It had been a few years since I'd heard Tim Johnson, curator of the great Holmes collection at the University of Minnesota, speak solo at the podium, and he was the perfect choice for this "Holmes in the Heartland" program spinning off the new St. Louis Library collection of Sherlockiana. While such a collection's start does not need the nods of existing public collections like Minnesota and Toronto, having him here to "bless" this latest library endeavor somehow gives it a bit of magical significance.
Tim's talk, drawn from his own experiences with seeing people, especially very young people, interact and be inspired by the collection he curates, was inspirational both in a library sense and in a general Sherlockian sense about how we treat those coming into our world. I'll admit that tears were welling up at one point during the talk, and his speaking arc brought a big laugh soon after, which was just the perfect flow for a speaker.
Bill Mason's well-researched deep dive into the origins of the pun "There's no police like Holmes," based on that so-old, so-familiar song, "Home Sweet Home." It's a marvelously inspired topic, the kind that a mind like Bill's can grab like a hellhound with Sir Hugo in its jaws and shake every drop of enlightenment out of it. He's actually collected a legion of instances of it, dug deep into who may have originated it, and he's taking us on a tour of everything about the topic. (Including full color handouts! Love me some handouts!) And he ends in song.
And it's lunchtime! Onward!
The ongoing investigation of Sherlock Holmes, reported from the Peoria, Illinois outpost of Baker Street's dirtiest half a dozen.
Saturday, August 11, 2018
Holmes in the Heartland begins.
It was a great thrill to climb the steps to St. Louis's grand Central Library and find some excellent Sherlockians at the top waiting for the big bronze gates to open. Saying "hello" to old friends not seen in a while is always great, and the shade there was almost equally welcome, as the St. Louis sun does get hot. Getting inside, climbing the grand stair to the third floor (sadly, twenty steps per flight instead of the hoped-for seventeen), and finding a beautiful meeting room up there . . . all good. But for someone very used to an aging Sherlockian populace at the more traditional events, the greatest joy was to be found in the fact the registration and organization was being dealt with by mostly under-forty-year-olds.
Rob Nunn, one of said under-forty-year-olds, gave the opening remarks and thanked all those involved in putting it all together. Dr. Mary Schroeder came up next to talk about the reason that sparked this first event, the founding of the St. Louis Sherlockian Research Collection at this very library. A lot of people and work was involved in putting something like that together, and they can all be very proud of the result. Mary had some great handouts including a colorful booklet with a 1939 portrait of Holmes reprinted on the cover. (Always love the handouts -- they're like the autographs of events.)
Bill Cochran steps up next, starting his talk with the fact that this library building was dedicated in 1895. He ties that to Vincent Starrett via the classic poem and uses Starrett's words to describe Sherlockiana itself. Bill's love of Sherlock Holmes and Sherlockiana is always apparent when he's at the podium, and I've enjoyed hearing him for almost three decades now. (Damn, age sneaks up on you!) Bill covers a lot of Sherlockian life and lore, but eventually he pulls out a book.
It's a copy of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, one of those old hardback editions that publishers both legit and pirate turned out en masse way back when. He got it used for two bucks, and it was teh very start of his collection. His very first Holmes book, well worn, spine pretty well shot, the way most of our first Holmes books wind up. Not collectible to anyone but ourselves, but one we cherish above so many others.
And from there, well, I'm doing more listening than typing here. Bill is strolling through the stories that you live through that show you what Sherlockians are, and I don't know if it's just the wonderful nostalgia they're bringing back for me or their just wonderful stories in themselves -- I definitely can't be a fair judge. When he gets to his first John Bennett Shaw conference, where I first met Bill, I am definitely not an unbiased observer.
But he ties it all back to the one book that got him started. That one most important book in a collection.
Onward with Holmes in the Heartland!
Rob Nunn, one of said under-forty-year-olds, gave the opening remarks and thanked all those involved in putting it all together. Dr. Mary Schroeder came up next to talk about the reason that sparked this first event, the founding of the St. Louis Sherlockian Research Collection at this very library. A lot of people and work was involved in putting something like that together, and they can all be very proud of the result. Mary had some great handouts including a colorful booklet with a 1939 portrait of Holmes reprinted on the cover. (Always love the handouts -- they're like the autographs of events.)
