Perfectly Planned Pranks

Playskool Counting Eggs

Jory had a great sense of humor and a contagious laugh.  He enjoyed pranks, but was always careful that no one was offended or hurt by them.  He was inspired and mentored by his older brother Darren, who wrapped rubber snakes around the milk carton and exchanged all the eggs in the refrigerator with plastic Playskool look-a-like counting eggs.  Silly antics occurred spontaneously throughout the year, but April 1st jokes were an annual event in our home.  Darren always led his brothers in some kind of practical joke, usually targeting me.  They were silly and fun, never malicious.  And the kids got great joy out of watching their mother scream as she opened the refrigerator to a find a nest of snakes, or other “surprises.” Jory’s abounding creativity and love for silliness resulted in some great pranks.

Jory in flat top haircut

His best elementary school lark, about which he never said a word and was never caught, was on classmate Jeff Johnson.  Late at night after being put to bed, Jory secretly listened to satirical, off beat music.  He became Dr. Demento’s devoted radio listener and fan, joyfully singing a repertoire of “Fish Heads,” “Dead Puppies,” and “They’re Coming to Take Me Away.”  Soon, all his classmates at school sang along.

Jory was never one of the “in crowd” and never wanted to be, but Jeff Johnson was someone whom he liked and admired.  He even convinced us to let him cut his curly hair into a flattop, just like Jeff’s.  Jeff became the innocent recipient of Jory’s sixth grade prank. I unknowingly became an accomplice when I took Jory with me to the supermarket one day after a school field trip.  While I was shopping, Jory meandered over to the fresh fish counter, where he asked the butcher if he could have the huge decapitated fish head resting on the chipped ice.  

Tuna Fish Head

“Of course,” replied the butcher, with a wink, wrapping the parcel in white paper and labeling it N/C (No Charge) in red ink.  Jory thanked him as he tucked it under his jacket and out of sight from Mom’s eyes.  

The next day, while the class filed out the door for recess, Jory silently slipped the parcel into Jeff’s desk.  Upon returning, Jeff lifted his desktop to find a surprise package.  All the kids gathered around him as he began to unwrap the white paper with the red N/C inscription.  Even the teacher came to investigate.  Soon, girls began squealing and laughter filled the room.

“Where did that come from?” asked Mrs. Britt.  Jeff shrugged his shoulders.  “Take it out to the trash bin in front of the school.”

Jeff rewrapped the fish head and did as he was told, except that he hid the package instead of tossing it into the trash bin.  After school, he retrieved his fish head and took it home to his mother.  He never found out who had gifted it to him until Jory posted it on Facebook, 25 years later.

Nate and Jory after Troy H.S. Graduation

There were other schoolboy pranks throughout the years, but Jory culminated high school with one last event after Troy High School’s graduation ceremony.  The ceremony was complete and the graduates were celebrating by tossing their hats into the air.  Suddenly, there were dozens of flying saucers sailing above the graduates.  Graduates were jumping into the sky to catch and relaunch them.  Jory and his best buddy Nate were at the center, laughing their heads off.  Jory had smuggled tortillas into graduation by stuffing them into his boots.  When the graduates were searched prior to entering the stadium, the security people never thought about looking into foot ware.  

“Jory, was that you bringing tortillas to graduation?” I asked.

“Yep!” he replied with a grin.  “Wasn’t it great?”

“I’m not sure that I would call it great.  It wasn’t particularly politically correct,” I replied.

“Sure it was.  The principal banned all tortilla tossing at school events because it was disrespectful to Hispanics.  He never said that Hispanics couldn’t toss tortillas.  Since Dad is a Mexican and I’m a Chicano, if I toss tortillas, it’s a celebration and no one is offended.  In fact, didn’t you see the Non-Hispanics at graduation having a great time celebrating with me?”

I was just relieved that Jory had finally graduated from high school and didn’t get caught.

Following his school days, Jory continued to plan and pull off pranks, usually with a willing accomplice.  He always shared his plans with me, so I could tell him not to do it and could worry that he would be caught.  He’d joyfully call me after the event to share his excitement and remind me that I shouldn’t have worried.  

Fairfax loyal locals line up for ice cream.

One such prank involved his chosen hometown of hippie dippy Fairfax.  It’s a small town tucked into the hills of Marin County above San Francisco Bay, surrounded by redwoods and old hippie communes.  It has 2 downtown cross streets that house small Mom and Pop businesses and eateries, including 3 live music venues and a homemade ice cream shop.  The residents are primarily struggling musicians and artists juggling day jobs to pay their rent.  The locals, loyal to their community and lifestyles, are vehemently opposed to outside interference or change.

