Outre’ #5, cover
The cover above is from Outre #5, which ran through mailing 34 of The Southern Fandom Press Alliance (SFPA), circa 1968. Ned Brooks, official archivist of of SFPA, was kind enough to provide it for me, along with the text below from the issue . Science-fiction fanzines then and now came in two general types: genzines and apazines. Genzine is short for general interest fanzine, and genzines tend to feature general interest (to SF fans) articles and reviews. Apazines are printed for amateur press alliances, which in science-fiction fandom were (are) much like paper chat rooms. Most apazines feature a section of natter in the front, in which the editor shares some of what has been going on in his or her life, followed by a section of mailing comments, in which the editor comments on the zines done previously by the other members of the apa. “Talk Talk” below, was the natter section from Outre’ #5, and I reprint it here to give you a sample of apa natter and to remind myself what 1968 was like in southern Illinois. You will perhaps notice that none of the natter involves science-fiction. This is actually pretty typical of apazines.
TALK TALK “
We’ll, I had an outline made out of all the wild things
that happened at SIU this Spring, but I lost it, I don’t
feel like outlining it again, so I guess I’ll forget about
writing about them, By wild things I mean there was a sit-
in on our President’s lawn, there were over 4,000 people
there, there were walk-outs in protest of women’s hours by l,000’s
of girls, and somebody burned down Old Main (a classroom
building)- Well, it books like I did right about all the wild things
at SIU, after all — if not in as much detail as I had planned.
I PICKED UP A HITCH HIKER THE OTHER DAY, I’ll usually
pick up a hitch-hiker if he’s got a suitcase: I figure that a
guy must be traveling as opposed to just on the road, if he’s
carrying a suitcase. Anyhow, the first thing he told me was
that he had Just gotten out of prison, which made me feel
real secure. Then, a little later, he told me that my hair
was going to get me killed, “People are tired of these
long-haired trouble makers, boy! They‘re gonna start shooting ‘em
down before long!” He then predicted that the 4th of July
would be the start of a full-scale war against long-hairs.
Damn, it’s scary to know that there are people like that around
As a matter of fact, I’ve been having quite a few strange
experiences on the road. Last Sunday a friend and
I left for SIU. Before getting out of Metropolis we had a
flat. We changed it and waited for over an hour for the tire
to be fixed. After getting the tire fixed and starting off again,
we had gone about fifteen miles out of Metropolis when I heard
a flop-flop-flop that brought me to the sickening realization
that we had another flat. I pulled off the highway onto a
country road to change the tire. It was dark, and we had a
little trouble getting the jack set up and put under the car
correctly. Once we got the car Jacked up, we discovered that
my car-tool wouldn’t budge the nuts. So, my friend hiked to
a nearby farmhouse, and came back with a better car-tool.
With it we quickly changed the tire and were ready to leave.
Then I noticed that we had, not one, but TWO flats. We decided
to walk over to the farmhouse and call a service station.
Of course, when we got there, it turned out that they didn’t
have a phone. However, we were told that the house across
the highway had a phone.
Well, when we reached this house,
the people there turned out to be paranoid. Not that I
blame them for being leery of strangers (freaky strangers, at
that), but they really presented a spectacle. The
wife ran out of sight when we came to the door, and her hus-
band came up to the door and peered out its window with wide
frightened eyes. He wouldn’t let us in the house. Instead,
we had to carry on our conversation by shouting at each other
thru the door, Finally, in this way, we managed to get our problem
across to him and persuaded him to call a filling station for us.
So our second tire was soon repaired, and we were on our
way — but not before finding out why the farmer who had called
the service station was so paranoid. It seems that some
guy had come into the man’s house a couple of months earlier
armed with a shotgun and demanded some
gas for his car. I guess that would have been enough to scare
anyone. But, what is really strange is that the farmer was
somehow able to disarm the stranger and instead of turning
him in to the cops, he pointed the man’s gun at him and said.
“get your gas and leave.” He then held the gun on him as
he filled his tank. And, then as the burglar pulled
off, the farmer threw his gun back in his car. Strange….
One more little twist to this tale: the freaky farmer turned
out to be the uncle of one of my usual riders to SIU. Unfortunately,
this rider wasn’t along on this trip; if he had been
with us, the farmer might have let us in his house.
MISCELLANEOUS TRIVIA DEPARTMENT Restroom walls may be
a hackneyed subject (they have been written on a lot),
but recently the john walls at Morris Library at
SIU have taken an interesting turn. They have become a forum
for racism. Although much of the space is devoted to such unoriginal
entries as “Nigger!”, some interesting dialog has developed.
The following are a few examples:
1. “The Klu Klux Klan is an exclusive fraternity of
high-minded men”
“So are the Black Panthers and Blackstone Rangers.“
2. “It is a medically proven fact that niggers have double
skulls. What does this tell us?”
“That whites will eventually have double skulls. also.”
3. “Go back to Africa, you black apes.”
“My sentiments exactly. Signed. Adolph Hitler.”
The days of white supremacy seem to be over, at least as
far as rest room wall put downs go. Oh, one more restroom
anecdote along the same lines has just occurred to me. In the
dorm that I lived in Fall quarter, the john walls
were covered with writing. The janitor, who was black. was
told to clean it all off. He did his Job well. The walls
were spotless — except for one slogan which he inadvertently
missed: “Wallace Sucks.”
I had a course in Southern history this quarter. I was
struck by the strange names of many of the Southern politicians.
Apparently, a strange name or nickname was necessary
equipment for a Southern politician in the early 1900’s Here are
a few of the more intriguing names. Cyclone Davis, Stomp
Ashley. Hoke Smith (who unkind newspapers sometimes referred
to as Hoax Myth), James S. Hogg (who must have had a
sadistic sense of humor, as he named his daughter Ima Hogg)
Pitchfork Ben Tillman, and Theodore Bilbo (who was included
for all you Tolkien fans)
And, on that profound note ends this issue’s installment
of Talk Talk.
Om
Om
Om…
FANDOM. LOVE IT OR LEAVE IT
QUOTES FROM MAYOR DALEY:
On Police Brutality: “Gentlemen, get the thing
Straight once and for all — the policeman isn’t there
to create disorder, the policeman is there to
preserve disorder.”
On Law and Order: “I would assume any (police)
superintendent would issue orders to shoot any arson-
ists on sight.” (April 15, 1968) “There wasn’t any
shoot-to-kill order. That was a fabrication-“
(April 17, 1968)
On the fortunes of politics: “They have vilified
me, they have crucified me; yes, they have even
criticized me.”
On Viet Nam Doves: “Everyone is entitled to his
position, but we need unity as well as division.
Dissent is one thing but division is another.”
(All quotes from –shudder — Time)
Here’s another shot of that cover:
Outre’ #5, cover
Tags: 1968, fanzines, Kent McDaniel, Outre', SFPA
This week’s fave is “Orleans”, a traditional French song rendered by David Crosby on his 1971 album ”If I Could Only Remember My Name.” Although a veritable who’s who of Bay Area musicians (Jerry Garcia, Phil Lesh, Mickey Hart, Bill Kreutzman, Jack Casady, Paul Kantner, Grace Slick, Jorma Kaukonen, Joni Mitchell, Graham Nash, Neil Young, Gregg Rolie, Michael Shrieve and David Freiberg) appear on the record, I believe this track is all Crosby, overdubbing multiple (gorgeous) vocals.
Dumbfounding Stories 