Bill Cochran steps up next, starting his talk with the fact that this library building was dedicated in 1895. He ties that to Vincent Starrett via the classic poem and uses Starrett's words to describe Sherlockiana itself. Bill's love of Sherlock Holmes and Sherlockiana is always apparent when he's at the podium, and I've enjoyed hearing him for almost three decades now. (Damn, age sneaks up on you!) Bill covers a lot of Sherlockian life and lore, but eventually he pulls out a book.
It's a copy of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, one of those old hardback editions that publishers both legit and pirate turned out en masse way back when. He got it used for two bucks, and it was teh very start of his collection. His very first Holmes book, well worn, spine pretty well shot, the way most of our first Holmes books wind up. Not collectible to anyone but ourselves, but one we cherish above so many others.
And from there, well, I'm doing more listening than typing here. Bill is strolling through the stories that you live through that show you what Sherlockians are, and I don't know if it's just the wonderful nostalgia they're bringing back for me or their just wonderful stories in themselves -- I definitely can't be a fair judge. When he gets to his first John Bennett Shaw conference, where I first met Bill, I am definitely not an unbiased observer.
But he ties it all back to the one book that got him started. That one most important book in a collection.
Onward with Holmes in the Heartland!
After hours, before hours
Some of my favorite times at any Sherlock Holmes weekend are the moments that happen in the spaces between the planned events. The late evenings, the mornings, just wandering about the hotel . . . that's where the happy surprises lie.
Last night, after the initial St. Louis acclimatizing with blues and barbecue, the organized part of the evening got over by about 6:30, which meant Sherlockians left to their own devices. Luckily, I had brought podcast devices and had already set up a meeting with the three gentlemen that seemed like they'd be in the same hotel as me to do a little recording. But hotels changed for some, and we had a last minute venue change from the Hotel Majestic to the Holiday Inn (the latter having more open space, without the name that sounds like John Wick should be staying here).
We also added two more participants in the recording, Cindy Brown and Dean Clark, to the original list of Don Hobbs, Bill Mason, and Tim Johnson, and in our little corner of the expansive Holiday Inn lobby, some merriment ensued, which you can hear here. Once the podcast recording was finished, the conversation kept going with occasional comments that we should still be recording, which made us all quite thirsty and we headed to the bar.
There, over a few drinks and a little hummus, we got to telling stories and discussing all those odd bits of Sherlockian life that few ever write about, yet we are all so very familiar with . . . that one scion member that every group has, the peccadillos of . . . well, there are reasons we don't write these parts. It was especially good to catch up with my old website partner Don, who I shared a good many adventures with back in our web-prime.
But starting what is usually the later part of the evening at an earlier hour, and having different hotels to return to on streets that some had questioned the night-time safety of, we broke up a little earlier than usual and wandered our ways home for the night. I used the free time to do a little sound editing (very little, actually, as you might hear should you take a listen . . . not sure where that swimming pool was).
The lack of a late Friday night made for an early Saturday morning, so I got plenty of time to work on a Sherlock Holmes version of "One Night Werewolf," take a scouting walk down to the library where the day's events will be held, and generally prepare for the day, and then . . .
. . . just settle down to blog this bit. On to "Holmes in the Heartland" proper!
Last night, after the initial St. Louis acclimatizing with blues and barbecue, the organized part of the evening got over by about 6:30, which meant Sherlockians left to their own devices. Luckily, I had brought podcast devices and had already set up a meeting with the three gentlemen that seemed like they'd be in the same hotel as me to do a little recording. But hotels changed for some, and we had a last minute venue change from the Hotel Majestic to the Holiday Inn (the latter having more open space, without the name that sounds like John Wick should be staying here).
We also added two more participants in the recording, Cindy Brown and Dean Clark, to the original list of Don Hobbs, Bill Mason, and Tim Johnson, and in our little corner of the expansive Holiday Inn lobby, some merriment ensued, which you can hear here. Once the podcast recording was finished, the conversation kept going with occasional comments that we should still be recording, which made us all quite thirsty and we headed to the bar.
There, over a few drinks and a little hummus, we got to telling stories and discussing all those odd bits of Sherlockian life that few ever write about, yet we are all so very familiar with . . . that one scion member that every group has, the peccadillos of . . . well, there are reasons we don't write these parts. It was especially good to catch up with my old website partner Don, who I shared a good many adventures with back in our web-prime.
