Hitch

( 5 )

Overview

Teenager Moss Trawnley is in desperate need of work, and so he decides to head out west as a member of Roosevelt’s Civilian Conservation Corps to help protect Montana’s wildlife from devastating erosion and wildfires. Despite the grueling work, Moss has time to play baseball, make lifelong friends, and rediscover what he almost lost in the Great Depression: himself.
    
Bringing an important era of U.S. ...

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Hitch

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Overview

Teenager Moss Trawnley is in desperate need of work, and so he decides to head out west as a member of Roosevelt’s Civilian Conservation Corps to help protect Montana’s wildlife from devastating erosion and wildfires. Despite the grueling work, Moss has time to play baseball, make lifelong friends, and rediscover what he almost lost in the Great Depression: himself.
    
Bringing an important era of U.S. history to life, this riveting coming-of-age story will appeal to any teen who has dreamed of adventure and survival in the great outdoors.
    
Includes a reader's guide.

To help his family during the Depression and avoid becoming a drunk like his father, Moss Trawnley joins the Civilian Conservation Corps, helps build a new camp near Monroe, Montana, and leads the other men in making the camp a success.

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Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
"Compelling . . . A good read from a masterful storyteller."—School Library Journal
 
"Readers will readily be caught up in the camp's trials and successes through to the dramatic ending . . . Wholly appealing."—The Bulletin
VOYA
During the Great Depression, seventeen-year-old Moss Trawnley is his family's sole breadwinner. When he gets fired, he "rides the rails" in search of his father. Both land in jail and the justice of the peace urges Moss to join the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) to acquire job skills. Moss enrolls, and although the conditioning is grueling and the discipline strict, he perseveres. After basic training, Moss and his buddies begin building a camp in Montana that will focus on restoring depleted farmland. They work feverishly to complete construction, and Moss's leadership earns him a promotion, much to the dismay of Bill Compton, his junior leader. When spring arrives, the CCC deepens a pond and creates a spillway to control erosion. But heavy rains fill up the reservoir and chunks of concrete break loose. Only extraordinary efforts by the CCC prevent a disaster. His relationship with girlfriend Beatty finally on solid ground, Moss re-enlists for another hitch. Although Ingold's book provides a detailed depiction of President Roosevelt's Civilian Conservation Corps, it lacks dramatic tension. The conflict between Moss and Compton is an aside to the fleshed-out descriptions of CCC activities and conservation projects. The characters are one-dimensional, and even Moss is somewhat lackluster. His tentative relationship with Beatty adds no romantic sparks either. As a historical documentary story, however, the book gives vivid snapshots of the Great Depression and earns a spot in a school's media center. VOYA CODES: 3Q 2P M J (Readable without serious defects; For the YA with a special interest in the subject; Middle School, defined as grades 6 to 8; Junior High, defined as grades 7 to 9).2005, Harcourt, 288p., $17. Ages 11 to 15.
—Barbara Johnston
KLIATT
To quote the review of the hardcover in KLIATT, May 2005: When Moss Trawnley, age 17, loses his job at an airfield in Texas in the depths of the Depression, he heads out to Montana to try to find his father and make sure he gets money to their family back in Louisiana. But Moss's father is an unemployed drunk, he discovers, and so Moss ends up signing up for a hitch with the Civilian Conservation Corps in Montana so that he at least can have a roof over his head and send some money home to Ma. Set up by President Roosevelt, the CCC took on conservation projects across the US, planting trees and helping to restore depleted farmland--but first Moss and the other young men must build a camp, and learn to work together. Moss makes new friends (including an attractive girl), becomes a leader at the camp, and learns what hard work and teamwork can accomplish, despite some stumbling blocks along the way. Set in 1936, this tale features some of the characters from Ingold's Airfield, though it can stand alone. As with the author's other historical fiction (The Big Burn and Pictures, 1918), it is carefully researched and features sympathetic young protagonists. Ingold does a good job of making the time and place come to life and she shines a light on a little-known aspect of the Depression. KLIATT Codes: JS--Recommended for junior and senior high school students. 2005, Harcourt, 274p. bibliog., $6.95.. Ages 12 to 18.
—Paula Rohrlick
School Library Journal
Gr 7 Up-Despite the Great Depression, 17-year-old Moss Trawnley, introduced in Airfield (Harcourt, 1999), thinks he has it made-a decent job, a girlfriend, and admittance into radio school with almost enough money saved to pay for it come fall. He is even able to help his mother support his younger siblings. All this changes when he is fired in order to give the job to a man with a family who is related to the boss. Moss leaves Texas by hitching a ride on a freight train. Trying to locate his father, he finds him in Montana-drunk, jobless, and homeless. He himself is picked up for vagrancy. With neither job prospects nor money and to avoid another arrest, he joins the Civilian Conservation Corps. The work is hard, but it provides a place to live, food, and money to send home. Hitch is essentially a coming-of-age story. Moss, who from the beginning has shown a sense of responsibility, must now make adult decisions about how to react to adversity and discord within the CCC as he assumes a leadership role, albeit reluctantly. His growth from an impulsive teen into a thoughtful young man is told in a compelling manner. Plot and description transport readers into another time and place with accuracy and interest as Moss's true character is revealed. A good read from a masterful storyteller.-Janet Hilbun, Texas Woman's University, Denton, TX Copyright 2005 Reed Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
Branded a no-good like his father, Moss Trawnley joins the Civilian Conservation Corps during the Great Depression. It's a job and a way to give his life direction. There's nothing glamorous about it, just mopping floors, scrubbing showers, toilets and sinks, burning trash and cleaning latrines. But eventually, Moss realizes he's having a hand in something important: Building reservoirs, helping farmers, planting forests and building parks and wildlife refuges. Multiply his work by all of the other CCC projects and you have something big going on, sponsored by President Roosevelt's New Deal. Ingold's passion for her subject, crisp narrative and lively dialogue carry this fine story of a young man finding a way to make a difference in a difficult time. A good match with her The Big Burn (2002) also set in Montana. (bibliography) (Fiction. 12-14)
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780152056193
  • Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
  • Publication date: 9/1/2006
  • Edition description: Reprint
  • Pages: 288
  • Sales rank: 560,565
  • Age range: 12 - 17 Years
  • Lexile: 830L (what's this?)
  • Product dimensions: 11.40 (w) x 17.80 (h) x 2.20 (d)

