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Jan Bohuslav Sobota died on May 2nd of 2012 and this is my remembrance of this fine man who was a friend and mentor to me. Each autumn, salmon return to the rivers of their birth a€“ there to spawn and once again trigger a renewal of the eternal passion play.
Salmon that do eventually arrive at their destinations must once again compete a€“ this time for mates and to fight for access to the precious and very limited gravels.
The profligate expenditure of life and extravagant wealth of biology is there everywhere to behold, as Death dances lightly among the gathering throngs of fish, picking and choosing from among them; who from their number shall successfully spawn and who shall just be food for the gathering predators and scavengers.
Spend a day in silence, walking among the spawning salmon, as they dig spawning redds, jockey for position and slash at competitors with those gaping, snaggletoothed, hooked jaws. Jan Bohuslav Sobota has died, while half a world away; I was preparing these etchings of Spawned Salmon and dedicating them to Jan, the lover of fish.
The book you hold in your hands has evolved from my simply giving these etchings a second life in book form, to my using them as a vehicle for honoring a friendship of three decades.
In 1985, Jan and I had been corresponding for some months without ever meeting a€“ all quite distant and correct.
A short bit of background on Jan Sobota to begin, but fear not; Ia€™ll soon be spinning anecdotes and thoughts on books as art a€“ celebrating Jana€™s life of course, telling a few stories out of school, but also straying into the personal and speculative in search of the meaning to be derived from the life and death of a friend.
Jana€™s father was a serious bibliophile and collector of fine books, who nurtured that same love of books in his son a€“ an appreciation that steadily grew, until he was apprenticed to master bookbinder Karel A ilinger in PlzeA?. The pivotal event in Jana€™s early life as a book artist was the posthumous retrospective exhibition of fellow Pilsener, Josef VA?chal in 1969. Jan supported a family, sponsored workshops, exhibited widely, did conservation work on rare historic books, ran a gallery a€“ and on it went. What Jan did for contemporary bookbinding, was to act as a bridge between the traditionally trained masters of the past and innovators of the present. America was a great place to be a book artist in the early 1980a€™s precisely because it was an active zone of hybridization and hotbed of creativity. An instructive contrast to the anything-goes US scene was the icy reception I got when I showed a wooden box containing loose sheets of poetry and etchings to a Prague publisher. Neither Jan nor I had much interest in the book-like objects that often sneak into the museums as book arts a€“ the carved and glued together things that sorta, kinda have a bookish aspect to them a€“ rough-looking a€“ perhaps chain-sawed Oaken boards or granite slabs, slathered in tar and lashed together with jute; but lacking text. When Jana€™s books went beyond function, conservation or decoration, they were subtle statements about binding and the place of books, knowledge and art, as well as statements about the dignity inhering in the handcrafted - with a good dose humor. There are others who know their conservation and those, whose scientific contributions are far greater, but few of them are also artists at heart. It can sound so pedestrian, these eternal compromises between art and craft, yet what Jan represented was not at all common. There is an inflection point at which exceptional craft begins to make the transition to art and it is closely associated with surmounting the limitations inhering to the discipline. Visiting with Jan in his workshop you quickly realized, that he did what a professional must, but ultimately, he just loved messing about with books. A curiously protean hybrid of artist and craftsman, ancient and modern, one cannot think of Jan without seeing an unabashed Czech patriot in a foreign land. Early on in their stay in Cleveland, the Sobotas experienced the quintessential American disaster. Even after their medical debts were retired, money was still an issue for a family of immigrants with three kids a€“ two with special needs. Later on, when they were living in Texas, the massacre at Waco opened Jana€™s eyes to yet another difficult side of his adopted home. In 1979, I apprenticed with Jindra Schmidt, an engraver of stamps and currency, living in Prague.
Schmidt had engraved stamps for Bulgaria, Iraq, Ethiopia, Albania, Guinea, Vietnam and Libya. In 1992, Jindra Schmidt was honored for his contributions and depicted on the last stamp of a united Czechoslovakia, before it split into Czech and Slovak republics a€“ a fitting tribute. Unlike most children of immigrants, my destiny remained connected to that of my parentsa€™ homeland. My vocation as artist clarified itself in Prague while learning the increasingly obsolete skills of steel engraving. My first book was indeed, modeled after VA?chal, even to the extent of its diabolical subject matter.
Jan showed me a great deal in the following years about the tradition of books as the meeting place of art, craft and ideas a€“ where printmaking intergrades seamlessly with the worlds of language, typography and illustration.
One can like these things just fine and admire them from an uncomprehending distance, or you can become engaged. The book you hold was to have been a simple reprint of the Spawned Salmon a€“ something fun for Jan to work his magic upon. Nice sentimental reminiscences, but there is still the matter of getting the work accomplished and out before the public, organizing exhibitions, printing catalogs and paying for transatlantic flights. The Prague show was reconfigured and curated by Jana€?s longtime friend, Ilja A edo, for exhibition at the West Bohemian Museum in PlzeA?. Quite predictably, I like seeing the kind of work I do honored a€“ the wood engravings and etchings made to shine in the context of crisply printed type and an excellent binding. Ia€™ve heard printmakers lament that the surest way to devalue prints is to add excellent poetry, sensitive typography and a bang-up binding a€“ and then live to see the whole thing sell for half the price of just the unbound prints. Therea€™s nothing quite like seventeenth century Bohemia, the dead center of Europe, for particularly thorough violence a€“ with the Bubonic Plague stepping in afterwards as mop-up crew. The chapel at Sedlec was rebuilt after the major blood-letting of the thirty-years war as a memento mori a€“ reminder of death. What can you say about the mounds of dead, the ruined lives, destroyed nations and misery multiplied by millions that isna€™t trite or self-evident? But then I pan over to other fields a€“ not the kind where the grass is composting my fellow man, but to fields of endeavor where the ferment is of ideas recombining into ever more refined ways of thinking. I once lived at the Golem house in Prague a€“ at Meislova ulice, number 8, in the old Jewish ghetto.
Horoscopes might seem a curious basis on which to select ministers and diplomats, but it is also more common than youa€™d think. Picture the scene before you: Ita€™s a late night in Prague, before the Marlboro man dominated every street corner, even before the neon of casinos and the vulgarity of Golden Arches assaulted the nightwalkersa€™ eyes at all hours a€“ back when darkness, oh yes, that beautiful comforting velvety, all-enveloping and blessed dark, broken only by the moon, stars and late night taxis, still ruled the streets after the sun went down. The Golem was a mythic being of Jewish folklore, created from clay and quickened by the Shem, a magical stone engraved with an ancient Hebraic inscription, inserted into Golema€™s forehead. The maternal tongues of these small nations have miraculously survived all the invasions, floods, plagues and foreign occupiers to this day a€“ a gift preserved and delivered to them across the generations. Minority languages, on the other hand, carry an emotional load that can scarcely be exaggerated.
Ishi and his sister were the last of the Yahi tribe to survive the genocidal colonization of California.
Those whose language and culture are not threatened can never know the burden under which the carriers of small minority languages labor a€“ nor how those in exile bring up their children to preserve that which is beyond their capacities to save. Jan was all about preserving traditions and the kind of ancestral knowledge that today is mostly enshrined in books. Today, the stories of our tribes are less and less passed on as oral tradition and most often read to us from the childrena€™s books wea€™ve learned to treasure a€“ illustrated by fine artists and produced with care for the highly discriminating purchasers of childrena€™s books a€“ for grandparents.
A?epelA?k employed binders and typesetters to present complete suites of his work and in this too, he introduced me to a new world.
Later in Prague I missed my flight back, due to the World Trade Center bombing and was delayed by a week.
The difficult thing to bear in acknowledging my teachers, models, heroes, suppliers and inspirations, is that these masters of the crafts and industries surrounding and supporting the book arts are mostly deceased.
The fruit we seek is not fast food, but laden with full-bodied flavors, attained by slow natural processes. All of us come from grandfathers who once were wheelwrights, cobblers or instrument makers; men with a profound love of wood and leather, who knew the working qualities of every kind of obscure tree growing in their countryside a€“ men who knew when to reach for elm or hickory a€“ as well as for goat, dog or even fish-skins. Jan spoke fondly of his grandmother, who baked bread every week of the year to feed an entire estate a€“ farm hands, livery people, gentry, trainers and hod-carriers alike.
Working consciously is the ultimate goal a€“ and that is the legacy youa€™ll find evidently contained within and upon the boards of every book bound by Jan Bohuslav Sobota. The etchings you see here first came to life as illustrations for the wedding anniversary announcements of MA­la and Jaroslav KynA?l.
Jan Bohuslav Sobota died on May 2nd of 2012 and this is my remembrance of this fine man who was a friend and mentor to me.A  He was an exceptional bookbinder, teacher and promoter of the book arts, but also an exile who successfully returned home after years abroad. Still, I was smart - smarter than most white folks down here want a black man to be - and I got my degree. I started out walking a beat in Algiers, just across the river from the French Quarter, the Vieux Carre. I can’t forget the smell - like gutting time at a Cajun boucherie - the snatches of Voodoo gibberish smeared across the walls in blood.
But he didn't tell me where to find the scum that butchered Celie, because something scared him more.
Still, as I floated in and out of tortured dreams, I remembered the look in Ti' Joe's eyes. Despair is like frostbite - at first it just makes everything numb, saves up all the pain like a debt you can't possibly afford to pay. Teddy LeDoux's place faced out on an alley near Bourbon Street; Teddy liked to pretend every weekend was Mardi Gras. Papa Jean's address led me to the other side of the Intracoastal - the swampy, desolate outskirts of an immigrant slum called Archahaie. After one of those juice-heads puts you through a wall, you learn to recognize the look… and to fear it. I stood there, drowning in my own sweat, wondering what the Devil would look like in a dirty black dress. As soon as the nurse flipped on the lights, I started babbling about Voodoo curses and demon arms. I checked out at the end of the week despite Doc Timmons' protests and caught a cab out to Archahaie.
I came to with the help of Baron Cimiterre's smelling salts: the slaughterhouse stench of blood and bile and exposed viscera. I lay there, trembling in the borrowed clothes of a dead man, staring into the tunnel that joins the evil we live in and the evil that lives in us. What we knew by 1990 about the 1940 dinner was published in Irregular Memories of the a€™Thirties. In this the first of the BSJa€™s revived Christmas Annuals (a pleasant custom begun by Edgar W. January 30, 1940, was a golden evening, an evening of a€?entertainment and fantasya€? as Edgar W. Finally, after a Great Hiatus of nearly four years, plans were made a€” than to the imminent publication of 221B: Studies in Sherlock Holmes a€” for another BSI Annual Dinner, the first since 1936. I had been planning to take a two weeks' holiday in the south toward the end of the month, but in view of this epic occasion, I have now changed my plans, and shall be leaving on January 12, and returning on the 29th. Please inform the undersigned promptly of your intention to attend so that the Gasogene and the Tantalus may make accurate plans. And on January 30, 1940, the Baker Street Irregulars gathered for their annual dinner once more.