But starting what is usually the later part of the evening at an earlier hour, and having different hotels to return to on streets that some had questioned the night-time safety of, we broke up a little earlier than usual and wandered our ways home for the night. I used the free time to do a little sound editing (very little, actually, as you might hear should you take a listen . . . not sure where that swimming pool was).
The lack of a late Friday night made for an early Saturday morning, so I got plenty of time to work on a Sherlock Holmes version of "One Night Werewolf," take a scouting walk down to the library where the day's events will be held, and generally prepare for the day, and then . . .
. . . just settle down to blog this bit. On to "Holmes in the Heartland" proper!
Friday, August 10, 2018
A first time for everything
Tomorrow, the first-ever "Holmes in the Heartland" Sherlockian convocation begins in St. Louis.
There's always something memorable about such events, whether they go on for years, or stand alone as a one-off, because the first time someone puts one of these together, they're always something new.
Because you just don't know what will happen at a first-time event. "No plan survives first contact with the enemy," as an old Prussian once said, and even though attendees aren't exactly "the enemy," they are always a force to be reckoned with. Things may go awry, or miracles may occur . . . you just don't know.
But the first time for anything is always when the surprise (and therefore the fun) is apt to be the greatest. And "Holmes in the Heartland" is a little different than some weekend gatherings in that the planners seem to have put some thought into showing off their city in its best light as a part of laying out the events. Personally, I'm a "give me a hotel that I never have to leave" sort of guy, but that sort of Sherlockian focus is what had me not seeing any non-Sherlockian New York sights until my fourth trip to that city, which is known for its non-Sherlockian sights.
So we'll see what St. Louis has to offer this time out.
Dubuque, Minneapolis, Santa Fe, Atlanta . . . following Holmes around has put me in many memorable cities for many memorable Sherlockian first times.
I'll let you know how it goes. The Whaling News is also promising to be reporting on the event online, so look for that reportage here.
There's always something memorable about such events, whether they go on for years, or stand alone as a one-off, because the first time someone puts one of these together, they're always something new.
Because you just don't know what will happen at a first-time event. "No plan survives first contact with the enemy," as an old Prussian once said, and even though attendees aren't exactly "the enemy," they are always a force to be reckoned with. Things may go awry, or miracles may occur . . . you just don't know.
But the first time for anything is always when the surprise (and therefore the fun) is apt to be the greatest. And "Holmes in the Heartland" is a little different than some weekend gatherings in that the planners seem to have put some thought into showing off their city in its best light as a part of laying out the events. Personally, I'm a "give me a hotel that I never have to leave" sort of guy, but that sort of Sherlockian focus is what had me not seeing any non-Sherlockian New York sights until my fourth trip to that city, which is known for its non-Sherlockian sights.
So we'll see what St. Louis has to offer this time out.
Dubuque, Minneapolis, Santa Fe, Atlanta . . . following Holmes around has put me in many memorable cities for many memorable Sherlockian first times.
I'll let you know how it goes. The Whaling News is also promising to be reporting on the event online, so look for that reportage here.
Tuesday, August 7, 2018
That bare space on the wall
Tonight I looked up at my wall and saw a bare space. And I puzzled over it.
The Sherlockian library here is not a room with bare wall spaces. It made me think of that moment in "The Adventure of the Cardboard Box" (the moment's first run) when Holmes catches Watson looking at an empty space on the wall and deduces that he wants to put a portrait of Henry Ward Beecher there.
I was not, until that thought, considering putting a portrait of the minister who pleaded for England to help the North during the Civil War up there . . . no, this is Illinois, and if any Civil War figure is to go up there, it's going to be Honest Abe Lincoln . . . no. Unlike Watson, who had Holmes there waiting to deduce what he was thinking, I was going to have to play both roles and deduce what I was thinking when I removed whatever was on that place on the wall.
Well, let's be honest, there was not much drama on either side of my Baker Street split personality as I remembered the roofers coming a month ago and taking down a few of the framed Sherlockian society membership certificates out of the concern that the roofing vibrations might cause them to leap from the wall and damage themselves. But it did make me focus a little harder on that space on the wall at 221B Baker Street.
Think about what that space tells us. Holmes's exact words:
"You were thinking that if the portrait were framed it would just cover that bare space and correspond with Gordon's picture there."
That one framed portrait would "cover that bare space." That means that every other bit of wall is covered with something else. Well . . . or else Holmes had ripped off a chunk of wallpaper for some investigating crime reason . . . but I think in most 221B recreations, the walls do look verrrry busy.
