Bjo was at it again with the latest installment of Equicon/Filmcon, '75 and 3 respectively. This time she takes on the hallowed turf of the San Diego Comic-Con, The El Cortez Hotel.
<Snazzy Badge
To be honest, cons were coming so fast and furious, if it wasn't for a few pics and momentos, I'd scarce remember being there, but the con served to illustrate the potential of media fans to the Comic-Con people.
For the moment, it provided this huckster a means to finance my next trip to the UK!
The conclusion of this convention precipitated one of my most inglorious "Days to live in Infamy". Sure, I'd been up for three days and felt like it, but there was a long, tiring drive back to Hollywood but my grumbling stomach would keep me awake. Fortunately, I'd heard about a party at Mary Hamburger's (yes, Hamburger), place and yes, the same fan who would later collaborate on "Mythology and the Bible in Star Trek" with Sarah Schaper. But I thought this would be a great place to grab a bite, chat about the convention and refresh before crashing for the night. Snazzy Program Book>
Well, I must tell you "Crash" doesn't come close to what happened. I arrived at the party fully under way to find, much to my distress, there was not a bite to eat, not one stalk of celery nor meatball to be had! There was however a bartender serving all manner of spirits and on the couch sat an absolute doll. "Wouldn't that be nice" thought delusional me "if the night ended on a joyous note?" She turned out in fact, completely divine and thus we chatted for some time, joining her in a few rum and cokes. Not few enough on an empty stomach it turns out, as just when the evening seemed so full of promise. . . I wake up on the bed! How I got on the bed I have no idea, but before your mind goes directly into the gutter, it appeared there were a number of femme-fans sitting on the foot of the bed watching a Star Trek episode.
Neither how I arrived on the bed, the whereabouts of the young lady, nor even the gaggle of Trekkers on the bed were my first concern however. It took a moment to realize I was in the process of launching the entire contents of my stomach! AHH! an open window nearby should suffice, not noticing the screen until my head made contact, propelling it (the screen) into the bushes along with a half dozen rum and cokes! Crap, what a day.
Mary came in horrified, I'm sure, as she chucked this miserable drunken wretch into the bushes of her apartment courtyard where I remained for some time on hands and knees with head in the ferns while my stomach writhed and every last whisper of poison hit the soil. To make things worse, from my shaky vantage point on all fours, I noticed Mary heading to the laundry room with arms loaded with drapes. To say I felt like like two cents would be quite an overstatement.
By the time I made it back on two feet and into the apartment to survey the damage, everyone had cleared out, no doubt with a remarkable tale to tell for the foreseeable future. Brazen perhaps of me to ask if I could crash for the remainder of the night on her couch, but Mary would have none of it and rightfully so. Thus, completing the trip home became a more tenuous nightmare than I could ever have imagined.
Eventually I sobered up, ate something that didn't come back up and called to apologize but I doubt any platitudes could make up for that sideshow; phew!
George Takei
Walter wears out
Steve Neill
Bob Burns as Ro-Man
BEAM ME OVER, SCOTTY
Since the "1st Annual British Star Trek Convention" in Leicester just the year before, I played host to several S.T.A.G. members including, Jenny Elson and Janet Quarton. I met them at the airport with a sign shaped like Spock's head saying "Welcome Trekkies" and over the next week, took them around town from the Hard Rock to Hollywood, Knott's Berry Farm and Disneyland.
Five years had passed since our last junket to the UK and we longed for the heady aroma of old movie posters and stewed tomatoes. Being the Second British Star Trek Convention was right around the corner, Joe and I thought this might be perfect timing to touch all the bases and off we went. And thus, with my mother's words ringing in my ears: "Don't bring back a fat chick with bad teeth!" we were in the wind.
Ahhh, London, with it's friendly blend of mildew and car exhaust proved a small world indeed, and we weren't in London but a few days before running into Jim Mathenia and Jerry Fiore in one our regular haunts: "Fred Zentner's Cinema Bookshop" were we spent many an hour and too many dollars. Sad noting the shop had closed in 2005, but at the time, Jim and Jerry thought it a hoot to join our expedition, particularly since we'd be nipping over to Paris before heading to Leicester.
Certainly the trip was scenic enough, by train to the coast, a ship across the channel and again, a train to Paris where my semester of beginner's French only sufficed to garner sneers and derision from the locals. Otherwise, Paris was chilly and under siege. We arrived in the evening and of course our first stop was a bar, just in time to see a pair of disgruntled drunks beating the French off each other; Cheers! Seems the city was in social unrest as policemen with machine guns stood on every corner. We too were disgruntled to find the lodging we planned for was no long available and every room in town in our franc-range had been booked. Crap! It was going to be a long, chilly night. We hung out at a disco, milled about the darkened streets, chatted up some hookers, walked gingerly through the glow emanating from the open doors of police vans lined with rows of automatic weapons until we found a park with a few comfortable benches. Despite a light drizzle and Jerry swearing there was a guy with a machete in the bushes, we blinked our eyes and it was dawn.
We hit a few of the tourist haunts, went up the Eiffel Tower, saw a dreadful movie The Beast, stopped by a film distribution company where Joe found some stills of himself in Flesh Gordon. Here we got wind of the Metropolis Bookstore, a small but cheery assortment of comic art related books and magazines where I picked up the first several issues of Métal Hurlant which would become a big influence on my art in later years by introducing me to the likes of Moebius, Phillipe Druillet and Americans Richard Corben and Jeff Jones. Clearly this was the fan place-to-be as a fellow came in brandishing an enormous, original Moebius Arzach drawing.
Joe, Jim, Jerry and nojay. Taken by local.
Pose of Penury. Taken by Joe &uarr&darr
One of the locals kindly gave us a ride back to the main drag where we pooled our remaining francs for a marvelous dinner complete with onion soup and yes, escargot. Sated at last and certain we would not be spending another night in the park, we set out for the docks for the trip back to London. This too was not without some excitement
We saw a crazed individual run to the glass doors of a travel agency and after using handcuffs to bar the doors, sent a glass jar of red paint crashing against the front of the building! After arriving at the ship loading area we were held up an hour as someone had called in a bomb threat.
Any romance regarding a ferry crossing from Calais to Dover was lost on me as the chilly evening became a bitterly cold night forcing passengers into areas fit for half that number. My companions quickly passed-out on their benches as well as the majority of passengers strewn in corners and doorways. I felt like a ghost stepping lightly over, around and threw the motionless bodies of my fellow travelers. The only sounds to be heard was the low thunder of the engines and the occasional retching of a seasick passenger.
Another train ride and at last back in our room in London where, much to Joe's dismay, finding mice had burrowed through his suitcase and completely devoured some candy bars therein. The next day Jim and I took a brief road trip to Oxford for some sight-seeing and the following day we embark on the 99 miles to Leicester.
Arriving at the Leicester Centre Hotel, the first person we saw was Janet Quarton who got us badged. 's the program book and membership card.
Granted, not being a Star Trek fan didn't prompt me to attend any panels, but I like to think I was keeping out of everyone's way. Yes, I did the cover art for the program and some other fillos, but my main contribution was smuggling a 16mm copy of "The Empath" into Britain for the convention. This was one of several ST episodes banned in England, but remember, these were the days of "Stick It To the Man!"
Much of the time I spent in the bar chatting with Jimmy Doohan who seemed a tad down at the time. But there were more things to do in this bierkeller than drink and cranking up the music for an intergalactic hoe-down was in order.
