DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Voice of the Imagination (VOM), v. 2, issue 1, whole no. 5 April 1940

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Voice of the Imagination (VOM), v. 2, issue 1, whole no. 5 April 1940

Page 9

9
VOICE OF THE IMAGI-NATION

in the style mentioned. And also that the mags belong to Lowndes, and the RLW wrote the letter for him. Runs in my mind that Norman Holtaway's name isn't that. At least in two letters recently to him I wrote Hollaway...or maybe it was Holloway...and didn't get bawled out. If I'm right and you're wrong, he'll undoubtedly Holloway and mow you down. (Don't get it? I didn't think so. Sorry I brought it up.) (4e, [the?] fumigator! That pun I have to Holtaway from my hose--but far!  --Morojo) (4give us Norman; we noe not wut we do. --4e)  Your worries about back issues are [not?] entirely your own-- you are not alone. But I solved the problem fairly neatly[.?] The first couple that came in to me--which arrived before I'd got to the issue of [?] that did the damage--got sample, because I thought they'd merely misunderstood or something. At the time I didn't know SS had offered the samples. Then the thing started to get serious. I was low on copies, and saw it would be impossible to send them all. So I broke down a few copies into sections of three and four sheets, and mailed those together with little hektoed slip explaining the situation. They took only 1 1-2c postage, so actually I lost very little on the business - took in six cents on each copy split up. However, when the did the latest S, I printed up a coupla dozen extras of the most interesting pages, and shall keep them back for another landslide. Which, I fear, may come when the next Startling appears.  Why can't you get votI out a little more often? Four or five months is a long, long time. If memory serves, I seem to recall getting the first issue last winter, before Christmas of 1938. If I'm right, and I believe I am, you haven't even come close to quarterly publication. But I suppose you're busy enough. (Supposition sustaind.) One last thing--I still like the old type cover the best--the illustration was all right, but I'm a firm traditionalist, or something."
[signed] Dick Wilson [/signed] - whom we love very dearly - typs from the Ivory Tower, 2574 Bedford Ave, Bklyn, NY: "It is bad taste, I know, to mail your correspondents carbon copies of letters, but in this case it's for your own good. The ribbon...is about to give up--I'm practically typing in the dark, as far as visibility's concerned--and the Royal has an annoying habit of not pushing the original up the platen as far as the carbon when spacing; and no one has any money, especially me, who'm saving up my shekels for license plates for the Oldsmobile--Baby's successor. The '29 Olds is the vehicle that, with Dave Kyle's brother's Plymouth, transported a dozen or so New Yorkers to the Philly conf, with Dave and this chauffeur driving at 80 per down the highway, neither of us having had six hours sleep in the past 48. (Time for a Tucker-plug: )  Remember, Bob, our mad race on wheels thru Phila.'s narrow, trafficky streets from La Maison Baltadonis to the Conference Hall? (End of plug.) The zombie cheated, tho; he went the wrong way down a one-way street--and even at that he lost.  Forry may be interested to know that the apartment house in Inwood (not the Bronx, stoutly maintains Cyril) where dwells Kornbluth the Red boasts an Ackerman--and opposite the name is the apt #. 4 E ! ...interruption...  ladynextdoor just banged on the door: 'Wanna seeya fish? Over on Flatbush Avenya. Bank's burnin' up. C'mon up onna roof witha resta vus.' I inform the Futurians in the kitchen, who are fiddling with the makings of supper. 'Bank of Manhattan's on fire.'  'Who started it?'  queries Don.  'Probably National City,' quip I.  (Laughter.)  Enough of that.  Supper is over.  For me, anyway. I have taken my piece of pie and glass of milk in here by the typewriter. The others are still eating the main course, consisting for the most part, of fishcakes. Not so much because of Friday, but because of their being fishcakes.  Doc says it's Kay Marlin. Now he's saying 'Oooooh!'...But it's not about the mysterious Marlin, as I thought. He's found Joseph Gilbert's letter. Joe recently wrote me a letter full of points, which he read. Points 2 & 3 are: 'I don't like Michealism' and 'I detest Wolheim.' I'm the only one in the apt who likes Mr Gilbert, obviously.  Must go. 'Stime for me to weild a dishtowel, providing someone has done the washing of dishes, which I doubt."

