It's back to the early 1950s, now, with more from Walt Willis's correspondence files.
This installment of "I Remember Me" centers around one of Sixth Fandom's luminaries,
Lee Hoffman (also a notable fan artist), whose fanzine Quandry was perhaps
the very center of fandom the first two years of that decade. We'll also learn of
a fearless prediction by another of Sixth Fandom's notables, Shelby ("ShelVy") Vick,
an example of how not to construct a science fiction story by Mal Ashworth, a
correspondence exchange with Galaxy editor Horace Gold, and more... Horace Gold's Galaxy  When I was in the States in 1952, I
made the acquaintance of Horace Gold, and I have here a long letter from him dated
June 28, 1954.
...You didn't have to explain why Galaxy has the same kind but not the same
degree of pleasure that sf used to have when it was truly scarce. I went through
those days too, remember. To find a Wells or a Verne on a library shelf made
everything inside me that wasn't nailed down give a giant lurch of discovery and
excitement. Naturally I can't possibly ever again recapture that great joy and
ecstatic gulping of the stories...As for running letters, Isaac Asimov
and a few others can tell you how clear the mandate was from our readers. They went
through thousands and were astonished at the vehemence and the almost unbelievable
preponderance of 'antis'. In any case, the formula is successful, so we're not
rocking the boat. I don't know if I've mentioned this, but we have a clear lead in
U.S. and Canada circulation -- so far past Astounding that there seems no
chance whatever of its catching us up. And of course, our five foreign editions.
You blame us for not wanting to tamper?I replied to this letter on 8th
July:Interested, and
pleased to hear about your outstripping Astounding in circulation. I wish
you would say about items of information like this whether I may quote you or
not.Your own rating of stories was
fascinating. The reader normally assumes that the editor likes equally well all the
stories he prints, whereas it's obvious that he must print many of them as a
faute de mieux, or for some other odd reason, like encouraging a new author
or because he needs a story of exactly that length. I often wonder if some editors
deliberately print bad stories to make the other ones look better (like the
restaurant in the old vaudeville joke that employed midget waiters to make the
steaks look bigger) or even to encourage potential authors. As Bob Shaw once wrote,
"I always like reading Planet Stories because it gives me the pleasant
feeling that I could make money writing science fiction."[F.L. Wallace's] "The Impossible
Voyage Home" [in the August issue] had a nice idea, but the human interest angle
didn't come off with me for some reason. I found myself not giving a damn whether
the old folks got to Earth, especially after they played that dirty trick on the
sentry who trusted them. But then maybe I take too much to heart the interests of
the subsidiary characters. It infuriates me in movies, for instance, when the hero
tears a page out of a phone book or knocks over a fruit barrow in a chase. I know
the gesticulating barrow owner is a stock figure, of course, but I still feel I'd
like to see a movie, just one, where the hero stops and picks up some of the fruit
he has knocked over, or replaces the page in the phone book.A Regretful Rejection Now, here is a letter to Mal
Ashworth in which I turn down regretfully a submission to Hyphen. This may
be the last occasion in which a fanzine mentions the word 'mimeoscope'. Or indeed,
the term 'wavy scramgravy'. I've lost all memory of the origin of this expression.
Are there even older fans who remember it? 'Mimeoscope' is easier; it was basically
a box with a lamp inside and a glass lid on which you spread out a stencil which you
could then read and check for typos. This story was attributed to Algis Budrys:
There was this keen faned, you see, who couldn't bear to give up his fmz to get
married, and yet couldn't work happily on his fmz for the love of this girl. His
two loves seemed to be incompatible. Then one day while he was driving his girl
home from a convention they had a bad smash and she was taken to the hospital with
grave internal injuries. Her whole stomach was damaged beyond repair. Ordinarily
her life would have been despaired of, but just recently this famous scientist had
invented a mechanical stomach and took this opportunity to try it out. So they
fitted in the mechanical stomach. Being more efficient than the crude natural one
there was plenty of room and since they wanted to be able to observe the working of
this untried invention they let a glass plate into her abdomen and installed a light
inside, working off the same little atomic power pack as her stomach. Everything
seemed to be OK so after she regained consciousness they let her boy friend in. He
dashed in anxiously, beanie whirring, and they explain to him exactly what had
happened. They draw the blanket aside and show him the illumanated frontage. His
face is suddenly suffused with joy and relief. "Darling!" he cries, all his
problems now at an end, "Darling, will you be my mimeoscope?"Miss Monroe has asked me to
apologise for the delay in answering your letter to the FORT MUDGE STEAM CALLIOPE
COMPANY but she has been getting rid of a pitcher who didn't go often enough to the
well.Yours for wavier scramgravy,The Short Unhappy Life of Escape In July 1954 I got an eight-page
letter from Fred Woroch of Toronto announcing the impending publication of
Escape, a professionally printed fanzine. It was to be produced on the
equipment he was in charge of, at no cost except that of the paper and plates used.
This seemed to me a wonderful opportunity to pass on some of the material I had been
holding for Slant, so I sent it all to him, including the first part of Forry
Ackerman's autobiography. This was all about his childhood, first prozines, etc.,
and while interesting enough would have been a chore to set up in type. What I had
been really hoping for was Forry's rebuttal to Laney's Ah, Sweet Idiocy.Of course I got no response at all,
and there was never any sign of Escape. Nor was there ever any complaint
from Forry, a lack of reaction for which I am eternally grateful.Lee Hoffman and Her Horse Everyone knows that Lee Hoffman left
fandom for a horse, but few fans have been introduced to the horse in question, as I
was in this letter, undated but followed by another dated May 11th, 1953...Dear Walt, Do you remember the night we sat on
the front steps and I told you that of all the really big things I wanted,
like attending the Nolacon, going to college, etc., I'd gotten all but one?I've gotten my horse.I will tell you the whole wonderful
story as soon as I have gotten over it enough to be coherent.# # # #
Dear Walt, Gosh, I didn't know you were sick.
I supposed maybe you were gafiating like me. For a long while, there I was a
negative fan. I hated the sight of mail, except for letters from a few special
people. I let them lie around unopened. I actively avoided any sign of fan
activity. I rode my hoss, painted pictures furiously with my oil paints, drew pics
with ink, took art lessons with watercolors, read non-stf books, and saw
3-dimensional movies. But I avoided the taint of a Galaxy or
Startling. I felt anti-fan.Then one day a confusion came
in which ShelVy predicted that I would return to fandom this summer with a bang.
The next thing I knew, a Quandry was in the works, laden with material by
Speer, Tucker, Silverberg, and others, and featuring a letter from Bloch. A stencil
was in the mails to ShelVy for confusion, and a few measly bucks were deposited in
my account toward a trip to the Philcon. I am happy old self, once again a fan.I will tell you about the horse. He
is a gelding. He's ten years old, and bay. He was once five-gaited but has been
misused until he is thoroughly confused, and off his gaits to the extent that he
paces instead of trotting. But otherwise he is a dream of a horse. He's sixteen
hands, and has beautiful conformation. When one rides him, he holds his head and
tail up and steps along like a really high-class animal. He looks expensive,
well-bred and high-spirited, but he is as gentle as a dog, and almost as friendly.
And he's a dream to handle. He doesn't shy at anything. Cars to him are a common
sort of thing, dogs just another nuisance to be ignored. Nothing flusters him
except other horses. They get him excited, because he is alone in the field all the
time and misses the companionship or his own kind.I would say that when he was on his
gaits he would have sold for around $500. I got him for $125. I think he was a
gift of the gods. Title illustration by Kip Williams |
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