View source for The Stranger Club by Art Widner

''From the [[Noreascon 3]] [[program book]]:'' 

 The [[Stranger Club]]
 by [[Art Widner]]
 
 As we got out of our time machine on February 18, 1940, I said to [[Louis Russell Chauvenet]] (at whose home the embryo [[Stranger Club]] had its first meeting), ‘Well, I told you '[[The Nameless Ones]]' wouldn't do. [[Fannish history]], as we've seen from our trip ahead into 1987, will remember ‘The Nameless Ones' as a [[Seattle]] [[fan]] group, publishers of the classic [[fanzine]] ''[[Cry|Cry (of the Nameless)]]''  in the 1950s.'
 
 ‘But it was so poetic,' Russ grumbled. ‘Besides, I won't invent the term ‘[[fanzine]]’ for another year yet, so watch it.'
 
 ‘Yes, and if you really wanted to keep the record straight,' added [[Francis Paro]] ([[editor]] of the bright new -- kahumpf -- [[fanmag]], ''[[Fanfare (Paro)]]''), ‘why did you stop me from erasing that notation in the ''Visual Encyclopedia of Science Fiction''?'
 
 ‘C'mon, Fran,' I said. ‘You've read enough time travel stories to know that meddling with the future in even the smallest detail is an absolute no-no.  ... Oops, I meant absolutely forbidden. ‘No-no' won't become a popular phrase for twenty years yet. You must be extremely careful. Isn't that right, [[R. D. Swisher|Bob]]?'
 
 As we were to turn to him for guidance many times in the coming years, I turned to [[R. D. Swisher]], Ph.D., our senior member, chemist, personal friend of the Mightiest [[Campbell]] and author of a thousand-page treatise on time travel. ‘Absolutely,' he agreed, then added, ‘If you have any doubts, just look at our two other founding members here.' He motioned toward [[William Schrage]] and [[John Ferrari]]. ‘The rest of you didn't notice, but they tried to bring back copies of ''[[Locus]]'' and ''[[SF Chronicle]]'' with them, but [[Art Widner|Art]] had already thrown the switch for our return trip. See! They're beginning to fade already.'
 
 And fade they did, pale wraiths who returned for the second meeting almost transparent and then were seen no more. That meeting transferred from the [[Russ Chauvenet|Chauvenet]] home in [[Cambridge, MA|Cambridge]] to [[the Swishers]]' in Winchester, where it stayed thenceforth, with occasional switches to [[Earl Singleton]]'s MIT dorm. The name of the club was changed to the clunky ‘Eastern Massachusetts Fantasy Society,'<ref>At a recent [[con]] (‘recent,' to one of my age, is any time in the last ten years) someone told me as ghospel truth that there had been a [[sf club]] in [[Massachusetts|Mass]]. before [[TSC]], and that it was called ‘the EMFS or something.' I accepted that at the time, but since researching this article, I'm inclined to think that my informant had heard about the earlier name and confused it with another [[club]].</ref> with dues of fifteen cents per meeting to finance ''[[Fanfare (Paro)]]'', which was to become the [[club]] [[OO|organ]] and one of the top [[fanzines]] of the time.
 
 [[Earl Singleton|Singleton]], who joined at the second meeting and hosted the third, turned out to be the spark plug we needed, and may have been the one who suggested the name that finally stuck. I'm pretty sure that it was either he or [[Russ Chauvenet|Russ]], since I never did read any of ‘The Man Who Awoke' series by [[Laurence Manning]] until just recently. ‘The Stranger Club' appears in these stories, I'm told, but I just ran across the fifth of the series, entitled ‘The Elixir' (Aug ’33 ''[[Wonder Stories]]''), and no mention of TSC occurs. Even stranger, no mention of any elixir can be found except in the title and [[Hugo Gernsback|Gernsback]]'s extravagant blurb.
 
 Singleton also provided something even more badly needed, an MIT [[Spirit Duplication|ditto machine]], Paro having lost the use of his high school [[mimeo]]. He did something silly -- like graduating. Perhaps he read ''Doonesbury'' on the time trip and related to Zonker Harris. He resigned his [[editor]]ship with the third issue in August and Singleton and I took over.
 
 Like a comet, [[Henry Peter Earl Singleton]] dazzled [[fandom]] for less than a year, then abruptly was gone. Besides improving and strengthening the literate side of ''Fanfare'', he brought out his own zine, ''[[Nepenthe]]'', a fine collection of [[fantasy]] [[poetry]] that is still a landmark in that area. He attended [[Chicon I]] with me in 1940 and staged a whirlwind romance with [[Trudy Kuslan]], one of the very few [[femmefen|female fen]] of that time. Perhaps her head was quite turned because he was so unlike the ‘typical' [[fan]]. Even taller and handsomer than his fellow [[Texan]], [[Dale Hart]] (who was also a great hand with the ladies), he was the envy of the rest of us wimpy pimply adolescents.
 
