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A Tale of the 'Evans, v. 3, issue 4, Fall 1945
Page 3
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A Tour of the 'Evans Which might be fittingly sub-titled "SOMEONE ONCE SAID 'GO WEST!, OL' MAN EVANS', AND HERE I IS!" For now my address is, as most of you probably already know -- 628 So. Bixel Street, Los Angeles, 14, Calif. This is in reality VOLUME THREE, NUMBER FOUR, for the FALL F.A.P.A., of the private journal of one E. EVERETT EVANS, entitled "A TALE OF THE 'EVANS". As always, it is your editor's hope that you find herein some moments of pleasure and enjoyment, to which end he continually strives. ___________ WHEREIN I ACHIEVE AN AMBITION OF LONG-STANDING. For the past twenty-odd years it has been my desire someday to reside in the sunny (?) land of Southern California. The responsibilities of raising and educating a family have hitherto made that dream impossible of realization. Recently, however I have felt that the conditions were such that I could make the change. Accordingly, for the past several months I have been planning the move, and on Tuesday, July 17th, I started on my journey Westward, Ho! For the preceding several weeks I had been industriously busy packing my various possessions, my lares and penates. It is strange how much stuff a man accumulates during the years, especially when, as I am, he is a collector of things. I have, I find to my dismay when I contemplate the freight charges to be paid, seventeen cases of books and magazines stored in Ed. Counts' garage, waiting for later shipment to me. I had a nice $46.09 Express bill for seven other cases and packages and boxes of records, clothing, pictures, and various kinds of trivia. And about $8.00 worth of packages sent out ahead of me by mail. Yet I consider it worth the cost to have these things at hand for my continued enjoyment in the future as they have been in the past. For my collection is made for continued use, not merely for the sake of having a collection. It seems almost a miracle to me that I was able to begin my anticipated journey not only on the very day ,but on the very train on which I had set my departure several months ago. So many things always seem to happen to one who plans far in advance, that until the very last moment I expected something or other to delay me. But the finances were managed, in spite of several vexatious things that for a time seemed about to prevent me; other possible delays cleared as if by magic the last day, and so at 9:23 a.m., on Tuesday, July 17th I boarded the train for the beginning of my journey. The train was even on time -- wonder of wonders! The good old Michigan Central took me to the great metropolis--Chicago, home of the ..... shhhh! .....THE CAVES! By the way, what do YOU know of the caves? There I attended to some small items of business, tried a few book stores, only to find that Elsie Janda and Frankie Robinson and others had cleaned them out of all possible buys in our fantasy line. Came evening and with it to my hotel, Ron Clyne and Charles McNutt, two boys I had long wished to meet. We gabbed for some time while waiting for the appearance of any of the other Chicago friends
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A Tour of the 'Evans Which might be fittingly sub-titled "SOMEONE ONCE SAID 'GO WEST!, OL' MAN EVANS', AND HERE I IS!" For now my address is, as most of you probably already know -- 628 So. Bixel Street, Los Angeles, 14, Calif. This is in reality VOLUME THREE, NUMBER FOUR, for the FALL F.A.P.A., of the private journal of one E. EVERETT EVANS, entitled "A TALE OF THE 'EVANS". As always, it is your editor's hope that you find herein some moments of pleasure and enjoyment, to which end he continually strives. ___________ WHEREIN I ACHIEVE AN AMBITION OF LONG-STANDING. For the past twenty-odd years it has been my desire someday to reside in the sunny (?) land of Southern California. The responsibilities of raising and educating a family have hitherto made that dream impossible of realization. Recently, however I have felt that the conditions were such that I could make the change. Accordingly, for the past several months I have been planning the move, and on Tuesday, July 17th, I started on my journey Westward, Ho! For the preceding several weeks I had been industriously busy packing my various possessions, my lares and penates. It is strange how much stuff a man accumulates during the years, especially when, as I am, he is a collector of things. I have, I find to my dismay when I contemplate the freight charges to be paid, seventeen cases of books and magazines stored in Ed. Counts' garage, waiting for later shipment to me. I had a nice $46.09 Express bill for seven other cases and packages and boxes of records, clothing, pictures, and various kinds of trivia. And about $8.00 worth of packages sent out ahead of me by mail. Yet I consider it worth the cost to have these things at hand for my continued enjoyment in the future as they have been in the past. For my collection is made for continued use, not merely for the sake of having a collection. It seems almost a miracle to me that I was able to begin my anticipated journey not only on the very day ,but on the very train on which I had set my departure several months ago. So many things always seem to happen to one who plans far in advance, that until the very last moment I expected something or other to delay me. But the finances were managed, in spite of several vexatious things that for a time seemed about to prevent me; other possible delays cleared as if by magic the last day, and so at 9:23 a.m., on Tuesday, July 17th I boarded the train for the beginning of my journey. The train was even on time -- wonder of wonders! The good old Michigan Central took me to the great metropolis--Chicago, home of the ..... shhhh! .....THE CAVES! By the way, what do YOU know of the caves? There I attended to some small items of business, tried a few book stores, only to find that Elsie Janda and Frankie Robinson and others had cleaned them out of all possible buys in our fantasy line. Came evening and with it to my hotel, Ron Clyne and Charles McNutt, two boys I had long wished to meet. We gabbed for some time while waiting for the appearance of any of the other Chicago friends
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