DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Le Zombie, v. 5, issue 4, whole no. 51, January 1943

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Le Zombie, v. 5, issue 4, whole no. 51, January 1943

Page 13

13

(( This is still us: in February, 1942 we sent out a photo chain letter; in which there were to be nothing but fan photos. At this writing, Jan. 1943, we are still awaiting its return! This was its route: Speer, Rothman, Perdue, Ackerman & Morojo, the Daughertys, Freehafer, Hodgkins, Alger, Evans, the Ashleys, Millard, Thompson, Bronson and Chauvenet. The Minneapolis hoodlums, when here, assured us that it had passed them in safety. That leaves Chauvenet or some thieving postman. "e weep. But back to the Blakely letter: -BT))

The general run of experience in the service seems to be about the same, with fans as well as with rational folk. Lt. Brazier's advice however is worth while (( The advice was burned up. It must have been good! -BT)) If you don't know what the hell you're doing, at least try to look as if  you do, and even if you give the wrong answer to a question, give it in a militeddy manner. They'll love you for it. (( Or ... shoot you. --BT)) And about this time somebody is saying, "How does he know?" "A lowly corporal!" The unhappy answer to this is that all I can get on this job is a corporal's rating. (( Pardon us, but we were tempted to say, "the unhappy answer to this is that we have given too many wrong answers." -BT)) My job? Battery clerk and assistant battalion supply sergeant. That's not as good as it sounds. However, there is an obvious error in the preparation of my records. It is this: In civilian life I was an office clerk. When I got drafted I asked to be assigned a clerking job somewhere, and I wanted to be in California. I got a clerking job soon after basic training was over. I am in California. As soon as somebody finds the mistake tho, I'll be put to work as an anti-tank gunner in North Delhi, India.

Sort of hope that all of this finds its way, eventually, into some sort of mimeo mag. (( Can't you speak better than that of LeZ? -BT)) Not to see my name, all mimeo'd and everything. no. No. No. (( No! -BT)) Merely that it is bound to be quite an interesting thing, and might even evoke flaccid interest from civilian fans. (( Ain't he a card? -BT)) Any way, here goes: To Lt. Brazier: Hi, sir. I mean Hi, Donn. Hell yes, I remember the Junior Science Fiction Correspondence Club. It haunts me. Wasn't it horrible? Remember Stickney, Conover, and the rest of the neurotic and childish mob! (( Gee, this is getting good! -BT )) Remember when Conover was all ready to commit hari-kari when Stickney stole the Science-Fantasy Correspondent, or whatever it was? I remember that Saari and you had a number of murderous little arguments. The trouble with Saari is this: he's what Sinclair Lewis calls a "data man". He quotes data. (( Yeah, and he departed data way. Heheh. -BT )) He knows how much the sun weighs, and why, and he can prove scientifically that there is no God. (( Is that so? That leaves an awful lot of people holding the bag then, doesn't it pal? -BT)) And if you get into an argument with him , even if you know you are right, he will quote data for a few hours and convince you that you had better make tracks for the nearest School for Feeble-Minded. He has made a name for himself, arguing all of the professors at the U of Minnesota out of their pet theories. He claims that there is little need for him to go to the U, since he knows at least as much as the faculty. However, it takes up the empty hours when he is not on the job at the Honeywell plant in Minneapolis. On Tuesdays and Fridays he eats. (( Datas long time between meals. -BT )) (( It's the Ackerman in us! -BT ))

Attention, please, to DHart's pome in the letter proceeding mine. What is all this anyway? I like the thing, but I don't know why . 
(next)

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13 (( This is still us: in February, 1942 we sent out a photo chain letter; in which there were to be nothing but fan photos. At this writing, Jan. 1943, we are still awaiting its return! This was its route: Speer, Rothman, Perdue, Ackerman & Morojo, the Daughertys, Freehafer, Hodgkins, Alger, Evans, the Ashleys, Millard, Thompson, Bronson and Chauvenet. The Minneapolis hoodlums, when here, assured us that it had passed them in safety. That leaves Chauvenet or some thieving postman. "e weep. But back to the Blakely letter: -BT)) The general run of experience in the service seems to be about the same, with fans as well as with rational folk. Lt. Brazier's advice however is worth while (( The advice was burned up. It must have been good! -BT)) If you don't know what the hell you're doing, at least try to look as if you do, and even if you give the wrong answer to a question, give it in a militeddy manner. They'll love you for it. (( Or ... shoot you. --BT)) And about this time somebody is saying, "How does he know?" "A lowly corporal!" The unhappy answer to this is that all I can get on this job is a corporal's rating. (( Pardon us, but we were tempted to say, "the unhappy answer to this is that we have given too many wrong answers." -BT)) My job? Battery clerk and assistant battalion supply sergeant. That's not as good as it sounds. However, there is an obvious error in the preparation of my records. It is this: In civilian life I was an office clerk. When I got drafted I asked to be assigned a clerking job somewhere, and I wanted to be in California. I got a clerking job soon after basic training was over. I am in California. As soon as somebody finds the mistake tho, I'll be put to work as an anti-tank gunner in North Delhi, India. Sort of hope that all of this finds its way, eventually, into some sort of mimeo mag. (( Can't you speak better than that of LeZ? -BT)) Not to see my name, all mimeo'd and everything. no. No. No. (( No! -BT)) Merely that it is bound to be quite an interesting thing, and might even evoke flaccid interest from civilian fans. (( Ain't he a card? -BT)) Any way, here goes: To Lt. Brazier: Hi, sir. I mean Hi, Donn. Hell yes, I remember the Junior Science Fiction Correspondence Club. It haunts me. Wasn't it horrible? Remember Stickney, Conover, and the rest of the neurotic and childish mob! (( Gee, this is getting good! -BT )) Remember when Conover was all ready to commit hari-kari when Stickney stole the Science-Fantasy Correspondent, or whatever it was? I remember that Saari and you had a number of murderous little arguments. The trouble with Saari is this: he's what Sinclair Lewis calls a "data man". He quotes data. (( Yeah, and he departed data way. Heheh. -BT )) He knows how much the sun weighs, and why, and he can prove scientifically that there is no God. (( Is that so? That leaves an awful lot of people holding the bag then, doesn't it pal? -BT)) And if you get into an argument with him , even if you know you are right, he will quote data for a few hours and convince you that you had better make tracks for the nearest School for Feeble-Minded. He has made a name for himself, arguing all of the professors at the U of Minnesota out of their pet theories. He claims that there is little need for him to go to the U, since he knows at least as much as the faculty. However, it takes up the empty hours when he is not on the job at the Honeywell plant in Minneapolis. On Tuesdays and Fridays he eats. (( Datas long time between meals. -BT )) (( It's the Ackerman in us! -BT )) Attention, please, to DHart's pome in the letter proceeding mine. What is all this anyway? I like the thing, but I don't know why . (next)