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Shangri-La, issue 5, March-April 1948
Page 11
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MR ACKERMAN AND GENTLEMAN OF DISTINCTION (As Told To Weaver Wright) "Mr. Jackerman?" The voice on the phone had the dulcet Texas tone of our own jovial Dale Hart. I'd play along with the gag. "Yes," said I "I've just come from the Satyr Bookshop." Well, that made sense; it was Satyrday nite. "They told me you might have some books by Stapledon." I had decided by now this wasn't quite the voice of Dale (the Ladies' Choice) Hart. The call seemed to be on the level. I have a devil of a time with people sending checks, bills, money orders, bills, postal notes, and duns to F. Jackerman anyway, due to the fact that a long time ago I decided I didn't want a middle name any more but just wanted to use the initial "J". "Yes, I have some Stapledon." ** "Do you have LAST MEN IN LONDON?" ** "You mean personally, or for sale?" ** "For sale." ** "O...no...that's about his hardest one to come by." ** "Well, how about his STAR-something-or-other?" ** "STAR MAKER?" ** "Yes." ** "Yes, I think I have a copy of that." ** "Well, how much would it cost?" ** "Mmm...about $4". ** "Good, when can I get it?" It developed the gentleman was dying to read a Stapledon novel that very nite. The situation was an awkward one, as I was just leaving for an appointment with 3 friends to go to the home of a 4th. We discussed ways and means of meeting while I was en-route, but could arrange nothing to suit either of our circumstances. Finally he came to the reluctant conclusion that he was not going to be able to read Stapledon that nite; that the best I could do for him was to mail him a copy of STAR MAKER. He gave me his address. Then his name. "Hume. C. Hume." Hume! A drum began to thrum in my brain. (Melodramatic, what?) Months before, Mary Gnaedinger had contacted me with a request that I try to locate one Cyril Hume, whom she had reason to believe was in Hollywood. "Cyril Hume? Who wrote 'Wife of the Centaur', 'Cruel Fellowship'?" ** "Yes," he laughed "That was a long time ago." So I blurted out the excited story of how I had been attempting to find him some time ago, and here he had found me. Well! This placed a different complexion on things. The (auhor of "Atlantis' Exile" a couple issues ago in Famous Fantastic Mysteries) was only in town for the evening; I didn't want to miss the opportunity of meeting him, if only for a few moments. The friends I had the appointment with were familiar with fandom, they would understand if I kept them waiting a little and ex-
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MR ACKERMAN AND GENTLEMAN OF DISTINCTION (As Told To Weaver Wright) "Mr. Jackerman?" The voice on the phone had the dulcet Texas tone of our own jovial Dale Hart. I'd play along with the gag. "Yes," said I "I've just come from the Satyr Bookshop." Well, that made sense; it was Satyrday nite. "They told me you might have some books by Stapledon." I had decided by now this wasn't quite the voice of Dale (the Ladies' Choice) Hart. The call seemed to be on the level. I have a devil of a time with people sending checks, bills, money orders, bills, postal notes, and duns to F. Jackerman anyway, due to the fact that a long time ago I decided I didn't want a middle name any more but just wanted to use the initial "J". "Yes, I have some Stapledon." ** "Do you have LAST MEN IN LONDON?" ** "You mean personally, or for sale?" ** "For sale." ** "O...no...that's about his hardest one to come by." ** "Well, how about his STAR-something-or-other?" ** "STAR MAKER?" ** "Yes." ** "Yes, I think I have a copy of that." ** "Well, how much would it cost?" ** "Mmm...about $4". ** "Good, when can I get it?" It developed the gentleman was dying to read a Stapledon novel that very nite. The situation was an awkward one, as I was just leaving for an appointment with 3 friends to go to the home of a 4th. We discussed ways and means of meeting while I was en-route, but could arrange nothing to suit either of our circumstances. Finally he came to the reluctant conclusion that he was not going to be able to read Stapledon that nite; that the best I could do for him was to mail him a copy of STAR MAKER. He gave me his address. Then his name. "Hume. C. Hume." Hume! A drum began to thrum in my brain. (Melodramatic, what?) Months before, Mary Gnaedinger had contacted me with a request that I try to locate one Cyril Hume, whom she had reason to believe was in Hollywood. "Cyril Hume? Who wrote 'Wife of the Centaur', 'Cruel Fellowship'?" ** "Yes," he laughed "That was a long time ago." So I blurted out the excited story of how I had been attempting to find him some time ago, and here he had found me. Well! This placed a different complexion on things. The (auhor of "Atlantis' Exile" a couple issues ago in Famous Fantastic Mysteries) was only in town for the evening; I didn't want to miss the opportunity of meeting him, if only for a few moments. The friends I had the appointment with were familiar with fandom, they would understand if I kept them waiting a little and ex-
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