It’s been a summer of change here at Studies at Starrett. 

The last time I posted something new was way back in April, 2021. I was coming to you from a small town about an hour west of Philadelphia, and squeezing my Starrett work into the very small breaks that came with being an administrator at Temple University during COVID. A lot has happened since. 

In a few months’ time, we sold our Pennsylvania home, both my wife and I retired and, despite a housing market that seemed to be always working against us, we found a little condo near Williamsburg, Virginia. We’ve been planning a return to Williamsburg for years, but the practical aspects of downsizing were formidable. Then we had to box up our worldly goods including two disgruntled cats, put everything aboard a moving van (not the cats) and then unpack it all in a snug new place.

There was a lot of downsizing, which meant getting rid of about 12 boxes of books to a wide variety of individuals, libraries and other good places like Denny Dobry’s HUGE basement bookshop. Denny sells these things at very competitive prices and proceeds from his sale go to benefit the Baker Street Irregulars Trust. If you visit him, you will get to see his amazing BSI recreation at the same time. It’s well worth the trip. 

I’ve been spending the last month reorganizing the office in its new space, a loft in the condo. It’s a great space and we’ve packed four good-sized bookcases in here, along with the little built-in unit that was here when we moved. 

Before we return to regular programming, I thought I would give you a tour. Feel free to look around. Beware of cats underfoot.

Oh, and there’s an amazing new addition to the collection that I need to show you. More about that in a bit.

We are on the second floor of the condo. In addition to the loft, the second floor has a guest bedroom, Joan’s office and some really big storage closets (no basement or attic storage in this place).

The office/library/Sherlock Holmes and Vincent Starrett shrine is at the top of the steps.

This is what you see when you open the door. 

Straight ahead is the desk, which was built by a Mennonite furniture firm back in Lancaster County, Pa. The books at the top are the ones I pull down most often when writing these blog posts and other Starrett-related projects.

I have a few sentimental things there too: the nameplate that I had on my desk as editor of the student newspaper in college, and a cup from the EEG group that was once dedicated to my dear friend Chuck Henry.

The sharp-eyed will notice a few toy owls on my desk. Temple University’s mascot is an owl and every employee has a few dozen on their desk or scattered around their workspace. I gave most of mine away to colleagues before I left, but kept a few. They are old friends by now. 

On the wall above the desk you’ll notice the framed dust jacket cover from the 75th anniversary edition of The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes that I edited for Wessex Press. If there’s one project I’ve worked on over the years that continues to generate comment, it’s that one. (Click on each image above for more.)

Look left and there’s small filing cabinet. On top is a Tiffany-style lamp and a black lacquer Chinese box. More about that box in a later post.

Further down the wall is a bookcase and some wall hangings.

This case holds reference books, my Solar Pons, a mixed bag of non-Sherlockian Conan Doyle, a decent set of Sherlockian commentary, some pastiches and books by Anthony Boucher, Christopher Morley and others. This is not all the Holmes commentary and reference, because other books are scattered here and there. I also still have some things in boxes that I have yet to find a good space for.

On the wall above the bookcase is (from left) my Sons of the Copper Beeches membership, Morley-Montgomery Award and BSI Investiture. All three carry deep meaning and generate great pride.

Above that is handsome photograph of Franklin & Marshall College that I received from my staff when I left F&M in the early 2000s to go to work at Temple University.

An Unexpected and Amazing Gift

A few weeks after we moved, I came home from running errands and found a box on the front step. Inside was a gift so remarkable, so completely unexpected, that I was speechless for days and am still humbled.

Jerry Margolin, who has the finest private collection of Sherlockian art anywhere, sent me this item from his collection. I’m showing a scan that Jerry once sent to me because it’s the easiest to read. The original is in a handsome frame on the wall next to the bookcase you’ve just seen.

Below the Santa is the following note from Frederic Dorr Steele to Vincent Starrett.

Dec. 22, (19)37

Dear Vincent Starrett,

Now I am the guilty one, and you think I don’t appreciate your charming Sherlock bit. I did, and do.

When the Christmas mail rush is over I’ll send out that Sherlock ad I wrote about, and if it is worthwhile you can have a photostat made of it.

Merry etc.

Frederic Dorr Steele

This is an incredible gift. I was stunned when I opened it, and remain in awe that Jerry would have made such a generous and thoughtful gift. I’ve thanked him privately, but now happily do so publicly. Thank you, my friend.

Of course, this raises the question of the Sherlock ad that Steele was referencing. Which offers us an opportunity for future research. Yippee!

Continuing the tour

I’ve set up a little reading nook in the corner beyond the two windows.

