THIRDMANCON SPECIALS

At the St. Ann Hotel in Buxton, members from five countries gathered for the first time for the annual Convention organized by the British SF Association. Members from five countries: Canada, Germany, England, Italy, and the United States.

Among the most notable results, we immediately highlight the cordial and deep relationships we have established with German and English fandom, also with the aim of substantially supporting the project for the World Convention in Heidelberg in 1970, and the announcement that the BSFA made during a meeting held in one of the rooms reserved for the event, of its transformation into a Limited Liability Company. There is no doubt that this will contribute significantly to the development of the BSFA, whose members will henceforth also be directly involved in its administrative situation. The association, as is well known, publishes the magazine "Vector," strictly reserved for members, which contains very interesting news from the professional and non-professional world of British SF.

We will now provide a detailed account of the various events that began on the afternoon of Friday the 12th with the official inauguration of the Convention. By the morning, however, all members had completed the registration formalities, receiving, in addition to the Convention program and some fanzines prepared for the occasion, also the traditional badge to attach to their jacket with their name, for quick identification. For lunch, we also had the pleasure of being guests of Archie and Beryl Mercer, the English Agents for the 28th World Convention.

In the late afternoon, we attended screenings of some classic horror films such as "Nosferatu," "The House of Frankenstein," "Curse of the Demon," and "The Bride of Frankenstein," as well as an excerpt from "The Thing." All this to illustrate a speech by John Ramsey Campbell on the topic.

After an intermission for dinner, a series of recent films were shown, including "Doctor G. and the Bikini Machine" and "The Cameo of Terror," both starring Vincent Price. In the first, the well-known actor played a certain "Doctor Godfrey," very similar to Fleming's famous "Doctor No," bent on world conquest with the help of a gang of busty girls churned out by one of his fantastic machines. In the second, Vincent Price worked alongside Boris Karloff, playing the ailing elderly father, and Peter Lorre, a funeral business owner desperately seeking new clients to pay the rent. It goes without saying that the films were satirical.

The show ended around 2:30 in the morning, after which the guests met in the empty rooms, where during the day bottles had been piled up among the various items, and the parties continued until dawn.

On Saturday morning, a group of veteran fans held a debate on methods for organizing a SF club. Among their suggestions, I would like to mention one from a Birmingham enthusiast who emphasized that meetings held in someone's home and capped off with a meal prepared by their mother have always been a great success. Gary Klupfel, one of the representatives from the German fandom, discussed the pros and cons of having two clubs in the same city. A student from the University of Bristol then recalled his first attempts to start a club using advertisements in the university newspaper. The results were not immediate, but over time, a solid group was formed in Bristol as well. Ethel Lindsay recounted how, showing up for the first time at a club in Yorkshire, she discovered that she was the only woman who had ever set foot there. A few years later, when I visited London, I noticed the presence of many women in the local fandom. Tony Walsh, from Manchester [sic], emphasized the importance of holding meetings in pubs often enough to arouse the interest not only of fans but also of the general public. He then suggested organizing periodic meetings at the regional level. Ethel Lindsay, in a subsequent speech, emphasized the fact that in England, unlike in America, few writers are willing to participate in fandom meetings.

After a lunch break, Alan Whittaker of the Manchester Astronomical Society spoke on the evolution of stars and the conditions that made life on Earth possible, illustrating his speech with a series of slides. However, he declined to answer the questions posed about the possibility of intelligent extraterrestrial life in detail, limiting himself to recalling the enormous number of planets on which evolution could follow or have followed the same path as Earth.

At 15.35, Philips [sic] Rogers gave the audience a series of quizzes on various science fiction themes. On this occasion, we noted that the professional authors and fans in attendance were generally ready and prepared. Around 16.00, Ken Bulmer gave his speech as guest of honor, entertaining us on various aspects of working in the science fiction category. The first auction followed, during which several magazines and some particularly interesting volumes achieved quite high prices.

Meanwhile, an art exhibition was inaugurated in a room on the upper floors, displaying original cover designs from both English and American art. It was flanked by an exhibition of science fiction fanzines, books, and magazines, which also featured several Italian publications.

Afterwards, a film about the former Bristol Convention was shown. This was followed by a humorous reconstruction of the life of Harry Nadler, secretary of the Convention, in which very strange sounds produced by a pair of tape recorders were inserted to accompany a speech by Eric Bentcliffe about the author. A bloody piece of a medieval tournament was then screened, very impressive and realistic, in homage to the Order of St. Francis, to which only a select few are admitted.

The masked contest then began, during which mummies, catwomen, astronauts, and "eating things" filled the Hall. First prize was awarded to the "female astronaut," inspired by Burroughs and strictly scientific criteria.

