Lance Casebeer, beer in hand, points the way (probably to the keg).
I have no drinking problem, says his shirt. I drink. I get drunk. I fall down. No problem.
Books . . .
books . . .
. . . more books.
Tom Lesser scores a stack of digests.
The noble profile of Cap'n Bob Napier
Me and somebody's head.
More of the usual suspects.
Bruce Taylor surveys the scene.
The booking never stops . . .
. . . never.
Murder for auction.
Marilyn makes an appearance.
Who remembers the USFL? Dick Wald does. The Portland Breakers was our pro football team (for almost two whole years).
Lance's legendary basement . . .
. . . where it was wall-to-wall paperbacks.
The Cap'n hoarding his booty.
The guy who put the Lance in LanceCon.
Pics, as always, thanks to the Official Photographer of LanceCon, Arty Art Scott.
5 comments:
Wish I'd been around for those. Was there much SF or was it all mystery?
I'd say sleaze, mystery, SF, mainstream and western, pretty much in that order. Actually, there was a LOT of everything, and lot more of it in Lance's basement (and dining room, and upstairs bedrooms, and bank vaults). There were surprising few books in his foyer, living room, kitchen or bathrooms.
I remember how stunned I was at the price you realized for the Marilyn Monroe windshield shade.
I don't remember it all, except to know it wasn't mine. Art Scott, the man with the steel trap memory, can probably tell us who got the dough.
It's funny but Tom Lesser still looks the same over 30 years later.
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