Norwescon 5 Program Book

Norwescon 5

The full souvenir program book for Norwescon 5.

Stephen Bard, Michael Brocha, and Jeffrey Levin

Northwest Science Fiction Society

March 18–21, 1982

Frank Portwood

Contents Copyright © 1982 by The Northwest Science Fiction Society for the Contributors.

English

NORWESCON 5

March 19–21, 1982
SEATTLE

[Image: Art by Michael Whelan of a troubled-looking man with wavy dark hair, leaning on one arm with the other stretched out on a table, and smoke drifting through the air.]

[Image: Full version of the cover art by Michael Whelan of a troubled-looking man with wavy dark hair, leaning on one arm with the other stretched out on a table, and smoke drifting through the air. The arm on the table holds a feather quill as he write son paper, the smoke comes from a just-snuffed candle in an ornate candlestick near a window.]

[Image: Art by Rowena Morrill of a nude woman laying on a marble table under stone arches as a feather-winged lizard-bird-like creature flies over her.]
MADWAND, Copyright © 1981, 1982 by Rowena Morrill

NORWESCON 5

SEATTLE * MARCH 18–21, 1982 * AIRPORT HYATT HOTEL

Fifth Annual Northwest Regional Science Fiction Convention

Sponsored by the Northwest Science Fiction Society
P.O. Box [REDACTED]
Seattle, WA 98124

Guest of Honor
THOMAS M. DISCH

Artist Guest of Honor
MICHAEL WHELAN

Fan Guest of Honor
BOB SHAW

Toastmaster
RICHARD A. LUPOFF

Program Book Editors:
Stephen Bard
Michael Brocha
Jeffrey Levin

NORWESCON 5 CONVENTION COMMITTEE

Convention Chairman: Steve Bard
Vice Chairman, Business Manager: Richard Wright
Treasurer: Thom Walls
Secretary: Jeanine Gray
Membership Services: Lauraine Miranda
Publications: Mike Brocha, Steve Bard, Jeff Levin, Kipy Poyser, Andrea Levin, Steve Gallacci
Convention Services: Judy Lorent, Michael Citrak, Dan Wolfe
Program Services: Michael Kenmir, Sharree Sledge
Stage Management: Beth Dockins
Stardance: Michael Citrak, Peter Citrak, Beth Dockins, Michael Kenmir, Dee Kidd, Sharree Sledge, Paul Wolken
NORWESCONe: Judy Lorent
Fannish Olympiad: Mark Richardson
Technical Services: Chuck VanDerLinden
Site Services: Jay Parks
Troubleshooters: George Allen
Security: Mark Schellberg
Dealer Room Security: Dan Metnik
Role Games - Board Games: Joe Simpson
Computer Room: Mark Schellberg
Arcade Games: Don Glover
Office Services: Barbara Hunter, Libby Evans
Office Staff: Jeanine Gray, Becky Simpson
Information Table: Kit Canterbury
Medical: Barbara Hunter
Gofers: Julie Wood
Childcare: Kathy Wilkie
Property Management: Doug Booze
Procurement: Thom Walls
Media Services: Pat Mallinson
Tech Management: Michael Citrak
16mm Films: Tony Blankinship
Video Ads: Pat Mallinson
Video Program: Mark Schellberg, DJ Driscoll, Henry Elling
Programming: Steve Bard, Mike Bentley, Dani Eder
Art Show: Randy “Tarkas” Hoar
Dealer’s Room: Dave Bray
Public Relation & Hospitality: Elizabeth “Dragon Lady” Warren
SF Fair Director: J.T. Stewart

Original Fiction and Poetry by:
Thomas M. Disch, John Sladek, & Ova Hamlet

Original Articles by: Bob Shaw & Frank Catalano

The Norwescon 5 Program Book is dedicated to the memory of William Broxon

Table of Contents

Welcome to the Wonder Zone: 2
Programming: 5
Guest of Honor: Thomas M. Disch: 12
An Italian Lesson (by Tom Disch): 14
Outer Space Haiku (by Tom Disch): 14
Metamorphosis (by Tom Disch): 15
Fan Guest of Honor: Bob Shaw: 16
The Enchanted Duplicator: A Play: 17
Auld Slang Sayings (by Bob Shaw): 18
Artist Guest of Honor: Michael Whelan: 20
Toastmaster: Richard A. Lupoff: 22
Phannie (by Ova Hamlet): 24
Departments & Events: 30
The Doomsday Fad (by Frank Catalano): 36
Guests of Norwescon: 38
Transplant Your Own Heart (by Tom Disch & John Sladek): 50
Author, Author! * — A Crossword: 54
Gallery: 56
Seattle: 74
How to Savor Seattle: 75
Films & Video: 76
What’s in a Name? (by Frank Catalano): 79
Coal Miners (by Tom Disch): 80
The Spaceship Caliban: 83
The Fall of the City: 83
On the Use of the Masculine-Preferred (by Tom Disch): 84
Springtime in Tokyo (by Tom Disch): 86
Preregistered Membership: 90
In Memoriam: 95
Acknowledgements: 96

[Image: Drawing by Bill Warren of the Seattle skyline with the Space Needle in the foreground and Mt. Rainier in the distance.]

Contents Copyright © 1982 by The Northwest Science Fiction Society for the Contributors.

Welcome to the Wonder Zone

[Image: Art by Victoria Poyser of an intense-looking dark-haired man waring a robe and resting his hands on skulls as etherial nude women float above him.]

It seems to me that science fiction conventions are something of a microcosm of “the good life,” with the dull or “mundane” parts expurgated. Actually, for many fans, most all of the time between conventions seems the veritable dregs of existence in comparison to the exquisitely distilled ambrosia of convention conviviality. After all, where else but at a science fiction convention can you all in one week-end meet dozens of your favorite writers, have your sensawonder titillated almost beyond endurance by science talks, author insights and art, start a new romance (or three), ferret out a few choice collectibles, chat with 27 of your dearest friends from all over the globe, and generally have the time of your life?!

We sincerely hope and strive that Norwescon 5 will be such a multifariously satiating experience. We trust that you’ll find no shortage of mindboggling and bending alternatives herein; something for everyone, everything for some. Brother, Sister, Welcome to the Wonder Zone. Enjoy!

— Steve Bard Chair

Art Credits

John P. Alexander — 5, 7, 8, 9, 17, 33, 76
Alfredo Alcala — 6
Alicia Austin — 72
David Anthony — 41, 42, 91, 93
George Barr — 19, 34, 70, 76, 95
Hannes Bok — 58
Mark Counts — 14
Leo, Diane & Lee Dillon — 65
Lela Dowling — 2, 9, 17, 31, 32, 40, 69, 74, 84, inside back cover, nametag
Virgil Finlay — 30, 64
Steve Gallacci — 5, 8, 9, 26, 27, 29, 30, 33, 52, 75, 86
Rick Gauger — 33, 83, 94
Jack Gaughan — 59
H.R. Giger — 62
Kevin Johnson — 61
Janet Kramer — 31
Linda Leach — 92
Carl Lundgren — 31, 60
Ken Macklin — 9, 18, 54, 68
Amy Madwed — 90
Don Maitz — 5, 30, 32, 57
Hal S. Robins — 83
Rowena Morrill — inside front cover, 71
Steve Perry — 32, 38
Victoria Poyser — 2, 66
Sharree L. Sledge — 7, 39, 77, 92
Tarkas — 14, 15, 39, 43, 47, 50, 67, 79, 86
William R. Warren, Jr. — 9, 24, 36, 44, 79, 94
Michael R. Whelan — front cover, back cover, 21, 23, 34, 56, 63, 94
Ray Williams — 80
M.K. Wren — 91

[Image: Drawing by Lela Dowling of a creature on all fours with goat-like haunches and cloven hooves, a woman’s torso and head, and long, pointed ears.]

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MICHAEL WHELAN

from Glass Onion Graphics
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[Image: Art by Michael Whelan of two astronauts, a man and a woman, stepping through circular portals in a spaceship wall.]

Also available in the dealer’s room at this convention]

[Ad: VOLUME II IN THE SAGA OF PLIOCENE EXILE

THE GOLDEN TORC
JULIAN MAY
AUTHOR OF THE MANY-COLORED LAND

“For those like myself who considered The Many-Colored Land an instant classic, there was considerable suspense engendered by the wait for the second book of the trilogy. I am more than happy to be able to say that The Golden Torc is a worthy successor. I read it with the same avid excitement I felt from Land, and I finished it with the same craving for more. The entire concept is outrageously original … [and] it all comes to a climax that, to say the very least, is Wagnerian in scale. After that finale, how can May top it?”
— Baird Searles in Isaac Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine

“A grand scheme [that is] most promising and moving, both emotionally as fantasy and epistemologically as science fiction. I look forward to the rest of the Saga.”
— Professor Donald M. Hassler in Extrapolation

$13.95, now at your bookstore, or write to
Houghton Mifflin Company
[REDACTED] Boston, Massachusetts 02107]

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[Image: Covers of two magazines, an Elfquest and a Prevue.]

We carry an extensive line of specialty magazines. These unique publications generally have low print runs and most never reach regular magazine stands. Here’s just a few carried on a regular basis: Elfquest, Cerebus, Andromeda, First Kingdom, Mediascene, RBCC, Starship, Star*Reach and many more.

FILM MAGAZINES

Science Fiction and Film tie-in magazines stocked include: Cinefantastique, Trek, Enterprise Incidents, Questar, Cinemagic, a full line of Starlog, Future Life, Fangoria, Cinemagic, and Starlog photoguide books.

OUR CATALOG

Over 400 items are listed in our catalog. The cost of the catalog is $1.00 refundable with your first order over $5.00. We process orders promptly within four days and wrap carefully using heavy strong cardboard to protect your merchandise.

DISTRIBUTOR

We distribute nearly all the products we carry as well as a full line of Marvel, DC, Warren comics. Bookstores and bona fide dealers are invited to inquire about terms and discounts.

SECOND GENESIS
[REDACTED] S.E. HARRISON
PORTLAND, OR 97214]

[Ad: [Image: Under the text Future Dreams, a woman in a skin tight space suit floats in space over a planet.]

WE DON’T HAVE ENOUGH ROOM IN THIS AD TO TELL YOU ABOUT ALL OF THE FANTASTIC ITEMS THAT WE HAVE BROUGHT TO SELL AT NORWESCON 4. MANY OF THESE ITEMS HAVE BEEN HAND PICKED JUST FOR YOU, SO PLEASE COME TO OUR TABLES IN THE DEALERS ROOM AND SEE WHAT IT IS THAT WE ARE TALKING ABOUT, OR VISIT US AT OUR USUAL LOCATION AT FUTURE DREAMS
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Programming

[Image: Art by Don Mainz of an old man in a dark robe and a young woman standing on a balcony watching as a man with a sword flies off on a winged horse.]
Copyright © 1982 by Don Maitz

Program Key:
The following schedule delineates major programming items only. Events run one hour in duration unless otherwise specified. The film schedule is shown on the pocket program and the video schedule is listed on its reverse. The many author’s readings and interviews and news broadcasts are also listed only in the pocket program. Enjoy.

[Image: A cat-like creature makes shadow puppets in the beam from a projector as the projectionist naps.]

Thursday, March 18

3 PM

Registration Opens (Lobby) Early registration for those wishing to avoid the Friday morning crush.

The Hospitality Suite (Governor’s) commences being hospitable.

3 PM (thru 1 AM)

Norwescon Film Festival (Flight Lounge) Handpicked selection of films in 16mm featuring: THX-1138, Rabid, The Corpse Grinders, The Man Who Fell To Earth, The Phantom of the Paradise and the horror classic The Old Dark House (Out of circulation for 30 years!).

8 PM

Opening Ceremonies and GoH Interview (Phoenix B & C) Toastmaster Richard A. Lupoff introduces Guests of Honor Thomas M. Disch, Bob Shaw and Michael Whelan; then interviews Tom Disch at length.

9 PM

Practice Party (Governor’s Suite) Gala Opening Party in Hospitality Suite.

10 PM

Dancing to the lively sounds of the Pro Jr. band.

Hotel Map

[Image: Map of the Hyatt House with hotel features and convention spaces marked.]

Friday, March 19

8 AM

Registration Opens (Upper Lobby) Cheery, friendly faces prepare for the onslaught.

Hospitality Suite opens (Governor’s) Hostess Elizabeth (Dragon Lady) Warren and crew treat you to coffee and conversation.

[Image: Cartoon of an artist watching as the dragon they’ve just painted comes out of the canvas and breathes flame at a person running away in surprise.]

9 AM

Art Show Opens —Oohs and Aahhs— (Art Show check-in remains open for pre- registered-artists thru 11 AM).

10 AM

“Neofan” Presentation (Phoenix B & C) Everything you always wanted to know about clubs and cons and APAs and fanzines and gafiation.

11 AM

Dealer Room Opens (Satellite) Slavering collectors stampede in as hucksters wring their hands and cackle evilly.

Spinoffs from Space (Phoenix A) Linda Blanchard, Carl Case, Jon Post and Eric Vinicoff discuss the manifold ways in which space exploration has and will pay its own way.

Future Gaming (Phoenix B & C) Role-playing and Persona-gamers discuss the state of the art and envsion what’s next.

12 Noon

Philosophy in SF (Phoenix B & C) Writer and Philosophy professor Richard Purtill discusses SF & Fantasy as vehicles for philosophy.

Practical Home Astronomy (Phoenix A) Joe Palmer, Bill Brocske and other members of the Seattle Astronomical Society discuss the pleasures of Do-It-Yourself Astronomy.

1 PM

APA-Mania (Phoenix A) Mike Bentley leads a consortium of “Amateur Press Association” addicts in a discussion of their habit.

Debunking the Pseudoscientists (Phoenix B & C) George Harper leads Bob Shaw, Bubbles Broxon & Joel Davis in some spirited separating of fact from fiction.

Wombats, Koalas & Backrubs, Oh My! (Flight Lounge) The irrepressible Jan Howard Finder narrates a slideshow of his sojurn downunder for the 1975 “Aussiecon” Worldcon.

2 PM

The Oogenesis of SF Clubs and Cons (Phoenix A)NWSFS Founder Cireg Bennett and other con / club instigators discuss their origins.

Poltergeist Preview (Phoenix b & C) Producer Frank Marshall narrates a slide-show / trailer preview of this forthcoming horror film.

History of the SCA (Flight Lounge) A look back at the origins and development of the “Society for Creative Anachronism” by some of its founders and supporters. King Manfred, Paul Edwin Zimmer, Bubbles Broxon and Betty Bigelow preside.

Artists Jam #1 (Conference A) Invited artists collaborate on a large painting.

3 PM

The S.E.T.I. Search and Extra-Terrestrial Communication (Phoenix A) Astronomer Woodruff Sullivan discusses S.E.T.I. options, plans for action and his studies of the earth’s own radio image.

The “Summer-of-Love” plus 15 (Phoenix B & C) Toastmaster Richard Lupoff leads Frank Robinson, David Hartwell, Norman Spinrad and Sherry Gottlieb in a retrospective look at 1967 to assess the impact that flower power and free love had on the SF field.

The Art of Costuming (Flight Lounge) Costume designers, fabricators and makeup artists reveal the tricks of the trade.

4 PM

The Bookstore Biz (Phoenix A) Bookstore owners / operators discuss sales, marketing, dealing, coercion of credit departments and why bookselling is an unprofitable profession. Sherry Gottlieb moderates.

Bladerunner Preview (Phoenix B & C) Jeff Walker narrates a slideshow / trailer preview of this new Ladd Film based upon the Philip K. Dick novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep.

Word Processing Your Fiction (Flight Lounge) Paul Novitski, Ted Pederson, Janet Gluckman, Eileen Gunn and Judi Dyer discuss the state of the art and future scenarios in word processing for writers.

5 PM

My Prize Collector’s Items (Phoenix A) Dick Lupoff, Frank Robinson & other hard-core collectors show off their most precious items.

Fan Guest of Honor Interview (Phoenix B & C) Gary Farber interviews Bob Shaw.

New Video Special Effects (Flight Lounge) Scriptwriter Ted Pederson and Cyborg-puppet specialist John Joachims discuss the sensawonder special effects planned for a new TV series called Starhope.

6 PM

The Jody Scott Show (Phoenix B & C) The inimitable and always controversial Jody Scott continues her sage advice about the “Twinky Culture” from where she left off last year.

Martial Arts in SF / Fantasy (Flight Lounge) Steve Perry, Elizabeth Lynn, Michael Reaves, Pat Murphy & Paul Edwin Zimmer discuss the function of martial mayhem in SF and fantasy.

7 PM

Trivia Bowl Prelims (Flight Lounge) Initial round of team minutia machinations to determine whose minds are most cluttered with useless information.

7:30 PM

Play: The Enchanted Duplicator (Phoenix B & C) Premier performance of a play adapted locally from FGoH Bob Shaw’s (and Walt Willis’s) legendary 1954 Story of the same name.

[Image: Three small creatures eat ice cream cones.]

9:30 PM

Norwescone Ice Cream Social & Stardance (Phoenix A, B & C) All the luscious ice cream you can eat, and dancing till the wee hours amid lavish sets and fabulous lighting effects.

Early Autograph Session (Conf. A) Tom Disch, Bob Shaw, Dick Lupoff and others sign a few autographs in attempt to mitigate the crush at the Saturday evening autograph session.

Volcano Party (Governor’s Suite) Special festivities designed to appease a certain mountain that barfed up initially during Norwescon 3. Sacrificial victims apply within and/or just drop by for your very own free “Piece of Ash.”

[Image: A furry, wormlike creature with an anglerfish-like light on a forehead stalk.]

Saturday, March 20

8 AM

Dawn breaks, Registration crows and opens for business (Upper Lobby Ramp) and Hospitality reopens (Governor’s) for coffee and doughnuts.

9 AM

Art Show reopens (Phoenix D & E) Heavy bidding commences as art fanciers jockey for position at Sunday’s auction.

Future Sports (Phoenix A & B) Eric Vinicoff and others speculate upon the new forms that sports will take in our high- tech max-leisure-time future.

10 AM

How to Handle Rejection (Slips) (Phoenix A & B) “New Writers” panel with moderator Steve Bieler flaunting his superb collection of nearly 300 (count 'em) rejection slips while Lisa Goldstein, Cyn Mason, Avon Swofford, Linda Blanchard, Stephanie Smith and Dianne Thompson are suitably impressed.

Saturn Ring Enigma (Phoenix C) Science writer Richard Hoagland reveals the somewhat startling speculations from JPL as to what is causing the perplexing perturbations in Saturn’s ring system.

Trivia Prelims II (Flight Lounge) Yet more minutia madness.

Writers Workshop “A” (Conference A) Initial session of Norwescon 5’s invitational Clarion-style workshops.

Dealer Room reopens (Satellite) Cagey hucksters reveal the hot stuff they held back on Friday and collectors queue up for another fix.

11 AM

Taking Sword & Sorcery Seriously (Phoenix A & B) Jessica Salmonson leads Richard Purtill, Phyllis Ann Karr and Michael Reaves in an examination of the merits of S & S.

Surviving World War 3 (Phoenix C) Dean Ing describes practical Do-It-Yourself procedures for surviving Armageddon from his forthcoming book on the subject.

WorldCon Politics and Chicon IV (Flight Lounge)Greg Bennett and other former WorldCon Committee members assess the rewards and tribulations of such massive unpaid fannish undertakings.

12 Noon

Pro / Fan Schism in SF? (Phoenix A & B) Michael Kurland moderates this invetigation with Dick Lupoff, Norman Spinrad and Cyn Mason into whether conventions have gotten overly slick and pros have been pushed unfannishly into an upper caste.

Space Transportation in the Early 21st Century (Phoenix C) Predictions by Joel Davis and Boeingites Richard Reinert, Dani Eder and Dr. Dana Andrews as to where space transportation will be by 2010.

SF Poetry (Flight Lounge) Gene Van Troyer, Thomas Disch, Paul Edwin Zimmer, Jon Post, Phyllis Gotlieb & John de Camp discuss the marriage of verse and science fiction.

Costuming Classes (Conference A) Experienced costume fabricators and make-up artists conduct free-form “How-To” seminars.

1 PM

Twice Upon A Time Preview (Phoenix A & B) Supervising animator Brian Narelle (Dark Star) conducts a slide / trailer preview of this new animated feature produced by George Lucas.

Cartoonist Jam (Phoenix C) Announcer-man Frank (The Voice) Catalano extracts and permutates cartoon ideas from the audience while artists Rick Gauger, Bill Warren, Steve Gallacci, Phil Yeh, Lela Dowling, Steve Adams, Tarkas and others doodle witticisms feverishly.

Write Quickly, but Well! (Flight Lounge) George Guthridge leads Steve Perry, Marion Markham and Richard Kearns in descriptions of clever techniques for writing good fiction quickly.

2 PM

SCA Costume Exhibition (Phoenix A & B) Fashion show exhibiting various styles of costume from medieval and renaissance periods, panel discussion by Julie Letterberg, Sue Taubeneck, Pippin and Morag, Queen of An Tir, from the Society for Creative Anachronism.

The Artist’s Life (Phoenix C) Surviving as a professional artist: perspectives on lifestyles, finances, etc., by Lela Dowling, Tarkas, Michael Whelan, Kevin Johnson, Dale Enzenbacher and Alicia Austin.

SF as City Planning (Flight Lounge) Thomas Disch, Dean Ing, Elizabeth Lynn and Eileen Gunn discuss the cultural / sociological evolution of cities.

Writer’s Workshop “B” (Conference A) Second of Norwescon 5’s invitational Clarion-style sessions.

3 PM

Dark Crystal; The Thing and Conan Previews (Phoenix a & B) Mark Nelson narrates slide / trailer previews of Dark Crystal, the new grotesque-muppet movie conceived by Brian Froud and Jim Henson; John Carpenter’s spectacular remake of John Campbell’s The Thing; plus a look at Conan the Barbarian starring Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Faster-Than-Light / Backwards- In-Time (Phoenix C) U.W. Physicist and Analog writer John Cramer explores the peculiarities in quantum mechanics that may allow faster-than-light and backwards-in-time communications. Whoa!

Genre: No Such Animal (Flight Lounge) Paul Edwin Zimmer directs Janet Gluckman, Michael Kurland, and M.K. Wren in an investigation of the roots / bastardization of the word and the fate of SF as “Genre” fiction.

[Image: Two robed and hooded figures flanking an evil looking robed figure writing something on parchment.]

4 PM

No Award! (Phoenix A & B) Frank Catalano moderates Thomas Disch, Damon Knight, David Hartwell and Charles N. Brown in discussions of Hugo, Nebula, World Fantasy & Locus Awards; perhaps even including a few words about the “Labor Day Group.”

Fandom International (Phoenix c) Bob Shaw leads a panel discussion of the manifold permutations / perversions of SF fandom in such foreign lands as England, Canada and Australia.

First U.S. "Space Operations Center (Flight Lounge) A talk by Boeing Study Manager Gordon Woodcock: “Between Scylla and Charybdis,” or Steering a Space Station Design from Concept to Reality.

Art Jam #2 (Conference A) Continuation of the invitational collaborative art mural commenced Friday.

5 PM

SF VS. Pseudo-SF (Phoenix A & B) Perspectives on SF vs. Fantasy and good SF vs. poorly researched SF, with panelists Paul Preuss, Norman Spinrad, Cherie Wilkerson and Frank Robinson.

The History of Fantastic Art (Phoenix C) The complete and unexpurgated slideshow history of the roots of fantastic art from cave paintings through the ages to the modern masters and narrated by our own modern master, artist GoH Michael Whelan.

Ethnic Backsliding in SF (Flight Lounge) Richard Kearns, George Guthridge and Janet Gluckman try to decide whether or not it has become less fashionable in recent years to include ethnic characters in Fantasy and SF works.

6 PM

Trivia Prelims III (Flight Lounge) Yet another episode in the continuing saga of “minutia wars.”

[Image: Three creatures all holding books line up at a table with a Pearson’s Puppetteer librarian stamping books.]

7 PM - 8:30 PM

Meet-the-Pros Autograph Party (Phoenix A, B & C) Once again Norwescon hosts the World’s Largest Autograph Party with all 80 plus attending professional writers, editors and artists happily signing books (or anything else you’ve got) as long as you continue to ply them with drinks.

