PATRICIA DODD FLYNN, ASH
Remembering Agatha
The Adventures of Agatha,
briefly fiancée of Mr. Sherlock Holmes,
being fond reminiscences of the recently deceased
Patricia Anne Theresa Dodd Flynn
by Eugenia Ronder (Lois Gardiner Clark)
I cannot begin to summarize the life of the best and wisest woman I have ever known. For the facts, refer to the notice duly posted after her death on May 27, 2016 (1). Let me rather relate a few adventures, Sherlockian and otherwise, that illustrate Pat’s wit, charm, and unfailing sense of adventure.
We had met at college and fast became friends, having recognized the prime symptoms of Anglophilia in each other: devotion to Shakespeare, Sherlock, and the Royal Family. Together we memorized the monarchs, ancient and modern, and recited Beyond the Fringe frabjously. At our college, each house traditionally hosted a wassail party in December to which one invited professors and friends from other houses. We, however, extended invitations to a number of off-campus notables, surreptitiously crafting individual, praise-filled invitations—never expecting to receive replies from Sean Connery, Peter O’Toole, Fred Astaire or other luminaries. Instead, we sent “telegrams” to ourselves to share at the wassail party. ONLY AFFAIRS OF STATE KEEP US AWAY – LIZ, PHIL & THE KIDS was especially well received. As it turned out, we did get two very courteous letters of regret from Sir Kenneth Clark (alas, no relation) and Gene Autry (Pat’s childhood crush).
The mention of “telegram” brings memories of pilgrimages to England where Sherlock loomed large in our adventures (2). Most of our time was spent in London, and much of that devoted to shadowing Sherlock. Our B&B was steps away from the Swiss Cottage station on the (then) Bakerloo line, which provided quick access for exploring Baker Street and environs. Then one day we found ourselves in what we thought was Limehouse, but all we managed to discover was a strolling sot who fancied himself a Cockney Dean Martin. His voice wasn’t half bad, though. Of course we treated ourselves to quite a nice dinner at Simpson’s-in-the-Strand, under £2 in the ‘70s. And we bought deerstalkers at Harrods and, most precious to Agatha, jars of William Escott marmalade. (So that’sthe business for which her plumber deserted her.) Oh, the telegrams…One of our journeys was open-ended so to notify our families of our return we resorted to relatively inexpensive telegrams – which we sent from the post office on Baker Street nearest 221B. Surely it was the office patronized by Holmes and Watson!
After college we took separate paths to New York City. Prophetically enough, we spent Pat’s first Sunday afternoon in the city on Broadway at the Royal Shakespeare Company’s glorious production of Sherlock Holmes. A poster from said production would adorn the apartment we shared on the Upper West Side. Not long after, Pat serendipitously learned about ASH, and we timidly inquired about attending a meeting, where we found delightful “Ladies, Ladies!” to welcome us. Investiture followed in due course. Pat may have publicly ascribed her choice of Agatha to her distinction as Sherlock’s duped fiancée, but she confided to me that the deciding factor was the utter simplicity of the housemaid’s costume for the ASH dinner—a crisp white apron over a dark frock. Eminently practical, Pat.
Theatrical adventures abounded in New York, of course, but one performance (and subsequent backstage visit) in 1978 presented an unexpected pleasure for the assembled Adventuresses. Paxton Whitehead was a competent enough Holmes in The Crucifer of Blood, but this mashup of Sign of Four would have been eminently forgettable had it not been for an extraordinary example of theatrical Schadenfreude. Holmes and the ingénue were coming downstage while a scrim dropped behind them to affect a scene change. The ingénue had just uttered the line, “Mr. Holmes, I think there is a terrible curse on my family” when the scrim hit her on the head, knocking her bonnet askew. The audience gasped and then roared. Quiet gradually returned as she straightened her dainty headgear. Holmes’ response? “Whatever makes you think that, my dear?” We wept with laughter. Oh, and the role of the ingénue was played by Glenn Close.
Despite her homage to the Great Detective’s fiancée, our Agatha was not a mere girl to be duped by a tall, dark stranger in false nose and whiskers. Indeed, she waited for the best and wisest man that she would ever know: Tom Flynn, also tall and dark but truly whiskered and possessing great and reliable shoulders. We Adventuresses were heartbroken when Tom whisked Pat off to Nevada, but they did indeed live happily and adventurously ever after.
- Telegram.com/article/20160608/news/160609322.
- We did manage to see two monarchs in one day, June 3, 1972: Elizabeth II in that morning’s Trooping of the Colour and Edward VIII/Duke of Windsor lying in repose at Windsor that afternoon.
