[November 23, 1963 cont.] After a fashion


by Gwyn Conaway

I'm hungry for answers, but more than anything, simply heartbroken. We will forever relive this day through Jackie Kennedy's watermelon pink Chanel suit. Make no mistake, our First Lady's ensemble will live forever. Rather than being the symbol of strength, compassion, and grace, as both Coco Chanel and Jackie Kennedy would have wanted, the suit has been transformed into a symbol of tragedy and death.

I am heartbroken, not because it is a beautiful piece of fashion tarnished by the fall of a great man. I am heartbroken because we will all experience today over and over in the decades to come. Fashion will lash out and redefine the watermelon pink suit as a symbol of the crumbling American Dream. Its visage will become sour, like rotten fruit, as our nation's loss fades away. More than that, I mourn for Jackie Kennedy, who will stand by as her suit is redefined in the years to come and see the ghosts of today rise anew. 




[November 23, 1963 cont.] Give sorrow words


by Lorelei Marcus

It was around 11:30 AM, just before lunch. The PA system crackled to life and every head turned from their desks towards the speaker. It was my 10th grade English class.

“The President has been shot!” said the tinny voice. We had just been wrapping up our unit on Shakespeare’s Macbeth, all about the death of a nation's leader, but I didn’t really have the chance to appreciate the synchronicity at the time.

My teacher wheeled in a portable TV. I looked to my left at my good friend Cecilia. She was German, and only just moved here a couple years ago. She was shaking real bad, a sharp contrast to the cold stillness I’d been shocked into. I didn’t, couldn’t believe what I was hearing. In fact I’d expected the class to erupt into a sea of whispers, but all that was there was a faint crackle and Walter Cronkite's strong voice repeating over and over.

“In Dallas Texas this morning President Kennedy was assassinated at 1:30 Eastern Time, 10:30 Western Time. Three shots were fired-”

The school couldn’t let us out early, but they might as well have. The rest of my classes were a hazy tear-filled blur, punctuated by the continuous drone of Cronkite’s voice. When I was walking home that day across the softball field, I saw the football coach, one of the toughest men I know, with a wet handkerchief blanketing his face. Even the trees seemed to be weeping as their leaves crackled in the autumn wind.

Even in the fall it doesn’t get cold in Southern California. Yet under a pile of blankets in the living room, snuggled up to my parents with a cup of cocoa, I couldn’t ease the chilling squeeze on my heart. Even writing this now it’s like a subtle blizzard is raging inside me. If the President was shot, how can we say any of us are safe?

November 22nd, 1963 will always be a day to remember. Everything’s changed, I’ve changed. We’ve found now that Lee Harvey Oswald was responsible for this… horrendous act. He’ll be put in jail for life, where he belongs.

Even so, I think I would trade a lot to have my dad come in and tell me it was all a misunderstanding. During the live coverage, Cronkite kept saying “The president is dead… but not officially.” I think he was hoping so too.

Instead, he and we were left with loss. A loss to Jackie, a loss to the nation, a loss to the world. At this point, I think the only thing left to do is grieve, quietly and together.

And try to understand. Oswald, a U.S. Marine, started an innocent flower, but the serpent was beneath it. MacBeth's motives were plain and old as humanity. But Oswald's..

Why?




[November 23, 1963] President Kennedy returns to D.C. one last time

[Early this morning, the body of our slain President was flown back to Washington D.C.  Now he lies in state in the East Wing of the White House, where he will remain until 24 hours have passed.  Then will come the funeral.

Where do we go from there?]


by Jason Sacks

Camelot is over. A titan no longer walks the earth.

John F. Kennedy is dead.

Will our country — will our world? — ever be the same?

President Kennedy represented the dreams of all us. Manifested in his success and the shimmering images of his family, we saw the dreams of a perfected post-war world. In watching JFK and his family, we became participants in a triumphant America reaching its full potential, spreading our secular gospel of capitalism and freedom throughout the world.

For all of us born during or after the War, Kennedy represented everything our parents fought for, everything we aspired to as a nation, and everything the world dreamed of becoming.

And now he is gone.

Will America survive?

Of course we will. Our country is more than a single man, no matter how influential or important he is.