8 PM - 10 PM

Artist’s Champagne Reception (Phoenix D & E - Art Show) Meet the artists near their work and make final written bids before the 10 PM Bid Deadline!

8:30 PM

Filksing (Upper Lobby) Notorious filk- singers from all over creation join in a spontaneous filkathon. Songbooks provided for the uninitiated.

[Image: A feminine looking creature dropping a handkerchief as another creature looks on with bugged-out eyes and drooping tongue.]

9:30 PM

Masquerade & Entertainments (Phoenix A, B & C) Norwescon’s Gala Costume Parade featuring Frank (The Voice) Catalano as Emcee and entertainment by the fabulous “Junior Jugglers,” “Dick and Dick,” and “Artis the Spoonman.”

10 PM

“Seattle in 1981” Bidding Party Yet another retroactive celebration of having lost the 1981 Worldcon Bid (Whew!).

10:30 PM

Medieval Ball (Flight Lounge) The SCA hosts a proper ball including dance instruction for the uninitiated.

Sunday, March 21

9 AM

Registration reopens reluctantly (Upper Lobby Ramp) and Hospitality Suite opens for those who don’t mind climbing over debris to get to their coffee.

Weapons Exhibition (Conference A) Mayhem aficionados show off their hardware.

10 AM - 1 PM

Art Auction (Phoenix C)Auctioneers Jane Hawkins and Jan Howard Finder foment some spirited haggling among you wealthy art patrons. (Final written bids were due in by 10 PM Saturday evening).

10 AM

Mars & Venus Tour (Phoenix a & B) Mike Shanahan from the Pacific Science Center narrates a slick slideshow from the Mars landers and Venus probes.

Mystery & Romance SF (Flight Lounge) Phyllis Ann Karr moderates Marion Markham, M.K. Wren & J. Michael Reaves in an analysis of the somewhat incestuous marriage of “genre” fictions.

11 AM

The State of SF Criticism (Phoenix A & B) Marilyn Holt leads Thomas Disch, Norman Spinrad and others in an analysis of the State of the Art in SF and Fantasy reviewing.

Future Scenarios (Flight Lounge) Science / SF writer George Harper orchestrates incremental visions of our alternate futures with Bob Shaw, Frank Catalano & Eric Vinicoff, advancing by the powers of 10.

Writers Workshop “C” (Conference A) Third in the succession of Norwescon 5’s invitational Clarion-style workshops.

12 Noon

Space Shuttle Countdown (Phoenix A & B) In anticipation of the launch scheduled for later that evening during the Dead Sasquatch party (Well … Monday morning, actually), Shuttle simulator specialist Greg Bennett discusses current and forthcoming launches with one of its users, physicist Jeff Wilkes and other Shuttle Aficionados.

Future Evolution / Genetic Engineering (Flight Lounge) Joel Davis, Paul Preuss and others discuss the on-going process of evolution and the shortcuts facilitated by genetic engineering.

1 PM

SCA Tourney (Poolside) The Society for Creative Anachronism hosts the finals of a prize tourney with noble lords and ladies vieing for a favor from her majesty, Morag, Queen of An Tir.

Trivia Finals (Flight Lounge) Survivors of the three grueling preliminary rounds match cluttered minds in this duel to the death.

2 PM - 5 PM

Banquet & Guest of Honor Speeches (Phoenix A, B & C) Roving musicians and jugglers supplement your quiche (or turkey) followed by ham in the form of Toastmaster Richard Lupoff. Guest of Honor speeches by Thomas Disch, Bob Shaw & Michael Whelan, plus art show and masquerade awards.

Stylistic Rules in Writing (Flight Lounge) Tricks of the trade in getting your ideas across to the reader. Panelists are Paul Novitski, Eileen Gunn, John Berry and George Guthridge.

3 PM

Fan Nomadism (Flight Lounge) Tales of footloose fans by notorious ones.

[Image: A unicorn emerging from a conch shell.]

4 PM

Fannish & Future Pets (Flight Lounge) Do unusual pets appease fannish appetites for alien contact and what strange critters might we tame in the future?

5 PM

“Illiterature” in SF (Flight Lounge) Cherie Wilkerson moderates a discussion with Mildred Downey Broxon, Phyllis Gotlieb, and F.M. Busby on the fine arts of grammar, punctuation, etc., and the propensity some publishers have for buying incredibly bad stuff.

5:30 PM

Fannish Olympiad (Phoenix a & B) Regularly scheduled fannish games with NWSFS defending its (Championship against other Northwest clubs in such events as collating, cider guzzling, hall party-obstacle coursing, filksong writing & pizza-eating.

6 PM

SF & Corporate Marketing (Phoenix C) Eileen Gunn leads David Hartwell, Bill Gibson and others in a quandary over publishers tendencies to compel writers to compose trilogies, tetralogies and other “marketable” commodities (instead of what they want to write).

7 PM

Art Technique with Michael Whelan (Phoenix A & B) Art GoH Michael Whelan narrates a slideshow of his work. Oooh.

I Got Nasty Habits! (Phoenix C) Notorious writers discuss their eccentricities, addictions and filthy habits.

8 PM

Closing Ceremonies & GoH Readings (Phoenix A & B) Toastmaster Dick Lupoff sums up the convention and reveals the winner of the fannish scavenger hunt. GoH Thomas Disch reads fiction and poetry and Fan GoH Bob Shaw reads from his fannish writings.

10 PM

Spring Rites (Phoenix A & B) Medieval religious rites celebrating the Vernal Equinox.

Dance (Satellite)Reprise dance with the live band Pro Jr. (Dead ones are such a drag).

Dead Sasquatch Pajama Party (Governor’s) The “Dragon Lady” hosts our final bash of the con with leftover banquet chocolate mousses, leftover snack bar sandwiches and leftover conventioneers. Formal attire only, please: togas or jammies, trap-doors optional.

Midnight

Dead Sasquatch Ceremonies & Orgy Traditional arcane rites with the usual sacrificial rituals on the lawn of the Washington Memorial Cemetery (just north of the Hotel).

[Image: A table with a ‘lost and found’ sign over a number of items, including a three-cupped bra, a lizard-like creature, a gold ring, and what appears to be one of Mickey Mouse’s gloves.]

[Image: A small, worried looking creature in a spacesuit.]

Monday, March 22

7 AM

Space Shuttle Launch If not rescheduled, the 3rd Shuttle launch will culminate the Dead Sasquatch Party.

10:30 AM

Survivor’s Brunch (Coffee Shop) Self-explanatory.

[Image: Two people sitting in a diner booth under a mirrored ceiling; one looks at the ceiling in concern and notices that the other person isn’t reflected in the mirror.]

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Guest of Honor Thomas M. Disch

[Image: Thomas M. Disch]

In Praise of Disch

by David G. Hartwell

Everyone should like meringue … no that’s not right. Gazpacho? Crepes Brulatiere? Well, what I want to say is that everyone should like the special stuff that I like, those special and individual dishes that delight, stimulate and satisfy uniquely. Thomas M. is such a one. His prose style was born mature and has only grown wiser since 1962 and such good early stories as “Descending”. I have elsewhere (in a Gregg Press introduction) praised his first novel, The Genocides, an intense, literate, Wellsian piece which (now it can be told) along with Babel-17 and The Dream Master and Moorcock’s The Final Programme and Judy Merril’s England Swings SF brought me back into the SF field after a temporary absence for graduate school and a mainly unsatisfactory love life.

These books brought me back with such an intense interest, hitting them all at once as 1 did, that 1 have never recovered to this day and have since devoted my life to SF. These books reminded me to go back to Phil Dick and then reassess (and reread) my favorite earlier books in light of this new stuff. And it was new stuff and it remains new today and you should have read it or you should read it because it is good, because it arises out of passion and craft and inspiration that combines to form something radical and new every time and that, for God’s sake, that excitement, is what reading SF is all about. Like it or not Heinlein is new every time and if he doesn’t satisfy you all the time, so what … he’s not betraying the highest ideals of SF: grow, change, evolve.

Thomas M. Disch started out in the avant garde, became a “new wave” figure of the late sixties (partly because he was sharing apartments in “New Worlds” London with John Sladek or living in the infamous Milford, Pa. and partly because much of what he was publishing in the SF magazines caused readers to freeze up in surprise), and ended up in the 1970s as one of the five or six writers in the SF field whom the other writers consider of inimitable excellence at putting words on paper. Everything he writes is new and disturbing, unconventional yet executed with grace, ease, skill.

Echo Round His Bones is an absolutely deadpan SF adventure novel. I say deadpan because w hile it does everything it is supposed to do, and does not violate the forms, it still somehow manages to project an awareness that is part of literature. Mankind Under The Leash/White Fang Goes Dingo/The Puppies of Terra is a witty romp, a satirical revamp of the revolt of the humans oppressed by aliens, yet humane and insightful. Echo and Fang are Disch’s second and third novels (I discount the delightful thriller Black Alice by Disch and Sladek (Thom Demijohn), and their collaborative gothic, The House that Fear Built (by the unpronouncable Cassandra Knye). They are better than most in the field and I recommend Fang as one of those rare humorous novels with an adult (vs. adolescent) sense of humor, particularly. Tom likes the Puppies title better but Idisagree. Read it and tell me what you think.

And then he wrote Camp Concentration, one of the wisest and most humane novels of the latter half of the 1960s in American Literature, based on an invention that turned out to be true in a way (the U.S. Government was embarrassed to reveal in the early 70s that there had been experiments with the non-treatment of syphilis). It was published in the U.S. by Doubleday in the same year as The Left Hand of Darkness. Disch’s novel was truly discomfiting while Le Guin’s could be misread (and often was) as basically male adventure (I’m sorry, Ursula, but I’ve taught the book and some of my students persist in reading it that w ay) and Left Hand went on to conquer the world while Camp Concentration disappeared into that particular limbo reserved for Doubleday hardcovers of the late 1960s. But let me tell you now, this book is worth the trouble to find and read. Go to the huckster’s room and find a copy of the recent Bantam paperback if you can and learn what Chip Delany was talking about a few years back when he said that Zelazny, Russ and Disch were where the action was in SF. I’d only add a few more names, Delany and Gene Wolfe among them, from the past decade.

On Wings of Song is another extraordinary SF novel but is recent enough to be familiar to anyone paying much attention to SF in the last couple of years. It pales only in comparison to his masterpiece (so far), 334. Now when I was a reviewer for Crawdaddy in the early 1970s, I gave 334 perhaps my most favorable review ever, which was later excerpted on page one of the Avon paperback. It is the only review I w rote that still outrages some fans (others may outrage authors)—I still get asked how I could praise such a horrible and extremely pessimistic work. My answer is that the premise of the book is reasonable and intelligent—even Isaac Asimov has said much the same thing: it is unlikely that God will intervene directly in human affairs in the near future to make things better, or aliens arrive to help us or destroy us, or a huge technological leap transform our world for the better, or human nature suddenly improve. Therefore, fifty or sixty years in the future life will be much like it is today, in some ways worse, in a few ways better. That’s the core of the premise of 334 and it is unpalatable to any SF fan who won’t be any better adjusted to that world than she is to this one. Mind you, I’m not saying I want this world to happen, nor is Disch in 334, nor was Huxley in his novel. What I am saying is that Disch executed his work so well that it remains a kind of standard against which other futures must be measured in terms of complexity and sophistication and human potentiality. And a whole lot of other futures begin to look mighty thin and unlikely, no matter how optimistic and superficially fun. in comparison. 334 can convince you of all sorts of possibilites you didn’t want to consider, it is authentically disturbing and even if you don’t give a damn about the good writing, you risk your life becoming much like the life of the characters in the novel if you don’t read it, take it seriously on its own terms and then learn how to avoid such a future in real life. Or if you want, you can read it because it is good art, one of the rarest things in SF.

Disch is a poet and painter too, an artist who never gives an inch. He wrote a poem which won the SF poetry award last year, called On Science Fiction, which is a stronger indictment of SF than anything Harlan Ellison ever thundered from a convention podium. It is written in the voice of an insider and ends on an upbeat note of painful truth:

Do we deceive ourselves? Assuredly
How else sustain the years of pain, the sneers
And hasty aversions of those who recognize
In our deformities the mirror-image of their own
Intolerable irregularities? The anitdote
To shame is arrogance; to prison, an escape.

You are welcome, therefore, Stranger, to join
Our confraternity. But please observe the rules
Always display a cheerful disposition. Do not refer
To our infirmities. Help us to conquer the galaxy.

Disch Bibliography

This bibliography covers all works collected into book form and notes forthcoming items, as well. No attempt has been made to list every edition or publisher of a title, just the publishers of the first English and American editions, and any changes of contents, if known. Works in progress and forthcoming items are listed under the appropriate category. Mr. Disch also has hopes that an illustrated edition of The Brave Little Toaster will be published.

Novels:

The Genocides, New York: Berkley, 1965; London: Whiting & Wheaton, 1967.

Mankind Under the Leash, New York: Ace, 1966—bound with Planet of Exile by Ursula K. Le Guin. (See also: The Puppies of Terra [author’s preferred title]; and White Fang Goes Dingo [shorter version]).

The House that Fear Built, as by Cassandra Knye [Tom Disch & John Sladek] [gothic novel] New York: Paperback Library, 1966.

Echo Round His Bones, New York: Berkley, 1967; London: Hart-Davis, 1969.

Camp Concentration, London: Hart- Davis, 1968; Garden City: Doubleday, 1969.

Black Alice, as by Thom Demijohn [Tom Disch & John Sladek] [mystery/thriller] Garden City: Doubleday, 1968; London: Allen, 1969.

The Prisoner, [novelization/TV series) New York: Ace, 1969; London: Dobson, 1979.

334, London: MacGibbon & Kee, 1972; New York: Avon, 1974.

Clara Reeve, as by Leonie Hargrave, [gothic novel] New York: Knopf, 1975-

The Puppies of Terra, [reissue of Mankind Under the Leash, using the title preferred by the author] London: Panter, 1978; New York: Pocket Books, 1980.

On Wings of Song, London: Gollancz, 1979; New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1979.

Neighboring Lives, with Charles Naylor, New York: Scribners, 1981.

work in progress:

The Businessman: A Tale of Terror

Collections:

One Hundred and Two H Bombs, London: Compact Books, 1966; New York: Berkley, 1971 (contents differ in these two editions). (See also White Fang Goes Dingo and Other Funny S.F. Stories).

Under Compulsion, London: Hart-Davis, 1968 (see also Fun With Your New Head).

Fun With Your New Head, New York: Doubleday, 1971 (American edition of Under Compulsion).

White Fang Goes Dingo and Other Funny S.F. Stories, London: Arrow, 1971 (reissue of English edition of One Hundred and Two H Bombs; adds seven stories)

Getting Into Death and Other Stories, London: Hart-Davis, MacGibbon, 1973; New York: Knopf, 1976 (contents differ in these two editions).

The Early Science Fiction Stories of Thomas M. Disch, Boston: Gregg Press, 1977 (omnibus volume containing Mankind Under the Leash and One Hundred and Two H Bombs [probably the Berkley edition]).

Fundamental Disch, New York: Bantam, 1980.

forthcoming:

The Man Who Had No Idea, Bantam, 1982.

Poetry Collections:

Highway Sandwiches, by Tom Disch, Marilyn Hacker, & Charles Platt, [no publisher], 1970.

The Right Way to Figure Plumbing, Fredonia, N.Y.: Basilisk Press, 1972.

ABCDEFG HIJKLM NPOQRST UVWXYZ, London: Anvil Press Poetry, 1981.

forthcoming:

Burn This, & Other Essays in Criticism.

Books edited by:

The Ruins of Earth: An Anthology of Stories of the Immediate Future, New York: Putnam, 1971; London: Hutchinson, 1973.

Bad Moon Rising: An Anthology of Political Foreboding, New York: Harper & Row, 1973; London: Hutchinson, 1974.

The New Improved Sun: An Anthology of Utopian Science Fiction, New York: Harper & Row, 1975; London, Hutchinson, 1976.

New Constellations: An Anthology of Tomorrow’s Mythologies, ed. by Tom Disch & Charles Naylor, New York: Harper & Row, 1976.

Strangeness: A Collection of Curious Tales, ed. by Tom Disch & Charles Naylor, New York: Scribners, 1977.

Selected Non-Fiction Works by:

“Representation in SF,” in A Multitude of Visions, ed. by Cy Chauvin, Baltimore: T-K Graphics, 1975, pp. 8–13.

“The Embarrassments of Science Fiction,” in Science Fiction at Large, ed. by Peter Nicholls, London: Gollancz, 1976; New York: Harper & Row, 1976; pp. 141–155.

“Ideas: A Popular Misconception,” in Foundation 14, September 1978, pp. 43–47.

Selected Works About Disch:

John Brunner, “One Sense of Wonder, Slightly Tarnished,” in Books and Bookmen, 12 (July 1967): 19–20.

Darko Suvin, “The Science Fiction Novel in 1969,” in Nebula Award Stories 5, ed. by James Blish, Garden City: Doubleday, 1970, pp. 193–205.

M. John Harrison, Introduction to 334, Boston: Gregg Press, 1976, pp. v-xiii.

Samuel R. Delany, “Faust and Archimedes,” in his The Jewel-Hinged Jaw: Notes on the Language of Science Fiction, Elizabethtown, N.Y.: Dragon Press, 1977.

Robert Thurston, Introduction to The Early Science Fiction Stories of Thomas M. Disch, Boston: Gregg Press, 1977, pp. vii-xxxii.

Samuel R. Delany, The American Shore: Meditations on a Tale of Science Fiction by Thomas M. Disch, Elizabethtown, N.Y.: Dragon Press, 1978.

An Italian Lesson

by Thomas M. Disch

[Image: Drawing of a dark-haired woman sitting at a table and holding a martini, as a waiter stands next to her holding a tray with three more martinis.]

She knew, before he’d even entered, that she would fall in love with him—or with someone—just as starlings know, with annual infallibility, that they must begin to collect the straws that will become, with a bit of poking and prodding, their cozy little nests.

This would be her first ball, and she was dressed all in pink—pink shoes and pink stockings, a pink ballgown trimmed with a sash of a more vivid pink, pink feathers in her hair, and, clutched in her lovely fingers, a pink fazzoletta, or handkerchief.

The violins were whirling about her with a kind of gentle violence, leaves by the wild hurricane tossed. Some, growing tired, nestled on the chandelier; others, more reckless, floated in fountains of recirculated champagne. And still the waltz went on: one two three; one two three: Vienna, Paris, Hollywood! Where was he?

But even before she could think that thought, before one scintilla of her firstgirlish exhilaration could dim, a servant approached with a crystal goblet brimming with champagne. “Signorina?” he enquired. She accepted the enchanted beverage, and even as she drank it he whispered in her ear the legend of the Blessed Giulietta—how she had slept three days and three nights, how she had cured the beggar simply by the passage of her shadow over his shadow. A strange and rather ominous tale, which she listened to with every fiber of her being.

What was happening to her? Too late to ask! Even before the waiter had finished relating this legend, before he had vanished into the throng with his tray of drinks, she realized that her forebodings had been realized: she had fallen in love! And with him! With a waiter in a starched white shirt front and a black bow tie. A waiter, moreover, who, unless she were mistaken, had just stolen her pink handkerchief and one of her pink gloves. She didn’t even know his name. There was nothing she could do except to hide her naked hand behind her back and hope she had not been observed.

The Prince approached her. He asked her to dance. She had no choice but to refuse, and he offered his hand, next, to one of the infuriating Arditti sisters. They were so full of themselves, those Ardittis! Not that it could possibly matter, now, to her, for she was already in love, for ever. She could have cried, she could have spat, she could have died there on the spot, but worse was still in store.

A zingara approached her, a gypsy girl with cheap imitation shoes and a cardboard sign demanding that she adopt her as her own daughter. “Nonsense,” she told the zingara. The girl prodded her with the piece of cardboard, forcing her, step by step, backward through the crowd. In its own way it was as though they were dancing. She’d never been one to say no easily, so she gave excuses to the girl why she couldn’t adopt her. The girl told her she was being insincere. And it was true! She started to cry.

“This is not my life,” she insisted as the waiter led her by the elbow out of the ballroom. “I was meant to lead a nicer life than this.”

He put her into a cab with the zingara and told the driver their address. It was in the poorest quarter of the town. She was only eighteen. Her life was over. All her clothes would be black.

Copyright © 1982 by Thomas M. Disch

Outer Space Haiku

[Image: Drawing of a rocket launching from Yankee Stadium.]

Cape Canaveral
batting a home run out of
Yankee Stadium.

—Tom Disch

Copyright © 1982 by Thomas M. Disch

[Image: Four people on a sidewalk look up at a three-story building, on top of which is a giant frame held by a male figure inside the frame, whose face is covered by fabric being stretched out by wings at all four corners.]

Metamorphosis

by Thomas M. Disch

As he moved through the green densities
Of prose, his thoughts following obedient
At his heels, his eyes would scan
The book before him with guileless calm
Expectancy. Oh, he was innocent,
His friends would say afterwards.
He had not come here meaning
To surprise the goddess. A common reader,
He had scarce done more than turn
The pages, when suddenly
Through the words rustling about him
He had discerned her. He beheld
The chaste breasts, the diadem
Bright and crescent on her brow,
And he paused in his reading,
Visited by strange desires. Rashly,
Unable to resist, he approached,
Parting the few words that still obscured
Her divine beauty, until, as we know,
He came too near and was espied
By an attendant nymph. Instant
As her glance, the goddess was revenged.
He did not know how he’d been changed
Until he heard his thoughts behind him,
Snarling and snapping, all unaware
That the tormented being they now pursued
Through the remainder of the book
Was their dear master Actaeon,
Whom the wrathful goddess had transformed
Into this pitiable, bellowing critic.

—Tom Disch

Copyright © 1982 by Thomas M. Disch

Fan Guest of Honor Bob Shaw

[Image: Bob Shaw]

BoSh

by Terry Carr

The list of science fiction professionals who started out as fans is a long and distinguished one, and you can probably recite it as well as I can: Ray Bradbury, Arthur C. Clarke, Lester del Rey, Donald A. Wollheim, Damon Knight, Frederik Pohl, Wilson Tucker, Frank M. Robinson, Charles Beaumont, Robert Silverberg, Harlan Ellison, James White, Tom Reamy, Bob Leman, Gregory Benford, Marion Zimmer Bradley, and literally hundreds of others, I’m sure. Ted White. Jack L. Chalker. Alexis A. Gilliland. And the famous Etc.

But the people who remained active as fans after they’d turned professional are a rare breed. After all, if you suddenly found yourself able to get paid for your writing, would you continue to give it away free to fanzines? If you could get paid for editing science fiction books or magazines, like Charles Hornig in the 1930s and George Scithers most recently, would you keep putting out fanzines as a hobby?

Let’s not forget the artists: People like George Barr, Tim Kirk, Kelly Freas, Hannes Bok, and Eddie Jones published their first drawings in fanzines. Lots of others, too.

But once these people, most of them, were able to be paid for their work, they stopped contributing gratis work to fanzines. On the face of it, they had no reason to continue in the “amateur” ranks: they could do what they’d always wanted to do and make a living at it, and most of them had families to support. Godspeed to them, then, especially since the fans-turned-pros were usually among the best practitioners of the art of science fiction.

But there were a very few fans who continued to produce material for fanzines, for no money, long after they’d moved into the ranks of the professionals. The classic example of such a person is Bob Shaw, who has been not only one of science fiction’s finest writers for at least fifteen years, but has also written so prolifically and so well for fanzines that he’s won two Hugos as Best Fan Writer of the Year during the time he’s been “giving it away.”

Bob Shaw—or “BoSh,” as he’s sometimes nicknamed in fandom—was born December 31, 1931, in Belfast, North Ireland, and by the age of nine he found himself a confirmed reader of science fiction. For years he haunted the second-hand bookshops of Belfast looking for copies of U.S. SF magazines—they were imported to Great Britain as shipping ballast during World War II—until he discovered fellow fans James White and Walt Willis, who had been living less than a mile from his door all the time.

He began contributing to their fanzine, Slant, and joined the publishing staff. He quickly established a reputation as a fan humorist with the “Fansmanship Lectures” in 1951; based on the one-upmanship" writings of Stephen Potter, these Shavian lectures explained how to adapt the technique to make other fans feel inferior to you.

