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Spaceways, v. 3, issue 5, whole no. 21, June 1941
10
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10 SPACEWAYS DESE FANS IN DE SOUTH as told to HARRY JENKINS, JR. by Rastus "Up from the South they came; whole hordes of them, descending upon a helpless fandom like a plague." This ambiguous statement does make a nice siesta subject, though. The first step has been taken; the first movement in progress and in the future. . .perhaps. . . . Uh-oh, pardon the day-dreaming, but a dope can visionize, can't he? But back to the present, 'tis safer, or is it? Anyway, that's neither here nor there, so let Rastus tell the story of the South.- Y'all peeple ever heared tell ob de South? You is? Well, das fine, foe sho nuff, de South is wakin' up, changin', marchin' onward, like de ol' uns in grey. De South is slow, yeh, but den wen dey started, jes' ain't no stopin' 'em. Le's see, spec I betta start somewhere 'bout de Mason-Dixon line, de boundry of Dixie. Up 'round Marylan' way, dere's Mistuh Harry Warner, Jr., of Spaceways fame. He's one ub de most activest fans I'see eber knowed. Den movin' down de coast to Virginny, dere dwells Chauvenet. De Happy Highwayman has changed Detours; now he's goin' by de southern Star route. In No'th Ca'lina day's Townsend, Wynburn, an' mebbe a few othuh uns dat I donno. In Washington day's a whole kitankiboodle ob 'em: Milty Rothman, Jack Speer, an' sum mo'. In de Volunteer State dere flock a swell bunch o' fans. Dere's Fred Fischer, de columnist; Art Sehnert of the Star; and Jim Tillman the 'rithmetic shark midst a whole little ob um. Oob in Flordi day's Hanson, an' others scattered thick as fleas all ober de South, but in Columbia, South Ca'lina is whar dey bite mostest. Why de biggest conglomeration ub fans you eber seed is dere. Fact is, Sissy says it's de Mecca ub Deep South fandom, whatever dem high-falootin' words is. De Columbia Camp, de Southern Star, an' one of de most doin'est pahts ub de Dixie Fantasy Federation, which am South-wide, all bides deah. De big bosses is Joe Gilbert, Lees Eastman, W. B. McQueen, an' Harry Jenkins, Jr. Dat bunch is jes' about de craziest peoples outside ub de 'sylum. But dey's friendly; d e y 's friendly. Dat dere jes' 'bout cubers de scene, but-uh, oh-heah cums mah wife, an' when dey's fiuh in her eye, an' work threatenin', I jes' leaves widout sayin' much. But you know doe, dat's jes' what's wrong wid de South. We's all too lazy. Dey's a heap o' fans, a heap ub um, but dey's too, too shiftless tuh becum active. But we's been stirred and ifen we don't go back tuh sleep, we'll jes' keep shufflin' 'long, till we's at de front. But har cums de wife agin, so long -gotta go hunt a watermellion patch. But you 'member de South, don't fuhget, 'membuh de South! ................................................................. WE'RE OFF FOR MARS by N. WILLMORTH We're off, we're off, we're off for Mars! Through a darkening sky atwirl with stars, On the rumbling rockets with a million jars, We're off! We're off! We're off for Mars! The earth, a globe of green, behind, The Moon, a slice of gold, ashine, And Mars, a glittering disk, afar, We're off! We're off! We're off for Mars! Through airless, weightless, stormy space, With driving thrust we fly apace, To desert lands with canals abar, We're off! We're off" we're off for Mars!
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10 SPACEWAYS DESE FANS IN DE SOUTH as told to HARRY JENKINS, JR. by Rastus "Up from the South they came; whole hordes of them, descending upon a helpless fandom like a plague." This ambiguous statement does make a nice siesta subject, though. The first step has been taken; the first movement in progress and in the future. . .perhaps. . . . Uh-oh, pardon the day-dreaming, but a dope can visionize, can't he? But back to the present, 'tis safer, or is it? Anyway, that's neither here nor there, so let Rastus tell the story of the South.- Y'all peeple ever heared tell ob de South? You is? Well, das fine, foe sho nuff, de South is wakin' up, changin', marchin' onward, like de ol' uns in grey. De South is slow, yeh, but den wen dey started, jes' ain't no stopin' 'em. Le's see, spec I betta start somewhere 'bout de Mason-Dixon line, de boundry of Dixie. Up 'round Marylan' way, dere's Mistuh Harry Warner, Jr., of Spaceways fame. He's one ub de most activest fans I'see eber knowed. Den movin' down de coast to Virginny, dere dwells Chauvenet. De Happy Highwayman has changed Detours; now he's goin' by de southern Star route. In No'th Ca'lina day's Townsend, Wynburn, an' mebbe a few othuh uns dat I donno. In Washington day's a whole kitankiboodle ob 'em: Milty Rothman, Jack Speer, an' sum mo'. In de Volunteer State dere flock a swell bunch o' fans. Dere's Fred Fischer, de columnist; Art Sehnert of the Star; and Jim Tillman the 'rithmetic shark midst a whole little ob um. Oob in Flordi day's Hanson, an' others scattered thick as fleas all ober de South, but in Columbia, South Ca'lina is whar dey bite mostest. Why de biggest conglomeration ub fans you eber seed is dere. Fact is, Sissy says it's de Mecca ub Deep South fandom, whatever dem high-falootin' words is. De Columbia Camp, de Southern Star, an' one of de most doin'est pahts ub de Dixie Fantasy Federation, which am South-wide, all bides deah. De big bosses is Joe Gilbert, Lees Eastman, W. B. McQueen, an' Harry Jenkins, Jr. Dat bunch is jes' about de craziest peoples outside ub de 'sylum. But dey's friendly; d e y 's friendly. Dat dere jes' 'bout cubers de scene, but-uh, oh-heah cums mah wife, an' when dey's fiuh in her eye, an' work threatenin', I jes' leaves widout sayin' much. But you know doe, dat's jes' what's wrong wid de South. We's all too lazy. Dey's a heap o' fans, a heap ub um, but dey's too, too shiftless tuh becum active. But we's been stirred and ifen we don't go back tuh sleep, we'll jes' keep shufflin' 'long, till we's at de front. But har cums de wife agin, so long -gotta go hunt a watermellion patch. But you 'member de South, don't fuhget, 'membuh de South! ................................................................. WE'RE OFF FOR MARS by N. WILLMORTH We're off, we're off, we're off for Mars! Through a darkening sky atwirl with stars, On the rumbling rockets with a million jars, We're off! We're off! We're off for Mars! The earth, a globe of green, behind, The Moon, a slice of gold, ashine, And Mars, a glittering disk, afar, We're off! We're off! We're off for Mars! Through airless, weightless, stormy space, With driving thrust we fly apace, To desert lands with canals abar, We're off! We're off" we're off for Mars!
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