The Clues to the Real Carolyn Keene – writer of the Nancy Drew mysteries. …..

‘The wind howled through the dark night. Nancy bent over with the light of her torch to examine the dark spot on the wood floor. Blood? She dipped in the tip of her finger and put it to her nose. Yup. It was the stuff.

Further away she shone her light on the floor and could see remains of a shattered vase. It looked to be expensive like everything else in this Arts and Crafts style house on the edge of Pasadena. She shone the light around and could detect footprints leading away.

Cautiously, making as little noise as possible, she followed the prints through the swinging wood door. It led to a large dining room. Nancy advanced softly and could just make out the slumped form next to the oak table. He looked like he had been trying to pull himself up. The elderly gentleman was lying almost face down with his head to the side and both hands clinched. A large spot on the back of his head showed through his white hair. Something white peeked through fingers of one craggy old hand.

Knowing full well she shouldn’t do this, Nancy gently tugged the paper out of his hand. She touched him at the neck knowing there would be no pulse. There wasn’t. She shone her torch on the paper. The Ghost….was scrawled on the paper. There was a bang in the background, Nancy jumped. The murderer could still be in the house.

Catlike, she retraced her path back to the front door. She stepped gingerly out turning off the torch. She peered around the front driveway and bushes. No one. Her heart in her mouth, she grabbed the car keys from her purse and made a run for her car.

She yanked open the car door, slammed it shut and banged down the locks. The key in the ignition, she did a rapid three-point turn and peeled rubber until she was far down the hill and on the way home. She pulled into a coffee shop and called the police. She knew her buddy, Sergeant Fred or Freddie wouldn’t be working this late so, she made the report to the desk cop and left her name and number. Yikes! What an evening. Jeepers.’

 

Mildred Wirt Benson leaned over her heavy black typewriter and peered at her copy. Was this going to do it? This character was something new and different. A Sherlock Holmes type but, American and importantly, female. Wow! How were people going to react to this character? She wasn’t typical female and broke so many rules.

This Nancy was, hum, Mildred had to think. Nancy was strong-minded, strong-willed, independent. She was curious, action-oriented, loved to get into trouble, mind other people’s business and in general make a nuisance of herself. She was the bane to her lawyer father, who loved her to bits, and her somewhat scattered boyfriend, Ned.

Plus, Nancy was continually getting into and out of scrapes with and without the help of friends and family, yet, by the hair of her chinny-chin-chin, managed to pull the rabbit out of the hat at the last moment.

She pulled the last sheet out of the typewriter and placed in on the pile with the others. Hopefully, her editor would like it, approve of it and most importantly, pay her for it! A smile of satisfaction played on Mildred’s lips. Nancy was all the things she could never be. Nancy would probably just march right into Stratemeyer’s office and….

 

The character, Nancy Drew, was conceived by Edward Stratemeyer, founder of the Stratemeyer Syndicate. Stratemeyer had created the Hardy Boys series in 1926, which had been such a success that he decided on a similar series for girls, featuring an amateur girl detective as the heroine. He was aware that the Hardy Boys books were popular with girl readers and wished to capitalize on girls’ interest in mysteries by offering a strong female heroine.

Stratemeyer initially pitched the new series to Hardy Boys publishers Grosset & Dunlap as the “Stella Strong Stories”, adding that “they might also be called ‘Diana Drew Stories’, ‘Diana Dare Stories’, ‘Nan Nelson Stories’, ‘Nan Drew Stories’, or ‘Helen Hale Stories’.” Editors at Grosset & Dunlap preferred “Nan Drew” of these options, but decided to lengthen “Nan” to “Nancy”. Stratemeyer accordingly began writing plot outlines and hired  Mildred Wirt, later Mildred Wirt Benson, to ghostwrite the first volumes in the series under the pseudonym Carolyn Keene.

The first four titles were published in 1930 and were an immediate success. The books popularity can be seen in a letter that Laura Harris, a Grosset and Dunlap editor, wrote to the Syndicate in 1931: “can you let us have the manuscript as soon as possible, and no later than July 10? There will only be three or four titles brought out then and the Nancy Drew is one of the most important.”

The 6,000 copies that Macy’s ordered for the 1933 Christmas season sold out within days. In 4/1934 Fortune Magazine featured the Syndicate in a cover story and singled Nancy Drew out for particular attention: “Nancy is the greatest phenomenon among all the fifty-centers. She is a best seller. How she crashed a Valhalla that had been rigidly restricted to the male of her species is a mystery even to her publishers.”

During the height of the greatest depression that the US has ever experienced, the appearance of these books and their popularity was astounding. Maybe it was the times. Maybe people need to feel that they had some kind of personal control.