Fairfax citizens protesting airplanes flying over their city
spraying imaginary chemicals in contrails.

The hills to the west, separate Fairfax from its neighboring town of Bolinas, lying along the pacific shore just south of Point Reyes.  While landlocked Fairfax has lovingly never left the late 60’s and 70’s, nearby sequestered Bolinas continues to be a quaint, isolated, tiny, fishing village that strives to remain secluded from the rest of the world.  Jory was naturally curious about Bolinas and its inhabitants, especially since getting there provided a great challenge.  In order to keep their location secretive, Bolinas residents regularly removed all highway signs directing visitors to their town.  Respectful of their quirky ways, Jory wrote a tongue in cheek song called “Bertha From Bolinas,” that he sang regularly in Fairfax nightclubs.  It was when he chatted with neighbor Morgan Hall, the architect whose workplace was down the hallway from Jory’s studio, that an ingenious April Fools caper was conceived.

“I have a studio space a couple doors away from Jory’s in Fairfax" relates Hall.  "A number of years ago a bookstore/coffee shop owner in town pulled off a great April Fools prank.  Fairfax prides itself on being unique, not having (or allowing) any chain stores in town.  On the morning of April 1st, the front windows of this bookstore had two huge Starbucks logos in its front windows announcing that Starbucks had bought the business.  This, of course, was not true and the owner had a ball all day long witnessing outrage and indignation."

“I ran into Jory, a fellow prankster, shortly thereafter, and mentioned this to him. We put our heads together, and  it wasn’t long before we came up with something.”

Bolinas sign modified by the Bolinas Border Patrol

“Bolinas is a town not too far from Fairfax and is very much bohemian as well,” explains Hall.  “There is an unspoken rivalry between Fairfax and Bolinas as to which town is more ‘out there.’  Bolinas has their ‘Border Patrol,’ which has only one job: to take down the sign put up regularly by Caltrans that identifies Bolinas as one enters it.”

“Jory and I decided that we’d put up a sign to replace the Bolinas sign.  We had the sign made by the same outfit that does the Caltrans signs.  It was beautiful: 4 feet wide and 2 feet high with reflective green paint – the works!  In the wee hours of April 1st, we put it up where the Bolinas sign usually goes.” 

April Fools prank on Bolinas

Of course, there were other pranks and practical jokes in Jory's repertoire, many of them inspired by politics.  Those are awaiting a future story that begs to be told.

COMMENTS:  

Click on Jorysmother@gmail.com to send comments.

Jory Prum   January 29, 2009

In 6th grade, my class took a field trip to the Getty Museum (the old one in Malibu). The return trip took much longer than it was supposed to and we ended up returning to school around dinner time. On the bus ride back to school, the kids tired of singing "99 Bottles of Beer", so Jeff Johnson led everyone in singing "Fish Heads". My mom picked me up at the bus and was on her way to the market to get fixings for dinner. We stopped at the butcher to get something and I asked the butcher if he had any fish heads. He said he did and brought me a giant tuna fish head, wrapped it in paper, and wrote "No Charge" on it. I took the fish head to school the next day and when everyone left the classroom for recess, I slipped the fish head into Jeff Johnson's desk. After recess, Mrs. Britt told us to take out our books and everyone did, except Jeff, who was sitting staring into his flip-open-top desk. He pulled out the package, could only see "No Charge" on it and wondered what it was. Mrs. Britt, getting irate, wanted to know what he had there. So he began opening it, with every set of eyes watching him. When he saw it was a fish head, he grinned. Mrs. Britt made him take it out to the dumpster, but I know that he hid it and took it home. Until this very day, he had no idea that I was the one who put the fish head in his desk.

Jeff Johnson   January 29, 2009

So one life mystery is solved! I taught my boys and my nephew "Fish Heads." We watch the video on youtube all the time.  As far as the shark goes, I took the brain. I put it in a mason jar full of rubbing alcohol and it sat on a shelf in my room for like 5 years. I would tell people it was a life size replica of my own...

Jory Prum  January 29, 2009

Ha! I've been wanting to tell you for years about the fish head.   :-) I'm glad I finally got to.  BTW, it's all your fault that I listened to (and recorded) Dr Demento for years. I've got 350 cassettes of his shows!...

