(Writers note: I am in the process of writing a book to give my children. One of the chapters that sticks out is a fun story so I
thought I would share this in advance of the total book. I guarantee that the story is true and enough time has elapsed that all of
the players are dead or missing in action except me. It should be noted that the title of the book comes from Dean's beginning task with the Milton
G. Waldbaum Company. He continues to sell eggs and egg products worldwide. Dean Hughson)
1982 saw me living in Sioux City Iowa. I was a 32 year old man,2 small children, a house in the suburbs with a mortgage,and
enjoying my job as an eggman. Wakefield Nebraska,where the Waldbaum Company is located, was a small town (less than
1,000 people) and in those days it was a fairly isolated place. I drove to work everyday from Sioux City,rain or shine, and
could hardly wait to get to work. It was an exciting place to be involved in selling eggs.
One spring morning the telephone rang and the person on the other line identified himself as being with the CIA. I didn't believe
them so they gave me a number to call back. The place was actually the Central Intelligence Agency. The person stated that
they had a good friend of the US government who besides being the Chief of Police of a large city in the middle east was
opening a chain of fast food restaurants and would require a source of dried egg powder that could be reconstituted and
scrambled to fit in a pita bread.. He told me that they were going to be in Omaha Nebraska at a meeting and would have a 6
hour window of opportunity to see our plant. I went in and told Dan Gardner, the President of the company, the story and he
told me "Charter a plane and pick them up.". So the next day found me flying in a twin engine plane down to a runway in
Omaha. There was a very handsome dashing character,I shall name "Omar" in this story (named changed in case he is still alive)
and a CIA type (black sunglasses,briefcase, dark business suit, and no sense of humor). We flew up to Wayne Nebraska and
quickly the guy told me that his country didn't have a dependable supply of eggs so he wanted to find a supply of eggs that
matched the local eggs in color and taste. After showing him our eggs we quickly realized that we must change the color.of the
eggs prior to drying so that they would be darker. In the United States,adding color is not a common practice and frowned
upon because of old timers adulterating the color of frozen eggs and dried eggs with dyes and not declaring them but this guy
didn't care if it said so on the label. Quickly he agreed that our product would work and he wanted it in 6 ounce pouches with
instructions in Arabic. We agreed we could do this and we were given an order right on the spot for 1 ton as a sample order.
We were quite excited about this and hoped it would lead to more business.
We shipped the product and a few months later I had a phone call from "Omar" asking me if I would fly in to his country to
discuss large amounts of business for his company plus the military of his country. Dan Gardner,a gruff but adventurous guy told
me "You go, it will be a good experience for you." So off I flew,feeling somewhat successful in life---international business,the
CIA, you get the pictures...lots of intrigue. When I arrived at the international airport of "Omar's" country the plane stopped at
the end of the runway and a car drove up and I got in,never clearing customs. "Omar" asked me if I had a suit with me and I
did so he told me "Just change in the back". So here I was taking off my clothes in the backseat of a car as we drove down the
darkened streets heading to a party at the US Embassy. When I got there,it was like something from an old novel about "The
Ugly Americans". There were lots of large,old men wearing white suits and wearing white shoes bemoaning the lack of good
servants and how hot it was. I tried to fit in,drinking gin and tonics and strolling around the party but it was obviously an old
man's game that I would have to learn when I was older. "Omar" saw that I was tiring so he drove me to my hotel,which was
sort of in a 'seedy' part of town. He told me he would return the next day.
I woke up the next morning,had breakfast, and got dressed,figuring that I would be busy that day. But "Omar" never came all
day so I ended up watching "I Spy" on one channel in Arabic and a cleric reading from the Koran on the other. I went to bed
sort of confused. The next day "Omar" showed up and took me on a driving trip through his city,repeatedly pointing out
buildings,restaurants,etc. he owned. He talked only lightly about his plans for the restaurant but told me we would be meeting
with a General who was going to buy lots of dried egg powder for their military. He then took me back to the hotel and
vanished again into the night. I was sort of bored but afraid to go out on the street--there were lots of kids on the streets in
military uniforms carrying guns and I was afraid they might shoot me. The next day he came and after stopping at 3 banks
where he exchanged his money into difference currencies (a common occurrence in many countries where they don't trust their
own currencies)we went to an outdoor restaurant. We were having lunch with The General. The General was a large older man
with a white beard and the ever present black briefcase. They ordered me lunch which consisted of a pigeon in rice in a large
crock. We were having polite conversations when all of a sudden the stage opened up and out came 30 midgets singing and
dancing to the tune "You Don't Bring Me Flowers Anymore". It was quite different. They took me back to the hotel and so I
went down and wrote out a fax to my boss,Dan Gardner,describing the days events. In retrospect, I can imagine Dan was
wondering what I was doing when I talked about dancing/singing midgets but he didn't say anything in response to my fax. The
next day they didn't show up all day and then about dinner time they came and I thought it was my turn to invite them for dinner
so I convinced them to try sushi with me at the town's only sushi restaurant. They were concerned that I,as a Jewish
person,might feel alone so they introduced me to some professors at a Medical school who had once known some Jews when
there were still Jews in their country. It was a very interesting night. About 11 p.m. they picked me up from the Doctor's party
and took me to a nightclub. It was like something in a dream. A restaurant full of men in fez's singing songs and dancing women.
They introduced me to the lead dancer and said that she was Henry Kissinger's girlfriend. In defense of Dr. Kissinger I don't
know if it was true or not but it made for an interesting story. They had a 50 piece orchestra which played and the men in the
fez's sang along. I knew I was witnessing something that I would want to remember and I can still see it in my mind
today,nearly 20 years later. There was still no business being transacted. It became obvious to me that "Omar" was hoping that
he could get in the middle of a large sale of dried eggs to the military but the problem appeared that the military,largely financed
by the US government in my estimation, didn't have enough money to actually do it. I was sort of getting frantic because I
could only imagine what Dan Gardner was going to say when I returned without an order and more importantly having spent
7-10 days not getting it.
The next morning the sushi dinner came back to haunt me. I had caught a rather vicious type of stomach problem from it and I
couldn't stand very far away from a restroom. The US embassy sent over a doctor who quickly diagnosed that I was pretty
sick and he recommended to me to go to Europe where I could get proper help. So,realizing that "Omar", the Generals, the
dancing midgets, and Henry Kissinger's girlfriend could do little for me or buy many eggs, I went and got on a plane first class
and flew to Paris. I had called a friend of mine, Marc Blonde, who owns an egg company and frozen french fry plant in the Lille
area of France and in poor French explained I was ill. Luckily when I got off the plane there stood a concerned Marc who
took me in his private helicopter to Lille to consult a pharmacist/homeopathic physician. He spoke perfect English and after
talking with me mixed up some clays which when eaten bound up my stomach and quickly healed my sick stomach. He told me that he had been best friends with another American. Out of all the French medical professionals I ended up with the
best friend of Ernest Hemingway who was the godfather of Ernest's grandchildren.
I went home to Wakefield Nebraska and Dan Gardner listened to my story and said "Well, sounds like an interesting story."
He was a great teacher in many ways that I was to see over the next years but he was one who believed in letting young
salesmen learn what happens in the world of egg sales. He was not critical of you if you were trying but he was a person who
could quickly see through any attempts at holding back the truth from him. I was blessed to have the experience of learning
under him and my father-in-law Dr. Waldbaum.
Even today when I watch television and see stories about "Omar"'s country I am immediately transported back to the sounds
and smells of the country and the memory of dancing midgets. Who says being an eggman isn't exciting?
to be continued........
