April 27, 2025
To Watson
Cut out the poetry, he said,
The game’s afoot, a man is dead.
I’ll solve the crime as Euclid might,
But still I need you: you can write.
The fixed point in a changing time,
The common man caught up in crime,
The loyal Boswell throwing bombs,
The burglar who yet had qualms.
He’d follow Holmes where’er he led,
Though not to Lhasa when thought dead.
He fainted when he reappeared,
He took strange drugs, saw what he feared.
He let himself be made a fool,
And yet he was a willing tool,
He gave to Sherlock Holmes the glory,
But it was Watson told the story.
-Sheldon Goldfarb
TO THE QUEEN
To the Queen! Ah, but which queen? It’s generally accepted that we toast Queen Victoria, who reigned during the early years of the Sherlock Holmes stories – and certainly in 1895, our iconic year, according to Vincent Starrett. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had a quite respectful attitude to Her Majesty, perhaps because when she was still a child princess, his grandfather, the artist John Doyle, sketched a picture of her. In any case, although the aristocracy comes in for a hard time in the stories, the Queen is referred to as a certain gracious lady and is the only character I know to be celebrated by bullet holes. So to the Queen!
-Sheldon Goldfarb
TO THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH
To The Cloister and the Hearth! The Cloister and the Hearth? (I hear you say.) What is The Cloister and the Hearth? Well, first of all it is a novel by Charles Reade, written in 1861. How boring, you may think: a cloister? about a monk? Sort of. And the hearth? Domesticity – and the central character, Gerard, is choosing between the two. I hear you yawning. And yet Sir Arthur Conan Doyle called it his favourite novel, and he stole the name of the hero Gerard for his series of hilarious stories about Brigadier Gerard. I strongly recommend them.
I also recommend The Cloister and the Hearth because really what it is is an exciting adventure story featuring dangerous robbers and an even more dangerous mother bear. Best of all, it features an interesting partnership between Gerard and a travelling knight called Denys. Denys knows the world and explains it to Gerard, like Holmes explaining things to Watson. I have to think that this relationship inspired Conan Doyle. In any case, it’s a wonderful adventure story which I think you will enjoy. So here’s to The Cloister and the Hearth!
-Sheldon Goldfarb
A TOAST to BLACK JACK of BALLARAT is in THREE PARTS
First:
In The Boscombe Valley Mystery, a dying reference to “a rat” proves to be the last syllables of Ballarat, a town in Victoria, Australia. The full phrase would have been “Black Jack of Ballarat.” Turns out, that was John Turner, a widower and major landowner whose neighbour Charles McCarthy had been found dead near Boscombe Pool. As we come to discover, John Turner had killed McCarthy. McCarthy’s son, James, had been accused of the crime. Holmes solves the mystery and James is freed, perhaps to pursue Alice Turner, with whom he is in love. But Alice’s father John, not only killed Charles but in his earlier days as a bushranger in Australia, he was a robber and a murderer. Sure, he had reformed his ways, using his ill-gotten gains to live large in England, marrying and having a daughter and even becoming a good citizen. But really, does he deserve a toast at today’s luncheon?
Second.
The Baker Street Irregulars, as a part of their rituals, welcome new members with an investiture. I am John Hopley Neligan, for example. ….an anaemic looking youth… well, I was only 29 in 1983. Two years later, the investiture “Black Jack of Ballarat” was given to a young man from Australia. In the BSI picture of the 1985 dinner, I could see that he was sitting on the far side of the banquet room from me, and I do not remember meeting him specifically. The young man was Derham Groves. He is now a recently retired professor of architecture from the University of Melbourne. Dr. Groves is the author of at least 20 books on architecture, popular culture and, of course, Sherlock Holmes. In addition to writing books, he fashions whimsical creations relating to the Canon. Here are some examples:
(Show and tell)
When I was in Australia earlier this year, I met with Bill Barnes, the head of the Sherlock Holmes Society of Australia, The Sydney Passengers. During our wonderful lunch at his club, I mentioned that I would be going to Melbourne later in my trip. Bill sent me the email addresses of two Sherlockians there and he wrote to them letting them know I would be in town. On was Michael Duke, the head of the Melbourne society who organized a lunch for me at The Sherlock Holmes Pub and the other was Derham. In our email exchange, I mentioned that I was planning a train trip from Melbourne to Ballarat, to say I had been there. Instead, he offered an alternative. He picked me up at my downtown hotel and together we drove the hour and a half trip to Ballarat. We had a delicious lunch and the elegant Craig’s Royal Hotel, a tour of the town, a trip through the botanical gardens and a stop for ice cream by Lake Wendouree. We took a few pictures of Ballarat signs for evidence. Imagine taking a trip to Ballarat with Black Jack of Ballarat. Sherlockians like Derham are amazing in the warm and generous hospitality given to a visitor. Dr. Derham Groves does deserve a toast.
