Essays on a Time and Place a Companion to the Exhibit

Essays on a Time and Place A Companion to the Exhibit

Upper Cascade of the Reichenbach William Henry Bartlett

Introduction

In keeping with the theme of this year’s triennial Holmes conference—Sherlock Holmes Through Time and Place—this exhibit focuses on a small point in time, a precise place, and a pair of remarkable scholar- collectors. The time is the 1950s; the place is the Reichenbach Falls and the nearby Swiss village of Me- iringen; the scholar-collectors are Dr. Philip S. Hench and his wife, Mary Kahler Hench.

Nobel laureate and Mayo Clinic physician Dr. Philip S. Hench and his wife, Mary Kahler Hench, developed a significant collection of Sherlockiana. Together, they explored the life, times, and places of Sher- lock Holmes, including the area near Meiringen and the Reichenbach—site of the epic struggle between Holmes and his nemesis, Professor Moriarty. Here you will see some of the material gathered by Dr. and Mrs. Hench as they researched the locales associated with Holmes and the story of "The Final Problem." Together, and with the help of Holmesians in London and Minneapolis, they helped create what is today a travel destination for Holmes enthusiasts.

Two essays are offered to attendees of this year’s conference as a companion piece to the exhibit. The first, by Dr. Philip S. Hench, is from Exploring Sherlock Holmes, a volume published by The Norwegian Explorers at the Sumac Press in 1957. The second, by Julie McKuras, originally appeared in The Sherlock Holmes Journal, Summer 2000. Our thanks to The Norwegian Explorers and The Sherlock Holmes Soci- ety of London for permission to reprint these two essays.

Taken together, the pieces by Hench and McKuras help to put the exhibit into a larger context. They ex- plain the good doctor’s fascination with Meiringen and the Reichenbach Falls; they document a collabora- tive effort between Minneapolis and London in conceiving and erecting a lasting monument; and they demonstrate the continuing affinity and affection found in the membership of each society. It is a rich history, full of warm and enduring friendships. Long may these bonds remain, strengthened by the gathering of friends.

Timothy J. Johnson E. W. McDiarmid Curator of the Sherlock Holmes Collections Curator of Special Collections and Rare Books University of Minnesota

OF VIOLENCE AT MEIRINGEN

by Philip S. Hench

AFTER THE INTERNATIONAL Congress on Rheumatic Diseases which was held in 1953 at Geneva, Switzerland, Mrs. Hench and I decided suddenly to rest a while at Wengen, which we had visited some twenty-seven years previously. High on a mountainside, this lovely little resort faces what is, surely, some of the world’s most majestic scenery — the lovely Lauterbrunnen Valley and the lofty peaks of the Eiger, Monch, and Jungfrau. Feeling again the lure of peaks and pinnacles, we took that remarkable little railroad which corkscrews upward inside the mountains to reach its terminus, “the highest railroad station in all Europe.” Adjoining it there is a charming little hotel which is also (except for its one-windowed-face) within the mountain. The visitor to the Jungfrau-Joch has spread before him an unforgettable, breath-taking vista of Alpine grandeurs. But, although I thrilled to it as before, for me there was, near by, an even greater attraction, a 330-foot waterfall less than twenty miles straightaway from the Jungfrau. Placed only 2,755 feet above sea level and dwarfed by the mountain range behind it, nevertheless this waterfall also has beauty and grandeur. But not therefrom does it derive its special dignity. Its “place” in the world is unique because it was here, at the Reichenbach Falls near Meiringen, that Sherlock Holmes, one of “the best and wisest men . . . ever known,” risked (and nearly lost) his life so as to rid the world of that veritable “Napoleon of Crime,” Professor James Moriarty.

LET NO ONE FORGET Of Meiringen — calm and kind is its present (1957), and may its life be ever serene. But let no placid future, however long, rob this village or the world of its memories of “Meiringen 1891.” That was the year of tragic destiny: twice during that fateful year a violence occurred at Meiringen which made the heart stop. For their new year of 1891 the 2,500 inhabitants of Meiringen expected nothing but the usual order of things: its “normal” seasons: some kind, some hard; planting and harvest, and the small mathe- matics of womb and tomb. And so it was, quiet and normal, until May. When, late on Sunday, May 3, Peter Steiler the elder, landlord of the Englischer Hof, welcomed the two genteel hikers, he sensed no prelude to violence. What they required of him were “simples”: solid meals, and a clean room with good beds for a sound sleep. Easy guests: the one was friendly for an Eng- lishman; the other was more restrained, almost silent except for his few orders and for those two brief remarks. What were they? Oh, yes. “This is not, I suppose, the only stairway,” and later at the conclusion of dinner: “Danke, Herr Steiler, a very good meal, the only British-type meal you’ve served today, I fancy.” (Come to think of it, had they been questions or mere pleasantries?)

AT THE FALLS, SOMETHING HORRIBLE The next day Herr Steiler was a bit surprised to find that his guests were in no hurry to be off, surprised because most Englishmen on vacation, come Mondays, were up and away early. Instead, the thin- ner one had taken quite a morning’s walk, one which had carried him not only along the streets near by, but on a full circuit of Meiringen. Near midday, however, they told Herr Steiler they would be leaving that afternoon, whereupon they asked of the different roads: of the one which led eastward toward the Susten, and of the other which branched off southeast to the Grimsel Pass and Furka. But he suggested an alternative, the mountain road which led to Rosenlaui, a little hamlet at the foot of the Wettern Alps. “And on the way you must take a small detour which begins halfway up the lower hills and brings

2 you to the Falls of Reichenbach. On no account should you permit yourselves to pass them up, because those falls, meine Herren, are sehr gröss und schön, much finer than our near-by Alpbach Falls. Mehr . . . uh . . . dramatisch. Ja, und für mich etwas schrecklich.” Etwas schrecklich . . . somewhat horrible: an inadvertent, prophetic understatement of the later events of that day! Of them, nothing more need be said here, not to those of us upon whose hearts the brief, yet exact, chronicle of Watson placed so grievous a burden for ten long years. If there was a violence at Me- iringen that day, there was also justice, the which, when it finally became known, led to grim satisfaction, and to quiet and discreet rejoicing which continues to this day.

