C'est moi. Another Mr. Eha's Place Picture Page
Number 17

 

Herb's alligator farm This is one of Herb's enterprises down in Florida. He tried to get me to invest in this alligator farm, but knowing Herb, I didn't think that would be a prudent use of my money. It's a good thing, too, because one of his "farmhands" --well, the story is rather too gruesome for my all-ages pages, so I won't disclose what happened, but Herb had to close down operations, dispose of all the alligators, and sell the farm to settle the ensuing lawsuit brought against him by the surviving family. It was about this time that he began spending more time in Montana than in Florida.
Ride 'em, Hector! A photograph of the third Boomschmidt brother, the indolent and nearly useless Hector, riding on Leo. I don't recollect offhand, (and I am much too busy to consult my research notes), but I do not believe that Hector is ever mentioned in the Freddy series. The Freddyite scholars at the mailing list might be able to say one way or the other, so you'll have to ask them.
Harold Huge Speaking of the Boomschmidts, I saved this old Boomschmidt banner of "Harold Huge" from the rubbish heap after Harold had to leave the show owing to his suffering a heart attack during one of the circus's trips through Centerboro, the poor fellow. I find it curious that Mr. Brooks never once mentions the Boomschmidt freak show because such shows were standard features of almost all circuses back then. (Incidentally, America is much heftier now than back then, and some of the folks I see gorging themselves at the local fast food troughs in Centerboro approach the proportions of Harold, so he would probably be less of a curiosity today, eh?)
Miss Elmira Camphor and friend Speaking of huge, how's this for a swine? Quite magnificent, I'd say. This is a youngish Miss Elmira Camphor standing next to one of the Macy hogs at the Oteseraga County Fair. I am not familiar enough with the swine family to say what breed this is, but it looks like a beast that you would not wish to provoke, though Macy's pigs were by and large gentle creatures. If you asked nicely, Macy would even allow you to ride one of the bigger fellows around the farmyard--but only after you did a chore or two and only after the pigs had been fed and were more or less relaxed and torpid. More than once I was surprised at just how quick and agile these creatures are. Miss Elmira, you may be surprised to know (if all you know of her comes from Mr. Brooks's portrayal of her in Freddy Goes Camping ), was quite the lively lass. An accomplished dancer, pianist, and conversationalist, she was always the hit of any party--and next to me, she may be the most misrepresented character in the Freddy books.
Massive Coombs pumpkins Farmer Coombs produced some mighty large pumpkins back in the early part of the last century. One year my father thought it would be nice to buy me one for my birthday, which, as you know, is Oct. 31. Using a keyhole saw, a big kitchen knife, and a shovel, Dad carved a splendid jack-o'-lantern for me. One afternoon, Herb and I thought it would be a keen stunt to crawl inside. Within minutes, that odious Freddy who had been lurking nearby with some of his cronies, rolled the pumpkin into the middle of Clinton Street and left us there to peer out of its upside-down grin until some motorists kindly rolled us back into the yard.
Fossilized Martian eggs I know you will find this difficult to believe, but this is a clutch of Martian eggs in actual Martian soil! I am revealing this image for the first time ever to further my campaign to reveal The Truth™ about the Martian visitation to Centerboro. Herb and I obtained these eggs from the Martians' hatchery in their saucer in 1955. Originally, Herb and I planned to hatch them and sell them at a very high price to some zoo or museum. (Herb, of course, will have no memory of this, being a victim of the Martians' amnesia agent.) The Martians produce so many eggs (and lose interest in them right after they're fertilized) that they never missed these. Well, the eggs never did hatch, so I blew the contents out, covered the eggs and the soil with several coats of clear varnish, and hid the specimens under my bed in a shoebox--which the government agents missed when they ransacked my house. I invite any real scientists to visit me here in Centerboro to examine this marvelous specimen.

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