# 99

The Reluctant Famulus # 99May/June 2014

Thomas D. Sadler, Editor/Publisher, etc.305 Gill Branch Road, Owenton, KY 40359

Phone: 502-484-3766E-mail: tomfamulus@hughes.net

Contents

Introduction, Editor 1Rat Stew, Gene Stewart 5Indiana-ania Matt Howard 7A List, Editor 9, right column Kentuckiana, Alfred Byrd 10A Year Ago . . . , Sheryl Birkhead 14The Crotchety Critic, Michaele Jordan 16Letters 18Friends, Editor 28Desperate Foolishness, Editor (Again?) 31

Artwork

Sheryl Birkhead Front cover, Back cover, 14, 15Provided by Al Byrd 10, 11, 12, 13Brad Foster 4, 15A. B. Kynock 6, 13, 20, 24, 28Spore & Toetoe Hodges 4, 18, 22, 26Internet 17, 30

The Reluctant Famulus is a product of Strange Dwarf Publications. Many of the comments expressed herein are solely those of the Editor/Publisher and do not necessarily reflect the thoughts of any sane, rational persons who know what they are doing and have carefully thought out beforehand what they wanted to say. Material not written or produced by the Editor/Publisher is printed by permission of the various writers and artists and is copyright by them and remains their sole property and reverts to them after publication. TRF maybe obtained for The Usual but especially in return for written material and artwork, postage costs, The Meaning of Life, and Editorial Whim.

The Reluctant FamulusIntroduction: Some Thoughts and a Bunch of Silliness and Frivolity

I can almost agree with T. S. Eliot’s assertion that “April is the cruelest month . . . ” [From The Waste Land]. The weather this past April has been, if not cruel, at least divergent from the usu-al. Here. There have been days with tempera-tures in the 60s, 70s, and nearly 80 only to see temperatures dropping precipitously into the 20s. There have been the usual April showers and some snow. Fortunately, here anyway, the snow hasn’t been that bad. But our little part of the country isn’t alone in the near-cruel April weath-er. Then too, this past winter has been harsher than usual. Many parts of the south which usual-ly see milder temperatures and little or no snow have been subjected to the sort of winter normal to northern states with lower temperatures and much more snow than usual. Atlanta, Georgia, for example, had a couple of snowfalls so bad that the city essentially had to shut down until the highways and roads could be cleared. The Atlantic coast states, particularly the upper ones, have had snowstorms and icestorms more severe than usual, crippling cities even more than those in the south. And of course the Midwest and west haven’t escaped the cruel winter weather either. The Great Lakes froze over and, at this writing, still are frozen to a certain extent. But the worse than usual weather hasn’t been con-fined just to Winter. There has been a rise in tor-nadoes all over, with many if not most, enduring major devastation. Then there is the flooding in some parts and droughts in others along with major serious forest fires. For those who pay attention the weather certainly has been different from the usual. And there are those who deny there’s such a thing as climate and weather change, that it’s nothing to worry about. What are those people going to do if/when such anoma-lous weather continues year after year?

Now, in a different direction.Not long ago I noticed in passing that the the-

ory of multiple universes was still around and holding its own. I also noticed a news article de-

claring there was evidence that our universe and another had collided or bumped together, leaving a bruise or something in ours—and probably the other. Seeing that, made me wonder: if there is or was a bruised spot in our universe and the oth-er does that mean universes are confined within shells of some sort, like a transparent balloon, or maybe that good old science fictional device, force shields? If the latter, how is it generated and how much energy does it take to maintain it? I admit that’s probably a stupid question but I can’t help asking it. My poor little brain can’t quite encompass such concepts and equipped to understand fully such theories. Too bad some-body like Mr. Greg Benford isn’t reading this because if he was maybe he could explain it to stupid old me in a way I could understand it.

If our universe and all the other presumed universes are equally huge and largely empty space among stars and galaxies, how could they bump into one another and leave behind a bruised spot? Wouldn’t it be more a matter of empty space meeting empty space?

Living in one immense universe is bad enough and makes a person feel small; knowing there are theorized to be who knows how many more other universes of equal (or greater?) sizes is even worse and could cause a person to feel really insignificant, like a microbe or a sub-atom-ic particle. And to think that people of long ago were dismayed to be told the Earth was not the center of everything. What may be even worse is the possibility that our universe and all the ones around it may be one group of associated univers-es among other associated universes. That is, pic-turing our universe and the others contained with-in a bubble or whatever, surrounded by other bub-bles filled with universes. Then take that another step farther. And another . . .

Does that sound far-fetched? I’m certain it is and on the verge of fantasy at that. Also very much lacking in any observable supporting evi-dence, data and mathematical equations? Defi-

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nitely. I can’t help myself.Which reminds me of a little verse some of

you may have seen.

“Big fleas have little fleas,Upon their backs to bite ‘em,And little fleas have lesser fleas,and so, ad infinitum” Here’s the second verse: “And the great fleas, themselves, in turnHave greater fleas to go on;While these again have greater still,And greater still, and so on.”

The second verse attributed to Augustus de Mor-gan whoever he is. Joe Major can likely fill us in on that.

Probably not the best equivalence, compar-ing universes to fleas.

Speaking of fleas, microbes, and humans . . . With some estimates that there might be millions of planets capable of supporting life of some sort, intelligent or otherwise, it makes me won-der something else. If there are who knows how many other universes there are besides ours, is it possible that there are millions of potentially hab-itable planets in those other universes as well? That’s just another wild, unsubstantiated specula-tion with supporting no data and no basis in reali-ty, whatever reality is. Even if such a thing is pos-sible, so what? There would be millions and mil-lions more possibly life inhabited planets we humans will never get to see. But what I wrote is more likely wild nonsense and frivolous specula-tion about something that may never be proven. At least not in our lifetimes.

Why the heck am I even thinking about such things? I’m no well-educated scientist with lots of credits, just some goofy, oddball nobody who publishes a nondescript little fanzine. But that’s neither here nor there. I’m not sure where it is but it must be somewhere.

First up, no Aldo H. Masters in this issue. He now has more than enough ways of spending his spare time and will be giving up some of those activities. One of them is his column for TRF. It’s his choice of course and I won’t try to change his mind. I’ll miss him but maybe I’ll be able to find someone else to write a column even if only occasionally.

I suspect at one time or another we’ve all been in situations where we’ve insulted, or been insulted by, someone. Often those insults have been nasty or cruel. That usually makes a bad sit-uation worse. But sometimes there are insults that are . . . different, maybe not quite as harm-ful, and possibly clever. Here for your amuse-ment is a small sample of those different insults I chanced upon not long ago. I can’t vouch for the truth of the origins of them but here they are.

Australian: “May your ears turn into arseholes and shit on your shoulders!”“He can compress the most words into the small-est idea of any man I know.” - Abraham Lincoln “I didn’t attend the funeral, but I sent a nice let-ter saying I approved of it.” - Mark Twain “Why do you sit there looking like an envelope without any address on it?” - Mark Twain “He has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends.” - Oscar Wilde “I’ve just learned about his illness. Let’s hope it’s nothing trivial.” - Irvin S. Cobb “There’s nothing wrong with you that reincarna-tion won’t cure.” - Jack E. Leonard “I’ve had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn’t it.” - Groucho Marx“He loves nature in spite of what it did to him.” - Forrest Tucker“If what you don’t know can’t hurt you, you’re invulnerable.” - Unknown“Don’t you need a license to be that ugly?” - Un- known

A side note on the above insults. I well remember a long time ago, watching Jack E. Leonard’s act on various TV shows and laughing at his insults. He was, many claim, a master of such insults. I’m not fully acquainted with Oscar Wilde, who was around before I came into exis-tence, but I know from reading about him that he was very witty and adept at such jibes. Of coursethere was Groucho Marx in the various Marx Brothers movies. Then there’s good old-Mark Twain. Need I say more about him? I won’t. Last of all, Forrest Tucker—the movie actor? Whoda thunk it? But did he actually origi-nate the insult or was it a piece of dialog from a movie he was in? Does it really matter? He’s long dead now and can’t agree or deny. But here’s something of small interest: Forrest Tuck-

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er was born in Indiana. I can think of a certain reader of this fanzine who might appreciate that fact. Tucker also starred in several SF movies, at least one of which I recall watching but the title escapes me. I also remember him from the TV series F Troop, along with actor Larry Storch.

Some comments you’ll probably never hear:“If I had known the universe was so compli-

cated I’d have settled somewhere else.”“You kids get off my lawn—and come inside

for some cake and ice cream.”“Take a grand tour of the universes.”“Physicists have announced a breakthrough

in exceeding the speed of light. Interstellar travel now possible.”

“Please fasten your seatbelts. We’ll be land-ing at Marsopolis shortly.”

“The editor/publisher of this fanzine has vowed to stop talking about Mark Twain.”

Now, off in yet another direction.I enjoy reading Dave Langford’s Ansible and

appreciate all the fan news he provides. It’s nice to know what’s going on in fandom since, living out in the country as my wife and I do, I have no in person contact with other fans. That could be changed by simply attending cons of course, but with the price of gasoline, hotel room rates, and dining in restaurants (sure there are the fast food places but those become tiresome after a while even if the food is relatively cheap) I’m hesitant about doing so. Or maybe I’m just being cheap. But I’m getting away from w the topic of Ansi-ble. As I said, I enjoy reading Ansible, mostly. One minor drawback is the listing of those fans and fandom-related people who have passed away; the list seems to be growing longer and longer. Inevitably that’s to be expected I suppose giving the again of fandom, which is only follow-ing the trend of the public at large. So I’ll not dwell on that. I do, however, appreciate such sec-tions as As others see us and Random Fandom.

But there’s one feature I like even more: Thog’s Masterclass which supports something I’ve long suspected. Thog’s presents examples of bad, odd, puzzling, ludicrous or inept writing in novels and, I think, short stories. I know that, on occasion in books I’ve read, I’ve encountered some awkward sentences which I’ve had to read more than once to see if they said what I thought they did or actually made sense. Most of the time

it has been the former rather than the latter. The issues of Ansible providing examples of such writing clearly shows to me that in spite of pro-fessional publishers with their layers of profes-sional book editors, line editors, proofreaders, and even typesetters, all paid for their services such writing still slips through and appears in supposedly thoroughly vetted published books for which readers paid good money. After seeing those examples I don’t feel quite so bad about the typos in this fanzine. It’s rather ironic—or perhaps satisfying or gratifying—to see things get past all those skilled people. It shows they aren’t perfect even though they get paid to catch and correct such things.

I admit that I’m glad those things don’t appear more often and that, mostly, money-mak-ing authors don’t produce such inept writing and do strive for all their writing to make sense. I know I try to insure that mine makes sense but I’m probably not as successful as I’d like to be. But then I never claimed to be perfect and I know I’ll make mistakes more often than I like. I’ve no doubt professional writers would have a poor/ disparaging opinion of my writing but then there are authors whose writing I haven’t found exceptional or as good as they think it is. Mine’s a personal opinion of course and doubtless will be ridiculed. At least I do the best I can and try to improve myself. Maybe one day I’ll actually succeed at that. I hope the preceding hasn’t been confusing or puzzling.

For the hell of it, here are some examples tak-en from Ansible. (I hope Dave won’t mind my doing so.)

