(fan and FAPAn)
The above byline may lead you to believe I'm trying to be like Ego Clarke, but nay, Pete Vorzimer tells me that my last column was well-received. In short, I'm reinstated. May Ghu preserve me from fake-fannish, mundane-ism, queer-ism, and may he lead me thru the right path for the duration of my fanhood.
I will never be a
huckster.
I will never be a huckster.
I will never be a
huckster.
I will never be a huckster.
I will never be a
huckster.
I never was and probably never will be, but that's a catchy way to start this subtitle and leads directly into my main train of thought.
I hate hucksters. Not the writer-hucksters, or the editor-huckster. I respect them, and no doubt every other fan worth his beanie prop does too -- but I hate the fan huckster. I hate the type of fan who makes his living off fandom, or at least tries to (though of course I'm not aiming this at FJA; I respect him!). People who put out worthless fanmags and try and soak the unwary fan 25¢ for them, people who sell back issue magazines at outrageous prices, people who put out offset, super-duper printed professional type fanzines ... all give me a large pain in the neck. After all, friend, aren't we in this for the fun of it? At least I am. There is, of course, a certain thing called meeting expenses -- but beyond that is professional ground, and should not be trod on by anyone who wears a beany and drinks beer. I will not concede that James Taurasi is a fan; I respect him like any other pro.
Do you want to be respected by Boob Stewart?
* * *
Here is an item I found in the WRITER'S DIGEST 1954 YEARBOOK, which, though a little untimely has not been quoted as yet:
AMAZING STORIES, (Ziff-Davis), 366 Madison Ave., New York 17, N.Y. Howard Browne edits this one and Fantasy and Science Fiction, buying more than ten gags per issue for each.
Friend Boucher will appreciate this typo, I'm sure.
* * *
Irene Baron tells me of a convention anecdote that went like this:
A curious fan approached Willy Ley, wondering, like all of us, how the hell his first name was pronounced. Said he, "Mr. Ley, do you prefer Villy or Willy?"
Willy responded, "Villy or Villy, idt makes no madter."
* * *
May I put in a plug here, Pete? Thank you. I have a fanmag out by this time (not at the date of writing, but certainly publication date), which contains, among other things; articles and stuff by Messrs. Bloch, Williamson, Carr, Coppell, Emsh, Brandon, Lewis and others. You can get a copy by merely sending your name and address on a two penny postcard and by promising to write a letter of comment on receipt of it. The five or ten cents most faneds ask for their mags seems so minor as to not make a damn difference in financing, so I'm offering it for free -- at least I get some more letters and not coins rolled up in paper towels like some jerk called MS Houston did with Boo!
Which reminds me of a type I think more vile than even a freeloader -- the fringe-fan you never hear about, the type that sends you a curt "Enclosed find 10¢, please send a copy." and that's all. The primary joy in turning out issues is to get comments.
* * *
FICTION DEPARTMENT: entitled
(Postmarked San Francisco, Calif.; July 7, 1954; 5 PM)
Dear Mama,
Well, I finally got here at the hotel. Gee, it's so big! All over the place little men in red caps are running about, taking my baggage, my hat, my coat, why even one offered to carry my wallet! Everyone's so hospitable. I know I'm going to have a fine time at the Convention.
I met a man by the name of Forrest J. Ackerman. He was sitting in the lobby when I first walked in, talking to another fellow named Bob Bloch or something, and Mr. Ackerman stood up and asked me if I was here from the convention. I said yes, and he muttered something to Bloch (who's an awfully crude looking man, by the way, he was wearing a tee shirt under a dark suit and had big bloodshot eyes and a five o'clock shadow -- I think his name was Webbert), he eyed me up and down and then shaking his head, took the knife out of my back. Boy, that guy sure must be a true fan! Bloch didn't seem so bad, though. Later on, he sold me a copy of the Weinbaum Memorial Volume, autographed by the author for only $10.00.
