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A mulberry-eating catfish from the Elkhorn River, good for two pints of mulberry jam.

AS THE DEADLINE FOR ENTRIES APPROACHED, hundreds of people lined up at the National Liars Hall of Fame Research Center in Dannebrog, hoping to get their envelopes postmarked in time to be eligible for the fabulous prizes. The moment the clock struck midnight, workers at the Hall of Fame started opening and sorting the entries for the expert judges, who were eagerly waiting to consider entries in the Nebraska Life Grand Liars Tournament of 2006-2007, part of a continuing tradition since 1924.

And ladies and gentlemen, the results…ARE IN!

I have been involved in this, the oldest continuing amateur liars competition (to differentiate it from Congressional election campaigns) in the United States (and possibly the world) since 1985, so I figured this contest would be more of the same. But no, I should have learned by now that when it comes to the tall tale, there are always surprises. John Gregorski of Sanford, N.C., told a story from his boyhood in the Dannevirke Hills of Howard County. He said one time a tail wind was so strong when he was out riding his horse that he had to hold his hat over the horse’s, uh, exhaust pipe so the wind wouldn’t blow the bit out of the horse’s mouth. That story has been around – it was one of my Dad’s favorites.

The age of John’s story was a reminder of the venerable antiquity and tradition of the tall tale, but I’ll have to admit that I exploded in laughter when I saw Mildred Van Seggern’s story (from Scribner, as told by her father Jake Bachman of Creston) about it being so hot that popcorn popped right out on the stalks in the fields…and a mule in the next field, seeing that popcorn on the ground, thought it was snow and froze to death. If I may momentarily revert to the truth, this very story was submitted so often for the original Nebraska liars contest in 1924 that the judges asked that no one send it in again…and over the years it has been by far and away the most popular submission every year. The tall tale is indeed alive and well!

A newborn baby excapes Indians on a newborn foal . . . or was it a newborn Pawnee baby escaping from white men?

I was most surprised, however, by an entry from Bob Gschwind (Collinsville, Ill), and I quote: “There were a few renegade Indians roaming around the area in Nebraska where my folks homesteaded. One day my mother had to go to the trading post for supplies despite the fact that both she and her saddle horse were pregnant. On her return trip home Mom noticed two Indians on a nearby hill. About that time the mare went to the ground to give birth to her foal, and at the time Mom brought me into the world. As the renegades were getting close Mom jumped onto her horse and I jumped onto the foal. And we left the Indians in a cloud of dust!”
Now, that is a pretty good story, but exactly four months before I saw Bob’s version, I heard this exact same story, almost word for word, from Ronnie GoodEagle of Pawnee, Okla., about his Pawnee mother… running from some renegade white guys along the banks of the Cimarron!

Now, I don’t want to doubt the truth of either of these family histories, although having met Mr. GoodEagle, I frankly cannot imagine him dealing in anything but the truth, so all I can figure is that this is a remarkable coincidence and that both stories are absolutely true – and therefore ineligible for prizes in a lying contest.

Tom Juhl’s tale certainly won the judges’ sympathy vote because it was sent from exile in California. Tom was originally from West Point and all I can figure is that he must be on the lam, or he’d still be in that wonderful town. His story: “Fishing by a mulberry tree that fell into the Elkhorn River I caught a catfish full of mulberries. I took it home and the wife made two pints of jam.” But fishermen’s stories are not eligible for our contest because, as stated in the official rules, it is open only to amateur liars.

We were astonished when we came up with a tie for third place in the contest (27,447 votes for each) between Ardith Anderson of Norfolk and Nivan “Nick” Hornik, also of Norfolk. (What the heck are they putting in the water over there in Norfolk!) Ardith writes, “Jake, a good ol’ cowboy, liked to tell stories and sometimes he would stretch the truth (a bit). He was telling about all the roundups he’d been on, mustangs he’d broke, and rodeos he’d been in. A fellow cowboy said, ‘Jake, I get saddle sores just listening to you!’”

And Nick’s contribution: “Back in the 1930s the flies felt so guilty about eating our meager food supply, they all chipped in and bought us a new screen door.”

Midge Cramer (Omaha) snagged second place with her terse admission, “Yep, I’m old. I remember when the Dead Sea was just a little sick!”

I can’t say I am happy with the judges’ decision on the winner of the contest. For one thing, the entry came from New Mexico, not Nebraska, and secondly, it is in rhyme, reminding me of Charles Kuralt’s line about Charles Osgood being “known to have committed poetry.” But here it is anyway, from “Cactus” Chris Buethe of Los Cruces… Ladies and Gentlemen, your winner of the 2006-7 Nebraska Life Liars Contest:

". . . Or how you had to wrestle the neighbor's friendly goat."

Hello, Husker Liars!
Yep, folks, we will be havin’ it out in Dannebrog
A liars contest ’bout the wind, a storm, or singing hog.
They say that contest winnin’ will bring a liar fame
And they’re inviting ALL folks to try the lyin’ game.
It’s Roger’s contribution to culture, once again,
Where you can share the tale of that rare Nebraska sin.
Just tell ’bout how your wife tried to bring the old bull in
Or the preacher havin’ trouble explaining carnal sin.
Or how a fish jumped right in your icebound fishin’ boat
Or how you had to wrestle the neighbor’s friendly goat.
So win a prize for lying; tell whoppers like they’re true
’Bout hail turned into ice cream that fed the whole darned crew
With days so hot your cornfield popped like a cannon boom
And winds so strong they blew half a freight train through your room.
But if you want to win big and really do it right,
Just tell the tale you told your wife when you came home late last night.

Okay, folks, thanks for sending in your entries. Come visit us at the National Liars Hall of Fame Convention Center in Downtown DannebRog, Nebraska, and start polishing up your entries for the next contest. As soon as I can get at it, I’ll be sending this year’s winners a certificate authenticating their championship mendacity, a book by Roger Welsch Himself, and a check for a couple million dollars if I can just find my Nebraska Life expense account checkbook here some place….