(A brief sample, from Shaw’s section on “convincing the other fan that his mag is so much wasted paper. With a neat mag it is usual to remark tolerantly that it must take [i.e. waste] a lot of time. With others, saying wanly, “Of course appearance isn’t everything” is usually enough to suggest that the contents aren’t up to much either.”)

In 1954, Willis published the first edition of “The Enchanted Duplicator,” an allegory about fandom that quickly came to be recognized as one of the finest bits of fannish writing ever done. Conceived and begun by Shaw, completed by Willis, this novelette-length story has been reprinted at least four times. Ted Johnstone and George W. Fields republished it in 1962 with illustrations by Eddie Jones; Arnie Katz and Rich Brown produced a new edition in 1971, illustrated by Ross Chamberlain; Ted White serialized it in Amazing, November 1972 - June 1973; and Richard Bergeron included it in Warhoon 28 two years ago. (In addition, Dan Steffan is currently serializing his own comics-style adaptation in Boonfark.)

I’m told that “The Enchanted Duplicator” will be presented in the form of a play at NorWesCon, with Shaw himself in one of the roles. How I’d love to be there to see that!

Having established himself early as a writer of humor about fandom, Shaw then did a rather remarkable thing: he virtually stopped writing about fandom and instead concentrated on personal essays about his unlikely adventures in the everyday world. His sense of humor was still much in evidence, and the quality of his writing, already high, steadily improved. Shaw’s fan writing during the past quarter-century has consistently been among the best, and unlike many popular fan writers he hasn’t limited its appeal to the comparatively few people who understand obscure fannish references. In the process, Shaw has shown that “fannishness” isn’t simply a style or a set of catch-phrases, but an attitude that can produce excellent writing about any subject.

In addition to his contributions to fanzines, during the 1970s Shaw became a one-man tradition in British fandom for his deadpan humorous speeches at their annual Eastercons. Mike Giicksohn, after attending his first British convention in 1975, remarked, “I’d be hard-pressed to dredge up a more surprising sight than an entire bar filled with happily and heavily drinking British fannish fans voluntarily abandoning their womb in order to sit in on a program item.” Shaw’s speeches always pack the hall (I was part of the same exodus from the bar at the 1979 world convention in Brighton) because not only does he write wittily, but his delivery in a lilting Irish accent that conveys polite astonishment that people should be laughing at his supposedly serious lectures is a continuing delight.

No doubt you’ll hear this for yourself in his speech at NorWesCon—be very sure not to miss it. Afterward, if you crave more, you can buy a collection of his past speeches in The Complete BoSh: vol. 2, The Eastercon Speeches for $2.20 including postage from Joyce Scrivner, [REDACTED] 15th Ave. S., Minneapolis MN 55404. While you’re at it, include an additional $2.20 for The Complete BoSh: vol. 1, The Best of the Bushel, which reprints his outstanding columns from Hyphen in the 1950s and early 1960s.

I’ve concentrated here on Shaw’s fan writings because he is, after all, the Fan Guest of Honor. In any case, I’m sure you’re familiar with Bob Shaw’s professional writing: He began appearing in SF magazines in 1954, with several stories in Nebula Science Fiction; then laid out for a decade while he perfected his craft, and returned to professional writing in 1965 with such stories as the classic “Light of Other Days.” By 1967 he’d moved on to novels with Night Walk, followed by The Two-Timers, The Palace of Eternity, A Wreath of Stars and others. His shorter fiction has been collected in Tomorrow Lies in Ambush and Cosmic Kaleidoscope.

Bob Shaw is as delightful in person as in print—in fact, more so. He’s genial, intelli- gent, witty and warm; and he has a true appreciation of science fiction from its early to latest days. Talk with him about anything, and you’ll come away loving him. Shaw isn’t Fan Guest of Honor for no reason: he’s definitely One of Us … in truth, one of the very best of us.

[Image: Two hands holding a nest with three nude feminine fairies in it.]

The Enchanted Duplicator: A Play

[Image: Cartoon of three beavers holding papers that say ‘new info’ lined up behind another beaver turning a hand crank on a mimeograh machine.]

On Friday, at 7:00 in Phoenix B & C, the Razz Bazz Rep, under the direction of Shelley Dutton, will present fandom’s national epic. The Enchanted Duplicator was written in 1954 by Walt Willis and Norwescon 5 FGoH Bob Shaw. It has been republished five times since then, and has now been adapted for the stage by Gary Farber, Jerry Kaufman, & Shelley Dutton.

The story, simultaneously allegory and gentle satire, concerns Jophan, his first contact with the wonder of fandom, and his subsequent quest for the Magic Mimeograph with which he may publish the Perfect Fanzine. Along the way he encounters all the pitfalls, snares, ruses and deceptions that are to be found on the long path betweenthe dreary country of Mundane and the shining land of Trufandom.

In some ways a witty lampooning of the fandom of their day, Willis & Shaw’s fable is nonetheless a myth completely relevant to our fandom, twenty-eight years after 1954. With keen eyes, deadly wit and hideous puns, they pinpointed fandom’s chronic excesses and delusions while at the same time evoking precisely that mystery which makes the game worthwhile.

—Patrick Nielsen Hayden

Cast

Gary Farber
Patrick Nielsen Hayden
Teresa Nielsen Hayden
Suzanne Tompkins
Jerry Kaufman
Kate Schaefer
Clifford R. Wind
Karrie Dunning
Anna Vargo
Theodore Williams
Misha Mazzini
Mathew Davison
Tamara Vining
Neens

Shelley Dutton—Director
Linda Hoffer—Assistant Director

Auld Slang Sayings

by Bob Shaw

Copyright © 1982 by Bob Shaw

[Image: A dragon laying lazily on its back against a wooden wall covered in ivy, eyes closed and smelling a flower.]

Fanzines have played a big part in my life. For example, it was in Slant and Hyphen that I served my apprenticeship in the writing business under the superb tutelage of Walt Willis, and the experience I gained there enabled me land a full-time job as a journalist, with consequent effect on the whole course of my affairs. Nowadays fanzines tend mainly to give me a guilt complex over all the locs I never get round to writing, but they also serve a useful function in that they introduce me to the latest slang.

Ulverston, where I live, is a pretty little town on the edge of the Lake District National Park, and its chief claim to fame is that it is the birthplace of Stan Laurel. By no means can it be described as the hub of the universe (Can you see Stan Laurel agreeing to be born in the hub of the universe?), and the local speech therefore tends to be fixed and almost archaic in many respects, although it has its own set of merits. Beatrix Potter, who lived just up the road a bit, described it as the most beautiful in the world. I got some glimmering of what she meant when in the pub the other day I heard one of the elderly locals describing how he felt on wakening up on the morning after a binge. Scorning the commonplace description of the mouth as being like “the bottom of a bird’s cage,” he said, “My mouth was like the inside of a lime-digger’s clog.”

Marvellous though that turn of phrase may be, it has no cachet to it. People who read this article won’t go around saying it everywhere in the hope of making listeners think they are, or at least associate a lot with, natives of the English Lake District. The situation is different with American slang expressions and popular usage. In Britain we have managed to leave behind the weird 1950s practice in which all native pop singers did their stuff with fake Nashville accents—a dimunutive Scot called Lulu being about the only one who keeps it up—but it still means a lot for many people if in their day-to-day speech they can come out with the latest Americanism. It’s a way of convincing people that you are a member of the international jet set.

The big thing, of course, is to use the word or phrase in a completely casual and natural manner, because if you were obviously trying to work it in to the conversation the whole effect would be spoiled. I’m getting a bit reactionary in my old age and that, plus my love of classic English, makes me sit up twitching like a member of the Watership Down gang when I first hear that faint odd note creeping into what I expected to be a familiar linguistic symphony.

Once when I was working on the staff of the Belfast Telegraph the job of leader writer came up for grabs, and for weeks everybody was speculating about who would get it. Everybody except me, that is. I knew who was going to get it, because 1 had happened to pick up the carbon of a story a young reporter on my desk had written about a meeting of some minor local committee. In a dull one-paragraph story he had managed, apparently without trying, to include the terms “viable” and “credibility gap,” both of which were brand-new at that time. It was no surprise to me when the announcement of his promotion was made, but I couldn’t help wondering if the senior editor had been consciously looking out for those signs of linguistic awareness, or if he had somehow been impressed without realising what was going on.

That sort of thing has made me hypersensitive. When I was press officer for an aircraft company my office was right beside the aircraft sales department, and the people who worked in there really were jet-setters and consequently very quick off the mark with new slang. I remember vividly the exact day when one of them came into my office, made a perfunctory enquiry about an article I was writing for a house journal, then said, “There’s no way you’re going to get it finished in time.”

The slightly strange formulation of the sentence, coupled with the note of supressed manic glee in his voice, made me suspect immediately that I had just witnessed the start of something big. This was confirmed when I overheard him steadily working his way around the other cubicles in the office, with the emphasised no way rising above all the background hubbub each time in much the same way that the note of the triangle can easily be distinguished amid the thunder of a full orchestra.

No way hit that office with all the invasive force of the Black Death, affecting everybody within a matter of hours, and at times even warping the structure of the language. The virulence reached its peak at a conference when a salesman put forward a suggestion and had it greeted with a dismissive, “No way.” The salesman (the very one mentioned above) countered with, “No way! What do you mean no way? There’s no way that can be no way.”

The thing which sparked off this article was the arrival on my doormat of a fanzine published in a fit of fannish exuberance by my old buddy Chris Priest. It was called Deadloss, and in fourteen pages of highly enjoyable personal chat and gossip Chris twice used the phrase “laid back.” I was instantly on the alert, partly because I couldn’t figure out from context exactly what laid back means, and partly because my instincts told me that here was a new no way in the making. Sure enough, it cropped up soon afterwards in a trendy feature article in the Observer and I have since heard it often on television.

Thanks to the fact that I get fanzines 1 can be in on the ground floor in this thing. 1 could, if I wanted, and if only I knew what it meant, impress Ulverston society by saying that certain things were laid back. The next time one of the locals says to me that his mouth is like the inside of a lime-digger’s clog I might say, “That’s the sort of laid back humour I like,” and chance the consequences.

The question that really intrigues me, however, is how do things like that get started? Who decides that a word like camp, which has been around for centuries, will suddenly be invested with a new meaning and significance? And when that decision has been made, and a word or a phrase has been launched a new career, how do people who are in tune with that sort of thing recognise its potential and start using it themselves? Is it an in-group thing? Am I being left out of a verbal room party?

In all probability it’s all part of the natural evolutionary processes of a living language, but if in the near future I read in a genzine that Chris Priest has been appointed leader writer for the Belfast Telegraph I’ll develop a paranoic certainty that there is something going on.

[Image: A man with a bird-like creaure on his shoulder flips through mail while leaning against a wall as a mail delivery robot walks away towards a ramp leading into a futuristic city.]

[Image: Alien creatures under a starry sky with an old man’s face in the stars.]
Copyright © 1982 by George Barr

Artist Guest of Honor Michael Whelan

[Image: Michael Whelan]

Michael Whelan, Wonderworker

by Kennedy Poyser

Michael Whelan has earned his reputation as the top SF/Fantasy illustrator the way most such reputations are earned—through talent, imagination, knowledge of the genre, and lots of long hours and hard work.

He rises at an uncivilized hour every day, walks down the driveway to his studio, and often doesn’t leave it until past midnight. He claims the long hours make up for his slow painting pace. That’s not strictly true; he just devotes more time to a cover painting than most illustrators do.

He reads manuscripts like a copy editor, makes copious marginal notes, and then spends an “agonizing” day or three working up the concept. I once asked if the process grew easier with practice. “No,” he replied, “most of the time it’s still the same blank white rectangle facing me, and I haven’t the vaguest idea how to fill it up when I start.”

That uncertainty must be familiar to artists and writers alike, but I think Whelan exaggerates. I know he doesn’t fiercely attack the illustration board immediately upon receiving an assignment, but it’s hard to believe he has to court the Muse. His cover concepts are often so brilliant that, really, the process must be just choosing at leisure from among the variety of stunning approaches that come readily to mind.

He’s a perfectionist, though, and that trait can embroil one in a host of difficulties.

“He can’t do anything in a minimal way,” his wife Audrey told me—a rationalization, I suppose, for the tonnage of library materials that moved through their house last month in preparation for a slideshow on the history of fantasy art.

Don’t miss this Norwescon programming item. It’s the whole sweep—from cave paintings to spaceships, with the implication that modern art is an aberration in the artistic mainstream. Whelan wore a “Picasso sucks” T-shirt during his Philcon art workshop, if that gives you a feel for the probable tone of the slideshow.

Audrey went on to say, “He always tries to do the absolute most incredible cover possible.” That must create a succession of hard-acts-to-follow, but the attempt endears him to art directors and editors, to writers, and to fans.

Art directors and editors must have recognized that quality early, for they conspired to rob him. of the educational value of “pounding the pavement” with his portfolio. He was doing book covers a few months after leaving the Art Center in Pasadena, ignoring an instructor’s grave advice that would-be illustrators had to slave away in paste-up for years before The Big Break.

Writers appreciate Whelan’s work because “he READS,” says Poul Anderson. “He [gets] settings and people—including non-human people—exactly right.” “Michael Whelan obviously enjoys doing fantasy,” notes Michael Moorcock, “and as a result I have a series of [Elric] covers far better than any series of covers I have had in America before.” Alan Dean Foster feels “he paints the not-there as well as the more obvious, and makes you hunt for it and squeal with delight at the finding.” Anne McCaffrey sums it up, simply, “Fortunate indeed is the author who has Michael Whelan for illustrator.”

Readers share this enthusiasm. A pair of Hugos grace Whelan’s mantel, a Howard keeps company with a Balrog in the dining room window, and artshow-awards voters insist on adding more ribbons to an already impressive stash.

Wonderworks, Donning’s 1979 trade paperback collection of Whelan’s work, has 20,000 copies in print after a third trip to the press. Most limited edition art prints produced last year by Glass Onion Graphics were effectively o.p. before a catalog could be issued. Audrey operates Glass Onion in a time-warp of 30-hour days.

Some fans even buy and collect books with Whelan covers, possibly because it is apparent that he enjoys the genre as much as they do. More than that, though, it’s because he consistently produces some of the most striking, dynamic, and illustrative covers you’ll find on the bookstands. His range is remarkable—excellent human faces and figures, fierce beasts and cute Fuzzies, horror and light fantasy, machines, spaceships, and breathtaking landscapes. And he unites the cover elements with strong composition, brilliant colors, and a sense of drama. In fact, you should quit browsing through your program book and go visit the Norwescon artshow. You’ll see what I mean.

One of his major future assignments is the cover for Arthur C. Clarke’s 2001 sequel. That should be an impressive combination.

[Image: A multi-limbed robot with tires on its three legs looks over a battlefield strewn with robot tanks.]
Copyright © 1982 by Michael Whelan

[Image: A man floats over rocky ground with his chin on his hand in a pensive pose, looking at a stone tower, as a shielded triangular space ship flies over a planet rising in the background.]
Copyright © 1982 by Michael Whelan

Toastmaster Richard A. Lupoff

[Image: Richard A. Lupoff]

A Toast to Lupoff

by Frank M. Robinson

Dick Lupoff became one of my best friends long before I had ever read a single line he had written. Not that I was unaware of him as an author—my brother is an Edgar Rice Burroughs' freak and one Christmas I sent him a copy of Edgar Rice Burroughs: Master of Adventure. It’s a book that Dick himself isn’t much impressed with. (Dick should meet my brother someday—Mark has literally read the print right off the pages.)

Maybe I had remained ignorant of Dick’s abilities as a writer because he himself is so unassuming, both as an author and as a person. Richard A. Lupoff. A name on a number of paperbacks and a relative few hardbacks. A man with the familiar history of fan-turned-pro, the history that’s common to so many of us. A tall, somewhat craggy-faced writer type with a pleasant smile and glasses. You have to strain a little to imagine him as a former athlete with a penchant for boxing.

He has a wife and three kids, one of whom is at college. His home is stuffed to the rafters with books and records, two afghan hounds and a cat. It’s a refuge not only for him and his family but for his friends as well. The Lupoff home is a warm, relaxed cave, a “safe house” in the middle of a turbulent world. It doesn’t take many visits for you to realize that family means a lot to Dick. Pat, his wife, is also his best friend. It makes a difference.

He started reading science-fiction in the '40s and eventually contacted fandom through the pages of Amazing Stories. Predictably, within a few years he was publishing fanzines and in 1963 he and Pat were awarded a Hugo for their fanzine, Xero. (Pat was the first woman to ever share a Hugo for a fanzine.) Between 1956 and 1958 Dick served as a Lieutenant in the Army. Once he reverted to civilian status, he started work for the Univac division of Sperry Rand, moving to IBM in 1963. Edgar Rice Burroughs: Master of Adventure was published in 1965; his first novel, One Million Centuries, in 1967. He recalls it now with a twinge of embarrassment.

In 1970, he packed it in as far as a regular job went and drove to the West Coast to set up shop as a full-time writer. It was a decision that has had its moments of anguish as well as reward. Of the books he’s written, the one he likes the best is Fool’s Hill (his own title as well as the title of the English edition; the American edition was titled The Crack in the Sky). The Triune Man, The Sword of the Demon and Into the Aether won their share of critical acclaim and popular acceptance. After ten years of story-telling, Dick was getting a reputation for a light touch with science fiction; he had an enviable flair for parody and satire. And then …

And then.

Last year, Dell garroted their science-fiction line and among the authors whose careers were mugged in the back alleys of the publishing world was Dick Lupoff. Dell still has the rights to Circumpolar! and Sun’s End with no definite publishing date for either. (Dick tells me the former is an alternate world adventure novel about an around-the-world air race with Lindbergh, Amelia Earhart, and the Richthofen brothers, Manfred and Lothar, as contestants. It’s a book I’d like to read someday. Sun’s End was the first volume of a projected trilogy titled “To the Ends of All Being.” In it, Dick utilizes Doc Smith’s technique for revealing ever-expanding vistas—it’s the sort of book w here the author winks at the reader and says, “Hey, kid, you ain’t seen nothin' yet!” as he pulls another universe out of the typewriter.)

For Dick, the collapse of Dell signalled that the never-ending science-fiction convention had finally come to a close. It was time. For years his “sense of wonder” had been fading in favor of a growing concern for the here and now. Science fiction had been a fascinating forum for dreams, for new ideas, for toying with the improbable. Now the family man who had always approached the world as much from the heart as from the imagination was free to try his hand at mainstream fiction, to say something about the here and now rather than the far away and the futuristic.

I’ve read the first few chapters and outlines of several projected works and have been both astonished and pleased that Dick’s science-fiction was only the starting point of his career. In his mainstream efforts, for the first time I could see the complete man—the heart as well as the head, the emotional aspects of his character as well as the imaginative. A friend had come to life on the printed page, a friend who had finally reached artistic maturity.

Will Dick leave science-fiction? No, of course not. He loves it too much, it’s been too large a part of his life. And, of course, there’re always Circumpolar! and Sun’s End which have yet to see print.

What will the future bring for Dick’s readers? I don’t know, but I suspect I won’t be able to put his next book down. And when I finish it, I know damned well that Lupoff will smile broadly, wink, and say, “Hey, Frank, you ain’t seen nothin' yet!”

[Image: A single plant grows out of rocky soil as a gigantic person-shaped city is barely visble in the distance.]
Copyright © 1982 by Michael Whelan

[Image: Surreal art of many different aliens and spaceships going into a door behind a partially visible face with a forehead star tattoo looks surprised as a toy spider bites it, all under the title, ‘Phannie’.]

Phannie

by Ova Hamlet

Copyright © 1982 by Richard A. Lupoff

STRANGE RAIN AT FORMER FAN-SHACK

Residents of Nesvadba Boulevard were startled by a noisy “rainstorm” early Tuesday evening. A downpour of small metal and plastic office supplies clattered down from an apparently clear sky, bouncing off the roof of the Uturian home at the corner of Hugo and Sidney in the Nesvadba Boulevard section.

Investigators were called and reported an inventory of staples, papers clips, styli, shading plates and lettering guides scattered about the roof and lawn of the home of Mr. & Mrs. Mojo F. Uturian. An immediate survey of local office supply outlets failed to elicit any information as to the possible source of the unusual “rain.”

The owners of the house, Mojo and Pojji Uturian, were prominent science fiction fans of the 1960s. They both withdrew from all fannish activities following the infamous “Ookoo” scandal in 1971.

Mojo Uturian told reporters, “I just got home from the mill and started to settle in with a brew and the new Lin Carter book. I turned around and there was Phannie—she’s our tyke—playing with my January '35 Astounding. Great Foo! That’s the ish with Kelly’s ‘Starship Invincible’ in it.”

Uturian stated that he jumped from his chair and ran at the three-year-old, hoping to retrieve the pulp magazine. “That’s when all hell broke loose!” Uturian added.

—news item from Locus, “The Newspaper of the science fiction field,” January, 1985.

Barton Stephanoski rapped for order, twitching a Pentel Rolling Riter against a Sheraton-Hyatt ashtray with a long-practiced wrist-twist. He glared angrily around the table at the members of the convention committee. “Come on, gang,” Stephanoski coaxed, “we’ll never get this convention put together by Labor Day at this rate!”

The dozen young adults seated at the table exchanged glances, some guilty, some angry, some with the kind of smug “1 expected as much” look that made Stephanoski want to order up a mass pie-hit on his whole committee.

“All right,” Stephanoski resumed. “Program committee, how are you doing on that list of editors for the do’s and don’ts panel?” He peered at a man in a glitzy turquoise jump-suit. “Claude?”

Claude Berkowits twiddled a pencil-stub between his fingertips. “Uh, not quite ready, Bart. But don’t worry, we’ll have it on time. Everybody’s agreed to help out except that bum from Spacer Books, and you know how important they are to the field!”

“I know,” Bart conceded. “I’ve known that for years. What’s the holdup? You haven’t made any progress since the last meeting.”

“Well,” Berkowits stalled. He looked furtively at several other members of the committee. “To tell the truth, Bart, I don’t want to get anybody into hot water, but… .” He let his statement trail away artfully.

“But what?” the chairperson went for the bait.

“Okay. I didn’t want to say anything. But at least she isn’t in the room. It’s that stupid Phannie. You know, Phannie Uturian. She’s always underfoot. Always offering to help out and always screwing up. She’s been down the hall at the hot chicken soup stand machine for the past half hour, in fact. Ghu- ghu knows what she’s doing!”

Stephanoski nodded patiently. “All right. How did she mess up your job, Claude?”

“I’ll tell you!” Berkowits clenched his fist around the pencil stub and pounded it on the table. “She’s got such a Ghu-damned crush on those pro’s, she begged me to let her send one of the invitation letters. I let her send one to the big noise at Spacer and she must have got the editor so annoyed, we haven’t even got an answer!”

Stephanoski closed his eyes for a moment. “Oh, boy. Oh, boy.” He looked up at Berkowits. “Okay, Claude. Get on the horn and call Spacer first thing tomorrow and see if you can make it right. All right. What about publications? The first progress report was six weeks late. The second PR was two months late. The third PR isn’t out yet and the program book looks like a total fantasy. Have your people accomplished anything, Ellen?”

Ellen Arqwright lowered the silver cocoa mug in which she had been studying her blonde good looks. “Not very much, I’m afraid.” She smiled dazzlingly at Stephanoski. At the same time she reached under the conference table and squeezed Claude Berko- wits’s knee. Claude grunted shrilly.

“Look, Ellen,” Stephanoski pursued, “our members pay a goodly membership fee these days. It isn’t like the old cheapjack conventions they used to put on. They’re entitled to their publications.”

“It isn’t my fault,” Ellen sulked, suppressing a titter with some effort.

“Well whose fault is it, if I may ask?” Stephanoski was beginning to get hot under the collar.

“Phannie. We had the third PR all finished and ready to shoot. Phannie was so damned eager to help, I let her carry the flats into the print shop. She tripped on the curb and the flats landed in a flooded sewer drain. We have to do it all over again. Phannie said she was sorry. I kicked her off the committee!”

“You did? Off the whole con committee, or just the publications committee?”

“Why, Bartie! You know I couldn’t kick her off the whole con-com. Only you can do that. Not that I think it would be a bad idea, Bartie.”

Stephanoski scribbled notes with his Pentel Rapid Riter.

Around the table men and women shuffled their papers and their feet, exchanged glances, cleared their throats, ran hands through their hair.