Gosh, seems like everyone's here! I met John Magnus, Harlan Ellison, Dave Kyle, Pete Vorzimer, and some woman named Evelyn Paige God ... er Gold, I mean. That Paige woman I don't seem to like, for some reason. She cornered me in the lobby, and wouldn't let me go until she'd told me some story about a travelling salesman that I didn't understand. I know Galaxy prints some pretty off trail stories but that didn't seem much like science fiction to me!
Guess I'll quit now. I've got to change and then go down to the hall for the convention opening.
Love,
Johnny
Dear Mama,
The sessions are really great! I've heard so far talks by EE Smith, Margaret St. Clair, Forry Ackerman and a few other people like the house detective, plus a movie. After the session last night I followed some other fans up to room 318, where a fellow by the name of Andy Nowell taught me how to play blackjack. It's lots of fun, too. You get two cards, one face up and one face down. Then you put a dollar on the table (the dealer doesn't have to, though) and after you get three cards more, you give the dollar to the dealer. Mr. Nowell said some day he'd teach me how to deal.
Could you telegraph some more money? I've only got five dollars left now, and less after that black jack game.
Love,
Johnny
Dear Mama,
Got your money today, but don't know how I'm going to get along with even that for the remaining two days of the convention. I got in another black jack game last night, only with a fan named Terry Carr. He taught me a different version -- this time the dealer pays the other player a dollar after three cards. I don't understand the game, but I dealt anyway.
Still having a lot of fun, except for the evenings. I always get in those darned black jack games and have to pay a couple of dollars. And everyone's acting so funny! Art Rapp and George Young were singing some song about Christopher Columbo, Roger Sims was asleep on the bed (and it was only 9:00) and Keith Joseph and some girl were wrestling on the floor.
Could you send some more money? I'm afraid I'll get into another black jack game tonight.
Love,
Johnny
Dear Mama,
The convention's over now, and right now I'm packing to leave for home. Got your money this morning, and bought the ticket for home. Before I got to the station, though, some fan named Don Donnell stopped and asked me if I'd like to see him work his TK, whatever that is, Any way, I lost $10 to him and consequently could only buy a ticket as far as Illinois. I'll hitchhick from there, though, so I'll only be a few days late.
Got to close now. There's a bunch of fans outside with some bottles of something or other, and they want to come in and have a little good-bye party for Harlan Ellison and a game of black jack before they leave. One has a deck of cards.
Love,
Johnny
MAMA:
TICKET EXPIRED IN BLOOMINGTON ILL. STOP STAYED AT BOB TUCKER'S HOUSE LAST NIGHT STOP TAUGHT ME HOW TO PLAY POKER STOP SEND DAD WITH THE CAR AND MY OTHER SHIRT STOP
JOHNNY
* * *
Have any of you ever noticed the conditions in which you write best? The textbooks tell us that you write at your zenith when you are moved emotionally by something, but I find that my best is when I'm trying to impress someone. My English teachers give me As in composition and tell me I do wonderful, but I turn out only average fan crud. This might be because I consider myself above the common man thru my fan training and hence, want to show off. But with fans I always have the feeling that someone wiser and greater is looking critically over my shoulder, ready to pounce on me at the first unpolished phrase or misspelled word, like Boggs, Grennell, et al.
Did I impress you?
the end
**Bob Stewart
(EDITOR'S NOTE: Bob, old boy, I guess when you first wrote the first part of this issue's ABSTRACTIONS, you weren't aware of the fact that AB#9 would be lithographed. And so now you hate and despise me ... tch, tch, but as I will say both to you and my readers, there are two very good reasons -- not huckster's reasons -- why I almost have to go litho. (1) What with my college, finals, mid-terms, and just general work, I have found it much too hard to do, by hand, 250 copies of a 48 page AB on a Rex-O-Graph, stamp, sort, and staple and mail them, litho eliminates 95% of this work. (2) I have many more subscribers since the Conish came out, and like you said, I like to receive lots of comments as does any faneditor. I can now reach 1000 people instead of only 250 -- four times the circulation and 90% less work. I'm quite sire that you'll make me an exception to your, "I HATE FAN-HUCKSTERS" rule.
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