After Susie Barton’s husband invested their nest egg in Time Ferry Services, Ltd., it appears that the only way she’ll ever get anything out of it is by giving a performance in Elizabethan times.

This is the earliest appearance of a time machine—the “Time Ball”—in film that we know of. And based on the name Time Ferry Services, Ltd, it may also be the earliest film mention of a time travel agency.

More and more strange people are appearing each day in and around Oliver Wilson’s home; the explanation from the euphoric redhead leads him to believe they are time travelers gathering for an important event.

To escape a forced marriage, a woman in the future tries to disappear into the pase, but her fiance tracks her down.

I found this in one of three old sf magazines that I traded for at Denver’s own West Side Books. (Thank you, Lois.) Both the title and the table-of-contents blurb (They wanted to witness the Crucifixion) foreshadow Moorcock’s “Behold the Man,” although the story is not as vivid.

Travel diary of blasé tourists around the Solar System, to other stars, back in time to the Great Fire of London and to another galaxy.

I’d bet my last złotych that Lem is carefully satirizing the rule of the Polish United Workers’s Party in this story of a fourth-millennium man who hails from Mars and has room in his brain for two or three different personalities (Kazimierz Nowak, Hipperkorn, and possibly a dreaded Nanów), the first of which leapt from a touring chronobus in the 20th century where he hoped to find the inventor of time travel, Professor Tarantoga.

With eleven years of marriage behind them, Ted and Alice’s fantasies frequently start with a time machine and end with killing one or another of their spouse’s ancestors before they can procreate. So naturally, they each end up at Temponautics, Ltd. Oh, and Ted’s grandpa has some racy fantasies of his own.
In Silverberg’s Something Wild Is Loose (Vol. 3 of his collected stories), he posits that this story is “probably the most complex short story of temporal confusion” since Heinlein’s “By His Bootstraps” (1941) or “—All You Zombues—” (1959), but I would respectfully disagree. In particular, I would describe Heinlein’s two stories as the most complex short stories of temporal consistency in that there is but a single, static timeline and (in hindsight) every scene locks neatly into place within this one timeline. By contrast, Silverberg story involves multiple time travel choices by the characters in what I would call parallel universes. The confusion, such as it is, stems more from what appears to be alternate scenes in disconnected universes rather than temporal confusion per se.

Charles Phillips is a 20th-century New Yorker in a future world of immortal leisurites who reconstruct cities from the past.

Bradbury himself wrote the teleplay for this first on-screen adaptation of his famous story, and somehow he managed to do it without the word “butterfly” appearing in the script (though we do see the critter at the end).

On Good Friday in 1865, Anna Surratt pines for one of her mother’s boarders—a certain John Wilkes Booth—not knowing anything of Booth’s plans for the evening, her mother and brother’s possible role in those plans, or the reason for the legion of odd tourists packing the streets in the nation’s capital around Ford’s Theatre.

Fresh from finishing her Ph.D., Madeline Maxwell (aka Max) runs into her high school mentor who encourages her to apply for a position with a cloistered group of historians called St. Mary’s Institute of Historical Research.

On the 107th floor of the South Tower on 9/11, time travel tour guide Brad Eckelson meets Sitra Velasco, a woman who couldn’t possibly be there.

The narrator takes a vacation to the future, since going to the past is sensibly banned.