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[July 24, 1964] Much Ado About Something (Time Travel, San Diego-style)

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[Galactic Journey is not the only San Diego organization that specializes in time travel.  Read on and learn about a most extraordinary endeavour happening downtown…]


by Victoria Lucas

As I had hoped in my last message, I made it to San Francisco and now live and here at the end of the "J" streetcar line, at Church and 30th. At first the streetcar woke me up every morning sometime before 6 am, when it makes the "J" figure to turn around at the top on 30th and then squeals down Church to begin its run downtown, where I work. Eventually I got used to it. The only things that wake me up now are the fights the managing couple stages many nights in which she tends to yell out a window into the inner courtyard at 3 am when they are both drunk, and he mutters in the background.

I didn't drive directly here–I really had to stop in San Diego to see a friend of mine in the Shakespeare play I've messed with in my title. I had never been to the San Diego Old Globe Theatre in Balboa Park (one of a number of "Globe Theatres" around the world). More important, I wanted to be sure to see my friend Alan Fudge one last time. Oh, and Alan got me a complimentary ticket (known in the biz as a "comp"). All I had to do was get there, park, and not get lost.

ground view Old Globe
Walking to the Old Globe Theatre

I was first exposed to Shakespeare in high school, and was interested in his language and how he had invented many of the words we take for granted today. We studied his tragedies: I never will understand why teenagers, who have such strong emotions and who often dramatize their lives in tragic terms, as if tempted to try to fit into universal clichés, are made to study tragedy and trauma in literature, instead of biography, humor, politics, and satire.

Nevertheless, I am always fascinated to watch the plays, set as they are in strange surroundings–not on other planets, because it wouldn't have occurred to authors in the 16th and 17th centuries to use such settings–but in other countries so far away and so foreign that the typical person in Shakespeare's audience would have been as likely to journey to the moon as to Denmark (the scene of "Hamlet") or Italy (where the play I saw, "Much Ado About Nothing," is set). Like science fiction, Shakespeare's plays were always located in barely imaginable places, with happenings both close to and removed from the everyday lives of audience members, sometimes for political reasons.

actress as Queen Elizabeth
Queen Elizabeth and subject (actors at a festival) —courtesy of San Diego State University Special Collections

Although "Much Ado About Nothing" depicts rather ordinary humans with ordinary passions, some of Shakespeare's fantasies, such as "Midsummer Night's Dream," imagined very implausible creatures, such as these from an earlier production at the Old Globe.

Titania with donkey-headed man
The queen of the fairies kisses a donkey —courtesy of San Diego State University Special Collections

The San Diego Old Globe was built to evoke Elizabethan times just by its architecture. Because it is modeled after the original London theater, entering the building is like climbing out of a time machine. It is hard not to hesitate at the door as if unsure how to behave in the year 1609, when this play, for instance, was first performed.

San Diego's Old Globe Theatre
Postcard of The Old Globe Theatre, San Diego —courtesy of San Diego State University Special Collections

As in Shakespeare's time, the area below the stage is open to the weather, this part of the theater (now with benches) being called "The Pit", where I could almost see an unruly crowd heckling the players. But the time-machine like quality even extends to the festival performances outside, where people from another era are likely to erupt from buildings or from behind trees.

men and women dance out a door
Actors run onto the festival green —courtesy of San Diego State University Special Collections

So it is a shock to recognize a familiar person under the greasepaint and in costume. Alan was a student in the University of Arizona Drama Department when I worked there, which for me was only last month! As departmental secretary I was only three years older than he, and he was friendly, funny, and hung around the office just enough so that I saw a lot of him and we became good friends. I saw Alan in a lot of plays, too, since after I ran the box office and stashed the cash I went into the theater and acted as a clacker–someone who laughs and/or claps on cue to encourage the rest of the audience to do so.

During the Shakespeare Quadricentennial this year Alan played Conrade, "Friend to Borachio" in "Much Ado About Nothing."

program for Much Ado About Nothing
Shakespeare Festival program

I was enchanted. I had been to only amateur theater the past two years, and this professional production was something to see on the Balboa Park stage. I could almost feel myself in the very first Globe Theatre in London, as The Bard Himself trod the boards.

Alan was a bit too whimsical as a student to take himself and the theater very seriously. In this play he had to be a minor villain helping with a foul deed, and he did it well. I concluded that I had seen him in bud form and now he was blossoming beautifully. He didn't have any publicity photos of himself in costume, so he slipped me this one as we sat in the Falstaff Tavern next door to the theater. He didn't autograph it, and I didn't ask him to. After all, I'm not a fan, just a proud friend.

Alan Fudge in a sweater
Alan Fudge —courtesy of San Diego State University Special Collections

I came away convinced that Alan is indeed headed for Broadway and even the movies or TV when not on the Shakespearean stage. Look for him! And if you find yourself in San Diego for any reason, I strongly urge that you not miss out on your chance to time travel, in the Elizabethan manner…at the Old Globe.

[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge! Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]




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Conventions/Performances, Magazine

[April 18, 1964] A firm line (the May 1964 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

World(Con) Affairs

I've heard a rumor that Galactic Journey will be up for Best Fanzine at this year's Worldcon.  I'm not getting my hopes up — after all, we were promised a spot last year, but we ended up nowhere to be found on the 1963 Hugo ballot.  Still, for all of you who nominated us, we give our humblest thanks and hope you keep doing it!  In any event, we intend on attending this year's Worldcon (dubbed Pacificon II) as it will be held quite close to home, in California's Bay Area.

One person who will definitely not be attending Pacificon II is notorious fan Walter Breen.  Unless you live under a rock (or, perhaps, east of the Colorado), Breen is at the center of the "Breendoggle," a crisis that is currently rending apart West Coast fandom.  Berkeley fans report that Breen, an adult, has a penchant for unsavory activities involving fellows too young to give consent.  Far too young.  While fandom is a tolerant bunch (after all, we're definitely a bunch of weirdos), not only are Breen's actions morally reprehensible, but they attach civil liability to any organization he is a part of.

Needless to say, we support Pacificon II's decision to ban Breen from the convention, as do many.  However, Breen has got a lot of defenders, including Big Name Fan John Boardman, and superfan-turned-pro Marion Zimmer Bradley, who we understand is now in a relationship with Breen.  This saddens us, and we hope that Breen's misguided supporters soon see the light. 

My apologies for bringing up an unpleasant topic.  With luck, that's the last we'll have to write about it.

The Issue at Hand


cover by Ed Emshwiller for The Illuminated Man

On a more (but not much) more cheery note, let's take a look at this month's Fantasy and Science Fiction.  Once again, Editor Davidson wails that no one writes space adventure stories anymore.  That's not really true.  They just don't send them to Avram. 

Instead, we get the following mishmash of fantasy and horror, most of it pretty mediocre:

The Illuminated Man, by J. G. Ballard

Out in deep space, the mutual annihilation of matter and anti-matter depletes the universal store of time.  As a result, the remaining matter blooms, spawning crystalline growths that absorb heat and constrain movement.  In Florida, Belorussia, and Madagascar, wild terrain becomes iridescent with the stuff, and mass evacuations ensue.

