'Great Lakes' box filled with memories of many great laughs
By LAVERNE HAMMOND
Published April 27, 2004
A box stored in my locker labeled "Great Lakes" caught my eye the other day. In it were bits and pieces of my life when I worked at the U.S. Naval Training Station at Great Lakes, Ill., during World War II.
I found notes from conversations I had with a group of fun-loving recruits. It reminded me that there were some lighter moments during those war years.
Recruits were pouring through the gates of Great Lakes daily, either as volunteers or draftees. Many of them, still in their teens, landed in the IBM room of our accounting department. I had many occasions to work with them as assistant head of the payroll division.
To ease the seriousness of the war, there was a lot of banter. The boys enjoyed telling sailor jokes, always opening their barbs with the question "Did you ever hear the one about the dumb gob who . . ." It got to be a contest of who could come up with the most ridiculous anecdote about this fictitious sailor. They created a running story about the hopeless guy.
Their boyish exchanges were amusing and helped lighten the evening's work. By today's standards their "dumb gob" jokes would be corny, but here are a few that I had jotted down:
"He was the one who went to a lumber yard to see his draft board."
"He was the one who stayed up all night and studied for his blood test."
"He lived on a farm but moved to town when he heard the country was at war."
"He was so modest that he even went into the closet to change his mind."
"He thought a mushroom was a room to neck in."
"He came to a party with a ladder. When asked, "Why the ladder?' he replied, "Oh, I heard the drinks were on the house!' "
"He was invited to join the guys at a bar in town. He decided to do a little shopping, and when he realized that he was running late, he jumped on a streetcar. When he reached his stop, two ladies got on as he rose to embark. He became upset when he heard the ladies whisper, so he backed out of the streetcar. When the guys asked him why he backed out, he replied, "I heard one of the ladies whisper, "Let's grab his seat.' "
Our hero was a country boy, the recruits said. One night in the barracks, he talked about what life was like on the farm where he lived before he joined the Navy:
"He often took hay to bed with him to feed his nightmares."
"At times he took his bike to bed with him so he didn't have to walk in his sleep."
"He took a tape measure to bed with him when he wanted to know how long he slept."
"When the guys told him that his life on the farm sounded boring, he said, "Oh, no. We would often cut a hole in the rug to see the dirty floor show.' "
When the gob finally decided to get married, he was allowed to live on shore and commute. But we learned that he had met his match: "She poured whiskey on her Victory Garden so that she could serve her husband stewed tomatoes."
And then "when she got pregnant, our enterprising husband checked around for a store nearby that had free delivery."
That was the last story I heard about the "dumb gob." I am sure there were many other tales, but I left the station to get married.
Recently when I was shopping with a friend, an elderly man approached us and asked if we would like to hear a good joke.
When we hesitated, he assured us, "It's clean!" Then, before we had a chance to reply, he told his joke: "What did one bedbug say to the other bedbug?" Smiling broadly, he leaned forward and said softly, "See you in the spring."
We laughed heartily and that pleased the man greatly. As he walked away smiling, I noticed an emblem on his cap. He was a Navy veteran.
I wondered if he could have been one of those boys in our IBM room at Great Lakes, still faithful to his storytelling days.
LaVerne Hammond, who divides her time between Wisconsin and Florida, is at work on her memoirs. Write her in care of Seniority, St. Petersburg Times, P.O. Box 1121, St. Petersburg, FL 33731.
