Back in 1970, a friend and I formed a local space/science fiction club. We were a casual group of people who met every month and talked about the above subjects. In addition, we usually had a yearly outing to the Franklin Institute science museum in Philadelphia, and we played host to a Halloween party on the weekend before Halloween. I also published a twice a year newsletter that covered club business.
Starting in 1977, I increased the dues a bit because our membership now included a quarterly newsletter, a membership card, and a list of the names and addresses of the members. I thought this would help those who needed a ride to the meeting, or pass on news about space or science fiction and other related stuff. This was also the first year I ever attended a SF con—or a Star Trek con to be exact. It was at this con that I met a former classmate from high school. As I was looking at the literature on the freebie table, in among the ST and SF fliers and brochures, I saw catalogs for Avon and Mary Kay Cosmetics. Then I heard someone tell me that she liked all those sci-fi and Trekkie stuff. When I looked up, she didn’t quite recognize me (This con didn’t give out name tags; they stamped one’s hand.), but I told her who I was. She looked a bit startled because in high school, we were not the best of friends. In fact, we had fought, but I assured her that I held no hard feelings and gave her a flier from my club. Later, she joined my club, but from the start, she only joined the club to sell her cosmetics. There was nothing wrong about this because I had a few other club members who sold other things: Fuller Brush, Amway, Tupperware, and a certain brand of vitamins. Nevertheless, unlike those other club members, she would phone the members at different hours trying to sell her merchandise either at their house, or at her house, and she wanted to play host to a demonstration at one of our meetings. The members of my club phoned me and complained about her pushiness. Therefore, after I warned her a few times to cease doing this, she kept trying to sell her stuff. Then the officers of the club and I finally voted her out.
Anyway, the last I heard anything about her was in my bank statement when I noticed she cashed the refund cheque that I sent her for her dues.
In addition, from now on, I never gave out all the members addresses and phone numbers on a list again. (If somebody has news to give or needs a ride, that member could phone one of the four officers in the club.) This was the first time we, the officers and I, voted someone out of our club, but it wouldn’t be the last!
Shortly after, I attended a mini-ST con in Pennsylvania in October 1977. It was here that I met Jacky F. and on her name tag it said Lieutenant before her name. I asked her what branch of the military she was in, and she told me it was a Starfleet rank for a club that she belonged to: USS Constitution.
Well, I was very familiar with this ST correspondence club because Steve, a member of my local club, was also vice president of the Constitution. Therefore, I mentioned this to her, and we went to lunch. During lunch, we talked about different things (Of course, I gave her a flier from my local club, but she never joined. You can’t win them all.), and she mentioned a certain guy named Carl M. who couldn’t attend because of illness. Anyway, she said that he would try to attend the April 1978 mini-con at the same place.
Fast forward to April 1978: I was at the April con where Jackie spotted me and introduced me to Carl. He seemed OK, and he invited me to lunch, but when he offered to pay for my lunch, I turned him down because I was in a relationship with someone by then. Nevertheless, he gave me the dues to join my local club.
When I told Steve about it, he had misgivings because back during the July 1977 Philly con, Carl joined the Constitution club. After that, according to Steve, Carl hung around him and the club president “like a leach.”
Anyhow after the first few meetings, Carl acted OK. He could be a bit nutty, but I’ve seen some of the other club members act the same. Steve thought that maybe Carl changed, but my vice president, George, had his misgivings about Carl. (George was a detective. So maybe he saw something in Carl that the rest of us didn’t at that time.) For the next few months, Carl did show his true colors. In addition to acting goofy, he also bragged about himself, and made up stories about himself that didn’t sound quite true. Overall, he made many of the members uncomfortable, especially many of the female members. Now some of our members wore costumes at the meetings, especially ST Starfleet uniforms, but Carl also wore his uniform on our Franklin Institute outing, despite my mentioning to the club in advance not to wear costumes there. (If they felt like expressing themselves, then a space, SF, or ST t-shirt would be OK.)
After the outing, the members expressed their discomfort about Carl, so I phoned Carl and told him. He took some offense at this and said something like “we will see.”
The next meeting proved that Carl was acting the same, but a few weeks later, Carl attended the NYC ST con on Labor Day weekend. (I didn’t go to this con because money was tight for me that year.) After the con, Steve and a few of my members told me about an altercation between the Constitution president, Mike, and Carl. It happened when Carl tried to come on strong while making a pass at the Constitution secretary, Blane.
There was a charity get together at this ST con and some groups had a table to themselves. Members of my club had a table next to the Constitution club. Steve was at the Constitution club table, and he told me that since Carl brushed off both Mike and his (Steve’s) suggestion to leave Blane alone, Mike stood up and threatened to get security. With this, Carl came over to my club’s table, sat down, and brooded.
At the meeting a few weeks after this con, Carl showed up and talked in a funny, cartoon-type voice once in a while. Otherwise, he was a bit quiet. When we asked him about the voice, he shrugged his shoulders. I asked if he was going to get a job as a voice over in a cartoon or for a puppet show, but he said no. As for the October meeting, Carl didn’t use a funny voice, but he was more active in his bragging and goofing off. Again, the members phoned me later complaining about Carl. So I talked to George about it, and George did a background check on Carl.