Our protagonist, a journalist, becomes trapped in the Everglades while the swamp becomes a kaleidoscopic death trap.  But this phenomenon becomes the least of our hero's worries when he gets caught between two feuding vertices of a love triangle: the local chief of police and a lunatic, who are fighting over the woman now married to the former, once to the latter.

Ballard does love his world catastrophes (viz. the recent classic, The Drowned World).  But while I found the story vivid and certainly unique, Ballard's writing has a somber, sepulchral tone that puts me off.  Illuminated Man is a gloomy trip without much of a destination.

Three stars.

Three Times Around, by Jane Roberts

Beware the laundromat, for the item getting permanently pressed just might be you.  I'm glad to see Jane Roberts back in print, and this is a pleasant little piece of horror.

Three stars.

You Have to Stay Inside, by Calvin Demmon

If there is a genre called "Slice of Life," this might be a "Slice of Horror" — a nicely written episode.  But it needs a story to go with it.

Two stars.

No Place Like Where, by Robert M. Green, Jr.

I'm not sure why Avram chose to spoil the twist of Green's story, which illustrates the perils of making apartment buildings too big and look-alike.  Well, it's not much of a story anyway, so I guess it doesn't matter.

Two stars.

The Building of a Protein, by Theodore L. Thomas

This pointless proto-story column continues, this time on the subject of synthetic protein manufacture, which Thomas suggests could ultimately feed the masses. 

The Second Law of Thermodynamics says we're not going to get quick-grown meat any faster or cheaper than cows.  Maybe more humanely.

Two stars.

Invasion, by Christopher Corson

The aliens apparently lulled us to sleep with this rather unimpressive piece of poetry.  Two stars.

A Red Heart and Blue Roses, by Mildred Clingerman

If there's anyone who can bring back the feeling of Weird Tales or Unknown, it's Mildred Clingerman, who in Roses, chills us with the tale of a mother who finds herself adopted by a most unsavory surrogate son. 

I particularly enjoyed the clever double narrative.  The story is recounted by one hospital patient to another; we initially think the story will be that of the viewpoint character, but it's really her roommate's.

Four stars.

Sea Wrack, by Edward Jesby

Far in the future, the Morlocks live in the sea.  They are not hairy brutes but rather civilized, handsome mermen.  Nevertheless, the Eloi still hate and shun them…to surface-dwellers' ultimate despair and ruin.

An interesting tale, too affected and jolting in its execution to be great.

Three stars.

Mar-ti-an, by Robert Lory

Now that the Ferdinand Feghoot pun column is gone, Avram has diversified the sources of his joke stories.  He needs to find better ones.

One star.

Ghost Lines in the Sky, by Isaac Asimov

The Good Doctor brings us a pleasant but rather sterile article on meridians and parallels.  Of course, it's stuff I've known since junior high, so maybe I'm jaded.

Three stars.

Touchstone, by Terry Carr

Just as Ballard doesn't quite do it for me, Terry Carr always does.  You'll enjoy this one, about a Greenwich Village guy who trades his worries for a hunk of magic black rock.

Four stars.

The New Encyclopaedist, by Stephen Becker

Becker serves up one of those non-fact pieces, about nonconformists inheriting the Earth thanks to their uncommon common sense.  Not bad, though more suited to Analog, maybe Galaxy, than here.

Three stars.

Cantabile, by Jon DeCles

Last up is a baroquely pleasant story about a humanoid with a one-month life span, and the Space-Age princess who briefly loves him.  This is Jon's first sale — I look forward to more works from him.

Three stars.

Summing Up

F&SF continues to be much of a muchness, but at least it keeps Ed Emshwiller, artist extraordinaire, in lucre.  I've given up hope that it'll ever be my favorite magazine again, but it wasn't decidedly unpleasant this month.

And given the other news in this article, "not decidedly unpleasant" is pretty good!

[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge!  Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]




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Conventions/Performances, Fashion, music, politics, sports, Magazine

December 9, 1963 Indifferent to it all (January 1964 IF)

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by Gideon Marcus

Picking up the pieces

It's been two weeks since President Kennedy was shot in Dallas, and the country is slowly returning to normal (whatever normal is these days).  Jackie has taken the family out of the White House, President Johnson is advancing the first legislation of his social welfare plan, the "Great Society," and all around the nation, streets, parks, and buildings are being renamed in the slain President's honor.  In fact, Cape Canaveral, launching site for all crewed flights, is being christened "Cape Kennedy."

We're still trying to make sense of the events surrounding Kennedy's death.  Within an hour of the shooting, there were two divergent theories as to who shot the President.  CBS reported on the trail that led to Marine-turned-defector, Lee Harvey Oswald.  NBC, on the other hand, interviewed a woman who saw a shooter on a grassy knoll overlooking Dealey Plaza.  On December 5, the FBI determined that Lee Harvey Oswald, acting alone, did the deed.  Of course, Jack Ruby ensured that Oswald would never speak in his own defense.  The seven member "Warren Commission," headed by Chief Justice Earl Warren, has begun a more thorough investigation.  We may never know who shot Kennedy or why.

A eulogy for Kennedy

Yesterday, I appeared at a local venue to present a eulogy for Kennedy and enlighten the audience as to the youthful President's numerous accomplishments.  In the end, we all drank a toast to Jack.  We taped the performance so you can view it even if you couldn't make the event.

Meanwhile, the science fiction magazines continued as if nothing unusual had happened.  This makes sense given the vagaries of production schedules and the need to have work to press months in advance.  Still, it is an eerie feeling to have the world turned upside down and yet see no evidence of turmoil in one's reading material.

Maybe that's a good thing.  One can use stability in crazy times.

In any event, the January 1964 issue of IF, Worlds of Science Fiction was the first sf digest of the new year.  As usual, it contained a mixture of diverting and lousy stories.  Let's take a look:

The January 1964 IF

Three Worlds to Conquer (Part 1 of 2), by Poul Anderson

On the Jovian moon of Ganymede, American colonists warily greet the arrival of the U.S.S. Vega, a battleship out from Earth.  Thanks to a recent civil war in the USA, it is uncertain where the loyalties of the ship's crew lie.  Meanwhile, tens of thousands of miles below, the inhabitants of Jupiter's surface are also preparing for a war of their own.  The common thread to the two stories is the neutrino beam link set up by the human protagonist who makes his home on Jupiter's biggest moon.

It's an interesting set up, but it utterly fails in its execution.  Poul Anderson is the patron saint of unreliability.  On the one hand, he produced some of last year's gratest works, including Let the Spacemen Beware and No Truce with Kings.  On the other, he produced drek like this piece.

Some examples: Anderson likes to wax poetic on technical details.  He spends a full two pages describing what could have been handled with this sentence: "I used a neutrino beam to contact the Jovians; nothing else could penetrate their giant planet's hellish radiation belts or the tens of thousands of thick atmosphere."

Two.  Pages.

Worse, while I applaud Anderson's attempt to depict a Jovian race, he fails in two directions.  Firstly, it's highly doubtful anything could live on the solid surface of Jupiter, if the planet even has one.  If there is a rocky core, its surface gravity must be around 7gs, and the air pressure would be more crushing than the bottom of the Earth's ocean.  Assuming life could stand those conditions, it would have to be something akin to the well-drawn creatures portrayed in Hal Clement's Close to Critical (in the May 1958 Analog).  Instead, Anderson gives us centaurs with quite human characterization and motivation.

