Category Archives: In Passing

Nila Thompson Passes Away

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Nila Thompson (1954-2016), St. Louis club and con fan, Anglophile, who came in to fandom via Star Trek and met her husband David K. M. Klaus at a Trek club meeting.  Partially fafiated to raise to adulthood two of the Next Generation of fen, but never lost her love for sf/fantasy, written or screened, esp. any with a British theme.  Died on December 10 of ovarian cancer, body buried in a deliberately natural fashion so that it can nourish the future.  She was 62.

[Thanks to David K.M. Klaus for the story.]

Richard Adams (1920-2016) Made Me Want To Write

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watership-down

By Ursula Vernon: There’s an origin story for fandom that goes like this—“I was a precocious reader and I was tired of the kid books and one day I picked up X and that changed my life and I never looked back.” This isn’t true for everybody, but it’s a common enough origin that it’s nearly a cliché. There I was and I got bit by radioactive speculative fiction.

The value of X changes in this story from person to person. Heinlein juveniles and Asimov and Lord of the Rings are popular. But for a good number of us, that book was Watership Down.

Richard Adams, the author, passed away peacefully on Christmas Eve. He was 96.

“It was the book that made me want to write,” I said into the phone, wiping my eyes. I never cry on the phone and the fact that I was now doing so infuriated me enough that I stopped. “It was the book that made me write fan-fic for the first time.”

“Me too,” sighed the author on the other end of the line. “That was me, too.”

I was nine years old and I read this story about rabbits and at the end, the book couldn’t be over. It had mattered too much. I knew, as nine-year-olds do, that things that mattered that much weren’t allowed to just end. There had to be more, and if there wasn’t, I would make there be more. I had no idea what fan-fic was, I had no idea it was even a thing, I just sat in front of the Notepad program on my Amiga 500 and began to savagely hunt and peck because it was important.

Richard Adams was 52 when he wrote Watership Down. He’d been telling a story to his daughters in the car, and they asked him to write it down. He would say later that some of the characters in the story, notably Hazel and Bigwig, were based on soldiers he served with in World War II.

Mention Watership Down now, and there’s about a fifty percent chance the person you’re talking to will say “That movie scared the crap out of me!” The animated version is legendary now, perhaps because adults of the time assumed a cartoon about bunnies would be great viewing for children and did not realize how lovingly animated the blood pouring from General Woundwort’s jaws would be. (I watched the movie approximately eleven thousand times as a child, and clearly was not among the ranks of the traumatized, although my grandmother, who had to rent it for me, definitely was.)

Adams wrote several other books—Shardik, Maia, and The Plague Dogs, (which even George R.R. Martin described as a gut punch of a book, and which I could not finish because it was flaying my heart open) but Watership Down is what people remember. It was straightforward, almost brutally simple, and the characters felt like animals, not like little humans in fur coats. It was never cute.

Write a book with talking animals in it these days and you can expect to be compared to Richard Adams. (Trust me on this one.) Very very few of us measure up, of course. That’s okay. If we had to meet those standards, we wouldn’t get very far. As a children’s book author, I’ve often tried to explain to assemblies of kids that we didn’t used to have all these books with talking animals—we had Watership Down and we liked it.* (Also, it was uphill in the snow to the library. Both ways. And you had to kill wolves with your library card.) They gaze at me with the polite pity of children who have grown up surrounded by books with talking animals, knowing that I am from some unimaginably ancient era, before the internet or the discovery of fire.

I suspect that the vast majority of authors of those books were once like me—nine years old, maybe, with Hazel and Fiver and Bigwig and Blackberry newly etched on their hearts, determined that the story would not end here.

I live on Twitter these days, which is either a great personal failing or just the way of the world, and I watched it fill up with remembrances, from authors of bestsellers and authors of small niche works and readers of both, from comic creators and artists and fans. From all of us who, to this day, remember every word of Lapine, who know what El-ahrairah’s name means and why his ears glow like starlight.

The story will go on.

*Okay, we also had Bambi, and if you read the book by Felix Salten, the death of Bambi’s mother is possibly the least traumatic part of it. I choose not to mention this to third-graders.

Carrie Fisher (1956-2016)

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Princess Leia from Star Wars reel shown at SDCC 2015.

Princess Leia from Star Wars reel shown at SDCC 2015.

