For this post I'm reprinting with his permission a piece Bill Plott wrote about our friend Joe Moudry and which originally appeared as noted below in a mailing of the Southern Fandom Press Alliance.
I first met Joe in the early 1980's when Dianne and I were in Tuscaloosa working on master's degrees in library science. At that time Joe worked at UA's Gorgas Library where we spent many hours. I ran into Joe again a few times after I began working as a medical librarian at UAB. At some point several years ago I met Bill Plott who told me about the luncheons at Taste of Thailand in Hoover, and I was able to attend some of those.
I'll let Bill tell the rest of the story. The next time you eat at Taste of Thailand [and if you haven't been, go] think of that small band of friends sharing many meals there amid much talk of science fiction and fantasy matters, among other things.
R.I.P., Joe.
Joe told daughter Leigh Harwell it was the best birthday he ever had.
And it was a grand occasion for most of us, too. But even with the Stage 4 cancer diagnosis we did not think for a moment that a Sunday afternoon luncheon in Hoover, Ala., at Taste of Thailand restaurant near the end of the September would be the last time we ever saw our friend. The end on Saturday, October 16 was sudden and totally unexpected.
On Friday night, Oct. 15, Leigh said Joe was lucid and conversational with the hospice nurse. Indeed, he handled all of the paperwork himself. She called him when she got home. He put his phone on speaker and she followed him discoursing on removing the bottle cap and taking his pre-bed pain medication. They talked for a while, and then he said he was ready to go to sleep. He had his pillows and cats arranged suitably. They exchanged declarations of love.
After two attempts to reach him on Saturday morning, Leigh quickly loaded daughters
Charlotte and Evelyn in the car and headed fearfully from Trussville to Hoover. At the townhouse, she hustled the girls into the TV room and went to check on Joe. He was on his side appearing to be asleep. And indeed he was, but it was the long sleep.
It was as peaceful a passage as one could have without friends and family present.
Fortunately for Leigh, longtime friend from UAB Mike Oakes, who had been in Oxford, was only about an hour from Birmingham, with his girlfriend. Alarmed by the initial report that Joe was in hospice, Mike and Patrice decided to go to Birmingham on Saturday morning. They were just minutes away when Leigh reached him with news of Joe’s death. A godsend. Patrice entertained Joe’s granddaughters while Mike assisted Leigh with contacting hospice and the funeral home.
She related all of this to me on Saturday afternoon.
***
If it was the best birthday ever, Joe would have been equally pleased at Leigh’s organization of his memorial service: Halloween afternoon.
“He always loved everything spooky,” she said. “I think he would love the idea of having his memorial service on Halloween. It was his favorite holiday.”
Indeed.
The service was at Trinity Episcopal Church in Bessemer, Ala. The minister, Rev. Dr. Ruth LaMonte, had baptized the grandchildren and possibly been pastor to Joe’s mother, Evelyn, who is credited with gifting him with a love of reading. The homily contained lot about Joe that was not commonly known. For example, he was an acolyte as teenager and once considered the priesthood. I learned at the birthday party and again this day that he was a spelunker. He had been a trumpet player in the University of Alabama’s Million Dollar Band under Col. Carlton Butler. Joe had told me some great stories about the band at football games. Like at LSU where Butler told them to lock arms as they left the buses and go straight to their on-ground destination. And at Georgia Tech where drunk frat boys tried to toss empty whisky bottles into the tubas as if they were basketball goals.
After his service in the Peace Corps he was a psychologist at Bryce Hospital for a time, then gravitated to the Amelia Gayle Gorgas Library at UA. He eventually earned a master’s degree in library science and was mentored by the great Glenn House, who developed the book arts program at UA. Like George Inzer, another mutual connection. Glenn and his family were good friends of mine.
I was among those who spoke and recounted how our friendship grew from George Inzer’s funeral. Rev. LaMonte concluded with a reading of T.S. Eliot’s poem, “McCavvity the Mystery Cat.” Joe would have loved that, also.
Leigh, who had done a marvelous job with her brother Ben’s memorial service last spring and Joe’s surprise birthday party, scored again with this one. I’m not sure how she selected Trinity Episcopal Church but it dates to 1887, surviving in a neighborhood that is predominantly black now. It has been five years since they had a pastor. Services are now conducted by rotating priests. Donald Jay Howton, administrator and local newspaper columnist, said a good Sunday turnout these days is about 15 people. “But we won’t close. We will still be here if there are only five of us,” he said.
Perhaps there is something almost fannish in that – a small apa [amateur press association] hanging on in changing world.
***
I can’t believe I only really knew Joe Moudry for eight years. It was like Nancy said, “I feel like we’ve known Joe forever.” She and/or Atticus occasionally joined us for the monthly luncheons. I think Joe enjoyed their company as much as mine, especially Atticus.
I first met Joe around 1975 when he accompanied Meade Frierson to my house in Tuscaloosa to buy my modest collection of science fiction fanzines, books and magazines. The only things I remember in particular were a copy the Arkham House edition of Ray Bradbury’s Dark Carnival, given to me by Al Andrews, and the Stf & Fantasy Song Book collection of filk songs. I did not see Joe again until 2013.