FIRE SHATTERS THE PEACE OF THE HASLITHAL During those early months of 1891 the valley land was sometimes waterlogged, hydropic. But soon the Haslithal was green and growing. Later there were summer days when the heated soil, like the lips of its owners, would have welcomed a cooling compress of snow. That fall the valley knew again the radi- ance of a Swiss autumn. But, all too soon, the fiery foliage disappeared, and with it most of the tourists. In their place sudden gusts of chilling wind visited the valley on an irregular schedule, like grim messengers sent ahead to make reservations for winter’s imperious visitation. At such times the wooden, roof- thatched homes of Meiringen could no longer capture enough heat from the day, and so, during the night warming house-fires burned, carefully tended and banked. Now let me specify a particular time late in 1891 — to be exact, Sunday, October 25. The night had been calm, and as the Sabbath’s dawn approached, there was, at first, no unseemly wind to disperse prematurely the thin ribbons of smoke which rose from the occupied homes and inns. But about sunrise a breeze reached Meiringen, coming through and above the Aareschlucht, that fantastic erosion made by the Aare River. Soon it was no longer a breeze, but an east wind rising. Then quickly, disaster struck. Some- where in the eastern part of town a conscientious housewife had arisen early to cook for her family those extras which help to make Sundays special. Potatoes, dropped into a deep layer of melted fats, were bumping gently over a fire. Boiling over suddenly, the fat was really “in the fire.” In a flash the whole house was ablaze: gone forever was its thin, orderly column of chimney smoke. The house became a mass of fire, and the fire became a fury, a windblown demon, a Loge who danced in frenzy to spread and destroy. And when it was over, much of the village of Meiringen was in ruins, burned to the ground. “But how lucky that everyone escaped”! so it was thought until someone remembered in sudden an- guish one particular place, a lonesome little refuge for an elderly man who lived alone — and blind. Rushing there belatedly, they found the little house burned to ashes. Here, alas, the tables were turned, for now it was they who could not see him, not ’till they searched the ashes. Mercifully, only that one life was lost, but the work of a thousand “lives” was suddenly gone, for, of the town’s 250 buildings, about half were destroyed completely.

POSTLUDE: ONE PHOENIX, ONE MISSING CORPSE And so, forget who may, Meiringen will never lose its memory of that tragic year, that Monday in May when a stranger disappeared within a boiling mass of spray and spume, or that Sunday in October when a neighbor disappeared amidst the swirling flames and smoke of the burning village. As for the latter, Meiringen the village rose phoenixlike from its ashes. It was soon rebuilt, not alas, from ancient and sturdy woods but with less picturesque but more fire- resistant foundations of concrete and roofs of tile. As for the man who was shattered at the falls, it was as though the earth had swallowed him. If some considered him to have been not a man but an inhuman beast, he was at least no “phoenix” to rise from misty spray. Of him Death claimed everything. But if there was no corpse to bury, no body over which to “mourn,” there was a body to revenge, as Holmes and Watson were to discover. But what of the second disaster? Was the October conflagration an accident, an “act of God” com-

3 pletely unrelated to the earlier violence? In Meiringen there were those who declared at the time — indeed there are some who whisper it today — that the one violence begot the subsequent violence, that Meiringen’s auto-da-fé was, in fact, the flaming revenge boldly decreed by the surviving eyewitness to the encounter of May 4, the Professor’s slinking partner in crime, Colonel Sebastian Moran, and subtly executed by, or with the help of, that anonymous hireling, the young “Swiss messenger.”

MEIRINGEN BECOMES MINE Meiringen — some old, much “new” . . . who cared! It was still “the” Meiringen, this town which I was now approaching. Its special “history” had long thrilled me from boyhood; now the very place was to become “mine”! Here I was (in August, 1953) driving down its main street, passing its picturesque homes and shops and colorful inns. Since its rebirth, the town’s character and size seem to have changed but little. Its population, under 3,000 in 1891, was about 3,100 in 1910, about 3,640 in a recent census. A half- century ago its 17 hotels and pensions provided 500 beds; at the time of this visit there were 16, with 550 beds. But first I must see the falls, find that path and stand on that spot . . . if the latter two still existed. And so, stopping just long enough for me to buy a stout, Meiringen-tagged alpenstock, my driver and I hurried on. Recrossing the Aare, our road forked right and left: the hamlet of Reichenbach on our right, that of Willigen ahead and to the left. There are several Reichenbachs in Europe; Switzerland itself has two, the “other one” being a little mountain village south of Spiez. The folks there, being “neighbors,” would be tolerant of any special “claims” made on behalf of Meiringen’s Reichenbach. But would a single inhabitant of any of Europe’s other Reichenbachs agree with me that where we now were is THE Reichenbach of the world? Actually, this hamlet itself was not my precise destination, but from it a funicular climbs a half mile (in 10 minutes) to the west side of the upper falls. After hearing that the funicular would be running all day, my chauffeur drove up the looping, climbing Rosenlaui road to a spot as near the top of the falls as one can go by car. At this spot, on the right side of the road, a sign (“Reichenbach- fälle - Drahtseilbahn”) identifies the path which brings one, via a fifteen-minute walk, down to the top of the upper falls. It was a lovely walk which sloped downward through shaded woods, and provided scenes that were a photographer’s delight. Two or three turns brought me to a narrow footbridge. Here there is an opening in the trees, and on my left the sun streamed down on a rushing five-foot cascade of slate-blue water. On my right, just a few feet below the bridge, was the very brink of the Upper Fall. At the bridge there was a loud roaring; leaning forward I could see far below me the rocky pit into which the water plunged. Across the bridge the path becomes rougher and steeper as it loops down, now on the western side of the falls. Two or three turns brought me to the first “lookout,” a fenced-in spot near the lower end of the Upper Fall’s top segment. Here this first column of water is suddenly and violently deflected as it crashes noisily against a smooth, almost perpendicular rock (which I christened “Ricochet Rock”). A few more turns brought me to a second “lookout.” Protected by a low barrier, it is situated about midway between the brink of the top segment and the bottom of the second (main) of the “Upper Fall’s” three segments. Here at this vantage point — make no mistake about it! — the falls did “roar as though all hell were let loose.” Here there were no poetic “soft clouds of moisture being wafted gently upward to caress and refresh the hungry foliage.” It’s not like that, not on your life! There was no “bridal veil” here, nothing gentle or relaxing. Here instead were the signs and sounds of a brute force, manifestations of the mighty power of Nature unleashed. In consequence, the spray was literally whipped up in long, lashing streamers which reached out to strike forcibly, and to drench thoroughly, everything and everybody! The crashing roar was tremendous, deafening. From other locations the Reichenbach Falls can and do provide sensations which are thrilling, pleasurable, and entertaining. But this second lookout seems to bring one nearest to the psychological, if not the physical, “center” of this mighty turbulence. Here, despite the solid ground underneath, I felt awe and a sense of insecurity, a “fear” more exciting than frightening. After a half hour I was glad to descend to the security and relatively dry comfort of the funicular’s

4 upper station. On its platform I could obtain a more extensive and objective view of the falls. At this location and from others I took still photographs in color and in black and white, and also movies in color. From this point also I (later) located on the rocky wall opposite me a spot which satisfied the require- ments — mine, at least — for the site of the Great Encounter.