Actress Carrie Fisher died December 27, four days after going into cardiac arrest on an LA-bound airline flight.

In addition to the original Star Wars trilogy, and last year’s The Force Awakens, Fisher starred in such movies as The Blues Brothers, Under the Rainbow, Hannah and Her Sisters, and Amazon Women on the Moon.

She was also an accomplished writer, the author of best-selling books Postcards from the Edge, Surrender the Pink and Delusions of Grandma, and a script doctor who made uncredited contributions to numerous Hollywood films like The Wedding Singer, Hook and Sister Act.

https://twitter.com/noodlerella/status/813824832987103232

Kate of Kate Hall, praised in every town

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Kate Yule. Photo by Janna Silverstein.

Kate Yule. Photo by Janna Silverstein.

by John Hertz: (reprinted from Vanamonde 1227)

Take this of me, Kate of my consolation,
thy virtues spoke of, yet not so deeply as to thee belongs.

There was of course no question of “taming” her, nor was she in any way – I don’t even want to say it.  Nor for that matter do I believe Shakespeare thought so of women; the play is Sly’s dream, and Shakespeare as ever – see Love’s Labors Lost – the all-too-true satirist of male folly.

David Levine was her husband for 25 years.  I can’t speak for him; nor should I; nor shall I.  Nor do I measure myself with him.  He knew her more in every way.  I only speak for myself.

The consolation is that I ever knew Kate Yule at all (1961-2016).  How many people I meet or see or guess traces of who are less than she – or of whom I think no better for lack of knowing them!

And in this universe ends are also, like it or not, beginnings; and if the morning brings me grief, if I feel the sunshine puts me in my rotting place, there is glory in growing.

Can I speak to her?  Go ahead, tell me about apostrophes.

And wherever she was, whatever else it was, that was Kate Hall.

I mustn’t omit Mad magazine’s putting on a cover that 1961 was the first upside-down year since 1881, the last until 6009.

She was a faithful correspondent of my fanzine Vanamonde.  From her letters:

  • “Yes yes to … naming the LASFS [L.A. S-F Society] restrooms Disposed and Communicado [Phil Castora’s suggestion]….  I will fight for the honor of the misused apostrophe.”
  • “Do you think cows are presented with meadows neatly sorted?”
  • “I read the tamburitza as being from the Pandemonium region of SE Europe.”
  • “I commend to you A Fez of the Heart: Travels Around Turkey in Search of a Hat by Jeremy Seal.”
  • “German can use the subjunctive to indicate support for a cited statement – neutrality – or a strong desire to hold it at arm’s length and downwind.”
  • “You, age 10, performing magic tricks for an audience…. is as intriguing an image as Woodrow Wilson cracking up at Will Rogers’ jokes.”

She and her husband published the small but perfectly formed fanzine Bento.  A few years ago I sent

“Both” say each of them
Engaging in much bothing,
Not uncaringly
Touching, trying, exploring,
Omnivoracious and neat.

Here’s an adventure from 2002 – last palindromic year until 2112 (reprinted from Vanamonde 484).

     David Levine was in town for a Writers of the Future writing workshop; Kate Yule came along, both I believe attending the annual Writers and Illustrators awards ceremony.

On Thursday night I reached the LASFS Clubhouse just before they left.  On Wednesday morning I met Yule for dim sum at the Empress Pavilion, took her through the main public library down town with its headless pillars four stories deep and its elevators lined with catalogue cards, and since Cathy Cupitt had, we lunched at the Oaxaqueño restaurant Guelaguetza.  On Friday, Simon Rodía’s Watts Towers, which I’d never visited, then Al Gelato in Beverly Hills.

In a museum at the Towers was Glass Lace, an artform of mirror-chip pictures, by Judson Powell; there also live folk instruments collected by Dr. & Mrs. Joseph Howard.

Rodía built the three Towers, and a gazebo with a 38-foot spire, and a Ship of Marco Polo with a 28’ spire, evenings and weekends over 34 years until 1954, when he was 75 years old; then he went away, giving all to a neighbor, and never returned.  Three weeks after his death in 1965 the Watts Riots left his work untouched.

The Towers are 55’, 97’10”, and 99’6” high, with 5,000 joints among 150 horizontal bands, 50 external vertical columns, and large external loops.

