Like most editors in commercial magazine production, McIlwraith often made editorial choices in response to external forces. When Delany hired McIlwraith to take over Weird Tales, he encouraged her to transform the financially struggling magazine into the “standard pulp mode” so it more closely resembled his classier and more successful publication, Short Stories (Ashley, History 140). Mc-Ilwraith had to confront other challenges as well. One such challenge came when the mayor of New York waged war on sex at the newsstands in 1939, which likely influenced McIlwraith’s decision to stop commissioning the controversial nude covers of Margaret Brundage in favor of more standard—and well-clothed—scenes of weird action.13 Another serious challenge came in the form of Weird Tales’ reduced budget, which meant that McIlwraith had less money for stories and art and thus a more difficult time securing the best material for her magazine.

  Nonetheless, McIlwraith managed to preserve key aspects of Weird Tales that had characterized the magazine since its inception. Most significantly, since Short Stories was also a multi-genre magazine, she was able to maintain Weird Tales’ commitment to publishing horror, fantasy, and SF. McIlwraith also continued to acquire work from some of the most talented people in the field. Though the move to New York made it harder for Brundage to submit her artwork, Mc-Ilwraith continued to commission less risqué covers from the Weird Tales legend until 1945. McIlwraith also continued to publish fiction and poetry by the Weird Tales veterans August Derlith, Henry Kuttner, and Mary Counselman, while introducing readers to new talents, including Fritz Leiber and Ray Bradbury.

  Where the editors of the SF specialist magazines often adopted flamboyant personas, McIlwraith took on the more subdued role of the editor as facilitator. Like Farnsworth Wright before her, McIlwraith used Weird Tales’ discussion forum, “The Eyrie,” to foster community, introducing stories in an upbeat manner and editing together letters from readers and authors to create a continuous dialogue with many voices. But while Wright was not above engaging in an occasional argument with readers, refuting all criticism of his editing practices and marshaling authors to his side to prove his point, McIlwraith defused criticism by deferring to the judgment of the Weird Tales community itself. For example, when a longtime fan wrote in to mourn the loss of “the old custom of voting for the best story in each issue,” McIlwraith diplomatically responded by acknowledging that “it might be a good idea to restore this feature” and asking readers to “let us know what you think” (“Eyrie,” November–December 1940). Thus McIlwraith went beyond her predecessor, publicly subsuming her own editorial preferences to maintain the sense of group identity she worked so hard to foster elsewhere in her editing practices.

  When McIlwraith did exert her own voice, it was always in dialogue with her authors and readers. For instance, when Wright passed away, McIlwraith used the November–December 1940 “Eyrie” to briefly express her “profound regret” before introducing a much longer eulogy by the longtime Weird Tales author Seabury Quinn (123). In that same discussion forum, McIlwraith stitches together a reader’s letter criticizing Frank Gruber’s short story “The Chalice,” Gruber’s defensive response to the reader in question, and her own rather detailed explanation of the fantastic aspects of Arthurian legend. Indeed, while reader and author bicker over details such as whether or not the Holy Grail would have really been made of gold, McIlwraith works hard to defuse tension by noting that “the mystery of the Holy Grail remains one of the most fascinating unsolved riddles of all time,” thereby reassuring reader and author alike that they may both be correct (126).

  In the rare instances in which she wrote traditional editorials, McIlwraith also linked her ideas to those of the larger genre community. This is particularly evident in the July 1941 “Eyrie,” where McIlwraith uses a reader’s comparison of Weird Tales to a “Time-Machine” as the occasion for celebrating her magazine’s unique mission to print “horror,” “science fiction,” and “fantasy of every kind” so readers might explore the past, present, and future from new perspectives (122). This broad publishing mandate, she argues, gives fans of each genre something to like about Weird Tales and stands in sharp contrast to single-genre magazines such as Amazing Stories and Astounding Science Fiction. Even as she outlined her vision of Weird Tales and its relation to the larger field of fantastic fiction, McIlwraith maintained a positive, fan-oriented voice similar to that of her contemporary, Mary Gnaedinger, at Famous Fantastic Mysteries.

