DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Fantasite, v. 2, issue 4, November-December 1942

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Fantasite, v. 2, issue 4, November-December 1942

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ed a desire for beer. We piled into the StfNash, buzzed downtown in search of a tavern, and parked in a one-hour parking zone within two blocks of one.

Brackney and I insisted on having a shoe-shine before we walked another block, for our shoes were literally covered with mud -- the result of pushing Janie's car the from the side of the road where it had become stuck the night before. Walt and Neil continued on down the street, with the promise to be back in ten minutes, while Saari, Brackney, Russell, and Yours Truly found a barber-shop and all had shines. By the time we were through, Walt and Neil walked in. Where they went we never managed to discover, although I have my suspicions. The tavern was our next stop, and we all ordered sandwiches and beer. Brackney and I were particularly appalled at the fact that they had no beer with which we were familiar and noisily expressed our sentiments. We finally ordered some, and it tasted like flat soda pop. A nifty s-f session took place, though, and we stayed for some time. 

Returning to 86 Upton Avenue we found Jack Wiedenbeck and Everett there, and once more introductions were in order for some of us. A resumption to book perusing took place, and Al brought out the mimeograph preparatory to running off a few last minute pages for the Conference. EEE had me dictate to him the titles and authors of the stories in the current promags while he stenciled them. Then they were run off with remarkable swiftness and precision. After the haphazard, trial and error method which we were used to, it was a real pleasure to watch Al and Jack work. They have some splendid equipment, and displayed a new photoscope which they had recently purchased, and with which they will doubtless introduce some new innovations in Nova. Brackney managed to dig up a bottle of beer somewhere and triumphantly waved it in our faces.

Tallyho! It was time to leave for Jackson. Books and personal belongings were hastily gathered and we stampeded noisily down the stairs, trampling Robinson underfoot. I drove the StfNash, and somewhere made a wrong turn, losing Janie's car, while still in Battle Creek. Consequently, I speeded three-quarters of the way to Jackson in an attempt to overhaul the other car. After driving for about forty-five minutes we still had not overtaken them. Frank then calmly informed me that we had passed the other car a good twenty minutes before. Jackson then hove into sight and we swished into a parking lot, grabbed some luggage and madly rushed for the Otsego Hotel. There was a noisy cluster of people before the desk registering, and I was carrying someone's bag, attempting to be chivalrous. I held the bag for about fifteen minutes until I disgustedly found out that it was Jack's, and that he was happily and smilingly empty-handed.

As one person we vowed to spend the next few hours resting and cleaning up. Leventy-nine of us squeezed into the elevator, squashing Robinson against the wall, and rode to our respective floors. Brack and I got out on the third floor along with a crowd of other fans and staggered to our room. Strangely, we did not feel at all tired. We looked closely at each other, then at a liquor-list thoughtfully provided by the management. At a loss as to how to contact other fans we made some noise, and shortly there came a timorous knock at our door. It was Frank, looking slightly the worse for ear, and we sent him to round up some other fans. Walt breezed in, having heard the commotion, and pretty soon everybody was there. A good ol' gabfest took place, complete with hard and soft drinks. At about 5:30 people began to leave to clean up for dinner, and finally only Evans, Ashley, and Wiedenbeck were left. Everett suggested that we meet in the lobby at 6:30 for dinner, and departed. Al, Jack, Brackney, and I became so absorbed in our discussion that we didn't notice the time flying until somebody frantically called up and weakly informed us that it was 6:45 and the fans gathered in the lobby were nearly prostrate with hunger.

In the lobby we met Dick Kuhn, Harry Schmarje, and Marvon Levene, who had just arrived. Then to dinner. I sat next to Walt, and endured his quips for the full length of the meal, toying with my knife only occasionally. Robinson was squeezed tightly in between two other husky fans, but managed to survive. Afterward we gathered in room 452, which had been designated the official gathering-place. Program booklets were passed out and the autographing started, new arrivals pouring into the

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ed a desire for beer. We piled into the StfNash, buzzed downtown in search of a tavern, and parked in a one-hour parking zone within two blocks of one. Brackney and I insisted on having a shoe-shine before we walked another block, for our shoes were literally covered with mud -- the result of pushing Janie's car the from the side of the road where it had become stuck the night before. Walt and Neil continued on down the street, with the promise to be back in ten minutes, while Saari, Brackney, Russell, and Yours Truly found a barber-shop and all had shines. By the time we were through, Walt and Neil walked in. Where they went we never managed to discover, although I have my suspicions. The tavern was our next stop, and we all ordered sandwiches and beer. Brackney and I were particularly appalled at the fact that they had no beer with which we were familiar and noisily expressed our sentiments. We finally ordered some, and it tasted like flat soda pop. A nifty s-f session took place, though, and we stayed for some time. Returning to 86 Upton Avenue we found Jack Wiedenbeck and Everett there, and once more introductions were in order for some of us. A resumption to book perusing took place, and Al brought out the mimeograph preparatory to running off a few last minute pages for the Conference. EEE had me dictate to him the titles and authors of the stories in the current promags while he stenciled them. Then they were run off with remarkable swiftness and precision. After the haphazard, trial and error method which we were used to, it was a real pleasure to watch Al and Jack work. They have some splendid equipment, and displayed a new photoscope which they had recently purchased, and with which they will doubtless introduce some new innovations in Nova. Brackney managed to dig up a bottle of beer somewhere and triumphantly waved it in our faces. Tallyho! It was time to leave for Jackson. Books and personal belongings were hastily gathered and we stampeded noisily down the stairs, trampling Robinson underfoot. I drove the StfNash, and somewhere made a wrong turn, losing Janie's car, while still in Battle Creek. Consequently, I speeded three-quarters of the way to Jackson in an attempt to overhaul the other car. After driving for about forty-five minutes we still had not overtaken them. Frank then calmly informed me that we had passed the other car a good twenty minutes before. Jackson then hove into sight and we swished into a parking lot, grabbed some luggage and madly rushed for the Otsego Hotel. There was a noisy cluster of people before the desk registering, and I was carrying someone's bag, attempting to be chivalrous. I held the bag for about fifteen minutes until I disgustedly found out that it was Jack's, and that he was happily and smilingly empty-handed. As one person we vowed to spend the next few hours resting and cleaning up. Leventy-nine of us squeezed into the elevator, squashing Robinson against the wall, and rode to our respective floors. Brack and I got out on the third floor along with a crowd of other fans and staggered to our room. Strangely, we did not feel at all tired. We looked closely at each other, then at a liquor-list thoughtfully provided by the management. At a loss as to how to contact other fans we made some noise, and shortly there came a timorous knock at our door. It was Frank, looking slightly the worse for ear, and we sent him to round up some other fans. Walt breezed in, having heard the commotion, and pretty soon everybody was there. A good ol' gabfest took place, complete with hard and soft drinks. At about 5:30 people began to leave to clean up for dinner, and finally only Evans, Ashley, and Wiedenbeck were left. Everett suggested that we meet in the lobby at 6:30 for dinner, and departed. Al, Jack, Brackney, and I became so absorbed in our discussion that we didn't notice the time flying until somebody frantically called up and weakly informed us that it was 6:45 and the fans gathered in the lobby were nearly prostrate with hunger. In the lobby we met Dick Kuhn, Harry Schmarje, and Marvon Levene, who had just arrived. Then to dinner. I sat next to Walt, and endured his quips for the full length of the meal, toying with my knife only occasionally. Robinson was squeezed tightly in between two other husky fans, but managed to survive. Afterward we gathered in room 452, which had been designated the official gathering-place. Program booklets were passed out and the autographing started, new arrivals pouring into the