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Horizons, v. 5, issue 3, whole no. 19, June 1944
Page 11
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On Dit This is so help, a true and accurate account of what happened when a Canadian fan set out to visit Astounding author Vic Phillips. It is slightly expurgated in spots, I don't mention the fan's name because I've neglected to ask permission to publish it from its original place in an extremely letter to me (and after what I said on fan ethics!) and because I want to get this issue of Horizons finished inside of 12 pages, the account is considerably abridged. "I told you that I would narrate the story of my meeting with Vic Phillips" the account begins. "To begin with, I shall give the causes of and things leading up to this meeting. Peck had seen a small picture of Phillips in Mechanics Illustrated and a brief article with it telling about a canoe or something that he had made. The article mentioned that he lived in North Vancouver. This fact naturally interested Gord especially as Croutch was throwing it down our throats that he had met A.E. Van Vogt. Thus when Gord came down to Vancouver for a holiday he got a Directory and looked up the name. He found that he lived on a street called the Terrace of which neither of us had heard. After a great deal of debating we decided that we'd devote a Sunday to seeking out this great man. North Vancouver is a twenty minutes' ferry ride from downtown Vancouver. When we arrived at the other side of the inlet we had to decide just where to go. Thus we pestered the street car conductors with questions about The Terrace. None of them knew of it. Finally we asked an old gent and he in turn asked us whom we wished to see. We had no sooner mentioned his name than he replied, 'Oh sue I know the family. Don't know that trail was called the Terrace though. Get a Capilano car.' Feeling like a couple of New Yorkers in Pumpkin Centre we followed his instructions. By an odd coincidence the conductor of the Capilano car we boarded had heard of the street and actually knew where we should get off in order to reach it. Away we went through thick jungles, through dark mountain passes, over shaky treastles beneath which thundered mighty torrents. Finally signs of civilization appeared and the conductor shouted, 'Okay, you young fellars. Git off hyar and go up thar a ways.' He shifted the piece of straw in his mouth and looked at us with his most rustic grin. We alighted and the vehicle rushed on. We proceeded up the road he had pointed out to use until we came to a cross-roads. We decided on the right division but when it become no more than a path and finally terminated in nothing at all we decided that we had been wrong. On all sides we could hear the sounds of wild beast o hastily retraced our steps. Finally through enquiring of various hermits we found along the way we came to the Terrace--at least what we judged to be the Terrace--no sign proclaimed the fact. There were houses along the way though and posts in front of them giving their addresses. When finally we came to Vic's home we discovered nothing but the fact that within was a large dog. On the purch was a scribble note reading 'No Milk To-day'. We gazed entranced upon this thinking that it might possibly be one of His literary efforts. Strolling around the spacious grounds we came to a small building overlooking a canyon in which there was a bed, a radio and a shelf full of Ast. Thrilling Wonder and many other such magazines. We saw all this through the large window of the building. We decided that we would go for a swim in the Capilano River which we knew was somewhere around the district and come back later. The trip to the river was quite a long one and the hike down to its surface exceedingly tedious. We found a truly beautiful spot and were not long in sampling the water. There was a large rock from which we made devious types of dives -- some successful, some otherwise. After a few hours we were disturbed by the arrival nearby of two women. One of these had with her a small baby. This didn't stop us however and we prepared to make violent love to them. We were rather disillusioned when one of them shattered the tranquility of the scene with, 'Aw, beat it.' I remarked socially that we had no intention of beating it and though we might get along very well together. She apparently thought otherwise for she remarked that we had no right be there and that she lived there. Gordon suggested that she might be a river nymph but the language that thereupon issued
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On Dit This is so help, a true and accurate account of what happened when a Canadian fan set out to visit Astounding author Vic Phillips. It is slightly expurgated in spots, I don't mention the fan's name because I've neglected to ask permission to publish it from its original place in an extremely letter to me (and after what I said on fan ethics!) and because I want to get this issue of Horizons finished inside of 12 pages, the account is considerably abridged. "I told you that I would narrate the story of my meeting with Vic Phillips" the account begins. "To begin with, I shall give the causes of and things leading up to this meeting. Peck had seen a small picture of Phillips in Mechanics Illustrated and a brief article with it telling about a canoe or something that he had made. The article mentioned that he lived in North Vancouver. This fact naturally interested Gord especially as Croutch was throwing it down our throats that he had met A.E. Van Vogt. Thus when Gord came down to Vancouver for a holiday he got a Directory and looked up the name. He found that he lived on a street called the Terrace of which neither of us had heard. After a great deal of debating we decided that we'd devote a Sunday to seeking out this great man. North Vancouver is a twenty minutes' ferry ride from downtown Vancouver. When we arrived at the other side of the inlet we had to decide just where to go. Thus we pestered the street car conductors with questions about The Terrace. None of them knew of it. Finally we asked an old gent and he in turn asked us whom we wished to see. We had no sooner mentioned his name than he replied, 'Oh sue I know the family. Don't know that trail was called the Terrace though. Get a Capilano car.' Feeling like a couple of New Yorkers in Pumpkin Centre we followed his instructions. By an odd coincidence the conductor of the Capilano car we boarded had heard of the street and actually knew where we should get off in order to reach it. Away we went through thick jungles, through dark mountain passes, over shaky treastles beneath which thundered mighty torrents. Finally signs of civilization appeared and the conductor shouted, 'Okay, you young fellars. Git off hyar and go up thar a ways.' He shifted the piece of straw in his mouth and looked at us with his most rustic grin. We alighted and the vehicle rushed on. We proceeded up the road he had pointed out to use until we came to a cross-roads. We decided on the right division but when it become no more than a path and finally terminated in nothing at all we decided that we had been wrong. On all sides we could hear the sounds of wild beast o hastily retraced our steps. Finally through enquiring of various hermits we found along the way we came to the Terrace--at least what we judged to be the Terrace--no sign proclaimed the fact. There were houses along the way though and posts in front of them giving their addresses. When finally we came to Vic's home we discovered nothing but the fact that within was a large dog. On the purch was a scribble note reading 'No Milk To-day'. We gazed entranced upon this thinking that it might possibly be one of His literary efforts. Strolling around the spacious grounds we came to a small building overlooking a canyon in which there was a bed, a radio and a shelf full of Ast. Thrilling Wonder and many other such magazines. We saw all this through the large window of the building. We decided that we would go for a swim in the Capilano River which we knew was somewhere around the district and come back later. The trip to the river was quite a long one and the hike down to its surface exceedingly tedious. We found a truly beautiful spot and were not long in sampling the water. There was a large rock from which we made devious types of dives -- some successful, some otherwise. After a few hours we were disturbed by the arrival nearby of two women. One of these had with her a small baby. This didn't stop us however and we prepared to make violent love to them. We were rather disillusioned when one of them shattered the tranquility of the scene with, 'Aw, beat it.' I remarked socially that we had no intention of beating it and though we might get along very well together. She apparently thought otherwise for she remarked that we had no right be there and that she lived there. Gordon suggested that she might be a river nymph but the language that thereupon issued
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