Electronic OtherRealms #28
                               Fall, 1990
                               Part 3 of 18

                     Copyright 1990 by Chuq Von Rospach
			    All Rights Reserved.

       OtherRealms may be distributed electronically only in the original
         form and with copyrights, credits and return addresses intact.

    OtherRealms may be reproduced in printed form only for your personal use.

           No part of OtherRealms may be reprinted or used in any other
                 publication without permission of the author.

  All rights to material published in OtherRealms hereby revert to the author.




Editor's Notebook [Part 3 of 5]

	Westercon

I've gotten somewhat bored with conventions recently -- I only go to
three or four a year, but they tend to be either mediocre (Nolacon,
Conspiracy, Baycon in 1989) or simply bland and familiar (Baycon 1990,
Silicon -- not because they were *bad*, but because I've been to enough
Baycons that I could do the entire convention in my sleep, and Silicon
is basically a smaller Baycon).  Because of this, I've started cutting
back on my convention-going -- I'm not going to do Silicon this fall,
instead going down to LA for turkey with my parents (and perhaps pop by
nearby Loscon for a while; perhaps not) and I hope Laurie and I can
visit Yellowstone next year instead of vacationing at Baycon -- I'd
stopped going to conventions that didn't invite me as a guest, and now
I'm pretty much only going to conventions that are in places that I want
to visit anyway, the convention being the excuse, not the reason, to go.

That, in fact, is really my only complaint about Westercon.  There is
enough good, neat stuff in Portland that the convention kept getting in
the way and I didn't see nearly as much as I wanted to.

The unofficial slogan for WC43 was "It's in the other hotel" and the
reason for that is simple: Westercon used two hotels.  The Red Lion
Janzen Beach housed the parties, registration, the huckster room,
gaming, masquerade and con suite.  The Red Lion Columbia river (about a
three minute walk through the parking lot and under Interstate 5) housed
the non-party rooms, the quiet con suite (called the Club House), the
fanzine room, programming, the Green Room and the art show.  Both hotels
showed the video program.  The Westercon folks, actually, did a very
good job of clumping stuff together -- I remember running from hotel to
hotel at Nolacon to get from the Green Room (way up there, over there)
to my panel (way up there, over there -- WATCH OUT FOR THAT CAB!), or
the hikes from the programming rooms in the hotel to the programming
rooms in the centre in Brighton.  While some folks may have disliked the
split of the convention, I think most folks took to the slogan in a
friendly, humorous way.  It wasn't really a problem.

Overall, I rate Westercon a B+.  I ran into no problems personally,
heard very few gripes of any significance in the halls and parties, and
the concom members I knew were still smiling by the end of the show.
The quality of programming was pretty good, the art show was okay (some
areas were a bit dark, there weren't as many artists showing as there
should have been, some having dropped out because of the con's
unwillingness to accept any liability for the artwork (according to
reports I've seen in the ASFA newsletter).  I ended up buying two
pieces, one for myself, one as a present for my mother (a print of a
puppy and a dragon playing -- my mother asked me what that other animal
was.  I'll turn her into a fan yet).

The Huckster room was small but well stocked, with Laurie finding an
issue of a Stinz comic she needed and I nabbing a book of criticism and
Dave Langford's book of parodies from the folks at Serconia Press.  I
didn't get to either the masquerade, the video/film, filk or con suite
(as usual) so I can't talk about them.

The fanzine room had a lot of pretty interesting stuff.  I was able to
grab myself copies of two things I had been trying to find: a copy of
the long-awaited, unfortunately posthumous Innuendo 12, by Terry Carr
with help from Robert Lichtman and The Incompleat Terry Carr, put out
for Corflu by Jerry Kaufman.  As pieces of fan-history they're
irreplaceable.  As reminders of a neat person I met but once and never
"got around" to finding again until it was too late, they're very
special to me.  It's both fascinating and depressing to go back and read
fan-writing from the Good Old Days of fanzine fandom and compare current
fanzine fandom to it.  I'm definitely no Terry Carr, and I doubt I'll
ever come close to the quality of his work -- and while I'm know I'm
reading the cream of the crop here, it almost seems to me that there's
something in that writing that's missing in most fanzine writing these
days.  I can only think of a couple of isolated pieces -- one by Skel in
YHOS within the last year, for instance -- that can stand up to this
work.  There's a soul to the writing of Terry that's missing from todays
fan-writing.  Terry Carr's writing goes over with my classic SF Review
(the Dick Geis version, not the new, improved Elton Elliot version) on
the shelf where I can't hide from the standards they set for me. Not
that I'll attain them, but it's something to shoot for.

