From The Surrey Shore . . .
The Newsletter of the Hated Rivals on the Surrey Shore Vol. 2, No. 4, August 2003
****A Scion Society for All Who Enjoy Sherlock Holmes in All His Manifestations!****
No, actually it’s by the Hated Rivals on the Surrey Shore—and you’re invited! So gather up your picnic utensils, grab a handful of hot dogs, and plan on converging on Stately Sutton Manor, down in South Indianapolis, on Saturday, September 13, from 1:30 till . . . well, whenever you’re fully sated with outdoors cooking and great Sherlockian fellowship. We’ll be meeting at the home of Hated Rival Jim Sutton, near the Southport area of the city, at 5550 S. Harlan St., just west of South Keystone Ave. and Dudley, where the Suttons maintain a backyard cooking pit just for such occasions and have graciously opened their home to us for this event. We’re asking that each person attending bring a covered dish of some sort, along with your own plate, utensils, and (if you’re picky) something to drink (although water will be available at Casa Sutton). Your humble Hated Rivals officers will be bringing hot dogs and buns (plus some fruit punch, for those who may forget their own drinks, and a few paper plates, etc., just in case). In addition to our fire-grilled feast, the program will include a musical presentation by the duo Holmes & Watson (last heard at our November 2002 meeting), who’ll present a short program of Sherlockian tunes, plus engage in an impromptu jam session for your further entertainment. (Anyone who wants to join in the latter may bring along your own musical instruments as well, if you’re so inclined.) A short business meeting and Canonical toasts will round out the program, but the main emphasis this time is on feasting and fellowshipping on a fine pre-Fall afternoon. We hope to see you there! (For directions and other details, see the “Coming Meetings” section of this newsletter.)
We’re rapidly approaching Labor Day and another autumn in Indiana. And our first annual Hated Rivals cookout (see above) should get the Fall season started off on the right (a)foot! So as you start to anticipate a great fire-cooked meal and fantastic Sherlockian fellowship, take a few minutes to soak in this issue’s Sherlockian food for thought.
On Sherlock Holmes’ Birthplace—a Serendipitous Discovery
Those who’ve skipped ahead to the following section (or who’ve visited my gaming Web site from the link on our Hated Rivals site), know that, along with Sherlockiana/Victoriana, your humble correspondent also counts role-playing gaming among his cherished hobbies. But what has this to do with Sherlock Holmes’ birthplace? Well, it was as I was preparing a Victorian-era role-playing adventure some years ago for my gaming group (a Victorian scenario for Call of Cthulhu, the H.P. Lovecraft RPG of horror and adventure) that I found supporting proof for the contention of eminent Sherlockian William H. Baring-Gould that Sherlock Holmes was actually born and raised in the northern county of Yorkshire—and, more specifically, in that county’s North Riding division.
Now, of course, the Canon itself is silent on where Holmes was born, although some believe that it harbors clues to the possible location. Sherlockians other than Baring-Gould have weighed in on their own beliefs as to Holmes’ birthplace. (Sherlockian Trevor Hall, for example, suggested Sussex as the county that gave the world its future greatest detective in his book Sherlock Holmes: Ten Literary Studies.) But having read Baring-Gould’s biography of Holmes soon after becoming a Sherlockian, I’d always held a fond place in my heart for his theories and often-ingenious (if sometimes fanciful) attempts to fill in the gaps that Canon left in describing the life of the Master Sleuth of Baker Street. Baring-Gould not only settled on the North Riding of Yorkshire as the place of Holmes’ birth, but even named the ancestral manor of the Holmes family that he placed there . . . Mycroft Manor. He further determined that Holmes’ older brother, Sherringford (a name that Doyle first considered giving to the detective in his notes for A Study in Scarlet), still lived in Yorkshire as a country squire, having inherited, as the family’s firstborn, the manor after the death of Holmes Senior (whose name was, of course, Siger Holmes, deduced from Holmes’ use of the alias Sigerson during the Great Hiatus). In his creative timeline of Holmes’ life, Baring-Gould also suggested that, during 1896, Holmes spent much of the year clearing Sherringford of a murder charge—a case involving “black magic in the 19th century.”