After the 1994 earthquake, a restoration crew needed eight years because only a few workers at a time could use the scaffolding; Rodía used none, nor bolts, rivets, welds, a drawing board; he made these soaring, interlacing, mosaic things with pipe-fitter pliers, a window-washer’s belt, scrap metal bent by hand, wire and steel-mesh wrapping, mortar, glass green from 7-Up bottles and blue from Phillips Milk of Magnesia, tiles, sea shells, ceramic shards, designs hand-drawn or pressed in, and sly jokes, like a shape odd from the ground which you could see was a horse-head from thirty feet up its Tower, and exactly one bottle cap.

Yule thought of Gaudí.

At her death – it was National Poetry Day in the United Kingdom, but that wasn’t my fault – I sent

Know – what?  Who we are?
Ardent looking not sated, stopped,
Thoughts, acts, to join or team ready,
Ending now?  Only the flesh is dropped.

                                          

Both poems are acrostic.  The first is in 5-7-5-7-7-syllable form, like Japanese tanka.  The second is roughly like Chinese Regulated Verse: for the scansion, I try sentence-stress instead of the First Tone (Chinese has no sentence-stress), and ignore insubstantial words (omitted in literary Chinese); below, / marks the caesura, R the rhyme.

– – / – x x
x x / x – – R
x x / – – x
– – / x x – R

Binker Hughes (1946-2016)

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Elizabeth Mabel Binker Glock Hughes, Ph.D., died June 28 of cancer. The death of the long-time member of the Southern Fandom Press Alliance (SFPA) was just recently learned by her friends in fandom.

Guy H. Lillian III recalls, “Binker joined SFPA the same mailing as I did — #39, January 1971. She and her husband Steve were able Emergency Officers during a terrible crisis several years later and ran a fine DeepSouthCon in 1976.  She was always great company and a great friend. Rose-Marie and I send our best to her family, and I am saddened beyond description at her loss.”

Binker Hughes lived most of her life near Atlanta, GA, was married to Steve Hughes for 20 years and divorced in 1991. They ran two DeepSouthCons, in 1972 and 1976, the latter co-chaired with Ned Brooks.

Binker, Steve Hughes, and Ned Brooks at the 1976 DeepSouthCon.

Binker, Steve Hughes, and Ned Brooks at the 1976 DeepSouthCon.

The family obituary lists her many interests.

A freelance writer, she wrote for many commercial clients and online magazines; leaving a body of unpublished fiction work. She loved music, speleology, taekwondo, travel, science fiction and particularly St. James Anglican Church in Sandy Springs, GA.

[Thanks to Guy H. Lillian III for the story.]

Fritz Weaver (1926-2016)

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Fritz Weaver in an episode of The Twilight Zone

Fritz Weaver in an episode of The Twilight Zone

By Steve Green: Fritz Weaver (1926-2016): American actor, died 26 November, aged 90. Genre appearances include The Twilight Zone (“Third from the Sun”, 1960; “The Obsolete Man”, 1961; “The Star”, 1985), The Man from U.N.C.L.E. (“The Vulcan Affair”, 1964), The Invaders (“The Captive”, 1967), Night Gallery (“A Question of Fear”, 1971), Demon Seed (1977), Wonder Woman (“The Return of Wonder Woman”, 1977), The Martian Chronicles (“The Settlers”, 1980), Jaws of Satan (1981), Creepshow (1982), Tales from the Darkside (“Inside the Closet”, 1984; “Comet Watch”, 1986), Friday the 13th: The Series (“The Prophecies, parts 1 & 2”, 1989), Monsters (“Jar”, 1989), Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (“Tribunal”, 1994), The X-Files (“Tunguska” and “Terma”, both 1996), The Cobbler (2014).

Ron Glass (1945-2016)

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By Steve Green: Ron Glass, American actor and director, died November 25, aged 71. Genre appearances include The Twilight Zone (“I of Newton,” 1985), Deep Space (1988), Teen Angel (17 episodes as God’s cousin Rod, 1997-98), Star Trek: Voyager (“Nightingale,” 2000), Firefly (14 episodes as Book, 2002-03) and its spin-off movie Serenity (2005), Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (two episodes, 2013-14).

