A science fiction writer who considered himself a Fortean—but Fort doesn’t seem to have influenced him, at least not his best known works.
Nelson Slade Bond was born to Canadian parents who emigrated to Scranton, Pennsylvania, so that they could have an American child. That was in 1908. He grew up in Philadelphia, writing theater reviews for the Inquirer, and then going to university at Marshall, in West Virginia, which now houses his papers. He met his wife there. They married in 1934, the year he graduated.
Bond did public relations work for a time, but soon the money he made from authoring stories on the side became enough that writing became his career. He started out writing sports and humor stories, but also veered into fantasy and science fiction, which became his bread-and-butter. He wrote extensively for the pulps, but also found a home in Blue Book, which paid him, at his peak, five hundred dollars per story. He only ever published one novel, in 1949.
Bond also spent time in Hollywood and wrote a number of radio and TV scripts. He effectively stopped publishing in 1958, going first into public relations and then becoming an antiquarian book dealer. Like many of the literary Forteans—science fiction and mainstream, pulp writer and otherwise—he loved James Branch Cabell and specialized in collecting his works. A search of Bond’s papers at Marshall University found nothing related to the Fortean Society, Thayer, or Cabell for that matter. The connections between him and the Society are best documented in the pages of Doubt and some material from the University of Virginia’s archives. Bond’s writings only occasionally show a Fortean influence.
Bond’s first mention in Doubt came along with other science-fiction authors in the June 1943 issue of Doubt. In Issue 11 (Winter 1944-45), the magazine printed a letter from him. It made fun of a news story then coming out of North Dakota. There had been a rash of weird happenings at a school—coal flying through the air, for instance—and some of a Fortean or paranormal bent blamed the activity on poltergeists. “Authorities” said it was just kids—throwing things in class for three weeks, apparently without objection from the teacher. The state’s attorney general was puzzled, though, that the lie detector had not proven the kids were telling fibs—Bond’s gibe right in Thayer’s wheelhouse, as the Fortean Society Secretary was leading a solo charge against lie detectors. The letter wandered, discussing flies and fish erupting from Mgt. Vesuvius and the appearance of a new volcano in Mexico.
As he continued to publish science fiction and other stories through the 1940s and early 1950s, Bond remained committed to Fort and the Society. He contributed items to issues 19 (Nov. 1947: a flying saucer repot—he seemed to have an abiding interest in flying saucers, publishing on them as late as 1957) and 27 (Dec. 1949: regarding an unnamed priest who exorcised an unnamed boy). In 1948, Fantasy-Review listed him as one of the science fiction writers closely associated with the Society. And in December of that year, he sent the books of Charles Fort to James Branch Cabell, with whom he was corresponding. Cabell expressed appreciation, and said he thought he’d read Fort before, finding him interesting but to liberal in accepting anecdotes.
In 1951, he exchanged correspondence with Thayer, although only Thayer’s side has been found. The Secretary of the Fortean Society agrees that they could meet in New York City, is considering advertising some of Bond’s books, says he has heard good things about the television show based on Bond’s stories (although TV gives him a rash, so he hasn’t watched), and denies the Society has any responsibility for Dianetics, which was being taken up by the mainstream—besides which, Hubbard’s prose makes him fall asleep. It’s an intriguing series of subject, but too telegraphic for forming any idea of what Bond was thinking.
The September 1950 issue of Blue Book carried a story by Bond which referenced the Fortean Society. “And Lo! The Bird” is one of the best Fortean-inspired stories I have read. (Up there with Caitlin R. Kiernan’s “Standing Water,” though the scale of the two could not be more different, cosmic and quotidian.) The story concerns a bird—seen out beyond Pluto. And it’s flight toward the earth. The astronomer who discovers this bird alerts the newspapers which—as any Fortean would expect—make the resulting article a light one. But soon there is confirmation; members of the Fortean Society try to prove that the bird is part of a long tradition, but the journalist narrator dismisses the Society. Nonetheless, the story itself is deeply Fortean. The very notion of science and the scientific mind is ripped apart by this new thing. As it turns out the planets are really just eggs of this bird, incubating near the sun. Mercury hatches, followed by Venus. And then the earth begins to knock.
The tale is masterful in its voice, its structure, and its sense of cosmic weirdness. The title could have been from Fort himself—especially that Lo!—but actually comes from Omar Khayyàm’s Rubaiyat—incidentally, one of Thayer’s favorite poems.
