CLUBHOUSE: Review: “The First Geeks: the Founding of SF Fandom” by Orty Ortwein

OBIR: Occasional Biased and Ignorant Reviews reflecting this reader’s opinion.

THE FIRST GEEKS: Ray Bradbury, Forrest J Ackerman, Ray Harryhausen and the Founding of Science Fiction Fandom – by Orty Ortwein

Publisher: McFarland & Company, Inc, Jefferson, North Carolina, USA, July 2024

Premise: 

That this triumvirate of “First Fandom” influencers helped bring about the first manifestation of organized science fiction fandom.

Review:

First, let me get an apology out of the way. Normally, I review Canadian speculative genre books and magazines. However, sometimes a non-fiction book only partially related to Canadian literary interests comes along that absolutely demands my attention. This is one of them. I am compelled to review it. For personal reasons. Let me explain.

But, before I do that, I should point out that this book was denounced by a number of old-time fen (plural of fan) who took umbrage at the title’s implication these three gentlemen founded science fiction fandom, which is, after all, simply not true.

Forrest was merely one of the founders in the 1930s, albeit a very influential figure, especially in Los Angeles fandom, and the other two hovered on the periphery, eventually expanding science fiction literature (Bradbury, starting in the 1940s) and SF&F filmmaking (Harryhausen in the 1950s). To a young teenager like me in the early 1960s, eagerly loving the genre, this triumvirate of guys who first became pals as teenagers were inspirational gods. I loved everything they did.

But many a conservative traditional fan has bones to pick with these guys, especially Ackerman. Many of his contemporaries couldn’t stand him. He was a bit of a moral prude, even a crusader. He banned ashtrays at Los Angeles club meetings, with the inevitable consequence that smokers dropped their cig-butts on the floor. He also was opposed to drinking alcohol (unlike most fen), and never took drugs. Point is he never tired of lecturing people. And not just about what they shouldn’t do. He was a fanatic advocate for the artificial language Esperanto (as a solution to all conflict brought about by miscommunication) and simplified spelling, the latter evident in his fannish prose. For example, instead of “thought,” “through” or “vaudeville,” he preferred “thot,” “thru,” and “Vodvil.” To be fair, Forrest was strikingly influential and popular in spite of his peculiarities, consistently voted “#1 fan” in a widespread annual poll, admittedly after much self-promotion on his part. Mind you, in the late 1930’s there were estimated to be just 216 fans actively participating in organized fandom. Easy to dominate in such a small group.

All of the above can be put down to personal eccentricity, which is to say, a form of originality. Such traits can, and were, tolerated by the majority of fen. But Forrest J Ackerman did two things which, even today, cause traditionalists to froth at the mouth.

First, he invented the term “Sci-Fi” in the early 1950s and was forever after its number one advocate. Traditionalists prefer “SF” or even the older term “Scientifiction = STF = Stef”, but never “Sci-Fi”, which they deem childish and evocative of everything shoddy and demeaning to the majesty and dignity of science fiction literature and fandom. To this day the general public fandom (people who just like the stuff and have never heard of traditional fandom) recognize “Sci-Fi” as THE defining term for popular taste in science fiction. Which is why traditional fen (who are fans of organized fandom as a way of life) utterly loathe and despise the term, considering it a great insult to them and everything they cherish. I, personally, like it.

Second, he became the editor of the Warren Publication Famous Monsters of Filmland, whose first issue appeared in 1958. Aimed at 14-year-old boys (“Too old to play Cowboys and Indians and too young to be interested in girls”) it was chock full of puns and easy to read articles, but more importantly, was the first magazine to feature articles about the special effects and behind-the-scenes making of monster movies past and present. This made Forry a god to the “Monster Kid Generation” of which I was a proud member.

To traditional fen, extolling the virtues of Lon Chaney Sr.’s Phantom of the Opera was acceptable, but not the likes of I was a Teenage Frankenstein or The Slime People. To them the magazine was pure shlock designed to appeal to the uneducated masses. As a purveyor of such, Forry was seen as a traitor to SF fandom, a shameless turncoat. Someone to be shunned. This was rather hard to accomplish, however, as he remained active in the Los Angeles club and frequently showed up at major SF conventions like the Worldcons.