The first order of business under the Constitution was the drinking of the canonical toasts. There is also extant a letter from Steele to Vincent Starrett about this drawing, quoted in the previously cited unpublished memoir by Steelea€™s son Robert: a€?I had an absurdly hard struggle with my Sherlock. This was also the first time the Baker Street Irregulars met at the Murray Hill Hotel, where the BSI dinners would continue to be held a€” cocktails in Parlor F, dinner and program in Parlor G a€” until the New York landmark was finally torn down in the late a€™Forties, to be great regret of many sentimental people. The 1940 dinner might not have included every Irregular of that era with whom one would wish to dine, but it was a fine list nonetheless. Denis Conan Doyle was the eldest son of Sir Arthura€™s second marriage (his mother, Lady Conan Doyle, would pass away later in the year), and Trustee of a very active literary Estate indeed. He went on to describe how, in the lore of the Irregulars, Doyle is pictured as a struggling young physician, delighted at the chance to a€?peddlea€? the cases his friend Dr.
Certainly one would love to have been a fly on the wall that night, or, even better, archy the cockroach darting among the drinks on the table, to hear Denisa€™s charming discourse, and all the other scholarship and tomfoolery that transpired that night, the first BSI dinner in four long years.
Meanwhile, and with 221B still rolling off the presses, I am sending you a first very rough-and-ready copy of the Gazetteer which you have egged me on, from time to time, to write. I hope things are going well for you, and again let me say that your absence was a matter of very genuine regret indeed to all of us who look to you as mentor and guide -- to say nothing of your status as sponsor and editor of the Book of the Day. Re the Gazetteer: I'm inclined to agree with you that it might be extended to advantage by a listing of the more important clubs and restaurants, etc. I imagine we should not too often bring out a volume of ana; the public might easily tire of us.
In his essay in Irregular Memories of the 'Thirties discussing this first BSI anthol-ogy of Writings About the Writings, neither Robert G. So it should be, from someone who (born 1915) had by 1990 long been one of the nationa€™s foremost authorities on Victorian literature and culture.
I know of no other such study as the interesting one you suggest, although it is perhaps odd that the idea did not earlier explode in the skull of some devoted Sherlockian.
It seems to me more than likely that Doyle wrote that scene in His Last Bow quite deliberately, knowing it for what it was - a friendly para-phrase of the parting between Johnson and Boswell; although it may of course have been subconscious. You have chosen a delightful subject for your thesis; and you will pardon me if I hope that you will treat it not too seriously, but with a touch of humor. I am leaving Chicago inside of a week, I think, for a voyage around the world; so in closing I must wish you - in my absence - all good luck in your efforts. A few years later, an editor was interested in publishing the essay a€” the best of all possible editors for Sherlockian work, Vincent Starrett himself. The quotation is from Christopher Morleya€™s a€?Notes on Baker Streeta€? in the Saturday Review of Literature, January 28, 1939, not from any letter Starrett received from him. This independent Sherlock Holmes society had been founded in New York in 1935 by Richard W.
Since Morleya€™s letter of December 23, 2939, below was unavailable for Irregular Memories of the a€™Thirties, this reference in Edgar W. A copy of Morleya€™s letter to Smith below went to Vincent Starrett in Chicago, with the handwritten note: a€?Merry Christmas, Vincenzio. When I was in Chicago a week ago I learned from Vincent Starrett that his book 221-B is actually to be published on January 30. Since Christ Cella's place on 45 Street, where we used to hold meetings, has been modernized and the old upstairs room there no longer exists (he has only a not very attractive cellarage; which makes me think of The Fiend of the Cooperage; do you know it?) I am wondering if the Murray Hill Hotel would not be a singularly pleasant place for the meeting? You yourself would, I hope, perhaps feel inclined to present a proceeding of some sort; I mean a few remarks on the Obliquity of the Ecliptic, or whatever may be momently on your mind. Just for the fun of starting trouble, I am sending a copy of this both to Starrett and to Harold Latham of Macmillan; who will I'm sure see to it that each convive gets a presentation copy of the Book. I hope I may assume that like Peterson the commissionaire, or No, it was Henry Baker, you are carrying a white goose and walking with a slight stagger. Beginning in 1945, Titular Investitures were conferred at the annual dinners to denote membership in the BSI. That it was the first one Smith prepared is indicated by a letter to Christopher Morley dated three days later (November as the month, in Irregular Memories of the a€™Thirties, p.
There are forty-eight names on the somewhat woolly list, below, and they bear some analysis, following Miss Mouillerata€™s cover letter. The other names on Smitha€™s list are familiar ones, though some of them are surprises to see here. Members by 1935, according to Morley's list that year: Ronald Mansbridge, Harrison Martland, John Sterling, Lawrence Williams.
Ones who came into the BSI at the 1940 dinner: John Connolly, Peter Greig, Howard Haycraft, James Keddie (his son James Jr. A few more details about some of these Irregulars of the a€™30s and a€™40s can be provided now, for the record.
Of other names on this list, Harold Latham was, as we have seen, Trade Editor at the Macmillan Company responsible for publishing 221B: Studies in Sherlock Holmes. This was a 1940 collection of essays by Vincent Starrett, published by Random House, with an a€?Unconventional Indexa€? by Christopher Morley. More serious still, two more toasts stipulated by our Constitutional ar-rangements are absent altogether, and missing ever since. As to The Second Most Dangerous Man: The query about his identity was a€” as Bill Hall will tell you a€” the original, first, quickie, abbreviated examination for eligibility to membership in the pre-natal Baker Street club. Resting imposingly on the long table at which the BSI dined on January 30, 1940, was an a€?orthodox coal-scuttle,a€? authentically Victorian, which James P. The coal box was an ornament, and in it were stored such details of fireside comfort as slippers, unread magazines and so forth. Although Keddie was a contributor to 221B: Studies in Sherlock Holmes, he came close to missing the 1940 dinner until Morley unearthed his address barely ten days before. Because of money, and his second wifea€™s health, Vincent Starrett never made it back to New York for a BSI dinner after the one in 1934. Bill Halla€™s copy bears the affectionate raspberry Christopher Morley often sent his old frienda€™s way.
It also bears the notation a€?$5.00 casha€? which was probably the true cost of the evening.
The pattern followed by the BSI for quite a few years thereafter, of oysters (a€?shall the world be overrun bya€?), pea soup (as in London fog), curried chicken (minus one ingredient as served in a€?Silver Blazea€?), and a sweet, was set by Christopher Morley whose handwritten draft of the printed menu has survived.
The quotation from this letter, taken from an article by the artista€™s son, was incomplete. Meanwhile, Starrett was already building a new Sherlock Holmes collection, with a big start in August 1940 from Logan Clendening.
When this was written in 1990, the hope was that Sir Arthur Conan Doylea€™s sur-viving child, Dame Jean, might come to New York for a BSI dinner.
All this within your ear; but the circumstances being what they are, you will understand why I can't be any place but Reno on January 30. I could and would, of course, if the dinner were postponed, keep you posted as to developments, and the probable time I should be free to make a New York visit. My brother Felix has a subtle scheme which he will bring direct from the State Department in Washington.
The errata slip in 221B, as by Jane Nightwork, reads: a€?In the unavoidable absence of the Editor, a volunteer hand must call attention to the curious incident of what the Proofreader did in the night-time. Everybody is too pooped this morning to be able to give you any intelligible report but I must let you know at once that the evening was a grand success in every way.
The only sadness is that I intended to have a copy signed for you by all those present, and in the general uproar this did not get done. Since you seem not to have heard the news, I am sending this by pony express so that you may know at once that the Irregulars met, feasted, d---k, and thought of you.
Denis Conan Doyle made a neat little address in which he stuck to the tradition of the Irregulars and told us about his father's acquaintance with Holmes.
Of course Christopher himself in person (but he WAS a moving picture!) was the glowing heart of the nebulae.
And, by the way, I think having vindicated Watson in the matter of the coal scuttle, it now behooves me to vindicate him in the Persian Slipper. BOOKS ALIVE: Man, oh man, WHAT a title, and doubly good for your book because none has a greater faculty for bringing books ALIVE than you. I was glad to get your note of February 27th, and to learn from it that you may be coming back East soon. Since the first draft of the Gazetteer, I have added about 150 more names - still without resorting to bars or theatres - but more important, I have fallen in with Dr. Who the members were of the Irene Adler Division with which Christopher Morley and other Irregulars convened immediately following the BSI dinner in New York is a mystery, however. For many years, it was believed that BSI dinner photographs commenced after World War II, with the one of the 1946 dinner.
So it was a surprise when James Keddiea€™s letter above referred to a dinner photo, and a thrill when a print turned up in the hands of Mary Hazard, daughter-in-law of the late Irregular whose it had been: Harry Hazard, a solver of the Sherlock Holmes Crossword in 1934.
But to confound us, in the photograph are at least two men whose names are not in Smitha€™s minutes: William C. None of the seven surviving copies of 221B I have seen bears all the signatures of everyone we can say was at the dinner. Comparing signatures in one copy of 221B after another makes for further confusion Some men seem to have stayed glued to their seats throughout the signing session, as the copies of Starretta€™s book made their way around the table, while others seem to have gotten up and roamed around the room, signing one copy here, another copy there. Three particular signatures appear as a trio in one copy after another a€” James Keddie, Edgar W.
Bill Vande Water has picked up where Harry Hazard left off, and carried on with his typical valiant job of assigning names to faces, but a few remain unidentified. The photograph a€” Ia€™ve been having enormous fun, showing my friends what I looked like nearly sixty years ago. I was also given a bit of a nudge by Archie Macdonell, who founded the first Sherlock Holmes Society in England in June 1934.
I remember David Randall, and discussion of the cash value of certain Sherlock Holmes first editions.
The man who got me started in all this Sherlock Holmes stuff was not present at the dinner. There they encounter resident trout and bass a€“ even sunfish, chubs and dace, all keyed into the increasingly plentiful and highly nutritious bounty of salmon eggs.
Situated 90A km south-west of Prague at the confluence of four rivers, PlzeA? is first recorded in writings from the tenth century. That vision was about innovation and creativity within the context of an historical tradition. This is what youa€™ll see in a Sobota binding a€“ exceptional attention paid to context and relationships, using materials and technical means that do indeed function and last.
He knew his work was valuable and documented it fastidiously a€“ confident that it would be last.
There was, however, nothing about his nationalism that demeaned anybody elsea€™s traditions or origins. That smallish incident within the parade of American fringe politics elicited an insanely violent level of suppression.
Masaryk a€“ and the cute little girl with a bouquet of flowers, is my mother Eva, at the age of three.
Schmidta€™s income from the federal mint far exceeded anybody elsea€™s in the extended family and supported a network of cars, cottages and rent-controlled flats. Schmidt, as he preferred to be called, was a man of conservative demeanor who preferred polite and reserved forms of speech and address. While visiting their unassuming engraver and extending my tourist visa 30 days at a time, I was quietly becoming qualified for life as a counterfeiter a€“ a vocation within which, one is set for life, however it may eventually turn out. Jan allowed several binders to have their way with it a€“ amo boxes for slipcases with shell casings for hinges and so forth.
This next incarnation of our exhibit in PlzeA? was all just a bit more prosaic and provincial. Is it the binding we consider and exhibit a€“ or is the binding there to conserve a text, which is ultimately the point?
There are also binders to whom everything else is merely the text block, who care little if it is an offset trade edition or a book made by hand. The tales therein recorded reflected the accreted wisdom and wit of a people as they retold them across the highlands in modest log cottages after the harvest was in. The way of working belongs to the Sobota vision I addressed earlier a€“ the honor and soul to be found in conscientiously made handcrafts.
