**** LONDON S-F CONVENTION 1952 ****
Chairman:- E. J. Carnell Secretary:-
F. Arnold Treasurer:- C. Duncombe
Committee members included:- J. Rattigan, T. Tubb, A.Vincent
Clarke, M. Wilson, F. Brown, Dorothy Jacobs and Daphne Buckmaster.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
EDITORIAL
I wrote CON TOUR, the longest section in this booklet, as a personal
account, a highly personal account of the Convention for
publication in SCIENCE FANTASY NEWS. Unfortunately (?), so much
news was waiting that I had to publish SFN and announce that a full
Convention Supplement would be sent separately, including Dorothy
Jacob's interesting 'first time' and feminine report with
it.
The supplement was stencilled when it was suggested that the
'zine should be extended into a semi-official account with data,
etc., from other sources. That has now been done, and you find before
you a wildly heteregenous report, fact and fantasy mingled together.
It just growed!
This booklet is being sent to all readers of SCIENCE FANTASY
NEWS and, in addition, all members of the CONVENTION SOCIETY.
+ ======== +
SCIENCE FICTION 'FANDOM'
Some of you may have contacted this mysterious science-fiction
'fandom' for the first time at the Convention, and would like to
know more about it. I cannot do better than direct you to the OPERATION
FANTAST HANDBOOK, 1952 edition, published by Capt. Ken Slater of
B.A.O.R.
Therein you will find details of the meetings for fans, authors,
editors and artists in London, Manchester, Glasgow, Liverpool, etc,
details of the Fantasy Art Society etc., advertisements from the
various fan magazines of Great Britain, details of fan slang, and
numerous notes on the large-scale American activities, both professional
and amateur.
You will also find plenty concerning the OPERATION FANTAST trading
concern, library and fanzines, and announcements from purely professional
dealers in s-f. 7d in stamps to the British branch of O.F., sent
to Mavis Pickles, 41, Compton Street, Dudley Hill, Bradford, Yorks.,
will get you a copy of OPERATION FANTAST and a free copy of the
HANDBOOK.
There is, however, no official nation-wide organisation
of s-f fans. It's been tried, several times, and failed. Fans are
too independent for organisation, say some. Too lazy, say others.
Whatever the reason, s-f 'fandom' is about the easiest thing to
enter in the wide world. When you find that merely buying the odd
s-f 'zine from your nearest bookstall isn't enough, and start hunting
for s-f and readers of it, you're a 'neo-fan'. When you attend conventions,
write letters to magazines, attend meetings, collect, you're a 'fan'
... and if you plunge over the brink of sanity and write
for fanzines, or worse, publish them, or organise meetinge, you're
an 'active' fan.It's as simple as that. S-f fans are just like ordinary
people ('True Confessions' ) with about 3 times the average originality,
imagination, and independence of outlook ... usually.
Fandom itself is an accidentally semi-secret 'underground movement'.
It's for the enthusiast, not the casual reader, and therefore the
latter never discovers it. And, naturally, fans find a lot more
to discuss than s-f. You have that basic interest in common, but
it's astonishing how many other subjects are dissected by active
minds in fanzines and at meetings.
You, Sir or Madam, must have discovered fandom to be reading
this. Welcome, and come right on in ... we're glad to meet you!
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: SCIENCE FANTASY NEWS/CONVENTION SUPPLEMENT published and edited
by A. Vincent Clarke, at 16, Wendover Way, Welling, Kent, who would
be glad to hear your comments, queries, etc., and is not responsible
for other contributors opinions......... ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
CON TOUR
A STRICTLY PERSONAL OUTLINE OF THE LONDON S-F CONVENTION
'52 By A.Vincent Clarke.
It began, of course, some months ago; an agony of sitting at
a 'White Horse' table surrounded by fans discussing intensely interesting
topics and reading intensely interesting magazines whilst we grimly
debated the questions of films and hotels and charges and the unaccountable
disappearance of Bill Temple everytime he was approached with a
request for a Convention speech.
Things began to come to a boil the Sunday before the Con.; I
managed to get away from the topic of NEW WORLDS long enough to
persuade Ted Carnell to write the Programme introduction, spent
most of the rest of the day explaining to Jim Ratigan why he couldn't
have solid blacks on his programme design. All but one page of the
pg. was finished by Monday night, when we three with Dorothy Jacobs,
Frank Arnold and Ted Tubb met at the 'White Horse' for envelope
addressing.
I was cursed for not completing the programme, explained that
I'd wait till the last possible minute in case of alterations. It
turned out that the major change in the set-up since the previous
Thursday was in the text already duplicated. I didn't recover from
this till on the train back, when I had the stuff spread out on
my knees and was making notes. The chap sitting next to me was eyeing
it in a very interested fashion; I gave him an encouraging look,
he asked me where to get to the Con., and Bingo! I'd caught another
fan. Reading for some years, never seen a U.S. edition, never heard
of Ken Slater; a real neo-fan. I noted his address (2-3 miles from
home), returned in an exhilarated frame of mind which lasted till
5 am., when the last page of the last pg. fluttered into the duplicator
tray.
Went to bed for a few hours (wish I was like fan John Phillifent,
a four-hours-per-night sleeper), arose to staple and post the stuff.
Some I took up to Secretary Arnold by cycle, and must have nearly
reached the speed of light, because the thing acquired infinite
mass the last couple of furlongs back. Wrote to Walt Willis in Belfast,
James White in Paris, arranging a rendezvous in London on Friday.
|
Major event Wednesday was appearance of Richard Vowles, the neo-fan,
on a motorcycle that looked like a 2052 model, I talked myself hoarse
for a couple of hours on s-f and fandom, carefully explaining,that
fans were the cream of the earth, sane, progressive, intelligent,
and readers of SFN. He dashed off at about 11.15 pm., just when
I was getting into the primary stages of the subject.
|
Thursday ... put all pg. stencils back on duplicator to run off
a few more copies. There's no messier job on Earth, tho' I hear
there's a Messier nebulae. Loaded with pg.s I battle to get inside
the 'White Horse' that evening, but then things get hazy. There's
a dim recollection of meeting Derek Pickles, looking twice life
size, being introduced to the new Mrs Pickles and a collection of
photos of ordinary, well-fed looking types whom DP assured me were
US fans. Mike Rosenblum of Leeds was talking volumes at the bar,
and Fred Robinson, editor of some obscure Welsh fanzine appeared
with a shiny new camera and a flash-gun that practically hypnotised
you rigid whilst he took the picture.
Sigvard Ostlund of Norway, Dave Cohen, Eric Bentcliffe, Norman
Weedall and lots of others from oop North, plus many London Circleites
who don't usually appear more than once a quarter brought the total
attendance to 60 or 70. The Con. Committee escaped to the privacy
of the Public Bar, and the last thing I remember doing is staggering
home with a suitcase full of auctionable NEW WORLDS originals.
I suppose I'm a typical Londoner. Never been inside St. Pauls,
Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, Monument, etc. etc., and Friday
night was my introduction to Victoria Coach Station. I'd never have
thought they could have done things so smoothly without running
on rails. Walt Willis' coach was due at 6.57 am. a coach duly arrived
at 6.58. He wasn't on it. Or the next. Or the next. My heart was
thudding painfully against my instep, and at 7.30 I was just thinking
of giving up, when Something caused me to look outside the station
yard, and there, towering over everything except the double-decker
omnibuses, was the bhoy himself.