But JFK’s savage assassination, in front of his beloved wife Jackie, our country has lost some of its innocence. We will always feel his loss. After all, when we lose a titan, we lose a lot of what makes America its greatest self.

President Johnson is a great American, a man who I’m sure will help America transcend its weaknesses and become a more perfected version of itself.

But we will never be the same again.

Goodbye, President Kennedy. Goodbye, Camelot. We will always miss you.




[November 22, 1963 cont.] Highest indictment for Presidential assassin

[Lee Harvey Oswald, who shot and killed President Kennedy this afternoon, has been charged with murder of a President.

In other news, Erica Frank offers her thoughts on today's events:]


by Erica Frank

My cousin has a job with a restaurant supply company. While making deliveries yesterday, a woman told him, "The president's been shot and taken to the hospital." He tried to absorb that and finish out his workday, but during his next delivery, he looked at a school nearby – and saw the flag at half-mast. That's how he knew.

He says he knows several other people told him in the afternoon, as he finished his route, but he doesn't remember the details. He only remembers the shock of seeing that flag.

I was at work all day in the records department, so I heard nothing until I went home. I'm still trying to get caught up on the news.

Some people feel they have inside information, though. The John Birch Society is already saying that that yesterday's murder was part of a Russian communist plot. It seems awfully quick for them to say they have answers, especially since they've been spreading such vile lies about him.


Propaganda poster put up across Dallas by the John Birch Society on Nov. 21

I can understand wanting closure in such a terrible time, but with a crime of this magnitude, it is important that we find the truth of the matter rather than jumping to conclusions.




[November 22, 1963 cont.] Ripples down under

[Science fiction author, David Rome wired us his reaction to today's news:]


by David Rome

This is the day never to be forgotten. I am returned from England where I had been writing science fiction and comics, and am staying for a short time at my parents' home in Sydney while I wonder about my future survival in the dying pulp market.

On This Day, for no reason at all, I suddenly feel an impulse to turn on the TV set – and the news is coming through in these dreadful moments.

The world psyche perhaps, somehow influencing us all.

A day of loss which I believe will only intensify as the years go on.

Vale JFK. God help the world.




[November 22, 1963 cont.] Murder charge for Lee Harvey Oswald

[The name of President Kennedy's assassin is now known to the world: Lee Harvey Oswald, once a Marine, a defector to the Soviet Union.  We also know the name of the Dallas police officer that he killed: J.D. Tippit.  Oswald was just formally charged for the policeman's murder, and we understand more charges will be forthcoming,

In other news, Texas Governor John Connally, injured in the same attack that claimed the President, is in serious but stable condition.

We now bring you the first of the reports from the Journey's correspondents…]


by Victoria Lucas

I do not think I shall ever forget these 4 words: "Texas School Book Depository." 

I hardly know what they mean.  It's a building.  The building in which the shooter hid to kill.  I can't say it, can't write the name of the man he killed.

My mother called me at work to tell me that he had been taken to the hospital, but we have no radio and of course no TV at work.  No news except what is brought to us from outside.  People with car radios, with a portable radio brought to work somewhere else. 

My mother called back.  He is dead.  Our president is dead.  Johnson has been sworn in.  I can't really take it in.  I'm crying.  People who come into my office have wet faces. 

What can I say?  I feel as if my own life has been taken away from me, and I don't know why.  Why am I writing you today?  I know no one else to write.  I guess I just want to let you know how it is here in Tucson, Arizona, hearing the news. 

My mother says that when I get home tonight I will see nothing else on the television.  There will be nothing else on except repeated footage from the assassination.  Yes, assassination.  And how the government is in transition.  Just as now there is nothing else to talk about.

He is dead.

He Is Dead.




[November 22, 1963] President Kennedy has been assassinated


by Gideon Marcus

We interrupt the Journey's normal publication schedule to bring you breaking news.

According to several television, radio, and wire services, John F. Kennedy was shot twice, at around 12:30 p.m., CST, as his motorcade traveled through Dealey Plaza in Dallas.  The gravely injured President was rushed to Parkland Memorial Hospital where he was pronounced dead of his wounds shortly thereafter.  Vice President Lyndon B. Johnson was sworn in as Kennedy's successor one hour later. 