The Variety obituary adds these details:

In 1975 Glass found his breakout role in “Barney Miller,” set in an NYPD station. His character was a dapper and ambitious intellectual, obsessed with launching his career as a writer. The role earned Glass a Primetime Emmy nomination in 1982 in the supporting actor category.

After “Barney Miller,” Glass would go on to star in 18 episodes of the 1982 “The Odd Couple” remake “The New Odd Couple” as well as making guest appearances on “The Twilight Zone,” “Family Matters” and “Murder, She Wrote,” among other shows. In the late 1999 he appeared on two episodes of “Friends” Ross Geller’s divorce lawyer, Russell.

In 2002 Glass joined Joss Whedon’s cult favorite “Firefly,” playing a spiritual figure with a mysterious past. Glass would also reprise the role in the 2005 movie “Serenity.”

Glass was still a regular face on American television as recently as 2014 when he appeared in an episode of “CSI.” That same year he appeared in “Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.” as Dr. Streiten.

Remembering Ron 

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Editor’s note: I’m reprinting this tribute to famed British sf fan Ron Bennett to mark the tenth anniversary of his passing.

By Rich Lynch: I remember that I read the news of his death in the November 2006 issue of the newszine Ansible:

Ron Bennett (1933-2006), long-time UK fan who was the 1958 TAFF delegate and edited the classic sf newsletter Skyrack (1959-1971), died on 5 November soon after being diagnosed with leukemia. He was 73.

The life and death of one of the most important and notable British science fiction fans, reduced down to just a few lines of text.  That I hadn’t even known he was ill made it all the more disheartening to read.  I feel very fortunate that I became friends with Ron Bennett, and regretful that it happened only in the last decade-and-a-half of his life.  It started with correspondence, back in 1991, when I was editing the manuscript that became Harry Warner’s fanhistory of the 1950s, A Wealth of Fable (SCIFI Press, 1992).  Ron appears in several places in the book, and I had contacted him to clarify something that in the end turned out to be nothing more than a typographical error.  But that got him on the mailing list for Mimosa, the fanzine that I co-edited (with my wife Nicki) that specialized in the preservation of the history of science fiction fandom, which eventually led to our first face-to-face meeting in Glasgow at ‘Intersection’, the 1995 Worldcon.

By then I had learned a lot more about Ron’s activities in that 1950s Golden Age.  He had published two focal-point fanzines – the newszine Skyrack and also a more general interest fanzine, PLOY, which lived up to the name by beginning its run with issue #2 to make readers believe they had missed the first one (there was even a letters column with comments from a few friends in the know, who heaped praise on the fictional first issue).  He was also described as a key player in the unraveling of one of the greatest hoaxes ever perpetrated in science fiction fandom – the celebrated Joan W. Carr, who was ultra-active in British fandom for about four years during the mid-1950s but didn’t actually exist.

Ron Bennett playing Brag at Repetercon in 1964. Photo by Dave Barber.

Ron Bennett playing Brag at Repetercon in 1964. Photo by Dave Barber.

Ron himself was also ultra-active in British fandom during the 1950s and into the 1960s, and his fanac diminished only after temporarily relocating to Singapore in 1967 for employment as a teacher of the children of British army personnel stationed there.  By the time I finally met Ron, in the Dealers Room at Intersection, I had become familiar enough with his personal fanhistory that when we were chatting about the circumstances surrounding his move to Singapore, he was so impressed by the breadth of my knowledge that he asked me in jest if I also knew the airline and flight number he had booked!

It was two years later that Ron started contributing what became a series of nine entertaining and illuminating articles for Mimosa, the first being an account of his time in Singapore and how (in that era of the Cold War) he once had to ward off the overtures from a Russian spy.  Following that, Ron wrote short, amusing, anecdotal histories of PLOY and Skyrack, and also a thoughtful and warm remembrance of another of British fandom’s most prominent members, Vin¢ Clarke.  But it was Ron’s article about the four Kettering Eastercons of the mid-1950s that provided more information about the “Joan Carr” hoax and in doing so contradicted the general belief that he had been the person who had outed the hoax – it was true that he had been inadvertently tipped off by another fan who was in on the ruse, but that had been the entire extent of his involvement.

Ron Bennett and Nicki Lynch in 2002.

Ron Bennett and Nicki Lynch in 2002.

