THE FANTASY FAN

                        THE FANS' OWN MAGAZINE

                               Published
                                Monthly

                       Editor: Charles D. Hornig
                   (Managing Editor: Wonder Stories)

                            10 cents a copy
                            $1.00 per year

                        137 West Grand Street,
                         Elizabeth, New Jersey

                               Volume 2
                            September, 1934
                               Number 1
                            Whole Number 13

      [Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any
  evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]




                                NOTICE!

Many subscriptions expire with this issue. We urge all those whom this
effects to send in a dollar for their renewal immediately. We cannot at
this time afford to let the circulation of THE FANTASY FAN go down and
continue monthly publication. Will you co-operate? Thank you!

       *       *       *       *       *


                            OUR READERS SAY

Well, we are one year old with this issue, and just to celebrate,
have added the smooth, glossy cover that you admired so much as you
took the issue out of the envelope. We may continue this every month
if circulation allows. After all, circulation means everything. The
more readers we have the more money comes into our treasury, and the
more improvements we can give you. Will you subscribe (if you haven't
already), and urge your fantasy friends to do likewise? Every little
bit counts.

Our motto, by-word, or whatever you want to call it, is "The Fans' Own
Magazine," as you will notice, and we have made this issue consist
of 100 per cent fan material (except for the poetry), in order to
emphasize this. We have chosen some of our choice articles and columns
and provided an extra-long instalment of H. P. Lovecraft's excellent
serial-article, "Supernatural Horror in Literature," Part Twelve of
which appears in this issue. Only about one-third of it has been
published. However, when we find it possible to increase the number of
pages, much longer instalments will appear and we may clear it up in
less than two years more. Even so, we know you will be sorry to see
it end. So many of you have claimed it the best thing in our little
magazette.

Just because there are no stories in this issue is no indication that
we have ceased to publish them. During the past year we have given you
brand-new masterpieces by the inimitable Clark Ashton Smith, H. P.
Lovecraft, Robert E. Howard, August W. Derleth, Eando Binder, R. H.
Barlow, and other great writers, and have many on hand to use during
the months to come--several by Smith and Lovecraft, Binder, etc. You
won't want to miss these. They have never seen print before and are
well up to the standard set by these authors in the more professional
magazines. We want to keep THE FANTASY FAN a magazine for the fans, of
the fans, and by the fans--the authors being the very best of fans.
If you feel capable of writing any fan material, we would be glad to
consider it for publication. Payment for such consists of four copies
of THE FANTASY FAN of the issue in which the article appears per each
page of article, until our magazine is on a paying basis.

If you would be willing to pay a quarter for a double alphabetical
index (according to authors and names) of the first volume of THE
FANTASY FAN, September, 1933, to August, 1934, please inform the editor
at once. If enough requests are received, the index will be prepared.

Here's a special offer. To all those who have not subscribed to THE
FANTASY FAN yet and wish to do so, we will make a 10 per cent discount
on a two-year entry--$1.80 for two full years. This offer expires on
October first.

This issue has gone to press before the publication of the August
number, so we have very few letters on hand from the readers:

"Some extra fine stuff in the last TFF. I see, also, that you have
added a new newshound to the mag. All are doing good work. 'Your
Viewpoint' is better out as I don't believe there was much left to
write about, unless one had the time and inclination to puzzle
something out."--Kenneth B. Pritchard, Pittsfield, Mass.

       *       *       *       *       *

"I was delighted with the fine line-up the latest TFF contained. The
green cover is the best color you have used yet. Green always reminds
me of something fresh and the July issue was indeed fresh and snappy.

"'Weird Whisperings' by Schwartz and Weisinger ought to be another
half-page at least. Their dope is always interesting to me and I know
that other fans appreciate the column. I like 'Famous Fantasy Fiction'
by Emil Petaja very well and would enjoy an article like this every
issue. 'Science Fiction in English Magazines' is good too. Keller is
good as usual with his fast-moving and very interesting tale, 'Rider by
Night.' Keller has the knack of making a story interesting no matter
how condensed or short it is. I am looking forward to more by him.
Lovecraft's article is becoming so interesting that I can hardly wait
for the next instalment to appear. You should give this treatise on
weird literature at least two sheets. Make it a little longer, at least.

"'The Epiphany of Death' by Clark Ashton Smith is easily the best thing
published in TFF this issue. Glad you are getting Smith's shorter tales
for publication and I hope that they are enjoyed as much by others who
read them as by myself. Smith has an in inimitable style--subtle, with
many fine figures of speech. 'Dreams of Yith' by Duane W. Rimel was
one of the finest poems you have so far published. After about three
or four readings, I began to see the real imagery of it. The heading
was surprisingly good and just the thing. I hope you can use them right
along, as they give a fine effect.--F. Lee Baldwin, Asotin, Washington.