Around 1982 George Inzer joined the faculty at the University of Montevallo. He contacted me and told me he was involved in fandom, which I had been out of for years. We sat around my kitchen table one night looking at photos of fans and authors that I somehow had held onto over the years. It was a pleasant evening and George became a friend, but it did not motivate me to look into returning to fandom.
I left UM in 1990. I think George left sometime about then, also. He went to Tuscaloosa to work on a master’s degree, later moved back to Birmingham near his parents. He died there on July 12, 2013.
I do not recall if it was an email or a phone call, but Joe contacted me, suggesting we share a ride to North Birmingham for George’s funeral service. He and George had been friends in a once thriving Birmingham fan group. So, our connection was more through a mutual friend rather than each other. We met at Taste of Thailand in Hoover on July 18 and a friendship was born. The conversation on that ride to and from the funeral revealed many common interests.
Despite the sadness of the occasion, we quickly developed a rapport that needed to continue.
Thus came our monthly luncheons at Taste of Thailand, Joe’s favorite restaurant. I had returned to fandom the previous summer after attending DeepSouthCon50 in Huntsville, Ala. I had rejoined SFPA shortly after the con. The conversation that brought us together also spurred Joe into returning to SFPA, a move that further strengthened our friendship.
The luncheon sessions were filled with SF and fannish talk. I had been away for so very long. Joe did much to bring me up to date on fannish happenings, not so much on current fiction as he was so focused on his love of Lovecraft, Philip K. Dick, and Weird Tales. Still, he introduced me to Joe Lansdale, Harry Turtledove, C. J. Cherryh, and a few others. He brought me into Fictionmags, an online chat group composed largely of writers, authors and collectors. It has become one of the most rewarding things in my internet experience.
The luncheon sessions soon acquired a traditional ending. Our “dessert” was a trip to 2nd & Charles about a mile away. 2nd & Charles is a used (mostly) media store affiliated with Books-A-Million. It is a warehouse-like building filled with books, comics, DVDs, vinyl, and spin-off merchandise from all things of fannish interest.
I do not remember the first time I took Atticus to 2nd & Charles, but it immediately became his favorite store. It fit perfectly with the occasions he joined the luncheon. He and Joe were simpatico immediately. They would sometimes have detailed discussions on esoteric aspects of Harry Potter while I ate my basil chicken and sipped a beer. Joe loved hanging out with Atticus. And he and Nancy could have some conversations about jazz and music where I was also an outsider. No matter.
Through the luncheons I came to know several of Joe’s former colleagues at the University of Alabama-Birmingham. Most notably was Mike Oakes, whose cosplay effort earned him the nickname of “the Klingon.” They were longtime friends and Mike has been like an uncle to Leigh. He helped her move and provided needed friendship on other occasions such as the sad event above. I also met Clay Boyce, another UAB staffer, who is very active in community theater. He and Atticus got to talk plays a time or two. And A.J. Wright, another retired UAB librarian whose “Alabama Yesterdays” blog contains tons of fascinating information of Alabama history, pulp writers and other pop culture goodies.
In addition to 2nd & Chares, the luncheons usually featured a private media exchange. I gave Joe copies of Alter-Ego and Comics Revue that I had finished reading. He brought books sometimes and DVDs almost every time. Joe was convinced that Blue-Ray was of such a superior quality that he was always upgrading his film collection and passing ordinary DVDs on to me or Mike. We were grateful and not nearly as discriminating.
Some of those disks proved timely this year. Among them a copy of Nosferatu.
Joe’s generosity with DVDs affected Atticus just as much as they did me. In the late fall of last year, an episode of Gravity Falls contained a reference to Nosferatu. Atticus said he wanted to watch the disk that Joe had given us. Then, he paused and said he wanted to wait until Halloween. He did not forget. On the first of October, as we were digging out the Halloween decorations, he proclaimed October to be Spooky Month and it would begin with Nosferatu.
It was followed by all of the classic 1930s black and white horror films. We watched Frankenstein, The Wolfman, Dracula and The Invisible Man. At Atticus’s urging I ordered Son of Frankenstein because he said we needed that for the “canon.” Joe was in our thoughts with film.
For the record, Atticus did not find Nosferatu as scary as he anticipated. I found the creature quite chilling myself. When I told Joe what was going on, he was delighted, not only for Spooky Month itself but also because he provided most of the disks that would be viewed.
That was part of my last conversation with Joe. It came on October 7. He seemed at peace and mentioned several things about the disposal of his collection, some of which might involve my assistance. Of course, I told him he need do nothing more than ask. As with my friend Chuck Bethea two years ago, the final conversation was fun and enjoyable, like old times, like nothing was going to change. What more could we want?
Damn COVID-19 for stealing a year and a half of those wonderful monthly get-togethers. Mike Oakes has suggested that we continue to have them, and I’m all for it. We can toast Joe, talk science fiction movies, and go to 2nd & Charles if work schedules for Mike and others permit.
But alas, it will not fill that void left by Joe’s passing. I will so miss not being able to get him on the phone after I’ve read a book or watched a movie with Atticus, things Joe always enjoyed discussing.
R.I.P., my friend.
Remembering Joe Moudry, a publication for the 344th Mailing of the Southern Fandom Press Alliance. Produced by Bill Plott, 190 Crestview Circle, Montevallo, AL 355115, wjplott@aol.com,. 205-908-8703. Banshee Press Publication No. 100.