I dona€™t feel that accomplished or ready to assume their mantle and yet with every generation that is what must happen.
Gravels, with just the right flow of fresh water running up through stones of the right size are but a tiny portion of the riverbed.A  The salmon must struggle past cities and sewer pipes, farms and irrigation systems, dams and turbines, fishermen and waterfalls a€“ just to reach the streams of their birth.
No, the Devil buys on the layaway plan: he trades you a few sins for this piece, a cheap vice for that one, damns you by scraps and slivers.
Their members were mostly refugees from Haiti and Jamaica, with a sprinkling of local talent from the Bayou.
We managed to push the psycho bastards back over the river, but we couldn't take the West Bank away from them. I'm a man who knows violence, friend - I grew up with it, learned to use it on the football field, fought against it on the streets of Algiers. I walked to the seedy parking lot around the corner, already planning the moves in my head. The owner, Jean Ducheval, wasn't exactly a snitch, but he was one of my best sources of information on the Voodoo gangs. He saw the truth: I was not a cop anymore, and I would do anything to get the scum that butchered Celie.
At the end of a dead-end gravel road off of Bourresouse, I found a ramshackle hut that matched Papa Jean's description. And a heartbeat - a monstrous heartbeat - like a thousand men pounding on the Petro drums…. When she killed the lights the second time, I pinched my eyes shut, tried to swallow the panic.
The cabby - a Haitian - looked like his eyes were going to bug out of his head when I told him where to turn. I was just drifting off to sleep when the door of the room exploded off its hinges and slammed against the opposite wall. Something black and tarry spattered across the walls, the floor, the ceiling, like engine sludge. I could see taloned feet, tree-trunk legs, a body covered with hair that wriggled like carrion worms. My sweet Creole princess, chocolate skin wrapped in a gown of milky white, somber face staring down at me from the top of an ebony cliff. It revived the BSI after four years of dormancy, and ushered in a new era at the Murray Hill Hotel. Smith in the 1950s, but lost along the way), we begin by reprinting the account of the 1940 BSI dinner which appeared in Irregular Memories of the a€?Thirties. I didn't get a blue carbuncle, or, for that matter, did I even get a goose - but the day was a very pleasant one notwithstanding. The date crept up very quickly, and when I finally reached Earle Walbridge yesterday, to look over the proofs of my section, I found a number of errors which it is now probably too late to correct, since Miss Prink at Macmillans tells me the binding has already started. There being no Goldini's or Marcini's available, the Murray Hill Hotel seems to meet the necessities next best. Anything I can do toward contributing to the preparations for the event I shall therefore have to undertake during the next two weeks. The errors will probably be discernible only to the inner circle of the cognoscenti, and to those select few they can easily be explained away. Shortly afterward, Edgar Smith a€” now the BSIa€™s Buttons, an extra-Constitutional office later to be superceded by the grander and rolling title of Buttons-cum-Commissionaire a€” sent out to those on the mailing list he had received from Christopher Morley some minutes of the annual dinner. Revision of this constitutional requirement was, however, adopted, viva voce, and amendment to the Constitution hereby imposed, in that it is required hereafter that the toast shall not be canonical but Conanical. Christopher Morley announced that the meeting, which was held as usual on a date at variance with the constitutional specification, had been called to celebrate the publication by Macmillans of 221B - a compilation of the writings of various members of the Society.
Vincent Starrett, whose unfortunate absence from the meeting can be compared only with the intolerable absence of Mrs.
We are able to reproduce opposite the appropriately fanciful menu of the evening a€” it initiated a custom of oysters, pea soup, curried chicken, and a sweet which was observed by the BSI for many years (until, Robert G. I tore up two or three attempts to do it from an old drawing, finally put on my old dressing gown and posed for it in the mirror.a€? And in a letter to Edgar Smith dated December 13, 1942, Christopher Morley wrote: a€?Would Freddy Steele like to design a menu card or would we use again the one he did years ago?
Located at 41st and Park Avenue in Manhattana€™s Murray Hill district, the venerable hotel had seen better days by the time the Baker Street Irregulars arrived in 1940, but it captured and preserved the atmosphere of Victorian London far better than any other possibility in New York at that time (let alone today). In the United States on Estate business, making Sherlock Holmes publishing and radio and motion picture deals, and doing some lecturing on his fathera€™s Spiritualist cause as well, he had been invited to the BSI dinner by Christopher Morley.
Smith, prominent Sherlockian and secretary, or a€?Buttons,a€? as he is called, of the Irregulars, informed this writer that the trouble began several years back, when Denis Conan Doyle attended a Baker Street dinner in New York. He added that it was probably the highest compliment ever paid in the history of literature.
Hudson to sit down at a meeting of the Baker Street Irregulars and to count you among the missing. It isn't as comprehensive a thing as I had thought it might be -- perhaps I should add hotels and clubs and restaurants to the list of countries, U.S. Altick wrote his paper on Holmes and Johnson as an undergraduate at Franklin & Marshall College in Lancaster, Pa. Certainly I shall be happy to have a copy of your paper - entire - and I trust that you are right in believing it to be publishable. I am sorry you had to wait so long for an acknowledgment of your MS - which I received, read, and enjoyed. I had thought that he was sent to China by the Chicago Tribune as its Far Eastern correspondent. The photograph below is of the lobby, looking past the reception desk and grand staircase at the corridor which led to the private meeting rooms. Smith, eager for the BSI to convene again for what would be his first annual dinner, had suggested the Murray Hill Hotel as an appropriate place. We could have one of their private dining rooms, which are so entirely in the Baker Street manner and decor. I might tell you that the addresses may not be 100% correct, but I think you will find them O. Smith is about the busiest person on earth at the moment, although he has taken time out to read your new book BOOKS ALIVE which he thinks is excellent.
Warren Force, Harry Hazard, Harvey Officer, Allan Price, Harrison Reinke, Stuart Robinson, and Earle Walbridge. Since Smith was working from a list supplied by Morley a€” Woollcotta€™s name was on the 1935 list, but crossed off on the only copy surviving to be printed in the September 1960 Baker Street Journal a€” we must wonder about the legend of Woollcott cast out into utter darkness after crashing the 1934 dinner, and publishing his mocking account of it in The New Yorker.
In a letter to Morley on May 10, 1939, discussing the progress of 221B, Vincent Starrett mentioned that a€?Incidentally, Ia€™ve included tentatively Woollcotta€™s bit on the Gillette dinner in 1934, from the New Yorker, as a sort of pendant to Fred Steelea€™s contribution from the same journal, which mentions the dinner.
It was not until 1945 that any of the original Pips a€” Gordon Knox Bell, Richard Clarke, Owen Frisbie, Norman Ward, and Frank Waters a€” began to attend the BSIa€™s dinners. Starrett later used the title for his bookmana€™s column in the Chicago Tribune, which appeared Sundays for some twenty-five years. In the first place, they were declared no longer canonical but Conanical a€” Christopher Morleya€™s whimsical way of tipping his hat to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in his son Denisa€™s presence. When, in the course of luncheon at Christ Cellaa€™s or elsewhere, some acquaintance would hear about the Sherlock Holmes society and ask how to get in, he would be asked a€?Who was the Second Most Dangerous Man in London?a€? If he could answer that one, he might get asked others if anybody present wanted to ask them. That was getting late to make plans to attend, apologized Morley; but Keddie made it nonetheless. On the occasion of the 1940 dinner, however, the editor of 221B: Studies in Sherlock Holmes was not even in Chicago, a mere overnight run on the 20th Century Limited to New York. Smitha€™s minutes say that a€?The meeting voted simultaneously to send greetings and a fully autographed copy of the book to Mr.
This meeting was held to celebrate the 50th anniversary of Sherlock Holmesa€™s first appearance in American ink (Lippincotta€™s Magazine, February 1890).a€? Not a great way to sell copies of the real reason for the 1940 dinner, Vincent Starretta€™s 221B: Studies in Sherlock Holmes a€” especially since lack of funds had forced Starrett to sell that superb collection of his the year before! Dame Jean Conan Doyle did not share her brothersa€™ antipathy toward the Baker Street Irregulars, and in fact was pleased to accept membership in 1991. Keddie, a publisher of his as well, at the company where he was vice-president, took it upon himself each year to write Starrett a report of the dinner. On January 30, barring accidents, I shall be four weeks along in a Reno residence of six, in an effort to procure a divorce which will enable me to marry Ray. Indoctrinated students will deduce that (by an innocent misunderstanding) a portion of this work was set from unrevised copy, and this first edition will remain identifiable by a number of irregularities, notably in Mr Edgar Smitha€™s valuable concordance. However, it was signed by several at a most successful meeting of the Irene Adler division or Ladies' Auxiliary held immediately after the dinner. Copies of 221-B were distributed and autographed more or less by all present, and a jolly good time was H.
Now, as Holmes has pointed out, Curry is an excellent disguise for the taste of opium, and (you remember) would be the logical flavor to use in food into which opium was to be introduced. He said that his father had known Holmes very intimately, and he even went so far as to say that Holmes's mental processes had influenced his father's thinking. He also suggested that only Hitler could have written the impetuous and irresponsible letter which caused all the trouble. Julian Wolff, who made a couple of neat little maps of spots in the stories about a year ago (I asked him at the time to send copies to you), and he is doing a bang-up job with London, England, the Continent and the world - creations that will be well worth framing and hanging.


I had photostats made of it, and am sending you a copy herewith, in case you haven't seen it.
And none have been found from 1941 through 1945, though some pictures were taken by others at the BSIa€™s special Trilogy Dinner at the Murray Hill Hotel on March 30, 1944. Christopher Morley (still beardless at this time) is at the head of the table, in black tie, leaning to catch something Frederic Dorr Steele is saying to him.
Absent from all seven are the signatures of Elmer Davis, Malcolm Johnson, and Warren Jones, all of whose names are in Smitha€™s minutes.
Smith took on the work of Buttons in January 1940, sending out dinner invitations to the rather casual list of members Christopher Morley provided, and preparing minutes afterward, it was all new to him.
His name appears in Smitha€™s minutes, but his signature does not in any of the seven surviving copies of 221B.
Some names do not appear on either the 1935 or 1940 membership lists, and we will not see them again after this night. Yet one man there a€” the man with the dapper mustache, raising a wine-glass in salute a€” is still in the ranks. Of course no one of my generation can forget the overwhelming, all-pervading atmosphere of the Depression, the atmosphere of fear, fear for onea€™s job, fear for all onea€™s friends, half of whom were out of work.
My friend Basil Davenport, the one man I knew who literally lived in a garret, in the depths of the Depression, supporting himself by writing for that same Saturday Review of Literature a€” precariously, because the Saturday Review didna€™t always have the money to pay contributors.
After countless hours of research on and about this breed, here is my version of how this wonderful breed came to be.In the early 1800a€™s Scotsman Bruce McKinsey moved his family moved from the cold damp climates of Northern Scotland to the Grampian Hills of Central Scotland. This widely beloved stamp was re-issued in 2000 and mother continues to receive philatelic fan mail to this day.
He died the day I was composing a colophon for the Spawned Salmon with words of praise for his lifea€™s work.