       *       *       *       *       *

"Enjoyed your last TFF and am anxiously awaiting the next. I especially
like the little newsy items about all the different authors, and what
they're doing."--Natalie H. Wooley, Rosedale, Kansas.

       *       *       *       *       *

Write us a letter, reader, and let us know what you think of this issue
of TFF. What do you like in it, what would you rather not have, and
what suggestions have you to offer? We appreciate your letters and have
found many helpful hints in them in the past.

See you again next month.

       *       *       *       *       *


                   SUPERNATURAL HORROR IN LITERATURE

                          by H. P. Lovecraft

                              Part Twelve

                   (Copyright 1927 by W. Paul Cook)

In this same period Sir Walter Scott frequently concerned himself with
the weird, weaving it into many of his novels and poems, and sometimes
producing such independent bits of narration as "The Tapestried
Chamber" or "Wandering Willie's Tale" in "Redgauntlet," in the latter
of which the force of the spectral and the diabolic is enhanced by a
grotesque homeliness of speech and atmosphere. In 1830 Scott published
his "Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft," which still forms one
of our best compendia of European witch-lore. Washington Irving is
another famous figure not unconnected with the weird; for though most
of his ghosts are too whimsical and humorous to form genuinely spectral
literature, a distinct inclination in this direction is to be noted in
many of his productions. "The German Student" in "Tales of a Traveller"
(1824) is a slyly concise and effective presentation of the old
legend of the dead bride, whilst woven into the cosmic tissue of "The
Money Diggers" in the same volume is more than one hint of piratical
apparitions in the realms which Captain Kidd once roamed. Thomas Moore
also joined the ranks of the macabre artists in the poem "Alciphron,"
which he later elaborated into the prose novel of "The Epicurean"
(1827). Though merely relating the adventurers of a young Athenian
duped by the artifice of cunning Egyptian priests, Moore manages to
infuse much genuine horror into his account of subterranean frights
and wonders beneath the primordial temples of Memphis. De Quincey more
than once revels in grotesque and arabesque terrors, though with a
desultoriness and learned pomp which deny him the rank of specialist.

This era likewise saw the rise of William Harrison Ainsworth, whose
romantic novels teem with the eerie and the gruesome. Capt. Marryat,
besides writing such short tales as "The Werewolf," made a memorable
contribution in "The Phantom Ship," (1839) founded on the legend of
the Flying Dutchman, whose spectral and accursed vessel sails for ever
near the Cape of Good Hope. Dickens now rises with occasional weird
bits like "The Signalman," a tale of ghostly warning conforming to a
very common pattern and touched with a verisimilitude which allies it
as much with the coming psychological school as with the dying Gothic
school. At this time a wave of interest in spiritualistic charlatanry,
mediumism, Hindoo theosophy, and such matters, much like that of the
present day, was flourishing; so that the number of weird tales with a
"psychic" or pseudo-scientific basis became very considerable. For a
number of these the prolific and popular Lord Edward Bulwer-Lytton was
responsible; and despite the large doses of turgid rhetoric and empty
romanticism in his products, his success in the weaving of a certain
kind of bizarre charm cannot be denied.

"The House and the Brain," which hints of Rosicrucianism and at a
malign and deathless figure perhaps suggested by Louis XV's mysterious
courtier St. Germain, yet survives as one of the best short haunted
house tales ever written. The novel "Zanoni" (1842) contains similar
elements more elaborately handled, and introduces a vast unknown sphere
of being pressing on our own world and guarded by a horrible "Dweller
of the Threshold" who haunts those who try to enter and fail. Here we
have a benign brotherhood kept alive from ages to ages till finally
reduced to a single member, and as a hero an ancient Chaldean sorceror
surviving in the pristine bloom of youth to perish on the guillotine
of the French Revolution. Though full of the conventional spirit
of romance, marred by a ponderous network of symbolic and didactic
meanings, and left unconvincing through lack of perfect atmospheric
realization of the situations hinging on the spectral world, "Zanoni"
is really an excellent performance as a romantic novel; and can be read
with genuine interest today by the not too sophisticated reader. It is
amusing to note that in describing an attempted initiation into the
ancient brotherhood, the author cannot escape using the stock Gothic
castle of Walpolian lineage.

