Will Dockery
2004-01-10 16:12:13 UTC
My job takes me into Fort Benning every day, and I often think of
Harlan Ellison while driving through the Ranger and Airborne
compounds, where Ellison trained back in the late 1950s:
"I was drafted in March of 1957 and wrote the bulk of the book (Web Of
The City) while undergoing the horrors of Ranger basic training at
Fort Benning,
Georgia. After a full day, from damn near dawn till well after dusk,
marching, drilling, crawling on my belly across infiltration courses,
jumping off static-line towers, learning to carve people with bayonets
and break their bodies with judo and other unpleasant martial arts,
our company would be fed and then hustled to the barracks, where the
crazed killers who were my fellow troupers would clean their weapons,
spit-shine their boots, and then collapse across their bunks to the
sleep of the tormented. I, on the other hand, would take a wooden
plank, my Olympia typewriter, and my box of manuscript and blank
paper,
and would go into the head (that's the toilet to you civilized folks),
place the board across my lap as I sat on one of the potties, and I
would write (Web Of
The City)..." -Harlan Ellison, introduction to "Web Of The City"
I decided to do a Google search "Harlan Ellison Fort Benning" after
work last night, and found a wealth of information scattered across
Usenet, and thought it might be nice to collect it all in one place,
obviously here, at the "official" HE newsgroup [and just in case,
through the cruelty of Usenet, this ng gets deleted, as the Orson
Welles group was a week or so ago, crossposted to my "home", the
poetry ng, to help keep the thing archived]. I personally feel it
would be great to develop this newsgroup into as complete an area as
possible with info, thoughts, et cetera, of our greatest living
American writer. Plus, I'm drinking some great coffee, and having fun
with the idea..!
Will
Sashi Alexandra German (***@feith1.FEITH.COM)
Subject: I-Con Convention Review (Babylon-5)
Date: 1997/04/14
-- Home is Kinda Sorta Where You Make It
The first event I attended was a panel entitled, "Home is the
Strangest Place
of All," with Harlan Ellison, Joe Straczynski, Nancy Kress, and Barry
Malzberg. Unfortunately, it was not readily apparent what the true
topic of
the panel was and an explanation was not forthcoming. Harlan remedied
the
situation by changing the panel topic to "The Most Embarrassing Thing
That
Ever Happened to Me." He related a tale of his time in the Army
stationed
In a small town in Indiana, he was surprised to discover he was the
only
eligible bachelor for miles around, the town's young men having gone
off to
work in a shoe factory one hundred and twenty miles away. He enjoyed
great
successes with the local female populace. One day, a woman friend of
his who
happened to live nearby invited him to her home, which was a farm. He
arrived
in his blue Austin-Healey to discover a multitude of horny young women
awaiting him. His friend asked a favor of him would he bring down
some cows
from a pasture? He agreed. Bare to the waist, his hard torso that he
had
gained from Ranger training rippling, he mounted a horse and rode up
to the
pasture. Breaking a branch from a tree and using it as a makeshift
switch, he
drove the cows down to the barn. Impressing the admiring women
further, he
dug his heels into the side of the horse, causing it to stand on it
hind legs.
For a final flourish, he dismounted, did a somersault and, in front
of these
eager ladies, passed gas very, very loudly. Ellison reported that
after that
he couldn't get a date for six weeks.
Nancy Kress told an embarrassing tale regarding Harlan. Kress and
Ellison
were at a writer's get-together where the authors critiqued each
other's work.
Harlan was typing away in his room, the sound of the clicking keys of
his
Olympia manual coming from behind his closed door. She was taking in a
question on writing from another author for his "Ask Uncle Harlan"
column as
a favor. She opened the door and found Harlan sitting at his
typewriter,
writing away, completely naked.
Joe Straczynski related another Ellison embarrassment story. They both
wanted
to purchase a fax machine. Harlan told Joe that they should buy them
together
in order to get a deal. For several weeks Harlan worked a salesman at
a local
shop. Harlan was determined not only to get a great price, but a free
box of
paper as well. Harlan called JMS and said that they almost had the
price they
wanted, but no free paper yet. He told Joe to write out a check in
advance
for their final dollar amount and to bring it and his wife, Catherine,
to the
shop the next day.
