A Brief Overview

     The concept of using expensively wired fabricated test dummies was not feasible to the working class adults in our neighborhood and so being practical people, they used the neighborhood kids instead.

The Hot Pepper Club

an excerpt from

The Test Dummy Chronicles

by 

Robert Caleb Potter

     Summer was soon upon us and that meant that Duggy was going to be around full time. Apparently Duggy acted like a know it all around Nick too and would not follow orders. So Nick would ride him or otherwise take issue with something he said and never missed a chance to put a verbal foot in his ass. But it was always good natured ribbing and Duggy would never hesitate to argue back, although Nick's term for it was “pissing and moaning.”

      Duggy and I would usually be playing outside when Nick got home from work. He would go inside and announce to Jean that he was home and go have a look at his kids and try to stir them up a bit. He would come out of the house after awhile and sit on the porch with a glass of wine or a bottle of beer and try to instigate an argument between us. Around this time Nick decided to hold the first meeting of  “The Hot Pepper Club.”

     Many years later Nick’s son Nicky, having gone through the same treatment would use the phrase “Test Dummies” when describing the durability required of any young knucklehead who found themselves within a certain radius of Nick’s influence. Looking back at it I now realize that Duggy, Waimsy and I were the prototypes, the first three Test Dummy units that rolled off of the assembly line, for unknown to us at the time our skulls were being re-wired for runs through “The Salvatore System.” We were becoming programmed to willingly stand by at the ready until needed, which meant to wait until Nick thought of some new thing for us to do as a way to amuse himself, often to our own discomfort. If we were not in the immediate vicinity when he thought of something too good to wait we were summoned and would report as instructed, eager for assignment. But hey, what are Test Dummies for?

     One night sitting around the table as he finished his dinner, Nick suddenly informed Duggy and I that as far as he could tell, we appeared to be good candidates for full membership in the Hot Pepper Club. “The Hot Pepper Club?” we asked with excitement. We had never heard of it but we immediately wanted in!

     Nick, as self appointed President and free to make up the rules as he went along immediately called the meeting to order and produced a mason jar full of peppers. Nick knew his peppers well and knew which variety had the most kick to them and after some careful searching of the jar gives us each a specially selected pepper and a piece of bread. “Down the hatch, men,” he said. “What’s the big deal?” I thought to myself.  

     I had never seen a hot pepper before much less eaten one but it was so small and it looked harmless enough. I also figured if Duggy can do it so can I, so down the hatch indeed. The first bite didn’t burn very much so I put the rest of it in my mouth seeds and all and chewed. Not a good idea! The burning immediately started to kick in and the harder I tried sucking cold air in the hotter it got. I thought perhaps more bread would help, but it didn’t. Also I was now unknowingly spreading the hot pepper juice that was on my fingers to my face and eyes and I remember thinking, “what kind of dumb club is this?” Duggy had his own solution and was now rushing up to the cold water faucet and trying to swallow it whole while screaming like a banshee. The reason I know this is because I was also looking at that faucet and if he didn’t try to swallow it I would have. 

     Now I mentioned that I had red hair which also means I am fair skinned. All of a sudden Jean starts looking at me like I have blood gushing from my eyes. Next thing I know I’m being rushed into the bathroom and pushed into the tub and dunked with cold water. Apparently I had turned so red that she was afraid I was about to burst into flame, and not yet familiar with my parents she certainly was not going to let me go back home in that condition. Duggy meanwhile is still running around the house like he’s being attacked by hornets with his mouth wide open. Nick is enjoying this immensely and breaking out in great delightful bursts of laughter. He would try for a few seconds to be serious but couldn’t and the more Jean yelled at him the harder he laughed. There was a note of pure joy and deep satisfaction in that laugh. He had accomplished beyond even his wildest expectations what he had set out to do. He had shown his cocky nephew who was boss. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, having allowed myself to get caught up in the battle for Duggy's compliance. 

