These things happen to me. I don't know why. I don't know how. But these things happen to me.
I have this friend named David Siegel. David is a devout comic book fan, especially of the older books and the folks who wrote and drew them. For many years, he has been a main force behind the annual Golden Age Panel down at the Comic-Con in San Diego. He doesn't host them — I do — but he's been so valuable that a few years ago, the convention bestowed unto him an Inkpot Award for his contributions. Mostly, they consist of locating veteran comic book writers and artists who have been away from our little community…guys who'd never been to a convention and maybe never knew that they had fans out there.
Dave finds them. He located Fred Guardineer, the artist for (among many other features) Zatara the Magician. Fred was in an Assisted Living Facility (i.e., Old Folks' Home) and didn't imagine that anyone even knew who he was or what he'd done. Dave located Fred and got him to San Diego for what Mr. Guardineer told me was the greatest day of his life.
Dave found Chuck Cuidera, the original artist of Blackhawk. I helped a little but Dave's the one who found him. One day on the phone, I casually mentioned to Dave that someone oughta find out if Cuidera was still alive. I knew he'd retired to Florida a decade or two earlier but that's about all I knew. DC Comics even had money for him — fees for work of his that they'd reprinted — and no idea where to send it. Armed with just the meager info I gave him, Dave leaped onto the phone, began calling around Florida…and three hours later, he called me back to proudly announce, "Just talked to Chuck Cuidera."
He not only talked to Cuidera, he got him to come out to San Diego for another one of those greatest days of an old-timer's life. And of course, because of Dave, Mr. Cuidera got all that money DC Comics was holding for him. Dave's done a lot of things like this, finding people who were "lost."
Once, he even found me. One day about twelve years ago, I had a lethal deadline and I went to Las Vegas to work. I didn't tell anyone I was there. (Correct that: I didn't tell anyone I was here. I'm writing this in a hotel room in Las Vegas.) I certainly didn't tell Dave, who works as a cab driver in this town.
I was staying that time at Harrah's and my second or third day here, I decided to take an hour out and walk over to Treasure Island to denude their buffet of lunch. I was crossing The Strip when I suddenly heard someone yell, "Evanier!" Since there are only about seven Evaniers in this world, the odds were they meant me.
It was Dave in his taxi. He immediately executed…well, it wasn't exactly a "U" turn. It was more like an "N" with one of these (~) over the top. But right in the middle of Las Vegas Boulevard, he swerved around, swept me up in his cab and whisked me off to lunch. I still can't believe he spotted me…but I really can't believe what just happened.
Like I said, I'm in Vegas. I'm here for the Licensing Show which starts tomorrow…meetings with a producer, conferences with a publisher, etc. My plane landed at 2:45. I walked down to the Baggage Claim and claimed my baggage. I went out to where you can get a cab.
At the Vegas Airport, as with most airports, you don't pick your own cab. A dispatcher tells you which one is next. The dispatcher told me to hike down to Position 12 and take the cab that was there. I hiked down to Position 12 and I bet you can see where this is going. Well, I didn't…
But there, waiting for me at Position 12…was Dave Siegel.
There are 5,000 cab drivers in this town. I know one. And that one was the one who happened to be assigned to me, can you believe it? I was so stunned that I almost tipped.