The next day Harlan continued to work the salesman. After some time he
asked
JMS and Catherine to walk around the building three times. When JMS
asked why
he should do this, Harlan replied, "Trust me!" With some trepidation
Joe
acquiesed, and he and Catherine walked around the shop three times.
When they
came back in Harlan had gotten both fax machines at the price he
wanted and
and free boxes of paper.
After leaving the store, Joe asked Harlan what he had done. Harlan
explained
to the salesman that Joe's lovely wife was, in fact, a harridan, a
shrew, an
utter harpy who would make Joe's life miserable if he spent one thin
dime
more on a fax and paper than the amount written on the pre-written
check.
Needless to say, JMS has not been back to that shop since.
When his turn to talk came again, JMS had another Harlan story. The
Ellisons,
JMS, and Catherine were out at a restaurant. This was one of those
restaurants that has an entertainer who goes from table to table,
annoying
the guests. In this case the entertainer was a magician. Joe mentioned
how he
hated having to be entertained while eating his dinner, and hoped that
the
magician would not come over to their table. Harlan said that he would
take
care of it. When Joe asked how, Harlan replied, "trust me." Harlan
summoned
the waitress to the table, who in turn summoned the manager of the
restaurant.
Harlan whispered something in to the manager's ear. JMS could not hear
what
was being said, but could only note with a peculiar sinking feeling
that the
manager's eyes grew wider and wider. The manager then hurried over to
the
magician who then whispered into his ear, and it was the magician's
turn for
his eyes to grow wide.
Their meal was uninterrupted. Having left the restaurant, Joe asked
Harlan
what he had told the manager. Harlan said that he told the manager
that Joe's
father had been a theatrical agent who specialized in novelty acts,
vaudevillians, and magicians. One day, a magician had killed Joe's
father.
They were in the restaurant celebrating Joe's release from jail on
assault
charges from brutalizing a magician.
Joe has not been the the restaurant since.
After more embarrassing stories had been told, both featuring and void
of
Harlan Ellison, the floor was opened to questions. One question,
regarding
Harlan's appearance on the program Politically Incorrect, aroused
Harlan's
ire. He said that one of his opponents on the program was a black
woman
conservative, which was a concept he though patently ridiculous. He
then
proceeded to expose her ignorance when they were talking about the
communist
witch-hunts of the '50's and the Hollywood black lists:
"And this idiot narc, this squealer, is coming off on how great Kazan
is, who
ratted on people, people who couldn't work for a decade. And I said to
her,
'where are you gettin' this crap? Are you readin' it in a book?' And
she said,
'no, I didn't read it in a book.' And I said, 'what book did you ever
read on
the black list?' She said, "I never read a book on the black list.'
'So what
did you read?' And she goes and hauls out the goddamn fax that they
[the
staff of her radio program] sent her that day. And I said, 'how dare
you come
on TV and pretend you have an opinion when you're as dumb as a pile of
mud!"
[non Ellison content snipped]
Ellison called such TV executives, "Bo-stick-stone stupid." He
elaborated
that, when he started in television decades ago, at least the execs
were
familiar with some books, plays, and films. Then they only knew film.
Then
they only knew TV. Today, they only know the TV of the last 15-20
years,
"which is why they worship shit like The Partridge Family and The
Flintstones,
and we know that we're in the twilight of Western Civilization when
Pauly
Shore becomes a star."
Ellison prescribed the stupidity of TV executives to a combination of
arrogance and stupidity inculcated by MBA programs. "There's no way
through
it, around it, below it, or above it," he said, "they've got your ass
every
time." He continued, "every time you think you've taught them a lesson
they
send in another cadre of morons. The universities are turning them out
faster
than we can beat them down!"
[non Ellison content snipped]
Kittman then asked the question, it seemed to him that a lot of
science
fiction actors were 'phoning there performances in.' How did the panel
feel
about that? O'Hare, the only actor in the group, answered that he felt
that
the performers were doing well, but that SF bumped up against a glass
ceiling
of credibility, that it could not as a medium be taken seriously.
