The UK boasts some of the best and brightest wargaming Publications. After some trans-ocean e-mail and letters, I was able to visit the publishers of many magazines. Certainly, I missed some of the larger publishers, but with a tankful of gas and a week, I was able to travel a grand square around Britain to visit some publishers, take in some sights, and relax a bit.
A NJ Yankee in King Arthur's Court
I took an overnight flight from the US to the UK, landing at Heathrow, zipping through customs, and finding myself at the rent-a-car counter. Of course, we colonials on our side of the pond drive on the "wrong" side of the road, which makes for some hilarious--and hazardous--travels across Britain (and Wales). Jet-lagged and sleep deprived, off I zoomed onto the M4 motorway heading into the heart of London.
It's been 10 years since I was in the UK, and thus 10 years since driving on the "other" side of the road. It really isn't too bad as you quickly fall into the rhythm of making tight LEFT turns and wide RIGHT turns. For those that have never driven there, you sit upon the right side of the car. The stick shift is at your left hand in the middle of the car, yet the gas (right) - brake (center) - clutch (left) pedal arrangement is identical.
The only problem is if you get flustered--you tend to revert to right-side habits in an emergency. I have, on past occasions, gunned the engine in first gear, then quickly put in the clutch and shifted the WINDOW CRANK. Of course, when you let out the clutch, the engine whines like a banshi ...
Britain is a nation of "Roundabouts" a.k.a. "circles" (in NJ) or "rotaries" (in Mass.) instead of stop lights. You end up stopping most of the time near major cities, as traffic entering a roundabout yields to traffic in a roundabout, but as a traffic flow device in more rural areas, it's not bad at all, and if you miss a turn off, you can just continue round the roundabout to get back to it. Of course, traffic enters moving the "opposite" way, forcing you to remember to look RIGHT, not LEFT. I must also note that British drivers have very quick reactions when us Yanks forget that rule and look the wrong way, see nothing coming, and shoot out into the traffic stream. I also want to note that hand gestures are pretty much universal.
Forget the road rage, it's open season for tourist drivers. Let me give you the most important lesson for US drivers in the UK: If in doubt, follow a car straight.
Yes, you will miss turns, but just go up to the next roundabout and, er, go 'round for a U-turn. Don't ever try to do a quick turn, zip for the parking space, or anything on the spur of the moment, because your instincts are on the "wrong" side of things.
Which brings me to the second rule of UK driving (rural areas): Always yield to farm animals.
That said, I have no idea what to do on the new "multiple roundabouts" where two roundabouts abut--like a figure eight. If you enter at the 6 o'clock position and want to go to the 12 o'clock exit, do you have to stop as you enter the top of the figure eight? When you want to exit at the 3 o'clock position, do you cut though the middle of the figure eight, or do you loop around the bottom AND top of the figure eight? Thankfully, I never hit anyone.
With these driving gems in mind, it was time to head into London, which I found out earned me the outward respect (if not the inward "crazy American" moniker) of the publishers. I believe they were more impressed that I could parallel park the "opposite" way--hey, it isn't just driving that is mirrored.
London - First stop of the day was After the Battle Publications, publishers of "After the Battle" and "Wheels and Tracks" magazines, and editor Winston Ramsey. After the Battle publishes primarily WWII battle descriptions and goes back to visit the site of the battle, publishing both the WWII photos and the modern day photos side-by-side, duplicating as close to the original angle as possible. Wheels and Tracks, an international review of military vehicles, publishes descriptions and actions of military vehicles, schematics, parts and pieces of them, museums, and other information. It covers older models as well as modern vehicles, including AFVS, trucks, and anything with, er, wheels and tracks. Interesting are the adverts inside. Wanna buy a T-34? 9000 British pounds sterling. Sherman? About 5500 pounds sterling.
