OMPAcon, the twenty-fourth post-war UK National Science Fiction Convention, took place over Easter weekend 1973 at the Grand Hotel in Bristol, the second Eastercon to be held in that city in 5 years and, so far, the last. The BaD group having since disbanded, local fans played no part in its organisation. OMPAcon was highly unusual in being the first (and so far last) time a country's national convention was organised by members of an Amateur Press Association. Formed in 1954, OMPA had been bleeding members for a while at this point. Combozines published by OMPA for the previous two Eastercons had not led to the increase in member numbers that had been hoped for so this would be a last, all out effort to reverse the situation. Samuel R. Delany was the Guest of Honour. TAFF winners Len & June Moffatt were unofficial Fan Guests of Honour.
The Convention Committee were Gerald Bishop, Ken Cheslin, Fred Hemmings, Terry Jeeves, Pat & Mike Meara, and Brian Robinson:
Report below edited together primarily from those by Peter Roberts, Malcolm Edwards, Dave Rowe & Vera Johnson, and extracted from the trip report by TAFF winners Len & June Moffatt. Comments by me are offset or appear in parentheses and italicised. Source notes can be found here. The photos presented herein come from a variety of collections, though this doesn't necessarily mean a particular picture was taken by that person. The collection photos are from, where known, is noted in parentheses thus: (l-o) Lars-Olov Strandberg, (mb) Merv Barrett, (gp) Greg Pickersgill, (mm) Mike Meara, (lm) Len Moffatt. As always, a tip of the hat to the late Peter Weston for identifying many of the people in these photos and for supplying them in the first place. Here are links to pages devoted to the individual days and to convention literature.
* List of registered members
Saturday 14th AprilJUNE MOFFATT: And it was exactly that. As we walked through the Green Gate [at Heathrow Airport, having flown from Los Angeles via New York], a large digital clock on the wall informed us that it was 12:02 in the ayem on April 14. Reflecting that we had done the past 24 hours in record time, it made it the shortest Friday the 13th on record - only 15 hours long. Churchy LaFemme would approve. We had been told to get on the Victoria bus from the airport, so we went outside and found it. Only, it had no door. I stood and looked at it in bewildered frustration for a second, until Len led the way around to the other side. By the time we got there, it was almost full, the only two seats we could find being on the upper deck, separate from each other. Something in the back of my mind whispered "Hey! A double-decker bus!" but it was too tired out to generate much enthusiasm. Being driven on the left side of the road was mildly interesting, but it didn't really involve me, way up there in the second story. (Or should that be the "first story", being that it was Britain?) Eventually, the bus wobbled its way into Victoria, and we debarked, to claim our luggage once again. I knew that Ella and Fred Parker were supposed to meet us, and I was looking around for a likely couple. Something about a kind-faced man holding a sign standing with a pert wee lass in a leopardskin coat attracted my attention, and I touched Len's arm and said, "What about those people over there?" Len looked and exclaimed, "There they are!" After we got over to them, I found that Fred's sign read "Len & June - This way to Parker's Pen". We collected our suitcases and were all the way out to the car before I found out that it was Ethel Lindsay, not Ella Parker.
LEN MOFFATT: We got the intros straightened out whilst I was busy hugging and kissing Ethel and shaking hands with Fred. Ella hadn't come to meet us, as she was having trouble with her back, and had to stay home for her osteopath who had come to give her a treatment. The idea of a doctor - any doctor - making house calls croggled me. Ethel was driving a small car leased from the Royal Auto Club, all parts of which (the car, not the RAC) tended to stick a lot. She had to use both hands and some rather strange Scot words (I assume they were Scot) to get it into reverse. Somehow we managed to get all four of us and our luggage into the car, and we were off thru the streets of London to William Dunbar House. June was sitting up front with Ethel, on what would have been the driver's side had it been an American car. Even though she knew that here, one is supposed to drive on the left, her driver's instincts were outraged a dozen times during the ride. It was pushing 2 in the ayem when we arrived at the Pen, which is located on the seventh floor of William Dunbar House. Fortunately, there is an elevator, and altho Ella had bad things to say about it, it did work while we were there. JUNE MOFFATT: When we arrived at Ella's, I was briefly introduced to her; she in turn introduced us to her bedroom which she was turning over to us for the length of our stay (it has a lovely big comfortable double bed). Presently we went out to her living room and sat down to chat a bit. After several hours sleep followed by several hours touristing, it was back to the flat for a party that evening ... LEN MOFFATT: 7pm [was] when people started arriving. Ella had invited London fans to come and meet the visiting colonists. (I object! California is not now and has never been a colony of Great Britain! However, I'm willing to consider it....) Ethel was on holiday from her hospital duties, and was also staying at the Pen.
