DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Spaceways, v. 4, issue 4, whole no. 27, April 1942

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Spaceways, v. 4, issue 4, whole no. 27, April 1942

Page 16

16                                                          SPACEWAYS
[centered] IF I WEREWOLF
[illustration of snake(?) on left side of page. Handwritten text in black ink on left margin, commenting on the image: "What is this? (right arrow) An Australian bushman's boomerang?" Story text wraps around image on right side of page.]

but all was darkness. Gilbert had moved again. At Santee Avenue we had better luck. We peered in a window of the Jen-kins residence and there were Harry, Joe, and Lee Eastman, turning out fanzines by the ton, amidst a maze of yellow confetti.
We flowed in thru the partially opened window. The Campers were so engrossed in their task that they never noticed us. After sitting there for five minutes, six bizarre, yet unnoticed figures, the flying members of our group became restless, and flapped over to perch on the shoulders of the three.
Gilbert was peering into the mimeo's innards, and looked up to say some-thing to Jenkins, just in time to be confronted with Bok's grinning, smokey, dragon-face.
"Awk!" said Joe, and tried to crawl into the mimeo drum.
It took all eight of us to get this head unstuck, Rothman working from the inside.
None of them thot that the loss-of-appreciation-of-music drawback was great enough to outweigh the advantages to be gained by joining us. Gilbert wanted to be a cobra, Eastman aspired to the calm dignity and intelligence of the ele-phant, and Jenkins insisted on being an octopus. "Just think," he breathed, gazing happily off into space, "I can turn out eight fanzines at once!"
Each in turn held the Cwael Darth and turned into his desired form. Jen-kins had to confine himself into an octopuslet for the nonce, and climb into the fishbowl with Trudy. Gilbert watched enviously. Indoors, Eastman maintained the small, pink variety of pachyderm. 
We then took off for Shangri-LA, pausing to pick up D.B. Thompson (who chose to be, with his traditional cautiousness, a chimpanzee, since that is the nearest form to man, and couldn't have too much trouble changing back if something went wrong)--and Dale Hart who changed into a magnificent black stal-lion.
It took two nights' hard travel to reach LA, and the next night was spent contacting the gang there. Morojo decided to keep Trudy company and become frog no. 2, Ackerman, of course, had to go everybody one better, and metamorphosed to an aard-vark, to insure his place at the head of the list, alphabetically at least.
Daughtery became a kangaroo, Freehafer joined Lowndes as a bat, and Yerke rolled along as a tumbleweed.
"I was headed in that direction, anyway," he jocosely remarked when queried about his odd choice.
A few nights later we gathered after a regular LASFS meeting, and formed the most exclusive fan-club of them all--The Amalgamated Were-Fans of America. As discoverer of the Cwael Darth, i was elected first Director, and took up the gavel.
"Fellow were-fans," I began--
"Ain't we the AWFA ones, tho?" piped up 4e, at the same time glancing around significantly. 
"Hrrmph," I said. "It seems that we haven't lost our sense of humor--ah--such as it is in some of us.
"As I was about to say," I continued, "now that we are formally organized, it is up to the majority to plan our course of action in making the world over according to fan ideas. I have a few suggestions, and you may or may not follow them, or alter them as you please.
"First, I think we should add still further to our numbers. Sixteen, even such beings as we are, is not too great a force for what we have to do. I pro-pose we head east again, picking up Perdue, and such members of the MFS, Windy

Saving...

16 SPACEWAYS [centered] IF I WEREWOLF [illustration of snake(?) on left side of page. Handwritten text in black ink on left margin, commenting on the image: "What is this? (right arrow) An Australian bushman's boomerang?" Story text wraps around image on right side of page.] but all was darkness. Gilbert had moved again. At Santee Avenue we had better luck. We peered in a window of the Jen-kins residence and there were Harry, Joe, and Lee Eastman, turning out fanzines by the ton, amidst a maze of yellow confetti. We flowed in thru the partially opened window. The Campers were so engrossed in their task that they never noticed us. After sitting there for five minutes, six bizarre, yet unnoticed figures, the flying members of our group became restless, and flapped over to perch on the shoulders of the three. Gilbert was peering into the mimeo's innards, and looked up to say some-thing to Jenkins, just in time to be confronted with Bok's grinning, smokey, dragon-face. "Awk!" said Joe, and tried to crawl into the mimeo drum. It took all eight of us to get this head unstuck, Rothman working from the inside. None of them thot that the loss-of-appreciation-of-music drawback was great enough to outweigh the advantages to be gained by joining us. Gilbert wanted to be a cobra, Eastman aspired to the calm dignity and intelligence of the ele-phant, and Jenkins insisted on being an octopus. "Just think," he breathed, gazing happily off into space, "I can turn out eight fanzines at once!" Each in turn held the Cwael Darth and turned into his desired form. Jen-kins had to confine himself into an octopuslet for the nonce, and climb into the fishbowl with Trudy. Gilbert watched enviously. Indoors, Eastman maintained the small, pink variety of pachyderm. We then took off for Shangri-LA, pausing to pick up D.B. Thompson (who chose to be, with his traditional cautiousness, a chimpanzee, since that is the nearest form to man, and couldn't have too much trouble changing back if something went wrong)--and Dale Hart who changed into a magnificent black stal-lion. It took two nights' hard travel to reach LA, and the next night was spent contacting the gang there. Morojo decided to keep Trudy company and become frog no. 2, Ackerman, of course, had to go everybody one better, and metamorphosed to an aard-vark, to insure his place at the head of the list, alphabetically at least. Daughtery became a kangaroo, Freehafer joined Lowndes as a bat, and Yerke rolled along as a tumbleweed. "I was headed in that direction, anyway," he jocosely remarked when queried about his odd choice. A few nights later we gathered after a regular LASFS meeting, and formed the most exclusive fan-club of them all--The Amalgamated Were-Fans of America. As discoverer of the Cwael Darth, i was elected first Director, and took up the gavel. "Fellow were-fans," I began-- "Ain't we the AWFA ones, tho?" piped up 4e, at the same time glancing around significantly. "Hrrmph," I said. "It seems that we haven't lost our sense of humor--ah--such as it is in some of us. "As I was about to say," I continued, "now that we are formally organized, it is up to the majority to plan our course of action in making the world over according to fan ideas. I have a few suggestions, and you may or may not follow them, or alter them as you please. "First, I think we should add still further to our numbers. Sixteen, even such beings as we are, is not too great a force for what we have to do. I pro-pose we head east again, picking up Perdue, and such members of the MFS, Windy