 

The Real Carolyn Keene

 

Mildred Benson was born Mildred Augustine in Ladora, Iowa to Lillian and Dr. J. L. Augustine. Benson earned her degree in English from the University of Iowa in 1925 in a short three years. She later returned to the University and in 1927, became the first student there to earn a master’s degree in journalism. She was married to Asa Wirt, an Associated Press writer. The couple had a daughter, Peggy Wirt, in 1936. After Wirt’s death in 1947, she married George A. Benson, editor of the Toledo Blade.

Benson worked for 58 years as a journalist, and author of children’s books. She died in 2002 at the age of 96. Benson was a great adventurer, making numerous trips to Central America, traversing the jungle in a Jeep, canoeing down rivers, visiting Mayan sites, flying airplanes and witnessing archaeological excavations.

Nancy Drew

While she wrote scores of books under her own and many other names, Benson is perhaps best known as one of 28 individuals who helped produce the Nancy Drew books.

Published book rights for the Nancy Drew series were then owned by the Stratemeyer Syndicate and are now by Simon & Schuster. As with all syndicate ghostwriters, Benson was paid a flat fee of $125 to $250 for each Stratemeyer-outlined text, the equivalent of three months’ pay for a newspaper reporter at that time. At Edward Stratemeyer’s death in 1930, all Syndicate ghostwriters, including Benson, were sent royalties from their books.

By contract, Benson signed away all rights to her texts and any claim to the pen name, Carolyn Keene. She was, however, permitted to reveal that she wrote for the Syndicate.

Stratemeyer provided Benson with index card thumbnail sketches. However, she was the one who created Nancy’s spunky, plucky personality, and her daring, adventurous spirit. Benson took the plots supplied by the Syndicate and created a character that is still loved today. The Syndicate published the books using the pseudonym, Carolyn Keene. Later, most of the Nancy Drew stories that Benson wrote, were re-written by Edna Stratemeyer Squier and, Harriet Stratemeyer Adams after Stratemeyer’s death.

Other ghostwriters who used this name to write Nancy Drew mysteries included Leslie McFarlane, James Duncan Lawrence, Walter Karig, Nancy Axelrad, Patricia Doll, Charles S. Strong, Alma Sasse, Wilhelmina Rankin, George Waller Jr., Margaret Scherf, and Susan Wittig Albert. To-date, over 80 million copies of the Nancy Drew series have been sold and the books have been translated into 45 languages.

However, Benson herself went on to write even more books. She created The Dana Girls series under the name, again, of Carolyn Keene. Also, the Penny Parker and Dan Carter, Cub Scout series. She was a long-time journalist for her husband’s paper, The Toledo Blade and covered many topics to include the crime beat.

 

Mildred Wirt Benson captured the essence of the American spirit in the form of a sixteen-year-old girl. Nancy Drew was smart, curious, resourceful, nosey and helpful to others. She used the resources at her disposal to help others in need. She was the epitome of American can-do attitude and at a nexus point in American history, helped to redefine women’s roles. Nancy became a model for girls who would become women themselves one day, of who and what they wished to be. For myself, I always wanted to be Nancy Drew when I grew up. I really loved those shoes!

 

The end.

References

 

Books at Iowa: The Ghost of Nancy Drew – Iowa Digital Librarydigital.lib.uiowa.edu/bai/lapin.htm

For Indeed it was He, Author unknown, 1934.  Fortune Magazine.

Project Gutenberg project. Author unknown. 2018. Nancy Drew. http://www.self.gutenberg.org/articles/nancy_drew

Webb, C.  Nancy Investigates – 2015

Wikipedia. 2018. Author unknown. Mildred Wirt Benson. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mildred_Benson

Wikipedia. 2018. Author unknown. Edward Stratemeyer.https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_Stratemeye

 

• Published on July 5, 2018

Brigette Hyacinth

Trust is the foundation of any successful relationship, whether professionally or personally and when it’s broken, it is extremely hard to repair. I had a supervisor if I was over one minute on my lunch time, she would send an email to remind me of my lunch hours, even though most of the time I never took my full lunch hour. I couldn’t even send an email without her approving it first. She was so inflexible that it was overbearing. I couldn’t trust her. When employees feel they can’t trust their boss, they feel unsafe, like no one has their back, and then spend more energy on survival than performing at their job.

The corporate world is littered with such micromanagers. Sadly many organizations prefer these managers because they seem to be on top of, and in control of everything. In the short term, they may produce results but in the long run they leave a trail of destruction in their path.

“It doesn’t make sense to hire smart people and then tell them what to to. We hire smart people so they can tell us what to do.” ― Steve Jobs

5 Damaging Effects of Micromanagement

1.Decreased Productivity – When a manager is constantly looking over their employees’ shoulders, it can lead to a lot of second-guessing and paranoia, and ultimately leads to dependent employees. Additionally, such managers spends a lot of time giving input and tweaking employee workflows, which can drastically slow down employee response time.