The Monster Kid Generation, on the other hand, loved good old “Uncle” Forry. Who were they? The young kids glued to their TV sets watching Shock Theatre (the first time the old Universal studio horror flics were shown on Television), who watched The Munsters and The Adams Family, who collected the Aurora monster model kits, who ate up The Twilight Zone and The Outer Limits, and who flooded the movie theatres every time a monster movie or Sci-Fi movie played. Kids like me.

I first became aware of Forry when I purchased issue #1 of Spacemen, edited by him, in July 1961. (I still have it.) I was 9 years old. Two pages in particular I found terribly exciting. On the left a pict of the Giant Ymir from 20 Million Miles To Earth (1957) perched atop the Colosseum in Rome, and below, a photo of the tentacled blob from The Creeping Unknown (1955) cornered in London’s Westminster Abbey. Even more thrilling, opposite was a full-page posed publicity-shot of Lee Van Cleef in hand-to-claw combat with the monstrous Venusian featured in It Conquered the World (1956).

Bear in mind I had never heard of these films. They had yet to be released to TV. There were no books or magazines on such exotica to be found in libraries. The first such, Carlos Claren’s An Illustrated History of the Horror Film (I still have my copy) wasn’t published till 1967. Spaceman came as a life-changing revelation to me.

Page 58 featured a full-page ad for 7 back issues out of the first 11 issues of Famous Monsters of Filmland. A quick perusal of the tiny cover reproductions revealed a cornucopia of delights, such as articles on Gorgo (1961) and King Kong (1933). Alas, my allowance was only 25¢ a week. I couldn’t afford the 50¢ asking price for the back issues. Even worse, Famous Monsters of Filmland wasn’t carried by the magazine distributor in Ottawa. It is to arrgh!

Hence, something of a miracle when issue #19 hit the stands in Ottawa in September of 1962, featuring a purple cover with wonderful dyes-and-gouache portraits of Peter Lorre, Basil Rathbone and Vincent Price by the legendary Basil Gogos and offering “First exclusive photos of Tales of Terror” (1962) which starred those three actors. As it was also a “Giant All-New 100-Page Issue,” it exhibited the hefty price tag of 50¢. Fortunately, my weekly allowance had expanded to that rate. I snatched it up immediately and, of course, still own it. I was hooked for life.

How much did I love Uncle Forry? I fervently hoped that when the time came for him to retire that I would be picked to be his replacement. I was smitten with his lifestyle. I imagined it as a form of paradise greatly to be envied. Or, as my grandfather used to say, “what’s wrong with this boy?”

But enough about me. Let me set the fears of old-time fans to rest. The title of the book is chosen for its publicity value. In reality, The First Geeks is about the Triumvirate AND the founding of SF Fandom, the latter setting the context in which Bradbury, Ackerman and Harryhausen operated as young fans. Proof of this is offered by some of the sources cited in the bibliography:

– Coker, John L. III, ed. David A. Kyle: A Life of Science Fiction Ideas and Dreams. Days of Wonder Publishers, 2006.

– Coker, John L. III, ed. Tales of the Time Travelers: Adventures of Forrest J Ackerman and Julius Schwartz. Days of Wonder Publishers, 2009.

– Knight, Damon. The Futurians: The Story of the Science Fiction Family of the 30’s that produced Today’s Top SF Writers and Editors. Day, 1977.

– Laney, Francis T. Ah! Sweet Idiocy! The Fan Memoirs of Francis T. Laney. Self-published, 1948.

– Moskowitz, Sam. The Immortal Storm: A History of Science Fiction Fandom. Hyperion Press, 1974. (Originally published in serialized form 1945-1952.)

– Pohl, Frederik. The Way the Future Was. Ballantine Del Rey, 1979.