In a few minutes the first puns were being exchanged, and we
were on the Tube to Earls Court, to pick up James White. James,
you may remember, had been to Paris. James, we agreed, was due for
a thorough inquisition as to what he'd been doing. As it happened,
he forestalled us by meeting us at the station and asking what we'd
been doing. He did tell us about the champagne, tho.
|
It seemed the tour included champagne at the Bal Tabarin. James
tossed his off quickly ... he didn't like the taste and wanted to
get rid of it. His glass was immediately refilled. J. is the soul
of modesty, and didn't like to say anything. He had a little more
to show no ill feeling, and pushed his glass aside. It was
immediately refilled ... he calculated that by the time dinner was
over he'd drunk three-quarters of a bottle, with no ill effects
... it says here.
|
On to the 'White Horse', where Walt was introduced to several
neofans who knelt before him, and to Fred Brown who hadn't, he said,
heard of him before. Walt was grabbed by Bill Temple and I found
myself being persuaded to buy a Space Patrol Handbook by one Denis
Gifford, the author of same. I introduced him to several people.
No good. He finally sold me one. I got my paltry revenge by pointing
out that there was only one 'c' in 'vacuum' (p.5), and to use his
own Plutonian on him, he gave me a 'hosk'
The Manchester boys wre present in force, with a large poster
advertising the MANCON to be held later this year All the 'o's in
the notice were ringed Saturns; Eric Bentcliffe told me that they
had already forestalled WAW by calling the 1953 Con. the SUPERMANCON.
I also collected a copy of the Manchester group's British 'zine
Checklist, turning faintly green at the beautiful reproduction of
small type therein.
Other out-of-town types present included the old S-F Service,
now Milcross, boys, Les Johnson and Frank Milne, Alan Hunter and
his wife from Bournemouth, and several others whose faces were more
familiar than their names. It was about here that I began to wish
everyone had a large label with their name on it ... it wouldn't
be egoboo ... just convenience.
The night ended with us being chucked out of the White Horse
at 10.30, chucked out of the pub. around the corner (and in a different
district) at 11.00, and with Walt and myself arriving at Welling
at 12.30 am. We went to bed fairly early ... about 2.30.
We parted in London that morning; Walt to collect a case at Victoria,
myself to invade the 'Royal Hotel'. It was 10.15, but there were
7 or 8 fans there already. Tony Thorne was fixing up an exotic display
of drawings and photos of his new club-cum-shop and another gent
from the vicinity of Charing Cross Road who's been taking a (commercial)
interest in s-f was setting out hundreds of books, and Tony Cooper
had racks of carefully displayed 'zines. I hastily inserted a 'Committee'
badge in my lapel, but couldn't get any free samples. I was introduced
then to Dave Wood and Ken Potter, the Boy Wonders of Lancashire,
who had a table positively littered with hand-written fanzines.
I had a little trouble in distinguishing which fan was which at
first, but eventually settled on the mnemonic Kurly Ken and made
out OK. Also on hand was John Gutteridge, another youngfan but from
Southern England.
Derek, Alan and Co. arrived with masses of artwork, '53 Calendars,
fanzines and things, and began to plaster all available blank spaces
with them. Fred Brown and myself made an unsuccessful attempt to
collect some cash, but had to wait for Charles to arrive with The
Book, and, Ghu be praised, some change. After that a merciful haze
descended ... I remember sticking up pictures and some SFNs on a
wall ... someone had vanished two valves from the amplifying equipment
overnight, but our chief projectionist and equipment fan Kerry Gaulder
was lucky enough to get replacements at the first place he tried
... before I could turn round a couple of hundred times it was dinner
time, and Walt, the Pickles, Paul Enever and self hunted a meal.
There must have been nearly a hundred present when Ted Carnell
opened the first formal sessions with introductions. I'd hoped he'd
read through the list of members, but instead he cast an eagle eye
around the hall and picked various red-faced person from the audience
to stand and take a bow. (Drawing a bow at /Con/venture?)
Curiously enough, the first thing to be discussed was where the
next Con. would be held, and after each out-of-town speaker had
described his club he'd insert a plug for his particular locality
as the site, in most cases. Various accents floated through the
PA system as the Bentcliffe-Cohen pair exhorted us to Come to Sunny
Manchester, Derek advocated a Con. organised by the People Who Make
A Business of It at Harrogate, and the Liverpudlians gracefully
admitted that anywhere did them.
Walt, speaking in a low voice at roughly 250 words per minute,
suggested James for the next Con. Secretary, with the ringing slogan
'GAY PAREE IN '53', an idea that was virtually ignored by the Chairman,
and after the disadvantages of London in Coronation year had been
pointed out (hotels packed, high prices, etc.) and the advantages
of London in Coronation year had been shown (plenty to see, more
trains, etc.), a vote was taken on a show of hands which London
naturally won hands down (?). Ken Bulmer immediately asked if it
would be called the Coronvention. There was a general feeling that
Manchester, who were second in the voting, should have some sort
of official backing next year in any case, and as the sessions closed
soon afterwards, little groups could be seen arguing the fairness
of the voting-system and the possibilities of a postal vote ...
more will be heard about this, I think.
After tea-break, a recorded speech by Arthur C.Clarke, at present
touring the U.S., was played. After sundry cracks at Bill Temple,
Jim Ratigan and others, he broadcast a portion of 'Sands of Mars'
read backwards, and then for the benefit of Bill, part of a Yma
Sumac record. I don't know the technical details of what he did
to that reproduction, but he shouldn'ta done it. Senorita Sumac
sounded as if she was not only a hot singer, but roasting alive.
(Bill says Arthur nearly put off his American trip when he heard
of Sumac's London visit during that period. With malice aforethought
Bill went to see Yma on that Saturday night, so that he could gloat
at ACC on his return.) ACC then followed with his broadcast review
of s-f films, originally heard from the BBC last November, illustrating
then with sound-effects. The over-all impression left by ACC's period
was the absolute silence in which it was received throughout .....
The next item was a debate on the motion 'that s-f is true to
the facts of human experience'. This wasn't my idea of a subject
likely to arouse controversy, but luckily I was called out --- Fandom's
leading critic and expert (vide NEW WORLDS), Walt, had become embroiled
with a 'Sunday Pictorial' reporter. I'd exchanged a few words with
the gent previously; he'd been searching desperately for a slant
(no caps), and apparently Walt had put him on to the old stand-by,
s-f slang. It's surprising how few phrases one can remember off-hand,
even tho one may use them easily and unconsciously in writing or
talking. Eventually the Sunday Pic. man had Walt, Derek, Tony Cooper
and myself all scrabbling through fanzines trying to pick out appropiate
words. Poorish publicity was preferable to none at all. Eventually
we got about 4 column inches on the back page of some editions.
A threatened write-up in the 'Sunday Times' never materialised,
and a brave attempt to crash the front page of 'Reveille' was shouldered
aside by the curves of a pin-up girl. It was a case of convention
or bust, and somebody beat us on points.