From Februray 2014: Dept of Morbid Anato-my. ‘Smiling John dangled his face out on the long stalk of his neck and knitted his face into an intentionally stupid smile.’ (Speer Morgan, The Freshour Cylinders, 1998) [PB]

Dept of Lazy Public Transport. ‘She walked slowly up Dearborn Avenue, barely noticing the buses that snored past her, resting every block or two on bus stop benches.’ (Stephen King, Rose Madder, 1995) [KMcA]

From March 2014: Worth a Thousand Words. ‘Their photographs all look and sound a little bit like me.’ (Austin Grossman, Soon I Will Be Invincible, 2007) [PB]

• Dept of Frenzied Anatomy. ‘Swan’s cheeks

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had turned hectic.’ (Kim Stanley Robinson, 2312, 2012) [KS]

• Eyeballs in the Sky. ‘Her eyes ran over me like mice.’ (Keith Laumer, A Plague of Demons, 1965) [JHM]

From April 2014: Hyperinflation Dept. ‘The creature sprang with a bigger snarl than any mod-ern-day tiger ever gave out with. It came straight through the air. Those two saber teeth grew from ten inches to ten feet as the beast rocketed in.’ (Lester Del Rey, Tunnel Through Time, 1966) [BA]

Dept of Similes. ‘He’d yawn like a whale on a plankton hunt and swallow like he was choking down a lump of concrete, but his head got more and more like a pressure cooker no matter what he did.’ ‘He looked like he’d lost about twenty pounds in stature.’ (Jack Harvey [Ian Rankin], Bleeding Hearts, 1994) [PB] ‘He slammed onto the hay floor like thirty anvils dropped out of a ten-story window.’ (Richard S. Meyers, Cry of the Beast, 1979) [BA]

Hmm . . . Maybe I could write something that could qualify for Thog’s Masterclass. “Terrified, Eddie ran like he was being pursued by a vicious horde of IRS agents armed with stun-guns and calculators bent on subjecting him to unspeakable horrors.” (Not from any published story.)

And that, folks, is that. On with the rest of this issue.

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Rat Stew An Expatiation

From 1854 To 1941, cannabis was listed in the US Pharmacoepia. It was also America's biggest and most versatile cash crop. It was culti-vated by the founding fathers. It was used to make rope, fabric for clothing, oil that was clean, non-toxic, and edible, useful in industry, cook-ing, and even making plastics. Did you know the plastic fenders and other parts if Ford's Model T were made from hemp oil? The Constitution is written on hemp paper.

It was removed due to pressure from Big Oil and Big Chemical who wanted to substitute their toxic waste fossil sludge for the clean, healthy, renewable oil hemp produces, and all the uses to which hemp can be put were hijacked, perverted, and polluted as a result. To reinforce their corpo-rate hegemony propaganda such as the ridiculous REEFER MADNESS and policies of cynicism and diversion such as the so-called and ironically named War On Drugs were shoved down our col-lective throat. (Gee, shouldn't that be war AGAINST DRUG ABUSE? And shouldn't that be a medical initiative?)

All the greedy destructive hateful madness was planned. I am not kidding. This fucked-up world we all hate is the result of a conspiracy, you can look it the fuck up.

Yet mentioning this or other well-document-ed conspiracies will get you knifed like Julius Caesar. Saying or citing the word 'conspiracy' draws a swarm of desperate, lock-step self-pro-claimed guardians of... Well, they say sanity but it is actually nothing but ideological conformity to atheistic reductionist materialism. It is rooted in Professor of Communist Studies Paul Kurtz's Committee for the Scientific Investigation of Claims of the Paranormal, or CSICOP. Like all cops, their mission statement and goals sound lofty but the way they apply them more often than not end in bullying, cheating, and lying in order to further their agenda of becoming the go-to arbiters of what people are allowed to think, investigate, and discuss. Ridicule and intoler-ance, a refusal to hear anything not of their doc

trine, are CSICOP's hallmarks. Their house organ is a non-paying publication called The Skeptical Inquirer, which has been known to pub-lish articles without permission or contract and to later use those articles for profit or allow use of them sans permission by fellow travelers.

People indoctrinated into this sad little group seek to insert themselves into any and all publica-tions and TV shows to blur thinking and to dis-miss claims outright in direct contradiction to evi-dence, which they sneer at if they don't ignore it entirely.

These snake-oil peddlers cook numbers, skew statistics, and lie rather than apply empiri-cal assessment of even open-minded review of evidence, which they insist on labeling mere claims. One paltry accomplishment of this group of strident martinets is to have made the words ‘conspiracy theory’ tantamount to calling some-one hopelessly stupid, gullible, and crazy.

Yes, even asking questions immediately gains one a shaming. Seeing the three buildings go down on 9/11 was shocking, even traumatiz-ing, for many, not to mention the inadequately small holes made supposedly by 757s but to be lied to about what happened, denied even a chance to investigate by the impounding and hasty selling of debris, then shouted down and ostracized for asking sensible questions, is grind-ing salt into gleefully-inflicted wounds.

I greatly dislike this knee-jerk blanket demo-nizing of conspiracy theory and condemnation of theorists. It is nothing but bullying in the service of browbeating people into conformity with pre-vailing convenient stories that support ideologi-cal views. It is thought policing and a bigotry. Conspiracy is denied as a valid concept.

The theory part addresses how an observed or suspected conspiracy might work. Some notions are ridiculous, sure; people vary in sanity and seriousness. However, the act of trying to fig-ure out how a rigged election works or how the collusion among companies works or whether the housing bubble was blown and burst on pur

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pose for profit or if war is a business decision or what may lay behind an event such as the burn-ing of the Reichstag building or 9/11 -- that act of questioning the official version is itself not flaky.

Observing, questioning, speculating, and investigating is in point of fact science.

This is why it is demonized and ridiculed by anyone who relies on exploiting ignorance and confusion, the equivocators, the political and cor-porate liars, the legal liars, all the criminals who don't want investigations, scrutiny, or transparen-cy, who don't want their crimes revealed and pun-ished.

Right wingers, religionists, and other fanatics promulgate such attitudes in order to make peo-ple avoid looking too closely at their claims and activities. Embezzlers don't want audits. Thieves don't want security cameras. So they oppose them with withering sarcasm, mockery, and satire. They swarm any instance of clear thinking or harsh questioning. They demand everyone toe the party line and pretend the Hollywood Potemkin Village is real and the emperor has such fine clothes.

And people fall right in line. They do not want to stand out. After all, if they even ask obvi-ous questions they will be called conspiracy theo-rists and their very sanity questioned and their significance dismissed. Such societal bullying is merciless.

The scathing opprobrium is meant to shut down scrutiny and inquiry -- what sense does that EVER make? When is blur or darkness bet-ter for driving forward? When is basing action on ignorance or lies a good choice?

To convince us to avoid thinking for our-selves, to decline even the search for alternatives to their approved version, to scare us away from exploring on our own, they cherry pick the crazi-est theories to mock and hold them up as typical.

Say you like to read or even write science fic-tion. How would you feel if all science fiction were judged by the least literate fanfic and no one ever saw any better examples, until the mere mention of science fiction makes everyone instantly turn away scoffing and sneering, dis-missing it automatically? Worse, they call it a half step sideways from pornography, (another control word with only the meaning given by

those in power), and blame it for the moral decline in society, almost as bad as rock and roll, brain rot for four-eyed perpetual virgin wankers.

Oh wait. That happened. Try being a black person who is NOT a

drunken drugged criminal parasite on society ignored by taxi drivers and pulled over for driv-ing while black or gunned down for questioning.

Today it has gotten so stupid that skepdicks deny conspiracy even exists, as if people never get together privately, exclusively, or secretly, to influence things in their favor, to promote a hid-den agenda, or just to profit. No no, we are told, things just happen at random, or at ransom. Either concept works. It's all accident, they claim. Nothing happens on purpose, and never for masked or hidden reasons by perpetrators.

Funny how we even HAVE all those words for such things.

Funny Caesar died from something that doesn't exist.

Why go on?Remember FDR's observation: “In politics,

nothing happens by accident. If it happens, you can bet it was planned that way.” - Franklin D. Roosevelt

Now name something that is not touched by politics.

Regarding fanatics: there was an article recently about a clinical psychologist who did a major study. She concluded that fanaticism, be it ideological, religious, political, or whatever, could and should be classified as a mental illness since it turned people away from reality, and impaired their ability to perceive reality. How is this different from schizophrenia? She also was of the opinion that such a mental illness, or condi-tion, should disqualify people from holding pow-er over others. She's obviously correct. The tide is shifting, but unfortunately is still in the back waters of science. We need an enlightenment 2.0.

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Indiana-ania:Up the Canal Without a Paddle

Matt HowardNever mind the canals of Mars. They were

illusions. What about the canals of Indiana? They were real. Although some were delusions.

To explain that, it is first necessary to explain why Indianapolis is where Indianapolis is.

But before that, and just to show how deeply researched this subject has been for you, it should be noted the Indianapolis was not auto-matically given the name Indianapolis. Two oth-er suggestions were Suwarrow, which is an atoll in the south Pacific Ocean, and Tecumseh, which would be as likely as the Russians at that time naming Moscow as Napoleon. Now read on…

Coming out of “the Age of Reason” the Indi-ana legislature of 1820 decided the first capital, Corydon, on the banks of the Ohio was too far south for members from the north, such a South Bend, to travel to. Now if you have read Kurt Vonnegut’s Palm Sunday you will know their simple and equitable solution. They took a map of Indiana and drew a line from the south-west corner to the north-east, then one from the south-east to the north-west and where they crossed was the place where the new capital would be.

There was the small matter that the place was swampy and given to flooding but they decided to ignore that. Which was something the future residence had trouble ignoring, for up to a centu-ry later.

Another small matter was transportation. Indi-anapolis was not only in the middle of Indiana, it was in the middle of nowhere. Trains were in their infancy and the only way you could get there was by road. There was the White River running by but boats had issues with that river. Only one bold paddle-steamer ever made it from the Ohio River up to Indianapolis and then got stuck on a sand-bank going back.

The answer, as the legislature saw it, was canals. The Erie canal of 1825 was showing great efficiency and profit so the legislature added a levy of a three-percent tax on the popu-lace and contracted canal builders to get shovel-

ready.The Wabash and Erie Canal and also the

incongruously named Whitewater Canal worked fine and flowed well. It was the Fort Wayne and Lake Michigan Canal and the Central Canal that created far more trouble than the legislature expected. There will be more about those two in a moment.

And then there is the Indiana Canal or rather after three attempts there wasn’t. This was all because of the Falls of Ohio, which is not a SF fan-group that was commandeered by a bunch of politicismos and politicastros, but is a series of rapids from Clarksville, Indiana to Louisville, Kentucky, that formed the only non-navigable portion of the Ohio River.

The idea of looping a canal around them had been around since 1790, but it wasn’t until 1805 that the Indiana Canal Company came up with a charter to actually build the thing.

The company’s board could boast that it included Aaron Burr and George Rogers Clark, so after “the Aaron Burr Conspiracy” came to light the company and canal were sunk.

In 1817, the Ohio Canal Company took on the project but was unable to attract enough investments.

Next year the Jeffersonville Ohio Canal Com-pany (JOCC) was given the rights and by 1819 construction was underway and it’s Cane Run Dam was built. That was an earthen-dam and it gave-way. JOCC claimed sabotage and pointed the finger of accusation at a Louisville/Portland canal company but “the Panic of 1819” cut off anymore funds and JOCC folded.