IN SEARCH OF REFRESHMENTS A little weary after my three or four hours of travel and exploration, I decided to hunt for a bite of food and a comfortable chair. Since these were unavailable at the funicular’s upper and lower stations, I retraced my steps to the Rosenlaui road, thence on up to the near-by Zwirgi Inn, perched about 460 feet above the Upper Fall. It was well past the usual lunch hour when I reached this inn; nevertheless I was welcomed, and served, by a pleasant young lady, perhaps twenty years old. After the “ice” was broken and while my food was being prepared, I fell into conversation with her and with two older persons whom I took to be her parents, the probable owners of the inn. Soon they were questioning me: “Where was my home? Where else in Switzerland had I been? Why had I come to Meiringen?” The first two inquiries were understandable. But why the question, “What brings you to Meiringen?” “Incroyable!” I mused. Why should anyone in this town, especially these people who live “on top of the falls,” have to guess what brings any American or Britisher to Meiringen? I was about to explode! It was on the tip of my tongue to say: “But, except to see ‘The Sherlock Holmes Site,’ what else in Meiringen could possibly....” But I checked myself just in time and remained silent. These good people must be newcomers to Me- iringen, I reasoned to myself. Furthermore they must have moved here from some distance, from a place where the Sherlockian associations of Meiringen are forgotten, disregarded or — could such be possible! — unknown. Although my speculations had taken but a moment, politeness required me to break them off so as to answer their puzzling question. “I came to see the falls,” I replied. “As you know, they have some special interest for a great many Americans.” “Ach, so?” The young lady seemed to be puzzled and consulted her elders. “I — we — did not know that. May I ask what you mean?” But surely, I thought to myself, they know of the historical encounter; even if they are relative newcomers, they couldn’t live or work here a week without hearing or learning or being asked about it! It’s ridiculous for me to think otherwise! And so I replied: “You know, of course about the man who was killed there, and of the other man....” “But when did this happen? Recently?” she asked. Could the “impossible” be possible, I wondered. (Holmes often proved it to be so.) Are they confused or just forgetful . . . or actually ignorant of the fall’s main claim to special distinction? I mustn’t jump to hasty conclusions. I must be patient. “All this happened many years ago, liebe Fräulein. Even so, I would expect that this affair would be known to everyone in and near Meiringen, particularly to you who live so near the falls and who manage this inn, the nearest to it. Have none of you three ever heard of this event, either as a story, a legend, or as an actual fact?” She looked to the others helplessly, but it was clear that they were as puzzled as she. “What was the name of the man who was killed?” she asked. “He was Professor Moriarty, a cunning, notorious criminal.” Quickly she shook her head: “No, we have never heard of that name....” It was time for me to see whether they had any collective memory to jog. After all, one might identify Christopher Columbus but not know the name of his first mate, his ships, or the place he first landed. I watched closely to see how they would react to my “final clue.”

“The central figure of the encounter was Sherlock Holmes. Now you recall who he was, don’t you?” (I didn’t ask this; I said it.)

MORE VIOLENCE AT MEIRINGEN Instantly the young lady smiled, with obvious relief. “Oh, yes. I know. He was an Englishman, wasn’t he?” What a perfect cue for me! I rose to it: “Yes, he was. And many people all over the world have re- garded him — indeed many still do — as one of the greatest Englishmen who ever lived, indeed perhaps the greatest.” I found myself strangely affected by my own ringing pronouncement. I had straightened up instinc- tively; my head was erect and, for the moment at least, the sag was gone from my shoulders. Furthermore, my vis-à-vis was responding likewise, either to her own stirring recollections or to the authority of my declaration. In either event she had, at last, caught the spirit, the significance. I was so relieved, even more — I was touched! Her responsiveness, although admittedly somewhat sluggish, was now all that I could wish for. But suddenly I experienced a strange trepidation, a sobering uncertainty as to how far she justified my confidence in her. My sudden anxiety was not, I think, born of any word, gesture, or expression of hers. No, it came from somewhere inside of me, from some warning mechanism which seemed to be alerting me — against what? . . . I didn’t know. And so, I disregarded my formless fear. Nonsense, all this young girl needs (I told myself) is just a little more encouragement. I restored the smile to my face: “You remember, of course, what this great Englishmen did?” I shall never forget her happy expression, now indicative of a gay animation and a new-found assur- ance. Then came a quick, utterly devastating answer: “Oh, yes. He belonged to Scotland Yard . . . !”

* * * “There is no joy in Mudville....”

* * * The sensations we experience at moments of crisis, these we analyze, not at the time but hours, days later. Even then it may be difficult, because shock provides such an array of abnormal responses. Within an instant of my hearing the above remark (a blasphemy if there ever was one!) all time, thought, and feeling ceased for me, temporarily. Later, I was able to recall and catalogue such things as a sudden numbing of brain and body, dumbfoundedness, weak legs, taut lips, and a painful tightening of the scalp. But my vision . . . I distinctly recall it . . . was quite all right. I have this to mention because, as the initial shock wave was receding I noted a strange and sudden darkening outside as well as inside the inn, a phenomenon I was able to confirm by the use of my light meter. Although the sun was still well above the rim of the mountain behind the inn, and although there wasn’t a single cloud to be seen, one had the eerie impression, indeed, a feeling of certainty, that the sun was setting! Since visual dysfunctions do not pro- duce such a phenomenon, it must have been atmospheric. Coincidental, I suppose, although it was curi- ously appropriate to the murky cerebrations within the inn. For the record, the great trauma (the young lady’s reply, that is) occurred at 3:37 p.m. of an August afternoon. And remember the name . . . the Zwir- gi Inn . . . that’s where it happened! Until I regained my self-control I said nothing. Then quickly and automatically I finished my little lunch, mostly for the sake of politeness as, now, I had no appetite. Then, cloaking my troubled feelings by means of a few inconsequential remarks, I satisfied the small “reckoning” and departed. Returning to the falls, I chose a quiet spot where I could consider the painful significance of what had just happened.

NATURE OF THE VIOLENCE: WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED But what did happen? Just this: if not an eyewitness, I was an earwitness to a great “crime.” As a re- sult I was shockingly robbed of my peace of mind, of my stubborn belief in the immortality of Truth, the eternal durability of a Great Fact. To be more specific, I was robbed of my faith in “people,” of my simple trust that people could never, and would never, forget the great occasions when such basic qualities as truth, honor, and justice, in mortal peril before their very eyes, emerged triumphant — that they would never forget those who, like Holmes, battled and won! To “murder” a man is crime enough: to “murder” the memory of a good man is worse. But to “murder” and then to bury the cherished memory of a great and good man, to destroy him, to tear him from the heart, to erase him from history and thus to eradicate all respectful memory of him (even if only from the knowledge of a single admirer, actual or potential), that is the worst of all. Surely, robbing a man of his “immortality” represents a violence against all humanity and justice. I could only wonder: has this happened to the memory of Sherlock Holmes, in Meiringen of all places! To neglect the memory of Sherlock Holmes, i.e., to forget him, is bad enough. But for those three pleasant people not even to know of him, that is even worse! Perhaps this attitude is limited to the area of the Zwirgi Inn. There may be some strange and special “excuse” to account for the incomprehension of its attendants. But however limited this area of ignorance (of Holmes) may be, and whatever excuse may be given for it, most surely a “crime” against the memory of Sherlock Holmes, and all that he still stands for, has been done in my presence this day!