 Something had to give. In early February, 1941, a number of [[fen]] received the cold news that Earl had committed [[suicide]] by shooting himself. There was an outpouring of grief not seen since [[Stanley Weinbaum]] had gone untimely to his grave. [[Purple]] [[poetry]] appeared by the pound. Even Warner came out with a dedication. [[Trudy Kuslan|La Kuslan]] shed copious tears at the [[Boskone I|first Boskone]], and even the lethargic Widner bought a [[hectograph]] and did the 6th issue of ''[[Fanfare (Paro)]]'' in lovely lavender, magenta and jade, featuring eulogies by [[Doc Lowndes]] and [[Jack Chapman Miske]]. Perhaps memory exaggerates the bad as well as the good, but it seems like I had to do two masters of all 33 pages to get enough barely legible copies. I had nightmares for months afterward, and I think it had as much to do with my ultimate [[gafiation]] as did marriage and military service.
 
 So you can imagine the bitterness that ensued when [[fandom]] found out that it was all a [[hoax]]. Unlike all the [[Francis Towner Laney|'Laneys']] of fandom before or since, Singleton was 'above all that' and cut the impervium cord with one swift stroke. Some thought it a classic jape, but others who really cared and had had their feelings wrenched around were reminded of Jim's words to Huck Finn after he had been similarly fooled. '... trash is what people is dat puts dirt on de head er dey fren's en makes ‘em ashamed.' Unlike Huck, Earl never 'humbled himself' to apologize to us 'niggers,' but that was long ago, and if the [[committee]] succeeds in finding him and getting him to [[Noreascon 3]], I wouldn't mind hoisting one with him and rehashing that epic [[Chicon 1|Chicon]] trip in the old ‘28 Dodge, ‘The [[Skylark of Woo-Woo]].’
 
 An amusing sidelight to it all was that many fen [[hoaxed]] themselves later. They assumed that [[Oliver King Smith]], a [[fringe fan]] and Singleton's roomie at MIT, was also imaginary, but I can testify that he was real. I think he regretted letting Earl talk him into his part in the [[hoax]]. After Chauvenet smelled a rat (back in [[Virginia]]) I went to MIT and did a Perry Mason on OK, and he wasn't nearly as good a liar as Mr. S. Many years later, Smith moved to [[LA]] and I met him at a [[Westercon]]. He told me that Earl was then a big veep in some Texas electronics outfit<ref>He was CEO of Teledyne</ref> (and probably still is). OK Smith left us a year or two ago, and I doubt that that was a hoax. Those who want more details can find them in [[Harry Warner's]] ''[[All Our Yesterdays]]''.
 
 There was never another hoax quite like it. Some have cited the two [[Tucker death hoaxes]], but these were not perpetrated by [[Bob Tucker|Tucker]]. In fact, the second one almost cost him his job, but he never really soured on [[fandom]]. Curdled a bit, but not completely sour. He still likes to pull legs a bit, but never maliciously. (And if you're one of those new-type, well-rounded fen, he'll be quite friendly about it.) At [[Torcon II]], he was a bit put off by the [[Barbarian Invasion|hordes]] of [[neos]] who knew nothing of [[fannish history]] and cared less. He egged me to go up and pretend to be him as [[MC]] and present a [[Hugo]] to somebody, as I was completely unknown at the time, except to him and a couple of other old-timers. 'Go on. Nobody will know the difference.' I considered it for a nanosecond or two, but not having his chutzpah, I didn't egg very well. Um -- what I did was -- ah -- chicken out.
 
 In spite of the pall cast by the '[[pseuicide]],' as it came to be known, and the resulting lack of [[programming]], the first [[Boskone]] was a success. It would be interesting if some historical statistician wanted to track it down, but I'd be willing to bet that it was probably ten years before there was another [[regional]] meeting where the outsiders outnumbered the locals. This was because ‘practically the entire active membership of the [[Futurian Society of New York]], as [[Doc Lowndes]] wrote in ''[[Fanfare (Paro)]] #6'', came up for the affair. Other [[New Yorkers]], such as [[Scott Feldman]], [[Hyman Tiger]], and [[Julie Unger]], joined them, as well as the aforementioned [[Kuslan]].
 
