The Emphatic Route

THE EMPHATIC ROUTE THE EMPHATIC ROUTE BEING A REPORT ON THE JOURNEY OF GUY AND ROSE-- MARIE LILLIAN TO THE CITY OF SAN ANTONIO TEXAS AND THE 2013 WORLD SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION THROUGH WORDS AND PHOTOGRAPHS FOR THE SOUTHERN FANDOM PRESS ALLIANCE AND EFANZINES.COM GHLIII PRESS PUBLICATION #1148 * 10-1-13 Shreveport, the city where we lived at the time of LoneStarCon 3, is within the borders of the state of Louisiana, but psychologically, morally, politically, spiritually, geographically, and meteorologically it is a Texas town. Somehow that meant that when the 2013 World Science Fiction Convention settled in San Antonio, home of the Alamo and a great Texas city that made the con even more unmissable. Of course, we hardly could miss it, as it was but a good day’s drive away – a drive through towns with such rugged western names as Pflugerville over natural wonders like Woman Hollering Creek. It was as if the venerable event had landed just down the street. Stunned though we were by the unexpected end to my state job the very day of our departure, there was no way we would not go. Call it a statement. Call it a statement made with emphasis . Call our trip the emphatic route. Our trip’s emphasis turned out to be welcome reunions with old – well, long-term – friends. We made some new connections – I think particularly of TAFF delegate Jim Mowatt and his wife – but very few. A great SFer from a Northern clime gave me unique insight into the trend. I asked him if his daughter, a rare beauty and also a fan, would be here, or if she had succumbed to the appeal of Dragon*Con, proceeding in Atlanta even as we spoke. Neither, said he. She didn’t attend Worldcon anymore: nobody there her age. And Dragon*Con’s hugeness and impersonality had little interest for her as well. So the Worldcon not only has little appeal for the young, it has little to attract new fans. It is what it is. It’s for who it’s for. Such is the nature of this era in the life of science fiction fandom. Whatever there is to Worldcon, newness is not it. Well, so be it. LoneStarCon 3 was what it was: a genuinely good time in a great location, rich with the greatest treasure of all: old friends. (Quick, on to the convention, before I hurl.) After trying to check into the wrong hotel and forcing one of the extremely friendly staff to trundle our luggage across the street – “Wait. Wait.” – we checked into our corner room (small, but gifted with an epic Riverwalk view, as you see, and a Book of Mormon to supplement the Gideon Bible). We got down to the Convention Center and got down to finding familiar faces. As they tend to do at Worldcon, said faces began to appear – even if just for an instant, passing in the lobby: Warren Buff and Glenn Glazer, for instance, who would have a very interesting proposal for me after the con. Crossing to the convention center ( “Wait. Wait.” ) we found not only a host of Hispanic kids but the Thayers – Teddy Harvia and Diana. They thanked Rosy effusively for her help with this year’s souvenir book, of which they were editors, and a bright and airy tome it turned out to be, too. We also ran into Jerry Kauffman, the very able fan-ed whose Littlebrook is literate and challenging – and published on some of the most attractive brown paper in the hobby. I quizzed him on the arcane source of the bond, and was given the deep secret: a local retail store. He’s got a great voice. Eve Ackerman came up, urging me to think up some good fake Hugos for our panel on that topic that afternoon – I was baffled – and Steven Silver was there, discoursing effusively on his WOOFzine. This year’s disty of the Worldcon Order of Fan-eds’ annual apa was being taken a tad more seriously than usual; Chicon 7’s had contained some serious and worthy content (in contrast to classless tripe like my entries, Happy 2000 th Birthday Caligula and Globs of Snot ). Silver had run a gloomy but essential catalog of SFers lost in the preceding year, and, he told me, he’d done so again. I made sure my Southern comrades Dennis Dolbear and George Inzer were included. (For some reason DD’s name didn’t make the Memorials page of the program book, but was flashed on the screen with the other honored lost before the Hugo ceremony.) Establishing this as a true Worldcon, Rich & Nicki Lynch approached. Nicki has not aged since I met them at a convention during the Taft administration. In addition to underscoring my