How I met Arthur Jones (Part IV)…
“Well, if you think this guy makes so much sense, I dare you to pick up the phone and call him.” A teen-age gauntlet had just been laid down. And back in my day, a challenge among High School friends was something to be taken quite seriously. Backing down was not the preferred option among testosterone fueled American teenagers in the early 1970’s. And I imagine that is still true today.
But I quickly realized that I had two problems…
- To get up the courage to call up a complete stranger in Florida, totally unannounced on a Saturday morning. And the second, more pressing, problem.
- “Long Distance”. Yes, today it seems almost unbelievable. But 50 years ago “Long Distance” was serious business in my family. The reason was simple. Long Distance cost money. Sometimes big money. And in my Midwestern, middle class family it was reserved for births, special occasions and the dreaded middle-of-the-night “someone died”.
So I had to climb out of my little basement gym and find my Mother. Her reaction was quick and direct…“Long Distance costs money. And your Father is going to want to know who is paying for it.” Luckily I had started a part time weekend job flipping pancakes at our local Perkin’s Pancake House, for a whopping $1.90/hr. So I quickly assured her that I had it covered, then headed for our (one!) telephone in the kitchen.
Nervously I began to dial the phone number in the magazine. But wanting to save face in front of my friend, I thought that I had found a very plausible way out. In my teenage mind, I envisioned that I was dialing the number of this huge Florida company. “Nautilus Industries” it was called. Surely there would be no one manning the phones of such a huge enterprise on a Saturday morning and I would be off of the hook.
And just like I (secretly) hoped, the phone just rang and rang. Three rings, then four, then five. In fact I had just shot my friend a quick “See, I tried look.” when the unthinkable happened. The phone burst into action.
“WHAT for Crist sakes?!!” Followed by the loud sound of dogs barking in the background. “Shut the hell up! Gary! Get these mutts out of here!”
Yes (as I was about to discover), I HAD reached the “Nautilus Industries” mentioned in the magazine article. But the “Industries” part, back then, was mostly just Arthur Jones kitchen table and I, this little pimply-faced kid had just interrupted him…At home on a Saturday morning…And the great man was NOT happy.
The final part coming later, if anyone is interested.