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Person-nel. I will not go into the whys of it here. I'm not sure the reasons
are at all valid. But I do hate them.
And there's a fourth and possibly a fifth. But I finally wrote the story. And
it was bounced. My God, how it was bounced!
John Campbell, who had been begging me for something for Astounding, handed it
back with the comment, "I don't think I've ever disliked plain disliked a
story more than this one."
Horace Gold of Galaxy, for whom I'd been doing most of my work recently, said
with a grimace, "No, Phil, not at all. You've finally achieved it: Not just
downbeat, but down-beat squared."
And the next editor sent it back with a note that simply said, "Ptooey." I had
never got-ten a rejection note like that before. I thought to myself: "I'm on
to something really big here!"
It was finally purchased by Leo Margulies for Fantastic Universe at one-half
cent a word, payable on publication. His editor, Frank Belknap Long, told me
he felt the purchase was a mistake. "But Leo wanted your name in the book," he
said.
And that might be all that could be said of a story of which I am quite fond,
but for one more thing.
A boyish-looking fellow came up to me at a party, someone I had never seen
before. "Hey, Phil," he said, "I understand you've just sold a piece to
Fantastic Universe."
"I have," I told him, "but I've not yet been paid for it."
"That's neither here nor there," he said. "The point is, I've just sold my
first professional story to the same magazine. So let's fight it out on the
pages of Fantastic Universe, and may the best man win."
"Who the hell are you?" I asked.
"I'm Harlan Ellison," he said.
Written 1952 / Published 1955
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