While most women in the early SF community worked as editors for commercial magazines, Lilith Lorraine successfully edited her own noncommercial periodicals. An experienced genre professional who began publishing fiction with Gernsback in the late 1920s, Lorraine became alienated from commercial SF as it evolved away from the progressive political sensibilities that marked Gernsback’s early magazines and toward what she perceived as a more juvenile, action-oriented format (for more details see the entry on Lorraine in chapter 1, “Authors,” of this anthology). By the early 1940s, Lorraine had returned to her first love, poetry (see the entry on Lorraine in chapter 2, “Poets,”) and was contemplating a move to editing. As she half-jokingly noted in a 1943 letter to the popular fanzine the Acolyte, “I may still return to science fiction one day, whenever the market ceases to be so stereotyped and standardized…. [But I also] have a rather daring idea in mind of starting a national magazine for the publication of rejected stories [to show what authors] can do if they are really turned loose” (n.p.). Lorraine did indeed go on to edit more than half a dozen amateur press publications dedicated to the project of turning authors loose. The most notable of these was Different, which Lorraine published from the mid-1940s to the mid-1950s and which, as the SF historian Mike Ashley notes, had a “freshness that attracted interest throughout the sf world and helped encourage a new generation of writers” (History 210).

  4.1. Table of contents page for the January 1940 issue of Famous Fantastic Mysteries. From the holdings of the Eaton Collection of Science Fiction and Fantasy, Special Collections and University Archives, UCR Library, University of California, Riverside.

  4.2. Table of contents page for the November 1942 issue of Weird Tales. From the holdings of the Eaton Collection of Science Fiction and Fantasy, Special Collections and University Archives, UCR Library, University of California, Riverside.

  The public persona that Lorraine developed in her little-magazine work was very much like that of her male counterparts in SF. Both Gernsback and Sloane at Amazing and, to a lesser extent, Harry Bates at Astounding and Farnsworth Wright at Weird Tales used their roles as impresarios to promote specific visions of their chosen genre and readers’ roles within it.8 Lorraine made similarly authoritative pronouncements about poetry, which she defines provocatively in “The Story of Different” not just as “the writing of verse,” but as any “act of creative imagination, which is the atomic energy of poetry.” These acts include both traditional literary production and lived activities such as “spanning a continent with a mighty railroad … tracking the foxes of disease and pestilence to their final lairs, [and] leading embattled peoples against their oppressors” (2). While Lorraine does not name SF as an act of creative imagination, she makes technoscientific activity central to her definition of poetry and employs science fictional language to describe poets as “star-illuminated legislators,” “warriors of eternity,” and “citizens of the galaxies” (2).9 More prosaically, Lorraine also followed the example of her male counterparts in her complex attitude toward readers, assuring them that “an editor’s duty is to ALL of his subscribers” while encouraging them to help her sell subscriptions because “unless the poets themselves support their last remaining mediums … [Different] will be forced to go down before the rising tide of postal rate increases” (6). Lorraine’s inspirational vision for modern art and her practical approach to the economics of publishing reflect the sometimes contradictory forces that shaped early SF publishing agendas.

  But Lorraine went beyond her male colleagues to insist on the political possibilities of her chosen art form as well. Like her counterparts at modernist periodicals such as the New Freewoman and the Little Review, Lorraine creatively juxtaposed poetry, fiction, artwork, and nonfiction essays to encourage dialogue about what she saw as the most pressing issues of her day: the commodification of art, the elision of education with vocational training, and the need to develop new models of global rather than national citizenship. She also treated these issues directly in her editorial writing. As she notes in “The Story of Different,” Lorraine rejected offers to produce an “advertiser-controlled publication which must please everyone” because she believed that only independent magazines could “salvage some last remnants of American culture” and dismantle “the battlements of hate and terror” that threaten to become the hallmarks of modernity (6, 4, 4). Such matters are critical, she explains, in an era when liberal arts curricula designed to produce civically engaged citizens are being replaced by “specialized training” geared to produce workers who are “efficient cog[s] in the industrial machine” (3). Lorraine takes up this theme again in “Training for World Citizenship,” where she argues passionately for a revised education system in which teachers are “paid fair and decent wages” to develop curricula grounded in the arts and the social sciences that will produce Americans who can “give to and receive from other nations that knowledge of world affairs that will enable us to fulfill our duties as citizens of the world” (3). While Gernsback and other male editors generally limited their comments about the social value of SF to the seemingly apolitical realms of science education and technological innovation, Lorraine insists that the creative imagination is essential to the fate of humanity as a whole.

