Watermelons
Some of the most memorable stories are not about major events they’re about ordinary moments shared between friends. Looking back, one such memory came from my time working in District 9 in the southwest corner of Arkansas, where a simple rivalry over watermelons became a story no one involved would ever forget.
A Friendly Competition in Hope, Arkansas
Several of the people I worked with in District 9 were watermelon farmers. One of them was close friends with the local game warden, and every year they enjoyed a friendly competition over who could grow the best watermelon.
Each would carefully select what they believed was their finest melon and enter it in the county fair, hoping it would be named Grand Champion. Winning meant more than just taking home a ribbon. These melons were grown near Hope, Arkansas, a town well known for producing exceptionally sweet watermelons. That reputation mattered because a watermelon labeled as a “Hope melon” could sell for as much as a dollar more than competing melons.
There was even a story that a Texas grower once hauled a trailer full of watermelons into Hope overnight and tried to market them as Hope-grown melons. The incident reportedly led to an investigation and discussions about creating a certification program. I moved to Alaska before I ever learned how that story ended.
An Entry No One Expected
The friendly competition continued for several years as each farmer tried to outdo the other.
One year, one of our tractor-plow operators in District 9 a firefighter whose name I no longer remember, so I’ll simply call him Joe was out of the county when entries for the fair were due. Wanting to help his friend, the local game warden submitted a watermelon on Joe’s behalf.
By the time Joe returned, the judging had already taken place.
Curious about the results, Joe stopped by the fair on its final day. His friend had won a ribbon, though I can’t remember which one now. As Joe admired the display of beautiful watermelons, one strange-looking entry immediately caught his attention.
It hardly looked like a watermelon at all.
With a long neck resembling a yellow squash, a misshapen middle, and an oddly protruding end, it looked more like a gourd than a prize-winning melon. Joe couldn’t imagine why anyone would enter such a thing in a competition featuring some of the finest watermelons in Arkansas.
Naturally, curiosity got the better of him.
He walked over to see who had grown the unusual melon.
When he read the name on the entry card, he was stunned.
It was his own.
Becoming the “Gourdmelon Farmer”
Joe was horrified.
Since it was the final day of the fair and nearly closing time, there was nothing he could do. If he had come earlier, perhaps only a handful of people would have seen the unusual watermelon. Instead, thousands of fairgoers had already walked past what everyone now believed was Joe’s prize entry.
For weeks afterward, his coworkers teased him about his famous “gourdmelon.” The nickname followed him everywhere, though it was all done in good fun.
Joe immediately realized who had entered the watermelon for him.
The game warden.
Like good friends often do, they laughed about the practical joke together.
But Joe quietly decided the score wasn’t settled yet.
A Clever Payback
The county fair happened during peak watermelon season, but the game warden hadn’t harvested his crop yet. He was waiting for prices to rise later in the season.
Joe saw an opportunity.
Using a pay phone, he anonymously reported a night hunter operating in the far end of the county. As expected, the game warden spent the night staking out the area in search of the supposed poacher.
While his friend was away, Joe visited the watermelon patch.
Rather than stealing anything, he simply moved each watermelon six to eight inches from where it had been growing.
The result was surprisingly convincing. The grass still showed empty depressions where the melons had originally rested, making it appear that someone had stolen a large portion of the crop.
The exhausted game warden returned home the next morning and took a nap.
Later, when he visited his field to begin harvesting, he saw what looked like dozens of missing watermelons.
Convinced that thieves had raided his patch and would probably return he spent the next two or three weeks guarding the field at night.
Of course, the “melon thief” never came back.
Eventually, Joe confessed to the prank, and the two friends shared another laugh over what had become an unforgettable chapter in their ongoing rivalry.
Every Good Story Deserves One Last Laugh
Good friendships often produce the best stories, especially when harmless practical jokes become legends that people remember for years.
Looking back, the “Great Watermelon War” of Hempstead County wasn’t really about winning ribbons or protecting a melon patch. It was about friendship, good humor, and the kind of memories that stay with us long after the laughter fades.
Stories like this are part of what inspired Before We Were Heroes: Southern Fires by Bill Beebe. They remind us that life’s most meaningful memories aren’t always found in extraordinary events. Sometimes they’re hidden in everyday moments shared with good friends—and in the occasional tale of a very unfortunate “gourdmelon.”