It was all too perfect! Baring-Gould’s clever suppositions became the basis for my Call of Cthulhu scenario, “The Yorkshire Horror,” which eventually was published in my Cthulhu By Gaslight supplement for the main game. (Both are, sadly, out of print, although a new edition of Gaslight is supposed to be in the works from the original publisher, Chaosium, updated and expanded to cover much of the Victorian world in the 1890s.) But in preparing the scenario, I still needed to pinpoint an exact location for Mycroft Manor. Fortunately, I owned some period guidebooks that I could check. At the time, however, the only one that I had that covered all of England was an 1869 Black’s Picturesque Tourist of England. Of course, Holmes would have been in his teens in 1869, so although my scenario took place almost 30 years later, the earlier guide should suffice. I settled on an area near Northallerton, which was on one of the major railway routes north from London. The guidebook had a map of the area east of Northallerton—and, there, I made my discovery! Just to the east of Northallerton was a small hamlet by the name of Sigton! SIGton? As in Siger Holmes? Again, it was just too perfect. (Of course, the tiny town undoubtedly pre-existed Holmes’ father, so it obviously wasn’t named after him. But couldn’t the father have been named after the town . . .?)
For my money, this happy find confirmed Baring-Gould’s belief that Holmes had been born and raised in Yorkshire’s bleak, moors-ridden North Riding. Now, whether Baring-Gould had actually made his determination based on the existence of Sigton or had arrived at his conclusions through an entirely other line of thought, I can’t say, as Sigton wasn’t mentioned in his biography of Holmes. But, hey!—it was good enough for me. Sigton, Yorkshire, became, in my mind at least, Holmes’ birthplace and the site of Mycroft Manor, as well as the setting for “The Yorkshire Horrors.” Of course, I’ve since discovered on some other period maps of Yorkshire that Sigton is also known as “Kirby Sigton.” The possible significance of this additional name in the life of Sherlock Holmes, however, I’ve yet to discern . . .
(Look to our Web site in the future for a slightly expanded version of this mini-article, along with some graphics of period maps showing Sigton, Yorkshire, as soon as I have time to scan and post them.)
This past July, I attended the GenCon gaming convention for the first time in 12 years, primarily because it was held this year (and for the foreseeable future) right here in Indianapolis. Now what is a description of a gaming convention doing in a Sherlockian newsletter, you may wonder? Well, as those who’ve read our past newsletters know, although Sherlockiana is a major focus of our scion’s activities, so is Victoriana in general. And I can happily report that the Victorian Age is still well-represented among today’s board and role-playing games. (Although, of course, compared to the fantasy and science fiction elements of the hobby, it is a minor division.) Among the Victorian-era games that I found offered at this year’s GenCon was a recent role-playing game called, simply, Victoriana. Although it incorporates fantasy and “steampunk” elements in its background and presents an alternate-history version of 1867 Victorian England (in which the Crimean War still rages and the American Civil War is yet to happen), it also offers a great deal of historical background on Victorian England and those living there. In the works is a London sourcebook for the game. (I’ll cover it in more detail in a future newsletter.)
Other Victorian-era RPGs spotted at the con include White Wolf’s Victorian Vampire and its two supplements and Steve Jackson Games’ GURPS Steampunk, GURPS Castle Falkenstein (and its Ottoman Empire supplement), and GURPS Steamtech. Matrix Games, located in Bloomington, Indiana, offered several books of scenarios, including a number of detective scenarios based in 1880s London. Numerous board games covered the area, most notably, War: Age of Imperialism, which starts in the previous century and takes players through a game of empire building through Victoria’s reign. And both the Civil War and the Wild West were available for play in such games as Pinnacle’s Deadlands (aptly subtitled “The Weird West”). Although I couldn’t afford a booth, I even managed to sell a few copies of my own game, So Ya Wanna Be A Rock ’N’ Roll Star! A Rock ’N’ Role-Playing Game, featuring the band Sherlock & The CDs in the adventure, “The Sounds of the Vaster Hills” (still available from me at $15 p.p.—a bargain!).
As for events at the convention, only two had a Victorian theme that I could discover. One was a Call of Cthulhu 1890s scenario about Jack the Ripper. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to sit in on it. The other was my own “Cool Zulus By Gaslight” (the name a play on my Cthulhu By Gaslight supplement), in which a rock band playing at the Zulu Aid festival in London got zapped back to the 1890s—and had encounters with such period characters as the Master Sleuth of Baker Street, William Escott, and his biographer, Dr. James Hamish. (Huh? If you don’t get the names, they’re based on past Sherlockian speculations.) Other scenarios that I ran also managed to zap players briefly into Victorian London (one of which featured Sherlock Holmes as Jack the Ripper, a la The Last Sherlock Holmes Story), and in one, players faced the dreaded Hound of the Vaster Hills. Silly stuff? Sure—it was all played for laughs and a good time. (And if one can’t have a good time at his hobbies, why bother, after all?)
