The Fiddlehead Turns 75 and We Want Your Help to Celebrate!

To The Fiddlehead: Congratulations on your 75th birthday! I have wanted to tell you for some time how grateful I am for your publishing a particular work of one of our NB authors. As I understand the story, you began your fledgling publishing in a garden shed with founders, none of whom knew if they would continue to print from one month to the next. From that, you have grown into a printing company recognized across North America and probably globally as you accept submissions from around the world. That is a huge accomplishment. I would like to try to tell an abbreviated version of how happy I was to find one of your out-of-print publications - "When Rum Was King" by the esteemed NB writer, Barry J. Grant. As a child in New Brunswick, my father told me stories that passed into history with no one recording them. And then I discovered that BJ Grant collected and wrote stories that supported the oral tales told by my Dad. I wanted to thank ( posthumously) this gentleman, and pay homage to him so devised a way of doing it. I was gratified to receive an interview with Ken and Sheila Moore, the basis for an article I titled, "Out of Obscurity: A tribute to one of NB's prolific writers". Sheila Moore kindly inscribed the work of her first husband with this: "Thank you, AnneMarie, for allowing us to remember." So a diligent thank you to THE FIDDLEHEAD for the printing of this valuable and precious book. I have managed to finagle, beg, borrow, buy and steal - and now own - three copies! My friends and family think I have an extensive library. If the entire collection were threatened with fire, I would move mountains to salvage one copy of "When Rum Was King." Happy 3/4 of a century Birthday! Sincerely, Anne-Marie Beattie , Oshawa, Ontario. annemariebeattie@sympatico.ca

I have two of your hand-written rejection letters. They are framed and hang one each side of a copy of a cheque I recieved for a short story last year. When I went away last winter I made sure to enclose with my submission a bright red self addressed envelope so that the person holding my mail would be sure to open it and read the letter inside. Although I love your rejection letters, I hope never to recieve one again. You know what this old poet really wants.