Philip Jose Farmer at Chicon V, the worldcon held in 1991 in Chicago. Photo by Frank Olynyk. Source.
Convention reports are a long tradition in science fiction fandom, and Robert Shea wrote one, "Hasta La Vista, Chicon," about the 1991 worldcon in Chicago, that appeared in the journal of the Libertarian Futurist Society. Here is an excerpt from that report I thought many of you might enjoy -- The Management.
That afternoon I was on a panel entitled "High Weirdness Update" with Philip Jose Farmer, Timothy Leary and Bob Wilson. Again I had that "m" next to my name [indicating that Shea was to be the panel's moderator], and I welcomed it because I expected that the other panelists would be talking about their encounters with consciousness-expanding software, brain machines and virtual reality, whereas I've just been sitting home writing books. It was scheduled for Grand Ballroom A, the largest of the conference rooms, and people told me they expected it to be the best attended of any of the panels.
Wilson and Leary were in town primarily to speak at the Libertarian Party convention, which was happening several blocks away at the Marriott, and I wondered how aware they were that they were expected at the science fiction convention. I figured Farmer would show up, since I was told he'd asked to be on the panel. And another last minute addition to the panel at his request was Jim Frenkel, editor and erstwhile publisher, who had long ago worked on Illuminatus! and whose Bluejay Books had published two of Wilson's Historical Illuminati Chronicles. But the panel might consist only of me with no weirdness to talk about and Frenkel and Farmer, whose weirdnesses were an unknown quality to me.
So I was relieved to see Bob Wilson standing by the door to Grand Ballroom A. We hugged each other and he told me Leary, who is about 70 years old, had tired himself out the day before and might or might not come.
The room was packed, with people standing in the back. At 10 after 2 Leary still had not shown up. I decided to start the panel and announced that I would introduce each panelist with a superlative. I called Farmer "the best science fiction writer in America" and Frenkel "the bravest editor of all time." As I was about to turn to Wilson a voice from the rear shouted, "Dr. Leary is coming!" and a moment later another voice called, "Dr. Leary is here!"
Leary strode up the center aisle and by the time he had reached his seat everyone was standing, clapping and cheering. I introduced Leary as "the most important and revolutionary figure of the twentieth century," which he took with becoming modesty, and finally Wilson simply as "a genius."
Weirdness, as expounded by the panelists, turned out to be mostly their observations of domestic and international politics. Wilson declared that he was not anybody's idea of a sound, wholesome American. Farmer said, "I am a sound, wholesome American. I never met anybody else who was, so that makes me the standard."
Leary was full of cheerful energy and kept turning to make warm eye contact with the other panelists as he talked. In his view the USSR was saved from a hard-line Communist takeover by Russian youth, inspired in part by the ideas of the counter-culture that are still reverberating around the world. The three young men killed trying to stop armored vehicles menacing the Russian Parliament were hippies, he declared, and one of them, llya Kreshevsky, had spent his life questioning authority.
After the panel Wilson's fans swarmed around him, and he asked me if we couldn't somehow disappear. I didn't feel critical of him for that; once when overwhelmed by too many admirers Jesus himself vanished. We ducked through a back door that led to the empty hall next door. Thence, moving fast, we headed for Stetson's, a bar in the hotel, where we raised and lowered a few pints of Guinness and had a good talk for a couple of hours.
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