Here’s a question for you: When is a piece of wood like a queen?

I’ll give you five seconds to come up with an answer.

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Time’s up.

My guess is that you didn’t get it. The answer: a piece of wood is like a queen when it’s a ruler.

Those nearly impossible questions were typical of the radio — and later television — show Truth or Consequences. Although it was billed as a quiz program, the real goal was for contestants to get the question — the “truth” — wrong, which meant they then had to face the “consequences”: performing some kind of outrageous stunt. Most occurred live on stage, while others would take place off the air, after which the contestant would return for the following Saturday’s broadcast to tell of what happened.

For example, one woman on the show was instructed to wink at every man she saw for the next week. The catch was that one of those men would give her $100 (more than $1,800 today) when she did. When she returned the following week, she complained that she had followed the instructions exactly, yet no one had handed her the money. That’s when the show’s creator and master of ceremonies, Ralph Edwards, pointed out that she hadn’t winked at him. She promptly did—and he handed her the $100.

In another stunt, two men who had never met were brought onstage and introduced to the audience. They were then sent backstage and told to learn as much about each other as possible. Whichever man could recall the most details would win. The catch was that the contest was rigged: one of the men was the other’s cousin, and they hadn’t seen each other in decades—not since childhood. When they returned to the stage, the cousin stunned his opponent by revealing just how much he knew.

You get the idea. It was all meant as lighthearted fun, and amazingly, there was never a shortage of people willing to step onstage and make fools of themselves for the chance to win a prize.

Of course, there was an entire team that worked behind the scenes to come up with all of these gags. And as the show grew in popularity, the stunts grew bigger and crazier.

Just as an example, in March 1950, Ralph Edwards announced that they would broadcast their tenth anniversary show from the first town that changed its name to Truth or Consequences. And in a special election held on March 31, 1950, residents of Hot Springs, New Mexico, voted 1294 to 295 to do just that.

One of the gags that they came up with first made its premiere on the show in April 1944. On every show, Edwards would blurt out, “Is there a Mr. Wickel in the house?” He’d repeat this every week, but no one stepped forward for months. And there is a good reason for that: Wickel is an obscure last name. According to the latest US census, there are only 350 people named Wickel across the entire nation today. So, the chance of there being a Mr. Wickel in the audience of any Truth or Consequences show was next to nothing. It became a running gag on the show, one that would be discussed in newspapers across the nation, but as the months rolled by, no Mr. Wickel ever showed up.

That was until around 8:45 PM on Saturday, November 4, 1944. That’s when Ralph Edwards once again queried the audience, “Is there a Mr. Wickel in the house?” To everyone’s surprise, there was a response in the affirmative. The audience erupted in applause, and Edwards nearly lost his composure.

He was brought up on stage and told Edwards that he was 45-year-old Rudolph J. Wickel, an engineering representative for the Fitzgibbons Boiler Company in Verona, New Jersey.

The entire Truth or Consequences team was well-prepared for this moment – mainly because they had known for days that he would be in the audience – but Rudy Wickel clearly didn’t know what he was in for.

First, he was presented with a number of items all imprinted with the name Wickel on them, including a wicker chair, a doormat, pillowcases, and a tablecloth. He was also given a personalized bassinet for the little Wickels – a war scarcity – although his two children had long outgrown it.

But that was all minor stuff compared to what came next. Ralph Edwards pulled out of his pocket the will of one Peckinpaugh P. Wickel, a long-lost relative who had left behind $1,000 (~$18,560 today) in silver dollar coins. The will told of the treasure being buried in a woodland around which a modern city grew. And to determine the exact location, Edwards pulled out an old map, read off the latitude and longitude, and told Wickel that the coins were buried at the site of an old icehouse at the corner of Walnut and Prospect Streets in Holyoke, Massachusetts.

Edwards then handed Wickel a pick and shovel, along with a railroad ticket from New York City—where the show was being recorded—to Springfield, which is just south of Holyoke. The train was scheduled to leave at midnight, and upon arriving at 7:15 Sunday morning, Wickel would be greeted by Holyoke Mayor Henry J. Toepfert.

There was just one problem with this plan: Ralph Edwards didn’t just reveal the location of the buried treasure to Rudolph Wickel; he had simultaneously broadcast it to his entire listening audience. And before the show ended, hundreds of Holyoke residents, including women who had hastily thrown their coats over their nightgowns, raced over to the empty lot where the icehouse had once stood.