We therefore missed the episode of Ted Tubb and the lecherous
spiders, returning in time to see the vote taken on the debate ...
none for, six against. There was a short interval of pandemonium
as chairs were gathered in a close semi-circle around the Chairman's
table, piles of magazines and books were heaped on it, and the auction
began. Ted Tubb as an auctioneer was magnificent. There's no other
word for it. Heavily fortified by mysterious bottles that had appeared
in the Entrance Hall during the afternoon, he swung into the auction
with really high spirits. Here I regret to say that I lost the chance
of recording some amazing exhortations to buy! buy! buy!, being
too busy watching WAW snatch a notebook from his pocket five or
six times a minute to catch the latest Tubb epigram. One of these
days I'll get audited if only to recapture those suave tones extolling
the virtues of a beat-up AMAZING ... "it's worth the price
in paper alone" ... Walt has it down for publication in QUANDRY,
anyway.
The sums fetched by magazines were generally low ... 2/- each
on the average. The early British 'zines were fetching higher prices,
about 3/6d each, and books were going at roughly cover-prices. Unlike
U.S. conventions, our brand are usually in the nature of bargain
sales.
Supper break followed and after a long interval of reversing
chairs and re-arranging them, stifling young fans who were yelling
'Chocolates, ices, cigarettes!" etc, we started, with some
misgivings, on the films. 'Misgivings' because, owing to a breakdown
of the one we should have had, we were practically forced to take
some semi-unknown shorts to go with the hired projector and 'The
Man Who Could Work Miracles'. Also, nice tho' the ancient hall of
the Royal Hotel is, with space, good lighting, adequate seating,
freedom to arrange everything from cover-girls to amplifying equipment
on its panelled walls, etc., it isn't made for showing films on
a summer evening. There's no means of darkening the windows, and
for the first hour or so the screen was a slowly brightening rectangle
of creamy yellow on which shadowy blobs swam like amoeba during
a mating dance. Paper darts sailed through the air from the young-fan
section. I didn't dare look at Jim Ratigan during this time, because
he'd painstakingly worked out a lush programme of shorts, timed
to the minute, only to have it scrapped within a week of the Con.
The agony, which involved a young lady dressed in the latest
fashion of '33 demonstrating how the new-fangled sound-pictures
worked, the usual V-2 rocket, and some French astronomical films
gave way at last to the shadowy Star Watchers riding down the Milky
Way ...
"Cannot you leave those nasty little animals alone?"
"These men?" "They are such silly little creatures.
Swarming and crawling. Why has the Master permitted them?"
...
... and soon the Man began to Work Miracles. A little naive perhaps,
after all these years, and too much caricature instead of character,
but the old Wellsian touch, the fantasy-cum-moralising, is still
fresh and interesting. What would you do, with unlimited
power over everything except men's (and women's) minds?
The first full day was over --- we wandered out on the various
homeward routes in the cool summer-evening air; the give-and-take
of small talk coming easily ...
Sunday morning.
It started at the local station. Walt looked in his wallet for
something, and there was his boat return-ticket, missing. He did
have a cheap-day return half that he should have given up the night
before. The inference was obvious.
One of my keenest memories of the Con. is standing in the little,
wooden-walled station office, elbow deep in return-tickets, searching
for the One. Walt swore it was a green, three-quarter inch square
exactly like the others, the only difference being that it was worth
something over £2 by itself. In case you didn't know, tickets
are tied together in sticks about, a foot long and sent for checking
a couple of days after being handed in. These sticks disintegrate
at a touch ... we found out. We spent some time scrabbling on the
floor and a longer time checking on the table. No ticket.
We eventually left with an address to contact for a possible
re-fund; Walt was keeping cheerful; I was wondering if he'd be mortally
insulted if I started a Little Pond Fund. I decided he would be,
and didn't. I had faith in British Railways, anyway.
We arrived at the Royal during dinner-break, The only official
item on the programme that morning had been a get-together of editors
and their readers. We learnt that Ted Carnell had answered for Authentic
Science Fiction and Bert Campbell for New Worlds, and the thing
had been a terrific success. We had a light lunch, sharing it with
Charlie Duncombe, one of the un-sung heros of the London Cons. He
is the Treasurer, the Man Who Collects the Cash at the Entrance,
and the proud possessor of an accounts book London fans learnt to
dread in the month before the Con.
Sunday afternoon sessions began with an 'Authors Circle', in
which Ted Tubb, Bert Campbell, Dan Morgan, Frank Arnold, Syd Bounds,
Dave McIllwain and Bryan Berry discoursed on s-f and why they wrote
it ... answers were generally (a) money, (b) they preferred it to
other kinds of fiction. Artist Alan Hunter was also drawn into the
discussion, and from the audience an executive of Grayson and Grayson,
one of the few publishers in this country interested in book s-f,
gave an informative and succint account of their side of the business,
ending with the hopeful news that G&G are looking for English
stories.
John Brunner introduced himself as probably the youngest pro-author
in the country, having had stories published under the 'Gill Hunt'
'housename' at the age of 17;. even literary men, he said, were
turning to s-f nowadays. (At this point, I find that the scrap of
paper on which I was taking notes covered with puns, e.g. a rather
obscure Willis-Clarke combination running 'A nice Gill, but one
of the droving kine' ... I mention this to show the difficulties
under which I was trying to memorise a coherent account). Mr. Fairthorne,
introduced as a physicist working on a Government project, was an
advocate of more science in s-f if it was logical; he also mentioned
an Irish myth as s-f, causing intense excitement in my vicinity.
Came the International Fantasy Award; no-one ran around screaming
with enthusiasm at the announcement of the fiction trophy's destination
-- John Collier's little known book of fantasy shorts, 'Fancies
& Goodnights', tho' Secretary Les Flood consoled s-f fans with
the news that 'Day of the Triffids' by John 'Wyndham' (Beynon) was
a close runner-up. There was no doubt whatever about the book for
the non-fiction award, Arthur Clarke's 'Exploration of Space'. Arthur's
brother and sister-in-law (who types his mss.) received the spaceship-and-table-lighter
trophy on his behalf, and Ted Carnell stood in for Collier.
A long break followed the award -- an opportunity rarely given
at English Cons for fans to get together. During this period I met
numerous Sunday-only visitors, including bibliophile and former
actifan Richard Medhurst at the first fan meeting he'd attended
for 9 years. (Mem. for future cons, advocate this lapel-button-with
name idea!), and spent some time at the 'Authentic' display stand,
where Editor Campbell had not only assembled his 'zines, cover-originals
etc., but also many items of interest such as fanzines, authors
photos, etc.
|
Ted Tubb again presided at the second Auction; cash was running
out by now, and the biggest enthusiasm was aroused at its end by
the presentation to Ted (who has been referred to by Carnell as
this country's most promising young author) of an (empty) bottle
on which was mounted a plastic rocket and cigarette packet (also
empty). This effort, by Tony Thorne, aroused more enthusiasm than
the Award proper.
|
The evening film show began with a series of atomic-bomb explosions,
the creamy half-light giving them an odd super-fried-egg appearance.
Then came the long-awaited 'Metropolis', and for me at least it
really lived up to expectations. I don't know which I enjoyed most,
the fantasy or the unconsciously funny effects, but I'll remember
for a long time the great Futuristic Babel breaking up into waterspouts
and crumbling buildings, and Dan Morgan's voice from the back of
the hall calling "Look! the Mancon!".
