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Fantasite, v. 1, issue 1, November 1940
Page 6
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6 THE FANTASITE One Julius Pohl of Texas, an attendant at last years convention, is now the forgotten man. Another fan has taken his place in Gertrudr Kuslan's heart.I recall reading in some fanmag of Julius and Trudy (we call her "Gorilla Gertie') hand-in-handing down Broadway last summer. This year it was La Kuslan and Earl Singleton arm-in-arming all over Chicago. One evening I found her perched impatiently on a lounge in the lobby, foot tapping annoyedly. "Greetings, Gorilla," I said. "S'matter?" "Singleton?"she snapped. "Bah! He promised to meet me here an hour ago. We had a date to take in the museum." "Ohmigawd!" was my astounded rejoinder. "Chicago in the spring....uh, summer, a pretty lass such as thou, and the dope is taking you to a museum! Truly it has been said: 'fans is sissies!'." A minor diversion was the incident of the push-cart. The"push-cart"was one of those small four-wheeled trucks used to haul freight about in buildings. After a visit to Palmer's offices, we came away with a truck loaded down with originals and cover paints. Korshak's car being parked several blocks distant, it was necessary to push the truck thru the street to the car. Everyone, of course, wanted the job. So many people were in such a hurry to take their turn at pushing the truck that a pall of dust hung over the area for hours after they exited up the streets to vanish from sight; leaving Reinsberg, Korshak and myself the job. Palmer donated three hundred copies of Amazing Stories and over two hundred originals to the convention, released the news that Fantastic Adventures was washed up, and showed Ackerman and I some advance cover paintings -- two by St. John, who once illustrated Burroughs' books. I came away with a souvenir, an annual pass to the building housing the Ziff-Davis publishing co. Anytime during 1940 i can gain entrance into the building and his offices whenever I wish, providing I can disguise myself to resemble Palmer, and forge his signature, and possess a skeleton key that will work. I am well aware that fans is drys, but: some memories remain of a tavern located at the corner of 8th and Wabash....just across the street from the YMCA,in fact. You'd be surprised to learn that some of fandom's brighter lights drifted thru those swinging doors, to grow dim from prolonged leaning on a bar: Wiggins, Singleton, Ackerman, Freehafer, Widner, Martin, Korshak, myself.......and countless others. While Morojo and Pogo remained outside and probably wailed: Fans, dear fans, come home with us now, the cuckoo clock is striking two, and you are losing your good reputations! One evening about twenty of us spilled in there, demanding beer, and the proprietor immediately erased us by saying it was two o'clock, and closing time. Out we went, when I know darned well thr place was open till about five A.M. the previous day. The Futurians were most vaciferous in their drinking habits.I was rather ashamed to be seen in the same saloon with them; the bartender's stare embarassed me so. Surprise items: Jack Darrow and Trudy Hamkin, two of Chicago's most well known fans, failed to show up! In the wee small hours of Sunday morning, after I had put in a hard day and night Saturday, a bunch of dopes went around the corridors of the Y, banging on doors. I found out later it was the Futurians, just in from New York. The dirty crooks, trying to filch me out of a nights sleep. I pretended I was asleep, and let them bang and kick untill they grew weary. Pretty soon they went away. Ummmmm..... so that was a science fiction convention?!
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6 THE FANTASITE One Julius Pohl of Texas, an attendant at last years convention, is now the forgotten man. Another fan has taken his place in Gertrudr Kuslan's heart.I recall reading in some fanmag of Julius and Trudy (we call her "Gorilla Gertie') hand-in-handing down Broadway last summer. This year it was La Kuslan and Earl Singleton arm-in-arming all over Chicago. One evening I found her perched impatiently on a lounge in the lobby, foot tapping annoyedly. "Greetings, Gorilla," I said. "S'matter?" "Singleton?"she snapped. "Bah! He promised to meet me here an hour ago. We had a date to take in the museum." "Ohmigawd!" was my astounded rejoinder. "Chicago in the spring....uh, summer, a pretty lass such as thou, and the dope is taking you to a museum! Truly it has been said: 'fans is sissies!'." A minor diversion was the incident of the push-cart. The"push-cart"was one of those small four-wheeled trucks used to haul freight about in buildings. After a visit to Palmer's offices, we came away with a truck loaded down with originals and cover paints. Korshak's car being parked several blocks distant, it was necessary to push the truck thru the street to the car. Everyone, of course, wanted the job. So many people were in such a hurry to take their turn at pushing the truck that a pall of dust hung over the area for hours after they exited up the streets to vanish from sight; leaving Reinsberg, Korshak and myself the job. Palmer donated three hundred copies of Amazing Stories and over two hundred originals to the convention, released the news that Fantastic Adventures was washed up, and showed Ackerman and I some advance cover paintings -- two by St. John, who once illustrated Burroughs' books. I came away with a souvenir, an annual pass to the building housing the Ziff-Davis publishing co. Anytime during 1940 i can gain entrance into the building and his offices whenever I wish, providing I can disguise myself to resemble Palmer, and forge his signature, and possess a skeleton key that will work. I am well aware that fans is drys, but: some memories remain of a tavern located at the corner of 8th and Wabash....just across the street from the YMCA,in fact. You'd be surprised to learn that some of fandom's brighter lights drifted thru those swinging doors, to grow dim from prolonged leaning on a bar: Wiggins, Singleton, Ackerman, Freehafer, Widner, Martin, Korshak, myself.......and countless others. While Morojo and Pogo remained outside and probably wailed: Fans, dear fans, come home with us now, the cuckoo clock is striking two, and you are losing your good reputations! One evening about twenty of us spilled in there, demanding beer, and the proprietor immediately erased us by saying it was two o'clock, and closing time. Out we went, when I know darned well thr place was open till about five A.M. the previous day. The Futurians were most vaciferous in their drinking habits.I was rather ashamed to be seen in the same saloon with them; the bartender's stare embarassed me so. Surprise items: Jack Darrow and Trudy Hamkin, two of Chicago's most well known fans, failed to show up! In the wee small hours of Sunday morning, after I had put in a hard day and night Saturday, a bunch of dopes went around the corridors of the Y, banging on doors. I found out later it was the Futurians, just in from New York. The dirty crooks, trying to filch me out of a nights sleep. I pretended I was asleep, and let them bang and kick untill they grew weary. Pretty soon they went away. Ummmmm..... so that was a science fiction convention?!
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