Who Has the Last Laugh?

By Charles Sweet
August 2002

On January 3, 1949, I started a job as a traveling auditor for the Wisconsin Department of Agriculture. I was a 26 year-old novice starting a new career. We were assigned in pairs. My partner was Mr. Knoche, a veteran auditor, waiting to retire. He was the leader who determined everything on assignments: where we went, where we stayed, where we ate, and the schedule as to travel and on the job.

He was unique. He never smiled. Mr. Knoche wore eye shades at work, sleeve garters, suspenders and belt at the same time–picture of office workers at the turn of the century and prior. He lived with his mother. I assumed he was the primary caretaker. Our conversations led nowhere though we spent hours traveling in the same car. He always drove–a 1938 Nash. State reimbursement was six cents a mile, fifty cents for breakfast, seventy-five cents for lunch and one dollar for dinner.

We were as different as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I knew my probationary period was 6 months. There was no way I was going to last that long with him as a constant co-worker. Also his accounting methods confused me. My last year in college had an emphasis on governmental and cooperative accounting. Through no fault of his own, he went to business school in 1911. Actually I was before the computer age and would have an equally hard time now. So things change, but not Mr. Knoche. He stated that was how he should be addressed.

One cold Monday morning in February, we drove up highway 12 (no Interstate at the time) and beyond to the city of Whitehall to audit the cooperative creamery located there. We spent the rest of the day at the creamery before going to the hotel whose name I cannot remember. There was no motel in or near Whitehall. Everything was One American Dollar, so posted–the room, breakfast, lunch or dinner. All rooms were on the second floor with no bath or shower. My room had a huge rope hanging out the window as the fire escape. It was attached at the end of a wrought iron bed.

We went to dinner. Tables were set with six chairs. The waitress approached each table and while staring out the window asked the question , "Roast chicken, roast beef, or baked ham?" We ate and went to our rooms. It was so cold I took the rug up and used it as an added bed cover. When morning came, I went down to breakfast, served at 7 AM sharp. Our table had one vacancy–it was for Mr. Knoche. He was late, but Mr. Knoche was never late.

In a few minutes Mr. Knoche came down the wide stairs carrying a water glass. He put the glass on the table and on further examination of the glass I saw the water was frozen and had his false teeth in it. After laughter subsided, he explained that he had put a glass of water on the windowsill with his false teeth in it for overnight. It was so cold that night that the water froze. He was late to breakfast because the ice would not thaw.

Nobody could eat with a straight face. It seemed like constant giggling by grown men. Soon the waitress brought in a pan of hot water. After the ice thawed, Mr. Knoche put his teeth in and ate his breakfast of scrambled eggs without further conversation.

Fifty-three years later, I can still see those teeth laughing at me! I did stick it out and pass probation!

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