So if you enjoy an evening of role-playing or war gaming, you can be assured in the knowledge that the Victorian era is well-represented in gaming in general, just as it was at this year’s GenCon. And then there’s always next year . . .
If you’ve recently sent an e-mail to us through the main e-mail address listed in this newsletter, we may not have received it. A random lightening strike (random, of course, assuming that Professor Moriarty or his minions haven’t been experimenting with the use of Tesla coils as advanced weaponry) unfortunately zapped the modem on our WebTV unit, making inaccessible the e-mail account to which messages sent through the Web site e-mail address were forwarded. Which means that, until the situation is corrected (one that could take a while, as WebTV was purchased by MSN, making the old units obsolete), any e-mail sent to us in the past two months (or shortly before—as I hadn’t had the opportunity to read all that were there) also is inaccessible. In the meantime, I’ve set up an alternative account with one of the Web providers, so as of this newsletter, your e-mails can once again reach us. In the meantime, as we have no idea how long it may take to access the old account again, please do resend any e-mail sent to our Web site e-mail address since at least early May. (If you sent us an e-mail and have not received any response, that means that we did not get it or read it before the electrifying disaster, so please do resend.) Thanks—and we apologize for any delay in responding to your messages.
That wraps up this issue’s Letter from Barker. Look for more scintillating, serendipitous prose in our next newsletter. Till then, I remain, as always, ever yours . . .
—C. Barker, Esq.
July 12 found the Hated Rivals on the Surrey Shore safely ensconced in the party room at Lord Ashley’s Pub & Eatery, at Pendleton Pike and Oaklandon Road, celebrating the birthday of Barker, the original Hated Rival on the Surrey Shore. Between 1 and 1:30 p.m., Rivals arrived at the restaurant and enjoyed drinks and lively discussions of things Sherlockian and otherwise. Conversation continued till and after our meals arrived — an eclectic repast ranging from burgers and pizza to rum steak (served flambé). After appetites were sated, the meeting was called to order. Following a discussion of possible locations for our next meeting, our own Barker, Bill Barton, presented a rousing, albeit abbreviated, a capella version of his “Barker Birthday” song (to the tune of the Beatles’ “Birthday”), with most other Rivals filling in on the choruses and providing unique vocal “instrumental” parts. (The full version of the song will be performed at the next meeting that Bill’s musical partner can attend.) Next, Suzanne Snyder presented an excellent survey of Elizabeth Peter’s Amelia Peabody stories. (The intrepid Ms. Peabody, although primarily an Egyptologist, sufficiently extends her well-honed investigative skills in her 15 novels to date to qualify her as yet another “rival” of Sherlock Holmes.) Mimi DeMore followed this survey of a fictional archeologist’s exploits with the first installment of what is to become an ongoing series on actual Victorian archeologists, providing an overview of the field during the Victorian era and then focusing on one of many famous 19th century archeologists, [name]. Bill closed the formal part of the meeting with part 2 of his “Victorian Railway” paper and a toast to the two greatest detectives of the Victorian era — Sherlock Holmes and, of course, Mr. Barker! Following the meeting itself, most Rivals in attendance converged at the Lowe’s Cherry Tree on East Washington Street to view the last matinee showing for the day of the Victorian-era cinema action-adventure film, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, starring Sean Connery as Allan Quatermain. (See the “I Hear of Sherlock Everywhere” section of this newsletter for a review of the movie.) In short, an excellent time was had by all.
