From Baker Street Gazette #2:

A LADY SHERLOCKIAN :
   WHAT DOES SHE COLLECT?
              AND IS IT DIFFERENT PROM A GENTLEMAN                     SHERLOCKIAN?

                                                                       by Susan Beasley

    The title of this article may raise a few eyebrows.  When I first became involved in the mysterious Sherlockian world of collecting it was a rarity to find other collectors, much less any that were female.  I consider that I have been involved as far back as the mid-sixties, since that was when I began my collection, however I had not been aware of local or any other sort of Scions until the late seventies.  Even then it was another three years before I found a small group starting up in Fort Worth; one begins to think you are the only rabid collector in existence outside the Irregulars in New York.  Upon several occasions and in several places I have been asked precisely what the difference was between what I collected and what the male Sherlockians collected.  My answer was simple.  I had no earthly idea.  I collected Holmes material as they did, so I suspected there was no difference at all.  I began to hear the Great Detective himself muttering about making suppositions without facts, so I began to think about this subject.  The more I thought the more it became an intriguing idea, was there a difference?  And if so, what was it?  And would I be able to spot it, if it existed?  The following article resulted from my deliberations:

    Being a member of a local Sherlockian scion since 1980, I turned myself to listing precisely what I could recall that two of our gentlemen have in their collections.  I was at their homes for various club functions over the years, and so I mentally began comparing the contents of theirs to what I have in mine.  For the purpose of comparison I decided to limit myself to only three collectors; it is probably not scientifically correct but I think logic will be apparent if I show many differing areas of collecting.  (Does that make any sense?)  With the thought that the three of us were somewhat average avid collectors, I turned myself back to the differences between the two fellow (and I mean that literally) Sherlockian collections and my own.  I can eliminate the obvious parallels.  All three of us tend to purchase whatever volume is in current print at the bookstores, from pastiches to essays, as I suspect most true collectors of Sherlockiana also do.  No differences there.  What I am left with are the areas outside the normal flow of printed Sherlockian material, the grey areas as it were.  At this point I begin to consider whether or not the differences are purely personality glitches rather than due to our genders.

    Now one collector prefers reprinted leather bound volumes, older printings, histories of various wars of the era, and rare or unusual playbills, guides and signed first editions.  His collection in approximately seventy percent hardbacks, twenty-five percent paperbacks, and five percent left over for all the things one accumulates that are not printed material.  The other collector seems to focus on current volumes, reference volumes on Doyle, and what I tend to refer to as peripheral related material, such as books containing references to Doyle, Holmes, or Victorian England.  I would estimate this second collector has about fifty-five percent paperbacks, thirty-five percent hardbacks, and ten percent left over for other stuff. Now I turn around and look across the room at my poor overloaded ex-kitchen hutch filled to overflowing with books and "stuff."  I noticed that I have quite a lot of "STUFF."

    My collection is probably thirty-five percent paperbacks, and thirty-five percent hardbacks with the last thirty percent being a multitude of privately printed fanzines, magazines, games, comic books, plays, or audio recordings (be it cassette or LP), video tapes of movies, ads, and cartoons as well as smaller items such as matchbooks, greeting cards, newspaper cuttings, photocopies of articles, trinkets of all shapes and sizes, and other miscellaneous items.  I can recall the others owning a few similar things other than books, but not all that many.  We all three have magnifying glasses, but I suspect ninety-nine percent of all Sherlockians have at least one.  We all have deerstalkers . . . my original deerstalker is black-checked as opposed to theirs in shades of brown . . . however, I now see a small difference emerging.  I recalled when I first purchased my deerstalker, I suddenly thought to myself that it appeared far too masculine, and as a joke more than anything else, sewed black lace to the earflaps, tying ribbons and inside on the sweat band, then I added a small white daisy applique to the front brim near the crown (that was more to tell which was the front than any expression of individuality).  This is the first recognizable difference between our collections, their deerstalkers have no lace! (But confidentially, if theirs had, I would worry considerably about their present state of mental health).  Since then I have been given another deerstalker of similar brown colors as theirs, I believe that makes us somewhat even in our tastes save I now have two and they only have one each.

    Back to the collection comparison.  As far as books and their differences, I seem inclined to think here again is a personal preference rather than a gender-oriented one.  First, our leather loving first edition enthusiast is a highly paid corporate lawyer with a PH.D., he can both afford to purchase the volumes and travel the country in search of them on his numerous business trips.  He also collects things pertaining to the Civil War, The Titanic, and Jack the Ripper.  The diversity loving collector of our club has a large traveling background as well, and collects many other areas of outside interest, such as vampires (the written material, not the real things mind you) and science fiction of all sorts.  The main difference, as I see it, between their collection and mine seems to be centered in the fact that I tend to collect more children oriented items, such as Sherlock Hemlock from Seaseme Street, Basil of Baker Street and Sherlock Bones, not to mention comic books both old and new, none of which is necessarily the most adult oriented material.  My diverse collecting friend does have Basil books but someone who collects the Bunnicula series of stories with Chester and Harold, mystery investigating team of cat and dog, cannot be all that adult-oriented either.  But then my expensive collecting friend loves to dress up in purely authentic Confederate Army regalia complete with musket, one hundred percent natural wool long Johns, (the entire smear) and sleep in tents in the rain to march around in mud, sticker patches and unknown weeds, so, in my opinion, he is not all that adult either.  No real differences there, more differences in personality I should think.