Therefore,
very little adult science fiction was produced, or that it led to
minimal
characterization with which there is little for an actor to work with.
Harlan
then began to explain his frustration about the current crop of poor
'Sci-Fi'
movies an important distinction from SF. Sci-Fi movie, Ellison
claims, are
there for an audience who only want to "see shit exploding." Sci-Fi
movies
such as the recent film Independence Day, he says, are devoid of any
exploration of character. They are not about "people who hurt, or
love, or
fear." Characters in such productions are of no interest; to
paraphrase, they
are animatronic robots going through their paces, waiting for the next
special effect to happen. Such films reminded him of Flashdance. He
capped
his screed whimsically by saying that Caddy Shack was better than
Independence Day but that both were better than any Chris Farley
movie.
-- Harlan Ellison Q&A Session
Harlan had an hour or so Saturday night. He chose to answer audience
questions rather than do a reading, which he saved for Sunday morning.
When
asked about his time in the Army, he replied that it hadn't been one
of the
happiest times in his life. He was court-martialed several times,
though
never convicted. As an alternate to prison, the superiors he offended
made
him do filthy, demeaning tasks, such as cleaning out the grease traps
of Army
sinks. He also trained as a Ranger.
His first scrape with military justice occurred when Harlan was first
drafted.
He had been shipped out to Fort Dix, NJ, for basic training. It was
raining,
and he was issued a hot, stiff, ugly, olive-drab rain coat. He got off
the
bus at Fort Dix and was immediately harangued by a passing Corporal.
The
Corporal ordered Ellison to the Mess.
At the Mess, he was made to wash pots. However, the sink was only a
few
inches shorter than the 5'5" Ellison; further, it and the pans soaking
within
were filled with scalding-hot water. Harlan was made to pull the pots
out and
scrub them clean.
He did his best. His hands burned in the water. The Corporal would not
let
him remove his heavy raincoat, now stifling. The heat finally got to
Harlan
and he fell, face-forward, into a pot. His face, his lips, his eyes,
were
scalded. He jerked back up. Burned and in pain, he went over to the
Corporal
and said that he couldn't stand it; that his group was probably being
processed already; that he wanted to rejoin his company. The Corporal
screamed back that Harlan should get back to work. They yelled back
and forth
for a moment with Harlan demanding to see the company commander; then
the
Corporal pushed him.
Bad move. Harlan picked up a huge, black-iron frying pan and hit the
Corporal
upside the head. His tormentor flew across the floor of the kitchen,
leaving
a thin trail of blood behind on the floor.
Ellison ran. As he himself put it as he retold this tale, "feets,
don't fail
me now!" He ran through awful, viscous, stinking, New Jersey mud. He
ran
through the motor pool, jeeps of MPs circling. He ran up the steps of
the
Orderly Room, the company commander's office, and straight into the
office of
the Officer on Duty.
The OD, a Second Lieutenant, looked up calmly at Ellison. Harlan
poured out
his tale of suffering. When Harlan had finished, the Second Lieutenant
said,
in a Southern drawl, "I think you're a coward, boy."
Harlan hit him.
The Second Lieutenant went flying backwards, falling into the
collection of
quart-sized beer-bottles (called 'ponies' in those days) he kept on
his
baseboard.
Two huge black sergeants came in a restrained Ellison, pinning him
back
against the wall. "Cool it, baby," one whispered quietly into his ear.
The Second Lieutenant was up, screaming that Harlan would end his ;²`
to the Earth's core to escape.
Now, the sergeants despised the Second Lieutenant. He was a racist
Southerner,
and they were black. They didn't want him to have the pleasure of
breaking
this poor schmuck they had pinned.
One of the sergeants asked Harlan, "have they read you the Uniform
Code?"
Ellison said that he didn't know what it was, that it hadn't been read
to him.
This was a good thing. The Uniform Code of Military Justice is
required to be
read to all new servicemen. Until the code is read, a draftee is still
a
civilian and not subject to military law.