But what else covered those walls at 221B? Oddly foreshadowing paintings of Reichenbach? Valuable heirloom paintings by one of the Vernets? More framed prints of Watson's 1800s-era heroes? Watson's medical degree? Holmes's first consulting-detective-made pound-note? Motivational needlepoint? Antiquarian manuscripts? Mirrors? Skulls of exotic bovine with earmuffs?
Or just Mrs. Hudson's favored Victorian decor?
In any case, I doubt Holmes and Watson had the same problem that I have, even after replacing those things I took down for the roofing: Too many framed pictures of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson than I can fit on my walls. (At least I hope that wasn't a problem at 221B.)
The Sherlockian library here is not a room with bare wall spaces. It made me think of that moment in "The Adventure of the Cardboard Box" (the moment's first run) when Holmes catches Watson looking at an empty space on the wall and deduces that he wants to put a portrait of Henry Ward Beecher there.
I was not, until that thought, considering putting a portrait of the minister who pleaded for England to help the North during the Civil War up there . . . no, this is Illinois, and if any Civil War figure is to go up there, it's going to be Honest Abe Lincoln . . . no. Unlike Watson, who had Holmes there waiting to deduce what he was thinking, I was going to have to play both roles and deduce what I was thinking when I removed whatever was on that place on the wall.
Well, let's be honest, there was not much drama on either side of my Baker Street split personality as I remembered the roofers coming a month ago and taking down a few of the framed Sherlockian society membership certificates out of the concern that the roofing vibrations might cause them to leap from the wall and damage themselves. But it did make me focus a little harder on that space on the wall at 221B Baker Street.
Think about what that space tells us. Holmes's exact words:
"You were thinking that if the portrait were framed it would just cover that bare space and correspond with Gordon's picture there."
That one framed portrait would "cover that bare space." That means that every other bit of wall is covered with something else. Well . . . or else Holmes had ripped off a chunk of wallpaper for some investigating crime reason . . . but I think in most 221B recreations, the walls do look verrrry busy.
But what else covered those walls at 221B? Oddly foreshadowing paintings of Reichenbach? Valuable heirloom paintings by one of the Vernets? More framed prints of Watson's 1800s-era heroes? Watson's medical degree? Holmes's first consulting-detective-made pound-note? Motivational needlepoint? Antiquarian manuscripts? Mirrors? Skulls of exotic bovine with earmuffs?
Or just Mrs. Hudson's favored Victorian decor?
In any case, I doubt Holmes and Watson had the same problem that I have, even after replacing those things I took down for the roofing: Too many framed pictures of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson than I can fit on my walls. (At least I hope that wasn't a problem at 221B.)
Sunday, August 5, 2018
Ugly cake
Spend much time as a character of the internet and you learn one important rule, unless your soul is so dark and uncaring that you're in the sociopathy ballpark, and that rule is this: Try to stay on things you're positive about.
But with this morning's reveal of the Cake Boss episode that was filmed in New York last January, I couldn't help but react with an "Ugh!" upon seeing the first pics.
I mean, "Yay! TV exposure of Sherlockians!" and "Yay! Folks we know on TV!" . . . but that cake, though . . . .
I sure hope it tasted good.
The look of the thing, unfortunately, brought up an unfortunate trend that has dogged Sherlockiana since time immemorial, the caricature of the big-nosed Sherlock.
I had hoped that our alien-yet-pretty-somehow, younger-Holmes Cumberbatch awakening had gotten us past the giant honkers of Sherlock cartoons of yore. But no!
But with this morning's reveal of the Cake Boss episode that was filmed in New York last January, I couldn't help but react with an "Ugh!" upon seeing the first pics.
I mean, "Yay! TV exposure of Sherlockians!" and "Yay! Folks we know on TV!" . . . but that cake, though . . . .
I sure hope it tasted good.
The look of the thing, unfortunately, brought up an unfortunate trend that has dogged Sherlockiana since time immemorial, the caricature of the big-nosed Sherlock.
I had hoped that our alien-yet-pretty-somehow, younger-Holmes Cumberbatch awakening had gotten us past the giant honkers of Sherlock cartoons of yore. But no!
Look at the beak on this guy! That isn't just a big nose, that's some kind of breathing-flap that would actually interfere with eating spoonfuls of soup if he held his head in a normal posture. The long-term neck strains this poor guy is going to suffer somehow makes potential morphine addiction seem like a logical choice.
