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The antique mall . . .

As Peoria is a bit like a small town version of a big city, one might expect that there are certain amenities we do without. That charming little street in the semi-bad neighborhood full of used bookshops is one of them. We've had the occasional old bookshop in the past, and the paperback exchanges seem to do okay. But for the most part, the Peoria market just doesn't support antiquarian book dealers, along with many other sorts of specialty antique shops. Our remedy for this: the antique mall.

The book stalls of a good antique mall are a pleasant place for the Sherlock Holmes fan to while away a Saturday afternoon, and today the good Carter and I headed down Knoxville Avenue to the riverfront to do just that.

The Illinois Antique Center, housed in an old warehouse on Peoria's riverfront, is not only one of the tidiest and most dust-free examples of its kind - it is also in the center of a wide selection of eateries. As it was approaching the lunch hour, Carter and I first stopped in at the Rhythm Kitchen next door for a glass of tea and a salad. Being in full Sherlockian mode, I ordered the Brazilian chicken salad, in honor of the late Maria Pinto Gibson. Tying my fork to a string stretched over to Murray Baker bridge seemed appropriate, so I could release the fork at meal's end and let it vanish into the river, but, alas, there are some ideas that even I hesitate to follow through on.

The book shopping began immediately upon crossing the stairwell that bridges the Rhythm Kitchen building and the antique mall, and the first booth we came to, "Books from the Past," has always been a favorite of mine.

Now, being a Sherlockian book shopper does not mean that every book to attract you has the name "Sherlock Holmes" somewhere in it. Sometimes your Holmes alarms go off for other reasons, and mine did upon seeing an interesting looking old volume with a red-pebbled cover: The Decameron of Boccaccio. While it's not a pocket edition, as was found on the person of Enoch Drebber after his murder in A Study in Scarlet, it occurred to me that I had never actually bought a copy of Decameron, and six dollars for an attractive edition of it did not seem unreasonable. So I tucked the book under one elbow and continued my search.

Before long, my Sherlockian sense tingles once more as the name "Christopher Morley" comes into view. This is not an uncommon occurrence in the antique mall, as Morley was "the most charming literary American of today" according to the San Francisco Chronicle of the early 1900's (this from the dustjacket of the book in question). His novels The Haunted Bookshop, Parnassus on Wheels, and Kitty Foyle turn up quite regularly on these outings. What one doesn't see as often are books of his poetry, and today's find is from that rare breed: Songs for a Little House.

If you're a youngster among the Sherlock set and don't really know the Morley-Holmes connection, here's the simple explanation: Christopher Morley was the Babe Ruth of Sherlockiana. While he might not have invented the game, he was certainly our first superstar player of it, setting many of the conventions and patterns for those who would come after him. And while Songs for a Little House may not speak of Sherlock Holmes directly, it speaks of the thoughtful, yet playful mind of the sort of fellow who really appreciates the great detective.

And even though I bought a somewhat worn copy of Songs from a Sherlockian dealer not two months before, this one's pristine condition, complete with dustjacket and some uncut pages, make it well worth the eighteen bucks the booseller wants for it. As with all such books, I will inevitably run into another Sherlockian to whom my previous, more worn copy would be a delightful acquisition.

Browsing through a venue where the stock doesn't rotate as quickly as the local Walmart, one inevitably develops familiar landmarks, and the Peoria antique mall has many for me. One is the row of display cases at the base of the stairs in the westernmost building. A display of Toby mugs and jugs contains a pair of Sherlock Holmes pieces that I've always had on my wish list, but never felt loose enough with the wallet to purchase. I'll be slightly sorry the day someone else buys them, but as my collection has always focussed on the paper realm, I won't be that sorry.

Another landmark for me is "The Mystery Nook," a corner upstairs that focuses entirely on mystery novels. As one would expect, there is are two entire shelves of Sherlockian books, ranging from The Case of the Philosopher's Ring to published manuscript of "The Adventure of the Lion's Mane." I rarely buy anything at this stall, as I've had all of the Holmes-related wares for a long time, but it's still nice to visit some friendly Sherlock shelves outside of one's own library.

My only qualm with "The Mystery Nook" is that it is one of the few stalls in the antique mall that faces windows, and many of the Holmes books have taken sun damage to the spines as a result. As I had a spare dustjacket for The Baker Street Dozen, about a year ago, I did finally buy the copy of it on display there simply out of pity. I then took it home, put the fresh jacket on it, and gave it a nice rest in a dark closet.

There are several other book stalls among the antiques of the Illinois Antique Center, but none of them yielded any further finds this afternoon. I paused over a nice Wyeth-illustrated edition of The White Company by Conan Doyle, but already having quite the collection of White Companys, including one of the Wyeths, I let it go.

After picking up a township map of the Keefauver ancestral lands that I had previously had my eye on, I took my purchases to the main cashier area and Carter and I concluded our Sherlockian shopping trip for today. On the way home, we drove past Peoria's new baseball stadium, and I once again pondered how once might make a baseball game night an event for a Sherlock Holmes club. (Somehow, the Indianapolis Sherlockians seemed to manage it for Conan Doyle's birthday.)

Your humble correspondent,
Brad Keefauver