Back in the late 1970s and early 1980s, I started going to science fiction conventions. It was where you found people who read the same stuff you did. Then when”Star Wars” came out, and that, with “Star Trek” fandoms, provided a schism between reading and media fans. I went with media.

In the Washington/Baltimore area, the major hotel for such conventions for decades was the Hunt Valley Inn up in Cockeysville, MD.

Now, it’s time to say farewell. The Hunt Valley Inn is closed forever.

In my youth when I drove up there, and reached the tri-level overpass of 1-70, I knew I was going to have a very fun weekend up there with my friends. The only food outlets were the Cinnamon Tree in the hotel, Hooters and a Pizza Hut you had drive too. I had a car so I took many of my high school buddies for pizza. No delivery back then.

As a hotel, it had decent hotel rooms, ample parking, and huge ballrooms for masquerades or to listen to actor and author speeches. I saw Nichelle Nichols, Richard Biggs, William Shatner, the late Jonathan Brandis (Seaquest) and so many others. Even saw a hostile Stephen King before he stopped drinking, and obviously didn’t want to be there.

The Hunt Valley Inn went through many owners. It was once a training hotel. Generations of waiters served Star Wars Stormtroopers, Elizabethan ladies or many versions of Doctor Who in the Cinnamon Tree restaurant.

“The Hunt” as it was affectionately known was a home for generations of fans. The ones from the 70s brought their kids twenty years later, and then their grandchildren.

We would relax in the hot tub which was beside the indoor/outdoor pool. Long indepth conversations were held in the wide landings between floors. People met their husbands or wives working the tech crews, helping the participants and sitting in The Polo bar loudly discussing the latest SF television shows, from “Beauty and the Beast” (1980s) to “Bablyon Five” (2000s).

We shopped for fannish gifts in the dealers’ room. Tarot readings. Wore handmade costumes since that was the only kind we had. Bought fanzines, fanzines, fanzines which was the only way that many fans had to share their love of shows, and write fiction about them. One of my earliest pieces of fiction had a Christmas Bat dancing on the rafters above above the pool (which now no longer has rafters. Also, forgive me the story, I was 19.)

On Friday or Saturday nights, you could wander the halls and drop in on an author’s group to hear them talk about books. Other open doors showed scratchy videotapes from the UK of shows like “Blake’s 7” which led to an avid fandom long before the show was ever available in the U.S.

We sang and danced to groups like Clam Chowder and Technical Difficulties against the brick wall of the escalators. We bought cassettes of their filk music, later CDs of filk music.

It was a home to conventions like “Shore Leave,” “Octoberfest” and “Farpoint” which introduced many hesitent actors to fandom. An actor who might not be convention saavy could test their wings at the Hunt Valley conventions. The fans were in general gentle, despite what happened with James Marstairs at the height of his popularity in “Buffy the Vampire Slayer, when avid fans swamped the hotel and security.

I trolled for newspaper articles ideas. An early one was about costuming which appeared in USA Today. Later, I saw the Baltimore Sun followed it. What I heard was that they were going to ignore it, “but USA Today covered it.”

A high point came in 2005. I had been following the cast and crew of a Star Wars fan movie called “Star Wars: Revelations” for several years. After an interview, I knew I had what I needed, and tried to think of how I could sell it to my editors. I ended up taking a wrong turn, ending up in Baltimore and finally getting home hours later. The story ran around the world, to the point that fans crashed the servers.

It launched my beat covering “Star Wars” and other media.

But, the point of the anecdote is that without the Hunt Valley Inn, I would never had discovered it. I would have not met the actors, the director, the writers.

The Hunt Valley Inn was home to many conventions over the year, not all fannish. On their final weekend, they had two dog shows. Also, a small farewell party from “Shore Leave” and “Farpoint.”

Probably my fondest memory of The Hunt was on an Easter morning when Balticon was at the hotel. The building was full of locals dressed in their Sunday best, enjoying the brunches and egg hunts. On the fannish side, it was morning of day three of the convention. Hangovers abounded.

So I saw a family of three, father, mother, and a young girl all in their best walking down the corridor as three hulking barbarians, wearing their leather, daggers, swords, all in desperate need of aspirin, walking the other way. The contrast was striking. The conflict non-existent. Both worlds noted each other, tolerated, and passed by.

So, farewell to the Hunt Valley Inn. There are plans to demolish it.

But before that happens, maybe in the depths of the night, the ghosts of past will stir, and you’ll hear laughter in the pool, see cosplayers dress in the green room ready for the masquerade. On the landings between floors, teenagers are talking in intimate groups, trying to figure out their lives. Actors are walking by or stopping to talking with fans in the corridors. Books and fanzines are selling out in the dealers rooms. Music is coming from rooms.

Then comes the sunrise and the memories fade.