    The most obvious collecting difference I have noted to date is the fact that men usually have pipe collections, notably a meerschaum among them and women generally do not.  I do however have a pipe holder with the likeness of Sherlock Holmes between two pipe recepticals which I bought for approximately six dollars when a local tobacco store went out of business.  I do not have a pipe as yet but someday I probably will happen upon a meerschaum the same way I happened on the rack.  Yes, dear friends, I am aware that Holmes did not smoke a meerschaum per se but it is the most obvious one that commonly connected with him in plays, movies and all the other media and add to that I have no other knowledge of the others mentioned in the cannon.  I could always go for the Holmesian series of pipes but if I had that sort of money I would go in for the first editions and forget the pipes . . . Again, back to the collections, we all three have a tin of 221B Tobacco, purely for show as far as I can tell.

    Now for the known differences . . . I have a Victorian perfume bottle, an antique hand warmer, four Victorian and Edwardian dated British coins obtained during World War II in the South Pacific by my uncle, a broach, a white-beaded collar, a pair of ladies Victorian lace shoes in size six and a half, three hand- worked shawls, a crocheted collar and several large ornate doilies hand-crocheted.  The latter three categories I made myself, I do not think my male counterparts can claim to have done the same, nor do they particularly wish to.  As far as other Victorian- oriented items I also have a green felt bowler style hat with a small brown feather pin on the hat band; I doubt John Watson would ever have worn it but Holmes would not have touched my lace-edged deerstalker either, so I figure we are even there.

    I come down to the types of "Dust Collectors" I have to my credit that my fellow collectors do not seem to collect.  I have a stuffed Snoopy complete with deerstalker complete with Inverness . . . however the deerstalker had gravitated to my stuffed Opus less than a foot away because it kept leaping off of Snoopy several months ago while I was cleaning/rearranging (in an attempt to stuff more things in where they did not fit), and Opus seemed the most obvious place to store it at the time.  I have to admit the expression on Opus' face combined with the deerstalker has made it too amusing to take off, and I will have to make him one of his own before I return this one to Snoopy.  There is also a stuffed Woodstock nearby I plan to make a bowler, vest with fake pocket watch, and a medical bag for someday to display with my Snoopy; the moustache will be optional.  I have not been aware of my friends owning, displaying or wishing to own any of the three stuffed souls I have mentioned.  This may be a gender-oriented trait.  I do not know, therefore I will leave it up to you to decide.  Sort it out amongst yourselves then get back to me with your opinion.

    Now in the hutch itself there is a small plastic Pink Panther in a deerstalker with a magnifying glass in hand, a porcelain-like bust of Sherlock Hemlock, a Victorian type stationery box and an ornate oil lamp sitting on top of the hutch (however the latter is mostly for power failures than for collecting).  A small collection of Holmes-oriented buttons and several boxes and other items I have previously mentioned in my first article are far too numerous to go into here.  None of these openly smacks of gender differences except that the stationery box does have a pink tassel attached to the lid to help in opening it.  I know they do not have anything along that line around their book collections; they may have them stored elsewhere but I have not seen them sitting about if they do.  I also have a set of pewter statues of Holmes and Watson, bought at the folding tobacco shop, that could easily be on their shelves and a porcelain plate of Doctor Watson, obtained at the same place.  Neither of these denotes gender origin as far as I can tell . . . nor does the small pewter frog with the day glow green deerstalker and orange meerschaum, but I cannot see that one on either of their shelves somehow.  I suspect the difference here is the fact that I am addicted to clutter and brick-a-brac whereas they are not.

    The three of us collect games.  I know for a fact that all three of us have 221B with all the additional game packets and at least the original case of Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective.  I know I have all the current add-ons where as I am not sure both of them do, but it may just be I happened on them and they did not.  I know that I and my diverse loving friend have a Sherlock Holmes game that is a little less intelligent than Clue in nature (he got his at a posh game store and I got mine at Motts).  I have several other games with Sherlock Holmes in them, but I suspect I know more children and game players then they do and discover the games faster.  I also tend to haunt the less expensive places and find some of these under display tables and in back corners.  The first edition collector and myself both own computers and have Sherlock Holmes in "Another Bow" and we also have 221B Baker Street, but as far as I know we are the only two with home computers in our scion so I do not think that is particularly a gender preference either.