When the sergeant pointed out that Harlan could not be punished by
conventional military means, the Second Lieutenant was furious. The
sergeant
them suggested that Harlan be transferred out to Fort Benning,
Georgia, to
undergo Ranger training. The Second Lieutenant agreed, hoping that the
rigorous course would break Ellison. Needless to say, it didn't.
After Harlan got out of Ranger training, he went home to New York to
visit
his wife (during his first marriage). He was looking forward to seeing
her,
and bought flowers from a sidewalk vendor. He reached his apartment,
opened
the door - and was shocked to discover a sailor's uniform lying on the
livingroom floor.
Harlan came in to the bedroom. He found his wife and the sailor asleep
in the
bed. He pulled the sailor out of the bed, threw him on the floor, and
held
him down his his boot on the seaman's chest. He yelled at his wife to
get
dressed. He threw the naked sailor out of the apartment and told him
to go to
the basement to collect his uniform. The uniform Harlan threw down the
airwell so that it would end up in the basement. He and his wife then
had a
most heated discussion. Needless to say, that marriage did not last
long.
What he claimed disturbed him most was not that she was having sex on
the sly
with another man; but that it wasn't even with a member of his own
branch of
the Service.
For the sake of brevity, I move on; others can do more justice to
Ellison,
I'm sure.
-- Harlan Ellison Reading
Harlan's reading was early Sunday morning. Before he began two men in
karate
outfits burst upon the stage. They bowed to Harlan, and then presented
him
with a black belt from a national martial arts organization, encased
in black
velvet and with his name printed in gold letters on the outside.
Harlan then read his wonderful short story, "Paladin of the Lost
Hour." This
short story was also an episode of the Twilight Zone, starring Danny
Kaye as
Gaspar in his last performance. This story touched everyone who heard
it
deeply, and when it was finished there was not a dry eye left in the
room,
including Harlan's.
After the story, Susan Ellison Harlan's wife entered the lecture
hall.
"Honey, I cried again," he said. They kissed. Harlan said that she and
he
will have been married for twelve years this year.
Harlan Ellison while driving through the Ranger and Airborne
compounds, where Ellison trained back in the late 1950s:
"I was drafted in March of 1957 and wrote the bulk of the book (Web Of
The City) while undergoing the horrors of Ranger basic training at
Fort Benning,
Georgia. After a full day, from damn near dawn till well after dusk,
marching, drilling, crawling on my belly across infiltration courses,
jumping off static-line towers, learning to carve people with bayonets
and break their bodies with judo and other unpleasant martial arts,
our company would be fed and then hustled to the barracks, where the
crazed killers who were my fellow troupers would clean their weapons,
spit-shine their boots, and then collapse across their bunks to the
sleep of the tormented. I, on the other hand, would take a wooden
plank, my Olympia typewriter, and my box of manuscript and blank
paper,
and would go into the head (that's the toilet to you civilized folks),
place the board across my lap as I sat on one of the potties, and I
would write (Web Of
The City)..." -Harlan Ellison, introduction to "Web Of The City"
I decided to do a Google search "Harlan Ellison Fort Benning" after
work last night, and found a wealth of information scattered across
Usenet, and thought it might be nice to collect it all in one place,
obviously here, at the "official" HE newsgroup [and just in case,
through the cruelty of Usenet, this ng gets deleted, as the Orson
Welles group was a week or so ago, crossposted to my "home", the
poetry ng, to help keep the thing archived]. I personally feel it
would be great to develop this newsgroup into as complete an area as
possible with info, thoughts, et cetera, of our greatest living
American writer. Plus, I'm drinking some great coffee, and having fun
with the idea..!
