Harry Wellington Foxx
Harry Wellington Foxx is six foot three, and his name isn't Harry Wellington Foxx, but he likes the sound of the name, and it gave him a comedy routine to work on. Harry is the most prodigious fellow that I know. He can drink a can of beer faster than God, and he can hit a golf ball farther than Jack Nicholas.
He dug a hole in his front yard and covered it with a piece of plywood and placed the sod over the plywood so that it was impossible to tell where the hole was unless he showed you. Harry would keep his Playboys in the hole and any other contraband that he didn’t want his mother to see. She was Catholic and wouldn’t put up with Harry's blasphemous behavior. A postman was delivering the mail, and he unfortunately walked over the hole and crashed to the ground and broke his leg. Harry denied any knowledge of the hole, and he tried to blame the act an some of the kids who occupied the neighborhood. The issue was never resolved, but momma had her suspicions.
When the Russians put their Sputnik into orbit, Harry thought he’d do the same. He built a rocket and gathered a crowd and held the launching in the middle of the street In front of the church. When Harry has an audience he knows how to milk them for everything they have. He passed the hat to help defray the cost, and he had his older brother selling refreshments. The older boys would buy beer, and I understand that Harry somehow got it free. Harry lit the fuse and the rocket took off and crashed through the window of the church and went through two rows of pews and stuck in the third. If it had been Sunday, he would have killed twenty people. The crowd disappeared and Harry went into hiding, but the police found him and he had to face his mother. Harry is in Sioux Falls now running book.