    A normal part of all average homes nowadays seems to be a working stereo-record player, a cassette player of some sort, and a VCR.  The three of are not exceptions to this rule.  All three of us have some record either of a recorded adventure reenacted by any collection of persons or the musical soundtracks from any of the numerous movies.  I tend to have less of the adventures on LPs simply due to the fact my record player is more than twenty years old and has slowed down a considerable bit, speaking parts played on this tend to be most ludicrous.  Simply put, you can easily tell Alvin, of Alvin and the Chipmunks, was David Seville when the record is played on my record player (lovingly named Chopin).  And on one Gielgud/ Richardson recording it is quite clear they had NO women in the plot that week because Mrs. Hudson is clearly a male disguising his voice.  As far as the average collector having a cassette player, the same holds true for us, we all have any number of persons reading the adventures from Basil Rathbone to multitudes of old radio programs and new recordings.  The last category then becomes the hardest to pin down, I know the lawyer has more professionally recorded versions of the movies and television performances whereas I have VCR copies of more television broadcasts, cable and duplicate copies of the same things.  We have things the others do not and that is generally because we have not found time to duplicate what the other has.  As for the variety loving collector, no one quite knows what he has because he has such a wretched way of tagging along and marking his tapes.  He does not know what he has, so how could we?

    At this point I began to wonder if the differences we show might be in outside factors other than our genders.  I honestly cannot say the differences between us are due to being in different generations, I know all three of us were, more or less, born in the early fifties.  One of us I believe originally to be from New York City but has lived here in Texas for approximately ten years now, so I figure he has picked up enough of our local traits to qualify as similar while the other two of us are native born Texans raised fifty miles apart.  Therefore, regional origin is no real factor as I can see.  All three of us have been to college, we all just happen to be only children and until two years ago all three of us were single, I am the sole remaining holdout that is not married.  The only real difference in our regular behavior seems to be that I do not drink, not from religious convictions but simply because I find the taste of liquor nauseating.  Other than the fact that they carry briefcases and I carry a purse I truly cannot spot any differences that shout regional, gender, or upbringing to alter our choices in collecting.

    After hours of contemplating possible gender differences, the only true difference between the three of us that I can denote seems to be they just own the Sherlockian cookbooks whereas I have used mine, quite well I would like to add.  My only avid personal complaint on cookbooks of the Victorian era tends to center on the fact I hate mint and liquor in any form, while Victorians and the two gentlemen in this comparison enjoy it thoroughly.  For the only person in our scion who absolutely abhors the smell, taste or thought of mint I fail to see the humor in my having to bring mint peas and carrots to every January birthday celebration since 1981.  Now for one celebration our lawyer collector did bring what I believe was an authentic beef and kidney pie, however he had purchased it at a local cookery; the intent was there but the skill was lacking.

    I can honestly state that we all have art work or posters from the movies.  I have a reprint of the Rathbone/Bruce Hound of the Baskervilles poster.  I cannot recall which ones they have but they do have them.  I also seem to have more art work, original sketches, and pen and ink drawings; but then again I know more artists, two of which are close personal friends.  I also have noted that the walls of my house are cluttered with pictures of family, needlework, posters of all sorts, and other wall hanging items, whereas theirs are sparsely decorated with the sort of look one gets out of a Better "Holmes "and Gardens (Sorry, I could not resist that and should apologize profusely, but I won't. So there!).  I also note that I have several framed pictures of Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce and they do not.  An interesting side story, I own one matted picture of Basil Rathbone/Holmes and Nigel Bruce/Watson looking at something Holmes is holding in his hands.  Now it used to be leaning against the wall sitting inside of my typewriting paper basket that is until one afternoon a friend and I were editing our club newsletter and realized all four of us were looking down at approximately the same spot in space.  Basil and Nigel now reside on the far side of the infamous ex-kitchen hutch, well away from my working area.  I never have been able to work with someone looking over my shoulder.

    Perhaps there is a difference in Sherlockians, but does it lie in the fact that one is male or female rather than in the things one collects?  While I am digressing from collecting it behooves me to print out something I have noticed at our scion meetings concerning the difference between male Sherlockians and female Sherlockians.  Our local gatherings are generally even in the number of males to females who attend and, as at all scions, the discussions are varied in subjects, opinions, and theories.  Sometime ago I began to notice a difference in subjects brought up and discussed at the meetings.  The gentlemen tend to be far more concerned with true identities of various persons in the cannon, dates, places and background items such as: who the King of Bohemia truly was, where 221B was actually located, and when particular cases occurred . . . almost down to the minute.

    I have also personally noticed that the gentlemen have a problem in dropping a subject despite the fact it has been discussed to death.  An example being a meeting in which a professor of English drove most of us attending to near madness with his extensive reasoning of why Holmes could not have gone into his bedroom and put on a recording of Hoffmann's Barcarolle in the "Adventure of the Mazarin Stone" -- because there was no professional recording during that particular time period that could have been used nor could it have run for the length of time this professor estimated it would have had to run in order to accomplish all that is stated in the story since the machines were not built to accommodate that time span (never mind the objections put forward by the majority of the members present that Holmes was innovative enough to either have recorded it himself or told an outright lie knowing men present would not notice the difference or he could have had two machines set up with one to begin after the other ended).  The professor had proudly come to his own indisputable conclusions and was not interested in hearing our opinions or comments nor aware of the fact that many scholars believe this story was not written by Watson (so all the facts are suspect from the outset).  I have noted this habit of refusing to drop a subject, despite repeated subtle suggestions that it has been done to death, as a nasty habit gentlemen seem to have and that the ladies do not.

