Move to Unseat Notman Fails
Bitter, biting comment, induced by discussion of the officers’ reports, marked the first convention sessions.
The highlight of Friday’s sessions was the unexpected emergence of Dr. Thomas Whitbread’s ability to infuse the reading of the long Executive Judges’ proceedings with a dramatic suspense. Heretofore such reports were soporific (YES THE WORD EXISTS), second only to sermons. But not an eyelid fluttered as Dr. Tom unreeled the progress of charges and decisions to his delighted listeners.
The Judges went through an unnecessary ordeal of self-censure for a while, feeling they had gone beyond their authority in ordering Harler to mail a paper. But Sam Smith pointed out that they were guilty only of redundancy. They are our supreme court with no obligation to enforce their mandates. Notman should have done that, but Notman… space fails us.
The final version of expressions of “displeasure” with Pres. Notman’s performance was watered-down refusal to accept his official report, coupled with an expression of censure for inadequate performance of duties – a far cry from Wesson’s initial demand for his removal.
So This is Your First Convention…
by Harold Segal
The cry has gone out and now the NAPA has feverishly convened. If you are new, naive or unnurtured, we offer this Elementary Acclimatizer at no additional expense:
Never, never, but never expect a session to start on the announced hour. In 1957 a navy career man started on schedule and bar and restaurant business suffered – and it disturbed Dr. Westbred’s beauty sleep.
Then, some officer will have forgotten his report; let’s pray it’s not the recorder. The presiding officer, when he gets confused, will give the gavel to ex-presidents. A gentleman from Brooklyn will challenge a ruling from the chair and one New Jersey delegate will ask another if he please may speak without interruption. A late-arrival will present an issue already decided in a previous session and the carousel will huff and puff until someone remembers it has been resolved.
After the recorder’s report, the gal with the shorthand pad will verify the activity requirements of Eda Channer Groats, the Puddlefork, Wyoming, miss who sprang from obscurity. Later she will be elected recorder.
The proxy committee will meet in a remote, secret hideout, count confused ballots and after a mysterious silence report that six persons didn’t sign their proxies, 83 failed to vote, that Winnie Loriett sent a check with her ballot and enclosed with other votes were eight more greetings to the convention, an invitation to hold the next convention in Philadelphia, a fully-documented Medicare card and three 7¢ off regular price coupons for Colgate’s toothpaste.
During nominations we will suddenly discover we have no committed candidates for vice-president, secretary or official editor, but Salt Lake City – or was it Denver? – would like to have the convention, if not in 1967, then how about 1968, ‘70 or ‘73?
Someone will volunteer to make a phone call or send a frantic telegram urging someone to accept an office.
Someone from Maryland will say it’s unfair for the East to be saddled with all the conventions and why doesn’t the West face up to some of the responsibility?
Off to the side where the printing nuts are putting out a paper, someone will suddenly remember that he forgot the brass and copper spaces. Some dame will say, “Isn’t it fascinating?” A slicked-hair gent will be showing a demure doll how to hold a composing stick. The “q” box will be full of cigarette ashes and someone’s bright tie will get caught in the press rollers.
Thirty-four amendments to the constitution will be discussed and forgotten. A wag will ask if this is an amateur press association, why don’t we do more pressing?
The bar will run out of pretzels and in a misty haze generous promises of sustained activity will drown out the background music.
Banquet speeches will run the gamut from nervous staccatos to witty comments to sheer emotional reveries and we’ll glory in it all. And then hearts will be sad and tears will well when adjournment is reluctantly made.
– The Hound in the Baskervilles.
Proxies Give SLC Lead for ‘67
If the proxies haven’t settled the matter, Virginia Baker arrived to clinch the 1967 convention for SLC.
Beyond that bare hint, the Proxy Committee members were just not talking. Harold Segal couldn’t even use his parental rank on Nancy, and precedent shattered all over the place as the convention daily went news-less on the eve of the election.
28 More Find Frederick
Convention attendees swelling Thursday’s list to 60 by Friday at midnight include these additions: Norman and Ruby Quillman, Michigan; Jim Sterba, D. C.; Bill and Ruth Boys, Nigeria; Russell and Eloise Paxton, Virginia; Alf and Helen Babcock, New Jersey; Kermit Schuman, Michigan; Cliff and Diana Woodward, North Carolina; Virginia Baker, Utah; Robert Dunlap, Ohio; Merlin, Peggy and Stephen Teed, New York; Marie Moore, New York; Ralph and Nancy Babcock, New Jersey; Peter Schaub, New Jersey; Charles E. Hite, Jim Walczak, Bob Schaeffer, and Rowena Moitoret, Maryland; Jim Lemon and Roy Martin, Virginia.
“I’ll confuse the issue with a little more clarity,” said Liz Butt, while we discussed the Lindberg Protest No. 2, and after everyone cussed it pro and con and sideways at least one stupid member (me-Wma) voted exactly opposite to what she meant. Result was that a motion carried by a single vote. It was typical of today’s sessions. And as Tom laid down the final sheets on Protest No. 2, Tillie exclaimed, “A cliff hanger! How did it turn out?” We’ll refer you to the official minutes, but I’ll bet that few Judicial decisions have been thus received. – WMA