By the time he holds the pink slip and consigns your sorry ass to Eternal Flame, you don't even know what happened, or how.
Made second-team all-American as a sophomore, had the NFL scouts drooling all over themselves. They spread a crazy fever through the streets, more like cults than gangs: Secte Rouge, Cochon Gris, Vinbrindingue, Bissage. The Voodoo gangs packed a higher caliber of fear than I've ever seen - you could feel it crackle in the air all over Algiers, juicing your nerves. The stink of the place nearly made me gag - rotting chicken guts, fermented blood, other smells I couldn't name and didn't want to. The doc said it was a miracle I hadn't bled to death, said it looked like the wound had been cauterized with a blowtorch. I figured it was the mambo's idea of a joke, but I parked across from the place and waited.
By the time that grinning piece of shit realized he'd lit the wrong fuse, it was too late for all of us. It looked like somebody had painted that whole room with the Cochon Gris and used Vixama's gizzard for a brush.
I jerked the Beretta out from under the pillow and pointed it at the doorway, figuring the Gris had found me. He trades you a few sins for this piece, a cheap vice for that one, damns you by scraps and slivers.
If you could go back in time to attend just one BSI dinner from years gone by, which one would it be? It was a publication party for the first BSI anthology of Writings About the Writings, Vincent Starretta€™s 221B: Studies in Sherlock Holmes, with most of its contributors present that night.
Mistakes can be corrected, assumptions confirmed, missing passages filled in, and hitherto-unsuspected aspects revealed. Starrett could be excused for overlooking it, since he had been out of the country at the time, on an extended tour of duty. The changes I would have made are of a rather minor character, and probably if it were not my own child I would not be conscious of the few warts that disfigure it. Our dearly beloved public won't know Staphonse from Staphouse (if that's not in the eight pages) and even if they do find ground for pinning us down, the controversy might actually be profitable. I hope everything comes out satisfactorily, and that you will be East again before too long. It was the first of an unbroken series of annual minutes prepared by Smith through 1960, the year of his death. A copy of the book, presented with the compliments of the publishers, was put at each place. Cecil For(r)rester, who expressed his sympathy and pledged his assistance in the Society's research in the matter of his ancestral relations with a certain governess.
Harris says, the Irregulars meeting every January, at Cavanagha€™s by then, grew so many for the room, that diners no longer had the elbow-room to wield an oyster fork).
His talk that evening, Morley reported in writings reprinted earlier in this volume, was a€?probably the most charming discourse to which we have listened.a€? Later, though, as Morley also observed, Denis Conan Doyle (not to mention his sometimes volcanic younger brother Adrian) came to regard the BSI as some sort of conspiracy dedicated to usurping their fathera€™s reputation and accomplishments.
Very different from Woollcott, he wrote in a vein of decorous modesty asking if he could be put on the waiting list and offered to undergo any sort of inquest of suitability. In every respect but this the dinner at the Murray Hill Hotel last week was a roaring success, and the book -- however it may ride the seas -- was properly launched. Altick is the author of many books, including the evocatively titled Victorian Studies in Scarlet in 1972.
How he came to write to Vincent Starrett in Chicago, he no longer remembers, but from his papers at Franklin & Marshall come these two letters from Starrett, who encouraged him, commented on his paper, and saved it until 221B came along as a convenient outlet a few years later. It seems to me that you have made out an excellent case and I hope you may find an editor who will publish the paper.
It was, instead, a trip around the world of his own, paid for by the sale of his 1935 novel The Great Hotel Murder to the movies.
Unable to identify Latham, I offered a complimentary copy of the next volume of BSI History to anyone who could. I propose that you and I appoint ourselves a committee, perhaps together with Harold Latham of the Macmillan Company, to arrange this matter.
It isna€™t so hot, in my opinion a€” only about 400-500 place names, and many of the richest ones not geographical at all. Just as soon as he gets a little breathing spell he is planning to write you a lengthy epistle. His paper a€?The Creator of Holmes in the Flesha€? reads as if it had originally been a talk a€” perhaps at the a€™36 dinner, about which we have few details. Warren Force (died 1959) was in the tar business a€” founder and chairman of the Hydrocarbon Products Company, Inc., and a director and the treasurer of the Tar Distilling Company and Old Colony Tar Company at the time of his death.
The Five Orange Pips had been founded in 1935 independently of the BSI, perhaps in blissful ignorance of its existence; and for ten years they regarded the BSI as the lesser body. Leavitt, BSI by way of the Grillparzer Club well before 1934, railed about it to Julian Wolff many years later, when Wolff had succeeded Smith as the BSIa€™s Commissionaire.
An uncle of mine who must have been a contemporary of Watson in Edinburgh continued to put the sundries of his evening comfort in the coal box a€” which never had held coal a€” until his death a few years ago. He was across the prairies and over the Rockies in Reno, Nevada, in the process of getting a divorce from his first wife, Lillian Hartsig, in the days when six weeksa€™ residence in a€?The Biggest Little City in the Worlda€? was the quickest way. Starrett, an action which, in the preoccupations which ensued, was probably not accomplished.a€? But other Irregularsa€™ copies did make the rounds of the table.
Steelea€™s hand was steady, but some signatures show signs of having been inscribed a few rounds of drinks later. I tore up two or three attempts to do it from an old drawing, finally put on my old dressing gown and posed for it in the mirror.a€? The parenthetical passage which had been missing held the clue. Randall hoped to resell it intact to someone, perhaps a library where it would be available for scholarly use, but in 1943 finally offered it up piecemeal.
Latham writes me from Macmillan that he will see that a complimentary copy goes to everyone. I carried a coal scuttle of the Baker Street variety to New York, and it was placed in triumph, and, I hope, in complete vindication of Watson's reporting, in the middle of the table - we kept the cigars in it. And, yes, I'll hang on to the remaining two chapters I have and use them (I am sure) before your book goes into print. We are thinking of putting out the Gazetteer together about June 1st, as a private effort, illustrated with reductions of these maps, which would really touch it off. This was his first BSI dinner and he was meeting virtually all these men for the first time that night. Ronald Mansbridge was born in England in 1905, attended Cambridge University, and came to the United States in 1928 to teach at Barnard College.
6, sitting next to my old friend Basil Davenport, who has another old friend of mine, Peter Greig, on his right. When I arrived in New York in 1928, I had a letter of introduction to Chris from Sheldon Dick, whom I knew at Corpus, Cambridge. I missed that one, but I happened to follow Archie on a trip across America, about a week behind him, staying at some of the same hotels.
Basil was too proud to accept money from a rich aunt Juliet; but he did let her pay his membership dues at the Yale Club, which he called a€?the most inclusive club in New York,a€? and which he liked because he could take their thick correspondence cards and cut them to fit inside his shoes perfectly when the soles wore out.
Like so many others, he was hit by the Depression, but made ends meet by doing public relations work for various and sundry. I remember an animated discussion with him once about a book on Horace we had published at Cambridge University Press.
Although he didna€™t attend the dinner, he made arrange-ments for copies of 221B: Studies in Sherlock Holmes to be distributed at the dinner.
The engraving was masterfully done by Schmidta€™s long-dead colleague, Bohumil Heinz (1894-1940).
The state security apparatus was surely aware of my presence, but if they kept tabs on me, I never knew.
Figured I'd go hardship after my junior year, pick up a cool million in signing bonuses, maybe more. God, she was one fine Creole woman - skin as smooth and sweet as milk chocolate, eyes as wet and wide as Lake Pontchartrain. The rest is lost in fog, except for glimpses that sometimes leap out of the darkness and rip another chunk out of my soul before I can kick them back into the shadows. I also knew he had a punk named Ti' Joe in one of the cages, a street soldier for the Cochon Gris. Teddy gave me a spare key to his place and fumbled through a few awkward words of sympathy before he made his escape. The midday sun beat down so fierce that it boiled clouds of vapor out of the steamy marsh beyond the graveyard… but that place still made me shiver, friend. It was huge and shapeless and impossibly black - a hole torn out of the daylight straight into the bottom of a Bayou swamp. I slipped out the side exit, tossed the suitcase in the trunk of the Buick, and got out of there as fast as I could. I propped my head on a pillow that smelled like somebody’s old socks and planned my getaway. Something slithered through the doorway where the mambo had been: a featureless blob, black on black.
The very first, in 1934, when Alexander Woollcott rode across Manhattan in a hansom cab with Vincent Starrett to crash the party? And we can get a glimpse of the magical evening of January 30, 1940, in a BSI dinner photograph a€” apparently the first ever taken a€” which in 1990 we did not know had ever existed. Much new is there: the dinner photo and a key to it, letters from Vincent Starrett, Edgar W. But he went on to implicate Christopher Morley in defense of such a deplorable situation: a€?To quote Mr.
I doubt that time remains to enable the development of an essay on the Obliquity of the Ecliptic, but it is barely possible, if I apply myself assiduously, that I might have ready for confidential distribution for those present, a typewritten copy of the Gazetteer on which I have recently been making fairly decent progress. I was altogether too finicky, anyway, in writing you as I did, and I hope you'll forgive me. The meeting voted spontaneously to send greetings and a fully autographed copy of the book to Mr.
There were some veterans of the Three Hours for Lunch Club and the Grillparzer Sittenpolizei Verein, like Frank Henry, Malcolm Johnson, Bill Hall, Mitchell Kennerley, and Robert K. In my capacity as Buttons, I shall be sending you as sober an account of the evening as I can see my way clear to put together. Anyway, let me know what you think of it, and how it might be improved, and perhaps for Christmas or some time before I can get my bargain-price printer to put it in type. There was a short session of the Irene Adler division here in Reno, at which I presided - Basil Rathbone being at the Wigwam Theatre in The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. He is still at work, and his most recent book, a study of the first ten years of Punch, was published in 1997.
You will be more likely to find one favorable to the idea of publication, I think, if you will abbreviate the essay skillfully; its length just now is against it, I'm afraid.
Starretta€™s journey began in the Orient and ended in Europe, with his first visit to London in some years. The suggestion of the Murray Hill, as well as the impetus for the 1940 BSI dinner, came from Christopher Morley.
A cost estimate I recently saw for a businessman visiting New York in 1941 gave $3.35 a day for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Smith as Buttons communicated with the membership through memoranda to the BSI, sometimes enclosing whatever membership list was current at the time.
Bell, who was unaccountably omitted from the list of those invited to last Januarya€™s celebration; and that of Dr. Stolper and Howard Swiggett, respectively a professor of English at Columbia University who scandalized his colleagues by contending that literature should be taught by writers, and a novelist well-known in his day, with links to the New York Police Commissioner, and later to certain cryptic wartime British missions in New York. Leavitt, and Gene Tunney, plus at least one other, non-fiction and mystery writer Hulbert Footner, whose only known connection with the BSI is his name on this 1940 list. Leavitt swore to this version of history in a€?The Origin of 221B Worship,a€? his 1961 memoir of the BSIa€™s early years.
Smith eventually coaxed the Pips into the BSI, and then struggled to save them in 1947 when Christopher Morley felt the BSI had grown too large and unruly.