While the various masks were still moving among the audience, the Knights of St. Fantony in solid armour came forward from the sides of the Hall, so that in a few minutes there was room for a true and bloody fight. Indeed, the duels that followed, during which E. C. Tubb clearly prevailed, appeared particularly ferocious. Brian Burgess, enormous in his green armour, was decidedly impressive, but Tubb was skilled and quick, and Jerry [sic] Webb impressed us with the violence of his attacks, which unfortunately sometimes caused him to lose his balance and risk catapulting himself into the crowd, carefully pressed against the walls.

Thus the evening officially ended, enlivened by the usual room parties. On Sunday morning, at 10:00, the British SF Association held its annual general meeting. During the meeting, a review of the organization's activities was taken and Daphne Sewell was elected as its new secretary, succeeding Doreen Parker in eight months.

After lunch, a group composed of Christopher Crist [sic], John Newman, Kenneth Bulmer, John Brunner, and Tom Dish [sic] discussed the relationship between real life and fantasy fiction. John Newman, who works for the Coal Board, spoke about the development of some scientific instruments, including a "plasma gun" for creating very high temperatures, and the hydrogen ionization process, which is very useful for producing new, resistant plastics. John Brunner has highlighted an analogy between the work of a scientific researcher and a science fiction writer, who sometimes develop the same idea in parallel, albeit on a different level. Tom Disch emphasized the difficulties a writer faces in harmonizing the various parts of a novel by inserting fantastical-scientific elaborations, and how an excessive number of these can undermine the novel's logic. He continued by pointing out that a work of pure fantasy can avoid this problem through suggestion. Kenneth Bulmer spoke about his narrative technique. He explained that he always reconstructs the locations where a given adventure is to take place on maps, which he then adheres to rigorously. Many authors end up ruining a work precisely because they don't pay sufficient attention to the places and times in which the events are to take place. Finally, TAFF envoy Steve Stiles gave a short speech.

Another eerie quiz followed, directed by Philips Rogers. This time, the questions were posed only to a group of people chosen from the audience, while Harry Nadler was in charge of keeping score. Ken Bulmer was among the chosen ones and inevitably won the competition with a whopping 12 points, followed by Tony Walsh with 7 points. The last place finisher was Phil Muldowney with 2 points.

At this point, Colonel Kyle circulated among those present two information booklets on Stanley Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey," which he had obtained during the premiere in New York. He warned us that the film would arouse much controversy and perplexity among the general public. Given its spectacular qualities, it could still mark the beginning of a sci-fi film boom, but many critics have expressed the opinion that the work should remain an isolated example of its genre, which in ten years could be considered a classic.

The absence of well-known actors means that the ten million dollars invested by MGN in the film were largely necessary to cover the cost of the hundreds of special effects that made the film a realistic example of the spectacle offered to the eyes of a man in space, all on a giant Cinerama screen.

The pressure suits worn by the astronauts were made by a Lancashire company specializing in diving suits and suits for supersonic aircraft pilots. They were, in fact, perfectly functional. However, the actors wearing them had to constantly monitor the amount of air remaining in their tanks and report their exhaustion even in the middle of a take. Robert Beatty, one of the Canadian actors in the film, commented that he would not want to be the first man to die on the moon.

The scene that practically halted the film's production, as Kubrick was never satisfied with the results achieved, was the one dedicated to the dawn of man, in which the actors had to play cavemen and therefore have particular physical characteristics. In it, the director wanted to show the bond between man and ape, the famous "missing link." Only after a long series of attempts did one of the technicians manage to produce a mask whose movements could be controlled by the actor's tongue, while a system of elastic bands and magnets allowed the fangs to vigorously tear the flesh.

The Boreham Wood studios were unsuitable for reconstructing the lunar landscape, so Kubrick chose Shepperton, where he spread 90 tons of gray sand to perfectly simulate the surface of the satellite. By a strange coincidence, the pre-war film "Things to Come," based on the novel by H. G. Wells, had been shot in the same studios. During production, Kubrick asked one of the IBM "computers" the question about how long the film would take to make: the electronic brain replied that it would take four years, and he was right.

After the premieres in Washington and New York, major American newspapers published highly favorable reviews, especially praising the director for having evoked a strong sense of wonder in viewers and for having proposed in new terms the eternal question of the possibility of intelligent extraterrestrial life.

A. C. Clarke, during an interview, said that the film should be seen at least six times to be fully understood. It is certain, in any case, that Clarke's presence alongside Kubrick guarantees, once again, a serious, specialized work.

* * * After they had learned these interesting new details, the second auction began, directed by Eric Bentcliffe, who intended to sell his wonderful collection. Due to the low number of bids, however, Ben was sometimes forced to withdraw volumes that had not reached a satisfactory price. The other auction included a collection of Galaxy from 1950 to the present and 300 issues of Analog in impeccable condition.

