Christopher Morley's Disease

A decade or so ago, I did something that was very unusual for me at that time: I joined a club. Depending upon my mood, I tended to think of myself as either a social outcast or a lone wolf in those days, and the thought of becoming a regimented member of some organized mass of humanity seemed quite abhorrent to me. But as with so many things in life, the proper lure will draw an unwilling victim every time, and the lure this club used on me was Sherlock Holmes. It was rather ironic, of course, that a student and admirer of the man who "loathed every form of society with his whole Bohemian soul" should be drawn into social activity because of his admiration for Holmes. But I didn't pause to reflect on those ironies; I just signed up. After all, it couldn't be as bad as the Boy Scouts -- no six-mile hikes.

The club I joined was The Hansoms of John Clayton, and I have yet to regret that decision. Bob Burr has yet to lead us on any six-mile hikes. Becoming a Hansom brought all sorts of new data my way concerning Sherlock Holmes, some of which included the fact that there were many other Sherlock Holmes clubs out there. And before too much time past, I found out why.

Sherlockians, as a whole, don't seem to be joiners so much as they are club-starters. Christopher Morley, the man who started the first Sherlockian society, was especially notorious for starting clubs at the drop of a hat, the most notable of which being "The Three Hours for Lunch Club" and the Baker Street Irregulars. Following in the true Morley spirit, John Bennett Shaw has often said that all it takes to start a scion society are two Sherlockians and a bottle, and in a pinch you can do without one of the Sherlockians. Starting such a society is easy and fun, and everyone should do it. The only problem is, everybody is doing itl At a recent meeting of The Occupants of the Empty House, I took a quick head count and found that about half of those in attendance were heads of their own Sherlockian groups.

None of these groups was formed out of dissatisfaction with the other groups. In fact, most of the scion heads present were also members of as many other groups as it was physically possible to attend, if a Rhode Island-sized meteor had come crashing down on West Frankfort that night, the world might have seen the end of not just the Occupants, but The Parallel Case of St. Louis, The Harpooners of the Sea Unicorn, The Montague Street Incorrigibles, The Chester Baskerville Society, a possibly revived Pondicherry Lodge, The Fragile Philosophical Instruments, The Midwest Scion of the Four, The One Fixed Point Society for Two-Dimensional Sherlockians, and who knows what else.

Christopher Morley's habit of forming clubs is virtually an epidemic in St. Louis and southern Illinois. But the epidemic has its symptoms and can be arrested early. Watch for these warning signs in your fellow Sherlockians:

1. Desire for their own letterhead. Letterheads are one of the first manifestations of a club about to start, usually appearing even before the first meeting.

2. A mumbling to themselves about which officer should fill which post, before there are officers, posts, or even members.

3. Frequent contact with known victims of Morley's disease. Though not scientifically proven, all indications point to the affliction being transmitted by conversation and socializing.

The effects of scion-starting can be both positive and negative. Once the group is official and on the lists, the scion head's Sherlockian junk mail increases, and one can expect any number of letters from collectors and new scion enthusiasts wanting to subscribe to and get back issues of the scion's publications, if there be any. The new scion head's mail will definitely increase, almost at the same time his or her time to answer it starts to decrease. Running a scion can take a fair amount of time.

But if you have the time and people, you may want to start your own club. As I've said, everybody should do it . . . once. I have two recommendations, however, for those about to succumb. Other than that all-important letterhead, avoid as many other officialities as possible. Dues require that books and a treasury be kept. Other officers can be a pain in the neck; keep it autocratic. And forgoing a scion journal will be the best move you ever made, believe me. Unless your membership is composed of article-happy Sherlockian geniuses who have no other outlet, save your strength. Once started, a Sherlockian journal is expected to run forever, something many societies have to fudge on by putting their quarterly issues out once every two years or so.

If you do start a scion, though, don't expect this columnist to be fighting to get on your membership list. After spending the last ten years as a Sherlockian joiner, the Karmic wheel has come full circle -- I'm beginning to look at the benefits of being a social outcast and lone wolf.

Maybe Holmes was right.

(Printed in Plugs & Dottles, January 1989)