In "A Strange Story" (1862) Bulwer-Lytton shows a marked improvement
in the creation of weird images and moods. The novel, despite
enormous length, a highly artificial plot bolstered up by opportune
coincidences, and an atmosphere of homiletic pseudo-science designed
to please the matter-of-fact and purposeful Victorian reader,
is exceedingly effective as a narrative; evoking instantaneous
and unflagging interest, and furnishing many potent--if somewhat
melodramatic--tableaux and climaxes. Again we have the mysterious user
of life's elixir in the person of the soulless magician Margrave,
whose dark exploits stand out with dramatic vividness against the
modern background of a quiet English town and of the Australian bush;
and again we have shadowy intimations of a vast spectral world of the
unknown in the very air about us--this time handled with much greater
power and vitality than in "Zanoni." One of the two great incantation
passages, where the hero is driven by a luminous evil spirit to rise at
night in his sleep, take a strange Egyptian wand, and invoke nameless
presences in the haunted and mausoleum-facing pavillian of a famous
Renaissance alchemist, truly stands among the major terror scenes of
literature. Just enough is suggested, and just little enough is told.
Unknown words are twice dictated to the sleep-walker, and as he repeats
them the ground trembles, and all the dogs of the countryside begin to
bay at half-seen amorphous shadows that stalk athwart the moonlight.
When a third set of unknown words is prompted, the sleep-walker's
spirit suddenly rebels at uttering them, as if the soul could recognize
ultimate abysmal horrors concealed from the mind; and at last an
apparition of an absent sweetheart and good angel breaks the malign
spell. This fragment well illustrates how far Lord Lytton was capable
of progressing beyond his usual pomp and stock romance toward that
crystalline essence of artistic fear which belongs to the domain of
poetry. In describing certain details of incantations, Lytton was
greatly indebted to his amusingly serious occult studies, in the course
of which he came in touch with that odd French scholar and cabalist
Alphonse Louis Constant ("Eliphas Levi") who claimed to possess the
secrets of ancient magic, and to have evoked the spectre of the old
Grecian wizard Appollonius of Tyana, who lived in Nero's time.

The romantic, semi-Gothic, quasi-moral tradition here represented was
carried far down the nineteenth century by such authors as Joseph
Sheridan LeFanu, Thomas Preskett with his famous "Varney, the Vampyre"
(1847), Wilkie Collins, the late Sir H. Rider Haggard, (whose "She" is
really remarkably good), Sir A. Conan Doyle, H. G. Wells, and Robert
Louis Stevenson--the latter of whom, despite an atrocious tendency
toward jaunty mannerisms, created permanent classics in Markheim,
"The Body Snatcher," and "Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde." Indeed, we may
say that this school still survives; for to it clearly belong such
of our contemporary horror tales as specialise in events rather
than atmospheric details, address the intellect rather than the
impressionistic imagination, cultivate a luminous glamour rather than
a malign tensity or psychological verisimilitude, and take a definite
stand in sympathy with mankind and its welfare. It has its undeniable
strength, and because of its "human element" commands a wider audience
than does the sheer artistic nightmare. If not quite so potent as the
latter, it is because a diluted product can never achieve the intensity
of a concentrated essence.

Quite alone both as novel and as a piece of terror-literature stands
the famous "Wuthering Heights" (1847) by Emily Bronte, with its mad
vista of bleak, windswept Yorkshire moors and the violent, distorted
lives they foster. Though primarily a tale of life, and of human
passions in agony and conflict, its epically cosmic setting affords
room for horror of the most spiritual sort. Heathcliff, the modified
Byronic villain-hero, is a strange dark waif found in the streets as
a small child and speaking only a strange gibberish till adopted by
the family he ultimately ruins. That he is in truth a diabolic spirit
rather than a human being is more than once suggested, and the unreal
is further approached in the experience of the visitor who encounters
a plaintive child-ghost at a bough-brushed upper window. Between
Heathcliff and Catherine Earnshaw is a tie deeper and more terrible
than human love. After her death he twice disturbs her grave, and
is haunted by an impalpable presence which can be nothing less than
her spirit. The spirit enters his life more and more, and at last he
becomes confident of some imminent mystical reunion. He says he feels a
strange change approaching, and ceases to take nourishment. At night he
either walks abroad or opens the casement by his bed. When he dies the
casement is still swinging open to the pouring rain, and a queer smile
pervades the stiffened face. They bury him in a grave beside the mound
he has haunted for eighteen years, and small shepherd boys say that he
yet walks with his Catherine in the churchyard and on the moor when it
rains. Their faces, too, are sometimes seen on rainy nights behind that
upper casement at Wuthering Heights. Miss Bronte's eerie terror is no
mere Gothic echo, but a tense expression of man's shuddering reaction
to the unknown. In this respect, "Wuthering Heights" becomes the symbol
of a literary transition, and marks the growth of a new and sounder
school.

(Next month Mr. Lovecraft takes up "Spectral Literature of the
Continent")

       *       *       *       *       *


                       SUPERSTITION--A. D. 1934

                          by Lester Anderson

Why the dearth of readers for that class of literature known as the
weird or fantastic? Why the cynicism in most circles regarding this
branch of writing? Many answers have been given to these queries,
the most common one being that of "lack of imagination." May I offer
a startling contradiction to this, namely--TOO MUCH IMAGINATION?
Precisely that.