2. Reduced Innovation – When employees feel like their ideas are invalid or live in constant fear of criticism, it’s eventually going to take a toll on creativity. In cultures where risk-taking is punished, employees will not dare to take the initiative. Why think outside the box when your manager is only going to shoot down your ideas and tell you to do it their way?
3. Lower Morale – Employees want the feeling of autonomy. If employees cannot make decisions at all without their managers input, they will feel suffocated. Employees that are constantly made to feel they can’t do anything right may try harder for a while, but will eventually stop trying at all. The effects of this will be evident in falling employee engagement levels.
4. High Staff Turnover – Most people don’t take well to being micromanaged. When talented employees are micromanaged, they often do one thing; quit. No one likes to come to work every day and feel they are walking into a penitentiary with their every movement being monitored. “Please Micromanage Me” Said No Employee ever. I have never seen a happy staff under micromanagement.
5. Loss of Trust – Micromanagement will eventually lead to a massive breakdown of trust. It demotivates and demoralizes employees. Your staff will no longer see you as a manager, but a oppressor whose only job is to make their working experience miserable.

Micromanagement is a complete waste of everybody’s time. It sucks the life out of employees, fosters anxiety and creates a high stress work environment.

A manager’s job is to provide guidance and support. It’s facilitating a healthy environment where employees can perform at their best. Always be quick to recognize, appreciate and reward employees efforts. Micromanagement breeds resentment and disloyalty. If you hired someone, it means you believe they are capable of doing the job, then trust them to get it done. A high level of trust between managers and employees defines the best workplaces and drives overall company performance.

Micromanaging is the opposite of empowerment and it creates toxic work environments. It chokes the growth of the employee and the organization and fosters mediocrity. When you empower employees, you promote vested interest in the company. Empowered employees are more confident, more willing to go the extra mile for employers, and more willing do whatever it takes to care for customers. The best ideas and advancements are a result of empowering your team.

All in all, keeping great talent really can mean the difference between a business succeeding or failing. In this volatile global marketplace, happy loyal employees are your biggest competitive advantage. If you want performance at scale: Select the right people, provide them with the proper training, tools and support, and then give them room to get the job done!

…………

 

 

“Why can’t we, Mom? Angie just got one. A little white one. He’s really cute.”

Sue paused wiping her hands on a dish towel. She stared at her six-year-old daughter. Scoot, as she was nick-named had silky blond hair, cut in a short bob. She was tall for her age and stared up at her mother with large, luminous green eyes. In common parlance, Scoot was adorable.

It was difficult to say no to her. For anything.

“Scoot, we’ve talked about this before.”

“But, Mom….”

“Scoot, remember,” Sue turned and started unloading the dishwasher, “we’re saving for a house. A house with a yard. Then we can have a dog.”

Scoot looked disappointed and walked away, head down.

 

Eight months later, Sue and Scoot were moving into their first house. A house with a front yard, back yard and a fence.

Sue stared with satisfaction out at the yard. Not big really, but a little landscaping, nice, and joy of joys, a real slump-stone fence on each side, about five feet tall. Plus, there were large wooden gates with latches on each side. She sighed and slumped down on a green metal yard chair. She had ordered a set to go with the new glass-topped table. They would be able to have real barbeques out here. Right on! She smiled to herself. Patience is its own reward.

 

The dog discussion was back in full force. Sue was reminded frequently of her promise. Her ex-husband, Billy Bob, started to appear at the new house and join in the discussion.

“Don’t want no little, yappy dogs. Hate them things. Just want to drop kick one a ‘em across the goal post of life.”

Sue rolled her eyes.

“Need a real dog, hunting dog, dog ‘wit bones on ‘em.”

“Yah, Billy, and who exactly is going to be the one to take care of this here hunting dog? Ah, I know, me. No. No big dogs. I’m the one who’ll end up picking up the dog poop, so, the less, the better.”

“Ha,” Billy Bob replied. “Yappy dogs. Bah.”

 

For weeks, Sue searched the internet for deals on dogs. There weren’t any.

“Golly, two hundred fifty, four hundred dollars for a puppy. Geeze, what are these people thinking?” She sighed and kept looking. This was getting discouraging.

 

One day Sue and Scoot got home from school. Billy Bob’s old white pickup truck was parked in front of the house. He had taken to letting himself into the backyard. Sue didn’t really mind but wondered what was up. Through the living room glass slider, she could see him sitting out at the backyard table smoking a cigar. Something was running around in the yard.

What in the world? Sue opened the slider and heard barking. A large, brown dog barked and ran toward her. She darted back behind the slider. Billy Bob laughed.