    Now the ladies of our scion tend to wish to discuss psychological or emotional elements and theories. Examples of these are what might have caused a rift between Holmes and Watson when Holmes retired and if there truly was one, the origin of Holmes' cocaine addition, the obvious question of the basis of the alleged dislike or mistrust of Holmes where females were concerned, why Watson moved out of Baker Street into Queen Anne and exactly how many Mrs. Watsons were there?  My last comment on this subject of our discussion differences is that in our scion the gentlemen seem to hold the theory that Watson is a complete incompetent as far as dates are concerned whereas the ladies lean in the direction that perhaps Watson was more clever than they (the men in our group) give him credit for being and purposefully disguised or jumbled the dates, places, and names to avoid possible complications.

    The final thing I have noted in our scion is that the ladies tend to have a broader sense of humor than do our gentlemen.  Often jokes, comments, and outright puns are either ignored or not understood from the very outset.  For example a subtitle a friend and I placed on "The Musgrave Ritual" was ignored by the gentlemen; I thought it was rather accurate.  What was it, you obligingly ask? Well I will tell you, it read as follows . . . "The Musgrave Ritual," or "How Holmes Got Out of Cleaning Up 221B Baker Street Yet Again!"  Another example is when several of us were brainstorming on what type of design to put on the sheath cake I was taking to the meeting where we were to discuss "The Adventure of The Priory School," we finally decided to duplicate the map used in the text and place at the top of the cake a piped icing purple cow with a small sign in her hoof that read . . . "Violet, The Remarkable Cow That Trots, Canters, and Gallops," none of the men understood the inference.  Now, I will gladly give the gentlemen a tip of my green felt bowler for their reaction to the design placed on a cake for the Lion's Mane.  I had considered trying to do a version of the Lion's Mane itself.  However, my fellow cake decorators and I decided to do several patches of flowers and twenty-six small bees with air mail paper wings, to commemorate Holmes raising and studying the creatures, with one great massive bee in the center of the cake and the inscription "221" on the left of the giant bee, and "S" on the right. I will not go into the problems I received with the cake I did for "The Adventure of Lady Francis Carfax."  Does not every scion have a cake in the shape of a Victorian coffin complete with Rose bouquet and brass handles?  Again it was the gentlemen in the club that were a bit out of sorts over it.  I wonder if any of the other scions have this trouble?

    In conclusion, as far as collecting goes within my sphere of Sherlockian collectors, I truly cannot find a major difference between gentlemen and ladies' who collect Sherlockiana other than the obvious difference in clothing articles one might collect over the years.  Most of the differences found in these three collections are purely personality traits and not particularly due to the owner's gender.  I suppose one might state that nicknack collectable clutter is somewhat of a gender-oriented trait, however my Uncle's house is very much like my house in its clutter and brick-a-brac scattered about so there again I cannot really pinpoint that to being a very great gender trait.  Despite some overly pompous souls who consider ladies to be somewhat inferior Sherlockians, collecting or otherwise, I think I have concluded here, logically, that there is no real difference to be noted.  There is none of any major significance, and what small differences there are between the genders are far smaller than can be found simply between one collector and another.

    Whether or not our Scion is an example of the average scion, I can only say that it is the only basis I have for any opinion whatsoever.  Though Texans tend to be a different breed of everything, I cannot conceive of our modest lot being drastically different from any other scion.  Our members come from all conceivable areas of life, from professionals to students, perhaps our Scion is a bit eccentric in some areas; most active Scions are I think.  Though there tends to be a recognizable difference in some areas of Sherlockian study, as far as genders are concerned, we all are concerned, we all are interested in the same results.  The differences are what make the meetings more diverse; how boring it would become if all were merely interested in the same narrow band of subject.  One last note to those so-called gentlemen who condescendingly smile when a lady states that she is a Sherlockian.  I would like to gently point out, with no humility whatsoever, that Holmes admits to being bested by a lady (you do recall THE Woman don't you?) and without Mrs. Hudson's attentions Holmes probably would have either drown under his clutter or starved to death.  Also, please bear in mind that when Holmes reportedly retired he said he would study bees, and most everyone knows that ninety-nine percent of all bees are females.  Put that in your pipe and smoke it!

NOTE: (From the publisher)

    I would like to make my own comments about collecting Sherlockiana.  I am a female and approach collecting somewhat differently from Ms. Beasley.

    I, of course, have copies (both in hardback and paperback) of Doyle's Holmes plus several other books of Doyle's writings.  I enjoy collecting the pastiches more than anything else.  I am always interested in reading what some writer will create next.  Some of them are quite entertaining.

    I do not go in for collecting many of the rare collectors' items.  I simply do not have the spare funds for it. I spend much money on publishing various journals and newsletters (and soon books), paying contributors, and keeping up with reading materials and research in several different genres.  However, I do own something that some Sherlockians would give their right arm for -- In and Out of Character by Basil Rathbone.  I know there are not many copies available.  I had to pay a $100 for it. It is the only thing I would ever pay that much money to own.