The first day of the con, the Fifth, was a short, quiet day, with the
convention opening at 11AM.  There was no problem with registration or
with getting my stuff at the Green Room, both minor surprises
considering my track record of missing or botched material.  My first of
three panels for the convention was at three, "Responsible Partying and
Convention Etiquette", where we both trotted out the old con-cliches of
"three meals and five hours sleep, not the other way around", "think
shower -- your friends will thank you" and "it's considered impolite to
throw up on your host's shoes" and got into some of the important issues
that surround conventions.

The problem, of course, is that the people who most need those panels
don't go -- they start to resemble revival meetings where the converted
get together, swap horror stories and then go out into the world feeling
better for it (worse for this are the panels like "Desktop Publishing is
Your Friend" or "Computers Networks: the next stage in evolution or a
tool of Satan?" where 95% of the audience is already involved and is
just there to hear people say how neat DTP and GEnie are).  There are,
however, a lot of issues that conventions are grappling with (or better
be grappling with if they want to survive) that involve hotel relations,
legal situations and the safety and happiness of the convention goers.

Weapon policies are a nice, controversial subject, to name one.  I'm all
for them -- it's my belief that weapons have no place in a public forum
like a convention.  Why? In the years I've been con-going, I've almost
been skewered once, had a knee bruised by an errant broadsword (in a
scabbard.  If you're going to wear one, be aware of how far out the
stupid thing hangs, okay?) and almost had a laser-based phaser pointed
in my eye (not by the owner, but by someone who picked it up while he'd
set it down "just for a minute" -- a classic case of "it's not
dangerous, I know how to handle it" while forgetting that others may not
be quite so capable).  And I don't go to many conventions, nor do I go
to many with lots of weapons.  Horror stories are legion about these
things, and besides, I think that SF, and SF fandom, should be looking
towards the kind of society we think ought to exist, and armed camps
isn't my idea of a fun future.

Then there's the legal liabilities of having weapons hanging out.  And
the problems of frightened mundanes.  And unhappy hotels.  And SWAT
teams (an unfortunately NOT apocryphal story -- they have been called
out).  All so Conan can look macho in his loincloth and pigsticker, or
so Han Solo can beam his pretty red light into the chandelier prisms.
We need this?

Another aspect that really scares me about most conventions today is
alcohol.  I am definitely not anti-alcohol (he says, taking a dainty sip
of Graham's Port -- the ultimate tonic for occasional stress and
writer's block) but alcohol is very poorly controlled in a convention
setting.  When a convention was 200 people a bathtub of beer could be
ignored.  Now, with 2,000 and more people going to conventions and party
hotels (as opposed to party floors) more the norm, there are certain
realities that we can't afford to ignore any more.  Underage drinking
and party crashing to name just a couple.  If you're running an open
party at a convention, do you check for badges? Do you check that the
people hopping into the bathroom are of legal drinking age? Do you
actually allow or encourage underage folks to drink at your party?

Think of some of the implications for a second.  A couple of local
teenagers know about the convention and drop by on Saturday night.  They
crash the party floor, grab a couple of beers in each of two or three
parties and then head home -- full of free booze and happy with
themselves.

They never get there.  Guess what? You're liable for their deaths as the
server, even if you never saw them walk in the door.  Legally as well as
morally.  The convention is liable.  The hotel is likely liable.  At
best there will be a lot of unhappy questions to be answered.  It's very
likely the con will shut down.  It's possible you'll get to go downtown
and have your picture taken.  You may well find yourself up on
manslaughter charges. Or murder.

How about something less drastic? That teenager you gave that beer to at
10PM (remember him? without the badge? the one with the long, stringy
hair?) was a member of the Excise Board.  You just gave alcohol to an
underage, undercover cop.  You're busted, and the hotel wakes up to find
out it doesn't have a liquor license for the next 30 days (and the
convention has a hefty fine, to boot).  Guess what, lots of folks are
unhappy at you right now.  Even assuming the convention opens for the
day (which is questionable) you probably won't be enjoying it.

Have these things happened? Not that I know of, but I DO know of cases
where underage kids have been found passed out (and in one case, dead, a
complication of alcohol and prescription drugs he should have known
better than to drink with).  The Excise Tax board or the police haven't
walked in and checked alcohol enforcement that I know of -- but it is
only a matter of time.  It'll happen, sooner or later -- as conventions
get bigger and bigger, and as more and more conventions are invaded by
the outsiders who are after an evening of free booze and vandalism (this
being a continuing hassle at Baycon, since the local rowdies have
figured out that the Baycon party floor is a great place to pop in and
be obnoxious) we're more and more likely to get the notice of the
authorities.  We aren't 200 folks and a bathtub.  We're 2,000 folks and
100 bathtubs -- no longer too small to bother with.

