Terry Jeeves of Sheffield had now joined us at the Avondale, and on Sunday morning the five of us met in conference, to compose a speech. Object of said speech: to convince the fannlsh morons that the ideal site for the 1953 Convention would be Manchester. Being all northerners the only problem for us was to compress all the multitudinous virtues of Manchester and countless arguments on the subject into a five-minute summary. Back at the Con that morning, there was of course another informal talking-and-tradIng session. We discovered that the SUNDAY PICTORIAL had given the previous day's events a write-up of about four column-inches. As far as I know that was the only newspaper to mention the Convention, although the DAILY HERALD sent a photographer. Fred Robinson was probably the busiest- camera-man there; he covered the NSFC table with about two square feet of defunct flash-bulbs.
WILLIS: For some inadequate reason the Convention was to start next day with a repeat of the Arthur Clarke recording, so Vince and I dawdled over breakfast.., I've seldom seen a meal more thoroughly dawdled over.., and ambled down to the station at the crack of 11am. On the platform I opened my wallet to put away my ticket and noticed with a sinking feeling that yesterday's return half was still there, though I distinctly remembered having given up some ticket last night. This could mean only one thing: I had surrendered the return half of my ticket to Belfast. I shamefacedly explained the situation to Vince and we traced the ticket collector to his lair. CLARKE: One of my keenest memories of the Con is standing in the little, wooden-walled station office, elbow deep in return-tickets, searching for the One. Walt swore it was a green, three-quarter inch square exactly like the others, the only difference being that it was worth something over £2 by itself. In case you didn't know, tickets are tied together in sticks about, a foot long and sent for checking a couple of days after being handed in. These sticks disintegrate at a touch ... we found out. We spent some time scrabbling on the floor and a longer time checking on the table. No ticket. We eventually left with an address to contact for a possible re-fund; Walt was keeping cheerful; I was wondering if he'd be mortally insulted if I started a Little Pond Fund. I decided he would be, and didn't. I had faith in British Railways, anyway. ROBINSON: The first item on the agenda on Sunday was a repeat of Arthur Clarke's speech - egoboo time two. Most of the actifen arrived first and Ted Carnell informed us that one Sunday paper had a con write-up that Walt Willis had given to a reporter on the previous day. On hearing this great news James White and I set out to find a copy. For some reason there had been a run on that particular paper that morning - no-one seemed to have a copy. However we eventually got a copy each at the tube station. We raced madly through the paper trying to find the item - it got three inches on three columns at the foot of the back page. Headlined "An Egoboo for 200 fen" they even put a star after the 'fen'. Written entirely in fanspeak it was enough to make a fan groan - what the good people of London thought of it I hate to think. Anyway it only appeared in some editions.
On returning to the Convention hall we found things getting organised, and before long the proceedings got under way. The two promag editors in this country, Ted Carnell of New Worlds and Science-Fantasy, and Bert Campbell of Authentic, were to answer questions on their magazines. Somehow though I received the impression that I was on the wrong time stream for Carnell was answering for Authentic and Campbell for New Worlds. Judging by some of the answers I'd say that both men had been up all night anticipating questions and preparing answers. This was undoubtedly the funniest and most lively item of the whole con. All good things come to an end however and eventually the two editors sorted themselves out and answered a few serious questions. Several items came up that may be of interest. One that the BRE Astounding (distributed in Australia too) sells 40,000 copies per ish, two that Authentic prints 15,000 copies and sell 13,000. Carnell declined to give figures for New Worlds for business reasons. WILLIS: By the time we arrived at the Con we'd missed the pro-editors' session, which James tells me was the best thing at the Con. Ted Carnell and Bert Campbell were the speakers and someone had had the brilliant idea of getting them to answer questions on behalf of each others' magazines. It must have been rich. During the lunch interval, and later, members of the Con Committee kept coming to me one after another and saying they'd heard of me losing my return ticket and that the Committee would gladly advance me my fare home if I was stuck. I thought this was very nice of them - unless it was just that they wanted to make sure I did go home - and in fact everyone at the Con this year was very nice to everyone else. I'm not sure how much if anything I had to do with this - last year I wasn't above exaggerating some signs of dissension which, quite unexpectedly to me, caused some discord in the London Circle - but it makes it very difficult to write an interesting report. Apparently impossible, you will say. CLARKE: We had a light lunch, sharing it with Charlie Duncombe, one of the un-sung heroes of the London Cons. He is the Treasurer, the Man Who Collects the Cash at the Entrance, and the proud possessor of an accounts book London fans learnt to dread in the month before the Con.
WILLIS: After lunch there was another forum by various authors and artists, including Ted Tubb, Brian Berry, Dave McIlwain (author of an excellent sf play recently broadcast by the BBC), Dan Morgan, Bert Campbell, Alan Hunter, Syd Bounds, fluent Frank Edward Arnold, and other vile pros. I thought Bert Campbell made the best speech, but Bounds read a thoughtful and intelligent paper about where he thought the future of sf lay, throwing in a plot synopsis of "The Green Hills of Earth" only slightly longer than the story itself. After the invited pros had said their pieces John Brunner got up and came to the dais where, as Britain's most up and coming young author, he made a competent and interesting little speech. I envy him his self assurance: also the 600 odd dollars he's just got for a 21,000 word novelette sold to Astounding. Next Les Flood introduced the International Fantasy Award, including among his descriptions of the judges one of me as the leader of 'articulate fandom.' This was the best joke of the Con, but nobody laughed.
