Along the walls were examples of preliminary and final drawings for some of Dr. Losotu’s more famous inventions. “Many of these were done in partnership with Chang,” Samora explained, “such as the Ding-Dong-So-Long, the Hotcakes, and the Drain Gun. There were also some other inventions that hadn’t worked so well. Two of them were the Rocket Shoes and the Shower Bed.”
“What can you tell us about these?” Janice asked.
Our guide laughed. “My great-grandfather was always looking for fun ways to use steam power or to make mundane household chores automatic. These were two of his less-than-successful attempts. As you can see from that photograph, the Rocket Shoes had a frame with four small wheels that could be attached and adjusted to fit an average man’s shoes. A tank of highly compressed air was strapped to the person’s back and tubes ran from the tank to each of the shoes. When the person was ready to go, he pulled on a starter cord. That released the compressed air and propelled the person forward.”
“That sounds like fun!”
“It would have been fun if it worked. Unfortunately, the wearer would usually flip upside down. His shoes would fly off and land as far as a mile or two down the road. One set of shoes flew across the river and kicked a boat around until it sank! Another pair zoomed down the road and crushed one of our berry fields into grape juice! It was a real mess.
“Mfana had to give up on the idea when a third pair got loose and ran around town for about thirty minutes. They broke into the town hall, chased the mayor up the stairs, and finally ran out of steam, but not before they’d kicked the mayor over his desk.”
“Sound like the Rocket Shoes were a problem from the very start,” I said.
“Not as bad as the Shower Bed. It worked most of the time—with one small problem. Probably why Mfana couldn’t find anyone who was willing to use it.”
“What did it do?” Ruth wanted to know, staring at the drawing.
“As you can see, it was a single bed with a tub underneath and surrounded by a waterproof roof and curtain. A person would lie down on the bed, set the alarm, and go to sleep. When the alarm went off, an agitator pulled the blankets and sheets off the bed and down into the tub. The sprayer turned on and the sleeper got a morning wake-up shower—and his pajamas, blankets, and sheets got washed all in one operation.”
“Who’d want to wake up like that?” I tried to imagine waking up in the shower wearing wet pajamas.
Samora chuckled. “The real problem was when a per-son’s pajamas got caught in the sheets and he got pulled down into the tub. A small flaw in the design.”
Jonny laughed. “We ought to get one of these for Ruth. She has trouble getting up in the morning.”
“Very funny,” Ruth mumbled, punching Jonny in the shoulder.
Samora continued “Come over here to the center of the room. This is something my great-grandfather invented that everyone loves.”
She took us over to a flat platform covered in what appeared to be a deflated hot-air balloon or parachute. She bent over and flipped a switch. We could hear the sound of air being pumped and we watched as the balloon began to inflate. As it filled it took on a square shape, like a huge slice of bread, about ten feet square and two feet thick. It quickly rose into the air, trailing ropes underneath.
“Even though the helium-filled wings of the airplane were a failure, my grandfather’s one-week trip to Idaho gave him plenty of time to think. Without food or water or a bed to sleep on, he thought how nice it would be to f loat up in the sky, carrying some basic provisions, with a means to descend at will. That’s when he came up with the idea for the Sky Camper. Jonny, hurry up and climb in!”
Jonny scrambled over the edge of the platform and through the door of the camper. Soon the flat balloon rose up to the ceiling, taking Jonny and the expandable room with it. The sleeping area of the camper had been hidden underneath, but was now fully expanded. It was complete with small, net-covered windows and a helium-filled floor. A tether hung down through a hole in the floor and was anchored firmly to the platform.
“The camper is able to hold one average-sized person and enough supplies for one overnight stay. The balloon and helium tanks are portable, so you can travel out to a remote location, fill the balloon, climb aboard, and enjoy an evening aloft. You see the tether coming through the floor from inside? Pull on the tether when you want to descend; release it to return aloft. The windows zip down so you can look out. The balloon acts as a roof to keep you dry in case it rains. It even comes with a battery-powered lantern so you can read at night. Until you’ve spent an evening camping out in the sky, you haven’t been camping!”
