Hugh
C. Weir was an American author, magazine editor and screenwriter
who started out as a newspaper reporter for the Springfield Sun,
in Ohio, when only sixteen-years-old and moved on from there to
become a prolific writer of short stories, magazine articles and
nearly three-hundred screenplays – together with Catherine McNelis
he founded the McNelis-Weir Advertising Agency and Tower Magazines. A
very industrious individual, to say the least, but he has been
forgotten today and you can only find slight traces of him online.
Weir has an IMDb
page listing such nuggets of trivia as his friendship with
President Teddy Roosevelt or how personally wrapped "the
hundreds of Christmas gifts" he gave out each year. A 2009 post
on a now dormant blog mentioned Weir was an avid Charles Dickens
collector and apparently had "one of the best and most complete
collections of first editions" in the country.
Miss Madelyn Mack, Detective |
These scraps offer a
glimpse of a pleasant and successful man, but Otto Penzler revealed
in the introduction to one of Weir's short stories, collected in The
Big Book of Female Detectives (2018), that initial success of
Tower Magazines ended abruptly in 1935 when the company went bankrupt
– which was preceded by advertisers who claimed they had been "defrauded with inflated circulation numbers." McNelis was
found guilty and sentenced to a year in jail. You didn't see that
twist coming, now did you?
Weir died an early death
in 1934, at the age of 49, while still being the editorial director
of Tower Magazines and the world had soon forgotten about him. There
is, however, one piece of his literary legacy that's slowly coming
back to the attention of mystery readers.
During the early 1910s,
Weir not only created one of the more originally realized "Rivals
of Sherlock Holmes," but also one of the earlier female detectives,
Miss
Madelyne Mack ("what newspaper reader does not know the
name?"). A former college girl who was "confronted
suddenly with the necessity of earning a living" and decided to
become a full-time detective when she nabbed a notorious shoplifter
in a New York Department Store. A simple case that was to be first of
many, often highly publicized exploits, such as placing "the
chief of the firebug trust" in the docks and solving "the
riddle of the double Peterson murder," which were chronicled by
Miss Mack's loyal friend and narrator, Miss Nora Noraker – a
newspaper reporter addicted to cola berries. So this series is a
relatively late addition to the Sherlockian, casebook-style detective
stories that were at the height of their popularity at the turn of
the century.
However, Miss Mack and
good, old Nora are not mere copies of Holmes and Dr. Watson in a
dress with lipstick smeared across their faces. They're own
characters with their own methods, opinions and philosophy on
detective work.
Miss Mack explains that
there are only two rules for a successful detective, "hard work
and common sense," which, unlike the "uncommon sense"
of Holmes (her words, not mine!), is simple, common business sense
with a dash of imagination and likens it to solving a mathematical
problem – instead of figures she works with "human motives."
A simple approach of building, or subtracting, on the facts given
until you arrive at the correct answer. Nora is a little closer to
the archetypal, Watson-like narrator, but a very likable, affable
Watson.
So how did this obscure,
long-overlooked series of short detective stories appear on my radar?
Two of the stories were listed by Robert Adey in Locked Room
Murders (1991).
"The Man With Nine
Lives" and "The Bullet from Nowhere" were reportedly first
published in the July and October, 1914, issues of Macleans
and collected in Miss Madelyn Mack, Detective (1914). However,
I discovered "The Bullet from Nowhere" was previously published
in the January, 1912, issue
of The Cavalier and the Scrapbook, but was unable to find any
earlier publication date for "The Man With Nine Lives." A story
that was obviously the first in the series! So, not to make things
needlessly confusing, I'll stick with 1914 as the accepted year of
publication.
"The Man With Nine
Lives" opens strongly with a good, lively introduction of the
series-characters and setting the stage that begins when a letter
arrives with a desperate plea for help.
Wendell Marsh is "one
of the greatest newspaper copy-makers that ever dodged an
interviewer" who writes to Miss Mack that no fewer than eight
attempts have been made on his life during the past five months.
