David Dean - Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 125, No. 3 & 4. Whole No. 763 & 764, March/April 2005

There is probably no famous author in history other than Ellery Queen of whom it could be debated seriously whether the contributions he or she made were greater in the sphere of writing or editing. Though Ellery Queens enormous importance as a detective writer inspired critic Anthony Boucher to say Ellery Queen is the American detective story, Frederic Dannay (one half of the two-man Queen team) is said to have wondered whether the most enduring part of the Queen legacy might ultimately prove to be the anthologies and critical studies Queen produced, and above all, this magazine. To celebrate the achievements of Ellery Queen as we will be doing throughout this centenary year and not give space to Queens various editorial roles would be unthinkable.

The earliest appearance of Editor Queen was at the helm of the 1933-34 magazine Mystery League. In the article that leads this issue, Jon L. Breen gives us a glimpse of what was inside the four now very hard to find issues that comprised the full run of that first brave magazine devoted to quality detective and crime fiction. The two magazines of which Queen was founding editor, Mystery League and EQMM, grew out of the longstanding scholarly and critical interests of the two men who assumed the Queen pseudonym, Frederic Dannay and Manfred B. Lee. So it is not surprising that at the same time Queen was launching EQMM, he was compiling and editing perhaps the most important anthology of detective fiction ever to see print: 101 Years Entertainment: The Great Detective Stories 18411941. In the early years of EQMM, Queen drew on the extensive knowledge of detective-fiction history displayed in the drawing together of that volume to introduce the magazines readers to forgotten or overlooked gems of mystery fiction. In turn, both Mystery League and EQMM provided the seeds out of which other scholarly, critical, and editorial projects grew.

Editor Queens name appears on some one hundred mystery fiction anthologies and collections, many of them consisting primarily of stories from EQMM. One of the more notable of the books is The Golden Thirteen, a collection of the winners of the Worldwide Short Story Contests sponsored by EQMM in its early years. These contests stand as one of Queens great editorial accomplishments. They served to bring attention to and help realize his goal of raising the sights of mystery writers generally so that mystery fiction might be accorded a highly respected place in the literary world. Nowadays the literary quality of mystery fiction is so often touted we take it for granted that the field attracts many serious writers. But Queen was one of the first to articulate the belief that a mystery story could at the same time serve literary ends. And so successful was he in promoting his contests that submissions poured in from all over the globe, not only by mystery-fiction luminaries but by authors of literary renown such as William Faulkner.

Another laudable innovation of Editor Queen was the establishment, in EQMM, of a Department of First Stories in which unknown authors could make their debut alongside the likes of Agatha Christie and Dashiell Hammett. Stanley Ellin, subsequent multiple Edgar Allan Poe Award winner, was one of several new talents first published in EQMM who went on to mystery stardom. One would not want to forget, either, in the list of things he was either the first or the best at, Queens seminal critical work on short mystery fiction, Queens Quorum, a reference sought by fans and scholars to this day.

Much more could be said about Editor Queen, but in these highlights of his career, readers will see, we hope, why many consider him the best editor, critic, and scholar the field has ever produced. To readers interested in pursuing the subject further, we highly recommend Francis M. Nevinss Royal Bloodlines, and, of course, the following piece by award-winning reviewer and writer Jon L. Breen.

Janet Hutchings

The darkly comic situations in many of Neil Schofields stories seem ideally suited for adaptation to radio, film, or television. Nowhere do we get a better sense of this than in this new story about a daffy ex-military man who falls prey to a more sinister, if equally unbalanced, character. Mr. Schofield currently lives in France; he is a past finalist in our Readers Award competition, and one of our best short story writers.

To: The Editor,

Man o War

Sir,

Having read that fine yarn With Palette and Brush Up the Hindu Kush in your admirable publication, I wonder whether the author, a Captain C. Drinkwater, would be the same Clive Loopy Drinkwater at whose side I soldiered for many years and with whom I shared many droll experiences both here in the Old Country and in foreign climes. If so, may a simple soldier crave the hospitality of your pages to assure your readers that Loopy is one of the finest men ever to serve Her Gracious Majesty and the best and most faithful chum a chap could ever wish to have. I might add that my door is always open, should dear old Loopy ever wish to visit self and spouse and accept the hospitality of a former messmate and brother-in-arms.

I remain, sir,

Your devoted reader,

Maj. James Jimbo Garside (Retd.)

Dar-es-Salaam

Parsons Bottom,

Cambs.

When, over breakfast in the morning room at Dar-es-Salaam, Jimbo Garside showed the latest issue of Man o War to Mrs. Maj. Garside and with a certain pride pointed out this letter, she told him he was a perfect cretin and went off to prepare for her coffee morning at the Womens Institute, in which she was an activist member of the Militant Wing. Mrs. Garside was a large woman, and when she Made An Exit it was an impressive sight. But she paused at the morning-room door to point out that the penultimate sentence should have ended with a question mark, since the simple soldier had started out to ask a question but, exhilarated by the giddy literary tiderace, had clearly forgotten this fact by the time he reached the end of the sentence. In addition, if it was now going to be open house for all manner of riffraff and barrack-sweepings, could he please not refer to her as the spouse of self? She found this not only rotten English but also maladroit. And finally, who on earth was Loopy Drinkwater? She certainly didnt remember any Loopy Drinkwater. He definitely hadnt been on her fathers staff. With this she swept out, leaving Jimbo dispiritedly chewing the last of his bacon and toast.

He had always been a disappointment to the Memsahib, he knew, ever since he had retired as a mere major, which she had told him more than once was the sign of abject failure. All right, fair dos, he wasnt very bright, never had been, but he could tell the Mem was vexed, that was clear, he just couldnt for the life of him see why. Mind you, she had always been tiptop on the old grammar, going so far as to vet and correct his personal messages on last years Christmas cards. In red pen, what was more.

Oh, Lord.

He stared at himself in the hall mirror, adjusting his tie before leaving to catch his train up to town for a meeting with his solicitor. He also pushed his moustache into place. His face was plump and pink and he had moist blue eyes which stared mournfully back at him. He had a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach and he knew why.

Oh, Lord, he said to the reflected Jimbo, the Mems out of sorts. Short commons for a bit, now. Be dining on cold shoulder tonight, I shouldnt wonder, old man.

But he was an ex-soldier, and he straightened his back, knowing that some things just have to be faced, however unpleasant. He tugged fretfully at the jacket of what he called his town suit, a charcoal-grey chalk stripe.