Archives for October 2022

Yeah, it’s me, the one they whisper about in libraries around the world.  Well, of course they whisper, they’re in a library.  But if they were out in the street they would still only speak in low and somber tones about me; the man, the myth, the legend, Mickey Booker, Library Detective.

Where I hang my hat, if I wore hats, which I don’t, would be on a hat rack located in The Big Apple.  I was born in The Bronx and have rarely strayed more than a few zip codes from where I began.  As a library detective; others might say the library detective, I never had much time to travel.  With over 90 branches, 4 research libraries and 55 million items in their inventory, the New York Public Library system keeps me pretty busy.  I work out of the main branch on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan where they alone watch over two and a half million books.  That adds up to more open cases than even a seasoned gumshoe, like myself, can handle.  But I will not sleep until every case, like every book, is closed.  Of course, that’s metaphorically speaking.  We have to sleep, but mine will be troubled!

Smart kid like you can get why NYC gets thousands of requests for my services from libraries around the world.  They all want the best.  I take a look-see at all of them but never go.  There is plenty to keep me busy here and I never had much wanderlust that couldn’t be satisfied with a book. Also it was pretty standard stuff; missing books, expired cards and irregularities some call “Human Error.”  And, of course, the most disgraceful and heinous act of nefarious library criminals, the defacing of books!

You can imagine my surprise when I received a request from the LINCC, Libraries in Clackamas County, Oregon.  I’d never made it as far west as Chicago let alone all the way to the shores of the Pacific.  But they had an unusual problem that I’d heard about in the past but had never seen firsthand.  Some mug was keeping his, or her, place in the book by bending the corners.  My blood starts to raise to 212 degrees Fahrenheit just thinking about it!  Well I was buried in cases and did not want to face telling my girl Mabel I’d be hitting the road and have to miss our 1 month anniversary party at the local Slice n’ Suds next Tuesday.  But a creep defacing books in this way was too much for me to resist. We cleared it with NYC and LINCC, threw a few unmentionables in a backpack and was on my way to what we call the “Worst Coast.”

I chose the branch at Wilsonville, Oregon to be my home base.  The entire system all share books so we didn’t know if the crimes were perpetrated by one person from a specific branch or perhaps there was a whole gang working together.  Could even be worse; a copycat criminal!  I never heard of Wilsonville but it sounded nice, like a small backwoods village in the hills of Oregon.  My dreams were shattered when we hit crushing city traffic in from the airport.   No matter, I had a job to do and that was the only reason I was there.

Next morning I arranged to meet the Chief Librarian at the branch at 10:00AM sharp.  I liked to see the looks of awe and amazement when the staff sees me and realize it is, in fact, the real Mickey Booker.  But the Librarian had arranged to meet me alone.  This was to be a covert job, completely anonymous.  I got it right away.

She introduced herself as Paige Turner.  She had a welcoming smile and greeted me warmly.  I knew I wasn’t in NYC anymore.  Paige mused that my name was kind of ironic for a library detective.  I don’t get why she thinks the name Mickey is ironic; maybe if I worked at Disneyland, but I didn’t make a big deal out of it.  There was someone out there defacing books.  Time to get the wheels rolling before the trail gets cold.

Paige handed me a sheet. Here is a list of thirty-four books we found with bent corners.  When I took this case I had the branches start checking every return item for bent corners.  Of course we had no way to be sure the person returning the book this time was the culprit.  The corners might have been bent days, weeks, months or years ago.  But if it was easy to figure out they wouldn’t need me and I’d be home with Mabel washing a slice of pepperoni pizza down with a mug of suds.

After I perused the list for about an hour and made some notes, Paige introduced me to the two volunteers assigned to help me root out the culprit; Bess Sellers, and Hardin Cover.  My friends just call me Hard he said shaking my hand.

This is a big case so I hit them with the high-impact motivational speech that took me years to develop.  Bess, Hard: Time is money, the clock is ticking and there is no time to lose; we need to strike while the iron is hot.  When the going gets tough, the tough get going!  I saw by their blank stares they were stunned and my speech hit the bullseye.  They were my team.  I need you both to take these directions and spend the next few days checking out the shelves of all the libraries in the system.  Above all, be discreet.  We can’t let the evil forces at work to know what we are doing; the stakes are too high!

We got to work on the lists and by weeks end had added another fifty-three books to the defaced corners list.  With a total of eighty-seven titles we had gained the critical mass needed to put together a suspects list. 

