Scamming Steve Laube

Scamming Steve Laube is impossible. Ask anyone. Steve Laube was once voted Editor of the Year. He's a sharp guy. He can't be scammed. So when I taught at the 2003 Mount Hermon Christian Writers Conference, my only goal for the conference was this: to scam Steve. I can hear you asking, why would I want to scam Steve? Simple: Because he's there, that's why.

Just so you know, Steve edited two of my books, Oxygen and The Fifth Man. In Oxygen, my coauthor, John Olson, and I named one of our terrorist characters Steven Lobby. Steve didn't let us get away with that. He made us change the name. But if you read Oxygen and come across a guy named Sidney Nichols, well, that was going to be Steve Lobby.

At left is a picture of me. Don't I look innocent and good-hearted? Don't be deceived. I'm wicked, conniving, and sly.

Up above on the right is a picture of Steve. He looks quite distinguished, doesn't he? Don't let that calm professional exterior fool you. Steve is now a sharpie, a con man, an operator. In a word, a literary agent. Yes, tragically, Steve has gone over to the Dark Side. Such evil deeds cannot go unpunished. Impossible or not, Steve Laube must be scammed. Click here for Steve's web site.

Sigmund Brouwer: "Here are characters that will make you laugh, make you think, and ultimately . . . make you cry. A startling allegory that will pierce your heart."

Brandilyn Collins: "A close shave of a read. Koppelheimer's wit is razor sharp!"

Hannah Alexander: "Shaving Babbitt is a deep tale, rich with pathos, dense with unexpected insight and humor."

Rene Gutteridge: "Shaving Babbitt is one of the most profound and touching allegories I have ever had the pleasure of reading. Triumphant and bold."

Marlo Schalesky: "Wow! Ms. Koppelheimer's crisp writing style, coupled with her deep believable characters, kept me reading into the wee hours of the morning. Shaving Babbitt is sure to soar straight to the top of the best-seller charts!"

John Olson: "Shaving Babbitt will keep you up late at night digging through the all different strata of meaning. Mildred's use of double, triple and even quadruple entendre still has me laughing."

Cindy Martinusen: "Shaving Babbitt is that rarest find, a delicious read that I never wanted to end. It left me forever and irrevocably changed."

Randy Ingermanson: "Gentle humor and a down-to-earth style make this sly, subtle satire of post-modernism a compelling read. Recommended!"

Colleen Coble: "Shaving Babbitt is a tour de force of literary excellence."

Kristin Billerbeck: "Koppelheimer's writing is riveting! This has a story that has waited too long to be told. Shaving Babbitt had me reaching for my husband's razor!"

Jack Cavanaugh: "Spellbinding! I admit, I was skeptical. The lyric quality of the prose, the magnetism of the characters, and the sheer power of storyline won me over. A must read for Christians."

T.L. Higley: "I can't believe I just stayed up till 3 AM reading Ms. Koppelheimer's marvelous book, Shaving Babbitt! What a wonderful, deep, satisfying read!"

James Scott Bell: "Mildred Koppelheimer's writing is strong and true. Welcome to a new, refreshing voice!"

Thursday, April 10, 2003 My 13-year-old daughter Gracie and I catch a flight for San Jose. Gracie will be attending the conference as a registered participant because she wants to be a novelist. On the plane, we joke about the possibility that we'll wind up riding in the same shuttle van as Steve to Mount Hermon. We arrive at the airport, check in with the shuttle people, and discover . . . Steve Laube and Terry Whalin waiting for the shuttle. I stutter an introduction between Gracie and Steve, wondering if she's going to break out laughing. Or worse, that I will. Somehow, we stumble through. Steve and Terry catch the van ahead of us. We breathe a sigh of relief and wait for the next one.

Friday, April 11, 2003 The conference begins at noon, but I have still not tried to put The Proposal into the manuscript retrieval system. A mistake here could be fatal, not least because I am on the faculty and am supposed to be an honest and upstanding citizen. Even worse, I am on the manuscript critique team. It's my job to run the system, not circumvent it. If I get caught . . . this might be my last Mount Hermon. I discuss the situation with Dave Meurer, the resident guru in all things involving scams on Steve. Dave has run several in the past, and of course he has one going this weekend. Dave suggests that I just ask the manuscript retrieval people directly. Heart in hands, I approach the head of the system, Pam Erickson, and tell her about the scam . . .

Pam laughs and agrees to put the manuscript into the system. Steve will receive it in his next pickup, and then it's anyone's guess how long it'll take for him to look it over. She says she hopes he falls for it. I tell her I doubt he'll be fooled. Steve is just too smart. I realize that I've put in a lot of work and it will all come to nothing when Steve rejects it. I start trying to think of a Plan B.