This was followed by a selection of drawings, some of which had been exhibited in the related exhibition; one of them was purchased by the American fan Alex Eisenstein for 11 guineas. Finally, another auction was held, directed in turn by E. C. Tubb (Ted to his friends), Phil Rogers, and John Ramsey Campbell.

After dinner, a silver cup was presented to the winner of the Doc Weir Award, an award given annually in England to the most active fan. We then attended the screening of the film "Voyage at the End of the Universe," followed by the investiture ceremony of three new members of the Order of St. Fantony. At this point, the Convention should have concluded, but the parties continued until the morning. We will now provide a detailed description of one of them in particular, which began with a ceremony called the "Hum and Sway."

Room parties consist of friendly gatherings held in virtually every room of a hotel reserved for a convention, punctuated by copious amounts of beer and other beverages, which each party has previously provided in their room. This system seems to produce extremely interesting results, allowing the attendees to deepen their mutual understanding and discuss particular science fiction topics No, they could not be addressed by a large assembly. It is natural that after a certain hour, the room party, due to its underlying friendly nature, transforms into something different. And we believe that some of these playful demonstrations could unfortunately not take place in an Italian hotel.

As for us, we couldn't help but participate in a parade through the corridors at five in the morning, equipped, like the others, with an empty bottle used as a trumpet to create a more or less otherworldly atmosphere, with the intent of awakening other well-known members of the Convention who, very cowardly, had retired to their rooms a couple of hours earlier. It should be noted that one of the attempts to wake Philips Rogers unfortunately encountered strong passive resistance, so much so that Tubb was forced to organize a group of saboteurs in a battering ram action against the room door, supported by the shrill shouts of the others present, but with once again negative results. A subsequent attempt of the same nature, aimed at the door of J. R. Campbell's room, had the result of terrifying the person sleeping inside and who had nothing to do with the aforementioned Ramsey. Too late, we realized that Ramsey had cunningly provided a false room number, probably anticipating such a move by Tubb and Bulmer.

Throughout all these operations, our glasses were constantly refilled by two volunteers who dragged two heavy one-gallon plastic drums through the hotel corridors, containing a special pineapple wine for which Tubb holds the exclusive rights. We must remember that Tubb freely distributed 18 gallons of this beverage to the members of the Convention, corresponding to approximately 80 liters, but we cannot forget the contribution made by Philips Rogers with another quality of wine of its own production, this time derived from the fermentation of parsley, with a flavor vaguely similar to that of some white wines from the Rhine.

Around seven o'clock, the convoy of survivors headed toward the hotel lobby, trying to find the names of those who had asked to be awakened at that hour, so they could do so in a slightly different way than usual. This attempt was unfortunately thwarted by the lack of alien coal workers. The presence of the waiters preparing to put on their white jackets reminded us of the existence of tea and coffee, simultaneously dashing any other warlike ambitions we had.

All of this, as previously mentioned, had its origins in the "Hum and Sway" ceremony, officiated by Ted Tubb and Ken Bulmer. The ceremony involved a group swaying to the rhythm of the aforementioned fateful words, softly murmured, with periodic halts at the command "Drink!", which everyone scrupulously obeyed. The heart of the ceremony consisted of Ted Tubb's questions to the spirits, through the mouth of Graham Hall, who was sitting on the floor in a meditative position. The questions mainly concerned the number of books he would be able to publish in the next year and the earnings he would derive from them.

Finally, let's remember that the Germans had brought a precious bottle of their product with an unpronounceable name, created especially for the Deutschland Club. Made with mint, this drink reaches 86 degrees so a few drops are enough to warm you up.

* * * The 1968 British SF Convention, which was attended by more than 200 people, concluded with a solid English Breakfast. Among those in attendance were Kenneth Bulmer, Edwin Charles Tubb, John Ramsey Campbell, Philips Rogers, as well as John Brunner, Archie and Beryl Mercer, Heinrich Arenz, Tom Schlück, James White, Mike Moorcock, Ella Parker, Ethel Lindsay, Frank Herbert, Dave Kyle, Jean G. Muggoch, Alfred H. Beha, Steve Stiles, Donald Alan Wollheim, Charles Platt, and so on. And, as the farewell came, the farewell of many was a new appointment in Trieste, for the next festival.

NOTE With this special issue on Thirdmancon, we wanted to highlight the atmosphere of friendship and cordiality that underpins all the Conventions, clearly prevailing over the sense of officialdom that we are led to associate with these events, which are nonetheless notably important for the quality of the participants and the opportunities for agreement and dialogue they offer.