The offices hold a mini-museum--about a room full of bits and pieces, including an engine, photos, and such. There is a stone step, stood upon by Eisenhower, inside the Winston's office, including a photo of the General standing upon it. Of course, the entire offices are filled with prints, photos, and maps, and I had a pleasant visit with him and his computer guru, Derek, sipping tea and showing MagWeb on a laptop computer I lugged about.
But time flew and off I went to the offices of Greenhill Books to meet Lionel Leventhal, military book publisher extraordinaire, and editor Kate Ryle. If After the Battle has a mini-museum, Greenhill's Park House is appropriately enough like a library. Being an inherently curious fellow, it is difficult to talk and gawk at the rows and rows of books at the same time. All I can say is, "oooh, that one looks interesting, oooh, and that one too" and so on.
We talked about various books and publishing projects, and a couple of interesting anecdotes spring to mind. Greenhill published an alternative history called "Gettysburg: An Alternative History" which postulates that the South won the battle--and the ramifications afterwards. It has the distinction of being banned from the Gettysburg battlefield gift shop. Lionel was also assisted a guy with a submarine manuscript to a publisher specializing in naval books: It was called, "The Hunt for Red October."
Alas, time was ticking and we had to leave, but not before packing us a copy of "For Want of a Nail" (alternative history that postulates the British winning the Battle of Saratoga during the American Revolution and 200 years of what would have followed), and "Battles of the Bible," (ancient biblical era battles).
Roaring up the A-1 for an hour, we went towards Petersborough and dinner with Graham Empson, from the Solo Wargamers Asso (publishers of Lone Warrior). He had already booked us a reservation at a Forte hotel (a chain of roadside hotels, roughly like a Howard Johnson), and met us there. We talked a bit about the SWA's recruiting efforts, and the success of the North American edition of Lone Warrior (as opposed to the world wide edition). The "best of" issue was well received and they plan on compiling another. Incidently, dinner was superb in a place called The Bell Inn, an old inn somewhere nearby (I cleverly let him drive--I was pretty much stressed out from London traffic and starting to reach my jetlag limit). Interesting place where you walk upstairs to a very comfortable sitting room, order a drink and look at the menu. Then they take your order and you go into the dining room. That sitting room respite with a pint of bitter was exactly what the doctor ordered... along with superb food and even better company.
El Dorado - Next day, up to York. I was a bit sad to pass Sherwood Forest on the way and not stop, but it's a solid three to four hour drive from Peterborough to York, and I didn't arise until 10:00 am. We ended up walking about York a bit, visiting the Jorvik Viking Center and the outstanding local museum, and walking the still intact medieval walls. Then it was dinner at a French restaurant with Terry Hooker of El Dorado magazine and his wife. El Dorado covers Central and South American military history. We talked about York and the area of course, but also about Terry's work as a cinema consultant, i.e. a movie advisor. He was hired by the producers of "Evita" to help with the uniforms. To answer your first question, no he didn't meet Madonna. And no, the producers didn't fly him to the movie set. He's been busy producing individual booklets (up to 5 now) on specialized topics in addition to the magazine. Alas, the evening ended all too soon (although any more wine and Terry would have had to carry me out of there) and we were the last to leave.
Journal of the Society of 20th Century Wargamers - The next day, it was on the road again, this time to the Liverpool area (actually St. Helens) and the Phalanx 97 convention held in a leisure and sport complex. Here we were to meet Mark Bevis of the Journal, as well as take in a British convention (my first).
The main area was the gym, with 2/3 taken up by dealers and the rest by gaming tables. The bar upstairs was packed, while the small cafeteria was relatively empty. After a quick sweep of the floor, and talking with a couple dealers and societies, we went to meet Mark for lunch. In addition to putting out the Journal, he publishes Army Lists (TO&Es)--over 800 of them! Very impressive. He's trying to get the Journal back on a schedule--a pretty massive undertaking to say the least.