It was estimated that at least fifty people were turning over the soft dirt using whatever digging tool they had handy. Some had shovels, while others used spoons, some used their bare hands, and one man was observed using a diving rod to locate the buried treasure.

In the end, it was 23-year-old Joseph Roy and his 14-year-old brother-in-law, Henry Martelle, who struck it rich. At first, they dug in random spots near the northern edge of the lot, but shifted to the southern side after Henry noticed a park bench near the sidewalk. The pair lifted the bench aside and began digging. At a depth of about 3 feet (~1 m), they found a box. Weighing roughly 65 pounds (about 29.5 kg), they hauled it to the surface, lifted up the lid, and found a burlap bag filled with the silver coins.

The two quickly jumped into Roy’s truck and drove to the nearby Roger Smith Hotel (The building still stands: Google Maps), where representatives from the Truth or Consequences show had been staying. It was unclear whether the coins rightfully belonged to the two young men or to Rudy Wickel. Until the matter could be settled, the bag of coins was handed over to the Holyoke police for safekeeping.

In the meantime, there was a question as to whether Wickel was still on his way to Holyoke. It was possible that he had learned that the treasure had been found and opted to return home.

That question was answered early Sunday morning when Wickel stepped off the train. That’s when Mayor Toepfert informed Rudy that the treasure had already been found, and since the law required that buried treasure belonged to the finders, he had no claim to it.

Wickel was disappointed, but spent the remainder of the day on a whirlwind tour of Holyoke. First, he was taken to the icehouse site and shown the hole where the treasure had been discovered. Then, Rudy was interviewed by radio station WBZA, where he got to meet the two treasure finders. Taking pity on the man, each handed Wickel one of their silver dollars.

After the radio appearance, he attended a cocktail party at the Roger Smith Hotel, where he was the guest of honor. Not long after that, Wickel departed on the 6:05 PM train. All he had to show for his efforts was a couple of silver dollar coins, a pick, and a shovel.

As for the two treasure hunters, they agreed to split their find 50-50. Joseph Roy, who had been discharged from the Army the previous year after a three-year stint, said that he would use his $499 to help support his wife, their 2-year-old son, and a baby the couple was expecting the following month. Fourteen-year-old Henry, too young to have a family of his own, intended to spend $50 on Christmas gifts and save the remainder for what he jokingly called “my children in 1954.”

Of course, this wasn’t some long-buried lost treasure. In fact, Al Paschall, the Truth or Consequences stage manager, had traveled to Holyoke the previous week to orchestrate the event. Mayor Toepfert was fully aware of the ruse, as was James T. Clark, superintendent of Holyoke Public Works, who directed his crew to dig several holes at the icehouse site under the pretense of taking building soundings. Once the work was completed and the area was clear, Clark buried the box containing the loot. A bulldozer then leveled the site, eliminating any evidence of the excavation.

When questioned about Mr. Wickel losing out on the prize money, Ralph Edwards said, “I hadn’t counted on the gold rush, but I guess we have to find a consolation prize for Wickel.”

There definitely was going to be a consolation prize, but in typical Truth or Consequences tradition, they weren’t going to make it easy for Wickel to get it.

On the following Saturday’s broadcast from New York, Ralph Edwards opened the show by stating, “This is Edwards who got into a pickle over Wickel who didn’t get a nickel.” Joseph Roy and Henry Martelle made a brief appearance with their silver dollars on display. It was also announced that Truth or Consequences would repay the citizens of Holyoke for all that they went through by putting on a non-broadcast show in Holyoke two days later.

Rudy Wickel also appeared on the broadcast, joined by a purported attorney identified only as Appleby, who presented Wickel with a $1,000 check, supposedly written years ago by his granduncle Peckinpaugh Wickel. The catch was that neither the bank’s name nor its location had been filled in. Wickel was given a single clue—that the bank was “somewhere in the United States”—and one week to determine where his consolation prize had been deposited.

On Monday, November 13, 1944, at 8:30 p.m., a sold-out performance of Truth or Consequences proceeded as planned at the Holyoke War Memorial. Ticket sales generated $1,200 (approximately $22,250 today), which was donated to the city for the construction of a new playground to be called Wickel Park, complete with a statue of Rudolph Wickel.