  “The Eyrie”

  Weird Tales, May 1940

  WEIRD TALES CLUB IDEAS

  In the last “Eyrie,” the idea of a Weird Tales club was discussed. A nation-wide club may or may not be possible, but certainly Weird Tales can help in the formation of local clubs and organizations. Then, wherever you may live, you, your friends—and, we hope, new friends found through W.T.—can provide each other with a congenial, “weird get-together.” Below are printed some readers’ letters concerning a Weird Tales club, and we hope that everyone who is interested in such a project will write in to us, so that in the next issue some definite plans can be formulated.

  THE “IMAGI-NATION”

  Louise F. Avery of 776 Ostrom Avenue, Syracuse, N.Y., writes: “Having read in your March issue of W.T. of the ‘Outsiders’ in Washington, D.C., and of the ‘Insiders’ in Los Angeles, and also having noted your suggestion of forming other Weird Tales clubs throughout the ‘imagi-nation’; I should like to say that here in Syracuse, N.Y., where the population averages around two hundred and fifty thousand, would be an excellent place to have another such club. I know there are numerous W.T. fans in Syracuse who would doubtless like to start a Weird Tales club. I would like to try it, and if this department will cooperate with me and my W.T. enthusiasts, I’m sure we could have fun, and I suggest that if you could find a spot in your column for this note and state that those who are interested in forming a Weird Tales club call me at my home, No. 5-4796, or drop me a post card at my home address, 776 Ostrom Avenue, the ideas would meet with the approval of Syracuse’s many W.T. admirers.”

  “The Eyrie”

  Weird Tales, November 1940

  It is with profound regret that we announce the death of Farnsworth Wright, who was editor of Weird Tales for many years and was so largely responsible for the success of the magazine. It seems fitting that we should print here in the “Eyrie” a letter about Mr. Wright from a man who not only was one of his personal friends, but also a constant contributor to Weird Tales. The staff of Weird Tales, its contributors and countless of its readers, join with Seabury Quinn in his tribute to a great editor and scholar.

  Farnsworth Wright

  Like everyone who has long been a reader of or contributor to Weird Tales, I was greatly shocked and grieved at the news of Farnsworth Wright’s passing. Anyone who has read Weird Tales must have been impressed by his thorough knowledge of weird literature, his complete understanding of the great background of folk lore, superstition, and comparative religions from which such literature is drawn, and his nice sense of discrimination in selecting the cream of such stories by modern authors to carry on the tradition of the Georgian and early Victorian masters of Gothic tales. Helped and encouraged by his expert criticism and kindly advice, a whole generation of writers was developed, and though many of these have “graduated” to other media of expression, none, I am sure, will ever forget the debt he owes to Farnsworth Wright. There is today hardly a writer of fantasy whose success does not date from the encouragement he received from Mr. Wright, and there is certainly no one engaged in creative work who ever dealt with Farnsworth Wright who does not think kindly of him.

  To those of us who were privileged to know him personally the loss is even greater. We knew him as a cultured gentleman, a charming host, an incomparably congenial companion, and a true and loyal friend. His steadily failing health caused us all concern, but his courage and resolution were so great that none of us realized how near the great beyond he was. His cheerful letters lulled us into a sense of false optimism, and when news of his death came our surprise was almost equal to our grief.

  As for his abilities, his work provides the finest monument possible. In the old files of Weird Tales can be read the biography of a man whose genius made possible a magazine that was and is truly unique. As to his epitaph: If it be true that in imitation lies the sincerest form of flattery, Farnsworth Wright has been eloquently acclaimed. When he assumed the editorial chair of Weird Tales almost twenty years ago he was a lone adventurer setting out to bring a highly specialized form of entertainment to the reading public. A recent issue of Author & Journalist lists twenty-two magazines devoted exclusively to fantasy or pseudo-scientific fiction. Could any greater or more sincere compliment be paid his vision or his work?

