Racing to Disaster (#126)

Plot: Joe is in California to compete in a mountain biking competition, but sabotage plagues the participants.

“Borrowing” from the past: Mountain biking is a sport the Hardys did not engage in during the original canon. They used normal bicycles as transportation in The Flickering Torch Mystery (#22), although that was during World War II, and they were needed to save gasoline. When they competed in the
eponymous Speed Times Five race (#173), one of the components of the competition was mountain biking (along with kayaking, cross-country hiking and climbing, city biking, and a personal watercraft race). Although the race in Racing to Disaster isn’t an X Games competition, it is similar to the type of events Frank and Joe have competed in during Danger in the Extreme (the Max Games in #152) and Extreme Danger (the Big Air Games in Undercover Brothers #1).

In addition to mountain biking, the narration says Joe is a “natural athlete” — no joke — and that he’s “an accomplished wrestler.” (He even uses an unspecified “wrestling” move that involves grabbing an opponent’s upper arm and yanking downward.) That’s a sport the boys aren’t often associated with; Joe’s participation with the BHS wrestling team was mentioned in The Four-Headed Dragon (#68). However, they’re the Hardy Boys; it’s not a martial art unless they can throw some half thought-out version of it at some villain. So Frank and Joe outwrestle thugs in The Hooded Hawk Mystery (#34) and The Mystery of the Spiral Bridge (#45), with Frank using a half-nelson in the latter. Frank also uses some generic wrestling hold in The Clue of the Screeching Owl (#41), and Joe throws a hammerlock on an adversary in The Roaring River Mystery (#80).

The narration claims Frank and Joe are “avid water-skiers.” This is the first I’ve heard of it.

When confronted by a mountain lion, Frank asks, “Has anyone here done any lion taming? … I sure haven’t.” I would have sworn one of the boys had worked with lions during their circus employment, but they hadn't — both brothers performed on the trapeze for “Big Top” Hinchman’s circus in The Clue of the Broken Blade (#21), Joe was a clown for the Big Top Circus in Track of the Zombie (#71), and Frank fed the elephants while Joe worked the snake tent in Blade. They did run into a lion in Zombie, however.

Mountain lions — also known as pumas, cougars, and catamounts — are a bit more common in Hardy Boys stories, though. Their experiences with Puma concolor is covered in Open Season (Casefiles #59), and they also confronted a cougar in while tracking down an ersatz D.B. Cooper in Ghost of a Chance (#169).

You don’t need a degree in biology to open a resort, I guess: The boys were warned about the local wildlife, although in a confusing manner. More than once, Dixon points out signs around the resort that warn competitors about “mountain lions, cougars, and wolves.” Unfortunately, mountain lions and cougars are, as pointed out above, two names for the same animal. Perhaps the double naming was an intensifier, rather than a mistake?

No, wait, it’s definitely a mistake.

Get to know your sport: Joe (and the Wolf Mountain Annihilator competition) breaks mountain biking into three divisions: downhill, hot-rodding, and cross country. Cross country and downhill do exist in modern mountain biking competitions; the former is a distance race that generally encompasses different kinds of terrain, and the latter is, as you might imagine, riding bikes downhill. There is no such thing as “hot-rodding,” a race that incorporates bike tricks, and the name is so distracting it seems obviously false. However, the idea is similar to freeriding, which can include jumps, obstacles, quarter pipes, and different lines through a course that allows for riders to demonstrate their style.

I’m still puzzled by some decisions made by the event organizers. In a mini-cross country heat, Frank and all the racers behind them are diverted by an incorrect sign — the old Merry Melodies trick. Bad luck for them, but the race organizers give them a second chance. However, they make everyone — even those who correctly completed the course — race in a rematch. Why not just allow those who were disadvantaged to re-run the event? Their times could be compared to the times of others, and the winner of the heat would be determined from that.

The organizers also disqualified a racer who had sabotaged his own bike, also banning him from events for a year. Why? He’s only harming himself! No other racers were affected!