At about the same time, President Kennedy's assailant was apprehended by local law enforcement, but not before the killer slew a Dallas police officer. 

We will have more details on this event as they come in.  In addition, several of the Journey staff will be submitting observations on the events: their impact on themselves and those around them.  We welcome yours as well.

Please stay tuned.  Be strong.  We are all in this crisis together. 

Together, we will get through it.




[November 21, 1963] Words for bondage (Laurence M. Janifer's Slave Planet)


by Erica Frank

I opened Laurence Janifer's latest novel, Slave Planet with trepidation. Slavery is an intense topic whose abhorrent nature should not be open for debate, but using it in the title implies some kind of conflict related to it. I doubted the plot was, "noble hero discovers planet of slaves, destroys evil masters, frees the oppressed," especially since the tag line is "a world at stake in a deadly game of galactic strategy." Strategy plus slaves means a focus on profits-vs-ethics that any decent person should reject without thinking.

Sure enough, by chapter two, we have the background: Fruyling's world is the source of a rare and valuable metal, and on it lives a race of "uncivilized" aliens who are forced to work to mine that metal. Most of the human Confederation employees on Fruyling's are born and raised there; they cannot leave, lest the general public realize that their beloved government, in which personal rights and liberties are treasured, keeps a whole planet of alien slaves.

The aliens are an obvious homage to Walt Kelly's cartoon alligator:

"They were called Alberts, after a half-forgotten character in a mistily-remembered comic strip dating back before space travel, before the true beginnings of Confederation history. If you ignored the single, Cyclopean eye, the rather musty smell and a few other even more minor details, they looked rather like two-legged alligators four feet tall, green as jewels, with hopeful grins on their faces and an awkward, waddling walk like a penguin’s. Seen without preconceptions they might have been called cute."

The story follows a handful of characters. The most interesting is Dr. Anna Haenlingen, the head of the Psychological Division, who designs the programs that keep the slaves happy. She is ancient and formidable. She's also the only woman who talks about something other than the men: she's focused on the future of the world after the Confederation discovers its unsavory practices.

For the most part, the men talk about how to train the aliens and about the ethics of slavery and servitude. (The women mostly talk about the men; even Dr. Haenlingen's assistant, who speaks with her about Division plans, gets caught up in a romance.) The aliens mostly talk about how good it is to serve the masters, and how hard it would be to live any other way.  It is clear that the author is not promoting this idea, but showing how hard it is to argue against it with simple, easy-to-understand vocabulary.

These are, after all, the same arguments used nearly a hundred years ago to justify human slavery: the proponents claimed that the slaves "had a better life" than they would in their "savage" homelands, and that servitude and "correction" of mistakes or insolence was necessary to be able to keep "helping" the slaves. The fact that the slave owners got profits and the slaves didn't, and that a major industry relied on slave labor, which was cheaper than complex machinery, was conveniently left out of the discussion.

Janifer, fortunately, does not leave that out. It is mentioned that machinery was considered, but rejected for its cost, which would raise the cost of the metal throughout the Confederation. Most of the human characters are uncomfortable with the fact of slavery; however, the book portrays their discomfort as a form of suffering, as if slavery were equally damaging to the humans and the Alberts. Some of the characters in Slave Planet constantly give their justifications for slavery, and the tone is so dry and matter-of-fact that it's impossible to tell if this is intended to be ironic or if Janifer is actually claiming that ownership of sentient beings is a complex issue with many sides.

Some of the on-planet employees believe they're "helping" the natives by providing them with health care and infrastructure they would not otherwise have. Others are pretty sure that no, there is nothing about the company's activities that are motivated by altruism. Some of the Alberts believe that the masters are good since they supply food and shelter, and that following the humans' orders is the natural way of things. Some disagree, but since they have been raised to serve the humans, they don't even have the language to explain why freedom is important to them, nor why they feel slavery is wrong.

Dr. Haenlingen is the only one in the book who does not try to moralize or justify slavery. She is aware that it is an economic arrangement, and not one created for the benefit of the Alberts. At first, she comes across as refreshingly level-headed and quite practical. Later, she seems almost evil: she would be willing to go to great lengths to protect the system on Fruyling's world. Her practicality prevents her from doing so; she is the first to recognize that once the public learns of the Alberts and how they are treated, the entire regime will quickly fall.


