The Club of Legend

There's a legend in the world of those who know Holmes best. It's the legend of the first Sherlock Holmes club, and it goes something like this:

Once upon a time, in the year nineteen hundred and thirty-four a popular writer decided to form a club to further his enjoyment of his favorite fictional character. His brother concocted a puzzle that would serve as an entrance exam, and did, for almost one whole meeting. Shortly after that, the popular writer began inviting other celebrities with an interest in that fictional character: an artist, an actor, a mystery writer, and more. And, to be perfectly fair, the popular writer invited non-celebrities as well. (Celebrities have to get top billing, though, it's in their contracts.)

What a time mat was! Comrades in a certain enthusiasm joining together for an evening of merriment, the sort of thing that barkens back to the Knights of the Round Table, or Robin Hood's merry band, or the Four Musketeers!

And then! Blah, blah, blah ... the tradition has continued to mis day. End of legend. (For those who wish to read more about it, there are out-of-print books unavailable. Write me, I'll tell you the names so you can start hunting.)

The legend of the first Sherlock Holmes club attracts hundreds to New York City every January. There haven't been many celebrities there lately, and that may be a good thing. (They're a temperamental lot, and they tend to attract celebrity-fans, rather than followers of the true enthusiasm.) But traditions with their roots in the legend still abound, and the camaraderie of that legendary Sherlock Holmes club still carries on today.

At least I mink so, as I haven't attended in quite some time. "But, Brad," you ask, "how can you not attend the one meeting a year of the club of legend? And why do you prattle on about something you never go to?"

Let's take the questions one at a time. First, the annual dinner of the club of legend is in a faraway place during an inhospitable season. It costs a considerable sum of money for those of us not living nearby. And, to put it plainly, the same camaraderie can be found elsewhere at other times of the year. True, it doesn't have the name of the legendary society attached to it, but it's the same wonderful spirit. Sheriockians are great people, no matter where they gather, and the January meeting is hardly one's only chance to meet the best of them.

As to why I tend to write about an event I haven't gone to in some time . . . well, it's the club of legend. Writing about Sherlockiana as a whole, it's rather hard not to hit upon the subject occasionally. The club is an undeniable, unignorable part of Sherlockian history and culture.

During the club's "no girls allowed" days, a lot of people thought that the sexist policy of the group's management had nothing to do with the rest of us. The
general notion seemed to he "It's our once-a-year dinner, and the rest of you can bug off!" The problem with that attitude is that most Sheriockians expect a certain standard of behavior in a legend. Non-politically correct idiosyncrasies are fine when you have an eight-man dinner party. But when you're the undeniable, unignorable flagship of Sherlockiana, things are a little different

This is going to be a big year for the club of legend. The new management sign is on their door, and rumors of a change or two have been making the rounds all year. I would encourage anyone with the opportunity to go this year. It could be a whole lot of fun.

However, if you don't really feel like going (and most of us have non-Sherlockian lives that occasionally draw us away from the Sherlockian whirl) that's okay, too. You don't have to attend any one event or perform any set task to be a good Sherlockian. Good Sheriockians exist in many styles and places, sometimes hiding where you least expect it. Which brings me to the point of this essay.

As the club of legend moves to the next phase of its existence, we should all consider exactly what it means to us. Is it an ivory tower, set apart from the masses and seen only by a chosen few on one evening a year? Or is it an active fellowship, a legion of busy enthusiasts, helping make the following of Sherlock Holmes a grand place to be?

If you choose me latter definition, as I'm know many of you do, then none of us can sit back and expect the new management of the club of legend to do all the work by themselves.

In May, I had the pleasure of watching one of the club of legend's highest honors being presented to Ben Wood in Tampa, Florida. It was a great moment, made greater by just seeing the club of legend represented and active at a time and place other than January in New York City. While New York will always remain the group's home, its spirit could stand to be "seen everywhere, doing everything."

Whether you go to New York in January or not, whether you're an official member or not, it doesn't hurt to have a sort of seance every now and then. Get together with one or two (or the classic Morley eight) Sherioekians and invoke the spirit of the Baker Street Irregulars.

You might find that not all legends look like hounds from Hell.

(Printed in Plugs & Dottles, October 1997)