Saturday, April 12, 2003 I spend much time between meetings telling my co-conspirators that the manuscript is in the system and now all we can do is wait. I find Rene Gutteridge, who has flown in late, and we talk. She mentions casually that one of our conspirators, Cheryl and Mel Hodde (who write under the pen name Hannah Alexander) were trying to get everyone else to turn the tables on me and tell Steve. She assures me that the others convinced Cheryl and Mel not to do it, but suddenly a sliver of distrust slides under my skin. I realize that it's possible that this scam is going to be a scam on me. But Rene is one of those cannot-tell-a-lie people. I convince myself that she's on my side. She'd tell me if I was the scammee. I think. I hope. I pray.

The day passes quickly. I teach my first workshop, meet with a number of authors, and generally have a great time. This is why I came to Mount Hermon -- to hang out with cool writers. After supper, it occurs to me that I really ought to check to see if Steve has returned the manuscript with any comments. I hurry down to the manuscript retrieval center and ask if there is a manuscript returned for a Mildred Koppelheimer. The helper there is not Pam but someone else, someone not in on the scam. She assumes that Mildred is too shy to come herself and that I, the gracious critique team guy, have offered to help find it. We look through the box together and finally find it under the letter H. It seems that my daughter's K looks like an H. I thank the helper and hurry away. Holding my breath, I open the envelope and find that Steve has written a note in red ink to Mildred:

I would love to meet you. Hope we can connect here. I've enclosed my card. I would like to see your whole manuscript. Can you send it as an email attachment? Steve Laube

I feel a rush of emotions. Joy -- Steve has fallen for it! Fear -- what if he's onto me, playing a game? Hope -- now we've got to move to the endgame, the Meeting With Mildred. Terror -- how are we going to complete all the planning in only 24 hours?

I catch John at the evening keynote meeting and tell him the good news. John nods wisely and says he still hasn't worked out the endgame completely, but he'll figure something out. I ask what we're going to do, and he just says, "I don't know -- but I'll come up with something."

Sunday, April 13, 2003 At breakfast, I catch up with James Scott Bell and tell him the status of the conspiracy. Steve Laube wants a meeting, but how do we arrange one? Jim's a lawyer, and therefore, ought to be able to lie with a straight face. Take a look at his picture at left. Doesn't he look honest?

I ask Jim to tell Steve that Mildred has been called off campus for the day, but she would like to meet with him at 10 PM that night in the Soda Fountain.

This is a perfectly normal time for an appointment, and Steve agrees. He tells Jim that Mildred has a "fresh and original voice".

All systems are now Go. I alert the conspirators that the meeting is on, and that we will all meet in my room at 9 PM. By then, John Olson will have come up with the Endgame Plan and we'll play it by ear from there.

9 PM, Sunday, April 13, 2003 The evening meeting lets out. I scan the meeting hall for conspirators and remind them that we have one hour to plan the meeting with Steve. I remind them of my room number and hurry off looking for others. Finally, John Olson and Jim Bell and I locate Brandilyn Collins, who is contributing a "prop" as John calls it. He doesn't tell me what the prop is, but it doesn't matter. John and Jim and I head up to my room and . . . there's nobody there. Where are our conspirators?

9:10 PM, Sunday, April 13, 2003 I let Jim and John into my room, then hurry off to try to round up the other scammers. We need Colleen Coble to play Mildred! Without her, the plan is dead! I run back to the cafeteria. No Colleen. I dash to the auditorium. Nobody there. I run to Central Lounge. Still nobody. Is it possible that the other scammers are hanging out in the Soda Fountain? I race down there, peek inside, and see . . .

Anne Goldsmith and Jan Stob, two editors from Tyndale are sitting in a booth in the Soda Fountain. Anne catches my eye and gives me a smug look. I realize that Anne and Jan know something's up, so I walk over to their booth and lean down to talk to them. "What are you guys doing here?" I ask. Anne says in a very quiet voice, "We hear something's going to happen."

"Do you know who the target is?" I ask. Jan's voice is so quiet you'd think someone was strangling her. "He's sitting very close." I turn around and look. Sitting six feet away from me in the next booth, deep in conversation is . . . Steve Laube.

9:25 PM, Sunday, April 13, 2003 In a blind panic, I race back up to my room, realizing with horror that I have just blown the operation. What an idiot I am! Steve must have seen me, must have heard me. Now, he must know there's a scam going down and he's the target. I reach my room and hear . . .

Voices. Many voices. My room door is open and all of my co-conspirators are waiting for me. I slink in, wondering how in the world I'm going to explain that I just ruined the show with my big fat mouth. Before I can think how to say it, somebody closes the door. Colleen Coble says, "Who's going to tell him?"

I am suddenly very suspicious. I'm standing in the middle of about ten people, and all of them look like they know something I don't. John Olson says, "Sit down Randy. It's time we told you the plan."

I sit, wondering how things could possibly get worse.