  Seabury Quinn

  [….]

  From Springfield, Missouri, Donald V. Allgeier writes:

  “For ten years I have been a W.T. fan and during that time it has always been my favorite of all magazines. I still have nostalgic memories of some of the great stories in the magazine’s past. I was afraid that bi-monthly publication might be necessary, but I was relieved to see that the high quality of the stories remained. Why not restore the old custom of voting for the best story each issue and printing the title of the winner? That used to spur me to write in at least once every two months.

  “I like most of the illustrations. Bok is good, as is Ferman and, occasionally, del Campo. The best story in September was, by all odds, ‘Sea Born.’”

  [What do you readers think of Mr. Allgeier’s “voting for the best story” suggestion? We feel it might be a good idea to restore this feature. Let us know what you think.]

  Fact Articles

  Blair Moffett writes from Springfield, Pennsylvania:

  “Mr. Frank Bristol, several issues back, and Mr. Al MacDowell in the last, made a good suggestion: I’d like to second it. The suggestion was: why not publish short fact articles on occult, esoteric, mythological, and kindred subjects? This would add immensely to W.T.’s value, and give a sane and sound direction to the swiftly growing interest in this type of study that can be noticed all over the country. ‘It Happened to Me’ is, it seems, an absorbing step in this direction. Mr. MacDonald’s article was excellent, and gives an interpretation esoterically, that explains one point of view. And ‘The Black Art’ finished the Eyrie off very nicely.”

  [We hope to continue printing more of “The Black Art” type of articles whenever there is sufficient space.]

  Golden Chalice

  From Dyersburg, Tenn., James G. Merriman writes:

  “There is one point I’d like to raise. In the story ‘The Golden Chalice’ (July issue) there is nothing miraculous about the Cup itself—that is, it was excavated, not sent down from Heaven as in the legends—it was just a battered drinking vessel. How, then, does Mr. Gruber account for its being golden? Neither Jesus nor anyone personally connected with Him was rich, and He would not have used golden dishes, anyway.”

  In answer to the Holy Grail query raised by Mr. Merriman, the author of “The Golden Chalice” replies: “In the legends I’ve read about the Chalice, it has always been golden. Although the size and shape have varied according to the different legends, some even having it a shallow dish rather than a cup. But always it has been golden. The Holy Grail, which Sir Galahad sought so strenuously, was supposed to have been of gold.

  “Religion must be taken on faith alone. Recorded history does not always bear out religion.

  “If He could turn a few loaves into enough to feed a multitude, He could certainly change a dish made of baser material into gold—if He wanted to. Mr. Merriman must have skipped over his Bible a little hastily, if he says that everyone connected with Him was poor. At least one of the twelve apostles was a rich man. I leave the name for Mr. Merriman to discover.

  “The particular cup in my story was based on the one shown at the Chicago World’s Fair in 1933, which like the one in my story was excavated near Antioch. It was definitely golden.

  “Why wouldn’t He have used golden dishes?

  “Frank Gruber.”

  The mystery of the Holy Grail remains one of the most fascinating unsolved riddles of all time… Certainly no other single object has collected about itself such a wealth of myth and legend—every Christian and semi-Christian land has its own especial version concerning this mystical vessel of thin and hammered gold (which, as you know, is reputed to have been used by Christ at the Last Supper).

  In the Arthurian legends the Golden Chalice has the romantic name of the Holy Sangreal. Perhaps this—the quest by the knights of a legendary king for a legendary grail—is the most fascinating of all the chalice myths. Sir Launcelot, who captained the holy search party, traveled for many years through the dark forests of England’s pre-mediaeval West—where in high towers wizards cast their spells and enchantment waited round every twist in the path.