DOES NO “X” MARK THIS SPOT? Bestirring myself again, I spent the next hour or two searching eagerly, carefully for what I hadn’t even thought it necessary to look for in the morning. Could I find anywhere in the vicinity some mention of Conan Doyle, of Sherlock Holmes, of the literary history of this spot — any allusion, no matter how modest, to the chronicle of courage, justice, and death at the Reichenbach Falls, these falls, a chronicle which has thrilled uncounted millions in the past fifty-four years and which is still thrilling millions of modern readers all over the world? Hoping to do so, I rode, first down, then back up the funicular, asking the attendants where “the encounter of 1891” had taken place. They could give me no information. “Well, if there had been such an affair here in 1891, where would it have happened?” Still no answer. I tried again: “A distinguished Brit- ish physician-writer and his wife, after visiting here in 1893, described a path which led to a ledge at the falls. Are the old 1893 path and ledge, or remnants thereof still here? The funicular wasn’t here then, was it?” No, but it was here now and they had to tend it. Information obtained: none. I hunted for and examined the following (some then, some later): road and pathmarkers (very few) above, beside, and below the Upper, Middle, and Lower Falls; illustrated posters; billboards, and printed schedules and other advertising matter referring to the funicular; local and regional travel folders, book- lets, handbills, souvenirs, guidebooks, photo-folders, postcards, and the like — all these I sought for in stores, in some of the hotels and inns, at the railroad station and funicular stations, etc. But at these places and in my collected material there was a vast and awful silence with respect to l’affaire Holmes! In no readily visible place — physical or printed — was there a single Sherlockian advertisement, in the true sense of the word, i.e., any “pointing to.” And not a single “x” marked any spot at the falls. My meditation at the falls led me to realize that my “place” as a Sherlockian was not there, that this was no time to search definitively for “that path of 1891” or at least to confine my present endeavors thereto. Of course, I must find and mark (sooner or later), not one “x,” but several: the “locus Holmesiana 1891,” both the “supra-’ and the “infra-locus Moriarty 1891,” and of course, the “locus Doyleana 1893.” But in behalf of all concerned there was much more important game afoot. Hard work lay ahead, but careful preliminary action was in order now! It was late in the afternoon when, as prearranged, my driver returned for me at the road above the falls. As we descended toward Willigen and Meiringen I felt moody, unhappy. If the neglect of Holmes at

7 or near the falls and funicular was representative of the attitude of the entire town, then injustice was being done, not only to Holmes, and to millions of his admirers, but most particularly to Meiringen itself. Matters must be corrected, but how and where should one begin?

“THE MOMENT OF TRUTH” The depression I felt as I drove away from the falls was understandable. Things had not gone well, at least not as I had hoped. Man longs for the gift of full vision, to see past and future as well as his present, and to see it all through his own eyes. And so, thousands of miles from home, after long expectation I had come, not for a waterfall per se, however scenic, but to find a historic spot, the end of a rocky path, a few square feet of blackish soil kept forever soft. If this could not be, some identifiable residue would do, perhaps a spot marked: “Here . . . or . . . Near here . . .” I would see it and stand on it. Then, at last, I would be in focus with 1891, and capture the violence and the contrast: the frenzy versus skill, hatred opposite justice, fear versus fatalism. In the foreground — two men in silence; background — a roaring chaos. But no fully satisfactory facsimile can be created at Reichenbach now. Despite inquiry of those who were physically the nearest, I hadn’t located this or found out that. Instead, I’d seen — another waterfall. The community’s indifference to its unique “heritage” had converted an eager Sherlockian pilgrim into just another frustrated American tourist. Yes, it had been a disappointing day, a strange day, stranger than I realized, as I discovered only last fall, while reviewing my 1953 notes, prior to a meeting of the Norwe- gian Explorers.

TWO SEQUENCES 62 YEARS APART To find, or to fabricate the reproduction of a short sequence of quite ordinary happenings is, of course easy. Of none such do I write. In 1891 Watson was involved in a strange, unexpected set of circumstanc- es, a sequence of 13 unusual factors or events; that cycle was completed within days. Sixty-two years later, when on that August afternoon (1953) I returned to Meiringen (for a purpose I had just conceived) I was unwittingly completing, within days, a remarkable reproduction of Watson’s sequence. Watson’s sequence occurred before I was born, and at the time I reproduced it, I had no recollection of it, not as a sequence, certainly. The First or “Watson Sequence” of 1891 — Dr. Watson, a physician, (1) was invited to make a sort of business-vacation trip, (2) by a friend, (3). Instead of a customary vacation trip in his home country he did the unusual: in April, 1891, he went “abroad” (4). After some preliminary travel he landed in Switzerland (5), where he did not follow a fixed route (6). On impulse he made a detour to the Reichen- bach Falls (7), a special attraction which he approached with interest, certainly without foreboding (8). Rather unexpectedly he was diverted from the falls for two hours or so (9), during which time he had reason to become uneasy about an ill-defined danger to a revered companion of many years (10). He returned anxiously to the falls (11). There his fears were confirmed and he found evidence that the “career (of Holmes) had . . . reached a crisis” (12). He returned to Meiringen at once to see that done justice was done (13). Now as I rode from the falls toward Willigen, not a single item of the Watson sequence was in my thoughts. Instead, I was thinking of the curious incident which occurred when the owner of the Zwirgi Inn heard the name of Sherlock Holmes. He did nothing. But that, of course, was the “c.i.” Its significance was worrying me, and I was on my way to Meiringen to do something about it. In doing so I was un- knowingly re-enacting the thirteenth event, reproducing the final feature of the 1891 series. The Sequence of 1953 — I, a physician (1), had been invited (2) to address the 1953 Congress at Geneva by a physician friend (3). To make this trip abroad my wife and I had cancelled plans for a do- mestic vacation (4). Our preliminary travel (5) was through France, then to Paris, finally to Geneva. On the spur of the moment, we abandoned our prearranged schedule in favor of a flexible tour (6). Although I had long hoped to visit Meiringen, to see it at this time necessitated special arrangements and a detour (7).

I certainly did not expect to find any confusion, controversy, or frustration at Reichenbach (8). The unexpected diversion was, in my case, the desire for (a belated) lunch and the need to go to the Zwirgi Inn for it (9). The conversation at the inn made me fear that, within sight of his great adventure, Holmes, my “companion” since boyhood, was in danger of being forgotten (10). I, too, returned anxiously to the falls (11), where my fears were confirmed, since I found uninformed attendants and no marker or notice, no instructive posters or any sign of recognition, identifying Holmes (or the encounter) with the falls (12). Not a single “x” marked a spot anywhere, either on bronze, stone, wood, or even paper! And so, there- upon back to Meiringen I went to see that justice might be done (13).

