I first met the Hardy Boys when I was in first grade. One day, a classmate brought a copy of Hunting for Hidden Gold (1963 edition) to Show and Tell. I can't remember what he said, but I was so impressed that I insisted that my mother rush out and get a copy of the book and then read it to me.
Hunting for Hidden Gold takes place in a Montana ghost town. The Hardy Boys go there and solve two mysteries—one an armored truck holdup, and then a mystery about some gold that disappeared years before. They have lots of adventures—everything from nearly being killed in a collapsing mine tunnel to camping in the middle of winter. (Or as one cracks: “Staying at the rock motel.”)
I became addicted to that book. I know my mother read it to me many times. Eventually, because of this book, she decreed she'd read a book to me one time only. Later in life, she proved she vividly remembered that book. One day, when I cleaned the cat litter box, she cracked that I was “hunting for hidden gold.”
Meanwhile, my poor father got stuck playing with me, and acting out various scenes from that book. I also remember him one night knocking on the underside of our dining room table one night, and claiming it was “tommy-knockers.” Tommy-knockers were mentioned in the book as legendary spirits who knock to warn of accidents. In our dining room, perhaps they knocked to suggest I finish my peas.
The summer after first grade, my family took a road trip to go and visit relatives. My mother bought the first four books in the Hardy Boys series to read to me. She figured they would be enough for our two days on the road. (Plus she might have hoped they'd make me forget Hunting for Hidden Gold!)
As it turned out, four books weren't enough for our two day drive.
Years later, my mother told me she'd read until her voice got tired. She'd stop. She'd encourage me to do something else. She'd point out “the pretty mountain.” I'd take a look, and say: “Pretty mountain. Read!”
Thus, the four books went pretty fast. I have no idea how my parents survived the last day or so of our trip without books to read to me. Surprisingly, perhaps, they didn't tie me up and gag me. (Which would give me a chance to experience, first hand, what it was like to tied and gagged like what happened in a Hardy Boys book!)
The Hardy Boys adventures were a part of my imaginary and my play life for a good chunk of my early elementary school years. As I mentioned above, my poor father got stuck acting out Hunting for Hidden Gold with me. I can remember acting out parts of various Hardy Boys adventures when playing on my own. I remember my stuffed toy cabbage bravely portrayed Joe Hardy one day. I was always, of course, Frank Hardy. Although I have vague memories of letting my father play the role of Frank Hardy in scenes when Frank would get knocked out.
Some would argue that the Hardy Boys weren't very good books. This is particularly the case for the books I grew up with, which were all published in 1959 and later. Those books were markedly worse than the oldest Hardy Boys books, partly, I'd guess, because of the advent of TV. In 1929, one could have a long descriptive scene, and get away it. In 1959, however, the books were competing with TV, which placed no real demands on the viewer. Thus the books had to move fast, and had to be non-stop action in order to keep the attention of then-modern kids.
At the same time, however, one might argue the TV generation books had value. My mother was an English teacher, and she had critical things to say about my generation's Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew books. (She even wrote a paper on the topic for one class she took.) But...she also saw value in a book—any book—that would get people reading.
I wonder, in fact, if my willingness to be a reader now isn't partly shaped by books like the Hardy Boys?
I have also wondered if the fact that I have an imagination today isn't due, in part, to the Hardy Boys. Of course, I was at least partly using someone else's material as I acted out their adventures. But I was also having to imagine that material. It wasn't being force fed to my brain via a TV screen.
In any case, I have fond memories of the Hardy Boys. I am very grateful that classmate brought that copy of Hunting for Hidden Gold to Show and Tell that day.
Last edited 9/10/16