In Racing, Wolf Mountain is a ski resort three hours northeast of Los Angeles, with its slopes given over to the Wolf Mountain Annihilator in the fallow summer. Wolf Mountain does not seem to exist; the sites with the closest resemblance to it are White Wolf Mountain, a ski resort near Lake Tahoe, and Wolf Mountain Resort in Utah. Neither offers mountain biking during the summer, and White Wolf seems more notable for its location between two large resorts and its litigation with one of them.

Color blinding the enemy: Joe wears a neon green and yellow helmet. I’m sure those colors aren’t uncommon in competitive racing, but you’ll notice the cover artist chose not to use them.

Middle-aged boy: Frank calls Joe “kiddo,” picks up a salad in the chow line, and keeps his press pass in his wallet. These are things an uncle does, not an 18-year-old boy; actually keeping the press pass in the wallet isn’t really an age thing, but I’ve never seen a press pass small enough to keep in a wallet, in my admittedly limited experience. Usually they get clipped to a pocket or hung on a lanyard, right?

Is this your first case?: Frank and Joe don’t make a great impression with their detection. Frank asks the worst questions in his role as a reporter, a cover story event organizers give him to allow him to investigate. Joe blows that cover ID anyway. The excuse Frank uses to get a look at a piece of evidence — “I just want to see for myself” — is unsubtle at best. Frank does manage to talk his way into a locked area with secret bike technology, but so did a suspect, and the saleswoman clearly didn’t understand the idea of secrecy; her boss told her not to show the bike “to just anyone,” so she shows it to three random kids and a nosy star. The boys also fail to alert anyone in authority after they receive a written threat, and Joe neglects to bring his fingerprinting kit along. (Technically, he thought he didn’t need it at a bike race, but he’s a Hardy — he always needs his detecting gear, and he brought along his lock picks.)

This lack of fingerprinting equipment forces Frank and Joe to send a shell casing (erroneously called a bullet by the narrator) all the way across the country to their police lackey, Con Riley. Evidently they don’t have cops in California — or at least cops who will do the Hardys’ bidding.

Next, on Rescue 911: After a competitor takes a spill, getting thrown from his bike and being knocked unconscious by the impact, the Hardys immediately yank him to his feet. Because they’re always following that first-aid advice, which is … um … never move a … no, wait, almost got it — always move a crash victim as soon as possible. Yes, that’s it.

Part quick thinking, part innovation, but mostly stupid: In the climactic scene, Frank and Joe are in the cross-country race. Frank loses his bike while pursuing the leader, who is also the perp. Rather than leaving Frank and his 155 pounds (for the 6 feet, 1 inch Frank? who has the musculature of a natural athlete?) behind, Frank tells he’ll ride on Joe’s handlebars.

In the middle of a cross country bike race, through the mountains. Sure, why not?

And before you ask, of course they catch up with the leader. Why wouldn’t they?

A bicycle race built for two: I’m even more baffled about why Frank was there. I don’t know why he’s in the race in the first place — they were only going to keep an eye on Moreno, their suspect, and surely only the better cyclist would be needed. Frank is not prepared for a cross country race; Joe has to remind him about how to shift for the downhill race, and Frank himself asks why he wasn’t out training with Joe. (Because he had no idea he’d be entered into a competitive mountain bike race, I’d imagine.) Matching Frank’s pace in the cross-country race would surely slow Joe down.

I’m even more baffled, though, at how such an ill-prepared Frank, on a bike even less suited for the competition than Joe’s, manages to keep up not only with Joe but stay ahead of all the other competitors. Is Dixon saying mountain biking is not that hard? Because it seems plenty hard to me. Of course, the author’s grasp of the sport and equipment may be a bit lacking; one passage refers to Joe’s bike’s back wheels.

That’s a weird relationship: After the culprit has been caught and confessed to his crimes, his sponsor reacts in a way no human would react to working with an attempted murderer: “exasperated” and “amazed.” OK, “amazed” makes some sense, but “exasperated”? Is it because it’s only attempted murder? Or is it because it’s multiple attempted murders, and he’s exasperated by the compulsive behavior?