  In charming old English one legend relates: “So it befell on a night, at midnight, he arrived before a castle, which was rich and fair, and there was a postern opened towards the sea, and was open without any entry, save two lions kept the entry; and the moon shone clear.” Sir Launcelot went into the castle, and after an encounter with a dwarf, who temporarily paralyzed his arm, came upon a chapel. Here he beheld the Holy Sangreal itself, covered with scarlet samite, and standing on an altar where one candle burned. But before he could approach it, he was suddenly struck with fire, and lay unconscious and near death for twenty-four days.

  Men have searched in a thousand lands for the Holy Grail; no one, not even an archaeologist, has ever found it.

  The Weird Tales Club is growing. During these last several weeks we have had the largest response since the Club first got under way, and, as you see, the list of members in this issue is three times as long as the list printed in the September number. This is all very encouraging, and we can all hope that in the not so distant future your Club will expand to proportions where it will be of real value to fans and readers.

  You will be glad to hear that a membership card—carrying a design by Hannes Bok—is being prepared. This card will be sent to everyone enclosing a stamped addressed envelope.

  Incidentally, a number of readers have suggested in their letters that we print members’ ages. So perhaps all those desiring their ages published would tell us when writing in?

  If you are not already a member, why not drop us a line, so that we can enroll you on the Club roster, and publish your name and address in the magazine?

  We’re looking to you to keep the Weird Tales Club rolling!

  “The Eyrie”

  Weird Tales, July 1941

  Time Machine in Your Backyard!

  One of our readers told us recently that he found Weird Tales as good as keeping a time machine in the backyard!

  “I just sit back and relax in my favorite armchair,” he said, “and Weird Tales does the rest—taking me back or forward in time—to other planets—or way outside this life.”

  “Weird Tales is really better than a time-machine,” he added, “for it means no more effort than the turning of a page …”

  We hope that all of you get equal pleasure from your magazine. We’re doing all we can to see that your fireside adventuring into the occult is as weird and thrilling—as rich in variety—as it can be made.

  Horror, ancient and modern—science fiction—fantasy of every kind—weird tragedy, weird humor, weird romance … ghosts, vampires, werewolves, monsters, and sorcerers—these and countless other kinds of stories make up Weird Tales.

  One reader prefers one type of story; another goes for something completely different. One likes science fiction, another likes horror. Some enjoy both. You are agreed upon two things only: that each story be really interesting—and that each issue be so varied that, no matter what your taste, you will be entertained. We don’t expect each story to please everyone. But we do hope that in every issue the majority of tales will thrill and delight you.

  The lead story in this issue—Ray Cummings’s “Robot God”—is a futuristic affair of rebellious machine men, space ships and barren asteroids, while its twin feature, the second part of the Lovecraft novel, is a horror tale in the traditional manner. And in between are stories, each different to the other, yet all blending into what we hope is a perfect reading whole.

  We’re hoping that as many of you as have the time will write to us and tell us what you feel about your magazine—for such letters are a great help to us in giving you the kind of stories that you really want to see in Weird Tales.

  LILITH LORRAINE (1894–1967) was an American SF author, poet, and editor (for details about her life, see the entry on Lorraine in chapter 1, “Authors,” of this anthology). She began her career in the 1920s as a fiction writer and poet, but in the early 1940s shifted her attention to editing. As she argued in a 1943 issue of the fanzine the Acolyte, the scientifically minded and politically daring editors who made SF a distinctive popular genre in the 1920s were all but gone from the field, replaced by a new generation of aesthetically and socially conservative ones whose “editorial fetishes” had contributed to what Lorraine perceived as the degraded state of modern SF (“Cracks” n.p.). As such, it was up to veterans such as Lorraine to revitalize the genre. Accordingly, she founded the Avalon World Arts Academy in the early 1940s to train poets and publish magazines based on her vision of SF. Lorraine willingly worked with genre and mainstream poets alike, featuring their verse alongside that of fiction writers, scientists, and other editors in the half-dozen amateur press publications she established between 1943 and her death in 1967.