History of Fandom: When Did Stanning Get So Toxic? (Part 1)

My teenage self was always under the impression that my generation invented anything trendy within the last twenty years. Anything from Trader Joe's 🌺 to mall goths‒ you couldn't tell me existed before 2003. As my grandmother would say, "You're new here." I’ve been involved in fandom since childhood− frequenting Club Penguin forums long before Disney's takeover in 2007 (which we were not happy about, by the way). These subcultures define the ways in which people have engaged with their ‘faves’ and directly reflect how celebrity culture lives within the times (as well as the everyday people who allow it to thrive). For example, what I always knew to be fandom was actually what I knew of Tumblr: making Photoshop edits, illegally streaming the UK's finest programming 💻, and proudly shipping the messiest pairings. When I see people online looking back on these days, I'm always shocked at those recalling toxicity within their communities or the ruthless conflicts fans had with showrunners on social media. Certainly, I had plenty of opinions about the top teen dramas at the time (like how The Originals was far better than The Vampire Diaries 🩸), but these I typically reserved for real-life conversations with other fans at school. As people are less willing to separate the art from the artist, they've almost become even more invested in celebrities' personal lives. At the same time, we're also seeing the damaging impact celebrity culture has on stars, so how do we engage with high-profile artists and their work in a way that leaves both them and us, the audience, with a sense of dignity? Is it possible?

The Rise of the Nerd

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was the English author famous for penning the 🕵️‍♂️ Sherlock Holmes stories. These were published in The Strand, a monthly literary magazine, and would become his most renowned work. Although Doyle was most proud of his historical writing, fans of the cheeky sleuth (a.k.a. The Sherlockians) ended up becoming the prototype for modern fandoms and how they've continued to operate through time. Dedicated enthusiasts hosted their own newsletters, composed of the works and letters of fellow Sherlock fanatics, that were sent out to subscribers by post ✉️. Doyle received regular fan mail‒ some even being addressed to Holmes and his associate, Dr. Watson, themselves (even though the famed residence in London didn't exist at the time).

Upon the devastating news that Holmes had perished, in what was almost the final installment, Sherlockians undoubtedly grieved the death of their loved one. According to Anastasia Klimchynskaya for Den of Geek (!), "British society dressed in mourning. Black armbands were worn to commemorate the great detective’s passing. People canceled their subscriptions to The Strand... but not before sending piles of angry letters." Disappointed fans took the liberty of writing their own iterations (a.k.a. fanfictions) ✏️ during the author's ten year break from the Sherlock Holmes stories. These events have had a lasting impact in laying the foundation for fandom and we also get a glimpse of the outstanding battle between creators (who rely on their fans, but have to fight for creative agency) and fans (who feel as though they're owed for the unwavering support). What's notable about this particular relationship is how Arthur Conan Doyle viewed his own writing. In his eyes, Sherlock Holmes was not his most serious piece of work. Doyle's bibliography is rich with historical prose and he resented that the fictional detective is what he became most recognized for. His choice to resurrect Holmes ten years after killing him off is certainly one of the earliest examples of fan service that we have, in terms of modern fandom, and it worked! 💰 Ultimately, Doyle did financially benefit from the gig and earned acclaim as an author. Though it didn't intellectually stimulate him, it was the dedication of both Doyle and the Sherlockians that forever memorialized the well-respected bare-knuckle boxer and investigator.

Holmes was not the only fictional character with a hand in progressing modern celebrity culture. The 1930's-70's saw a brand new force that would take over fandom completely. Before classic space operas 🖖🏾 and science-fiction characters debuted on-screen, these stories were distributed through fictional prose.(Worldcon (World Science Fiction Convention) was created in 1939 and the very first convention of its kind. These events existed to serve fans, provide community space for a variety of activities, and often featured special guests. Fans were able to create and exchange fanzines, illustrations (or fanart), and many more staples that will forever be ingrained in fan culture. Part of this convention also included the Transatlantic Fan Fund‒ a crowdfunding project that would allow notable figures from overseas to attend the convention as a special guest and an early example of fandom crowdfunding. Over the years, more conventions spawned across the U.S. and the population of attendees, as well as their interests, began to widen.