CLARKE: No-one ran around screaming with enthusiasm at the announcement of the fiction trophy's destination -- John Collier's little known book of fantasy shorts, 'Fancies & Goodnights', though Secretary Les Flood consoled s-f fans with the news that 'Day of the Triffids' by John 'Wyndham' (Beynon) was a close runner-up. There was no doubt whatever about the book for the non-fiction award, Arthur Clarke's 'Exploration of Space'. Arthur's brother and sister-in-law (who types his mss.) received the spaceship-and-table-lighter trophy on his behalf, and Ted Carnell stood in for Collier. A long break followed the award -- an opportunity rarely given at English Cons for fans to get together. During this period I met numerous Sunday-only visitors, including bibliophile and former actifan Richard Medhurst at the first fan meeting he'd attended for 9 years. (Mem. for future cons, advocate this lapel-button-with name idea!), and spent some time at the 'Authentic' display stand, where Editor Campbell had not only assembled his 'zines, cover-originals etc., but also many items of interest such as fanzines, author photos, etc.
Ted Tubb again presided at the second Auction; cash was running out by now, and the biggest enthusiasm was aroused at its end by the presentation to Ted (who has been referred to by Carnell as this country's most promising young author) of an (empty) bottle on which was mounted a plastic rocket and cigarette packet (also empty). This effort, by Tony Thorne, aroused more enthusiasm than the Award proper. WILLIS: Ably assisted by Fred Brown, Ted Tubb was again incomparable, but the real star this time was a stray cat that kept wandering over the glass roof and peering down at the auction through a missing pane. We onlookers at the back were vastly amused, but we never really hoped that anything would come of it, just as telephone linesmen never fall off their poles no matter how long you wait. But this was the day of days. Oh joy! To our incredulous delight the cat could finally contain himself no longer and, pausing over the broken pane, expressed his considered opinion of the Fantastic Adventures than being auctioned. He passed on it from a height. Ted Tubb uttered a terrible roar and leapt dramatically backwards as if to say "Apres moi, le deluge" but some of the fans who were clustered round him poring over the books weren't so lucky. They got poured over themselves. It was a glorious moment. I would like to nominate this cat for a a special award for the most fluidly expressed contribution to the Convention.
There followed more speeches about the site for the next Con, in which various rude remarks were made about Manchester's weather, where it is supposed to pour cats and dogs the whole time. This was most unfair because I knew a man who passed through there in 1923 and there was only a thin drizzle - besides after what had just happened London was in no position to make cracks about rain and cats - but despite this and a drily humorous speech by Derek Pickles about White Horse beer (we knew he couldn't stand it) it was almost unanimously decided that the next Con would be held in London. The final event was a showing of "Metropolis", which was in a way the best part of the official programme. This was because there was no incidental music to drown fan comment on the action, some of which was brilliant. Dan Morgan shone especially. When the hero suddenly mimed exaggerated alarm the way they do in silent films and dashed madly for the door Dan remarked "FIRST ON THE RIGHT". That started it and the whole worthy but rather dull film was enlivened by a running commentary from the audience which I wish I'd space to quote - like "THE MANCHESTER CON" when the underground city was flooded by torrents of water. There was no formal closing of the Con and people just stood around saying goodbye. The best parting shot was Bill Temple's account of how he was walking down the Strand one moonlit night with Arthur Clarke's brother, just after Ego had left for America. Bill stopped suddenly and pointed at the moon. "My God," he said, "Arthur's left it behind!" "It's all right," said the alter Ego, "He's got an American edition."
ROBINSON: Before we realised it the convention was all over, the last fans were saying goodbye and all that was left was an empty hall liberally strewn with chairs at all angles, odd bits of paper, and a lot of memories. By virtue of the fact that he held the door open for me, James White had the honour of being the last to leave. Vince, James, Walt and I wandered seemingly miles through London that night talking over the con, future plans, con-reports, and Walt's (then) impending Stateside visit [ see free Ansible ebook THE HARP STATESIDE]. Finally we split up, and it was all over for another year. I can do no better than quote Vince's comment on the con - "Conventional". It lacked life, novelty, sparkle and organisation. If London is to do better next year they had better start planning now. Where was Walter Gillings? Why didn't Bill Temple or Peter Phillips speak although they were present? Why weren't the recordings of Denis Wheatley's book and the San Diego con given, as promised in the programme? Why didn't the billed French film turn up? Why no playlet by the S-F Soap Opera Company as forecast? With the possibility of many overseas visitors coming to Britain next year I hope that the committee will make a point of getting things organised and things like recordings tried out before hand. Let's have another super con as we had in 1951 - The Con-oration! CLARKE: That ended the Convention proper, altho' a small party went to find a showing of FLIGHT TO MARS on Monday, and that afternoon saw the first meeting of Walt and James with Chuck Harris, who had been unable to attend during the weekend.
"Chekov's gun" - in this case White's water pistol - was introduced near the start of this
narrative but hasn't been fired yet. However, it was about to be....
The afternoon was capped by the arrival of a porter from Welling station who after searching some 3000 tickets had found Walt's return half. It was blue, totally different from the others. WILLIS: I wish he had given it to me outside, because it turned out to be blue and Vince saw it and made some caustic comments about colour-blind Irishmen.
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