Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 1, Fall 1941
Editor Ellery Queen Explains
WHY — WHO — HOW — WHEN
WHY
As writers, readers, and collectors of detective-crime stories, we have for many years shouted the need for — and deplored the lack of — a quality publication devoted exclusively to the printing of the best in detective-crime short-story literature.
To this end we have for a long time been building an exhaustive and unique library. So we have at our fingertips a store of the very choicest detective-crime short stories, culled from every conceivable source — books, slick-paper magazines, and “pulp” magazines.
Mr. Lawrence E. Spivak, publisher of The American Mercury, believes as we do that mystery enthusiasts are eagerly awaiting a publication devoted to all types of detective-crime stories in which consistently good writing would be as important as original ideas, excitement, and craftsmanship.
And so, Ellery Queen is editing and Lawrence E. Spivak is publishing this volume, which is planned as the first of a periodic anthology of detective-crime short stories, in which the sole editorial criterion will be quality.
WHO
A “big name” does not always guarantee a good story — the big-name writers themselves are the first to admit this.
On the other hand, some of the finest stories have been and are now being written by lesser-known writers or, in many cases, writers not known to the general public at all.
We propose to give you stories by big-name writers, by lesser-known writers, and by unknown writers. But no matter what their source, they will be superior stories.
Some will be bought from manuscript. Others will be reprinted from published books, old and new, selected from the Ellery Queen library of short detective fiction, which is the largest in America. Still others will be reprinted from magazines, old, recent, and new, “slicks” and “pulps,” making our volume in effect a readers’ digest in anthological form of detective-crime stories.
In this first volume, you will find a wide variety of detective-story types, each one rating a high editorial mark for excellence and quality and readability in the measured opinion of an Editor who has made a life study of this form of entertainment-fiction, each one a genuine adventure-in-reading.
For example: two realistic stories of the hard-boiled school — “Too Many Have Lived,” by Dashiell Hammett; and “Dime a Dance,” by Cornell Woolrich — exciting, fast, two-fisted, modern, and superb examples of this kind of purely American writing.
An excellent story of the modern English school — “The Question Mark,” by Margery Allingham — suave, expert, and completely charming.
The straightforward modern American school — “About the Perfect Crime of Mr. Digberry,” by Anthony Abbot; “Treasure Hunt,” by Ellery Queen; and “The Cablegram,” by T. S. Stribling (much better-known as the Pulitzer Prize winner!) — in which the detectives rely more on their brains than on their brawn, and ingenuity of story is the main thing.
And, for sheerest contrast, Frederick Hazlitt Brennan’s hillbilly yam, “Wild Onions,” which fuses elements rarely amalgamated in a mystery story — humor, native dialect, and murder; the whole making a hilarious tale and a unique item in any enthusiast’s collection.
HOW
We are publishing a book rather than a magazine, but since it is to be distributed through a magazine outlet at a magazine price, and since the name rolls easily off the tongue, we have for the present decided to call it Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. It uses not pulp paper nor slick paper, but book paper, which takes printer’s ink better, makes for greater legibility, and has a more lasting quality of permanence. Its cover has a modern book-jacket illustration. Unlike a novel, however, it is not bulky: it is compact and in the convenient pocket size.
It is deliberately designed so that he may read who runs as well as he who likes to curl up in bed; and it has the important further consideration of visual attractiveness, so that you will want to preserve your copies of Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine in the library of your home as you preserve your books.
WHEN
This first issue is frankly experimental. Our belief that a large public exists which impatiently awaits such publication can only be confirmed by that public.
For the present therefore we plan to publish Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine quarterly: Fall, Winter, Spring, and Summer. Our ultimate purpose is to publish a new volume each month. That, however, depends upon the reception accorded this and future volumes. The more whole-hearted and widespread your response, the more quickly regular monthly publication will be scheduled.
Ellery Queen
Too Many Have Lived
by Dashiell Hammett
Sam Spade in a hard-boiled fast moving story, by the author of “The Maltese Falcon” and “The Thin Man.”
The man’s tie was as orange as a sunset. He was a large man, tall and meaty, without softness. The dark hair parted in the middle, flattened to his scalp, his firm, full cheeks, the clothes that fit him with noticeable snugness, even the small, pink ears flat against the sides of his head — each of these seemed but a differently colored part of one same, smooth surface. His age could have been thirty-five or forty-five.
He sat beside Samuel Spade’s desk, leaning forward a little over his Malacca stick, and said, “No. I want you to find out what happened to him. I hope you never find him.” His protuberant green eyes stared solemnly at Spade.
Spade rocked back in his chair. His face — given a not unpleasantly satanic cast by the v’s of his bony chin, mouth, nostrils, and thickish brows — was as politely interested as his voice. “Why?”
The green-eyed man spoke quietly, with assurance: “I can talk to you, Spade. You’ve the sort of reputation I want in a private detective. That’s why I’m here.”
Spade’s nod committed him to nothing.
The green-eyed man said, “And any fair price is all right with me.” Spade nodded as before. “And with me,” he said, “but I’ve got to know what you want to buy. You want to find out what’s happened to this — uh — Eli Haven, but you don’t care what it is?”
The green-eyed man lowered his voice, but there was no other change in his mien: “In a way I do. For instance, if you found him and fixed it so he stayed away for good, it might be worth more money to me.”
“You mean even if he didn’t want to stay away?”
The green-eyed man said, “Especially.”
Spade smiled and shook his head. “Probably not enough more money — the way you mean it.” He took his long, thick-fingered hands from the arms of his chair and turned their palms up. “Well, what’s it all about, Colyer?”
Colyer’s face reddened a little, but his eyes maintained their unblinking cold stare. “This man’s got a wife. I like her. They had a row last week and he blew. If I can convince her he’s gone for good, there’s a chance she’ll divorce him.”
“I’d want to talk to her,” Spade said. “Who is this Eli Haven? What does he do?”
“He’s a bad egg. He doesn’t do anything. Writes poetry or something.”
“What can you tell me about him that’ll help?”