Meanwhile, I phoned Carl again, and I warned him if he kept up this attitude, we would have to ask him to leave the club or we would vote him out.
This time Carl threatened to write to several people about us if we kicked him out of the club. I replied that I didn’t care before hanging up.
At our Halloween party in a local fire hall, Carl was hanging around one girl who was a sister of one of our club members, Dave. This girl, Cindy, looked like she was trying to get away from him, and she finally went into the ladies room. I followed her in there and she confirmed that she felt edgy around Carl. Then I left the ladies room and saw Carl right outside. Thus, I told him to go circulate, and leave Cindy alone. He gave a sarcastic answer to me. So I then went over to Dave and told him the situation, and he went over to Carl. Carl, just as cocky as ever, told Dave off, and Dave offered to meet Carl outside. When Carl said that he would fight Dave inside, I told him if there was any fighting, I would call the police and press charges on the person who threw the first punch.
With this, Carl huffed and puffed and stormed out of the fire hall. (But he didn’t blow anything down. HA! HA!)
Sometime after the party, the officers and I were sure that Carl left the club as well. Then George showed us what he found out about Carl. We knew Carl was embellishing stuff about him, but were surprised to hear that in the military he was let out on a Section 8.
Anyhow, we were very surprised when Carl attended the November meeting.
While there, he kept whining about everybody being jealous of him and conspiring to gang up on him. After Carl left the meeting, most of the members stayed behind and mentioned how stressful things have been around him. Therefore, I suggested that we take a vote to get him out of the club—and the vote was almost unanimous.
When I phoned him the next day, he started pleading with me to let him stay in the club, and he blamed his rough family life, being bullied in school, and being in Vietnam to account for most of his attitude. I told him that I did warn him a few times before, and I’m sorry to hear about his troubles, but maybe he should seek professional help. Carl then pleaded again, and I mentioned that I knew about his Section 8. He claimed he was framed on that, and then, he became abusive about the club and me. When he threatened to write to different sources, I mentioned that if he felt this way about my club, he should be glad he would no longer be a member. Carl’s last words to me were “I won’t go quietly.” I hung up after this and mailed the refund cheque for his club dues to him. (Yes, he did cash the cheque.)
By this time, Steve was no longer living in NJ. (Steve moved elsewhere after Halloween.)I phoned him about what happened, and he kind of said something like “I told you so.”
Weeks later, I received a letter from Mike, the president of the Constitution club. In it he asked me about the situation with Carl and also included a copy of a photo-copied letter that Carl wrote.
Just as I expected, Carl made it sound like we were jealous of him and ganged up on him to throw him out of the club. This was assuming that people reading Carl’s letter could understand his lack of spelling and grammar skills.
I wrote to Mike and gave him my version of what happened. A few days later, I heard from a few other people, and again, I wrote to them and gave my point of view. It was after this, that I wrote a letter and made several photocopies.
At least once or twice a week, somebody sent me a letter asking about Carl’s letter—and I replied with my photo-copy letter. Later, I would receive several letters from some of those people expressing their sympathy and understanding about my situation.
Even the day before I was to leave for NYC to go to the February 1979 ST con, I received another inquiring letter about Carl. So it was no surprise to anyone at the NYC ST con when Carl spotted me sitting in the back of the main ballroom for a moment, and he went over to say “Hi,” I turned away from him.
After he left, a fat girl came by, and said she was Pat. L, Carl’s fiance. She sat near me, and tried to scold me about throwing Carl out of my club. I showed her Carl’s letter and my letter. With that, she said she understood Carl better than other people understood him. I replied something like “good for you.” Then I said, “I don’t want to be rude, but I am heading closer to the front of the auditorium because Isaac Asimov is appearing next.” So she went her way, and I went mine.
Later, I attended the charity event that was similar to the September ST con charity event. Again, our table was near the table for the Constitution club. A few minutes later, a girl I met earlier, Pat R., (not to be confused with Pat L.) asked George and me if she could sit at our table because Carl took her to lunch, and afterward, he acted liked he owned her. (Pat R. is a member of the Constitution club. She is as thin as Pat L. is fat.) Of course we said she was welcome to sit at our table.
This event cost extra and they suggested that those attending should dress in smart casual to business attire. Thus, all of us were dressed for the occasion. (I wore a cocktail dress.) Then, Carl showed up in his Starfleet uniform, and when he spotted Pat R. at our table, he invited himself to sit next to her. (No, Pat L. wasn’t at the event.) That’s when George and I told him to take a hike. When he refused, George threatened to hit Carl with the nearest chair. I told George not to do that. Instead, I would go get security. When I got up, Carl stormed over to the Constitution table. For the next hour or so, Carl sat at the end of that table and brooded before he left.
Right away, Steve came over and told me that this was what happened to Carl in reverse of the tables at the September ST con. Anyway, Carl didn’t bother us again at this con.
