These conventions featured panel discussions, film, video, and game rooms, music events, art shows, dealers' rooms, con suites (to eat and talk), and countless other planned and unplanned fun. They were immersive all day (and much of the night) experiences. The featured guests at these conventions were usually writers, artists, and, in the early days, movie and television creators and stars. Even when I attended alone, I was pulled into parties, conversations, and made friends I still see at cons today.
In the eighties, soon after the premiere of Star Trek: The Next Generation, I attended some conventions run by companies for profit. These conventions were different than the fan cons. Initially, these pro conventions only had two spaces: a main stage and a shopping mall. Sometimes, there were exhibit spaces as well. The guests at these conventions were almost exclusively movie and television stars and creators.
Over the years, I had seen all of the original Star Trek series cast and many from the other series at a fan-run convention in St. Louis called Space Trek. However, as the pro cons grew, they became the primary or only way to see the on-screen (or screen-related) celebrities.
At these pro run cons, I often felt like a commodity. These for-profit conventions were shows. I found a seat in a big main stage room and stayed there most of the day. Many of the presentations felt like commercials. I felt like the Ferengi had taken over the con business.
To be fair, a few of the fan-run conventions focused far more on literary science fiction than television, movies, or comic books – sometimes with a problematic attitude. I remember a person at a panel sneering, “Haven’t you ever read Left Hand of Darkness?” But this was not true at all fan cons; each one had a unique personality.
I was introduced to science fiction through short stories and novels and I have always been a reader. I am also an enthusiastic fan of genre television shows and movies. There are fan conventions that catered to all of these interests, even if some had a higher-brow tone. But the pro conventions focused on comic books and media (and related products). The fan cons focused on what the fans who organized and attended them wanted: some were more literary, some were more media-focused, and some included anime, comic books, music, art, and more.
In the 90s, I was immersed in my career and family, so spending the entire weekend at a convention was impractical. Sometimes, spending a Saturday was a luxury. I did my best to go to the two local fan-run conventions, Windycon and Capricon, as often as my schedule permitted – which wasn’t as often as I wanted.
For decades, my connection to fandom was through these two conventions. I did not attend the big comic cons that had become popular or the professionally run conventions focused on Star Trek or newly popular franchises. Since I didn’t have as much time (or money) for conventions, when I went, I wanted to connect with community and have substantive conversations and experiences. The pro cons felt like cotton candy, the fan cons were a sustaining meal!As my children and I grew older, I attended a few fan-run World Science Fiction Conventions, which were everything I loved about conventions writ gargantuan. I ventured out and went to a few fan-run conventions out of town.
Recently, I retired. Now, I have time. I attended my first comic con, C2E2 (Chicago Comics and Entertainment Exhibition). When the folks who run C2E2 announced a major Star Trek convention in Chicago, it felt like an opportunity to reacquaint myself with the pro cons.
I enjoyed C2E2 and Star Trek Mission: Chicago. However, if I have to make a choice between these stage and store cons and the cons run by fans for fans, I am going to the latter. I had a good time and I met some nice people, but the connections were superficial and commercial.
All conventions must make money. There are bills to pay. Convention spaces don’t donate their space or resources. However, the commercial focus at C2E2 and Mission: Chicago was prominent. For example, it was very clear that Mission: Chicago’s real mission was to sell the new Star Trek shows. It was peddling all sorts of products and subscriptions connected to them. That was its main purpose. The celebration, exploration, and community were by-products when fans buy products.I liked hearing from the stars and creators, yet I missed the analysis and thoughtful conversations that are often present during smaller panels. The comedian emcees at Mission: Chicago did not seem to be fans themselves and often, perhaps unconsciously, took a condescending tone. I sometimes felt like I was at an event for children.
I met some very nice people and had good conversations with the folks sitting around me. We didn’t walk to the con suite and sit down and talk. We didn’t ask each other, “Where are you going next?” I doubt we’ll see each other at the next con.
I was pleased to see that both pro conventions had some events beyond the main stage. However, they were few. There were a few costume-related events, a secondary stage, and a panel room (or two); skimpy by even COVID fan con standards.
The pro cons are not cheap! They want high prices for entry – and all the stuff in the exhibit hall. They also sell products related to their famous star guests: autographs, photo opportunities, and other ways to rub shoulders with celebrities were main items on the menu– for a price.
Fans created these conventions many years ago. Business people now use them as marketing tools. Conventions, for me, are far more than celebrities and shopping.
I wonder what all the folks who go to these big productions would think of their local conventions? Would they join a fan group, help with a fan-based charity project, discuss a book, and become more substantively connected to the brilliant, inclusive, and thriving fan family? I hope so. The World Science Fiction Convention is coming to Chicago over Labor Day Weekend. Windycon is in November and Capricon is in February. Join us!
No comments:
Post a Comment