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datatime: 2022-10-06 03:27:12 Author:hNOltCwN

When Analog magazine was housed over at Graybar Building on Lexington Avenue, our offices were far from plush. In fact, they were grimy. Years worth of Manhattan soot clung to the walls. The windows were opaque with grime. (What has this to do with Spider Robinson? Patience, friend.)

Thomas "Speedy" Rice for valuable legal background on the rules of salvage.

And then came Spider Robinson.

When Analog magazine was housed over at Graybar Building on Lexington Avenue, our offices were far from plush. In fact, they were grimy. Years worth of Manhattan soot clung to the walls. The windows were opaque with grime. (What has this to do with Spider Robinson? Patience, friend.)

Mac Plus, which made rewriting easier if not pleasurable. Of the many books on the Titanic disaster I consulted for background material, by far the most valuable was Ballard's own The Discovery of the Titanic (Warner/Madison, 1987).

And then came Spider Robinson.

"Admiral, how about the next of kin for the other fellow who died? A similar letter might be in order."

"Have someone in your office get me the names and address or addresses of his next of kin. Today. I'd like to write them personal notes."

Cornell sensed the meeting was over and rose to leave. The President stopped him.

Truth to tell, I don't remember if he sent in a manuscript through the mail first, or telephoned for an appointment to visit the office. No matter. And now he's off in Nova Scotia, living among the stunted trees and frost heaves, where nobody - not even short - memoried editors - can reach him easily.

"Sir," Cornell said softly, "Derek Montague had no living relatives."

Thomas "Speedy" Rice for valuable legal background on the rules of salvage.

My sincere appreciation to the following:

I'd tell them to come on up, but not to expect too much. My advice was always ignored. The poor kid would come in and gape at the piles of manuscripts, the battered old metal desks, and mountains of magazines and stacks of artwork, the ramshackle filing cabinets and bookshelves. His eyes would fill with tears. His mouth would sag open.

When Analog magazine was housed over at Graybar Building on Lexington Avenue, our offices were far from plush. In fact, they were grimy. Years worth of Manhattan soot clung to the walls. The windows were opaque with grime. (What has this to do with Spider Robinson? Patience, friend.)

"Admiral, how about the next of kin for the other fellow who died? A similar letter might be in order."

To all Titanic buffs, I recommend a work I found not only valuable but stirring: Charles Pellegrino's Her Name, Titanic (McGraw-Hill, 1988).

"Sir," Cornell said softly, "Derek Montague had no living relatives."

Megan Hughes, Todd Ellerman, Joey Arone, and my incredibly patient wife, Priscilla Serling, for their aid with a word processor.

Additional reference material included: The Titanic, End of a Dream by Wyn Craig Wade (Rawson Wade Publishers, 1979); The Maiden Voyage by Geoffrey Marcus (Viking, 1969); and Titanic, The Death and Life of a Legend by Michael Davie (Henry Holt, 1986).

I must pay special thanks to Jared Kieling, an editor of consummate skill, who detoured me away from many false paths as we explored the Titanic together.

"Thank you, Mr. President. I'll do that."

"Sir," Cornell said softly, "Derek Montague had no living relatives."

Many times young science fiction fans would come to Manhattan and phone me from Grand Central Station, which connected underground with the good old Graybar. "I've just come to New York and I read every issue of Analog and I'd like to come up and see what a science fiction magazine office looks like," they would invariably say.

To all Titanic buffs, I recommend a work I found not only valuable but stirring: Charles Pellegrino's Her Name, Titanic (McGraw-Hill, 1988).

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