Tipped in

Letters to a fan

I got a note a while back from Steve Ziering, a reader of the blog, who said he had purchased an unusual copy of Vincent Starrett’s 221B: Studies in Sherlock Holmes. (The book was published in 1940 by Macmillan and contained a series of essays by Starrett and other writers.)

Steve said he bought the book from an online dealer and was surprised at what had been tipped into its inside front pages.


“When I got the book, I found, pasted on the flyleaf, a handwritten note to a Mrs. Conger dated 1940, thanking her for comments on the book. It was dated January 1940 and signed by Mr. Starrett.

On the front piece was pasted a typed letter to Mrs. Conger dated 26 January, 1951 also signed and corrected by Mr. Starrett. In it he mentions clippings concerning “Sherlock and the Scone” as well as a hatbox full of material. He writes of a play about Watson that he was anxious to see.”

“I don’t know what I have here.”

He graciously sent me copies of the letters and then, much to my surprise and delight, agreed to trade this copy for another in my collection.

Turns out what Steve had was a glimpse into Vincent Starrett’s fan mail bag.

Let’s take a look.

Although there are no names or bookplates in the book, it’s clear this copy was once owned by Mrs. E(dwin) F(isher) Conger of Staunton, Va. to whom the letters from Starrett are addressed.

(Staunton is a cute little town in the Shenandoah Valley between the Blue Ridge and Allegheny Mountains. Should you ever get there, we can recommend a meal at Mrs. Rowe’s Family Restaurant and Bakery, just off Interstate 81. Go hungry.) 

In the early years of the last century, Mrs. Conger’s husband was a very successful businessman whose several enterprises revolved around forestry and providing treated poles for the telephone company. Her full name was Dorothea Lloyd (Tatum) Conger, and the family’s papers are at the Virginia Museum of History and Culture in Richmond should you wish to dive deeper. So far as I can tell, they contain no reference to Vincent Starrett.

The First Letter

Let’s look at the first letter to Mrs. Conger, dated 4 April, 1940. Since it’s handwritten, I’ll save you the eyestrain and transcribe it here:

Here is what you see when you open this copy of 221B: Studies in Sherlock Holmes. The handwritten response from Starrett from 1940 is on the right.

222 W. Adams Street, Chicago

4 April, 1940

Dear Mrs. Conger—

Hearty thanks for your friendly letter about 221B. I think you would enjoy its forerunner The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes, by the undersigned (Macmillan 1933). And do you know H.W. Bell’s Baker Street Studies (Constable, London)?

All good wishes.

Faithfully,
Vincent Starrett

Clearly Mrs. Conger had written a fan letter to Starrett after reading 221B. Starrett wrote back encouraging her to look up two other cornerstone Sherlockian works. One hopes she used some of Mr. Conger’s considerable resources to hunt down copies of both books. 

The Second Letter, 10 years later

Certainly her interest in Sherlock Holmes did not wane, because 10 years later, Starrett wrote her a second letter in response to another one of hers. This one is typed, so there’s no need for a transcription. But it does present several areas of interest.

First: What did “Sherlock and the Scone” refer to?

The clipping no doubt refers to one of a series of newspaper stories that ran in the early months of 1951, suggesting that Sherlock Holmes be called in to solve a mystery of international importance. While it’s not easy to trace where the idea of calling in Holmes to find a missing artifact stolen from Westminster Cathedral started, I’m putting my money on an editorial in The New York Herald Tribune, which was picked up by other papers. Here you see it reprinted on Jan. 16, 1951 in the Southern Illinoisan of Carbondale, Ill. Headlined “Calling Sherlock Holmes,” the editorial recommends that Holmes be coaxed out of retirement to find the Stone of Scone, which has been stolen from Westminster Abbey. 

The New York Herald Tribune editorial as it appeared in the Southern Illinoisan of Carbondale, Ill on Jan. 16, 1951, three weeks after the Stone of Scone theft.

The editorial writer shows a strong familiarity with the Canon recalling the great detective’s success in the Second Stain and Bruce-Partington cases, not to mention his ability to bring down Von Bork’s organization at the beginning of the Great War. 

“Britain's failure to call upon Holmes until now no doubt stems from Scotland Yard’s well-known reluctance to concede his superiority—a stiff-necked attitude which nearly gummed up the works in A Study in Scarlet, to cite only one example. Evidently Lestrade, Gregson and Athelney Jones haven’t learned their lesson yet.” 

The editorial writer ends with tongue remaining firmly planted: “These are deep waters indeed. The sooner that Mr. Lestrade pays one more call at 221B Baker Street, the better it will be for all.”

