Transcribe
Translate
Fantascience Digest, v. 2, issue 1, Novermber-December 1938
Page 4
More information
digital collection
archival collection guide
transcription tips
Page 4 FANTASCIENCE DIGEST THE ROAD BACK By Sam Moskowitz Vacation! Ah, vacation! Two whole months of it? A year? A furlough? After all those years of sweating at his swivel-chaired office, they were going to give him a vacation. Not one of those two week affairs, but what they termed a "Temporary furlough"-- with pay. And boy, he certainly deserved it. Why after those last two contracts he'd landed with those foreign firms, the company could afford to give him a ten year vacation with pay and still call it a bargain. Now all that remained to be done was to find something of interest to keep his mind occupied. "Gosh, that should be simple"; good old science fiction. He'd dropped out a number of years back; hadn't much time to ready any because of the overwhelming amount of work, but now he could make up for lost time. "Why," he chuckled, "I know what I'll do. I'll publish a fan magazine. A real ritzy affair. I'll contact those fan [sic] I used to know. Gosh! They'll certainly get a kick out of this sort of thing now that I've got money, plenty of money to put into the venture." Many people gazed askance as the usually dependable Bill Adams let out a miniature war-whopp [sic], and galloped down the street to the nearest news-stand. For a solid week Bill read his fill of all the science-fiction he could obtain. Bleary eyed, but immensely happy now that he was back in his old element, he felt an intense urge to contact those spunky little fan magazines, that had, as he remembered, battled as heroically against all the obstacles that a civilized world could devise, and yet emerged better than ever to gain their end by their overwhelming numbers, if not individual influence. That old trunk up in the attic still contained hundreds of those amateur attempts that he had dabbled with years back, and he might make a Roman Holiday of it by subscribing to all of them. He wouldn't send just a subscription, he send [sic] a long letter to each of the fan editors announcing his return to science fiction, and his desire to trun [sic] out a new fan mag deluxe. They'd eat it up. No sooner said than done. With tremendous four-steps-at-a-stride leaps, Bill reached the attic in one-quarter of a minute flat. Without waiting to regain his breath he leaped at the old trunk, almost ripping off the cover in his enthusiasm. Various keep-sakes, antiques flew like wind-scattered snow as frantically digging, he uncovered the top fan magazine. He almost tore it in two as he ripped it enthusiastically out of the trunk, Just a glance at the title, The Comet, and he placed it aside to pull up a batch of Fantasy Fans. In immediate order followed complete sets of Fantasy Magazine, Scient [sic] fiction and Tomorrow, Marvel Tales, and then his wild joy was choked momentarily in his throat by a brief, nostalgic feeling, as he, almost tenderly, drew yp [sic] his own, inimitable "Science-Fantasy Fandom." It had run 18 issues, starting with a first twelve paged hektographed format and ending in a monthly, twenty-four paged mimeographed periodical. Gosh, even if he admitted it himself, it was one darned good fan magazine. That night, after he had reread about fifty of the yellowed publications from cover to cover, he retired
Saving...
prev
next
Page 4 FANTASCIENCE DIGEST THE ROAD BACK By Sam Moskowitz Vacation! Ah, vacation! Two whole months of it? A year? A furlough? After all those years of sweating at his swivel-chaired office, they were going to give him a vacation. Not one of those two week affairs, but what they termed a "Temporary furlough"-- with pay. And boy, he certainly deserved it. Why after those last two contracts he'd landed with those foreign firms, the company could afford to give him a ten year vacation with pay and still call it a bargain. Now all that remained to be done was to find something of interest to keep his mind occupied. "Gosh, that should be simple"; good old science fiction. He'd dropped out a number of years back; hadn't much time to ready any because of the overwhelming amount of work, but now he could make up for lost time. "Why," he chuckled, "I know what I'll do. I'll publish a fan magazine. A real ritzy affair. I'll contact those fan [sic] I used to know. Gosh! They'll certainly get a kick out of this sort of thing now that I've got money, plenty of money to put into the venture." Many people gazed askance as the usually dependable Bill Adams let out a miniature war-whopp [sic], and galloped down the street to the nearest news-stand. For a solid week Bill read his fill of all the science-fiction he could obtain. Bleary eyed, but immensely happy now that he was back in his old element, he felt an intense urge to contact those spunky little fan magazines, that had, as he remembered, battled as heroically against all the obstacles that a civilized world could devise, and yet emerged better than ever to gain their end by their overwhelming numbers, if not individual influence. That old trunk up in the attic still contained hundreds of those amateur attempts that he had dabbled with years back, and he might make a Roman Holiday of it by subscribing to all of them. He wouldn't send just a subscription, he send [sic] a long letter to each of the fan editors announcing his return to science fiction, and his desire to trun [sic] out a new fan mag deluxe. They'd eat it up. No sooner said than done. With tremendous four-steps-at-a-stride leaps, Bill reached the attic in one-quarter of a minute flat. Without waiting to regain his breath he leaped at the old trunk, almost ripping off the cover in his enthusiasm. Various keep-sakes, antiques flew like wind-scattered snow as frantically digging, he uncovered the top fan magazine. He almost tore it in two as he ripped it enthusiastically out of the trunk, Just a glance at the title, The Comet, and he placed it aside to pull up a batch of Fantasy Fans. In immediate order followed complete sets of Fantasy Magazine, Scient [sic] fiction and Tomorrow, Marvel Tales, and then his wild joy was choked momentarily in his throat by a brief, nostalgic feeling, as he, almost tenderly, drew yp [sic] his own, inimitable "Science-Fantasy Fandom." It had run 18 issues, starting with a first twelve paged hektographed format and ending in a monthly, twenty-four paged mimeographed periodical. Gosh, even if he admitted it himself, it was one darned good fan magazine. That night, after he had reread about fifty of the yellowed publications from cover to cover, he retired
Hevelin Fanzines
sidebar
