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IFA Review, v. 1, issue 2, September-October 1940

Page 13

EXPEDITION TO CHICAGO

by TED DIKTY

The evening of the 20th of August found me glancing anxiously at the clock 6:28 P.M. Where the devil was Fred Shroyer? He was supposed to drive in from Decatur, pick me up, and then proceed to the bus station. Our bus was due to leave at 6:40.

Finally? A car dashed up to the curb, stopped, and let the driver out in a hurry. Fred helped me with my bags and we hurried to the car and thence downtown. To cut the story short, the bus was late and we didn't leave till about 8:20. And this was what he had burned up the roads at 80 miles an hour for?

Our contraption finally arrived in the Randolph Street station at about 12:25 A.M. A couple of the boys were supposed to have met us here, but no soap. Phoning brought Mark Reinabarg down after a proper interval. We already knew each other, having met before. Greetings and news were exchanged. We then found out that a reception committee of a half dozen fans had grown tired of waiting and left shortly before we arrived.

We then hopped a Chicago street car -- veritably a contrivance of the devil -- and proceeded to the "Lab", a basement headquarters of several Chicago fans -- Meyer, Reinsbarg, and Korshak. Only a few hours of the night were left, so no thoughts of sleep were entertained. We found a lot to talk about and pore over in the den. The time passed only too swiftly. I then remembered that my Chicon magazine was still unassembled and unstapled, having finished the hektoing only a while before I left Fort Wayne. This took some time and we left immediately upon it's completion as dawn had already broken.

We proceeded to the YMCA which served as a parking place for most of the out of town fans. There, in the lobby, we first met many of the fans. Forrest J. Ackerman and Morojo were recognized, as was Bob Tucker. Then I met Pogo, from Los Angeles, and Paul Freehafer, from Pasadena. Paul, who edits the weird fan mag, "Polaris", is a stocky fellow, six feet tall, and wears glasses.

From the other end of the continent were Art Widner and Earl Singleton. I found out that they had come all the way from Mass. in a car (?) entitled "The Skylark of Foo". Art was quite a surprise to me, as I had imagined him to be a small, quiet fellow. He wasn't. More of him later. Earl, I venture to say, with no fear of contradiction from feminine fandom was the handsomest fellow present, and quite the heartbeat. Hollywood's loss is MITs gain.

From Denver had come Glen F. Wiggins and Lew Martin. Their journey was the most unusual one made, and also a hazardous one. They had come via box car on different freight trains. A hobo who had ridden the same train has lost his grip and was cut in half. Glen is a tall, quiet fellow and smoked a pipe, while Lew is a short, slim person. I can distinctly recall that he was wearing one of those bright shirts so popular among the South Sea islanders. Also, for the nth time, greeted Erle Korshak, my host during the stay

Saving...

EXPEDITION TO CHICAGO by TED DIKTY The evening of the 20th of August found me glancing anxiously at the clock 6:28 P.M. Where the devil was Fred Shroyer? He was supposed to drive in from Decatur, pick me up, and then proceed to the bus station. Our bus was due to leave at 6:40. Finally? A car dashed up to the curb, stopped, and let the driver out in a hurry. Fred helped me with my bags and we hurried to the car and thence downtown. To cut the story short, the bus was late and we didn't leave till about 8:20. And this was what he had burned up the roads at 80 miles an hour for? Our contraption finally arrived in the Randolph Street station at about 12:25 A.M. A couple of the boys were supposed to have met us here, but no soap. Phoning brought Mark Reinabarg down after a proper interval. We already knew each other, having met before. Greetings and news were exchanged. We then found out that a reception committee of a half dozen fans had grown tired of waiting and left shortly before we arrived. We then hopped a Chicago street car -- veritably a contrivance of the devil -- and proceeded to the "Lab", a basement headquarters of several Chicago fans -- Meyer, Reinsbarg, and Korshak. Only a few hours of the night were left, so no thoughts of sleep were entertained. We found a lot to talk about and pore over in the den. The time passed only too swiftly. I then remembered that my Chicon magazine was still unassembled and unstapled, having finished the hektoing only a while before I left Fort Wayne. This took some time and we left immediately upon it's completion as dawn had already broken. We proceeded to the YMCA which served as a parking place for most of the out of town fans. There, in the lobby, we first met many of the fans. Forrest J. Ackerman and Morojo were recognized, as was Bob Tucker. Then I met Pogo, from Los Angeles, and Paul Freehafer, from Pasadena. Paul, who edits the weird fan mag, "Polaris", is a stocky fellow, six feet tall, and wears glasses. From the other end of the continent were Art Widner and Earl Singleton. I found out that they had come all the way from Mass. in a car (?) entitled "The Skylark of Foo". Art was quite a surprise to me, as I had imagined him to be a small, quiet fellow. He wasn't. More of him later. Earl, I venture to say, with no fear of contradiction from feminine fandom was the handsomest fellow present, and quite the heartbeat. Hollywood's loss is MITs gain. From Denver had come Glen F. Wiggins and Lew Martin. Their journey was the most unusual one made, and also a hazardous one. They had come via box car on different freight trains. A hobo who had ridden the same train has lost his grip and was cut in half. Glen is a tall, quiet fellow and smoked a pipe, while Lew is a short, slim person. I can distinctly recall that he was wearing one of those bright shirts so popular among the South Sea islanders. Also, for the nth time, greeted Erle Korshak, my host during the stay