It was the first Saturday of April 1955, in Bismarck, North Dakota. Long-time readers of our column may recall that in Bismarck, the first Saturday of April was the day residents raked up their yards in preparation for spring. It was something that approached a religious requirement. Yards must be raked on that day, and whomever raked up the biggest piles of dead thatch and other debris was considered the most meritorious.

On the other hand, failure to rake your yard, on-time and properly, was simply unthinkable to nearly all Bismarckers, and anyone who didn't--- well, they became instant social pariahs, incurring the disdain, scorn, and often wrath of not just their neighbors but of anyone who even walked or drove by their properties.

Raking the yard yourself was of course the expected method, but there were allowances made for the sick or elderly. Sal Westerman, whom we know as the unofficial leader of the Coffee and Cake Checker Club, was in his seventies and just barely qualified for the elderly exception. Sal generally hired an enterprising young lad to do the raking for him. This was acceptable, but didn't garner any sort of status no matter how many bags of debris the young fellow raked up.

The Club normally met at 1 PM at the Beacon Cafe; they would meet on Saturdays from just after Labor Day to just before Memorial Day. On Raking Day, a smaller than usual turnout was expected, with a couple of latecomers, as not everyone completed their raking by one o'clock, and it simply had to be done before they could think of checkers.

So it was that just after one, Sal was in the big booth at the back of the Cafe with regulars Larry, Wayne, Louie the Flash, and Delmer. Dan had a big yard and might not make it; Mike would likely be there in a half hour or so. Young Blaine hired out his services so he wouldn't be there today as he had several yards to rake.

They were all, of course, drinking coffee and talking about the day's raking. But then in came a stranger. He was about 40 years old (much younger than all the Club members except for Young Blaine).

The newcomer walked back to the big booth and asked in a somewhat brash manner, "This the checker club?"

Sal replied, "Indeed it is. And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

"My name is Dexter," the newcomer said, "Dexter Werner. I'm new to town but I'm a fan of checkers and some folks told me about there being a small-town club."

"Well, have a seat, and welcome, Dexter," Sal said, "we're always happy to have new members." Sal did introductions and then Dan asked, "So where are you from, Dexter?"

"New York City," he said. "I got a job here as a technician with the phone company. My wife and I had lived all our lives in the city and we were tired of the rat race. So I got this job, we bought a house, and we've been here now for a few months. We finally got settled and it seemed like a good time to look up your club."

"Sounds great," said Wayne, and then asked the question of the day. "So how did your raking go today?"

"My what?" Dexter said. "Did you say raking? What do you mean?"

"Well, Dexter, it's well known that you rake up your yard on the first Saturday of April, you know, to get it ready for spring."

"You're kidding," Dexter said with a sort of half smile. "Why would anyone do that?"

"Because that's what you do," Wayne answered. "You want a nice yard, don't you?"

"Never thought about it. But it really doesn't sound very important. Yard, shmard, who cares?"

"Uh, Dexter, your neighbors will care," said Delmer. "They'll care a lot if they have nice yards and yours ... well, frankly ... if yours spoils the neighborhood."

"Never heard anything so silly as that!" Dexter said. "Why, back in the City ... "

"This isn't the City," Delmer went on. "You said you wanted out of the rat race, well, you got that, but things are done a certain way here."

"Oh, give me a break, willya," Dexter said. "Can we just play some checkers and not fuss about raking the yard, for heaven's sake?"

At this Sal interjected, "Yes, Dexter, we'll do some checkers. But a word of advice from a long time resident such as myself ... it will go much better for you if you try to fit in."

"I don't give a hoot about fitting in," Dexter said. "Now, please, checkers."

Dexter was getting glares from all of the boys. He was even getting a dark look from Deana, the Cafe's proprietess.

"All right then," Sal said with a sigh, "here's today's problem. Nothing to do with leaves but a nice little situation. Deana, what's on offer today?"

The tradition was for the boys to pay for treats if they couldn't solve the problem, and for Sal to pay if they could.

"Old fashioned apple pie," Deana said, "and if you're nice to me, I'll put a dollop of whipped cream on top."

The boys expressed their appreciation although Dexter didn't seem to join in.

Sal laid out the following position.

"Half an hour," Sal said, "starting now."

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We don't know if you're from New York City, Bismarck, points between, or anywhere else. It doesn't matter; you can try Sal's problem and win a piece of apple pie (which unfortunately you'll have to provide on your own). See how you do and then click on Read More for the solution and the rest of our little story.

Solution and Conclusion

Half an hour passed and Sal called 'time.' Wayne spoke up and said they had found the solution. He then demonstrated the following play.

10-15---A 17-10 15-19 23-16 6-15 13-6 20-9 Black Wins.

A---All other moves lose.

"Nicely done," Sal said, and I'll buy the treats now."

But then Dexter said, "That was kind of a dumb problem, wasn't it? I mean, don't you have anything more challenging?"

That got more glares from the boys. Larry said, "Well, pal, if was so easy why didn't you help us solve it? You didn't say a word, you just sat and watched."

Meanwhile Deana was cutting pieces of apple pie and putting whipped cream on each piece--- all but one, that is. She carried her pie-filled tray from her counter to the big booth. Then, pointing to the piece with no whipped cream, she said, "That's for him, the clown from the big city. No whipped cream for someone who is not only rude to my regulars but doesn't even rake his yard."

"Well, I never!" Dexter said. "Young woman, you would never survive in New York City!"

"Don't want to," Deana snapped back.

Finally Sal intervened. "Dexter, it was nice of you to come, but perhaps our Club is not the best place for you. Perhaps also, Bismarck is not the right place for you."

Dexter turned red, and without another word, without even touching his apple pie (with no whipped cream), stood up and left the Cafe.

Once he was out the door, the boys had a good laugh, and Deana put some whipped cream on Dexter's uneaten pie. "Take that home to your wife Sylvia," Deana said. "It's on the house."

The boys, with the tension now dissipated, played skittles and talked checkers until closing time.

Dexter was to have run-ins with his neighbors all summer long, would receive numerous citations from the city about the condition of his yard, and didn't even get along with his co-workers. Word was that in the fall he sold his house and moved back to New York City to live in an apartment building where no one ever talked about raking leaves.

Bismarck, indeed, is not for everyone.

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Today's very nice problem is credited to regular contributors Lloyd and Josh Gordon. Thank you, guys!