The dialogue is stilted.  The writing is uninspired.  And there's enough padding to comfortably sleep on.

One star.  And, oh boy, a whole 'nother part to read in two months.

Mack, by R. J. Butler

Dolphin stories are big right now, from Clarke's People of the Sea to Flipper.  New author, R. J. Butler, gives us another one.  Something about the thwarting of an alien invasion of fish people.  Pleasant enough but it won't stay with you.  A very low three stars.

Personal Monuments, by Theodore Sturgeon

IF's non-fictionalist tells us about six science fiction authors he believes deserve more credit than they get.  He's probably right.  Three stars.

Science-Fantasy Crossword Puzzle, by Jack Sharkey

A welcome feature that is as long as it needs to be (two pages for the game and half a page for the answer).  Three stars.

The Competitors, by Jack B. Lawson

Here is the jewel of the piece.  Humans and androids have evolved in their own directions, each with a stellar sphere of influence.  When humanity comes across an alien race, whose close ties with their own robots make them more than a match for our species, a crotchety old man and a powerful (but subdued) android take on the enemy.

The interactions between human and humanoid robot are priceless and illuminating.  Neither can stand the other, but both see the value in their cooperation.  In the course of their quest, our human protagonist learns the pros and cons of too close integration of humanity and machinery.

Excellent stuff that packs a wallop: Four stars.

The Car Pool, by Frank Banta

Car Pool is a cute little joke in which a gaggle of human petty criminals turns a run-in with the Martian law into a profitable venture for all concerned.  Three stars.

Waterspider, by Philip K. Dick

There is a sub-genre of science fiction known as "fan fiction."  It is written by SF fans (of course) and involves said fans going on wild and fantastic adventures.  Laureled SF author, Philip K. Dick, offers up the fannest of fan fiction in which a pair of folks from the 21st Century employ a time machine to visit a gathering of "pre-cogs" in 1954 to get help with some thorny spaceflight issues.

The gathering is the 1954 World Science Fiction convention in San Francisco, and the pre-cog the Futurians seek is none other than Poul Anderson.  He is kidnapped back to the future, where he runs into mischief before making it back home (with the notes for a story, of course — probably this one).  Along the way, we get an alien's eye view of the various personages who attended SFCon, including A. E. Van Vogt ("so tall, so spiritual"), Ray Bradbury ("a round, pleasant face but his eyes were intense"), and Margaret St. Clair, whom the aliens anachronistically revere for The Scarlet Hexapod, which she hadn't written yet.

It's a bit of silly, self-indulgent fluff saved from banality by the talents of Mr. Dick; I don't know that it merits a quarter of IF's pages.  Three stars.

Summing up

So, yes, it certainly looks like IF will remain steady and true through any crisis.  This means some bad stories, occasional winners, and a lot of filling. 

Things could be worse.

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Conventions/Performances, Magazine, Science / Space Race

December 1, 1963 Last stop (December 1963 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

LosCon in Los Angeles!

It's been an exciting November for the Journey.  After a sad interlude on the East Coast, which saw the untimely death of our President, we flew back to Los Angeles for a small science fiction convention put on by the Los Angeles Science Fiction Society.  It was great fun, a real class act.  Not only did we get to put on a show (in which the assassination, of course, featured prominently), but we also met Laura Freas, wife of Kelly Freas, the illustrator who painted Dr. Martha Dane.  As y'all know, Dr. Dane graced our masthead until very recently, and she remains the Journey's avatar.

And for those of you who missed the performance, we got it on video-tape.

At last, success for NASA

I read an article in Aviation Weekly that noted that 1963 just hasn't been a great year for NASA space shots.  There have only been eight successful missions thus far.  Unlike in the old days (you know, five years ago), when satellites didn't fly because of balky rockets, now missions are more likely to be delayed for lack of funding on the ground or for thorny technical issues as mechanisms get more complicated.

But successes do happen, and on November 27, Explorer 18 soared into orbit.  Also known as the Interplanetary Monitoring Platform (IMP), it is essentially a deep space explorer.  At the closest point in its orbit, it zooms at an atmosphere-scraping 160 kilometers in altitude, but at its furthest, it flies up to a quarter million kilometers out — more than halfway to the moon.

IMP is the first of seven satellites that will monitor the sun's output over a long period of time, measuring its ups and downs over the course of its 11 year activity cycle.  It will also measure interplanetary magnetic fields, the speed and composition of the solar wind, and the strength of the cosmic rays that shower the solar system from intergalactic space.

In many ways, Explorer 18 continues the missions of Explorers 10 and 12, spacecraft that made incredible discoveries about our local space environment.  What makes IMP so special is its size and endurance: it will be in space much longer than its predecessors, and its more advanced instruments are capable of more refined measurements. 

It is also hoped that IMP will be for interplanetary space what TIROS is for Earth — a weather satellite providing up to date information on the environment "up there."  Thus, Explorer 18 will not only expand our knowledge of interplanetary physics, it will also be an early warning system, alerting astronauts as to upcoming solar flares and other potentially dangerous events. 

Pretty neat!

Last magazine of the year

Every month, the Journey does its level best to review every science fiction magazine that gets published.  As far as I can tell, we cover all the regular American ones plus the British New Worlds (only Science Fantasy, also British, escapes our coverage).  By tradition, Analog is the covered last, and thus, the December 1963 Analog is the last magazine of the year.  Once this one is reviewed, we can finally get down to the fun business of determining the stats: which mag had the best stories, the most consistent quality, the most women published, and so on.  Call it SFnal baseball.

So how was this last issue?  Read on!

The Nature of the Electric Field, by John W. Campbell

In addition to a nonsensical editorial, Editor Campbell wastes several oversized pages with the reprint of a century-old treatise on electricity.  I guess it's to show how times change, and therefore, we shouldn't be so quick to denounce things like Dianetics, reactionless drives, psionics, dowsing, and other pseudo-sciences.

One star.

Cracking the Code, by Carl A. Larson

Larson's article is on DNA and scientists' attempts to understand how a sequence of amino acids can be the blueprint for all of life's manifestations.  It's a subject that would have been better handled by Asimov…or really, anyone else.  On the other hand, some of Larson's poetical turns of phrase are cute, like analogizing cells to an alien race whose environment is so utterly foreign to our ken, and that's why it's taken so long to decipher their language.

Two stars, I guess.

Dune World (Part 1 of 3), by Frank Herbert

I was mistaken when I called this new serial Herbert's first novel.  He had a serial back in 1956 called Under Pressure that I must have read some seven years ago, but I couldn't tell you what it was about if you put a gun to my head.

Anyway, this new one seems to be generating a lot of buzz, and I can see why.  It features Paul, 15 year-old scion to House of Atreides, whose father, the Duke of Atreides, has been granted the fiefdom of Arrakis.  Arrakis — desert planet — Dune.  This barren wasteland, where water is worth its weight in platinum, offers but one export: Melange, the geriatric spice that affords immortality, cures ailments, and tastes really good, too.  As Arrakis is the only source of melange, control of the planet is a sought plum, indeed.

Except, the Duke knows it is a trap set by the planet's former masters, the Barony of Harkonnen.  In collusion with the Padishar Emperor, Harkonnen has hatched a complicated plan to humiliate and discredit (and probably kill) the Duke, a scheme which whose intricacy might even give Machiaveli pause.