Any future restart was null and void as of 1825 when the Louisville and Portland Canal Company constructed their canal on the Ken-tucky side. In the next century, those sons of fun, the Army Corp of Engineers, would blast the Falls of Ohio into submission, but the Louisville and Portland Canal is still working today. Under another name.

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Remember the briefly mentioned Fort Wayne and Lake Michigan Canal? The legislation’s premise was to either build a canal or railway but the next legislature took the authorized finances for that canal/railway and attached the money to the Wabash and Erie Canal Fund. This piece of skullduggery was done in the expectation that Congress would grant Indiana “five sections of land for each mile of canal.”. However Congress turned their collective noses up at this dug-up skull and the canal was forever undug.

Canals could also be ill-planned. Especially with regard to those homesteaders who had to give up their lands in the name of progress and company profit. Take as an example a canal that was to be built through Mercer County, Ohio, which shares a border with eastern Indiana.

In Mercer County a reservoir had to be con-structed to feed a proposed canal from Lake Erie to the Ohio River. The residents were bought out at below market value and then hired to build the great embankments that would hold the water. The precious timbers in the area were never felled to make homes, barns and wagons, but were left to stand there awaiting their execution by drowning. From a local river the waters came flooding in but the canal remained half built.

And that huge body of standing water became home sweet home to malaria bearing mosquitoes. Children sickened, cows keeled over and sheep acted like March Hares. Miasma, the locals called it, believing that bad air caused dis-ease. And Shirley Hatch was psychologically sick of it. Taking up a shovel and a hoe and about a hundred and fifty similarly armed neigh-bors, she and they breached that accursed embankment and the waters flowed away to rivers in the south. Health returned and no one was prosecuted.

But by January 27, 1836, Indiana had con-tracted canal-fever very badly. That was the day Governor Noah Noble (that really was his name) signed the ten million dollar Mammoth Internal Improvements Act. As the title suggests it put money to a monumental amount of construction projects, with the Central Canal receiving just over a third of it. This may sound all well and good but it was singularly unhealthy and bad because not one of the projects received enough money necessary to complete the job. And the

canal was being built in disconnected sections. Not to mention that some have said the sections were not even deep enough for barges!

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And the very next year saw a national depres-sion and financial panic that lasted three years. Indiana, meantime, was paying the Act’s investors five percent interest so by 1841 the state couldn’t even pay the interest, let alone the principle.

The Indiana historian, Donald F. Carmony, has written that this Act “plunged the state into a very large debt and had to be abandoned.” “Very large debt” is being very conservative with the truth, and “conservative” is used here as an almost entirely non-political word. Just twen-ty-five years after Indiana was admitted of the United States of America, the state was stone cold bankrupt.

If any good did come of the abandon bits of canal it came ten years later when Indiana adopt-ed a new state constitution, which decrees, quite categorically, that Indiana shall never again go into bankruptcy and that law stands to this very day.

State Treasurer beware!

******Sources:Indiana, 1816-1850: The Pioneer Years,Donald F. Carmony Indian Historical Bureau &Indiana Historical Society 1998A Brief History of Indiana, Donald F. CarmonyIndian Historical Bureau 1966A History of Indiana, Vol. I, Logan EsareyW.K. Stewart Company 1918Indianapolis Canal Walkwww.IndyCanal Walk.org 2009Historical Indiana Julia Henderson LeveringG. P. Putnam’s Sons 1909Wilderness Plots Scott Russell Sanders William Morrow & Co., 1983Handbook on Indiana HistoryEvelyn M. Sayers Indiana Dept of Education 1987

Editor here. I think I once wrote that I wasn’t one to make lists but I had a small brainstorm (or maybe drizzle) and thought I’d make an exception. Here is the list.

Famous men named Thomas:Thomas Jefferson, presidentThomas Paine, writer, politician

Thomas Wolfe, writerTom Wolfe, writer, journalistT(homas) S. Elliot, poetThomas Merton, monk, writer(St.) Thomas Aquinas, monkThomas Edison, inventorThomas Hart Benton, painterTom Hanks, actorTom Baker (Dr. Who #3), actorTom Selleck, actorTom Petty, musicianTom Clancy, writerTom Brokaw, newsman, writerThomas Pynchon, writerThomas Nast, cartoonistTom Waits, musicianThomas Wolsey, CardinalThomas Mann, writerThomas Hardy, writerThomas Hobbs, philosopherThomas Beckett, ArchbishopThomas Eakins, painter and sculptorTom Waits,musicianLast, and least, an obscure nebbish: Tom Sadler (Who certainly doesn’t belong in the above list.)

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KentuckianaSHAKERTOWN: The Death and The Rebirth

Al Byrd

Pleasant Hill’s Shak-ers were well aware of a truth spoken of them by the seldom tongue-tied Jubal Harshaw in Stranger in a Strange Land: unless a community of celibates can produce an unfailing stream of converts to keep up the community’s work and worship, the communi-ty will die out. Still, the Shakers were hopeful, until late in their time on the earth, that their community would survive and grow.

Oddly enough, its hopes of an unfailing stream of converts began and ended with Swedes. Here follows the beginning of the Shak-er’ hopes. Later comes the end.

As other writers for TRF have noted, Ameri-ca in the republic’s early days was chockablock with utopian communities. One of these was a community of Swedes who had emigrated to Galesburg, Illinois, to follow their own Messiah, Eric Jansson, who taught the perfectibility of human beings in a millennial community on the earth. To achieve that perfectibility, Jansonists, as Jansson’s followers became known, had to live apart from the world’s corrupting influence. In 1848, on the Mexican War’s eve, some eight hundred of them were living in splendid isolation from what some might call Babylon.

Pleasant Hill’s Shakers, getting wind of the Jansonists, felt excitement about them. Here, after all, were Christian communists (again, please note the small C in communists) who believed in perfectibility, an earthly millennium, separation of believers from the world, and the possibility of a present-day Messiah. Could the Jansonists come to believe that the spirit of Christ that dwelt now in Eric Jansson had once dwelt in Mother Ann Lee? Perhaps, the Janson

ists could, if helped along in their belief by some proper proselytism.

Off to Bishop Hill, Eric Janson’s answer to Pleasant Hill, went Ben-jamin Dunlavy, Pleasant Hill’s last true head, and a delegation of Shaker elders find out of what spiritual stuff the Janson-ists were made. The Shak-ers were restrained intheir proselytism; they made

inroads into Bishop Hill by teaching the Janson-ists advanced techniques of raising cattle and dying wool to support their community.

Inevitably, Jansonists paid visits to Pleasant Hill to see how things were done there. As the Shakers hoped the Jansonists would, some of them came to stay. Responding to the Shaker message of a female Messiah, a number of the Jansonists, including Widow Ann Sophia Janson (sadly, Jansson’s messiahship could not keep him from, as Valentine Michael Smith might say, “discorporating”) joined families in Pleasant Hill.

Sadly for the Shakers, Ann Sophia, at first on fire to merge Bishop Hill and Pleasant Hill, lost her enthusiasm for celibacy and hard work over time. When she returned to Illinois, she began an exodus of disenchanted Swedes from Pleasant Hill. The Shakers were devastated by their leav-ing. Still, for a while, the Swedes had filled them with hope. Perhaps, they should try to get more Swedes . . .

Before, however, Shakers from Pleasant Hill could sail off to Sweden, catastrophe struck the community. For the Shakers, as it was indeed for all Americans, the Civil War was a cataclysm that left nothing unchanged.

Practically, if not ideologically, the Shakers were abolitionists. Ideologically, they were both

10

pacifistic and apoliti-cal. It suited them well, then, that Ken-tucky’s governor, Beri-ah Magoffin, and its General Assembly, unable to agree on which section of a sun-dered nation they should follow, agreed on committing the commonwealth to neu-trality in the irrepress-ible conflict . . .

Yeah, you try to stay neutral when your next-door neighbors on either side of you are shooting at each other! Kentucky’s attempt to be North America’s Switzerland went the way of the do- do. When the General Assembly, with help from President Abraham Lincoln and his semi-secret agent William “Bull” Nelson, took the common-wealth back into the Union, from which it would depart only after the war, the Shakers were inclined to support the Union, which had guaran-teed their unconventional lifestyle. Some young Shaker men were so inclined to support the Union that they marched off to Camp Dick Robinson to join the Union Army. Shaker elders, however, following the young men there, marched them back to Pleasant Hill.

For a while, the Shakers there did maintain their lifestyle undisturbed. During John Hunt Morgan's various raids, however, and especially during the Confederate Invasion of 1862, Pleas-ant Hill entertained visitors who put a strain on its resources. Morgan, who'd been a friend of the Shakers before the war, took care to ensure that his cavalrymen paid for all that they took from the Shakers, but the cavalry paid in Confederate dollars, which, especially in Kentucky, were worth less than the paper on which they were printed. During the invasion, the Shakers had to provide free meals for sometimes whole regi-ments of soldiers, Confederate or Federal, at a time. Horses vanished unaccountably, wooden fences were burned as firewood, and, as a work of charity, the Shakers had to provide medical care for hundreds of soldiers severely wounded in the Battle of Perryville.

After the invasion, there was never again a

major Confederate incursion into the commonwealth, but the Shakers' prob-lems were far from over. The Home Guard, Kentucky’s pro-Union militia, was fond of “requisitioning” food-stuffs and livestock from the Shakers’ dwindling abun-dance. Too, the Shak-

ers were not immune to the scourge of guerrilla warfare that struck the commonwealth. Although the Bluegrass was not as badly off as Kentucky’s mountainous regions, which grew depopulated, their residents riding out the war in refugee camps, spectacular robberies were common. The Shakers suffered several of these, the largest on October 7, 1864, by the notorious One-Armed Sam Berry, who rode with the even more notori-ous Sue Mundy and with the supremely notori-ous William Quantrill.

The Shakers, like Kentuckians in general, left the war less prosperous than they had been when they entered it.

After the war, social changes engendered by it worked against the Shakers. Even before the-war, factories had been outcompeting cottage industries such as those of Pleasant Hill; during the war, the need to produce much through the efforts of few so that the many could kill each other at Shiloh, Antietam, Gettysburg, and Chick-mauga forced new efficiencies of production onto the land. When, after the war, these efficien-cies turned to the production of civilian goods, the Shakers couldn’t keep up with them. Who, after all, would buy a fine handmade Shaker broom when one could get a serviceable mass-produced broom for less than half of the Shaker broom’s price?

Too, the hard-edged, highly competitive America of the Grant, Hayes, Garfield, and Arthur administrations was a poor home for utopian romantics like the Shakers. Many of these, allured by the nation’s postwar prosperity, left for the world. They were generally the youngest and strongest, leaving a dwindling

11

band of the elderly to keep up the hard work of worship and labor.

The Shakers’ charity had long made them prey to “Winter Shakers”: men (generally, but not always) who heard a call to religion when winter’s winds began to whis-tle, rode out the cold in warm Shaker beds and with hot Shak-er meals, and then left for other pastures when snowdrops and crocuses gave way to daffodils in the Bluegrass. After the war, the hard-edged competitiveness of the era of Robber Barons produced more “Winter Shak-ers” than ever, to be housed and fed by ever-dwindling fami-lies of ever-aging Shakers.

Yes, Jubal Harshaw’s retrospective prophecy would surely come true unless the Shakers could produce a miracle.

Benjamin Dunlavy expected that miracle from Sweden. After all, that boreal realm had pro-duced the Jansonists, almost-Shakers in all but name. Perhaps, Sweden would produce a crop of true Shakers . . .

