Robert Lichtman
PO Box 30
Glen Ellen CA 95442
With a publishing schedule as demanding and precise as Science Fiction Five Yearly it's a wonder the zine has survived to see a tenth issue. Still, I never doubted for a decade, or even briefer periods of time, that you'd manage to pull it off. "If anyone, LeeH!" I would say in moments when my enthusiasm bubbled over into incoherent utterances. You may have taken on a crew over the years to assist you, but it's clear from your editorial that you're still the captain of this ship. Er, so to speak. (I'd better change paragraphs before I drown in metaphor.)
Between Jeff Schalles' lists of Gestetners on hand and their sources and F. M. Busby's reminiscences about the good ol' Crydays and the joys of collective publishing --and this issue itself, I feel like I've time-traveled to the past repro-wise. It's a rare but wonderful thing to have a fanzine printed on limp paper in more than one color, these days, and don't think it isn't appreciated. I've used all primary methods of reproduction available to fen in my own checkered fanpubbing career: ditto with my first genzine title, mimeo with my second, and photocopy with the present one. Each has its own pluses and minuses, but on balance I think I preferred ditto for the ability to easily do multicolor work. I used to solicit exotic color ditto masters from European fans back in the late '50s and early '60s and often had half a dozen (±) colors all on the same page. I know this is now possible with color inkjet printers, but there was something charmingly low-tech about ditto that today's printechology (latter-day Ackermanese, here) can't, er, duplicate.
Went back and reread the entirety of "The Purple Fields of Fanac," an enjoyable task --but when I was done, I was somewhat befuddled. Ted wrote at the end of the first installment, "To think that the fate of the whole of humanity rested upon convincing this one man that he lived more than fifty years in the past!" But I couldn''t find a reference in any of the prior installments explaining just how and why the continued existence of James Oldfan is important, and it isn't revealed here, either. Fun reading, though.
Vijay Bowen certainly lives a different, though very interesting, life from most of us. I can't imagine wearing clothes so tight that the next day one is "useless, living on ibuprofen and tea," but I guess it was worth it for the praise Vijay got when the photos taken appeared at that "big East Coast fetish extravaganza." And Vijay, egoboo is egoboo no matter how you get it --from rubberwear or a good fanzine.
I once lived in an apartment in San Francisco just as weird, in its own way, as your basement place on East 7th. It also was a basement apartment, and above lived my landlady, 88-year-old widow Carmela Barbaria. The apartment's layout was best described as central kitchen plan. One walked in the front door and found oneself in the kitchen. Everything else was reached through the kitchen, which was around 9 feet wide and at least 25 feet deep. This was during the period I lived with Margo Newkom, who reported that Carmela was always telling her to "fatten him up," occasionally laying quantities of her home-made Italian sausage on us, or a pan of lasagna. She also gave us carte blanche to harvest from her backyard garden, and what a cornucopia that was: besides a variety of vegetables and fruit trees, one side wall was covered with boysenberry vines. At $85 a month in 1965, which includes gas, electric and water, it was a great deal. Unfortunately, we outgrew it in a few months and moved on. But I can still remember the taste of Carmela Barbaria's homemade sausage.
Ghod, I love photo sections! This is a delicious one, too, particularly that picture of Walt in the cab of an obviously beat-up old pick-up truck in 1952. If I didn't know the particulars of this shot, I'd think it was a still 31 from Grapes of Wrath or some such movie. Walt's eyes are piercing, man, piercing, and that look! His eyes are still piercing in the 1995 photo later on, but his expression so much more mellow --almost beatific. Also like Fern & Bob Tucker making eyes at one another in such a loving way in that scene in Bloch's kitchen. And our bhoys Steve Stiles, Dan Steffan and Terry Hughes at their most longhairedness! And Jeff behind his drums --and atop the lumberpile! Harlan in skivvies! Far out!
Victor's piece sort of meanders, but has its moments. I remember seeing the movement of the earth out in the horizon when I lived in rural Tennessee in the '70s. One could walk to a clearing in the woods and spread a blanket down on the weeds and grass, lay there and watch the sky. Sometimes there would be meteor showers, and always if one focused long enough in one place --and I mean long enough --one could see the edge of the universe emerging or receding (depending on direction of gaze) before you. In the background, the sound of a stream --not of imagined urine from a young woman caught by magnification, but an actual fresh water creek. Fandom would be completely absent from my mind during such nocturnal gazing, replaced by a true appreciation of one's microscopic self's minuteness in the universe.