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9 VOICE OF THE IMAGI-NATION in the style mentioned. And also that the mags belong to Lowndes, and the RLW wrote the letter for him. Runs in my mind that Norman Holtaway's name isn't that. At least in two letters recently to him I wrote Hollaway...or maybe it was Holloway...and didn't get bawled out. If I'm right and you're wrong, he'll undoubtedly Holloway and mow you down. (Don't get it? I didn't think so. Sorry I brought it up.) (4e, [the?] fumigator! That pun I have to Holtaway from my hose--but far! --Morojo) (4give us Norman; we noe not wut we do. --4e) Your worries about back issues are [not?] entirely your own-- you are not alone. But I solved the problem fairly neatly[.?] The first couple that came in to me--which arrived before I'd got to the issue of [?] that did the damage--got sample, because I thought they'd merely misunderstood or something. At the time I didn't know SS had offered the samples. Then the thing started to get serious. I was low on copies, and saw it would be impossible to send them all. So I broke down a few copies into sections of three and four sheets, and mailed those together with little hektoed slip explaining the situation. They took only 1 1-2c postage, so actually I lost very little on the business - took in six cents on each copy split up. However, when the did the latest S, I printed up a coupla dozen extras of the most interesting pages, and shall keep them back for another landslide. Which, I fear, may come when the next Startling appears. Why can't you get votI out a little more often? Four or five months is a long, long time. If memory serves, I seem to recall getting the first issue last winter, before Christmas of 1938. If I'm right, and I believe I am, you haven't even come close to quarterly publication. But I suppose you're busy enough. (Supposition sustaind.) One last thing--I still like the old type cover the best--the illustration was all right, but I'm a firm traditionalist, or something." [signed] Dick Wilson [/signed] - whom we love very dearly - typs from the Ivory Tower, 2574 Bedford Ave, Bklyn, NY: "It is bad taste, I know, to mail your correspondents carbon copies of letters, but in this case it's for your own good. The ribbon...is about to give up--I'm practically typing in the dark, as far as visibility's concerned--and the Royal has an annoying habit of not pushing the original up the platen as far as the carbon when spacing; and no one has any money, especially me, who'm saving up my shekels for license plates for the Oldsmobile--Baby's successor. The '29 Olds is the vehicle that, with Dave Kyle's brother's Plymouth, transported a dozen or so New Yorkers to the Philly conf, with Dave and this chauffeur driving at 80 per down the highway, neither of us having had six hours sleep in the past 48. (Time for a Tucker-plug: ) Remember, Bob, our mad race on wheels thru Phila.'s narrow, trafficky streets from La Maison Baltadonis to the Conference Hall? (End of plug.) The zombie cheated, tho; he went the wrong way down a one-way street--and even at that he lost. Forry may be interested to know that the apartment house in Inwood (not the Bronx, stoutly maintains Cyril) where dwells Kornbluth the Red boasts an Ackerman--and opposite the name is the apt #. 4 E ! ...interruption... ladynextdoor just banged on the door: 'Wanna seeya fish? Over on Flatbush Avenya. Bank's burnin' up. C'mon up onna roof witha resta vus.' I inform the Futurians in the kitchen, who are fiddling with the makings of supper. 'Bank of Manhattan's on fire.' 'Who started it?' queries Don. 'Probably National City,' quip I. (Laughter.) Enough of that. Supper is over. For me, anyway. I have taken my piece of pie and glass of milk in here by the typewriter. The others are still eating the main course, consisting for the most part, of fishcakes. Not so much because of Friday, but because of their being fishcakes. Doc says it's Kay Marlin. Now he's saying 'Oooooh!'...But it's not about the mysterious Marlin, as I thought. He's found Joseph Gilbert's letter. Joe recently wrote me a letter full of points, which he read. Points 2 & 3 are: 'I don't like Michealism' and 'I detest Wolheim.' I'm the only one in the apt who likes Mr Gilbert, obviously. Must go. 'Stime for me to weild a dishtowel, providing someone has done the washing of dishes, which I doubt."