    My walls are already totally covered with movie posters and movie stills (mostly mystery & horror). There is really no room left for anything else.  I do prefer stills to posters, so if I collect more they will have to go into a scrapbook.

    I collect T-shirts, games, and a few other items such as a Baker Street sign, a mug, and stationery. However, I still have to watch my budget.  I do buy all the important books written about Doyle and Holmes.  I also collect everything on Jack the Ripper and Victorian writers and historians.

    I am fortunate in two ways.  First, I receive many complimentary items from contributors to this publication (news items, photos, program books, fliers, books, newsletters, information).  Secondly, I am creating my own collectors' item by publishing the Baker Street Gazette.  I plan to add to that by writing my own pastiche.  I already have an outline worked out for two.  Next year I will have more time to work on it.

    I may be the only woman around who would never collect women's Victoriana.  I find masculine things much more interesting.  I was never one for lacy things; I would never put lace on my deerstalker.  I do not have anything against someone else doing it.  That is their business.  I simply want to point out another difference in collectors, I certainly would not want the male collectors to get the idea that all women collect the same things or have the same habits.  It seems to be a habit that some people get into.  They think if one person does something, then another person will necessarily do the same thing.

    Regarding the attitude held by some male Sherlockians that women can never be true Sherlockians, I say, "HUMBUG!"  I truly do not care what they think.  If I did, I would never have decided to publish my own Sherlockian publication.  I never was one to let anyone or anything stop me from doing whatever I decided to do in life.  Some male Sherlockians undoubtedly will disapprove of my publishing endeavors. That is their problem.  They probably will not subscribe anyway.  I have not lost anything as I will not be bothered with their prejudice. I do not have to be friends with them.  They can also put that in their pipes and smoke it!

From Baker Street Gazette #3:

                                                 C. AUGUSTE DUPIN:
                              FORERUNNER FOR SHERLOCK HOLMES

                                                                 by Michael B. Murphy

   
    It has been seen throughout the history of literature that one author sets the tone or mood that leads into a successful evolution for another author.  Perhaps this is realized more in the branch of literature known as detective fiction and more specifically in the character of C. Auguste Dupin and Sherlock Holmes.
     
    It is important to recognize at the outset that Edgar Allan Poe, who created Dupin, put into place the significant elements of the modern detective story through the creation of Dupin and his role in Poe's stories entitled, "The Murders in the Rue Morgue," 1841; "The Mystery of Marie Roget," 1842; and "The Purloined Letter," 1845.
   
    The character of Dupin bears a similarity to Holmes in the context that both are seen as coming from excellent families--Holmes' country squires with ties to Vernet, a French artist, while Dupin also comes from a wealthy family but is reduced to considerable poverty.  Sherlock Holmes, on the other hand, as cited in "The Musgrave Ritual" (Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes), had made a connection prior to Dr. Watson at the time before, according to Holmes 'he had met Watson in A Study in Scarlet.  One sees here, too, the concept of the "infrancanophile"--helper of the underdog--that Doyle placed within Sherlock Holmes' characterizations.
   
    The other major factor that occurs here is the development of the author being a partner to the detective conducting the investigation.  The conclusions that unfold from the detective are always a source of surprise to the writer and ultimately to the reader. In the same token, the other significant element of constant surprise at the detective's ability to read inner thoughts of his companion (the author) occurs.
   
    This pattern emerges in "The Murders in the Rue Morgue" (Dupin) and in "The Clue of the Dancing Men" (Return of Sherlock Holmes), "The Resident Patient" (Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes), and "Adventure of the Cardboard Box" (His Last Bow).
   
    Like Holmes who enjoys reminding Watson of his many scientific treatises on varying subjects of details significant to crime ("Monographs on Tobacco and Cigar Ashes"), Dupin writes what he refers to "certain doggerel" reminiscent of limerick-poetic form.  In comparison to Holmes, he enjoys smoking heavily.  In contrast to Holmes, no mention is made of drug usage.  Dupin is presented without mention of physical description, whereas Doyle has Watson very keenly describing Holmes' physical appearance.
   
    The development begins with Dupin of the adversarial relationship between the detective and the official police.  In "The Purloined Letter" Monsieur G is viewed despite personal friendship in some contempt.
Yet in Sherlock Holmes, Inspector Gregson, Lestrade, Athelney Jones, and Stanley Hopkins, while at times expressing scorn, begin to see the values of Holmes' theories.  In fact, admiration is asserted for Holmes, particularly by Inspector Lestrade in The Hound of the Baskervilles and "Adventure of the Six Napoleons."
   
    In each of the Dupin stories there is a significant "forerunning" of stories within Sherlock Holmes and modern detective fiction.  In "The Murders in the Rue Morgue," Dupin reads newspaper accounts, visits the scene, examines the bodies, and exposes the killer.  This emerges as a locked room mystery and at the same time, by way of comparison and contrast in A Study in Scarlet, Holmes follows a similar pattern except for using a newspaper to set a trap for the guilty party.
   