Hence the membership of people like Don Marquis, Frank Henry, Bucky Fuller and other friends of Chris Morleya€™s who couldna€™t be annoyed with studying the Sacred Writings. It was, I tell you, an ornamental piece of furniture, and when the fire needed replenishing, the bell-pull at the end of the mantel-piece brought the servant lassie from the kitchen with a cannily measured a€?scuttlea€? of coal, from which the fire was fed with great daintiness and dexterity. Smith sat next to Keddie at the dinner, and the two men hit it off a€” less than three months later, Smith was in Boston to join the Keddies Sr. To do so, he and Starrett produced a catalogue still highly desirable for its own sake, both for the many splendid items at what today seem sheer giveaway prices, and for the rich canonical fantasy which Starrett and Randall wrote into it.
We will try to keep the actual dinner within the blood royal, but as soon as it has taken place Macmillan can make good boblicity out of it to help the book. Watson, but probably not so well - at least he didn't seem to understand him as well as he did Holmes. Denis Conan Doyle is off to himself a bit in the corner; not intentionally perhaps, but capturing a sense of the remove between the Conan Doyle Estate and the BSI.
How well he managed to associate names with faces that evening, when high spirits and hard spirits were the order of the day, is unclear. A few of them, Irregulars active today were able to know in person before they fell from the ranks. In 1930 he was appointed Cambridge University Pressa€™s representative here, a position he held for forty years.
It was clear that he had made quite an impression; at one hotel they asked me whether I wanted whisky for breakfast. Roberts, author of A Note on the Watson Problem, and then Doctor Watson, which Frank Morley at Faber & Faber published. After spending time together working the sheep in the fields and watching how McKinseya€™s dogs worked the livestock, Alexander eventually acquired a female Scottish Colley from Bruce and named her Flora.
Everything is just so wonderful and everybody so creative, but suspending judgment long enough to actually look at some artwork and then giving it a chance isna€™t so bankrupt, is it?
Human body parts are again flying and the Baron is at his best defeating Turks and evading friendly fire from buffoonish generals. Farmers would occasionally find their possessions and take them as souvenirs, unaware that the last Indians still lived in their midst. Damn the cost; ita€™s who we are and the last material vestiges of soulful encounters with our elders a€“ onea€™s whose stories are slipping inexorably away, thinned by each passing year and generation. Their kids were grown and they were by then slipping into that last, reflective phase of life a€“ done competing. Then that lard-ass hillbilly tackle blind-sides me in the Georgia game, and my knee is gone. I played hard and clean, never touched a payoff… but if the rules got in the way of a good bust, I bent them. They even stirred things up in the Quarter… and the Mayor won't stand for anybody screwing with the tourists. Nothing obvious… but good vice cops develop an instinct for trouble, or they become dead vice cops.
A street cop sees so much human ugliness that the outer layer of his skin hardens into this armor-plated shell that shields him from the madness he has to wade through every day. I'd broken three of his ribs, shattered his right arm in two places, turned that mocking grin into bloody mush. I sat there with my head in my hands, afraid to move… afraid that I would blow away like smoke.
I dug around in the trunk of the Buick and pulled out the Beretta hidden in the spare tire.
He was the blackest black man I’ve ever seen, maybe because I always saw him in baggy white pants, a baggy white pullover, and a battered white fedora.
Weird symbols littered the walls, along with newspaper photos of ritual gang murders clipped from the Times-Picayune: Mama Lucille’s shrine to mayhem, New Orleans style.
I just wanted out of there, just wanted to put some miles between me and Mama Lucille's Voodoo Kitchen. The muffled glow of street lamps streamed through the curtains, filled the room with ugly shadows. I had this nightmare vision of my own bloody arm lunging out of the darkness to strangle me, but the place was deserted. A couple of other punks sat behind what looked like an embalming table, counting out stacks of hundred dollar bills from a leather suitcase. The last thing I noticed was the embalming table, the leather suitcase filled with more cash than I would earn in a lifetime.
I couldn't go home, couldn't go to Teddy's - I didn't want to go anyplace the cops or the Gris might find me.
Mama Lucille stood there, wearing the same dirty black dress, leering at me like a sooty skull.
I stared into a hole chewed through the skin of the world I knew into a shadow world where demons prowl the savage jungles hunting for wayward souls, where dark magic falls from the sky like poisoned rain. She has a contract with the Secte Rouge to take out the Gris; to take out all the competition, eventually. Or the 1941 dinner, when Rex Stout came for the first time, and electrified Irregulars with a€?Watson Was a Womana€?? That a photo had been taken that night came to light later in a letter from James Keddie of Boston to Vincent Starrett.
Smith, James Keddie, and Christopher Morley, Starretta€™s telegram to the BSI dinner, Morleya€™s handwritten menu, autographs of the Irregular diners that night, the picture of Sherlock Holmes that Frederic Dorr Steele drew that night, the first BSI membership list Edgar W. Incidentally, I think you did us all a service by naming Mycroft Holmes as the detective who solved his problems without ever visiting the scene of the crime or seeing the evidence. Later that year, he wrote the few words about it that follow, in a letter to Allen Robertson of Baltimore (then unknown to the BSI, but later founder i??of The Six Napoleons of Baltimore, and a€?The Reigate Squires,a€? BSI). After the Woollcott condescension most of us were content to go on without any Stated Meetings . It includes the membersa€™ chosen noms de canon, a practice of the Pips which may have inspired the Titular Investitures adopted by the BSI later under Smitha€™s leadership. But it bespoke his confidence in Smith, who had yet to attend a BSI dinner, when he turned first to him for help organizing the 1940 affair. Julian Wolff, whose notable Sherlockian maps qualify him, I think, beyond any suspicion of a doubt for membership. This list has been compiled in a piecemeal fashion from many sources but as time goes on we hope to show improvement! Christopher Morley cited Swiggett in an Irregular way once, in his March 4, 1939, a€?Trade Windsa€? column. Stone of Waltham, Mass., had been in Sherlockian circles since the late a€™Thirties, was a contributor to 221B, and had at-tended the 1940 dinner a€” as he would the a€™41 dinner a month after this list. As a matter of fact, by God, I doubt like hell if Bill Hall could ever have passed a really probing quiz in those early days.
Keddie, who had come from Scotland as a child, had a particular interest in this Baker Street relic in which Sherlock Holmes kept his cigars. I have in my possession a coal box which to my knowledge is nearly fifty years old, but which, until it fell into the hands of the philistines in this country had never held so much as a spoonful of coal. Across the table from him, a nonchalant David Randall tilts his chair back, his hand stuck in his pocket.
Of all his twenty years of writing up BSI dinner minutes, it seems safe to say that this is the one most likely to contain some errors in the list of attendees.
On the basis of the signatures plus the dinner photograph, thirty-seven, if that is Elmer Davis at no.
He arrived in New York with a letter of introduction to Christopher Morley in his pocket; and, with no less a Holmesian than S.
Cambridge University Press had published Shakespearea€™s Imagery and What It Tells Us by Caroline Spurgeon, and I wanted to get publicity for it.
He was the BSIa€™s food-and-drink expert, and worked with me on the annual Oxford and Cambridge dinners in New York too. These scraps turned out to be a deck of medieval playing cards - the second oldest such cards known.
A book is so much more than the sum of its parts a€“ and yet each of us tends to have our own bailiwick in which we shine and to which we look first.
Ti' Joe had a private cell, because the Voodoo punks scared the shit out of the regular low-lifes. On the streets they say the Voodoo punks are immune to fear, but I saw terror in Ti' Joe's eyes. A short, plump mulatto woman with coarse gray hair and a dirty, sweat-stained black dress opened it. I glanced down at the place where I could feel my phantom arm resting on the bed, burning with invisible fire.
I tightened my grip on the Beretta and slipped across the street, followed the casket delivery boys through the side entrance. I drove around until I found a crumbling flophouse between a strip joint and a Cajun diner on Ascon.
What's left will drip down through that black tunnel into the world he sees in nightmares… into a place he doesn't ever want to be.
Maybe there's still time for you to buy it back the same way: with one tiny act of penance at a time. The 1946 dinner, when the premiere issue of The Baker Street Journal arrived arrived at the last moment to be handed out? It was the only one ever attended by a Conan Doyle, Sir Arthura€™s son Denis a€” and the decades-long feud between the BSI and the Conan Doyle Estate dates to that night. Only a few dozen men had been present that night, and it seemed unlikely that a copy would ever surface now, after all these years. According to Smith, Denis listened with bewilderment to the various toasts offered to Holmes and his entourage, and to the scholarly reports on various aspects of the investigatora€™s career. Keddie sent me a jolly letter about it, which, with yours, goes into the permanent records. The difficulty is that it is rather too scholarly for any of the really popular journals - and they are the only ones that pay worthwhile rewards.
I hope in my menial capacity as Boots [sic], I have not, in doing this, incurred the wrath of my Gasogene and Tantalus.a€? Presumably the Morley list from which Smith worked was the 1935 one printed in Irregular Memories of the a€?Thirties (pp.
But beyond that, their Irregular con-nections in 1940 are a mystery, and their names do not appear again in surviving Irregular records. His inscription in the copy of Appointment in Baker Street that he sent Woollcott in 1939 read a€?To Alexander Woollcott in appreciation for loyal work as a Baker Street Irregular,a€? and in 1944, the year following Woollcotta€™s death, he referred to him in Profile by Gaslight (to Leavitta€™s lasting annoyance) as a founder of the BSI. What do you think?a€? I have not seen Morleya€™s reply, but Woollcotta€™s New Yorker article about the 1934 dinner did not appear in 221B. Other veteran BSIs-to-be not on it, but at the a€™41 dinner and many more to come, were Philip Duschnes the bookseller, Charles Honce the A.P.
Watson,a€™ a€?The Game Is Afoot!a€™ and a€?The Second Most Dangerous Man in London.a€™a€? These were suggestions, if you will, at the original meeting, but they were approved, and the Davis Document makes them Constitutional. His defense, when threatened with inquiry, was to roar (and I use the word deliberately a€” ROAR), a€?Dona€™t put me to the question!a€? As him and dare him, for me, to deny it.
In that instance, the coal box, which stood by the fireplace chair, had been used by my mother and by my grandmother before her for the odds and ends of sewing and knitting utensils that a Scotswoman picks up in the afternoon that even her time of rest may not be entirely wasted! Eliot), FVM had returned to New York in 1938 to be trade editor at the Harcourt, Brace company.
Suit will be filed as soon as possible after my residence (six weeks) is established; and if there is no opposition there will be no delay.
But, simply to put the reader on the alert, a few obvious corrections may be noteda€? a€” and Miss Nightwork, perennial Ph.D. Elmer Davis was perhaps the best known national celebrity in the BSI at the time, from his work as a CBS radio newsman.
In those days the very best place to get a book mentioned was Morleya€™s a€?Trade Windsa€? column in the Saturday Review of Literature. We played a game to see who would be the first to telephone the other each year on December 16th, with the words a€?O Sapienta,a€? which we always found on that day in our Cambridge Pocket Diaries. I dona€™t remember his attendance at any of the BSI dinners; but I recall vividly that when we would meet him at dinner at the St. These plates have been inked and wiped by hand, employing methods that woulda€™ve been familiar to Rembrandt. I stuck it in my pocket and steered into the crush of traffic crawling across the bridge into Algiers. Papa Jean was one of the good guys in Algiers: always helping the ones who needed help the most, trying to keep the kids out of trouble. A casket that size could probably hold a hundred kilos of junk, maybe more, worth a king's ransom on the streets. I saw every nightmare that had ever devoured my sleep - my private horde of horrors snarling and slobbering at the gates of their unnatural habitat.