– Warner, Harry Jr. All Our Yesterdays. Nesfa Press, 2^nd edition, 2004.

– Yerke, T. Bruce. Memoirs of a Superfluous Fan. Vol 1, Southern California Institute for Fan Interests, 1944.

Old-time fans know these names. Legendary fen all, who were thoughtful enough to record their impressions of fandom for posterity. Thank Ghu for that! (Ghu = a fannish ghod.)

My point is that this book captures the joy of being a fan of science fiction when organized fandom first appeared. It was an exciting antidote to the lingering effects of the Great Depression and offered hope for the future at a time when war clouds were gathering. Young people embraced fandom as the solution to the world’s problems and the practical key to the creation of a Utopian future. Many believed they were in truth “Star-Begotten,” highly evolved mental mutants who represented the next phase in human evolution, were in fact “Slans” with superior intelligence destined to save the world thru advocating progress in science, technology, and lifestyle. Hence the slogan “Fans are Slans.” A harmless conceit, but a joyous, optimistic one. It’s no wonder that some traditional fen cling fanatically to the past, for it was a glorious gestalt back in the day.

So now let me cherry-pick a few items to give you an impression of the details in the book which bring the era to life.

The first chapter is devoted to Hugo Gernsback, the man who invented the term “Science Fiction,” (though first he came up with “Scientifiction”). As a young boy he was given permission by Pope XIII to enter an all-female convent to install a series of electric-powered call bells. Something of a precocious lad it seems. Emigrated to America in 1904 when he was 19. Sold electronic items, invented some, then turned his hand to publishing magazines devoted to same, often incorporating his own fiction about futuristic technology. In April 1926 he published the first issue of Amazing Stories, the world’s first professional magazine devoted to science fiction.

Forrest J. Ackerman didn’t know about Amazing Stories until he saw issue #7 on display on a newsstand in October of 1926. A magnificent cover by Frank R. Paul depicted a tattered human crewman, from the crashed spacecraft in the background, being greeted by a lobster-like alien twice his size. By coincidence, Forry was 9 years old, the same age I was when I discovered his Spacemen magazine. And like me, he was hooked for life.

It should come as no surprise to learn that the one early issue of Amazing Stories I possess is that issue #7 which inspired Forry in his life-long passion. As I type, it and my copy of Spacemen #1 are resting side by side next to my computer. Glancing at both makes my heart leap. An endless source of inspiration to me. And somehow, my emotional connection to him, a bond which remains as strong as ever. Once a fan, always a fan.

Another tidbit. Leslie Croutch, the most famous Canadian fan of the 1940s, often claimed he went to movie theatres twice a week. Apparently, there was more than one theatre in the small town of Parry Sound, Ontario, where he lived. I used to doubt his claim. No longer. He had nothing on Forrest J Ackerman.

When he was a child, Forry’s Grandparents took him to as many as 7 motion pictures a day! No wonder, as motion picture theatres were the equivalent of the later daily habit of watching television programs. Millions of Americans saw an average of one film a day. Easy to do, as 1938 Los Angeles possessed 247 movie theatres. At this time both Forry and Bradbury claimed they went to 4 or 5 film showings per week, often together. Extraordinary. And here I thought my early teenage addiction of going to the Rialto theatre in Ottawa to watch 3 second-run movies for 25¢ twice a month was something to boast about. Not compared to these guys.

Forry’s interest in movies was precocious, to say the least. He sent more than 60 letters of film criticism to Universal Studios President Carle Laemmle. As a result, Laemmle instructed his secretary to “Give this boy anything he wants.” This eventually included numerous stills, press books, lobby cards, posters, the sound discs for Murders in the Rue Morgue (1932) and Frankenstein (1931), and even an invitation to visit the set of The Bride of Frankenstein (1935). Wowzers! He eventually amassed more than 100,000 movie stills.

Then there’s Ray Bradbury. His family was very poor. He initially made his living selling newspapers. His typical daily routine involved writing in the morning, selling newspapers on a street corner in the early afternoon, then going off with friends, often Forry and Harryhausen, to watch movies. He couldn’t afford bus or streetcar fair, so rocketed around Los Angeles on roller skates.