There is a lot to admire in this new work.  It's a fresh universe, highly developed, with a lot of attention to detail and inclusion of many foreign cultural influences.  Women play a prominent role, with the genders being apparently somewhat segregated, each having their own spheres of power.  There are at least two important female characters, something I'm always delighted to find in my science fiction.

One of the aspects of Herbert's world is the conscious disdain for, and even ban on, the use of computers.  Instead, human "mentats" have been bred for the ability of calculation.  This not only creates an interesting new class of person, it neatly relieves the author of predicting the development of electronic brains.

Dune Planet is not, however, an unalloyed success.  In the hands of Cordwainer Smith or even Mack Reynolds, folks who have a deep grounding in other cultures as well as the writing chops to convey them, it would be a masterpiece.  Herbert, on the other hand, is a pretty raw writer.  His stuff can be creaky and dull, the viewpoint shifts from paragraph to paragraph, and his use of ellipses dots is…exuberant (they say we hate most in others what we dislike about ourselves; Herbert writes a bit like I did not long ago before certain editors whipped me into shape).

So, three stars so far, but I'm still reading and look forward to more.

Conversation in Arcady, by Poul Anderson

In George Pal's The Time Machine, Rod Taylor arrives at the far future and discovers humanity living under (seemingly) idyllic circumstances.  They no longer need toil for food, shelter, or clothing.  They do not fight each other nor feel the need to rule.  At first impressed, the time traveler is dismayed to find that the desire to advance, the struggle to improve has been lost.  In perhaps the most effective scene of the movie (at least, it was for me), Taylor finds shelves of books that crumble to dust at the slightest touch.

Poul Anderson's latest is a note for note copy of this scene with the exceptions that 1) Anderson's Eloi are not so simple and childlike, 2) there are no Morlocks fattening up people for supper, and 3) the time traveler can see nothing positive about the situation whatsoever.

I think Anderson is trying to say something poignant, that our race is nothing without the need to better itself.  Or perhaps he's striving for a subtler point — that those who only find meaning in struggle can never find peace, and maybe peace isn't a bad thing.  Or maybe he's saying both things at the same time.

I think he was going for just the first, though.  Three stars.

The Right Time, by Walter Bupp (John Berryman)

John Berryman's series is set in the current world but where psionics are common (but secret).  It's a perfect fit for Analog what with Editor Campbell's peculiar pseudo-scientific beliefs, yet somehow Berryman's stories manage to be good.  This one, about a telekinetic precog with the ability to predict and potentially heal a fellow's heart attack, is my favorite yet.  Four stars.

Thin Edge, by Johnathan Blake MacKenzie

Author Randy Garrett is back under the pseudonym he prefers when he writes about life in the asteroid belt.  This latest piece is about a Belter who is killed by Earthers for the secret of the super strong cording used for rock towing, and about the other Belter who comes to Earth looking for revenge.

It's written with some facility, but the Belters are always too clever and the Earthers too dumb.  A low three or a high two, depending on your mood.

All right!  It's time to tabulate the data for December!

Analog finished in the middle of the pack with 2.8 stars, above F&SF (2.1) and Fantastic (2.2), but below Galaxy (3.2), Amazing (3.2), and New Worlds (3.2), not to mention last month's issue of Gamma, which I didn't get to until this month (3.3).

There were 44 pieces of fiction between the seven magazines, four of which were written by women.  9% is fairly standard these days, sadly.  I'm not sure what's causing the decline, though the numbers were never that much better.

Next up, we'll be covering the UK's newest SF TV show, and beyond that, 1963's Galactic Stars!

Stay tuned.

[The party's still going on at Portal 55.  Come join us for real-time conversation!]

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Conventions/Performances

[September 5, 1963] Oh Brave New World (the 1963 Worldcon)

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by Gideon Marcus

This has been a year of many firsts.  My first year as a full-time writer, my first published fiction story, and now, my first Worldcon.  Ever since I became a science fiction fan back in 1950, Worldcons have been mysterious, half-magic events that happened to other people.  I'd read reports in Fanac or Science Fiction Times or heard summaries from attendees, but they were never real for me.

Until now.

On August 31, 1963, I walked through the doors of the Statler-Hilton in Washington D.C. and attended Discon I, August 31 – September 2, 1963.


The Statler-Hilton in Washington D.C.

It was a weekend of panels, shopping, heated debate, raucous partying, fantastic costumes, and writers.  There, in the flesh, I saw some of the titans of a field I am just entering.  Most of them were somehow apart from me, beyond my ability to connect with at more than a perfunctory level.  Others were more than happy to mingle.  For instance, rising star Bob Silverberg, shared banter and contact information. 

Of course, Silverberg is the fellow who wrote the second-most offensive story I've ever read, the one that turned me off of the magazine Venture forever.  One can only hope he's grown out of his reactionary mindset.


Silverbob, himself! (from fanac)

But in addition to the cavalcade of celebrities, there were, of course, the hundreds of fans, and boy did we have fun together.  The names of a few with whom I connected: Denise Head, Al Jackson, Myriam Warren, Larry Niven, Joe Haldeman.  I even spent a little time palling around with young Astrid Anderson (daughter of Karen and Poul — I never quite managed to cross their path).  Precocious kid.  She's going places.

As usual, Galactic Journey presented a panel on the current state of fandom.  The room was packed, and the questions were excellent.  There was just one moment of heat: an attendee took umbrage at our less-than-flattering comments regarding Barry Goldwater.  Well, it's a free country.


Leiber, Emsh, Ley, Scithers, Brackett, Asimov, De Camp (from locus)

On the last day, we crammed into the main hall for the award ceremony.  The highlight of the luncheon was, without a doubt, the final award for "Dramatic Presentation."  You see, Isaac Asimov was presenting, as he usually does (a rumor that it would be Ted Sturgeon turned out to be unfounded — he wasn't there).  He made his little introductions for each of the winners, with increasing irritation as the night wore on. 

You see, he really wanted a Hugo, and he was upset that he had never gotten one in his 25 years of writing.  And now that he'd transitioned to mostly writing science articles, it was becoming clear (to him) that he never would. 

Once he reached the last envelope, he took a moment to treat us all to a tirade.  He knew, he said, why he had never gotten the golden rocketship.  It had nothing to do with merit.  It was anti-semitism, plain and simple.  We were all Nazis.  Yes, even me.

And with a snarl, he ripped open the final envelope and called out, "The award goes to I…" and froze, his tongue tripping on his own name.  It turned out that there was no Dramatic Presentation award this year.  Instead, Asimov was given a Hugo for his F&SF science articles — "putting the science in science fiction," the award read.

The laughter lasted quite a long time. 

As for the rest of the Hugos, well, here's how they went:

Best Novel

The Man in the High Castle by Philip K. Dick [Putnam, 1962]

Nominees

Sword of Aldones by Marion Zimmer Bradley [Ace, 1961]
A Fall of Moondust by Arthur C. Clarke [Harcourt, Brace & World, 1962]
Little Fuzzy by H. Beam Piper [Avon, 1962]
Sylva by Vercors [Putnam, 1961]


H. Beam Piper in tie at the convention (from zarthani)

This selection is truly remarkable.  Not a single one of these books made our Galactic Stars list this year (though, to be fair, A Fall of Moondust was on our list the prior year).  The Dick is decent, but not Hugo-worthy; ditto the Piper.  The Bradley is just awful.  None of us read Sylva, a French novel about a woman who turns into a fox, so we can't judge that one.