Lisa De Long

One of my favourite memories of Jory was back in sixth grade. He had introduced me and many of our classmates to Dr Demento and I remember us all singing Fish Heads, Dead Puppies, and They're Coming to Take Me Away at the top of our lungs on the playground. I remember being particularly tickled to see him sneak a bag of fish heads into Jeff Johnson's desk while everyone else was out of the classroom. Many years later, Jory and I reconnected in London and it was an absolute delight. He was stunned that I knew anythingabout the fish head incident because he had assumed he'd pulled off the prank with perfect anonymity. Nope. I saw everything. I wish we all had more time with such a funny, talented, and kind man. 

Morgan Hall

I’m sure going to miss that guy.  This world needs more Jories!  I’ve long felt that a good prank, now and then, is a cure for many things, especially self-righteousness.

Molly Presser
So funny!  I love the statement from Morgan. "The world needs more Jories". Thanks for making me smile!

Stan Pesner

Thanks!  Fun!

Linda Zaslow
Another enjoyable episode.


Elaine Asa
Thanks again for making me start my day with a laugh and smile. What wonderful memories and how blessed we all are that you share those memories of Jory and his life with us.

Loretta Modelevsky
Just to let you know that I enjoy everything you write about Jory as I feel lucky to feel like I really knew him through your writings. I feel privileged to take this amazing journey with you.  

Credits:

"Fish Heads" Song & Lyrics by Wanda Kerr, 2015
Bolinas Border Patrol photo by Ed Fladung, 2009


©  Leslye J. Prum   All Rights Reserved   2017

Bullying

Jory in First Grade.  

Jory’s First Grade teacher decided that the children in her classroom would all be called by their given names.  Even though it might have sounded like a nickname for Jordan, Jory was really his given name.  The kids continued to tease him that he had a nickname, not a real name.  He really liked his name, but hated being constantly taunted.

By the time he started Third Grade, he was already sensitive to teasing. It was then when serious bullying began.  After-school Hebrew classes began that year and met each Monday and Wednesday from 4-6 PM and from 9 AM until noon on Saturday mornings.  We lived 35 minutes away from our synagogue, so carpools were formed to drive the kids back and forth.  Unbeknownst to us, one of the carpool kids was an impudent bully.

Jory in Third Grade

It was a tight schedule for us because dismissal from our elementary school was at 3:15 PM.  On those days, I picked up Jory from school, drove him home for a quick bathroom break and snack, and reloaded him, with his Hebrew school backpack, into the car.  We wound our way through several Fullerton neighborhoods, picking up 2 other carpool kids, before heading to Anaheim and Beth Emet Synagogue.  In my car were 3 boys all Jory’s age and Shanon, Jory’s younger brother.  

I was a seasoned carpool chauffeur who had 5 previous years of experience driving older brother Darren’s Hebrew school carpools.  I had learned to keep my ears open and my mouth closed.  Unless the car was on fire, or a kid was carsick in the back seat, I didn’t participate in their conversations, arguments, or jokes.  I just kept driving and counting the minutes until those rambunctious, sweaty boys could be dropped off at Hebrew school.

One day, however, I broke the rule.  Jory, Geoff, and Shanon were in the back seat and it was Eric’s turn to sit in front with me.  The boys’ conversation was about swimming in our backyard pool on hot days.

“Do you ever skinny dip?” asked Eric, straining his neck to look into the back seat.

“Only on Hebrew school days,” replied Jory.  

“That’s weird,” commented Geoff.

“No it’s not!” Jory defended.  “We’re hot and we have to leave right away for Hebrew school, so we strip on the deck, jump in to cool off, and get dressed again so that we can leave on time.”

I didn’t say a word, but kept on driving as I chuckled silently inside.  I was sure that this was probably the only time in history that skinny dipping and Hebrew school were ever serious conjoined topics in a sentence.

The boys’ conversation continued with Geoff.  “Next time, you should hold Shanon’s head down underwater until he stops moving.”

I broke the rule.  I pulled the car to the curb, popped the gear into park, and turned to the back seat.  “Did I hear you correctly, Geoff?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said with smug confidence.  “He bugs me.”

“He’s 3 years old and you’re 9,” I replied.

“I don’t care,” he retorted.

“Well, I do!  Would you like to get out and walk from here?”

There was not a sound from any of the boys, but their eyes were opened wide.  “If anyone has something negative to say about someone else, he will not be riding in my car.  Is that understood?”  We rode in silence the rest of the way.  

The Hebrew school carpool was a necessary evil, so it continued for the next four years that Jory attended religious school at Beth Emet.  Geoff and Eric remained as riders and Jeff continued to harass Jory, despite my futile calls to his mother.

“Be grateful,” I told Jory, “that you are at different schools and don’t have to be with him everyday.”

