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Milton A. Rothman was almost right when
he wrote more than a half-century ago about himself: "Milty will some day
be a mad scientist." If he had obeyed the literary rule of thumb involving
adjective amputations, he would have been a better prophet about his future
than I would have been.
I thought Milt might become a world-class pianist.
I ventured the opinion one day while he was visiting me that Chopin's music
was sort of wishy-washy. He dashed to my piano and erupted into a tremendous
performance of the Revolutionary Etude to prove I was wrong.
Or, I thought, Milt might become a nationally
known writer. He sold fiction to Astounding Stories. For a half-dozen
years during the 1940s, he published his fanzine, Milty's Mag, in
which his prose was infinitely superior to the humble average characteristic
of fan writing at that time.
I could also imagine him in a role of raconteur
and commentator, something like Clifton Fadiman or Alexander Woollcott. He
was fluent in conversation, had at least some knowledge of every imaginable
topic, and awed me with his barrage of logic in extempore situations.
But he was right about a career in science.
In fact, when I happened to find a copy of one of his books on scientific
matters at Goodwill Industries several years ago, I thought about how far
he had gone in the career he chose after he left most of his fannish pursuits
behind.
In one issue of Milty's Mag, he described himself this way: "A romantic, trying to act like a cold-blooded scientist." Once again, he should have jettisoned the adjective to attain precise prophecy.
In the early years of fandom, Milt Rothman
pioneered in many respects. He practically invented Philadelphia fandom by
heading the city's chapter of the Science Fiction League, soon metamorphosed
into the Philadelphia Science Fiction Society. He was a prime mover in the
change of the Fantasy Amateur Press Association from a boring imitation of
mundane amateur press groups into an exchange of thoughtful discussions of
serious matters. He was also one of the first fans to pour out his soul onto
mimeographed fanzine pages, revealing more about his hopes and thoughts than
had been customary in fanzines published during the 1930s. Very few fans
obtained a college degree in those early years, but Milt had three of the
things by the end of the 1940s.
I admire the erudition he has possessed and shared during the past four decades. I can only wish he could have somehow found time to bestow some of it on fandom throughout the second half of this century.
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