Short Fiction

The The Dragon Masters by Jack Vance [Galaxy Aug 1962]

Nominees

Myrrha by Gary Jennings [F&SF Sep 1962]
The Unholy Grail by Fritz Leiber [Fantastic October 1962]
When You Care, When You Love by Theodore Sturgeon [F&SF Sep 1962]
Where Is the Bird of Fire? by Thomas Burnett Swann [Science Fantasy Apr 1962]


Costumes of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser at the convention (from fanac)

Here, we're on more common ground.  Of course, the WorldCon committee only picks five sub-novel length stories to award while the Journey gives out fifteen, which allows more opportunities for overlap between the two sets of awards.

The Vance is really an excellent novella, and I understand a sequel may be in the works.  The Leiber is definitely deserving, and its warm reception appears to have spurred a host of new Fahfrd and Mouser stories.  The Sturgeon is a reasonable choice, though it was not one of ours. 

We were not so taken by the Jennings, and we missed out on the Swann.  Would any of our fellow travelers like to clue us in?

Best Dramatic Presentation

No Winner

Nominees

Burn, Witch, Burn (1962) (alt: Night of the Eagle) [Anglo-Amalgamated/Independent Artists] Directed by Sidney Hayers; Screenplay by Charles Beaumont & Richard Matheson and George Baxt; based on the novel Conjure Wife by Fritz Leiber

The Day the Earth Caught Fire (1961) [British Lion/Pax] Directed by Val Guest; Written by Wolf Mankowitz & Val Guest

Last Year at Marienbad (1962) [Argos Films] Directed by Alain Resnais; Screenplay by Alain Resnais and Alain Robbe-Grillet; based on the novel The Invention of Morel by Adolfo Bioy Casares

The Twilight Zone (TV series) by Rod Serling [CBS]


From The Twilight Zone episode Little Girl Lost

As described above, no program managed to secure the gold rocket ship this year.  In any event, I am dismayed that we only covered two of the finalists.  We will endeavor to Do Better!

Best Professional Magazine

The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction ed. by Robert P. Mills and Avram Davidson

Nominees

Analog Science Fiction and Fact ed. by John W. Campbell, Jr.
Galaxy ed. by H. L. Gold
Fantastic ed. by Cele Goldsmith
Science Fantasy ed. by John Carnell

Once again, the names are the same but the order changes.  There just aren't that many magazines around these days, though there has been a resurgence lately (and I just read that Wonder Stories may be back!)

I wonder if we should start covering Science Fantasy…

Best Professional Artist

Roy G. Krenkel

Nominees

Ed Emshwiller
Virgil Finlay
Jack Gaughan
John Schoenherr

Krenkel's is a name I was unfamiliar with until recently.  He's the one responsible for the beautiful cover work on the Edgar Rice Burroughs reprints.  The others are, of course, staples of the magazine world.

Best Fanzine

Xero ed. by Richard A. Lupoff and Pat Lupoff

Nominees

Warhoon ed. by Richard Bergeron
Mirage ed. by Jack L. Chalker
Yandro ed. by Robert Coulson and Juanita Coulson
Shangri L’Affaires ed. by Fred Patten, Albert Lewis, Bjo Trimble and John Trimble

"Where is Galactic Journey?" you cry.  After all, it was widely reported that our beloved journal would be on the ballot this year.  Sadly, due to some arcane rule I don't quite understand, Galactic Journey was not eligible for the Hugo in 1963.  Maybe next year…

Despite our not having officially been on the ballot, the Journey was invited to the Sunday night reveling that is traditional for Hugo losers.  We sent a representative; however, the Traveler and Editor decided to get some much-needed rest.  It had been a roller-coaster of a week, and we wanted to be fresh for the return to San Diego. 

Nevertheless, Worldcon was a blast.  We loved the venue, the friends, and the programming.  We will definitely attend next year.  Hope to see you there!

[We'll be discussing the Hugo winners, losers, and shoulda-beens all week, starting now, at Portal 55! Come join us!]

—

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Conventions/Performances

[June 25, 1963] It's showtime!  (A musical and educational performance on the Mercury 7)

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We've a special treat for you, today!  As you know, the Journey frequently presents at conventions and venues across the country.  Our last event was at the science-themed pub, The Wavelength Brewing Co.

Not only was a fine selection of craft beers on tap, but also the Young Traveler, performing a suite of current musical hits.  I followed things up with a half-hour presentation on the recently concluded Mercury program, discussing all of the flights and the folks who flew them.


(Astronauts Cooper, Schirra, Shepard, Grissom, Glenn, Slayton, and Carpenter)

We played to a packed house, receiving rave reviews.  Our only regret is that we could not be joined by all of our friends and fans.  However, we did have a TV crew on-hand, and thanks to the networks and Telstar 2, we are now able to show this performance to the world. 

If you've any kind of viewing screen, you should have no trouble tuning in any time of day from anywhere.

So sit back, enjoy, and we hope you can join us at the next performance of the Galactic Journey!

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Conventions/Performances

[April 21, 1963] Bully for Conventions (BullCon: The 1963 EasterCon)

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By Ashley R. Pollard

BullCon, was the 14th British Eastercon held this year in Peterborough, and as usual a celebration of all things fannish.  British Eastercons are, as the name suggests, held over the Easter weekend (though in days gone by they were held over Whitsun holiday weekend).  And, despite being the national SF convention, they are independent events run by fans.

I was, for the usual reasons, unable to arrange travel to attend, but I was able to rely on my friend, Rob Hansen, who compiled the reports of those who attended.

This was a big convention, with over a 130 fans in attendance.  Not the biggest Eastercon on record, but up from last year's 94. All things considered, this seems to be an indicator of a healthy interest in science fiction and fantasy.  An added feature of this year's convention was the presence of a film crew, who were covering the event for local and national press, and recording interviews with the authors and artists for television and radio.

How glamorous!

BullCon was also the fifth anniversary of the BSFA: the British Science Fiction Association.  As you may remember, money was raised at last year's convention to create an award to honour Arthur Rose "Doc" Weir, who before his death had been the secretary of the BSFA.

The Doc Weir award will be given annually to recognize someone who has contributed to fandom, but who is otherwise unsung.  The quiet fan who goes about doing the necessary work that keeps things running, and this year I can happily report that the cup was awarded Peter Mabey.

Peter, is a member of both the Cheltenham Circle, the BSFA, and a founder member of the Order of St Fantony, which became known to fandom at large in 1957 at the British Worldcon.  Like all things fannish, the description of the group depends on who you talk to: secret Masters of Fandom; a group formed to greet Americans who came to over the pond; or a cringeworthy jape: a fannish practical joke.

Whatever position one takes I'm sure the Order of St Fantony will be around for a number of years.  Anyway, regardless of fannish sensibilities, well done Peter.  I hope you get to to many more conventions in the future.

Like all large fan run events, there were issues with the time the events were meant to start versus the actual time they did start.  Not unsurprising given the size of the hall used for the main events and the quality of the public address system.