At this point you see where the investigation is going.  I am afraid I can’t get in to more of the details.  I worked too long to build my reputation to give away every one of my investigation techniques.  Next thing you know a flood of wanna-be library detectives will appear on the scene and it’s the end for old-fashioned masters, like myself, who consider themselves as much artist as detective.  We’re not here solely to make a buck, although a buck is good.  Artists also have to pay the rent.

I can tell you this much.  Basically by checking records, using GPS coordinates, Google Earth, plus some basic boots-on-the-ground detective work, I found a suspect.  We zeroed in on a local 6^th grade teacher and calling ahead as is only polite, Paige Turner and I made an appointment to confront the teacher.  I was ready to throw the book at her, (that’s detective talk for sending her to prison for a good, long stretch).  Paige thought perhaps we could just talk to her and straighten things out.  We need good teachers and everything I discovered about Lexi Conn said she is one of the best.

We walked into her room, a delightful space with books, bright colors and wall posters extolling the virtues of reading.  Ms. Conn said I’ve been expecting you but not so soon and held out her hand like she was expecting me to clap on the bracelets, what we detectives call handcuffs, but she was only offering a handshake.  You came so quickly.  I only mailed the letter yesterday.

Letter, I thought?  You knew we’d find you I sneered.  She smiled and replied that she assumed it would be easy since she sent a letter to Paige apologizing.  My class goes to the library a lot as we make reading our top priority.  I discovered one of our boys taught everyone to bend the pages as his family taught him.  One student, Brooke Marks, realized it was wrong and alerted me.  We talked and the class decided to dedicate ourselves to finding ways to help and all took a pledge to never again deface a book.  If we spot any damage we now report it to the librarian immediately.

Not what I expected but I am a sucker for a happy ending.  That evening I said my goodbyes to the staff and was warmly thanked as they wished me safe travels; something that would never happen in Gotham City, by the way.  People are way nicer here, it kind of gives me the creeps.  With a nod and a thumbs up I headed to the airport to get back to the raucous crowd in the city that never sleeps.  Maybe there was still a chance to take Mabel for a celebration slice.

So if you are out there thoughtlessly underlining words, scribbling notes and bending pages in library books, knock it off or Mickey Booker will find you and set things right.  Case Closed!

Trevor had made countless visits to the Grand Tetons, yet he felt the same exhilaration and wonder as the first time he crossed over from Yellowstone and gazed at September’s sparkling splashes of color; a blush rivaling Monet’s palette. He imagined the mountains were sprinkled with sugar by the light dusting of snow and listened to the ethereal calls of the Bull Moose in search of a cow, what Trevor liked to think of as finding a soulmate with whom to share all this beauty.

Crossing the field to a nearby lake, Trevor flushed with excitement as he spotted a Trumpeter Swan gliding across the surface.  Its scientific name is Cygnus Buccinator, he mused.  So great was his love of nature at one time he had resolved to memorize all the names of every plant and animal in every national park in the United States.  But he soon realized there was just not enough time so decided to abandon the left side, the intellectual side, of the brain and use every second to flood his right brain’s senses, simply letting the beauty wash over him.

Trevor knew to his immediate right was a steep, narrow path leading up the side of a 22 foot rise, overlooking a hidden valley not visible from this spot.  He stepped onto the path, as he does every time he visits this location, and began running up the incline, running and pushing himself hard and then even harder.  He knew he should be exhausted but his respiration rose only slightly, and not from exertion but from exhilaration.  He wondered if his mother would ever understand the feeling of being totally immersed in a “You Are There” experience.

“Trevor, come down.  There’s someone here I want you to meet.”

His mother’s voice broke the reverie.  Time to go. Trevor took one last deep breath of the fresh, cool mountain air, and one final glance at the glorious vistas surrounding him, closed his eyes and removed the goggles. He set the goggles on the desk carefully.  They cost his mother more than they could afford but both agreed they were worth the investment.  Trevor rolled his chair back from the folding table that acted as his desk and pushed to the living room.  He could have had a rechargeable chair but preferred the manual model; a good upper body workout.  Miracles do happen he thought, and when it does I want to have retained as much muscle tone as possible.

As Trevor pushed the wheels forward into the living room he saw his mother begin to come toward him to help.  His quick, steely glare told her not to and she stopped, aching to see him try so hard to cover his pain with a smile.

“Trevor, this is Mrs. Meyers from the Make-A-Wish Foundation.  She has some wonderful things to tell you.”  Trevor smiled and extended his hand to Mrs. Meyers as she softly clasped his hand in a careful greeting. His slight turn to his mother with a blank stare clearly delivered his message.  He was not happy to have this visitor.

