The 80th Anniversary Dinner of the Illustrious Clients of Indianapolis

Let us talk for a moment about the life of the extroverted introvert.

We didn't start as social creatures. And we might never master the social graces of a true extrovert. We learn to summon confidence. We learn to be comfortable doing things like speaking publicly. We can host sometimes, lead sometimes (always comfortable having a little control), and sometimes even appear the extrovert. But inside, well, there still can live that shy, awkward version of ourselves who still remembers all the times we were the puzzle piece that just seemed to be from a different puzzle.

I have to start there, because that was where I started my weekend. But last month, I had decided that I wanted to attend the 80th Anniversary Dinner of the Illustrious Clients of Indianapolis. I'd be driving down by myself, sure, but if one was spending the night, one typically meets people at the hotel . . . except this time, I apparently picked the wrong choice of the two. There were no Sherlockians to be seen in any of my trips through the lobby in the two hours before the dinner.

So I dressed, got in the car, set the navigation, and headed to dinner.

One of the final turns came up, and I suddenly found myself at a gate with a guardhouse. Never been to a country club with a guard at the gate. I mentioned the Illustrious Clients and Sherlock Holmes, and he opened the gate without a word, and I drove quite a few blocks through a very nice community, eventually getting to a nice country clubhouse. I saw two people I didn't know dressed very well heading in, and my socially anxiety was just peaking nicely. On another night, having not driven so far, I might have turned tail and spent my evening elsewhere. (It hasn't happened more than twice in decades, but it has happened.)

Inside, there was a sign pointing up a big staircase, so up I went. And there was a crowd filling the floor above the stairs. I stepped off that staircase and the minute my feet hit the second floor, everything changed. 

I got a big hug. Someone brought my name badge. The furthest travelled of the evening's speakers came over to say "hi." One of my favorite distant friends asked if we could sit together. Sherlockians happened.

This is the magic of Sherlock Holmes.

The character tends to attract those of who relate to that fine example of eccentricity in full functional flower, a lonely figure whose great friend Watson is always there. Once we find other Sherlockians and the camaraderie of similar enjoyments -- and often similar anxieties -- we find a home, and more than that, a battery we can plug ourselves into.

As I still didn't have a one hundred percent charge in my social battery at that point, I didn't mingle much during cocktail hour, and have to apologize to anyone I missed saying "hi" to, as I picked a seat in the furthest corner of the room. And I also have to thank everyone that did come by to say hello, and even though I'm not naming a lot of names here, I was especially pleased to get to meet Alex Katz, who came by to pass along his father's greetings. But let's talk about point of this whole essay, the Illustrious Clients of Indianapolis.

Firstly, they set a nice table. After eighty years, one might expect that.

Secondly, their local members are good company, no matter who sits at your table. I used to get down to Indianapolis a lot more often than recent years, and that was always the case. I actually think I got my first bout of Covid from a dinner they had packed into a restaurant down in Bloomington after that pandemic was supposedly done, but I had my shots and it was a mild case, so no regrets! Good company!

(Note: The other side of the table did get filled.)

The Clients have always been lucky with their leadership, and Shelly Gage, the current head of the Clients, is no exception. She gave some opening remarks and started sending tables to the excellent buffet that the country club provided. I want to commend the Clients on letting us get our food before the toasts started. One can never fully enjoy a toast if it feels like it's standing between you and dinner, especially those five minute essays that some events mistake for toasts.

The toasts this time were especially moving, as besides Sherlock Holmes (of course), they toasted key figures in the Clients' history who were no longer with us. I had known most of them, and had many a fond memory to associate with each of them. So many had even been in my house once upon a time, because the Clients tend to get around. 

That was going to be a tough act to follow, but the person who followed it has always been the figurehead of the Illustrious Clients to me, even when he wasn't leading the group. One of my numerous faux pas in my Sherlockian life was presenting some token to the club at a meeting and giving it to Steve Doyle instead of Don Curtis, just because Steve has always been a standout Sherlockian. From his tales of ER videography to serving jugs of Petri wine, Steve tends to be distinctly memorable, and for this occasion he once more proved the point, with a talk that started with the thesis "Indianapolis is the Sherlockian capital of the world."  

In the hands of anyone else, especially in his current role as leader of the freakin' B.S.I., such a premise might come off as sheer pomposity. But it's Steve. He knows the key that Sherlockiana is best played in for a talk, a little fun, a little smart, and just a tad nutty. Of course, Indianapolis is the Sherlockian capital of the world, and now we all get the fun of disproving that thesis in the months and years to come. (Personally, I'm hoping Wisconsin makes a go of it!) I loved his talk.

We got a break for dessert and the auction of a one-of-a-kind poster celebrating the Clients' history, which many of us signed. I found Steve at one point and got him to autograph my copy of Jerry Williamson's horror novel The Tulpa, for reasons you might have seen in my review ot it. Then we got another great talk, the evening's keynote.

Les Klinger was in fine form as keynote, taking us through his personal Sherlockian journey, of science fiction authors and annotateds, of his love of Baring-Gould that so many of us can relate to, his ties to the Clients and how Indiana's Sherlockians helped get him to where he is. (And we got to hear of an updated annotated to come, which is kind of huge!) 

After Les came a recognition of the membership, with that thing where all the members stand and then sit down as the generations of membership go down the years. I will admit that I did take that moment to slip out for a needed restroom break, also somewhat embarrassed in the fact I'd forgotten to pay dues about ten years ago and had let my membership lapse. (Still have the certificate on my wall, though, and I did make sure some dues got paid on my way out.) A split-the-pot drawing, and the traditional reading of 221B, and the evening was over, at which point I headed back to my hotel ten miles away that was bustling with non-Sherlockians.

But here's the thing. I had a wonderful evening, despite being at a very low social ebb. I came away with that deep validation one gets with a good Sherlockian experience, where you know in your very bones that this hobby you've spent so much time and energy on was exactly the hobby that you needed in your life. Thanks to the Clients, thanks to the folks at my table, and apologies to everyone whom I didn't get a moment with or missed completely, as you still added your energy to the evening. 

I will have to get down to Indy again soon. The Sherlockian capital of the world is wherever you are when Sherlockians happen, and this weekend I got to be there.