Pete Manly, passed away quietly today. He was just short of 62 years old.

I met Pete for the first time in the mid-1980s. Success at our writing, back then, was still an inner ambition, an unrealized potential. As a result, it was not so much our involvement in writing fiction, as it was our love of fandom that brought us together.

At CopperCon, LepreCon, and at meetings of the Central Arizona Speculative Fiction Society (CASFS), our friendship grew and, in addition to being the same age ( he was six months older), we found commonalities in what we liked about science fiction. In those days, Pete was a pilot of some skill and had just begun writing for aviation magazines, seeing regular publication for the first ti me. He, G. Harry Stine, and Rick Cook comprised pretty much every science panel I attended for well over a decade.

Pete was an astronomer of some repute. Pete had a quick mind, a great sense of humor, and a sparkling personality.

As I recall, he sort of divided his attention between the work of adding value to the convention and keeping an eye on his daughter, Susan - who held the title "Jailbait" for so long. The man was always there, always on, always willing to do more to make the convention better for others.

>Then his short story - Dragon Three-Two-Niner - was published in Marion Zimmer Bradley's Fantasy Magazine and surprised everyone by winning the reader's poll as the favorite of the year. And Pete was working hard at expanding it into a novel.

Pete had a wonderful ability to tell stories.

In his prime and at his best with an audience, Peter L. Manly had no difficulty holding his own as the center of attention. He did it with style, humility, and genuine humor.

I would guess the high-point of our friendship was at the 1991 World Fantasy Convention in Tucson. Since the convention did not require us on panels - we were, after all, very little fish - we were able to spend most of the weekend together. We talked about writing, politics, Robert A. Heinlein, our ambitions, our families, and told a thousand stories.

Also in 1991, Pete's book Unusual Telescopes was published by Cambridge Press, to be followed in 1994 by The 20-CM Schmidt-Cassegrain Telescope.

Then, in 1993, my career took off with publication of The Charm, and life got busier.

As is usual in life, lots of changes came down the pike. I married, Pete ended his marriage and found a new love, my next book came out shortly after the first.

Both Pete and I became involved with the SCA. Pete relocated to Sun City, living with his beloved Jean, and I did a lot of travelling to conventions around the country with my then-wife, Jo.

Now, somewhere in this period, Pete began to experience health problems.

They were serious, and had deleterious effects.

But Pete faced them with a humor and patience that surprised even me. He continued to be a participant in events. He worked hard to beat his own personal challenges and continue the career he had developed through hard work and dedication.

Pete and a nuclear engineer friend, Dan Smith, took on a project in the SCA, working to recreate Galileo's second telescope. Over long months, they built their prototype, refined and finally finished it. As a result, Pete won recognition from the SCA and became Lord Peter the Rock.

Pete finally saw publication of his novel Dragon-Three-Two-Niner, and then a second book. And all through this period, his work in fiction and non-fiction appeared in Analog, and he proudly became a member of the Analog Mafia (May-Appear-Frequently-In-Analog). A couple of his collaborations ended up Nebula nominees.

But his health continued to decline. And the side-effects of medication combined with actual physical ills altered Pete's behavior, not positively. He began to suffer from a kind of attention-deficit disorder which affected his social interactions. He was unable to concentrate when numerous people addressed him at once - all the conversations kind of blended into a babble of noise. As a result, he had a tendency to try to manage conversation - to extremes.

People began to see Pete as pushy, as uncooperative. But, of course, he couldn’t see it. Pete was just trying to maintain a semblance of sanity. He still worked very hard, and continued his priva te battle with his illness.

The last years were more difficult.

Among other setbacks, my friend, Peter L. Manly, the science-loving author and dedicated fan, found himself "disinvited" to one of our local conventions. I know that was a terrible blow to him. He had always worked so hard as a contributor to that convention.

I have never agreed with the idea of excluding anyone from fandom. I believe in my heart of hearts that fandom must always be inclusive.

Pete and I talked about it numerous times, trying to come up with ways for him to mend fences and start again. But his illness kept getting worse, and his behavior made it impossible.

We almost lost him in 2001, but he surprised everyone by recovering. These last years he used a cane, then a wheelchair to get around.

