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Snide, issue 1, May 1940
Page 19
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Personal Notes on the Philly Convention by Bob Tucker You could have heard an elephant drop in the back room at 1700 Frankford! The gang was standing around gabbing...the Queens boys were renewing acquaintances...and in walked several of the beard-and-bomb boys; the Futurians. Embarrassing silence! But, by and by, yours truly was standing in a corner gabbing with Wilson on one hand and Sykora on the other, both beaming as if they had just had a beer together. How Philadelphians don't know Philly! Upon arriving in the jeepy city late Saturday night, we took our load of passengers out to 1700 Frankford, dumped them, and picked up one Philly gent named Burke...Charles I think his first name was... who started us on a tour of Philly looking for a hotel. In rapid succession we visited and rejected such enticing abodes as: a 'truck driver's rest', a fifteenth-rate hotel, an opium joint, a den of evil iniquity, Mrs. Somebody's rooming house -- she was just full-up -- and a dime flop house. Finally I patiently explained to my guide that 'the little woman' and I were looking for a hotel. H-O-T-E-L. We located one uptown. Marconette and Meyer took a room together in the same establishment. And they got rooked: They had one room with twin beds, no bath, no closets; we had a small apartment with all the trimmings, and we got ours for one dollar less per day than they did! I suspect the clerk knew they were fans. Marconette, however, got even. When he checked out, there were in his suitcase or wrapped around his already huge girth; two blankets, six towels, a light bulb, a castor off the bed post, a piece of the rug, the maid's dust-broom, and several feathers out of the pillows. (He couldn't explain what he intended to do with this last.) 19
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Personal Notes on the Philly Convention by Bob Tucker You could have heard an elephant drop in the back room at 1700 Frankford! The gang was standing around gabbing...the Queens boys were renewing acquaintances...and in walked several of the beard-and-bomb boys; the Futurians. Embarrassing silence! But, by and by, yours truly was standing in a corner gabbing with Wilson on one hand and Sykora on the other, both beaming as if they had just had a beer together. How Philadelphians don't know Philly! Upon arriving in the jeepy city late Saturday night, we took our load of passengers out to 1700 Frankford, dumped them, and picked up one Philly gent named Burke...Charles I think his first name was... who started us on a tour of Philly looking for a hotel. In rapid succession we visited and rejected such enticing abodes as: a 'truck driver's rest', a fifteenth-rate hotel, an opium joint, a den of evil iniquity, Mrs. Somebody's rooming house -- she was just full-up -- and a dime flop house. Finally I patiently explained to my guide that 'the little woman' and I were looking for a hotel. H-O-T-E-L. We located one uptown. Marconette and Meyer took a room together in the same establishment. And they got rooked: They had one room with twin beds, no bath, no closets; we had a small apartment with all the trimmings, and we got ours for one dollar less per day than they did! I suspect the clerk knew they were fans. Marconette, however, got even. When he checked out, there were in his suitcase or wrapped around his already huge girth; two blankets, six towels, a light bulb, a castor off the bed post, a piece of the rug, the maid's dust-broom, and several feathers out of the pillows. (He couldn't explain what he intended to do with this last.) 19
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