And finally:
A toast to Black Jack of Ballarat and Derham Groves, BSI.
Ladies and gentlemen,
Today, we lift our glasses to a man with gold dust in his past and mystery in his name—Black Jack of Ballarat.
A shadowy figure from The Boscombe Valley Mystery, Black Jack stood at the edge of empire and intrigue, a colonial spirit who crossed oceans—and lines of morality—with equal ease. He left Australia with fortune in his pockets, secrets in his wake, and a legacy that Sherlock Holmes himself would one day unearth.
But today, we also toast the man who bears his name with distinction in the Baker Street Irregulars—Derham Groves. A scholar, a Sherlockian, and a man whose investiture reminds us that even the most elusive characters deserve to be remembered, studied, and celebrated.
To Black Jack of Ballarat—the ghost of the goldfields—and to Derham Groves, who keeps his spirit alive in our shared love of the Great Detective.
Cheers. Or should we say “cooee?”
-Bob Coghill
A TOAST TO ABSENT FRIENDS
Fellow Petrels and guests; I hereby rise to propose the toast to Absent Friends.
One of my reasons for choosing to propose this particular toast, is that, since the persons about whom I am going to speak, are by definition “Absent”, they can’t actually object to anything that I say here….at least, during the time that I am actually speaking.
By the way, those specifically mentioned here are just my personal choices, and are in no way to be construed as a reflection on those who are not specifically named. I am using this toast as an opportunity to share some reflections and memories…..my memories, imperfect though they may be.
There are many reasons why a Petrel Friend could be absent today. A prior engagement….or wedding, a health issue, a better offer, or…..death. This last option, is the reason why the first Petrel Friend, I offer, cannot be here today.
The first Petrel Friend is Michael Higgs. He and his wife Rosemary lived in the same building as my wife Lea and I, and one day in the elevator the subject of Sherlock Holmes came up….although the elevator was actually going down at the time. He invited me to attend a meeting and the rest is….still being written. Michael had been a pilot for Air Canada and had a fund of stories which he would recount at the drop of a hat. One of his mantras was “never let the fuel gauge get below half full”. He could also say, in many different languages, “two beers please, and my friend will pay”. Michael was the keeper of the Speckled Band rope, which he would bring to all meetings and hang from any prominent point that he could find. Michael has since joined the Choir Celestial where I am sure that he is continuing to entertain with his stories.
The second Petrel Friend is Peter Wood. Peter was the Priory Schoolmaster at the time that I joined the Stormy Petrels, early in this century. It was at approximately the same time that Sheldon Goldfarb joined the Stormy Petrels. The same Sheldon who is now the current Priory Schoolmaster, and… Head Honcho. Sheldon and I both attended the meetings held at the Woods’ apartment in the West End, Vancouver and experienced the wonderful hospitality of Mrs. Wood and the wisdom of Mr. Wood…..and, you know, Peter really did look the part. Tweedy, bearded and grey, looking just like he had come out of the Reading Room of the British Museum….Archaic Section. Frankly I’m beginning to look a lot like that, myself. Peter has also long since joined the Choir Celestial, where I am sure that he is sharing his wide knowledge of all things Sherlockian.