    The second story of "The Mystery of Marie Roget," considered a sequel to "Murders in the Rue Morgue," can be seen as the beginning of the armchair detective--more specifically the character created by Rex Stout, Nero Wolfe.  Within elements of the Dupin characterization, there are signs of Wolfe in terms of scholarships and eccentricity such as cooking, wines and orchids (Nero Wolfe).  Unlike Wolfe, with no Archie Goodwin, there is no definite ending despite Poe's claims to the contrary as new evidence emerged to force him to change his original conclusions.
   
    "The Purloined Letter," the last Dupin story, captures both of the prior styles--suspense of the first and the analytical style of the second.  One can see in this story the model for the "Adventure of the Second Stain" (Return of Sherlock Holmes), such later mystery films as "Sherlock Holmes and the Secret Weapon" (1942) and the spy movies of the 1960's, the James Bond genre.  The story deals with a letter stolen by a minister so high in government he cannot be arrested.  Finally, Dupin is called in and finds the letter in such an obvious spot no one can see it.  As Holmes was fond of remarking to Watson, "You see, but you do not observe." This is an element, too, repeated by G. K. Chesterton through his sleuth Father Brown in the story "The Invisible Man," and another Holmes film, "Sherlock Holmes in Washington" comes to mind when Holmes observes, "The man who had it didn't know he had it," referring to microfilm concealed in a cigarette holder.
   
    In the character and depiction of C. Auguste Dupin, as created by Poe, one sees the elements put into place for the creation of Sherlock Holmes and the varying types of elements and styles of the writing of detective fiction.  While Doyle, for purposes of defining the character of Sherlock Holmes, has Holmes put down Dupin (A Study in Scarlet), the fact is Dupin has a key role as forerunner of Sherlock Holmes, as key a role as Doyle himself and Dr. Joseph Bell.

From Baker Street Gazette #2:

SHERLOCK HOLMES' AUTOBIOGRAPHY

by Walter P. Armstrong, Jr.

   
    Unfortunately, Sherlock Holmes never wrote his autobiography.  Had he done so, it would perhaps have gone something like this:
   
    I was born in 1854.  My ancestors were country squires, who appear to have led much the same life as is natural to their class.  But, nonetheless, my faculty of observation and my facility for deduction may be due to the artistic blood which runs in my veins, for my grandmother was a sister of Vernet, the French artist; and these qualities are even more pronounced in my single sibling, my brother Mycroft, who is seven years my senior.
    
    After an uneventful childhood which included the usual preliminary education, I matriculated at the University, where I met young Victor Trevor, who became my closest friend.  This friendship was to have a profound effect upon my future, as it resulted in my first case, which has been recorded under the title of "The Gloria Scott."  It was my success in this case which induced me to take the fateful step of becoming the world's first consulting detective.
   
    Upon my graduation from the University, I took rooms in Montague Street, just around the corner from the British Museum, and there I waited, filling in my too abundant leisure time by studying all those branches of science which might make me more efficient.  Now and again, cases came in my way, principally through the introduction of old fellow students, for during my last years at the University, there was a good deal of talk there about myself and my methods.  One of these was that of the Musgrave Ritual, and it is to the interest which was aroused by that singular chain of events, and the large issues which proved to be at stake, that I trace the position which I later held.
   
    I had not been in London long when I began to feel the need for larger quarters, both to house my notebooks and chemical apparatus and to afford me a place to consult with my ever increasing roster of clients.  I located some rooms on Baker Street eminently suitable to my purpose, but far beyond my slender means.  Then one day as I was conducting some experiments in the chemical laboratory at Bart's to find a reagent which is precipitated by hemiglobin and by nothing else, young Stanford brought in and introduced to me an individual whom he advised me was also seeking rooms and was willing to share, and who I immediately perceived to have recently returned from Afghanistan.  This was Dr. John H. Watson, who was to be my constant companion and faithful chronicler for many years to come.
   
    We met next day and inspected the rooms at No. 221B Baker Street.  They consisted of a couple of comfortable bedrooms and a single large, airy sitting room, cheerfully furnished and illuminated by two broad windows.  So desirable in every way were the apartments, and so moderate did the terms seem when divided between us, that the bargain was concluded upon the spot, and we at once entered into possession. The next morning, I appeared with several boxes and portmanteaus, only to find Dr. Watson already installed.  For a day, we were busily employed in unpacking and laying out our property to the best advantage; then we gradually began to settle down and to accommodate ourselves to our new surroundings.
   
    It was a few weeks later that a retired sergeant of Marines delivered to our door the note from Inspector Tobias Gregson of Scotland Yard, which launched the investigation which Dr. Watson has recorded as A Study in Scarlet.  This was the first of my cases upon which Watson accompanied me, and the first which he reported to the public.  It was the precursor of many more to come.
   