Dogs play a special role in the Sherlockian Canon—there’s Toby, the bloodhound, in Sign of the Four, the Hound of the Baskervilles (of course), and the dog that did nothing in the night-time in “Silver Blaze” (see the “I Hear of Sherlock Everywhere” entry on this). Victorians were especially fond of their pets, especially their dogs and cats. (At least the middle and upper classes were fond of them as pets. The lower classes were sometimes fond of them in yet another way, although that’s not where we get the term “hot dog.”) One popular vehicle in the country was known as a dog-cart. (Its name derived from the fact that it was once used to carry dogs in a compartment on the back.) The dog-cart featured two seats, back to back, and was usually drawn by a single horse. It was quite ubiquitous in the Victorian countryside, and most Victorian references (including Jack Tracy’s excellent Encyclopedia Sherlockiana) provide curious readers of the Canon sufficient information about this and other Victorian vehicles featured in the Holmes tales. (And yet, curiously, I recall even not too long ago reading a Sherlockian piece on the Web in which the author seemed totally mystified as to what a dog-cart really was. All the more reason for those of us interested in the Great Detective to extend our reading beyond the Canon into areas that shed light on the era in which he lived.) I even own a period book, written in the 1890s, call Across England By Dog-Cart, chronicling the author’s trip across Southern England (including through Dartmoor!) in such a vehicle. For those looking for a readily available source, I can recommend Daily Life in Victorian England, by Sally Mitchell. At $45, it’s rather pricey, but it’s one of the best overall surveys of daily life in Sherlock Holmes’ England (and indeed all of England from 1837-1901) that’s currently available. You can order it from such online booksellers as Amazon.com and can probably order it from most brick and mortar bookstores as well. If you’re at all interested in the background of the Holmes stories I heartily recommend it.
I Hear of Sherlock Everywhere!
Mooch the Cat—feisty feline or Master Sleuth? Well, in recent Sunday episodes of the Mutts comic strip, our favorite cartoon kitty was both. In one, he carried out an investigation in the style of the old Dick Tracy comic strips, with a rowdy roster of kooky canine culprits and a questionable solution. In yet another, Mooch was actually addressed as “Sherlock” by another character (the annoying Crabby—who is, of course, a crab). Could Mooch now be shooting for Holmes’ position as the Greatest Detective of All Time? Will Mooch deduce (or “dedushe,” as the speech-impaired fluffball would say), while the culprit fleas . . . er, flees? Stay tuned . . .
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, by Mark Haddon (Doubleday & Co, Inc., 2003; $22.95) isn’t a Sherlockian pastiche, despite the line from “Silver Blaze.” It’s a modern-day tale of a 15-year-old autistic boy, Christopher John Francis Boone, and his investigation of the curious death of a dog in his neighborhood. Devoid of normal emotions himself, Christopher’s hero is, of course, the very cerebral Sherlock Holmes. Using his knowledge of the Holmes stories and the detective’s methods, he sets out on a quest to learn the truth behind the dog’s demise. The book has received good reviews and is also available from the Book-of-the-Month Club at a reduced rate of $15.99 for members.
Lost in a Good Book, by Jasper Fforde (Viking Books, 2003; $24.95), continues the adventures of Thursday Next and her renegade uncle, Mycroft, begun in the author’s The Eyre Affair (reviewed in the December 2002 issue of our newsletter). I’ve not actually seen this one yet (waiting for it to turn up at a reduced price in one of the book clubs I belong to, frugal soul that I am), but from reviews, it appears to involve more reality hopping from one literary world to another. (No clue yet as to whether the world of Sherlock Holmes is visited this time.)
The Fallacy Detective, by Bluedorn, Nathaniel, and Hans ($22), is a book designed to teach logic and critical thinking to children. Appropriately, it features on its cover an illustration of a dog wearing caped cloak and deerstalker and carrying a magnifying glass (and definitely doing more than nothing).
Sadly, as of the end of August, Issue 6 of Volume II of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen graphic series still has not arrived in specialty comic book stores, despite earlier promised release dates first in June and then in August. As the hard cover collection of the series has already been announced with a release date in November, we can only hope that the final issue becomes available before then. But in the meantime, you can enjoy Jess Nevin’s trade paperback Heroes & Monsters: The Unofficial Companion to the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, containing notes and essays about the first series, or check out his Web site for notes on the second series so far (see last issue’s newsletter for details). Or you can catch the movie version (or novelization), described as follows . . .
The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen – a Movie Review
Well, let me start by saying that I thoroughly enjoyed this movie. And I think that most people who enjoy action-adventure movies with a Victorian setting would as well—this despite the fact that, in general, most critics panned it in the reviews that I read. (Most likely because they just didn’t “get” it, as those of us who are aficionados of Victorian sensational/fantastical literature would.) If what you seek in a movie is a lot of angst and emotional entanglement on the part of the characters instead of a rousing good tale featuring the likes of Allan Quatermain, Captain Nemo, Dr. Jekyll (and Mr. Hyde), the Invisible Man, and Mina Harker (billed inaccurately in trailers as “Dracula’s Bride”), and with Dorian Grey and an adult Tom Sawyer (working for the U.S. Secret Service) thrown in for extra flavor, you may not care much for this film. If you seek the latter, however, I urge you to head straight away to whatever theater in your area is still running it (unlikely, although it may be in second run theaters by the time you get this) or rent or buy the video (or DVD, if you’re into that) as soon as it’s available. (Or catch it on cable—if you can really wait that long.) That said, let me warn you that the following paragraphs contain a lot of spoiler material, so if you like to be surprised, wait until after you’ve seen the movie to read on.