Committing major funds that the Shakers didn’t have to send Shaker missionaries to Swe-den, Dunlavy got a minor yield. Of this yield, some members were clearly unsatisfactory, leav-ing quickly for the world, but leaving also their mark on the community that they were abandon-ing. In 1873, one absconding Swede, burning a cattle barn on his way elsewhere, began a plague-of arson that would inflict major damage onto the community. This plague reached its zenith in 1876, when arsonists burned the barn, shops, and outbuildings belonging to the Centre Family. These burned structures represent a loss, not only to that time’s Shakers, but also to today’s archi-tects, as some of the burned structures were speci-mens of the naïve genius Micajah Burnett’s design.

Dunlavy’s ill-fated missionary enterprise encumbered Pleasant Hill with something that it hadn’t known: debt, to the tune of forty thousand dollars. In 1870’s dollars, forty grand formed a

bundle indeed. When Shakers were unable to keep up pay-ments on this bundle, creditors made off with Shaker goods and livestock in lieu of pay-ments. Dunlavy tried to make up the shortfall in revenue with a number of industrial schemes, including mass pro-duction of malt, but none of them panned out, and the malt enterprise saddled Pleasant Hill with even more debt.

Dunlavy’s administration suffered one last blow: an ongo-ing, ever-worsening dispute be- tween traditionalists who want-ed to maintain all things as Mother Ann had decreed them, and innovators who wanted to modernize and liberalize the

Shaker way of life. Dunlavy held the line for the traditionalists as long as he was alive, but it was clear to all of his followers that major changes, likely for the worse, would come to Pleasant Hill when he was gone.

When Benjamin Dunlavy died in 1886, Shak-ers from Pleasant Hill, Union Village, and South Union joined to give him what all of them knew would be the last big Shaker funeral in Ken-tucky. Once he was buried, the Shakers at Pleas-ant Hill couldn’t agree on a replacement for him.

Each family at Pleasant Hill went its own way. Some kept up the traditional life prescribed by Mother Ann; others modernized, trying to make money from the world by hosting camp meetings, keeping a tavern for travelers between Lexington and Harrodsburg, and giving music lessons.

In the long run, neither tradition nor innova-tion prevailed. What young persons still re- mained at Pleasant Hill took off for the world; the elderly, continuing to age, died off. Dunlavy, even though he was dead, brought more misfor-tune to the community that he had served loving-ly, but not well: in 1896, the community lost a court case over the malt enterprise and had to for-feit even more of its property in settlements.

By then, only some eighty elderly Shakers remained at Pleasant Hill. To keep themselves

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together, they merged into a single family and sold off parts of the extensive Shaker domain. No sale of land, however, could bring in con-verts or make the elderly productive again. Thus, in 1910, the twelve surviving Shakers at Pleasant Hill deeded the remaining eighteen hundred acres of their holdings to Colonel George Bohon of Harrodsburg in exchange for his supporting them in life tenancy there. He kept his agreement until Sister Mary Settles, the last Shaker of Shak-ertown, passed on in 1923.

Once the last Shaker was gone, Micajah Bur-nett’s masterpieces fell on hard times. Some of them were abandoned, others were used as barns, and one ended up as a meeting house for a Bap-tist congregation. One building even became a filling station. If only the Shakers had persisted, pumping gas might have kept them in folding money.

The Shakers were gone, but not forgotten. There were several efforts by private individuals or conservancies to acquire and restore Shaker-town as an historical site. Not until 1961, howev-er, was enough money raised to bring in James Lowry Cogar, Colonial Williamsburg’s first cura-tor, to make Shakertown a reality again. With him spearheading the restoration effort, it achieved success, and not incidentally provided lasting jobs for many trying to preserve Ken-tucky’s traditional crafts.

If you head out of Lexington on Harrodsburg Road these days, a drive though the Kentucky River’s gorge will bring you to rolling fields on which you can see, even from a distance, some of Micajah Burnett’s imposing structures, sur-rounded by restoration stone fences. When you pull into the parking lot at Shakertown’s entrance, you can visit a shop where you can buy authentic Shaker crafts and books on America’s lost utopias.

You can tour the grounds for free on your own, or buy a tour that will let you enter each of the remaining, restored buildings, where re-enac-tors in Shaker attire will show you how life was lived in a millennial kingdom amid the Blue-grass. You can even look at Holy Sinai’s Plain, though it’s off limits to the public I suspect for the same reason that a curator at Serpent Mound told me made him wish he could make that off limits to New-Age religious groups.

The Shakertown conservancy has bought and operates a sternwheeler, the Dixie Belle, that takes you on a tour of the gorge from Shaker Landing to High Bridge. Once you’ve worked up a huge appetite (and made reservations), you can head off to the Trustee’s Office, marvel at the spi-ral staircases, and gorge yourself on authentic Shaker fare, the finest food in the Bluegrass. Don’t pass up the corn pudding, which I say with-out fear of contradiction is the world’s best.

Before you leave, stroll the grounds again in gathering twilight. Perhaps, you’ll be lucky enough to hear, from the ancient meeting house, feminine voices raised in Shaker spirituals. On a summer’s evening, as fireflies dance around you, haunting, unearthly melody will transport you out of our hectic world into a time when, briefly, utopia was real.

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Ah yes, time for a lit-tle reflection . . .

A little over a year ago I was busily bailing out basements; my own and the neighbor’s house (they were at their place in Florida for the winter dura-tion and I was looking in on their house). It was loads of fun. In that particular case, think of loads in a slightly different con-text.

This year they headed south again and I said I’d watch over their homestead. Luckily things went a lot better this year. They had their mail forwarded. One (new) car left in the carport for me to start and run for a few minutes every 5-10 days. Yeah a light load.

No, really, things went well!I did manage to feel like a total dork

while watering the rows of plants in the kitchen, over the mantel at the upstairs fireplace, and in then basement rec room. This sounds like a simple task and it really is. Gail said it was not necessary to water the plants, but I figured that in the three and a half months they would be away all the greenery would be much less so. After the first three weeks I located a container, a small cup, and started just going down the line.

When I had finished up with the orchid (at least I think that is what it is) in the kitchen I had a nagging feeling that some-thing was not quite right. I went back and looked at the plants. Suddenly I had this lighting bolt feeling: Oh come on--REAL-LY???? I spent the next 45 minutes dump-ing all the pots and drying out the contain

ers and plants—the artifi-cial plants. Giving myself a little bit of credit, the two

rows of plants in the basement were actual-ly living plants but led an insidious path to two which were not. By that time I was just blithely pouring water and moving on. Yeah, I felt

very stupid.I did feel that if this was the extent of

problems I was very happy. When they got back from the Florida trip, Gail asked me if I had dusted, that the house looked so clean. I ‘fessed up to what I had done that translated as cleaning, even though it wasn’t. Of course I was quick to point out to here that this was all really a compli-ment to her, that the plants looked so very real . . . (Addendum: Had bad storms last week. I cringed at the foot of standing water about my house foundation—but the basement stayed dry. Not so at the neigh-bors’ house. I saw a lot of towels on their line and figured that even though it was cold a grandchild or two had come over to swim in the pool. Nope. They got the tri-fecta: wall damage, chimney damage, and floor damage. The one interesting point is that the only room in the basement that stayed dry is the one I worked on bailing out and getting a new sump pump installed for them. )

There have been some minor bumps in the road,one resulting in destroying the knee in a brand new pair of jeans—and a humongous bruise accompanied by gravel rash. It is getting better. Then there was

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Sheryl Birkhead

the real bump in the road that ended up with a blown out (read that as shredded) front tire. It doesn’t sound too bad until I realized that with the variations in tread use, this meant four new tires were in my (very near) future. A Harley rider came to my aid when he saw I had all my gear unloaded from the back, the rear cargo area cover up, and was trying desperately to haul out a full sized (OLD) spare. I had everything lined up, book, jack, lug-nut wrench, and tire. I just couldn't haul the tire up and out. Not to worry! Fifteen min-utes later the day was ruined but I was on my way to a Subaru dealership to assess the needs. Ah well, I could not afford the tires more than I could not afford the new roof I was told I needed. Let's just get on with it.

So, for the moment, all in all, things are just trundling right along. In the future I have planned discussions with the coun-ty over repairs to water runoff (translates now to standing water almost reaching the driveway surface). About ten years ago (our first discussion) they admitted it was their responsibility, but that there was no intention of doing anything. They had a long backlog of people tha had serious problems. I figured that ten years was long enough for that list to get shortened. The county EPA called, asked for a bit of clarification, and said someone from the correct department would be calling. I was also instructed to call back if I got the same response; that it was unacceptable and a county executive would be brought in if . . . Ah, bureaucracy at its best/worst!

I actually gave some thought to rumi-nating (chewing my cud?) over the fan Hugos short list, but figure I already have to be concerned about high blood pressure under stress and don’t want to tempt fate.

I suspect there may be comments about this arena in this ish or the next. May we live in interesting fannish times—and I guess we do.

Ah yes—fodder for another day.

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The Crotchety Critic

We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves by Karen Joy Fowler

It is with considerable astonishment that I report I am caught up on my reading. Well, almost. Pretty much. Okay, I admit, I'm NEVER truly caught up, but as of now I am as close as I ever come. I've been reading non-stop for two months—mostly because on March 1, SFWA's Nebula Committee announced the ballot for the Nebula awards and promised to open links to the nominees. Members were given until March 31st to cast their votes.

I expected five titles, one or two of which I might have already read. There were eight. Not counting the YA nominees, of which there were seven. No, I hadn't read any of them. Plus short(er) fiction. A lot of short(er) fiction. Not to mention that the window for Hugo nominations was drawing to a close. And the usual coffee-table assortment of library books and books my friends had insisted I would absolutely love.

When I was a teenager, fifteen or twenty books in a month was easy. It involved skipping school, but that didn't trouble me, as I routinely substituted something more educational for school. However, the books were usually shorter than Nicola Griffith's Hild (New York, 2013, Far-rar, Straus and Giroux). Not that Hild isn't a fine book—I may even tell you about it in a future column—but at 560 pages I wasn't sure I could finish it in two days, now that I can no longer gain time by skipping school.

Not all of the links went into place immedi-ately, so I started with two that were on hand at the library. As more came in, I worked out a sys-tem of reading three chapters of each—enough to separate the front runners from the also-rans—on the understanding I would come back after triage. (Eventually I did get back to nearly all of them, just not before the 31st.) Several were too interesting to stop at three chapters, so I read five or six chapters which helped juggle the rankings. And then there was the one so absorb-ing I truly could not make myself put it down.

Nebula nominee We Are All Completely Beside Our-selves is by Karen Joy Fowler.

It is A Marion Wood Book, published in 2013 by G.P. Putnam & Sons, an imprint of the Penguin Group. About five years ago, I stumbled by sheer happenstance (my favorite technique for approaching a book) on one of Ms. Fowler's earli-er works, Sarah Canary (H. Holt, 1991) and was delighted by it.

I went searching for her other works, and learned that she had also written ?The Jane Austen Book Club ??(New York, 2004, Plume, an imprint of the Penguin Company). I had already seen the 2007 movie. The movie was somewhat more literate than your average chick flick, but it was still just a formulaic chick flick. I didn't like chick flicks even when I was young enough to identify. “Another promising beginner fizzles out,” I told myself and walked away. Harsh, perhaps, but I warned you up front I was a literary snob. I have since heard that the movie failed completely to capture the book, so perhaps I'll go back and give it a try, now that I've read her latest work.