“He won’t hurt nothing. He’s just a big puppy. Razor, come here boy.” The dog ran toward him and sat. Billy patted his head. “See, just a big baby. Come on out here.”

Sue approached cautiously and sat. The dog approached her, tail wagging. He licked her hand. Razor was a large, brown, short-haired something. A mix of boxer and who knew. He wasn’t full grown yet, but had big feet and was all wiry muscle, probably 75 pounds. Definitely not a little, yappy dog. A big yappy dog.

“Well, he seems friendly,” she ventured, cautiously. “But where did he come from?”

“He was from one of the guys at the cigar shop,” Billy took a puff and blew out smoke.

She frowned.

He leaned forward and whispered, “They were going to have to put him down.”

Billy nodded and puffed on his cigar again, smiling. Scoot came out and started to oh and ah over the dog. Razor wagged his tail more and began to run in happy circles.

Sue sat and contemplated, A lot bigger that I wanted of course, but he seems friendly enough, so…. She left Scoot with her dad and went to the pet store to get pet food.

#

 

The next few weeks proved to be more eventful than Sue had expected. Razor ate a lot of food, left massive poops and started to dig up the backyard. Sue got a shovel to pooper scoop and even Billy Bob helped with some of the cleanup. Problems started when Scoot let Razor in the house.

Sue discovered this when she found her best camera on the floor of the living room. It had been chewed to bits. The bite marks went through both the leather case and into the metal. She picked up the camera and looked at it with amazement. Incredible.

The digging in the back yard continued as Razor systematically destroyed all the landscaping. Sue shook her head. Both house cats were hiding under her bed and would only come out to eat and use the litter box. Sue kept assuring them that the dog was just a puppy. Neither were buying it.

The piece de resistance came about the second month of dog ownership. The next-door neighbors, Bill and Joan Barnett were ‘house proud’ as some would say. A retired couple, their house and their yard were their castle.

Although Sue had been over several times for coffee, the pair had never invited her into the sancto-sanctorum, the backyard pool. Sue tried to have no hard feelings over this. Instead, she choose to not complain and maintain good neighbor relations. It had not been a good week, dog-wise. Razor had gotten into Sue’s closet and managed to find not one, but two pairs of new leather shoes. He chewed up one shoe of each pair. Then, somehow, who knew how, he got out the gate and started to bark at the mailman and chase him down the block. The man was terrified, and Sue was still not sure there wasn’t going to be a formal complaint. Good God, what next?

What next came the very next week with an ominous knock on the front door. Sue was home alone working in her office. Hearing the knock, she went and peeked through the spy hole. It was her next-door neighbor, Bill. This was not a good sign. He never came over. She opened the door cautiously.

“Sue, you got a new dog?” Kind of a question, of course, he already knew the answer.

“Well, yes, Bill, my ex brought him over for Scoot….”

“Sue, that dog crawled over the fence and got into my back yard and started tearing stuff up.”

“I, I, ah…” Sue stuttered. He got over the fence? Unbelievable, it’s five feet high!

“Sue, here’s the thing,” Bill peered at her with a maniacal gleam in his eye. Bill was an old union guy retired from the local brewery. “That dog gets into my yard one more time, I’m going to shoot him. Then I will drag his cold, dead carcass over here and leave him on your front yard.”

She stared at Bill, open-mouthed.

“Ya get me, Sue?”

She nodded dumbly.

“Good, I am so glad we understand each other.”

With that, Bill turned on his heel and stomped back home.

Sue closed the door softly and went back to her office, slumped in her chair, staring into space.

#

 

“Billy, it’s Sue.”

“Yeah, Sue girl. What’s up?”

“The dog has to go, Billy.”

“Go, go where? Where should he go?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. You brought him here, you take him back.”

“But, but, I told you what was going to happen to him….”

“Don’t give me any more information, Billy, come and get the dog.”

#

“But where did Razor go Mom?” Scoot looked at her mom with beseeching eyes.

“Your dad had to take him back Scoot, where he got him. I’m sorry, the people wanted him back,” Sue lied. Scoot looked like she was going to tear up. “But,” Sue added quickly, “look at this.” She opened her computer screen to a site and pointed to a picture. It was a picture of a little, black puppy with curly hair.

“Look Scoot, he is a little older now, but not much and the lady is willing to sell him to us. A little cocker spaniel. Just our kind of dog.”

“Really?” Scoot looked open-mouthed at the picture. “When do we get him?”

“We go pick him up this weekend. And I will let you pick out a name. What do you think it will be?”

Scoot got serious and thought hard.

“Would it be okay if we called him Razor too?”

Sue laughed with relief.

“If that would make you happy, we’ll call him whatever you want.”

The two sat and looked at more pictures of prize cockers. She marked the calendar in big letters,

Pick up Razor!!!!!!

 

The end.

 

cew