Gordon R Dickson 1923-2001
by Victor J. Raymond

I first met Gordon R. Dickson - "Gordy" to anybody who knew him - many years ago as a teenager. It was one of my first Minicons, and we were at the old Minneapolis Radisson. You might remember the place - get off on one floor, then immediately climb the stairs to the Presidential Suite, which was where the Con Suite was. Grotto fountain, sunken living room, lovely view of downtown.

Back then, Minicon was smaller, and more people knew one another. It turned out that Gordy and I had a friend in common, and so I was introduced. I was awe-struck. The author of Tactics of Mistake and Soldier, Ask Not, smiling and shaking my hand. It turned out we both had an interest in old folk songs, particularly those of the British Isles, and we chatted - well, I must've said something, because he laughed and asked questions and said he was happy to have met me. I think I walked on air for the rest of the convention.

As I grew up, I saw Gordy infrequently, usually at conventions. I learned that he liked history, and had actually done some gaming in the past. It was a wonderful time for me - I felt a real sense of pride that Cliff Simak worked down at the Minneapolis Star and Tribune, and Gordon R. Dickson lived right there in Richfield. With magicians like that in my hometown, I knew it was someplace special.

Many years later, when I was working on Minicon in the Hotel Department, I had to field requests for rooms, starting usually at the previous convention right up until the following Easter. This was sometimes tedious, but always rewarding when it was all done. Somewhere around January or February, several years in a row, I would get a phone call from Gordy. He was calling to make sure he had a room for the convention, and wanted to know how much they were. I never could bring myself to tell him that HIS room was one we always reserved first, and that we were happy to provide it for him. Instead, I assured him that everything was fine, and I then worked very hard to make sure that it would be. When the convention took place, he would invite me up to his room, and we would chat, usually for an hour or two. He would ask how things were with MinnStF, was I having fun helping with the con, and so on. Other people would come and visit, including sometimes my friend Joel Rosenberg, and we would talk and sing songs and trade stories. The time raced by, and Gordy would eventually look a bit tired, and we would excuse ourselves. As each year went by, Joel and I would note that we "really ought to take Gordy out to dinner" when it wasn't a convention, and that actually happened once or twice.

A project left unfinished at the time of his death was my attempt to find the rooming house that Gordy and Poul Anderson lived in, when they were both students at the University of Minnesota. It was on the Northside of Minneapolis, and I asked Gordy once if he remembered the address. He replied that he wasn't sure anymore, but gave me what he could recall. I tried finding it a couple of times, but was never quite sure I found the right place. At the time, I was working on the Northside, and "got busy" as we are all wont to do when we aren't paying attention to what's important. I now regret not finishing that - I am sure it would've brought back fond memories to Gordy.

The last time I saw him, he was using a walker and had a personal assistant. He looked frail, but his intelligence was evident and he was as present and "on the mark" as ever. He asked me to find a few other old friends and invite them back up to his room (yes, it was a Minicon). I did so, and we spent a hour or two laughing and talking, just like old times. And like old times, it was all over too quickly, and we parted company. I didn't realize then it would be our last time together - but the memory of Gordy smiling and sharing his insights and knowledge with me is something I will always treasure.

Another tribute by Joyce Scrivner is also on this site.

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