    The eight years during which Watson and I shared the premises at 221 B Baker Street immediately following our first meeting were indeed eventful.  My reputation as a consulting detective had begun to spread, enhanced no doubt by the publication in December of 1887 of Watson's version of our first joint adventure; and during that period, I was called upon to investigate some five hundred cases of capital importance. Of these Watson reported only thirteen, including that which he called The Sign of Four which led to the temporary dissolution of our living arrangements; for it was in the course of the events there recounted that he met Mary Morstan whom he later married, with the result that he set up practice in Paddington and left me to the solitary occupancy of our erstwhile quarters.  He continued, however, to accompany me upon my investigations whenever I called upon him, another Baker's dozen of which he later chronicled, culminating in that which he called "The Final Problem."
   
    For some years, I had continuously been conscious of some power behind the malefactor, some deep organizing power which forever stood in the way of the law and threw its shield over the wrongdoer.  Again and again in cases of the most varying sorts: forgery cases, robberies, murders; I felt the presence of this force, and deducted its action in many of the undiscovered crimes in which I was not personally consulted. For years, I endeavored to break through the veil which shrouded it, and at last the time came when I seized a thread and followed it, until it led me, after a thousand cunning windings, to Professor James Moriarity, a Napoleon of Crime, and beyond question the most dangerous man in London.
   
    I first encountered Professor Moriarty on January 4, 1891.  By the end of April of that year, I had succeeded in causing him sufficient annoyance for him to pay me a personal visit in my quarters and call upon me to cease and desist upon pain of what he called "inevitable destruction."  Of course I refused. During the following weeks, I was involved in a number of incidents which caused me to believe that his threat was not an idle one.  I reported matters to the police and then persuaded Watson, whose wife was fortunately away on a visit, to accompany me for a week to the Continent, where I would be safer until they had rounded up Moriarty and his gang.  But as usual, they bungled the matter, and let him slip through their fingers.  Then I realized that I would have to take matters into my own hands.
   
    On the third of May, Watson and I reached the little village of Meringin in Switzerland.  On the afternoon of the fourth, we set off together to view the spectacular Reichenback Falls.  No sooner had we reached there than a Swiss lad ran up with a message for my companion that within a very few minutes of our leaving Meringin, an English lady had arrived who was in the last stages of consumption and needed immediate medical attention.  She absolutely refused to see a Swiss doctor, and as Watson was the only English doctor available, his prompt attendance was requested.  I immediately recognized this as a hoax, perpetrated by Moriarty in order to arrange a face-to-face encounter with no witnesses.  Nevertheless, I refrained from so informing my companion, as I thought that this was as good a time and place as any for a showdown between me and the insidious professor.  Accordingly, Watson departed in the company of the Swiss lad, and I stood alone on the brink of the roaring falls.
    
    My solitude, however, lasted only a few minutes.  No sooner had my companion disappeared than a black figure appeared over a nearby ledge.  It was indeed Moriarty.  He saluted me pleasantly enough, and engaged me in conversation in the course of which he explained the methods by which he avoided the English police and kept himself informed of our movements.  Then he again attempted to dissuade me from pursuing him, and I again refused. "Mr. Holmes," he said, "you leave me no alternative but to put an end to your distinguished career here and now."
   
    At this point, I realized that it was his intention that I should go over the precipice to my death, and as I stood with my back to the chasm while he blocked my access to the narrow path which led to safety, his prospect of success in this endeavor seemed assured.  But I was determined that if I was to meet my end in this way, he should accompany me.  As it was unlikely that either of our bodies would be recovered after such a fall, I wished to inform the world of my intention, and to that end I requested one final courtesy of Moriarty, which he was kind enough to grant; that I be given time to write a note to Dr. Watson explaining the situation.
   
    I took out my notebook and scribbled three hurried pages, which I ripped out and placed upon a nearby boulder against which my alpenstock already lay propped, weighting them with my silver cigarette case. Then I turned and walked along the pathway toward the falls, Moriarty at my heels.  When I reached the end, I stood at bay.  He drew no weapon, but he rushed at me and threw his long arms around me.  He knew that his own game was up, and was only "anxious to revenge himself upon me." We tottered together upon the brink of the fall.  I have some knowledge, however, of Baritsu, the Japanese system of wrestling, and managed to slip through his grip.  With a horrible scream, he kicked madly for a few seconds, clawed the air with both his hands, and went over the brink.  I saw him fall for a long time, then he struck a rock, bounced off, and splashed into the water.
   
    The instant that the professor had disappeared, it struck me what a really extraordinary lucky chance fate had placed in my way.  I knew that Moriarty was not the only man who had sworn my death.  There were at least three others whose desire for vengeance upon me would only increase by the death of their leader.  They were all most dangerous men.  On the other hand, if all the world was convinced that I was dead, they would take liberties and lay themselves open and sooner or later I could destroy them.  Then it would be time for me to announce that I was still in the land of the living.
    
    I realized that as soon as he reached the inn at Meringen, Watson would learn that the message which had brought him there was false and return to learn my fate.  Much as I regretted it, it was essential that he should believe me dead and so report convincingly to his reading public.  I examined the sheer cliff above me, and for the first time observed a ledge several feet deep and covered with soft moss.  With some difficulty, I clambered up to it, and there I lay concealed while Watson and his companions investigated the circumstances of my supposed death.
    