 We didn't know it, but we had invented the [[relaxicon]]. 20+ fen crowded into the Swisher home and started chattering away sixteen-to-the-dozen. The closest thing to any formalities was a discussion of the infant [[NFFF]]. Quoting Lowndes again: 'Widner took the [[chair]], while Dr. Swisher, as sgt-at-arms, remarked that there would be no motions from the floor. After the laughter died down, Lowndes remarking, ‘OK, Will,'<ref>Referring to [[Will Sykora]], a [[New York]] fan whom Lowndes, a [[Futurian]] was at odds with. The Futurians accused Sykora of being dictatorial.</ref> Widner went on. ... '
 
 For those of you who have only been around a decade or two, the Futurians were a brilliant group of New York fen, soon to make their marks as [[pros]]. They included Lowndes, [[Fred Pohl]], [[Don Wollheim]], [[Dick Wilson]], [[Cyril Kornbluth]], [[David Kyle]], et al. Of those not attending, [[Damon Knight]] (who was to write a book, ''[[The Futurians (Knight)]]'') was still on the [[West Coast]] and would join them much later. [[Isaac Asimov]] had never been a hardcore leftist or even a joiner, and was preoccupied with getting his own career off the ground, so he should be considered only a fringe-Futurian. ''[[I. Asimov]]'', he was known as in the olden days.
 
 [[Julie Unger]], [[collector]], [[huckster|dealer]], and [[publisher]] of one of the best [[newsletter]]s of that time, went to the Great Con in the Sky much too soon. I miss him. He was on both of the famous [[Widnerides]] as well. [[Scott Feldman]] is now better known as [[Scott Meredith]], ace [[Literary Agent|agent]].
 
 Why the laughter? And who was 'Will'? Well, as bona fide [[Communism|Commie]] intellectuals, the [[Futurians]] were noted for their intense [[politics|politicking]] and belief that [[sf]] should be influenced by ideology, especially theirs. Swisher and I were concerned that their tendency to parliamentary haggling at the drop of a hat could spoil the affair for others. 'Will' was [[Will Sykora]], head of the Sykora-[[Moskowitz]]-[[Taurasi]] [[triumvirate]] who ran the [[Queens Science Fiction League]] chapter (QSFL) and thus most of [[New York]] [[fandom]] until the [[Futurians]] seceded (or were kicked out, depending on which side you listened to). SMT had also controlled the [[First Worldcon]] in 1939, and refused admittance to their arch-enemies. Sykora was probably the most dictatorial of the three, altho I would part company with the Futurians in calling him a '[[Fascism|fascist]].' In fact, Sykora & Co had been invited to the [[Boskone I|Boskone]], but they politely declined. This was sneered at by the Futurians, but with 20/20 hindsight, I wonder now if both factions weren't engaging in Byzantine maneuvers we innocent [[Boston]]ians were unaware of. Perhaps the Futurians came en masse just to make sure the QSFL troops didn't do the same and 'put something over on them.' The Qs had the greater numbers, but most of them lacked the aggression of their leaders, and since they could not recruit enough to make the trip north, elected to avoid a confrontation. Maybe the wise counsel of [[Sam Moskowitz|Moskowitz]] prevailed. At any rate, I'm glad the Qs didn't show. There probably would have been a fistfight, altho Swisher and I were bigger than anyone there, except for [[Hyman Tiger|Tiger]], who could bend half dollars between thumb and forefinger. But he, no doubt, would have joined the peace-keepers had we needed any. I wouldn't be surprised that Swisher was hip to all this, and defused the situation with his dry wit. I was a pretty innocent booby in those days.
 
 That innocence explains my grabbing [[Damon Knight]]'s [[NFFF]] kickoff and running like crazy with it. I should have known as soon as the discussion veered off the main topic of how we could avoid tinhorn dictators seizing power and ruining the [[organization]]. We were soon talking about how TDs had ruined the [[QSFL]]. Even though it was finally agreed that Eternal Vigilance and All That was the only way to 'prevent petty power [[politics]]' as [[Lowndes]] alliteratively put it, there remained a heavy emphasis on constitutions and organizational machinery, for which I bear a great deal of the blame. Not only was the bad example of the QSFL and squabbles in [[LASFS]] before us, but [[Mundania]] was cranking up for [[World War II]] as the result of the 'inexplicable' rise of such madmen as Hitler, Mussolini, and Franco.
 
 On the other hand, I turned out to be substantially right. I was quite astonished when I resumed going to [[Worldcons]] and found that the [[NFFF]] was still alive and kicking. Not only that, but the good-hearted [[fuggheads]] running the [[N3F#Other activities|Welcome Room]] were pathetically eager to induct me into the mysteries of [[Trufandom]] about which they didn't know a blessed thing!
 