Ron’s last article for Mimosa, which appeared in the final issue of the run, described the first Worldcon that he ever attended, the fabulous 1957 Loncon.  This was the first time a Worldcon had been held in Europe, and with its compact size (which allowed everybody to meet everybody else) and unprecedented international nature, arguably it was the most important science fiction convention that has ever been staged.  Ron attended several other Worldcons, including the very next one in California where he was the Trans Atlantic Fan Fund delegate, but the only other time where we crossed paths at a Worldcon was in 2002 at San Jose.  It was totally unexpected and happened on the very last day of the convention.  He was in the States to visit his son, who was editing a Silicon Valley-based computer trade journal of some kind, and just showed up unannounced.  The only reason Nicki and I found him at all was because of a chance remark I overheard from someone who’d sold him a book in the Dealers Room.

That was the last time I ever saw him.  I had thought we’d meet again at the 2005 Worldcon in Glasgow, and had even requested a program item from the convention committee where I could interview him to see what other bits of knowledge we could glean about the 1950s and 1960s.  But for whatever reason, Ron didn’t attend and with a travel schedule that had been “carved in stone” I really couldn’t go and seek him out.  But if I’d known he only had a bit more than a year left, I would have tried a lot harder.

With all of his years of fan activity and involvement in the storied events of decades past, I’d always thought that Ron Bennett would have been an ideal candidate for a Worldcon Guest of Honor.  I do believe it would eventually have happened, but time ran out on him.  All of what’s left are the memories and recollections from people who had been fortunate enough to have known him.  These have been some of mine.

Norman F. Stanley (1916-2016)

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Norman F. Stanley, circa 1970s.

Norman F. Stanley, circa 1970s.

By Jon D. Swartz and John L. Coker III: Born in May 1916, Norm Stanley was a science fiction (SF) fan from Maine who was very active in fandom in the 1940s.  He was a member of the famous Stranger Club, and was one of the club members who attended Noreascon 3 as a Fan Guest of Honor.

Norm was also tangentially involved in the Skowhegan Junior Astronomical and Rocket Society, the kind of fan club that combined both science and SF activities and was common in this country in the 1930s and 1940s.  He was generous with his fellow club members, and  let them borrow from his seventy bound-volumes of SF prozines.

He attended early conventions such as Philcon, as well as some of the early Boskones.  He also participated in Mainecon Jr, a “conference” in the language of the times, in 1943, with his friend Jim Avery and the visiting Claude Degler.  He gave Degler some fanzines, and got along well with him.  This generosity of his, plus the “conference” they had had with Avery, apparently qualified him to be a member of Degler’s legendary Cosmic Circle.  Norm was still active in fan matters in the late 1940s, and attended the 1948 Torcon where he participated in a roundtable discussion on the probable date of the arrival of interplanetary travel.

Norm’s major fanzine was Fan-Tods, which ran for nineteen issues.  He also published Beyond with Roscoe E. Wright.  Fan-Tods was a SF fanzine that was subtitled “The Magazine for the Tod Fan.”  It appeared in the 1940s-1950s, and was edited and published by Norm from his home in Rockland, Maine.  This fanzine was mimeographed using blue ink.  Issue #1 appeared in December, 1942; with #2 appearing in Spring, 1943; #7 in Summer, 1944; and then following a regular quarterly schedule until issue #18 in 1949 — after which there was a three-year break; and then Issue #19 was published in the Fall of 1952, and was the last issue.  Fan-Tods was an apazine, distributed through FAPA (Fantasy Amateur Press Association), and then VAPA (Vanguard Amateur Press Association).  Cover illustrations were by Wright, among others.  By issue #7, Wright had become a co-editor.  SF historian Harry Warner once described Norm as “a power force in FAPA.”  

Jack Speer’s 1944 poll of the top SF fans found Fan-Tods to be among the nation’s top five fanzines.  On the other hand, in 1947 – in his fanzine Matters of Opinion — Speer wrote an article, “The People vs. Norman F. Stanley,” that was very critical of the 16th issue of Fan-Tods.