Meet the Author

JEANETTE INGOLD is the author of Mountain Solo; The Big Burn; Pictures, 1918; Airfield; and The Window. She lives and writes in Montana.

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Read an Excerpt

I woke up shivering in the boxcar where I'd spent the night. Late October might be the tail end of summer in Texas, but it wasn't up here, wherever here was.

I coughed and ran my tongue over the grit clinging to my teeth. My body jangled with the vibration coming up from the train wheels.

Sharp lines of sunlight edged the wide, almost closed doors of the car and lay in stripes across the forms of men sprawled around me. We must have passed out of the dust storm, I thought, remembering the day before, when the train rushing north across farmland had entered a blackness of blowing dirt unlike anything I had ever seen.

First I'd wondered if the huge cloud moving toward us, too dark brown for rain, might be smoke. Then somebody called it for what it was, just before we got swallowed up in a violent torrent of sandpapering earth.

I'd fallen asleep to the howl of it.

Leaning into the boxcar door, I pushed it open. A wedge had kept it from shutting all the way- a safety against the bar-latch on the outside coming down and locking us in. Dazzlingly bright light flooded the car, and someone demanded, "You trying to blind us?"

"Sorry," I said, sliding the door far enough shut that the sunlight wasn't shining right on him.

He got up long enough to relieve himself against a wall, belch, scratch, and swear 'cause a bottle he picked up turned out empty. "Blind me again, kid," he said, "and I'll throw you under the wheels."

I turned away. That wasn't the worst I'd heard in the days since I left Muddy Springs and my job at the little Texas airport where I'd worked.

Days! It seemed more like weeks or months I'd been gone, like my last afternoon there happened in a different life even.

I closed my eyes to the endless country outside- butte and prairie land now, desolate looking- and saw again that scene I'd gone over and over. Lord, what a fool I'd been, playing at my job like I was some kid.

Dancing at it. Dancing!

"Come on, Miss McDonough! Hurry back!" I'd said aloud, swinging out my broom like it was my girl I was spinning across a dance floor. Of all the weekends for Beatty to be off to Dallas with her aunt and uncle. I had news to tell her.

I'd been accepted to radio school, and tuition was even in a range I could afford if I watched every penny till next July when I could start. A thick letter from the school, along with a thinner one from my ma that I hadn't read yet, burned a hole in my back pocket.

Beatty and I, we had it planned. Come May- just another seven months- we'd be high school graduates, class of 1936. Then Beatty, who loved flying like she was born to it, would start flying full-time, for pay. She'd do contract work, like her teacher, Annie Boudreau, did. And I'd get serious about turning radios into more than a hobby.