As silver screen characters and comic books 🦸 were becoming increasingly popular, this caused a divide, since literature fans no longer wanted to share a space with these crowds− dubbed "media fandoms." Thus new kinds of conventions were created, such as the very first Comic Con in 1970, which allowed fans of comics, television, and film to flourish and indulge in their favorite fantasies with like-minded enthusiasts. These communities also provided a space for manga and anime fans, who brought imported copies from Japan to conventions, before they became licensed in the U.S., and would eventually introduce cosplay. Prior to anime being widely available, you'd have to search for a ripped copy with fan-made translations (or fansubs) from someone who happened to be in-the-know. It wasn’t long before furries became popularized in the 80's with the release of Albedo Anthropomorphics by Steve Gallacci, a comic book series featuring talking-animals as the protagonists. Media fans often engaged in the same typical fandom activities as science-fiction readers, but the introduction of film and television allowed room for more forms of expression. VCR 📼 allowed fans to create their own edits− some being recuts of the film and some cut with music‒ similar to fancams/edits popularized by K-Pop fans on Twitter today.

Fanfiction was also becoming increasingly favorable, as the popularity of sci-fi franchises skyrocketed 🚀. These weren’t always so popular, particularly when smut started getting passed around more frequently within communities. Crew members and actors from notable franchises started gaining a reputation for trying to stop fan-made content and, at times, took offense to any suggestive material about their characters that they didn't agree with. As one Fanlore commenter recalls (!), "Fanfic was not something you saw openly; it was... passed around in private room parties at conventions with a bottle of red wine... a single Cease and Desist from the producers or writers could shut down an entire fandom... This is why old-school fans like me are VERY careful around writers, actors, and the like. We still remember the days when one misplaced fanzine and one upset actor could destroy it for everyone." Today, fan-made content has become so oversaturated, it's almost impossible to regulate or stop fans from conceptualizing their own fantasies (no matter how dirty). Allowing people to express themselves and enjoy fandom as they see fit did have its benefits on the film industry. In the end, production teams saw the value in these conventions and thus, their fandoms, and industry involvement became a staple for larger conventions.

Megastars & Boybands

There are a few cultural elements, at least in my experience, that could sum up being a young girl in the United States, but among the most important by far were the teen idols 🤩. I even had the pleasure of experiencing The Jonas Brothers 2008 Burnin' Up Tour, complete with skinny jeans, flat-ironed bangs, and on-stage flame machines 🔥, and the essential key to all of this was rock 'n' roll. Pioneers of this genre, such as Buddy Holly, Little Richard, and Elvis, all came up in a new cultural wave catering to young people for the first time. A new group called teenagers, more specifically teen girls. Elvis, arguably the most celebrated artist during this period, paved the way not only for global superstardom (which was not exactly at this caliber, at the time), but for an entire generation that was seeking to finally find their own voice.

Once suburban life became a staple for middle-class families, fewer young people were required to join the workforce and assist with supporting their families. Teenagers were finally able to experience adolescence. This created the perfect opportunity for a genre like rock 'n' roll 🎸 to flourish and Elvis was undoubtedly at the forefront of it all. Though not a pioneer of the genre, he is often credited for being one of the first music stars to cause a mass hysteria similar in music superfans today. Bras on stage, fans fainting, girls crowding outside his hotel. Elvis was also the blueprint for stars becoming a brand, selling a variety merchandise and appearing in movies to maintain his relevancy amongst his targeted audience. He managed to cause a riot in 1955 Jacksonville, where he reportedly ended his set on-stage stating (!), "Girls, I'll see you backstage." Fans rushed the stage, streets, and of course pursued the artist in his dressing room. He was apparently rescued by police from a swarm of girls who were ripping at his clothing. He seemed to love every second of it, but Elvis was also no stranger to media scrutiny and what some people in fandom recognize today as antis.

Along with the concerned parents who were cautious of the provocative artist, Elvis’ sexuality and rebellious image were growing topics in the media. In 1956, he got into an altercation at a gas station in his hometown of Memphis, ultimately resulting in his arrest 🚔. Allegedly, the owner of the gas station told him I don’t care if you are Elvis Presley, when he failed to move his car. The man then proceeded to sucker punch him, while Presley was signing autographs for three fans. None of this seemed to matter though as Presley's manager, the Colonel, truly believed any attention benefitted Elvis' brand. They even had the idea to sell I Hate Elvis buttons, which kept money flowing while the singer served in the military 🪖 for two years. Despite being early in achieving this level of fame in the music industry, Elvis lived a complicated life full of indulgence, lacking in peace, and ending in tragedy. For numerous Golden Age starlets, such as Judy Garland and Rita Hayworth, this was already a story as old as time. These new heights of fame brought with them proportionate levels of misfortune, but only recently has the negative effects of celebrity exploitation created a mainstream conversation. Though fans may have their hands dirty, at times, when it comes to the pressures they put on their favorite stars, it's worth it to have these conversations more as the mistreatment of these artists typically only benefit powerful executives and producers who have no stakes in the game.