He died today, Friday, July 27th, 2007, in the VA hospital downtown. Jean Palmer called this evening to let me know. I gather there will not be a funeral, but there will be a wake.

I don’t know who, if anyone was there with him.

At any rate, Pete has left us now. His struggle is over. I hope he is at peace.

As I sit here, sipping a bourbon, I have a feeling of deep sadness.

It is not just that Pete died. We all will do that.

And those who know me well, know that I do not think of death as an ending, but as a graduation.

Pete's last few years were marked by a mix of ups and downs. He wrestled with unhappiness. Of course, dealing with your own decline is nothing to be happy about. But I wish it had been easier for him.

Fortunately, he did know love. He was loved and he loved. His wife Joan, and his children, and grandchildren, and Jean.

He was very proud of becoming Lord Peter the Rock in the SCA. He earned it with his contributions to the SCA - and most of those contributions were made after he fell ill. It was one area where he could still excell.

He saw his daughter Susan happily married and celebrated the conception of his first grandchild.

He got a couple books out through Michael McCollum's outfit, and I know that pleased him.

He got some Nebula Award recommendations for his collaborations with other authors and took great pleasure in being a member of the Analog Mafia (May Appear Frequently In Analog).

But, unfortunately, there were a lot of low points as well.

The degenerative nature of his illness took a heavy physical toll on a man who had always been healthy and robust, wiry and energetic. The physical changes he went through were devastating right up to the end. Dying is a labor . . . and his dying took a while, so his struggle was long and exhausting.

But the social cost of his illness was so severe that it can hardly be calculated.

Where, once, Pete's personality and facile mind made him welcome anywhere he went, the changes in his personality brought on by physical ills made him difficult to deal with, and many people were forced to turn away.

Pete handled it all as best he could, but the gradual decline never really stopped. He developed habits that could be maddening. He drank too much. He wouldn’t eat.

He was a sensitive man, and a proud one, and he was hurt when people he considered friends and close acquaintances turned away from him. Again in self-defense, he began to isolate himself more and more, minimizing the exposure to such slights.

Of course, at the same time, he was dealing with his own mortality. He went through all the stages of dying in dealing with his illness - anger, denial, guilt, sorrow and, I hope, acceptance.

He was most effective when he could concentrate on just one thing - being one-pointed - for his brain still worked quite well and he could yet accomplish things if undistracted. Many found that one-pointedness difficult to deal with, considering it, perhaps, selfishness or arrogance. But it really was not. He was a stubborn man, and he could not surrender easily.

I have not seen Pete much over the last few years. I knew he had been hospitalized recently and then returned home, and the last time I heard the prognosis was not good.

>But Pete remained Pete.

>He was my friend for a long time. I have missed him for a while now, and we were no longer close, but I loved him. The ill and unhappy Pete had become a stranger to me, but I remembered the healthy Pete, the happy Pete. I wish I had been able to deal with him during these last tough years, But I could not.

Since Pete was my contemporary, just six months older than I, watching his struggle and decline has been particularly heart-breaking for me.

I will always be looking for that blue flight suit when I'm at conventions. I will miss that flashing name badge. I will find the bar a little less raucous. I will miss seeing him deep in fervent conversation on a bench somewhere outside late at night. And those midnight panels will, of course, never be the same.

>Pete spent the biggest portion of his life making things better for me and for all of us.

He served with honor in a long career in the military. He worked as an engineer on government projects of importance - some of which are still classified as secret.

His work in astronomy speaks for itself.

On a local level, he helped build our conventions into events of significance over a couple of decades of selfless generosity. How many panels did he serve on? How many did he moderate? Remember when he got us a moon-walker as a guest?

His fiction and non-fiction has earned deserved recognition from the people who are the movers and shakers in speculative fiction, and he loved the fans. Pete was a dynamo of energy, a fine writer, and a good human being.

So I'm hoisting a tankard tonight in honor of my friend, Peter L. Manly.

For those of you, like me, who have known Pete for decades, I know you have your own wonderful memories of who he was and what he brought to the table.

For those of you who did not know him well, or who knew him only after his illness had begun to take its toll, you missed someone very special.

So here's to my friend, Peter L. Manly , sometimes known as Peter the Rock! He was one of a kind.

Ad Astra, Pete! Clear Skies!