  Lorraine’s insistence on the interconnected nature of art and politics was reflected in her choice of contributors. On the one hand, Different’s roster regularly featured such authors as fantastic poetry veterans August Derlith and Leah Bodine Drake (see chapter 2, “Poets,” of this anthology), SF newcomers Marion Zimmer Bradley and Robert Silverberg, amateur press editors Manley Banister and Orma McCormick, and rocket expert R. L. Farnsworth. But Lorraine took care to juxtapose literary offerings with political and scientific ones as well. For instance, the second issue of Different included an editorial by Lorraine, fiction reviews by fantasy veteran Stanley A. Coblentz, an exposé of modern business practices by the sociology professor and editor of the liberal monthly the Emancipator, John C. Granbery, and one of the first treatises on lucid dreaming by the anthropologist Kilton Stewart (see figure 4.3). Like her counterparts in the modernist little-magazine movement, Lorraine quite literally refused to separate art from other aspects of life, weaving together articles on diverse topics in provocative ways.

  The careers of Mary Gnaedinger, Dorothy McIlwraith, and Lilith Lorraine serve as a window into the history of women’s work as magazine editors. As they adapted the practices of their counterparts in both commercial and noncommercial magazine production to the needs of the SF community, they ensured the success of their publications and paved the way for the scores of women working as SF editors today. Gnaedinger’s commitment to publishing women in an era of feminist backlash anticipated the work of the midcentury editor Cele Goldsmith Lalli, who discovered Ursula K. Le Guin and Sonya Dorman, as well as the work of the author-editor Marion Zimmer Bradley, whose Fantasy Magazine often featured short, humorous stories by women. It also anticipated the more overtly political recovery work of feminist SF anthologists, including Pamela Sargent and Justine Larbalestier. As the first female editor of Weird Tales, McIlwraith paved the way for contemporary women specializing in weird and horror fiction editing such as Ann Vander-Meer, the first woman to edit Weird Tales since McIlwraith’s tenure, and Ellen Datlow, who has received more than thirty awards for editing, including the Bram Stoker Lifetime Achievement award for her contributions to the horror genre. Meanwhile Lilith Lorraine’s commitment to small-press publishing is echoed in the careers of Bradley as well as Kelly Link and Cat Rambo, both of whom have been nominated for major awards multiple times on the basis of their noncommercial editing activities.

  4.3. Table of contents page for the May–June 1946 issue of Different.

  MARY GNAEDINGER (1897–1976) was an American editor noted for her work on Famous Fantastic Mysteries. She was born Mary Catherine Jacobson in Brooklyn, New York, where she lived for most of her life. In the late 1920s Mary Jacobson attended the Columbia University School of Journalism, where she met and married the news editor Louis Beverley Nichol Gnaedinger. After leaving Columbia, she embarked on a career as a “society reporter for the Brooklyn Eagle” and as an editor for E. P. Dutton & Company (“Mary Gnaedinger, Editor” 23). In 1939, Gnaedinger accepted the position of editor for the Frank A. Munsey Company’s new magazine, Famous Fantastic Mysteries, a nostalgia-oriented publication that reprinted classic SF and fantasy stories from the Munsey catalog. The first issue of Famous was so successful that it was immediately moved from a bimonthly to a monthly publication schedule.10

  Like many women in commercial magazine editing, Gnaedinger took on the role of community facilitator at Famous Fantastic Mysteries. In the debut issue, Gnaedinger introduced her magazine’s mission as one grounded in the “thousands of requests” Munsey had received from readers to republish stories that “have become accepted classics” (2). Gnaedinger returned to this theme time and again throughout her tenure at Famous, insisting that the canon she was creating in the pages of her magazine was “dictated by your requests.” Accordingly, her editorial comments praised fans for their knowledge of the genre and synthesized their observations about the excellent stories that she was only too happy to reprint. Additionally, Gnaedinger demonstrated her commitment to the SF community by attending meetings of the well-known New York fan group the Futurians and developing relationships with fellow SF editors such as Frederik Pohl. While she came to the genre as an outsider, then, Gnaedinger earned the trust (and subscriptions) of SF fans across the country by demonstrating sensitivity to their interests and needs.