The Voodoo gangs have some nasty magic of their own, but they never think to use it on a crippled ex-cop who can't do shit. The 1948 a€?committee in cameraa€? dinner, when the BSI's future hung by a thread upon Christopher Morleya€™s discontent? There were Crossword Puzzle winners like Basil Davenport, Harry Hazard, Harvey Officer, and Earle Walbridge. Bell was there at the time, and when Bell died in 1947, Starrett recalled in his a€?Books Alivea€? column in the Tribune walking up and down Baker Street with Bell, arguing about which house had been Sherlock Holmesa€™s. Jackson of Barre, Vermont, a Crossword solver, and Morleya€™s friend and Grillparzer crony Buckminster Fuller. Williams (died 1940), who brought his son Peter to the 1940 BSI dinner, was art director at the American Book Company, a well-known book and print collector, and an author of childrena€™s travel books. Would Smith have added Alexander Woollcott to the BSIa€™s membership list without consulting Christopher Morley? If we are met with hostility, the case will have to be argued, and I've no way of knowing how long it might take. Smith is down the table on the opposite side, not yet at its head where he soon will be for the rest of his life. So are the signatures of two more men not named in Smitha€™s minutes, who may be among the unidentified faces in the picture: Ernest S. Following the dinner, Harry Hazard prepared a partial key to the photograph.Elmer Davis is not on it, and the face at no. Roberts as a mentor back home, found himself a Baker Street Irregular on Morleya€™s 1935 membership list. I met him when I was an undergraduate at Cambridge, attending his lectures on Samuel Johnson, but it was in publishing that he made his reputation.
Spurgeon showed the kind of man Shakespeare must have been by tabulating all the metaphors and similes he used, showing him to be familiar with the countryside, gardens, and domestic animals. We thought it began one of the Collects in the Prayer Book; but we were puzzled at its having a special day. Regis Hotel with that most generous host, Howard Goodhart, Rosenbach always had a full bottle of whisky at his place at the table, while the rest of us drank wine.
They crashed with my wife Jana and me in Kalamazoo, while taking the a€?orientation coursea€?nearby. I can confidently report back to my English reader, that Jan would only grow in stature for you, if you could have fully understood the subtlety of his thoughts in his own maternal tongue. A lot of the boys at the Precinct House bought into it, especially the ones who grew up around the Bayou.
The righteous part of Lucius Freeman - the part that laughed at Teddy's lame jokes, that slid a few bucks to homeless bums instead of busting them, that made sweet love to his sweet woman after a fourteen-hour shift when he was almost too tired to move - that part just spilled out of the wreckage and turned to dust. The stink of him… denim marinated in sweat, like the fur of some sickly animal, wrapped in the ghostly scent of ganja. I couldn't go home - couldn't sleep in that house ever again - so Teddy took me in at his place. They had that crazy, invincible glow you see on a junkie's face when he's dropped some PCP. The crematorium would give the Gris an easy way to dispose of enemies - the parts they didn't eat. If I could waste Vixama - the mastermind behind most of the horror in Algiers - that would be revenge enough.
Before they know different, they wind up looking like a spilled vat of bloody gumbo - Mama's special recipe. Or perhaps the dinner a€” the date still uncertain a€” when Jim Montgomery sang a€?Aunt Claraa€? for the first time.
Recently (within a year) I had the same problem on my hands - and found no American editor whatever for a Sherlockian essay which has since found place in an English Symposium or anthology issued as a book. As a charter member, I call for a prompt and continued honoring of the wise provisions of The Founding Fathers. Weber declared himself a€?Judge Lynch,a€? his pen-name as chief mystery book reviewer in the Saturday Review of Literature.
James Keddie sits next to him, and on the table nearby is the orthodox coal-scuttle he has brought from Boston.
Colling, a former New York Evening Post colleague of Morleya€™s (its movie critic, who helped turn Morleya€™s 1922 novel Where the Blue Begins into a play in 1925), and H. He attended the annual dinner for the first time in 1936, and is the only living person to have attended BSI dinners at both the Murray Hill Hotel and, before that, Christ Cellaa€™s speakeasy. He was Secretary to the Syndics of Cambridge University Press from 1922 to 1948, and more than any other one man he had brought the University Press out of the academic backwaters into the mainstream of publishing. My wife and I spent three long evenings reading four of Morleya€™s books and doing the same to him.
I know that your love will last for all time, that your faithfulness is as permanent as the sky. Perhaps right for those who shouldna€™t have sharp objects, for fear of hurting themselves. That show was purchased whole by Special Collections at Western Michigan University and constitutes the largest collection of Sobota bindings and the most complete archive of my work.
New Orleans doesn't just sing, friend: it jitters and jives and wails like a wild animal that can't be caged. That night, I huddled on Teddy's lumpy couch and suffered through nightmares that refused to end… nightmares that would never end. I paid for the room with a twenty, pretended not to notice while the clerk stared at my vacant sleeve.


Edgar Smitha€™s affectionate zeal, not less than his Sherlockian scholarship, his gusto in pamphleteering, his delight in keeping orderly records, and his access to mimeographic and parchment-engrossing and secretarial resources, all these were irresistible.
Henry Morton Robinson was a popular writer whose 1943 Saturday Review article about the BSI, a€?Baker Street Irregularities,a€? was reprinted in Irregular Memories of the a€™Thirties. Weber, had been at the 1936 dinner, and the 1940 too, despite the silence of Smitha€™s minutes on that score. Bell at the Victoria Hotel, to found the BSIa€™s first scion society, The Speckled Band of Boston.
Price, the American Bank Note Company executive who had solved the Sherlock Holmes Crossword in 1934.
Davis and Hazard had been at the 1936 dinner together a€” their signatures are both on a surviving copy of that nighta€™s menu. His a€?Profile of a New York Irregular,a€? about Basil Davenport, appeared in Irregular Proceedings of the Mid a€™Forties.
Few people would have cast a second glance at that glued-up mess of moldering old papers before pitching it, nor would they have recognized what they had in hand or known how to restore or sell it. The siren in my head screaming now, but my heart thumping louder, pounding out one frantic thought. The Cochon Gris had stolen everything: my wife and my job, the two things I loved in this world.
I felt, I heard the brittle crack of bone, the sharp twang of snapping sinews, the meaty rip of muscle tearing like soggy paper. I figured I'd stop by the house in the morning and pick up my passport, then take a drive out to Moisant and catch a flight to Mexico City. She laughed while it crushed the life out of her, cackled while it plucked off her arms and legs like the wings off a mutant moth. The stolen arm of the loa wrapped me in a tentacle of fire, lifted me above the bed, hurled me across the room. I dona€™t suppose that any society of Amateur Mendicants has ever had a more agreeable or competent fugleman. Simeon Strunsky at the New York Times, a€?dean of grammarians,a€? as Morley liked to call him, had been on the 1935 membership list as well, though he (like Rosenbach) never attended a BSI dinner.
Standing against the wall are two of Morleya€™s closest friends, Bill Hall in deerstalker, and Robert K. He was the author of A Note on the Watson Problem, 100 copies, privately printed at the Cambridge U.P. 15: But you, O Lord, are a merciful and loving God, always patient, always kind and faithful.
These folks were a profound blessing to a family facing some truly rough sailing a€“ a Godsend. Schmidt had worked was signed with warm dedications to him and thus worth real money to collectors.
He wanted to see the printmaker in me come to full fruition and I wanted to be worthy of his attentions. The family has dwelled within sight of the seats of power, pushing copper plates through a press and outlived the Hapsburg Monarchy, First Republic, Nazis and Communists.
The intact packages were still there on their shelves, all duly graded, labeled and priced, awaiting an owner who was never to return. John Winterich was a prominent critic who had also been a colleague of Morleya€™s at the Saturday Review of Literature. Mans-bridge lives in Connecticut, and it is an honor to publish the following reminiscence here. Back home, their Czech neighbors would have envied them and accused them of theft or worse, but people here seemed to be pleased as punch to see them prosper a€“ genuinely happy for them.
Those items too, kept trickling out the door, until there came a sad, sad day, when the golden eggs were all gone.
Leavitt, Harvey Officer, James Keddie, Earle Walbridge, and other legendary figures from the BSIa€™s early days. He could be serious, but never solemn; the lighter side of letters and life appealed to him, and he became prominent in the affairs of both Sherlock Holmes Societies (pre-war and post-war) in England. They bashfully admitted their foolishness and went back to making beautiful books a€“ and their American friends were so relieved to see them regain their sanity. You take time to grieve and then pick yourself up by your bootstraps (by God a€“ get a grip) and get on with it (Rome wasna€™t built in a day you know). StrejA?ek was still working, but it was all coming to an inevitable end, as he grew shaky of hand and hard of seeing. During the week white parents were seen in and out of the facility and on the weekend they would pick-up their children and take them home. Stone and Howard Haycraft, sitting against the wall further down, preserve a serious demeanor.
He ended up with two-thirds of a column in Whoa€™s Who, and many honors: Master of Pembroke College, Cambridge, Vice-Chancellor of Cambridge University, and finally Sir Sydney.
Across the table, Charlie Goodman and his brother Jack beam at the camera, while Mitchell Kennerley the bookman, who will take his own life ten years hence, studies the back of his hand somberly. There isna€™t any information as to the demise of Alexander, but he was well into his 80's at this time. 8: But God has shown us how much he loves us a€“ it was while we were still sinners that Christ died for us!Hebrews 13, vs. Enriched by my days of being nurtured by Prague, Matkou MA›st (Mother of Cities), I moved on to meet my destiny with art. My time was spend one block over on 13th and V Street working out of Harrison Playground and Harrison Elementary. Further down, Harvey Officer, soon to be the BSIa€™s first songster with his Irregular anthem a€?The Road to Baker Street,a€? smiles shyly at the camera. C.,a€? bluff, friendly but business-like, at ease in any company and in any country a€” even riding a camel in Egypt, winning a race against another one ridden by an Oxford man. The owlish bespectacled man at the bottom of the picture may or may not be Elmer Davis; across from him, Earle Walbridge makes another appearance in what will long stand as the record for unbroken attendance at the annual dinners. Basil Davenport turns toward Peter Greig, as Ronald Mansbridge raises a wine-glass in salute.
I was of no help, I knew little or nothing about Hillcrest and how it served the community.
This pup would come to be known as "Jet", a black pup with a faint line of white up his face, a white chest and socks. I would come home from work and plop myself in the chair for A? hour or so, wash up, change my clothes and eat dinner. I was more concerned about the knuckleheads I would encounter hanging out in the U Street corridor. I can count on my one hand the number of times I played ball with my boy or took my daughter shopping.
We discussed what remedies we could use to combat these acts of truancy.A My thoughts, why not try to use athletics as a motivational tool? Both theseA lines worked from the head and didn't have the a€?loose eyeda€? working style of the traditional Collies.If you look at the picture of the Basque Sheepherder, taken at the turn of the century, you can see the resemblance of our modern day McNab in the Black and white dog in the back on the right side.
I feel sorry for my children for not being there for them and sorry for my wife because she raised the kids pretty much on her own and she did a great job of it.