A study of superstitions in America is being made by Dr. Otis Caldwell
of Columbia University, who announces that 98 people out of 100 are
superstitious. Let that sink in--98 out of 100. He further states
that women are more superstitious than men, and superstition is more
prevalent in the country than in the city.

Now, the person who goes around whistling in the dark, avidly studies
Dream Books (also known variously as "Success in 5 Lessons" and
"Would You DARE Join a Nudist Camp?"), avoids ladders, and keeps his
weather eye peeled for stray black cats--albeit he laughs it off
outwardly--isn't likely to pick up a copy of "The Slithering Shadow" no
matter in what state of dishabille the shapely lady might be in. (At
this point, let me briefly interrupt by stating that I have absolutely
no objections to the so-called "naked" covers gracing most issues of
Weird Tales--if the circulation is increased thereby). I venture to
say that the average reader of weird fantasy is remarkably free from
the superstitions which beset the run-of-the-mill literate, and if
encountered by an ultra-mundane manifestation would be the first to be
skeptical--and investigate.

By superstition I don't mean speculation on unknown forces or cosmic
powers, but those things which effect the material world; those that
are detrimental to your way of living; and those superstitions which
stand in the path of progress--progress in all spheres of human
activity, and which are crammed down the throats of our plastic
younglings.

A few reasons why most people are averse to reading fantasy, and cover
their dislike with a thinly-veiled sneer or a condescending smile, are:
someone might think them superstitious; there might be a grain of truth
in it at that; such childish stuff; and of course, their fear of that
great mental force, ridicule. Naturally, there are those who aren't
impressed one way or another, but in this article we are not concerned
with personal tastes.

Perhaps Mr. Wright has the wrong idea of what constitutes weirdness.
Would Weird Tales reach a tremendous circulation if Lovecraft, Machen,
C. A. Smith, Blackwood, Merritt, and other blood-brothers collaborated
on a novel with the following plot which I will sketchily outline? Have
the hero born on Friday the 13th under the sign of--say Capricornus.
Then show his misadventures down life's highway starting with the theft
of his mammy's rabbit's foot and culminating in a cacophonic tumult of
soul-shattering events following his breaking up of the merchandise in
a mirror warehouse. There you have something everybody can understand
and appreciate. Oh yes! and have the novel endorsed by Einstein,
Stalin, the A.A.A.S., Lindbergh, and Mae West. Publicly, you know.
Seriously, though, I do not believe fantasy will be a strong force
until we root out superstitious hoodoos. Paradoxical?

98 out of 100 have it. What Price Something-or-other!

       *       *       *       *       *


                           WITHIN THE CIRCLE

                           by F. Lee Baldwin

Forrest Ackerman says he really had that "surprise of one's life" when
Linus Hogenmiller of Missouri, his first correspondent, unexpectedly
dropped in on him in Los Angeles.

A well-known editor who has been recently collecting old Weird Tales
had the good fortune of purchasing quite a few for two and a half cents
a copy. Just imagine!

C. L. Moore has had some of her own illustrations accepted by Weird
Tales.

A. Merritt calls his "The Metal Monster" his "best and worst" story.

The youthful Robert Bloch of Milwaukee has sold his first story to
Weird Tales. It is titled "The Secret of the Tomb."

On his way North from Florida, H. P. Lovecraft stopt in Washington,
D. C. and "did several things I had never done before" ... His "The
Rats in the Walls" was first submitted to Argosy but was rejected as
being too horrible.... His "The Shunned House" is to be bound and
issued by R. H. Barlow. The edition consists of about 225 copies and
will appear some time in the fall.

Two of H. P. Lovecraft's "Fungi from Yuggoth" ("Mirage" and "The Elder
Pharos") have been set to music by Harold S. Farness of the Los Angles
Inst. of Musical Education.

A. Merritt is an authority on folklore and mythology and has made a
study of ancient sorcery and witchcraft, past and modern.

Forrest J. Ackerman often wonders what _would_ happen to him if an
earthquake came and splattered up the room where his collection is
situated.

       *       *       *       *       *


                             PROSE PASTELS

                         by Clark Ashton Smith

                     _IV. The Lotus and the Moon_

I stood with my beloved by the lotus pool, when the moon was round as
the great ivory breast of a Titaness, and the flowers were full-blown
and pale upon the water.

And I said to my beloved: "I would that thou shouldst love me well
tonight: for never again shall there be a night like this, with
the meeting of thee and me by this pool with flowers blown but not
overblown."

But she demurred, and was perverse and loved me not as I would that she
should love me.

And after several nights we stood again by the lotus pool, when the
moon was hollow as an aging breast, and the petals of the flowers had
fallen apart on the water.

