The Autumn 2014 Baker Street Journal includes these articles:
The Editor’s Gas-Lamp.
The Well-Appointed Scoundrel: How Colonel Moran Transformed Everyday Offenders into Gibus-Wearing Sophisticates
by Sonia Fetherston.
Murger in Baker Street
by Timothy S. Greer.
Disguise Is Key: Germans in the Canon
by Maria Fleischhack .
In the Matter of Oscar Slater
by Robert A. Moss.
A Consideration of Chronological Data
by Leslie S. Klinger.
“You Never Heard Me Talk of Victor Trevor?”
by Lucy Keifer.
Playing the Game: Bert Coules and “The Lion’s Mane”
by Nick Martorelli.
Elderly as Metaphor in the Canon
by Michael Pollak.
Paget’s Heirs: Sherlock Holmes in Comics and Graphic Novels
by James Lovegrove.
Art in the Blood
by Scott Bond.
The Commonplace Book.
Baker Street Inventory.
The French Artist
by Basil Chap.
Letters to Baker Street
“Stand with me here upon the terrace. . .”
Whodunit?
* * *
The Editor’s Gas-Lamp
“Isn’t it good”
by Steven Rothman, Editor
One of our happiest Holmesian moments came a few years ago when a member of the Council of the Sherlock Holmes Society of London unlocked the sitting room at the Sherlock Holmes on Northumberland Street, and let us step inside. We had often pushed our nose against the glass, yearning to set foot within Holmes’s room. Not to mention the countless times we—surely like all of the Journal’s readers—had dreamed of what it was like, seventeen steps above Baker Street. We had gazed through the glazing of several such rooms over the years, but the London room, first created for the Festival of Britain in 1951, was the first, and holds a special place in Sherlockian hearts.
We know of two senior Sherlockians who are flying from the States for the opening of the Museum of London’s new exhibition on Sherlock Holmes, which has gathered wonderful materials from a number of lenders and lands. By the time this issue is in your hands, they too will have happily stepped within the Baker Street room. We are smiling at the thought of them surrounded by so many signs of its inhabitant: the jack-knife in the mantelpiece, the hodgepodge of papers and chemicals, souvenirs of various cases, and, of course, the delightfully strange bust of Holmes.
They may not, as we witnessed two of the Baker Street Babes do, jump up and down with pure joy. But that is only because they will feel the need to exercise restraint (as did we). There can be little doubt that inside they will be bursting with a happiness that only another Sherlockian could truly comprehend and share.
The Editor’s Gas-Lamp, Autumn 2014, Vol. 64, No. 3.
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