The athletic team concept helped me to improve my school attendance and discipline, why not use the same vehicle for these knuckleheads (I know a knucklehead when I see one, because I was one). I am sorry for myself also because the moments that I missed with my children can never be recovered. A I would notice after school the young men who should have been attending Harrison during school hours would migrate to the playground.
I thought I was doing my best by beingA a goodA provider but in my older wisdom I know that being a Dad was the most important thing they needed.
Cousins and Roving Leader Director, Stanley Anderson, I held tryouts for the Harrison touch football team on Harrison Playground in the evenings after school. You name the sport, football, basketball, baseball, track and field, most could run like the wind. I wished that I could have been that talented at their young age.Getting them to tryout for the team was easy, but getting them to improve their attendance and their grades was not going to be an easy chore.
The rules of participation were; regular school attendance, maintain a C average, respectful behavior (no profanity) and be on time for school and practice. Several I had to dismiss from the team or I benched them in favor of a not so talented teammate, but as we started to win without them, they changed their rebel ways.A I convinced other elementary schools in walking distance of Harrison to participate, Garrison and Grimke principals liked the concept and came aboard. The idea went over so well other elementary schools wanted to participate and the program went city-wide.
With my coaching genius, Harrison Elementary won the first City Wide Elementary Touch Football League Championship. It took several practices before Andrew Johnson my high school teammate and police officer could convince his colleagues to take off their guns during practice.A The league was the brainchild of the late Mayor for Life, Marion Barry. Among Scottish flocks he is the pride of Scottish owners, and is valued, both in the Old World and the New, as one of the best aids money can procure.
He created us, molded us, watches over our lives, provides for us, and when we die He brings us into His kingdom.
The league was designed to help improve police community relations and it did for a minute.A In 1968 all hell broke loose after the gun related death of our Prince of Peace in Memphis, Tn, Dr.
Here even, in far California, there is one ranch, lying high on the breezy mountains and low in the grassy dells, that for years has relied upon the help given by imported collies and their offspring, and it is of the work these bright dogs do that this article is written.For the history of the collie one must look elsewhere than in a brief magazine sketch. I remember NFL Hall of Fame and Green Bay Packer player Willie Wood and I standing on the corner of 9th and U Streets after having lunch at the in-crowd hangout of the Che Maurice restaurant. Many wise dogs have journeyed far by land and sea to race over the rugged hills after the nimble sheep, which in these mountain wilds give fleet defiance to the would-be-gatherer. A  I learned something from every man I met or exchanged emails with, and Lou taught me a few words in Spanish.A  Ole!
It was a beautiful bright sun shiny April 4th day when someone rode by in a car and yelled "Harold Bell they just shot and killed Dr. No one but a real Scotch shepherd can train these dogs to the perfection they attain among Scottish flocks under constant supervision.
Descended from long generations of workers the puppies take actively to business, and practice amusing tactics of herding on the farm poultry while still too young to be initiated into the graver cares of life; and at first sight of a band of sheep will usually make some move that denotes the shepherd strain. A Our boss Stanley Anderson requested that we stay on the streets because we might be able to save a child. A I was told to report to the Third District HQ to meet with Assistant Chief Timon O'Bryant. Literally is it true of the collie, Ye cannot serve two masters ; his allegiance must be given to but one, or the valuable animal becomes worthless for the work that nature and training have given him to do.
It was customary at that time for Rabbis (Jesus was onea€”it meant teacher) when they were among a crowd to say the first verse of a Psalm. The breeze is sweet with bloom, and the sunlight falls, a flood of golden glory, over the lavish green of April meadow, as we take the upward trail, a woodland path that rises steeply under the shadow of the Peak, giving but glimpses of the valley home below, and winding through still shadows in the absolute silence of Natures own domains. He told the officers to watch my back because I would be on the streets with them trying to keep the peace.
Higher we go, and onward, past an old stone cabin, a picturesque bit of ruin in the lap of spring. What He most likely was doing was wanting the rest of the people, and us, to say the rest of the Psalm. He then gave me a police badge to assist me in getting through police and military barricades.
As we come out from the woods with the Peak still above us, send a swift glance northward, where Sanhedrim and the northern mountains still are capped in glittering snow, rising sharply from green valleys to the sunny sky, their sparkling peaks the only hint of winter in all this summerland. The Chili Bowl was the only business allowed to stay open during the riots, thanks to an assist from Chief U. Off he dashes up the hill, makes a wide circle past a dozen ewes, and as they bolt up hill heads them, turns, and deftly drives them down. Their lambs lie asleep in the warm sun or frolic together on the hillside, bright bits of movement white against the green.
After the White House had ordered all businesses to shut-down, Luke intervene on behalf of Ben's explaining to President Lyndon B. A motion of the hand directs the alert dogs, and they join the two bands and send them steadily along the trail. Johnson that Ben's needed to stay open for first respondents, doctors, nurses, police, fire departments, military personnel and youth advocates like myself, we needed some place to eat. Two ewes and a lamb go running to the side.Here, Pete!The dog dashes quickly across a little hill, the bright drops sparkling on his black coat as he passes the sheep and turns them. Kendall===============================================================================Pastor Pop-Pop June 12, 2010. The administrators at the Hillcrest Children's Center reported having problems with neighborhood youth and some adult residents harassing staff and family members of their patients.
Circling in front again, the dog overtakes, turns them, follows, and turns again, and patiently works them along till his troublesome charges are safely among their fellows. A friend on the staff of Children's Hospital recommended that they talk with me about the problem.
If sent to hurry the little flock, he dashes at the hindmost, barking his orders.Here the master whistles Fred to the right. Nothing is visible to him, but off scurries the obedient dog, barking frantically, circles, and stops. We can take a little walk, maybe get our feet wet, and then lie on a blanket and listen to the waves. A The tour of the facility was an eye opener for me, I could not believe there was a indoor swimming pool, in door and outdoor basketball courts, overnight facilities for patients and a cafeteria.
Long wanted to open the facility to kids in the neighborhood on the weekends (Saturday only). Off he dashes, perhaps fifty feet or so ahead, and dropping to the ground with nose between his paws, he waits till the flock is close upon him ; then he springs up and trots ahead again, and once more quietly waits their coming.Fred! I thought this was a great ideal, but there was a catch, they wanted me to run the program.
The master walks away, and Fred, understanding perfectly that he must keep the flock, swiftly circles round them and brings them to a halt.
Here, alone, he holds them, keeping them closely together while Peter and the master gather the other side of the hill, and return two hours later to find the sheep quietly grazing and Fred lying as quietly watching them.Two ewes wander a little too far. Scarcely rising to his feet, the dog slips quietly through the grass beside them, and they turn and slowly rejoin the band, cropping as they go. There was no-way I was giving up that job, I still had dreams of playing in the NFL.I had a sit-down discussion with my wife Hattie, my brother Earl and my friend Andrew Johnson, both DC cops. Fred trots quietly around his charges, sees that all are safe, then drops down again, watching them ceaselessly with shining eyes, and not a ewe or lamb is missing when the returning master adds his flock.Steadily we climb, through the golden afternoon. We reached a compromise and figure out a way to open the facility on Saturdays to neighborhood kids without me missing a game. Occasionally shy deer peer through the brush, the warm air is sweet with the breath of bloom, and a distant eagle screams as he sweeps in stately circles over the Peak. Lost loves, friends, jobs, disagreements with others, death of relatives, and depression are just some of the reasons we lose pride and hope in one self. I do the same thing myself, when the mood strikes.A  And how about this for being an "in tune with women" kinda guy?A  A few days after I had ordered myself 2 new green dresses and several in black to add to my collection from a mail order company named Newport News, he sent an email asking:A  "So, what are you wearing right now?
The flocks number in the hundreds as we finally reach the summit, where we are met by the shepherd and Tweed, with another band.
We could go on with this forever so today I am just addressing those qualities in single people. In go the dogs, and send the sheep briskly down the trail, while Peter, circling far behind of his own accord, often brings in a stray ewe that has slyly dropped out.Yonder is a place where the whole band broke away years ago, and never have forgotten it, but neither have the dogs. With single people, it could just be the problem with finding the right a€?someonea€? to love. The delay or loss of a past love (among other things) could send someone spiraling downward into a loss of respect for themselves. With a fierce challenge the collies vigorously meet the flying band, and force them back to the trail more roughly than we have seen them do yet, in punishment, perhaps, for their presumption and past sins.
A The first ever students bused in from Tacoma-Park Seven Day Adventist Church from Tacoma-Park, Md. She has bolted away several times, and given Peter much trouble to bring her in ; but his Scotch is up, as she dashes away again. Nationally, there are 85.6 unmarried men for every 100 unmarried women and the birthrate is approximately 53% women over men.
He springs in before her, and with a dexterous hoist of his body sends her tumbling end over end, which is his own cure for these troublesome bolters, and was never known to fail. Today, high school and college students can earn credits toward graduation for volunteering in the community (unheard of before 1968).The first ever NFL Films nationally televised (CBS) community promo was video taped at Hillcrest in 1972. They have the a€?TV-ADa€? looks, drugs, drinking, sex, and instant communication (cell and text). Integrity and honesty were their hallmarks during all the community First accomplished at the Hillcrest Saturday Program, they had my back. As if shot from a cannon, the ewe bangs against him, and over goes Tweed, howling rolling over and over, down the steep hillside, all four feet kicking at once, in angry protest as they come uppermost ; and his chap-fallen expression, as he struggles to his feet and slinks away, shows that Tweed is both a sadder and a wiser dog. Some people give up on themselves and become self destructive with over eating and drinking or hibernation. Though all are trained alike in a general way, two collies differ as widely in characteristic methods of work as two men,each possessing a distinct individuality of his own.Ah! A He was arrested under a state statute for insurrection, because he protested unequal justice and segregation laws while championing an interracial workers movement.. He was summarily sentenced to life in prison, though released on appeal following massive black protests. After much hard running the flock is finally under control, but a bunch of lambs has become separated in the confusion, and after circling helplessly, stampedes in wild disorder. Peter tries his wise best to work the foolish little things back, vainly attempting to head them off.but they jump over him, halfa-dozen in succession, ears and tails flapping wildly as they clear his broad back. A  For Christ Sake!!A  How about saving the Taxpayers a buck?A  In addition to that $6 million you've already blown by hovering and covering me, and scheduling a proper Face to Base meeting in your office; at my convenience?
While the master separates the sheep, let us sit on this sunny hillside and watch the collies as they circle round the running lambs. They never bark at them as they would at old sheep, but merely follow and slowly check them by degrees. A Of course, the wise and the learned who pen A  A  A  A  A  A  A  editorials in the papers, and the ladies and gents with Dr.