I think that there was a faint attempt at a formal winding up
of the Convention, but for a long time after Secretary Arnold and
Chairman Carnell had gone to relieve their aching throats, a fair
sized auction in which everything, floggable was flogged was in
progress ... the last item being a plain notice, bringing 4d. James
White was last to leave the hall, which now looked as tho' a small
typhoon had struck it.
That ended the Convention proper, altho' a small party went to
find a showing of FLIGHT TO MARS on Monday, and that afternoon saw
the first meeting of Walt and James with Chuck Harris, who had been
unable to attend during the weekend. James happened to be wearing
a false beard and dark glasses when he opened the door to Chuck.
Mere words can hardly recapture the expression on the latter's face
and I'm not going to try, but an account of that meeting, by James
and Chuck, will appear in HYPHEN No 2, due mid-September '52.
The afternoon was capped by the arrival of a porter from Welling
station who after searching some 3000 tickets had found Walt's return
half. It was blue, totally different from the others.
A. VINCENT CLARKE
THE FUTURE OF S-F
(A paper read by Sydney J.Bounds during the 'Author's Session',
June 1st)
Mr. Chairman, ladies, and gentlemen.
For the next few minutes I propose to read you a paper I have
prepared on the future of science-fiction.
I feel that science-fiction is in a rut, and that before any
real development is possible, we must first change our attitude
towards it.
For too long, science-fiction stories have been tied to mechanical
gadgetry, to scientific problems, to the tyranny of the abstract
idea. The result has been magazines of a small and necessarily restricted
circulation, and I feel that there is little hope of interesting
that large body, the non-sf reading public, until a radical change
is made.
Critics of science-fiction have long labelled the field as 'childish',
a criticism I believe to be particularly valid not only of the 'space-opera'
class of story, but also of the more scientific work in the field.
Most fans to whom I have spoken consider DESTINATION MOON, the
first of the current cycle of s-f films, to be scientifically accurate
--- indeed, their praise, criticism, and general understanding appears
limited to this one viewpoint.
I agree, in the scientific view, DESTINATION MOON is a big improvement
over most films of this kind --- yet the film critic of my local
paper dismissed it as 'suitable for mechanically minded boys'! The
point is, that while DESTINATION MOON pleases the rocket enthusiasts,
it does not satisfy the larger body of the public because the film
is not emotionally mature. And this, I feel, is what is wrong with
most s-f stories --- it is time for science-fiction to grow up!
It seems obvious to me that present-day sf magazines, limited
as they are by the type of story featured, have already reached
the saturation point in circulation. I doubt if there are many more
potential readers of the gadget, or science-problem story. Yet there
are magazines on the bookstalls -- not science-fiction -- which
have a circulation of between a quarter and one million regular
readers!
Is such a readership beyond the scope of science-fiction?
I believe it is, while we cling to the old ideas, and that we
need a drastic change of outlook. Let us consider the requirements
necessary for such a development in this field.
Firstly, the emphasis must be on a well-drawn, sympathetic character
in whom the reader can believe.
Secondly, the story problem must be emotional, not scientific.
I visualise this problem as stemming from some new scientific discovery
or perhaps a change in social conditions, or again, the environment
of another planet during colonisation. Even so, the story problem
must be an emotional one, for human emotion is the keystone
of any story appealing to a large number of readers -- which is
where science-fiction falls down so badly. In the past there have
been many stories of colonizing Mars, or Venus, -- some of them
very good -- but how few have shown dramatically the effect such
a major-change in their lives must have on the first settlers on
another world.
I should like, briefly, to recall two published stories which
I believe typify this new approach to science-fiction.
The first is John Beynon's TIME TO REST. In this story, 'Bert
Tasser' is one of the few Earthmen left alive after his world is
destroyed. He is stranded on Mars, restless, filled with a sense
of not belonging, a loneliness, an emptiness --- he is a tormented
soul knowing no home, one of Earth's lost children. The story concerns
his relationship with the Martians, amongst whom he wanders as a
tinker, mending pots and doing odd jobs --- and the bitter desolation
inside him is beautifully contrasted with the calm, philosophic
Martians, who advise it is TIME TO REST.
Here, you will find no scientific gadgets, no chemical formulae,
no abstract ideas --- it is a story of feeling, of emotion, and
therefore one which can appeal to a much larger audience than we
usually associate with any science-fiction publication.
The second story that I have chosen to illustrate my theme is
THE GREEN HILLS OF EARTH by Robert Heinlein, originally printed
in the American SATURDAY EVENING POST, a magazine whose circulation
must be the envy of every sf publisher.
This is the story of Rhysling, the Blind Singer of the Spaceways,
and Heinlein makes him the most sympathetic character ever to appear
in a science-fiction story -- a carefree, riotous 'jetman' forever
making up verses and singing them to the accompaniment of his accordion.
The futuristic setting is firmly handled, kept in its rightful
place in the background, and no technical details are allowed to
swamp the main character.
On one of the first rocket ships to be converted to atomic power,
Rhysling loses his sight when a power jet fails --- he is set down
on Mars and left, no longer any use to the men who run the deep-space
ships. He becomes a roving minstrel, travelling from planet to planet
and earning his keep with his songs. When, eventually, Rhysling
becomes famous, the author carefully contrasts his real character
with the one that the public knows.
The day comes when Rhysling feels the urge to visit his home
planet. Aboard the ship carrying him to Earth, Rhysling is composing
his last song when trouble strikes --- the jetman on duty is killed
by the blast from the atomic motors and Rhysling takes over. He
saves the ship, but sacrifices his own life in doing so. And his
last chorus is the famous 'Green Hills of Earth'.
Again, you will notice a complete absence of mechanical gadgets,
science-problems, or abstract ideas --- it is, like TIME TO REST,
a story of pure emotion, and, I believe, the more powerful because
of that.
It is with this type of story, based upon human emotion and fully
realised character, and showing the effect science may have on ordinary
people --- a type of story appealing to an entirely new audience
--- that I believe holds the best prospects for THE FUTURE OF SCIENCE
FICTION.
********
(Note. TIME TO REST was originally published in NEW WORLDS
No. 5.)
_________________________________________________________________
FIRST CONVENTION
DOROTHY JACOBS
Arriving late at the Convention on the Saturday, my guilty feelings
were superseded by joy and relief at finding a good attendance.
This sight dispelled any doubts lurking subversively at the back
of my mind that the hoped-for attendance was just another fantastic
dream.
Ted Carnell was introducing eminent personalities in the audience,
and knowing I wouldn't be included my glance transversed the hall
and took in the stalls and the assortments of drawings decorating
the dismal Victorian walls. My wandering attention returned to Ted
when the question, 'Should London Monopolise Conventions?' arose.
This brought forth diverse viewpoints, and the suggestion that it
should be put to the vote was hardly a fair one. A large proportion
of the audience was made up of London people, and the result was
more than a little obvious. The idea of having two conventions next
year, one in Manchester and the other in London, seems a good one,
but if Manchester still feel that they would like to have a smack
at it, let them; I for my part send them good wishes for its success
should they take the job. Don't let's have friction amongst fiction!