Jonny looked down at us from above. “Dad! We’ve got to buy one of these!”
The drifting Sky Camper made me feel queasy. “What happens when it gets windy?”
Samora answered, “That’s when it really gets exciting!”
“I can only imagine.” I shuddered at the thought.
The kids were delighted with the invention and took turns in the floating Sky Camper. But there was still so much to see. Nearby was a long glass case with four strange objects inside. The first one was a dome-shaped box, with latches on the side, a round opening at one end, and a fan unit on top. Samora pulled the deflate cord on the Sky Camper and came over and joined us.
“That’s called the Pet Parlor. You put your dog or cat inside. The head fits through that adjustable opening. Once it’s closed, you plug in the hose and pump in hot, soapy steam. It’s basically a variation on the self-cleaning bathroom. The air fan turns on, and the dog or cat comes out clean and dry.”
Sarah said, “Effeneff wouldn’t like that very much.”
Jonny asked, “Does it come in a sister-size?”
Sarah and Ruth both punched his arm.
“Ow!” Jonny cried.
I pointed at the second object. “What about this?”
“That’s the Hair Vacuum. Put it on over your head and attach the hose to a regular vacuum cleaner. It’s great for removing dandruff or straightening hair.”
“And this?”
“The Naughty Nanny. It’s a magnetic belt that connects at the back. If one of your children misbehaves, you put this around her waist and stick her to a metal surface, like a washing machine or refrigerator. That way you can keep an eye on her while she thinks about what she’s done.”
“Very nice,” I said, glancing at Sarah. “Where can I buy one of those?”
“Look in the Sears and Roebuck catalog. They come in three different sizes.”
Samora continued. “Next we have the Baseball Bazooka. That was actually invented by my father, based on an earlier design by my great-sgrandfather. Here. Let’s take it out of the case, and I’ll show you how it works.”
She pulled a small key out of the pocket of her dress and opened the glass door. From a cabinet underneath she handed Jonny a baseball bat and Ruth a catcher’s mitt and she grabbed a canvas bag filled with rubber balls.
“Let’s put this exhibit away. That will give us the space we need.”
We walked to the main door where Samora flipped the switch. The inventions exhibit disappeared into the floor. We moved out into the center of the room while Jonny and Ruth took up positions near the wall. Samora described the features of the bazooka.
“There’s a rechargeable canister of compressed air in the stock. Up here is where you insert the balls. They’re made of rubber—just for practice—so we don’t have to worry about breaking anything. You just point, aim, and pull the trigger.”
The gun went off with a loud pop and the ball flew from the gun past Jonny’s swinging bat and smack into Ruth’s mitt.
“I surprised you with that one,” Samora said. “Let’s see if you can hit this!”
She pulled the trigger and another ball flew across the room. This time Jonny was ready and he whacked the ball off the back wall.
“Home run!” we all cheered.
Samora adjusted a knob on the side of the gun. “If you twist t
his knob, you can change the trajectory of the ball. Turn it up and it will throw a curve ball. Turn it down and it will throw a sinker. Watch this.” She pulled the trigger again and Jonny swung through a diving curve ball.
“My turn!” Sarah shouted as she ran and took the bat.
Samora adjusted the knob again and shot her a slow knuckle ball. Sarah missed, but with a little practice she finally hit a grounder that bounced off the left wall and into the “outfield.”
We played for another five minutes, but it was getting late and we still had two exhibits to see. We gathered at the control panel and watched as the Hall of Records rose into view. This time there were shelves of books and drawers full of old newspapers. There were catalogs and maps and photographs hanging on the walls and documents and records and letters behind glass frames. We found several photos of Chang and Dr. Losotu and pictures of the miners in the early days of Boomtown and the picture of President William H. Taft posing with the Hopontops and photos of other famous Boomtownians throughout the years.