“Um, Bart.” Millie Moxon, committee vice-chair and general Nice Person claimed the attention of the others. “Do you think we ought to adjourn this to a saloon or something?”

“I dunno,” Stephanoski said. “Maybe getting drunk would be the best thing we could do.” He started to gather his papers, then looked up, half-startled. “Wait a minute,” he said. “Wait a minute. Everybody keeps putting the blame on Phannie for their screw- ups. Where is Phannie?”

(fanac-fiawol-bnf-ihadoneeggplantbutyngviisalouse)

“Sorry I’m late, fellas.” Phannie gave the door an extra shove with her pudgy elbow and stepped into the room. She held a cardboard tray in front of her. There were cups of chicken soup and danish pastries on it.

Before she could clear the door it swung back and hit her on the elbow. The tray tilted slightly. Phannie let go with one hand and tried to keep cups from sliding around while she held the tray with her other hand.

She managed to get most of the chicken soup and danishes settled in place but the last styrofoam cup was leaning against a prune swirl divinity and Phannie reached with her other hand to save the soup. She forgot that she was already using one hand to straighten cups and the other to hold the tray. Now she was straightening cups and catching danish with both hands. The tray fell. Phannie tried desperately to catch it.

She struck it with her forearm and knocked the tray forward. It was already half an inch deep in lukewarm chicken soup. Half a dozen danish pastries—prune, apricot, cinnamon, sugar, almond-honey and plain— floated in the soup.

The tray hit Ellen Arqwright on the shoulder. Chicken soup spattered her angora sweater (the very tight one) and prune-paste made a smear on her powder-perfect cheek.

Phannie grabbed again for the tumbling tray. She missed and got hold of the back of Jimmie Ecks’s chair. The tray clattered onto the conference table, wreaking havoc with the notepads and committee reports there. Phannie tumbled toward the hotel meeting room carpet. She clung desperately to Ecks’s chair.

(omighod-omighod-imruiningeverything- illneverbeabnf-never)

Jimmie Ecks was the hottest new writer of the past five years. He’d made his debut in the August '91 Rigel with a brilliant novelette that—alone!—won him honors as best new writer of the year, as well as copping both Hugo and Nebula awards. He followed that in 1992 with a series of boffo short stories, novelettes and novellas that seemed to dominate the magazines and orig-anthol- ogies.

He swept the novella, novelette, and short categories in both Hugo and Nebula voting that year, withdrawing half his stories from each competition so he won six trophies for six different stories.

In 1993 he published his first two novels and pulled the same stunt of withdrawing one from Hugo competition and one from Nebula. Consequently he won both awards — the Hugo for Spheroid Planet; the Nebula for Alien Pain, Alien Death.

After that he cut back a little, but there wasn’t a year in which he didn’t win at least one major award. Two of his books had been filmed to popular acclaim, and his series of short stories about “Gabbo and the Mockmocks” had become a top-rated TV sitcom. (Jimmie said he never watched TV so he had no opinion of the show.)

Phannie Uturian hit the floor, bounced once, brought Jimmie Ecks’s chair tumbling, Jimmie sprawling from it; Jimmie hit the floor spread-eagled. Phannie landed on his stomach.

Six styrofoam cups, still mostly filled with chicken soup, landed on Phannie. Several fragments of danish pastry landed in the soup.

“Oh, my God!” Bart Stephanoski leaped from his chair. “Our guest-of-honor! Jimmie! Mister Ecks!”

[Image: Drawing of a surpised person.]

(blub-blub-blub-thisistheend- illmakeitrainagain-again-again)

“Claude,” Ellen Arqwright snapped, “help Mister Ecks get untangled from that mess. Ugh! Phannie! Ugh!”

Berkowits pulled Ecks out from under Phannie. “I’m so sorry, Mister Ecks! Here we invite you down to a meeting and this—this—yuch—I’m so sorry!”

As soon as Ecks was safely away, Ellen started wadding up sheets of memo paper and throwing them at Phannie. Claude joined in, then Barton. Finally the whole committee, even Millie Moxon and the gophers, were bombarding Phannie with wadded memo sheets.

“Moby Phannie!” they chanted. “Moby Phannie! Moby Phannie! Moby Phannie!”

Phannie Uturian, her Leigh Brackett sweatshirt drenched with chicken soup, soggy lumps of soup-soaked danish pastry stuck in her hair, dragged herself miserably across the carpet. She didn’t have the strength even to stand up and walk out. Disgrace! Shame! Her father and mother were bigtime, oldtime fans and they’d always told her that fandom was a den of evial, evial, evial, and she should have nothing to do with it, she should read nice clean mystery novels and gothics and romances and go to school dances and shack up weekends with boys, and never-never- never get mixed up with fandom!

And she had done what they’d warned her against, she’d got mixed up with fandom, and look at what it had got her! A sweatshirt full of soup and her hair full of soggy danish pastry!

DISASTERCON—WHAT WENT WRONG AT THE SHERATON-HYATT?

Those of us who live here in Merrie England, safely remote from the Sheraton-Hyatt where the awful events took place, are still striving to assimilate the news, to make some sense and to see some meaning in those events. Violence and conflict are by no means new infusions to the world of science fiction, of course. Nor even to the happy Brigadoon of the science fiction convention.

One is reminded of the controversial Exclusion Act at the New York Convention as early as 1939, of the overblown and tragic Door Incident at Beastly’s-on-the-Bayou in the 1950s, the parlour brawl at the Claremont Hotel in 1964, the discourtesies and exclusions practiced by some publishers against their own authors at Brighton in 1979. … Shades of the Exclusion Act just four decades after the first misfortune… .

Plus ca change, one is tempted to remark with pungency and wit, plus c’est la meme chose.

—editorial by Geoff Rippington in Arena Science Fiction, Canterbury, Kent, issue for February, 1997.

Skulking through alleyways in hope of avoiding the sight of passersby, Phannie made her way miserably home. She opened the door as quietly as possible, shut it softly behind her and tiptoed across the living room. From the parlor she could hear the sound of the television set punctuated by an occasional belch from her father. The sound of the TV told her clearly what Poppa was watching: a rerun of The Partridge Family.

Phannie crossed the living-room successfully and placed her foot with care on the bottom tread of the staircase.

(igottagettamyroom-igottagettamyroom- igottagettamyroom)

A soppy hunk of prune danish soaked in chicken soup had adhered to the bottom of her jogging sneaker. Somehow, who knows how, no one knows how, no one knew how at the time and no one knows to this day, it is a mystery, it is unsolved, it is a mystery unsolved, an unsolved mystery, yes, even to today no one has succeeded in solving this mystery, somehow the hunk of danish had managed to stay stuck to the jogging sneaker through all Phannie’s travels and now as she placed her foot carefully on the tread of the stair leading to her room the chicken soup soaked into the danish pastry stuck to the bottom of Phannie’s jogging sneaker and her foot flew out from under her, she tumbled backwards, she felt herself falling, she felt herself tumbling and:

SPLAT!

Phannie landed right on her living room carpet.

She began to sob.

Poppa belched, turned up the sound of the television set so he could continue to follow the progress of The Partridge Family, and strode from the parlor into the living room.

“Where were you, young woman?” Poppa demanded.

Phannie covered her face with her Leigh Brackett sweatshirt. She could smell the chicken soup mixed with the perspiration odor of the shirt. She cringed away from Poppa.

“You’ve been at one of those committee meetings again, ain’t you?” Poppa demanded.

Phannie trembled.

“Well, ain’t you?” Poppa persisted, “Ain’t you?”

Phannie gulped and nodded, feeling her danish-bedecked hair rub against the soup- soaked sweatshirt material.

“All right, young woman,” Poppa said. “Into the cupboard with you.”

“No, Poppa, please!” Phannie wailed.

“I said, into the cupboard!”

“Poppa!”

“Move!”

Miserably, Phannie crept into the cupboard. She heard Poppa click the door shut behind her, heard him drop the latch into place so she could not come out until he decided to let her, heard him click the light on from its switch in the hallway where she couldn’t turn it back off. The cupboard was brilliantly lighted. It was barely large enough for her to crouch on the floor, her head near the grease-marked ceiling.

In front of Phannie and to both sides were shelves of books. In front of her were a complete set of Laser Books, spine out. She knew every one of them, knew every ugly Kelly Freas face painted on their fronts. To her left the shelves contained selected books from many publishers. She knew every one of them. Ringworld Engineers by Larry Niven. Ursus of Ultima Thule by Avram Davidson. I Will Fear No Evil by Robert A. Heinlein. Jannisaries by Jerry Pournelle. Fighting Slave of Gor by John Norman. The American Shore by Samuel R. Delany. Sword of Shannara by Terry Brooks. The Complete Jandar of Callisto by Lin Carter. Laundry Room of Zeor by J. Lichtenberg.

To Phannie’s right, double-rowed to make them fit, loomed a matched set of the novel and short story of Barry Malzberg.

Phannie pulled her Leigh Brackett sweatshirt up over her face again. She pulled her hands inside the body of her sweatshirt and hugged her doughy torso. She leaned her back against the Mister Spock poster, printed in chartreuse day-glo ink on black-flocked paper, that was pasted to the inside of the door.

Phannie closed her eyes and concentrated.

(ihopeican-ihopeican-ihopeican)

Scop by Barry Malzberg began to tremble up and down in its place.

Phannie squeezed her eyes tighter shut. She felt sweat break out on her forehead.

(ithinkican-ithinkican-ithinkican)

Opposite the Malzberg shelf The Bug Wars by Robert Asprin swapped places with The Black Flame by Lynn Abbey.

(iknowican-iknowican-iknowican)

Inside her Leigh Brackett sweatshirt Phannie Uturian bore down with all her strength, grinding her forehead against her upraised knees.

Behind Phannie the pointed ears and blazing expression of Mister Spock flowed and shifted, slowly reforming themselves to reveal the silvery hair and imbecilic expression of Lorne Green done up for the role of Captain Adamma in Battlestar Galactica.

[Image: Drawing of a crying woman in front of a Mr Spock poster.]

Phannie shoved her hands back into the cloth arms of her Leigh Brackett sweatshirt and poked her head back up through the neckhole. With the muffling effect of the sweatshirt disposed of, she could hear the sound of Shirley Jones and David Cassidy singing over the distance from the parlor. She knew that The Partridge Family show was nearly over. Poppa would be well into his third can of Oly by now. In a minute or so it would be time for The Brady Bunch.

Smiling. Phannie stared straight ahead of her and began moving wrinkled and angular Freas faces from the cover of one Laser novel to another. Not that it mattered, but it gave her something to do. After The Brady Bunch, Phannie knew, Poppa would watch Leave it to Beaver, then Hazel.

It was going to be a long afternoon in the cupboard.

Meanwhile, Ellen Arqwright, Claude Berkowits, and Ellen’s dog Biff were sprawled in the park across the street from a Jack in the Box restaurant on Orlin Tremaine Trail. A few inches beneath them, Ellen knew, there was a brown and stunted layer of grass. The grass was totally hidden by empty containers, split ketchup envelopes, and used napkins from Jack in the Box.

Ellen’s dog Biff picked among the jetsam, searching for abandoned hot dogs, french fries, or onion rings. Whenever he found such he would pause in his search, sniff carefully at his discovery, make puzzled growling sounds deep in his throat, then sniff once more. At the completion of this exercise he would turn away in disgust and disappointment and resume his search for something edible, ever more dispiritedly.

“Do you think we could get Amy Jane to go along with it?” Claude Berkowits was asking Ellen. He had his toes pressed against her bobby-sox passionately.

Ellen moved her saddle-shoe-clad feet provocatively away from Claude. “That’s up to you, Claudie.”

“Uh?” Claude’s feet pursued Ellen’s shoes through the abandoned Jack in the Box wrappers. “How’s that, Ellen?”

“Well, you know that Amy Jane Hanes has a crush on you. She wants to get her cartoons into your fanzine. She’ll do anything to get published.”

Claude said, “Huh!”

“Just tell her you’re going to pub an ish right after the convention. Tell her you’re going to run a con report by some top fan writer. Tell her she can illustrate it—if she plays along with us! I just want her to hand Phannie that silver bowl for Outstanding Fanac, right up there in front of a room full of people.”

“I don’t see why,” Claude said stupidly. He hooked his great toe into the loop in the lace of Ellen’s saddle shoe. “I thought you didn’t like Phannie.”

“Like her!” Ellen exploded. “Like her! I hate Phannie Uturian!”

“Then why—?”

“Because you are going to see to it that the silver bowl is full of hekto jelly. And when Amy Jane Hanes hands it to Phannie, I’ll be sitting there with the rest of the committee. I’ll be sitting right there next to Amy Jane. A little nudge of the elbow and that horrible purple gunk will be all over Phannie. She deserves it! Moby Phannie! Moby Phannie! She’ll finally be purple, the way Moby Phannie belongs!”

There was a moment of silence. Then Claude said, “I don’t know, Ellen. Hardly anybody uses hekto any more. I don’t even know if I can get a can of hekto jelly to start with.”

“You can if you want to badly enough, Claude.” Ellen slid her foot closer to Claude. He could almost smell the brown leather and white chalky shinola, he could almost sense the flexibility of the pink rubber sole, the roughness of the brown woven laces and the sharp metallic tang of their tips.

“If you want to badly enough,” Ellen repeated.

“A-all right,” Claude stammered. He couldn’t keep his mind on the convention. All he could think of was Ellen’s saddle shoes. “I’ll d-do it,” he managed to gasp through chattering teeth. “I’ll d-d-do it, Ellen, I w-will, I w-will, just don’t take your feet away!”

There was a sound of rustling Jack in the Box wrappers.

Biff sniffed excitedly a couple of times, then made his usual disappointed, deep- throated growl.

EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER 20 OF I REMEMBER FANDOM,BY WALTER HARRISON, SOUTHERN INDIANA UNIVERSITY PRESS, 2001

And in the end, what did it mean? What did it all mean?

I think I will never stop pondering that question, and 1 fear that I shall never devise a fully satisfying and convincing answer to it.

But I have some ideas.

If only Phannie’s parents had stayed together and guided their daughter into proper faanish pathways, the terrible affair at the Sheraton-Hyatt need never have taken place. The deaths, the destruction, the disgraceful exposure of the fannish community as it was captured by scores of amateur photographers and by a camera crew from the local public-access television channel, need never have come about.

But Mojo and Pojji could not tolerate each other’s company.

And after the “Ookoo” scandal of 1971, who could hold them culpable?

It is all as if a hard-hearted Fury had made the decision that fandom must be destroyed, and used Mojo and Pojji, Claude Berkowits, Ellen Arqwright, Millie Moxon, Jimmie Ecks, Barton Stephanoski, Amy Jane Hanes … and Phannie Uturian herself, of course, as the ultimate weapon for the ultimate destruction of fandom.

So I sit here in my solitary den, melancholically leafing through my files of ancient Warhoons and Fanacs, A Bases and Slants, Oopsla!s, Shaggies, Yandros, Snides, Pongs, Stupefying Stories, Amrae and all the rest. … Gazing at my ancient FAPA mailings in their carefully preserved jiffy bags, the staples unbent and set carefully aside so as to preserve my collection in all its completeness… . My Progress Reports and Program Books and Proceedings… .

Once in a while I take a scratched and warping Alternate Worlds Recording from its cheaply produced sleeve, and put it on my ancient needle-cartridge turntable, and listen to some of those old-time authors reading from their works.

I listen to Robert Bloch, author of Psycho, read “Yours Truly, Jack the Ripper,” and I ask myself, What does it mean?

I listen to Joanna Russ, author of Picnic on Paradise, read “Gleepsite,” and I ask myself, What does it mean?

I listen to Harlan Ellison, author of Doomsman, read “Deeper than the Darkness,” and I ask myself, Did he write that?

No kidding!

I really do!

Phannie went home the afternoon before the banquet. She’d avoided the other members of the committee all during the convention. She didn’t know whether she was officially a member any more or not. She was so afraid that she wasn’t that she asked no one. She even avoided looking in the Program Book to see whether she was listed or not.

It was the most important thing in her world.

If she wasn’t part of the committee any more, she would just go home and lock herself in the cupboard with the Laser Books and the day-glo poster of now-it-was-Al-Hodge-as-Captain-Video-and-the-Video-Ranger and the complete works of Barry Malzberg and she would change everything around while the sounds of Poppa watching December Bride and drinking Oly floated up from the parlor.

(iwill-iwill-iwill-iwill)

She put on the outfit she had set aside to wear to the banquet. She laced up her gold cloth space boots. She pulled on her skintight copper-green stretch pants with the shiny metallic finish and the streaks of yellow-outlined white lightning down the sides.

Her Leigh Brackett sweatshirt had never recovered from its dousing with chicken soup and prune danish, but she had replaced it with a Margaret Brundage zelon zipper jacket.

She had combed and brushed her straggly hair until it was as close to orderly and attractive as she could get it, and she had carefully attached her super fan beanie with the twin counter-rotating propellors, using bobbie pins so the beanie could not easily be dislodged.

She took her banquet pass from the place where she had kept it hidden, where she knew Poppa would never think to look for it: between page 5 and page 6 of Ice Prison by Kathleen Sky, a Laser Book published in 1976.

She travelled downtown by bus, ignoring the stares and comments of strangers who pointed to her costume and whispered to each other. She entered the Sheraton-Hyatt, crossed the high-ceilinged, echoing lobby, passed the Huckster Room where greedy dealers happily fleeced eager fools of their money, and stood in line with the rest of the fans outside the Banquet Hall.

At the door of the banquet hall she was stopped.

(otheshame-ishouldastayedhome- what’llpoppasay- what’lljimmyecksthink-owhydidicome)

But it was only a gopher and a bottom-level youngster from security checking banquet tickets and committee passes. Phannie had her committee pin-and-ribbon jammed into her pocket. She showed her pass. The gopher said that was okay but the security person insisted that she wear her pin and ribbon. The fans behind her were getting impatient and she could feel the pressure building up behind her. A man in a tweed suit, smoking a pipe, wearing a small, neatly-trimmed beard, fidgeted and spoke to the woman beside him. The woman was modishly dressed, elegant; she seemed reluctant to touch any of the fans around her, or even to acknowledge that they were there.

(pros-pros-pros-ogosh-whatwilltheydo)

There was a stir inside the hall. Phannie could see past the door-dragons. Everyone else was already at the head table: the convention chairperson, the toastperson, the guestperson-of-honor, the committeepersons. There was one vacant chair. Was it— could it be—dared she hope that it was for her?

She saw someone rise from a seat at the head table. It was Millie Moxon. Millie was crossing the hall. She was approaching the door.

Behind Phannie the complaints of fans grew louder. The pro couple in tweed jacket and elegant dress left the line and headed for the hotel bar. The gopher and the security dragon were quarreling between themselves. Phannie was struggling to get her pin and ribbon out of her pocket but the stretch pants were too tight and she couldn’t get her hand into the pocket. What if she had to leave her place, run to the ladies' room, lock herself in a stall, pull down her stretch pants, fish her credentials out of the pocket, pin the ID onto her Margaret Brundage zelan jacket, run back to the banquet hall and wait to reach the front of the line again?

How much of the ceremony would she have missed by then?

Did she have the courage to face the experience?

(fout-fout-fout-fout)

Before she could turn away from the banquet hall, Millie Moxon was there. Millie talked to the gopher. She talked to the security dragon. She pointed at Phannie. Phannie felt herself blushing and turning pale and clammy by turns. Millie reached through the doorway and yanked Phannie into the hall by one trembling hand.

She led Phannie to her place at the head table and shoved her urgently into her seat. Phannie saw that she was placed between Ellen Arqwright and Amy Jane Hanes the toastperson.

Phannie’s ears were ringing. Spots boiled and danced before her eyes. The clatter of silver and china, the low roar of hundreds of conversations made a hypnotic hum in Phannie’s ears. Waiters appeared. Food was placed before her. Mechanically she lifted knife and fork, sliced rubber chicken, dropped gravy- soaked dinner rolls on her green stretch pants, spilled soup and coffee on her Margaret Brundage zelan jacket.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw people rise. Out of the corner of her ear she heard speeches, jokes, laughter and applause.

Somebody started singing filksongs. Endless choruses of “Young Man Mulligan” were exchanged. There were more speeches.

She saw Amy Jane Hanes standing at the microphone, heard Amy Jane’s voice. Phannie had no idea what Amy Jane was saying. She was vaguely aware of some by-play between Claude Berkowits and Ellen Arqwright; Claude disappeared.

Amy Jane was going on about outstanding contributions to fandom, to the committee’s unanimous vote, to the overdue recognition of a tireless worker and cheerful giver, a tru-fan of the old school, someone whom every fan loved… .

Claude was back. He was putting something on the head table just beside the podium, just beside Amy Jane Hanes. It glittered and shimmered in the bright overhead lights and the glaring lightbar of the community access television station’s remotecrew. It was something round and silvery, with a white linen napkin stretched tightly over the top and held in place with a string.

Amy Jane was still speaking. She paused dramatically. Phannie had a spoon full of melted vanilla ice cream poised in front of her mouth.

“Phannie Uturian!”

Dazed, Phannie heard Amy Jane say her name. She turned dumbly toward Amy Jane. Amy Jane was smiling and gesturing toward Phannie. She began to applaud. The entire room began to applaud. BNF’s whom Phannie had admired for years were clapping. Famous pro’s, writers and editors and artists, were applauding.

Phannie dropped her spoon. It hit her plate with a clatter and bounced into her lap, dripping ice cream.

Amy Jane reached for Phannie’s hand and pulled her to her feet, pulled her toward the podium.

A pair of hands appeared from somewhere and pulled the string from the shimmering bowl, pulled the white napkin from the top of the bowl. There was something purple and horrible in the bowl, something almost alive.

Amy Jane was holding the silver bowl toward Phannie.

The whole room full of people was applauding.

Phannie’s ears rang. Her eyes were filled with shimmering silver light.

It was the silver bowl. She, Phannie Uturian, had won the silver bowl.

A hand appeared from behind Amy Jane.

Amy started to lift the bowl higher and hold it toward Phannie.

The extra hand came up under Amy Jane’s hands, lifted the bowl high into the air, turned it in the air, brought it down toward Phannie.

Phannie turned her face upward. She saw a circle of purple descending toward her. A circle of purple surrounded by a rim of shimmering silver. It descended with seeming slowness. It couldn’t have taken more than a fraction of a second, but to Phannie it was eternity.

To the hundreds of fans in the room it was a moment of helpless horror. Some were still applauding, unaware of what was happening. Others were gasping in horror. A few had turned their heads away, recipients of some premonition of the horror they were about to witness, turning away so they would at least not have to see the moment of terrible impact.

The purple stuff smashed onto Phannie’s head.

It passed over the twin counter-rotating propellors on her beanie, soaked her hair, cascaded across her face, drenched her Margaret Brundage zelan jacket, ran down her green stretch pants with the yellow-edged bolts of white lightning on the sides, poured over the tops of her gold-cloth boots.

It filled her eyes. She inhaled sharply and it clogged her nostrils. She opened her mouth to gasp and it filled her mouth.

She closed her eyes, hard. This couldn’t be happening to her! She spat hekto jelly out of her mouth. It had a bitter taste and left behind a burning sensation in her mouth and throat. She blew her nose and sprayed the fans standing or sitting at the front row of banquet tables.

She screamed.

N-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!!!!!

She screamed.

P-o-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-a-a-a-a-a-a!!!!!

She squeezed her eyes shut and bore down with all her strength.

(imdoingit-imdoingit-imdoingit)

In the Huckster Room staples flew out of the spines of old magazines and began to impale dealers. Ancient pulp magazines worth their weight in acapulco gold slipped from plastic baggies, flapped their Paul and Mar- chioni and St. John and Morey and Brundage and Bok covers like wings. They rose into the air and began to dive-bomb browsing collectors.

A display of plastic miniature spaceships rose from a table top and began circling rapidly near the ceiling of the Huckster Room, then sped through the doorway and headed for the banquet hall.

A zoo of rubber and polyvinyl aliens sprang to life. Amphibians wriggled. Snakelike and vermiform creatures crept forward. Kangarooid aliens hopped. Winged aliens flapped their wings, testing the air in the Huckster Room, and found it good, and lifted off. Stinging aliens tested their venom and their fangs. Hungry aliens chomped their fangs.

