DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Spacewarp, v. 3, issue 4, July 1948

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Spacewarp, v. 3, issue 4, July 1948

Page 6

with an incisive manner that carries authority and is probably a heritage of his wartime Navy experience).  More discussion, punctuated by arrival and departure of various fen.  George occupied the afternoon by diggin a hecto out of his suitcase and finishing up UNITED FANDOM.  George also provided himself with a typical MSFS touch for the Torcon -- one of those futuristic helicopter caps.  Somehow or other, I was wearing it most of the time, tho.  It seemed to gowith my 12-inch droopstem pipe.

The evening of this pre-convention day passed in the same manner, with groups assembling in various hotel rooms to discuss everything in the Galaxy and a few other things.  I recall one point at which Singer, Young, and Bob Tucker were sailing paper airplanes from a 16th-floor window of he King Edward, while Chan Davis and Moe Diner discussed nuclear physics or somenting in one corner and Dr. Keller with a circle of fascinated fen considered poiticio-economic theory in the center.  After 48 hours without sleep I was about ready to hit the hay, when who should appear but the SAPS (Spectator Amateur Press Society to the unenlightened) (I am now a member, too!).  These energetic gentlemen:  Andy Lyon, Lloyd Alpaugh, Paul Cox, Ron Christensen, Joe Gross, Joe Schaumburger, etc., etc., wee about to take off for Toronto's amusement park, and somehow I got involved in the expedition.  Ben and George had left for a burlesque show about this point.  So the SAPS and I filled the back end of a trolleycar with stfical jabber, and ultimately drove away sleep with roller-coaster rides, etc.  It turned out these boys were quartered just a hop-and-skip down the Pince George corridor from we-uns.

Pause for personalities once again:  Anddy Lyon and Paul Cox have, as you might expect, southern accents  of the North Carolina and Georgia variety, respectively.  These have always fascinated me.  I particularly enjoyed hearing them converse with Toronto waitresses, who have a sort of combination French inflection and Scottish burr.  You could spot the NY and Jersey fen by their speech, also.  Andy is about 5'9, light hair, glasses.  Paul is several inches shorter and a bit wider.  From his notorious PLANET letter, I'd visualized a tall, thin fanatic.  My mistake.

We ended up at a soda-fountain at 2 a.m. where other passing fen stopped to chat until the crowd blocked the aisles, much to the disgust of the waitresses.  Feeling like one of the walking dead after all this activity, I tottered back to the Prince George to find the rest of our group already fast asleep.  No endurance, them guys.

Bright and early next morning Singer and I visited the SAPS' rooms, finding they had improved things by knocking a hole in the transom of the connecting door to give water-pistols an unobstructed field of fire.  We paused long enough to toss a few lighted firecrackers in the door and went on.  The next room was (I think) Alpaugh's.  When the door opened, Ben spotted a well-known publication of the Gidean Society on a a bedside table.  Like a flash he leaped across the room, opened the volume, and began ripping out pages and tossing them over his shoulder.  Picking himself up from the cdorridor floor, he returned to Alger's room where he phoned the SAPS and engaged Ron Christensen in light conversation until he got a firecracker lit, then held the transmitter of the phone close to it.  Great sense of humor, that lad.

It was little things like the above which inspired someone to leave under our door the message reproduced on page 13.  But as Rick Sneary would say (if we didn't review in AS, that is), poo to them.
-------------------------------------
((flip over to 13, bud))
((we ain't thru yet))

Saving...

with an incisive manner that carries authority and is probably a heritage of his wartime Navy experience). More discussion, punctuated by arrival and departure of various fen. George occupied the afternoon by diggin a hecto out of his suitcase and finishing up UNITED FANDOM. George also provided himself with a typical MSFS touch for the Torcon -- one of those futuristic helicopter caps. Somehow or other, I was wearing it most of the time, tho. It seemed to gowith my 12-inch droopstem pipe. The evening of this pre-convention day passed in the same manner, with groups assembling in various hotel rooms to discuss everything in the Galaxy and a few other things. I recall one point at which Singer, Young, and Bob Tucker were sailing paper airplanes from a 16th-floor window of he King Edward, while Chan Davis and Moe Diner discussed nuclear physics or somenting in one corner and Dr. Keller with a circle of fascinated fen considered poiticio-economic theory in the center. After 48 hours without sleep I was about ready to hit the hay, when who should appear but the SAPS (Spectator Amateur Press Society to the unenlightened) (I am now a member, too!). These energetic gentlemen: Andy Lyon, Lloyd Alpaugh, Paul Cox, Ron Christensen, Joe Gross, Joe Schaumburger, etc., etc., wee about to take off for Toronto's amusement park, and somehow I got involved in the expedition. Ben and George had left for a burlesque show about this point. So the SAPS and I filled the back end of a trolleycar with stfical jabber, and ultimately drove away sleep with roller-coaster rides, etc. It turned out these boys were quartered just a hop-and-skip down the Pince George corridor from we-uns. Pause for personalities once again: Anddy Lyon and Paul Cox have, as you might expect, southern accents of the North Carolina and Georgia variety, respectively. These have always fascinated me. I particularly enjoyed hearing them converse with Toronto waitresses, who have a sort of combination French inflection and Scottish burr. You could spot the NY and Jersey fen by their speech, also. Andy is about 5'9, light hair, glasses. Paul is several inches shorter and a bit wider. From his notorious PLANET letter, I'd visualized a tall, thin fanatic. My mistake. We ended up at a soda-fountain at 2 a.m. where other passing fen stopped to chat until the crowd blocked the aisles, much to the disgust of the waitresses. Feeling like one of the walking dead after all this activity, I tottered back to the Prince George to find the rest of our group already fast asleep. No endurance, them guys. Bright and early next morning Singer and I visited the SAPS' rooms, finding they had improved things by knocking a hole in the transom of the connecting door to give water-pistols an unobstructed field of fire. We paused long enough to toss a few lighted firecrackers in the door and went on. The next room was (I think) Alpaugh's. When the door opened, Ben spotted a well-known publication of the Gidean Society on a a bedside table. Like a flash he leaped across the room, opened the volume, and began ripping out pages and tossing them over his shoulder. Picking himself up from the cdorridor floor, he returned to Alger's room where he phoned the SAPS and engaged Ron Christensen in light conversation until he got a firecracker lit, then held the transmitter of the phone close to it. Great sense of humor, that lad. It was little things like the above which inspired someone to leave under our door the message reproduced on page 13. But as Rick Sneary would say (if we didn't review in AS, that is), poo to them. ------------------------------------- ((flip over to 13, bud)) ((we ain't thru yet))