It was here I learned an awful truth--the power transformer I bought for the laptop didn't particularly work. The battery died and I plugged it all together, but something about the British current didn't work with the laptop. Worked with electric shaver and hair dryer, but not with a laptop--though it said specifically on the package it worked with laptops. Later that day at a bed and breakfast, I found that it would work, but get very hot, but for the then and now, it wasn't providing enough juice to run the computer. I'd plug it in for 15 minutes, then let it cool for a couple hours, then plug in for 15 minutes, then cool ... Next UK trip, I'll have to get a more specialized gizmo for the computer.
In any case, he had to run to the show and we were due for dinner down in Bridgnorth (near Shrewsbury), so away we went. We didn't get there until about 7 p.m. and unfortunately missed Dave Watkins of First Empire magazine, but had dinner in the city anyway. We caught up with him on Monday morning for some coffee. In the meantime, Sunday, we explored Shrewsbury, home to the setting of Brother Cadfael for you murder mystery fiction fans, the battlefield just north of the city, and several historic homes and castles.
First Empire - The First Empire office is strewn with Napoleonic goodies, including prints, games,'articles, and much more, made to appear even smaller because Dave is a strapping ex-football fellow in apparent excellent shape. Let me tell you, if someone was filming the reenactment of Waterloo and needed a re-enactor to axe the doors of Hougoumont, he would be it. Anyway, he's been publishing like clockwork for over five years and he produces an excellent Napoleonic magazine poised to take advantage of renewed Napoleonic interest. He's got the computerized publishing down cold, a goodly supply of interesting articles, and some excellent recurring features (my favorites are the travel pieces and Ian Barstow's "French Marshal" profiles).
I figure the market for Napoleon is ready to rise because we're starting to get into the 200th anniversary cycle--campaigns in Italy, but as the years will go by, more and more battles until we reach Waterloo. I've never hefted a Napoleonic musket, but Dave has a replica he uses for re-enacting, and that's a heavy enough piece to heft. Troops must have had a heckova forearm back then to keep the guns level.
He also talked about command and control. He related a series of interesting observances as he took a turn as a musket-toting soldier. Standing behind the cannons, you really didn't mind the noise--wasn't a lot at all. The cone of noise extended to the front.
What bothered you more was skirmishers popping off shots-interrupts the yelling, you see. If the single order-giver was in the center of the line, inevitably, the command to halt wasn't heard by the ends, as a result, the line halts in a semi-circle shallow U shape. If the order giver moves to the end of the line, the line halts in a staggered manner, with those closest to the order giver fairly even, but those farthest from him continuing to march forward until finally halting somewhat ahead of where it should be. Certainly gives you something to think about when you read about precisely 27 inches between ranks, etc. After an all too brief visit, I braved the roads south, skirting the Welsh border, stopping for the night around Ludlow. The next day was off into Wales towards Swansea.
Society of Ancients Slingshot - After over 30 years and almost 200 issues of publication, Slingshot remains the premier ancients magazine. It is packed with all sorts of information and is well done and regular in appearance. Under Chris Kinnear's leadership and organizational talent, the SOA has rebounded from a downward spiral in membership several years earlier and is growing every year and doing some interesting things such as publishing the occasional games as a "bonus" for SOA members. Chris lives in Wales near Swansea.
Having arrived early, in the afternoon, I visited a hilly peninsula just south of the city with ruined castles, burial barrows, and hiking trails. It was there when the fog rolled in so thick, you couldn't see more than 50-75 feet in any direction. Of course, I wanted to walk the trail up to the barrows, and also take a look at an old radar installation. The woman at the visitor's center of a seaside resort was polite in telling me I was utterly daft and I would never see said places. I was confused. You mean the trail didn't go to these places? Of course it certainly did, you just can't find the trail.
