By Stephen C. Schultz
His
breathing was heavy and fast. Mucus sprayed from his nostrils and his
cheeks fought the g-forces as if he were a fighter pilot leaving the
deck of an aircraft carrier in an F-16. His neck muscles strained and
his face grimaced as the fight or flight response kicked in. Five;
six; seven now eight steps into his evasive action that was steeped
in athletic prowess and natural instinct, he thought he was in the
clear. Once again, he had cheated death and the angels of mercy had
looked down upon him.
It
didn’t register right away. With each step, the distance grew
larger between him and his immediate threat. It shouldn’t have
happened this way. There was so much to live for. He was in the prime
of his life with family and friends who loved and cared about him. He
didn’t want it to end this way.
The
pain was quick and sharp. It penetrated right in the square of his
back between his shoulder blades. His chest was thrust forward and
his arms flew into the air and backwards as he went to his knees. The
shout, filled with emotion, made its way through the air to his
buddies; “I’ve been hit!”
For
Scott Schultz, his life didn’t end that day. In fact, he scampered
right up, with the help of his friends, and ran the rest of the way
to his third grade classroom at Westmoreland Elementary School in
Eugene, Oregon. While this adrenaline filled experience was real,
there is certainly more to this story.
A
few weeks prior, Scott’s older brother Steve sat in his sixth grade
classroom struggling to concentrate on his math assignment. Mrs.
Sexton was in her last year as an elementary teacher and Steve took
full advantage of her inattentiveness. There were always creative
opportunities for kids with wandering imaginations like Steve had.
One
day Steve was lost in thought (Daydreaming) and thinking about the
lunchroom antics of taking a straw and poking a peach or a small pea
and then shooting the plug out of the straw at unsuspecting peers.
Oh, what a riot that would start! Kids shooting peaches, pears and
peas at each other. The lunch lady would run frantically from table
to table trying to keep those young hooligans under control. It was a
sight to behold!
Then
his thoughts faded to his time spent at his grandparents house and
the shelves of National Geographic Magazines that lined the spare
bedroom. He recalled the times he spent reading about indigenous
peoples and tribes in the jungles of South America or on the desert
plains of Africa. One of the tools of survival always seemed to be a
blow dart weapon of some kind used for hunting as well as war.
What
were the darts made of? How were they constructed? How far could they
shoot? Did the blow gun need to be as long as the pictures he saw, or
could it be short and still be effective? Would a straw work? These
are the thoughts that stirred around in his head as he got up and
walked to the back of the classroom to get a drink.
The
water fountain was simply a spigot attached to the faucet at the
sink. There was a long counter that ran below the windows the full
length of the classroom wall. On the counter were random school
supplies in little boxes; colored paper, pencils, pens, extra glue,
thumb tacks and a manual pencil sharpener bolted to the counter. On
the way back to his desk, Steve simply ran his hand along the counter
and noticed the supplies out of the corner of his eye. With a quick
glance in the direction of Mrs. Sexton, Steve impulsively grabbed a
straight pin and a small spool of thread.
Research
and development took place at random times over the course of the
next couple of weeks. How it all came together, he wasn’t quite
sure. The breakthrough came when he remembered watching his father
tie flies for fishing. There was the little clamp that would hold the
hook and his father would wrap the thread around the hook, binding
feathers and animal fur to make the flies. It was the wrapping of the
thread around the hook and the feathers that caught his attention. He
knew feathers had been used in old times as fletching on
arrows...that was the secret! It all started coming together.
Production
was easier than he thought. He took the thread, folded it in half,
then half again. He continued to do this until he had about two
inches of thread with loops at each end. He placed the loops of one
end of the thread over the head of the straight pin. He put a small
bead of Elmer's Glue over the loops and started wrapping a single
filament of thread around the pin just like a fisherman making a fly.
Then he simply took some scissors and snipped the other end of loops
so there was about an inch of bushy thread extending beyond the head
of the pin. Now...next was the delivery system!
A
straw from the lunch room might work just fine, but it was too
conspicuous. People might notice a straw and wonder; “Hey, why do
you have that straw?” However, no one would ask about a pen.
