View source for Torcon 2 Reminiscence (Pohl)

1973 -- [[Torcon 2]], [[Toronto]]
by [[Frederik Pohl]]
From the [[Noreascon Three]] [[PB]]

[[Toronto]]'s a wonderful city, in every respect but climate -- they could improve it a lot by moving it about a thousand miles south -- and, apart from all its built-in charms, it has a special attraction for me. My eldest daughter has been living there for the past twenty-odd years. So I am always glad to have a chance to be in [[Toronto]], and gladder than usual this time because I arrived at the [[1973 Worldcon]] with a [[Hugo]] nomination going for me -- this time, for writing.

Came the time of the award ceremonies, which in those days were still held at the [[banquet]], and no one had tipped anybody off as to who was going to walk away with the rocket ships. We shared a table with [[Ben Bova]] and [[Isaac Asimov]], who were also on the nomination list. I can't say for sure that any of us were nervous -- for all I know, [[Isaac]] always has to go to the men's room seven times between the soup and the ice-cream dessert. Then came the awards. The first was the announcement of the winner for [[Best Editor]], and our table won out; [[Ben Bova|Ben]] got up to take his award. Then they announced the winner for [[Best Novel]], and [[Isaac]] brought back the [[Hugo]] for ''The Gods Themselves''. That made two of the things decorating our table, and it was my turn to try for three. I'd published a novella called "The Gold at the Starbow's End" the year before; it was a nominee, I was pretty pleased with it myself, and half a dozen people had been telling me it was a shoo-in. Something terrible happened on the way to the votes, though. When they announced the winner in the novella category it wasn't me. I hung my head in shame; I was the only one at the table who hadn't won. It was a humiliating moment, because I could feel their eyes on me, and I knew I was bringing the class of the neighborhood down. [[Ben Bova|Ben]] and [[Isaac]] were polite in offering condolences, but I knew what they were thinking.
Then they got around to announcing the [[Best Short Story]] winner.

Honestly, I had just about forgotten that the last posthumous collaboration with [[Cyril Kornbluth]], "The Meeting," had been on the nominations list; and I was taken totally by surprise when it won.

So I went up and got my two [[Hugos]] for the story -- one for me, one to deliver to [[Cyril]]'s widow -- and came back and sat down, and [[Isaac]] was giving me dirty looks. "Rotten showoff," he snarled. "How come all we get is one [[Hugo]] apiece and you come away with two?"

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