The Mother Lode

an excerpt from

The Test Dummy Chyronicles

by 

Robert Caleb Potter

     Fritz took to calling me “Red” and he would often engage both Waimsy and me in conversation. One day he was getting ready to go out somewhere and asked Waimsy to look at his head and see if he had any white hair showing in his dark, close cropped but full head of hair. That was one thing about Fritz; he was vain when it came to those pesky little white threads of age that kept popping up on his head. He was probably worried that he would soon look like his old man. Also there is no doubt that Fritz’s somewhat crude manner did not in any way diminish his hopes of someday finding a woman. Waimsy looked for a few seconds and then said “No, Uncle Fritz.”

     A few weeks later he asked me the same thing. He said he would pay me a dime for each white hair I found and pulled out with tweezers. “Yank em out, Red,” he said as if giving instruction in the art of pulling weeds. I did not dismiss the opportunity as casually as Waimsy had done. I actually found two and I made twenty cents that day. I was trying to complete the 1957 Topps baseball card collection and I could always use the extra cash. Soon I would discover a way to make some real dough.

     About a month later Fritz once again asked me to check his hair and “yank out” any white hairs I found. I sat on the cot and Fritz sat on a milk crate with his back to me and read a magazine. Now I don’t know what made me look but all of a sudden I noticed a million white hairs right there on that Army blanket. Apparently green woolen army blankets breed white hairs. I had not only struck gold, but had found the mother lode. I’ll just find a suitable one and show him that. But first I had to pull something out of his head or he would know what I was up to. I would have to pull a strong, healthy black hair, quickly put the white one in the tweezers and show it to him. And when I did; Cha-ching, another ten cents. Another two packs of baseball cards, with gum. 

     Fritz was more than a little concerned by the number of white hairs I yanked from his head that day. “Another one? Geez!” he said in disbelief while putting his hand up to mop his forehead as if suddenly realizing that he had arrived at that point in life where everything immediately goes to shit. I walked out of there with almost two bucks that day and I guess because I was better than Waimsy at finding white hairs Fritz officially promoted me to Officer in Charge of that detail from then on. 

     A few years later we all noticed Fritz developing a bald spot right around the area I had mined. None of the other brothers were going bald, and his father although it had turned snow white still had a thick crop of hair. I often wondered what he would have said if he knew that he actually paid good hard cash for that bald spot. I did tell Nick. He thought it was hilarious.

A Walk in the Dark

and excerpt from

The Test Dummy Chronicles

by 

Robert Caleb Potter

     I had often asked Fritz if I could run a milk route with him and he finally relented and said okay, “but you have to get up at 2:30 in the morning and you can‘t be late.” My mother promised she would wake me and I went to bed excited about it.

      Now just a few weeks prior while walking into the front yard after school, I noticed my younger brother Guy, who was three or four years old at the time, sitting and playing with a real live monkey. Actually it looked to me like they were playing together, as full equals. My brother would pick up a stone and drop it and look at the monkey and then the monkey would do the same. Monkey see, monkey do. I wasn’t there to see who went first.

      Fritz I’m told had recently acquired the monkey from somewhere and brought it to the farm for his own amusement. It was a ring tailed monkey, and from Waimsy I learned that it had been given the name Cheetah. Apparently Cheetah was left wild and free to roam the farm and had decided to inhabit the woods between the farm and our house. One day while swinging through the trees it found our yard and my brother.

      It was a hoot having the monkey around at first but Cheetah was temperamental and would sometimes bite or throw a hissy fit as well as anything else that was handy. We eventually found it best to ignore him. But there Cheetah would be up in the trees making monkey sounds, coming down occasionally to swipe something, throw something or make faces at us, alternating between comical and menacing.

      Walking over to the farm at 2:30 in the morning to run that first milk route with Fritz was a bit spooky and the night never seemed so dark. I thought I had left childhood fears behind me but it was really not that long ago that I had experienced nightmares and frightening episodes even while awake in the dark in my bedroom.

     There was one bogeyman that returned again and again and I would hide under my blankets to escape the smiling face up near the ceiling in the corner of my room. The face would just stare at me and smile for about 15 seconds. Then it would look away for a few seconds while it licked its lips in a way that almost dared me to think that it was done with me. But just as I knew it would, it turned and once again fixed it’s stare upon me while smiling that daring smile with teeth showing. It was terrifying.

     Some years later I would figure out to my own satisfaction what the hell that was all about for it had always troubled me and I continuously searched for some explanation. I finally concluded that this is how our dog Brush must have looked to me as he panted while keeping watch over me when I was an infant in the crib or playpen. Case closed.