I gave the broom another fancy turn. There wasn't anybody to see. The afternoon plane was long gone, and I had the Muddy Springs Airport terminal to myself. I just needed to finish sweeping, and then I could go up to my room and read all the radio-school pamphlets from start to finish.

"You always dance with brooms?" a man called out, and I whirled around, feeling like a right fool. I recognized one of the airport directors, a Mr. Kliber, that I knew by sight but no more.

"I'm 'feared you missed everybody," I told him. I explained how Grif- Beatty's uncle, who managed the airport- was away till Monday, and that his assistant had knocked off for the day.

"Actually, it's you I came to see," Mr. Kliber said.

Puzzled, I said, "Yes, sir?"

"It's like this, Moss," he said, and commenced beating around the bush so bad I couldn't get what he was telling me. Then he finally said it straight out.

"You're firing me?" I asked. My voice sounded like it was coming out of somebody else's throat.

"I have to let you go," he said. "You can understand, Moss. The man we're hiring- I'll be honest, he's a cousin of mine- has a wife and children to take care of."

I nodded, feeling numb. I did understand. With Texas and the rest of the country deep in the Depression, a body had to understand favoring a family man over a teenager on his own.

It was just that I hadn't thought anybody else would want my part-time job, being the airport's janitor, mechanic's assistant, night watchman, and general gofer. I'd patched it together by pitching in wherever I'd seen a need. I got twelve dollars a week for doing it, and the room upstairs. Enough to live on, send some home to help my family, and save a bit.

I dragged my attention back to Mr. Kliber, who seemed bound to explain why his cousin had to have my job, now that he'd lost his own in a machine shop up in Oklahoma.

I broke in. "You needn't explain," I said. "I know how it is."

"You can have a couple days more," Mr. Kliber said. "I wish I didn't have to spring it on you this fast, but Orville's already on his way."

I went after a gum wrapper and dropped it into my dustpan, buying time to get control of the panic welling up. "I guess if I'm going, I best think about when to start," I said.

Maybe, I thought, as the train crossed a trestle, that was where I went wrong. For certain, I shouldn't have been so hasty to leave, shouldn't have let my pride get so wounded over being fired that I couldn't stay to face my friends.

I shouldn't have taken off without even leaving them a good-bye, telling myself I'd write when I had something proud to say.

But then there was that other letter, the one from my ma, in Spanish Creek, Louisiana.

Up in my bedroom above the terminal lobby, I'd read it. Now I took it out and read it again, the flimsy paper rattling in the wind.

Dear Son, she'd written, I hope you are keeping well. I wished I could say we are but I am having a time making ends meet. We only did get money once from the WPA job I told you yr pa was on and then no more. I do not know if he is hurt or killed or taken off again without a say-so to anybody. If it is that he ought to be ashamed. Except for what you send, I would be at wits end caring for your brothers and sisters. But I don't complain, being just thankful the Lord gave me a good son. Yr loving mother, Bertha Trawnley.

That hadn't left me any choice. Maybe I could have found a way to hang on in Muddy Springs myself, but there was no way I'd have gotten something that paid enough so that I could send Ma the help she needed.

The hobo in the corner swore at me again, but I ignored him. The car reeked, so I wasn't about to close the door on anything less than another dust storm.

I'd lay money my father wasn't hurt or killed. He just wasn't doing his duty to his family like he ought. Just like he hadn't done it for a time now. Not since walking away from us two years ago. Not since before that, come down to it.

That last night in Muddy Springs I'd thought carefully about where my own duty lay and come up with a clear answer.

First I needed to mail my radio-school savings to Ma.

Then I needed to go find my pa at his WPA job in Montana and see he was all right. And if he was, then remind him he had a family to take care of. If I presented it careful, he'd realize he needed to send his wages home regular.

I wasn't sure what would come then. Maybe I could find some kind of job for myself up there, for the time being. Maybe I could even find some way to help him.

I'd packed my suitcase quickly- I didn't have much to put in it besides a few clothes, the letter from the radio school, and a picture of Beatty in front of an airplane. I left the next morning.

And now here I was, hundreds of miles from Texas. Well, one thing was for sure. I was more than ready to get to Montana and be done riding freight cars forever.

Copyright © 2005 by Jeanette Ingold

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work should be mailed to the following address:
Permissions Department, Harcourt, Inc.,
6277 Sea Harbor Drive, Orlando, Florida 32887-6777.

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Table of Contents

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First Chapter

I woke up shivering in the boxcar where I'd spent the night. Late October might be the tail end of summer in Texas, but it wasn't up here, wherever here was.

