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Voice of the Imagination, whole no. 21, February 1942

Page 6

6      MID FEB 42
like work; and I can smell work from Chi to Frisco! Maybe this is a rare case of laziness, but—dammit!—try it and see if it isn't far more enjoyable
than meeting schedules, etc. Why does one publish a fanmag? To please himself is
a safe answer, so why try to please anyone else? It's a cinch that you'll receive
no compensation and very little comment, none of it being constructive or enheart-
ening.  

Why work to create a terrific fan club?" Joe sez it won't get nobody nottin. Local groups will go on like the Golden Gators, just a bunch of Joe's gabbin, & gobblin. "Nuts to World plans, great futures, rousing conferences, state-wide organizations; we loll in decadent ease and love it."   He does his bit, bringing in new moms for the NFFF, but really can't see a concrete purpose behind the thing.    Organized fans will be like a bunch of cattle with no place to go & only fan feuds to serve as a good slaughter house.

He highly compliments Moskowitz' "Escape to Nowhere" in Dec Sun Spots, salutes Yerke's pub for "The DENvention". 

"Y'know, any day that someone slaves and fools around with fandom; that day that one is a fool. No doubt about it. After all, failure to realize that this grand world all about us offers great things to grasp and struggle for is
catastrophic. And that failure can happen just as anything can happen. I know, for I neglected the real world far too long for this world of untrue, unsympathetic
fantastic fanaticism.   What's the thrill of a large mail when compared to meeting dozens of old friends and making new ones each and every day? What's the thrill of turning out a fanmag that gets heartless thanks when compared with the job you earn, the pay you get, the success you burn in stable, compound, and wonderful reality...that is closer tomorrow than that fantasy field? What's the thrill of pecking away at a hard metallic typewriter, sending a hacked up article on some fan drunk, when compared to meeting that girl, knowing her, loving her, well? Don't try to say that the former is closer to the future scheme of things than the latter. Or are you afraid to deal in reality?" Cranking out sloppy circulars to get some cranks to assemble cannot compare, sez Joe, with producing stories. But unless one knows them on equal footing, then this is more Amie McPherson or Father Peace (Divine?) or Wendell Wilkie or so on. 

Never get me wrong, when quitting stfandom, even for a strange semi-activity, one experiences a dreadful loss, a desire to bawl his heart out into the night's dead ears, and an impassionately long
moment of terrifying nostalgia. But that passes, though the memory lingers on. However, fandom gives each fan-each true fan of which I count myself one at odd times--something different, a new outlook, a better visualization, and such. And, oddly, fandom can only be torn away after tearing away a new, a likeable, part of
one's self. But enough of this., for it seems rather odd coming from fandom's most notorious drunk and quite infamously impetuous-outspoken fan.

But some fans get off to a bad start. The time they began to ban promags...See what I mean? I'm less fan than ever, but I read the promags more than most. And understand them far more than any avid reader. I can even argue with some of my old statements."

Wherewith he reverses opinions on FFM & FA, characterizing the former
as boring...slow...deathly quiet, awarding the palm to Palmer for perfect interest in his fantasy mag.  — But nothing is perfect, nor yet anything all-bad.
Anent Vom itself: "The cover was good at the top, but the dames were stinkers. The little gal might pass, but the old babe looks like one of the synthetic creations from Mars.    I hate to see Yerke's Damn Thing, fold for sure; I may have called it a stinker on occasion, but to see it take the real thing, the long drop— It
made VoM sick by comparison on this issue,  And I liked VoM.    Down with Fortier! How could we get along without a contents page? Down with 'im, but slip Leibscher below the balmy guy. We want a contents, but one with a new twist, a new slant, or
something a little lighter.    Y'know: change of scenery; one gets tired of the same
old twist, or the same old slant, or...    But Martin would call that pornographic, oh Lew? Next cover? Not Hoffman! no! no! gohd, no!"    Thought Widner's ideas good but'11 anything be done about 'em? Cheers for Bronson. 