     I had nevertheless gone from that experience to become a big fan of monster movies. There was a Saturday night late show on TV called “Shock Theater” and that is where I was introduced to Dracula, Frankenstein, and The Werewolf.  I loved those old Boris Karloff, Lon Cheney and Bella Lugosi movies that were popular at the time. But that was with the lights on and from the safety of the house. Long story short, walking to the farm in the dark was not going to be a favorite part of my day but I had promised Fritz that I would show up, so here goes.

     I had taken precautions. I had a flashlight. I had planned my route taking the safe but longer way on the dirt road instead of the shortcut through the woods. But I did not factor in the monkey.

     Kids are always imagining some monster grabbing them in the dark but how many actually have it happen to them. I don’t know what made Cheetah decide to jump down from the trees onto my shoulders and squeeze my neck. All I know is the more I hollered and the faster I ran, the more whatever had me tried to throttle the life out of me.

     Apparently, Cheetah had never ridden on the back of anyone running as fast as I was now going and so he was hanging on to my neck for dear life and choking me in the process. After going thirty yards or so he decided to hop off of me but needless to say, I arrived at the dairy somewhat shaken with Fritz wondering what the hell all the fuss was about. I had by that time realized that it was just the monkey and told Fritz what had happened. He laughed at first but then said he was “gonna shoot that monkey.”

     Later that morning the episode was relayed to Nick and Jim. They always seemed to take special delight in our most frightening episodes. But it’s funny; I don’t remember seeing the monkey again after that incident. Years later I was told that the monkey had been given to some folks further down on Locust Avenue, so apparently Fritz did not carry out his threat.

Bopping Around the Boom Boom Room

an excerpt from

The Test Dummy Chronicles

by 

Robert Caleb Potter

     Not long after the move to Mattituck Nick, Jean and my parents were all set to embark upon a trip they had planned to Miami, Florida to attend the 1963 National American Legion Convention. These are the Conventions where important decisions are made concerning which new programs the American Legion should lobby Congress for, and they elect a new National Commander as well as all the other offices that do such great work for our nation’s veterans. It is also an opportunity for Legionnaires from all over the country to take their routine out on the road, congregate, get smashed, and act silly in front of a wider audience on the National stage. Because The National Drum and Bugle Corps Championships were always held in conjunction with the Convention, the folks thought that Duggy and I would like to attend. So at the last moment we were asked if we wanted to go. Of course we did.

     We drove down in Nicks Ford Galaxy, and though at times it seemed like an endless drive it was a great adventure for me. I had never set foot outside of New York State, and knew little about of the rest of the country. U. S. Highway 95 had not been built yet, so our route down through Florida was along old U. S. 1, and sometimes even A-1-A, which is closer to the shore and even more scenic. We stopped along the way to eat at ‘All You Can Eat’ bargain places, and it was a pleasant though somewhat crowded journey. Eventually we arrived at a small mom and pop motel complex in Hollywood called Plantation Court, where we would be staying.

     The adults were going to be busy for awhile with activities at the convention center, and it was understood that Duggy and I would be left to our own devices at times, but we were given money to spend on food and we would manage. There was a swimming pool at the motel and places you could get a burger nearby, so we were all set. However in the coming days we would also be allowed to attend many of the entertainment related functions that were tied in with the convention.

     Two days after we arrived, the voting and other serious convention business started to wind down. Soon the social events and celebrations would commence. Judging from the conversation, Nick and my father seemed unsatisfied with much of the Convention results. Their conversation seemed to suggest that if only the committees had listened to them everything would be hunky-dory in Legion World. But of course they had not listened to them. In truth they had been just two more faceless Legion members in a sea of Legionnaires and so we would all now have to endure another long year with the Legion marching off course and out of step. But that was soon forgotten as the adults prepared for the festive activities ahead. That night we would be attending the Drum Corps Championships, which were to be held in a small stadium in Miami.

     Duggy and I sat apart from the adults in the stadium, and just happened to wind up sitting behind two girls our age. They were smoking cigarettes and so it immediately became important for us to find a lighter, so we could offer to light their cigarettes and perhaps break the ice. While we were purchasing the lighter we figured, what the heck; “Hey mister, throw in a pack of Lucky’s.”

