Last Summer at the Ranch and the River: ...And Just 67 Years Ago This Fall.

By Adam Dumphy

Herding caterpillars; raiding a neighbor’s tall peach tree by means of stilts; constructing a fake “Loch Ness Monster” with canvas and a derelict canoe; machinations in a Pawn Shop to obtain the fur coat of a ‘genuine’ Eskimo Princess: or even adding paddling (with a real paddle) as the initiation fee for the prestigious San Francisco based Paddle and Canoe Club are hardly crimes. To the participant they rate more properly as just boyish exuberance.

In such affairs as these Johnny was the brain, Chuck the muscle and the author as youngest and smallest, was the unfortunate shuttle cock sent aloft to the winds of chance in walking, swimming or producing any chicanery necessary, to complete the plan.

And as for an author age eighty, like Adam, memories can expand or recoil like a worn out accordion or a “Slinky” going down stairs, it is no problem for him to combine the actual happenings of eight summers spent in a cabin in the tourist town of Monte Rio on the Russian River in Northern California into one summer’s adventure.

Add the first burgeoning forth of a very shy, very tentative romance and you have this story.

Locale, circumstances and incidents are true. It has been colored in part for reader interest.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 29, 2006
• ISBN: 9781467824934

Adam Dumphy

Inflamed by a novel of and during the Spanish Civil War of 1936, titled, “The Kansas City Milkman”, Adam Dumphy searched out and contacted a clandestine enlistment center for the British Ambulance Corps operating there. Clandestine as it was at the time an illegal act to aid either side in the conflict. To Adam that fit the novel and made it all the more interesting to him and more Hemingwayesque. He ever after felt the British people generally to be biased and intolerant as he was rejected and simply for being only twelve years old. Still he found himself fascinated by that most peculiar of wars even as some men are towards our American Civil War. All the books and information he collected then he still has. His loyalty he has tried to maintain unbiased to either side although it has varied in degree from one side to another from year to year. Now from the vantage point of eighty years of age the only thing he can decide with certainty about the affair is that both sides got a very “bad press”. But then he believes that is true of most major events.

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This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations

are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual

persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

© 2006 Adam Dumphy. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse

ISBN: 1-4259-2707-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4678-2493-4 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

Contents

Hut Sut

Grandma Sascha

The Loveless Monster

The McLeans At Home.

That Alaskan Fur

Hidden Valley

Those Weaver Boys

The Paddle Club

The Dance

YPF

The Hitchhiker

Toughy

Stanley

About the Author:

To

Jay Muranaka

And all the present day teenagers of this TV raddled generation who have no idea of the peace, joy, the tingling excitement and limitless hopes of the teens of the last (Best?) Generation

Hut Sut

Hut sut ralston on the riddle rah and a brawla brawla suet….

Early summer of 1937 and the Hut Sut song was very popular. Everybody was singing it. It didn’t matter that we didn’t know what the words said; besides everybody pronounced them differently anyway. The high school band had just got the arrangement and was kicking it out at the best party I had ever seen.

Hey, Timmy. You got to dance with my sister.

That is, I amended, it had been the best party just up until that minute. Not that I had expected a little kid’s party with paper hats and balloons. Johnny was sixteen today and his party was class.

Firstly best ever because it was couples. Twelve boys and twelve girls. The girls in billowy, party frocks and the boys in suits. Well mostly. Actually I was wearing a new sport coat and the same old slacks I wore on Sunday to church, which didn’t exactly match, but I thought I was beautiful.

The affair started with a sit-down dinner, with waiters even, in the sunken dining room of the big, new house on Arbor Drive in San Leandro. Just a short commute across the Bay from San Francisco, San Leandro was becoming a rich man’s suburb of The City. Springing up in the midst of the cherry orchards just across the bay from Trolley Town were new houses everywhere you looked. Set in orchards over a low rolling landscape, free of fog and sunny like in the California ads. But the McLean’s new house was the biggest and the newest.

Called Nordic Modern or something it meant all natural wood outside. And inside three stories almost with steep roofs and skinny windows and lots of gables. Inside it was all natural wood too. Stairs led up and down to four different levels, some even on the same floor.

This party was a kind of open house and birthday party combined. Parents dropped by to say ‘how do’ and ‘oh my’ but out of sight and sound of the birthday festivities.

So at dinner we gourmeted and generally caroused in a genteel way. After dinner we trooped out into the back yard where a dance floor had been laid down and a couple of green and white tents were waiting. Johnny opened a bunch of presents including a couple of ‘nickel-brick’ baseballs and then came THE present. A 1935 Ford V-8 pick up, a little banged up but in bright red.

Only one guy in the whole school had a car at that time. A shiny green Studebaker but it had so much chrome on it, it was called the ‘tinsel monster’ and the owner ‘tinsel Tony’ and both were looked down on.