Personally, I could have stayed there forever thumbing through the old books (one of my passions) or listening to some of the old music from the record collection or reading the earliest copies of the Stickville Times. But the children got bored quickly and kept asking Janice and me to hurry up. They wanted to pull the unmarked knob, the one hiding the big surprise.
“Okay, okay,” I said, finally giving in. “Go ahead. I’ll come back here on my own some other day.” We stood to the side as I watched with some regret the Hall of Records disappear.
Samora said, “By now you must have discovered my great-grandfather’s love for children. Kids know how to play and invent and dream big dreams. He got some of his best ideas from children, so he wanted to give them a place where they could come and play, like the swing in the conservatory. And this,” she said, pulling the fourth and final activator with a flourish. “The racetrack!”
Side compartments in the four walls slid open. Inside were large canvas bags that began to inflate. In seconds, a soft, cushioned wall of air surrounded the perimeter. A short circular wall, also cushioned by air, rose up from the floor to form an enclosed center area with an opening at each end. Four cushioned cars, looking very much like marshmallows on wheels, rose into view. In two corners of the room, a narrow driveway with guardrails on each side slid into place.
“Welcome to the Boomtown Racetrack!” announced Samora with a wave of her hand. “Over here, Jonny, Sarah, Ruth. Come and pick out your car.”
They ran across the floor and over to the four parked cars. Each one was marked with a number and had a steering wheel, an accelerator handle and brakes, and a soft helmet sitting on the seat. They hopped in, put on their helmets and seat belts, and waited impatiently for Samora to tell them what to do.
“These cars are driven by steam power,” she explained. “Each has a tank with pressurized steam. Squeeze the handle on the steering wheel to make the car go forward. The harder you squeeze, the faster you go, but only up to the speed limit. Release the handle and use the brake to stop. You can only drive in one direction, beginning at the starting line. You have to go ten laps to win, but the cars will only go about seven laps on one tank of steam. That’s what the two stations in the corner are for.”
Samora gestured and said, “You’ll start to feel your car slow down. That’s when you want to pull into the station. Drive in the open end, and the station will automatically capture your car and bring you to a stop. A steam hose is guided through a slot underneath each car, and a fresh load of steam will be injected into your tank. It’s up to you to decide when to recharge your car—in the fifth, sixth, or even seventh lap.
“But don’t wait too long! You’ll run out of steam short of the station. If that happens, you have to move the car using the bicycle pedals down there on the front axle. You don’t want to have to do that!”
Jonny’s mind was racing. “Do you have to wait for a full charge—or can you take off before it’s full?”
“Good question. You can take off anytime you want. Just squeeze the handle. Winning a race depends on making good guesses and perfect timing. It’s not about how fast you go, but how smart you go.”
We pushed the cars over to the starting line. Samora took Holly into her arms and handed me the starter’s flag and Janice the checkered flag.
I raised the green flag and shouted, “On your mark, get set . . . GO!”
With a wave and a shout, they were off. Jonny took an early lead, but Ruth was a close second. They circled the track, once, twice, three times. Jonny and Ruth were neck and neck. Sarah was way behind, but she decided to pull over after only five laps and recharge her car. Ruth pulled over after six. Jonny waited too long, and his car ran out of steam at the beginning of the seventh lap. He was forced to pedal his car into the station. By then, Sarah was way out in front with a freshly charged tank. She easily took the checkered flag.
“I won! I won! I won!” she yelled, jumping up and down. Then she stopped. “What did I win?”
“As the winner of the first race of the day, you’ve won a mini race car of your very own.” Samora went over to one of the walls and opened a cabinet. “Here it is. A yellow one to match your hair.”
“Look, Dad! I won a little toy car! How does it work?”
Samora said, “You see the hole here at the back? That’s where you insert this little air valve. Hook it to a bicycle pump and you can recharge the small air tank inside the car. Flip this switch and the car will race across the room or down the sidewalk. Another one of my great-grandfather’s favorite inventions.”