     Duggy and I had never smoked cigarettes before, but back in our seats while puffing away in what I am sure was a highly exaggerated manner, we were successful in eventually striking up a running conversation with the girls and we thought that even in spite of our coughing fits that things were progressing nicely. We commented on all the Corps competing on the field and owing to our vast knowledge of all things Drum Corps thought they must certainly be impressed. As a matter of fact I did catch them looking at us a few times with a look of stunned amazement. Perhaps not though, because looking back I have been able to reconstruct that picture in my mind and these days it always resembles one that said; “Boy, what a couple of jerks.” At the time however we were not deterred. After the four of us had smoked all of our Lucky Strikes they said they had to leave but we would meet again the following day at The Fontainebleau Hotel, which was where they said they were staying. Duggy and I agreed to meet them and they left. Feeling pretty damned satisfied with ourselves, we resumed watching the competition. See, all it takes to win a gal’s attention is cool self assuredness, knowledge of all things under the sun, a lot of bragging and a pack of Lucky’s – Nothin’ to it!

     The Drum Corps Competition itself was an interesting and highly charged event, and when the girls departed we were drawn back into the unfolding drama. Duggy and I were pulling for the New York Skyliners, who eventually ended up placing second to the Hawthorne Caballeros who were in the midst of an eight year reign as Senior Division Champions. The Junior Division winners were The Blessed Sacrament Golden Knights, another band from New Jersey who beat out the Garfield Cadets.

     The Fontainebleau Hotel was the perfect place for us to be meeting the girls the following day, because the adults were going to be there anyway parading from room to room the way Conventioneers do when they have their final big hotel bash before closing the week long Convention. Nick and my father wanted to visit all the local Legionnaires from Long Island who had booked rooms in the hotel. They would stop in one room and visit with the Legionnaires from Babylon. Then after a few drinks they would all go to the room that housed the Legionnaires from Islip. Then as the parade marching through the hallways kept growing, they would go visit with the Legionnaires from Lindenhurst. As the liquor flowed, and the party progressed from room to room, they began to care less and less about whose room they were partying in and when Duggy and I finally located them later that afternoon, we found them shit faced silly with the moonshine toting delegation from Bucksnort, Tennessee.

     Duggy and I were also bopping around the Fontainebleau Hotel looking for the two girls. We were woefully unprepared and really didn’t have a firm meeting place. I don‘t even think we remembered their names, they just said to meet them at the Fontainebleau Hotel. No problem. But we had no idea at the time how large this hotel would turn out to be, so now we had no other alternative but to just start looking around.

     We hung out in the lobby for a while at first. I guess we thought that they would just magically appear. After that we went outside and walked across the street to the famous Surf Side 6 houseboat that was docked there and looked around. Then we went back inside. We ran around the hotel hallways and went through the shops, bars, and restaurants. At one point we even blundered into the famous "Boom Boom Room," where there was a nightclub style show going on with someone who looked like Trini Lopez performing on stage. We bopped around in the Boom Boom Room until we were rounded up and ushered out by hotel security. In the end we never found the girls. We would be leaving for the trip home early the next morning, so that was that. 

     The long ride home was uneventful and we ate at most of the same places driving north as we had while driving south. The adult folks were not as talkative at first on the return trip. I suppose they were still feeling the effects of their misdeeds the night before and needed to catch up on some sleep. It had been a very interesting adventure though and whenever I hear the Jimmy Gilbert song Sugar Shack, and Leslie Gores’ She’s A Fool, I am reminded of that trip to Florida, because that was what played so often on the radio. 

Published Excerpts

A Night at Snug Harbor

an excerpt from

The Test Dummy Chronicles

by 

Robert Caleb Potter

This story was published on the web site for the town of Oakdale, NY. I have provided the link below

http://www.oakdaleny.com/welcome/history/past/docs/a_night_at_snug_harbor.htm

an excerpt from

The Test Dummy Chronicles

by

Robert Caleb Potter

This is another story you may link to that was published on the Oakdale, NY web site.

http://www.oakdaleny.com/welcome/history/second_pond/debacle_at_second_pond.htm