Trouble in a History Class (Cont.)
Screen 2 of 3I do not remember where the idea for such a "firearm" came from. It may or may not have been original with me. I do remember quite well, however, what had to be done to make this thing ready to explode. First, pinch off the head of an old fashioned "kitchen match" and push that small head down inside the hollow shaft of the key. Next, find a nail just large enough to fit loosely inside the key and then insert it part way into the shaft. Finally, tie one end of a piece of string to the head of the nail and the other end to the handle of the key. That was it. This odd piece could be carried "at the ready" with the hand at the middle of the string; and it could be "set off" at any moment merely by hitting either the head of the nail or the handle of the key against just any hard, vertical surface. Such a blow would drive the nail inside and down to the bottom of the key shaft, where it would strike and explode the match head, making a loud noise. And I had found by experimentation that two or three match heads used as "ammunition" would make a much louder sound.
When I was not expecting to "fire" this mechanism, I kept it in my pocket with the nail not inside the key, in order to avoid an accidental explosion.
On this particular day, Mr. Oller's history class was about as usual, except perhaps duller and more boring. He was looking out the window, most of the students were talking, and some of them were walking aimlessly around the room. What an opportune time, I thought, to have a little excitement! I remember I was seated near the back and in a row of seats next to the wall. That nearby wall and the occasional rattle of the nail and key in my pocket gave me a mischievous idea. Why not? I asked myself.
So I began to "load" this home-made noise maker. Some might have called it a toy cannon, but since it used only blank ammunition, I knew it couldn't hurt anyone.
I broke the tips off three matches and carefully shoved them down into the hollow column of the key. I remember thinking at the time that this was similar to the muzzle loading done in the Civil War--a process Mr. Oller had explained to us earlier in the fall. The key I was using came from the corner music cabinet in our home. I had not told my mother about taking it, since I felt I was only "borrowing" it temporarily. This particular key appealed to me because it was both a fancy brass one and also big enough to hold several match heads, making it especially suited for situations calling for big noises.
Next, I very gently placed the pointed end of the nail into the open end of the key and quietly adjusted the rig for action. Then, holding it lightly at my side by the string, I waited until Mr. Oller was again looking out the window and no one was paying any attention to me. The proper moment soon came and with a big swing I hit the head of the nail sharply against the wall!
The resulting report was deafening--far louder than I had expected. Unlike the sharp crack of a .22 rifle, it was more like the firing of a giant five-inch firecracker, or perhaps a .44 revolver I had read about in some of the Zane Gray westerns. This sudden noise not only scared and quieted everyone in the room; it also reverberated over and over throughout the entire building. Later, one of my friends in another class told me that even at the other end of the hall on the next floor down it sounded like a blast of dynamite.
All this was a surprise to me, since I had never set off this thing inside a house or building. All my experiments had been done out of doors. Apparently, the hard floors, the tiled walls, and the metal lockers lining the halls of our high school magnified the sound and kept it echoing back and forth.
Immediately after I hit the nail against the wall, I regretted doing it. Especially did I feel guilty about the whole thing when I saw Mr. Oller's violent reaction to the shock. His body stiffened and jerked noticeably, but he did not turn around. He just continued to stare out the window. I wondered why I had done such a thing to him, for I did not really dislike this man. I pitied him and along with my classmates had often joked about the odd things he would say and do. But I never wanted to hurt or embarrass him. And yet the thoughtless deed was done and I had to live with it.
Almost before the smoke settled--at least, before any of us in the room had time to discuss what had happened--the classroom door was suddenly flung open, and in rushed the principal, Miss Nina McGinnis.
[CONTENTS OF VOL. 4]
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