And now my beloved was fain to love me well, and all was well between
us. But in my heart I mourned for that other night, when the moon was
round as the great ivory breast of a Titaness, and the flowers were
full-blown and pale upon the water.

       *       *       *       *       *


                            DREAMS of YITH

                            DUANE W. RIMEL

                                  VI

    Amid dim hills that poison mosses blast,
      Far from the lands and seas of our clean earth,
    Dread nightmare shadows dance--obscenely cast
      By twisted talons of archaean birth
    On rows of slimy pillars stretching past
      A daemon-fane that echoes with mad mirth.
    And in that realm sane eyes may never see--
    For black light streams from skies of ebony.

                                  VII

    On those queer mountains which hold back the horde
      That lie in waiting in their mouldy graves,
    Who groan and mumble to a hidden lord
      Still waiting for the time-worn key that saves;
    There dwells a watcher who can ill afford
      To let invaders by those hoary caves.
    But some day then may dreamers find the way
    That leads down elfin-painted paths of gray.

                                 VIII

    And past those unclean spires that ever lean
      Above the windings of unpeopled streets;
    And far beyond the walls and silver screen
      That veils the secrets of those dim retreats,
    A scarlet pathway leads that some have seen
      In wildest visions that no mortal greets.
    And down that dimming path in fearful flight
    Queer beings squirm and hasten in the night.

                                  IX

    High in the ebon skies on scaly wings
      Dread batlike beasts soar past those towers gray
    To peer in greedy longing at the things
      Which sprawl in every twisted passageway.
    And when their gruesome flight a shadow brings
      The dwellers lift dim eyes above the clay.
    But lidded bulbs close heavily once more;
    They wait-for Sotho to unlatch the door!

                                   X

    Now, through the veil of troubled visions deep
      Is draped to blind me to the secret ways
    Leading through blackness to the realm of sleep
      That haunts me all my jumbled nights and days,
    I feel the dim path that will let me keep
      That rendezvous in Yith where Sotho plays.
    At last I see a glowing turret shine,
    And I am coming, for the key is mine!

       *       *       *       *       *


                          VOICES OF THE NIGHT

                          by Robert E. Howard

                      1 - The Voices Waken Memory

    The blind black shadows reach inhuman arms
    To draw me into darkness once again;
    The brooding night wind hints of nameless harms,
    And down the shadowed hill a vague refrain
    Bears half-remembered ghosts to haunt my soul,
    Like far-off neighing of the nightmare's foal.

    But let me fix my phantom-shadowed eyes
    Hard on the stars--pale points of silver light--
    Here is the borderland-here reason lies--
    There, visions, gryphons, Nothing, and the Night.
    Down, down, red specters, down, and rack me not!
    Out, wolves of hell! Oh God, my pulses thrum;
    The night grows fierce and blind and red and hot,
    And nearer still a grim insistent drum.

    I will not look into the shadows--No!
    The stars shall grip and hold my frantic gaze--
    But even in the stars black visions grow,
    And dragons writhe with iron eyes ablaze.
    Oh Gods that raised my blindness with your curse,
    And let me see the horrid shapes behind
    All outward veils that cloak the universe,
    The loathsome demon-spells that bind and blind,
    Since even the stars are noisome, foul and fell,
    Let me glut deep with memory dreams of Hell.

       *       *       *       *       *


                       THE INTELLECTUAL SHOCKER

                             by H. Koenig

Collecting weird and fantastic stories is a fascinating pursuit.
Locating first editions of some of our well-known authors affords
considerable thrill, but the real kick comes when one discovers a
comparatively little-known author of weird stories or re-discovers an
old and forgotten one. I experienced such a thrill when I first came
across one of the books written by a young Englishman named Charles
Williams, and I didn't rest content until I had obtained all five of
his novels. Williams appears to be practically unknown over here and a
few lines regarding him and his books may prove of interest to other
readers and collectors.

Sooner or later, the inveterate reader of weird fiction becomes
surfeited with stories of one pattern and falls into a rut. A year or
so ago one of the magazines devoted to books recommended to readers who
found themselves in such a predicament a sure cure--_the intellectual
shocker_. It is the type of story the average fiction reader will
overlook and even the habitual reader of weird and fantasy stories is
apt to ignore it.

Bulwer-Lytton's "Zononi" and "Phra, the Phoenician" have long been out
of date. Rider Haqgard is not being read by the present generation and
yet his immortal "She" is the pure type of the intellectual horror
tale. All weird fans have read Merritt's "Burn Witch, Burn" but how
many read "The Moon Pool" when it was first published? Guy Endore's
"The Werewolf of Paris" received plenty of publicity but his "The Man
from Limbo," a good example of the intellectual shocker, slipped by
practically unnoticed.