Will
Sashi Alexandra German (***@feith1.FEITH.COM)
Subject: I-Con Convention Review (Babylon-5)
Date: 1997/04/14
-- Home is Kinda Sorta Where You Make It
The first event I attended was a panel entitled, "Home is the
Strangest Place
of All," with Harlan Ellison, Joe Straczynski, Nancy Kress, and Barry
Malzberg. Unfortunately, it was not readily apparent what the true
topic of
the panel was and an explanation was not forthcoming. Harlan remedied
the
situation by changing the panel topic to "The Most Embarrassing Thing
That
Ever Happened to Me." He related a tale of his time in the Army
stationed
In a small town in Indiana, he was surprised to discover he was the
only
eligible bachelor for miles around, the town's young men having gone
off to
work in a shoe factory one hundred and twenty miles away. He enjoyed
great
successes with the local female populace. One day, a woman friend of
his who
happened to live nearby invited him to her home, which was a farm. He
arrived
in his blue Austin-Healey to discover a multitude of horny young women
awaiting him. His friend asked a favor of him would he bring down
some cows
from a pasture? He agreed. Bare to the waist, his hard torso that he
had
gained from Ranger training rippling, he mounted a horse and rode up
to the
pasture. Breaking a branch from a tree and using it as a makeshift
switch, he
drove the cows down to the barn. Impressing the admiring women
further, he
dug his heels into the side of the horse, causing it to stand on it
hind legs.
For a final flourish, he dismounted, did a somersault and, in front
of these
eager ladies, passed gas very, very loudly. Ellison reported that
after that
he couldn't get a date for six weeks.
Nancy Kress told an embarrassing tale regarding Harlan. Kress and
Ellison
were at a writer's get-together where the authors critiqued each
other's work.
Harlan was typing away in his room, the sound of the clicking keys of
his
Olympia manual coming from behind his closed door. She was taking in a
question on writing from another author for his "Ask Uncle Harlan"
column as
a favor. She opened the door and found Harlan sitting at his
typewriter,
writing away, completely naked.
Joe Straczynski related another Ellison embarrassment story. They both
wanted
to purchase a fax machine. Harlan told Joe that they should buy them
together
in order to get a deal. For several weeks Harlan worked a salesman at
a local
shop. Harlan was determined not only to get a great price, but a free
box of
paper as well. Harlan called JMS and said that they almost had the
price they
wanted, but no free paper yet. He told Joe to write out a check in
advance
for their final dollar amount and to bring it and his wife, Catherine,
to the
shop the next day.
The next day Harlan continued to work the salesman. After some time he
asked
JMS and Catherine to walk around the building three times. When JMS
asked why
he should do this, Harlan replied, "Trust me!" With some trepidation
Joe
acquiesed, and he and Catherine walked around the shop three times.
When they
came back in Harlan had gotten both fax machines at the price he
wanted and
and free boxes of paper.
After leaving the store, Joe asked Harlan what he had done. Harlan
explained
to the salesman that Joe's lovely wife was, in fact, a harridan, a
shrew, an
utter harpy who would make Joe's life miserable if he spent one thin
dime
more on a fax and paper than the amount written on the pre-written
check.
Needless to say, JMS has not been back to that shop since.
When his turn to talk came again, JMS had another Harlan story. The
Ellisons,
JMS, and Catherine were out at a restaurant. This was one of those
restaurants that has an entertainer who goes from table to table,
annoying
the guests. In this case the entertainer was a magician. Joe mentioned
how he
hated having to be entertained while eating his dinner, and hoped that
the
magician would not come over to their table. Harlan said that he would
take
care of it. When Joe asked how, Harlan replied, "trust me." Harlan
summoned
the waitress to the table, who in turn summoned the manager of the
restaurant.
Harlan whispered something in to the manager's ear. JMS could not hear
what
was being said, but could only note with a peculiar sinking feeling
that the
manager's eyes grew wider and wider. The manager then hurried over to
the
magician who then whispered into his ear, and it was the magician's
turn for
his eyes to grow wide.
Their meal was uninterrupted. Having left the restaurant, Joe asked
Harlan
what he had told the manager. Harlan said that he told the manager
that Joe's
father had been a theatrical agent who specialized in novelty acts,
vaudevillians, and magicians. One day, a magician had killed Joe's
father.
They were in the restaurant celebrating Joe's release from jail on
assault
charges from brutalizing a magician.
Joe has not been the the restaurant since.
