This is the autobiography written by Farmer that appeared with his story "O'brien and Obrenov" in Adventure , March 1946.

Philip José Farmer, who joins our Writer's brigade with that comedy of errors, "O'Brien and Obrenov", on page 38, introduces himself thuswise—

Born in 1918. Graduated from Peoria Central High (I've lived in Peoria, Illinois for 20 years) and went a year to University of Missouri, where I met a bunch of charaters. Quit for financial reasons and slaved several years as a groundsman or "grunt" for a line crew. Some more characters came my way.

In 1940 I went to Bradley Polytechnic for a year, met more characters, got a letter in track and a crippled foot in football. Also, because of my Cherokee blood, I was sent by the students to New York to present a chief's head-dress to Fred Waring, who had writen a theme song for Bradley. I still remember the terrible stagefright I got on his program. However, remembering I was supposed to be an Indian, I let out a warwoop which brought down the house and broke the tension.

To clear any misapprenhension about aboriginal corpuscles, I will state I am 1/4 English, 1/4 German, 1/4 Scotch-Irish, 1/8 Dutch, 1/8 Cherokee, and 1/16 brew. The brew comes from working nights while I was a student in one of the liquor-making establishments with which Peoria abounds. I didn't like the work. It's far easier to lift a stein than a barrel.

I went back to Old Mizzou. The war cut short my graduation hopes. Pearl Harbor found me an army aviation cadet at Kelly Field, San Antonio, Texas. It was there I became aquainted with the exasperating redtape of army life. I flew all right in primary but washed out at Randolph Field. Among a thousand other faults, so said the wash out board, I was inconsistent, i.e., all right one day, lousy the next. The lousy days outnumbered the others. As I recall it, life then was a series of fallings-in-and-out, Saturday saturnalias, Sunday hangovers, and one screaming face after another attached to various instructors. Again, I met a lot of characters. And I still retain my enthusiasm for flying. Whenever a plane goes overhead, I always look up. Provided I happen to be facing that way.

Armed with an honorable discharge I went home to await a draft call which never came. To while away the time I worked at a steel mill and laid the foundations of two children. As a boy and a girl constitute all the variety desirable in infants, I have ceased producing and turned my hand to rearing these two characters. All the above, you understand, with the superb cooperation of my wife, my favorite character, whom I met while we studented at Bradley.

I write in my spare time and hope in the near future to devote all my time and some energy to authoring.