Girl Sleuth Read Online Free PDF Page A

changing country, the dime genre, which had once been concerned with the likes of Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett, turned into a refuge for criminals and gangsters and tales of city woe; Edward was happy to supply their exploits. He churned out tales for the Nick Carter Library (The
Gold Brick Swindlers; or, Nick Carter’s Great Exposure! The Dalton Gang Wiped Out; or, Nick Carter’s Deadly Rifle!
screamed the titles, like so many dramatic headlines) and the New York Five Cent Library, “a brand-new library of thrilling stories written to the very hour,” according to Street & Smith. None of this, however, prevented Stratemeyer from focusing on his other work.
    The “Literary Account Book of Edward Stratemeyer 1889–1900; Being a complete list of all the original manuscripts written and printed, with the amounts received for the same” shows just how much copy its owner was capable of turning out, as well as how good he was at peddling it:
    Â 
“True to Himself; Or, Robert Strong’s Struggle for Place.” Written in my store in Newark, N.J. 427 Broad St. Jan. 1891. Accepted by Frank A. Munsey Apr. 1891 Price $120.00 Printed. Note given. Paid.
    Â 
“Beyond the Edge of the World, a Pre-Historical Romance.” Written at Waterville, N.Y. June & July 1891. First work on the typewriter.
    Â 
“Mayor Liedenkranz of Hoboken; Or, The Gallant Captain of the Pretzel Schnetzen Corps” Written at Roricks on order for Street & Smith, N.Y. Price $50. Printed. Paid For.
    Â 
“The Monmouth Track Mystery; Or, Dash Dare’s Solution for a Remarkable Case,” written at home, June 1 to 10, 1892. Sold to R.L. Munsey, N.Y. price 60.00. Paid for. Printed.
    Â 
    The list rolled on and on, interrupted only once, late in 1892, by the record of two occasions even more momentous than selling a piece of writing. On December 12, 1892, a small hand drawn in the margin of the notebook pointed, with one weighty finger, to an entry reading: “Went to work on Street & Smith’s editorial staff at Forty dollars per week.” The next line read, simply: “Baby girl Harriet born Sunday, December 11 1892, at 8:40 A.M. weight 8¾ pounds.” In one fell swoop, Edward became a salaried writer and a father. He was pleased about his professional advancement and exuberant about his daughter. As he wrote to a friend a few days later: “This week, I sold a book. Today, unto us was born a baby girl.”

    â€œI GREW UP in a story-book house,” Harriet Stratemeyer Adams rhapsodized over and over again in her later years. “My earliest recollection of my father was when he was playing with my sister and me—outdoors, indoors; and we had continuous stories—not just bedtime stories, but all day long . . . my recollection of him as a child has more to do I think with his imagination than anything.” Edward, just entering the prime of his writing career when she was a small child, often tried out new story lines on Harriet and her sister, Edna, two and a half years her junior, before putting them down on paper. The favorite family game was another version of this; Edward would gather his offspring and spin an instant story around whatever topic they picked for him. He excelled at it, delighting his daughters. At the age of eighty-eight, Harriet was still bragging to reporters: “I was fortunate to have a father who could tell an original story at a moment’s notice.”
    Much like his books, Edward’s stories for his daughters often took the form of serials in which the same characters appeared night after night. Harriet’s personal favorite characters were two fops named Mr. Bobalincoln and Mr. Whistler, whom Edward must have created for his daughters’ pleasure alone as they never appeared in print and he was too shy to invite the neighborhood children in for a listen. He did, however, accept other devotions from the local boys who