In the 1940s, Norm was very much a member of the “sense of wonder” camp of SF.  According to Warner’s All Our Yesterdays, when Norm’s mother told him about atomic bombs and Hiroshima he remembered thinking:  “I confess my first reaction was one of elation, which even the obvious misgivings couldn’t quench. ‘Geez, we might blow up the whole planet,’ I thought, ‘but it’s still wonderful.’ ”

In addition to his fanzine work, Norm wrote for the SF prozines, including several letters to Astounding Science Fiction.  Three of his letters were published in 1938, two in 1939, and one in 1940.  In addition, he had an essay (“The Theory of Thing Things”) published in the 1948 Torcon Report.

Norm was one of the original members of First Fandom; and he was elected to the First Fandom Hall of Fame in 2013.

Norman and Eleanor

Norman and Eleanor

Norman F. Stanley passed away on October 22, 2016, at the Sussman House, Rockport, Maine, with his family in attendance.  He was 100 years of age.  He is survived by his wife of 53 years, Eleanor, their two children, a granddaughter, and four children of a nephew.

Here is a link to the obituary notice that appeared in The Courier Gazette / The Camden Herald on October 26, 2016:  http://knox.villagesoup.com/p/norman-stanley/1588807

norman-stanley

Sources: All Our Yesterdays; The Immortal Storm; Fancyclopedia 3; ISFDB; Wikipedia; and other Internet sites.

Three Dave Kyle Moments

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Dave Kyle and 2011 Big Heart Award winner Gay Haldeman.
Sidney Coleman, Dave Kyle and James White at the 1987 Worldcon. Photo by and copyright © Andrew Porter
Rich Lynch and Dave Kyle at ConFrancisco in 1993. Photo and copyright © Andrew Porter

By John Hertz: Many of us have lots of them.  Here are three of mine.

In April 2017 will be Lunacon LIX, the New York convention hosted by local club the Lunarians.  For years I was such a regular attender that some folks thought I lived in New York.  I’ve moderated Lunacon panels, I’ve taught Regency dancing, I’ve judged the Masquerade, I’ve been Fan Guest of Honor, I’ve listened to people sing “Demons in your bed will eat you up.  Do not call your mother; who do you think let the demons in?”

One year as I went looking for a seat in the Masquerade audience I found Dave Kyle ushering.  I was impressed by this modern Cincinnatus.  The original, in the days of the Roman Republic two and a half millennia ago, was plowing his farm when a group of Senators rushed to see him.  The army was trapped and in great danger.  Cincinnatus had been named Dictator, a rare position bringing supreme power.  He called up more men, defeated the enemy, and went back to his plow.  Cincinnati, Ohio, was named for him.  Dave had chaired the World Science Fiction Convention and here he was plowing away like anybody else.

His Worldcon was the 14th, New York, the Biltmore Hotel.  In those days we had a Banquet and gave the Hugo Awards there.  Dave was at the head table.  He later recounted, in Mimosa — for which he wrote two dozen articles —

As was customary, those who didn’t pay to eat could come into the room to hear the speeches at the proper time….  One of the gofers [please don’t write “gophers”, throwing away the joke of having to gofer this and gofer that – JH] told me the Fire Marshal was complaining that the stairs to the balcony were blocked by those non-eaters sitting there, waiting to take positions for the after-dinner ceremonies. “What do we do?” “Tell them,” I said, “that they can’t sit there.”

This became the catch-phrase “Dave Kyle says you can’t sit here”, a kind of Banquet’s Ghost he was never allowed to live down.  But he laughed too.

That night at Lunacon, Dave told me “Actually you can sit wherever you like.”

Here is Dave at NyCon II, sitting with bow tie and dark glasses; Larry Shaw at podium, John Campbell and Robert Silverberg to Kyle's left. Porter says, "Not my photo; I was 10 years old."

Here is Dave at NyCon II, sitting with bow tie and dark glasses; Larry Shaw at podium, John Campbell and Robert Silverberg to Kyle’s left. Porter says, “Not my photo; I was 10 years old.”

– o O o –

A while before Torcon III, the 61st Worldcon, Dave phoned asking if I was going to attend.  Yes, I said; I had written up Mike Glyer, the Fan Guest of Honour (note spelling), for the Program Book, and was to build an exhibit about him in the Exhibit Hall.  Dave asked, are you going to wear that propeller beanie?  Yes, I said, I always do at cons.  Dave asked if I’d help him with a presentation on Hugo Night.