First, I should apologize for reporting some inaccurate info that was listed on the movie Web site I mentioned in an earlier newsletter. The character M, the supposed head of the British Secret Service, was not Mycroft Holmes, as reported by that Web site. (Perhaps the producers leaked inaccurate info to throw people off the scent.) Rather, as was the case in the first series of the comic book version of League, M was actually (Spoiler Alert!) Professor Moriarty! Ironically, the actor portraying M resembled neither Mycroft nor Moriarty, as described in the Canon. But at least the Sherlockian connection was maintained, even if neither of the brothers Holmes made an appearance on-screen.
As for the actors portraying the Victorian legends around which the action centered, Sean Connery did an excellent job as Allan Quatermain. (By the way, despite the persistent injection of a second “r” in the name, Quatermain is, I believe, correctly spelled as here. At least that’s what the character claimed in one scene that was either cut out of the movie or added to the novelization.) In fact, most of the actors fell into their roles quite admirably, even if their screen time was often so limited by the need to fit so many diverse characters into the action that not a lot of character development took place on-screen. (Of course, most of those who’d enjoy and want to see the movie would already be familiar with the characters, either from the Victorian novels in which they appeared or from the comic series published by DC/Wildfire’s America’s Best imprint.) And some characterizations were changed from the comic series so as to better fit the idea into cinematic form. Although in the graphic series, Mina was not a vampire, for example, her cinematic conversion to the “dark side” fit the plot of the movie quite well and provided one of the most exciting scenes, in which she—either accompanied by a horde of bats or having turned into them, it wasn’t quite clear—took down a row of snipers trying to prevent the League from saving Venice from collapsing into its watery foundations. Shane West, as Secret Service agent Tom Sawyer, was a surprise. I didn’t expect much from his character, considering him added just to attract younger viewers, but he did a credible job of the rash young American counterpart to the older, jaded British adventurer that Connery portrayed Quatermain as. The character most underused, I thought, was Captain Nemo, whose role was mainly to provide the League transportation in the Nautilus—although he did get a chance to shine using martial arts on the brutal soldiers in the enemy’s citadel near the end.
Speaking of the Nautilus, the special effects crew did a good job of portraying the massive ship in several scenes, although it differed quite a bit from the vessel portrayed in the movie versions of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, as well as the one depicted in the League comic series. Its lines were much smoother and its design based more on a submersible version of period ironclad surface ships, with their long ram prows at the water line. Its decorative motif was Hindu, corresponding with the portrayal of Nemo as a Sikh in Verne’s Mysterious Island, which the creators of the graphic series choose to follow. Mr. Hyde was likewise done decently, appearing more like his counterpart in the graphic series than in past movies—a sort of Victorian Incredible Hulk, although Hyde looked far more realistic than that character did in his own summer movie. (Thankfully, Hyde was a far less brutal beast in the movie than was his comic counterpart—especially in the second series now running.) And Mina’s conversion into (?) the bat horde was also well done. The effects used to portray the Invisible Man (not the original character of the Wells novel or the graphic series, but a thief named Skinner who stole the original formula) were nothing spectacular, but they worked, too. And Skinner provided much of the movie’s comic relief as well.