 I felt exactly like [[H. G. Wells|Wells]]' Time Traveler when Eloi took him to the library where the [[books]] turned to dust at his touch. I never let on Who I Was, but questioned them about the [[organization]] and its purposes. They made glib but vague replies, until it became clear that it didn't matter to them any more than it matters to a Valley Girl who Thomas Paine was. Not that I'm any Tom Paine, but it's a little hard to think of yourself as Joe Nobody.
 
 Far from being taken over by little Hitlers, the NFFF seems to have suffered the opposite fate. Although it has achieved far more than even I thought it would, it seems to be a rather ho-hum, cobwebby outfit that very few pay much attention to.
 
 I believe it was at a [[Norwescon]] that I wandered into the [[SFWA]] suite and spotted [[Damon Knight]] and [[Kate Wilhelm]] sitting by themselves waiting for something to happen. (I had last seen Damon in [[New York]] Central Park 40 years before, as we rowed a boat around the lake and played [[TSOHG]], which is a spelling game spelled and played backwards, one of the ways the [[Futurians]] had fun at that time when they weren't wife-swapping. I stuck him on 'osteomyelitis,' which he should have gotten, since it was the disease from which fellow-Futurian [[Johnny Michel]] suffered.) We had both changed considerably, and I only recognized him because he was famous and had his picture in ''[[Locus]]''. He didn't recognize me as I sat down nearby. I kept mum and gave him a chance to see past the wrinkles and gray beard, but he apparently decided it wasn't worth the effort and resumed talking to Kate.
 
 Finally I introduced myself and he cracked up. Turning to Kate, he said, ‘I'd like to have you meet the guy who helped me start the dumbest [[organization]] in all [[fandom]].'
 
 I say I was substantially right, because, even though [[NFFF]] didn't reach the glorious heights we dreamed of, the [[WSFS]] did come along when it was needed, and filled one of the main purposes Knight and I had in mind, to be a responsible outfit that could deal with [[mundania]], borrow [[money]], sign contracts and all Big Time stuff like that.
 
 The next red letter day in [[TSC]] history came on April 27th, when [[John W. Campbell]] showed up for a visit with [[the Swishers]]. I had recently acquired a snappy red and black ‘35 Ford V8 in anticipation of assembling a carload of [[fen]] for the forbidding trek to [[Denver]] and the third [[Worldcon]], so I stopped in Whitman to pick up [[fringe fan]] [[Jack Bell]] to show off my new wheels. At the time I was living in Bryantville, a tiny hamlet not far from Plymouth. The [[Stranger Club]] was indeed 'strange' in that (after [[Paro]] left) 'the [[Boston]] group' hadn't a single member residing in [[Boston]], and the [[director]] didn't even live in the Metropolitan area!
 
 Not too many showed up, probably because Swisher was rather quiet about it, knowing that if it were widely known that [[Campbell]] was there, Mrs. Swisher wouldn't be doing much but baking tons of her famous pecan buns for a horde of voracious teen-agers.
 
 So it was that besides the Swishers there were only [[Art Gnaedinger]] (son of [[Mary Gnaedinger]], editor of ''[[Famous Fantastic Mysteries]]''), [[Chan Davis]], his cousin Allen, [[Jack Bell|Bell]], and myself to wallow in an afternoon and evening with the Great Man. And wallow we did, for twelve hours, as it turned out. I had a bad case of hero-worship, and Jack didn't succeed in dragging me away until 2:30 am, with everybody else propping their eyelids up with toothpicks.
 
 The program was interesting, with many Europeans spea Campbell played us like delicate instruments and we loved it; at least I did. He predicted that the [[war]] (which we weren't even in yet) would be decided by (gasp) atomic power. Four years later I remember quite vividly walking along the streets of Lawrence, Mass., with some [[army]] buddies from the Climatic Research Lab and passing a newsstand where the headlines screamed: ATOMIC BOMB USED ON JAPAN! ONE BOMB DESTROYS ENTIRE CITY! I remembered Campbell's prediction and the awed discussion that followed, and started babbling excitedly to my fellow-GIs. 'It's the end of the war! It's not just the end of the war -- it's the beginning of a whole new age! It's yabba dabba gibble gabble! Hoohah!'
 
 My friends looked at me disgustedly as I stood there gibbering and pointing to the newspaper. 'C'mon, Art,' they said. ‘You've been reading too much of that crazy [[Buck Rogers stuff]] again. It's just another big bomb -- no big deal.'
 
 'But -- but -- ' I sputtered. ‘A whole city! Read it yourself! Look!' It was like Galileo telling the church fathers to look through the telescope. They physically took hold of me.
 