Not blaming the bakers here, as they are just pawns in an ongoing cultural backlash to Sherlock Holmes's wonderful intellect, the "Yeah, he may seem smart, but he fugly and got no social skills!" crowd. "And he wears that funny hat!" I know, it's hard to be a stupid person and see a character who makes even the smart people you know look not so bright. And since Sherlock isn't overweight, which is their first go-to, they head for that nose which has been over-exaggerated by stage and screen. (Remember when Germany actually gave Christopher Lee a big fake nose to play Sherlock? It happened.)
We've seen much research and writing going into tracking the pedigree of the deerstalker cap through time, yet no one has gotten to the cartoon beak yet, probably because I don't think Sherlockians do enjoy it. Large nose fetishists out there, forgive me. You are a special breed, and you really don't have to direct me to bignoselovers.org or somesuch to demonstrate your supposed numbers.
In fact, everyone please forgive the preceding blog post. I plainly woke up in a bad mood this morning, and am now going to go stare at Benedict Cumberbatch for a while until this negative attitude goes away.
Wednesday, August 1, 2018
Treasure or Pleasure?
With today, the John H. Watson Society's annual Treasure Hunt has begun.
Last year, I took one look at it, got a cold chill at the memory of a previous year's time and trauma spent trying to unravel, litigate, and generally stare the text, and decided to hide for the month of August, until the Godzilla-of-quizzery had left the area. This year, however?
When the notice of the contest's start first came via e-mail, I couldn't help myself. I had to look. And when I looked, I saw something I was sure I knew the answer to. And so I looked at the next question, and the next, and the next. And when I finally forced myself to head for bed, this being a "school night" for us working class folk, I found I had completed almost a third of the quiz.
This year's John H. Watson Society Treasure Hunt is actually a pleasurably enjoyable way to spend some time re-connecting with the Holmes Canon. No arcane outside knowledge needed. Questions that, if they are too mysterious, will find a clue in the question that comes after. And a path of connection through the fifty questions that let's you feel good about your answers, because you know the next one couldn't be right without the preceding one being also correct.
Two years ago, I worked with a team of four to fight our way through the Treasure Hunt, it took us the entire month, we had an ingenious librarian helping carry us along, and we still couldn't come up with solid answers to everything.
This year, I'm working it out alone and having a lovely time.
And that's important, because testing your Sherlockian knowledge isn't done to impress anyone -- we've far too many scholars in this hobby for that. Spending time finding answers that someone else already knows isn't even productive time spent. Any test of familiarity with Holmes and Watson's lives should be simply time you spend having fun.
And I think that this year, the John H. Watson Society Treasure Hunt has found the right mix.
At least for this old Sherlockian. Give it a try yourself and see what you think.
Last year, I took one look at it, got a cold chill at the memory of a previous year's time and trauma spent trying to unravel, litigate, and generally stare the text, and decided to hide for the month of August, until the Godzilla-of-quizzery had left the area. This year, however?
When the notice of the contest's start first came via e-mail, I couldn't help myself. I had to look. And when I looked, I saw something I was sure I knew the answer to. And so I looked at the next question, and the next, and the next. And when I finally forced myself to head for bed, this being a "school night" for us working class folk, I found I had completed almost a third of the quiz.
This year's John H. Watson Society Treasure Hunt is actually a pleasurably enjoyable way to spend some time re-connecting with the Holmes Canon. No arcane outside knowledge needed. Questions that, if they are too mysterious, will find a clue in the question that comes after. And a path of connection through the fifty questions that let's you feel good about your answers, because you know the next one couldn't be right without the preceding one being also correct.
Two years ago, I worked with a team of four to fight our way through the Treasure Hunt, it took us the entire month, we had an ingenious librarian helping carry us along, and we still couldn't come up with solid answers to everything.
This year, I'm working it out alone and having a lovely time.
And that's important, because testing your Sherlockian knowledge isn't done to impress anyone -- we've far too many scholars in this hobby for that. Spending time finding answers that someone else already knows isn't even productive time spent. Any test of familiarity with Holmes and Watson's lives should be simply time you spend having fun.
And I think that this year, the John H. Watson Society Treasure Hunt has found the right mix.
At least for this old Sherlockian. Give it a try yourself and see what you think.
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