Convention day dawned bright and fair over the Castlereagh Hills and the Soupcon welcoming committee rose early in preparation for the events that were to take place during the day. The fine weather was a good omen but deep in their hearts the Con committee were, now that the time had come, doubtful as to whether they could handle the complexities of the massive undertaking. After all this was the first actual convention to be held in Belfast, and although it was thought that the attendance figures might be decreased by the simultaneous running of the Coroncon, it was going to be a huge task to see that all went well.
However, having broke fast, the welcoming Committee sped swiftly in the direction of the main entrance to the city to await the arrival of the fans who would be arriving from all parts of Lancaster Avenue. The whole operation was put over smoothly and in record time the visiting fan contingent had been directed to the waiting conveyences and were whisked away to the Convention Hall.
A rough idea of the general happy mood of the affair can be had from this snatch of conversation between Handsome Bob Shaw and Guaranteed Genuine George Charters, who had arrived travel-stained and weary from Bangor.
B. Well, George, it's not much farther now.
G. Good.
B. Why? I'm not going too fast for you am I?
G. No, it's not that. I'm just afraid of a policeman seeing us, and my coat is getting all rusty from rubbing against your handlebars.
B. George, it's hard enough trying to pedal for two without you fidgeting so much. Everytime you wiggle you change gear.
Having arrived at Oblique House, the chosen site, the Welcoming Committee helped the visitors to get sorted out and they all trooped into the banqueting hall in a happy, laughing bunch.
Once the introductory sessions were over the Chairman, a Mr B. Shaw, invited the visiting pro editors to make a few remarks. G. Charters (who headed this panel by virtue of having Had His Name In Hard Covers) rose and delivered a few well-chosen words. Here is an extract from his speech.
".....and we are all very much indebted to Mr Willis for letting us use this fine hall for our main sessions," he said, absently flicking away some small lumps of coal which had adhered to the seat of his trousers. "Also, I am overjoyed to see thayt the Coroncon has not attracted too many fans away from our own Soupcon---bi-lingually so called because of course it was intended to be a small convention."
This speech was very well received by the audience, who applauded to a man. The next item was a debate between the pro authors and fans. The subject chosen was 'Has Contemporary Tibetan pulp writing had a decisive influence on the portrayal of Kimball Kinnison?" The pro authors, represented by Bob Shaw among whose better known works are extracts from the Fansmanship Lectures in STARTLING and a letter to ANSWERS in 1949. The fans were represented by none other than Geo McCoy Charters, well known in fandom for the tee-hee type letters he writes to Vince 'Peter' (short for petrified) Clarke.
The former was inclined to the affirmitive but was quickly quelled by the opposition who delivered a two hour monologue on the necessity for more mad scientists in science fiction.
In the banquet which followed immediately those present received a startling array of foodstuffs. Not good---just startling. After the last course which consisted of Guiness and rock cakes, there was a contented silence as the fans picked their teeth and, happily, they were able to select their own teeth very quickly.
The afternoon sessions were conducted with the same efficiency as had been the earlier parts of the programme. There was a film show in which the audience were able to examine stills of "Metropolis". When that was over there was atalk about "High Noon", followed by a few games. A pleasant hour passed with such amusements as "Hunt the Fanzine" and "Pro-Eds Knock."
By the time the tea interval came around the conventioneers were ready for a slap-up meal and they travelled by a roundabout route to where Bob Shaw had booked a corner in a large restaurant. On the way to the venue Bob Shaw gave a short lecture on the sights of Belfast. It was obvious in this that he was speaking from the heart, but most of the listeners, lacking stethoscopes, failed to hear him.
Once at the eating place things went smoothly as one can judge from the following notes of a conversation between Robert Shaw and an eminent Bangor fan Pseudo George Charters. . .
G: Are you sure this place is all right? I don't see why we had to come up a smelly old entry to reach it.
B: Really, George! I thought you had more sense of adventure. Of course this place is all right. Wait till I get you something. That's right---give me your money. No friend of mine has to pay for himself. Two pints and two pies, barman.
G: Well, if it's all right, why are you wearing a shoulder holster?
B: To keep my shoulder in, stupe. What else. Here, drink this up and you'll feel better.
I like Ike . . .
G: What is it?
B: Milk.
G: But it's black!
B: Don't keep raising objections, George. I tell you it's milk. Besides, you aren't thinking of differentiating between black and white are you? No colour bars in fandom, you know.
G: Are you sure it's al right? I'm teetotal you know.
B: Of course I'm sure.
G: (Some time later) Thoshe cowsh. What noble animaksh they are.
B: Don't talk with your mouth full.
G: What else can I talk with, fool? (He bursts into drunken laughter and is carried out and taken to his train by Bob Shaw).
That was the end of the Soupcon and, as Charters and Shaw said while brushing the dust from their hands and knees after the long walk to the railway station, "If, next year, the London con is held on the same date as the Belfast con, you can be sure that we'll be there."
(data entered by Judy Bemis)
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