Quit while you’re ahead: So Joe, who comes to the Annihilator as an amateur, qualifies with a good enough time to compete against the professionals. He does well in the downhill, has some bad luck in the “hot-rodding,” and is extremely impressive in the cross country section of the race, as mentioned above. He does this with a single bike and off-the-shelf equipment, which is not even close to the quality the other competitors have. But at the end, Joe declines to pursue mountain biking competitions any further. Good heavens, he’s outstanding at it, and he gives it up because it’s “too much work”! Which, since he gives up on the sport in favor of detective work, makes me believe he’s putting a minimal amount of work into detecting, as I always suspected he did.

Opinions: I’m not sure Dixon knows much about the topic of mountain bike racing. Or about the human body, as Frank and Joe, gifted athletes that they are, show no fatigue between races, despite the high level of competition and the grueling nature of some of the races. He also doesn’t know cougars and mountain lions are the same thing or that teenage boys don’t often eat salads without prodding or how to describe a realistic wrestling move or … everything’s a big mess, and that’s after you get past the idea that Joe has somehow become almost professional-level good at mountain bike racing. It’s all preposterous.

The mystery’s not so great either, but the horrible racing action covers up that shortcoming.

Grade: D+

The Last Laugh (Casefiles #42)

Plot: Frank, Joe, and Chet investigate kidnappings, bombings, and arson at a comic book convention in San Diego.

“Borrowing” from the past: Casefiles don’t care much about the past, but there are some links to the proud Hardy Boys traditions. Or maybe the Casefiles duplicate earlier books without knowing any better.

In this case, the background details are somewhat similar to The Apeman’s Secret (#62). In that book, Frank, Joe, and Chet are all interested in comics (although Chet more so than the Hardys), and they are called to investigate crimes committed by people dressed up as comic book characters, just as they are in Last Laugh. Chet even gets a story published by publisher Star Comix (Marvel Comics actually started a kids-oriented imprint called Star Comics in 1984). Chet even dresses up as a villain for a comic-book costume party. (The party wasn’t at a convention, though; it was at the Alfresco Disco. Ah, 1980.)

Joe remembers some of Fenton’s advice early in The Last Laugh: no clue is too small for a good detective. Other gems from Fenton include:

• “Listen much and say little.” (Hunting for Hidden Gold, #5)
• “One of the first requirements of a good detective is to keep his ears open and his mouth shut, and to be wary of confiding in strangers.” (What Happened at Midnight, #10)
• “A good detective doesn't let his impulses get the better of him.” (The Disappearing Floor, #19)
• It is an admission of defeat to call the police. (The Flickering Torch Mystery, #22)
• There is “no more dangerous or cruel fighter than a cornered criminal.” (The Secret Panel, #25)
• Note the time of any unusual occurrence. (The Secret Panel)
• “A good detective must be observant of small details.” (The Phantom Freighter, #26)
• “Never discard a single clue.” (The Secret of the Lost Tunnel, #29)
• A little undercover sleuthing in advance is better than barging in head on. (The Crisscross Shadow, #32)
• Do not talk to strangers about cases. (The Ghost at Skeleton Rock, #37)
• Safeguard any valuables you come across during a case. (The Mystery at Devil’s Paw , #38)
• Two of a “detective's best friends are the newspaper and the police.” (Mystery of the Desert Giant, #40)
• “In detective work, sometimes it's the crazy clues that bring results.” (Mystery of the Desert Giant)
• The modus operandi is often the best way to identify who committed a crime. (The Night of the Werewolf , #59)
• Do not take foolish chances. (The Night of the Werewolf , #59)
• A criminal has to have motive and opportunity. (The Swamp Monster, #83)

Frank and Joe silently communicate, with Frank making motions with his head that Joe can instantly translate. Most of the Hardys’ previous silent signals were more specific than various chin jabs and nods, though. The boys squeeze each other’s hands in The Clue of the Broken Blade (#21) as a “danger signal,” and they have a specific, secret hand signal in The Crisscross Shadow (#32). The revised version of What Happened at Midnight mentions a system of hand squeezes. A few other times, such as in The Pentagon Spy (#61), The Disappearing Floor (#19), and The Short-Wave Mystery (#24), switching lights on and off are signals. In most other cases, their “secret” signals aren’t silent: they’re bird calls or whistles or horn honks or wildcat screeches (yes, really) or knocks or obvious phrases (“Here we go again!” in The Hooded Hawk Mystery, #34).

