Futuria Fantasia, Fall 1939 Part 4

by the editor

score: 27 sprained ankles to 3 cracked knees.

Ross Rocklynne: Tall, freckled, red haired, pleasent looking, good-natured and humorous--that is Rocklynne--and, by the way, in real life he spells it Rock_lin_. Makes the ideal traveling companion.

Continually clicking away with his candid camera. Is versed in many subjects--likes plots about gigantic ideas, such as THE MOTH, giant men, and THE MEN AND THE MIRROR with an amorphous reflector, while JUPITER TRAP gave us a giant siphon. Rocklynne, 26, looks 22 or younger.

Favorite expression, when agreeing with anyone is, "That's right."

Spending most of my time after the convention with Ross, painting the town a delicate pink, I found that he is now trying a bit of Weird writing which has been unsuccessful, and some Western concocting--ditto.

Ross is quite different than his characters Deveral and Colbie. Somehow I had imagined a Rocklynne with a sharp gaunted face and bulging muscles--I found, instead, a good example of what mite be called typical college species number #569Z, a cross between science and wit, well mixed and jelled in an Empire State tall body. Lives in Cincinnatti. His characters, Colbie and Deveral, are two of the most consistent and popular guys in s.f. today, according to Campbell.

Charlie Hornig: The dark horse who says neigh to every ma.n.u.script I write for him. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, dark-skinned fiend who deals from the bottom of the ma.n.u.script pile over at _Science-fiction_. He has just learned to speak English during the past week and now he finds it much more fun picking out the ma.n.u.scripts instead of leaping into a pile of them and bobbing up with one between his teeth. Makes lousy speeches. Is a human dynamo and expert guide to anyone in Manhattan. Makes money on the side selling shoestrings on the I.R.T. between the Bronx and Coney Island. Father was a toupee manufacturer which makes Charlie hair to a big-wig's fortune. Thanx, Charlie, for your presence in New York to guide me around. And I just LOVE Science Fiction! (paid adv.)

Impressions cawt short: John W. (werewolf) Campbell, a scientific theory in a potato sack suit with high rubber boots to match.

Julius Schwartz and Groucho Marx look-alikes.

Mort Weisinger, a plump smile.

A. Merritt, the man on the billboards with a mug of Milwaukee beer in his hand. Jovial, gla.s.ses, chubby. Not a bit mysterious.

Forrest J. Ackerman, dressed in future garb at convention, looking like a fugitive from a costume shop.

w.i.l.l.y Ley, a pair of thick-lensed gla.s.ses with an accent.

Lowndes--moustache and gold tooth--double feature. Leslie Perry--Madame b.u.t.terfly with bangs.

Henry Kuttner, a voice from a pile of cigarettes. Morojo, short and sweet, commonly referred to as the VOICE OF MIDGE. Sykora, nervous breakdown with hair. Moskowitz, human fog-horn: following his opening speech New York gripped by earth tremors. Wollheim, Communist, born in a revolving door, believes in revolutions, get it? Or do you? Sykora, Moskowitz, Taurasi--three little pigs. Manly Wade Wellman--the human JELL-O! Kornbluth, a well-padded belch. Swisher, ma.s.sive literary Babe Ruth, king of so-what! Robert J. Thompson, the leaning tower of Pisa wired for sound.

LOCAL LEAGUE LIFE

Nite of Halloween the Paramount theatre found itself besieged with members of the S.F.L. when 4Sj, Morojo, Pogo, Bradbury, Corvais, Rogers, Amory, Eldred and others met there to enjoy special preview of Bob Hope film CAT AND CANARY. Bradbury took along weird mask fashioned by Harryhausen and, in spookiest part of film, scared h.e.l.l out of innocent blonde sitting alongside. Her scream was heard over in Pomona.

Chandeliers rocked. Bradbury then took off mask and laffed and the girl tainted.

One month ago Bradbury stenciled and printed the editorial to this second issue of FuFa, only to be delayed by various troubles, mostly typewriter and stencil scourges, until now. In the meantime the December Weird had come out and FuFa's artist Bok had a cover on it. We'd like to take this opportunity to congratulate Bok on his splendid work and wish him luck.

Yerke, in one of his britest moments, growled, "The little man who wasn't there, certainly didn't take up lots of air, but just think of the air he wouldn't take up if he were twins!"

Henry Ha.s.se, now a regular writer for Weird again, according to late reports, has one coming up in a short while. Hopes to have it ill.u.s.trated by Bok.

Last moment arrival of material from various authors thrust the Technocracy article out of this issue. We suggest that all those interested in Technocracy go to your nearest Section in your city and save us the trouble of converting you. We will, tho, in the Winter Edition, give you a few facts and predictions made by Technocracy.