WICKED
HOBBIT!!!

John holds up a bright red wig, a skirt, and a woman's top and says, "Randy . . . you're going to be Mildred."

All of a sudden, things are very clear. They've told Steve. He's in on it with all of them. They're going to try to get me to go down there dressed up as a woman and then they'll all yell, "Surprise!" and the scam will be on me. "No," I say. "No, no, no! Bad hobbits! Evil! Wicked!"

"Just try the wig on." John puts the wig on my head. I look like Weird Al. This is horrible. This is worse than horrible. I can't do this. But John explains the situation as only John can. This has been my scam from beginning to end. It's only fitting that I be Mildred. And if I do, they'll be talking about it here at Mount Hermon for years. Just like he promised a week ago. It begins to sink in that John has been planning this behind my back for a full week.

9:35 PM, Sunday, April 13, 2003 After ten minutes of argument, I realize that I have to be Mildred. Nobody else is willing to do it. If I want the scam to go down, I have to play the role. Tricia Goyer hands me one of her skirts and I pull it on over my blue jeans. Cindy Martinusen gives me one of her stretchy tops. I pull it on and discover that I'm . . .

Flat as a barn. I do not look convincing in the Boob Department. John pulls out my suitcase, takes out a pair of socks, balls them up, and hands them to me. By now, the room is rocking with laughter. In the prevailing spirit of insanity, I put the boobs in place. They look moderately convincing. I am silently having a cow. John gives me the wig and I try it on.

Presto! Mildred Koppelheimer lives!

Very fetching, no?

And then John opens his mouth and blows his cover . . .

9:40 PM, Sunday, April 13, 2003 John says the giveaway words, "Mel and Cheryl." Instantly, I know I've been had. Mel and Cheryl were precisely the ones trying to turn everyone on me. There's only one reason John would mention them now--because he's been in communication with them.

I yank off the wig. "Nice try, folks, but I'm on to you. Now admit it! You're scamming me, aren't you?"

After a minute of shocked silence, the whole crew goes into earnest, innocent denials. "Who us? Scam you? Never!" they say. I argue. They argue. Jim Bell finally admits that they thought about reversing the scam on me. "But we decided not to," he says in his slick lawyer voice, "only because you worked so hard to make this work. We decided to give you a chance to pull it off." Rene looks convincingly innnocent.

I believe them. I don't believe them. I have no idea who's scamming whom. Should I go through with it? Or should I bail? There is a long moment of tense silence . . .

"OK, I'll do it," I say. But in my heart, I'm more than half convinced that the joke's going to be on me. Maybe so, maybe not. Either way, I figure they'll be talking about it for years. And it'll be pretty darn funny, either way. I put the wig back on and we march out.

9:45 PM, Sunday, April 13, 2003 We troop down to the Soda Fountain. Jim Bell goes in to reconnoiter, then comes back to report that Steve is in place in the far back corner of the Soda Fountain. We form up in a large group. Jim goes in first and blocks Steve's view of the door. The rest of us enter en masse. I sit at the table nearest the door, with my back to Steve. The others drift away to various tables. The Soda Fountain is now at peace. Steve's view of me is a wig and the back side of a woman. I'm part of the background, effectively invisible.

I'm sitting at a table with five women. We break it apart so that I'm at a table for two, sitting across from Janet Kobobel Grant, an agent. This couldn't be better if we had planned it. Janet is now Steve's competition for Mildred Koppelheimer. The stage is set. Two teenagers come over with a video camera and try to interview me. I'm too nervous to say anything clever.

Everybody in the place has now seen me, except Steve. I'm getting winks, thumbs-up, nervous grins. I have no idea who knows what's up. I have no clue whether they're all in on this scam--against me. All I know is that the scam can't happen till my daughter Gracie gets here. I've told her to show up by 10 PM. A long fifteen minutes pass. The women at the next table give me helpful suggestions on how to keep my boobs from sagging. A good time is being had by all. My deodorant is working EXTRA hard.

10 PM, Sunday, April 13, 2003 Gracie walks in and goes right past without noticing me. She doesn't know that I'm to be Mildred. An hour ago, when I last saw her, I didn't know I was going to be Mildred either. Someone finally brings her over and she says hi. Then she scurries off to a corner booth so Steve won't see her and get suspicious.

At five minutes after the appointed hour, Jim Bell comes over. "Are we ready to rock?" he says.

"Let's do it," I say. I'm sweating grenades now. I'm 98% sure that the scam is on me. 99%.

The women are whispering now. "Steve's on his way."

I smile at Janet Grant, my "agent". "Which side is he coming from?" I whisper.

Janet points discreetly to my left side. "He's almost here. Almost here. He's here . . . now!"

I leap up and spin around, shrieking, "Oh! You horrible man! Where have you been?"