Would like to meet Levy, who seems like a sincerely nice chap. Shouldn't be in fandom, tho, if can't take it,  'cause fans dish ruffly & expect no comments from anyone no matter how hard the blow.   Croutch another fellow Fortier'd like to meet, even tho they say he's full of conceit, in which he couldn't beat Joe in some respects sez Joe.
Didn't like Daugherty's back cover. 

Rereading today—Jan. 8—makes me wonder if this will brand me as a dope, a genius, or a madman. Or do I hear someone remarking; "He must be one of those crazy fans!"?

Jack Wiedenbeck
Another first timer, our New Yr artist of 115 Marjorie St, Battle Creek, Mich, takes us behind the drawing board for an anecdote in relation to the cover.    

"I finished the pic on Wednesday (so I thought) and on Friday Dec 5, took it with me to the Galactic Roamers meeting to obtain reactions. Doc Smith casually pointed out a collosal blunder that I'd made (have you noticed it?).  I intended to rectify it over
the weekend, but on Saturday I, absent-mindedly, fluttered over the edge of that elevator shaft, completely forgetting to switch on my Bergenholm.  I did a brodie fourteen feet down onto hard cement and as a result I'm now wearing a pretty pink plaster
corset that reaches from armpit to crotch.  (Morojo,  it's just too cunning, for words
—you ought to see it.) Also I'm sporting a nice plaster snillalie (sp?) on my left arm that makes me wish that I were within arms reach of that old sourpuss, Professor "Withepip" who so disgraced Vom's pages recently. 

I agree with you , 4E. No healthy minded male between the ages of 10 and 100 really cares very much for any
other form of art except nudes (pictorial or otherwise). Ask Walt Liebscher about that pair of nudes in pastel that I showed him a while back. I had thought some of
sending that pic to Jack Erman to add to his collection of pretties, but after the
dirty trick he pulled on Dave Elder in the last ish, I don't believe I will. In my opinion,  splitting an infinitive is a mere picadillpickle, but splitting a nude (Pic) is sheer sacrilege.  I know why you did it and your reasons are reasonable, but I still don't like it." (Have you heard about the fan artist who asked his Vomodel "If I told U U had a beautiful mouth, would U hold it against me?" Yes,  I kiss so.)

Saving...