But the truck in red was just the right touch and with elan. For fishing or hunting trips, hauling stuff to the ranch or just piling it full of kids to drive up to the Russian River in Northern California for a swim. But for now there was the six-piece band and the ‘Hut Sut’.

You heard me, Timmy. Dance with my sister.

Why me? Why should I? She is taller than I am and besides Chuck is the one who is crazy about her. Follows her around and moons a great sigh when ever she even smiles. Which isn’t that often.

Because my Mom says.

Why me?

Because she wants the kids to start dancing. The band is only hired for two more hours. If Chuck dances with Lois it’s just because he wants to, and if I dance with her it’s because I have to. But if you do all the kids will too.

Your Ma says to?

I looked over to where Mrs. McLean was fussing over the refreshment booth. She was a short lady, stocky but very lady. Johnny had got his tight blonde curls from her, but the happy, pretty face and all that charm was solely hers. When you were around her things seemed happy and you weren’t ignored either, or put aside. When you said something she listened.

She wasn’t a San Francisco girl like a lot of the fancy mothers. The family ranch at Napa had been her folks’ originally and she grew up there. The society ladies didn’t really feel comfortable with her then. She just went her own way but she dressed so beautifully and was always so well groomed she was included. And most everything she did became the fashion. Also she didn’t try to act young.

I guess I first got to like her because Johnny gave her such a bad time and she took it so well. He did give her fits and he seemed to have a genius for trouble starting. She said herself, of the three of us Johnny was the head devil, Chuck the muscle, and I was the only sensible one. But she didn’t mean it. We all got treated the same which I thought was pretty nice.

Lately Johnny had a new torment. When she would make him do something he didn’t want to do he would look behind her and say, Yes, Miss Pratt.

Now Pratt was her maiden name so she really couldn’t complain but with her shape and the way he said it, it was not exactly complimentary. It embarrassed her I know, but she would only say, Oh Johnny just do it. And in that tone of voice he would.

I didn’t want to dance with that Lois but I guess I’d do anything to please her Mother. So I marched across the patio to where the girls were clustered. Lois saw me coming immediately and watched me cross the room and then when I just got to her she turned to a neighbor and seemed to be listening to something momentous.

Lois. May I have the pleasure…

Right in the middle of my speech she burst out talking to her friend. I waited and when it went on and on I yelled. Hey, Lois. Loud. Come on we have got to dance. Your Mom says.

She put on that disgusted, irritated look she wore when I was around. Timothy Andrews, that is no way to ask a girl to dance. You should say…

I did and you interrupted. Come on. Your Mom wants the other kids to start dancing and we got to start it.

She stood up then and said, I accept your gracious invitation with the utmost repugnance. And while I would prefer Ghengis Kahn instead, I submit to my fate. Which was pretty weak for her.

But she had a nervous look as I led her to the empty dance floor and trying to reassure her I said, Don’t worry. My sister just taught me the latest steps. I just have to figure out which step to use.

She wasn’t helpful. Just do the jig or the Balboa, Dummy.

I was all right then. I knew where I was. But I guess I was a little nervous too as we started. I almost stepped on her pump and had to hop quick to keep off her foot.

I added. My sister says not to worry if you step on the girl’s toe. The girl is supposed to follow… Follow, Lois… F O L L O W.

But she just turned up her nose and looked away.

And, I said, she says if a girl wants a second dance with a fellow she should smile a lot and talk and be complimentary.

She gave me her sweetest smile and said demurely. Bully for your sister.

Just the same things were better now. Two other couples were on the dance floor and the music continued to be great.

You know you really are a very good dancer, Lois.

I got only a suspicious look.

And you sure look pretty tonight. I like your dress.

She continued to glare.

And what’s that smell?

Actually, she said in her Mother’s voice, It is Chanel Number 5. From Paris. She pronounced it ‘Payree’

No, no. Not that. It smells like ginger bread.

I got the disgusted look again. It is ginger bread for the break. And if you are a good little boy there is ice cream to go on it. Try not to spill it all down your shirt front for once.

The music stopped and I looked around for Ruth Malm but she had just been captured by Max Shelton and led onto the dance floor. And as we were still standing there when the music started I danced another with Lois.

The music was slower now and it was easier to talk.

Lois, there is something I’ve been wanting to ask you, well… for a long time, but I’ve been too embarrassed to ask, I guess.

Oh?

Well…ah.

What is it Timmy? She smiled her Mama’s sweet smile at me. I was surprised, as she hadn’t called me ‘Timmy’ for years.

Listen. Do you really walk in your sleep?

Who told you that?

Johnny.

And what business is it of yours if I do?

Because living as I do so far out of town it’s hard for my Dad to always pick me up at times. There is a family dinner at home tonight so I’m staying here overnight.