IT’S ALWAYS NICE (?) TO MEET AN AMERICAN “Take me to some store, any store.” My driver complied. To an attendant: “I want to see someone about the Reichenbach Falls.” It was suggested that I ask for Verkehrsdirektör Lindt at the near-by Verkehrsverein. Although it was after 5 o’clock, Herr Lindt, a pleasant young man, greeted me cordially and listened with courtesy, pa- tience, and attentiveness. A lot of ground was covered.1 1. I told him frankly that to see Meiringen’s Sherlockian relationships was the sole reason for my special trip. (“Although Meiringen is a fine little place, countless other Swiss towns have homes and scenery as picturesque, hotels as comfortable, tourist products as attractive, ‘Schluchten’ as impressive, and mountains and falls as high or much higher. Even Rosenlaui has a ‘Reichenbach Falls.’ But Meiringen has one tourist attraction, and only one of which I am aware, which no other place has or ever can have, namely — the site of The Great Encounter at the Reichenbach Falls.”) 2. Evidence of the amazing indestructibility and continuing popularity of Holmes, of his literary and dramatic “immortality,” was presented; because of this, the number of potential Holmesian visitors to Me- iringen, presently and in the future, is incalculable. 3. I described frankly what one Sherlockian visitor (myself) had rather expected or hoped to hear and see at Meiringen and at the falls, and his disappointment and the reasons for it, namely — the incompre- hensible attitudes encountered at and near the falls as evidenced by the “curious incident’’ at the Zwirgi Inn, the regrettable indifference or ignorance of the funicular’s personnel, etc. 4. Inquiry was made as to Meiringen’s civic attitude or official “policy,” if any (past, present, and future), toward Sherlockian visitors, and local Holmesian markers, memorials, or printed notices. 5. Some preliminary suggestions were made as to what might create, attract, and satisfy Holmesian visitors to Meiringen, with mutual pleasure and profit for all concerned. (“Perhaps, Herr Lindt, you do not realize that, aside from the millions of unorganized readers who are loyal ‘fans,’ there are scores of active Sherlock Holmes Societies throughout the world, many of them in the United States. Their memberships include many distinguished men and women — professors of various kinds, writers and businessmen, lawyers, bankers, statesmen and politicians, preachers, radio and television personalities, etc. Most of them have the desire (often suppressed) and many would have the means to enjoy periodically an attractive, well-planned adventure into the geography of Sherlock Holmes. If special events were arranged, perhaps every 3 or 4 years in — let us say — London and Meiringen, I feel sure that an increasing number of Sherlockians, organized and independent, would attend.”) 6. Herr Lindt gave me his preliminary views on the foregoing. 7. Finally arrangements were made for later correspondence with respect to the history and topogra- phy of Meiringen (old hotels, etc.) and of the Zone Reichenbachfälle (paths, etc.) as of 1891 (visit of Holmes, Watson, and Moran, plus, of course, the one-way trip of Moriarty), and as of 1893 (visit of the Doyles) as compared to the present (also, perhaps, as of the times when Meiringen was visited by such

1 EDITOR’S NOTE: A complete transcript of Dr. Hench’s interesting discussion with Mr. Lindt is now in the archives of The Norwegian Explorers. It constitutes a story for which, perhaps, the “world is not yet prepared.” At any rate, it is one which The Norwegian Explorers are not yet able, financially, to publish in full.

9 notables as Goethe, 1779, Richard Wagner, 1852, etc.) Herr Lindt reminded me of the wall plaque in the tavern of the Hotel Rössli, mounted there Novem- ber 11, 1952, through the efforts of Lieutenant W. T. Rabe, one of the leaders of The Old Soldiers of Baker Street. (Mrs. Hench and I were delighted to examine it later; we drank a toast to Lieutenant and Mrs. Rabe and congratulated the management of the Rössli for having gained the honor of displaying this attractive tablet.) Herr Lindt was discreet and diplomatic. But I think he was inclined to agree with me that (meaning no offense to the Rabes) this tablet cannot receive the attention it deserves or provide adequate recognition for The Great Encounter. Since the tablet was set up, although when discovered it makes an interesting “surprise,” it constitutes a rather passive force. Herr Lindt admitted that, notwithstanding Meiringen’s happy acceptance of this tablet, the town was exerting no active pro-Holmesian effort of any kind.2 It was time for me to leave. “Do you think, Herr Lindt, that the mayor and council of Meiringen and the funicular authorities would receive favorably a bronze tablet to serve as a testimonial of the fall’s special significance, and to be set up there, where the most of your visitors would see it? If so, I will discuss this plan with others in London and in my country. I am sure that many would be delighted to share in such a venture.” “A fine idea,” agreed Herr Lindt. “I think that I can speak, not only for myself, but for the town’s governing body. We like to have Sherlockians visit us, and I think we can promise a memorable occasion if this plan materializes.” “Auf wiedersehns” and hearty handclasps concluded this first visit.3

LONDON AND MINNESOTA APPROVE THE PROPOSITION “If you want something done, ask a busy man to do it.” This is often true, but when several busy men are to be concerned, it may take some time. Being a member of the Sherlock Holmes Society of London and of the Norwegian Explorers, and also a delighted subscriber to the publications of the Baker Street Irregulars, I wrote of the foregoing experiences to a powerful septette of Sherlockians: to Professors Theodore C. Blegen, E. W. McDiarmid, and Bryce L. Crawford of the University of Minnesota; to Dr. Maurice Campbell, of Guy’s Hospital, London, and to Mr. Colin Prestige of Chislehurst, England, also to Edgar W. Smith (whose official address is 221-B Baker Street, Morristown, New Jersey), one of America’s most distinguished Holmesian pundits, and to Mr. W. T. Rabe, now of the University of Detroit, Michigan. Informally, the proposition received their unanimous and enthusiastic approval, and so, further correspondence was had with Herr Lindt. At this point a friend and fellow townsman, Mr. Ray Moore, developed a severe exacerbation of an old “viral infection” which he caught as a young lad and from which, obviously, he never recovered fully. His acute relapse was identified by certain physicians of the Mayo Clinic as a “beautiful case” of what has been variously called “Sherlockitis” (Maurice, 1908), “Sherlockholmitos” (Knox, 1911), “Sherlockismus” (MacCarthy, 1932), “Virulent Sherlockemia,” “Baker Street Fever” or simply “Condition 221-B.” Its clin- ical characteristics are trance-like phases alternating with periods of feverish activity. Ray Moore’s contribution to the success of the proposition has been outstanding. Finally, after further discussions and investigations,4 a meeting of The Norwegian Explorers was held in November, 1956, at which time I was privileged to offer five proposals: 1. Does the appropriate spot at the Reichenbach Falls near Meiringen, Switzerland, require a tablet memorializing The Great Encounter of May 4, 1891? 2. Do you accept the responsibilities implicit in such a proposition: (a) the artistic responsibility for

2 But they should regard the appropriate efforts as being much more pro-Meiringenian than pro-Holmesian! 3 Since then I have visited Meiringen twice, the latest visit being July 8, 1957, about two weeks after the dedication of the plaque. 4 EDITOR’S NOTE: For a partial report on one of these, see The Final Problem —— Where? (p.155 of this Omnibus.) Although Dr. Hench is not listed as a co-author of this report, his extensive investigations contributed substantially to the “final solution” and are now in the archives of The Norwegian Explorers.