What to do? First, stop pretending we're above the law.  It's easy to
think that since fandom is "all one big family" we can get away with
stuff that's illegal.  We have certain societal restrictions that don't
go away simply because we've set up shop in a hotel for the weekend.
Party hosts have a responsibility to the hotel, the convention, their
party guests and themselves to be responsible for what goes on.  With a
few simple rules, you can have a good, enjoyable party and not have to
worry about knocks on the door at 3AM:

o An important rule for party hosts: nobody joins your party without a
    badge.  "I left it in the room" doesn't cut it.  Don't allow gate
    crashers.  Discourage the crashers and the rowdies.  A secondary
    reason for this is financial: a party crasher hasn't bought a
    membership and hasn't contributed to the finances of the
    convention.  They haven't paid a penny for the hospitality you're
    giving them, directly or indirectly.  Don't let them freeload --
    too many freeloaders and the convention won't bother coming back,
    and everyone who DID pay loses.  The crashers don't care whether
    you lose or not.  If you have friends coming over for the evening,
    either close the party or buy them one-day passes.

o I suggest that if you're going to serve alcohol, close your
    party.  Share the beer with your friends, not with random
    strangers.  It's cheaper to serve soda, anyway, and frankly, 95% of
    the people who pop in to visit won't notice -- and the 5% who do
    you don't want in your room anyway.

o If you can't live with that and feel that you have to have your
    alcohol, stick to beer and wine.  It's hard to get barfing drunk on
    beer and wine, and you have to work at it to get to the "I'm in
    deep trouble and behind the wheel" stage.  Make sure that everyone who
    drinks is of legal age.  Ask for ID -- those that are of legal age
    shouldn't mind, and you don't care what the idiots think.  If they
    cause problems, let them drink someone else's beer.

Convention committees need to get into the act:

o Set an official "no alcohol at open parties" policy.  Enforce it.
    Have security walk the halls and check.  Any party that has alcohol
    closes their door and takes down the signs.

o Set an official "no gate crashers" policy.  Anyone hosting a party
    with people without badges gets shut down.  Anyone without a badge
    is escorted out of the party area.  Period.  Make sure the crashers
    are unwelcome.

o Short of banning alcohol at open parties, the concom can do the age
    screening -- if you want to drink, you get carded at Registration and
    get your badge marked.  No mark on the badge, no drinking.  That helps
    the host keep his side clean.

When you think about it, this isn't a lot of hassle, and it saves
everyone a lot of potential hassle -- the only folks that 'lose' are the
folks we don't want around in the first place.  Being a responsible host
means only that you aren't putting yourself in a situation where you can
get in trouble for the acts of someone else -- don't you deserve to give
yourself that?

Remember the prime credo for safe convention partying: never serve a
drink to an underage fan without a condom.

Thursday night was our one big party, the @! party put on for the people
involved with either the Internet or USENET.  Thirty or so folks
wandered through while we were there, and a good time was had by all,
especially myself and Laurie.  I'm not usually a big party fan,
primarily because I get claustrophobic in crowds and most parties have
far too many bodies per square foot of room for my tastes.  Since I
don't like crawling over people and screaming as I head casually for the
door, I tend to keep my partying somewhat limited.  The hotel had nice,
large rooms, however, and the company was wonderful.  I finally met
Kathy Li, a very famous net.person, and Jon Singer, a very famous person
in general popped in for a while.  Lots of others popped in and chatted,
and if I don't mention your name, it's because (1) I didn't write them
down and I'm terrible with names, and (2) I don't want to insult anyone
by leaving them out, so I won't mention anyone.  Thanks to everyone who
put the thing together, kept it from falling apart and made it enjoyable
and pleasant.

Friday at Westercon included watching Clifton Amesbury, Ginjer Buchanan,
Fran Skene and Art Widner talk about the Graying of the SF audience.
With the inclusion of first fandom members, the discussion occasionally
strayed into random threads (Spain in World War I was one of them) that
had nothing to do with the topic, but the bottom line is that the SF
audience is getting older and new readers (and fans) aren't coming in to
take their place. According to Ginjer (editor at Ace) this is NOT true
of the fantasy area, which surprised me (but probably shouldn't have).
This is something that fandom needs to worry about -- where IS the next
generation? (watching TV, right?)

My second panel was "What is/Why is a fanzine", one of those wonderfully
vague topics that lets folks talk about just about anything.  Bruce
Pelz, Fred Patten, Lit Smith-Gharet and I all sort of nattered for an
hour and I frankly don't remember on exactly what -- I've been on enough
versions of that panel that they all meld together, and I neglected to
pack my tape recorder for note taking (I ALSO neglected to pack a single
copy of OtherRealms, much to my continuing embarrassment, so I had
nothing to wave, pass out or push on people.  Sigh).  I do remember that
the panel went off quite well overall, with lots of good feedback from
the audience.  One name I finally got to put a face to was Bruce Pelz,
and another was FAPAn Don Fitch.

