Gunsmoke & Grit: ''The Sheriff Went to Cincinnati' in Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine, March 1951

Dear Western Readers, 

You might be wondering why Gunsmoke & Grit is venturing into an issue of Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine. Let me clarify right off the bat: I'm not shifting genres here. I managed to track down a well-preserved copy of Vol. 17, No. 88 from March 1951, because I wanted to read a specific short story, “The Sheriff Went to Cincinnati,” credited to Henry E. Giles but written by his wife, Janice Holt Giles. While it's not a classic Wild West tale, the story unfolds in the Kentucky hills.

In Janice Holt Giles's biography by Dianne Watkins Stuart, she recounts a letter Janice wrote to her agent revealing that Henry claimed to have "started writing a little"—which was quite the stretch—after submitting his first short story to Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine for their 1949 annual mystery contest and winning the first story award along with a $150 prize.

“The Sheriff Went to Cincinnati” graced the pages of the March 1951 issue, featured in the "Department of First Stories," on pages 65-78. The editor, Frederic Dannay, remarked:

Henry Giles's "The Sheriff Went to Cincinnati" is one of eight "first stories" which won special awards in the EQMM's Fifth Annual Contest. It is what might be called a hillbilly-regional-dialect story, and a good one — with the slow drawl of the hills in every sentence and an earthly authenticity in every word. One of the miracles of this tale is that the author never even tried to write before; but his wife is a writer, and a man can try to build a better mousetrap than his wife, can't he?

Henry Giles is in his mid-thirties. He was born and raised on the ridge in Kentucky which bears his family name — Giles Ridge. There have been Gileses living on that ridge for the past 150 years — ever since the first one came through the Cumberland Gap from Virginia in 1805 to settle on the 610 acres of hills and hollows which were granted to the first American Giles as pay for his services in the Revolutionary War.

The Gileses were always farmers, and so is Henry. True, he took time out to spend five years in the Army, two of them with the 291st Combat Engineers in Europe; Henry handled his honorable discharge on October 10, 1945, and he got married the very next day.

Henry guesses that writing is contagious. He has watched his wife "fool around with it so much" that he got a hankering to try it too. The hills of his childhood, the hills of home, are full of yarns, and about all Henry has to do is start remembering; the hill speech is his native tongue — "it drops from his lips as slow and as sweet as molasses."

Now Mr. and Mrs. Giles farm a little, hunt a little, fish a little, write a little — and live a lot. That's a real thing — down-to-earth living. And some mighty good stories can come out of it.

The exact year of The Sheriff Went to Cincinnati is never directly mentioned, but it’s likely set around the time it was written, in 1948 or 1949. The narrative is presented uniquely, unfolding through the first-person perspective of an unnamed character, likely named Janice. She and her husband, Henry, reside on Persimmon Ridge in Kentucky, having traded city life for a modest three-room farmhouse on forty acres of untamed land after their first book found success—sounds quite familiar.

The story begins with the couple providing a meal to an unnamed land surveyor, who, while smoking his pipe, recounts a tale set forty-five years earlier. This tale revolves around four boys from the hills: Silas Tucker, Ab Barnes, Sim Parker, and Walt Higgins. All of them grew up together, sharing school days, fishing trips, hunting escapades, and the occasional prank—true pals until Liza Simmons entered the scene, stirring up jealousy and tragedy.

Then, one day, Ab’s lifeless body was found on a church bench. Despite the circumstantial evidence suggesting otherwise, Silas was wrongfully convicted of murder and sentenced to the penitentiary in Frankfort, where he perished within a year.

Time passed, leading to Walt marrying Liza and moving her way back up Possum Holler, where he and his father, Enos, operated an illegal moonshine still. Eventually, Sim Parker rose to the position of Sheriff, and his primary goal became apprehending Walt and Enos. However, there’s a twist: whenever Sim inquires about Liza’s husband, she replies with, “he went to Cincinnati,” raising eyebrows, as Sim knew his old friend would never leave Kentucky. It slowly dawns on Sim that Liza is cleverly giving him hints about Walt and Enos's whereabouts, leading to a tense showdown fueled by wit and grit.

Interestingly, the story isn’t entirely fictional. Mrs. Giles makes a brief reference to “Henry’s story” in her memoir, Around Our House—read my review here. A land surveyor did indeed visit and shared a similar tale, which Mrs. Giles retold. Is this plagiarism? Not quite. At the end of the story, the land surveyor even encourages them to craft a narrative around the yarn he spun.

Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed The Sheriff Went to Cincinnati. Am I biased? Yes, probably a bit; Janice Holt Giles is one of my favorite authors, so I’ll admit to a touch of favoritism. The short story is beautifully written, filled with a rich Kentucky dialect and vivid descriptions. I recommend giving it a read, although you might need to hunt down a seventy-four-year-old issue of Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine, which isn’t exactly easy to find! ╌★★★★★

 

⁓B.J. Burgess