One of the most impressive items came after the tea break, when
Arthur C.Clarke's recorded speech was heard. Humorous references
to certain bodies present ... Bill Temple, Jim Rattigan, etc. causing
amusement, but the general silence with which it was received was
evident of the appreciation felt for ACC's words, and for a few
minutes the whole purpose of the Convention was highlighted. ((Hark-lighted?
ED)
Ah, yes! The Debate! Well, firstly, of course, the subject was
such that argument was superfluous. Speaking from a 'laywomen's'
point of view, the science-fiction I've read so far bears no relationship
whatsoever to 'the facts of human experience'. (I nearly said "Thank
God!") Does anyone know what is meant by the motion? I don't!
Here is a sentence so contradictory in its construction that it's
completely devoid of logic. S-f, as I understand it, is of the FUTURE,
and 'experience' is of the PAST, so how then can one possibly reconcile
the two?
However, Frank Arnold bravely put forward his case for the motion
and succeeded in relating details of a somewhat chequered career
from cars to boilers. (I'll see you behind the bar, Frank, and you
can tell me the rest of your life's history.) Ted Tubb, (I imagine
he had fortified himself for the ordeal), who spoke against the
motion, proceeded with much aplomb and savoir faire to blow the
whole thing sky-high with a few well chosen but softly delivered
anecdotes dealing more or less with the rape - by some spider or
other queer creature, not including man - of some poor vestal virgin!
Ron Buckmaster needs no encouragement when it comes to subjects
not strictly 'Conventional', and his reference to a 'donkey' was
so subtle that seconds elapsed before the audience appreciated the
remark; his other comments on natural phenomena, (i.e. glow-worms),
were most interesting, but then, this was not a lecture on the biological
impulses of worms, and much of the hilarity subsided with the appearance
of Fred Brown, who seriously criticised previous speakers for not
alluding to the motion, and despite ribaldry from wits in the audience,
stoutly maintained that s-f was another form of escapism ... well
done, Fred! As a close associate of Jim Ratigan, (no comments, please),
I refrain from any remarks, judicious or otherwise, on his handling
of the Chairmanship, but hope that someone will take kindly to him
and teach him the art of microphone mechanics. (London Circle won't
be seeing me for some while after this appears!)
The first auction came just before supper break; poor old Ted!
Has anyone got a pair of tonsils to spare, or even an odd larynx?
I've attended many auctions but I've never been entertained like
this. We had everything flung at us; witty comments, sheer
abuse, threats, appeals, allusions such as ... "you don't know
what women are for YET, boy...." etc. Since the women were
in the minority we had to suffer, (and sometimes squirm) from the
'rapious' tongue of Tubb. Note! Boy-friends ... never bid against
your girl-friend - you'll end the same way as Jim Rattigan - almost
broke!
The least said about the first half of the Saturday film-show
the better ... in fact, the shadowy outline of some feline strolling
across the skylight overhead gave us more amusement and speculation
as to whether it might be the 'thing from another world" than
any of the short films offered us. In all fairness to those who
arranged this show, I must say the hall wasn't conducive to a clear
picture, and that future film shows must be considered from this
point of view.
The International Fantasy Award was the 'thing' on Sunday, and
although John Collier, winner of the fiction trophy, is as yet unknown
to me, I'll look forward to the loan of one or two of his stories
(any offers?)
In the absence of Arthur Clarke, winner of the non-fiction Award,
his brother and sister-in-law received it on A.C.C.'s behalf. Both
awards took the form of rockets on stands - very elegant and inspiring.
Again, Ted Tubb brought a blush to the cheeks of the fair sex
at the second auction. I only hope that the ladies present, especially
visitors to London, will not think that the London Circle are nothing
but modern morons immersed in the immorality of modus anima.
An antiquated relic of old film days was dished out to us on
Sunday evening, 'Metropolis', a silent film of no consequence at
all, tho' the portrayal of ardent love was amusing; Maria the Robot
was equally entertaining, and I gather from Jim's remarks - sotto
voce - that she was just his cup of tea! (No accounting for peoples
tastes, is there?)
The last hour was devoted to a frantic flogging of books, stills,
and drawings. The film stills were popular, naturally - they were
delectable femme fatales- - and I'll never forget the haunting
look on some of the feller's faces!! J.R. was for buying the lot
to console himself - nice type.
My first Convention was thoroughly enjoyed, and I shall look
forward to next year, whether it is here or in Manchester. The only
thing that annoyed me intensely was the very noisy types who would
leave their seats and go and chat with folk elsewhere, probably
on something far and away from the session on hand. Please be more
considerate, not only for those who listen but to the person who
is speaking!
To finish on a nicer note than the noisy types, I don't care
if it is raining in Manchester next Convention-time ... after some
of the showers we had at the London Con. it'll be like home from
home ... but some of the recent news reports said that the Sun had
been seen in the Cotton City lately. So let's hope it will turn
out to be the Tan Con as well as the Man Con.
See you there?
DOROTHY JACOBS
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ (Editors
Note) We should like to emphasise that the views expressed herein
are neither those of the Editor (unless so stated) or James Rattigan. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
FAN MAGAZINES
OPERATION FANTAST. Lithographed. Irregular. For details, see
Page 2. SLANT. Edited Walt. Willis. Duplicated/Printed approx.
semi-annual. Articles, stories, columns, cartoons, etc etc, 170,
Upper Newtownards Road, Belfast, N.I. SCIENCE FANTASY NEWS Duplicated,
Irregular (approx. 5 per year) News, articles, reviews, cartoons,
1 story per issue, letters, etc., Address as this magazine. STRAIGHT
UP Duplicated, irregular,. News, articles, reviews, etc. See CON.
PICS. HYPHEN Duplicated, approx. bi-monthly, edited 'Chuck' Harris,
and Walt Willis, columns, articles, readers letters, etc. Designed
as an Anglo-American 'zine. Address as above for Willis, or Harris
at 'Carolin', Lake Avenue, Rainham, Essex. SLUDGE Printed, irregular.
Stories, articles, columns. Bob Foster, 2, Spring Gardens, Southwick,
Brighton, Surrey. PHANTASMAGORLA duplicated, irregular, stories,
articles, column, readers letters, etc. D. Pickles, 22, Marshfield
Place, Bradford.