10 the creation of an attractive tablet; (b) the ethical responsibility for the selection and accurate reproduction of the proper “sentiments”; (c) the financial responsibility for all or most of the costs involved, including the creation, transportation, and location of the tablet, and (d) the executive responsibility for arrangements which must be agreeable to the parties of the second part, namely, the authorities in Meiringen? 3. Do you wish to assume complete responsibility and be the sole sponsors of this project, or do you prefer to have the collaboration of other suitable persons, provided said collaboration is not passive, but is enthusiastically active? Specifically, it is proposed that there be joint sponsorship with the Sherlock Holmes Society of London, of which I have the honor of being a member in good standing (i.e., if my back dues are received in time). 4. Do you accept the design and wording of the plaque as suggested by a small, self-appointed, mutually agreeable “ad hoc committee”? If so, it will be submitted to our colleagues and to our friends in Me- iringen. 5. Do you accept the kind invitation of the authorities at Meiringen to participate in the dedication of the plaque, the dedication to be followed by certain rededications and residual exercises in downtown Me- iringen, the tentative date of said dedication being June 26, 1957, and do you accept also the kind invitation of the Sherlock Holmes Society of London to visit London (en route to Meiringen) so as to join in such convocations, consultations, explorations, libations, and confrontations as shall be mutually agreed upon? The rest is history. Enthusiastic approval was given to these proposals, and the great adventure got under way. Enthusiastic Explorers made generous contributions for the purchase of the plaque, which was skillfully created by Hügenin Frères of Le Locle, Switzerland.

THE FIRST SHERLOCK HOLMES PILGRIMAGE, 1957 Mr. Ray Moore offered plans for a most interesting hegira to be known as “The First Sherlock Holmes Pilgrimage, 1957,” to include the dedication ceremonies at the Reichenbach Falls and the activi- ties in London where The Sherlock Holmes Society scheduled a very pleasant meeting with a conducted tour of Sherlockian London. As for the dedication itself, that story must be told by others and at another time and place. Suffice it to say that the plaque is securely and conveniently positioned so as to tell all and sundry of The Great En- counter which occurred near by, 66 years ago.

A FIXED POINT IN A CHANGING WORLD Each of the two sequences noted above concerned thirteen items. Now another comparable, the four- teenth, can be added to each. As the canon shows, after justice had been done (to Moriarty in 1891, to Moran in 1894), Holmes returned first to Baker Street to continue his pursuit of the enemies of society and later to Sussex. And, as this little account can report, preliminary “justice” has now been done in Me- iringen. Our plaque is, in effect, to serve as an envoy of good will, accredited to the Swiss in general, to Me- iringen in particular. Bearing the names of the Sherlock Holmes Society of London and of the Norwegian Explorers, the plaque serves as a friendly symbol of mutual interests. The plaque carries the features of a mutual friend who, both in this and in another likeness, lived and labored among our three peoples. To those who follow us we commend his life, character, and achievements. Memories of him cluster around historic place-names; Baker Street — Reichenbach — Sussex. But since the walls and soils and human surveyances can shift with time or disappear, we have nailed our tablet and star not to some controversial “221-B” nor at the end of that long, tortuous path near Eastbourne

11 but to the almost timeless rock-walls of Reichenbach.5 There, let us hope, it will remain — a fixed point in a changing world.

Photograph courtesy of Julie McKuras

5 The bronze star is fixed to the eastern rock-wall above the site of the encounter. But the tablet is fixed, for the present, to the outer aspect of the north wall of the funicular’s Upper Station, because it is near to the vast majority of visitors. Perhaps it can be fixed to “eternal rock” later. [Dr. Hench would have been disappointed to know that the plaque was indeed eventually fixed to rock, but not to the rock wall of the chasm. Instead, in 1968 it was affixed to a boulder near the lower funicular station, where more visitors can see it, but from where the falls are not visible. Dr. Crawford is still incensed that the phrase “Across this ‘dreadful cauldron’...” from his carefully worded inscription is no longer accurate. — OMNIBUS EDITORS]

The Sherlock Holmes Journal, Summer 2000

The Norwegian Explorers and the Sherlock Holmes Society of London By Julie McKuras

The Sherlock Holmes Statue Festival was, as Sherlock Holmes Society of London Chairman Peter Hor- rocks wrote of the statue unveiling in the Festival handbook, “A momentous occasion.” The Festival at- tracted Sherlockians from all points of the globe who gathered to celebrate not only the unveiling of the Master Detective’s statue but also the dedication and hard work that went into the monument.

When word of the planned unveiling of the statue reached Sherlockians in the United States, it seemed appropriate to join the festivities and support the work done by the Sherlock Holmes Society of London. The Norwegian Explorers of Minnesota voted to make a substantial donation to the fun, and a cheque was sent with best wishes from Minneapolis to London, along with a letter indicating this was not the first time that the two societies had joined forces in honouring the Great Detective. In 1957, a plaque bearing the names of our two societies was erected in Meiringen to honour Holmes. Upon receipt of the note and donation, Peter Horrocks wrote back with the Society’s note of appreciation and an invitation to speak at the Festival. I chose to discuss the story of how two societies, the Norwegian Explorers and the Sherlock Holmes Society of London, were drawn together by a remarkable Minnesotan in an endeavor to honour London’s best and wisest man.

Our story begins with Dr Philip Hench, a member of the staff at the world famous Mayo Clinic in Roch- ester, Minnesota from 1923 to 1957. He was appointed the head of the new Department of Rheumatic Diseases at the clinic in 1926, and served as a professor of medicine at the Mayo Graduate School of Medicine. A leader in American rheumatology, he introduced cortisone as a treatment for arthritis in 1948. In Exploring Sherlock Holmes, it is noted that Dr Hench did “not devote all his energies to Sher- lockian studies, and in the spare times that he has been able to find for other researches, he has given some attention to cortisone, for which in 1950 he shared the Nobel Prize in Physiology and Medicine.” He was the recipient of national and international honours for his work, and was a member of numerous international medical societies, including the Royal Society of Medicine in London.

In addition to his medical interests, Dr Hench was an enthusiastic Sherlockian. At the urging of friends he forwarded a request to Dr Maurice Campbell on August 6, 1952, applying for membership in the Sherlock Holmes Society. Dr Hench’s correspondence and collection, now part of the Sherlock Holmes Collections at the University of Minnesota, records this initial step into the world where it is always 1895. Copies of his letters and the replies he received tell the amazing story of how he, working with Sherlockians from London and Minnesota, coordinated the effort to erect a plaque honouring Sherlock Holmes in Meiringen.

