The Hayloft: A 1950s Mystery (and Music!) by Alan Cook - Young Adult On... Another Personal Favorite!

I have great faith in the people of the United States

to do the right thing in the long run.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“It’s what keeps me going.”

Apparently Ralph stayed behind and was there all alone.” None of this made any sense. “Does Dad know?” I asked. “I just called him,” Mother said. “He’s on his way home.” My father was the brother of Aunt Dorothy and the uncle of Ralph. I asked more questions, but my mother had given me all the information she had. If it were anybody else, I might have almost believed it—but Ralph. Ralph was indestructible. He climbed the highest trees, dove off the biggest rocks. We were the same age, but he did everything a little bit better than I did—and a lot more flamboyantly.

I heard our car pull into the driveway and turned off the radio. I was tired of hearing about communist-hunting by the House Un-American Activities Committee, anyway. And tired of listening to pop songs that had lost their music and meaning since Ralph died.

(My song selection based upon words; all others in book)

I admit, when I saw the 1950s mystery designation, I immediately bought it--for less than a dollar I surely got my money's worth...and more! By now you all know that I love books with music as part of the background story...So prepare to spend time with me as you read this review...

The book opens as Gary is isolated with measles and his family are coming back from the funeral for his first cousin, Ralph. Gary is confronted with his not being able to be there, but also with the confusion as to how he could possibly have died the way that he did. He fell off a balcony at his school... Gary didn't believe it and so, this quickly turned into somewhat of a cozy mystery as Gary was determined to find out exactly what happened--he wondered who else had been with Ralph that night and whether he was pushed!

A jukebox in the corner blasted out the Bill Haley and the Comets version of “Rock Around the Clock.” Rock and roll was still new, and some adults saw it as the latest form of teenage depravity. There had been a jukebox in the Atherton cafeteria that took nickels. Sylvia told me this one was free. Ralph had listened to this jukebox...

Gary's home room was in the cafeteria so music was playing quite often and some of the girls even did the Charleston. He laughed wondering how they'd learned those steps!

Gary met Sylvia on his first day at Carter. She was the class president and assigned to show him around the school. But before she came, Gary had been greeted by his new principal, Dr. Graves...

But Dr. Graves, first, spent time talking about Gary's being transferred to Carter, noting that it was at his discretion that he be accepted... And, he then mentioned that Sylvia would be coming in soon and that he needed Gary to work with him secretly. He noted that Sylvia's father had undergone a congressional investigation related to whether he was a communist... Dr. Graves wanted him to watch Sylvia and report back on anything that seemed suspicious...

Now that Ralph was gone, there was only one reason Gary was happy to be at Carter... He had fallen "in love" with the head cheerleader when they played at his old school... Even though she was, of course, dating the football hero here, he couldn't forget about her great beauty... But he got to know her through Sylvia while keeping one of those secrets... In the meantime, Gary began asking questions, and even risked going to a dance, alone, hoping to learn more...

I didn’t think anybody would hear me if I rang the doorbell, and the door was unlocked, so I walked in. The music instantly became much louder. I followed the sound to the living room where cigarette smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling. A fire in an old brick fireplace produced more smoke, most of which went up the chimney. Several couples were dancing on a hardwood floor, darkened with age, doing some version of the swing or dirty bop. The music was coming from a phonograph playing 45 RPM records. The girls who were dancing wore skirts with several crinolines underneath, which flashed when they spun. I saw a couple of poodle skirts. 

The boys, who outnumbered the girls, were dressed as their version of juvenile delinquents: blue jeans, T-shirts with rolled-up sleeves and a cigarette pack on one shoulder. A couple of them wore black leather jackets. Most wore their hair long. 

I immediately felt out of place with my short hair and neat clothes,especially because I didn’t recognize anybody. Then Willie materialized from someplace near the table that had been set up as a bar and grabbed me by the arm. He had a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth and had obviously been drinking. He pulled me over to the table where I recognized his brother, Dennis, larger and stockier than Willie, but with the same hair. When Dennis spotted me in tow of his brother, I stuck out my hand and said, “Gary Blanchard.” He shook my hand and said, “You’re the new kid. Have a beer.” He pulled a bottle out of a tub filled with ice, opened it deftly, and handed it to me. I took a sip. It was cold and slid down easily. One beer wouldn’t impair my driving ability. Although there were a few older boys and girls there, including Dennis, who had probably flunked a grade or two, I was willing to bet that most of the partygoers were under eighteen. And that included me. There wasn’t a parent in sight. No adults—just booze and broads. It reminded me of a definition I had heard of the difference between a good girl and a nice girl. A good girl goes on a date, goes home, goes to bed. A nice girl goes on a date, goes to bed, goes home. Although the saying was mostly wishful thinking, as was most sex talk at the high school level, it was tempting, if perhaps unfair, to imagine which kind these girls were. 

