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MUSE BIRTHDAY EDITIONS:

1998, 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007 and 2008.

The Serpentine Muse
Birthday Edition 2000

A Review of Volume 15, 1999

 

Millennium MUSE-ings

As we either celebrate the last year of an old century or enter a new one (depending on how you keep score), it is time once again for the co‑editors of The Serpentine Muse (Susan Diamond and Marilynne McKay) to give thanks. First of all, our gratitude to Evelyn Herzog and the New York based production team. Ev manages the subscription list and the always important exchequer, as well as coordinating the printing. Every quarter New York area Adventuresses gather to stuff and label envelopes; perhaps a drop or two of wine is partaken of at these sessions; but whatever the system, it works -- and The Muse goes out on schedule to its steadily growing circulation.

Meeting schedules was perhaps even more impressive this year as co‑editor McKay retired from Emory and moved (with husband Ron Hosek) from Atlanta to Albuquerque. With the acquisition of their two new “furkids,” The Muse’s canine editorial support team is up to four: Buddy and Robo in Chicago, Marta and Oly in New Mexico, along with felines Ernie, Lupe, and Uno.

Next thanks go to our contributors -- old friends and new -- who provided readers with wit, insight, and scholarship on a wide range of topics Sherlockian. As we’ve done for the past two years, we’ve prepared this pamphlet to recognize their contributions and to review the events of the past year.

Unfortunately, once again we lost much-loved Adventuresses. In our winter issue, Evelyn Herzog and M.E. Rich remembered Tom Stix, pointing out that he had all the characteristics of an Adventuress -- “commitment to the Sherlockian cause, humor, conviviality, and participation in the group’s activities, coupled with a willingness to make a fool of oneself in public.” In the same issue, we laughed aloud at Evelyn’s remarks from the 1997 BSI “roast” of Tom and remembered happier times.

In 1999, we mourned Lynn Willis. Manibeau Briggs wrote movingly of Lynn’s infectious enthusiasm and Sherlockian dedication. And our hearts and sympathy went out to Bev Wolov on the untimely accidental death of her husband Rob.

Linda Spessotti (you’ll hear more of her later in this flyer) joined our ranks as A Student of the Unusual. And Adventuresses rejoiced as yet another of our ranks joined the BSI. Marilyn MacGregor -- whose piece “Autograph Treasures” appeared in the summer issue -- received the investiture V. V. 341 at the 1999 BSI dinner.

Approximately 50 Adventuresses and friends gathered for the Spring Dinner -- an event that yielded copy for Muses past and future. In the fall issue, M.E. Rich’s toast to “The Woman” provided a spirited defense of the original Adventuress, while honoring those who follow in her footsteps. Readers also enjoyed Jane Hinckley’s toast linking the Statue of Liberty to the then soon‑to-be unveiled Statue of Holmes.

The year’s most distinguished contributor was none other than John H. Watson, M.D., whose “Adventure of the Inverted Reindeer” was a worthy addition to the Christmas Canon. Now we know not only what Holmes and Watson did two days after Christmas, but also their pre‑Christmas exploits. Later we reveled in yet another previously unrecorded case, as the Ochs Academy Sherlock Holmes Club, the pride and joy of Adventuress Delia Vargas, provided us with “Sherlock Holmes and the Adventure of the Golden Eye.”

For female Sherlockians, one of the biggest annoyances is the misguided soul, usually of the male persuasion, who says, “I don’t understand how women can like Holmes when he disliked women so much.” While most of us have become reasonably adept at dealing with these individuals (air‑guns are remarkably effective), Susan Rice provided the definitive response in “Entirely to Be Trusted.” As with all of Susan’s writings, the scholarship was impeccable and the reasoning indisputable. Feminist Sherlockians should never leave home without a copy of this indispensable work.

