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Fantascience Digest, v. 2, issue 3, March-April 1939

Page 4

Page 4     FANTASCIENCE DIGEST

"GRAND OLD FAN"
By SAM MOSKOWITZ

The earth seemed to cease its rotation! The hustle and bustle of New York traffic came only as some rapidly fading, very distant and unreal echo. The chance of a lifetime was now laid out before him. The opportunity he had laid awake nights and hoped and prayed for. And it all had come so unexpectedly. The memory of the last words that publisher Jackson had uttered were now and unforgetable record, indelibly stamped upon his brain.

"I think you understand the circumstances of this offer," jackson had said. "I know that the science fiction fan field trusts and respects you. You have proved that your influence extends even beyond the fan world and that most editors and authors of science fiction realize that when you speak you voice the sentiments of the entire science fiction world. That is why I ask you to accept my offer. I want you to edit this new fantasy magazine of mine. With your influence in the fan world you have already assured me that I can expect a base of 20,000 readers, no matter how poor the magazine is. But with your added influence upon many of the most prominent authors of science fiction, we can arrange to squeeze the life out of the other magazines and take over the field without competition. Let me know if you decide to accept the offer."

The following two days had been one chaotic maze of thought. He had staggered out of the doors of that building with sweat flooding down the round contours of his face. Here was something. Here was the position he had hoped and prayed for the past two years. Here also was the chance to have a steady, reliable income, and now depend upon the vagaries of chance when it came to picking up the earth's most necessary evil. It would probably mean that eh would have to drop out of the fan field. Too much work to take care of both of them. Still, he hated to do that. he had been around so long. How many years now? Oh yes; six years of steady, unremitting activity. He was a veritable fixture in the field now; a pillar that supported a thousand-and-one activities of the fan world. He remembered now. It was in his second year of activity that he had been voted in some sort of "poll" as "top" fan. Since that time, such a similar poll had proved unnecessary, He held to that designation with the tenacity of a bull-dog. He had won himself an enviable position in the scheme of things. Even his enemies respected him and his word.
It was only two years back that some fan had dubbed him with the title of "Grand Old Fan." Grand OLD Fan, eh? He was only twenty-four and they considered him "old." "Old!" They regarded him as a venerable patriarch with the gathered wisdom of the centuries, and a heart as big as a house. Chicken-hearted, some would call it. But he couldn't help himself. Even when an avowed enemy of his needed help badly, he was always among the first to proffer it. New fans had not found him aloff. He always had time to write a note of encouragement to a newcomer, or see that he got established right.

Hell! It was worth it. Of course, not all of them appreciated what you did for them, but there was always a group who read

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Page 4 FANTASCIENCE DIGEST "GRAND OLD FAN" By SAM MOSKOWITZ The earth seemed to cease its rotation! The hustle and bustle of New York traffic came only as some rapidly fading, very distant and unreal echo. The chance of a lifetime was now laid out before him. The opportunity he had laid awake nights and hoped and prayed for. And it all had come so unexpectedly. The memory of the last words that publisher Jackson had uttered were now and unforgetable record, indelibly stamped upon his brain. "I think you understand the circumstances of this offer," jackson had said. "I know that the science fiction fan field trusts and respects you. You have proved that your influence extends even beyond the fan world and that most editors and authors of science fiction realize that when you speak you voice the sentiments of the entire science fiction world. That is why I ask you to accept my offer. I want you to edit this new fantasy magazine of mine. With your influence in the fan world you have already assured me that I can expect a base of 20,000 readers, no matter how poor the magazine is. But with your added influence upon many of the most prominent authors of science fiction, we can arrange to squeeze the life out of the other magazines and take over the field without competition. Let me know if you decide to accept the offer." The following two days had been one chaotic maze of thought. He had staggered out of the doors of that building with sweat flooding down the round contours of his face. Here was something. Here was the position he had hoped and prayed for the past two years. Here also was the chance to have a steady, reliable income, and now depend upon the vagaries of chance when it came to picking up the earth's most necessary evil. It would probably mean that eh would have to drop out of the fan field. Too much work to take care of both of them. Still, he hated to do that. he had been around so long. How many years now? Oh yes; six years of steady, unremitting activity. He was a veritable fixture in the field now; a pillar that supported a thousand-and-one activities of the fan world. He remembered now. It was in his second year of activity that he had been voted in some sort of "poll" as "top" fan. Since that time, such a similar poll had proved unnecessary, He held to that designation with the tenacity of a bull-dog. He had won himself an enviable position in the scheme of things. Even his enemies respected him and his word. It was only two years back that some fan had dubbed him with the title of "Grand Old Fan." Grand OLD Fan, eh? He was only twenty-four and they considered him "old." "Old!" They regarded him as a venerable patriarch with the gathered wisdom of the centuries, and a heart as big as a house. Chicken-hearted, some would call it. But he couldn't help himself. Even when an avowed enemy of his needed help badly, he was always among the first to proffer it. New fans had not found him aloff. He always had time to write a note of encouragement to a newcomer, or see that he got established right. Hell! It was worth it. Of course, not all of them appreciated what you did for them, but there was always a group who read