The little things are both obstinate and foolish, and at first pay no attention to the quiet collies that trot patiently round and round, quietly gather them together, and at last stop their wilr1 run. Slowly, and with marvelous patience they are turned, jumping over each other, then over the dogs, and it seems a hopeless task even to attempt to take them the half-mile to the corral, but in a couple of hours time Fred and Peter come slowly up to the gate with them, not a lamb hurt or missing, and their first acquaintance made with these gentle protectors and friends. Peter is a favorite, bright even beyond the ordinary collie, his first appearance in the field showing a canine reason. Then he suddenly spied a huge rock; straight for it he went, and springing into sight upon its top, he stood a moment, one paw uplifted, ears up and nose a-quiver, a pretty picture, gave two quick glances, and was down and with the sheep again, and quietly drove them straight across the field to the hidden gate. Often, till he learned the hills, did he leave the sheep,, and on some high point literally take his bearings, to return to his charge and take them down the better way, justifying his masters assertion that surely the line between reason and instinct is closely drawn in the Scotch collie. He was a ready match for a certain obstinate old ram, that always fought the dogs and delayed their work ; till at last when sent for the flock Peter went first for this old enemy, and there, nose to nose, both heads bobbing excitedly, he would angrily bark and growl, till the conquered ram at last would make a sudden bolt, and the victorious Peter calmly gather in the flock. A most conscientious dog, his work was done faithfully and well till years disabled him; but Fred, more alert to praise, did best were strangers present, when he abounded in bright ways and brilliant work, done with a comically conscious air of superior excellence.
From a mana€™s perspective, if a man is looking for a quick date, sex, or just a temporary girlfriend he will frequent a bar. If a man is looking for a long term loving relationship or wife, he will look around church, a library (or book store), coffee bars, or social groups. The young man pondered a little, then to the country saddler he went and ordered made from his description little leather shoes. Dramatic, but no drama.A  Short black skirt, or long black dress?A  Heels or boots?A  Camo, or commando? Dona€™t settle on things that go against you conscience whether it is with yourself or a mate. He took to them kindly, like the wise dog he was, wore them gratefully, and after a long days run through flying seed, off would come the shoes, leaving his feet sound and well. People with multiple divorces fail in relationships, drinkers are good drinkers, abusers (physical or mentally) are just abusers and players, and cheaters are cheaters. People rarely change and never enter a relationship with the thought that you can later on change that person to your expectations. Meekly he would let his shoes be donned, regarding his master quizzically the while, and wear them complacently enough in view, but let him be sent for sheep a little out of sight, a little delay would be noticed, then out from behind some bushy clump or sheltering rock Fred would gayly emerge, with many gambols to divert the eye. If a person you care for ever poses this statement ----- A a€? If you want me (or love me) you need to do a€?this or thata€™.a€? ----- then walk away and dona€™t look back. Clyde closely resembles Fred, whose days are past; and till the present puppy, tiny Tweed, grows to working age, Clyde is the mainstay of the gathering. Help fulfills his name on other portions of the large range ; but either are true types of the working collie, willing and faithful helpers till years disable them.
Either one is sent for sheep entirely out of sight in a large field, and patiently hunts till he finds them, then brings them in alone ; and Gyps mother, Bessie, brings in the entire flock from her owners small range just as readily as from the field. They brought with them their stock dogs, the Fox Shepard, the origin not known, but have survived in Scotland for centuries. McNab returned to the Grampian Hills in Scotland for the sole purpose of getting some of the dogs he was used to working. He brought Peter back with him, leaving Fred to have his training completed, and he was later sent to America. These two dogs were bred to select Shepard females of the Spanish origin, which were brought to this country by the Basque sheepherders, and that cross was called the McNab Shepherds because Mr.
Until then, as in the end,there is much more to come.A A A  Once Upon a Time, a little mushroom popped through the moss covered ground of the Southeast Alaska Rainforest.
He named this pup Jet he was black with a faint white line up his face, a white chest and a small amount of white on his feet.
Some of these dogs will have a wider strip up the face (Bentley Stripe) and a ring around the neck, there are also instances of pups with brown on their face and legs but will still be mostly black. Alexander McNab and his family raised sheep in Scotland, but longed for a warmer climate and enticed by the news of the West, set out across the Atlantic to America. McNab was not satisfied with the type of working dogs he found locally, and in 1885 he returned to Scotland for the sole purpose of importing the type of dog(s) he had been accustomed to working with.
It was said that these two male dogs were bred to female dogs of Spanish origin, which were brought to this country by the Basque sheep herders. I have searched (and continue to search) to find out the type of dog the Basque may have brought with them to California, and my findings were contradicting.
Grant, Attorney at Law, Juneau, AK From Wedding Bells to Tales to Tell: The Affidavit of Eric William Swanson, my former spouse AFFIDAVIT OF SHANNON MARIE MCCORMICK, My Former Best Friend THE AFFIDAVIT OF VALERIE BRITTINA ROSE, My daughter, aged 21 THE BEAGLE BRAYS!
The following religions or faiths consider Jesus as an enlightened spiritual teacher: Jehovaha€™s Witnesses, Mormonism, Unification Church , Christian Science, A? of all Wicca, New Age, Nation of Islam, Bahaa€™i World Faith, Hare Krishna, Hinduism, some of Judaism, and Islam. It is funny that all these listed above recognize him as a great spiritual teacher but do not follow His teachings.
The other half of Wicca, Transcendental Meditation, Scientology, and Buddhists either do not mention Him or He is not important to their way of thinking.
Genesis Chapter #1 in part of verse 2 says, a€?and the Spirit of God was moving over the watera€?.
He won trophies for the best in class in New York State for horseshoes and archery (before compound bows) for several years running. He hunted and fished and always, it seemed, brought back his limit no matter what game, fish, or bird was in season.
He joined the Navy Sea Bees in WW2 and ended up getting drafted in the Marine Corps on an Island in the Pacific during the conflict. The only way there is through His Son Jesus so I accept Him as my Lord and Savior and try my best to follow His ways. HELL'S BELLS: THE TELLS OF THE ELVES RING LOUD AND CLEAR IDENTITY THEFT, MISINFORMATION, AND THE GETTING THE INFAMOUS RUNAROUND Double Entendre and DoubleSpeak, Innuendos and Intimidation, Coercion v Common Sense, Komply (with a K) v Knowledge = DDIICCKK; Who's Gunna Call it a Draw? A ====================================================== ==============================================Note: If you have not seen the movie "Left Behind" with Kirk Cameron, now would be the time. Well to begin with; this promise from God is only for believers and followers of Jesus Christ. Paul was talking about believers and inserted the condition of a€?for those who love Goda€?. You see, when you accept Christ as your Lord and Savior and ask for forgiveness and confess to Him your sins --------- you are washed clean with the blood of Christ. However, sometimes you carry the baggage of the memories of those sins in your mind and heart.
This verse in Romans assures you that your guilt is unjustified because God will make it turn out in the end for good. Jesus did not promise that this life would be easy but that He would walk through those troubled times with you.
Although it was a good one, it caused me much stress and sometimes aspects of it violated my conscience.
I do believe that God is making this bad thing turn out to be good and I think He has a better job for me in the near future. If you believe in God and love Him and believe in His promise, these too will turn out for the better. And leta€™s not forget that even though what his brothers did was a€?wronga€?, God made it into good when Joseph forgave them and helped them. His promise does not make wrong right but makes it turn out into something good for his glory, for us believers. We know that Jesus will walk with us through the valley but God will get us to the mountain top when we get through it. I am sure there are many stories out there of how this verse helped many people weather their storms.
Kendall============================================================Pastor Pop-Pop July 31, 2010. Do not make for yourselves images of anything in heaven or on earth or in the water under the earth.
Do not bow down to any idol or worship it, because I am the Lord your God and I tolerate no rivals. I bring punishment on those who hate me and on their descendants down to the third and fourth generation. It tells us His personality, words, likes, dislikes, rules, commands, pleasures, and all the things he has done. So any god or image of him that does not conform to or match the one described in the Bible (the word of God) is not the God of Israel that we are to worship.
Let us be clear that making images of anything is not a violation of the commandment but actually worshiping it as a god.
Some churches within the body of Christ have pictures or statues of saints or even Jesusa€™ mother. That is not a violation unless the statue (or the person) a€?itselfa€? is being worshiped as a god or the statue is believed to have some sort of power within itself. Wearing a Jewish star or a cross is also not a violation unless the emblem itself is worshiped. If they are decorations that is OK but if you actually place or believe some hope or faith of luck in them, it is a violation of the commandment.
People now seem to create their own god to worship in a€?their own minda€? and not within the scope of the Word of God (the Bible). The one I hear the most is, a€?I am a good person so that is all that is needed to go to Heaven and be saved.a€? That is not what the Bible tells us. Matthew 7:21 (ESV) says, a€?Not everyone who says to me a€?Lord Lord,a€™ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father in heaven.a€? What is the will of the Father? People go around saying god is this or god is that or that is a€?not what I believe ina€™ but if their beliefs are not in line with the Bible, they are in violation of the first commandment. God is OK with working on a Sunday (or having your place of business open), God is OK with Homosexual and Gay behavior, I dona€™t have to go to church and worship Him, I dona€™t have to give, I dona€™t have to forgive everyone, it is OK to kill unborn babies, He is OK with pagan rituals, I can be rude to people, God did not make the earth a€“ and on and on and on. The pastor said that this church was saying the Holy Spirit told them this was OK but another church said that the Holy Spirit was against this and yet another one had a different view point from the Holy Spirit. We all violate them in some way or another but that is why Jesus died on the cross to wash us clean in His blood and absolve us of our faults. He scribed it on stone tablets and gave them to Moses on the mountain top to give to His people.
That is the translation that she likes to use.===============================================================Thou shall have no other gods before me. You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below.
You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I, the Lord your God, am a jealous Goda€¦a€¦a€¦a€¦a€¦a€¦a€¦a€¦. Leta€™s take one at a time and discuss:We discussed this command last sermon (review if you want to).
Have you ever created another God in your mind or worshiped another god of a different religion or faith? Jesus said that if you even lust in your heart (or mind) for another that you violate this commandment. Covet is defined in the NIV dictionary as: To want for yourself something that belongs to another person.
Whether you take it or not, take it and not return it, or just desire it ---- you have violated this commandment.
If you believe in Jesus and accept Him as your Lord and Savior, you are forgiven of your sins and you are washed in His blood clean and white as snow.
A Timothy McVey the mastermind on the Oklahoma bombing defied God and declared that he alone was the a€?master of his destinya€?. A ==============================================================================Pastor Pop-Pop August 24, 2010. Having a good relationship with your spouse, family, friends, or co-workers is usually based on a good two way conversational attitude.
To render Him praise and glory through prayer, actions, good deeds, following His laws and commandments, and accepting Jesus as our Lord and Savior.
He knows what we need before we ask but He likes to hear it from us also with some praise and worship attached. Your Mom knows you need food and gives you healthy meals but approaching her and asking for a snack also tells her you would like some cheese doodles too. Prayers can be from a book, made up by you, from the Bible, or just general conversation between you and God. They can be on your knees by your bed, in Church, or just during every day activities or work.
I try to concentrate not on an earthly or worldly fixture or thing but temporarily close my eyes (not while driving) or look up when I talk to Him. I find one (or a paragraph or verse) that I derive comfort from and say it as a special prayer to the Lord. What can flesh do to me?Psalm 121(NLT): I look up to the mountains-does my help come from there? Go to a good book store and page through some and see which ones are comfortable for you personally. They are good Bibles but one is paraphrased and one is in a so called modern language that, for me, does not read real well. I highly recommend The New Living Translation (NLT), The New Century Version (NCV), or the New American Bible (NAB). The first two are used a lot with Contemporary Christian Churches and the third contains extra books as it was designed to meet the needs of Catholic Christians. I also like the Good News Translation (GNT).A It is important that you like it and are comfortable with it.



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