Dave's greatest gift may have been his sense of humor.

Dave and I corresponded regularly almost from the first. I have probably a three inch stack of copies of his and my letters, and that's not even a complete set. And this was all done with a typewriter before he discovered email.

What I loved about Dave was his creativity. I could come up with something totally outrageous, blind-side him with it, and without blinking he would top me. Put me in my place. The few times we got together in person bedlam reigned...

One time I put an announcement in the catalog stating that Dave's next book, "How to Make Love to a Lathe", would not be published as previously announced since he had been arrested and charged with taking indecent liberties with a milling machine.

He no sooner saw that in the catalog and shot back a five paragraph essay (typewritten) on the fine points of making love to a lathe. It was all double-entendre. Exceptionally clever.

Just going through his letters from 1983 makes me wonder if he didn't have gag writers working for him. One minute he's talking about machine tools and books, and the next comes this:

"...My real mother worked for the carnival. I don't know which one, but I know it was a low budget show. She was both the fat lady and the high wire artist. The show traveled all over the midwest and up and down the Mississippi river valley for many years. When Mom was not in the fat lady tent, she was walking the tight wire, which was usually stretched across the Mississippi River canyon. In fact, I was born during a high wire performance, someplace in northern Minnesota. (I was also born BECAUSE of a performance, but that is a different time and story.)..."

And this goes on for four more paragraphs.

Dave Gingery is retired now. He cruises around town with a bunch of other ol' geezers on Harley-Davisons terrorizing the locals. One night in a sleezy bar on the edge of town one of the meanest of the motorcycle gang poured a bottle of beer in Dave's lap while another plugged his electrified banjo into a 220 outlet! Just plain, nasty people...

I ran this in the Christmas 2001 catalog without warning Dave in advance. Being the clown that he was, he enjoyed it. His wife of 52 years, Lorraine, sits in the background thinking "We gotta get this guy put away..."

Dave helped a good many guys (you'd know their names if I listed them) get started in their own writing and publishing. One letter from December 1983 starts out: "You can imagine how pleased I was to get a UPS package with the alligator nut-cracker from Bob Whitmoyer. And then how disgusted I was to find that it was addressed to Lorraine [Dave's wife]. Sheesh!..." Then he says what he needs to say, but finishes with an eight paragraph story of "How the Angel Came to be at the Top of the Xmas Tree."

Another typical letter arrived in May 1984 at a time when Dave's books were being discovered by machinists outside the States.

"Wow! Nearly a complete wreck after 9 days in the North Woods [Upper Peninsula, Michigan --- His boyhood home.]. Not enough strength left to swing your way on the return trip. Was not in any mood for bull**** anyway...

[A letter appeared in "Model Engineer" written by] ******** Backhouse from ********. I do wish someone with a name other than Backhouse would write letters about my stuff but will take what I can get anyway. Reminds me of story about a man named Fred Schidt who petitioned the court to change his name..."

And Dave was off and running in another stand-up routine...

In September 1984 Dave and I were discussing his electric furnace book that he wanted to call "Big Bertha", but I suggested "Dirty Harry" instead. His next letter started out...

"Dug into a pile on my desk and found your letter of August 30. Can't remember if I answered it. Damn! Need to either make notes, burn letters or take some kind of memory course. Maybe I should initiate a program of imbibing and meditation and not rush to any conclusions.

'Big Bertha' may not be an inspriation but 'Dirty Harry' is not a gem either. Sheesh! What kind of zombies do you have working there. Okay, I'll dream up something really 'hot'...."

Then he talks about just some of the legitimate correspondence he was doing...

"I'm in correspondence with a Priest in New Guinea who wants to set up a manufacturing facility there in co-operation with 15 other priests. Also have a request for a unit from a Nun in Brazil, for which we are presently raising funds. Gotta write an article for Diocesan paper in hope of wringing contributions and raising general interest in the missions. Probably have to clean up my style a bit!"

Then he turns right around and goes into another standup routine about going to a movie and having a man and his large dog sit down in front of him. You can image the rest...

About another month later...

"Do you realize that some birds actually read our books and do the projects in them? Sheesh! If I had known it worked, I'd have tried it myself!..."

And then he tells me about letters and photos coming in of completed lathes, shapers and milling machines.

next page