This is A fan letter

Susan Rice and I at a Sons of the Copper Beeches meeting in Philadelphia in October 2017. — Susan Rice and I at a Sons of the Copper Beeches meeting in October 2017.

Over the last several years, I’ve occasionally used my blog to shift away from Vincent Starrett research and recall a member of the Sherlock Holmes community who had an impact on my life and our shared enthusiasm. The time has come to talk about Susan Rice, whose passing last month hit many of us hard. I know some of the regular readers of this blog will have their own memories about Susan. These are a few of mine.

This little 1991 booklet, now hard to find, has several essays by Susan on bee-related topics and the Sherlock Holmes canon. It was published in 1991 by Gasogene Press, in its pre-Wessex Press incarnation. The foreword is by Tom Stix Jr. and the aft… — This little 1991 booklet, now hard to find, has several essays by Susan on bee-related topics and the Sherlock Holmes canon. It was published in 1991 by Gasogene Press, in its pre-Wessex Press incarnation. The foreword is by Tom Stix Jr. and the afterword by Evy Herzog. If you see a copy, buy it. It’s pure Susan.

There are too many moments to recount them all, but the first which stands out was that day of days in 1991, when Susan was among the first group of Adventuresses to be invested into the Baker Street Irregulars. At that point, I knew more OF Susan than I knew the person. I had seen her at our John Bennett Shaw conference in 1987 in Williamsburg Virginia and we must have chatted then, although nothing of that conversation stands out now.

Shaw spoke highly of her and I had heard she was a accepting and welcoming person whose longtime participation in the Holmes world had been instrumental in bringing others into the fold.

She was one of those rare folks that everyone admired. That was born out with the ear-splitting cry that went up when Tom Stix called her name as one of the first round of women invested into the BSI. (You can hear it yourself via Episode 89 of I Hear of Sherlock Everywhere. If you were there, it is a grand memory to relive. And if you weren’t there, this was a historic moment you may enjoy.)

It wasn’t until the 1992 BSI dinner that she and I chatted for a while and we learned of our mutual admiration for Vincent Starrett. Susan had long been a fan of his work and I was just beginning my fascination with the fellow. Susan, who owned many of his books while always claiming not to be a collector, encouraged me to get a hold of Starrett’s books about books. I made a note to do so.

It was a pleasant talk, the first of many along those lines.

Then a wonderful thing happened. I got a letter from Susan Rice in the mail. It was my first (and only) fan letter. I know this was a fan letter because Susan states clearly at the top: “This is a fan letter.” I don’t know many shades of crimson that went across my face as I read it, but looking at it now, 28 years later, I am still floored that she would recall those little bits where our paths crossed and thought them worth writing about.

(I reprint the letter here out of hubris and a desire for you to understand how incredibly supportive and generous she was.)

Susan mentions my heckling during the BSI dinner. It was something that Tom Stix actually enjoyed and he encouraged me to do it, but the timing and the moment has to be right.

Here’s an example that’s a bit more recent: The very talented David Stuart Davies did one of his tour de force presentations during the BSI dinner, where he acted all the characters in a mock Basil Rathbone/Nigel Bruce radio play. After an exhausting several minutes at the mic, he won an equally extensive and well-deserved round of applause that swelled, calmed, and swelled again. As he was preparing to leave the lectern, I called out “Do it again!” David nearly fainted.

This drew a round of raucous laughter, and I happened to spy Susan as she turned with a huge smile on her face and wagged a finger (No, not that one. Susan was not so rude.) in my direction.

I think you had to be there.

For the next few decades after that letter, I became her devoted follower and we delighted in every opportunity to sit and chat. Susan was one of the wittiest folks I’ve ever known, and being with her encouraged me to try my hand at matching her bon mot for bon mot. I rarely rose to her level, but the competition was always delicious.

Sage of Santa Fe inside cover title page.jpeg

Sage of Santa Fe inside cover title page 2.jpeg

She was also a damned fine Sherlockian scholar. I recall being on the program for Bob Thomalen’s “Springtime in Baker Street” in Tarrytown, New York in 2006. I had whipped up a silly talk that was supposed to be a Madison Avenue marketing company’s pitch to promote the Sherlock Holmes “brand.” It was fluff and foolishness and had every chance to go over like a bacon sandwich at a bar mitzvah. Still, I thought I had a shot at entertaining the folks.

Susan got up before me and delivered a masterful explication of Watson’s experiences in Afghanistan. She reviewed previous theories, wove in historical details and even cited contemporary records from letters written by generals and soldiers in the field. She used footnotes, for Watson’s sake.

I was awed. I was also toast. How could my silly talk possibly compare with her scholarship?

When it was my turn, I started shaky, but once folks caught on to the joke it picked up speed. When I hit the proposal for a Holmes television show that would pair him with a half-dozen gay men who would modernize Sherlock’s wardrobe, called “Queer Eye for the Private Eye,” both Susan and Mickey exploded and rose in applause. My heart was so happy.

I see that I’ve mentioned, but not introduced, the love of Susan’s life, Mickey Fromkin. It’s hard to think of one without the other, and indeed, “MickeyandSusan” with their names smooshed together is how you would often hear them discussed. Which brings me to their wedding. Was there ever an event as joyous as the marriage of these two women?

On that November 2011 day, I met Steve Rothman and Janice Fisher outside Penn Station and we talked about how excited we were that the world finally was going to sanction what we had known for decades: Susan Rice and Mickey Fromkin were spouses in all ways except one. The three of us grinned like school kids the whole way to the Players Club, and were met with a room packed with equally delighted well wishers.

Perhaps no one was more excited than Al Rosenblatt, an associate judge of the New York Court of Appeals, who performed the ceremony. Al and his family (all BSI) had long been friends with Mickey and Susan. He practically floated up to the stage.

I’ve been to many weddings in my life, but none equaled that one for sheer joy. Singing, music and toasts broke out spontaneously throughout the afternoon and evening as we celebrated the end of their 30-year engagement and beginning of their lives as wife and wife.

And laughter, always laughter, filled the room.

One more memory before signing off. It was a frigid day in January 2014, and once again we were at the Players Club. This time it was Susan, Scott Monty, Burt Wolder and myself. Scott and Burt had invited Susan and me to talk about our joint interest in Vincent Starrett for their podcast.

The interview lasted an hour, but I could have easily stayed for several more. Susan was knowledgable, funny and insightful. In other words, she was Susan. Listening to it again, I continue to marvel at her depth of detail on the subject matter, her perspective on Starrett’s life and her appreciation for the foundational contributions he made to our shared hobby.

I didn’t want the afternoon to end. I still don’t.

I am grateful to Scott and Burt for a recording I cherish.

I am grateful to Mickey for sharing Susan for that afternoon.

Most of all I’m grateful to be a part of the Susan Rice fan club.