Happy, Happy, Happy: My Life and Legacy as the Duck Commander

an acre back there. I never found out what it was built to turn, but it must have been something big!
    I immediately borrowed a ragged dump truck I saw among several at the depot. It belonged to one of the members at church who happened to work there. I backed the truck up to the dock. I remember the depot crew standing there looking at me like I was deranged, but they loaded the lathe onto the truck for me. Away went the Duck Commander.
    But further problems lay ahead of me at home. I had planned to put the lathe in a small building on my property that I was using for a shop. It measured about twelve feet by twelve feet. When I arrived with the men I’d gotten to drive the truck home and help unload, one man looked at the building dubiously and said, “It’s not going in there—not through that door.”
    I said, “Oh yeah, it’ll go in there.” I got out my chain saw and stuck the snout of it into the north wall and went to cutting. Whannnnnnnn! I was cutting through nails and everything. They were all just standing back, looking at me like they were witnessing the Texas Chain Saw Massacre. I kept at it. Whannnnnnnn! When I finished cutting my way to the top of both sides, ka-whooom! The whole wall fell out!
    I backed the truck up to the shed, dropped the dump gate, and hooked one end of a come-along to the lathe and the other end to a tree. I dragged the heavy iron machine inside the shop. It filled the available space from end to end, leaving just enough room in front of it for an operator. We set the wall back in place and nailed it up. All in all, it was a successful operation. It’s amazing what a little redneck engineering can do!
    I anchored the lathe down, leaving it on the original shipping skids. It operated that way as long as it was in use. The equipment was so heavy that, within a couple of years, its weight caused the shop to sink a foot into the ground. But the lathe remained relatively level as it sank, so its operation wasn’t affected. Nothing was ever done about releveling the shop.
    By now it was dark outside. It had been a long day. Despite all the setbacks, I had overcome my obstacles and was exultant. The factory to make the duck calls wasn’t operating yet, but everything was in place.
    I was so excited about our future that I went down the hill to see Pa and Granny. They were seated at the table, playing dominoes with Alan and Jase—they played dominoes together nearly every night. Pa believed in playing dominoes with children because it taught them to add rapidly and develop strategy, thinkingseveral moves ahead. Whether the dominoes did that or not, all the boys did well in mathematics and the rest of their school subjects.
    Now, I told y’all I talk pretty dramatically when the situation warrants it, and this was maybe the biggest day of my life. I walked into my parents’ house and announced to everyone, “Y’all see this duck call right here?”
    I was holding the call John Spurgeon Powell built for me. Of course, they all stopped and were looking at me.
    “I’m in the process of getting these duplicated on that equipment out there,” I told them. “Read my lips: we’re going to sell a million dollars’ worth of these things before it’s over.”
    Pa was sitting there—and they’re all still looking at me. When I said we were going to sell a million dollars’ worth, they all looked back down at their dominoes. Pa picked one up, smacked it on the table, and said, “Ten!” He didn’t even acknowledge what I’d said!
    None of them said “Good night,” “That sounds great,” or anything! They just kept playing. I walked out, thinking to myself, Well, I didn’t get any of them fired up . And I thought, Well, maybe not a million dollars’ worth .
    Sometimes I still think about telling Pa I was going to make a million dollars—and that his only response was to take a ten-count.Since that time, as it turned out, we have sold way more than that. Who would have believed me at the time?
    Undaunted, I set to work the next day trying to get the lathe running. It was a harder task than I envisioned. Coupled with my and Pa’s lack of knowledge about running a lathe (Pa did show interest in the project once it got under way) was the fact that it came with no instruction manual on how to operate it.
    I had never run a lathe, but I saw a button that said Start. It’s like Jase says: when you don’t know what you’re doing, it’s best to do it quickly! So I pressed