I remembered Bloch's piece from its original appearance, and also from Out of My Head, the 1986 collection of his work done by NESFA Press for Confederation. A most enjoyable article, wherever encountered, and a pleasure to read again.
My favorite part of Dan Steffan's "The Last Corflu" was Caspar's comment, "We went from invulnerable to incontinent overnight." Nicely drawn cartoonery.
Andy Hooper's thoughts, observations, and adventures while walking reminded me that I used to walk (and bike) around Glen Ellen a lot in the past, and I don't anymore. The main things that happened are that the roads got more crowded and dangerous, which took me off my bike, and my main walking place got gated. That was a road that wound up a hill and ended after nearly three miles at the gates of a private campground. Some sections ascended gently, while others were steep. At various points on the way up, you could look off in the distance and see much of the Sonoma Valley below. Go even farther up and far-off exotic Mt. Diablo, some 40 miles away in Contra Costa county, could be seen, at least on a clear day. I used to go about halfway up in the evening a couple times a week. But the homes up there were on large acreages, owned by rich people, and the road was an easement --a private street. Towards the end of the '80s it was gated and the pleasures of walking it came to an abrupt end. There is no comparable walk around here without traveling some distance to get to it, alas.
Something rather auspicious, or perhaps foreboding, about the resumption of Harlan's serial in SFFY after such a long lapse. Could this mean The Final Dangerous Visions might also soon appear?
Best wishes,
(Robert)
Cy Chauvin
14248 Wilfred
Detroit MI 48213
Thank-you for SF-5 Yearly. Oddly, it doesn't seem that long since the last issue. I remember when monthly fanzines were considered frequent, and now a quarterly would seem hectic. And apparently a five-yearly fanzine doesn't seem that long between issues.
The photo section is very nice. My favorite photo: Bob Tucker, Bob Bloch & etc. playing Scrabble. It looks so 1950's homey, everyone so young and it sort of radiates a kind of happiness you don't often see. The biggest surprise: I didn't recognize Gary Farber in the Nashville Corflu photo (with Patrick Nielsen Hayden). I thought it was Alan Bostick!
Victor's article could provoke a long reply. A longing to "get back to nature" so often is taken to mean that someone wishes to abolish all technology, or freeze development at a certain stage or time. But that's not true. It's just that nearly every wonderful thing we have invented has been taken to such an extreme: take the auto. Sure, it's wonderful not to have to walk miles. But now suburbs are being built where there no other option than driving, there is no planning for walking. Think of the cons you've been to like that. So let's not abolish technology, but let's control it. I know that not a popular idea in this Republican era, or among anarchistic fandom. But it's definitely not an either/ or question, in my opinion (and if I'm simplifying Victor's article, I'm sorry).
Lee's article is my favorite, perhaps because I've lived in some odd places like the one she describes. Actually, I suppose only one was really odd, and I only lived there about six months. Dave Romm, Steve Trout and another person or two shared it with me. There was a hole under the tub there, too. But since the hole lead to the living room, and they were artists, a poster of a big eye was pasted over the hole on the living room ceiling, instead of sheet metal. Black & silver cloth was hung down the stairway like drapes. Pages from comic books wallpapered the bathroom. My bedroom (taken over from someone else who had moved away) was painted black with stars on the ceiling. (Cy, this isn't you at all! said Leah Zeldes at the time.) Discipline was pretty slack. I remember refusing to do the dishes any more until (ugh!) I discovered insects growing on the plates. But I'm not describing it as entertainingly as Lee, perhaps I don't want to remember my eventful post-college life, circa 1978, too clearly!
(Best, Cy)
James White
5 January 1997
Dear LeeH, Andy, Geri, Jeff but excluding Uncle Tom Cobley who is a fakefan, and all,
Realising that the tenth issue of a five-yearly fanzine has just come in is a sobering thought, more so when one is already sober, and it has the effect of bringing back the arrival of Issue One and dumping me suddenly into the bright, leafy opening stretches of memory lane. At that time the major personal medical problem of incised lino-cutting fingers has since cleared up but, as has happened with most of us, a few new ones have appeared. Oh, well.