CONVENTION SOCIETY MEMBERS
1 R. C. Abel (London) 2 F. Arnold (London) 3
Mrs. L. Arnold 4 N. Ashfield (Surrey)
5 B. A. Baker (London)
6 E. Bentcliffe (Cheshire)
7 B. Berry (Kent)
8 A. H. Berrick (Beds.)
9 J. Birchby (London)
10 C. Bell (Yorks)
11 K. Bleach
12 L. Borston (London)
13 S. Bounds (Surrey)
14 H. M. Boxer (Suffolk)
15 F. Brown (London)
16 M. Braddell (London)
17 D. Bradbury (Hants)
18 J. Brunner (Berks.)
19 K. Bulmer (London)
20 J. Burch (London)
21 R. Budge (London)
22 C. Burke (Herts.)
23 B. J. Burgess (London)
24 R. Buckmaster (London)
25 D. Buckmaster (London)
26 D. Burke (London)
27 H. J. Campbell (London)
28 Mrs. Campbell (London)
29 J. Cameron (London)
30 P. Campbell (Westmorland)
31 P. Chappell
32 Miss J. Cartwright
33 C. Cheshire (London)
34 L. Challenger (London)
35 G. K. Chapman (London)
36 G. Charters (N. Ireland)
37 A. C. Clarke (London)
38 A. V. Clarke (Kent)
39 D. Cohen (Lanes.)
40 E. J. Carnell (London)
41 J. Cobb (London)
42 P. Cook (Kent)
43 R. Conquest (London)
44 A. Cooper (London)
45 F. A. Cooper (London)
46 Miss Craggs (London)
47 P. W. Cutler (Hants)
48 Mrs. P. Cutler (Hants)
49 W. O. Daniels (Lanes)
50 R. Deacon (London)
51 H. Donne (London)
62 D. Doughty (Middx.)
53 P. Duerr (London)
54 C. Duncombe (London)
55 Mrs R. Dunoombe (London)
56 M. A. Elder (Glasgow)
57 B. Ellis.
58 G. Bills (Lancs.)
59 F. P. Enever (Middx)
60 I. O. Evans (Surrey)
61 R. A. Fairthorne (Hants)
62 M. K. Fallon
65 C. A. Fielder (London)
64 L. Flood (London)
65 A. Francis (Wawks)
66 D. S. Gardener (Lancs) 67 K. Gaulder (Middx)
68 D. Gifford (London)
69 L. Cleicher (London)
|
70 H. Gomberg (Suffolk)
71 B. Gregory (London)
72 T. H. Griffiths (Glam. )
73 J. Gutteridge (Sussex)
74 C. Hall
75 J. B. Harris (London)
76 G. Hay (London)
77 J. S. Hays (Oxford)
78 Mrs J. S. Hays
79 A. Hillman (Monmouth.)
80 F. D. Horton
81 Miss Lee Hoffman (U.S. A)
82 A. Hunter (Hants)
83 Mrs. J. Hunter (Hants)
84 D. J. Ibberson (London)
85 Miss D. Jacobs (London)
86 P. Jacobs (London)
87 E. R. James (Yorks)
88 B. Jeeves (Yorks)
89 W. Johnson (Middx)
90 K. Johnson (Staffs)
91 K. Johnstone (Wawks)
92 E. Jones (Middx)
93 C. F. W. Jones (London)
94 L. J. Johnson (Lanes.)
95 M. Kelly (Middx)
96 L. Kippin (London)
97 A. Klein (London)
98 J. C. Knights (London)
99 J. Knoles(London)
100 Mrs. J. Knoles (London)
101 Miss Kosen
102 E. Koyinsky (London)
103 A. K. Lang
104 M. Leviten (Yorks)
105 J. Lewis
106 J. Long (London)
107 Mrs M. D. Lowe (Middx)
108 Miss A. Lovett (London)
109 T. Manchee (London)
110 J. Martin (Lancs.)
111 S. V. May (Lancs)
112 A. MacDowell (Middx)
113 W. Mayoll, (Surrey)
114 Mrs Mayoll(Surrey)
115 A. Mercer (London)
116 R. G. Medhurst (London)
117 K. T. McIntyre
118 D. McIllwain (London)
119 A. Miles (Glos.)
120 F. Milnes (Lancs.)
121 J. V. Mooney (Lancs)
122 L. Mordecai (London)
123 D. Morgan (Lincs)
124 M. H. Morris
125 Miss Mowbray
126 J. Newman (Middx)
127 G. Kelson (Norfolk)
128 P. Ogden (Lancs)
129 L. Onslow (Surrey)
130 S. Ostlund (Sweden) 131 J. Phillifent (Lond.)
132 G. Peacock (Kent)
133 P. Pengelly (Wawks)
134 N. H. Cartridge (S'y)
135 Mrs Patchett (London) 136 Miss Perry (Essex)
|
137 M. Picklesheimer
138 O. Plumridge (Surrey)
139 K. Potter (Lancs)
140 D. Pickles (Yorks)
141 Mrs. M. Pickles (Yorks)
142 W. E. Price (Monmth)
143 F. Price (Monmth)
144 J. Rattigan (London)
145 F. Reckless (Essex)
146 T. Reeves
147 P. J. Ridley (London)
148 J. L. Rimmer (Wawks)
149 F. Robinson (Glam.)
150 J. D. Roles (Lancs)
151 J. M. Rosenblum (Yorks)
152 Mrs. Rosenblum (Yorks)
153 S. Russell
154 R. Rutter (London)
155 L. Sandfield (Lon.)
156 H. Sanderson (Lancs)
157 F. Seales (Hants)
158 T. Scott
159 W. Shaw (Middx)
180 J. Shaw. (Middx)
161 A. Shreeve (N'folk)
162 Mrs Shorrock (Lancs)
163 N. L. Shorrock (Lancs)
164 D. S. Shure
165 K. F. Slater (BAOR)
166 F. R. Smith (Surrey)
167 A. M. Sowerby (London)
168 A. E. Taylor (Lincs)
169 P. G. Taylor (London)
170 W. F. Temple (London)
171 S. S. Thomas (Essex)
172. A. C. Thorne (Kent)
173 E. C. Tubb (London)
174 J. Unsworth (Lancs)
175 R. J. Vowles (Kent)
176 P. Veness (London)
177 Miss V. Walker (London)
178 N. G. Wansborough (Wilts)
179 J. White (N. Ireland)
180 N. Weedall (Lancs)
181 D. Whippell (London)
182 A. E. Williams (Lancs)
183 M. Wilson (London)
184 S. White (London)
165 E. Williams (London)
186 C. Whitaker
187 W. A. Willis (N. Ireland)
188 F. Wilson (Lancs)
189 D. Wood (Lancs)
190 H. D. Wicks (London)
191 R. L. Worrall (Kent)
192 I. Wright (Herts)
193 S. Wright (London)
194 J. Wilson (Lincs)
195 Miss A. Walker
196 C. Wallace
197 R. Wilstead (M'nmth) |
CONVENTION PICS
At least two photographers were blinding the Convention with
flash-bulbs. One of them was Fred Robinson, editor of the Welsh
s-f newszine STRAIGHT UP, and we reproduce the following list (with
some amendments) of the photos available from SU No 4.
D. 1. H. J. Campbell at White Horse D. 2. Newport Book Stores
exhibition (Convention hall) D. 3. J. Rattigan and Art Work. D.
4. Eric Jones & Eric Bentcliffe D. 5. Derek Pickles at mike.
D. 6. Willis at mike, Arnold, Carnell, Rattigan background.
D. 7. Arthur Hillman at mike D. 8. Ted Tubb auctioneering
D. 9. Ditto (from South end of hall) D. 10. B. Berry at mike,
Carnell, Tubb, Arnold in background D. 11. Dan Morgan at mike D.
12. Alan Hunter ditto D. 13. Presentation of Fantasy Award; Ken
Chapman to Carnell D. 14. Ditto to A. C. Clarke's brother D.
15. A. V. Clarke, H. K. Bulmer, R. Buckmaster D. 16. S. Ostlund
& E. Bentcliffe (Blurred) D. 17. Thomas, Deacon, Gifford,
Gardner, Burgess, Tubb, Doughty, Ron & Daphne Buckmaster, A.