He was going to bring the propeller beanie that had been placed on the head of Bob Bloch at Torcon II.  Bloch had been Pro Guest of Honour there and at Torcon I.  Meanwhile he had inconsiderately died so Torcon III could only make him Ghost of Honour.

Dave was going to be the Propeller Beanie of the Past and wanted me to be the Propeller Beanie of the Future.  I tried to say I felt unworthy but he was having none of that.  Then I thought of something else.  I always wear white tie on Hugo Night, I said.  The propeller beanie doesn’t really go with that costume.  It would be like running with the ball while playing soccer.  Well, he said, see if you can find a way.  Okay, Dave; for you, anything.

I thought maybe the propeller beanie would fit under my top hat, so I could by raising the hat do what some costumers call a “reveal”.  That didn’t work.  Finally I found I could get the beanie into my inside breast pocket.

At the con we managed to rehearse.  I was to stand back while Dave gave introductory remarks.  Then I should step forward, don the beanie, and retire again while Dave had a few more things to say.  Simple enough.

Came the event.  Dave took the lectern.  He spoke.  I joined him.  I took off the top hat, drew out the beanie, and put it on.  The crowd went wild.  A photo of this was put in Locus.  I guess a man in formal clothes and a propeller beanie was a One of Us moment.  Anyhow I smiled, bowed, and stepped back so Dave could go on.

John Hertz receives Big Heart Award at Torcon 3.

John Hertz receives Big Heart Award at Torcon 3.

He began speaking about the Big Heart, highest service award in the SF community.  He went on to describe the year’s recipient.  Slowly the light dawned.  He was talking about me.

The whole story, telephone, Past, Future, rehearsal, and all, had been a ruse to make sure I should be there.

Dave gave me a plaque and a rosette.

I had been snookered.

– o O o –

The North America Science Fiction Convention is held when the Worldcon is overseas.  In 2005 the Worldcon was at Glasgow and the NASFiC was at Seattle.  Monday morning in the hotel lobby after the NASFiC Dave said “Let’s go to the Science Fiction Museum.”

The Museum had just opened in 2004.  It had been designed by Tim Kirk, whom its founder Paul Allen had hired because he liked Kirk Designs’ proposal, not knowing he got a man who had won five Hugos as Best Fanartist before turning pro.  Kirk’s task was no small challenge, not least because so much of SF was, as Hamlet said “words, words, words”; if the Museum were dominated by visual-media SF that would be a serious under-representation.  Kirk had done wonderfully.

Who could be a better partner in wonder for an expedition there than Dave Kyle?

We went up to the Kyles’ hotel room.  Ruth fed us breakfast.  She was as always solicitous and helpful, but would the two boys ever be seen again?  Also I had a plane to catch.  We decided the safest plan was to get a taxi and pay the driver to come back at a set time.  In the Museum we then took turns pulling each other away from things.

The ground floor had the SF Hall of Fame, relocated from the University of Kansas.  Just added, along with Philip K. Dick, were Chesley Bonestell, Ray Harryhausen, and Steven Spielberg, the first SF artists other than writers to be inducted.

Also on the ground floor was a timeline, with Hugo Gernsback, Carol Hughes and Buster Crabbe as Dale Arden and Flash Gordon conquering the Universe, The Pocket Book of SF our first paperback collection of short stories, John Campbell, Orson Welles broadcasting The War of the Worlds, Heinlein with Rocket Ship Galileo Paul Allen’s first SF book, and Nineteen Eighty-four, just to mention a few points from 1925-1955.

Downstairs, three galleries with themes Brave New Worlds, Fantastic Voyages, and Them!  In Voyages was a Space Dock, with orbiting ships visitors could select for miniature documentaries.  Them! held an Interplanetary Lounge, variously imagined aliens, robots metal or mortal, and a Cargo Bay art gallery including Kelly Freas and Richard Powers.

I mustn’t leave out Harlan Ellison’s typewriter or the books Dave had published.

One “ship” floating past was a city, New York, New York (“What city has two names twice?”), from James Blish’s Cities in Flight; the crew that Kirk assembled, many of whom were veterans of Industrial Light & Magic, used Blish’s text, the best book covers they could find, and extrapolated views of Manhattan.  The first of these four novels came to be known as They Shall Have Stars; it was originally Year 2018! in which we now almost are, and Dave did not quite live to see.