In truth, the stone had been stolen at Christmas 1950 by four Scottish college students who wanted a symbolic gesture to boost Scottish independence. What they didn’t count on was the stone being very, very heavy.

The Stone of Scone tucked into the Coronation Chair at Westminster Abbey before its theft in 1950.

In removing the rock from under the Coronation Chair, they managed to drop it and the stone cracked along an existing fissure into two unequal pieces. That was bad news for the ancient stone, but it did make it easier for the thieves to get the two pieces out.

They succeeded in getting the stone pieces back to Scotland, but not without almost being caught several times in some dramatic circumstances.

At first the theft puzzled authorities, since Scottish independence was not strong in the post-war years. Still, this was a black mark against the force and they soon started to gather clues. As Holmes acknowledged, Scotland Yard was persistent, if not imaginative, and the stone was eventually found at its hiding place in Arbroath Abbey, about 75 miles northeast of Edinburgh. The four miscreants were identified, but owing perhaps to their youth and idealism, they were not prosecuted.

The story has gained fame over the decades and was made into a 2008 film, called “The Stone of Destiny.” It’s supposed to be pretty faithful to actual events, which means that Sherlock Holmes does not make an appearance.

While Holmes was never called in, Solar Pons did take up the case. August Derleth recorded it in a tale titled “The Adventure of the Stone of Scone” and it can be found in The Return of Solar Pons.

In the story, Pons awakens Dr. Parker at 4 a.m. Christmas Day to announce that his heavyweight brother, Bancroft Pons, is coming with a case. To Pons, it’s the perfect holiday present.

“This bids fair to be the merriest of Christmases!” cried Pons. 

The detective eventually identifies the guilty young college students. He and Parker have dinner with the four—“all likable young people”—and the Stone is returned. In the end, Pons delights in his holiday challenge.

Whether it was thanks to Pons or the Scotland Yarders, the Stone of Scone was once again in place for Elizabeth’s coronation. It even makes a cameo in the film “The King’s Speech.”

But the Stone is no longer under the Coronation chair. It has since been sent back to the people of Scotland and is now housed—with better security—at Edinburgh Castle.

There is a coda: The Stone of Scone is on loan. It must be returned for the next Royal Coronation.

Back to the typewritten letter from Starrett to his rural Virginia fan. Mrs. Conger evidently also asked Starrett about the “new” Holmes story found by Conan Doyle’s sons in a hatbox years after their father’s death. She was going to the right source.

The story’s discovery was the topic of Starrett’s first “Books Alive” column on Sept. 2, 1942 in the Chicago Daily News. (His column moved over to the Tribune in November of that year.)

Starrett called the discovery:

“The most sensational literary discovery in years—indeed, the most sensational and delightful discovery of our time.” 

A page 1 news story from the Feb. 17, 1949 Chicago Tribune.

The story, “The Man Who Was Wanted,” was not deemed up to ACD’s normal standards, according to his sons. Sherlockians demanded the story be given to the public, making it the 61st Canonical tale.

Denis and Adrian Doyle were adamant. They were holding to their principles. No publication.

Or rather they were adamant until they weren’t. The boys later agreed to its publication when enough cash was laid upon the table. It appeared in Cosmopolitan magazine in August, 1948.

Sherlockians were disappointed in the plot and debated its authenticity.

The debate heated up when a fellow named Mr. Arthur Whitaker was able to produce a carbon copy of the manuscript. Many years earlier, he needed money and had sent the manuscript to Arthur Conan Doyle hoping the two could collaborate on the story. Doyle demurred, but agreed to a nominal payment for the original, which he packed away, to be found by his avaricious sons.

In his letter to Mrs. Conger, Starrett was curiously silent about his own pivotal role in the drama. According to Chicago news reports, when Whitaker wanted to establish his authorship and didn’t know where to turn, he decided to write to Vincent Starrett, the world’s leading expert on Sherlockian matters. Starrett asked his editors at the Chicago Tribune to look into the matter.

The Tribune story, reprinted here, explains what happened next.

There is one other item of significance that Starrett mentions to Mrs. Conger, “a play involving Dr. Watson but ignoring Sherlock.” At the time, the Doyle estate was against publication, and so it stayed unpublished through Starrett’s lifetime. Apparently no one paid the boys enough money so they could once again set aside their principles.

Having read the play, I can only say Starrett didn’t miss anything important.

Many thanks once again to Steve Ziering for bringing this unusual volume to my attention.

What you see here is one of the reasons I keep looking for Starrett books. You never know what delights might be tipped in.