DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | En Garde, whole no. 4, Winter 1942

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En Garde, whole no. 4, Winter 1942

Page 8

page 8.

Friday, we spent in Chicago with Walt, raiding the bookstores. Round and round the mulberry bush -- er -- excuse, please -- the Loop, we went. Big bookstores, little bookstores, old bookstores, new bookstores. Dark, dingy, dusty, scary looking places, and smart, elegantly outfitted, tile-floored bookstores. From ones where we expected some old crone or warlock with long scraggly grey hair and no teeth, to come out trying to sell you the Necronomicon or De Vermis Mysteris, to neon lighted palaces where attendants in Prince Alberts and white gloves spoke in hushed voices of the Old Masters.

We walked and walked until my brain was a whirl of books, books, book, and my feet, in new shoes, were screaming to be let out to graze on the soft cool rugs of some room -- any room. I wish just the same that we could have spent more time there. The trouble was that we spent all our money the first day there.

In the afternoon we did take time to go up to R.A. Palmer's office to meet him. Walt said, as we started out, "Oh yes, I know where his office is. I was up there once." So we headed for Michigan Blvd., and we walked and walked and walked. The wind was blowing a gale and we were cold and hungry and tired and thirsty and no Coca-cola in sight, when Walt finally admitted that maybe he didn't know just where to go after all. Practically, it gave mayhem then and there. If we didn't loff heem so much he would now be a deader. After another block or so we found a drugstore. Hah, we cried in unison. Now we will find out. So into the drugstore we went, pickity pickity, pickity. For the newstand we dove -- but lo and behold. No Amazing. No Fantastic Adventures. After looking at each other rather blankly for awhile, it finally dawned on us that the address could be found in the telephone book. We were only about six blocks too far out.

Getting out of the elevator, we found a door marked Ziff-Davis Receiving Room. We really didn't think they ran a hospital, so decided this must be where visitors were received. In we went only to fall over reams and reams of paper. The place bore a striking resemblance to the Ashley livingroom. Two young goofs looked up at us like they thought we were crazy, and we looked right back at them like we knew we were. Then we backed out. Down at the other end of the hall was the place we sought. A lovely young lady presided at the switchboard. She looked as though she thought us something strayed from one of the more harrowing stories, but she bravely directed us to Palmer's office.

Bill McGivern was in the office getting a check. I held out my hand too, but all RAP did was to shake it. He's a grand fellow though. I wish we lived closer so we could get better acquainted with him. He showed us the dummys for the new mags and I went into small ecstacies over the back cover for FANTASTIC ADVENTURES. Very quietly he went over to the other side of the room, dug out the original, and as calmly as if he were offering me a cigarette, asked, "Want it?" Did I? I nearly kissed the guy on the spot. It illustrates one of my favorite myths. Daedalus and Icarus. He finally shoved us out so he could go home. We went to a few more bookstores, then headed for home too. Now I wanna go back.

Oh yes. I finally made the grade. Tucker kissed me!

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page 8. Friday, we spent in Chicago with Walt, raiding the bookstores. Round and round the mulberry bush -- er -- excuse, please -- the Loop, we went. Big bookstores, little bookstores, old bookstores, new bookstores. Dark, dingy, dusty, scary looking places, and smart, elegantly outfitted, tile-floored bookstores. From ones where we expected some old crone or warlock with long scraggly grey hair and no teeth, to come out trying to sell you the Necronomicon or De Vermis Mysteris, to neon lighted palaces where attendants in Prince Alberts and white gloves spoke in hushed voices of the Old Masters. We walked and walked until my brain was a whirl of books, books, book, and my feet, in new shoes, were screaming to be let out to graze on the soft cool rugs of some room -- any room. I wish just the same that we could have spent more time there. The trouble was that we spent all our money the first day there. In the afternoon we did take time to go up to R.A. Palmer's office to meet him. Walt said, as we started out, "Oh yes, I know where his office is. I was up there once." So we headed for Michigan Blvd., and we walked and walked and walked. The wind was blowing a gale and we were cold and hungry and tired and thirsty and no Coca-cola in sight, when Walt finally admitted that maybe he didn't know just where to go after all. Practically, it gave mayhem then and there. If we didn't loff heem so much he would now be a deader. After another block or so we found a drugstore. Hah, we cried in unison. Now we will find out. So into the drugstore we went, pickity pickity, pickity. For the newstand we dove -- but lo and behold. No Amazing. No Fantastic Adventures. After looking at each other rather blankly for awhile, it finally dawned on us that the address could be found in the telephone book. We were only about six blocks too far out. Getting out of the elevator, we found a door marked Ziff-Davis Receiving Room. We really didn't think they ran a hospital, so decided this must be where visitors were received. In we went only to fall over reams and reams of paper. The place bore a striking resemblance to the Ashley livingroom. Two young goofs looked up at us like they thought we were crazy, and we looked right back at them like we knew we were. Then we backed out. Down at the other end of the hall was the place we sought. A lovely young lady presided at the switchboard. She looked as though she thought us something strayed from one of the more harrowing stories, but she bravely directed us to Palmer's office. Bill McGivern was in the office getting a check. I held out my hand too, but all RAP did was to shake it. He's a grand fellow though. I wish we lived closer so we could get better acquainted with him. He showed us the dummys for the new mags and I went into small ecstacies over the back cover for FANTASTIC ADVENTURES. Very quietly he went over to the other side of the room, dug out the original, and as calmly as if he were offering me a cigarette, asked, "Want it?" Did I? I nearly kissed the guy on the spot. It illustrates one of my favorite myths. Daedalus and Icarus. He finally shoved us out so he could go home. We went to a few more bookstores, then headed for home too. Now I wanna go back. Oh yes. I finally made the grade. Tucker kissed me!