This was a really nice, well-balanced and designed issue, with the longer, serious (but not always) articles seeded with little nuggets of shorter stuff like humorous anti-personnel devices. All the artists did themselves proud, too, but I particularly liked the refinement undreamed-of in the early SFFYs, that lovely photo supplement. The supplement was lovely, I mean, not necessarily all of the subjects. But it was terrific seeing so many of the young/ old fans as they were/ are. I especially liked Jeff's picture showing Hope Leibowitz, Moshe Feder and Patrick and Teresa Nielsen Hayden Disclaving/ skyscraping in 1984-86. Teresa looked like Audrey Hepburn then and now she looks like Gillian Anderson --apart from her narcolepsy and stuff, some people seem to get all the luck.
I did detect, however, a touch of (editorial?) dithering regarding policy on your gripping, exotic, and several dodgier words, serials. Is someone for continuing them fearlessly into the bright immensities of the unknown future, and someone else for wrapping them up on the assumption that SFFY has not many more issues to run? If that is the situation, all I can say to someone else is for shame.
As Robert Burns would have said if he had lived a century later, 'Lang may your life-support systems reek.'
All the Best
(James)
William Breiding
14248 Wilfred
Detroit MI 48213
Since my arrival in fandom in 1973 I've been hearing and reading about Lee (hi there) and Science Fiction Five Yearly; twenty-three years later it was an unexpected surprise (an eye-brow raiser, actually) to find myself on its mailing list.
I have been vaguely irritated by fannish sexual exploits into the realm of "kink" that have lately cropped up in Fanzines. I'm not absolutely sure why this is, and the closest I can get to it is that it's the tone of these essays. And my intimate knowledge of just how dweeby most fans tend to be. There's a sense of exploitation, a "gee, look at me" kind of flirtation, like the old one-eyed king in the land of the blind. I'm far from being a prude, so it's not that; I question its intent, why it was written, like Luke McGuff's piece on nipple piercing, and his ever-changing, sensitive sexuality, that ran in Spent Brass. At least Vijay Bowen's piece was transparent titillation, shiny as a well rubbed latex covered ass surface and superfluous; nothing like warm flesh, without the fetish. I have nothing against this kind of thing, indeed I find it fascinating. It's the tone and intent that I'm holding up by the scruff of the neck, like the afore-mentioned McGuff piece, and finding questionable. What was Luke doing, and how sincere? Was it just the flash and rush of show and tell? The giddiness of exposing his sex in public? I'm sure these folks are nice enough, were I to meet them; I wouldn't hesitate to lay my hands around Vijay's cinched waist, and maybe pull on Luke's hoops, but, where does it goes from there, eh? I suppose it's good that fandom has finally discovered it can write about its predilections, especially those that are so non-scientific.
F. M. Busby's piece was a delight. I can say little more than that. It was nostalgic in its content and faint feel. I was positive I was reading a reprint until I got below those asterisks.
The sheer technique of Dan Steffan's strip was awesome. I studied it for a long time, especially that first panel.
Victor and Andy pull in with some fine moody meditations. Through Andy's piece I kept thinking of Bradbury's The Whole Town Is Sleeping. Remember that little gem, written and published in a time when few Americans had thoughts of random violence, or maniacs. I envy Victor's moony musings (here an admitting to erotic underpinning, and handled well); the SanJuan's, the rustic setting. A place I have yet to explore. Someday.
(William)
Don Fitch
3908 Frijo
Covina CA 91722
Rather nice paper, and the three sturdy staples, well-aligned, are excellent touches. That's not quite enough to sear it in my mind as an outstanding candidate for next year's Fanzine Hugo, though -- other factors do that.
Look as hard as I might, I can't find anything in or about it that isn't absolutely Top Quality. (Well .. . . excepting the probability that the paper isn't acid-free and won't last more than about 50 years . . . and that'll make Issue #20 look better by comparison.)
