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Spacewarp, v. 5, issue 4, whole no. 28, July 1949
Page 12
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ball. "That isn't the way," said the coach. "Dive in and tackle the ball carrier." "OK," I think, and shouting a war cry (YNGVI IS A LOUSE!) dive in with the rest. Rush around madly, trying to find the ball. Finally trip and bump my nose against it. "Aha..." sez I and twins around the ball carrier. The coach comes up, and I await modestly. "Nice tackle" sez I, not so modestly. "Yesssss..." Coach Ellingson agrees, "but it happened to be one of your own team-mates running back an interception." He went on further to state: "I think it would be best if you turn in your uniform, and concentrate on singing with the glee-club." This i considered an insult, for at the time my voice was a weird, hoarse, two-toned affair, that thought nothing of jumping octaves several times per sentence. Later I decided to learn the "manly art of self-defense" and worked out with the boxers. Within a short time I was willing to act on this request of the band director, and exchange the "art of self-defense" for the "art of self-preservation." One more attempt was made at earning a letter. I went out for track. Thene one day, the coach (my bete noir) (don't know what that means, but it sounds learned) stepped out of ambush. "Wrai," he said "Wrai, it seems to me that anyone who smokes a cigar while doing roadwork is not taking his training rules seriously, so I"ll have to remove you from the squad." Thusly I earned my fame as an athlete. From then on little happened, until one day when the course of my history was changed, when I innocently read THE CLUB HOUSE and sent for a couple fanzines. Fandom knows what happens when you slip that much. You get letters, and the dope on the NFFF from KayMar, and no longer is your life your own. Since then I've lived a sort of fannish life: kept on reading all the fantasy I could find, corresponded to as many as I could, wrote fiction of a sort and sent it to 'zines that started with "S": SPACEWARP, SPEARHEAD, and SCYLLA. Early in 1948, Art Rapp turned the NFFF Manuscript Bureau over to me, and I've been managing it ever since. Can't write much about my career in fandom, since said career is still ahead of me, so I won't close now, but just write..... Continued, next episode in 5 years. I WILL SWAP (r-tRapp, 2120 Bay St., Saginaw, Mich) STARTLING November (nbc) for a Fall 1944 ish in fair or better condtn. FFM February 1946 for the June 1946 ish in good shape. FFM April 1947 for any two WT's from 1946. ASF Jan, Apr, and Oct 1946, all 3 for the May & Sept 45 issues. (12)
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ball. "That isn't the way," said the coach. "Dive in and tackle the ball carrier." "OK," I think, and shouting a war cry (YNGVI IS A LOUSE!) dive in with the rest. Rush around madly, trying to find the ball. Finally trip and bump my nose against it. "Aha..." sez I and twins around the ball carrier. The coach comes up, and I await modestly. "Nice tackle" sez I, not so modestly. "Yesssss..." Coach Ellingson agrees, "but it happened to be one of your own team-mates running back an interception." He went on further to state: "I think it would be best if you turn in your uniform, and concentrate on singing with the glee-club." This i considered an insult, for at the time my voice was a weird, hoarse, two-toned affair, that thought nothing of jumping octaves several times per sentence. Later I decided to learn the "manly art of self-defense" and worked out with the boxers. Within a short time I was willing to act on this request of the band director, and exchange the "art of self-defense" for the "art of self-preservation." One more attempt was made at earning a letter. I went out for track. Thene one day, the coach (my bete noir) (don't know what that means, but it sounds learned) stepped out of ambush. "Wrai," he said "Wrai, it seems to me that anyone who smokes a cigar while doing roadwork is not taking his training rules seriously, so I"ll have to remove you from the squad." Thusly I earned my fame as an athlete. From then on little happened, until one day when the course of my history was changed, when I innocently read THE CLUB HOUSE and sent for a couple fanzines. Fandom knows what happens when you slip that much. You get letters, and the dope on the NFFF from KayMar, and no longer is your life your own. Since then I've lived a sort of fannish life: kept on reading all the fantasy I could find, corresponded to as many as I could, wrote fiction of a sort and sent it to 'zines that started with "S": SPACEWARP, SPEARHEAD, and SCYLLA. Early in 1948, Art Rapp turned the NFFF Manuscript Bureau over to me, and I've been managing it ever since. Can't write much about my career in fandom, since said career is still ahead of me, so I won't close now, but just write..... Continued, next episode in 5 years. I WILL SWAP (r-tRapp, 2120 Bay St., Saginaw, Mich) STARTLING November (nbc) for a Fall 1944 ish in fair or better condtn. FFM February 1946 for the June 1946 ish in good shape. FFM April 1947 for any two WT's from 1946. ASF Jan, Apr, and Oct 1946, all 3 for the May & Sept 45 issues. (12)
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