As for his writing, nobody thought Bradbury had any talent. Edmond Hamilton and Robert Heinlein mentored him, but also believed him bereft of ability. Still, he had tremendous enthusiasm. They figured if he wrote prolifically enough, he might eventually turn into a hack writer selling regularly to the pulps. But blossom into a literary giant? No way.

And he was loud and brash. During the 1939 World Convention in New York city he got evicted from Central Park for being too loud. The only reason they let him hang around the club in Los Angeles was because he was willing to operate the mimeo machines. Still, people appreciated his gung-ho attitude.

I am approaching my deadline. Let me address the herd of elephants in the room. In recent years a host of revelations re sharp business practices on the part of Forry surfaced. Rather disillusioning. Far worse, his habit of treating young women as sex objects, responding to female fan letters by sending them pornographic pictures, even in his old age. He seems to have been a classic dirty old man. Dare I use the word pervert? In this permissive age all manner of kinks are accepted and even celebrated, yet first person accounts state he went beyond the pale, often behaving in a way that made female company uncomfortable, even feel  threatened. Some accused him of stalking. Plenty of people have come forward.

None of this is mentioned in the book. But then, The First Geeks is not a muck-raking exercise, but an affectionate look back at the beginnings of fandom, and in Forry’s case, at the man who inspired countless giants in the film industry, both directors and special effects guys, because he first turned them on to their career goals through the pages of Famous Monsters of Filmland. His enthusiasm for sense of wonder films was infectious. The result is his legacy.

Me, I compartmentalize his image. There’s good old uncle Forry, the film enthusiast who inspired me and countless others to enjoy our passion for film and science fiction.

Then there’s creepy old uncle Forry, who couldn’t let go of a puerile obsession with sex. In his own mind he was progressive, a nudist who argued, in a prudish, censored age, that an interest in sex is healthy, normal, and not something to be hidden, but rather a source of enlightenment. Sort of an early Hippie in some regards. Yet his “lofty’ ideals seem to have been a rationalization and cover up for what amounted to a lifelong lust for young women as sexual objects. I assume he thought they’d actually be turned on by the porno he sent them. It worked for him, so why not them? It probably never occurred to him they might object. Like many a man of his era, the mere fact a girl inspires his lust he may have felt should be interpreted by her as a form of flattery. Sadly, a not uncommon belief even today.

This is not the first time a childhood hero turned out to have feet of clay. Indeed, so much clay as to constitute a veritable Golem. I condemn creepy uncle Forry. I cherish good old uncle Forry. At my age (I’m 73 now), my whole approach to my life’s experience is to remember the good memories and ignore the bad. My life is now too short to waste time mulling over other people’s faults. Got no time for that. I celebrate the good.

CONCLUSION:

So let me just say this book is wonderfully evocative of the period it covers, full of details about clubs, events, fanzines, conventions and personalities that make for fascinating reading. Much is new to me, and I was a fan historian for about 30 years, albeit researching mostly Canadian fandom. Truth is, I found this book delightful.

It is an excellent summary of the first 3 decades of organized SF fandom. What unites it, what enables it to be wonderfully accessible, is the focus on the three individuals in question. The reader identifies with them, shares their joy at their discovery of fandom, and through them shares the joy of the broader picture of fandom at large. Excellent technique.

To be sure, the remainder of their lives and associated fannish development are rushed past in a few short chapters, but only as a coda to their beginnings. This book is about the “Founding of Science Fiction Fandom,” after all. It succeeds admirably in that task.

I love this book. I believe it to be the best single volume introduction to the joy of fandom in its purest, original form. Once you read this immersive summary, you’ll understand what it was all about. You might even wish you had been born early enough to participate. It was that much fun to live through, and I’m grateful this book recalls and evokes that era vividly for its readers. The First Geeks is a pleasure to read.

Check it out at:  < The First Geeks >