The combination locks that were checked out to students in my junior high and high school were outfitted with a cylinder that would accept a master key. This was undoubtedly a great convenience for the custodian, in case access had to be gained without the student's participation. It immediately occurred to me that I would have great power over my fellow students if I possessed a copy of that master key.
I had no thought of "borrowing" the master key from the custodian, but I did consider making one. Before I started high school, somehow one of the high school locks was added to my collection. I used an assortment of my father's tools to destroy enough of the lock to remove the cylinder. And during the same time, I obtained a blank of the right dimensions from the local K-Mart. It only remained to measure the tumblers and shape the key so that it moved the tumblers into the right alignment..
That is where I lost confidence. I had only one blank, so I didn't dare make an error. I had the cylinder out of the lock, but I didn't want to take the tumblers out of the cylinder, for fear that I would not be able to reassemble the precious cylinder and test my creation. If I had had 10 blanks and 2 cylinders, the outcome might have been different. As it was, I abandoned the project after taking one small nick out of the blank with a file.
No matter. It turned out that the idea of a master key was just as good as the real article.
The spring of my sophomore year, I was standing near Kathy Humphries' locker and chatting with her before fourth period. One of a group of bullies standing nearby reached into Kathy's locker, took out a package of Twinkies, put it in his own locker and slammed the door before we could protest. We both demanded the Twinkies back, but the boys laughed and went off to class.
I vowed revenge. I had noticed that the boy had a baseball glove in his locker, and I imagined there were other valuable items in there as well. I returned before 7th period and tried to get the baseball glove in order to force a swap. But the bully saw me coming and guessed my intent. The locker door was closed before I could reach inside.
It happened that that day was a Friday. I returned to the school on the next day and used my usual trick to pop the latch on the cafeteria doors at the west side of the building. Soon enough I gained access to the math wing, and went to the right locker. With a swift kick, my hiking boot knocked the entire handle off the front of the locker.
I had observed another locker whose handle had been broken off by accident, so I assumed it would be easy enough to repair. I examined the locker handle, and found that it had been held in
place by two small machine screws. My blow had caused both to shear
off near the head, but neither the locker nor the handle was damaged.
All I needed was two replacement screws, and the locker would be good as
new. I backed out the shafts of the headless screws and picked up the heads. I put all these in my pocket for later comparison.
It was then easy enough to help myself to the locker's contents. But I didn't want to be found with stolen property in my locker. That would never do. I needed a safe place to store the loot that was not incriminating. I immediately got the idea of putting the stuff in the lost-and-found. I took the glove and a cap and a few smaller items, and went down to the principal's office. I used my latch pick to open up the main door and then went into the closet that held the lost and found. I burrowed down in the pile of forgotten clothing and nested the goods near the bottom of the cardboard box.
Then I went down to McGuckin's Hardware, and found a match for the broken screws in thread size and length. I even had the good fortune to find ones with hexagonal heads, just like the ones I'd broken. I went back to the high school, repaired the locker handle and left. So far, so good.
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On Monday, I was met at my locker by a very angry bully-boy. Angry, but respectful, lest he should make me decide to return his property never. He demanded to know if I was responsible for the disappearance of his baseball glove, and wanted to know how I had done it. I told him I had made a master key that fit all the locks in the building, and he wasn't going to get his glove back until he returned the Twinkies. He said he didn't have the Twinkies any more (presumably having eaten them). Too bad. (Conversations were short, because the halls cleared out in a hurry when the second bell rang.)
A short time later, I received a note that summoned me to Millie Beavers' office the following period. Millie was the head of the math department, and also was responsible for managing the lockers in the math wing. When I showed up in her office, she put out her hand and said, "Okay, where is it?" (I was taking independent study math which she supervised, and her tone was normally much more cordial.) I was forced to explain that there wasn't any master key, and how I had obtained access to the locker by breaking off its handle. When asked about the loot, I said I didn't really take it -- I had just put it in the lost-and-found.
That was the end of it: I received no punishment; the boy reclaimed his stuff, and Kathy never did get her Twinkies back. In retrospect, I suppose Millie was smart enough to let the master key story stand. Revealing that a locker handle could be sent flying by a sincere glancing blow would have precipitated general mayhem. So that was our little secret.
From the bullies' perspective, however, the idea that I had made one master key certainly meant that I could make another. Bully-boy and his chums treated me and Kathy with proper respect for the rest of our time at Boulder High.
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