 'Art!' said one, waving his fingers close to my eyes. 'Pay attention! We're going to play pool -- remember? Pool, Art. You know how you like to play pool. We'll just shoot a little pool and it'll clear your head.' To the others: 'Just bring him along; once he gets the cue in his hand he'll be all right.' And they dragged me around the corner to the pool room, still feebly protesting.
 
 What didn't we talk about that wonderful evening with [[Campbell]]? Shoes and ships and [[photograph]]s, [[van Vogt]] [[slans]] and other things, among which is my favorite piece of Campbell Machiavelliana. He swore us to absolute secrecy just in case [[Heinlein]] might get wind of it. RAH was just hitting his stride, and Campbell knew that he was going to be one of the greats. But Heinlein was already getting bored with the whole business and wondering if perhaps he couldn't turn his talents to something more interesting. He had an income of sorts, and the top dollar Campbell could afford to pay, even with bonuses, was no longer sufficient to keep him tied to his [[typewriter]]. With diabolical ingenuity, JWC threw out hints of the complexities, the fascinations, the satisfactions of [[photography]] as a hobby. He got RAH hooked, who immediately went into it whole hog, going into hock for all the latest equipment, books, etc. Then he had to get busy and churn out stories for Campbell to pay for it all. That worthy sat back and rubbed his hands with glee at the thought of it, and we all know the rest.
 
 [[Art Gnaedinger]] returned in May to become the star of that meeting. He was attending Harvard and involved in radio dramatizations, and had made a recording of an old ''[[Amazing]]'' story, 'The Talking Brain,' by [[M. H. Hasta]]. The story wasn't much, but the recording, in those days before TV, tape, or even wire recording, was Big Stuff, and we were all properly impressed. Even with Swisher's state of the art phonograph (no stereo, either, folks) they had some difficulty getting a 15-inch platter to work, but they solved it to a round of cheers. Art was embarrassed at all the praise and aw-shucksed that it twarn't nothin' but a rehearsal and he wished he could have got 'The Country of the Blind,' which was much better, onto a disc, but hadn't been able to. We wished he hadn't told us that.
 
 ''[[Fanfare (Paro)]]'' began to hit its stride with the eighth issue. I had purchased a simple Sears Roebuck [[mimeo]] with money from the club treasury, and learned how to use it on #7. Number eight blossomed out in color, no less. The [[Decker Dillies|Decker, Indiana, group]] was setting fandom on its ear with a beautiful [[fanzine]] called ''[[Pluto]]'', and I was green with envy. Besides that, I put red and blue into ''Fanfare''. The contents were getting better as well. We now had five of the best [[columnists]] in [[fandom]]: [[Joe Gilbert]] ([[South Carolina]]), [[Harry Warner]], [[H. C. Koenig]], [[Russ Chauvenet|Chauvenet]] (who converted his [[perzine]], ''[[Detours]]''), and one [[Ritter Conway]], who snidely savaged [[F. Orlin Tremaine]], [[Larry Farsaci]], [[Fred Pohl]], [[Joe Gilbert]], and a couple of others all in three pages. Get the clue? Yes, it was [[Damon Knight]], who, unfortunately, had just moved to [[New York]] and shortly moved on to better things, so he was seen no more in our pages.
 
 I say 'our pages,' but I should be honest and admit that ''[[Fanfare (Paro)]]'' was becoming increasingly my [[fanzine]], and isolated as I was down in the boonies, I did most of the work and began even to think of it as 'my' [[mimeograph]]. I was supposed to keep it and pay back the money to the [[club]], but I never did, and nobody ever questioned me about it except [[Jack Bell|Bell]], and that jokingly, just to give me a bad time. I still have it out in the garage in the same crate it came to [[California]] in. That was in 1948. I'm going to get it out and restore it to working order [[Real Soon Now]]. Hmm. Maybe for my 50th [[Annish]] ... Naaahh.
 
 In June we had author [[Robert Arthur]] as guest -- again, a friend of Swisher's. In late July Bell and I retold our adventures on the epic [[Denveride]]. [[Harry Stubbs]] (Hal Clement) attended his first meeting and I like to think that we interested him enough so that he became a regular member. More about Harry in a separate article.
 