Nelson Slade Bond was born to Canadian parents who emigrated to Scranton, Pennsylvania, so that they could have an American child. That was in 1908. He grew up in Philadelphia, writing theater reviews for the Inquirer, and then going to university at Marshall, in West Virginia, which now houses his papers. He met his wife there. They married in 1934, the year he graduated.
Bond did public relations work for a time, but soon the money he made from authoring stories on the side became enough that writing became his career. He started out writing sports and humor stories, but also veered into fantasy and science fiction, which became his bread-and-butter. He wrote extensively for the pulps, but also found a home in Blue Book, which paid him, at his peak, five hundred dollars per story. He only ever published one novel, in 1949.
Bond also spent time in Hollywood and wrote a number of radio and TV scripts. He effectively stopped publishing in 1958, going first into public relations and then becoming an antiquarian book dealer. Like many of the literary Forteans—science fiction and mainstream, pulp writer and otherwise—he loved James Branch Cabell and specialized in collecting his works. A search of Bond’s papers at Marshall University found nothing related to the Fortean Society, Thayer, or Cabell for that matter. The connections between him and the Society are best documented in the pages of Doubt and some material from the University of Virginia’s archives. Bond’s writings only occasionally show a Fortean influence.
Bond’s first mention in Doubt came along with other science-fiction authors in the June 1943 issue of Doubt. In Issue 11 (Winter 1944-45), the magazine printed a letter from him. It made fun of a news story then coming out of North Dakota. There had been a rash of weird happenings at a school—coal flying through the air, for instance—and some of a Fortean or paranormal bent blamed the activity on poltergeists. “Authorities” said it was just kids—throwing things in class for three weeks, apparently without objection from the teacher. The state’s attorney general was puzzled, though, that the lie detector had not proven the kids were telling fibs—Bond’s gibe right in Thayer’s wheelhouse, as the Fortean Society Secretary was leading a solo charge against lie detectors. The letter wandered, discussing flies and fish erupting from Mgt. Vesuvius and the appearance of a new volcano in Mexico.
As he continued to publish science fiction and other stories through the 1940s and early 1950s, Bond remained committed to Fort and the Society. He contributed items to issues 19 (Nov. 1947: a flying saucer repot—he seemed to have an abiding interest in flying saucers, publishing on them as late as 1957) and 27 (Dec. 1949: regarding an unnamed priest who exorcised an unnamed boy). In 1948, Fantasy-Review listed him as one of the science fiction writers closely associated with the Society. And in December of that year, he sent the books of Charles Fort to James Branch Cabell, with whom he was corresponding. Cabell expressed appreciation, and said he thought he’d read Fort before, finding him interesting but to liberal in accepting anecdotes.
In 1951, he exchanged correspondence with Thayer, although only Thayer’s side has been found. The Secretary of the Fortean Society agrees that they could meet in New York City, is considering advertising some of Bond’s books, says he has heard good things about the television show based on Bond’s stories (although TV gives him a rash, so he hasn’t watched), and denies the Society has any responsibility for Dianetics, which was being taken up by the mainstream—besides which, Hubbard’s prose makes him fall asleep. It’s an intriguing series of subject, but too telegraphic for forming any idea of what Bond was thinking.
The September 1950 issue of Blue Book carried a story by Bond which referenced the Fortean Society. “And Lo! The Bird” is one of the best Fortean-inspired stories I have read. (Up there with Caitlin R. Kiernan’s “Standing Water,” though the scale of the two could not be more different, cosmic and quotidian.) The story concerns a bird—seen out beyond Pluto. And it’s flight toward the earth. The astronomer who discovers this bird alerts the newspapers which—as any Fortean would expect—make the resulting article a light one. But soon there is confirmation; members of the Fortean Society try to prove that the bird is part of a long tradition, but the journalist narrator dismisses the Society. Nonetheless, the story itself is deeply Fortean. The very notion of science and the scientific mind is ripped apart by this new thing. As it turns out the planets are really just eggs of this bird, incubating near the sun. Mercury hatches, followed by Venus. And then the earth begins to knock.
The tale is masterful in its voice, its structure, and its sense of cosmic weirdness. The title could have been from Fort himself—especially that Lo!—but actually comes from Omar Khayyàm’s Rubaiyat—incidentally, one of Thayer’s favorite poems.
