Bell Ringing

Bell Ringing

Noel Laflin

11-15-15

Gladis and Gene Bergner

There was a tradition at the old Scout office on Bear Street, way back in the 1970’s, of ringing a rather large, loud bell when a new Cub pack, Scout troop, or Explorer post was formed.

When that bell sounded, folks stopped what they were doing and went on over to congratulate the guy responsible for making all the noise.

Numbers were important to professional Scouting, as it ensured gainful employment.  The ringing of that bell signified further job security as a new pack, troop, or post meant new members, which then meant matching funds from the United Way, which ultimately meant the continuation of our council and the professionals keeping their jobs.  Hearing that bell ring for the first time in the fall of 1976 was my first life lesson in Sales 101: you wanted to be the guy ringing it on a fairly regular basis.

But the best memory of that clapper striking metal happened the morning after Gene and Gladis Bergner came to town and lent me a hand in the formation of a new Cub Scout Pack.  You can always count on Ahwahnee folk to get a job done right.
 

It wasn’t planned – but that’s the joy and surprise in happenstance - that, and a bottle of cheap wine.

You see, prior to meeting of a room full of squirrely eight and nine-year-olds later that evening, the Bergners had dinner at my apartment.  I have no idea what I prepared, but there was wine - I do remember the cheap wine.  And Gene and I had just a bit too much.

Now, I had not planned on asking my old friend to accompany me to the meeting, but he jumped at the chance when he learned that there was an audience involved.

 

“Do you think they’d like the Walrus Hunt song?” Gene asked excitedly.

“Most definitely, boss,” I replied.

“Great!” Gene shouted.  “Let’s go!”

The only problem was, he and I were too impaired to drive.

I was about to phone one of the district volunteers, informing them that they'd be on their on for this meeting, when Gladis - bless her heart - kindly spoke up and offered to chauffeur.

So, off we changed – Gene was always prepared as there was a spare uniform in their camper – and Gladis drove us to the meeting.

Now, I had done all of the needed preliminaries for this hoped-for Cub pack that would be sponsored by an elementary school in Lake Forest.  I had spoken to all of the second, third and fourth grade classes the day prior, and handed out fliers to every boy in every classroom.  The fliers were addressed to the parents, urging them to come to a meeting at the school on Wednesday night and learn about Cub Scouting.  It was the standard drill.  There were meetings like this at nearly every elementary school across the country, throughout the fall, as this was the primary time for number crunching and hitting your membership goals.

Well, folks turned out that night. And, as many of you well know, if you put Gene in front of any curious crowd, he’s going to win them over – Walrus Hunt song or not.  And that night, nearly forty years ago, was no different.

The folks of Lake Forest loved the song, by the way.

 

By the end of the evening we had a cub master, two assistants, committee members, four den leaders and forty-five kids signed up as Cub Scouts in this brand new pack.  There were even calls from the audience for Gene to be the cub master.  I thought he was going to accept at one point, until I reminded him that he lived a hundred miles away.  He then politely declined the proposed draft and went on with the jovial dog-and-pony show.

The ringing of the bell the next morning, despite the slight hangover, was music to my ears and a memory that I cherish.