Marsh has been dodging bullets, cars, thugs and has even found "a
cunning little dose of cyanide of potassium" in his cherry pie,
but believes his luck has run out and convinced a ninth attempt will
be successful – imploring Miss Mack to come poste haste. But
when they arrive, they're told that Marsh has been found dead in the
library under inexplicable circumstances.
The library was "a
wreck of a room" with shattered vases littering the ground,
books were "savagely ripped apart" and the "curtains
were hanging in ribbons," suggesting a violent struggle, but
the only door was locked from the inside with the windows fastened as
tight as a drum. So how did the murderer got out of the locked
library? Even stranger, an examination showed there are no marks on
the body or any trace of poison in it!
Unfortunately, the story
belonged to a previous era of crime fiction and the painfully bad
solution showed this in two ways. Firstly, the locked room is as
dated as it's embarrassingly ridiculous and could have only been
forgiven had it been written in the 1800s. But than again, I've come
across exactly the same locked room setup, in a library, with nearly
identical solutions in an episode of Jonathan
Creek and a short story from Gigi Pandian's The
Cambodian Curse and Other Stories (2018). So this idea is
still being used today, but "The Man With Nine Lives" is where it
may have originated. Secondly, not to be outdone by the terrible
locked room-trick, the revelation of the murderer's identity was an
even bigger embarrassment. I can't say anything more than that.
A story that opened
promisingly, but got mired in a jumble of poorly handled, badly dated
and cliched tropes in the end. My advise to read the introductory
pages and move on to the next story. You're not missing anything.
Notes for the curious:
(1) food and drinks feature prominently in the story (cherry piece,
strawberry shortcakes, chocolate ice-cream sodas and berries) and now
wonder what an ice-cream soda from 1914 would taste like (2) I
discovered a Dutch hoorspel (radio-play) from 1993 of this
story, "De
man met de negen levens," on the Internet Archive. The play was
directed by Hans Karsenbarg who played the police pathologist, Dr.
Den Koninghe, in the Baantjer TV-series. What an obscure link
to the series that introduced me to the detective story!
The second and final
impossible crime story of the series, "The Bullet from Nowhere,"
hasn't aged gracefully either, but, on a whole, worked much better as
a locked room story with a more conventional setup and execution of
the trick – one that was fairly original at the time. The scene of
the crime here is the music-room of Homer Hendricks, a talented
musician, whose climax to "the wild spirit" of the storm
scene from William Tell is cut short by "the sudden,
muffled report of a revolver." When the door is broken down,
Hendricks is found huddled on the floor next to the piano with a
bullet in his head. But where's the gun? And how did the murderer
vanish from the locked music-room?
Lieutenant Perry believes
the household is either "covering up the fact of suicide"
or "trying to shield the murderer." So they call in the
services of Miss Mack and Nora.
"The Bullet from
Nowhere" benefits from being shorter in length and ending with a
solution that probably was a bit more novel in 1914 than in 2019.
Some of you probably already have an idea how the locked room-trick
works, but appreciated that it was not as godawful as the one from "The Man With Nine Lives." And the place of the bullet wound even
threw me off for a couple of seconds. A piece of misdirection mystery
writers would come to better utilize in the succeeding decades.
All in all, "The Man
With Nine Lives" and "The Bullet from Nowhere" are, plot-wise,
nothing more than curios with some historical interest as possible
originators of two (locked room) solutions, but the main draw of the
series are the leading characters, Miss Mack and Nora – who were
more engaging and original than the cases they got to solve. So the
series only really has something to offer to genre historians or
readers with a special interest in female detective-characters.
I probably won't read the
rest of the series anytime soon, but, if you're interested, Miss
Madelyn Mack, Detective is available as a dirt cheap ebook from
Black Heath or as a 4-in-1 paperback anthology from Coachwhip
Publications (together with three other short story collections).
Or you can just grab it from the Internet
Archive.
Interestingly, nowadays she'd be "Ms." Madelyn Mack!
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