Bill Dale Marcinko Remembered

I was doing what I do most every day: using Google to look up whatever surfaced into my mind. I had just looked up a fellow zine publisher from the 1980s, to find out that he’s now a graphic artist. Good deal! And then I looked up Bill-Dale Marcinko, who I found out died last December in a house fire.

I never met Bill-Dale. I knew him through spotty correspondence and some of his fanzines (AFTA and later CROW). I found his writing, as well as his sense of humor, amusing in a minor way. In my opinion, what he wrote bordered on the childish, rather than the childlike.

I admit that I just don’t get it. For instance, one fan named Clifford Meth mourned Bill Dale’s passing. Well, that’s interesting: I remember receiving a fanzine (published around the time AFTA was a going concern) from Clifford Meth, with instructions written on its cover to turn to a certain page. On that page was an article by Meth, blasting Marcinko for his homosexuality. The article ended with the immortal words “My god, I’m only 17!”

I don’t know. Either Meth was trying to make up for previous attacks, or the whole thing was a joke all along, with Meth playing the role of the offended teenager. Certainly, from the tone of Meth’s memorial article, I must assume the latter. You can see the article here.

I remember wanting to correspond with Bill-Dale about something or another. When he didn’t reply to a letter, I figured the matter was settled, and I wouldn’t be hearing from him again.

I later got what turned out to be a form letter from Bill-Dale, in a SASE I had sent him a year before. I remember the words on it: “I get desperate in times of crisis. So I am turning to you.” What a way to make a guy feel special.

I have no idea if I responded to that form letter or not. I do remember that several years later I received a copy of CROW, a gay oriented fanzine. The one thing I remember about CROW is an article that said something to the effect that “You shouldn’t have sex with house cats, as cats sometimes have an AIDS like virus.” This might be a part of Bill-Dale’s sense of humor; I don’t know. I remember being offended: never mind that you could injure or kill the cat. The only thing to worry about is catching something.

I tore the magazine into 1” square pieces and wrote to Bill-Dale, telling him that “To say the least, :CROW will not be a part of my permanent fanzine collection.”

And that was the last I heard of Bill-Dale. It turns out that was the last zine he ever put out.

The years passed. I did several fanzines of my own, and started a successful mail order business. All of this collapsed when the internet became prominent. Why bother paying for fanzines when you can go on the internet and read a million different opinions for free?

The great thing about the internet is that anyone can, with no money, get their opinions heard. The bad thing about the internet is that anyone can, with no money, can get their opinions heard. When you have to shell out hundreds of dollars for printing and postage, you tend to put a lot more time and thought into what you say.

I do find it o=ironic that all of Bill-Dale’s friends lament his life decisions. Bill-Dale stopped publishing zines and made a living on ebay selling collectibles from his home. This both sustained him and probably hastened his death: firefighters found it difficult to get inside of his house because of all of the cardboard boxes full of junk, er, collectibles.

But still, Bill-Dale found his niche in life. He made a living off of ebay, which is no mean feat in and of itself. I think all of these fans that are mourning his passing should ask themselves why he decided to stop writing. Perhaps he realized that all of the positive zine reviews in the world don’t do a thing about paying utility bills.