So the good/bad news is that next year the convention is again being run in Peterborough because the hotel management liked the fans so much it invited them back.  The bad news is the cost of eating in the hotel.  For those who plan to attend next year, the best eateries are either the Minster Grill or fan favourite The Great Wall Chinese restaurant.

Moving on, Ken Slater opened the convention and introduced Brian Aldiss who then went on to interview some of the guests of honours before the BullCon program proper started.

With humour and charm, Brian introduced on Saturday morning the Guest of Honour, the incredibly handsome Edmund Crispin, which for those who don't know is a pseudonym of Robert Bruce Montgomery.  Our guest of honour also admitted to being a member of the BSFA, making him one of us.

His talk was titled, Science Fiction: Is it Significant?

The argument presented started by saying that SF genre certainly considers itself significant and or feels it's important to be seen as significant.  Especially in these times where mankind is taking its first steps into space and towards the stars.  However, he saw a danger in this because of the risk from being absorbed into mainstream literature.  He referenced crime fiction in the early thirties, to create a parallel for what happens when everybody starts writing in a genre they don't fully understand.

His second point led onto mainstream authors who have produced the occasional work of SF that were in his mind poor, for example, On the Beach by Nevil Shute.  His argument being that mainstream authors didn't understand the problems and conventions of the genre.  And this led to second-rate SF stories and the genre being labelled as bad.

His third point was the influence of television.

Here he was quite scathing saying, "there is little differentiation between merit and lack of merit."  In his opinion, the presence of aliens or spaceships is the only factor to differentiate TV SF from conventional moribund mundanity that is transmitted over the airwaves.

Mr. Crispin's fourth point was an observation that the idea of the cosmos had permeated the common culture, as evinced by the fact that even the Astronomer Royal had stopped saying traveling into space was foolish science fictional fantasy.  Which raised a chuckle at the inability of the British establishment to keep abreast of the times.

Finally, he drew his talk to a close by arguing that in SF, space travel is presupposed to be a fact or matter of course, not a theme in and unto itself.  He observed that SF authors crammed ideas into their short stories that would fill a novel in in other genres.  As an aside he said, "SF authors are generally underpaid," which raised a cheer of "Hear! Hear!" from author Harry Harrison.

He finished his interesting talk with a couple of observations.  The first that readers do not like to be told that people are unimportant, and that SF is a major revolution in the evolution of literature since the time of Shakespeare and Marlowe.

A question-and-answer session followed Mr. Crispin's talk, which touched upon the debasement of the SF genre in the eyes of the general public by mainstream writers.

The rest of the day was equally lively.  For example, one panel featuring a discussion about censorship, with an interesting number of anecdotes from the large number of SF authors in attendance.

Saturday evening was enlivened by the presence of a four piece band and the Fancy Dress Party.  The award for Best Monster went to Harry Nadler.  Janet Shorrock received a special prize for dressing up as a cat girl.  This year's convention theme was "After the End," so I shouldn't be surprised that Tony Walsh won first prize for dressing up as a sandwich-board-man with the slogans front and back, "Prepare to Meet Your Beginning" and "The Beginning is At Hand."  Some took their costumes out onto the streets to delight/scare the nonfans.

Another tradition at the Eastercon is the art competition.

This year the best colour work was won by Jack Wilson, runner up was Terry Jeeves.  Eddie Jones won the award for the best black and white artwork.  Terry Jeeves also garnered the award for best cartoon.  And, the backdrop used in the main hall, created by Marcus Ashby, was highly commended for contributing to the atmosphere that made the convention a success.

Parties.  There were a few.  One, run by Ella Parker and Ethel Lindsay attracted 53 people. All crammed into one small hotel room.  Allegedly, Harry Harrison caused a blast as he was forced to the floor but managed to keep hold of his drink.  Or so the story goes — the magnitude of the event is magnified in each retelling.

Sunday, besides the usual hangovers, the convention had a talk about the future of TAFF: The Transatlantic Fan Fund, presented by the current administrator Ethel Lindsay, with the support of Ron Bennet and Eric Bentcliffe.  A detailed discussion of the finances and cost were covered and whether reports were mandatory; it seems they're not.  But my feeling is that they are expected, and as we say over here, better late than never.

This was followed by the fifth anniversary AGM of the BSFA, where the chairman Terry Jeeves described the work and achievements of the organization over the last year.

There were two major crises. The first when the editor Ella Parker had to give up her post.  The second when the BSFA had to move the library to Liverpool.  Terry gave credit to all those whose hard work had carried the BSFA through this difficult time.

New members were being encouraged to join the BSFA.  When someone asked how, Brian Aldiss is reported to have quipped, "by thumbscrew," thereby cementing his reputation for being funny.

The Pro Panel was a special event this year due to the number of professional authors in attendance.  The first four speakers took a couple of questions from the audience, then tagged two other authors to come up and take their place.  The authorial equivalent of a relay teams.

First question: how do you write?

Harry Harrison makes notes when writing a short story, but novels involve long correspondences between him and his editor; Michael Moorcock said ideas often took up to two years going around in his mind before he wrote the story; Edmund Crispin reported that he tried to keep regular hours of 09.30 to 12.30, writing in long hand on lined paper.

Generally, he failed and by 11.30 he gave up and went to the pub. Clearly another "funny" guy.

Next a question was asked about sequels.

Harry Harrison responded that if a book is written "right" it doesn't need a sequel (of course that begs a definition of what is meant by "right"); Brian Aldiss' cryptic comment was, "for those in peril on the sequel;" and Edmund Crispin's opinion was that there are occasional exceptions to the rule about sequels (which, I infer, is don't).

Then the panel was asked a question about Russian SF.

Kingsley Amis stated that Russian SF lacked action driven by crisis because, "in a well-planned, well-run economy one does not find crises."  He told of Soviet stories in which aliens are intelligent and therefore socialist; Max Jakubowski, with, what I imagine, the benefit of having a Russian-British and Polish heritage, gave the pithy answer that Russian SF "is very heavy;" John Carnell drew parallels with early German SF; while Ken Bulmer and Mack Reynolds both spoke about about the importance of background in SF.

This was a very thought provoking panel, which ended because time had run out.  See my comments earlier on program problems.

Finally, the official programme was brought to a close with a film show.  This year two films were shown.

The first was Jean Cocteau's Orphee with English subtitles.  This was followed by Fritz Lang's Metropolis that was allegedly last shown at the Royal Hotel Festivention in 1951.  I say allegedly, because while it had been planned to be shown, the distributor instead sent a copy of the 1925 version of Lost World. Much hilarity ensued because Arthur C. Clarke ran the gramophone record player providing music to accompany the the dinosaur action.

So, watching Metropolis is considered a tradition, but in British SF fandom anything done more than once (even if the first time is a non-event) is considered a tradition.

It's also a British tradition for fans to provide sarcastic commentary on the acting of silent movies.  Depending on one's mood or level of inebriation, this can be tedious or exhilaratingly funny.  Funny things, traditions.

Lots of other stuff went on during the weekend, but the best thing that can be said about the event was the feeling that it could've gone on for longer, and let's do it all again next year.  I'm sure Ethel Lindsay will agree, as she was inveigled into running next years programme.

Anyway, next year I hope to attend the Eastercon.  We shall see if I manage the trip next time! 