After more embarrassing stories had been told, both featuring and void
of
Harlan Ellison, the floor was opened to questions. One question,
regarding
Harlan's appearance on the program Politically Incorrect, aroused
Harlan's
ire. He said that one of his opponents on the program was a black
woman
conservative, which was a concept he though patently ridiculous. He
then
proceeded to expose her ignorance when they were talking about the
communist
witch-hunts of the '50's and the Hollywood black lists:
"And this idiot narc, this squealer, is coming off on how great Kazan
is, who
ratted on people, people who couldn't work for a decade. And I said to
her,
'where are you gettin' this crap? Are you readin' it in a book?' And
she said,
'no, I didn't read it in a book.' And I said, 'what book did you ever
read on
the black list?' She said, "I never read a book on the black list.'
'So what
did you read?' And she goes and hauls out the goddamn fax that they
[the
staff of her radio program] sent her that day. And I said, 'how dare
you come
on TV and pretend you have an opinion when you're as dumb as a pile of
mud!"
[non Ellison content snipped]
Ellison called such TV executives, "Bo-stick-stone stupid." He
elaborated
that, when he started in television decades ago, at least the execs
were
familiar with some books, plays, and films. Then they only knew film.
Then
they only knew TV. Today, they only know the TV of the last 15-20
years,
"which is why they worship shit like The Partridge Family and The
Flintstones,
and we know that we're in the twilight of Western Civilization when
Pauly
Shore becomes a star."
Ellison prescribed the stupidity of TV executives to a combination of
arrogance and stupidity inculcated by MBA programs. "There's no way
through
it, around it, below it, or above it," he said, "they've got your ass
every
time." He continued, "every time you think you've taught them a lesson
they
send in another cadre of morons. The universities are turning them out
faster
than we can beat them down!"
[non Ellison content snipped]
Kittman then asked the question, it seemed to him that a lot of
science
fiction actors were 'phoning there performances in.' How did the panel
feel
about that? O'Hare, the only actor in the group, answered that he felt
that
the performers were doing well, but that SF bumped up against a glass
ceiling
of credibility, that it could not as a medium be taken seriously.
Therefore,
very little adult science fiction was produced, or that it led to
minimal
characterization with which there is little for an actor to work with.
Harlan
then began to explain his frustration about the current crop of poor
'Sci-Fi'
movies an important distinction from SF. Sci-Fi movie, Ellison
claims, are
there for an audience who only want to "see shit exploding." Sci-Fi
movies
such as the recent film Independence Day, he says, are devoid of any
exploration of character. They are not about "people who hurt, or
love, or
fear." Characters in such productions are of no interest; to
paraphrase, they
are animatronic robots going through their paces, waiting for the next
special effect to happen. Such films reminded him of Flashdance. He
capped
his screed whimsically by saying that Caddy Shack was better than
Independence Day but that both were better than any Chris Farley
movie.
-- Harlan Ellison Q&A Session
Harlan had an hour or so Saturday night. He chose to answer audience
questions rather than do a reading, which he saved for Sunday morning.
When
asked about his time in the Army, he replied that it hadn't been one
of the
happiest times in his life. He was court-martialed several times,
though
never convicted. As an alternate to prison, the superiors he offended
made
him do filthy, demeaning tasks, such as cleaning out the grease traps
of Army
sinks. He also trained as a Ranger.
His first scrape with military justice occurred when Harlan was first
drafted.
He had been shipped out to Fort Dix, NJ, for basic training. It was
raining,
and he was issued a hot, stiff, ugly, olive-drab rain coat. He got off
the
bus at Fort Dix and was immediately harangued by a passing Corporal.
The
Corporal ordered Ellison to the Mess.
At the Mess, he was made to wash pots. However, the sink was only a
few
inches shorter than the 5'5" Ellison; further, it and the pans soaking
within
were filled with scalding-hot water. Harlan was made to pull the pots
out and
scrub them clean.