The plot of the movie revolved around a mysterious masked criminal know as the Fantom. (“Quite operatic,” Quatermain quipped in the novelization.) The Fantom’s efforts to spark a war in Europe through his advanced weaponry (including a WWI-era tank some 20 years before it was actually invented, plus fully automatic rifles) supposedly led M—who (Spoiler Alert!) was, of course, himself the Fantom—to assemble the League in an attempt to stop the Fantom before he could destroy a meeting of the world’s leaders in Venice. M’s (or Moriarty’s) real plot was to use Quatermain, the great hunter, to capture Mr. Hyde (stalking the Rue Morgue in Paris and, in a nod to Poe’s “Murders in the Rue Morgue,” rumored to be a great ape). He then used his plant in the League (Spoiler Alert!—it was Dorian Grey, although many red herrings pointed to Skinner as the culprit) to obtain skin cells from the Invisible Man, blood from the vampiric Mina, Dr. Jekyll’s formula for becoming Hyde, and the plans for the Nautilus. His goal was to create a super-army of invisible men, Hyde-like brutes, and vampires, transported in submersibles to (dare I say it?) rule the world! (Ambition even for Moriarty, and the scheme was a bit overly involved, but again it fit the atmosphere of the movie as long as you didn’t think too much about it.) Sawyer was involved only because he’d been tracking the Fantom himself and followed the League to Dorian Grey’s, where he helped repel a staged assault on the League by the Fantom’s army. (Although cut from the movie, the novelization explained that Sawyer’s motive, aside from duty, was to avenge the death of a fellow Secret Service agent who’d died at the hands of the Fantom—Huckleberry Finn!)
Of course, after Dorian Grey’s betrayal of the group (and his near sinking of the Nautilus through a series of planted bombs, detonated by a tone in a gramophone recording left by Grey in which M did the standard villainous gloating over outsmarting them), the League quickly got back on his trail—thanks to Skinner, who stowed away about the minisub that Grey stole—and tracked the villains to a citadel deep in Mongolia. (Skinner, it turned out, was secretly working for the real British Secret Service all along.) The showdown in the citadel offered some of the movie’s best moments, ending in the final death of Professor Moriarty—although not, as expected, at the hands of Quatermain. In a surprise move, it was Tom Sawyer who ended the Professor’s career with a shot from Quatermain’s elephant gun. And Quatermain, sadly, died from the wounds he’d suffered in his own final battle with M. (Although an ending sequence, where a witch doctor spoke an incantation over Quatermain’s grave, seemed to indicate that the adventurer could rise again, should a sequel ever be made.)
Final answer: If you enjoy action-adventure and Victorian sensational literature, you’ll love The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, as I did. And if you missed the movie and don’t want to wait to see it on video, look for the paperback novelization by K.J. Anderson (Pocket Star; $6.99). (The same author, incidentally, wrote his own fictionalized biography of Captain Nemo, out in hardcover last year and paperback now.) Even if you saw the movie, get the novelization, as it fills in a lot of the blanks that either were cut from the movie or never quite made it into the script. (It even includes an alternative ending, without the funeral and possible resurrection of Quatermain, but introducing Campion Bond, the British Secret Service agent of the comic series—and setting up the League to face Wells’ Martians in a possible sequel, as occurred in the second graphic series.)
Following are the details of our upcoming meeting, plus the dates and tentative information about our remaining meetings for 2003. (Check our Web site or our Indianapolis Star Web page for updates.) So set these dates aside to join the Hated Rivals at the following soirées:
A Canonical Cookout!
Saturday, September 13, 2003, starting at 1:30 p.m.
In the backyard of Jim and Linda Sutton’s home
5550 S. Harlan
Directions and Details: To get to the Suttons’ home, take I-465 to the south side of Indianapolis, and take the I-65N. exit to Keystone Avenue (the first exit after you get onto I-65N.). Turn south (left) on Keystone and drive several miles (past Hanna, Thompson, and other crossroads until Keystone becomes a two-lane road) and continue till you reach Dudley, on the right. Turn right, and the next right is Harlan. The last house on the left is Casa Sutton. Park in the driveway or along the street, and either knock on the front door or just go on around to the backyard. We’ll be cooking hot dogs over the backyard pit and sharing pitch-in dishes (see the meeting description at the front of the newsletter), plus enjoying the Sherlockian (and other) music of Holmes and Watson. (If it rains that day, come anyway. We’ll still gather at the Suttons for some Sherlockian music and fellowship and then decide from there how to further celebrate the event.)
And don’t forget to mark your calendar for these great upcoming meetings . . .
Sunday, November 9: Mayhem, Menace, and Moriarty!
Sunday, January 4, 2004 (tentative): A Victorian Tea, Reprised!
For more information, contact us at P.O. Box 26290, Indianapolis, IN 46226-0290; or send us e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org or at email@example.com. (And don’t forget to check out our Hated Rivals Web site at http://surrey-shore.freeservers.com or our Indy Star Web page at http://community.indystar.com/928/ for recent updates.) See you again in two months, back on the ol’ Surrey Shore, where the game’s always afoot! (But you knew that anyway—right?)