Harry and a friend were off in a corner booth hunching over drinks and keeping their voices low; when someone approached who might overhear they switched the talk to the weather.
How to achieve their goal and leave no clues behind was the topic under discussion. Harry’s friend had offered a plan he said would serve the purpose. Harry, respectfully silent and keenly attentive during the presentation, now offered his honest assessment.
“Dumb,” he said. “I got a better idea.”
His friend took a swig of his drink, settled back in the booth and said he’d be happy to hear it; in fact he could hardly wait. But scarcely had Harry started when his friend leaned forward and said: “Break-in a place like that? You gotta be kidding, Harry.”
Harry, a sting in his voice, asked if he could continue with no more childish outbursts. He then explained his plan keeping his voice pitched low.
No need for a break-in, he said; no busting of locks or windows, no damage of any kind. They would climb to the roof on a ladder – don’t worry, they wouldn’t be seen – and once on the roof leave it to him he would handle the thing from there, he knew the place like the back of his hand, every nook and cranny. Pulling it off would be easy.
His friend was impressed, Harry was right – of the plans they had bandied about, no question this was best; it would certainly accomplish the purpose. Still, a church? The thought of it gave him the willies.
“I understand,” said Harry. “I felt the same way too; it’s the way we were raised. But it isn’t as bad as you think –“
His friend sat with eyes cast down, swishing the liquid around in his glass and suddenly Harry was worried. He’s backing out, he thought. Well, if that’s the way he feels, if he wants to duck out of the thing, he would just have to go it alone. And he wouldn’t hold it against him – the chicken.
His friend emptied his glass and sighed. “Count me in,” he said. “It’s too good to turn down.”
Harry said “fine – for a moment you had me worried.”
Noting the glasses were empty, he suggested another round. His pal said no, he’d had enough, maybe they ought to be going. He wanted to look at the place. Where would they put the ladder? Was Harry sure they wouldn’t be seen? It sure seemed risky to him.
“Piece of cake,” said Harry and picked up the tab for the drinks: two rounds of ice cream sodas. Sixty five cents including the tip. Nothing to him, he worked for The Sun1The San Diego Sun as of 1911. The Sun merged with The Tribune in 1929 to become the Tribune-Sun. In 1950 “Sun” was dropped from the masthead. In 1991 The Tribune merged with The Union to become the Union-Tribune after school hours and weekends and usually had money to spend.
While on the way to the site, they stayed in the shadows, talked in whispers and frequently looked over their shoulders: teenage offenders on Halloween night out to hassle the grownups. They “borrowed” a ladder from a building site on the corner and made the climb in stages, first to the roof, then to the bell tower room pulling the ladder behind them. Entered through a window, climbed the stairs to the chimes room where Harry took center stage and rendered allegretto his music of the night. When he’d exhausted his repertoire2“Hail, Hail, the Gang’s All Here”, “There’ll be a Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight”, “The Old Grey Mare She Ain’t What She Used to be”, among others – it took about thirty minutes – they started down the stairs, but hearing a noise below, scurried back to the tower, grabbed the church bell rope, tossed it out a window and lowered themselves to the roof, causing the bell to BONGGGG. Taking turns they pulled on the rope till a light went on in the chimes room. One final bong (Harry’s accomplice was given the honor) and they scurried down the ladder, took the ladder back to the building site and departed the scene of the crime. When they thought they were safely away, they stopped and laughed and pounded each other’s shoulders while reliving the great adventure. They marveled at their success and assured themselves they hadn’t been seen. The laughter and jostling subsided but swelled again when Harry recalled when the light went on in the chimes room. How mystified he must have been – whoever it was; maybe the pastor himself – when they started ringing that bell. They doubled over with laughter.
When they stifled their mirth and were sober again they wiped the tears from their eyes, shook hands and called it a night. His pal disappeared in the darkness and Harry went home to his loved ones.
A loved one was there at the door. Clad in bathrobe and slippers and holding a brush in his hand. Court was now in session, presumption of guilt in the air. Dad was wise enough to know that no one else around would play the chimes that way. Harry skipped the greeting; went right to his opening statement he’d been wise enough to prepare:
No property damage, Dad, as in other parts of the city, no greasing of trolley tracks (as his pal had proposed; thank goodness he’d shot him down); no ripping off garden gates, no messing with boats in the harbor. He’d been careful to cover his tracks, was sure he hadn’t been seen; no one could prove it against him. Then he quoted his civic class teacher: “A person accused of a crime is innocent till proven guilty.”
This semi-eloquent pitch partially appeased his father who softened his stance a bit and put the brush aside. Still, the question remained: how could a son of his, a church-going boy at that, do such a thing to the pastor?
“We had to do something, Dad. It’s Halloween night,” he explained.
Most of the church members thought it was funny, a harmless Halloween prank. Nothing was damaged and no one was hurt and even the pastor smiled. Others called it outrageous, said it showed lack of respect – and they bet they could name the culprit: the new boy in town, the one who helps in the chimes room – too big for his britches by far. The nerve of the scamp, playing those tunes on the church chimes. “There’ll be a Hot Time in the Old Town” indeed! That lad will bear watching.
The following Sunday in church he affected a casual manner and met with unblinking eyes the questioning looks directed his way by those aware of the crime. Though outwardly calm, he was shaking inside – all those accusing eyes – till a knowing wink from the pastor suggested the matter would not be pursued. Harry counted his blessings. Thank goodness it’s over, he thought.
But on his return to school he was startled to learn his status had risen from classroom dummy to hero. Though badgered by friends he would neither confirm nor deny a role in the epic adventure and the matter was soon laid to rest. Relieved, he vowed he would make amends by leading a better life. He would knuckle down at his place of employment and learn the newspaper business. He would push for additional duties, get close to the city desk, buck for the job as City Desk Clerk and learn from the guys on the desk. Then he would buck for reporter.