Commemorative stamp to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the Emancipation Proclamation

Overall, the book was a pleasant read, although the moralizing got a bit heavy-handed in spots. The book kept me interested. Although the ethical issues were straightforward, I could not guess what would happen next, even though there were no last-minute surprises. The world described in the opening chapters continues through the end. This is not a bleak story, but it is also not a cheerful one. The Alberts' philosophies were fascinating: they had arguments both for and against slavery in simple language, without the benefit of a well-rounded education. They did not seem stupid, just woefully lacking in vocabulary and a structure for their thoughts. The writing style is engaging and the characters distinct, but I rolled my eyes more than once at the human masters' claims that they were also victims. Most of the characters were a bit flat, but I would happily read an entire series about Dr. Haenlingen.

Three stars




[November 19, 1963] Fuel for the Fire (December 1963 Fantasy and Science Fiction)


by Gideon Marcus

The once proud golden pages of F&SF have taken a definite turn for the worse under the Executive Editorship of onef Avram Davidson.  At last, after two years, we arrive at a new bottom.  Those of you with months remaining on your subscription can look forward to a guaranteed supply of kindling through the winter.

The Tree of Time (Part 1 of 2) by Damon Knight

Gordon Naismith is professor of Temporal Physics at an early 21st Century university.  We quickly learn that this 35-year old veteran has lost all memory of his life prior to a crash that occurred five years ago.  Moreover, he keeps suffering blackouts, during which people close to him are killed, fried by unknown energies.  Who is he?  Is he even human?  And what is the nefarious scheme of the pair of froggy humanoids from the 200th Century who kidnap Naismith before the police can nab him?

Damon Knight, an ofttimes brilliant author, seems to have taken a bet.  His challenge: to recreate the hoariest, most cliche-ridden dialogue and style of the "Golden Age of Science Fiction," the sort of stuff A.E. Van Vogt did much better.  66 pages is far too much space to take up with a joke.  And this is only Part 1! 

Two stars.

The Court of Tartary by T. P. Caravan

A stodgy professor of the classics wakes up as a bull the day his herd is scheduled for the stockyard.  Attempts to convince the wranglers of his humanity prove fruitless, and in the end (as an astute reader will have figured out), we learn that his circumstances were not unique.

Some might find it droll.  I thought it pointless.  Two stars.

The Eternal Lovers by Robert F. Young

The same Robert F. Young who gave us the brilliant To Fell a Tree has been reduced to cranking out overly sentimental shorts.  This one stars the astronaut whose ship misses the moon and the adoring wife who shanghais her own craft to join him on his voyage to nowhere.

The story relies on the notion that astronauts cannot stand the mental rigors of being alone in space for "any length of time," an hypothesis clearly disproven by Comrades Tereshkova, Bykovsky, Nikolaev, Popov, and Titov (not to mention Captain Cooper).  The rest of the details are equally woolly.  Even for a poetic tale, it's lazy.

Two stars.

Pete Gets His Man by J. P. Sellers

Don Kramer is hounded by Pete Kelly, the most famous, most handsome, and most fearless detective in the world.  Is Don a criminal?  A jealous rival?  The answer to this question is the brilliant spot in an otherwise pedestrian tale of a descent into madness.  Three stars.

Roll Call, by Isaac Asimov

Like Willy Ley over in Galaxy this month, Asimov has decided to phone things in for his nonfiction article.  It's about the origin of the names of the planets.  Schoolboy stuff.  Three stars.

What Strange Stars and Skies, by Avram Davidson

Damon Knight is not the only one aping an out of date style in this issue.  Editor Davidson, in an impenetrable imitation of interwar British composition, writes the tale of a do-gooder Dame who is abducted by aliens to do-good elsewhere.

I'm sure my readers will point out that Davidson has done a perfect send-up of some 1920s writer or other, thus exposing me for the boor that I am.  Nevertheless, I was only able to soldier halfway through this dreck before skimming.

One star.