Johnny had a big bedroom of his own upstairs with a double-decker bunk and shelves under the bottom bunk. It was the first one I had ever seen and normally when I stayed the night I slept in the upper bunk. More often than not that ended in a monumental pillow fight, out the door, down the stairs and into the yard. So tonight I was banished to the guestroom.

Just for tonight, Lois, if you don’t mind, don’t.

You may rest assured Mr. Andrews, that I will not disturb your slumber.

Gee. Lois I don’t see why you get so mad about things. If you were to stroll into the guest room in your night gown it could be embarrassing.

Actually. I always dress completely, heels, hose, hat, gloves and veil before I walk in my sleep.

Really. I always thought…

The music had stopped and Ruth was smiling at me over Max’s shoulder.

Thanks a lot, Lois.

I led her back to her folding chair and cut out Max.

I got my dance with Ruth and it was great. So great we danced every dance the rest of the evening. Chuck danced with Lois a lot but what surprised me was how many other guys did too.

Then it was midnight and the band packed up and left. The overnight guests, me and Myra O’Neill, a giddy, blonde friend of Lois, stayed out of the way while the others said their ‘good night’ and ‘had a wonderful time’ when the big cars came up the drive to hauled away the bodies.

I gassed a while with Johnny in his room and then Mrs. M. showed me to the guestroom. I’d been so sleepy downstairs I couldn’t keep from nodding, but once in bed I was wide awake. I lay there and thought about the party and dance. From time to time I’d smell my hands. At our house we had only Ivory soap, but the Mc L.s in their fancy marble bathroom had the new red Lifebouy, ‘Stops B.O.’, not flat but hexagonal shaped and with a scent. But after the scent wore off it smelled like creosote. I could smell the creosote now and I realized I was living the high life.

It must have been 1:30 AM or so when I was aware of a sound in the hall. It sounded like a moan at first, low and eerie and then got louder and scarier. It sounded like it was right outside my door and like a soul in torment.

I got up and tiptoed to the door and looked out. There was nothing down the hall but as I turned back I glanced up the short staircase to the eaves bedroom and about died. There was something there. An apparition or a ghost. A woman in a long white gown and veil. Her face under the veil was dead white but with horrible, bright red lips. And she was smiling a horrid, wide lipped smile.

I grabbed the door to keep from falling my legs were so weak, and I was panicked I admit. My feet fell like ice and I couldn’t get my breath. I said something like, GEE… outta here… and gulped.

And then I heard a giggle and saw Myra’s face peeking through the banister and I knew I’d been jobbed. The figure came slowly step by step down the stairs still moaning horribly. But it was Lois all right and I knew I would never hear the end of this one. I didn’t know what I was going to do but I was determined to do something. I caught her hand, jerked her off the last step, caught her with an arm around her waist and flung her over my hip. She was laughing too hard to resist.

Oh Timmy… Your face…

The door to the second floor balcony was across from my room and I packed her to it. I swung open the door and pushed her out onto the balcony.

Timmy, don’t lock… She began.

I locked the door on the inside. Hope you enjoy the sunrise, Lois. Only four hours. And you’ll be out there ready and waiting when it arrives.

Timmy, let me in! Timmy… Timmy open the door. Oh … Timmy there is someone out here.

She was always a bit of an actress but not that good. Her voice was screechy and she was scared. I opened the door and raced out on the balcony fast. She was just standing there, eyes huge and terrified.

Oh Timmy. He was right there, right beside me.

I circled the balcony quick and then looked over the edge. There was no one anywhere.

Nobody here, Lois. but she was sobbing now. I didn’t like that so I soothed. Look, Baby, don’t cry everything is all right now.

I put an arm around her and she burrowed into my shoulder and bawled. I was patting her on the back in a brotherly fashion when I heard a sound and looked up to see Mrs. M. standing in the doorway with a strained look on her face.

Timmy, what in the world… she started.

I didn’t have to answer. When the girl heard her Mama’s voice she broke away and scooted into her Mother’s arms.

Oh Mama. It was awful. He was just standing there. A big black shadow in the moonlight. Then he smiled at me and almost touched me as he passed by.

The mother just hugged her girl and called over her shoulder. Chet.

Mr. M. appeared in striped pajamas, barefoot and carrying a slipper.

There was a prowler on the balcony. Mrs. M. advised.

He dropped the slipper and ran down the stairs. When he heard me following he looked back, and nodded but didn’t slow down. We skittered down the main stairs to the landing and looked into the living room. Something moved in the deep shadows there.

I caught Mr. M.’s pajama coat, I think…

Yeah. he said and vaulted the rail onto the main floor. I kept going down the stairs and out the front door to the drive. I had just rounded the corner by the living room when I was hit by what felt like a run away dump truck. I flew up in the air and came down on my back and head and heard the bells ring.

As things cleared someone was bending over me