December 16, 2003 - Day of the Writers

Lord & Taylor's Christmas display

The source of the smell was a place called Allie's Grill, and we were seated.

We opted for the breakfast bar, which offered a good variety, including custom made omelets. As we're sitting there eating, I saw a man at the table next to us, eating alone, facing us. He had a very neat gray beard and glasses.

I was looking at him thinking, "He looks familiar," and I was wondering where I might have seen him. Then I realized he might look familiar because, before the convention, I did some research to come up with questions for both Jack McDevitt and Harry Harrison. Sure enough, I opened the program book to the portion on Harry Harrison and saw his picture, staring back up at me. It was him.

So I walked over and asked him, "Are you Harry Harrison?"

He said yes.

I introduced myself and told him I'd been trying to locate him to ask for an interview. He said that we could do that in about 10 minutes, after he finished eating. Meanwhile, I had that interview with Jack McDevitt coming up in about 15 minutes, but I held tight, figuring that if worse came to worse, I'd be maybe five minutes late.

As it turned out, Harry Harrison called me over and we worked out a time: 4 p.m., at the end of his very last panel. We still had plenty of time to get to the Green Room. In fact, Jack McDevitt wasn't even there yet, so we took over a couple chairs and waited.

Jack McDevitt walked in, wearing a white turtleneck, and said hi. The Gryphon, who was about to go meet up with his other friends, told Mr. McDevitt he wouldn't be able to make the autograph session today.

"Do you have your book with you?" I asked him. "Maybe he'd be willing to sign it now."

Jack McDevitt agreed, so The Gryphon handed him the book. "Thanks for the encouragement," he wrote.

As he's sitting there signing the book, he says, "Did you hear they captured Saddam Hussein?"

"No!"

"Yes, they captured him this morning." He leaned back in the chair and said, "I can just imagine him, leaning back and saying, 'You see, it's like this...'"

Jack McDevitt and I managed to find an empty meeting room where we could talk before his 11 a.m. panel. I'd only intended to talk to him for about 20 minutes, but the conversation got carried away. We were talking about his writing process, science fiction as a tool for increasing literacy, and tips for writings.

At one point, I asked him if he considered himself an observer of human nature. He said he thought you had to be to be a writer. "In fact, you're quite interesting," he said.

"Turning the tables on me?" I laughed. He was the type of person who enjoyed having a real conversation, not just throwing out pat responses. I found myself wondering if his occasional questions of me "How long have you read science fiction? Where did you grow up?" were his subtle way of doing a character study.

At the end of the interview, a man poked his head in the door and said, "Oh, I'm sorry. Are you busy in here? I was going to set up my reading."

We insisted we were just leaving and that it was no problem at all.

Jack McDevitt mentioned that I'd been interviewing him, and the man said, with pleasant surprise, "Where are you from?"

I told him about Wild Violet and handed him my card, mentioning that we've had interviews with writers, artists and musicians of all levels. He said, jokingly, "You should interview me. I need it more than he does."

He gave me his card: Tom Purdom. Turns out he's a short story author and editor from the Philadelphia region, so I told him I'd give him a call and we'd get together for lunch and a chat.

Unfortunately, I knew the rest of my day would be too busy to talk to him at Philcon. And besides, I would want to familiarize myself first with his work.

I stopped in at The Gryphon's panel to let him know I was heading back to my apartment. I'd agreed to do a late morning assignment, to make a little extra cash over the weekend. This had the added benefit of allowing me to let my dog out again before returning for the afternoon.

Naturally, there were some technical difficulties which prevented me from starting right away. Then, just as I was finishing up my sister called. I called her back on my cell phone and talked to her while giving Una a walk.

When I returned, I discovered that news of Saddam's capture had spread.

I got back with just a little time to spare before Harry Harrison's panel at 3 p.m. I met up with The Gryphon, whose panel had been canceled due to a lack of interest. He and I hung out with friends until the panel began.

The panel was entitled "Heinlein's Future History: Now That 'The Crazy Years' Have Passed" and was supposed to be about Heinlein's vision of the future. Tom Purdom and Harry Harrison were the only panelists to show, the other panelists having presumably left because of concerns over the wintry weather.

