"I’m reading Rimbaud," I would tell people in January — or that’s what they thought I said. Actually, I was saying: "I’m reading Rambeau," referring to Nancy and John, the able writers of The Mystery of the Midnight Visitor, copyright 1962, by Harr Wagner Publishing Company. I was attracted by the astonishing cover, showing four of the major characters — Gabby, Vinny, Miss Wellington and Bill — with their backs to us, looking down a hallway towards a curtained window. The illustration, all in one color (mauve), was executed by ingenious Joseph Maniscalco.
This is a mystery novel for very young children — so young that the book contains "EXERCISES" on the final pages, on the level of:
1. Gabby seemed to have ______ ways of getting to work.
(midnight) (mysterious) (sleepy) (shaggy)
You’re supposed to "FIND THE RIGHT WORD." (Hint: I think one can immediately eliminate "midnight.")
Not too much happens in this book, but a singular character appears: Admiral Lavendar.
Then in the morning Bill saw a strange thing. Side by side, at the door of Sweeney’s doghouse, were two ragged tennis shoes. And, as Bill watched, a hand came through the doghouse door, reached for the shoes and pulled them inside!
You guessed it! Admiral Lavendar, a man in his 60s who actually wears a captain’s cap, lives in a doghouse! Not only that, he eats dog food. The fellow is homeless, in a children’s book-kind of way. And as for his military title:
"Dear me, I never said I was an admiral," put in the old man. "I just said my name was Admiral — Admiral George Lavendar."
(Notice the radical spelling of his last name.) Admiral Lavendar is one of the most astonishing characters in literature, and I may be the only living person aware of him. (I can locate no biographical data on John and Nancy Rambeau within the sometimes-evasive Internet.)
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