 In August we had [[George Foster]], mainly, I think, because I went over to Stoughton to pick him up and bring him to the meeting. He had no wheels, and transport from Stoughton to Winchester was about as eccentric as he was. He was an older man, and I was never quite sure whether he was an oddball genius or a genuine nut case. He had a sort of Jesus fixation, but unlike all the other religious nuts I've run into, he carried it off well. I wouldn't have bothered with him if he hadn't. Where the usual ID problem will harangue you about your sins and how the only way to save yourself is to give him complete control of everything, George acted a lot more Jesus-like. I believe he was bright enough to have been an engineer, but he felt that it was his destiny to remain a humble window-washer so that he wouldn't be corrupted by material temptations. He had a lot of strange, but possibly workable, ideas which he would expound upon only if asked. I could go on about him if anybody is interested, but the reason I mentioned him is that at the meeting, [[E. Everett Evans]], [[Chairman]] of the [[NFFF]] [[Plancom|Planning Board]], had asked us by letter for ideas for NFFF functions. George came up with the idea of a [[welcoming committee]] for new fans, and I understand that has been one of NFFF's most notable achievements over the years.
 
 In September we again heard from Evans with thirteen points he wished a vote on. Most of them passed, but I was subject to considerable heckling from [[Jack Bell|Bell]] and Swisher, a forerunner of the [[organization]] vs. [[Fanarchists|anarchy]] schism that still splits [[fandom]] today. [[Chauvenet]], then [[President]] of the NFFF, couldn't follow all the chaffing and two-bit repartee because of his deafness, and went to sleep under the piano until it was time to eat.
 
 [[Scott Feldman|Feldman]] and [[Hyman Tiger|Tiger]] visited again on Labor Day, but I was the only one around to meet with them. It seems strange to talk about Labor Day with no [[Worldcon]], but that's the way it was. We wandered around town, bugging bookstore clerks with requests for The ''[[Necronomicon (book)]]'' and other such [[fannish]] twittery.
 
 It was nice to have [[Chauvenet]] back in town. He had been studying at the University of Virginia, and now was taking some time off to try his hand at [[sf]] writing and to build a small sailboat. I had just made my first sale to ''[[Weird Tales]]'', and I guess he figured that if I could sell a story, anybody could. We spent some time working together on the boat, but it was never finished, and he finally returned to [[Virginia]], while I found a buyer to take over the project.
 
 The [[Boskone II|Second Boskone]] got 1942 off to a good start. This time, the [[Queensies|Sykoras]] came and the [[Futurians]] didn't. The total attendance was about the same, but represented a much wider geographical area than the [[first Boskone]]. At least six different states besides [[Massachusetts]] were represented: [[Speer]] from [[Washington, DC]], [[Joe Gilbert|Gilbert]], [[Harry Jenkins|Jenkins]], and [[Lee Eastman|Eastman]] from [[Columbia, SC]], [[Bob Madle]] and [[Rusty (Barron) Hevelin]] from [[Philadelphia]], [[Queensies|Sykoras]] and a [[Charles Hidley]] from New York, [[Trudy Kuslan]] from [[Connecticut]], and [[Bob Jones]], ''[[Fanfare (Paro)]]'''s staff [[artist]], from way out west in [[Columbus]], [[Ohio]].
 
 This time we had a rudimentary [[program]]. I hired a hall and we had a proper meeting with entertainment and an [[art]] [[auction]]. [[Arthur L. Schwartz|'Suddsy' Schwartz]], one of our newer members, was determined to have a [[Virgil Finlay]] cover that had been donated by [[Mary Gnaedinger]] of ''[[FFM]]'' and the bidding was hot and heavy. He finally got it for $5.25. Later, he confided that he had been prepared to sacrifice his entire life savings of $9.20 if necessary. I later apologized in print for not having refreshments, since I was afraid we might lose our shirts, but we actually wound up a little ahead. I thought it would be nice for the members of [[Noreascon 3]] to know that [[Boskones]] have always been solvent right from the very start.
 
 The 'business' part of the meeting was largely taken up with discussion of certain proposals for the [[NFFF]] in a letter from [[Milty Rothman]]. It was ghodawful [[sercon]]. What to do about the [[Worldcon]] was livelier, with [[Sykora]] wanting another biggie for the East, but the majority favored giving the [[Pacificon]] committee a little more time to get their act together. As it turned out, the war interfered, and we never had the fourth Worldcon until 1946.
 
 The 'entertainment' consisted of a 'performance' of [[Chauvenet]]'s [[Williamson]] parody, ''[[Legions of Legions]]'', dramatic adaptation by [[yhos]]. Fortunately, the 'cast' had had little time to rehearse, since it consisted of just about anybody I could dragoon at the moment. Everybody had scripts, so the audience became prompters for the unhappy ‘actors’ when they fluffed their lines, which was often. The result was hilarious.
 