But the panel was interesting anyway. They got off topic slightly and talked about their own experiences as writers, as well as their own visions of the future and which had panned out, as well as which hadn't. Most SF visions of the future, they agreed, never materialize.

The audience was pretty large, considering it was the last event of a long weekend. They had a lot of intelligent questions to ask.

Then, Harry Harrison said, "Well, let's call this to a close. I still have an interview to do." And he smiled at me. "Let's go do this," he said.

 

I have to admit, it was a cool way to handle it, meaning that he could avoid a crush of questions from well-meaning fans who might want to continue the conversation. Still, on our way out the door, an author handed him an autographed copy of his book, telling him that he'd been a great inspiration. Harry Harrison seemed touched.

In the hallway, he asked if my "husband" was coming up with us.

"No, he's going to go meet up with friends, and I'll catch up with him later," I said.

"He trusts you alone with me?" he joked.

"Yes, of course."

We walked up to his hotel room, which was a good, quiet place to talk. It took us awhile to get there, since it was on the exact opposite end of the hotel and Mr. Harrison took small steps, almost a shuffle. I didn't realize until I was walking next to him that he was slightly shorter than me. He has so much energy that it wasn't until we were taking this long walk together that I found myself wondering how old he was, remembering that many of his classic works, such as The Steel Rat series or Soylent Green, dated back several decades.

When we got to his room, he walked right over to the window to show me the view, which was, we agreed, one of the best possible in Philadelphia. He had a nice view of all of the midtown skyscrapers.

Then we took chairs, and I set up my micro recorder. He told me he'd like to keep the interview to half an hour, since he had other things to take care of, including calling his daughter. We actually got through all of my questions and a few others besides, because Harry Harrison talks quite fast. So we covered a surprising amount of material.

I was pleased to discover that his anti-militaristic views have not changed and that he feels just as strongly against the war in Iraq as he did against the war in Vietnam. We talked about his use of humor as a way of getting a serious message across.

I thought about Soylent Green and how my friends and I used to have an in-joke: "It's people! It's made out of people!" But I thought better of bringing this up.

It occurred to me this weekend, talking to not just Mr. Harrison and Mr. McDevitt but also a full range of SF writers, editors and fans, that science fiction by and large offers a brighter glimpse of the future. Yes, there are dystopian stories and cautionary tales (read Ray Bradbury), but science fiction writers and fans are dreamers and thinkers. They are people, I believe, who enjoy thinking about the meaning of the world and envisioning other possibilities, other places our minds and hearts might take us.

Harry Harrison and I addressed this subject, as well as such standards as how SF fandom has changed over the years, and what his next projects are going to be. The full interviews of both Jack McDevitt and Harry Harrison will appear in the winter issue of Wild Violet, which will come out in February.

Afterwards, I thanked Mr. Harrison for his time and then sought out The Gryphon, who was with mutual friends. When he saw me, The Gryphon called out, "And there she is, Alyce Wilson, interviewer extraordinaire!" Everyone applauded, so I took a bow and said something terribly unoriginal, "Just send money."

Then I deflected the attention away from myself, asking people if they'd thought about what to do for dinner. I noted that I'd been surviving for the past several hours on a piece of candy I found in my bag.

We talked about it and decided upon an Italian chain restaurant, Maggiano's, just across the street. A couple declined, saying they hadn't brought their winter coats and didn't want to leave the hotel. About five of us arranged to go, four of us heading over first to get a table. Our talkative friend eventually made it, after we called him a couple times, giving him the excuse to get out of the conversations he'd blundered into on his way to meet us.

Maggiano's served family style, so we ordered and ate too much food. By the time we'd finished, I'd eaten more than I ate at Thanksgiving this year, and we even had food wrapped up to go.

During the dinner, we talked about cheesy horror movies, anime and classic films.

By the time we left, the snow had turned to rain and the streets were cleared. We said good-bye to our friends and headed back home.

The Gryphon and I rented Charlie's Angels 2, for a little mindless entertainment. Mindless and entertaining was exactly what it was.

 

More Philcon adventures:

December 15, 2003 - Convention from Another Planet

Moral:
Writers seem as tall as their words.