Like many modern novels with literary aspira-tions, We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves is essentially about memory and identity. Its status as an SF/F novel is tenuous. The story does hinge on a fictional scientific experiment, but that experiment took place in the early 1970's, and would not have been of world-bending signif-icance even if it had been a success, which it wasn’t.

On the first page, Rosemary—the narra-tor/protagonist—announces with some pride that she is starting her story in the middle. She then opens with her life as a college student, inter-twined with her incomplete and frequently inac-curate memories of her early childhood. She is an unhappy and badly socialized young woman, trying to escape a childhood in which she was routinely called 'monkey girl' by her disapprov

Michaele Jordan

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ing peers. She is haunted by the disappearance of her sister when they were five and the angry flight of her brother when she was twelve.

All of the above is—however poignant— well within the range of current mainstream writ-ing. Then Ms. Fowler throws in that fictional experiment. I'm not going to tell you much about the experiment, as I don't want to commit any spoilers. Ms. Fowler chooses an exotic pacing for the story's revelations, but her choice proves eminently sound. Suffice it to say, Rosemary's father conducted this experiment in his own home so that he could watch it play out on a 24/7 basis. The whole family—and most especially the children—were intimately involved and per-manently marked.

Rosemary, of course, was a small child at the time. She perceived none of the science. She played and quarreled with her siblings, all of them looked after by babysitters who were, in fact, her father's grad student assistants. She had emotional problems, and one day ran away from home (with surprising success) and went to live with her grandmother for a while. When her par-ents brought her home, her sister was gone and her brother was a hostile stranger. Again and again, Rosemary bewails that no one would tell her what had happened.

She is the quintessential unreliable narrator. And yet she tries so hard to be honest. This young woman is not a liar, and not stupid. She is not posing for her audience. She struggles with every sentence, attempting to tell her story as accurately as possible, noting on each page where she has condensed the content of multiple conversations, and where she is only reporting what she has been told. She speculates on which of her memories may be compromised, and when her recollections conflict with each other, she attempts to deduce what really happened.

The harder she works to tell the truth, the more thoroughly she evades it. She knows that there are gaps in her memory, but it never occurs to her that those gaps might be self-imposed, or that the pattern of those gaps might add up to a carefully constructed self-deception. She is a clas-sic example of the unconscious at work. Ms. Fowler has not concealed from us that Rosemary is not able to tell us honestly what happened; she warns us and permits us to join Rosemary in her

search.But this is not just a dull psychological study.

Yes, the psychology is keen. Ms. Fowler is paint-ing a portrait of a woman who hides from her-self, and—since we all do that—she builds an damaged, empathetic everywoman. She demon-strates that truth is virtually impossible while directing us to search for it anyway. Because underneath all the rationalization and suppressed memory, there are secrets lurking, and we need to know them. Rosemary finds her truths at some cost, but without regret.

It's become popular to demonize 'literature'. I don't do that. This book is very literary. Ms. Fowler's word craft goes beyond deft. I've dis-cussed Rosemary at length but all the characters are sharp and recognizable. The story line is tight—no holes anywhere. Her unusual and elab-orate story structure is perfectly constructed, down to the last comma. I loved We Are All Com-pletely Beside Ourselves. It's the best book I've read in years. I only wish I could write this well.

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Letters of Comment

From: Robert Kennedy1779 Ciprian AvenueCamarillo, California 93010-2451(805) 987-2164robertk@cipcug.org

March 18, 2014

Dear Tom,

My thanks for #97.

I really enjoyed the front cover (by A. B. Kynock) and back cover (by, I assume, yourself). I’m leaning toward contacting Scribe X.A.S. Many years ago (like 50+) for the heck of it I responded to the Rosicrucian ad from San Jose and did their thing for a number of months. It was interesting, but not worth continuing.) So, now you have changed your middle name to Gernsback.

All the articles were interesting. But, as usu-al Alfred D. Byrd has done it again with “Kentuckiana XIX Shakertown: The Early Years.”

Sheryl Birkhead: “In My Future I See…” I have FiOS for my computer, land line, and TV. The monthly charge is higher than I had calculat-ed. The TV limitation on what can be recorded and watched at the same time is a problem. How-ever, I am basically happy with it. In your letter you mention an invisible fence to keep dogs in one’s yard. You indicate that if a dog runs very fast it should be able to get through the fence without a shock. I never thought about that; but it certainly sounds feasible. Concerning your comment about Garrison Keillor. I listened to him one time many years ago. He put me to sleep. Listening to him would be an excellent cure for insomnia.

Al Byrd: You’re welcome.Tom: In your comments to Lloyd Penney

you mention the problem some people have with their, there, they’re, affect, effect, its, and it’s. For some reason I have long had a problem with affect and effect. Usual-ly I’m ok. But, sometimes I’ll look the words up in a dictio-nary just to be sure I’ve got it correct. I don’t know why I have this problem. It’s weird.

[[Sorry, but I wasn’t responsi-ble for the back cover. I’m not sure I’de even have

thought of such a cover and it’s much more com-plicated than than anything I could manage. On the other hand, I wish I could think of such a cov-er and successfully create it.//The middle name change was only temporary and I quickly resort-ed to my middle name, David.//Yes, Al does a good job of producing those articles although I presume some readers may not find them of much interest. We all have different tastes and interests.//I haven’t listened to A Prairie Home Companion in a very long time but I found it entertaining, mostly. I’m not saying it was great entertainment but it didn’t put me to sleep. Whether or not I could listen to a full broadcast now, I have no idea and I'm not about to experi-ment to see what my reaction would be.// Regard-ing your occasional problem with affect and effect, that’s not such a weird thing. I don’t have problems with those two words, mostly but every now and then I to have to look them up to reas-sure myself that I have understood and used them correctly. So I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you. At least you take the time to verify that you’re using them correctly. Many people don’t bother to do that and just plunge ahead heedlessly, unconerned, and not caring whether they used the correct word or not.

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From: Ned BrooksMarch 24, 2014

Hi Tom - Much thanks for the zine! Interest-ing about the pen-name Mark Twain having origi-nated as the name of a fictional river man. There is still a gang of loons in New Orleans that call themselves the “Phorty Phunny Phellows” - John Guidry is a member. The old source of “Mark Twain” that I remember reading as a child was that it was one of several possible cries from the steamboat crewman assign to check the depth of the water under the boat. “Mark Twain” would have meant 2 fathoms or some such thing. Is that completely disproved, in that there is no record of any steamboat man ever making such a cry?

I tried to bring up the Vanity Fair page to see if it was any more legible online, but found the website impenetrable. I can just make out the name “Mark Twain” - and that the conversation is beyond asinine!

I saw the recent item about the decoding of the Voynich Manuscript. It looks as though Stephen Bax has made considerable progress if he has decoded 14 characters— the English alphabet after all only has 26 characters. But if symbols of the text are indeed in 1-to-1 corre-spondence with the letters of whatever language the writer started from, and the content is as bland as it seems, why was it coded at all? Of course the writer could have been an obsessive loony . . . .

Speculation about what really happened with the planes and the towers on 9/11 as become an industry in itself, what with books, videos, and websites. And rightly so; there are a lot of unan-swered questions. All we know for sure—unless the videos are faked—is that two planes hit two towers and the towers collapsed. A third 7-story building seems to have collapsed without assis-tance. I never heard of the “thermate” version of thermite. How thick would it have to have been painted on a steel beam to have the desired effect?

I quite agree with Taral about the abuse of police power in prosecuting the owners of cyber-images! The only excuse for the law against “child porn” is that the child was abused in the making of it. But if there is no child, where is the crime? Murder is illegal too, but there is no law

against images of imaginary murder—that would put Hollywood out of business. Is it illegal to pos-sess a video of a real murder?

After two ice storms here— the second one really wrecked Augusta—I thought we were through with winter. Tonight seems to be a last gasp - high winds from the NW will apparently bring a last overnight freeze. I'm more worried about the wind; across the street there's a very tall dead tree leaning towards the street. When it falls it will take out the power and phone lines, and block the street, which is a dead-end street. I tried to get the power company, which has a tree crew, or the county to take it out, but no such luck. I even sent a photo; it's quite obvious the tree is dead, as all the bark is gone for about 8 feet, starting about 15 feet up.-- Ned Brooks

[[I believe there were claims that such terms weren't used but it seems to me I read some-where that they were used but not necessarily uni-versally and possibly at a riverboat man’s whim. It seems to me that Clemens did mention the terms being used in Life on the Mississippi and, I think, in various interviews and elsewhere. I’ll have to consult some sources to make certain of that. You were brave to attempt to read that page online. I’m still struggling to decipher it but am losing the battle. From what I have been able to make out I do agree that it is beyond asinine. It may be that people who read a legible copy of the original back then weren’t very impressed either. It may have been some filler composed hastily at the last minute to fill in a blank spot.// Bax has made some progress but it’s still only a small portion compared to what remains to be decoded. That’s not to say I’d be tempted to read the whole thing when/if it’s completely cracked. I’m not particularly interested in reading bland stuff. You very well may be correct and the author was an obsessed loony.// I remember read-ing something about a 9/11 conspiracy a long while back but never paid much attention to it. Then the article arrived and I read it and did an online Google search and was amazed by the nature of the theory and the extensive detail that has been written about it. It does make a person wonder. And maybe become a bit scared to think

19

such a conspiracy might have occurred.// Taral’s article brings up another subject about a policy that should scare a lot of people. Your final sen-tence in that para-graph is a good one and worthy of discus-sion and debate.// Those officials probably have the attitude that “It’s not my concern. I don’t live there. Why should I care?” The hell of it is, if someone took it upon himself to cut down the tree or hire someone to do it some petty official would appear from the woodwork and raise hav-oc over the removal.]]

From: Kim L. NeidighMarch 27, 2014

Dear Tom,

As we continue to witness the financial col-lapse of the cities you can expect an ever expand-ing list of outsiders being labeled morally deviant. By calling them criminals, authorities can confiscate everything they own and sell it to shore up city funds. That's why these people are then slapped on the wrist and released after-wards. The expense of incarceration would exceed the value of the items confiscated. You cam bet much of the “porn” is sold to rich collec-tors who are above the law. Now just sit back and wait, photos and drawings of children in bathing suits will be next.

The government is no longer afraid to do any-thing it wants because it knows we're all too lazy to turn off our TV sets or computer screens to actually do something. After all, the Kardashians are coming on!Yours truly,

Kim L. Neidigh

[[You present a rather grim and frightening picture of an America seemingly headed in the wrong direction. It seems to be an inevitable and

unavoidable fate. There also seems to be a general feeling of hopelessness and apa-thy. It doesn’t help any that perhaps mil-lions of Americans do seem more interested in such things as the Kardashians (Has any-

body else noticed how close their name is to something out of Star Trek—Cardassians?), Big Brother, Dancing With the Stars, Duck Dynasty, Sole Survivor, and other such TV programs. It also doesn’t help that far too many people look upon events unfolding in the news in extremes. Everything becomes a disaster, a train wreck, the end of the world, and even another holocaust. Yes, there are some worrisome and perhaps frightening trends but are they really as dire as some people think? In general, people like to exaggerate almost everything that happens. Cer-tainly there are serious matters facing this coun-try and they should be taken seriously but not to an almost hysterical level. People do need to break away from their TVs and computers and do something but it takes time for that to happen. But until then, people shouldn’t go into panic mode and act like Chicken Little or the little boy who cried wolf. Enough. I wonder what sort of response I’ll get to what I’ve written here.]]