What?: Despite the title, the book has absolutely nothing to do with jokes, laughter, or the phrase, “He who laughs last laughs best.” I think someone saw the “comic” in “comic book,” and immediately thought of old Walt Disney or Little Lulu comics.

Investment advice you can trust: In The Baseball Card Conspiracy, baseball cards are touted as a great investment. In the two decades since, that has been shown to be a horrible idea. Last Laugh takes a slightly different approach; I expected comic books themselves to be lauded as moneymakers, especially since the big investment boom in comics was beginning just as this book was published. But no — this Franklin W. Dixon makes the better argument that comic book art (the original art on Bristol boards and the like) would be a good investment. I don’t know how the market for original art has held up, but it has to be better than the books bought around the time Last Laugh was published (early ‘90s). The author generally restricts the art in question to Golden Age (late ‘30s-mid ‘40s) comic art, which seems like a good bet.

Getting the details right: The boys attend a comic convention in San Diego — it’s never called the San Diego Comic Con (or to give it its formal name, Comic-Con International), but that’s what it is. Since this book is set 20 years ago, the convention was actually focused on comics rather than generic science fiction / geek entertainment, as it is now. SDCC was founded in 1970 by fan Shel Dorf, and it bounced around several San Diego locations befreo ending up in its current location, the San Diego Convention Center, in 1991, the year after this book was published. (The convention has already moved in Last Laugh.) The events Chet tries to interest the Hardys in, like the large costume party, actually occur at SDCC.

At the end of the book, Chet wants to attend a concert at the convention by a band called “Seduction of the Innocent.” It’s a real band that played at conventions, one with a better name than musical pedigree. The members are actor Bill Mumy (Lost in Space, Babylon Five), writer Max Allan Collins (Road to Perdition), actor Miguel Ferrer (Crossing Jordan), and artist Steve Leialoha (many DC and Marvel books). The name has strong comic book roots: the title belonged to a book by anti-comics crusader Frederic Wertham, who claimed comic books and their graphic imagery led to violence and juvenile delinquency.

Among the Golden Age covers displayed at the convention, one Joe sees is described as having a “muscular, square-jawed hero in a star-spangled costume slugging Adolf Hitler.” As you can see, that’s a pretty good description of Captain America Comics #1.

The Real McCoy or an Impostinator?: The question that preyed on my mind throughout Last Laugh is whether Barry Johns, his staff, and the comic book companies involved were based on real people, composites, or made up out of whole cloth. Even by the end, I still hadn’t decided.

Barry Johns was a fan who worked his way into the business through persistence and hard work. That could describe any number of comic professionals; most likely, this Dixon had someone like Roy Thomas in mind. Thomas, like Johns, used his experience with fanzines and his enthusiasm to become one of the first fans to become a professional comics writer. Thomas was a bit earlier, but the idea is the same. Thomas was editor in chief at Marvel Comics from 1972 to 1974.

The description could, in a loose way, apply to Jim Shooter … although it’s other parts of Johns’s character that fit Shooter more aptly. Shooter wrote his first story for DC at the age of 14 in 1966, then, after graduating high school, worked his way through the ranks at Marvel in the ‘70s. (There was a lot of turnover at the top at Marvel in the ‘70s — seven different editors had the top job at some point during the decade.) There were many successful runs at Marvel during his tenure, a welcome departure from the creative doldrums the company suffered through in the ‘70s. During Shooter’s reign at Marvel, however, the company alienated some talent through strict deadlines and editorial control, as Johns does through late payments to freelancers and not giving proper credit (and strict editorial control). Many Marvel writers and artists left to go to work for DC. Shooter was forced out after nine years in 1987.

Johns left Terrific Comics (most likely a stand in for Marvel) and founded Zenith Publishing, where he had a bit hit in Metaman. Shooter launched Valiant Comics in 1989, and the company grew spectacularly for a few years — until the comic book industry’s next bust in the mid-‘90s, when the whole thing went pear shaped. Shooter had been forced out before then, however.