Flying, hopping, crawling, slithering, rolling, bouncing, the army of aliens spread through the Sheraton-Hyatt, attacking fans smoking dope in their rooms, murdering pros getting drunk in the bar, harrassing mundane types who just happened to be in the Sheraton-Hyatt at the time.

A man curses and swats at a small dragon with a rolled up paper.

A detachment of aliens entered the banquet hall and worked their murderous way across the room, focussing their final attack on the head table. No one survived.

Meanwhile, Phannie had dropped from the rear of the dais. Dazed and disoriented, she had dragged herself through the heavyvelvet backdrop of the head table. She found herself in a dingy service hallway. Half-blinded by the hekto jelly, a bitter burning taste in her mouth and throat, her breath coming in wheezing gasps, she instinctively dragged herself through service halls until she emerged at the Sheraton-Hyatt’s back loading dock.

She dropped from the dock.

It was pitch black outside.

Sirens and searchlights were making themselves known as police cars, ambulances, fire department emergency squads and paramedics converged on the hotel.

No one noticed Phannie Uturian dragging herself through the shadows, headed for Nesvadba Boulevard, headed for home.

She dragged herself up the walk from the street to her house. She dragged herself to the front door. She dragged herself inside the house.

She found her father drinking Oly in front of the TV set. Phannie’s vision was distorted and clouded with purple. Her eyes were burning. She had inhaled enough carbon tetrachloride in the hektograph jelly to burn out the lungs of the entire National Fantasy Fan Federation.

From the sound she could tell that her father was watching a Father Knows Best rerun.

Phannie squeezed her eyes shut and strained. For the last time. For the last time ever.

(igotta-icandoit-igotta-icandoit)

On an old and rickety magazine rack a copy of National Enquirer trembled, flew into the air, tumbled to the carpet.

Phannie’s father turned around.

“Whazzat? Huh? Whazzat?” he asked.

“Poppa!” Phannie croaked.

Beneath the tabloid a slick magazine was revealed. It was Soldier of Fortune. Phannie strained. The magazine rose into the air, spun across the room, crashed into the wall and slid down.

“Whuh?”

“You gonna die,” Phannie croaked.

Under the slick magazine was another slick. It was a copy of Hustler. It was thick and heavy. It rose waveringly into the air. It moved toward the television set, first as if it were sliding carefully up a gentle slope, then down the other side. With a sound something like “shushhhhhh” it slithered onto the set.

The magazine stirred again. It was like a living thing. Its pages rustled. The centerfold began to creep over the edge. With a clatter it fell over the screen. Now the voices of Robert Young and his brood emerged, tinny and muted, through the naked torso of a jaybird-naked and incredibly pneumatic young lady.

“Hey! 'At’s my magazine, Phannie!”

“Hate science fiction, do you?” Phannie croaked through a burning throat. “Don’t want me near fandom, eh?” she grated through her purple, bitter mouth. “Die, fake-fan! Die, Poppa!”

She strained once more.

The bottom item on the magazine rack rose into the air. Although it was the heaviest item in the stack, and although Phannie was exhausted and dying by now, she managed to lift it precisely, authoritatively, unhesitatingly.

It was The Compleat Nathan Brazil by Jack L. Chalker. The Science Fiction Book Club edition.

Without touching the book, Phannie brought it down once, smartly, on Poppa’s head. He fell to the carpet, killed instantly. He did not utter a sound.

Phannie raised herself once on her elbows. She muttered something, some final, sputtering, inchoate dying phrase. It sounded like “Fijagh-fijagh-fijagh.”

That was the end.

EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER 30 OF I REMEMBER FANDOM, BY WALTER HARRISON, SOUTHERN INDIANA UNIVERSITY PRESS, 2001

Certainly fandom was not wiped out by the disaster at the Sheraton-Hyatt. Even in that day of monstrous overblown conventions attended by hundreds of pros and thousands of fans, there could only be a fraction of the whole of fandom present at any one convention.

And this was not even a Worldcon!

But somehow, the death of more than two thousand fans, and of more than 100 of the leading writers and other professionals of the day, seemed to take the heart out of the community. Hardy souls kept putting on conventions for a few more years. Other hardy souls kept attending them.

But it was never the same again.

Fannish feuds, pranks, and practical jokes had had a long and somewhat honorable history. But this was just too much. Just too much.

Fewer people came to conventions. And still fewer. They seemed to be demon-haunted affairs, now. Voices were subdued. Panel discussions were decorous. Costumes were modest.

And people kept looking at one another with frightened, suspicious glances.

There had been one Phannie. One Phannie Uturian. One Moby Phannie.

Could there be another?

[Image: A long-haired man with a mustache types at a computer with a poster of Spock in the background.]

Departments & Events

[Image: A woman wrapped in thin fabric surrounded by bubbles.]

Masquerade

The Norwescon Masquerade will be bigger and flashier than ever, truly a highlight of the convention. Many of our contestants have spent months putting the finishing touches into their costumes, resulting in an elegance and attention to detail not often seen these days.

Whether you come to the Masquerade as a contestant or as a spectator, you are sure to enjoy it. The Masquerade will be held in the Phoenix Rooms, starting at 9:30 P.M. on Saturday.

All Norwescon members are encouraged to enter, or at least join the fun as the judges rack their brains to pick our winners. Wince at the puns of guest Emcee Frank Catalano as he introduces the incredible contestants and cackle as he stalls during the unintentional but unavoidable delays. You’ll also enjoy the delightful antics of jugglers “Dick & Dick” and our other fine entertainers.

Prepared costumes will be entered into the categories in which trophies are given; Science Fiction, Fantasy, Known Character in a Book, Known Character in Media, Performance with costume, Most Humorous.

Character name, source and history should be prepared and listed on the entry form. A short act may also be prepared (if good!).

Entry forms for all contestants are at the Information Desk in the Convention Lobby Fill out the form and leave it at Information. Entry forms must be in before 4:00 P.M. Saturday.

Rotsler’s Rules for Masquerades

1. There should be a weight limit for the purchase of leotards.
2. Every contestant must first see him or herself from the rear.
3. Whether prince or pauper, act like it. Stay in character.
4. Speak distinctly, but not at length.
5. Learn to use the microphone, or don’t.
6. When in doubt, keep your mouth shut.
7. Learn to manage your props, accessories and music.
8. No name tags on costumes.
9. If you have something for the narrator to read, keep it brief and leave out the unpronouncable and incomprehensible and home-grown words and names.
10. If you are going to attempt a costume cliche you must do it better than ever before, or have a good variation.
11. Consider carefully before going nude, or semi-nude.
12. Remember, some people can grow a beard, and some can’t.
13. Thou shall wear shoes to match they costume.
14. If you are thinking of doing something funny, get a second opinion.
15. Short is better than long; funny is better than non-funny; short and funny is best.
16. Hand in a legible contest form.
17. Have something ready for a second appearance.
18. Rehearse. Rehearse. REHEARSE!

[Image: A grumpy-looking wizard in moon-and-star covered robe and hat, carrying a frog, walks out a window and onto thin air.]

Video System

[Image: A giant lizard-like alien holds a man pointing a video camera at it.]

Norwescon 5 will offer a new & exciting service to our guests, a live video network. Starting Friday morning, tune any television in the hotel to channel 8 to view Norwescon News broadcasts three times daily. They’ll keep you informed of what’s happening in the immediate con, in the larger world of SF, and maybe even some “mundane” news. Convention Highlights, such as the play “The Enchanted Duplicator,” the Saturday night Masquerade and the Banquet speeches will be telecast live and also replayed later in the con. Broadcasts will include copious readings and interviews with authors and other guests.

Channel 3 & 6 will feature the solid lineup of top-notch video programming that has become a Norwescon tradition. Our SF, Fantasy and Horror movies and shorts will be broadcast 24 hours a day beginning Thursday evening.

For detailed scheduling of video programming, consult your pocket program.

A winged unicorn flies in front of the moon.

Art Show

1. 5PM Thursday the 18th of March the artroom will open to artists only, who wish to beat the rush.

2. 9AM Friday the 19th of March, the artshow will open to all convention members. Special Note: For friends and family who wish only to attend the artshow, we will be selling passes at the artroom desks for $2.00 (Includes admission to the Saturday Champagne reception).

3. 10PM Friday the artshow closes.

4. 9AM Saturday the 20th of March. The artshow again will remain open until 10 PM.

5. Champagne Reception: Otherwise known as the Big Event, will begin at 8 PM and run until 10 PM. If you want to meet an artist, or a drunk, this is the place to be. We will be serving Dry White Champagne, Cold Duck, and Pink Champage.

6. 10PM Saturday, the artshow closes. If you didn’t make a bid while you had the bubbly in you, you probably weren’t interested in the first place (Final deadline for art show bids is 10 PM Saturday).

7. Awards: Will be by popular vote, your registration packet, or are available at the artroom desks. Winning pieces will be clearly labeled before the auction and Artist G.o.H. Michael Whelan will will present this years incredible hand- sculpted"Orb" awards and cash prizes.

Bidding: Three bids will send your favorite piece of art to the auction this year. We will require all personsmaking bids to report to one of our desks to register before placing a bid on an item. This is to insure we have your correct bid in two places in case someone decides to alter your bid from 3 digits to 4.

We sincerely hope everyone enjoys the art show. If you have any questions about procedures or art in general, please feel free to ask any of the staff.

Art Program Book: We will be selling a special limited edition Art Program Book full of Pacific Northwest Artists at the art desk. They are signed and numbered in an edition of 500 and cost a mere $3.00. Where else can you get a limited edition anything for this price?

Child Care

The babysitting room is open Friday and Saturday from 9:00 A M. to 10:00 P.M. and Sunday from 9:00 A.M. to 4:00 P.M. The cost is $1.00 per hour, per child or $10.00 per child for the whole day. Games, activities and snacks will be provided for the little ones. Meals must be provided by the parents.

Any child 8 years of age and under found unsupervised by an adult in and around the convention area will be taken to the babysitting room. If the child is there longer than 30 minutes the parents will be charged for the time they are there. Parents refusing to make payments will be asked to leave the convention and will also be denied admittance to future Norwescons.

Parents must accompany their children after closure of the babysitting room at 10 P.M. Unclaimed children will be raised as gofers.

[Image: A humanoid creature with finned ears and a mohawk cradles its child in its arms.]

Hucksters

[Image: Two pigs read a book in a library.]

We are proud to present an excellent hucksters' room with booksellers, gamesellers, artists and artisans from across the country and Canada. This year we offer 60 tables in a spacious 3500-square-foot facility.

We are also proud to present a “live art” exhibit area with artists, performers, fortune tellers, etc.

Many booksellers will feature used and rare books and paperbacks, new and limited editions, pulps, magazines, rare art, posters, prints, and many other items.

Many artists and artisans will be selling original creations in various media, limited edition prints and portfolios and will be available to discuss their craft or perhaps arrange for a specially commissioned item.

Gamesellers will have all the latest in D&D, board games, miniatures, and electronic and computer games.

In the “live art” exhibit area you can get your fortune told, face painted, obtain a personalized namebadge or learn how to support the space program.

We earnestly invite you to visit the hucksters' room and exhibit area. Browse leisurely, enjoy yourself, and spend plenty of money so that those who spent so much time and effort to bring their goods to you can also enjoy themselves.

The hucksters' room is right above the restaurants and bar, off the hotel lobby (not the convention lobby).

Hours: Friday 11 a.m.—7 p.m.
Saturday 10 a.m.—6 p.m.
Sunday 10 a.m.—5 p.m.

The “live art” exhibit area is in the upper lobby, adjacent to Norwescon 5 Registration.

[Image: A woman in skin-tight space suit and bubble helmet, wearing an eyepatch and brandishing laser pistols, stands on a barren landscape among alien corpses as ringed planets rise in the distance.]

Fantasy Role-Playing Games

During the last several years, the phenomena of fantasy role-playing games has established itself as yet another strong limb of the SF&F world. Whether you are playing “Dungeons and Dragons,” “Traveller,” “Chivalry and Sorcery,” or any of a number of emerging games, you can adapt your favorite character from your favorite book or story to the “world” of the game and become the character.

Norwescon members will, again this year, be able to learn about this new sport by attending introductory seminars and by playing short beginners games. Advanced players will find plenty of tough competition. The Gaming Rooms are located way over in the “100” wing of the hotel (north side of the pool quadrangle).

[Image: An adventurer and a barbarian cross swords.]

Weapons

Peace bonding of weapons will not be required at the con (we will use the honor system). However, all weapons (swords, pistols, rifles, sabers, knives, lasers, etc.) must be kept holstered and/or sheathed at all times while in the public areas. The only- exceptions are private rooms and for participants of scheduled SCA exhibitions. You may also show off your weapons in Conference “A”, Sunday, from 9:00 A.M. to 11:00 A.M. Please follow these rules for the enjoyment of all convention guests. Persons found ignoring this request will have their weapons confiscated. They will be returned to the owner when they leave the convention.

[Image: A cartoon labeled ‘great SF weapons: slug thrower’, with a gun that has a spring-loaded catapult loaded with a confused slug.]

Persona Games

Please read and follow our basic rules for Persona Games at Norwescon 5 for the fun and safety of both game players and other convention guests.

1. Have a gamemaster.

2. Meet with all your game players before playing (and periodically during the game) to make sure everyone knows these rules and the rules of your particular game.

3. Know who your opponents are.

4. Do not run, shove or tackle.

5. Do not use restraints on your opponents.

6. Confine your game to the convention site (400 and 600 wings and the convention lobby).

7. Do not interfere with the convention programming or the hotel staff.

8. Do not carry real firearms or flammable objects such as torches or fireworks (Also see weapons section).

These rules must be followed by all game participants. If not, the game must be stopped for the duration of the convention.

A man in a checkered cape flexes a sword.

Computer Room

Twelve TRS-80’s, Apples, and Atari 800’s will line the w alls of Conference Room “B” (second floor) in the Norwescon 5 Computer Room. There you can become Luke Skywalker for adventurous battles with Darth Vader in Space, save the Federation by destroying the Klingons, or travel through a dungeon full of wizards, orks, and dwarves. You can, moreover, experience the thrills of Space Invaders, Asteroids, and Warlords on the numerous Atari Video arcades just around the corner in one of the GNU rooms. All this gear will be running each day, all day, with a room attendant to assist you.

[Image: A door labeled ‘computer room’ is cracked open with a robotic arm reaching out to grab a surprised person walking by.]

A Word About the Weather

As this is, after all, early Spring in Seattle, it will undoubtedly be overcast and drizzly when you arrive at the hotel. Not to worry, though—a science fiction convention should generate sufficient localized hot air to dissipate the clouds before long. (Or, in meteorologists jargon, “a natural high will set in.”) If not, you are well advised to carry a hat or umbrella, and a light coat, should you plan to do extensive sightseeing in Seattle or anywhere around Puget Sound.

[Ad: Drawing of a swashbuckler looking out at a three-masted ship in a harbor, surrounded by the text, ‘Prints and original drawings, Wendy Adrian Schultz, available in the Hucksters’ Room'.]

Hospitality

Once again the Norwescon Hospitality Suite (# 429, Governor’s Suite) will be lorded over by the irrepressible Lizzy (Dragon Lady) Warren. During the day drop by for coffee, munchables, conversation and rest. Evenings prepare to boogie with the “practice party” Thursday night, The nostalgic “Seattle in '81 Bidding Party” (with Irish Coffee) Saturday night and the “Dead Sasquatch Pajama Party” Sunday. Whoa!

[Image: Cartoon of a person in a bathtub, only their feet and one hand holding up a cup visible, surrounded by ice and beer cans and bottles.]

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[Image: A Voyager space probe labeled, ‘disregard first message’.]

Handy Phone List

King County Sheriff’s Department: [REDACTED]
Fire Department: [REDACTED]
Aid Car: [REDACTED]
Poison Control Center: [REDACTED]
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Around the Hyatt

[Image: A regal-looking figure with long blonde hair, wearing a high-collared cape over shirt and pants, with ornate bracelets, belt, and sword, posing by a table with a goblet.]

[Image: A castle as seen over a wall.]
Used by permission of Automated Simulations

Our convention hotel offers many diversions for those who may momentarily wish to get away from the excitement. Chief among the attractions is Hugo’s, the hotel’s award-winning dining place. Top of the menu is their roast duck, mouth-watering, deliciously sauced. Each of the other menu items is special in its own way. Hugo’s is a real dining treat, though moderately high in price. Reservations are a must.

Next door is the Bistro lounge, always nice for a quiet drink with your favorite friend. Kikker, a versatile trio from California entertains therein.

The coffee shop is open for feast or snack 24 hours a day. This is a great site for a late night SMOF session, an early breakfast, or a quick lunch. And the food is very good— especially recommended is the Kentucky Jack and the New York Steak dinner.

However, if you wish to eat on the run, the closest stop would have to be the Norwescon Snack Bar located right in the convention lobby. Good, quick food and a price that’s just right.

If you need a pack of cigarettes, or a nice present for a new friend, try the gift shop across from the hotel desk. Frazzled? Have you hair frizzled in the beauty/barber shop.

If you have any other needs ask the hotel desk or a member of the convention staff.

And Just Down the Street …

[Image: Hand-drawn map of business and restaurants near the convention hotel along Pacific Highway 99.]

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The Doomsday Fad

by Frank Catalano

[Image: A robed, bearded man holds a sign saying, ‘The world ends at midnight, 11 central’.]

Have you checked your horoscope lately? Are your planets properly aligned? And Brother, have you been saved?

We’re approaching the end of a century— no, make that the end of a millenium. Now that may not sound like much. Odds are, you weren’t around when the last century turned over. And unless you either have a portrait in your attic, or your name is actually Methuselah, you weren’t around when the last millennium turned over, either.

But if you had been around, say in the 1880’s, or the 1790’s, you would have noticed something: the springing up of cults, and other groups, forewarning of the Second Coming. Of the End of the World, of a New Order to put an end to all of the worldly chaos. As a matter of fact, if you check back near the end of each of the last several centuries, don’t be surprised if you find similar cults with similar claims popping up like daisies in a manure field.

Welcome to 1982.

Welcome to the era of the Moonies, who preach a new world order. Welcome to the era of the survivalist, who preaches an end to the world in a violent confrontation. Welcome to the Aquarian Conspiracy, which promises a new, better, peaceful networked world.

Extremist groups are springing up right and left, in both the directional and political meanings of these words. A good number of them are preaching the end of things as we know it at the end of this century, whether they state it outright or not. For example, there’s a Moral Majority, trying to purify our lives whether we want them to or not, and thereby doing for Christianity what Three Mile Island did for nuclear power. There’s also the growth of interest in unidentified flying objects as being either Man’s saviors or conquerors; the growth of interest in a worldwide conspiracy to bring the economy of the Earth to its knees and put it into the hands of a powerful few; and the increased reports of people getting into the occult.

This doesn’t even take into account the recent deluge of World War Three scenarios. In just a two week period early this year, there was a PBS special on World War Three, and a two-part network movie on the same topic. At the same time, the Catholic Archbishop of Seattle talked about withholding half of his income taxes to protest the nuclear arms race, and Admiral Hyman Rickover said that he expects the world to destroy itself in a nuclear spectacular.

Rational people. Some good causes. But a lot of emotional power in these doomsday/ rebirth scenarios. Call it the Millennial Crazies.

So what does this have to do with science fiction?

Let’s go back a few years to the early seventies when a futurist by the name of Alvin Toffler wrote a well-received book called Future Shock. An excellent book, whether you measure it in terms of sales or content—it likely helped a lot of people through the displacement caused by societal advances. But it was also a book that most people who read a lot of science fiction were bored with. It was simply old news.

Science fiction can act, as Future Shock did, as a bridge to the year 2001 for those people with the Millennial Crazies. When it’s at its very best, it’s escapist entertainment with a purpose. And it can be a way for people to experience the future before they get there, so they won’t face it with fear.

Despite the Millennial Crazies, people are desperately searching for an outlet for their frustrations, and even more importantly, for their hopes and their dreams. You can see it in the widespread public, if not government, support for the space shuttle and the space program. You can see it in the popularity of such escapist future entertainments as Star Wars and Star Trek. You can even see it in the popularity of such high-brow Public Broadcasting Service series as Cosmos and Connections.

People want to look forward to the future. They just need something to focus on to give them an outlet for their optimism.

Science fiction and popularized science are instrumental in giving people an answer to their questions about what happens after 2001. Consider them as methods of tossing out new and often frightening ideas in an entertainment form, so people can accept them.

Overall, it’s somewhat reminiscent of the classic Isaac Asimov short story, “Nightfall.” It deals with a planet that has six suns, and every 2050 years, all the suns are out of the planet’s sight, causing a half-day of darkness that drives men mad because they’re not used to it.

In a sense, we’re entering our century’s quota of “darkness.” It probably won’t be cataclysmic when it arrives, but it may make a lot of people as uncomfortable as hell, though not to the extent of those in Asimov’s story.

But then again, we have something the people in “Nightfall” didn’t.

We have science fiction.

Copyright © 1982 by Frank Catalano

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Guests of Norwescon

[Image: Poul Anderson]

Poul Anderson has been writing SF and fantasy for over 30 years and is past President of the Science Fiction Writers of America. To date, he has written more than 75 books and 300 stories. His writing has earned Poul Anderson six Hugo Awards, two Nebula Awards and the Gandalf (Grand Master) Award. Among his better known works are the Technic Civilization Series; the Hoka stories (written with Gordon R. Dickson); The Avatar; Brain Wave; The Broken Sword; Byworlder; The High Crusade; Operation Chaos; Star Fox; Tan Zero; and The Winter of the World. Tor Books has recently published the following collections of Poul Anderson’s short fiction: Explorations; Fantasy; The Guardians of Time; The Psychotechnic League; and Winners. A new novel, Orion Shall Rise, is forthcoming. Poul Anderson lives and works in California.

[Image: Alicia Austin]
Photo by Andrea Levin/Pendragon Graphics

Alicia Austin’s artwork has graced the pages of numerous SF and fantasy books including Demon of Scattery by Poul Anderson and Mildred Downey Broxon, Voorlooper by Andre Norton, Dragons of Light edited by Orson Scott Card and The Magic May Return edited by Larry Niven.

[Image: Steven Bryan Bieler]

Steven Bryan Bieler showed a talent for the arts at an early age. At ten he could color without crossing the lines. At fifteen he took a job with the town newspaper, editing page numbers. At twenty he left school to become a writer and go into debt. Six years later, having published two stories (in New Dimensions 11 and Unearth) and some poetry, the perspiring young author wonders if there are any new worlds to conquer. Bieler and his dog, Cedric, co-captain a team in the local chess league, the dreaded SubSonics.

[Image: Charles N. Brown]
Photo by Rachel E. Hobnen/Locus Publications

Charles N. Brown is founder and editor of Locus, the premier newspaper of the science fiction field. He has won six Hugos for Locus, including the 1981 Hugo for Best Fanzine.

[Image: Mildred Downey Broxon]
Photo by William J. Murry III

Mildred Downey Broxon, a Seattle resident, has had short fiction in Chrysalis, Stellar 3, Universe 5, Isaac Asimov’s and Vertex. She is the author of two novels, The Demon of Scattery (co-authored by Poul Anderson) and Too Long a Sacrifice. Her most recent work has been “Strength” (co-authored by Poul Anderson) which appeared in The Magic May Return edited by Larry Niven and “Sea Changeling” in Isaac Asimov’s (Aug. 3, 1981).

[Image: Darth Vader holding Yoda’s head like a puppet.]

[Image: F.M. Buz Busby]

F.M. (“Buz”) Busby of Seattle is the author of numerous short stories and the novels The Demu Trilogy, All These Earths, Rissa Kerguellen and its spinoff, Zelde M’tana. His most recent works include two short stories in Isaac Asimov’s, “Backup System” (Oct.) and “Wrong Number” (Dec.) and a novella in Rigel #3. Forthcoming are fantasy stories in Amazons II and Heroic Visions.

[Image: Frank Catalano]
Photo by J. W. Michelinie

Frank Catalano is a Seattle-based science fiction writer and columnist, his most recent work appearing in the March issue of F & SF. In civilian life, he’s the midday news anchor/reporter at KMPS AM-FM radio. His other projects include editing the Nebula Awards Report for the Science Fiction Writers of America and producing and hosting a weekly science program of KMPS.

