Thursday, December 13, 2018

The Editor Must Have Been Drunk!

by Pa Rock
Reader

Frank and Joe Hardy stopped by the farm one evening last week and dropped of a book detailing one of their famous criminal cases from the 1940's.  This particular book, "The Melted Coins," tells of their involvement with some ruthless counterfeiters back in the mid-1940's - at a time when most other young men in the United States were off fighting World War II.

Frank, who is now somewhere in the neighborhood of one-hundred-and nine, and Joe, two years his junior, grew up on the eastern seaboard in is bustling community called Bayport.  They led extraordinary lives as the sons of Fenton Hardy, a former policeman who became a world famous detective.  As teenagers back in 1927 they began to assist their famous father with his detecting, and their reputation for being clever grew so fast that they soon were working cases of their own.  Early rewards earned in those cases helped the Hardy boys to buy their own car, motorcycles, and even a boat for traveling around the bay.  They also had their own gym in the garage, a facility that attracted many visits from their high school "chums."

The Hardy household was a picture of modern living.  Fenton Hardy was gone most of the time, usually on government business, which left his sons free to handle any matters which might land on the Hardy family doorstep.  Mrs. Hardy, their mother, was her generation's June Cleaver.  She flitted around taking care of domestic matters and then spent her free time attending club meetings and managing social obligations.  While seldom offering any interference to her sons as they chased about the land in pursuit of dangerous criminals, she did make sure that they completed whatever meal was on the table before they left the house.

The Hardy family was also occasionally home to "Aunt Gertrude," Fenton Hardy's spinster sister who would come by for extended visits and managed to figure prominently in some of the boys' cases.  Aunt Gertrude was brusque and abrasive on the outside, but at her core she was a warm and caring individual who always showed concern for the welfare of her nephews.

The Hardy Boys' adventures were chronicled by several ghostwriters who wrote under the name "Franklin W. Dixon."  Many of the early adventures were actually written by Leslie McFarlane, a Canadian who colored their exploits with great detail.  McFarlane and his cohorts penned most of the early books for between $75-$125 each.

My favorite Hardy Boys' adventure, of the fifteen or so that I have read, is "The Mystery of Cabin Island," a story so rich in atmosphere and detail that I suspect it had to have been written by Mr. McFarlane.  Sadly, the volume that the "boys" dropped off at the farm last week, "The Melted Coins," was easily the worst recounting of their amazing detection skills that I have come across.

There are three plot lines running parallel in "The Melted Coins," and none is well-thought-out enough to warrant being told in the form of a book.  One plot involves a mysterious Mexican fortune in gold that had been stolen from a family centuries before, and a curse accompanying the coins had worked its way down into modern times.  A pirate character who claimed to be a descendant of the famous Blackbeard, felt that he had inherited the curse and thought that the only way to rid himself of it was to tattoo a certain symbol onto others.  The Hardy Boys became his target in that endeavor.

The second plot line, which never connects with the former, centers on a gang of counterfeiters who run afoul of Aunt Gertrude just as the story opens.  The gang makes its money by stealing valuable old coin collections and then melting those coins down and turning them into modern quarters and half dollars.  Then they spend the counterfeit coins out on the local economy, get change from their purchases - usually dimes - and then take those dimes to local banks and trade them in for folding money.  One time they managed to turn in twelve dollars in dimes!

And a third plot line has the Hardy Boy's best friend, Chet, a portly youth whom the author relentlessly calls  "the fat boy," digging for buried treasure on his farm, an effort which bears some connection to the counterfeiters but not to the cursed Mexican treasure.

"The Melted Coins" is a mishmash of bad ideas, none of which serves to drive an overall narrative that one would hope to see associated with a book purporting to present a mystery.  The only mystery associated with this book is what the editor was drinking.

Melting valuable coins, turning them into two-and-four-bit coins, and then cashing in a few dollars in dimes?  It's hard to imagine criminals that dumb - and its hard to imagine readers of any age - at any time -  becoming engrossed in such a steaming pile of garbage.

I hope that the next time Frank and Joe come calling, they bring me something a bit more realistic to read.  But, that said, I always enjoy their company - regardless of the quality of the tales they tell.

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