Somehow, I’m starting to get a reputation as a road-happy Sherlockian.  When one has the infamous 4-day,  nearly 2000 mile trek to Sherlock, Texas on one’s Sherlockian resume,  it’s easy to see how rumors might start.  But I’m not really that fond of driving,  and have no great love of cars or spending time inside of one. So if you hear of me driving nine hours to Chattanooga for a Sherlockian event,  trust me, it sure isn’t just  because I love watching the pavement  zip by.

Yikes, what a weekend!

Some time ago, when I thought that vacation time was going to be plentiful this spring, I told Kent Ross that I’d come down and do a little talk for “The Third Annual Gathering of Southern Sherlockians” in Chattanooga.   Sure, it’s only about 600 miles from here, with nothing close to a direct  flight available, but I’d been twitching to get down to that area again since a Nashville trip a few years back. Very nice country down there, with some of the best people you could hope to meet.  But as with all the best laid plans, my leisurely week visiting the South suddenly found itself stripped down to a three-day blitz.

But, hey, I still had all of Friday to make it down to Tennessee, right?  Well, I would have , if it hadn’t worked out that perhaps my oldest favorite Sherlockian society on Earth (I have a lot of favorites among Sherlockian societies!) was having its thirtieth anniversary meeting in DuQuoin, Illinois on Friday night. And while Du Quoin is in the general direction of Tennessee, it’s still a long ways out. So I wound up not leaving Peoria until 2:00 Friday afternoon.

Four hours later, I found myself first to arrive at Alongi’s restaurant in Du Quoin, the traditional meeting place of the Occupants of the Empty House. This wasn’t a bad thing, as I wanted to set out some table favors for them – the thirtieth anniversary being the “pearl” anniversary,  I had concocted some imitation black pearls of the Borgias from “Six Napoleons” as a little present.

The Occupants started trickling in about 6:30, and my fun began. While the Occupants may not have the vast numbers of a larger city,  every member that they do is a notable Sherlockian in their own right to the knowing eye. Watching them show up one by one, is like watching the Magnificent Seven ride into town.  The Bensleys. The Tinsleys, Jack Crelling, Sam Smith,  Gordon Speck, and  . . . wait a minute . . . where’s Bill Cochran?

Ironically, that mainstay of the Occupants, Bill Cochran, had to miss the meeing due to work duties in a distant locale.  On the up side, however, one of the new faces (new to me) in attendance happened to be Bill’s charming new fiancee Cheryl,  and he still made an appearance by cell phone later in the evening.

Janet Bensley handed out the beautiful, comb-bound commemorative program booklets she had produced for the evening’s festivities.  Traditions were observed, toasts were made, David Bensley pulled a paper  from his memory after his computer refused to print it up, and old memories of life in the Empty House were recalled even as new ones were made. It was a grand evening, and it held me in Du Quoin well into the evening . . . at which point I had to hop in my car and drive South into the darkness and parts unknown.

Somewhere in Kentucky, at about 1:00 A.M., I found what I think might have been a Motel 6 to crash in. At this point, I’m not sure of where I was or what the exact name of the motel was. All I know is that they had one smelly “smoking” room available, where I slept for approximately four hours, before getting up, cleaning up, and once more driving south. The program in Chattanooga was to start at 11:15 Saturday morning and I was going to lose an hour to time zones in getting there, so I had to move quickly (one reason the good Carter chose not to accompany me on this madman’s trek . . . he who travels swiftest, travels alone).

I made it to Chattanooga’s historic Read House hotel with minutes to spare, and even got myself a room in those few minutes before the program took off. And what a great program it was.

“The 3rd Annual Gathering of Southern Sherlockians” is billed  as “not a symposium,  but a gathering of and for Sherlockian joy,” and that it certainly is. Four great Southern scions,  the Confederates of the Wisteria Lodge of Atlanta, the Nashville Scholars of the Three Pipe Problem,  the Genius Loci of Birmingham, and the Survivors of the Gloria Scott of Greenville all get together just to have a good time.  There are definitely some well-thought out and entertaining papers, jus t like you’d have a any symposium, but there’s a feeling of fun to this event that reminds me of what I always thought one of the old-time Baker Street Irregulars meetings must have been like – just a gathering of Sherlockian friends out to have a good time. Nobody’s trying to impress anyone here, just to entertain friends, show off one’s enthusiasms, and enjoy each other’s company.

No one theme or style of presentation ruled the day. Richard Green of Birmingham began with a video retrospective on Peter Cushing’s films. Kenneth Carr of Atlanta followed with a fascinating look at the potential for a Holmes-Churchill  friendship. I did my little paper that in a way went back to my “Elementary Methods” days (Could I be writing a sequel to that book that hardly anyone owns? Maybe.),  Joel Senter hit on Sherlock’s place in the history of jazz,  Chattanooga’s Mayor Littlefield showed up to tell us about  some recent local discoveries relating to Holmes’s time (he was also responsible for some lovely gift bags, complete with Moon Pies, that greeted us earlier in the day),  Michael Elliott entertained with some thought–reading demonstrations,  Ira Block of Atlanta delved deep into the realities of a certain Canonical lady, and that great not-so-Southern Sherlockian David Hammer rounded out the day’s program.

The banquet the Read House served that evening was a marvelous feast (unless you are of the sort who doesn’t fancy a giant slab of beef) and full of fun, including a three-act farce by the Nashville contingent.  I was horribly under-dressed and just recovering from a nap that filled my pre-banquet time,  but the whole evening had that sort of warmth that makes one feel like they could have walked in wearing their pajamas and still be welcome.  (This, I must add, had nothing to do with the moonshine that one wag-who-shall-remain-nameless  had snuck into the affair. Boy, is that stuff strong.)

My hideous travel schedule meant that I had to leave before Sunday morning’s part of the program began, so I can’t comment upon the quiz, a talk by David Milner that had dark rumours circling around it pre-conference,  or  a reading of “Black Baronet” by the Genius Loci. And as with many an early trip to the BSI weekend in New York,  I didn’t get to spend any time touring what seemed to be a fascinating city. But the whole experience did leave me wanting more, and that is the best anyone can hope for!

As impressed as I as with this year’s Gathering of Southern Sherlockians, I really hope a couple of other Southern Sherlockian societies I know of send representatives next year . Texas is definitely Southern (are you listening, Mr. Hobbs?) and the original name of the Occupants of the Empty House was almost “the Sherlock Holmes Society of Southern Illinois.” (Southern Illinois may be more Kentucky-South than Deep-South, but it’s still got a Southern bit all its own.)

Anyway, the-nine-hours-straight drive back about did me in, but I arrived home  safely and actually have to say it was worth it . . . although next time I definitely plan to do it a little more sanely.

Your humble correspondent,

Brad Keefauver