[Image: Michael G. Coney]

Michael G. Coney, a resident of British Columbia, is author of the books Syzygy, Monitor Found in Orbit, The Jaws that Bite, Rax, Friends Come in Boxes, The Hero of Downways, Charisma and Neptune’s Cauldron. Forthcoming from Ace is Cat Karina.

[Image: Mike Conner]

Mike Conner is the author of I Am Not the Other Houdini (Harper & Row) and the historical thriller Back to Berlin. His stories have appeared in Orbit, New Dimensions and F & SF. He lives in one of the world’s true garden spots, Pleasant Hill, CA.

[Image: A lizard-like alien in a space suit.]

[Image: Susan Coon]

Susan Coon is the author of four SF novels, published by Avon: Rahne, Cassilee, The Virgin and Chiy-Une. Her short stories have appeared in Amazing and F & SF. She is currently working on two novels. Mrs. Coon is a resident of Cupertino, Cal.

[Image: Joel Davis]

Joel Davis is a science writer whose articles have appeared in Omni’s “Continuum,” “Explorations,” and “People,” columns for over two years. Joel also writes for Science Digest, Astronomy and Star & Sky. Forthcoming are articles in Analog, Omni and an interview of Samuel Delany taken at Norwescon 4 in Writers Digest. He lives in Olympia, WA.

[Image: John de Camp]

John De Camp is primarily a mainstream poet, but his book In the Shadow of Atlantis is a poetic fantasy. He currently has a book and a couple of short stories looking for publishers.

[Image: Snake-bird creatures.]

[Image: Ted Dikty]

Ted Dikty resides in Mercer Island, WA, and currently publishes SF nonfiction.

[Image: Lela Ann Dowling]
Photo by Steve Bard

Leia Ann Dowling’s artwork has appeared in Rigel, Westwind and the back cover of the Norwescon 4 program book. A color portfolio, “Unicorns 11” will be forthcoming from Schanes & Schanes in February or March of 1982 and a black and white portfolio will be published by Future Dreams.

[Image: Dale Enzenbacher]

Fantasy sculptor Dale Enzenbacher is a co-winner of the World Fantasy Award for Best Fantasy Artist (he shared the honor with Alicia Austin). One of his recent works is a limited edition statuette of Tigerishka from Fritz Leiber’s The Wanderer. Dale Enzenbacher currently resides in North Park, CA.

[Image: Rick Gauger]

Rick Gauger’s short stories and cartoons have been published in Analog, Destinies, Omni, and elsewhere. He is currently a student at Western Washington University.

[Image: William Gibson]

William Gibson of Vancouver, B.C., has had stories published in Omni (May '81, Oct. '81), Shadows and Universe 11. He has sold another story to Omni and has a novel in progress.

[Image: A unicorn with a candle for a horn with a butterfly circling it.]

[Image: Janet D. Gluckman]
Photo by San Jose Mercury & News

Janet D. Gluckman has authored Rite of the Dragon (Donning), a novel of political intrigue, Mr. Cato’s Dream Machine (Enrich 1982), a children’s fantasy, and has had a short piece, “Negwenya,” published in Dragons of Darkness (Ace 1981). Ms. Gluckman lives in Cupertino, Cal.

[Image: Lisa Goldstein]

Lisa Goldstein is the author of The Red Magician, recently published by Timescape. She is a resident of Oakland, CA.

[Image: Phyllis Gotlieb]
Photo by John Reeves

Phyllis Gotlieb has authored the SF novels O Master Caliban! (Harper & Row), Sunburst (Berkley) and A Judgement of Dragons (Berkley). A new novel, Emperor, Swords, Pentacles, will be published in April by Ace. Ms. Gotlieb lives in Toronto, Canada.

[Image: Sherry M. Gottlieb]

Sherry M. Gottlieb is the owner of the world’s oldest and largest SF bookstore, A Change of Hobbit in Santa Monica, Cal. She has been performing this remarkable feat since 1972.

[Image: A knight’s hemet with a mouse sitting under the visor.]

[Image: Eileen Gunn]

Eileen Gunn has had stories published in Amazing and in the anthology Proteus, and has a story forthcoming in Tales by Moonlight, edited by Jessica Amanda Salmonson. She also has a non-fiction book coming out on how to buy a small business computer without completely losing touch with reality. She makes her living as a writer and writes in her spare time. Gunn lives in Seattle.

[Image: George L. Guthridge]
Photo by Gene Mayo

George L. Guthridge has had stories in Analog, Galileo, Child Life, No Room for Man, Our Future Years: The Midwest from 1976–2076, Portland Review and The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction (most recently “The Quiet,” July 1981 and “Blackmail,” Feb. 1982). Stories are forthcoming in F & SF, Alien Encounters, Pulpsmith, Western Wildlands, Endless Frontiers, and Terry Carr’s Year’s Best SF, plus a novel, The Bloodletter, from Tower Books. George lives in McCleary, WA., and writes full-time.

[Image: George Harper]

George Harper is a science writer by trade. He caused a stir with his Analog article “How to Build Your Own A-Bomb and Blow Up Your Neighborhood.” His book, Gypsy Earth, will be published by Doubleday. He is currently working on a textbook on the origins of the Solar System for Prentice-Hall. George Harper lives in Tacoma.

[Image: Norman Hartman]
Photo by James W. Fiscus

Norman Hartman has had a short story, “Lycanthrope,” published in Microcosmic Tales, an anthology edited by Isaac Asimov. He has recently finished a novel.

[Image: A stone wall with an eye at one end.]

[Image: David Hartwell]

David Hartwell is editor of Timescape Books (Simon & Schuster/Pocket Books SF line) and editor of the Gregg Press line of SF.

[Image: Randy Hoar]

Randy Hoar (a.k.a. Tarkas) has had SF and horror art published in various magazines, including Twilight Zone (Nov. 1981), Thrust, Westwind, Othergates and Owlflight. He has several pieces forthcoming in Spectrum and is currently gearing up for a gallery show in June. Randy Hoar lives in Centralia, WA.

[Image: Dean Ing]

Dean Ing of Ashland, Oregon, was a Hugo and Nebula finalist in 1979. He is the author of the novels Soft Targets, Anasazi and Systemic Shock, all published by Ace. His short SF and nonfiction articles have appeared in Analog, Destinies and Omni. He has three books forthcoming: Pulling Through (Survival novel and nonfiction articles); High Tension (anthology) from Ace in 1982; and Single Combat (a sequel to Systemic Shock) for Tor Books in 1982.

[Image: Kevin Johnson]

Kevin Johnson has done cover art for DAW, Pinnacle Books' Blade series, and the Thongor books published by Warner. He has done advertising posters for Seattle Opera productions and is currently working on paintings based on the Grail legend. Kevin Johnson lives in Olympia, WA.

[Image: A fairy crouching and looking at an amphibious creature.]

[Image: Phylls Ann Karr]
Photo by Jack Mattson

Phyllis Ann Karr is the author of the fantasy novel Frostflower and Thorn (Berkley, 1980). A sequel, tentatively entitled Frostflower and Windbourne, will be forthcoming from Berkley. Forthcoming from Ace is a sword and sorcery novel tentatively entitled Wildraith’s Last Battle. Ms. Karr is also the author of several Regency novels and has several forthcoming from Fawcett. One of them, The Elopement, has a hero based on Mr. Spock.

[Image: Richard Kearns]

Richard Kearns, a resident of Los Angeles, has written for Orbit. His short story, “From Bach to Broccoli,” appeared in Dragons of Light, edited by Orson Scott Card. Before trying his hand at fiction, Kearns was an editor for various magazines and currently edits the SFWA Bulletin.

[Image: Damon Knight]

Damon Knight is one of SF’s most multi-faceted talents. He began his SF career as a member of the Futurian Society, a group which produced some of SF’s greatest names. He was founder of the Science Fiction Writers of America and its first president. Damon Knight also founded the Clarion Conference on the craft of writing science fiction. He edited Orbit and numerous other anthologies. His more than sixty books include short stories, novels, incisive literary criticism, translations, and biographies. He has even written the history of the Futurian Society. He has recently sold a new novel, The Man in the Tree, to Berkley. Damon Knight lives in Eugene, Or., with his wife, Kate Wilhelm.

[Image: Elizabeth A. Lynn]
Photo by Paul Nelson

Elizabeth A. Lynn has written several novels including A Different Light, the three books of The Chronicles of Tornor and, most recently, The Sardonyx Net (Putnam 1981). One of her novels, Watchtower, won the World Fantasy Award. Her short fiction has been published in such places as F & SF, Isaac Asimov’s, Millenial Women, Berkley Showcase 1, Amazons!, Basilisk and Other Worlds 1. A collection of her short fiction, The Woman Who Loved the Moon and Other Stories, has been released by Berkley. Elizabeth Lynn lives in San Francisco.

[Image: Marion Markham]

Marion Markham has written the children’s SF novel Escape from Velos. She has a juvenile mystery, The Halloween Candy Mystery forthcoming from Houghton Mifflin in 1982. Marion Markham lives in Northbrook, Ill.

[Image: Cyn Mason]

Cyn Mason of Seattle has a story forthcoming in Isaac Asimov’s.

[Image: Julian May]

Julian May, from Mercer Island, WA., has had two SF books published by Houghton Mifflin: The Many-Colored Land and The Golden Torc. Two more, The Nonborn King and The Adversary, will be forthcoming from the same publisher.

[Image: Vonda N. McIntyre]
Photo by Jeff Levin/Pendragon Graphics

Seattle’s Vonda N. McIntyre won the 1979 Hugo and Nebula Awards for her novel Dreamsnake. She has published two other novels, The Exile Waiting, The Entropy Effect, and a story collection, Fireflood and Other Stories.

[Image: Pat Murphy]
Photo by Stere Bard

Pat Murphy has had stories published in various magazines and books, including Elsewhere (Ace) edited by Terri Windling and Mark Arnold, Isaac Asimov’s and Other Worlds 2. She has a novel, Shadow Hunter, coming out this fall from Fawcett.

[Image: Paul Novitski]

Seattle’s Paul Novitski has had stories in Amazing, Fantastic, Isaac Asimov’s, Universe 9, and Wings.

[Image: Quasimodo at a desk saying “front” and ringing a small desk bell.]

[Image: Ted A. Pedersen]

Ted A. Pedersen, a resident of Santa Monica, has written SF for TV and films. He was story editor of the “Flash Gordon” animated TV series and has written more than 60 TV scripts for shows ranging from “The Bionic Woman” to “Thundarr the Barbarian.” He wrote the screenstory for a full-length animated film of Forward’s Dragon’s Egg. He is currently working on the development of a live-action Saturday morning series titled “Starhope.”

[Image: Steve Perry]

Steve Perry (a.k.a. Jesse Peel) has had stories published in F & SF, Isaac Asimov’s, Galaxy, Omni, and Other Worlds 1. He has also authored The Tuleremia Gambit (Fawcett). Steve Perry is currently working on three novels.

[Image: Jonathan V. Post]

Jonathan V. Post has earned, with his non-fiction writing, nearly one million dollars from the Air Force and NASA. This, however, all went to his employer, Boeing Aerospace Company. Over 100 works of fiction, textbooks, speculative science, poetry, and miscellany have appeared in such loci as Omni, Scientific American, Time, Focus, AIEEE, Wild Fennel, Wind Chimes, The Space River Anthology, Rigel, and this program book. He will probably be the next publisher of Amazing Stories.

[Image: Victoria Poyser]

Victoria Poyser, late of Olympia, has done interior illustrations for Ace Books, Galaxy, Starship, Fantasy Newsletter and many fanzines and convention publications. She was awarded the 1981 Hugo Award for Best Fan Artist. She will be doing the cover art for The Prisoner of Zhamanak by L. Sprague de Camp (Phantasia Press) and an illustrated book based on the Sleeping Beauty legend to be published by Outre House. Victoria currently lives near New York City with her husband, Kipy.

[Image: Paul Preuss]
Photo © by Karen R. Preuss

Paul Preuss of San Francisco, CA., has written two SF novels: The Gates of Heaven and Re-entry. He has recently finished another novel, entitled Broken Symmetries.

[Image: Richard Purtill]

A philosophy professor at Western Washington University in Bellingham, Richard Purtill has written books on ethics, the philosophy of religion, logic, Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. He has written the fantasy novels Golden Gryphon Feathers and The Stolen Goddess. Murdercon, an SF mystery, is forthcoming from Doubleday this May.

[Image: Michael Reaves]

Michael Reaves is the author of the novel Dragonworld (with Byron Preiss) and has had short fiction published in F & SF, Universe, and Weird Heroes. He has written, to date, over fifty TV scripts. Forthcoming books include Darkworld Detective (Bantam, June); a fantasy, The Shattered World (Timescape) and he is currently collaborating with Steve Perry on a novel titled Hellstar.

[Image: Frank Robinson]
Photo by Jerry Bauer

Frank Robinson is the author of The Power and A Life in the Day of… (Bantam). In collaboration with Thomas N. Scortia he has co-authored The Prometheus Crisis and The Gold Crew.

[Image: Joanna Russ]
Photo by Ileen Weber

Joanna Russ is the Nebula Award-winning author of such novels as Picnic on Paradise, And Chaos Died, We Who Are About To, The Two of Them, The Female Man and Kittatinny: A Tale of Magic. Ms. Russ has written short fiction and contributed incisive book reviews to F & SF. A collection of her short fiction is to be published by Pocket Books. Joanna Russ is a member of the English Department at the University of Washington and lives in Seattle.

[Image: Jessica Amanda Salmonson]

Jessica Amanda Salmonson is the editor of the award-winning anthology Amazons! and the forthcoming Amazons II. Forthcoming anthologies include Heroic Visions (Ace) and Tales By Moonlight (Garcia). Her short stories have appeared in Elsewhere, Hecate’s Cauldron, The Berkley Showcase, and numerous others. Her three novels are Tomoe Gozen, The Golden Naginata and The Swordswoman. She also edits a small newsletter about women warriors of history, legend, and modern heroic fantasy. As part of her book research, she has learned iaido, “the way of the rapid sword,” and is presently researching a historical novel about the origins of kabuki theater.

[Image: Stephen Schlich]
Photo by Mike Johnson

Stephen Schlich has had stories published in newspapers, a children’s magazine, a backpacking journal and Mike Shayne. His short story, “Top of the Stairs,” appeared in Twilight Zone (Feb. 1982). Schlich lives in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, with his bassett hound, Studly.

[Image: Wendy Adrian Schultz]
Photo by Steve Bard

Wendy Adrian Schultz has illustrated such novels as Jessica Amanda Salmonson’s The Golden Naginata and Phyllis Ann Karr’s forthcoming Wildraith’s Last Battle. She has been involved in researching swashbuckling women of history and has prepared an art folio depicting some of these boisterous ladies, whose exploits equal or exceed the wildest fantasy novels. Previously an art teacher in St. Louis schools, she has made her home in Seattle for over two years, managing a marginal subsistance from her art.

[Image: Jody Scott]

Jody Scott of Seattle has written the satirical SF novel Passing for Human. A sequel, I, Vampire, will be forthcoming from Ace.

[Image: Norman Spinrad]
Photo by William Rotsler

Norman Spinrad made his reputation as one of SF’s Young Turks with such novels as Bug Jack Barron and The Men in the Jungle. His other novels include The Solarians, A World Between, The Iron Dream, Agents of Chaos and Songs from the Stars. His short stories have been collected in The Last Hurrah of the Golden Horde, No Direction Home, and The Star-Spangled Future. Forthcoming are The Void Captain’s Tale (Timescape), The Children of Hamlin (Pequod Press) and Stayin' Alive (Donning).

[Image: J. T. Stewart]
Photo by Sue Langref

J. T. Stewart is an accomplished poetess and a main organizer of the yearly Science Fiction Fair at Seattle Central Community College. She has been a panel participant at the various cons taking place in the upper left hand corner of the map (OryCon, V-Con, Norwescon).

[Image: Avon Swofford]

Avon Swofford has a short story forthcoming in Shadows, edited by Charles L. Grant. She is currently working on a novel. Avon Swofford lives in Long Beach, CA.

[Image: Surrealistic illustration.]

[Image: Gene Van Troyer]
Photo by Bernard Versari

Gene Van Troyer has had short stories published in Vertex and Eternity. He has recently published “The Starfarer” in Portland Review. Gene Van Troyer’s current project is a collaborative poem with three other poets.

[Image: Eric Vinicoff]

Eric Vinicoff has sold about 30 stories to SF magazines and anthologies. One of his most recent stories is "Patrol Team'' (Analog Feb. 1, 1982). He is also co-publisher and editor of the SF magazine Rigel. Eric Vinicoff lives in Oakland CA.

[Image: Carl Waluconis]

Carl Waluconis (a.k.a. Wally Coins) is the author of Whispers of Heavenly Death (Manor). He has a short story forthcoming from Amazing and has an SF and a fantasy novel in progress.

[Image: William R. Warren, Jr.]
Photo by Tom Walls

William R. Warren, Jr. has been active in fandom since 1968 and his artwork has appeared in numerous fanzines, program books (including the cover of the 1978 Worldcon) and other fan publications. He contributed artwork to the Ballantine Star Trek Concordance by Bjo Trimble and has won Best of Show at Westercon 33, V-Con 9, and Wichacon 1. He will have illustrations and filksongs appearing in the upcoming T-Minus 10 and Counting filksong collection from Off-Centaur Publications, if all goes according to plan. William Warren lives in Puyallup, WA., with his wife and three children.

[Image: Kate Wilhelm]

Kate Wilhelm is the author of about 20 novels and short story collections. Two of her most recent works are A Sense of Shadow and Listen, Listen, both from Houghton Mifflin. Her work has earned her the Hugo, Nebula, and Jupiter Awards. Forthcoming from Houghton Mifflin in 1982 is Oh, Susannah! Kate Wilhelm lives in Eugene, Or. with her husband, Damon Knight.

[Image: Robert G. Wilson]

Robert G. Wilson’s first book was Tentacles of Dawn. Another work, The Chromium Kid, has been sent to the publisher. Robert G. Wilson is a Seattle resident.

[Image: Paul Edwin Zimmer]
Photo by Morris Scott Dollens

Paul Edwin Zimmer is better known as a poet than a writer of prose. Nonetheless, he has authored Woman of the Elfmounds (Triskell) and The Survivors (DAW) (with Marion Zimmer Bradley). Forthcoming from Playboy Press is The Dark Border, to be issued in two volumes beginning in September 1982. Paul Zimmer helped found the Society for Creative Anachronism and was its first Marshal. He lives in Berkeley, Cal.

[Image: M. K. Wren]
Photo by Ruth D. Grover

M. K. Wren (aka Martha Kay Refroe) is the author of the three-volume SF trilogy, The Phoenix Legacy, published by Berkley Books. The Phoenix Legacy is comprised of Sword of the Lamb, Shadow of the Swan, and House of the Wolf. She is also the author of five mystery novels published by Doubleday. A sixth mystery is in progress. Ms. Wren lives in Otis, Oregon.

[Image: Cartoon of three figures, one of which is in profile looking to the side, and one of which is a unicorn saying, 'Hey Yeh! Look at the camera…’Hi Seattle!''.]

Philip Yeh is the author/artist of The Adventures of a Modern Day Unicorn, Cazio in China and The Magic Gumball Machine and Company.

Non-Photo Section

Michael Armstrong is possibly the northernmost SF writer in the world. He lives in Anchorage, Alaska, and has been published in F & SF and has a novel in progress.

Linda Blanchard, a Seattle resident, has recently sold a novelette to F & SF and is very active in the L-5 Society.

Brian Boerner is a studio publicist and has written and designed tie-ins for Dragonslayer, Heavy Metal, Quest for Fire and is currently working Conan, Bladerunner and Star Trek II.

Mars Bonfire is the editor of Spectrum and Novalis Magazines and resides in Texas.

As co-editor of Cry, Elinor Busby won a Hugo Award in 1960 for Best Fanzine. She has sold several SF stories and currently is working on several Regency novels.

Arthur Byron Cover is the author of Autumn Angels, The Platypus of Doom and Other Nihilists, and one or two other books as well.

Jan Howard Finder has edited an SF anthology for Taplinger’s, which will be available at Norwescon.

Richard Hoagland is a freelance science writer and the science advisor for CNN.

Marilyn Holt, a Seattle resident, is a book reviewer for The Seattle Times and Western Wildlands. She has published a study of Joanna Russ' writing entitled “No Docile Daughters: A Study of Two Novels by Joanna Russ” is Room of One’s Own. A critical analysis of Russ' major works is forthcoming in Science Fiction Writers from Charles Scribners' Sons. Several other critical works are currently seeking a home.

Michael Kurland of Kensington, CA., is the author of such SF novels as The When-abouts of Burr, Tomorrow Knight, and Psi Hunt. One of his recent non-SF novels is The Infernal Device, a mystery whose protagonist is the famous Professor Moriarty. A minor British detective by the name of Sherlock Holmes has a cameo role. A sequel, Death by Gaslight, is forthcoming.

John Joachims, a specialist in puppet effects, is currently working with Ted Pederson on a new SF TV series for CBS entitled Starhope.

Victoria Schochet is the Science Fiction Editor at Berkley Books and lives, therefore, in New York.

Stephanie Smith of Portland, Or., has a short story, “Blue Heart,” forthcoming in Isaac Asimov’s.

Dianne M. Thompson has a short story, “The Triangle,” written in collaboration with George Guthridge, forthcoming in Isaac Asimov’s. Ms. Thompson lives in Huson, MT.

Cherie Wilkerson has sold stories to Fantasy Book and Shadows IV. She is currently hawking a novel.

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[Image: Art by Tarkas of a heart with patches and bandaids, with scissors cutting off the bottom tip, over a van driving along a twisty road.]

Transplant Your Own Heart

Disch/Sladek

A Do-It-Yourself Guide

by Thomas M. Disch and John Sladek

Let’s get one thing straight right away— Anyone can perform the single act of surgery necessary for a heart transplant. So-called medical doctors would like us to believe the contrary, of course. According to organizations like the A.M.A. it takes years of tedious university study and a hospital full of costly equipment.

Don’t you believe it! In fact the average man or woman with a high school diploma and enough manual dexterity to operate a pencil sharpener can successfully transplant any or all of his own organs. “After a few weeks of practice,” says one successful amateur, “switching hearts or livers becomes as easy as switching license plates on your ambulance.”

And that’s only the beginning. When you’ve learned the simple technique of auto-hypnosis, the way is clear to the most difficult self-operation of all—the whole-head transplant.

Two Important Rules

1. Don’t listen to defeatists who say it can’t be done. Remember, they said Van Gogh was crazy.

2. Don’t accept failure. Keep trying.

Naturally before you undertake to transplant your own organs, you’ll want plenty of practice with the help of family, friends and pets. Most self-surgeons run into their first difficulties here. Rejection of the concept of transplantation is as common as the purely medical problem of tissue rejection. People are afraid of anything new and untried, and logical arguments won’t work against fear. You may have to resort to the tested-and-true U.S. Army method of simply choosing your volunteers. If the volunteer doesn’t agree with your choice, it’s just as well to have a can of chloroform and a strong assistant standing by.

Assume that you have your recipient ready for the table. You have a number of sharp knives and scissors, needle, thread, and so on. You’ve put down a few newspapers to sop up the mess. Slip on your kitchen rubber gloves, tie on your spotless white surgical mask (optional, but it does impart an undeniably “distinguished” look)—and you’re ready to start the countdown.

Eight Rules for Surgery

1. Tools: Be sensible. Don’t expect perfect results with a clumsy serrated bread-knife. Keep all knives and scissors ultra-sharp.(Remember—it’s the dull, rusty knife that will slip and cause a nasty accident.)

2. Be bold and decisive. Remember—you’re not a barber—you’re a surgeon!

3. Start small. Don’t try to remove a whole heart the first time round. Start with maybe just the little pointy bit at the bottom.

4. Work from right to left, and top to bottom. When sewing up, this rule is reversed.

5. Safety first! Cut away from yourself. (Of course, this doesn’t apply when operating on yourself.)

6. If the recipient should wake up during the operation, smile warmly and keep up a steady flow of conversation. If possible, get a shoulder in the way so he won’t see what you’re up to. Say you’re sewing buttons on his shirt, etc.

7. Remember—alcohol and blood don’t mix. Do your celebrating afterwards.

8. Trust in God to see you through.

Finding a donor is the next problem, and here’s where an ambulance with false license plates comes in handy. If you can’t afford that, get a stethoscope. Practice the technique of racing to the scene of an accident, listening for a heart-beat, and shaking the head gravely. Don’t be choosy—anyone with a visible wound is as good as dead anyway.