Especially at school. Students are supposed to have pens. Pens can
hide in plain sight and nobody's the wiser. So, Steve took a pen from
his desk. He pried the plug out of one end and pulled the writing tip
and ink reservoir out with his teeth from the other end. He now had a hollow
tube...Genius!
The
inaugural test wasn’t so genius! While the creativity on the
creation of the dart and delivery system may have been beyond his
years, the testing phase was not. Steve proceeded to twist the dart
into the tapered end of the pen. He concealed the pen in the palm of
his hand and casually leaned back in his chair so he was facing the
ceiling. He brought the pen to his mouth and nonchalantly blew as
hard as he could, making a faint coughing sound as he brought his
hand down and then sat forward in his seat.
The
dart launched out of the pen and proceeded in a straight, unaltering
line directly into the ceiling and stuck there. No one noticed, no
one even looked in Steve's direction. As far as anyone in class knew,
he was just another kid who performed an over dramatic cough. But,
there it was, directly over his head. A small, dark pin dart stuck in
the ceiling above his desk. Would the teacher see it? Not likely!
Would it fall out and hit some kid in the head? Probably not. What if
they found out it was Steve who made it? It couldn’t be proved.
Steve
laid low for the next few days. He didn’t want any attention to
come his way. He did show the dart in the ceiling to his long time
friend Andy Smith, and they chuckled about it, but swore each other
to secrecy. Since the dart was firmly embedded in the ceiling, it was
decided Steve would move production to his home. He spent wistful
time making darts with different colored thread to bring an artistic
aspect to an already creative endeavor. He practiced shooting them
into the wall in his room. He even included his younger brother Scott
in this childhood adventure. The two of them didn’t perceive this
activity any different than shooting marbles out of a homemade
slingshot, firing BB guns at the reservoir or throwing knives at the
big oak tree in the front yard. It’s what kids did in the early
1970’s.
As
sixth graders, Steve and Andy would help Mr. Holt with the other PE
classes on certain days. These classes consisted of students from
first through fifth grade. On the particular day that this story
began, Steve and Andy were assisting Mr. Holt with Scott's third
grade class. As the clean up time at the end of class began, Steve
pulled the lapel of his jacket back and revealed to Scott the pen in
his shirt pocket. A mischievous grin appeared on his face. Scott
immediately knew what this meant and whispered to his classmates they
may be in danger. Anxiety filled the air as Scott realized what may
transpire over the next few minutes of his life.
These
two brothers had a history of engaging in mutual shenanigans. If it
wasn’t sliding down the stairs on cookie sheets, it was riding Big
Wheels down Trillium Street, legs out to the side with the pedals in
a blur. They were always involved in some type of risky behavior that
included bumps on the head, bruises, cuts and scraped knees. This
particular time was no different.
Steve
moved to the door of the gymnasium just as Mr. Holt was dismissing
the class. Outside and to the right of where the door would open,
Steve stood waiting with the pen placed strategically to his lips.
The door burst open with a loud clunk and third graders poured out in
a steady stream of hoots and hollering. Steve waited patiently. Scott
ran out in the middle of the pack, noticed Steve to his right and
kicked his planned escape up a notch. In one fluid motion, Steve
stepped to the center of the breezeway, inhaled through his nose and
exhaled in a short burst that sent the dart gliding effortlessly
through the air and impacting Scott right between the shoulder
blades.
Now,
before anyone contacts the authorities, it’s important to remember
that this took place in Eugene, Oregon in the winter of 1974. The
fashion in those days was to wear a thick flannel shirt and a puffy
down coat. The writer of this story is proud to report that there was
no blood drawn on this particular day!
Steve
was unceremoniously ratted out by witnesses and called down to the
principal's office. He was suspended for a day and given a note to
take home to his parents. Any further mischievous behavior at school
was nipped in the bud and Steve became a model student, well...one
that flew under the radar anyway!
If
you enjoyed this childhood story of the Schultz Brothers, here are a
few more you can check out.
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