The nautical theme begun in earlier years continued with Joanne Zahorsky-Reeves’ “Cruising and Crossing,” a title which might have caused some confusion if it hadn’t been followed with “on board ship with Sherlock Holmes.” In the same issue, Paul Smedegaard challenged readers’ nautical Canonical knowledge with “Shape Up and/or ‘Ship’ Out.”

Dorothy Belle Pollack has been The Muse’s poet laureate for many years, delighting readers with her humorous verse. This year, Joan Brieaddy, author of “A Holmesian Quartet,” and Mary Erickson also provided poetic interludes.

And scholarly pieces abounded as Bruce Aiken had some rather vitriolic comments about ILLU, Barbara Holmes speculated about “the most winning woman,” and Dennis France proved Watson to be the ideal juror, but Holmes to be far from the ideal judge.

Events both recent and far past found their way into the Muse, as Francine Swift’s “Tales of the Sub‑Librarians” recounted the scion’s history, including an explanation of Texas liquor licensing which brought back not-so-fond memories to those of us who are transplanted Texans. Dennis France’s “Founders’ Footprints” gave those unable to attend an in‑depth look at a memorable conference.

Last year’s Birthday Challenge yielded memorable pieces by Susan Vizoskie (our third‑time winner) and David McCallister. And another Vizoskie – Ben found his way into our pages with a toast that defies description.

 

A Challenge to Present and future Readers

The Birthday Challenge has become a Muse tradition. Admittedly the Muse editors are not altogether altruistic in sponsoring these little contests. Our goals are, of course, to generate copy and to encourage new subscribers. On the other hand, those of you who are not already Muse subscribers will benefit by receiving four informative and enjoyable issues for a mere pittance – ten dollars, to be exact. As in the past, this contest is FOR SUBSCRIBERS ONLY. Of course, you may subscribe at the same time you enter the contest.

Linda Spessotti not only designed this competition, but provided a sample entry. We know you’ll have fun following in her footsteps. Also, since it seems unfair to deprive one who saved the editors much effort of a chance at the prize, Linda is eligible for the competition (although not, of course, with the entry printed here).

 

We all know and love the characteristic Watsonian opening to a case -- openings such as these:

Mr. Sherlock Holmes, who was usually very late in the mornings, was seated at the breakfast table. I stood upon the hearth‑rug and picked up the stick which our visitor had left behind the night before...

“Well, Watson, what do you make of it?”

Holmes was sitting with his back to me, and I had given him no sign of my occupation.

“How did you know what I was doing? I believe you have eyes in the of your head.”

“I have, at least a well‑polished, silver‑plated coffee‑pot in front of me,” said he. (HOUN)

In choosing a few typical cases which illustrate the remarkable mental qualities of my friend, Sherlock Holmes, I have endeavored, as far as possible, to select those which presented the minimum of sensationalism, while offering a fair field for his talents. It is, however, unfortunately impossible entirely to separate the sensational from the criminal, and a chronicler ... must either sacrifice details ... or he must use matter which chance, and not choice, has provided him with. With this short preface I shall turn to my notes of what proved to be a strange, though a peculiarly terrible, chain of events. (CARD)

Your assignment is to write an uncharacteristic, corrupt, non‑Watsonian, reprehensible (i.e., bad) opening to a Sherlock Holmes case. There is a limit of 150 words.
   
Here’s Linda’s example:

It had been six long, scorching weeks, that summer of 1898, since Holmes had been involved in a case. His mood was as foul and fetid as the August air, and mine was little better.

He lay like a jellyfish, sprawled on the sofa, listening to the sick melodies in his opium‑addled mind. I, not much better off, languished in the armchair, bored, hot and miserable.

Suddenly he spoke. “Listen, Watson.” His cocaine‑riddled tongue made it sound more like “Lissen, Wasson.” “I’m g‑d‑‑‑ sick of you filching my adventures an’ publishing ‘em and making a f ‑‑‑‑‑ g fortune off me.”

Of course, the winning entry and runners‑up will appear in the Muse. In addition, the winner will receive a $30 gift certificate for the bookstore of his or her choice.

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