After addressing the International Congress on Rheumatic Diseases in Geneva in August 1953, Dr and Mrs Hench decided to pay a visit to Meiringen and the Reichenbach Falls, a place that had thrilled him since boyhood. He felt drawn to find the path where Holmes once hiked, and was awed by the power and fury of the falls. He took photographs and home movies, drew maps and felt that he had located the site of the final encounter between Holmes and Moriarty. Exhausted from his explorations, he retreated to a small inn for rest and refreshment. Discussing the story of the final encounter with the owners of the inn, he was shocked into an almost catatonic state when they displayed ignorance of the event, despite their assurances of long-time residency in the area. His efforts to find others aware of the momentous encounter were equally futile. He wrote in Exploring Sherlock Holmes that “If the neglect of Holmes at or near the falls and funicular was representative of the attitude of the entire town, then injustice was being done not only to Holmes, and to millions of his admirers, but most particularly to Meiringen itself.” As a true Sherlockian, Dr Hench could not tolerate the thought of injustice.

He began his quest by meeting that same afternoon with Herr Lindt of the Chamber of Commerce in Me- iringen. Recounting Holmes’s immortality and continuing popularity, Dr Hench mentioned potential in- creased tourism if recognition of the Great Detective was highlighted in the area. Lindt was well aware of the plaque installed at the Hotel Rossli by W. T. Rabe, on behalf of the Old Soldiers of Baker Street, but agreed that this honour was insufficient. Their meeting ended with a firm resolve from both that they would pursue this project.

In October of 1953, Dr Hench began corresponding with Theodore Blegen, a founder of the Norwegian Explorers. Blegen, Dean of the Graduate School at the University of Minnesota, and fellow-founder E. W McDiarmid, University Librarian, were greatly interested in Hench’s trip to Meiringen. After viewing Hench’s photographs of the falls, Dr Blegen wrote to Hench on October 5, stating “The photographs and your comments were of great interest to me and also to Dean McDiarmid. I am afraid that Moriarty did not exactly appreciate the view as he went down over the falls.”

Philip Hench wrote two letters on December 3rd. His first, to Blegen, observes: “Incidentally, there is no marker of any sort at the falls…It seems to me that some of us in this country could easily raise the necessary small sum ($100 more or less) and have a bronze tablet erected along the pathway, either at the bottom of the falls or half-way up the mountainside. I discussed this possibility with the Meiringen gentle- man, Herr Lindt, who was most enthusiastic and said that the town would arrange the proper ceremony if such could be accomplished. Maybe we could do it under the auspices of your group alone or perhaps enlist the help of others in this country, such as the Baker Street Irregulars of New York.” He then offered to start the fund off with a contribution to encourage the project.

The second December 3 letter was to Edgar W. Smith. Smith’s reply notes the erection of a plaque at the Reichenbach Falls was an excellent idea, and, “I am sure the BSI will stand staunchly behind you, and I am sure we can get the Sherlock Holmes Society of London to join hands as well.” On July 30, 1954, Hench wrote to Dr Campbell about his trip the previous year, and his conclusions: “Suffice to say that there is no memorial or other sign indicating the Holmesian relationship to that famous spot.” He stated that he was a member of the Sherlock Holmes Society of London, although not a member of an American scion society, and it occurred to him to write to see if “some Americans would join with some Londoners in putting up a suitable bronze tablet…simply in order that we could have more fun”, perhaps with the small group in Minneapolis. Dr Campbell replied on August 3rd that his proposal would be put before the Council, and by the beginning of November, he notified Dr Hench that the Council felt the idea had great merit. He note reads, in part, “As you are a member of the Sherlock Holmes Society of London they feel grateful to you for the suggestion about the plaque at the Reichenbach Falls and would like to start enquir- ies as to how feasible this might prove to be…”

On April 21, 1955, Dr Hench wrote to Blegen, proposing a joint effort with the London group in erecting and dedicating a plaque in Meiringen, again noting “...we could have a lot more fun if some of us went together, perhaps chipped in for a much nicer bronze and then had it set up with a little ceremony…”. A copy of this letter went to Edgar Smith, who replied on April 16 with assurances of support and a suggestion to contact Bill Rabe. Hench wrote three letters on May 3, the anniversary of Holmes and Watson ar- riving in Meiringen. Updates on the project and proposed meetings were sent to Edgar Smith and Blegen. His letter to Bill Rabe inquired of his experiences with the placement of the Old S. O. B.’s plaque at the Rossli Inn. Rabe replied that he felt that there was only one place for the proposed plaque, on the rocky wall alongside the narrow footpath. He had been unable to place the Old S. O. B.’s plaque there at the time due to weather conditions. He cautioned Hench that this plaque business should not be reduced to the status of Burma Shave signs, but closed his letter with the encouraging words “I say go it! Up plaque! Done for Sherlock, Baker Street and Dr Watson!”

As Philip Hench prepared to present his ideas to the membership of the Norwegian Explorers, he also

14 contacted Ray Moore, the head of the World Travel Bureau of Rochester, to begin planning a pilgrimage for the summer 1956 Meiringen dedication. Moore, described as “the only person (with the possible ex- ception of Mrs Hench) who can keep track of Dr Philip Hench”, also began corresponding with Herr Lindt and Edgar W. Smith. Smith’s July 26, 1955 letter to Moore was the first proposed wording for the memorial, reading: “Here on May 4, 1891, took place the historic encounter in which Professor James Moriarty, the Napoleon of Crime, was thrown into the abyss by Mr Sherlock Holmes, who was, according to Dr Watson, The best and wisest Man whom I have ever known.”

Hench’s August 1, 1955 communication with Dr Maurice Campbell noted his meeting the previous spring with “the officers of the Holmesian group active in and around the University of Minnesota. I am not a member of this organization…There are some fine men in it, including several high-ranking faculty members…” The Explorers agreed with Hench that joining with the London society would be beneficial. Hench proposed meeting with the London group as part of the trip to Meiringen for the plaque dedication.

Dr Hench continued writing to those concerned with the project, including an August 2 letter to Smith indicating that his proposed inscription was wonderful, but one of the Minnesota men wanted to try his hand at writing it. He also noted that “I see that I have not been properly indoctrinated and that I was na- ïve enough to think that Conan Doyle should have a place on the bronze plaque. I have been informed by my Minnesota friends and by your last letter that, after all, Doyle was merely Watson’s literary agent.” During that same month Herr Lindt proposed that a Swiss firm, Hugenin Frères & Cie, manufacture the memorial, which would prove far more practical than having one shipped from either the United States or the United Kingdom.

On July 24, 1955 Dr Bryce Crawford and Ray Moore of the Norwegian Explorers made their investigato- ry expedition to the Reichenbach Falls to determine the exact location of the final struggle, which they concluded was on the eroded pathway on the fall’s left side. A plaque at the exact site would be cost- prohibitive, and as they later wrote, “…would have to be so large and so well lighted as to resemble a Times Square sign.” The decision was made to place the plaque at the viewing platform at the top of the funicular railway. Crawford later wrote in “The Final Problem–Where?” in Exploring Sherlock Holmes that his decision to ride the railway was not a decision born of indolence but because of his desire “to complete his research more expeditiously.” Crawford turned in his expense account, showing expenses of 4 Swiss Francs for transportation to and up the funicular, and $2199.24 in other expenses, which he paid. However, the Norwegian Explorers refused reimbursement of the 4 Swiss Francs, or $0.48, due to lack of conclusive evidence–noted in Crawford’s article as sworn affidavit and receipt in triplicate–that it was not for Dr Crawford’s entertainment at the Hotel Rossli.