It was at those meetings that I first met our third Petrel Friend, Alf Spence. Alf has since joined Michael and Peter in the Choir Celestial, but at that time was a regular attendee. Alf had a bit of a gammy leg and always claimed the big comfy chair in the corner, where he could put his feet up. This chair was so comfortable that he tended to doze off occasionally and I could not actually swear under oath as to whether he did, or did not, snore. When it came to Alf’s turn to speak, he would often begin with the words, “well, everything that I was going to say has already been said”. How did he know that when he had been asleep?
Coming in at number four on our list, and the first to not currently be a Choir Celestial member, is Johnnie, who is known as Johnnie. Johnnie qualifies as an “Absent Friend” under the category of “a health issue”. Last year she had a major operation, and is still in the process of recovery. Until the health issue became such that, she could no longer attend meetings, Johnnie, who lives close to White Rock, would make the long journey to The Chatham at UBC by public transport. More often than not, she would also bring wonderful edibles from her garden. When the method of public transport became too much for her, she would often be given a lift by our Treasurer Andy Hunter. For Johnnie, Andy was not just our Treasurer, but her treasure, and I’m sorry Andy, but I cannot include you in the toast, because you are actually here.
The last Absent Friends to mention by name are a duo: Len and Elsa Haffenden. Len, an ex-naval man, was, for many years, the editor of our magazine, The Petrel Flyer. Together, they hosted many social events at their home in North Vancouver, referred to by Len as Toad Hall. For those of us who experienced their hospitality, Elsa’s baking skills are remembered with much appreciation. Len’s collection of memorabilia, Sherlockian and otherwise, is remembered with awe….and a shake of the head. Len and Elsa now reside in Seniors Housing in North Vancouver.
There are many others who, I have not named here, but that does not mean that they are excluded. They are all included in the words “Absent Friends”.
So, I now invite you to rise and raise your glasses and remember those, who, for one reason or another, are not here today.
To “Absent Friends”
Thank You.
-Brian Collins
A Toast to Sir Henry Baskerville
President, Priory Schoolmaster and Toastmaster Goldfarb, Treasurer Hunter, Foreign Affairs investigator Coghill, and holder of the keys Collins, and with special mention, the hoi polloi and esteemed guests,
I would like to dedicate this toast to Canada, which Sir Henry Baskerville represented in his beloved namesake “HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES”, whence he emerged as stereotypical as a Monty Python Lumberjack into a role that literally vaulted the monumental Sherlock Holmes back from the dead.
Sir Henry is described as a compact but powerfully built man with a pugnacious look, yet a dashing fellow right down to his “sensitive nostrils.”
While Sir Henry’s brave and resolute demeanour was to Watson evidence of a high-class birthright, Sir Henry in London, or in his namesake Dartmoor manor home was essentially a perfectly clueless foil to Sherlock’s logical brilliance, a colonial, over his head and out of his element in these unfamiliar haunts.
From almost the day he arrived in mother England, Sir Henry could not ask for a better advocate than Sherlock Holmes, who represented the best brain that Imperial Great Britain had to offer in this extraordinary game of good and evil.
Sir Henry Baskerville was Sherlock Holme’s counterpoint.
However you look at it, Sir Henry brought something very special with him when he returned to England: a breath of real, fresh, Canadian air which charmed and cheered nearly everyone he touched.
This nearly got him in trouble when his charm turned to romance, Canadian style, without introductions, and he proposed marriage to the one woman in England who could hurt him one way or other.
This put a lot of pressure on Sherlock, his champion, but on some level, she loved him back and it seemed quite authentic.
Throughout the story, Sir Henry never betrayed his Canadian constitution.
On the contrary, he always expressed himself bravely, directly and with feeling both in words and actions.
He, who had stood up to the rigors of Canadian farm-life would certainly manage as well on English moor and mire.
Like all good Canadians in a pinch, he was going to make it, come hell or high water.
We all have a little of Sir Henry Baskerville in us, and as you toast this fine gentleman, consider it a toast to every person in the room.
Please rise as you can, and make this toast, “TO SIR HENRY BASKERVILLE”.
-Gary Spence
Vancouver's Official Sherlock Holmes Society 