While I appreciate Mr. Davidson's earnest desire to augment his (dwindling number of) readers' coal supply, all the same, I think I'd rather have my favorite SF magazine back. 




[November 17, 1963] Galactoscope (Three Ace Doubles!)


by Gideon Marcus

Here at the Journey, we read virtually every piece of science fiction and fantasy published.  Our goal is not only to provide you with a complete encyclopedia of available works, but also to ensure we can make informed decisions come award-giving time.

Now, that's a lot of printed words.  It used to be that I would publish a separate article for each book, but with such a big backlog of books waiting to be reviewed, I decided it'd be best to do the queue all at once, like they do in the review columns of the various magazines (for instance, Amazing's "Spectroscope").

As it turns out, the volumes you'll hear about today are all Ace Doubles (published with two complete books back-to-back and reversed), so if you're a fan of these odd blue-and-whites, this will help you manage your 1963 shopping list.

Alpha Centauri or Die!, by Leigh Brackett

Leigh Brackett is a legend.  One of the relatively few women in the SFF arena, she is also a renowned scriptwriter, having penned the screenplay for The Big Sleep and Rio Bravo.  Brackett has managed to keep plugging along in Hollywood in spite of the prevailing opinion of the last decade that women just don't get "male" genres like crime dramas and westerns.

Her SFF works have been recommended to me with increasing volume and frequency so I was delighted to have a chance to enjoy her latest novel, luridly titled (as all Ace Doubles are) Alpha Centauri or Die!.  This book is really two stories in one: Part 1 involves a rebel movement on Mars led by the human, Kirby, and his love, the Martian humanoid named Shari.  They dare to steal a manually controlled space ark, filled to the brim with colonists eager to emigrate, and evade the robotic sentinel spaceships that patrol the solar system.  Their destination: an inhabitable planet in the triple Alpha Centauri system.

There's a lot of action and chases, both planetbound and in the black gulf between the stars, culminating in a an exciting scene in which a squad from the fleeing Lucy Davenport boards and deactivates a pursuing robot fighter ship.

Part 2 takes place on the newly colonized world, which shortly after settlement, is besieged by unseen, psionically equipped aliens that kidnap terrans via teleportation.  Will this diabolical race end the colony, or is it all a misunderstanding?

That the two sections are so different in subject matter and tone is no coincidence.  Alpha Centauri or Die! is a fix-up of two stories from the early 1950s, both published in Planet Stories.  I'd only previously read The Ark of Space (on which Part 1 is based) so I can't tell you if the two tales were ever meant to be linked.  In any event, the resultant novel is not a great introduction to Brackett's works.  Particularly frustrating is the short shrift the women characters get, even at the hands of a woman author.  With the exception of Shari, they are a herd of complaining housewives.  The Martian heroine fares a bit better, joining the raiding party against the robot starship and using her esper powers to help deduce the nature of the beasts of Alpha Centauri, but her exploits point out just how alone she stands in representation of an entire gender.

Aside from that, Alpha Centauri or Die! is a competent but not groundbreaking action piece, slightly less than the sum of its parts, not progressing far from the pulp era in which Brackett made her first appearances.

Three stars.

Legend of Lost Earth, by G. McDonald Wallis

It's common practice in SFF for women to initialize their first names (or flat-out take on male pseudonyms).  I have been told vociferously by one of my readers that this practice has nothing to do with any bias against women in the genre; nevertheless, it is puzzling that men don't seem to do it.  In any event, the "G." stands for Geraldine, and this is her second Ace Double, the first being The Light of Lilith, which I have not read.

Lost Earth takes place on the dusty, red world of Niflhel, its atmosphere foul with the soot of a million mines.  Even the memory of Earth, destroyed by a human-caused catastrophe, is taboo.  But Giles Chulainn is seduced by the teachings of a secret society that keeps the half-remembered dream of their home planet alive.  A cat and mouse game ensues, with Giles taking on the role, by turns, of a subversive, a double, and then a triple agent. 

The true nature of the barren colony world and its connection with the lost verdant fields of Earth is ultimately revealed, though by the time you get there, you might not care, having been increasingly bombarded with a bamboozle of pseudo-scientific mysticism, Celtic legend, and plot incoherence. Nevertheless, Lost Earth does have a strong first half and a nice flavor throughout.  Three stars.