Jory in Fifth Grade

A couple of years later, when the boys were in Fifth Grade, I received a phone call from the principal of Hermosa Drive School.  “Mrs. Prum, could you please meet with me in my office?”

I was a bit perplexed because Jory attended Laguna Road School and we had no connection with Hermosa Drive School.  I guessed that the meeting was PTA related and most likely about introducing a similar school-wide reading program like the one I had started at Laguna Road.  

I was shocked when the principal began by stating that there had been a physical playground altercation at her school between 2 Fifth Grade boys.  The fight was over Jory.

“Do you know Geoff and Eric?” she asked.  “Geoff was maligning Jory and Eric told him to stop.  When Geoff continued, Eric punched him.  It took several teachers to pull them apart.  I am concerned that your son is being bullied.”

We had been dealing with this issue for several years.  Jory always complained about Geoff doing this or that, or saying bad things to him and disparaging him to others.  I had made several calls to his mother, who believed her brilliant, angelic child was always innocent.  Nothing seemed to change.  I encouraged Jory to stand up for himself, but he never did.  He whined, cried, or sulked and the bullying continued.  

“Jory,” we told him, “Geoff will never stop unless YOU do something about it.”

“I’m trying to ignore him,” he’d reply.

“You’ve been trying that, but it hasn’t worked so far.”

“The only thing that will stop him is if you deck him,” big brother Darren advised.

Nothing changed.  Geoff persisted, Jory was miserable, and the rest of us were frustrated.  I began to look for alternative approaches to solve the problem and decided that Jory should take karate.  I read that people who knew self-defense developed an aura around themselves, so perpetrators chose not to mess with them.  If nothing else, Jory could learn to defend himself.

“Jory,” I began, “I think you should take some karate classes.”

Jory in Sixth Grade

“What for?  I don’t want to,” he replied.

“So you can defend yourself,” I answered.  “If you know karate, maybe Geoff will leave you alone.”

“I don’t want to,” he insisted.

“I wouldn’t make you do anything that I wouldn’t do,” I countered.

“Then you have to do it, too,” he replied.

“OK.  We’ll do it together and Shanon will do it, too.”  I declared.

I found a karate studio that had multi-age classes and we began learning self-defense.  I was the oldest student, Shanon was the most excited, and Jory reluctantly dragged along.  Jory had never been interested in sports or physical exertion, so kicking, punching, and doing push-ups was not his idea of fun.  Yet, he slowly mastered the beginning movements and became more resigned at letting himself tolerate it.  Throughout Sixth Grade, we went twice a week to the dojo for karate classes.  I never really saw an aura of confidence surrounding Jory, but I wouldn’t let him quit.

Jory in Seventh Grade

In Seventh Grade, to our dismay, Geoff’s parents bought a house in our neighborhood and Geoff was enrolled at Parks Jr. High School, along with Jory.  Now the bullying was more prevalent, with daily opportunities in school.  Jory still wouldn’t stand up to Geoff.  

I was at the end of my rope.  “Don’t fool around anymore,” I urged Jory, “when Geoff gives you guff, just give him one good push or a punch and he’ll leave you alone.  You’re bigger than he is, and you’re just as smart.  He’s not going to stop until you push back.”  I was actually shocked to hear myself giving this advice.

Several months later, Jory woke up and was getting ready for school.  He came down the hallway muttering under his breath and punching the wall as he walked.

“Stop hitting the wall,” I reprimanded.  “You’re making it dirty and you might just punch a hole in the wall.  We won’t be happy with you.”  He grabbed his lunch, hopped onto his bike, and rode away to school.

Around 11 AM, the principal at the school where I taught, walked into my classroom.  “You’ve got an urgent phone call from your son’s school.  I’ll take your class while you take the call in my office.”

It was the vice-principal of Jory’s Jr. High, calling to inform me that Jory was being suspended for the rest of the day.  He explained that during the nutrition break, the students were in line to purchase snacks when Jory lined up behind Geoff.  He tapped Geoff on the shoulder.  When Geoff turned around, Jory punched him squarely in the nose saying, “This is for you.”  Geoff ran crying to the principal’s office to report Jory.  All the supervising teachers witnessed the event and confirmed that Geoff had not provoked Jory, nor fought back.

“May I speak to Jory, please?” I asked the vice-principal.

“Hi, Mom.  I did it!” came a jubilant voice over the phone.

“Jory,” I said, “ride your bike home and wait for me.  I’m coming to get you to go to Swensen’s Ice Cream for a frozen banana.  I’m so proud of you.  Now, please give the phone back to the vice-principal.”

