The 1979 Worldcon - the third to be held in the UK - took place over the August Bank Holiday weekend at the Metropole Hotel in Brighton. Being a seaside resort the town has lots of smaller, cheaper hotels and B-and-B's, which many attendees chose to stay at instead. As for the scale of the thing, here's convention chairman Peter Weston:
"By the time the great day finally dawned, over 5000 people had joined and more than 3100 people actually attended Seacon'79, making it the third-biggest world convention ever. Now, today this may not sound so impressive but at the time it was absolutely unprecedented; British fandom had never done anything like this before. We were in completely uncharted territory. The London Worldcon had been a long time ago, none of its organisers were still around, and the difference in scale was simply enormous; a factor of ten, at least! In retrospect, it could all have been a disaster. We, the committee, didn't even realise the enormous opportunities there were for things to go wrong. And yet we sailed through with apparent ease. How did we succeed? Because, I think, it was that rare thing, the product of a completely united fandom. For once British fandom came completely together, the fanzine fans and the con-runners, the fannish fans and the sercon devils, with all the various local clubs and factions, so that the convention was not run by any regional group or sectional interest; just about everyone was involved, in one way or another."
When the Programme Book went to press the full team were:
Here are links to pages devoted to the individual days, convention literature, etc.
This report is a mosaic composed of excerpts large and small from a number of contemporary accounts. A listing of these with links to the full originals can be found here. Photos used are from the following collections: Colin Harris (ch); Rob Hansen (rh); Mike Meara (mm); Arnold Akien (aa) Doreen Rogers (dr); Debbie King (dk); Ned Brooks (nb); Frank Olynyk (fo). Peter Weston gathered all these for use in fanhistorical projects such as this and copied them to me but he didn't include initials on every photo, hence some here that are unattributed.
A number of pre-Seacon zines were aimed at attendees:
An indispensable guide to foreign visitors containing 'serious' advice on how to behave when visiting the United Kingdom. Then there were the special publications created for Seacon and on sale in the Fan Room:
Published *at* the convention were:
TSAR was Seacon's daily newszine and among other things contained details of changes to that day's programme.
Tomorrow morning I'll be taking the train down to Brighton with Greg [Pickersgill] & Simone [Walsh] and Rich Coad from the US of A and Rob Hansen of Wales. And since fans from four different countries would hardly be travelling to Brighton for the yacht races, I guess SEACON must really be about to start. It hardly seems possible though.
If memory serves, I travelled up from Newport, where I was then living, and stayed overnight with Greg & Simone so that we could all travel down to Brighton together. I would not myself become a London resident until the following year.Was it really five years ago that Peter Weston regaled me somewhat drunkenly in a hotel in Washington, D.C. with tales of members of the Royal Family opening the English worldcon if the bid was successful? Was it actually two whole years ago that a wide-eyed Rob Jackson dashed off in all directions through the Fontainebleau Hotel in Miami, Florida. orchestrating the British contingent's final pre-vote campaign? I guess so, because tomorrow sees the beginning of the end of five years of planning and dreaming on the part of a large number of English fans. Five years of preparation for five days of controlled chaos; if what I've seen so far is any indication, though, it's all going to be worth it.
I think I've been feeling a keener sense of anticipation for SEACON than for any worldcon in the last six years. There are obvious reasons for this and prime among them is that Brighton happens to be in England and England happens to be where I was raised and where I have many fannish friends I don't get to see anywhere nearly as often as I'd like. Then too, I'm anxious to observe the reactions of my North American friends to England and English fandom and those of my English friends to North American fandom, at least as represented by the fans who were able to afford the trip. Tomorrow should be the start of five of the most fascinating days in my recent life!