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Conventions/Performances, Magazine

[Oct. 17, 1962] It's Always Darkest… (The November 1962 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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[if you’re new to the Journey, read this to see what we’re all about!]


by Gideon Marcus

Ah F&SF.  What happened to one of my very favorite mags?  That's a rhetorical question; Avram Davidson happened.  The new editor has doubled down on the magazine's predilection for whimsical fantasy with disastrous (to me) results.  Not only that, but it's even featuring fewer woman authors now than Amazing, of all mags.  I am shaking my head, wishing this was all some Halloween-inspired nightmare.  But no.  Here it is in black and white with a forty cent price tag.  Come check out this month's issue…but don't say I didn't warn you:

The Secret Flight of the Friendship Eleven, by Alfred Connable

We all know astronauts are lantern-jawed, steely eyed, terse test-pilots.  Great for getting the job done, not so great for poetic inspiration.  Eleven is the tale of a corps of artistic types selected specifically so as to describe their journeys in more approachable terms.  But space has the last laugh.

Every so often, a brand new author knocks one out of the park on the first at bat.  This is not one of those cases.  For satire to work, it has to be clever, and this is just mundanely droll.  One star.

Sorworth Place, by Russell Kirk

It's October, so ghost stories are thoroughly appropriate.  This one, however, set in a battered Scottish castle, is neither original nor particularly engaging.  Two stars.

Card Sharp, by Walter H. Kerr

I really have no idea what Kerr's poem is about.  Even Davidson's explanation is no help.  One star.

Hop-Friend, by Terry Carr

Thus begins about twenty pages of relative quality, an island of the old F&SF in a sea of lousiness.  Newish author Carr finds his feet with this sensitive and striking tale of first contact between Human and Martian.  Introverts can never fathom extroverts, and similarly, xenophobes find xenophiles, well, alien!  But extroverted xenophiles, even from different species, are birds of a feather.  Four stars (even if Carr's Mars conforms more to older theories of the Red Planet's atmosphere).

Pre-Fixing it Up, by Isaac Asimov

How many rods in a furlong?  How many grains in a pennyweight?  I have no idea…and with the metric system, it doesn't matter.  The Good Doctor explains the ins, outs, and many merits of the new standard that lets you measure everything from an atom to a universe with a series of easily manipulated units.  Four stars.

Landscape With Sphinxes, by Karen Anderson

Back into the sea with a Sphinx-themed riddle: What earns four stars at its prime, two stars when it doesn't try, and three stars most of the time?  The Anderson family of writers.  No matter how good an author one is, it takes more than a promising beginning to make a story.  Two stars for this third of a vignette.

Protect Me from My Friends, by John Brunner

There is a fine line between innovation and illegibility.  I read Brunner's first person account of an overwhelmed telepath twice (it's short), and I still don't like it.  Two stars.

You Have to Know the Tune, by Reginald Bretnor

Another half tale from the fellow we know better as Grendel Briarton (of Feghoot "fame" — and that entry is truly bad this month).  Industrialist on the way to Africa hears a tale of the pied bassoonist of the veldt only to find it's likely no legend.  Trivial.  Two stars.

The Journey of Joenes (Part 2 of 2), by Robert Sheckley

As any of my readers knows, no greater fan of Robert Sheckley walks the Earth.  His short stories are funny, thought-provoking, chilling, clever — by turns or all at once.  In the last decade, he wrote enough to fill six excellent collections, none of which will ever leave my library.

Where he falters is novels.  Somehow, Sheckley can't keep the pace for 150 consecutive pages, and the result is, while never bad, never terrific.  Cases in point: Time Killer and The Status Civilization.  Bob seems to be cognizant of this weakness.  In his latest book, The Journey of Joenes he attempts to overcome it by writing a novel composed of short, somewhat independent narratives.  The result is something that is, to my mind, no more successful than his previous book-length works.  You may, of course, disagree.

Joenes is a pure satire, putatively written in a post-apocalyptic 30th Century Polynesian.  It details the life of Joenes, an American-born Tahitian power engineer, who is one of the few to survive the worldwide cataclysm.  The tale is told by others: Polynesian historians; excerpts from the memoirs of Joenes' beatnik companion, Lum; edifying tales recorded anonymously. 

There is a plot — Joenes comes to the United States, winds up before a Court on the charge of sedition, is sentenced to a mental hospital for the Criminally Insane, flees to become a professor of Polynesian Cultural Studies, goes into government, and ultimately escapes nuclear anhilation.  This, however, isn't the point.  Rather, we see our own modern culture through a mirror darkly, distorted not just as a satire of our society, but of legend in general.  The history of the United States is mixed liberally with that of Ancient Greece.  Historical and mythical personages are referenced with equal frequency.  It's effectively done, essentially doing for 20th Century America what Homer did for 12th Century B.C. Greece.

Joenes is clearly an attempt by the author to make the philosophical treatise for the 1960s, the equivalent of Stranger in a Strange Land or Venus Plus X.  The satire is approachable, even for the layman, and there is some sex in it.  Whether it succeeds wildly like Heinlein's piece or fizzles like Sturgeon's, only time will tell. 

I can only speak for myself.  While Sheckley is always readable, I felt that the joke went on too long, particularly in the latter portions.  Perhaps I'm just too close to the subject matter he was aping.  In any event, I give Joenes three stars.  If this kind of thing is your bag, I suspect you'll rate it more highly.

And that's that for this month.  More disappointment in 130 pages than I've seen in a long time, if ever.  When I do the Galactic Stars next month, I'm certain F&SF won't be on the list, and that saddens me.  Nevertheless, I hope against hope that this is just a phase, and the once proud digest will someday return to its former glory.  Time will tell…

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Conventions/Performances

[Oct. 2, 1962] Women of Washington, Unite!  (The Seventh Geek Girl Con in Seattle)

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[if you’re new to the Journey, read this to see what we’re all about!]


by Gideon Marcus

Ah, Geek Girl Con.  Every year, Seattle's clarion call of intellectual feminine fandom calls us to attend Washington's signature science fiction/fantasy event.  It is an intimate (but growing) gathering of sff devotees with a fascination for things both creative and technical.

This year, as with last year, the Journey was invited to speak on the last 12 months in fandom, and boy did we have a lot to relate.  From coverage of Marvel Comics' slew of new superheroes to a report on this year's Hugo winners, and with a special piece on the woman pioneers of space exploration, our four panelists ensured that our several dozen attendees left educated and excited.

Of course, there was plenty more going on this year, from a burgeoning Huckster Hall to an active costuming scene.  There was a host of interesting panels.  We personally attended one on activism and how our breed of fanaticism can be channeled to make a positive difference in the world.  Sort of a "Fen Forward!" or "Beatniks for a Better world!"  With all the racial strife, economic inequality, strife on the foreign scene, and the increasing specter of Goldwater isolationism and reactionary policy going on, we need all of our wacky team united in the cause of improving society. 

There was also an excellent panel on Black fandom (there are more members than you think!) and the hope for the appearance of a Black comic superhero.  My bet is that, of the two big comics houses, Marvel is the more likely to dare in that direction.  But who knows?