Charles Williams is one of the modern writers of the intellectual
horror story. Born in England in 1886, Williams was educated at
St. Albans and University College, London. He is an authority on
Shakespearean literature, poetry, etc. and has written a fairly long
list of books, most of them dealing with poetical subjects. In 1930,
however, he wrote his first novel, "War in Heaven," and it proved to
be one of the finest high-brow horror stories written in recent years.
It concerns a struggle for the "Graal," a battle between the forces of
good and evil. It has all the elements of a real mystery story combined
with the horror and thrill of the supernatural and the occult.

To date, Mr. Williams has written five books of this type:

                        "War in Heaven" (1930)
                       "Many Dimensions" (1931)
                        "Greater Trumps" (1932)
                      "Place of the Lion" (1932)
                      "Shadows of Ecstasy" (1933)

The average fiction reader would probably be bewildered by Williams,
but most of his plots are original and his ideas unusual and somewhat
startling. He has the happy faculty of being able to combine the occult
adventures with present-day people and scenes and, as one reviewer
stated, "he succeeds in making the improbable likely and the impossible
credible." To the readers who want their intellect stirred as well as
their emotions, I highly recommend some of the books listed above. Try
"War in Heaven" first, followed by the "Place of the Lion." They will
prove to be a welcome relief from the stereotyped and often tiresome
stories now appearing in the pulp magazines.

       *       *       *       *       *


                          NOTES ON BOB OLSEN

                         by Forest J. Ackerman

So successfully received was his "Ant With a Human Soul," Bob Olsen has
written and had published by Amazing Stories another ant story "Peril
Among the Drivers." He has another, but dissimilar type of "Antale"--to
coin a word to describe his series--in preparation. In this story, no
unusual or grotesque Giants appear, but the ordinary-sized insects band
together to overthrow mankind; a possibility not to improbable, Bob
believes.

In connection with ants, Bob was recently invited to speak on them
at the Adventurer's Club, an organization of internationally famous
men, such well-known figures as "Skipper" Dixon, author of the recent
Liberty serial, "Marriage Drums," being members. Previously, at
informal gatherings, Bob has given impromptu talks on ants, rockets,
interplanetary flight, and--of course--the fourth dimension. (Bob,
incidentally, was a mathematics teacher for ten years.)

"Of the three subjects, however," Bob observed, "the audience always
seemed most interested in the life of the ants: how they maintain
slaves, cultivate gardens, domesticate insects, have bootleggers,
fight wars, and play games. Though an ant never built an automobile or
invented a radio, the insect is still a far more brilliant creature
than generally considered to be. In some ways, considering their
handicaps, the ant almost surpasses Man in accomplishments. Next to
Man, they rate highest in intelligence. The termites and then the bees
follow...."

In addition to his literary work, Bob Olsen is the Advertising Manager
of a Los Angeles real estate concern. One day, during the noon hour,
Bob had an idea for a new murder mystery. In the process of cerebrating
the details of the plot, he gazed out of the window with a far-away
expression on his face. Unperceived by him, the secretary of the
corporation approached and sat down at the desk at Bob's elbow. He
waited awhile for the Advertising Manager to recognize him, but Bob
seemed star-gazing, dead to the world.

Finally the official said, "what are you thinking about, Bob?"

Startled by this unexpected voice right in his ear, Bob jumped up and
yelled, "MURDER!"

Then it was the boss' turn to jump--whereupon Bob explained that he had
been concocting an ingenious scheme for committing homicide, which he
expected to use in one of his "Master of Mystery" stories.

Again, some years back when Bob was in the midst of "The Four
Dimensional Rolle-Press," "Four Dimensional Surgery," "Four Dimensional
Robberies," etc., Dr. Miles J. Breuer sent Amazing Stories a
dimensional tale--shall we say fourth dimension narrative?--because he
"didn't like the way Bob Olsen wrote them." Strangely enough, at the
same time Bob submitted his "Super-Perfect Bride." The two author's
stories appeared in the same issue of Amazing, the math teacher showing
the doctor how to write a medical tale, and the doctor demonstrating to
the teacher of mathematics how a dimension story should be handled!

Bob's "Fourth Dimension Auto-Parker" is something amusing in the
way of applying the 4-D. It may be said to equal or surpass his
best-remembered yarn, "The Educated Pill."

       *       *       *       *       *


                          BEINGS FROM BEYOND

                          (A True Experience)

                        by Kenneth B. Pritchard

I have often wondered whether spirits of the dead really walk the world.

Edison, upon nearing his end, said, "It is very beautiful over there!"
Many have pondered those words, and sermons have been preached as to
their meaning.

I am not a sufferer of hallucinations, though you may think so, but
I feel that it is only by having a true knowledge of things that are
known to have taken place and studying them that we can ever rise to a
higher plane of existence.