 As the gas shortage worsened, many of the widely scattered Strangers took to bicycles. These included [[Harry Stubbs]] and [[Arseni Karpovitch]] as well as yhos. At the April 19th meeting I did over 80 miles by combining the meeting route with a jaunt out to [[Framingham]] to follow the marathon runners in. But [[Russ Chauvenet|Chauvenet]] remained the top cyclist without fear of any competition. Not only had he been to [[New York]] and back (inspiring me to try it later on -- I took much longer) but when he returned to [[Virginia]] from [[Cambridge, MA|Cambridge]] he pedaled -- by way of [[Ohio]]! Later he was to wear me out on our wartime trip to Rockland, [[Maine]], when we visited [[Norm Stanley]].
 
 [[EEE|Evans]] hisself visited us in May. Fortunately, there was his new [[zine]] ''[[Nova (Ashley)|Nova]]'' to talk about and Disney's ''Fantasia'' to see again, so we didn't have to talk about the [[NFFF]] all the time.
 
 Not that the quality of bull sessions at TSC meetings was ever low, but the addition of [[Thomas S. Gardner]], Ph.D., to the club lifted those discussions to a new high. For me, it was the equivalent of a college education. Later, in [[California]], I was to go through the official motions and get the degrees, but after TSC it was anticlimactic. Tom had a great idea for one of my [[polls]] that I intended to use, but never got around to. Maybe I should take pity on it [[RSN]], slouching along, waiting to be born all this time. Considerably over term. This would be a poll on [[fen]]'s favorite [[sf]] characters. A quick canvas of those at that June meeting came up with Odd John and The Lieutenant, from [[Olaf Stapledon|Stapledon]]'s [[novel]] of the same name and [[L. Ron Hubbard]]'s ''Final Blackout''. I would think they should still rate high even after all these years. Only [[A Canticle for Leibowitz|Brother Francis]] leaps to mind to compete with them.
 
 But speak of the Devil. The next meeting, with the exception of [[Boskones]], hit the all time high in my memory. [[Louis Russell Chauvenet|LRC]] and I were [[croggled]] when we arrived at the July meeting not only to find [[John Campbell|Campbell]] there, but that [[L. Ron Hubbard]] was coming as well!
 
 I don't quite know how to sum up that afternoon and evening. I have never seen anything quite like it. It had elements of an intellectual Laurel & Hardy act (which I don't mean as a putdown, for I think of them as geniuses) but also on a higher level, something of a battle of wits between, say, Gore Vidal and William F. Buckley. Hubbard would toss up a ‘[[Probability Zero]]’ skeet and Campbell would promptly shoot it full of holes. Hubbard, with an ingenuity that left everybody but Campbell breathless, would immediately cover up every single hole and maybe stick a little flag on top just for good measure. Campbell would then shoot that down, Hubbard would reanimate the concept with even more outrageous props, etc., etc., etc.
 
 [[Frances Nevada Swisher]] (Mrs.) was standing in the kitchen doorway, completely mesmerized by the show, which had been going on for about an hour. Suddenly she blinked, shook her head, and came back to reality. She retreated into the kitchen, checked the oven, then came back to the door, grinning evilly. ‘Pecan buns. Hot.’ she whispered, and that was that. Otherwise, I think the pair would have gone on all night.
 
 Later, we were admiring Hubbard's special diver's watch (he was a Commander in the navy at the time), which was a real marvel for those pre-digital days. It had date, day of the week, barometric pressure, and you name it, all completely waterproof. We got a peek into the future of this charming conman as he told us how he used the watch to seduce waitresses in otherwise dull ports.
 
 He would order a cup of coffee, then when her back was turned, hide the spoon and call her back. She would look a bit bemused, then: 'Sorry sir, I'll get you a spoon right away.'
 
 As she turned to go, Hubbard would say ‘Never mind; I'll just stir it with my watch.' She would stare goggle-eyed as he calmly did just that, got a conversation going and the next thing she knew she was in bed with him.
 
 Oddly enough, he was the pessimist about the [[war]] in contrast to Campbell's ‘optimism.’ [[Elron]] thought it was going to last another ten years.
 
 Things started to go downhill from there. Next month, [[Tom Gardner]] 'had to go' back to his native [[Tennessee]], perhaps to work at Oak Ridge, I never did find out. [[Harry Stubbs]] was nabbed by the navy just before [[Boskone III]], February ’43, and only three out-of-state fen made it to the [[con]], so B3 was only a shadow of the previous ones.
 
