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Le Zombie, v. 4, issue 1, whole no. 36, January 1941
Page 5
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(editorial - continued) Sitting alone in a quiet house late at night, thumbing batterd old copies, something of this heart comes to the surface of the page, and the memory of the fan editor. It is a sentimental feeling those who have never edited or published a fanmag will never possess, and a feeling which the fan who has, cannot hope to make clear to the fan who hasn't. Perhaps it can be likened to the miser pouring over figures in a musty, faded bankbook, or an elderly playboy thoughtfully searching the names and phone numbers in his little red book, searching for something that will bring back his memories of yesterday. Yes, that pit of the fan's editor's heart comes out again, and it is tinged with sentiment. The fan editor sits quietly, thumbing the pages, the issue.....thumbing....thumbing....reading..... dwelling in memory. Of the time when he typed that, when he saw this, when he printed those. He rereads items; of the little nitwit who once tried to disprove the laws of grav to replace a favorite editor on a job held so long (only to find that the editor didn't want the blamed job!). of the ugly rumors that blossomed into full scandal, of the wonderful intentions that backfired and blistered fandom, of many many things that now bring a chuckle, a grim smile, or even a sneer. These and other things a fan editor dwells upon as he thumbs his back-issues. The other things musn't be forgotten, because they too are a part of the history of those back issues. The fan editor runs thru the names on his subscription list, some names that are still there, other names that boredly vanished, and then two names pop up, and the fan-ed bogs down again in mental stillness. Two names. Names that don't have owners any longer. One has traded his name for a number and rots in jail. The other has no use for a name . . . but it is tacked to his tombstone. But this is 1941, isn't it? We musn't look backwards, must we? No,that is only for dry-minded historians. We hare addle-headed fans. We publish little journals filled with idle gossip. The pro editors put their hearts in their work, sweating real blood to give us thrilling science fiction. We are only the public that consumes it. And this is 1941. Where do we go from here? Bob Tucker 1-5-41 WE ARE BURNED TO THE QUICK, DEPT: The 1st Anniversary issue of Australia's Ultra has arrived, and we wish to reprint a note from its contents page. (quote) "Some American eyebrows are going to be raised in surprise on noting that there are no booster ads in this issue. Well, let 'em... The booster ads were purposely left out, so as to make room for some decent material ... material that the writer does not have to pay the editor to print ... for such are boosters." (unquote). Odds bodkins ---the lad calls his shots wickedly but true! We bow our head in shame for taking a filthy nickle for every booster ad appearing herein. Guys who sent in dimes get their "material" printed twice. And we might as well admit that Ackerman paid us $23 for printing his Chicon article, Chauvenet paid $9.60 to insure his baseball story seeing print, the Queensies collected $72.19 from their treasury and sent us to make sure their publicity-articles were printed, and Jenkins sent us his favorite concubine for accepting his cover. Meanwhile, we thank Jenkins for the cover (on this issue) and Decker Dillies, publishers of Pluto, for printing it for us. May we all collaborate on our Third anniversary!
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(editorial - continued) Sitting alone in a quiet house late at night, thumbing batterd old copies, something of this heart comes to the surface of the page, and the memory of the fan editor. It is a sentimental feeling those who have never edited or published a fanmag will never possess, and a feeling which the fan who has, cannot hope to make clear to the fan who hasn't. Perhaps it can be likened to the miser pouring over figures in a musty, faded bankbook, or an elderly playboy thoughtfully searching the names and phone numbers in his little red book, searching for something that will bring back his memories of yesterday. Yes, that pit of the fan's editor's heart comes out again, and it is tinged with sentiment. The fan editor sits quietly, thumbing the pages, the issue.....thumbing....thumbing....reading..... dwelling in memory. Of the time when he typed that, when he saw this, when he printed those. He rereads items; of the little nitwit who once tried to disprove the laws of grav to replace a favorite editor on a job held so long (only to find that the editor didn't want the blamed job!). of the ugly rumors that blossomed into full scandal, of the wonderful intentions that backfired and blistered fandom, of many many things that now bring a chuckle, a grim smile, or even a sneer. These and other things a fan editor dwells upon as he thumbs his back-issues. The other things musn't be forgotten, because they too are a part of the history of those back issues. The fan editor runs thru the names on his subscription list, some names that are still there, other names that boredly vanished, and then two names pop up, and the fan-ed bogs down again in mental stillness. Two names. Names that don't have owners any longer. One has traded his name for a number and rots in jail. The other has no use for a name . . . but it is tacked to his tombstone. But this is 1941, isn't it? We musn't look backwards, must we? No,that is only for dry-minded historians. We hare addle-headed fans. We publish little journals filled with idle gossip. The pro editors put their hearts in their work, sweating real blood to give us thrilling science fiction. We are only the public that consumes it. And this is 1941. Where do we go from here? Bob Tucker 1-5-41 WE ARE BURNED TO THE QUICK, DEPT: The 1st Anniversary issue of Australia's Ultra has arrived, and we wish to reprint a note from its contents page. (quote) "Some American eyebrows are going to be raised in surprise on noting that there are no booster ads in this issue. Well, let 'em... The booster ads were purposely left out, so as to make room for some decent material ... material that the writer does not have to pay the editor to print ... for such are boosters." (unquote). Odds bodkins ---the lad calls his shots wickedly but true! We bow our head in shame for taking a filthy nickle for every booster ad appearing herein. Guys who sent in dimes get their "material" printed twice. And we might as well admit that Ackerman paid us $23 for printing his Chicon article, Chauvenet paid $9.60 to insure his baseball story seeing print, the Queensies collected $72.19 from their treasury and sent us to make sure their publicity-articles were printed, and Jenkins sent us his favorite concubine for accepting his cover. Meanwhile, we thank Jenkins for the cover (on this issue) and Decker Dillies, publishers of Pluto, for printing it for us. May we all collaborate on our Third anniversary!
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