The first to arrive was Pat Kearney, a young fan who (once upon a time) when he was an even younger fan, visited the Pen and was Advised that anyone who spilled anything on Ella's new carpet was likely to be slain or at the very least partially dismembered. In consequence thereof he himself was very careful indeed, and when somebody else accidentally knocked over their teacup, young Pat threw himself to the floor so that the tea spilled on him rather than on the sacrosanct carpet.
Soon others began arriving, including Arthur (ATom) Thomson and Mervyn Barrett, whom I had met before. Eventually the room was filled with fans talking up several storms, all the while tasting the various wines and other drinkables available, and devouring the assortment of food laid on by the keepers of the Pen. Beside the aforementioned fen, there were also Don and Jan Geldart, Daphne Sewell, Jean Muggoch, Gerry Webb, Anne Keylock, and a non-fan friend of Ella's, named Gina, who had brought her boyfriend (whose name I don't remember because he spent most of the evening in another room watching football or something on TV). Gina, however, was a pretty and sociable lass, and I trust she has recovered from the experience of having Arthur Thomson explain Fandom to her....
One thing I learned at the party at the Pen was that fan parties are the same the world over, or so I would be willing to bet. And that ain't bad. There was even some discussion of science-fiction. I remember Gerry Webb and Merv Barrett arguing over the merits of Kubrick as an s-f movie-maker. There were also discussions of crime, police, politics, sex, wine, etc. etc.
Several more days of touristing followed before Ethel drove them to the con on Thursday, the group arriving mid-afternoon.
Thursday 19th AprilPETER ROBERTS:
PARTY, PARTY, FOUTY PARTY: Any fans coming down to Bristol for the OMPAcon on the Thursday before it officially starts are welcome to visit the Rabbit Warren in West Town Lane. I have the house to myself and there's room a-plenty; usually there's little happening at the con hotel on Thursday evening - just a fairly small gathering round the bar - so if anyone feels like trekking out to Brislington, Bristol 4 in the evening (or earlier), they're welcome. There's likely to be a few fans staying there besides myself and if enough people turn up it may develop into a genuine party. There'll be plenty of floor space is anyone wants to stay overnight, though I recommend a sleeping-bag... As far as I was concerned, things started on the Wednesday before the con when Fred Hemmings, Gerald Bishop, and Mike & Pat Meara arrived to pick up some auction material and sort it out - a process which took all of the evening and most of the night. "Never again, never again!" seemed to be the most popular phrase. After a bare four hours sleep, they all rushed off to prepare for the possible arrival of fans in the evening. In fact John Piggott and Rob Jackson arrived, together with two neos (whose name I'm afraid I forget), and (later) 'Gray Boak' - or rather, Pat Henderson.
Ratfandom apparently attempted to journey out to Brislington, but were in no fit state to manage such a journey and merely wandered aimlessly round Bristol. Not that many people arrived on Thursday, most leaving it until the official start on Friday. Thursday evening chez Roberts was thus a lightweight, but pleasant enough start to the con - coffee, fanzines, and gossip took up much of the time.
Unusually, and as listed in the programme, the convention opened the registration desk for two hours on Thursday evening for the benefit of early arrivals, one of whom was someone attending her first con who was more familiar with and to the folk music scene: VERA JOHNSON: Although I have been reading SF since 1937, I knew nothing about fandom until last year. Consequently, I can't say how this con compared with others. Personally, I found it interesting and rewarding and can hardly wait for the Worldcon in Toronto in September. Here are some of the highlights: My singing engagement at the White on Black Folk Club Thursday night...place jam-packed with enthusiasts who joined in all the choruses...A few people from the con came along, including Russ Belshaw, who did a floor spot. Dave Rowe tried to make it, wound up in Queen's Square instead of King's. Afterwards, a hootenanny at the hotel, with Russ and myself on guitars, Howie Rosenblum on jug.
DAVE ROWE: I'm not so sure that starting on Thursday night is a good idea. Not just because of the added expense of an extra night at the hotel, which could divide the fen between the rich and the poor (altho' the Grand Hotel was surprisingly low in its final bill) but also the feeling of being shattered by Friday night. I even had to retire early (about 1.45am Sat). Thursday night saw a lot of people looking for something to do, mostly talking and drinking (Ompacon was mainly a conversation con) and Ratfandom ended up acting so fuggishly that it wasn't the staff who complained, it was the fen.... | |||||||||||||||||
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