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The Alchemist, v.1, issue 3, Summer 1940
Page 33
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THE ALCHEMIST Page 33 spelling, and grammar, not to mention poor technique, then we did go nuts. In the depths of despair we called Roy, who dropped everything and came on the double. We showed him the abortive infant, discussed our further plans, and then gathered up the sixty-five copies and headed for the backyard. There we built a nice roaring bonfire and danced around it, chuckling with glee. Martin was in favor of chucking hecto pans, ribbon, paper, typewriter and all into the fire after "Al", but Hunt and I took him down and sat on him. Then, after the fire was out, and our madness had abated some-what we again descended upon Wiggins. Again he received us pleasantly, told us what our mistakes were and how to correct them. Filled with new determination we went home, and retyped our mastercopies for the umpteenth time, this time with Ditto Carbon paper. When we were ready again Wiggins came over, bringing his saddle stitcher and a copy of his mailing list. He helped us get the masters in order, arrange the dummy, and start to go to press. When we quit that night he announced that he would return again the following evening to run off the rest of the material. As I had a previous engagement I enjoyed myself seeing Gone With The Wind, while editor Martin and the noble Mr. Wiggins labored heroically. Between pages they quaffed innumerable cups of steaming Java. Coming home in the wee small hours I decided that my enthusiastic comrades would surely temper zeal with sanity, and have long since retired to bed, so I turned in. Meanshile, all unbeknownst to me the two ambitious madmen were still laboring over the refractory gelatines, drowning their fatigue with coffee. At length, at three thirty in the morning the two zealots decided to quit, since in spite of the stimulant they were no longer able to see what they were doing. As neither Mr. Wiggins nor Mr. Martin (nor Hunt nor I for that matter) were plutocrats who owned cars, and as the Downing Bus
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THE ALCHEMIST Page 33 spelling, and grammar, not to mention poor technique, then we did go nuts. In the depths of despair we called Roy, who dropped everything and came on the double. We showed him the abortive infant, discussed our further plans, and then gathered up the sixty-five copies and headed for the backyard. There we built a nice roaring bonfire and danced around it, chuckling with glee. Martin was in favor of chucking hecto pans, ribbon, paper, typewriter and all into the fire after "Al", but Hunt and I took him down and sat on him. Then, after the fire was out, and our madness had abated some-what we again descended upon Wiggins. Again he received us pleasantly, told us what our mistakes were and how to correct them. Filled with new determination we went home, and retyped our mastercopies for the umpteenth time, this time with Ditto Carbon paper. When we were ready again Wiggins came over, bringing his saddle stitcher and a copy of his mailing list. He helped us get the masters in order, arrange the dummy, and start to go to press. When we quit that night he announced that he would return again the following evening to run off the rest of the material. As I had a previous engagement I enjoyed myself seeing Gone With The Wind, while editor Martin and the noble Mr. Wiggins labored heroically. Between pages they quaffed innumerable cups of steaming Java. Coming home in the wee small hours I decided that my enthusiastic comrades would surely temper zeal with sanity, and have long since retired to bed, so I turned in. Meanshile, all unbeknownst to me the two ambitious madmen were still laboring over the refractory gelatines, drowning their fatigue with coffee. At length, at three thirty in the morning the two zealots decided to quit, since in spite of the stimulant they were no longer able to see what they were doing. As neither Mr. Wiggins nor Mr. Martin (nor Hunt nor I for that matter) were plutocrats who owned cars, and as the Downing Bus
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