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Comet, v. 1, issue 2, March-April 1941

Page 19

THE COMET      PAGE 19

PRE-VUE OF THE 1940 CONVENTION
-as glimpsed by Hoy Ping Pong

(Editor's note: Late this summer[?] the annual social event of fan society is to "happen": the second World Science Fiction Convention. There, in Chicago, the cream of fandom is to assemble and curdle. The editors take pride in presenting this article, which chronicles what happens when [[underline]]you[[end underline]], "Joe[?] Fan" attends that mighty blow-out.)

*****************

Aha! Down the alley, shuffling timidly so as not to disturb the two-legged denizens of the place, comes a mild little figure: it is YOU! "Joe Fan", searching for the 1940 World Science Fiction Convention. You are in Chicago. You have an address on a scrap of paper in your hand. Fearfully and uneasily you peer at the numbers. You are in an alley because that is the place the address has guided you to.

Aha! Just as you are about to give up in hopeless defeat, a window opens somewhere overhead and the foghorn bellow of Erle Korshak floats down!

"Hey! Joe! Here we are, up here! Take the door under the stairs behind the newstand. Fifth floor! C'mon up!"

Aha! After much patient searching you [[underline]]do[[end underline]] find a newstand, and the one-armed proprieter of the same stops scratching his belly long enough to point out the stairs to you. Somewhat puzzled you wheeze up five flights. Leather-lung Korshak meets you at the door. There is a mob behind him, all peering excitedly at you. Gosh! So [[underline]]you're[[end underline]] "Joe Fan"! Your pocket is picked immediately. Korshak shrieks the latest Confucius joke in your ear and cautions you not to let it out. The din is ear-splitting.

Aha! Over there in the corner you see Mark Reisenberg. You make your way towards him, certain details in your mind demanding to be explained. The hall---in an alley---way up here---such a dirty place? Oh yes,we have a pat explanation for that. You see "Joe", we couldn't hire a hall uptown [[underline]]anywhere[[end underline]] for a decent price. This is the only one we could get for something near a respectable figure. Girls? Oh, you saw girls downstairs on the fourth floor. I forgot to tell you. We rented this hall from a bagnio....yeah, that was it downstairs.

Aha! You are not in the hall ten minutes untill your toes have been stomped on twenty times, three more people have tried to pick your pocket and didn't even bother to hide the dissapointed look when they found it empty,your tie has been stolen from about your neck, two fans have rudely corned you and smeared the fanmag you publish, your little exhibit of rare books and illustrations you brought along hasbeen pawed thru and "borrowed" from, your intelligence has been insulted four times,one strange person has eventhe termity to go into the dubious history of your parentage, and to climax, a tough looking gorilla approached you and demands:

"Where's your button, buddy?"

CONTINUED ON
NEXT PAGE (20)

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THE COMET PAGE 19 PRE-VUE OF THE 1940 CONVENTION -as glimpsed by Hoy Ping Pong (Editor's note: Late this summer[?] the annual social event of fan society is to "happen": the second World Science Fiction Convention. There, in Chicago, the cream of fandom is to assemble and curdle. The editors take pride in presenting this article, which chronicles what happens when [[underline]]you[[end underline]], "Joe[?] Fan" attends that mighty blow-out.) ***************** Aha! Down the alley, shuffling timidly so as not to disturb the two-legged denizens of the place, comes a mild little figure: it is YOU! "Joe Fan", searching for the 1940 World Science Fiction Convention. You are in Chicago. You have an address on a scrap of paper in your hand. Fearfully and uneasily you peer at the numbers. You are in an alley because that is the place the address has guided you to. Aha! Just as you are about to give up in hopeless defeat, a window opens somewhere overhead and the foghorn bellow of Erle Korshak floats down! "Hey! Joe! Here we are, up here! Take the door under the stairs behind the newstand. Fifth floor! C'mon up!" Aha! After much patient searching you [[underline]]do[[end underline]] find a newstand, and the one-armed proprieter of the same stops scratching his belly long enough to point out the stairs to you. Somewhat puzzled you wheeze up five flights. Leather-lung Korshak meets you at the door. There is a mob behind him, all peering excitedly at you. Gosh! So [[underline]]you're[[end underline]] "Joe Fan"! Your pocket is picked immediately. Korshak shrieks the latest Confucius joke in your ear and cautions you not to let it out. The din is ear-splitting. Aha! Over there in the corner you see Mark Reisenberg. You make your way towards him, certain details in your mind demanding to be explained. The hall---in an alley---way up here---such a dirty place? Oh yes,we have a pat explanation for that. You see "Joe", we couldn't hire a hall uptown [[underline]]anywhere[[end underline]] for a decent price. This is the only one we could get for something near a respectable figure. Girls? Oh, you saw girls downstairs on the fourth floor. I forgot to tell you. We rented this hall from a bagnio....yeah, that was it downstairs. Aha! You are not in the hall ten minutes untill your toes have been stomped on twenty times, three more people have tried to pick your pocket and didn't even bother to hide the dissapointed look when they found it empty,your tie has been stolen from about your neck, two fans have rudely corned you and smeared the fanmag you publish, your little exhibit of rare books and illustrations you brought along hasbeen pawed thru and "borrowed" from, your intelligence has been insulted four times,one strange person has eventhe termity to go into the dubious history of your parentage, and to climax, a tough looking gorilla approached you and demands: "Where's your button, buddy?" CONTINUED ON NEXT PAGE (20)