If you can’t find an accident, don’t become discouraged. For beginners, practice with substitutes and simulations is a good alternative. Does your supermarket have artichoke hearts or heart-of-palm? Any old valentines in the attic? How about that greasy deck of cards you keep meaning to throw away— plenty of “hearts” in that.

The same principles apply for other types of transplantation. Every supermarket stocks a good supply of liver and kidneys—and what’s more they’re relatively cheap! Just warm them to body temperature (98° Fahrenheit, approximately) in a pan of water (don’t fry or broil) and heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it’s off to work we go!

One thing to bear in mind—the replacement parts should not be larger than the parts removed. A kidney-shaped coffee table, for instance, should not replace a kidney. Confusions or misjudgments of size can lead to trouble at sewing-up time.

The Whole-Head Transplant

Now that you’ve swapped a few hearts, lungs, livers, etc. you’re ready for something really challenging. For a head transplant, we find that both literally and figuratively two heads are better than one. That is, two surgeons have an easier time subduing initial resistance. They can take turns at the arduous work of cutting through bone and gristle. Finally, teamwork brings out the sheer good fun of surgery.

One time, for instance, the authors of this article were doing a head transplant using Mr. Disch’s cousin (a pipe-smoker who had once complained of a headache) as recipient. The donor had been struck down some minutes earlier by an unidentified, hit-and-run ambulance.

While Disch removed the recipient’s head and his billfold, Sladek did the same with thedonor. Then we sewed on the new head in record time. We were just washing our hands before lunch, when the patient began to complain of blindness.

Optical nerve damage was our first hypothesis. Sladek then opted for hysterical blindness, while Disch maintained that Sladek’s thumbs had slipped into the donor’s eye-sockets during the head removal.

The real explanation was much simpler. Disch had turned the recipient’s body over from a prone to a supine position, while Sladek had not similarly rotated the head. In short, the head was on backwards, so that as the patient lay on his back his eyes were pressed into the pillow.

We had quite a laugh about our little mistake. Disch’s cousin was furious at the time, though by now he has come to terms with the re-arrangement. Today, with the aid of two mirrors, he can light his pipe, shave, and otherwise live a completely normal life—and his headache is gone!

Rules for Head Transplants

1. Take special care with head-body orientation. Labelling heads and bodies front and back is helpful.

2. Rejection problems: Be sure donor and recipient take the same hat and collar sizes. Heads have been known to reject foreign bodies due to their outlandish metric sizes.

3. Save leftovers. Spare heads and bodies always come in handy during emergencies.

Surely it is the highest calling of all surgeons to ply the paring-knife and coping-saw on their own flesh and bone, following the immortal commandment of the Carpenter of Nazareth: “Physician, heal thyself!” Don’t forget, though, in the enthusiasm of your first weeks of auto-surgery that you can have too much of a good thing.

Rules for Auto-Surgery

1. Use the buddy system, especially at first. Sure you can go it alone, but there’s no reason to be ashamed of having a friend stand by, just in case. Anyone can pass out.

2. Don’t over-do it. Auto-surgery is basically healthful and invigorating, but it does tax the system. If you’ve just done a kidney transplant, for instance, give yourself a week or two before trying open heart surgery.

3. Don’t try and work without mirrors. There’s no place in Medical Science for show-offs! Do remember: Left becomes right in a mirror, and vice versa. One of our colleagues now has a very tricky double left ear, from forgetting this simple rule.

Finally, a few words on the controversial subject of lobotomy. Both of us have enjoyed the benefits of lobotomization for many years. We feel that it represents a definite plus, both physically and spiritually. The lo-botomized mind feels a profound sense of Inner Peace. Lobotomies were a normal part of life among the ancient Aztecs and Egyptians —why not in our supposedly “scientific” age?

Those who regard the operation as “disfiguring” might as reasonably argue that appendectomies should be abolished because they’re a threat to the bathing-suit industry! (Actually, as most of us realize, surgical scars are decidedly arousing!) To all such crepehangers we say—Poppycock! Let common sense and humanistic philosophy prevail: there is no form of auto-surgery that isn’t worth trying out.

Few hobbies can be so inexpensive and so educational at the same time. Moreover, auto-surgery is health-giving, improves sallow complexions, is a good cure for depression, and gives you something to do with your hands.

So, if you’re still hesitating, our advice to you is—Dig in!

Copyright © 1977 by Transatlantic Review Inc.

[Image: Two men facing each other, each reaching out to hold the other’s head raised and disconnected from the torso.]

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[Image: Frank Herbert’s God Emperor of Dune]

Elliott Bay Book Company is pleased to welcome Berkley Trade Paperbacks to our extensive lines of science fiction and fantasy. Come in and see all four titles in the Dune series, with their striking illustrations; and, soon, Stephen King’s Danse Macabre and Steven Bauer’s delightful fable, Satyrday.

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Author, Author!

by Jonathan V. Post

A Crossword

[Image: Crossword puzzle grid.]

ACROSS

1) Malt + hops 4) * The Black Cloud 8) * Tau Zero 11) * Tarzan 13) As described 14) Frozen water 15) Gram 16) International Unit 17) I think, therefore: 19) This state 21) Mister 22) * Last & First Men 25) (anat.) opening 26) Marsupial “bear” 27) * 20,000 Leagues... 30) Hydrochloric acid 31) Undoing prefix 32) Old Latin 33) * Spaceman, Go Home 35) * Childhood’s End 39) 100 metric volumes 40) Emporium 41) * The Drowned World 44) Orbiting Astronomical Observatory 46) Of God 47) * Rocketship Galileo 48) Human photoinput

DOWN

1) Commercial 2) * Perelandra 3) Comparative suffix 4) Obsolete card game 5) 1 6) French the 7) Energy unit 8) * Foundation 9) * Star Surgeon 10) * Goblin Reservation 12) * Stand on Zanzibar 18) @ 19) * The Time Machine 20) Lord Byron’s daughter 23) * Gateway 24) Netlike fabric 28) * Lord of Thunder 29) Horny beast 31) * The Runaway Robot 34) Relative obscurity 35) Centimeter 36) Emit coherently 37) Argon 38) West Indian shrub 42) Waterfall 43) Decease 45) Belonging suffix

copyright © 1982 by Jonathan V. Post

crossword answers on page 93

[Image: A grumpy looking hamster wearing a slumping wizard’s hat and carrying a wand behind its back.]

Circle/Icarus

Falling, then, from the solar circle
Fell the burning winged Icarus
Son of Daedalus, wearing rarest
Artificial wings his father did create
Too high he flew in the sunlight’s lustre
He falls in myth, falls not in our esteem

[Image: Poem in six vertical lines: Circle the skies Icarus. Breathe the rarest air. Create eternal lustre with this dare: esteem, as you fall, will rise.]

Poem across by Jonathan V. Post
Poem down by Samuel H. Post

note: the embedded 6 x 6 wordsquare, which “Squares the Circle,” is by “W.W.”, published in the British periodical Notes & Queries, 21 July 1859.

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[Image: SFWA Bulletin logo]

[Image: Cartoon of various human and alien figures reading various magazines, with one figure slapping their forehead and saying, ‘Wow! I coudl have subscribed to the SFWA bulletin!’]

[Image: Sample SFWA bulletin cover.]

SPECIAL!
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Pay $8.00 for four issues (reg. $10.00) when you mail in the special order form included in your registration packet, or place your order in the huckster’s room and get yourcopy of the new issue (until we run out) during the convention]

Gallery

[Image: Art by Michael Whelan of a human surrounded by various alien creatures, all seen grouped together and in profile.]
Copyright © 1982 by Michael Whelan

Don Maitz

[Image: Art by Don Maitz of a feninine humanoid feline standing in a pool before a waterfall.]
Copyright © 1982 by Don Maitz

Hannes Bok

[Image: Art by Hannes Bok of a robed figure running as an ethereal figure looms over them.]

Jack Gaughan

[Image: Art by Jack Gaughan of a humanoid plant-like alien standing in front of a snake-like dragon.]
Copyright © 1982 by Jack Gaughan

Carl Lundgren

[Image: Art by Carl Lundgren of a robed man on a horse with knights in armor brandishing a sword and crossbow on either side.]
Copyright © 1982 by Carl Lundgren

Kevin Johnson

[Image: Art by Kevin Johnson of a sorcerer with his arms outstretched, a skull-topped staff in one hand and a demonic imp perched on the other arm.]
Copyright © 1982 by Kevin Johnson

H. R. Giger

[Image: Art by H. R. Giger of two biomechanical figures neeling before each other, with various ridged tubes connecting them.]
Copyright © 1982 by H. R. Giger

Michael Whelan

[Image: Art by Michael Whelan of two people in winter gear in a snowscape, a man standing and holding a rifle over his head, and a woman crouched and holding a rifle in her arms.]

[Image: Art by Michael Whelan of a sorceress stirring a cauldron with a long bone.]

[Image: Art by Michael Whelan of a person in a spaceship cockpit piloting over an ocean with a large creature rising up out of the water.]

[Image: Art by Michael Whelan of a winged humanoid feline creature perched on a rock outcropping waving at a spaceship flying overhead.]
Copyright © 1982 by Michael Whelan

Virgil Finlay

[Image: Art by Virgil Finlay of a person in a space suit standing before craggy mountain cliffs with foreboding looking faces.]
Copyright © 1982 by the estate of Virgil Finlay

Leo, Diane & Lee Dillon

[Image: Art by Leo, Diane, and Lee Dillon in a woodcut style of a midieval woman holding a telescope and adjusting a mechanism next to a knight riding a mechnical bird piloted by a bishop with an army carrying spears and pushing a canon in the background.]
Copyright © 1982 by the Dillons

Victoria Poyser

[Image: Art by Victoria Poyser of a young woman in front of a tree, with flowers in her hair and various butterfly-like fairies flying around her.]
Copyright © 1982 by Victoria Poyser

Tarkas

[Image: Art by Tarkas of an alien in a spacesuit with multiple eyes and tentacles on a barren volcanic landscape.]
Copyright © 1982 by Tarkas

Ken Macklin

[Image: Art by Ken Macklin of three lizard-looking creatures in armor standing in front of a dragon lying on its back and smirking.]

Lela Dowling

[Image: Art by Lela Dowling of a woman lassoing a dragon on a rock wall as a winged horse flies overhead.]
Copyright © 1982 by Lela Dowling

George Barr

[Image: Three sketches by George Barr of childlike alien creatures playing with toys.]
Copyright © 1982 by George Barr

Rowena Morrill

[Image: Art by Rowena Morrill of a young boy walking past a picket fence as a dragon-like creature approaches behind him.]
Copyright © 1982 by Rowena Morrill

Alicia Austin

[Image: Art by Alicia Austin of a warrior with an ethereal woman’s figure rising behind him.]
Copyright © 1982 by Alicia Austin

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The Collection

You are invited to become a member of the most innovative record society for the spoken word ever created. An initial five dollar fee will bring you four issues of Rabbit Hole, The Newsletter of The Collection, and the privilege of obtaining new, never-before-released, top quality record albums of Harlan Ellison reading his award winning stories. [An experience which must be heard to be fully appreciated.]

Rabbit Hole will contain regular contributions by Harlan —specially written stories, segments of works-in-progress, inside information about film work and other projects that Harlan is involved in, schedules of his lectures and appearances, photos, and other surprises, including special pre-publication announcement of, and, when possible, special prices on Harlan’s forthcoming books, and …

The opportunity to purchase signed and numbered copies of these limited edition record albums at special prices prior to their general release to a few selected specialty bookstores.

The Records

The first two releases of The Collection are a reissue of the record “Harlan!” which includes the stories, " ‘Repent, Harlequin!’ Said The Ticktockman," and “Shatterday,” and a brand new record containing “Jeffty Is Five” which is being pressed now, and will be shipped before May 1st.

The Collection also offers other related items of interest.

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Typography & Design

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Jeff Levin
Andrea Levin

Our Clients Include:

• Amra • Arkham House • Harlan Ellison Record Collection • Locus Press • Norwescon • Orycon • Playboy Paperbacks • Shayol • Seventh World Fantasy Convention • Sixth World Fantasy Convention • Starmont House • Underwood/Miller• Whispers •

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We have a Compugraphic EditWriter 7500 and a large selection of type: 199 fonts from 50 different families, including a large selection of ITC fonts. We have a good selection of book type plus a nice mix of display & advertising type styles, as well as foreign characters, greek & math fonts, pi characters, international symbols, decorations and borders.

Services

Typesetting; Design & Layout; Paste-up; Illustration; Drafting; Industrial Illustration; Photography.

logo by Leo & Diane Dillon]

Seattle

[Image: The Seattle skyline with the Space Needle in the foreground and Mt. Rainier in the distance.]

Seattle is a place where spicey Douglas firs, startlingly blue lakes, and an inland sea surround mirrored skyscrapers and a montage of unique communities built on seven hills.

Within the city you can tour historic Pioneer Square, taking time off from browsing turn-of-the-century shoppes, art galleries, and the incredible 19th century Underground Tour to enjoy a cup of Espresso and a plate of steaming butter clams at a sidewalk cafe. Two blocks away at the waterfront you can choose from a variety of seafood restaurants and import shops, drinking in the sweet salt air while you toss morsels of food to the seagulls to quibble over.

Be sure also to visit the Seattle Center, site of the 1962 World’s Fair and the Pacific Science Center. Plan to spend at least one full afternoon if you want to see the Laserium show and a significant percentage of the exhibits, displays, and hands-on toys. Towering above all this is the 600 foot space needle with its revolving restaurant, where the food is almost as spectacular as the view.

We who live here tend to take it for granted, but perhaps the greatest attraction of Seattle for most visitors is the scenic splendor which surrounds it. Western Washington has an embarrassingly complete inventory of quiet lakes, salt water, islands, rivers, waterfalls, forests, beaches, snow-capped mountains, and even our very own active volcano. What more could one ask for.

One of our many dormant volcanoes, Mt. Ranier, not only has the greatest recorded annual snowfall of anywhere on Earth (and thus is the most glaciated peak as well), but is also one of the most majestic and beautiful peaks on the planet. Among the other must side-trips in any visit to Seattle are a one-day trip to our Pacific Ocean beaches and the nearby rain forests, a ferry-boat ride across Puget Sound to the Indianvillage on Blake Island, an afternoon drive past Snoqualmie Falls and up over the Cascade Mountain range to the “Bavarian” town of Leavenworth. Somewhat farther afield is a one-day boat trip up through the San Juan Islands to quaint old Victoria, British Columbia, where the Empress Hotel, Parliament buildings, museums, and Buchart Gardens are mandatory. Even farther afield, but no less unmissable, is a weekend trip along the rocky Oregon coastline with its sandy beaches, sea lion caves, and forty miles of the largest sand dunes in the world juxtaposed with lakes and forests of breathtaking beauty.

[Image: A ferry on the puget sound.]

[Image: A half horse, half fish creature.]

How To Savor Seattle

by Steven Bieler

[Image: A giant lizard-like creature holds the Space Needle upside-down in its paw and munches on the legs.]

Natives of the East Coast habitually think of the western part of our country as a vast, untamed wilderness, populated chiefly by cattle, wheat and the cast of Gunsmoke. To the Easterner, civilization begins on the shores of Massachusetts and ends on the Jersey side of the Holland Tunnel. Chicago is perceived as a dusty prairie town, with more saloons than churches and a citizenry fluent in both English and Cow. Seattle, twice as distant, is thought to be a brawling frontier outpost, devoid of such civilized amenities as electrical utilities, innovative artistic endeavors and a winning baseball team. As a native Easterner I too held these beliefs, and thought them incontrovertible.

But a year in the West has taught me the truth. Seattle is indeed civilized, and as proof I append the following list of places to eat and things to do. Only the very best places and things have been listed.

From downtown Seattle you can get to any of them. To get downtown, head north on 99 if driving; board bus #174 (75¢ exact change) if dependent on public transit ([REDACTED] for schedules and route information). While on 99 watch for the King- dome, home of major league sports in Seattle. The Kingdome is a triumph of contemporary architecture and urban design. It looks like a parking garage wearing a pie plate. When you pass it, you’re downtown.

[Image: The Seattle Kingdome.]

Begin with a look around. Proceed to the PLAZA 600 BUILDING, corner of Sixth and Stewart. The windows in the restrooms on the 19th floor offer an exciting panorama of northeastern Seattle; cars and parking lots stretch outward to the steep slopes of Capitol Hill, once the throbbing hub of Seattle’s fan community. As you exit the elevators, turn left and left again for the men’s room, right and right again for the women’s. The views, I am told, are similar.

Speaking of Capitol Hill, why not go there for dinner? Walk south three blocks to Pine and catch the #7 (50¢). Debark at the front door of Seattle’s most prestigious eating establishment, ANDY’S CAFE. Andy’s, 214 Broadway East ( ), isdistinguished externally by the bright yellow facade and the missing letters from the “Free Parking” sign. Here you may enjoy gourmet dining in tres elegante surroundings. Andy’s has more bowling trophies than any other restaurant in Seattle. Intimate booths, some with tables socozy there’s no room for food on them, cram the floor, and if you want to experience the cutting edge of Seattle streetlife you can sit at the counter. Be careful who you start a conversation with. Formal attire is suggested; shoes are required.

Time for dessert! Just two blocks north, at 416 Broadway, the finest chocolate in the Pacific Northwest is whipped up at THE DILETTANTE ([REDACTED]). The chocolate butter cremes are so good they are being investigated by several government agencies, and the marzipan has been described as preferable to income tax refunds. You may sample the wares before you buy.

But perhaps the glamor and excitement of Andy’s and the unrestrained hedonism of The dilettante is not for you. If so, get back on that #7 and check out THE IRON HORSE, 311 - 3rd South ([REDACTED]). TheIron Horse, just two blocks north of the Kingdome, broils the best burgers in town and serves them by model train! This is a place for the entire family. Don’t touch the tracks while the trains are running or you’ll french-fry your fingers.

Looking for that 24-hour eatery with cosmopolitan appeal? Where the beautiful people go to stuff their faces? Have I got a restaurant for you! BETH’S CAFE, [REDACTED] Aurora North ([REDACTED]), offers omelettes afoot square and an inch deep on a foundation of home-fried potatoes. Each omelette contains ten to twelve eggs and a filling of mushrooms, cheese, bacon, or whatever you like. Trowels are distributed with the knives and forks. The last customer to finish one of these cholesterol nightmares quarterbacked three teams in the NFL. From downtown take the #6 (50¢) to the intersection of Aurora (Rte. 99) and Winona North. Walk south one block on Aurora. Beth’s is located between Skippy’s and the Aurora Poodle Parlor. Bring a friend and split an omelette.

Culture enthusiasts will want to walk off their dinner along the quarter-mile length of the FREEWAY NATURE TRAIL. From downtown take #’s 71, 72, or 73 to the corner of Eastlake East and East Galer. Walk east on Galer to Franklin. Franklin parallels the Trail, which runs almost fifty feet beneath the thundering spans of Interstate 5. Enter the trail and proceed north; observe the flora and fauna abounding among the concrete support pillars, walk the ancient paths, read the graffiti. Can you find my initials? You will eventually emerge on Lakeveiw East, where you may catch #’s 25 or 32 and return downtown. The Trail is open year round, but should be avoided in wet weather. Nighttime trailwalking is permitted if done in groups; bring flashlights and stout shoes.

Finally, the Seattle/King County Convention & Visitors Bureau, located on Seventh between Stewart and Olive, is open 8–5 weekdays and will answer any questions about Seattle you might have after reading this guide. Call them at . Don’tmention my name.

Copyright © 1981 by Steven Bryan Bieler

[Image: The monorail in front of a Seattle hotel.]

Films and Video

Films

[Image: A large-eared impish creature stands next to a film projector, with film draped all over itself.]

The Man Who Fell To Earth

Director: Nicolas Roeg
Producer: Micheal Deeley & Barry Spikings
Screenplay: Paul Mayersberg, based on the novel by Walter Tevis
Music Director: John Phillips
Cast: David Bowie, Buck Henry, Rip Torn, Candy Clark.

R - 118 mins. - 1976

A science fiction classic, this is surely the most spectacular film director Nicolas roeg has done to date. David Bowie masterfully plays a frail and exotic ingenue exposed to and finally overcome by modern technology, American Capitalism and his earthly love.

A touching and visually stunning masterpiece.

“Beauty, tension and a mysterious, unsettling power. Roeg has become one of the most interesting filmmakers anywhere.”
—Jack Kroll, Newsweek

“In David Bowie, the rock star, Roeg made an inspired choice for the lead and, after seeing his performance, one can only conclude that no one else could have been so right. The Man Who Fell to Earth is like a Picasso painting or a novel by Joyce; it should be left to the observer to assimilate.”—San Francisco Chronicle

THX 1138

Robert Duvall
Donald Pleasence
Maggie McOmie

PG/M - 88 mins - 1971

The finest American science fiction film since 2001: A Space Odyssey, THX 1138, directed by George Lucas (Star Wars), has been hailed by The New York Times as “a visually hypnotic film” and by the Catholic Film Newsletter as “extraordinary.” Set in the 25th century, the story centers around a man and a woman who rebel against their rigidly controlled society.

Phantom of the Paradise

Producer: Jose S. Vicana
Director: Brian De Palma
Cast: Paul Williams, Jessica Harper, William Finley, Gerrit Graham

PG - 92 mins. - 1974

A satire on both horror films (specifically, The Phantom of the Opera) and rock groups (Sha Na Na, The Beach Boys, Kiss, and Alice Cooper, to mention just a few), Phantom of the Paradise succeeds brilliantly on both counts while carving out an identity all its own. Directed by Brian De Palma (Carrie, The Fury), the films tells the story of Winston Leech, composer of a rock cantata on the theme of Faust, who sells his soul for rock ‘n’ roll. Oscar-winner Paul Williams stars and composed the superb rock musical score.

“Phantom of the Paradise is a crazy, savage film—iconoclastic and truly liberating.”—Richard Schickel, Time

“The best comedy of its kind since Sleeper.”—Judith Crist, New York

Rabid

Producer: John Dunning
Director: David Cronenberg
Cast: Marilyn Chambers, Joe Silver

R - 91 mins. - 1977

Rabid is a moody, graphic and convincing horror story of what happens to Behind the Green Door’s Marilyn Chambers when, after an accident and surgery, she becomes vampire-like with the unquenchable desire to suck the blood of her unwitting victims. Her victims do not die; instead, they go on to infest others, and soon an entire city is contaminated with the disease and with the fear of being bitten. Created by David Cronenberg, Rabid is even more terrifying than the classic shocker Night of the Living Dead.

“Cronenberg has a sense of tastelessness that makes Peckinpah films look like Sunn Classic nature reels.”—Cinefantastique

[Image: A pouch, a box, a vase with a bone in it, an unlit candle, a lamp, a crystal ball, and a glove.]
Used by permission of Automated Simulations

The Old Dark House

Director: James Whale
Writer: Benn W. Levy, based on the novel Benighted by J.B. Priestley.
Photography: Arthur Edeson
Cast: Boris Karloff, Melvyn Douglas, Charles Laughton, Raymond Massey, Ernest Thesiger, Eva Moore

75 mins - b&w - 1932

Last seen theatrically in the early Fifties, and consigned to that long list of presumably “lost” films for the past 30 years, James Whale’s The Old Dark House is available at last. An all-time horror great, it’s one of the most literate and visually striking horror films of the Thirties, a masterful and urbane mixture of English ‘Gothic’ horror, parody, and funny, but civilized responses to the absurd! Five travelers, caught in a violent storm, take refuge in a sinister mansion inhabited by an all-star cast of weirdos headed by Boris Karloff, Hollywood’s reigning “King of Horror.” An artful blend of chills and ghoulish gallows humor, directed with a rare sense of the eccentric and bizarre, and acted by a splendid cast, the movie is full of quotable quotes from such old hams as Ernest Thesiger (“Have some gin. I like gin!”], and Eva Moore [“No beds—they can’t have beds!”]. Distributed under exclusive license by Twyman Films, Inc. By arrangement with Raymond Rohauer.