  As was also the case for many other women in commercial magazine publishing, Gnaedinger exerted her greatest influence in art and story selection. She commissioned the Weird Tales regular Virgil Finlay to create the first piece of interior art and the first illustrated magazine cover for Famous Fantastic Mysteries—all the while assuring readers that her decisions on this front were guided by the collective suggestion that “an illustrated cover would improve the appearance of the magazine” (“Editors’ Page,” 1940). Even more significantly, in an era when editors such as John W. Campbell and Groff Conklin publicly dismissed the notion that women could write SF, Gnaedinger republished poems and stories by classic women writers including Minna Irving, Francis Stevens (Gertrude Barrows Bennett), and Laura Withrow.11 The immediate success of Famous Fantastic Mysteries attested to the wisdom of Gnaedinger’s editorial choices, and in 1940 Munsey allowed the editor to branch out and develop a companion magazine entitled Fantastic Novels. While this second magazine did not enjoy the extensive success of its predecessor, Gnaedinger edited both until they folded in 1953.

  Even when the Munsey Company sold Famous to All-Fiction Field in 1943 and she suddenly had the freedom to publish whatever she deemed fit, Gnaedinger maintained her public commitment to serving the needs of the SF community above all else. In a March 1943 editorial devoted to addressing reader concerns regarding what might happen to Famous in the wake of its sale, Gnaedinger explains that “where before we were restricted to an ever diminishing inventory of old Munsey classics, we now have the fantastic lore of the world from which to choose” (113). Moreover, while Gnaedinger offers her audience a personal take on a forthcoming story and—for the first time ever—signs her editorial with her own name, she concludes by pledging to readers “the same high quality of classics that [Famous] has given them in the past” (113). Gnaedinger edited Famous from its first issue in September 1939 to its final issue in June 1953, a rare instance of an editor holding such a position for the entire run of a magazine. This feat is even more impressive given that Famous saw three different publishers, outlasted many of its competitors, and survived many downturns in the SF magazine market. Though she never developed a flamboyant persona like many of her contemporaries, Gnaedinger was a respected and beloved editor of SF at the height of the pulp era whose magazine was both highly profitable and highly regarded.

  “Editorial Note”

  Famous Fantastic Mysteries, September–October 1939

  This magazine is the answer to thousands of requests that we have received over a period of years, demanding a second look at famous fantasies that, since their original publication, have become accepted classics. Our choice has been dictated by your requests and our firm belief is that these are the aces of imagination.

  —The Editors

  “The Editor’s Page”

  Famous Fantastic Mysteries, March 1940

  You will find that each succeeding issue of Famous Fantastic Mysteries conforms further with the readers’ requests. Many readers have suggested that an illustrated cover would improve the appearance of the magazine. We hope you like the cover Virgil Finlay has done for you this month.

  Next month will bring “The Devil of the Western Sea,” the colorful classic that so many of you have been asking for. It is a complete novelette, and fantastic in the very best sense.

  Letters have asked just when “Darkness and Dawn” will start. It is scheduled for the issue after next. That will be the May issue.

  We have received hundreds of enthusiastic comments on the stories published in the first five numbers of Famous Fantastic Mysteries. There is no doubt about the standing of “The Radio Man” and “The Conquest of the Moon Pool” among the great fantastic stories of all time. The letters bear witness to their being “tops” and the only problem is to choose the order in which more of the same kind of classics are to be presented.

  Your second installment of “The Blind Spot” will be on the newsstands March 6. The installment in this issue is the start-off of a real thriller that gets more exciting with every succeeding part. So get around to your news dealer before his supply is gone. If your news dealer is sold out, you can obtain back issues by sending 15¢ to Famous Fantastic Mysteries, 280 Broadway, New York.