What does the eye see? Does it ever perceive things beyond the familiar
vibrations consisting of our everyday normal life? I believe that in
some cases a man's eye does see more than normally. Perhaps it is
some outside influence that aids it, or stirs it into action. How it
occurs, I cannot say. I have never seen anything really distinctly
alarming along these lines. But I have had occasion to view things in
an indistinct form for a period of approximately five years. During the
past few years, I have seen nothing of these things.

However, during those five years, when I was alone in the house, I
would sit on the bed and study my school books. Sometimes nothing would
happen. Then, again, I would glance up from the pages of the book in
hand and be startled to see a white figure going by! Not always did I
have to be absorbed in a book; sometimes a shape would be in front of
me when I passed from one room to another. Several times there were
more than one. And once or twice there were veritable groups or crowds
of such shapes milling about and going hither and thither. Some would
go through the regular doorways, and others would walk right through
the walls. Many times they came within a foot of me, but never appeared
distinct.

I'm glad this happened mostly during the day or when a light was
burning. It gave me the creeps more than once. I'd like to know if they
were spirits, or beings living on another plane.

       *       *       *       *       *


                       NEW YORK DESTROYED AGAIN!

                             by Bob Tucker

Once more New York City is destroyed! For decades, this has been the
delight of science fiction authors. You must either destroy or attack
New York before you can become a famous science fiction writer.

The first account of the destruction of New York is given in "The End
of New York" by Park Benjamin, published around 1890.

Of recent times, Ray Cummings has probably destroyed it more often
than anyone else. He takes a crack at it (and a good one, too!) in his
"White Invaders" (Dec, 1931 Astounding).

In the following issue, Arthur J. Burks sets his ape loose in it
("Man-ape the Mighty"), and in February, Cummings is back again with
"Wandl, the Invader," which brings the enemy right into the big city.

C. D. Simak almost gets into town with his "Hellhounds of the Cosmos"
but something happens to prevent them. Maybe he has some sympathy
for the old burg. But the March 1933 Astounding makes up for it by
destroying it (in part) twice!

Arthur J. Burks in his "Lord of the Stratosphere" and "Monsters of
Moyen" just tears it all to pieces and Wallace West puts everyone to
sleep in "The End of Tyme," as does Dr. Keller in his "Sleeping War."
Marius covers it with an ice-berg in his "Sixth Glacier," and Isaac R.
Nathanson burns it up with a comet in "The Passing Star."

Going to Weird Tales, Edmond (World-Saver) Hamilton musses it all up
with a crazy man in "The Man Who Conquered Age," in the Dec., 1932
issue and in the next month Murray Leinster has his "Monsters" tramping
through it.

A particular delight, of late, is tearing up the Empire State Building.
The builders would groan with agony, if they could read some of the
tales wherein their work is smashed in three seconds flat!

The movies have had their share in destroying New York, too. "King
Kong" does some fancy exterior decorating, and in "Men Must Fight" it
is bombed.

So, remember, if you are not an author, but hope to be one, destroy New
York City in your first story, and you will be on the road to fame in
no time!

       *       *       *       *       *


                             SIDE GLANCES

                           by F. Lee Baldwin

In a sale conducted by Linus Hogenmiller he sold the Weird Tales
Anniversary number for only one dollar.

Stories by Gaston Leroux that have appeared in Weird Tales are
translated in the office of Jacques Chambrun, New York literary
agent who represents Gaston Leroux's agent in this country. Some of
the translating was done by Mildred Gleasson Prochet. "The Crime on
Christmas Night" was translated by Morris Bentinck.

R. H. Barlow won the National Amateur Press Association Laureateship
for the year 1933.

       *       *       *       *       *


                           WEIRD WHISPERINGS

                       by Schwartz and Weisinger

Paul Ernst is now illustrating his own yarns for _Weird Tales_, and
several of them will soon see print.... Ray Cummings, now living in
New York, informs us of his fantastic novelette, "The World of Doom,"
sold to _Thrilling Adventures_.... M. Brundage _is_ a woman and has a
boy in grammar school. She swears that Howard's serial which started in
the September WT is the best Conan story he has ever written.... Greye
La Spina has received plenty of rough treatment from her fellow weird
authors. Seabury Quinn, for instance, once received a letter from her
criticising some of his work. In his answer to her he used words that
shouldn't exactly be used to ladies. (He thought she was a young man.)
However, he soon found out different and they are the best of friends.
Then again, Arthur J. Burks remarked to her in a letter that judging
from her work she had a bright future. La Spina wrote back that her
daughter and grandchildren thought likewise!