The Quality I so admire isn't only that of the writing & artwork & layout (though these are all major factors). What strikes me particularly is the way the material all manages to be extremely fannish without ever falling into the "Look how faaanish I can be" trap. One can well apply to it the statement which, despite some modification by me, seems to be about what Charles Burbee meant --"The best fanstuff can be appreciated by the reasonably literate and intelligent non-fan who lives across the street". It's impossible to be sure about such things, but I don't think my knowledge of the context of fannish history and lore significantly increases my appreciation of this material; the text stands solidly on its own feet. (The illustrations, being illustrations rather than "High Art" (insert oblig. non-disclaimer of dope reference innuendo), seem to have a trifle more historico-emotional overlay, but not enough to be really significant; mostly, they just add a bit to the text, which is precisely what they should do.)
I was favorably impressed by the neat ways you observed Fannish Propriety and treated all the contributors (editors, writers, & artists) purely as fans, even though more than half of them have Professional Publication credits, and several are outright /F/ i/ l/ t/ h/ y/ Pros --and the (arguably) most famous of these is here (lightly) veiled by a pseudonym (" Nalrah Nosille").
Also strikingly appealing (to me) is the careful balance between Old and New (authors, reprints, modern topics, and artwork) --the combination works marvelously well. Actually, I might not nominate SFFY for the Fanzine Hugo next year, but only because I hold the somewhat free interpretation of "Best Fanzine" to imply "Best for fandom", and frequent publication pulls some weight there. I do hope you got permission from the contributors, and have some intention of putting SFFY #10 up on a Web Page (the Smith-Graham one would seem to be the best bet) --it really deserves to be read by lots of fans (far more than an affordable postal Mailing List could practically include), and by as many proto-fans as possible.
<FitchDonS@ aol. com>
Better late than never on putting SFFY on the Web, I hope, especially as -- thanks in particular to Judy Bemis --
*all 11* issues will be up on the FANAC website shortly. -- gfs
Teddy Harvia: I was only mildly amused by the papal cartoon by Bill Rotsler and Shelby Vick until I realized those were not hand puppets. I came completely unzipped.
Lloyd Penney: Mah heartstrings went *twang* reading the first half of Ted White's article. For, this is the way I feel... I really enjoy getting mail, and writing, and sending mail. This is the life cycle of a letterhack, I guess, but I do enjoy it.
Bruce Pelz: In the photographs, there is one of Harlan and Poul, which is identified as being at a Midwestcon. 'Tain't true . . . .
The picture was taken at Westercon 19 in San Diego --the notorious "Bouncing Potatoes" Westercon --by the pool mentioned in the last verse of Poul's filk. Jeff has a copy of the photo because the original owner, Gail Whiskin, brought it (and some others) to Magicon to give to me as Historical Mementos (which they are). Gail (originally Joey Knuth, then Gail Daniels, then Gail Thompson, before moving to Florida and becoming Gail Whiskin) was an L. A. fan in the '60s, and the picture was taken either by her or by a previous husband, Dik Daniels.
I wanted to put a copy of the Long-and-Short-of-SF-Prodom shot of Poul and Harlan into the time capsule, but
Jeff reminded me that a 1966 color photo would fade into nothingness in 50 years, so we decided to copy it. I bought a new roll of film, Jeff re-shot the photo (several times) and used up the rest on whatever was handy. One of the re-shot copies went into the capsule.
Jim Young: What a fine, faanish institution SFFY is. But as I was turning the pages, I kept asking myself, "What's gonna happen when the Twilltone runs out?" Will we have to establish it as an ethinic artifact that NGO's like the Sierra Club can start campaigns to preserve? Who will be the Twilltone poster child? These are the burning questions for 1997, if you ask me.
Harlan Ellison: Silverberg pointed out that apart from all of the other major awards that I have won --lifetime achievement awards and Pen awards and Writer's Guild awards & Grammy nomi... and all that shit. All of them pale into insignificance before the singular fact that I am now the author of the longest running serial in the history of science fiction. It's been going since 1956 and, as we all know, that's 40 years! Now you show me anyone else who's got a serial that has run 40 years. I thought you might like to include this in the magazine in some small way.
Data entry by Judy Bemis
Hard copy provided by Geri Sullivan
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