Lovett, P. Hawkins, F. Arnold, Clarke, Bulmer, P. Buckmaster, Dorothy
Jacobs, F. Brown & 3 Northern fans D. 18. Rattigan, Clarke,
Bulmer at SFNews stand D. 19. Auction showing South side D.
20. Ditto from hall entrance D. 21. Funtasy Award to Ted Tubb
- Buckmasters & C. Duncombe D. 22. Derek & Mavis Pickles
and Bradford Group D. 23. 5 London fans D. 24. Campbell at
mike D. 25. Carnell at mike
The above are now available, in 2 x 3 size, at 8d each, 7/6d
per doz. , the set 15/-, from Robinson at 37, Willows Avenue, Tremorfa,
Cardiff, Glam., or from Tony Thorne at the Medway S-F Centre, 78,
Canterbury Street, Gillingham, Kent. Prices of enlargements on request.
At the time of writing, we have been unable to secure a full
set of samples from the other photographer, but if received before
this 'zine is duplicated, they will be noted elsewhere. Those noted
are:-
A. 1. Charters, Tony Cooper, Duerr, Johnstone, Tee, Taylor, and
4 others A. 2. Fred Brown at mike with Buckmaster & Arnold
A. 5. Robinson, Bentcliffe, Cohen, Weedal, & one other A.
4. Fred Robinson A. 10. Fantasy Art Society Table, with Alan
& Joyce Hunter A. 11. Duerr, Birchby, Thomas, Gaulder, Tubb,
Brown, Duncombe, Brunner, Long, Taylor, Rattigan & Jacobs (at
auction) A.12. Enever, Weedal, Vowles, Deacon, Bentcliffe, Espley,
Clarke, Joyce Hunter, Ashfield & Ridley A.13. Weedal, Cohen,
Enever, Joyce Hunter, and 3 others A.14. Taylor, Duerr, Birchby,
Temple, Tony Cooper A.16. Medway S-F Centre show table, and Medway
S-F Society art-work.
These 'A' section photos are available at 3/- each, full plate
size, through Charles Duncombe, 82, Albert Square, London, E. 15.
CONVENTIONOTES
Vol.1 No.1 SPACE DIVERSIONS, official organ of the Liverpool
S-F Society (13a, St.Vincent Street, Liverpool 3,) carried a '1952
LONCON REPORT' by Dave Gardner, with very full coverage of the Liverpool
fan speeches and the general proceedings re. voting etc, and a good
over-all account (approx. 3000 words)
SPACE-TIMES Vol 1 No 2, the NSFC Newsletter, (available from
E. Bentcliffe, 47, Alldis Street, Woodsmoor, Stockport, Cheshire)
gives a report by Eric Jones with special reference to fan clubs
and the Fantasy Award. (approx. 2000 words)
STRAIGHT UP, (for details see "Convention Photo's"
above)' carried the first instalment of a personalised and detailed
account by Fred Robinson in its 4th issue (1200).
QUANDRY (Lee Hoffman, USA, British subs thro' Walt Willis, 170,
Upper Newtownards Road, Belfast, N. Ireland, the US ' zine To Which
All Intelligent British Fans Subscribe, will carry a long (3,600),
detailed, personal, humorous account by Willis. Follows an extract,
stolen without permission but with very humble acknowledgements;-
(WILLIS ON TUBB) ... "I'll try to reconstruct some of his
patter but of course it'll suffer by the absence of Tubb's terrific
delivery and the disarming enthusiasm which he would lavish on some
incredibly undistinguished paperback, like for instance the BRE
of Farley's IMMORTALS ... "A FIRST EDITION! THE PLATES HAVE
BEEN SMASHED! ... REMEMBER, THIS BOOK WAS BANNED IN BOSTON! (At
this point he would open the book at random and pretend to read
a lascivious passage --- he has a wonderful talent for improvising
whole paragraphs, in any particular style.) AN HOUR OF EROTIC ENTERTAINMENT.
THIS SORT OF STUFF WILL MAKE YOU INDEPENDENT OF YOUR GIRL FRIEND.
DID I HEAR A SHILLING? COME OUT FROM BELOW THAT CHAIR AND SAY 1/3d.
WE SOLD ONE OF THESE FOR TEN BOB AND IT WAS STOLEN FROM THE PURCHASER
BY AN OUTRAGED FAN. THIS BOOK WAS BURNED IN EFFIGY IN FRANCE, SMUGGLED
INTO THIS COUNTRY UNDER THE GUISE OF NYLONS. WHAT, ONLY 1/3d FOR
THIS HIDEOUS TRAVESTY OF HUMAN DRAMA? (Tragically).THIS IS THE TWILIGHT
OF THE GODS! ALL RIGHT THEN, 1/3d. I'LL TAKE YOUR TROUSERS FOR DEPOSIT.
... AND NOW .... (He pauses dramatically, holding up a copy of
AUTHENTIC with his own novel 'Alien Impact' in it. He waits statuesquely
for utter silence. Then, solemnly --) THE GREATEST PIECE OF LITERATURE
EVER WRITTEN ... I HEARD THAT!!! COME ON! NOW DO YOU WANT ME TO
COMMIT SUICIDE RIGHT HERE ON THE FLOOR? I DIDN'T HEAR THAT
BID ... WHAT??... VERY WELL THEN, SOLD, CURSE YOU. (Now, holding
up some issues of FA and AMAZING and waiting for the jeers to die
down --- ) NOW. NOW, DON'T DERIDE THE LITERATURE YOU LIVE ON. WHAT
AM I BID FOR THIS THICK WAD OF READING MATERIAL? GUARANTEED TO LAST
AT LEAST THREE NIGHTS. IN PERFECT CONDITION; THEY'VE ONLY BEEN READ
ONCE, I ASSURE YOU. OLD COPIES OF THE BIBLE FETCH THOUSANDS OF POUNDS,
AND THIS IS A RELIGION. ALL RIGHT THEN ... SOLD FOR THREE SHILLINGS.
... NOW, WHAT AM I BID FOR THIS BEAUTIFUL PAINTING? PEOPLE HAVE
OFFERED POUNDS FOR IT BUT WE JUST SHOULDN'T SELL. MY, THERE MUST
BE FIVE SHILLINGS WORTH OF POSTER COLOUR ON IT! PUT IT BEHIND THE
AQUARIUM OR OVER THAT SPOT ON THE WALL WHERE BABY FORGOT HIMSELF.
HANG IT IN YOUR DEN IF YOU'VE GOT ONE (MY DEN HAS A CHAIN HANGING
DOWN THE SIDE.) ... WHAT OFFERS FOR THIS BOOK BY OLAF STAPLEDON?
THERE'LL NEVER BE ANOTHER OLAF STAPLEDON YOU KNOW -- THERE WAS ONLY
A LIMITED SUPPLY. LOOK AT IT! BOUND IN GUN METAL GREY, SHOWING UP
FINGERPRINTS TO ADVANTAGE. OBSERVE THE NARROW MARGINS -- NO HUNTING
ALL OVER THE PAGE FOR THE PRINT. FOR ANOTHER SIXPENCE I'LL SIGN
IT FOR YOU....."