Here, then, is a mini-gallery of some of the dressed-up friends I managed to snap photos of.  My apologies for not having so many this year – it was an awfully busy (but very fun!) time:


The radiant Sarah Kauppila as Snow White…and her lovely mother, Luann, as the Evil Queen


Cruella de Ville from last year's Disney film, 101 Dalmatians


Erika Rae Heins, a Middle Earth enthusiast


Rosemary, a modern-age Wonder Woman


Wilma Flintstone and Betty Rubble

That's it for this year, but it's almost a certainty we'll be flying back on Alaska Airlines come next October.  Especially now with their swell Convair 880s, which go a bit faster than the Boeing 707 and the Douglas DC-8.  First time we've ever ridden in one!

[AND DON'T MISS LIVE COVERAGE OF WALLY SCHIRRA'S SIGMA 7 MERCURY FLIGHT BEGINNING TONIGHT!]

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Conventions/Performances

[Sep. 4, 1962] Differences of opinion (the 1962 Hugo Awards!)

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[if you’re new to the Journey, read this to see what we’re all about!]


by Gideon Marcus

Once again, the best and the brightest of the fans (and many of the rest of them) congregated for the biggest SFnal shindig of the year: WorldCon.  This year, Chicago won the bid to hold this prestigious event.  The Pick-Congress Hotel saw more than 500 fen gather for a Labor Day weekend of carousing, shopping, costuming, and voting.

You see, every year these fans select the worthiest science fiction stories and outlets of the prior year to be recipients of the Hugo, a golden rocketship trophy.  It's the closest thing one can get to a curated list of the best SF has to offer.  Winning is a tremendous honor; even getting on the nominees ballot is a laudable achievement.  In fact, we have been informed that Galactic Journey was the Nominee-Runner Up this year in the Best Fanzine category — thanks to all of you who got us to one rank below the ballot.  Perhaps next year will be the breakthrough!


The Chicon III fanquet, where the award ceremony was held

So let's see what the fans decided was 1961's best, and in particular, let's compare it to my list of favorites, the ones I gave at the end of last year.

Best Novel

Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein [Putnam, 1961]

Nominees

Dark Universe by Daniel F. Galouye [Bantam, 1961]
Sense of Obligation (alt: Planet of the Damned) by Harry Harrison [Analog Sep,Oct,Nov 1961]
The Fisherman (alt: Time Is the Simplest Thing) by Clifford D. Simak [Analog Apr,May,Jun,Jul 1961]
Second Ending by James White [Fantastic Jun,Jul 1961]


Robert Heinlein holding court

This line-up shouldn't shock me, given the pre-convention buzz, and yet it does.  Stranger has gotten a lot of attention, particularly from the mainstream edges of our fandom (probably because it dares to mention sex).  It has also earned its fair share of scorn.  It's a lousy, preachy book, but if we're judging by the sales, then it's won its trophy, fair and square.

Galouye's book was my #2, so I'm glad it was recognized.  The Fisherman was quite good.  The Harrison was no great shakes, especially compared to Deathworld, which it resembled.  I suspect these two made it to the top ranks thanks to their appearing in Analog, the most popular digest.

We weren't covering Fantastic last year.  Maybe Second Ending is excellent.  Someone tell me, please.

Short Fiction

The Hothouse series by Brian W. Aldiss [F&SF Feb,Apr,Jul,Sep,Dec 1961]

Nominees

Monument by Lloyd Biggle, Jr. [Analog Jun 1961]
Scylla’s Daughter by Fritz Leiber [Fantastic May 1961]
Status Quo by Mack Reynolds [Analog Aug 1961]
Lion Loose by James H. Schmitz [Analog Oct 1961]

Once again, Analog dominates, and once again, I cannot agree.  None of these stories won the Galactic Star last year (and that's even with me giving out far more awards than Worldcon does).  I did give a Star to the first story in the Hothouse series, but the quality of the tales went down over the course of the publication.  I understand they were novelized early this year, so Aldiss may get another bite at the apple.  He doesn't deserve it, though (the reviewer for UK sf digest, New Worlds, agrees with me).

As for the rest, Monument is a good story, and I haven't read the Leiber, but the other two nominees were wretched.  And where's Cordwainer Smith?  Zenna Henderson?  Or a host of more worthy authors?  Feh, Chicago.  Feh!

Best Dramatic Presentation

The Twilight Zone (TV series) by Rod Serling [CBS]

Nominees

Village of the Damned (1960) [MGM] Directed by Wolf Rilla; Written by Stirling Silliphant and Wolf Rilla and Ronald Kinnoch
The Fabulous World of Jules Verne (1961) [Warner Brothers] Directed by Karel Zeman; Screenplay by Frantisek Hrubin and Karel Zeman; based on the novel Face au Drapeau by Jules Verne
The Two Worlds of Charlie Gordon (U. S. Steel Hour #8.13) [CBS, 1961] Teleplay by Jame Yaffe; based on the short story Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes
Thriller (TV Series) [NBC, 1961]

This is interesting.  Three of the five are television shows, and while Jules Verne won a nomination, it wasn't for any of the films I watched and nominated.  I have not seen Village, but Ashley Pollard spoke fondly of it.  Neither The Twilight Zone nor Thriller were stellar last year, but I suppose if that's what you tune into week-after-week, you're bound to be partial. 

I'd be keen to know how the Flowers for Algernon adaptation was.  It was based, of course, on an excellent story.

Best Professional Magazine

Analog Science Fiction and Fact ed. by John W. Campbell, Jr.

Nominees

Galaxy ed. by H. L. Gold
Amazing Science Fiction Stories ed. by Cele Goldsmith
The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction ed. by Robert P. Mills and Avram Davidson
Science Fantasy ed. by John Carnell


That's Cele Goldsmith, editor of Fantastic and Amazing, at the podium

Another set of rankings that shouldn't surprise me — Analog has far and away the biggest circulation numbers.  That said, it was pretty lousy last year.  Of course, we weren't covering Amazing and Fantastic, and Science Fantasy remains the last English-language magazine yet to be reviewed at the Journey. 

It seems the fandom feels Galaxy is of highly variable quality, sometimes showcasing the best stuff and sometimes the worst.  I hold an opposite opinion — for me, Galaxy is always good, but only occasionally stands out.  My feelings on F&SF are, of course, no surprise to the regular followers of my column.

Best Professional Artist

Ed Emshwiller

Nominees

Virgil Finlay
Mel Hunter
John Schoenherr
Alex Schomburg


Emsh is on the right

Kelly Freas appears to have fallen out of favor.  Emsh remains the favorite, and I can agree with that.  I think I'm going to have to start nominating my own set of artists for Galactic Stars, especially after the beautiful work Gaughan contributed for Vance's novella, The Dragon Masters (which almost assuredly will win a Star of its own, if not a Hugo).

Best Fanzine

Warhoon ed. by Richard Bergeron

Nominees

Cry ed. by F. M. Busby, Elinor Busby and Wally Weber
Yandro ed. by Robert Coulson and Juanita Coulson
Amra ed. by George H. Scithers
Axe ed. by Larry Shaw and Noreen Shaw

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Last up is the fanzines, which I don't generally have time to read — though I did pick up the latest copy of Rhodomagnetic Digest, and I now have a subscription to Axe and Science Fiction Times.  Fill me in on what I'm missing, folks?

So there you have it.  A markedly different list from what I would have chosen, but then I suppose there is merit to having more than one curated selection at your disposal.

What choices did you make?

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