As for the show itself, contestants were selected from the audience, and no one was able to guess the truth, so they all had to face the consequences.

Here are a few examples of what unfolded that night: One man had to roll up his trousers, put on a Hula skirt, and do a hula dance.

Another gentleman was asked to imitate a woman who had just come home from a tiresome shopping trip and was undressing to take a bath. He then awkwardly struggled with a girdle and removed his undergarments in a deliberately exaggerated manner.

In another challenge, a blindfolded woman was tasked with selecting a ripe melon—unaware that her choices also included two bald men.

Then there was a woman who was asked to telephone a friend in Holyoke. She did just that, barking each time Edwards tapped her on the back. Only at the end of the call was she allowed to explain the situation to her bewildered friend.

Also making an appearance on the stage that night was Rudy Wickel, who still had not located the bank where the prize money had been deposited, although he did receive a hint a bit earlier while dining at the Roger Smith Hotel. That’s when he received a message from S.J. Moore, a sales manager for business directory publisher R. L. Polk & Co. in New York. It read: “R. L. Polk & Co. would like to present you with latest editions of Polk’s Bankers Encyclopedia listing nation’s 14,000 banks. A postcard to each bank would locate your $1000. Present this wire to our New York office to receive your complimentary copy.”

Wickel never sent any of the 14,000 postcards, but during his appearance on the Saturday, November 18 broadcast, it was revealed that he had finally identified the bank he had been searching for. It turned out to be the same bank in Verona, New Jersey, where he conducted his own banking. This time, he did receive the $1,000—though with a familiar twist. The funds, said to have been deposited during the Civil War while his granduncle was still alive, were paid out in worthless Confederate currency.

Once again, attorney Appleby came on stage and revealed that a codicil to a codicil in Peckinpaugh Wickel’s will had been found. It said that he had placed the real money in a two-ton safe, which was wheeled out on stage. The only catch was that the combination had been lost. The safe would be sent to Wickel’s home in Verona, and he had one week to open it and return it undamaged.

Like clockwork, Wickel was back on the show the following Saturday, where it was announced that, with the help of Verona police, they were able to get the safe open. But what Wickel found inside was useless: it was only one-half of a $1,000 bill. His task on this week’s show was to locate the other half.

(Sidenote: Ralph Edwards consulted the Secret Service to determine the legality of the stunt. He was informed that it was not a crime, but that any bill containing less than two-fifths of the bill would be considered worthless. Three-fifths or more would be worth the full $1,000, while anything between two-fifths and three-fifths would be worth $500.)

So where was the missing half of the $1,000 bill? To uncover its whereabouts, Rudy Wickel was presented with yet another puzzle. He was told that the only living being who knew its location was an old talking parrot. The bird was handed over to Wickel, who spent the following week listening intently to it. Despite his efforts, the parrot repeatedly uttered just one single word, “Ken.” He finally conceded defeat and returned the parrot.

The December 2, 1954, Truth or Consequences show was broadcast from Chicago, while Rudy Wickel listened on from the NBC studios in New York City. During the show, Edwards confirmed that the bird had indeed been saying “Ken,” which is “neck” spelled backward. Then he chuckled and reached out to remove a small capsule that had been hidden in the bird’s neck feathers. Sure enough, inside was the missing half of that $1,000 bill.

But Truth or Consequences wasn’t yet done with Rudy Wickel just yet. Ralph Edwards announced that he was going to place the bill half in a book and then mail it to Wickel’s home. Once he received it, all he needed to do was open the book to page 13 to get his prize.

Sounds simple enough, but what Wickel didn’t know was that Edwards was about to pull one final gag on him. Later in the broadcast, when Wickel was no longer listening, Edwards asked everyone in his listening audience to mail a book to Wickel’s home address. That could mean hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands, or even millions of books arriving at his doorstep.

Edwards then let out his familiar catchphrase, “Aren’t we devils?” He added, “I can just see his face when the postman keeps coming to the front door, but this time he’ll get the $1,000. Mr. Wickel can no longer say that his fortune proved fickle.”

Sure enough, the first book arrived on the Monday after the show. The book, appropriately titled “24 Hours” by Louis Bromfield, had been sent via special delivery by Vera Pavlica of Holyoke, of all places. Wickel quickly turned to page 13, but didn’t find the missing piece of his prize. Instead, it was a 1944 100 Franc note that had been issued for use in Occupied France during the war.