And so on, Inexhaustibly. It was a tour de force.
SCIENCE FANTASY NEWS EXTRA
THE THING Reviewed by SCIENCE FANTASY NEWS film
critic, JAMES RATTIGAN
Howard Hawks, who has in the past produced some remarkably fine
motion pictures, now enters the field of science-fiction with THE
THING (Opened London Pavilion, Aug. 1st). Made by Winchester Pictures
and released through RKO, it's perhaps the best thriller to come
grom Hollywood for some months.
The story? Seems a group of scientists somewhere in the Arctic
Circle discover a Flying Saucer buried in the ice. Attempting to
melt it out with a thermite bomb, they accidentally destroy it,
but discover one of the occupants, an 8ft monster looking like one
of Mr. Frankenstein' s unsuccessful experiments, is also in deep
freeze. The block of ice containing it is conveyed back to base
camp, where naturally the chief scientist wants to investigate it.
A heroically handsome Air Force captain, summoned to the base,
argues that it should be destroyed. ... it offends his aesthetic
tastes. The argument is short-circuited when an electric blanket
thrown over the ice melts it. The Thing is alive, loose, and after
blood ... literally.
From then on, things really get hot. The humans are hunting the
Thing, and the Thing is hunting humans. It seems impossible to destroy
it. It's vegetable, and bullets pass harmlessly through it; the
camp huskies tear off an arm, and it grows another. In one terrific
scene, the Thing crashes through a door into the living quarters,
where members of the party are writing for it with buckets of gasoline.
Drenched and set on fire, the blazing Thing races back and forth,
finally diving headlong through the window and into the snows ...
very much alive. Suspense piles on suspense; two members of the
party end in the Thing's abbatoir, and, adding to the tension, the
scientists still want to capture it instead of destroy it.
That's as much of the story as it's fair to give. How does all
this compare with Campbell's 'Who Goes There'? (ASF August '38,
reprinted by Fantasy Press, USA, '48 ). Well, my advice is, forget
that Campbell ever wrote that yarn upon which this film is based.
There is no resemblance whatsoever, and if you go along with the
idea that the film story is anything like the original, then I'm
afraid that you're in for a disappointment.
The acting, by ''unknowns', is superb especially by Douglas Spencer
who plays the part of 'Skeely', a newspaperman ... I think a definite
nominee for the Academy Award for the best supporting player. Christian
Nyby's direction is both imaginative and sympathetic, and Dimitri
Tiomkin's brittle, alien music contributes much to the power of
the film.
It's a pity that such an excellent production should be marred
by, the closing scenes, which show an extreme lack of imagination,
and the Thing itself resembles an 8ft Sioux Indian who's gone to
seed. Beyond that there is little to say against it ... I'd certainly
rank this amongst the best s-f/fantasy films, and it really shows
that Hollywood is trying to treat the subject as an adult medium
of entertainment.
Go ... and when you've seen the Thing, perhaps you'll treat that
vegetable patch with a little more respect!
+=+=+=+=+=+
*Ed. note: The original story, plus half a dozen others by the
same author, which were originally reprinted in one hard-cover volume
by Fantasy Press as 'Who Goes There', has now been reprinted, with
the others, by Kemsley Press as a l/6d pocket-book. The title has
been changed to 'The Thing'.
LONDON - PATRON CITY OF FANDOM
by TONY (PINKERTON) THORNE (Medway Fantasy Club)
Reporting in a fanzine after last year's Convention, I recall
a certain character saying that Belfast was quietly proud of its
Bradbury Place! Well now, as a born and bred Londoner myself I just
wouldn't let a claim like that go unchallenged. Surely, London with
all its history and associations with great names of the past could
produce a fan answer to this?
Thus began one of the Great Hunts of History, a search of London's
vast and sprawling areas, covering mile upon mile, unearthing the
evidence that would prove the capital had not forgotten the celebrities
of science-fiction! Long after the WHITE HORSE has become a teetotallers'
old age institution, these undying names will be emblazoned on the
streets of the mighty metropolis for all to see!
The search, carried out by the Medway Lost & Found Dept.,
was soon rewarded by a challenge to the Belfast claim. Proudly we
announce a Bradbury Street, also a Gold Lane. In Twickenham we found
a Haggard Rd., for good measure unearthed a Williamson St., two
Hubbard Roads, a Latham and a Richardson Rd., and, shades of the
Flaming Gods, even a Bounds Green! With pride we gazed reverently
at a truly noble monument near Willesden Junction -- Tubbs Road!
We can foresee the day when pilgrims will march silently along this
hallowed way paying tribute to one of the departed all-time masters.
We can visualise now that glorious coat-of-arms depicting a whisky
bottle crossed with an auctioneer's hammer, the whole being mounted
over a bronze effigy of the great Tubb with a scantily clad female
in one arm and an overcome eight-foot spider in the other!
But to continue. We found other authors, of course; two Berry
Streets, an Anderson Road, and for the weird fan, a Romer Avenue
(erected by Cockney fans of course, which accounts for the missing
'h'). There are many references to other authors too numerous to
mention, and not all by surnames. The fond affection felt by millions
for a certain author is warmly expressed in the many Arthur Roads,
Streets, etc., that are to be found in most districts. To be fair,
we must mention that not all the names have been spelt correctly;
Benyon Road is an example of this.
Coming now to the world of fandom itself, we discover a
Fann Street and a Fanny Road! Hastily glossing over these, we found
the following preserved for posterity; White Horse St., Rd., etc.,
Bulmer Gardens, Duncombe Hill, three Robinson Roads, Gifford Gardens,
and many others, including, (with a modest smirk), dozens of Thorne
Rd's, Streets, etc. Foreign fans are represented by a few White
Roads & Rows. Oh yes, and a Willis Road appropiately situated
near the East London Cemetary!
In passing, we must not forget that due to his Continental connections,
one famous fan is immortalised in Sclater Street! Truly a touoh
of genius! Even sly humour has found a place in the scheme of things,
for who can resist the worldly charm of PICKLES Herring Street near
London Bridge?
What of the s-f publications, you ask? Have these expressions
of our art also been preserved for all time? Of course they have!
We discovered a Marvels Lane, a Planet Street, an Avon Gardens,
and the noblest of them all -- NOVA RD., in Croydon!
As an indication of future 'zines in the field we also found
a Meteor Street, a Moon St., Sun St., and others of a similar nature.
London is not without its prophets!
For added interest, and again with modesty, we must announce
the discovery of some little recognition of our efforts, namely,
Medway Drive, Gardens, Street, etc. A fitting tribute.
Finally, on behalf of London fans and in support of future claims
by them for the location of Conventions, we would like to challenge
any other 'out-of-towners' to whack that lot! Remember, there's
names we haven't even used yet! With such a proud galaxy of star-studded
streets, how can anyone deny London' s prior claim?
TONY THORNE
************************************************************************** OUR
SINCERE THANKS to all contributors to this magazine, especially
to Syd Bounds for permission to publish his paper. Comment on this
issue will be published in the next SCIENCE FANTASY NEWS. And don't
forget the MANCON, taking place Sunday, October 5th. 1/6d for membership
to Sid Klepper, 55, Heywood Street, Cheetham, MANCHESTER. ********
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