From: Brad FosterMarch 29, 2014

Greetings Tom ~~

Only one more issue, and then you'll have to come up with something special for that big #100. Seriously, you will be judged harshly if you don't impress the heck out of us. Just a warn-ing! :)

Meanwhile, while I have read and enjoyed the articles in this latest issue, I find I have no real comments, at least anything of an interesting nature, to offer back in reply. So, will have to hope the attached three fillos will keep my fan-nish subscription going a bit longer.

(By the way, that long, tall fillo? The original art on that is 17 inches tall!)

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I promise to try harder next time.

stay happy~Brad

Brad W FosterPO Box 165246Irving, TX 75016

[[ Wow. You’re not putting any pressure on me are you? “Impress the heck out of us . . .” In the words of the immortal W. C. Fields, “Godfrey Daniel!” My mind just went totally blank. Some-thing impressive . . . I’m really worried now. I think I’ll change my mind and go into hiding somewhere. Or else cudgel my poor little brain to dream up something, somehow. Too bad you don’t have any real comments but that happens. Maybe this issue will engender a comment or two. Fortunately, the 3 fillos will serve their intended purpose. 17”! To do that fillo justice I’d have to buy a sufficient quantity of ledger-sized paper to serve as a sort of centerfold. But the paper would have to be narrowed to 8½” X 17” In order to fit my printer. Although, come to think of it that would have added an unusual fea-ture to TRF.//Sorry to learn that you and Cindy did’t win TAFF. I’m sure Curt Phillips is deserv-ing of the honor but I’ve only seen his name here and there and read a couple of his articles in oth-er fanzines and never had any contact with him. Until, that is, when he sent me a bribe--a copy of a collection of some of his articles.Along with a ballot. But I’m not the kind to be bribed.]]

From: Alexis Gilliland4030 8th Street South, Arlington, VA 22204March 31, 2014Dear Tom,

Thank you for TRF #98, as usual a well pro-duced issue with a fine Brad Foster cover and a conceptually interesting back cover by Kynock, though I expect that Don Quixote must lose some of his essential charm when you take him out of his 16th Century milieu. The Don is too delusional to take the place of, say, James Bond, even if provided with all essential gadgetry.

However, the Don is not the only one with delusions. On page 20 you have “?” which is an anonymous rant tilting at conspiracy windmills. Upon googling thermate, we immediately find a refutation for one theory the article advances. Also, there was a recent TV special about how and why the twin towers collapsed, the short ver-sion being that as steel gets hot it loses strength, which is why the second tower collapsed before the first. The second tower had been hit lower, and since its weakening steel had more weight to support it collapsed sooner. “As for the Pen-tagon, that was a cruise missile. It was not a 757,” is simply bullshit and delusional bullshit at that. Security camera footage showed American Airlines Flight 77 going in, and debris from that 757 was recovered. United Airlines Flight 93 was tracked on radar as crashed in Pennsylvania because the passengers learned what the other hijacked flights had done, and tried to take the plane over, because they were in cell phone con-tact, conspiratorial theories to the contrary not- withstanding.

Which is not to say that there have not been conspiracies in the White House, but they tend to be like the Gulf of Tonkin resolution in which LBJ used am unconfirmed report of a torpedo attack to authorize the expansion of the Vietnam War; Bush used Iraq’s non-existent weapons of mass destruction, (famously declared a “Slam dunk” by George Tenet, then head of the CIA) as a cause for war; or the Iran-Contra scandal, in which Reagan continued to support the Contras after Congress not only refused to authorize fund-ing for such activity but overrode a presidential veto in the process. Which is to say, a lot of lying is common. If--IF the President had ad- vance and detailed information about the hijack-ings, one would expect that he would have (1) acted to prevent them, instead of sending out teams of sappers to sabotage their intended tar-gets for whatever reason, and (2) arranged to look presidential as the event happened. That no steps were taken to prevent the hijackings, and continuing to read to grade schoolers as the coun-try was attacked both suggest that Bush was out of the loop. That should do for now.

Best wishes,

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[[I agree with you about Don Quixote. He was very much a man of his times, living in a par-ticular country time at a much much different from today and definitely even more different from a future time. I think he would be even more out of place. Miguel Cervantes’ Quixote was. It may be possible that at some distant time in the future there could be a Don Quixote but not the Don Quixote of Cervantes. A descen-dent in some way maybe.// To me personally con-spiracy theories are interesting in that those sup-porting them can sometimes provide what appears to be reasonable, factual and plausible supporting evidence and make such theories lengthy, detailed, and complicated. Some of those theories make movie and novel thrillers look simple and almost mundane in comparison. I too Googled that particular 9/11 theory and was . . . amazed by all the detail and technical jargon employed in explaining why they believe the theory is true. I may be denigrated by some but I’m pretty much a fence-sitter or perhaps an agnostic considering how fervent some support-ers are. In some way it’s rather frightening to think that maybe things like the 9/11 conspiracy might be possible. There are always strong feel-ing on each side, the believers and the disbeliev-ers. Unfortunately fence-sitters would probably catch hell from both sides. As agnostics do from the religious and the atheists. Right now, it seems that, to many Republicans, 9/11 has taken a back seat to their latest obsession: Benghazi. I’ll say no more on that. ]]

From: Dave Rowe8288 W Shelby State Road 44FRANKLIN IN 46131-9211

2014-April-2

Dear Tom,

Thanks for TRF98 (The Paranoid Issue). What with Gene sprouting lines like “Mystery

bleeds into mystification to keep the masses ignorant of how things work” and Taral on the persecution of furry fan-dom. (of course he doesn’t give us real names, times and places so, we can’t check if it’s true or if he’s pulling another Claude Degler) and then there was “?” trying to cram enough conspiracy theo-ries on two pages to win an entry in the Guinness Book of Records.

Knowing how much negative criticism makes you cringe, the following comes very reluctantly but only because it’s needed. “?” was two pages of anonymous, paranoid nonsense that was almost unreadable. And it came right after a really well researched and well thought-out piece by Al Byrd. “?” read like Gene Stewart on steroids and L.S.D. Except Gene freaking out on steroids and L.S.D. would still have written some-thing more coherent and readable. You yourself made the criticism on page 31 “Anything can get published—and does.” That shouldn’t refer to TRF. PLEASE, never again!

While on the subject of Gene . . . Nice to know he’s taken the bull by the horns, and is los-ing weight. Maybe it’s time again to ask you con-tributors for photos of themselves. Pretty sure we’d all love to know what Spore & Toetoe Hodges look like.

Sheryl’s question and answer about why fecal matter floats brings to mind the observation on slander and slanders: Mud sticks and “fecal matter” floats.

And at the other end of the spectrum, it’s good to see Teddy Harvia back in action. Any chance you could get him to illustrate an article each ish?

[[As I noted in the Introduction: at least in my case there isn’t much in the way of paranoia. Nothing major anyway. There may be for others I suppose..//Well, paranoia or not there do seem to be many cases such as those Gene and Taral write about. I can’t speak with any authority but I’m doubtful that Taral was “. . . Pulling another Claude Degler.” You could always ask him

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about that directly. It’s not difficult to do; he posts his Broken Toys on eFanzines and it should be easy to obtain his email/snailmail addresses. If I recall correctly ? Dealt almost exclusively with the 9/11 theory; others have written much more on that than anonymous. I’m going to sur-prise you. I didn’t “cringe” at your criticism. I could, I suppose, feign cringing if it would make you happy. It might have been “. . . Almost unreadable . . .” But you managed to read enough of it to decide so. It probably didn’t occur to you that ? Was published for two rea-sons: 1. As a contrast of sorts to Al Byrd’s article and, 2. As an experiment to see how much and what kind of responses the piece might get. I think it achieved those goals. It wouldn’t sur-prise me if Gene got a laugh out of your steroids comment. While I hope everyone who actually reads TRF reads everything in each issue. But I’m realistic enough to expect some readers will skip over certain articles or find them unworthy of comment. You could have taken one of those courses. As for your plea—I make no promises or guarantees. Professional publishers have often published works that some readers deem not worth publishing. It’s all a matter of taste personal judgment. As for your quoting me, yes it could be considered as criticism in one view but it could also, if people were willing to think in another direction, that what I wrote could merely be meant as an observation on an aspect of the publishing industry.// I sure would love to see what Spore and Toetoe Hodges look like but then that might take all the mystery out of them. That goes for A. B. Kynock as well. Best to leave them unseen.// It would be up to Teddy Harvia to take you up on your suggestion. I have no idea how committed he is to getting back into fanzines and illustrating them. BTW: did you mean one of the slanders to be slanderers? And is that a round-about way of calling one or the other “fecal mat-ter”? I’m a wee bit confused, which sometimes seems to be my normal condition. ]]

From: Dave Rowe8288 W Shelby State Road 44Franklin, IN46131-92112014-April-6

Dear Tom,

Thanks (again) for TRF98. Forgot to men-tion, The Indianapolis Star on April 2 had a sort-of appendix or add-on story to Matt’s piece about the Sergeant Morgan Carter’s letter.

When the Indiana Historical Society couldn’t afford that piece of Indiana memorabilia and the letter went to be hidden in some private collec-tion, the I.H.S. became royally peeved and decid-ed they were never again going to be out-bidded so they’re beginning to sell off any of their acqui-sitions that aren’t directly connected with Indi-ana.

The first to go under the hammer was John James Audubon’s The Birds Of America (there are only 130 copies known to be in existence) and a three volume set of Audubon’'s Viviparous Quadrupeds Of North America.

So there’s some real bargains to be had. That is if you are a multimillionaire. The sale of those two lots grossed $3.77 million.

[[That’s the sort of problem historical societies face, competition from other societies and pri-vate collectors. I can’t say with any certainty but it’s probable that some other such organizations have larger budgets than others. Then too there are individual collectors who seem to have far more money than they need or know what to do with the funds. At least if another historical soci-ety had acquired the letter a large number of peo-ple would be able to view it on display. Having some multi-millionaire acquire the letter had to really hurt. I read somewhere that Audubon’s publications were worth a great deal of money. I wonder if some other multi-millionaire bought what the Indiana Historical Society put up for sale or did some other historical society. Just think of how much good nearly four million dol-lars could have done for some other purpose.]]

From: Robert Kennedy1779 Ciprian AvenueCamarillo, Calfornia 93010-2451(805) 987-2164robertk@cipcug.org

April 15, 2014

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Dear Tom,

My thanks for #98.The back cover by

A. B. Kynock was great.More commentary

on Mark Twain. That’s fine. Keep it up.

“Ruminations” by Dalmer Shasto was interesting. I highly recom-mend the movie The Thirteenth Floor (1999).

“Indiana-ania: The Letter, The Crater, And the Underground” by Matt Howard was interest-ing.

Aldo H. Masters—“In My Spare Time”. I receive more publications than I can possibly read completely. I’m going to have to not renew a number of them. I do subscribe to Archaeolo-gy and Smithsonian Magazine both of which will be continued as they contain interesting articles.

Al Byrd keeps it up with “KENTUCKIANA XX”

“?”: I assume this was a joke. At least I hope so.

“Freedom of Repression” by Taral Wayne was scary!

