Back when I was in school, readers fell into two basic categories: kids who had money, and kids who didn’t.
Adults “of a certain age” are sure to remember the dynamic. On the one hand, there were some students who always seemed to have read the newest installment in the Babysitters’ Club or Goosebumps series. The kids who always had cash on hand for every Scholastic book fair, coming away with the latest copy of the Guinness Book of World Records and a new Lamborghini poster.
And then, for the rest of us, there was the library.
Back before the Internet, when dinosaurs roamed the Earth, it wasn’t possible to “hold” copies of new releases through the Libby app. Kids were pretty much limited to the books that were available on the day they visited the public library, so heavy readers like me had to stop in on a daily basis. And over time, if the stars and the planets were all in alignment, every so often we might actually have the chance to finish an entire series.
Back in those days, when I was reading whatever I could get my hands on, the Alvin Fernald series was one that I always kept coming back to.
Alvin Fernald was— according to him— a genius. Accompanied by his younger sister Daphne (aka “The Pest”) and his loyal pal “Shoie”, Alvin used his magnificent brain to dream up new inventions. Inevitably, these creations would land him and his pals in trouble… which naturally made for great stories. Sure, the Alvin Fernald books were already a bit dated by the time I discovered them, but back then, Alvin could’ve passed for a kid version of Macgyver.
The series’ author, Clifford B. Hicks, was already an established writer by the time he turned his hand to children’s literature. After serving in the military during World War II, Mr. Hicks began his civilian career as a staff writer for Popular Mechanics magazine, and worked his way up to become an editor. Supported by his loyal readers, Mr. Hicks’ fanbase quickly spread to the next generation. Alvin Fernald was his most popular series, and it eventually grew to include nine books. For me, the most memorable installment in this series was the fifth book: Alvin Fernald, Superweasel.
This story was published in 1974, at the height of the conservationist movement. Determined to fight back against the industrial-scale pollution in his hometown, Alvin Fernald became a one-man vigilante, pitting his magnificent brain against litterers and other small-time scofflaws. The stakes escalated, and eventually Alvin hatched a plan to break into a factory after dark, scale a giant smokestack, and stifle it from releasing its toxic smog into the atmosphere.
In my younger days, I remember thinking of this as the ultimate action sequence! A bold, death-defying stunt, which could only have taken place in an author’s vivid imagination. But then, just a few weeks ago, I discovered that this crazy adventure actually happened!
See, one of the few constants of life in the traveling circus is used books. Inevitably, all the whistle stops that I’ve pulled into over the years have had a stack of castoff books available, free for the taking, almost like a secondhand version of my old childhood library. As long as I’m not picky about the subject matter, there’s almost always been something available to read, which is how I came to find myself skimming through “Heroes in the Night,” by Tea Krulos:
The premise of this book was absolutely fascinating. It’s an academic study of real people with a unique hobby: dressing up in superhero costumes. The motivations behind these behaviors are as varied as the people themselves, who range from social media influencers to civic-minded volunteers to real-life crimefighters. But back in the 1970s, in the earliest days of this phenomenon, there was one real-life superhero who called himself “The Fox.”
This caped crusader was, in reality, a middle-school teacher named James Phillips. In his spare time, Mr. Phillips led a one-man crusade against polluters, gaining notoriety as a “monkeywrencher”— an environmental activist who used direct action to disrupt logging, construction, or other development activity. In one particularly daring instance, “The Fox” scaled a factory smokestack in order to block the toxic smog that had been rolling out of it. The stunt earned him worldwide notoriety, and it could only have been the inspiration for young Alvin Fernald’s latest adventure.
The thing about picking up a used book is, you never know where it will take you. In this case, I ended up diving down a completely unexpected rabbit hole, spending hours exploring the fascinating world of environmental activists. Through Tea Krulos’ writing, I learned that “The Fox” is credited with inspiring an entire generation of conservationist crusaders, from Greenpeace to the crew of the Sea Shepherd.
But as for me, I’m especially grateful that “The Fox” inspired Mr. Hicks to create one more daring adventure for Alvin Fernald, and another small piece of my childhood.