  Among the interesting suggestions in a letter to “The Readers’ Viewpoint” from Norman Knudson of Ogden, Utah, was one that a list of past stories in order of merit should be printed. Below, you will find the published stories listed in the order of ratings given them in the readers’ letters.

  In Order of Popularity

  Sept.–Oct.: The Girl in the Golden Atom; The Moon Pool; Karpen the Jew; The Whimpus; The Witch-Makers; Blind Man’s Buff; Space Station No. 1.

  November: The Conquest of the Moon Pool; Almost Immortal; The Moon Metal; The Radiant Enemies; Fruit of the Forbidden Tree; The World in the Balance; The Man with the Glass Heart.

  December: The Radio Man; The Conquest of the Moon Pool; The Lord of Death; The Diminishing Draft; Who Is Charles Avison?; Lights; The Gravity Experiment.

  January: On the Brink of 2000; The Conquest of the Moon Pool; The Radio Man; An Astral Gentleman; The Red Germ of Courage; The “V” Force; Behind the Curtain.

  February: The Man Who Saved the Earth; The Conquest of the Moon Pool; The Sky Woman; The Radio Man; Son of the Stars; The Plunge of the “Knupfen”; The Kiss of Death.

  The lists of stories sent in by readers who recall them as top-notch examples of science fiction and weird yarns are very helpful. Let’s have more from you!

  —The Editors

  “The Editor’s Page”

  Famous Fantastic Mysteries, March 1943

  At this time it is only natural that there should be a lot of speculation as to the present and future aims and policies of Famous Fantastic Mysteries. With the sale of the Munsey publications to a house that has been a leader in a fight against reprints in general, some modification of policy was, of course, to be expected. The future running plan of this book may be stated briefly as follows:

  Famous Fantastic Mysteries will publish only new stories of exceptional quality or stories that have never before appeared in magazine form. (Please see the footnote on page 114, regarding “Into the Infinite.”)

  In our opinion, this change, far from diminishing the quality of the book, should infinitely improve it. Where before we were restricted to an ever diminishing inventory of old Munsey classics, we now have the fantastic lore of the world from which to choose. The next issue, for example, will feature John Taine’s great classic “The Iron Star,” in our opinion one of the most outstanding imaginative fantasies ever written. And while it is too early to go into details, we are negotiating for magazine rights to an English fantasy novel for which a lot of you have been clamoring for a long time.

  Famous Fantastic Mysteries pledges to its readers the same high quality of classics that it has given them in the past, the same scrupulous fidelity in reproducing them, the same outstanding artwork by the same craftsmen. If by so doing we can make this magazine truly the golden book of fantasy, a book to be kept and treasured with other great literature that has been written in this field, we will have considered our mission well worth the labor.

  Our heartfelt thanks to our readers for their loyal and most cooperative support!

  Mary Gnaedinger

  EDITOR

  DOROTHY STEVENS MCILWRAITH (1891–1976) was the Canadian editor based in New York who ran Weird Tales from 1940 to 1954. McIlwraith was born in Hamilton, Ontario, and graduated from McGill University in 1914. Her aunt, Jean McIlwraith, worked for almost two decades as an author, reader, and editor in New York during the early 1900s and McIlwraith followed in her trail. By the end of 1917 she had moved to the United States, settled in New York, and started working for the same company as her aunt: Doubleday, Page, and Company, which published books and magazines and was one of the most successful publishers in the country. In the 1920 census, McIlwraith listed her occupation as assistant editor of a magazine in New York, and by 1936 she had become editor of Doubleday’s Short Stories. The magazine was sold to William J. Delaney’s company, Short Stories, Inc., in 1937, and he kept McIlwraith on as the editor. When Delaney purchased Weird Tales in 1938, he moved the editorial offices to New York. Though he retained the longtime editor Farnsworth Wright, he made McIlwraith the associate editor of Weird Tales in 1939. Wright’s health was in decline, however, and McIlwraith took over as the editor of Weird Tales just before Wright’s death in 1940.12