Well, I just hadn't navigated through lanes so narrow the hedges scraped the rearview mirrors on the car to be put off by a little fog. So I received the directions about past the church, up the steps, along the cliff to the barrows. By the time I climbed the "steps" halfway up the steep slope, the drizzle had started and the fog was as thick as the proverbial pea soup. I went as far as I could into the fields (there is no marked "trail") until I could barely see the top of the steps. I could hear the surf off to my left, the field revealed no trail, and all I could think of was the headline: "Daft Yank Walks Off Cliff in the Fog."
Well, OK, that and "what the heck am I doing in the drizzle, cold, and fog when I could be in a warm pub nursing a pint of bitter?" I turned back. We met Chris and his wife and son for dinner--he drove through the dense fog to a 600-year-old tavern called the White Stag that still maintained a thatched roof over the old section. What a wonderful place. Good food. Good brew. Good company. A lovely evening, and I got to know a little more about the SOA's good efforts.
It was there I also learned what the metallic tray with all the holes in it was for. The only comparable thing in the US that I've ever seen like it was an ice cream cone holder--the scooper puts in the pointy end of the cone to keep it upright. Here, the bartender puts the pints atop it so the spillage goes in the tray, not on the counter. What can I say? I was raised by wolves, but you never know until you ask.
The next day was just as foggy as we headed east back towards London on the motorway during the early morning rush hour. Strangely, London did not seem as dangerous now that I had almost a week of UK driving and some peaceful, restful nights.
Perfidious Albion - Charles Vasey publishes PA and his wit is every bit as sharp and clever in person as it is on the page. PA is climbing towards its 100th issue, in itself a marvelous achievement. That it continues to be fresh as it reviews board and computer games is a testament to its editor and contributors. We went to a marvelous French restaurant in the neighborhood--easy on the wine this time. For being in London, it was remarkably quiet and free from autos--although it is on the incoming flight path to Heathrow. Anyway, it is a neat and pleasant place, with a huge park nearby, and so attractive that Tom Cruise bought a house there. We saw the house, but Tom evidently wasn't in. As we walked about, Charles explained about some of the architecture in the neighborhood. It seems there are two houses on a road that are completely different--having been built post World War II, while everything else is pre-World War II construction. The reason? During the Blitz, those two houses were hit by bombs and rebuilt after the war. The rest of the row of houses survived the war.
Partizan Press - The next day, it was east once more to Leigh on Sea (next to Southend on Sea) on the coast and a visit to Partizan Press/Caliver Books and Dave Ryan. He owns a store on London Road, a marvelous shop packed to the rafters with military history books in one room and scifi/fantasy games in the other. An enormous table is in the center of one room, where the shipping department was busy, as was a painter, but I can imagine it as a center for gaming later in the evening.
At the time, he was negotiating to buy a sci-fi fiction magazine, and juggling ordering from suppliers, and orders from customers. And then trying to talk to me. He hopes to come over to the US for Cold Wars 1998. Interesting note. There were bundles of back issues of magazines, usually six different issues from six different magazines for 10 pounds--almost all included a Courier and a MWAN. Some of MWANs numbered in the 50s and 60s. I spoke to Mike, his computer guru, and we talked about producing Age of Napoleon, Age of Empires (former Colonial Conquest), Battlefields, 18th Century Military Notes and Queries, Renaissance Military Notes and Queries, English Civil War Times (former ECW Notes and Queries), and Valkyrie. Quite the publishing magnate, eh?
And Away We Go - We spent the night in Southend, a resort town on the coast with a huge seaside walkway and a lot of arcade and amusement places. It's like an Atlantic City or Las Vegas, with the glitter of casinos, but not the gambling. The next day, it was back to Heathrow and a flight to Belgium-always wanted to visit Waterloo, but that's another story. If there was one regret, it was cramming all that activity into a week. Driving in a huge square: London to York to Liverpool to Swansea to Southend and backtracking to London, not to mention inside London, requires a bit of the derring-do. I am very pleased to have met the publishers and put a face to an e-mail address, and as they say, a wonderful time was had by all.
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© Copyright 1998 Hal Thinglum
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