dismay over the concom’s ignoring of the new Hugo rules – allowing more blogs to intrude into the Best Fanzine listings – Rich presented me (again) with a plastic bag full of Coca-Cola bottlecaps, entered into MyCokeRewards’ website within days of our return home. My enduring cola addiction owes its existence to Rich. Silver, Rich and la Nic have been around fandom for a long time, almost as long as me, but we all pale to garish neohood when compared to the fellow who toodled into view next. Escorted by his son, whose name I didn’t snare, and his lovely daughter Kerry, Dave Kyle rolled up. An old friend of Rosy’s family, Dave is, if not fandom’s senior boy, among the top 3 or 4. Natty as ever in his trademark red jacket, this was his turf. See him here collecting another autograph in his memory book of the con. All this before we crossed the boundary into exclusive Worldcon territory. An explanation for those readers who did not attend LSC: Omnes sedes conventa in tres partes. (Thanks, Joe Major, for the Latin.) The program and registration area lay straight ahead down a long passage once one entered the center. This hallway boasted a UPS Store (where I printed up some covers for extra copies of Challenger #31) and a large snack bar area perfect for overpriced but convenient quick lunches. Beyond that, protected by cops, was the exhibit hall, Art Show and Dealers and suchlike. You had to walk a bit at this Worldcon – or roll, Kyle rode one of a slew of motorized scooters we saw – but God knows we’ve seen worse. Once we made it into the exhibits, we passed Daleks, a recreation of the Enterprise bridge, and … hallelujah! Renovation was not the only Worldcon to boast the presence of the Iron Throne . Yes, the duplicate of the Throne is made of plastic, not iron, but everyone posed on the great chair at Renovation and of course, we posed here. Rosy looked regal – as someone said on Facebook, my personal Khaleesi. I laid across the seat like a guest at the Red Wedding – or an exhausted old fart of a fan trying to keep up with nubile neos. Fortunately, that photo seems to have been lost. It was time for opening ceremonies, so we followed the crowd out of the convention center into the stunning San Antonio heat … and back in. Given three or four Worldcons, I might figure out how that place worked. We found Roger & Pat Sims and Steve & Sue Francis near the back of the throng and joined them for the show. Behind us, Filthy Pierre, Erwin Strauss, kept tune with proceedings on his mouth organ. It all looked clever, but that far back, it was hard to hear—and see. “I wish I had zoom eyeballs,” quoth la belle . Somehow we made out what was going on. LSC3 didn’t differentiate among its Guests of Honor, giving Fan Willie Siros and Editor Ellen Datlow equal billing, but surely Author Norman Spinrad was the most prominent among them. I go a long way back with Spinrad; I met him at the same Little Men meeting as I first encountered Harlan Ellison, Quinn Yarbro and Larry Niven, the great debate on Dangerous Visions where Harlan asked me to try writing. Spinrad often rode a motorized scooter, like many another, and once nearly wasted my foot coming onto an elevator, but I never got to recall those fabulous days with him. Probably the nicest aspect of the event was the appreciation given the memory of Darrell Sweet, a Fan Guest who had passed on since the convention was won. His son was present to hear the cheers. Among the guests were the Fan Fund winners, Jim Mowatt of TAFF and Bill Wright of DUFF. How well we remembered Bill from our own DUFF trip. After Alan Stewart picked us up in Melbourne, brains fried from our 14½ hours in the air (during which I didn’t sleep a wink), a smiling Wright waited for us at our destination. He was grand company throughout the first half of our journey. Bill is – how did Bloch describe Lafferty? “well-stricken in years,” so I could join those who saw his DUFF delegacy as a tribute to his decades in fandom. This year’s Hugo base was introduced – that is to say, brought forward and held high. You could see nothing from our vantage. Later we found the clever and evocative sculpture on display ( ) and sneaked a lift. T’was very heavy, rivaling Confederation’s granite pyramid in that department. At least it’ll stay upright outside in a hurricane. We’d been searching for our great buddy Lezli Robyn sine first arriving, and finally, at the Iron Throne, our dear Aussie buddy appeared.

Load more