Zenith was headquartered in San Diego, most likely for plot convenience. (The largest comic publisher located in San Diego today, IDW, was founded in 1999.) However, when Frank and Joe visit the company’s offices, Joe notices the “bullpen” — an open area for many artists to work at the same time. Marvel was famous for its bullpen; however, there was no actual bullpen area in its offices. It was just a convenient and colorful way for early editor Stan Lee to refer to the writers and artists working for Marvel at the time, and the name has stuck.

Too much TV, not enough comics: At one point, Joe says he will be able to “play [the suspect] like a violin,” which Frank finds overdramatic. Obviously, Joe’s picked this up from some generic crime TV show or movie — probably too many of them. Despite his disdain, Frank’s watched too much TV as well; he thinks he’s lucky the car he’s in didn’t explode when it rolled. Cars rarely explode in real life; in TV and movies, the special effects people put bombs on the cars to make them go boom.

Chet, the comic book fan, seems to have not read enough comics, however. When people dressed up as comic book villains attack them, Chet seems unconvinced as to whether they have superpowers. Anyone who has read comics (or watched TV, or movies) knows that when fictional characters come to life, it’s always a scam.

Good cop, bad Hardys: As usual, the Hardys horn in on an active investigation, but this time, Det. Sgt. Drew Hanlon isn’t having it. He tells the boys that since it’s a kidnapping case, the FBI has jurisdiction, and they should butt the hell out. (I’m paraphrasing.) When they are caught at the scene of a firebombing, Hanlon hauls them in and questions them for a whole hour. Frank and Joe are aghast at this sort of treatment, little imagining what would have happened if a) they were normal people, instead of the most special teenagers in the history of forever, or b) the FBI took an interest in their own investigation instead of fobbing off most of the hard work to a detective for the San Diego PD.

I think the books need characters like this: authority figures who give the boys a hard time and seem at least mildly competent. Since adults rarely seem to believe children and adolescents, it seems more real and a better way to identify with the ostensible target audience to have adults working against the Hardys rather than Frank and Joe invoking St. Fenton to become the police’s masters. Any adolescent (or child) who has that sort of power is going to be the sort of person the intended audience would automatically hate — the undeclared lords of the playground set who get what they want because their parents are rich, powerful, or both. Screw those kids.

On the other hand, it’s hard not to sympathize with Frank and Joe’s meddling when they have a better understanding of San Diego, armed with a street map and a day’s experience, than the San Diego police or the local FBI.

Opinions: Since I have a familiarity with comics and the comics industry — see my new book Comic Book Collections for Libraries for an example — I was distracted throughout the book, trying to figure out who this or that character was supposed to be. Someone specific? An amalgam? Something new? Only Barry Johns seemed to have enough details to identify with any sort of depth or confidence. The others … they were generic figures. Which was a problem when I was trying to figure out if they had any wider significance and a problem in relation to the plot. And I’m still trying to figure out if Chet’s fan friend Tom Gatlin was a reference to Tom Galloway, a comics fan and Usenet dinosaur also known as “tyg.”

It seems to me a better story could have been made by making Last Laugh echo the real battle for Golden and Silver Age creators’ rights, such as Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster’s battle for Superman money or Jack Kirby’s battle for recognition at Marvel. Given that Golden Age cover art was at the center of the mystery, a fictionalized version of the legal struggle would have fit quite well into the story. But no — it’s a generic money / rights issue at the heart of Last Laugh.

Grade: B-. Although this isn’t a bad mystery, I found I wasn’t engaged with it either.

Running on Fumes (Undercover Brothers #2)

Plot: ATAC sends Frank and Joe out into the desert to infiltrate the camp of Arthur Stench, a radical environmentalist who has gathered a cultlike following miles from civilization.

“Borrowing” from the past: Frank takes an internship at a law office as a cover, which must make his mother very happy; she wanted him and Joe to go into law and medicine, although it was never clear which she wanted to be which. Her plans started back in the first book, The Tower Treasure, and her feelings were shared by Fenton, but he relented, and she did as well in What Happened at Midnight (#10). She raised the issue again — at least mentally — in The Flickering Torch (#22).