Mrs. Meyers spoke directly to him.  “Trevor, Make-A-Wish has arranged for you to spend two days at Yellowstone National Park.  You and your mother will be escorted by a qualified guide and park ranger to make sure you both are safe and get to visit all the most beautiful places. You will spend two nights at the beautiful Canyon Lodge.  From there you can get an early start to see everything you want within the park.”  Mrs. Meyers paused her much practiced speech to see his reaction.

“Thank you Mrs. Meyers.  It is very kind but I have been to Yellowstone.  Perhaps there is someone else who would love a trip like this?”

Looking slightly bewildered Mrs. Meyers looked to Trevor’s mother who, as she flashed her silent glare to Trevor, said “He hasn’t actually been.  He visits National Parks with his ‘You Are There’ computer program and virtual reality headset.  I am sure he would be amazed at the beauty and grandeur of a real trip there.”  As she spoke her eyes pleaded with Trevor not to carry this any further.

“My mother is right, Mrs. Meyers.  I am just a little nervous.  I can’t even imagine what I might feel being there in person.  Definitely a trip of a lifetime, but I guess that goes without saying.  Your organization is almost too wonderful to believe.  I don’t know why I deserve such kindness but thank you.”

Visibly relieved Mrs. Meyers sat on the edge of the chair and filled in some of the information he would want to know.  “We have worked closely with your mother on the details. You both will be leaving one week from today and be gone two nights.  There will always be a guide with you and a medical staff available…” As she continued Trevor maintained a smile but tuned out.  Her words didn’t matter, his mom was happy.

When Mrs. Meyers left Trevor’s mother set the table for dinner.  Trevor helps arranging the plates and silverware as he always does. “Mom, you know I don’t want to go.  I’ve been there and it is beautiful.  I just want to spend my time here. With the virtual programs my mind is able to see, feel and smell.  It’s enough.”

“You will love it Trev and we will be together out of this dingy little house. In the fresh mountain air.”
“I like this house and the air is fine.  But if it will make you happy.”
“It will make us happy Trev, even for a short time I know we will find our smiles.”
“Sure mom, let’s do it!”

No more was said about it that night.  They had dinner in silence and Trevor went back to his room and downloaded a new program for Black Canyon at Gunnison National Park in Western Colorado.  It was small for a National Park but, he had read, worth the trip.  He put on the goggles and entered the park.

Trevor confidently strode over the brownish scrub and rocky surface, an unpaved trail of about 200 feet to get to the edge of the South Rim of Black Canyon.  When the full majesty of the Painted Wall stood before him he froze in wonder. A steep cliff, the tallest in Colorado, and from his virtual vantage point viewed the entire length of the face, brushed with nature’s dark, intense hue, blurring as his eyes filled with tears.  With a click he was on the North Rim, inaccessible to the unseasoned hiker, taking in another angle of the Painted Wall.  Another click and he continued with a most difficult hike along the Gunnison River at the bottom of Black Canyon and through one of the deepest, longest and narrowest gorges in the world. When he came to the end of the path he felt a sudden tiredness and removing his goggles fell immediately asleep.  He had a lot to take in.

The day before Mrs. Meyers would come by to pick them up Trevor sat at the dinner table with his mother.
“Mom, if we didn’t go would you be really disappointed?”
“Of course I would.  Wouldn’t you?  You have always wanted to go to Yellowstone, even when you were a little boy and would camp in the back yard with daddy.  You both wanted to go.”

“Yes, I know.  But with Dad gone…and I have been there you know.”

“Trevor, as wonderful as the goggles and programs are you can never know what it is like to actually be there, until you have.”
“OK mom, I’ll be ready.  I am really tired and think I’ll go to bed.  Big day tomorrow. I love you.”
“Love you too son.  I’ll be in to say goodnight before I go upstairs.”

With that Trevor rolled back from the table and into his room.  He loaded the Yellowstone National Park program thinking about the Mammoth Hot Springs and Old Faithful in the Upper Geyser Basin.  He looked for where he set the goggle then thought to himself, I don’t need the program tonight, not tonight.  He turned off the computer and wrote a short note to his mom saying how excited he was to be going to Yellowstone and that having to share it with someone makes it that much better.  He signed the note as always, “Love you forever Mom!”

With that done he moved to the bed, lifting himself on to the mattress and into his favorite sleeping position on his back.  He immediately drifted off and was in Yellowstone, effortlessly hiking up the trail from the Dunraven Pass Trailhead to Mount Washburn.  As he neared the top he saw a man was already there, taking in the one of the most magnificent vistas in all of nature.  Smiling to himself, Trevor knew he would always have someone with him to share the view.