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This picture was taken by my father at a convention in Burbank on April 2nd, 1994. I am standing just beyond the right edge of the photo; Lydia is chatting with me while Van signs my books. Forrest J. Ackerman SF collector and enthusiast extraordinaire, who was Van's agent for many years can be seen sitting in the background. (A photo from the 1970s of van Vogt visiting the famous Ackermansion can be seen here.)
Nobody in my family, my self included, has affection for conventions of any kind. This is the only one we ever went to, because we knew Van would be there signing books. I had written to him a few months earlier and had gotten a letter back that included, among other things, information on their upcoming appearance. Since we live just three hours from Burbank, my family and I decided that we would go down and meet him and get a few books signed. My father was as eager as I to meet him, since he still vividly remembers enjoying The Weapon Shops of Isher and The Voyage of the Space Beagle when he was young.
When we arrived, we were all pleasantly surprised when they recognized the name "Wilcott" and immediately realized I was the kid who wrote the "very nice letter" as Lydia put it. But not only did they remember me, they had brought with them three personally autographed copies of his books to give to me: the Carroll & Graf editions of The Beast, The Mind Cage, and a mint condition copy of the 1982 Berkley edition of The Players of Null-A. I had brought along two books to be signed, the Carroll & Graf edition of The Universe Maker and the 1982 Timescape edition of The War Against the Rull. In the picture above, Van is in the process of signing The Universe Maker.
I was so overwhelmed with excitement, and incredulous at their generosity, that I basically just stood there and stared. I was only fourteen at the time, and extremely shy, and had never met anyone even remotely famous before, and here I was face-to-face with my favorite author. As a result, Lydia did most of the talking. She is an admirably charming and gracious lady, who well understood a boy's shyness and excitement.
I had earlier overheard Van talking to another of his readers the line was very long with people holding stacks of books and heard him say things about how they live in Hollywood right below and to the left of the world-famous Hollywood sign on the hill. It was also at this time that I learned how to pronounce his name: he was telling someone that the "G" in "Vogt" was silent, making it sound identical to "vote." But by and large he did very little talking. He seemed very happy to be there, though, and shook my hand with a smile.
It wasn't until five years later that I learned Van had Alzheimer's. I now realize that when I met him in '94, he was well into his mental decline. So when I think back to that day in April, it is with a strange mixture of excitement and sadness.