The “Crotchety Critic” by Michaele Jordan has caused me to try and obtain Saturn’s Chil-dren: A Space Opera and Neptune’s Brood by Charles Stross neither of which I can recall hav-ing read.

Joseph Major and Tom: The March 24, 2014, TV program Bones has a situation where one of the characters had written a novel and wanted the opinion of his co-workers. They all thought it was terrible and didn’t quite know how to tell him. Finally they decided to sit down and try to let him down easy. They were all gath-ered in a group and he was all smiles. Before they could give him their opinions he announced that his novel had been accepted by the same pub-lisher that produced the novels by Bones. So, of course they congratulated him and that was that.

Al Byrd: I still have a scar on my left hand from an X-ACTO Knife that was inflicted some 65 or so years ago. Or, maybe it’s combined with the almost same place I stabbed myself with an ice pick some 63 or so years ago.

Tom: I detest long lines and do my best to not get in one. In grocery stores I make my

check out except for the amount and my sig-nature before getting in line.

Well, enough of that. My thanks for another fine issue of The Reluctant Famu-lus.

From: Al ByrdApril 17, 2014

Dear Tom,

Once again, I seem to be running late on a LOC. Thank you for, and congratulations on, another fine issue of TRF in #98.

It’s good to hear that the true origin of the pen name “Mark Twain” has been discov-ered—or has it? History has a habit of keeping happening, even after the event in question is long over.

I enjoyed your commentary on the latest “decipherment” of the Voynich Manuscript. It might be fascinating to read the ms. if someone ever does truly decipher it—or maybe boring if it turns out to be only a herbiary that someone for some unaccountable reason encoded. If it’s only a scholarly jest, it’s sad that its perpetrator will never know that it’s still baffling experts after centuries.

Now that I’m taking a furlough from the Civ-il War, at least in these pages, it was comforting to see that Matt Howard held the fort in fine form. His was an excellent article on the hero-ic,but often tragic role played by black soldiers in their war of liberation. The Battle of the Crater brings together themes of sacrifice, incompe-tence, and hatred that ran through the war.

I was fascinated by Aldo H. Master’s men-tion of Camp Lawton. I hadn’t heard of it, but, for those who were there, it was the center of their lives during a time of suffering. It never ceases to amaze me just how widespread the Civ-il War was.

It’s cheering for me to see that my long-promised series on the Shakers is getting a good reception. After that series is over, I plan on a two-parter on Kentucky’s greatest political scan

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dal, which will keep me away from the Civil War awhile longer. With luck, part one came through to you when I emailed it earlier this evening.

I’m tentatively planning to visit Michigan around Labor Day. If I do, I hope to visit the Riv-er Raisin battlefield and come up with material on a bad time for Kentuckians. It’ll be war again, but not the Civil War.

Again, thank you for another fine issue of TRF. Best wishes, Al Byrd

[[Actually you weren’t running late, since I didn’t start working on TRF 99 until after the first of May.//It is tempting to say case closed on how Sam Clemens acquired his pen name and there are reservations about doing so. Clemens didn’t help matters much by, as the old cliché goes, muddying the waters by giving out the explanation he did when asked about his pen name. Was it intentional, accidental, or due to perhaps mis-remembering how he settled on it. After over a century, all anyone can do is specu-late based on possibly insufficient data regard-ing the truth. Personally I’m pretty much con-vinced Clemens didn’t steal it from Captain Isa-iah Sellers no matter what Clemens told people who asked about it. I also agree with some Twain experts that he didn’t take if from the alleged practice of his when out of money in his favorite bar he’d tell the bartender to “mark twain” on his tab. That seems even less likely than the Sellers connection.// I suppose there is a possibility the translated Voynich manuscript might turn out to be a major disappointment or a joke. // The battle of the crater was just one large, blatant example of the hatred, incompe-tence, and intolerance that occurred throughout the American Civil War. Camp Lawton was another of such events and little known to most people. There are times, even now in the 21st Century when those attitudes continue to flour-ish.// Well when TRF 100 appears you’ll have confirmation that the first part did reach its desti-nation. Does it by any chance have anything to do with the Battle of Fallen Timbers?]]

From: Milt StevensApril 28, 2014

Dear Tom,

Before reading Reluctant Famulus #98, I had never heard of the Voynich Manuscript. Since you say it’s a book nobody can read, I’m not going to rush out and buy a copy. Some authors have done quite well with books that can’t be read. Finnegan’s Wake is a good example. You don’t exactly read Finnegan’s Wake. It’s more of a literary chew toy. Some people find sections of the book entirely unreadable. Those are mostly the sections in Gaelic or Old Frisian. I don’t think anyone has ever figured out why a dead Irishman would be speaking Old Frisian, so don’t bother asking.

Gene Stewart mentions the belief that about 5000 super capitalists control the world. I think many people find that a comforting belief. If it is true, then the world may make some sort of sense. Unfortunately, super capitalists don’t seem to agree with each other any better than fans do. So we get 5000 conspirators with 5000 conspiracies. That sounds about right.

Too bad that Dalmer turned out to be unreal. It must be very difficult for him. He should remember that some of the best things in life are imaginary.

Speaking of imaginary, splitting the atom may have been a major mistake. We discovered that 90% of an atom was just empty space. Study-ing the remaining particles revealed they were 90% empty space as well . This process of dis-covery has continued until we have darned little real matter left in the universe. Saying that the universe may be a thought in the mind of God doesn’t seem to be as strange a belief as it once did.

Mathematics has replaced the Platonic forms. It used to be that a chair was a chair because it participated in the form of chairness. Now, a chair is a chair because it is within the mathemati-cal parameters of a chair. If God didn’t have mathematics, he wouldn’t have anything to think about at all, and then where would we be?

Neptune’s Brood is my first place choice for the novel Hugo this year. I like Charles Stross, he’s screwy. I think this is his sixth try at best

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novel Hugo, and he hasn’t had a win as yet. I’ve voted for him several times before. In this category, my entire vote will be (1) Neptune’s Brood, (2) Ancillary Justice, (3) No Award. Yours truly,Milt Stevens6325 Keystone St.Simi Valley, CA 93063miltstevens@earthlink.net

[[As far as I’m aware, if there are any copies of the Voynich manuscript they are in the possession of various experts working on deciphering it. I doubt it’s ready for general pub-lication yet. I’m not even sure if the original was intended to be published for others anyway.//I’ve heard of Finnegan’s Wake and I think I tried to read it at one time years ago but didn’t get very far. Some have called it a very long stream-of-consciousness novel—if it can be called a novel. One has to wonder about James Joyce in this instance. Was he trying to put something over on people? “. . . A literary chew toy.” I like that description. I suspect there are other novels which can be considered literary chew toys. Finnegan’s Wake might make a good paper-weight; sort of like Samuel Delaney’s Dahlgren, from what I’ve read about it.// It may be some sort of comfort having 5,000 super-capitalists controlling the world economy but a question has to be asked: Do their goals coincide with what millions of people want or doe their goals benefit only the super-capitalists to the detriment of the millions? There are some experts on such things who are warning that the U.S. is leaning toward becoming an oligarchy controlled by some of those super-capitalists, and possibly most other nations.// Well I thought Dalmer was someone pretty good. But then what do I know? I’m just the one who brought him to life, so to speak. There’s one of the problems with the dis-covery that atoms are mostly empty space. That makes it difficult on us humans who have the idea that world around us and everything in it that we perceive with our five senses is mostly solid, including us. How can something that’s

largely empty space be so solid as we think it is? There’s a mind bending con-cept. But then consider all the mostly empty space there is in our universe.]]

From: Lloyd Penney1706-24 Eva Rd.Etobicoke, ONCANADA M9C 2B2

May 9, 2014

Dear Tom:

This is taking me some time, but I am attack-ing a pile of fanzines, both e- and paper, that I simply let accumulate during April, and now that May is here, the pile is finally starting to shrink. Apologies for a prolonged bout of laziness, but now comes a letter of comment on The Reluctant Famulus 98.

Good to see you’ve been vindicated re the ori-gins of Sam Clemens’ pen name. I would like to know more about Twain and Tesla, and what was said and done in their friendship. (Chris Gar-cia is looking for submissions to his steampunk zine Exhibition Hall, so I figure that anything with Twain and Tesla in it would be of interest to him. If you don’t have more, perhaps John Pur-cell might.)

I don’t get offers of subscriptions to maga-zines in the mail any more. I never could afford them, and in the long run, I wasn’t sure I ever wanted them. And, I am not sure what magazines I’d want. These days there seems to be a ton of SF magazines out there, online. Wish I could find a list of them, I might be interested. ‘Might’ is the operative term there. I have no magazines at home.

Moxie used to be sold in the Montréal area, and I never really knew what flavour it was. I triedtried it, and at first, I thought it was plum or prune flavoured. Those in the know said it was a combination of herbs, but still… All I can say is that it tastes...different.

My own loc…the job hunt is still going on, for both of us now, although we both have very promising prospects we are hoping for. I may be

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able to get back into publishing of some sort if I get the call I am looking for. I have had only two weeks of work so far this year. Yvonne will prob-ably return to accounts payable.

Hello, Sheryl. When it comes to Murdoch Mysteries movies, there were three of them, star-ring Peter Outerbridge and Colm Meaney. The series, starring Yannick Bisson, Hélène Joy, Thomas Craig, Georgina Reilly and Jonny Har-ris, has gone on for several seasons now, and the eighth season will start shooting in June.

I am terribly tired right now, and I am not writing the letter I wanted to write. I hope you have some special plans for issues 99 and 100, I eagerly await their arrival. Meanwhile, I think I am going to have a good night’s sleep, for tomor-row is a busy day of zipping around the city, doing a little shopping and seeing what we can get to supplement our dealer’s table. We’ve been at a couple of show so far this year, done all right, and we have another one the end of this month. See you with the next Famulus.

Yours, Lloyd Penney.

[[I haven’t seen much about Twain and Tesla oth-er than Twain mentioning having visited Tesla a few times. I’ve seen a couple of photos of Twain and Tesla in the latter’s lab. I’ll have to check his biographies and the suppressed autobiogra-phy (I now have Volume 2 of that and am look-ing forward to Volume 3 when it comes out) and see what I can find. I’d like to know more about that myself. I don’t know much about steampunk other than it’s more like fantasy or alternate his-tory. I don’t think their acquaintance would have much of a connection to steampunk if any.//In regard to online science fiction magazines, the easiest thing to do, of course, is to do a Google search for them. I know there are several but the titles of them escapes me at the moment. Many, if not all, the magazines I subscribe to have online versions, “for your Kindle . . .). What their sub-scription cost is I have no idea.// Since Moxie isn’t sold around here or any place I travel to, as far as I’m aware, I’m not going to concern myself with what it tastes like. It’s just not worth it.//It appears to me as if the unemployment situa-tion in Canada is much like it is here; plenty of people looking for work but not enough jobs for

everyone.// I didn’t have any special plans for TRF 99, just that it would pretty much be the usu-al sort of issue. As for #100—I hadn’t given it any thought either. But I reckon I ought to get busy working on something different at least.]]

There’s an old saying, “There’s a first time for everything.” Well, actually a second, to be truth-ful. An unexpected first loc from a reader whose name I recognize but have never heard from before. But it is the first loc I've received for an issue farther back that the preceding issue of TRF.