Fine fellow though he was, Mike's insistence on referring to UK fandom as English fandom was an ongoing source of irritation to we non-English Brits. Wednesday 22nd AugustTERRY CARR: Conventions often seem to start early. I boarded a flight for London and as I wended my way down the aisle two familiar voices said, "Hi, Terry." They belonged to Ted and Jayne Sturgeon, and while we exchanged pleasantries I found myself wondering how many other sf people bound for Seacon ’79 were on board; casual scanning of faces when I went on to my own seat yielded no more that I knew, though there were any number of sensitive, intelligent faces behind which might have lurked minds that would have understood Sturgeon’s latest dictum, which he’d just quoted to me: "People who say 'sci-fi' are really hep." [Historical context: 'sci-fi' was a heavily disparaged term in the SF community at the time - still is among older fans and pros.] And as it developed, there evidently were at least three sf fans on that plane, for when we exited in New York City for a two-hour layover we heard someone behind us saying, "Obi-wan Kenobi was right in what he said about traveling..." Glancing over my shoulder, I saw three young women I didn’t know; two of them were wearing Iguanacon tee-shirts. I didn’t remember what M. Kenobi had said, though, so I let the moment pass and the Sturgeons and I headed off to grab some breakfast. Along the way, another familiar voice asked, "Can you tell me the way to Brighton?" We looked around and discovered William Rotsler, who’d been visiting publishers and touristing for a week in the Big Apple. We all breakfasted together, learning that William was to be on our plane too, though we were seated in different sections. At Heathrow, William exited early to grab a room at an airport hotel for the night, while Ted, Jayne and I caught a shuttle bus to Victoria Station: they transferred to a train to Brighton at 11:00 p.m. while I got a cab to The White Hall Hotel, where Hilary Bailey had booked a room for me. Having left Oakland nearly twenty-four hours earlier, I landed on my pillow after glancing at a note from Peter Nicholls saying he’d drive me down to Brighton the next day.
Unfortunately not everyone made it across the Atlantic...MIKE GLYER: Don C. Thompson explained his absence from Seacon - he missed connections with the rest of has family at O'Hare, and as they had his passport with them he had no alternative but to return to Denver. Upon arrival he contracted viral meningitis, which laid him low for about a week.
PETER ROBERTS: It started to dawn on me that Seacon 79 was going to be a bloody big convention when I arrived early on Wednesday afternoon and found the Metropole already crowded. Behind the scenes, however, the programme halls were still empty – all clacking footsteps and echoes. Though there was a frenzy of activity in the fan room, putting up displays and the like, the place still looked forbiddingly vacant and austere. Still, it was only Wednesday: time to meet a few people – John Millard with camera (he's thinking of producing a photo-book) [Millard was stationed over here with Canadian forces during WW2 and contacted UK fans of the time]; Ted White, tickled pink with his new job at 'Heavy Metal'; Rich Coad, back over here at last; Mike Glicksohn, soon to be seen in his Demis Roussos caftan (he didn't sing, thank God);
On seeing Mike in this, Greg Pickersgill pulled the neck open, gazed down inside, and announced "huh, seems he is Jewish after all." Gil Gaier, still smiling; assorted Flemish fans, idolising Rob Holdstock; and – well – a whole bunch of buddies, acquaintances, new faces and total strangers, all of whom are going to hit me since I'm never going to be able to drop all their names in the next couple of pages, even if I had that good a memory.
KEV WILLIAMS: We hired an outfit called "At-Your-Service Security Ltd" , prop. R. Lee Smith (ex Met. Pol.). R.Lee fitted the expected image perfectly. Take one part of a Dixon of Dock Green flatfoot, add a dash of N.C.O. and a sprinkling of Montgomery of Alamein, and you have R. Lee Smith. 7 feet tall, 4 feet wide, size 12 highly polished black brogues which clicked with military precision when he walked. He was kitted out in a fine, elaborate uniform which held the appearance of authority, without looking too much like a proper police uniform (which is illegal) or a cinema commissionaire (which is just silly). A more helpful, friendly and co-operative 'security operative' we could not have wished for. He marshalled a curious motley team of seven caretaker types on the fringe (or passed it) of retirement and a couple of chirpy young suvverners [ie. Cockneys]. But they knew every nook and cranny in the Exhibition centre - nothing moved that they didn't know about. They were vigilant and co-operative. The fans really took to them. They really took to the fans - old R.Lee himself was amazed by the things going on around him- half naked nubile young slave girls fetchingly beribboned with leather straps, thongs and leopard skins got him to pose for photographs with them. Even the Beeb filmed him, though I guess he ended up on the cutting room floor (unfortunately not with a slave girl). They caught a gang of petty thieves pinching boxes of books late one night in the bookhall. Their feet never touched the ground. They were in court the next day. PETER ROBERTS: The evening ended up with a quiet brag game – Norman Shorrock and I wandered downstairs at about 5:30am and appeared to be the last still up. More fools us, but the con had seemed to start well.
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