As some of you already know, I wasn’t quite myself at Sasquan, the 73rd World Science Fiction Convention. That because two of the evenings I was in Spokane, I was instead … David Kyle.

“So who’s David Kyle?” some of you may be asking.

For those not in the know, this is David Kyle.

Kyle (seen above to the right of me at Readercon in July) attended the first World Science Fiction Convention in 1939, as well as other conventions even earlier than that. He attended every Worldcon since, up until last year’s in London. Once I learned he wouldn’t be at this year’s either, I decided … that was wrong. A Worldcon without David Kyle, wandering the halls in his red jacket emblazoned with a First Fandom patch, asking people with whom he spoke to sign his little book, it wouldn’t seem like a Worldcon at all.

So I decided that for the first time in forty years, I was going to cosplay.

(This, by the way, was the last time.)

But more than a mere costume was required, I thought. I also needed to enact a bit of fannish lore, by slapping signs which read DAVE KYLE SAYS YOU CAN’T SIT HERE in as many places as possible.

Rather than explaining the meaning of those words myself, here’s what Kyle had to say about it in the pages of Mimosa.

The Newyorcon (Nycon II, to many) banquet was the traditional time for awarding the Hugos. As was customary, those who didn’t pay to eat could come into the room to hear the speeches at the proper time. That 1956 banquet was set up in the Grand Ballroom of the Biltmore, which had a three-sided balcony. I was Chairman and at the head table. One of the gofers told me the Fire Marshal was complaining that the stairs to the balcony were blocked by those non-eaters sitting there, waiting to take positions for the after-dinner ceremonies. “What do we do?” “Tell them,” I said, “that they can’t sit there.” So he did. “Dave Kyle,” not the Fire Marshal, became the grouch who issued the command. …

The fannish sniping, at first indignant and bad-humored, evolved over the years into some kind of pointless comical witticism, a legendary expression of a forgotten incident. …

Innumerable instances of ‘Dave Kyle Says You Can’t Sit Here’, sometimes written, sometimes voiced, fill the years. Often the verb changed to express a thought that ‘Dave Kyle You Can’t [fill in the blank] Here’. Once in a while, letter-sized sheets, reproduced with the message, have appeared for some special purpose. The variations have been legion.

And so it came to pass that similar signs sprouted all over Sasquan, first on a sculpture in the lobby of the Historic Davenport Hotel …

… and then on benches in Riverfront Park, where First Night festivities were held.

First Night, held last Wednesday, is when I first cosplayed as Dave Kyle, donning a red jacket, a larger than life First Fandom patch, and a bolo tie. Plus I sprayed my hair as white as I could get it without asphyxiating.

Fans of a certain age would get the joke immediately, pointing and laughing, or protesting “You’re not Dave Kyle!” Some would ask suspiciously, “Does Dave know you’re doing this?” Well, yes, Dave did, because I would only do the masquerade were I sure he would take it in the manner I intended—to honor him, and to make sure people thought of him that weekend.

I met up with many of his friends Wednesday night, such as Gay and Joe Haldeman …

… Tom Veal, to whom Kyle had presented the Big Heart Award in 2013 …

… and “1/2 r,” who explained how many decades ago, Kyle had shared with him the secret of finding room parties at cons.

I donned my Dave Kyle cosplay for the second time Saturday night to attend the Hugos, where he was usually the one to present various First Fandom awards. That was where I continued doing as he had traditionally done, and asking people to sign a small memory book … which I today packaged up to ship off to him, so that he can experience Sasquan vicariously.

I continued affixing DAVE KYLE SAYS YOU CAN’T SIT HERE signs wherever I could, including a few in places where I certainly hope their command was ignored.

Note that, according to Kyle, I wasn’t the first to consider such a location for that signage.

One particular one I’ll always remember: at a con some dozen years ago, I went into a Mens Room; when I closed the cubicle door and sat down, I was startled, really startled, to read, inches from my eyes, ‘Dave Kyle Says You Can’t Sit Here’. No vulgar variation in the wording, tempting as it might have been. No suggestion of a snigger. So straightforward, so matter of fact, that I burst out laughing. I wish I knew who did it.

Kyle may never have found out who did it back then. But he knows who did it now.

I confess!

While I enjoyed the panels in which I participated, the meals I ate with friends, the evening of The Match Game for which I was a panelist, the writers workshop in which I took part, those hours I was dressed up as David Kyle seemed the most important of the weekend. For it reminded people of him, and in reminding him, made them happy.

And made me happy.

Know this if you don’t know it already, Dave—based on the reaction I received as I wandered wearing your trademark red jacket—you are loved!