 The non-[[Stranger Club|Strangers]] were [[Jack Speer|Speer]], [[Julius Unger|Unger]], and [[Bill Ryder]] from [[NYC]]. Nobody drove. No gas. Harry was to be the kingpin for the program, with a talk on the hypothesized planet near 61 Cygni, and it was too late to get someone else. Campbell failed to come through with [[art|originals]], so there wasn't even any [[auction]]. But we did have a [[Virgil Finlay|Finlay]] cover from somewhere, and a [[Roy Hunt]] cover from ''[[Le Zombie]]'', so we decided to have a [[game]] of [[INTERPLANETARY]] with the Finlay for a prize to the winner.
 
 I had invented this board game and it was well received by the club, but like [[D&D]] and other modern games it took a LONGtime to play, so we soon tired of it. When I returned to [[fandom]] in the ’70s, I was astonished to hear that it had become quite popular at [[Worldcons]] in the ’60s, with fancy boards and pieces and all-night sessions to play it.
 
 The reason it took so long is that it was a combination of a standard ‘race’ game and Monopoly. One had to get to a planet and bring back a cargo in order to finance a trip to the next distant planet where a still more valuable cargo would be obtained, etc., out to Pluto, which harbored ‘Immortality Dust,' the game winner. The novel aspect was that the planets moved, making it difficult to land on one, plus such hazards as the ‘negasphere’ (from [[E. E. Smith]] epics -- now known as a black hole) and pirates, to say nothing of falling into the sun, getting hit with space junk, etc. [[Jules Lazar]], who later gained some fame in the [[LASFS]], won the game with a series of fantastically lucky rolls, literally million-to-one odds.
 
 Another million-to-one shot was the arrival of [[Claude Degler]], who had gotten the date wrong from a mistake in ''[[Astonishing Stories]]'' publicity, got bogged down hitch-hiking, and thought that he had missed it, but decided to keep going and visit me in Bryantville. He was going by an old [[Walt Daugherty]] directory and didn't know that I had gotten married and moved back to Quincy. Degler had walked by the hall earlier, all unknowing that [[Boskone III|Boskone]] was just getting started, and passed through Quincy on his way south. There he noticed the address of a [[fan]] who had never done anything but write a couple of letters to ''[[Weird Tales]]'', but this fan's parents remembered that I had once come around trying unsuccessfully to coax their son into joining [[TSC]]. The only reason she remembered me is that I married the daughter of her neighbor across the street, which still wouldn't have done Degler much good except that my wife was visiting her mother and knew how to get in touch with me.
 
 With my new family taking up most of my spare time and the sword of the draft hanging over me, ''[[Fanfare (Paro)]]'' became less and less frequent, only two issues being published in 1942, and no minutes recorded after B3 that I know of. The little energy I had left I put into my [[FAPAzine]] ''[[YHOS]]'', and the above mentioned bike trip with [[Russ Chauvenet]].
 
 [[Harry Warner]] chronicles that there was a [[Boskone IV|fourth Boskone]] with [[Milty Rothman]] and [[Norm Stanley]] present, but I remember none of it because the much more traumatic event of my induction into the armed services was to be a week later. I was lucky, however, because I was ‘volunteered’ to be a technician-guinea pig at the newly formed Climatic Research Lab in Lawrence, Mass., where I remained until VE day, getting home nearly every weekend, but not doing much [[fanac]] except ''[[YHOS]]'', and even that petered out in 1945. There was [[Boskone V|another small con in Salem]], put on by a [[Doris Currier]], but I don't remember much about that one, either.
 
 In 1946, I got out, but having no car, I had to hitch-hike to the long-postponed [[Pacificon]]. The excuse I gave my wife was that I wanted to visit my parents, who had moved out in 1942, and look over the country for a possible move ourselves. Again, as far as I can recall, no other [[Stranger Club|Strangers]] went to the fourth [[Worldcon]] or to [[Philcon 1|Philcon]] in 1947, which I also attended. In 1948, we moved to [[LA]] and I [[gafiated]] completely, except for parties with [[FTLaney|Laney]], [[Charles Burbee|Burbee]], and other [[Insurgents]]. I'm afraid that the good old Stranger Club went out, ‘not with a bang, but a whimper’ unlike many other [[organization|fanorgs]]. Perhaps [[Harry Stubbs|Harry]] or [[Chan Davis]] will chronicle the final days for you; I can't.
 
 But while it lasted, The [[Stranger Club]] was the best. Unlike many of the early [[organizations]], there was remarkably little of the dissension and petty politicking that other groups suffered from. And this was not because the membership was bland or stuffy. On the contrary, I have seldom been associated with a livelier or more interesting bunch of people in the forty years since. It was once a ‘[[proud and lonely thing to be a fan]],’ but for me, The Stranger Club took the lonely out and kept the proud.

___<br>
<references />


{{fanhistory | start=1940 | end=1948}}
[[Category:US]]