Catherine L. Moore, already acknowledged as one of the most promising
weird tales authors, gleaned a rejection slip from _Amazing Stories_
for the first story she ever penned. And she doesn't blame the editor
for spurning the manuscript!... Seabury Quinn's latest Jules de Grandin
story is "Hands of the Dead," a story of hypnotism.... A. Merritt's
serial, "Creep, Shadow," currently running in the _Argosy_, differs
considerably from the forthcoming book version, he confides.... Some
time ago, a reader wrote a letter to the Evrie praising Francis Flagg's
"The Picture" to the skies.... Nothing wrong in that, except that the
story did not see print until the month following the arrival of the
letter, the story having been postponed for an issue!... Farnsworth
Wright owns a miniature rogue's gallery of _Weird Tales_ contributors
and they are on display at his office.... Milt Kaletsky's weird yarn,
"The Mantis," met with an N. G. at the office of WT. He sent the same
story to _Terror Tales_ on Sunday, the magazine received it on Monday
and he got it back on Tuesday!

Wright blames the failure of _Oriental Stories_ on ex-president Hoover.
After listening to one of Hoover's speeches in which he stated that
prosperity was just around the corner, Wright thought that it would be
an opportune time to launch a new magazine.... You, we, and Farnsworth
Wright know what happened.... Harry Stephen Keeler claims cats bring
him good luck, and so he has four cats in his home, the latest one
being named "Mencken the IV".... August W. Derleth has forged ahead
and has crashed _Scribner's_ and _Story_.... Eando Binder is really
Earl and Otto Binder working together in collaboration.... Their other
brother, Jack, does s-f illustrating work.... The fancy lettering of
_Weird Tales_ on the cover of the magazine was designed by J. Allen St.
John.... "The Destroying Horde," Donald Wandrei's next in _Weird_ tells
of a giant one celled organism spawned in a chemist's laboratory and an
orgy of hideous deaths.

Winford Publications will positively launch a new all-weird magazine
within a few months, designed expressly for the purpose of competing
with _Weird Tales_.... Charles H. Bert, of Philadelphia, is the only
fan, to our knowledge, who owns copies of the now defunct weird tales
magazine, _Tales of Magic and Mystery_.... Edmond Hamilton has recently
written "Cosmo's End," "Master of the Genes," and "World Without
Sex".... Otis Adelbert Kline's _Weird Tales_ story, "The Bird People,"
which he admits was based on the 1926 _Amazing Stories_ cover contest,
was originally titled "The Log of the Laurtanian".... His Kline's
popular "Thirsty Blades" was originally written by him as a 20,000
word novelette. Wright said that he would use the yarn if Kline boiled
it down to a shorter length. So Kline turned the yarn over to Price,
who did the necessary revising, and the result was published as a
collab.... Just the reverse is the short story Price wrote as a sequel
to Lovecraft's "The Silver Key," which he turned over to Lovecraft who
worked it into the novelette.

"Through the Gates of the Silver Key."... Otis Adelbert Kline was in
New York the other week, looking up editors and writers.... He had
dinner with his friend, Seabury Quinn, and for the first time in twelve
years, was treated to some Napoleon brandy.... It may be a coincidence,
but the circulation of THE FANTASY FAN has increased thirty-five per
cent since the inception of this column!

       *       *       *       *       *


                            ADVERTISEMENTS
                       Rates: one cent per word
                       Minimum Charge, 25 cents

Back Numbers of _The Fantasy Fan_: September, 20 cents (only a few
left), October, November, December, January, February, March, April,
May, June, July, 10 cents each.

       *       *       *       *       *

CLARK ASHTON SMITH presents THE DOUBLE SHADOW AND OTHER FANTASIES--a
booklet containing a half-dozen imaginative and atmospheric
tales--stories of exotic beauty, horror, terror, strangeness, irony and
satire. Price: 25 cents each (coin or stamps). Also a small remainder
of EBONY AND CRYSTAL--a book of prose-poems published at $2.00, reduced
to $1.00 per copy. Everything sent postpaid. Clark Ashton Smith,
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       *       *       *       *       *

IMPORTANT! Many subscriptions to THE FANTASY FAN expire this fall.
Yours is probably one of them. DON'T forget to send in your new
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       *       *       *       *       *

FOR SALE: E. F. Benson's best work of fantasy, "Visible and
Invisible"--$1.25, ppd. Forrest J. Ackerman, 530 Staples Ave., San
Francisco, Calif.

       *       *       *       *       *

READ TFF's contemporary, _Fantasy Magazine_, if you want to keep up
with the latest doings in the fantasy field. Schwartz's newsy "Science
Fiction Eye" and Weisinger's gossipy "The Ether Vibrates" give all
the news that's fit to print. They jointly interview a lot of famous
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features. Try a copy, only a dime. SFDCO, 87-36 162nd Street, Jamaica,
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