Unfortunately, our society would not get a chance to recover or learn from these mistakes before introducing the world to the newest and next big thing: boybands. The frenzy surrounding these heartthrobs were at an all time high, as the Boomer generation had a large group of teenagers. The early Beatles catered to a softer side of girlhood, with their poppy lyrics and matching haircuts, but did give their fanbase permission to explore their sensuality through innocent crushes 💘 on their favorite band members (or bias). An attempt to escape the rigid "good girl" expectations of the midcentury, Barbara Ehrenreich described the phenomenon (!), "To abandon control – to scream, faint, dash about in mobs – was, in form if not in conscious intent, to protest the sexual repressiveness, the rigid double standard of female teen culture... It was the first and most dramatic uprising of women's sexual revolution." Reaching great success practically overnight, The Beatles did not revel in the spotlight as much as Elvis did in his early days of fame. They were in it for the music and the members of the band grew tired of their new lifestyle very quickly, even going as far to title their fourth album Beatles for Sale.

Jan Myers, a London superfan, revealed in an interview with The Guardian that she biked 🚴‍♀️ 20 miles on a school day to see them get off their flight, crawled through sewers 🧻 to hear them record, and would stake their studio for hours in the hopes of getting a smidge of attention. Despite the subtle clues that some members were less than enthusiastic about their dedication, she and many other fans persisted on. Myers stated (!), "All I could think about was them... [When seeing them] Paul would say, 'Oh God, not you again,' but he was the best at talking with the fans. John was very unpredictable. You had to be careful with John. But when you're a fan you let them say whatever they want. You were happy he'd talked to you directly, it didn't matter what the words were... How pathetic is that?" Overwhelmed by the constant touring and the idea that fans weren’t actually coming to hear their music, the group ended shows altogether with the release of Revolver in 1966.

The band initially persevered through tours for some years while their label milked the spectacle that they had created. Their initial contract wasn't an easy one though, as their label was requiring two albums 💿 a year and for the band to star in their own series of movies 🎬. While touring, The Beatles did have a chance to meet Bob Dylan, which impacted their creative direction later on. Dylan had a critical acclaim that the group was missing, due to their more approachable and safe music style of the time. Two years and five albums later, the group was finally taking over the reins on their songs. This allowed them to venture into the classic rock era of the late 60's 🍄, earning the respect of critics (as rock journalism was gaining its own legitimacy), reaching a wider spread of music fans, and solidifying the band’s imprint on the music history.

It's almost standard today for the private lives and any drama between a band's members to become overanalyzed and highly speculative both within a fandom and in the press. Later in their careers, The Beatles started recording music in separate sessions away from each other and their personal lives were both interrupting the creative business and becoming public controversy. One Beatles fan online describes the changes they noticed in one member (!), "Everything about [him] immediately changed around 1968. His clever smirk and sense of humor were replaced by a sour-pussed scoul." I find there are a number of fans who desire to know The Beatles better than anyone else, or even better than the members know themselves. Their interaction with these artists were limited, yet some fans hold firm beliefs about the intimate lives of The Beatles and how this may or may not connect to their final curtain. The Beatles themselves did not have the luxury most of us do, which is having the freedom to grow and find one's self without the attention of the entire world− with most of the band’s success occurring during their 20s. Although I understand the importance of an artist's legacy, I don't think fans should be formulating excuses for strangers who have publicly acknowledged the mistakes they’ve made during their lifetime. I especially disagree with people who do so with the intention of uplifting celebrities they favor and villainizing ones they don't. If compassion is being practiced, then part of that is allowing people to grow and admit their flaws without running to their aid.

The Music Never Stopped

With the Flower Power 🌻 movement in full-force, young people were searching for a new kind of rebellion and the band standing in the center of all of this was The Grateful Dead. This jam band is often known for their hippie ☮️ fanbase, who were infamous for following the group on tour. The kind of culture that this band and their fans were able to create, was one based in community, kindness, and adventure. Though the environment created a perfect lifestyle for those seeking to escape from U.S. politics and align themselves with the counterculture of the time, it also relied heavily on survival. Shakedown Street (coined after The Grateful Dead's song of the same name) is a portion of the parking lot at shows reserved for vending. Fans would socialize, sell clothing, and organize travel funds for their next stop on tour. The most essential thing you could find here, though, was the food. To no surprise, there was a large vegetarian and vegan 🥑 presence within the fandom.

