David Mason and the ‘Hemingway Heist’
Letters describing boxing match with the famous author stolen
David Mason’s most famous story has everything. Except an ending.
Toronto’s legendary antiquarian book dealer has always enjoyed crime novels. “I’m one of these people who are addicted to police procedurals and thrillers.” But little did Mason imagine that he — along with literary stars Ernest Hemingway, Morley Callaghan and F. Scott Fitzgerald — would become a central character in one of this city’s most celebrated heists. Or that the case would remain unsolved almost 25 years on.
Mason is now 78, battling life-threatening pulmonary disease. The paperback edition of his lovely 2013 memoir The Pope’s Book Binder is newly out. And in it, Mason has added a new chapter devoted to the intriguing tale of “The Hemingway Heist.”
It occurred on the night of Oct. 15, 1993. Persons unknown broke into the Queen St. W. bookstore owned by Mason and his partner in life and business Debra Dearlove. Two safes in which the most valuable of books and documents were kept were prised and battered and hacksawed open.
When Mason arrived that morning, he found books worth tens of thousands of dollars spilling from the vaults. He and Debra were in shock at the violation. It wasn’t until some time had passed that he realized the thieves knew exactly what they were after.
“It was astonishing and horrible,” he told the Star.
Along with a number of rare books, in a robbery estimated to have been worth $250,000, the thieves had taken a package of letters dealing with one of the most celebrated punch-ups in the history of literature.
The correspondence dealt with a 1929 boxing match in Paris between two former Toronto Star reporters, Hemingway and Callaghan. Fitzgerald had acted as timekeeper. In the bout, the pugnacious little Canadian bloodied Hemingway before flooring him.
When the story spread, Hemingway — the literary epitome of manliness — was furious. He blamed Fitzgerald for letting the round run long, blamed Callaghan for spreading a story so damaging to his image.
The ensuing exchange of letters, which had been secured in Mason’s safe, re- vealed the simmering resentment and tender ego of American literature’s greatest man-child.
Mason had first been shown the letters by Callaghan at his home in the 1980s. After Callaghan died in1990, they fell into the possession of his writer son Barry. A year later, the younger Callaghan approached Mason for a valuation in preparation for selling what became known as “The Fight Archive.” That’s how they came into his custody.
At first, as is usually the case, police suspected Mason himself of having arranged the theft to cash in on insurance. But Mason wasn’t insured. The fact he had safeguarded the material as scrupulously as he did his own most valued goods saved him from liability. Barry Callaghan had coverage that recouped a portion of the value.
For the first few years after the robbery, which made news around the world, “it was on our minds all the time,” Mason said. Even with time’s passing, he’s done a lot of “obsessing about what could have happened and trying to figure things out. It’s something that never leaves.”
He didn’t include the story in the original edition of his memoir, Mason said, because it was a mystery without resolution.
“I’ve put it in here because we’re not talking about a crime that was committed against me, we’re talking about a crime that has been committed against literary history.”
There were various intriguing leads over the years. But none that panned out. And none recently.
Mason reckons the stolen material has appreciated in value. “If you put it in the range of $1 million you wouldn’t be far off.”
“We always felt that one day we would find out what happened, or someone would try to sell the material or something like that,” Mason said. “Well, no one ever did. And you finally realize that it’s probably never going to happen. That’s how I feel now.
“Maybe some day, something’s going to happen and the mystery’s going to be solved. The problem is I’m not going to be around to see it.”
These days, Mason’s shop on Adelaide deals in rare books. Almost all the bookstores that used to enrich its former home on Queen St. W. have disappeared.
“They’re all gone now,” Mason lamented.
Though the mystery of what occurred there one night, in the shop that bore his name, lives on.