6 MID FEB 42 like work; and I can smell work from Chi to Frisco! Maybe this is a rare case of laziness, but—dammit!—try it and see if it isn't far more enjoyable than meeting schedules, etc. Why does one publish a fanmag? To please himself is a safe answer, so why try to please anyone else? It's a cinch that you'll receive no compensation and very little comment, none of it being constructive or enheart- ening. Why work to create a terrific fan club?" Joe sez it won't get nobody nottin. Local groups will go on like the Golden Gators, just a bunch of Joe's gabbin, & gobblin. "Nuts to World plans, great futures, rousing conferences, state-wide organizations; we loll in decadent ease and love it." He does his bit, bringing in new moms for the NFFF, but really can't see a concrete purpose behind the thing. Organized fans will be like a bunch of cattle with no place to go & only fan feuds to serve as a good slaughter house. He highly compliments Moskowitz' "Escape to Nowhere" in Dec Sun Spots, salutes Yerke's pub for "The DENvention". "Y'know, any day that someone slaves and fools around with fandom; that day that one is a fool. No doubt about it. After all, failure to realize that this grand world all about us offers great things to grasp and struggle for is catastrophic. And that failure can happen just as anything can happen. I know, for I neglected the real world far too long for this world of untrue, unsympathetic fantastic fanaticism. What's the thrill of a large mail when compared to meeting dozens of old friends and making new ones each and every day? What's the thrill of turning out a fanmag that gets heartless thanks when compared with the job you earn, the pay you get, the success you burn in stable, compound, and wonderful reality...that is closer tomorrow than that fantasy field? What's the thrill of pecking away at a hard metallic typewriter, sending a hacked up article on some fan drunk, when compared to meeting that girl, knowing her, loving her, well? Don't try to say that the former is closer to the future scheme of things than the latter. Or are you afraid to deal in reality?" Cranking out sloppy circulars to get some cranks to assemble cannot compare, sez Joe, with producing stories. But unless one knows them on equal footing, then this is more Amie McPherson or Father Peace (Divine?) or Wendell Wilkie or so on. Never get me wrong, when quitting stfandom, even for a strange semi-activity, one experiences a dreadful loss, a desire to bawl his heart out into the night's dead ears, and an impassionately long moment of terrifying nostalgia. But that passes, though the memory lingers on. However, fandom gives each fan-each true fan of which I count myself one at odd times--something different, a new outlook, a better visualization, and such. And, oddly, fandom can only be torn away after tearing away a new, a likeable, part of one's self. But enough of this., for it seems rather odd coming from fandom's most notorious drunk and quite infamously impetuous-outspoken fan. But some fans get off to a bad start. The time they began to ban promags...See what I mean? I'm less fan than ever, but I read the promags more than most. And understand them far more than any avid reader. I can even argue with some of my old statements." Wherewith he reverses opinions on FFM & FA, characterizing the former as boring...slow...deathly quiet, awarding the palm to Palmer for perfect interest in his fantasy mag. — But nothing is perfect, nor yet anything all-bad. Anent Vom itself: "The cover was good at the top, but the dames were stinkers. The little gal might pass, but the old babe looks like one of the synthetic creations from Mars. I hate to see Yerke's Damn Thing, fold for sure; I may have called it a stinker on occasion, but to see it take the real thing, the long drop— It made VoM sick by comparison on this issue, And I liked VoM. Down with Fortier! How could we get along without a contents page? Down with 'im, but slip Leibscher below the balmy guy. We want a contents, but one with a new twist, a new slant, or something a little lighter. Y'know: change of scenery; one gets tired of the same old twist, or the same old slant, or... But Martin would call that pornographic, oh Lew? Next cover? Not Hoffman! no! no! gohd, no!" Thought Widner's ideas good but'11 anything be done about 'em? Cheers for Bronson. Would like to meet Levy, who seems like a sincerely nice chap. Shouldn't be in fandom, tho, if can't take it, 'cause fans dish ruffly & expect no comments from anyone no matter how hard the blow. Croutch another fellow Fortier'd like to meet, even tho they say he's full of conceit, in which he couldn't beat Joe in some respects sez Joe. Didn't like Daugherty's back cover. Rereading today—Jan. 8—makes me wonder if this will brand me as a dope, a genius, or a madman. Or do I hear someone remarking; "He must be one of those crazy fans!"? Jack Wiedenbeck Another first timer, our New Yr artist of 115 Marjorie St, Battle Creek, Mich, takes us behind the drawing board for an anecdote in relation to the cover. "I finished the pic on Wednesday (so I thought) and on Friday Dec 5, took it with me to the Galactic Roamers meeting to obtain reactions. Doc Smith casually pointed out a collosal blunder that I'd made (have you noticed it?). I intended to rectify it over the weekend, but on Saturday I, absent-mindedly, fluttered over the edge of that elevator shaft, completely forgetting to switch on my Bergenholm. I did a brodie fourteen feet down onto hard cement and as a result I'm now wearing a pretty pink plaster corset that reaches from armpit to crotch. (Morojo, it's just too cunning, for words —you ought to see it.) Also I'm sporting a nice plaster snillalie (sp?) on my left arm that makes me wish that I were within arms reach of that old sourpuss, Professor "Withepip" who so disgraced Vom's pages recently. I agree with you , 4E. No healthy minded male between the ages of 10 and 100 really cares very much for any other form of art except nudes (pictorial or otherwise). Ask Walt Liebscher about that pair of nudes in pastel that I showed him a while back. I had thought some of sending that pic to Jack Erman to add to his collection of pretties, but after the dirty trick he pulled on Dave Elder in the last ish, I don't believe I will. In my opinion, splitting an infinitive is a mere picadillpickle, but splitting a nude (Pic) is sheer sacrilege. I know why you did it and your reasons are reasonable, but I still don't like it." (Have you heard about the fan artist who asked his Vomodel "If I told U U had a beautiful mouth, would U hold it against me?" Yes, I kiss so.)