The shock on Steve's face is total. He simply isn't processing what he's seeing. And can you blame him?

An instant later, Steve Laube knows he has been scammed. A huge grin splits his face. He lunges forward, grasping me in a hug. He plants a fat smooch on my cheek. The entire place is roaring. Flashbulbs are exploding.

Steve and I turn to the cameras. He mugs. I try to put a smooch on his ear, but I catch air. Nobody cares.

And I realize that John Olson was right. They're going to be talking about this thing for years at Mount Hermon.

After things quieted down, Steve opened his presents. That's him in Harry Potter glasses, holding up some sort of goofy book. Cindy Martinusen, standing behind Steve, had bought most of the gag gifts, including the glasses and book. Jan Stob, on Steve's left, is clearly considering becoming an agent.

I had bought him a yo-yo, on the theory that agents need to get used to sending things out and having them come right back.

We all presented Steve with a card, congratulating him on his becoming an agent.

Eventually, I had to fight people to keep the wig. To the left is a shot with John Olson wearing the fabulous hairpiece. John is a novelist, after all, and it's every novelist's dream to, um . . . cross-over.

That's Jim Bell left of John and Tracy Higley is on his right. In the foreground left is Kristin Billerbeck, and to the right is Jan Stob. Behind Kristin is the famous humor writer Laura Jensen Walker.

Here is an incriminating shot of Anne Goldsmith taking her turn with the wig and hugging Brandilyn Collins, owner of the wig. Next to Anne is Rene Gutteridge, whose honest face helped keep me in the game. And in the lower left corner is Janet Grant, who played Steve's rival as Mildred's agent so magnificently. Steve told me later that when he saw Mildred at a table with Janet, any suspicions he might have had simply evaporated. I guess he'll never trust Janet again.

Here is a shot of Steve with three of the prime conspirators, Colleen Coble, me, and John Olson. While it appears that Steve has forgiven us here, he warned me later that I'd better beware of "divine retribution" next year.

I can hardly wait . . .

A special thanks to my long-time friend, Brandilyn Collins, who had a difficult conference because she was suffering with Lyme Disease, and yet still played a crucial role in this scam.

Brandilyn sacrificed her wig for the good of the many. In this shot, she is also sacrificing what remains of her reputation by appearing in a photo with an extremely unsavory person. Brandilyn is the one on the left in this photo.

Still more thanks to Tricia Goyer, shown here with some guy's hand on her shoulder -- I have no idea whose. Tricia was the willing donor of a skirt for Mildred, and this will no doubt provide fodder for humorous ways for us to sign each other's books for many years. I simply cannot repeat for you the way she signed my copy of her book, From Dust and Ashes. Go ahead! Ask Tricia! I promise she'll be X-tremely embarrassed and will pretend she "can't remember."

Here is one of my prime co-conspirators, Cindy Martinusen. Cindy provided the top to complete Mildred's stunning ensemble. Again, there is much grist here for future humorous booksignings, but I'll spare you the details.

Cindy bought most of Steve's gag gifts and came up with the idea for turning the Meeting With Mildred into a party to celebrate Steve's passing on to the better world of agenting. Thanks for all your help, Cindy!

Here we see agent extraordinaire Janet Kobobel Grant taking time out of her busy schedule to pose with The Guy Who Scammed Steve Laube. Well, if I have to be famous for something, that's certainly a worthy title, right? But Janet, you definitely need to be more careful who you associate with. You are in Bad Company here. Aren't you ashamed?

Here I am posing with another conspirator, Tracy Higley. Tracy is the author of the thrillers Retrovirus and Marduk's Tablet.

Here is a shot of me and John sandwiching poor Katy Martinusen, who is Cindy's sister-in-law. I think it was Katy who offered her lipstick for Mildred's betterment, but Mildred refused. A girl's gotta have some standards, and everybody knows that lipstick leads to . . . dancing.

The infamous Gang of Six. I have no idea what the Gang of Six is infamous for, but there you have it. In the back row, John Olson and I have again sandwiched an unfortunate lady, the redoubtable Anne Goldsmith, who worked at Tyndale until this photo became public. So sorry, Anne, but your mother was right. You are known by the company you keep.

In the front row, from left to right are: Jan Stob, whose editing career at Tyndale was also destroyed by this photo; Cindy Martinusen; and Rene Gutteridge.

Finally, in the spirit of shameless name-dropping, John and I cornered poor Calvin Miller, shown here in a state of near insanity after being forced to read our book Oxygen for literally several seconds. Oh the horror! I suspect Calvin will never be the same.

OK, this is really the last shot. Steve Laube is laughing with Sharon Norris Elliott about something or other -- probably about the "great scam he pulled on Randy." Sharon taught the Teen Track this year. She was the lucky person who was talking to Steve when Jim Bell came over and asked him to "come talk to Mildred Koppelheimer".