When I was a kid in the 1960s and lived in an old rented house (old by Florida standards — 1930s), I was convinced it had hidden spaces.
Off the living room was an alcove we called the library. One wall had a love seat and window looking out onto an orange grove. The other two walls had built-in, floor-to-ceiling shelves lined with books. The books belonged to the original owner, who had died.
Many times I removed books and searched the wood behind them for a secret button or other devices. I was sure there was a way to reveal a mysterious room leading who knows where. This mania stemmed from watching mystery movies, including The Phantom Empire, and reading Hardy Boys books. Read More
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