Sneaking Past Those Creaky Stairs
In 1961 I was a dating teenager driving a 1961 Buick Special. My brother, George, was five years older than I and also dating. We had to work hard during the week but once that weekend came around, we were raring to go out three nights in a row. Both George and I slept upstairs in separate beds by now. We had somewhat of a curfew that Dad had established for us from day one. It was understood that we would be in bed by 1 a.m. On Sunday night it was to be even earlier than that because, come hell or high water, we had better be ready for work Monday morning by 7 a.m.
Whenever I came home later than my curfew, the first thing I would look for was if my brothers car was home and in his garage. If it wasn’t, I’d breathe easy cause the one caught coming home last was usually the one questioned by Dad the next morning. If I was the last one in, then I figured I had me a small problem. Let me explain: You see the stairway going up to our attic was located right above my Dad’s bed in his room. He was a very light sleeper and any sound coming from those stairs up above him would wake him up. Now his room was pitch dark at this time and we had no electric clocks around. All he used was a wind-up alarm clock to wake him each morning. These clocks had green luminous paint on the minute and hour hands and they glowed in the dark. He seldom looked at this clock when he was awakened by us but would actually ask us in the morning as to the time we came in.
Now let me describe those pesky stairs. First of all, I had to open a solid door hiding the entrance to these stairs. As I opened this door it was attached like a screen door that had a large spring attached to it. The door had no latch but would be pulled shut by that spring. Now I had to very carefully open this door and very slowly because that stretching spring would make a God-awful noise as that door was being opened. Once I quietly opened that door, I had to step up one step and make a sharp turn to the right and that’s when the stairs started going up. There was always some clutter stored in the left hand corner. One of the items kept there was Mom’s ironing board and behind it was Dad’s 38-40 Winchester rifle. As I squeezed by these items I wasn’t home free yet. Over the years I had these stairs memorized. The first step was OK but I had to completely over step the second one because it made a horrible noise as one put pressure on it. The third and fourth steps were OK but the fifth one squeaked only if stepped on fast and hard. So I had to take my time with that one. I suppose it took up to 15 seconds to get past that one step. Once past that one I managed the rest of them in silence.
I forgot to mention that to illuminate these stairs, there was a wall switch installed right before the stairway door was opened. But I rigged a string going to the light bulb instead and I kept that wall switch on and just pulled that string once I started climbing the stairs. That wall switch made enough noise when clicked on to wake up Dad. Once I got up the stairs I had another long string going to my bed. I could cut that light off once I was in my bed by just pulling on that string tied to my bed post. Over time I managed to time my home arrival a few minutes before my brother just so I didn’t have to be the one to sneak in late and eliminate the need to go to all of that trouble just to quietly get to bed without waking Dad.