“Thank you for calling me,” I began.  “I’ve instructed Jory to ride his bike home and to wait for me.  I’ll be home as soon as I’m able to dismiss my students.  You should know that Geoff has been bullying Jory for several years and this is the first time that he has stood up to him.”

Jory in Eighth Grade

Geoff never openly bullied Jory again.  The following year, in Eighth Grade, one of Jory’s classmates saw Geoff fooling around at the bike racks.  After school, Jory’s bike tires were flat.  Jory just carried on as if nothing had happened, but all the kids at school knew the truth.  A few months later, at a school car wash, Geoff sneaked up behind Jory and dumped a bucket of dirty, soapy water over Jory’s head.  Jory started laughing with his contagious giggle and all the kids joined in at laughing at Geoff, who ran away totally humiliated.

Jory in Ninth Grade

The bullying stopped for good in Ninth Grade when Jory transferred to the Troy Tech Magnet High School and Geoff went onto his designated high school.  Jory turned his experiences as a bully's victim into positive actions by volunteering in the Peer Assistance League at Troy, helping identify and assisting fellow students who were at risk for bullying and suicide.

COMMENTS:  

Click on Jorysmother@gmail.com to send comments.

Jory Prum   2009

I've been in two fights during my life, both with the same kid. The first was in 7th grade, the second in 8th grade.  I won. Both times. He never fucked with me again.

Steve Karlan
Yes, I was victim of bullying too.  Bullying needs to be stopped. 

Cynthia Lewis
Love this one:-) thanks for keeping him fresh in our minds 

Dee Nevares
While you were driving to Hebrew school, I was to CCD. There were many similar battles for mom's benefits. We even had a Robert who was like your Geoff. We may be different sides of U. S. but the same being a mom.

Molly Presser
Bullying has got to be the hardest thing a child has to deal with in his life. Children can be really mean! You did all the right things to help empower him. I love your writing and his photos show a sweet, more confident guy as he grows up. Beautiful story.

Daniel Ruegemer
I really enjoyed this one. Thanks!

Barbara Talento
Love your tales of Jory but this one was my favorite so far.

Karen Chelini Thank you so much for sharing Jory’s stories.  This about bullying is so profound.  Bully parents are to blame, but when they ignore, scoff or downright support their children’s actions we have no choice, but to stand for ourselves.  Luckily, Jory had parents like you to help them navigate such adversity.

Judy Sowell
 I just finished your Jory Story about Bullying.  I loved it.  I agree with some of the comments, that it was one of the best.  I think they said “the best”.  I read an earlier story that I couldn’t stop laughing, but I can’t remember which one.  It had to be the funniest.  I also read your earlier story about “Mosfet”—enjoyed that too.  In addition to being Jory’s Mom,  you are writing some really good stories for those of us who didn’t know him. 

Rita Blumstein
As usual, I enjoy reading your blog.

Jana Majeed
Thanks so much for being an awesome mom, supporting Jory in the difficult situations, and also for sharing this post. Jory was a fantastic support for so many of us who needed a kind heart and listening ear. This blog shows so many glimpses of events that shaped his awesome soul. (I especially love your response when the school called about Jory punching that kid!) Thanks again for sharing <3

Linda Birtler
Thanks for sharing that one. Jory knew how to handle so many things in such a kind and edifying way!

Eva Labes
Oh, Jory. What a gift you always were. I am sorry that kids did this but, you were so brilliant for a young one. I always admired what a strong sense of having fun and being the true you that you embraced. Many struggle to find such.  You didn't give a darn what they thought and the more of you you showed us, the more people admired and respected you. This and the fact that you were a genius with a community heart!

Rayleen Williams
Thank you for sharing this.  The real bully in the story was Geoff's mom.  She condoned Geoff's behavior and in the end severely damaged her own son.  I suspect Geoff has some real problems as an adult and may be passing them on to his children. It was great how Jory's peers stood up for him (Finally).  Between that and Jory standing up for himself, that is how to stop or least diminish bullying. I am deeply saddened, frustrated, and angered that the other adults (school authorities, parents, and teachers)  did not step in immediately.  They are at fault too.  Less than 11 percent of peers and 25% of adults intervene to stop bullying.  I hope stories like Jory"s can change those statistics.  I am currently writing a children's book about a small animal that was bullied and the interventions needed to stop it and for the victim to develop resilience.  Bullying is a serious problem in schools and has been ignored too long.

Rayleen Williams

You had once shared some experiences he had had being bullied.  I have just completed an illustrated children's book about bullying and how to build the resilience to overcome it--Red Finds His Way: A Trilobite's Tale.

 ©  Leslye J. Prum   All Rights Reserved   2017