Captives of the Flame, by Samuel R. Delany

Delany is another author I'm catching on his second Ace book, the first being The Jewels of Aptor, which came out last year.  He is noteworthy for being the first black SF novelist (I believe; correct me if I'm wrong).

Captives of the Flame takes place on a blasted Earth, the remnants of humanity confined to just one city and its adjacent shoreline and islands.  Around it lies a radioactive barrier that has constricted over the years: just two generations before, it engulfed the city's neighboring polis, forcing its inhabitants to flee.  It is implied early on that the barrier is not of human origin.

The novel details the efforts of a mismatched band of heroes, including an exiled member of the royal family rendered invisible by the radiations, a young woman acrobat/thief, and an ambitious Duchess, to determine the true nature of the alien incursion and to use the extraterrestrials' powers to right the bellicose, corrupt human government. 

On the plus side, the novel features an interesting world and a refreshingly varied set of characters, male, female, and alien.  On the red ink side of the ledger, the plot is sketchy, and viewpoints shift with little warning or context.  I have to wonder if this is the author's fault or simply a result of Ace's hatchety editing style. 

Three stars.

The Psionic Menace, by Keith Woodcott

Those in the know are aware that "Keith Woodcott" is a pseudonym for English writer, John Brunner.  And those who have followed this column since the arrival of author Mark Yon will soon find that The Psionic Menace is an Ace-style retitling of Crack of Doom, which appeared under the Woodcott name in two issues of New Worlds last year.  It's about a universe-spanning psychic distress call, and the efforts humanity takes to decipher it.

It is word for word the same book, which means you will enjoy it as much (or little) as the serialized version.  Mark gave it three stars.

The Rebellers, by Jane Roberts

What a beginning on this one!  Gary Fitch is an artist on a crushingly overpopulated Earth.  His job is to take old classics and make copies as vehicles for conveying government propaganda.  He and his colleagues live under lock and key in a barracks, barely receiving enough sustenance for survival.  Yet their situation is the enviable one for outside their prison walls lies the teeming masses of humanity, hungrier and denied access to the books and artworks the painters have.

One day, rioting plebeians storm the prison walls, providing Fitch an opportunity to escape — from the frying pan into the fire.  The artist hooks up with an insurgent organization, "The Rebellers" (why not simply "The Rebels?") but their motives aren't as simon-pure as advertised.  Worse yet, a virulent plague is spreading, threatening to wipe out the human race once and for all.  Can Fitch take over the remnants of local government to avoid complete catastrophe?

Roberts' book starts out strong but resolves abruptly and rather implausibly.  For instance, it is discovered that the plague largely affects pregnant women and mandatory birth control becomes the linchpin on which combating the virus turns.  If birth control is so ubiquitous and effective, why wasn't it in common use before our planet was choked with people? 

This is the first novel by Roberts, whose short fiction I've greatly enjoyed.  While this book is a mixed success, she may get the hang of the form in time for her next effort.  In any event, it's nice to see her back after a four-year hiatus.

Three stars.

Listen!  The Stars!, by John Brunner

Last up is the novelization of John Brunner's Listen! The Stars!, a novella that appeared in Analog last year.  The tale of the "Stardroppers," who use extra-dimensional telescopes to plumb the unknown depths of the universe was one of my favorites from Brunner.  In fact, I gave it a Galactic Star.

Unlike The Psionic Menace, this Ace version is significantly revised.  The story's no different, and all the same scenes are there, but Brunner (or the editor) has padded every paragraph with enough extra words to fill 96 pages.  Or maybe Analog's editor, John W. Campbell, had cut the original to fit the pages of his magazine.

In any event, both versions are good, worthy of five stars.  If you want a shorter read, find the magazine, and if you want something lengthier, well, you get this and the Roberts novel, too.

So there you have it, a typical grab bag of Ace production.  A good half of it was scoured from the pages of the magazines, and only the Brunner (under his own name) really hits it out of the park.  Still, at 20 cents a novel (40 cents for a double), all of it at least readable, you could do a lot worse.




55 years ago: Science Fact and Fiction