Originally published in the October 1989 issue of the Collector and Emitter.
(Special to C&E)
TOGO — The legendary Q. R. Zedd, A5A, landed in this steaming subtropical African nation this week to begin a whirlwind DXpedition.
Zedd, world’s greatest DXer, landed Thursday at the Lome International Aerodrome in a 10-passenger jet aircraft of his own design. Trailed by his entourage and adoring onlookers, the great man set out at once for the highlands to the north of the capital city, where he planned six days of radio operation on all bands, all modes.
Zedd said he was making the trip to celebrate his winning of the javelin, the pentathlon, the hammer throw, the one-man field hockey trials, three swimming events and the unofficial country dancing contest during July’s Olympic Festival in Norman.
Zedd, holder of the land’s only 1×1 callsign, lives just a hoot and a holler south of town at famed Honor Roll Ranch.
“Boys and girls,” the great one told the assembled. press, “after all the extra physical exertion I am weary. A neato DXpedition will provide me some rest, and hone my mind for future outbursts of mental brilliance.”
Constance Wilhemina Zedd, of Mena, Ark., Zedd’s momma, was in the DX party. Also along were Tondelayo, Zedd’s blond, nubile bride; son Zepp; longtime DX pal Bill Blast, operator of the world-renowned Blast Off DX net; nerdly protege Homer Klott; a half-dozen slobbering sycophants, and of course your intrepid reporter.
Momma Zedd was in charge of CW operations, although there was pervasive doubt that there would be anyone out there speedy enough to read her. Tondelayo was in charge of station maintenance and getting up the antennas, and also planned to handle PR with the world press. Young Zepp was to be allowed to operate some high-speed CW of his own, and maybe go fishing. Blast, of course, had his own equipment and would be competitive. Homer got off the airplane carrying a booklet of instructions on San-O-Lets, his area of expertise on the journey.
Within 24 hours after the Zeddamatic 310 had landed in the city, native bearers and your humble reporter were struggling up jungle mountainsides far north of civilization, carrying such items as three big Icom rigs, three linears, 4KW generators and fuel, tents and other camping gear, and a number of kegs of Zedd’s favorite beverage, which shall be nameless except to say that it is brewed in Colorado. The heat was fierce. Huge mosquitos and other bloodthirsty insects continuously dive-bombed the struggling party. A fierce lion challenged the native guide at one point in the deepest jungle, but quickly slunk away in the tall grass after Zedd brandished a folding chair and whip and told it to get lost.
What a relief it was when at long last Zedd studied his charts and proclaimed that we had reached our campsite! Everyone fell down in exhaustion, giving the bugs stationery targets.
All, of course, but Zedd.
Striding restlessly around the wide jungle clearing, the light of a spooky crescent moon shining on his IiXCC Honor Roll badge and white hunter hat, Zedd reminded everyone that time was not to be wasted.
“Up and at ’em, boys and girls!” he cried. The world awaits our QRZ! Tondelayo, erect the towers! Momma, run the coax! Zepp, unpack the rigs! Homer, assemble the toilets! KU5B, stop picking your nose!”
Responding to what was obviously one of the grandest and most eloquent speeches since Armstrong took one giant leap for mankind, everyone sprang up and began working frantically. Zedd propped his feet up and had refreshment while the work was done.
It was past midnight, local, when we were ready at last. Zedd patted each of us on the head and strolled over to the No. 1 operating position and keyed the mike. He announced our DX callsign suffix twice, then said the magic words:
“QRZ from Q. R. Zedd.”
The racket that came back from the waiting multitudes was sufficient to startle every wild animal in the jungle within a radius of several hundred yards. Zedd, smiling grimly, began sorting out, acknowledging, and logging the calls. Momma and Zepp, inspired, leaped to the CW rigs and soon the sweet sound of highspeed Morse filled the night.
Bill Blast set up his station nearby. Haloed by the bluish fumes from his diesel generator, Blast started on 75 and had worked all Europe by dawn.
Zedd meanwhile worked almost everybody else, including WB5QNK and W5UZD on two-meter FM simplex, K5JB on packet, and the W5OU Field Day station on long-delayed echo propagation.
The only untoward incident of the first night came when Homer Klott finished assembling the special electronic toilets, and field-tested them. Somehow Homer (as might have been anticipated) managed to rig them backwards, so that instead of flushing downward they flushed up. His first attempt at solving this problem involved inverting the entire enclosure and installing trapeze bars, but he was soon talked out of this and proper corrections were made.
As dawn spread over the jungle clearing on that first memorable morning, all of us looked up from our DX tasks to see, with astonishment, that the sights and sounds of our operation had attracted a fantastic throng of gaunt, dark animals which completely surrounded our campsite, rings us to a depth of hundreds of yards in solid, staring awe.
We had, it seemed, attracted the curiosity of an enormous migrating herd of wildebeests.
“Eek!” Tondelayo — never at a loss for words — squeaked. And Homer ran for his Red Ryder memorial BB gun.
Some of the dominant male wildebeests in the front ranks of the incredible herd were startled by this activity, and began pawing the ground, tossing their heads, and otherwise acting like they intended to lead the whole mess right through our camp. Which we all saw at once would be a bad thing, because it would not only break our rigs and kill us, but leave zillions of DXers unhappy around the world because they would be left without an insurance contact.
“Fear not!” Zedd called out sharply, just as some of us were about to burst into tears.
Slowly, with grave courage, Zedd rose from his operating position and walked across the clearing toward the solid ringed mass of deadly wildebeests.
He stopped and stared at them. They stared back.
“QRX,” he said softly, in a tone not heard since the last Tarzan movie.
The wildebeests stared, grunted, then began to turn and move away. Within moments, the jungle was a malestrom of crashing, running, stampeding animals — all running away from our campsite.
We had been saved. “Oh, Q.!”
Tondelayo cried in deep relief as Zedd strode back toward his rig. “How did you ever do it!”
Zedd smiled and patted her on the posterior, “I did a paper on the critters once, honey. I thought I told you about that. I think it was part of the project I won my second Nobel Prize with.”
Your reporter, wanting to get everything straight, rushed forward with notebook in hand, and asked the exact title of Zedd’s winning research effort, the work that had provided the knowledge that had just saved us all.
Of course the moment he mentioned the title, I recognized it: No Gnus is Good Gnus. (C) 1977, Q.R. Zedd Enterprises.
— KU5B