See that wooden box next to the recliner? It’s another piece from Chuck Henry. Inside the lid is written “Lt. Charles Henry, USNR.” This was the box Chuck built to haul store private belongings while serving in the US Naval Reserves. It’s seen a lot of miles and is pretty banged up. Nonetheless, it makes a fine place to put a glass of something choice while reading. Chuck made very strong martinis every afternoon around 4. I’m sure he would approve.

Above the chair are three items: the original artwork for Starrett’s Bookman’s Holiday, a rare poster for the 75th anniversary edition of The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes signed by Steve Doyle and Mark Gagen, and an Arthur Conan Doyle signature. The latter was also from Chuck Henry.

(Click on each image below for more.)

This is the right place to say a few words about the artwork for Bookman’s Holiday, which was published by Random House in 1942. I’ve mentioned several times in the past the generosity of Jennifer Wright, a member of Vincent Starrett’s family. A few years back, Jennifer sent me the faded but still handsome artwork done by Paul Galdone for the book’s dustjacket cover. (Galdone may be familiar to some of you as the illustrator of the Basil of Baker Street books.)

The illustration hung in Starrett’s apartment, slowly fading away. After his death, it went to other family members and eventually to Jennifer who passed it along to me. I took a nice copy of the dust jacket and the artwork to be framed. We photographed Starrett’s inscription from the back of the artwork, verifying its authenticity. Together, the three elements make a very handsome piece.

Once again, thank you Jennifer. I hope I’ve done your gift justice.

The next wall has the major portions of the Starrett collection. Here is his poetry, mystery novels, early bibliographies and books about books. The lower shelves have the pulp magazines where his short stories appeared in the late teens, 20s and 30s. There are also books that Starrett edited, and anthologies where he had contributions. One shelf is dedicated to BSI and Wessex Press editions.

I did a lot of weeding before and after the move, so I have a little space to expand.

I should note that there is one important subcollection of Starrett’s books missing from these shelves: The collection of every edition of The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes. Those live in an enclosed bookcase on the condo’s first floor.

Before we turn towards the door, there’s a picture on the left that I want to mention. It’s a page from the Summer 2015 issue of Fine Books and Collections magazine. The editor contacted me in 2014 to discuss a few things about Starrett for a book she was writing.

A few months later I heard from the magazine saying they wanted to devote a collector profile to my Starrett/Sherlock collection. I twice tried to politely ask, “Really? Me? Here are the names of major collectors you should be profiling.” I felt completely out of place, but my ego swelled and I agreed. So there you are.

Let’s turn toward the door for the last wall.

There are two major elements to this wall.

The first is a bookcase that holds some smaller items in the top shelves like paperbacks and digests. Lower down are the Silicone Dispatch Box editions of Starrett’s works, along with books on Alexander Woollcott, Basil Rathbone and the Chicago Literary Renaissance. There are a few Holmes items on top, plus a photo of Starrett that has been part of a few previous blogposts.

That nameplate came from my brief service on the James City County Planning Commission during our first residency in the Williamsburg area.

Hanging above are my investiture in the Hounds of the Baskerville (sic), a print from the last portrait taken of Starrett before his death, and an award given to Starrett by the Friends of Literature on May 7, 1966. That last is once again hanging here through the generosity of the Starrett family.

Almost done.

The built-in bookcase was attractive, but I wasn’t enthusiastic about it. The diamond-shaped shelves seemed worthless for books, but I’m experimenting with them as you see here. I might change things around. It bothers me to have books tilted like that.

The side shelves are adjustable. On the right, I’ve used them to pack in my collection of Baker Street Journals and Baker Street Miscellanea, double shelved. A little lower are notebooks that I’ve put together over the years with various items. At the very bottom are some of the most precious things: a Starrett family photo album, a scrapbook kept by Starrett in the 20s and 30s, the manuscript to Autolycus in Limbo (with the typescript of “221B”), and the manuscript to his book, All About Mother Goose.

The shelves on the left have some fun things, mostly Sherlockian toys and tchotckkes. The BSI history series, early editions of the BSJ and Edgar Smith’s booklets are within easy reach. There’s a shelf that looks stuffed and disorganized. It is. It’s the things that I’ve not gotten to over the last four months as we’ve packed, moved and unpacked. And there’s a shelf of oversized items.

On top are certificates from scions that I’ve known and valued over the years, plus an unframed view of 221B drawn by a former colleague at Temple University as a going away gift.

But wait, there’s more.

At the bottom of the built-in shelves is a liquor cabinet, filled with healing beverages from around the world. Some I’ve purchased, and some were gifts.

If you come to visit, you can enjoy the books and the beverages.