To get us in the mood for a chivaree, "visitors" made sure our bed collapsed the second night we were home from our honeymoon. The slats had been sawed almost through.

The next morning when I left the house our landlord was out in his yard. We exchanged greetings, then he asked how we were doing. I replied to him "Not worth a durn, we spent the night on the floor. Our bed collapsed."

He didn't say a word, just turned and walked into his garage. He soon came back out with a big grin on his face, and a bundle of 1x4's on his shoulder. He said, "Some of your friends stopped by here and left these with me last week. They said you'd probably be needing them."

From then on every evening I hid our car in the landlord's barn, and made a point of locking the front door (we didn't have a back door). The door didn't fit well, and I had to kick the bottom of it. Then I'd bump it with my knee to make sure the lock had fully engaged.

After a couple of weeks we started thinking we had lucked out, and we got a little careless. I quit hiding the car, and occasionally my wife would lock the door.

On the night of the chivaree, she locked the door. But she didn't kick it quite hard enough.

About 1 a.m. we heard several shotgun blasts at our bedroom window, and at the same time the front door popped open and soon several people entered our bedroom.

My wife's younger brother wanted to pull the sheet off, but older and wiser heads prevailed. After we got presentable we went into the living room to visit with the group of people who were crowded in there.

Between the living room and the front yard we were hosts to 40 or 50 friends and family members, and a few people we didn't even know. Somehow they got invited to come along and join in the fun. That sometimes happened in the spirit of the chivaree.

Everyone was drinking beer or soda pop and eating snacks. They were afraid we wouldn't have any refreshments on hand, so before they came to the house they went by Tee-Pee Town, a local liquor store, and convinced the owner, Chub Armstrong, to charge the refreshments to me. It cost me $35. I was only making $45 per week.

They brought an iron-wheeled wheelbarrow with them, and had me take my wife for a ride down the gravel driveway. When that was finished they decided to throw me in a nearby pond. I made it so rough on them that they stopped at a water tank and dumped me in it instead.

While we were outside, some of our dear friends and/or relatives removed the labels from all of our canned goods, and dumped salt, pepper and cracker crumbs in our bed.

Around 3:30 a.m. everyone told us what a good time they'd had, and left us with the mess. Of course, over the next several years we returned the favor to several of the participants.

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