Frank also fences in gym class, which he, Joe, and their chums learned to do in the revised Clue of the Broken Blade (#21). Those lessons evidently didn’t take, as not only does Frank lose, but he doesn’t realize there isn’t enough room or much place in competitive fencing to “circle” with your opponent. Also, although both boys feign inexperience with the bow (or forget their experience), The Sign of the Crooked Arrow (#28) says they’re quite knowledgeable about archery. Frank even makes a bow, while Joe and Chet make arrows.

Frank and Joe get a reward from this one — new tricked out motorcycles. This is the latest in a series of fabulous prizes the boys get from crimefighting; the most recent (and comparable) is a police van, which the boys received in exchange for a $20,000 “donation” (hint, hint) of their reward money, in The Revenge of the Desert Phantom (#84).

ATAC Mission Difficulty: Suicidal. Whereas the previous mission might have been within reason — keep an eye on things in a youth-dominated but clean urban setting — this one sends Frank and Joe undercover into a environmental cult miles away from help … or roads, for that matter.

Hip or not: On the plus side, a bully calls Joe a “dillweed,” which strikes me as spot on. I also admit Joe’s exclamation of “Unholy awesome!” makes me laugh — in a good way. On the other hand, Joe says, “Rat poop.” You can’t recover from that. Calling himself a “potatohead” isn’t much better. Neutral is saying, “Kick it”; you can recover from that, but only if you’re a Beastie Boy. Joe also calls one of his pursuers at one point “butt breath,” which is fine, if he were 11.

Perhaps they should investigate geography: On the boys’ way from Bayport (wherever that may be) to southern California, the boys stop by Mt. Rushmore. Which is, for those who don’t know, in South Dakota, and several hundred miles out of their way, while they’re riding cross country on their motorcycles on a mission from ATAC.

I don’t know much about survivalist environmental cults, but … : I’m pretty sure they don’t let you sleep in until 10, like they do with Frank and Joe. And if you spend all afternoon weeding in the desert sun, you’ll be more than tired — you’ll be baked. And when your main schtick is that you hate technology, solar panels and protein bars kinda are a weird interest. And you don’t get to write “papers” on how people who don’t “agree to use solar power should be locked in a dark cellar until they see the light.” Those are called “threats” or “insane ramblings.” In any event, only the police and the doctors with the nice pills get to see them.

Joe’s pick-up line of the book: After seeing a girl sweeping her front porch because she doesn’t want the creepy crawlies “sharing her tent,” Joe says, “I’m not a creepy crawly. Does that mean I’m welcome to —” He gets interrupted, the girl wasn’t buying anyway, but it was a good try. He’s also indignant a girl rejects him for Frank after she rescues them in the desert, even though he had a few seconds to prepare for her arrival: “I washed my face with spit for her!”

Too much information: Joe says Pebbles Flintstone is hot. This is creepy on many, many different levels, the top three being her infant nature, her fictional nature, and the nature of being created for Joe’s grandparents. Of course, Joe claims girl geeks aren’t hot, which shows he knows nothing. Petal says she had a crush on Bill Nye, Science Guy, which is also kinda creepy but in a different way.

Opinions: This one’s pretty sparse on plot; it takes the boys quite a while to get to the camp, and then things don’t quite feel right. It’s not the weird vibe the reader’s supposed to get; it’s more like the writer isn’t sure about what should go on there and just fills the space with weirdos.

Oh, and they go back to their tent to get their lockpicks after the tent was burned to the ground. Nice.

I’m still not sure about a lot of the details of the new set up. Laura has gone from colorless to a little annoying, with her frequent blurting of semi-related factoids. Chet is bullied in this book, which is one hell of a comedown for him; just think what Chet would have done to a bully if Leslie McFarlane were writing him again. And I was really hoping that parrot would be a one-time appearance, but no such luck. Frank is a bit of a weenie, getting tongue-tied around girls and not being able to separate what would happen in fake fights (losing at fencing) with the real world (blowing people up). He, like Joe, is scared of a coyote as well. A coyote! Frank killed a snake with a club in The Clue of the Broken Blade! They were on motorcycles! They had nothing to fear!

Grade: C. But if they have another undercover ATAC agent come out of the woodwork and save them again, so help me, my wrath will be mighty.