I coughed and ran my tongue over the grit clinging to my teeth. My body jangled with the vibration coming up from the train wheels.

Sharp lines of sunlight edged the wide, almost closed doors of the car and lay in stripes across the forms of men sprawled around me. We must have passed out of the dust storm, I thought, remembering the day before, when the train rushing north across farmland had entered a blackness of blowing dirt unlike anything I had ever seen.

First I'd wondered if the huge cloud moving toward us, too dark brown for rain, might be smoke. Then somebody called it for what it was, just before we got swallowed up in a violent torrent of sandpapering earth.

I'd fallen asleep to the howl of it.

Leaning into the boxcar door, I pushed it open. A wedge had kept it from shutting all the way- a safety against the bar-latch on the outside coming down and locking us in. Dazzlingly bright light flooded the car, and someone demanded, "You trying to blind us?"

"Sorry," I said, sliding the door far enough shut that the sunlight wasn't shining right on him.

He got up long enough to relieve himself against a wall, belch, scratch, and swear 'cause a bottle he picked up turned out empty. "Blind me again, kid," he said, "and I'll throw you under the wheels."

I turned away. That wasn't the worst I'd heard in the days since I left Muddy Springs and my job at the little Texas airport where I'd worked.

Days! It seemed more like weeks or months I'd been gone, like my lastafternoon there happened in a different life even.

I closed my eyes to the endless country outside- butte and prairie land now, desolate looking- and saw again that scene I'd gone over and over. Lord, what a fool I'd been, playing at my job like I was some kid.

Dancing at it. Dancing!

"Come on, Miss McDonough! Hurry back!" I'd said aloud, swinging out my broom like it was my girl I was spinning across a dance floor. Of all the weekends for Beatty to be off to Dallas with her aunt and uncle. I had news to tell her.

I'd been accepted to radio school, and tuition was even in a range I could afford if I watched every penny till next July when I could start. A thick letter from the school, along with a thinner one from my ma that I hadn't read yet, burned a hole in my back pocket.

Beatty and I, we had it planned. Come May- just another seven months- we'd be high school graduates, class of 1936. Then Beatty, who loved flying like she was born to it, would start flying full-time, for pay. She'd do contract work, like her teacher, Annie Boudreau, did. And I'd get serious about turning radios into more than a hobby.

I gave the broom another fancy turn. There wasn't anybody to see. The afternoon plane was long gone, and I had the Muddy Springs Airport terminal to myself. I just needed to finish sweeping, and then I could go up to my room and read all the radio-school pamphlets from start to finish.

"You always dance with brooms?" a man called out, and I whirled around, feeling like a right fool. I recognized one of the airport directors, a Mr. Kliber, that I knew by sight but no more.

"I'm 'feared you missed everybody," I told him. I explained how Grif- Beatty's uncle, who managed the airport- was away till Monday, and that his assistant had knocked off for the day.

"Actually, it's you I came to see," Mr. Kliber said.

Puzzled, I said, "Yes, sir?"

"It's like this, Moss," he said, and commenced beating around the bush so bad I couldn't get what he was telling me. Then he finally said it straight out.

"You're firing me?" I asked. My voice sounded like it was coming out of somebody else's throat.

"I have to let you go," he said. "You can understand, Moss. The man we're hiring- I'll be honest, he's a cousin of mine- has a wife and children to take care of."

I nodded, feeling numb. I did understand. With Texas and the rest of the country deep in the Depression, a body had to understand favoring a family man over a teenager on his own.

It was just that I hadn't thought anybody else would want my part-time job, being the airport's janitor, mechanic's assistant, night watchman, and general gofer. I'd patched it together by pitching in wherever I'd seen a need. I got twelve dollars a week for doing it, and the room upstairs. Enough to live on, send some home to help my family, and save a bit.

I dragged my attention back to Mr. Kliber, who seemed bound to explain why his cousin had to have my job, now that he'd lost his own in a machine shop up in Oklahoma.

I broke in. "You needn't explain," I said. "I know how it is."

"You can have a couple days more," Mr. Kliber said. "I wish I didn't have to spring it on you this fast, but Orville's already on his way."

I went after a gum wrapper and dropped it into my dustpan, buying time to get control of the panic welling up. "I guess if I'm going, I best think about when to start," I said.



Maybe, I thought, as the train crossed a trestle, that was where I went wrong. For certain, I shouldn't have been so hasty to leave, shouldn't have let my pride get so wounded over being fired that I couldn't stay to face my friends.