“Whole generations grew up, and knowing only its title, and tantalized by wonderfully atmospheric stills and the reputations of Karloff and James Whale, assumed it was one of the greatest of all horror films. In many ways it is … Nothing better in this vein has ever been done before or since.” —William K. Everson, Classics of the Horror Film

Winner of the Golden Scroll Award of the Academy of Science Fiction Fantasy and Horror Films, 1980.

The Corpse Grinders

Sean Kenney
Monika Kelly
Sanford Mitchell

PG - 80 mins. -

This bizarre little horror film is precisely what it sounds like, and definitely not for the weak-stomached. If you enjoyed Night of the Living Dead, however, you may have a taste for the macabre humor in this tale of a cat food company that boosts its sales by adding chopped up human beings to its product. The cats love the food so much, they start attacking their owners for seconds.

Recommended for mature audiences only.

Video Program

[Image: A remote control with legs, or maybe a mechnical spider.]

Young Frankenstein
Attack of the Killer Tomatoes
Moonraker
Alien
Flash Gordon
2001: A Space Odyssey
The Day the Earth Stood Still
Star Trek: The Motion Picture
Superman: The Movie
Time After Time
Close Encounters
Silent Running
Dark Star
Love at First Bite
Watership Down
Logan’s Run
Superman Cartoons
The Avengers: The Winged Avenger
The Prisoner: episodes 1–15
Hardware Wars
That’s Hollywood: SF
Special Effects: The Empire Strikes Back
Nova: Space Colonization
Airplane
Hawk the Slayer
Demon Seed
Return from Witch Mountain
Thunderbirds to the Rescue
Somewhere in Time
Invasion of the Body Snatchers
1941
The Cat from Outer Space
Tuck Everlasting
Saturn 3
Humanoids From the Deep
Day of the Dolphin
Altered States
Night Stalker: Seattle episode
Cosmos: 10 of 13 episodes
The Night that Panicked America (War of the Worlds special)
The Muppet Movie
The War of the Worlds
Hero at Large
Battlestar Galactica: The Prison Ship
The Planet of the Apes
The Nude Bomb
Buck Rogers (the movie)
A Clockwork Orange
The Lathe of Heaven
When Worlds Collide
The Andromeda Strain
Journey to the Far Side of the Sun
Metropolis
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea
Robinson Crusoe on Mars
Live and Let Die (James Bond)
The Man with a Golden Gun (James Bond)
Thunderball (James Bond)
The Spy Who Loved Me (James Bond)
Battle Beyond the Stars
Colossus: The Forbin Project
Forbidden Planet
Final Countdown
Fantasia
Dracula
Galaxina
Genesis II
House of Dark Shadows
Night of Dark Shadows
Spectre
Questor Tapes
Things to Come
Star Wars
The Martian Chronicles
Galactica '80: Return of Starbuck
Buck Rogers: Time of the Hawk
Star Trek: all episodes
Battlestar Galactica: the 10 best episodes
Outer Limits: Sixth Finger
Outer Limits: Adam Link, Robot

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What’s In A Name

by Frank Catalano

[Image: Two people in NASA jackets talking to each other entirely in industry acronyms.]

The National Aeronautics and Space Administration is to be applauded for some of the wonderful contributions it’s made to the English language. After all, certain catch phrases like “a-okay” and “all systems go” have crept into modern usuage rather comfortably.

But when NASA starts monkeying with existing words, it might be time to start worrying.

It was a typical Seattle morning: sparse strands of sunlight beamed down through the clouds and into the radio station newsroom that I call home at those hours. Next to me on an Ampex open-reel tape machine was the latest NASA “Radio Presentation,” a nearly 15 minute feature that regularly comes to our newsroom pushing whatever new developments that NASA would like us to know about.

I hit the “play” button, and the tape machine began sorting through the program the box it came in identified as “Beyond the Space Shuttle.” The deep voice of the announcer intoned, "During the first decade of America’s space program, Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo missions made significant contributions to science and technology and provided the know-how and confidence for future space flights.

Wait a minute. I rewound the tape. The narrator was pronouncing Gemini with a long “e” sound at the end. Geminee?

As a reporter who covers the space effort, I was somewhat mystified. Never before had I heard anyone refer to the two-man space program, or for that matter the constellation, as Geminee. It had always been Gemini, with a long “i.”

It was time to check with the authorities.

I opened up my well-used copy of Webster’s New International Dictionary, Unabridged, Second Edition: the type you’re most likely to see sitting on a nice oak stand in a library. The pronunciation it gave was Gemini, plain and simple. No second choice. But just to play it safe, I gave science writer and friend Joel Davis a phone call. His memory—as well as his Oxford English Dictionary—confirmed Webster’s verdict: Gemini, and no other.

Other quick contacts with people who frequently use such terms at the Pacific Science Center and the University of Washington turned up the same single-voiced results.

For some reason, though, the NASA announcer thought the word was, well, twins in pronunciation. I picked up the telephone and called the NASA newsroom in Washington, D.C., where I reached Mary Fitzpatrick. I put the question of pronunciation to her.

“It was obviously an error,” she told me. “We normally refer to it as Gemini here.”

Score one for the dictionaries.

She transferred me to NASA’s radio and television office, which actually produces the tapes. After trying to phrase the question as diplomatically as possible—"Uh, how do you pronounce the manned space program that came between Apollo and Mercury?"— Ivelisse Rodriguez assured me that the voice on the tape was not pronouncing the program name in error.

As a matter of fact, she went so far as to do an informal poll of the space agency public and press relation types. The results?

“I asked five people—people who should know, who have been with the space program for years—and three said Gemini, two said Geminee,” she reported. “According to the people here, either one is correct.” Or, I suppose, you could use Gemini 60 percent of the time and Geminee the other 40 percent and have the statistics on your side: 3 out of 5 space officials surveyed recommend, and so on.

At this point I thanked her and went on to less weighty conversational matters.

I don’t like to think of myself as a linguistic nitpicker. I don’t go through newspapers re-doing the copyeditor’s job, and then mail the corrected pages in to the editor with a grade on them. But I do become a bit wistful when I realize that all over the country, hundreds of radio stations are broadcasting the word Geminee to describe one of mankind’s landmark space programs. I did not become awestruck in those years to the sounds of a long “e.”

[Image: A Webster’s dictionary sitting on the ground, scuffed and dazed, with a black eye.]

I did later check with some less authoritative dictionaries, those that no longer list how a word should be used, but rather simply print how the language is being used and abused. Their suggestion was not just Gemini and Geminee, but something else that appeared to be Geminee with a soft “g” as in “go.” Gosh.

Maybe some of us are being a bit too picky about NASA’s linguistic schizophrenia. After all, these days they do have other things to worry about. But when Voyager 2 arrives at its next destination, a number of us in the broadcast industry can hardly wait for NASA to get its tongue around Uranus.

Copyright © 1982 by Frank Catalano

Ms. Found in a Bottle

[Image: A bottle floating in water with a note sticking out of the top.]

Of course I continue to write
Here on the atoll. As well ask
Do I still think
About?
Oh, cocoanuts sometimes.
The sunsets, the sea,
My inner life, my sense of being
Set apart.
Art
Is all that matters here.

No, that isn’t true.
My basic concern is survival.
But one can’t worry about sharks
Twenty-four hours a day.

I exercise. I do some
Scrimshaw. I try to eat
A balanced diet.

Really, I doubt my life
Is atypical for a poet.

The weather was lovely today,
And I’m sure it will be
Again tomorrow.

—Tom Disch

Copyright © 1982 by Thomas M. Disch

Coal Miners

by Thomas M. Disch

[Image: An eye with a light reflected in the pupil.]

From my vantage in the company’s office
I never cease to admire our coal miners'
Philosophic composure before the problem
Of faith. In fact I was one of the first
On our floor to fight for the right to wear denim.
I know it fools no one, exerts no claim,
And makes me look ridiculous in the eyes
Of Upper Management, but how else, if I can’t speak
To them directly, can 1 express my canine willingness
To let their Man be leader of the pack?
These small homages to the icons of this tragic vigour
Only allow us less guiltily to hypothesize his life
Underground: how he attacks the spangled earth,
Advancing slowly down its major arteries impelled
By an anger his own unholy din every moment renews.
His skin, like the limestone of a sea-worn cliff,
Has become one magnificent callus. His lungs
Are more dense with death than any cowboy’s,
Whatever his cigarette. Because he has inhabited
Even this depth of darkness with the light
Of a common purpose his soul is socialized
To a degree we can but dimly imagine. Let us at least
Do that. Let us honor the dowdy churches
And ephemeral pornography that allows him to breed
Responsive sons who’ll carry on the ruinous fight
With the first terrific lunges of a man’s whole strength.
Let us wear, if only in our bedrooms or on certain
Holidays, a lantern on our heads in honour
Of his conquest of despair. Dare we suppose that ours
Is larger? But as for approaching him
In friendship, as for asking him to recognize
That by signing his paychecks in sanctioned simulation O f the boss’s signature we can be useful too—
No, that we won’t do. If they could hear us maundering
In the fictive caverns of our mirrored bars.
They’d only damn our condescending eyes.
Our kindnesses to them must be invisible or so discreet
As to seem so: building the movies that let them dream
Of houseboats, spies in helicopters, just desserts,
Of Samson as he detonates the jet-black pillars
Of one subterranean temple after another,
Then carts away their shattered Baals
To be burned in a million benevolent mills.
This much we’ll do, and more: for ravaged skins
We’ll sell a soap and call it ever-springing Hope.
On Saturdays, between advertisements for beer.
We’ll share their ritual brutalities and cheer them on.
But we must not ask to be imagined in return.
Our business suits and busy minds, disabling fears
And air-conditioned air, cannot engender
Reciprocal myths. Perhaps it is Virgilian of me,
But I’d prefer my brothers underground
To believe in their inalienable rightness.
I’d rather they didn’t know too much
Of the contents of my desk, the source
Of my pride, the force of my imagination
As it gnaws at the dark walls that surround me.

Copyright © 1981 by Times Newspapers Ltd.
First appeared in TLS, April 10, 1981

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Then you’d probably want to check out the other fine illustrations inside, and end up reading the incredibly entertaining new stories by Ray Russell, Janet Fox, Jessica Amanda Salmonson, Thomas F. Monteloene, Ardath Mayhar, John Kelly, Phyliss Ann Karr, John E. Stith, Kim Stanley Robinson, Gordon Linzner, and many others… and by this time, you’d already be reaching for your checkbook to subscribe to SPECTRUM, the finest new illustrated fantasy and science fiction magazine in America. But really, all you have to do to become a charter subscriber and receive this beautiful collector’s premiere issue of SPECTRUM, and 5 additional bi-monthly tissues during the coming year, is to write that check right now. Only $12.00 per year, $24.00 for 2 years, $36.00 for 3 years. Mail to SPECTRUM, Box [REDACTED], Pantego, Station, TX 76013. Help SPECTRUM see the light. And enjoy.

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[Image: A rocket ship labeled U.S.A. in front of a moon.]]

The Spaceship Caliban

(SF Poetry Contest)

[Image: Three astronauts in a spaceship cockpit.]

Far from the warmth and the sunlight
Far from the worlds of man
Coursing the endless midnight
The spaceship Caliban

Sullivan at his station
Carolyn by his side
Callisto their destination
With ten more days to ride

Titan away behind them
Jupiter shines ahead
Callisto’s craters are calling
To Io, volcanically red

Carmichael cursing Titan
Ten days since Carolyn said
“I’m through with your fussin' and fightin'
I know I’d be better off dead.”

“It’s true that I’ve found a lover
It’s true that I’ve got a man
It’s him that I want, no other
Captain of the Caliban!”

“Nothing you tell me can frighten
Nothing can force me to stay
So long to you, and to Titan
I leave for Callisto today.”

Carmichael thinking with sorrow
How Sullivan once was a friend
Carmichael plans for tomorrow
When the story will come to its end

Carolyn works the computer
Sullivan’s by her side
Carmichael once was her suitor
But now all he has is his pride

Carolyn turns to her lover
“The fuel supply is okay,
But we’re 70 kilograms over
I think there’s a stowaway.”

Sullivan puts on his spacesuit
Carmichael climbs through the hatch
Carolyn’s yelling “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!”
She knows Sullivan’s met his match

Gamma-ray laser-gun blazing
Carmichael shoots the two dead.
“Your conclusion belongs in Amazing!”
The undersigned publishers said.

—Jonathan V. Post
—A. M. Gilbertson

Copyright © 1982 by Emerald City Publishing Co.

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The Fall of the City

by Jonathan V. Post

Sometimes I forget why I came here. The city is so large, so noisy, so consumed with pride and jammed with traffic. Stone towers rise ever higher against the sky, and garbage rises ever higher in the streets. No one is safe from thieves or bureaucrats. Rats chew human bones in the rubble at the edge of town.

I cannot take it any longer. I will leave the city soon. I will save a little money, then I will quit my job. Yes, and sail away to somewhere beautiful, somewhere distant, maybe even home. These constant negotiations, the rebellious workers, the tardy messengers, the substandard building materials and broken tools and angles that are not true … Oh, I will sail away forever.

No, I am talking foolishness. It is all nothing. Tonight I will drink with you in the tavern, which is not the fine place it used to be, and tomorrow I will go to work again. Work, work, work, until this city subsumes the world. This crazy town the natives know as Babel.

On the Use of the Masculine-Preferred

In the French language night
Is a woman and day is a man,
And no poet or poetess can escape
The implications. We are free
Who speak English from wondering why
Our hands, though masculine in form,
Are, even so, feminine nouns.
Nor are the women of England saddled
With all those dismissive diminutives,
Those -issa’s and -ina’s. In England Maria
becomes Mary, which rhymes
Democratically with eight men’s names;
Here (or there) one can be teased discreetly
As to the gender of Joyces and Jerrys.

It is from respect for our tongue’s genius
For good manners that I would resist
Any rush to reform the supposition
That “one” and “anyone” are men.
Consider such a phrase as “anyone
Who has lost his or her temper”:
What begins as an effort to be fair—
The recognition that “anyone”
May be a woman—ends by introducing
An extraneous element of ambiguity—
That suggestion that someone has lost
His or her temper because of a confusion
Of sex-roles.

It is a lovely language,
English. One senses, instinctively, listening
To it, that it was created, like chromosomes,
In strict parity by women and by men:
By Mother Goose and Father Time
With their long memories, by the quick
Co-equal wits of Mirabell and Millamant,
By Jane Carlyle, assuredly, but by Thomas too,
By Walt’s barrelfuls and by Emily’s inklings;
In the lucidities of all well-drawn contracts,
In the songs of bedlamites who wear
Saucepans and lampshades for hats,
In nuggets of new speech panned
From the rustling riverbeds of sex
And in the bawdry of midwives, and hangmen,
In tried-and-true cliches that keep
The old intolerable truths at bay.

Would it be well, then, to legislate
Mankind out of existence? Shall God be unsexed
And doubted even by children? All that is
Concave or convex levelled and made plane?

Let who wishes speak for himself
By rules of his own revising:
The language will have its way over all
At last. Nor man nor woman
Nor marble tombstone can resist for ever
Its flexible, inexorable laws.

—Tom Disch

Copyright © 1981 by Times Newspapers Ltd.
First appeared in TLS, January 23, 1981

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Springtime in Tokyo

[Image: A woman’s face behind a flag, light on top and dark on the bottom, with a flower in the center.]

The first really warm day

The sidewalks are covered
with mimeoed flyers

Plum blossoms of the intellect

—Tom Disch

Copyright © 1982 by Thomas M. Disch

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THE NORTHWEST SCIENCE FICTION SOCIETY
(NWSFS)*

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Club memberships are a steal during this limited-time, limited-supply offer. For the rock-bottom price of only $7.00 per year. To get your very own membership, just send a check or money order; along with your name and address to:
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Offer good until 12/31/99 … or while supply lasts …

* Pronounced “Nizz-Fizz”]

[Ad: Find out what all the excitement’s about. At Norwescon, visit..

The Game Gateway
in the Boardroom, suite 114.

MAKE YOURSELF A PARTICIPANT IN SAGAS OF OUTER SPACE, ALIEN CIVILIZATIONS, LANDS OF MAGIC, CREEPING HORROR & MYTHOLOGY.

EXHIBITS OF DOZENS OF SCIENCE FICTION, FANTASY & HISTORICAL GAMES…INCLUDING. ..

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Federation Space, Star Fleet Battles - the plots of the Klingons, the choices of Capt. Kirk (from Task Force)

the new Freedom in the Galaxy, Amoeba Wars - power plays on the grandest of scales (from Avalon Hill)

FOUR SEPARATE PLAYING AREAS

GAME LIBRARY

HOW-TO-PLAYINSTRUCTIONS

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Civilization - multi-player political struggle

Adventurer - brawling in an outer space cantina

Worlds of Wonder - introductory role play for magicians, superheroes & explorers of the future

CHECK AT SUITE 114 ON FRIDAY FOR A FULL SCHEDULE OF GAME EVENTS]

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Just another cutesy animal comic book?

No, Albedo will be a mature illustrated Science-Fiction / Fantasy / Adventure magazine that happens to be populated with anthropomorphic critters. 48 pages of black and white by Steve Gallacci and Jerry Collins.

Due for release in May.

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Freelance Art, illustration and T-shirt design by Janet J. Kramer.

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Steve Gallacci and Associates provide a wide range of art and graphic support.

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Do you have a character who doesn’t have a costume? Perhaps we can help. We can make duplicates of your favorite characters' clothes, or designs from your imagination, or we also carry a line of original designs that can be purchased.

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[Ad: SCIENCE FICTION CHRONICLE

SCIENCE FICTION CHRONICLE is a monthly, attrac- tively typeset newsmagazine covering the entire spectrum of the SF and Fantasy fields. Because it’s published in New York, it keeps on top of publishing better than any other news publication. Each issue features top stories of the month, market reports—major market sections appear every 4th issue—bookstore news, letters, complete listings with cover reproductions for SF and Fantasy releases two months before publication, convention listings in every issue, reviews, TV and film news every issue by Kay Anderson, Gordon Larkin’s “London Report,” classifieds, editorials, convention reports with pictures of professionals, publishing newsnotes, reports on recent sales, and much more. Best of all, SCIENCE FICTION CHRONICLE is mailed by first class mail (airmail overseas) at rates lower than any other magazine.

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Enclosed is $15 ($21 overseas) for 1 year (12 issues) of SCIENCE FICTION CHRONICLE.
Enclosed is $26 ($38 overseas) for 2 years (24 issues)]

Norwescon 5 Preregistered Membership

[Image: Surreal illustration of figures and disembodied limnbs underneath spikey swirls.]
Copyright © 1982 by Amy Madwed

[MEMBERSHIP LIST REDACTED]

[Image: A woman standing among stars with planets on either side of her.]

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Five different solar systems set the scene. There are elves, dwarves, kings and queens, all the elements of the greatest stories of our time THE MAGIC GUMBALL MACHINE is perhaps the most unique tale ever told. And this book is only the beginning of a wonderful 1,000 page series that begins NOW!

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[Image: Art by Michael Whelan of a werewolf perched on a stone pillar inside a ring of stone pillars, holding a person over its shoulder.]
Copyright © 1982 by Michael Whelan

In Memoriam

William D. Broxon: In Memoriam

by Kathleen Buckley

Those of you who never knew him missed something. You probably noticed him at a convention or SCA event: it’s hard to overlook someone who could pass as Wotan or God the Father or a Victorian family doctor. He loomed well but those who knew Bill remember him for other things.

He was famous for his humor, from pun to shaggy dog story to verbal riposte, from party to operating room. But he never exercised his wit at another’s expense, because he was a kindly man, tolerant of foolishness and gaucherie.

He was always ready to listen or to encourage. He liked people for what they were, not what they should be, and it worked miracles for the shy and insecure. It changed the lives of some. I know: I’m one of them.

Bill was full of life and full of likings—for his profession, for woodworking projects (like the Danish modern snake cage with plumbing), for gadgets of all kinds, for art and people and books and cats. Champagne, apple turnovers, conversation, jazz, reading, costumes, Bubble’s growing success as a writer—he loved them all.

His own zest for life brightened the lives of his friends and acquaintances, and there were so many! He left us all a legacy of happiness and a goal to strive for.

Here’s to you, Bill. We’ll miss you.

[Image: William D. Broxon]

William D. Broxon

by Poul Anderson

“Why, Bill, you cannot possibly be dead,”
I mumbled in the middle of that night
Laid suddenly on us. “You never fled
Life, whether it was stormy, chill, or bright.
In healing, helping, generosity,
Art, skill, wit, steadfastness, you carried so
Much joy to all it was a joy to see.
Damnation, man, you’ve got no right togo!” But only silence answered, and a fine,
Relentless brilliance lancing from above
Out of those stars that form our final sign,
X, for the mystery of grief and love.
Oh, happiness endures beyond the end,
Now, even now, that we had such a friend.

—Poul Anderson

[Image: A cat cleans its foot as four spherical fuzzy aliens look on.]

Acknowledgments

[Image: The Norwescon 5 convention committee standing in front of a large wall of full bookshelves.]
Norwescon 5 Convention Committee. Front Row (left to right): Judy Lorent, Richard Wright, Mark Schellberg, Sharee Sledge, Lauraine Miranda. Back Row (left to right): Thom Walls, Libby Evans, Beth Dockins, Michael Citrak, Douglas Booze, Pat Malinson, Steve Bard. Missing: Randy “Tarkas” Hoar, Kennedy Poyser, David C. Bray, Michael Kenmir, Jay Parks, Dan Wolfe, Jeanine (Neeners) Gray.

Norwescon 5 is sponsored by the Northwest Science Fiction Society, Richard Wright, Chairman. Author biographies in the “Guests of Norwescon” section written by Gerald Anderson. “Departments” text written by Committee Department heads. Special thanks to Lela Dowling for creating our name-tags. We would like to thank the Museum of the Surreal and Fantastique, Ken and Joyce Hansen, for providing the H.R. Giger art for our program book and art show. Thank you to Liberty Orchards for the wonderful Aplets & Cotlets. Special Thanks to P.N.T.A. for the video and audio technical assistance. Registration bags courtesy of Trident Imports. And a big thanks to the artists and owners of contributed artwork.

Norwescon gratefully acknowledges the contributions of these people and of the convention committee listed on page 1 of this. We also appreciate the many hours given at the Convention by the dozens of volunteers who are helping to host the doors, run errands, work registration, and to produce all the behind-the-scenes magic that makes this Convention work. If you wish to join them, it would be greatly appreciated. The volunteers coordinator can be found in operations.

Thank you all very much !!!

Program Book Production & Layout:
Mike Brocha, Jeff Levin, Andrea Levin, Steve Gallacci

Slave Art: Bill Warren, Tarkas, Steve Gallacci

Thanks to our PROGRAM BOOK PRINTER
ABC Printing of Olympia

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Glass Onion Graphics 3
Houghton Mifflin Co. 3
Future Dreams 4
Second Genesis 4
Universal Pictures 10, 11
Wendy Adrian Schultz 33
The Feathered Serpent 33
Museum of the Surreal and Fantastique 35
Barry R. Levin 36
Ace Books 37
Berkley Books 49
Jody Scott 52
The Elliott Bay Book Company 53
SFWA Bulletin 55
The Harlan Ellison Record Collection 73
Pendragon Graphics 73
Tiger Airbrush 77
Sense of Wonder 78
Magnolia Hi-Fi & Video 78
Weirdbook 80
Robert Weinberg 80
Spectrum 81
Emerald City Publishing Co. 82
Dragonflight 83
Laser Aesthetics 85
A Change of Hobbit 86
Norwescon 6 86
Northwest Science Fiction Society 86
The Game Gateway 87
V-Con 10 87
Albedo 88
K & M Designs 88
The Book Nook 88
SF Chronicle 89
The Oracles 92
Western Telepage, Inc. 93
The Magic Gumball Machine 94

[Image: An anthropomorphic cat woman lounges in a tree above a swing hanging from one branch.]

[Image: Art by Michael Whelan of three black-shrouded figures carrying swords standing on a rocky outcrop above a desert landscape with a spherical spaceship launching in the distance.]

Front cover. THE MAD POET, Copyright © 1981, 1982 by Michael R. Whelan (first publication) Back cover: KUTATH, Copyright © 1980, 1982 by Michael R. Whelan.
Prints of these paintings by the Norwescon 5 Artist Guest of Honor are available in the dealers' room, or from Glass Onion Graphics, [REDACTED] Candlewood Lake Road, Brookfield, CT 06804.