“That’s really swell! Thanks!”
They pushed the cars into the stations and recharged their tanks. Then they lined up again. Jonny learned his lesson from the first race and won the second. Ruth took the third. Sarah won the fourth. By then it was almost 5 p.m. and we had to get home. I was preaching in the morning and we had to get Holly fed and put to bed and the children ready for the next day.
“We really have to go. Kids, make sure you thank Samora for everything.”
They each hugged her and she promised them as we left, “Come back to the museum anytime during the week after school—as long as your homework is done. The kids in Boomtown have races almost every night of the week.”
“Thank you, we will!”
Jonny was interested in the music classes, and we promised to talk to Samora’s sister that week to get a schedule. I wanted to come back as soon as I could to get a closer look at the Hall of Records. Janice was interested in volunteering in the conservatory. All of us were exhausted, but excited from our visit.
Samora led us to the door and waved as we walked down the sidewalk and into the dark, snowy night. The children chattered happily all the way home, and we all agreed we’d never had so much fun in one day in our entire lives.
Of course, until then, we’d never been to the Spring Fever Festival.
CHAPTER 11
Spring Fever Festival
The winters in upper eastern Washington can be long and severe. Nestled up against the North Cascade mountain range in the Okanogan territory and only eighty miles from the border of Canada, Boomtown typically experiences winter temperatures averaging thirty degrees or below. The frigid winds blowing down from the mountains can drift the snow as high as five feet deep. Snow begins to fall in late October and lingers until the last freeze in March or sometimes early April. A person trapped indoors for five months can develop a terminal case of cabin craziness. That’s why the folks in Boomtown look forward to the Spring Fever Festival like a six-year-old waits for his birthday cake.
Janice and I woke up one icy Saturday morning and found a hastily written note explaining where everyone had gone. Ruth was out with her friends working on the Snow Castle. Sarah was out at Fred Cotton’s place, and Jonny had gone to meet his buddies at Slippery Slope. Busy was there with seven other boys when he arrived.
“Hey, Jon, watcha got there?”
“It’s a rope. Got it from the Reynolds’ farm.”
“It’s really long. What’s it for?”
“Let’s go on up to the top and I’ll show you.”
Busy and Rocky and the other guys followed Jonny as they hiked up Slippery Slope. This was a huge hill on Lazy Gunderson’s farm. By the second or third day of January, after two weeks of sledding during the winter school break, the hillside would be transformed into a solid sheet of ice, one foot thick, slick as glass, glistening like a jewel in the cold winter sunlight. The ice slide was on the lee-side of a hill and shaded by pine trees. Depending on the weather, it could last well into April and sometimes May.
Most kids in Boomtown couldn’t afford to buy sleds and probably wouldn’t even if they could. It was a lot more fun to make a sled out of whatever flotsam a kid could lay his hands on. One favorite was to build some runners and a deck out of scrap wood. Mount an old chair on top and away you went! Another popular idea was to take a pair of your father’s overalls, soak them in water and hang them on the clothes-line overnight. By morning, you’d have a rock-hard sled with shoulder straps for handles. Take it out to Slippery Slope and you could go as fast as a horse buggy on a windy day. Nothing to worry about; Lazy Gunderson made sure the kids were safe; he always built a wall out of hay bales for the kids to crash into if they sailed off the end of the slide.
At the top of the hill, the boys found an old rototiller up-side down and tied to a tree. The tiller blades had been removed and a rubber tire was in their place. Jonny laid out the rope and asked Busy and Frank to help him loop it between the tire and a bicycle wheel hub that had been bolted to the tree.
“What’s this contraption for?” Rocky asked.
“It’s a ski lift, like they got out at ski resorts,” Jonny answered. “You know, one of them rope pullers that can pull you up a hill?”
“That’s really swell. You build it? Where’d it come from?”
Jonny glanced around to make sure there weren’t any grown-ups nearby. “I got it from him. He helped me move it here and set it up. It was his idea.”
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