuspecting friend. Then the Hotel Basinger came to mind. We had been on the roof once before and thought it had it all over the second floor junior high building. What a great place to drop a balloon.
We filled a couple of balloons with water and made our way to the top of the hotel. We looked over the side of the building and you know, what doesn’t seem very high when you’re on the ground looking up, seems a lot higher when you’re up there. We test-fired one balloon by dropping it four stories. The test went just fine. However, it seemed a shame to waste our other balloon on the sidewalk. We waited for a target.
It was Saturday night, date night. Soon came Bertram (Jumbo) Jakes with his date. Jumbo was captain of the football team, weighed about 230 and when angry, dominated a football field. He was a man among boys and groomed to look it. Bertram and his date stopped on their way to Bill’s Café to talk with some of his teammates. Jumbo was probably explaining how he was going to win the next football game. His friends were listening intently, as was his girl.
As luck would have it, he was directly beneath us. Roger and I looked at each other and there was some hesitation, but we had talked a good game to each other for days and come too far to back down. We dropped the balloon. It was an amazing sight. One moment Jumbo was dry, the next he was sopping wet. His girlfriend screamed and his friends’ mouths dropped open as they stared with wonder at Jumbo. After a few seconds, they all looked up at the hotel and saw us.
Next week: did we escape the wrath of Jumbo?
