A Laugh Worth Remembering

Welcome to the October 2015 edition of Jud’s New England Journal, the rather curious monthly musings of Judson Hale, the Editor-in-Chief of Yankee Magazine, published in Dublin, N.H. for the last 80 years. A Laugh Worth Remembering It seems like yesterday…   All my life (so far), I’ve had a tendency to remember laughs better than names. I’m not referring to jokes so much as just pure and simple laughter. For instance, one of my most memorable laughs occurred 57 years ago. It was a Saturday morning. I’d been working for Yankee Magazine since the previous Monday and, yes, we often worked on Saturday mornings back then. I was at my desk on the second floor at our office here in Dublin, N.H. Robb Sagendorph, who founded Yankee Magazine eighty years ago (and purchased The Old Farmer’s Almanac four years later) was downstairs in the only bathroom, unmarked incidentally. At some point, I became aware of an elderly woman’s quavering voice crying out from someplace on the first floor, “Hallooo…anybody home?” I started down the stairs but stopped when I realized Robb was taking care of the matter. “Oh, you’re Robb Sagendprph,” I heard her exclaim. Then a different lady’s voice chimed in with, “We’ve seen you on What’s My Line.” Then a third voice added “And I’ve Got a Secret”.Robb was mumbling something I couldn’t quite understand as the ladies continued with, “We didn’t expect to meet the famous Robb Sagendorph himself this morning” and “Aren’t we the lucky ones!” all in an onslaught of enthusiasm, each voice overlapping the others. I’d decided I’d better help him out. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, the scene before me was one I’ll never forget. There were three nicely-dressed elderly ladies standing around Robb, who was sitting down, a weak smile on his face as he looked up at them. Odd, because Robb would not ordinarily remain sitting while ladies in the room were standing. He was always a gentleman, in every sense of the old-fashioned word. Unbeknownst to the three ladies, however, Robb was sitting on the toilet. I could see his pants crumpled around his feet but the newspapers he’d been reading more or less covered his bare knees. The ladies were now wishing to purchase subscriptions to Yankee so Robb began to write their names and address on a small pad he carried in his shirt pocket. At the point where he had to accept their money and make change from his wallet, which he took from his pants pocket lying at his feet, I turned slowly and climbed back up the stairs. My presence would only make matters worse. About ten minutes later, Robb trudged up the stairs. I could still hear the happy chatter of the ladies now but now they were outside in the parking lot. Yankee’s circulation had increased by three. Robb sat down at his desk and worked in silence for about fifteen minutes. I wasn’t about to talk about what I’d witnessed – but he’d caught a glimpse of me down there anyway. “You know, Jud,” he said finally, “we’ve got to come up with something for visitors to do around here other than seeing the Editor sitting on the john.” Then we both laughed until tears ran down our faces. And that was eventually the beginning of our gift shop. Something for visitors “to do.” And, oh, yes, we did put a sign on the bathroom door, too.