Saturday morning was the infamous SFWA business meeting, of which the
less said the better, I think.  A large chunk of members, headed by Kit
Kerr and Judy Tarr, decided the intelligent thing to do was Brunch and
went off in one direction.  I, with my misplaced sense of duty and
responsibilities as Nebula Reports Editor, went to the meeting.  We all
exchanged secret SFWA-type handshakes and got down to whatever business
it was we were getting down to.  I thought a lot about brunch.

Following that was my third of three panels, "Semi-prozines and their
effects on the field".  Flanked on one side by Elton Elliot and Norman
Hartman (both of the new and improved Science Fiction Review), flanked
on the other side by Gordon Van Gelder (New York Review of Science
Fiction) and Jerry Kaufman (Serconia Press), we all got together in
front of a small but interested crowd and made complete fools of
ourselves.  Every so often you get a panel that bombs, and this was it.
I'm not a semi-prozine, although I play one on TV.  Elton took every
opportunity (at least 18 by the scratch marks on my pad of paper) to
huckster SFR.  Gordon, who is an exceptionally nice, intelligent person
who just doesn't deal with public speaking well at all, came across
somewhere between tranquilized and hung over (he was neither -- he's
just uncomfortable in crowds).  Jerry at least admitted that it was his
idea and he thought it was a good idea at the time.  The less said about
this panel, the better -- we talked for the full hour ("Is Locus a
semi-prozine?" "If a tree fell in a forest and nobody was there to hear
it, would it affect the Hugo balloting?") but I don't think we really
said much of anything worth saying.  Oh, yeah: please subscribe to
Science Fiction Review or Elton will come to your house and hurt your
dog.  Just kidding, Elton.  Ha, ha.

Saturday afternoon, the Delta Inn went to the dogs.  Literally.  Turns
out that Sunday was a major dog show down the road, and everyone stays
at the Delta Inn.  Dogs outnumbered fans by Saturday night, and except
for arguing for elevator space with a bull mastiff, it was a lot quieter
there than it was in the party hotel -- nice people, dog breeders.  Nice
animals, too.  Any any time people make fun of your going to SF
conventions, suggest they spend two weeks on the dog show circuit.  They
say WE'RE crazy.

Sunday was getaway day.  We got up, checked out of the Delta Inn
(stepping over a shih tzu, two poodles and a cocker) and headed back to
the convention for a final morning of panels and picking up our artwork
(which was in theory to be released at 1PM, and which was in actuality
released about 1.20.  Everything at Westercon pretty much ran on time,
much to many people's surprise).  We stopped in and watched "What does
an editor look for", starring Barb Young (Dragon Magazine, and on her
way to the airport), Ashley Grayson (agent), Kathleen Woodbury (SF and
Fantasy Workshop) and the Pulphouse crew, Dean Wesley Smith and Kris
Rusch.  The normal litanies and horror stories were brought up -- don't
insult your editor, don't threaten your publisher, there's a reason for
double spaced type on white paper in black ink.  Editing OtherRealms,
I've picked up a strange fascination for the kind of horror stories most
editors can trot out on request -- most of which I seem to be avoiding.
Part of that, I think, is that I don't advertise OtherRealms in the
market magazines like Scavengers much -- I prefer to work with people
who read OR and choose to write for it rather than folks who see a
market report and decide to restructure my fanzine to fit their
preconceptions.  Since I generally have more material than I can easily
use, it's a strategy that I can use that others can't get away with,
fortunately.  Barb Young, who I'd only met a couple of times on GEnie
before, was quite informative and helpful -- in fact, everyone on the
panel, even for someone who's heard most of the stories before, found
ways to be informative and original.  Good panel.

Kris gave me a copy of the sample issue of their new project: Pulphouse
short story paperbacks.  For $1.95 you get a little (Beatrice Potter
kiddie book sized) paperback book with a story in it.  They're doing
five titles a month starting in October, with people like Poul Anderson,
Kate Wilhelm, John Brunner, Ed Bryant, Robert Sheckly and Esther
Friesner signed up to contribute.  Limited collector hardbacks are also
going to be available. This looks like another potential winner for them --
you can buy them individually (either direct at Pulphouse, Box 1227,
Eugene, OR 97440 or through specialty stores) or by subscription at
$55.00 for half a year (30 stories) or $100 for 60 stories (a full
year).  Definitely something I want to look into, and if it piques your
interest, write and get more details.  The Pulphouse folks are turning
out lots of really neat fiction and if you like short fiction, you
should be checking them out.

And that's Westercon.  Good convention, well run, well organized, well
programmed and, well, lots of fun.  Once we picked up the art I bought,
we headed back to the van and headed out.

Before we head into the Great North, though, a little backtracking.  If
it sounds like there's a lot of convention missing in this report,
you're right -- my only real complaint about Westercon was that it kept
intruding and made me miss spending time hacking around Portland.  If
the Con report is a little skimpy, it's only because there's a lot more
to Portland than Westercon.

[continued]



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