Pat Ellington, widow of the late Dick Ellington and a long-time fan, passed away on Thursday, April 12, 2001, at Alta Bates Hospital in Berkeley, California. A long-time smoker, she'd been diagnosed with cancer about a year ago, but it was her chronic obstructive pulmonary disease that was the immediate cause of her death.  Pat's main fan activity was in the `50s, when she had articles in a couple issues of "Joan W. Carr's" Femizine.  She assisted Dick in the production of The Bosses' Songbook and had an illustration in it, and in the `60s and early `70s was a member of FAPA jointly with Dick. She's survived by their daughter Marie, her sister Mary and her brother Fred.

Dr. Donald Anthony Reed
March 18, 2001
Appreciation by Alan White

"I discovered at a young age I could never become a God, so I decided to become a judge." -- Donald Reed

How can one put into words the passing of Dr. Donald A. Reed, a sad and spoiled anti-fan who, since 1960 has provided (one way or another) a much needed service to the genre fans of Hollywood? It's hard to provide epilogue for this elfish man-child, but knowing him 25 years, I am as qualified as anyone.
     I was smitten by the Count Dracula Society in 1963. Don and Manny Weltman created this odd assemblage of genre movie and literature fans, pseudo-intellectuals, would-be authors and script-writers. The bi-monthly meetings were a haven for fans in the '60s and actual celebs like Ray Bradbury, Robert Bloch, A.E. van Vogt, Christopher Lee and others attended regularly.  Don was on to something, having an annual banquet presenting awards to everyone from Wolfman Jack to Rock Hudson, Bob Clampett, Robert Wise or Gene Roddenberry! I asked how he got all these people to show up and he replied "People will go anywhere to get an award!" He found by giving fannish losers an award as well, he could garner their complete allegiance, and thus always have someone to lick the stamps, fold the flyers and stuff the envelopes; I was one of them. 
     He lived in his grandparent's house in South Los Angeles forever yet was never aware of the changing surroundings. I called him during the Watts Riots, having seen a TV helicopter shot of the liquor store on his corner burning to the ground. He couldn't understand why "People are carrying television sets down the middle of the street!"
     While he told people he was a history instructor, he was actually the librarian at Woodbury College and a clerk in a law office specializing in draft law. On at least three separate occasions he took the Bar exam, but never passed. While never actually receiving a degree, he adopted his lifelong moniker "Dr." and enjoyed collecting honorary degrees and had stacks of bogus shingles on every possible subject. He also had a number of those mail order ministries and offered to marry fans.
     It was the beginning of the end when he fell in with these guys purporting to be Monarchs and Royal emissaries. He began the "Royal Order of Count Dracula" and insisted on "Knighting" everyone with this big Dracula Sword causing Robert Bloch and others to drop out in disgust. 
     He was such a character; yes, I was mesmerized by his ability of persuasion and the potential for meeting just about anybody while in his company. Many club members were called-on for a number of odd jobs. For example, I wrote the first half of his book, The Films of Robert Redford, and others wrote the rest. He was also paid for teaching one-night adult classes at USC, but convinced someone else to actually teach the class for free. I attended his class on "Special Effects," only to find I was actually the instructor! Don had strange powers of recovery as well. At a USC screening of King Kong, the projector broke before a single frame hit the screen. While a rep was offering to give everybody their money back, Don ran to the front of the theatre and gave an hour-long dissertation on why "King Kong is a great movie!" A woman came up later and said his talk was "The most wonderful evening I've ever spent!"
     So Don didn't have to languish in the hospital after his car accident, I spent a week in his home dishing out drugs and emptying his bed pans. 
     He relished appearing on The Tonight Show and other interview programs both on TV and radio.
     At some point, Don knew the Society was decaying (if not why) and devised a new, more glamorous organization that would only include people in the movie industry. He called it "The Academy of Horror Films, Science Fiction Films and Fantasy Films." I opted for a shorter name, but he wouldn't have it. Finally, I offered to donate money to put the club on the map, put on our first awards show and buy the first award if we could shorten the name to "The Academy of Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror Films." Imagine my surprise finding out the first award goes to Don Reed "Because I thought of it!" When Don discovered industry people didn't share the same allegiance factor as fans, he opened the ranks to anybody with money for a membership.
     There were many at the time who thought Don an idiot and wanted to wrest the reins of power from him, but in the end, none of the usurpers had the energy or the wild self-aggrandizing attitude to actually do it.
     Meeting Arnold Shapiro (multi-Emmy winner for productions such as Scared Straight) was a thrill and his ability to produce our television award shows was assured. It was Arnold that commissioned and produced the actual Saturn Award much to the surprise of Don who wanted the trophy to be known as the "Dr. Donald A. Reed Award." Under Shaprio's guidance, the show boasted absolutely everyone from Charlton Heston, George Burns to Mark Hammill.
     Shapiro presented Don with an offer that by restructuring the Academy like the Oscar Academy, keeping books and actually having elections, he would ensure the success and longevity of our organization. This was what I'd been waiting for -- the legitimizing of the Academy! Don's reply was "I'd rather be a big fish in a little pond" and "Poof!" it was essentially over.
     In 1989 I bowed out from sheer frustration and he never spoke to me again.  While everybody has a Don Reed story, in the end, he will only be remembered for his quotes on the covers of bad videos.

Rosemary Hickey passed away on April 26. She was in her 80s, and had been living in a nursing home in Houston for some time. During the 1950s-1970s, she was an active member of the University of Chicago Science Fiction Club and a committee member for ChiCon III. Earl Kemp wrote online, "In her own right, she was quite a hostess for sf affairs, a sportswoman, and a formidable foe with a target rifle."

Pierre Versins, writer, faneditor, critic, and author of the Encyclopedie Des Voyages Extraordinaires, De L'Utopie Et De La Science Fiction (Worldcon special committee award, 1973), died peacefully in his sleep in April at a hospital in Avignon, France, his home town. He'd returned there after living long years in Switzerland, where he founded the SF museum La Maison d'Ailleurs. In 2000, he was GoH of the French SF Convention in neighbouring L'isle-sur-la-Sorgue. He was 78. [[Source: Joyce Scrivner]]