    After they had departed, as I was preparing to make my descent, a huge rock, falling from above, boomed past me, struck the path, and bounced over into the chasm.  For an instant, I thought that it was an accident, but a moment later, looking up, I saw a man's head against the darkening sky, and another stone struck the very ledge upon which I was stretched, within a foot of my head.  Of course, the meaning of this was obvious. Moriarty had not been alone.  A confederate had kept guard while the professor attacked me. Now he was endeavoring to succeed where his comrade had failed.
    
    I lost no time in scrambling down to the path.  Once I had reached it, I took to my heels, and did ten miles over the mountains in darkness.  A week later, I found myself in Florence, with the certainty that no one in the world knew what had become of me.
    
    I had only one confidant, my brother Mycroft, who kept me supplied with the money which I needed to continue my travels.  I traveled for two years in Tibet under the name of Sigerson, and amused myself by visiting Lhassa and spending some days with the head Lama.  I then passed through Persia, looked in at Mecca, and paid a short but interesting visit to the Khalifa at Khartoum.  Returning to France, I spent some months in a research into the coal-tar derivates which I conducted in a laboratory in Montpellier.
  
    Meanwhile, events in London did not run so well as I had hoped, for the trial of the Moriarty gang left two of its most dangerous members, my own most vindictive enemies, at liberty.  In addition, Professor Moriarty's chief lieutenant, Colonel Sebastian Moran, the man who dropped the rocks over the cliff at Reichenback Falls and the best heavy game shot that the Empire ever produced, was still at large.  And when I read in the newspaper of the death of the Honorable Ronald Adair, shot with an expanding bullet from an air gun through the open window of the second floor front of No. 427 Park Lane, I knew that he was in London, and that my task would not be complete until he was behind bars.  And so I returned to that city, where I found Mycroft had preserved my rooms and my papers exactly as they had always been. There, with the help of my estimable landlady Mrs. Hudson and a bust of myself fashioned by Monsieur Oscar Meunier of Grenoble, I prepared a trap for Colonel Moran which resulted in his being removed from menace to society for many years to come.
    
    In order to put my plan into effect, however, I required the assistance of my old friend, Dr. Watson.  Of course, he still thought me dead, and I am afraid that my approach to him in the guise of an elderly bookseller and my abrupt revelation of my true identity gave him quite a shock.  In fact, he fainted dead away.
    
    After his recovery, I told him of my adventures, and he informed me that during my absence his wife had died, and that he was now a widower.  We therefore agreed that after Colonel Moran had been disposed of, we would return to sharing rooms at 221 B Baker Street, and so we did.
   
    The rest of my story is perhaps anticlimactic. For nine years, Watson and I continued to occupy the Baker Street premises.  My reputation had spread, and during this period, hundreds of cases came my way, some thirty of which were chronicled by my faithful Boswell.  Of these perhaps the three of most importance were those which Watson called "The Golden Pince-nez," for my part in which I was awarded the Order of the Legion of Honour by the French government, "The Bruce-Partington Plans," which won me a private audience with Queen Victoria and the gift from her in an emerald tie clip, and "The Three Garridebs," which resulted in my being offered, and refusing, a knighthood.
   

    In 1903, I left Baker Street and retired to a villa in Sussex situated upon the southern slope of the downs, commanding a view of the Channel.  There I gave myself up entirely to the soothing life of nature for which I had so often yearned during the long hours spent amid the gloom of London.  At this period of my life, the good Watson had passed almost beyond my ken, and when a problem which was certainly as abstruse as any which I had faced in my long professional career, that of the Lion's Mane, was brought, as it was, to my very door, I was forced to chronicle it myself.  Other than that, I have managed to divide my time between philosophy and agriculture (with emphasis upon its aparian aspect), and to complete my magnum opus, A Practical Handbook of Bee Culture, with Some Observations upon the Segregation of the Queen.
    
    But my retirement was not to remain undisturbed.  In 1912, I was approached by the Prime Minister and the Foreign Secretary with the request that I assist in the apprehension of the notorious German spy Von Bork.  The Foreign minister alone I could have withstood, but when the Premier also decided to visit my humble roof, I succumbed, with the result that I devoted two years to the investigation.  I started my pilgrimage at Chicago under the name of Altamont, graduated in an Irish secret society in Buffalo, gave serious trouble to the constabulary at Skibbareen, and so eventually caught the eye of a subordinate agent of Von Bork who recommended me as a likely man, and thus penetrated his organization.  In this manner, I gained his confidence, with the result that most of his plans went subtly wrong, five of his best agents ended up in prison, and he himself was eventually apprehended.
   
    My chief reward for this service was the renewal of my contact with Dr. Watson, who joined me in the final phase of the adventure and as usual rendered me invaluable assistance.  Good Old Watson!  He is the one fixed point in a changing age.  Now that I am again taking my ease at my small farm upon the South Downs, troubled only by an occasional attack of rheumatism, I miss him.  But he is the only element of my former life, the loss of which I regret.

Thus ends the autobiography which Sherlock Holmes never wrote.

NOTE: Mr. Armstrong put together several excerpts from the Holmes stories to create this short autobiography.

MORE TO COME!



                                             

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