I shouldn't have taken off without even leaving them a good-bye, telling myself I'd write when I had something proud to say.

But then there was that other letter, the one from my ma, in Spanish Creek, Louisiana.

Up in my bedroom above the terminal lobby, I'd read it. Now I took it out and read it again, the flimsy paper rattling in the wind.

Dear Son, she'd written, I hope you are keeping well. I wished I could say we are but I am having a time making ends meet. We only did get money once from the WPA job I told you yr pa was on and then no more. I do not know if he is hurt or killed or taken off again without a say-so to anybody. If it is that he ought to be ashamed. Except for what you send, I would be at wits end caring for your brothers and sisters. But I don't complain, being just thankful the Lord gave me a good son. Yr loving mother, Bertha Trawnley.

That hadn't left me any choice. Maybe I could have found a way to hang on in Muddy Springs myself, but there was no way I'd have gotten something that paid enough so that I could send Ma the help she needed.

The hobo in the corner swore at me again, but I ignored him. The car reeked, so I wasn't about to close the door on anything less than another dust storm.

I'd lay money my father wasn't hurt or killed. He just wasn't doing his duty to his family like he ought. Just like he hadn't done it for a time now. Not since walking away from us two years ago. Not since before that, come down to it.

That last night in Muddy Springs I'd thought carefully about where my own duty lay and come up with a clear answer.

First I needed to mail my radio-school savings to Ma.

Then I needed to go find my pa at his WPA job in Montana and see he was all right. And if he was, then remind him he had a family to take care of. If I presented it careful, he'd realize he needed to send his wages home regular.

I wasn't sure what would come then. Maybe I could find some kind of job for myself up there, for the time being. Maybe I could even find some way to help him.

I'd packed my suitcase quickly- I didn't have much to put in it besides a few clothes, the letter from the radio school, and a picture of Beatty in front of an airplane. I left the next morning.

And now here I was, hundreds of miles from Texas. Well, one thing was for sure. I was more than ready to get to Montana and be done riding freight cars forever.

Copyright © 2005 by Jeanette Ingold

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Customer Reviews

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Sort by: Showing all of 5 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted September 8, 2011

    LUV IT

    Read this book in 6th and i luv it!

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted April 6, 2011

    Great Book

    Hitch is a great book. The book takes place in the Great Depression. Moss Trawnley lives with him mom and brohers and sisters.He is the main money maker for his family. His father is off doing work who is supposed to send back money but he is not. Moss has a mechanic job at an airport but gets laid off. So he decides to go and ride the rails to find his dad. He finds his dad who wanders around all the time and drinks. So Moss decides to join the CCC to send money to his mom. He joins the CCC and becomes a junior leader. He helps build a camp were new CCC'ers come and help rebuild the land. He is in charge of a certain barrack and in the CCC he learn to be a man, take orders and give orders. They are in charge of rebuilding the dust bowl they are in to a wonderful ground were people can faerm. This is a great book about a young boy becomeing a man and taking charge of his life. This book is a must read for young men.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted April 27, 2007

    Becoming A Man

    Moss Trawnley, boy about to graduate, is uncertain what he wants to do in his life. He lives on his own Missouri during the Great Depression. His father left his family and went to Arizona for work. His mom and the rest of his family stayed back home because they couldn¿t travel with the small children. Well, Moss got a letter from his mom saying that she wants him to find his dad because she is worried about him and thinks he might be dead. Now Moss will have to travel all over America to find his father since when he got to Arizona he had quit his job and didn¿t know where he was. Moss encounters different obstacles that will show if he can truly become a man. What I really liked about this book was that it showed what it was like during the Great Depression and how hard it was to make a living. I also like how it described each area Moss traveled to. What I didn¿t like about Hitch was that it got confusing at times when Moss had to sign up with the CCC, which was an organization that would send money to your family from your paycheck. Overall I thought it was a good book. This book isn¿t part of a series. It reminds me a lot of the movie Vision Quest. I don¿t know why but it just does. A person that likes adventure and historical fiction books I would highly recommend this book to. It is almost like a social studies book telling you what it was like during the Great Depression. This is a good book so I suggest reading it.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 20, 2006

    Great novel for teens that like historical fiction

    Puts you in Montana in the 1933's.....you really get a feeling what it was like to be poor, uneducated - but smart! Hardworking kids that wanted more for themselves and wanted to make a difference in the world. I am planning on writing a unit for this novel and using it with my 9th grade reading students (they learn about Roosevelt's New Deal in their History class.) Characters are very likeable....quick read!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 27, 2009

    No text was provided for this review.

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