He did his best. His hands burned in the water. The Corporal would not
let
him remove his heavy raincoat, now stifling. The heat finally got to
Harlan
and he fell, face-forward, into a pot. His face, his lips, his eyes,
were
scalded. He jerked back up. Burned and in pain, he went over to the
Corporal
and said that he couldn't stand it; that his group was probably being
processed already; that he wanted to rejoin his company. The Corporal
screamed back that Harlan should get back to work. They yelled back
and forth
for a moment with Harlan demanding to see the company commander; then
the
Corporal pushed him.
Bad move. Harlan picked up a huge, black-iron frying pan and hit the
Corporal
upside the head. His tormentor flew across the floor of the kitchen,
leaving
a thin trail of blood behind on the floor.
Ellison ran. As he himself put it as he retold this tale, "feets,
don't fail
me now!" He ran through awful, viscous, stinking, New Jersey mud. He
ran
through the motor pool, jeeps of MPs circling. He ran up the steps of
the
Orderly Room, the company commander's office, and straight into the
office of
the Officer on Duty.
The OD, a Second Lieutenant, looked up calmly at Ellison. Harlan
poured out
his tale of suffering. When Harlan had finished, the Second Lieutenant
said,
in a Southern drawl, "I think you're a coward, boy."
Harlan hit him.
The Second Lieutenant went flying backwards, falling into the
collection of
quart-sized beer-bottles (called 'ponies' in those days) he kept on
his
baseboard.
Two huge black sergeants came in a restrained Ellison, pinning him
back
against the wall. "Cool it, baby," one whispered quietly into his ear.
The Second Lieutenant was up, screaming that Harlan would end his ;²`
to the Earth's core to escape.
Now, the sergeants despised the Second Lieutenant. He was a racist
Southerner,
and they were black. They didn't want him to have the pleasure of
breaking
this poor schmuck they had pinned.
One of the sergeants asked Harlan, "have they read you the Uniform
Code?"
Ellison said that he didn't know what it was, that it hadn't been read
to him.
This was a good thing. The Uniform Code of Military Justice is
required to be
read to all new servicemen. Until the code is read, a draftee is still
a
civilian and not subject to military law.
When the sergeant pointed out that Harlan could not be punished by
conventional military means, the Second Lieutenant was furious. The
sergeant
them suggested that Harlan be transferred out to Fort Benning,
Georgia, to
undergo Ranger training. The Second Lieutenant agreed, hoping that the
rigorous course would break Ellison. Needless to say, it didn't.
After Harlan got out of Ranger training, he went home to New York to
visit
his wife (during his first marriage). He was looking forward to seeing
her,
and bought flowers from a sidewalk vendor. He reached his apartment,
opened
the door - and was shocked to discover a sailor's uniform lying on the
livingroom floor.
Harlan came in to the bedroom. He found his wife and the sailor asleep
in the
bed. He pulled the sailor out of the bed, threw him on the floor, and
held
him down his his boot on the seaman's chest. He yelled at his wife to
get
dressed. He threw the naked sailor out of the apartment and told him
to go to
the basement to collect his uniform. The uniform Harlan threw down the
airwell so that it would end up in the basement. He and his wife then
had a
most heated discussion. Needless to say, that marriage did not last
long.
What he claimed disturbed him most was not that she was having sex on
the sly
with another man; but that it wasn't even with a member of his own
branch of
the Service.
For the sake of brevity, I move on; others can do more justice to
Ellison,
I'm sure.
-- Harlan Ellison Reading
Harlan's reading was early Sunday morning. Before he began two men in
karate
outfits burst upon the stage. They bowed to Harlan, and then presented
him
with a black belt from a national martial arts organization, encased
in black
velvet and with his name printed in gold letters on the outside.
Harlan then read his wonderful short story, "Paladin of the Lost
Hour." This
short story was also an episode of the Twilight Zone, starring Danny
Kaye as
Gaspar in his last performance. This story touched everyone who heard
it
deeply, and when it was finished there was not a dry eye left in the
room,
including Harlan's.
After the story, Susan Ellison Harlan's wife entered the lecture
hall.
"Honey, I cried again," he said. They kissed. Harlan said that she and
he
will have been married for twelve years this year.