May 11, 2014From: Jason BurnettHi Tom,

After reading in RF 96 about the Serpo pro-tect, I went online and started to see what I could find about it. In fairly short order I found myself immersed in numerous accounts of back-stab-bing and double-dealing (both admitted and imag-ined), broken trust and attempts to hide sources on the part of the UFO buffs looking into the pro-ject. It seems like if they devoted half as much energy to actually researching the case as they did in trying to screw each other out of the glory that they imagine will be forthcoming when the “facts” are revealed, they would long since have uncovered and verified all of the facts, assuming that there are any facts to be uncovered and veri-fied.

I think Gene Stewart’s take on the publish-ing industry and the hazards of genre snobbery are spot on. It leads to ridiculous spectacles such as Margaret Atwood’s repeated denials that she writes science fiction. Of course, she has to deny it, else the literary critics would stop reviewing her books and she’d lose one of the few publicity machines available to an author. As for publish-ing houses, I trust them about as far as I can throw the lot of them. First they spend the 1990s telling us the cost of books was going up because of the cost of ink and paper and transportation, then they spent the 2000s telling us that ebooks cost almost as much as paperbacks because so lit-tle of the cost of a book was spent on ink and paper and transportation. Talk about wanting to have their cake and eat it too!

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Take care,Jason Burnett

[[When I saw the book blurb about Project Ser-po I did the same as you and did an online search for more infor-mation. Initially I did so to determine if the book was work of fiction, as it seemed to be. As with you, I found a fair amount about it. Then I looked for an article of reasonable length so that I could summarize it with the basics and not take up a lot of space. After becoming familiar with the controversy around Serpo I pretty much con-cluded it was more a work of fiction than fact in spite of its proponents’ stance that it was the truth. I suspect the followers of Serpo were focused more on arguing over who was correct and deserved the credit. But it would seem there were no real facts to be verified.//Most publish-ing houses are like any other kind of business, in it for pure profit and many of them can’t be trust-ed, as Mark Twain found out to his sorrow and disgust with ones he had been affiliated. All the publishers want is a product that provides the largest profit for the smallest outlay. As I’ve not-ed with books, whether paper and ink or electron-ic are products and brands just like toothpaste, shoelaces, shampoo, toilet paper, laxatives, etc., nothing more, nothing less. And yet Atwood has written what can be called science fiction, not that she may be willing toadmit it.]]

In response to Lloyd’s Question about Twain and Tesla, I have included a little something about Mark Twain and Nikola Tesla I’ve found so far. That doesn't mean I’ll not keep looking just in case there is more. Stop that groaning and booing, you people out there. Stop it!

From the Autobiography of Mark Twain, Vol-ume 1, page 495, assorted notes.

103.7 he could apply the alternating test and come out triumphant] In a notebook entry dated 1 November 1888 Clemens remarked on Nikola Tesla’s recently patented alternating current motor:

I have just seen the drawings and descrip-tion of an electrical machine lately patent-ed by a Mr. Nikola Tes-la, & sold to the West-inghouse Company, which will revolution-

ize the whole electric business of the world. It is the most valuable patent since the telephone. The drawings and description show that this is the very machine, in every detail which Paige invent-ed nearly 4 years ago.

Tesla “tried everything that we tried, as the drawings & description prove; & he tried one thing more—a thing which we had canvass-es—the alternating current. That solved the diffi-culty & achieved success” (N&J3, 431)

From a Blog called It’s Okay to be Smart by Joe Hanson, Ph. D

Nikola Tesla and Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain) had quite the interesting friendship over the years.

Twain “cured” Tesla of an illness through his writing:

“I had hardly completed my course at the Real Gymnasium when I was prostrated with a dangerous illness or rather, a score of them, and my condition became so desperate that I was giv-en up by physicians. During this period I was per-mitted to read constantly, obtaining books from the Public Library which had been neglected and entrusted to me for classification of the works and preparation of the catalogues. One day I was handed a few volumes of new literature unlike anything I had ever read before and so captivat-ing as to make me utterly forget my hopeless state. They were the earlier works of Mark Twain and to them might have been due the miraculous recovery which followed. Twenty-five years later, when I met Mr. Clemens and we formed a friendship between us, I told him of the experience and was amazed to see that great man of laughter burst into tears.”

And Tesla once cured Twain’s constipation by having him stand on a “healing machine”.

And in later years, Clemens would regularly visit with Tesla, engaging in stunningly intelli-

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gent entertainment such as shooting an x-ray gun at his head for fun. There’s even rumors that Twain’s story A Connecticut Yankee In King Arthur’s Court, an early sci-fi classic, based its main character around Tesla.

From Cracked Magazine

Twain and Tesla's friendship was forged more or less from geeking out as fanboys of one another. Tesla had read Mark Twain before com-ing to New York City to invent the 20th century, and the only thing Twain knew of Tesla was his AC polyphase system. As Twain wrote, “I have just seen the drawings and description of an elec-trical machine lately patented by a Mr. Tesla, and sold to the Westinghouse Company, which will revolutionize the whole electric business of the world. It is the most valuable patent since the telephone.”

So when the two met at parties around New York City, the relationship developed like a child-hood friendship where one kid has a bunch of cool toys and the other knows a bunch of great jokes. Twain would even visit Tesla’s workshop and offer himself up as a guinea pig for Tesla's new inventions.

During one such playdate, Tesla revealed his mechanical oscillator that could produce alternat-ing currents. One of the side effects was apparent-ly some pretty substantial vibrations, which Tes-la suspected might be therapeutic. Sure enough, this was all Twain needed to hear, and he imme-diately volunteered to be a test subject.

Twain leaped into the lap of the machine and told Tesla to zap his brains out. After a few min-utes of insisting that he felt like the machine was giving him, “vigor and vitality,” Twain quickly realized what he was actually feeling was the machine literally shaking the shit out of him. He had to rush to the restroom, thus proving Tesla had discovered the first and only electric laxa-tive.

From a site called Tesla ToursMark Twain and Nikola Tesla Were Best Friends

Tesla had first become aware of Twain dur-ing his younger years while crippled with sick-nesses so bad that the doctors had given up all hope. He was bedridden and sinking into deep

despair when someone gave him a couple of Twain’s books to read to pass the time.

Tesla said that the books were so captivating and moving that it helped pull him out of the depressed state he was in, setting the stage for him to recover.

Later on in life he met Mark Twain at a place they both liked to go called The Player’s Club, Twain was someone absolutely entranced by things like science, technology, and inventions and so naturally he connected with Tesla right off the bat. It was there at that club that they began a strong friendship that would last the rest of their lives.

In many ways the two lived in the world of imagination, just different aspects of it. Both could pull ideas out of thin air and make monu-mental changes to the world around them, one through words and the other through electricity. They admired this ability in each other and liked to hang out and talk for hours in Tesla’s lab.

So really this isn’t only an awesome picture of Mark Twain but also a snapshot of a moment in time between two very good friends. Epic friends.

From an item called: Tesla 150th Anniversary Liberating energy:

Another writer was a member of Tesla’s cir-cle of friends – Samuel Clemens, i.e. Mark Twain (1835-1910).

Although there aren’t any books by Twain in Tesla’s library, pictures made in Tesla’s laborato-ry clearly demonstrate that the two of them were more than contemporaries. In the period after fin-ishing his schooling in the Real Gymnasium, Tes-la was overcome by a serious illness. Lying in bed, he received a few volumes of contemporary literature:

“It was the first works of Mark Twain to which I owe the miraculous recovery that fol-lowed. Twenty-five years later, when I met Mr. Clemens and when we became friends, I told him about my experience, and with astonishment I watched the great master of laughter crying.”

Editor: As whoever reads this will have noticed, there is some repetition in the above selections. It suggests either that was all that was recorded or, if accounts of other meetings be-

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between had been written down, those reports have been lost or are in the possession of a pri-vate collector or collectors somewhere. I hope there may be other such accounts and that they will turn up somewhere.

Last, is a copy of a letter that Clemens wrote to Tesla:

To Nikola TeslaNovember 1898 Vienna, Austria

Hotel Krantz Vien 1 Neuer Markt 6

Dear Mr. Tesla—

Have you Austrian & English patents on that destructive terror which you are inventing? — & if so, won't you set a price upon them & commis-sion me to sell them? I know cabinet ministers of both countries—& of Germany, too; likewise

William 11. 1 shall be in Europe a year, yet. Here in the hotel the other night when some inter-ested men were discussing means to persuade the nations to join with the Czar & disarm, I advised them to seek something more sure than disarma-ment by perishable paper-contract—invite the great inventors to contrive something against which fleets & armies would be helpless, & thus make war thenceforth impossible. I did not sus-pect that you were already attending to that. & getting ready to introduce into the earth perma-nent peace & disarmament in a practical & mandatory way.

I know you area very busy man, but will you steal time to drop me a line?

Sincerely Yours, Mark Twain

Reference source:(CMs: Yu B2, # 05471)

There are two other letters From Twain to Tesla but I haven't been able to find the texts of them so far. I will continue to look and hope for success

The first following photograph is of Mark Twain in Tesla's lab. Second, Nikola Tesla. Third, inside Tesla's lab. Fourth, Mark Twain and Joe Twitchell.

And that’s it for this issue

Samuel Clemens made many friends during his lifetime and, in spite of the perceived uniqueness of the two, Nikola Tesla was only one of many. Clemens' old-est and best friend was perhaps the Rev-erend Joseph H. Twitchell

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I know I shouldn’t do this—it probably vio-lates some provision of the Geneva Conven-tion—but I can’t help myself and I just know I’m going to regret having given in to a whim. A while back I was going through some old papers at least forty or forty-five years old, I think, and came across something I had committed way back then. It seemed hilarious at the time but now, in my mature, decling days, I’m not so sure. Fortunately I’m inflicting only a portion of what I wrote but, as far as I can remember, never showed to anyone. After you’ve seen it you’ll understand why. Forgive me if can; it was just youthful, exuberance and folly.

Chapter 1, The Beginning

In the beginning there was nothing, and from this nothing came there even less:;And so it was for ten billion years.And then out of the infinite darkness there came a pinpoint of lightWhich grew in size until, suddenly, there burst into existence the supreme entity which we all have come to know and love as the GREAT GOD MORRON!And the great god was wise and all-knowing, with infinite patience and virtue.For a billion years the great god Moron dwelled alone in darkness, enjoying himself;And delighting in his uniqueness he rejoiced throughout the emptiness.But he was alone and there were none to hear him,Nor was there anyone to praise him and do his bidding; And there was no one with whom he could becomd angry.And so it was the Great God Moron created fol-lowers to do his bidding.He labored for an hundred million years devising those who would please him most.First there came man to sing his praises and do his bidding; And then he created women to make his men happy.And the children of the Great God Moron were many and prospered greatly.And his children pleased him.And the great god was happy once again;And his joy rang throughout the infinite.But there was one problem which troubled him

sorely:He had not created a place for his children to live.And thus it was the Great God Moron searched through the emptiness until he found a home for his children.He placed them upon this new-found world and let them do as they desired.The history of the children oft the Great God Moron was a great one filled with many insignifi-cent achievements and successes.

There you have it. I bet anyone who was stu—er brave enough to read it will curse and wish I had used good judgment and refrained from defiling good paper with such a travesty. You can thank your lucky stars, or whatever, that I didn’t include all of the preceding. It would have been more than any normal person could take. Luckily, TRF 100 shouldn’t have anything like that in it. I think an issue filled with blank pages would be an improvement.

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