Though they may have been middle-class runaways seeking rebellion, touring fans often weren’t wealthy and would follow the band for lengthy periods of time, so they had little sources of income. This meant limited resources and, thus, food choices but that didn't stop people from getting creative. Popular choices you could find at shows were veggie burritos, falafel, hummus, and green juice‒ long before trends popularized by health and fitness gurus of the 2000's & 2010's. Beth Livingston, author of The Kind Veggie Burrito Cookbook: The Cookbook For Deadheads, recalls her experience collecting various recipes from fans in order to create her cookbook in an interview with Vice (!): "When I started asking people for their recipes, they were so generous with not just that, but also sharing their time, their stories, and of course their food. And since the Dead were from California and had those deep counterculture roots, I actually encountered a lot of food trends and even certain ingredients via the tour heads, long before they trickled into the rest of the culture." Deadheads were dedicated not only to the band, but to the space they were able to provide. This fostered a truly giving environment and that did not just extend to those in need of a ride or a sandwich 🥪 .

You may not have known it, but The Grateful Dead were pretty serious A/V geeks 🎛️. They proved themselves as audiophiles early in their career, when they were able to avoid the thin sounds produced by public address systems at Ken Kesley's Acid Tests. They didn't do it alone, though. The Dead's audio engineer, Owsley "Bear" Stanley, provided the system (Altec Voice of the Theater) that allowed the band to do this. In later years, Bear was the visionary for a sound system that caused little distortion, even up to a half-mile away from the stage, for the large crowds they consistently drew in. They were able to do this in 1974 with the Wall of Sound 🔊. Along with the crowd of music fans and drifters there for a spiritual experience, The Grateful Dead actually encouraged their more tech-oriented fans, who would attend with the purpose of recording and sharing their sets through tapes. By the 80s, tapers (as these fans were called) were given their own designated section for recording. At times, this was placed right behind the audio mixing booth and, if they were lucky, they'd be given a cable to hook-up right into the system, meaning the best possible sound quality for the footage.

Exchanging tapes for various Dead shows would become a tradition amongst their community of fans. As host of 88.7 WRHU show Dead Zone, Eduardo Duarte, told Pacific Standard Magazine (!), ”Collecting, or trading tapes, as we called it back in the day, was an experience that extended and thereby continued what I understand to be the core of a Dead show: the mysterium tremendum. When you attended a show you entered under the influence of the overwhelming mystery, mysterium tremendum, and with each show you took a leap of faith that the band would take the stage with the same leap. So too with the trading of tapes: insert cassette, push play, and listen for the sonic magic. You never knew what you'd hear on those analogs. Now, with the massive online digital archive the experience has become, well, archival, and more scholarly, in a sense.” This act of solidarity within their fandom would actually become a vital part of how fandom lives on the Internet today 🌐. The earliest forms of the digital sharing, whether through bulletins or mailing lists, were filled with Deadheads exchanging any updates as it relates to the band, very similarly to the fan sites that operate for pop stars and actors today.

A group of fans from one 1975 mailing list crashed a country club wedding 💒 upon hearing that Bob Weir was scheduled to play with his other band, Kingfish. Luckily, the group was allowed to stay. The WELL, an early digital forum founded by Stewart Brand and Larry Brilliant in 1985, was overcome with Dead fans looking to chat lyrics, shows, and exchange tapes. Although you had to have access to early computers to be a user, let alone access to someone in-the-know in order to join and get updates, this did set fandom as we know it today in motion. According to media critic and early member of the WELL, Howard Rheingold, the Grateful Dead's virtual community (a term he first coined), was (!) “so phenomenally successful that for the first several years, Deadheads were by far the single largest source of income for the enterprise.” By the 90's, the WELL was turned into a standard internet platform and fan sites featuring galleries 📸 and guest books were becoming increasingly popular. In the end, the uplifting setting that the band encouraged paid off. Besides the fact that The Grateful Dead was one of the first in the rock industry to retain the rights to their masters, a large portion of the group's income was sourced from ticket and merchandise sales. By allowing their fans the freedom to develop their own sense of community, it only helped their popularity and kept them relevant through several generations of fans. Had they increased security and discouraged a lot of activity, they likely would not have been as successful as a touring group. Instead, this was a collaborative effort and a genuine example of what a supportive fandom can be.

Next in Fandom

Printed newsletters and digital message boards may be a thing of the past, but the bricks that early fandoms laid set the foundation for the culture-defining (yet somewhat frightening) enigma we know it as today. Technology has accelerated our different modes of communication, but it may have also stalled our sense of common humanity as well. As fandoms continue to rely on the Internet more and community less to get access to their faves, how will it influence how they exist over time? What about the relationship between fans and artists? We could spend forever examining the bruising effects fandom culture has left on real people, regardless of celebrity status; the expectations and pressures fans contribute to, anonymous threats and doxxing, and invasive behaviors. However, step one is accepting from the beginning that celebrity culture has never been and never will be healthy or sustainable for anyone involved. As our technology and the world around us evolve, fandom will change with it. As new generations are introduced, it will always be awkward and self-adjusting, and balance will always be a pursuit.

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