I had briefly thought about asking Sylvia if she would like to come, thinking that she needed to get out, just as I did. Now I was glad I hadn’t. And what was I doing here? I obviously didn’t fit in. I wouldn’t stay long. Willie was probably the youngest one at the party, and he was sitting by himself. I went over and sat down beside him on a folding chair. “Nice party,” I said. He smiled at me, a little bleary-eyed. “I have a question for you,” I said. Might as well take the opportunity to try and get some information. I continued, speaking loud enough to be heard over the pounding beat of the music, “I…I’m interested in Ralph Harrison. You said there was something funny about the way he died.” Willie took a drag on his cigarette and said, “Did I say that?” Of course, he had been in a drunken stupor at the time, just as he was now. I tried a different tack. “You said he taught you to walk on your hands.” Willie’s face brightened. “Ya wanna see me walk on my hands?” “No thanks.” Even if he succeeded, I was afraid he’d leave a trail of destruction in his path. “You must have known Ralph very well. How did you meet him?” Since they were two years apart in school. “He was on the varsity baseball team when I went out for JV. We both played catcher.” “Who’s the coach?” “Mr. Jarvis.” One of the gym teachers. 

“Dr. Graves sometimes comes to our practices.” “Oh.” I recalled Dr. Graves had said he watched swimming classes too. “Yeah, he knows a lot about baseball. He used to play semi-pro. He would give us tips.” “It sounds like Dr. Graves takes an interest in sports.” “That and he has favorites among the guys. Ralph was one of them. I’m another.” “What, do you brown-nose him?” “Naw, don’t have to.” “So what does he do?” Willie stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray sitting on an end table. He picked up a pack of Camels from the table, offered me one, which I refused, then took one for himself. He lit it with a lighter, also from the table. He inhaled deeply and blew smoke out through his nostrils. He looked at me and said, “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

~~~ 

And then the unthinkable happened. Sylvia's father was fired from his job. He had admitted that he had once joined the Communist party, but once he realized what it was all about, he left. That didn't matter to anybody in the surrounding area of Carter. Both the father...and Sylvia...were ostracized!

Gary and Sylvia had become closer, as friends, and moving toward more... But all of a sudden both Dr. Graves, Gary's father...and the Communist Craze was coming between them. At first he would sit with her at lunch and had been driving her to school... Then that was forbidden...

And somewhere along the way, a family heirloom, a necklace, was discussed, which immediately led to the young teens of the family on treasure hunts... And they began in The Hayloft!

And then as school was nearing the last day, a special program was held on the estate of one of the students. Gary was putting his clues together, but was it too late for him to find the murder of his cousin because, suddenly, he was caught in a trap from which he may never be able to escape!

The climatic ending is exciting, nail-biting, and certainly unexpected! As Gary turns into a school hero as the final dance occurs... And, in appreciation of this writer's fantastic storytelling, I want to close with a scene I had highlighted early in the book...the writing drew me in for a short escape before tragedy started... song by one of the most famous singers of the time ... Nat King Cole...

On Saturday afternoon, Carter played Atherton in football. At Carter. I knew I should be rooting for Carter, but my heart was still with Atherton. However, I decided that I had better sit on the Carter side of the field, since I attended Carter High now. Besides, the visitors’ bleachers faced west, and the spectators had the afternoon sun in their eyes. I was sure the field had been designed that away on purpose.

It was unseasonably warm—shirtsleeve weather. Perhaps too early to be called Indian summer, since it was officially just barely autumn, but the leaves were starting to turn to their autumn colors. The reds and golds made it the most beautiful season of the year—except for winter when a blanket of white covered the ground. And spring, when new green life appeared. And summer, when yellow grain filled the fields scraped flat by an ancient glacier. It was the kind of day that made me almost forget about my problems and just be happy I was alive.

Until I saw some Atherton people I knew across the gridiron. That brought a pang in my heart that I had been trying to quell. I arrived just before the game started, by design. The Carter stands were pretty much filled. The Carter band played the school fight song in the middle of the field with more enthusiasm than skill. The band members stood in the shape of a large C. I walked along in front of the bleachers, looking for a friendly face. The first one I saw was Sylvia’s. I turned away, feeling like a traitor. The band stopped playing, and I heard my name called. It was Sylvia...

And it was with Sylvia that he now had his last school dance... 

I was glad when the dance was over, but for different reasons. I finally got to dance with Sylvia again, to the band’s version of “Autumn Leaves.” Appropriate.

GABixlerReviews