The next book arrived with 11 cents (~$2.00 today) postage due and was titled “The Devil Shall Pay.” And Wickel had to pay the postage, but the book didn’t contain the prize money.

By that evening, 765 books had been examined without success. By the following day, they had thumbed through, in total, an estimated 5,800 books, yet they had still not found the missing half of the $1,000 bill.

Rudy told the press, “And the post office people tell me that when the books start coming in from the West, I’ll really have some mail.”

He added, “We’ll find the right page 13. All the neighbors’ children are helping. We’re finding the darndest things on other page 13’s – Confederate money, German marks, all sorts of stuff.”

It wouldn’t be until that Friday, December 8, 1944, that they found that missing half. It was on page 13 of a book titled “Blood, Sweat, and Tears.” They only had to comb through 5,876 other books to do so.

The following day, Rudolph Wickel would make his final appearance on Truth or Consequences. Ralph Edwards said, “Thanks a million, Mr. Wickel,” to which he replied, “Thanks a thousand, Mr. Edwards.” In exchange for Wickel’s participation in the multi-week stunt, four seats at the weekly Truth or Consequences show were dedicated to the Wickel family.

While he had finally received the prize money, the stunt hadn’t quite ended for the Wickels. That’s because books continued to arrive in the mail. In total, they received in excess of 18,000 books. The first 5,000 were given to soldiers at Fort Shanks in Orangeburg, New York, but it’s unclear what happened to the remainder of the books.

In the end, the Wickel gag cost the Truth or Consequences show an estimated $4,000 (~$74,000 today), but the amount of publicity that they received in exchange was priceless.

If you ever find yourself in Holyoke, Massachusetts, don’t bother looking for Wickel Park or a statue of Rudolph Wickel. Although the city accepted the show’s $1,200 donation, many residents objected to naming a park after a man with no connection to Holyoke beyond his role in a radio show prank. As a result, the funds were placed in a local bank while officials considered how best to spend them.

Fast-forward to 1965 – 21 years after the money was donated – and a special aldermanic committee was set up to investigate what had happened to the money. To the best of anyone’s knowledge, the money was never spent. The value of the fund, if it were still in the bank, was estimated to be worth approximately $2,400 (nearly $25,000 today).

A letter was sent to Ralph Edwards, and he wrote back:

 “We have checked our files and find that on August 28, 1947, Mayor Henry J. Toepfert of Holyoke asked her permission for the Wickel money held in escrow to be used to buy apparatus for the playground attached to the newly completed Memorial Village, built for veterans and their families. He asked for the power of attorney or some authority so they could order the apparatus for the playground. They were heading for an October 1 dedication, 1947.

“I wrote Mr. Rudy Wickel for his approval. He granted it. Al Paschall, my producer of the Truth or Consequences radio show, now deceased, wrote the mayor September 25, 1947, stating that Mr. Wickel had approved his request. Paschall asked that a plaque or some recognition be placed in the playground stating in effect ‘This equipment donated by Truth or Consequences in honor of Rudolph G. Wickel.’

“I hope this answers your question. Please give my kindest regards to our friends in Holyoke.”

While that may have been the terms that they agreed to, was the money ever spent?

I found the answer on the front page of the September 29, 1947, edition of the Holyoke Transcript-Telegram. The article states that a playground was being built on Westfield Road at the southeast corner of the Memorial Village housing development, exactly what Ralph Edwards said in 1965 in reply to the aldermen.

That field still does exist, and consists of a small playground, a volleyball net, and a Little League baseball diamond. Originally referred to as the Memorial Village Playground, many referred to it as the Mayer Tract Playground, because all of those homes were built by land developer and former alderman Joseph R. Mayer (b.1912 – d.1985). Today, it is simply referred to as Mayer Field.

There is a video on YouTube where a man recently filmed Mayer Field, but wasn’t sure why it was called that. He said he would research it, but there was no follow-up. Now we all know.

After researching this, I don’t think the city ever officially named it Mayer Field; it basically just got that name from continued use. And while I certainly don’t expect them to ever rename the park after Rudolph Wickel, I am quite certain that the plaque that was required to be erected in his honor is not there.

Come on, Holyoke! You accepted the money but never followed through on what was promised. It’s time to put up the plaque.

Useless? Useful? I’ll leave that for you to decide.