Following their expedition, Ray Moore met with Doctor Campbell in London, writing “he’s most charming and I thorohly (sic) enjoyed my chat with him. He gave us the go sign. Wants to join in the fun.” The Society planned to host a special meeting and tour for the pilgrimage participants. Dr E. W. McDiarmid’s letter of December 23 1955 was the first formal communication between the Norwegian Explorers and the Sherlock Holmes Society of London whose names would appear together on the bottom of the plaque as suggested by Dr Hench. The decision was made that the formal dedication of the plaque would have to be delayed until the summer of 1957.

A November 1 1956 Norwegian Explorers meeting, with one of the largest attendances in their history, covered the project and fund raising, which was started with a donation by Dr Hench. The cost of the plaque and installation would be $450.00, and a proposed book of essays, Exploring Sherlock Holmes, would defray costs and include articles by Hench, Blegen, Moore and others. The Norwegian Explorers began the fund raising in earnest. The Baker Street Journal, Volume 7, Number 1, carried notice of that meeting and plans for the pilgrimage, which had been postponed until the following summer.

A flurry of correspondence in the first half of the year confirmed wording, dates and scheduled dedication of the plaque on June 25 1957, with Dr and Mrs Theodore Blegen and Ray Moore present as official rep- resentatives of the Norwegian Explorers. As for Dr Hench, the day his dream would be fulfilled in Me- iringen was the same day he would receive an honorary degree in Toronto. The American group arrived in London on June 18. A note on Cumberland Hotel stationary, to McDiarmid from Blegen, gives details of the Sherlock Holmes Society of London’s meeting and dinner at the Royal College of Surgeons. “They treated us with great courtesy and kindness, and we were the guests of honor” he wrote. At the dinner, Blegen continued, he was called on to make a little speech and he gave “a carefully planned and very in- formal impromptu talk. It went off nicely and the audience laughed at a good many of my feeble sallies.” He described Colin Prestige as a remarkable Sherlockian who knew the London of Holmes and Watson wonderfully well. Blegen was pleased that he and his wife Clara were “chauffeured back to our hotel by none other than Lord Donegall.” Later, over 60 devoted Sherlockians enjoyed an amazing evening tour of Holmesian London. On June 23, the Blegens were treated to a tour “round parts of London” by Prestige.

Then it was on to Meiringen, and their first trip to the Falls. On June 24, the tour group shared dinner with local authorities. The next morning in “rainy weather with the roar of the fall in our ears and the mist in our faces”, the plaque was unveiled by the Mayor of Meiringen and Blegen at the funicular station at the midpoint of the falls. Bryce Crawford’s inscription reads “Across this ‘dreadful cauldron’ occurred the culminating event in the career of Sherlock Holmes, the world’s great detective, when on May 4, 1891, he vanquished Professor Moriarty, the Napoleon of Crime. Erected by the Norwegian Explorers of Minneso- ta and the Sherlock Holmes Society of London.” Blegen’s note from Meiringen begins with “First of all, the plaque is beautifully done, securely in place, and in the very best location that could have been cho- sen.”

The Sherlock Holmes Journal of Autumn 1957 featured the essay “South London Adventures” by Pres- tige, covering the tour of London with Theodore and Clara Blegen. The October 1957 Baker Street Jour- nal scion society report announced the happy completion of the four-year project.

Philip Hench, was the collaboration catalyst, later had the opportunity to see the plaque at the funicular station. The plaque has now been moved to Doyle Plaza, and remains a popular tourist attraction. The May 1 1968 unveiling of the memorial at this new location was marked by the extremely successful tour of Switzerland by the Sherlock Holmes Society of London, the subject of a film screened at the recent Sherlock Holmes Statue Festival. A bronze star from the people of Meiringen is now fixed to the eastern rock wall above the site of the final encounter. Hugenin Frères remain in business in Le Locle. And in 1998–the 50th anniversary of the Norwegian Explorers–Bryce Crawford was presented with a beautiful frame containing his $0.48. (As a sidenote, The Norwegian Explorers voted not to reimburse Board Member Phil Bergem, who prepared the presentation, for the cost of the frame and coins; he lacked the appropriate sworn affidavit and receipt in triplicate.)

Dr Philip Hench died on March 31, 1965. When he wrote of his plan for a memorial, he noted “Our plaque is, in effect, to serve as an envoie of good will, accredited to the Swiss in general, to Meiringen in particular. Bearing the names of the Sherlock Holmes Society of London and of the Norwegian Explorers the plaque serves as a friendly symbol of mutual interests. The plaque carries the features of a mutual friend who, both in this and in other likeness, lived and labored among our three peoples. To those who follow us we commend his life character, and achievements.”

Hench and his wife Mary Genevieve Kahler Hench built one of the largest private Arthur Conan Doyle collections in the world, consisting of over eighteen hundred books, fifteen hundred periodicals, photographs, illustrations, manuscripts, letters and memorabilia. In 1977, Dr Hench’s extensive collection, including four copies of Beeton’s Christmas Annual, four pages of the original “Hound of the Baskervilles” manuscript and several illustrations by Frederic Dorr Steele, was donated to the University of Minnesota.

Dr Theodore Christian Blegen died on July 18, 1969. Blegen Hall at the University of Minnesota was named in his honour.

In the hearts and minds of those who consider Holmes the fixed point in a changing world, he will always be the representative and living symbol of London. As we embark upon Holmes’s third century, we can all be pleased that an appropriate monument in London, so close to Holmes and Watson’s old rooms in Baker Street, has joined the monument erected in Meiringen so many years ago. They both serve to re- mind us of the hallowed place in our hearts where it is always 1895. Perhaps no one could have stated it better than Theodore Blegen, in The Crowded Box-Room when he wrote, “The Captains may fade away and the kings depart, but Sherlock Holmes has a way of living on.”

BIBLIOGRAPHY Blegen, Theodore C. The Crowded Box-Room. La Crosse: Sumac Press, 1951. Flanagan, John T. Theodore C. Blegen. A Memoir. Northfield, MN: The Norwegian-American Historical Association, 1977. Horrocks, Peter and Richard Lancelyn Green, eds. The Return of Sherlock Holmes. The Handbook of the Sherlock Holmes Statue Festival 21-26 September 1999. London: Brook Green Print, 1999. Key, Jack D. Hench’s Triumph–A Fixed Point in a Changing World. Rochester: Davies, 1981. Key, Jack D. “Keeping the Holmes Fires Burning.” The Mayo Alumnus. July 1981, p. 12. McDiarmid, E. W. The Saga of a Sherlockian Scion Society. Minneapolis: No Litter Press, 1995. McDiarmid, E. W. and Theodore C. Blegen, eds. Exploring Sherlock Holmes. La Crosse: Sumac Press, 1957. Norwegian Explorers Archives, Sherlock Holmes Collections, University of Minnesota.

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