Monthly Archives: April 2010

I should have mentioned that the fellow who told me about the Stan Freberg/Jim Silke connection was Lee Hester, proprietor of the fine establishment, Lee's Comics. We'd both love to hear more about Jim's experiences (and that of others) in the area of record album art direction.

Maybe you heard about this April Fool's Day joke before now but I'm outta town and just catching up. The folks behind College Humor whipped up a few fake signs to spread the news that In-N-Out Burger was opening in Manhattan. It isn't. They posted the banners and had stooges in In-N-Out employee garb out to talk up the idea and raise the hopes of New Yorkers who lust for the product of the popular West Coast burger chain.

They can, by the way, have it. I am quoted on several websites as saying that In-N-Out served the best fast food burger in the field…and it's true that I did say that. But I said it many moons ago and no longer feel that way. I haven't much enjoyed the last few I've had and am trying to decide if they've changed or I have. (I'm leaning towards the answer, "Some of each.") Expect a longer blog post on the subject one of these days.

There were fears that attendance at this year's WonderCon would be lower due to its last day falling on Easter Sunday — the only weekend the convention was able to pry out of the Moscone Center, I'm told. The crowd today seemed a fraction slimmer than in past years but the above-average turnouts for Friday and Saturday probably more than made up for it. My unscientific poll of vendors proved to be…unscientific. Some said they'd done well. Others muttered remarks about the economy.

I wish I had more to report than I do. There oughta be plenty because I had an awful lot of fun and somehow managed to be busy every minute. Some of it was seeing friends. Some of it was doing panels (here's a report on yesterday's with Joe and Adam Kubert), some of it was business-type stuff…and then of course, I have to sign almost everything Sergio signs and Sergio signs an awful lot of stuff. Everything but paychecks. Today, I managed to walk the hall and marvel at some of the fine craftsmanship on display. A lot of talented people make very lovely items (books, art, statuary, apparel) and bring them to venues like WonderCon to sell.

It was nice to see fans flocking to honor veteran artist Murphy Anderson, who seems honestly unaware of how much his work has meant to so many. Murphy is as big a fan of comics as anyone in that hall today and he loved talking about the greats of the field like Will Eisner and Lou Fine. At the same time, he shrugs it off when we tell him he's a great of the field. I told the following story about him on the panel we did yesterday but I'll tell it again here.

The first time I visited the offices of DC Comics in New York was in 1970. One afternoon during that trip, I was sitting in the reception area, waiting for a friend who worked there to come out so we could go to lunch. Also in the reception area was an aspiring artist about my age (18) who had art samples that he hoped might land him a job drawing comics. This was back when DC took on such new hires at a rate of about zero per month. But Sol Harrison, who was the firm's Production Manager and a kind of Art Director, came out and spent a few minutes telling the young man he wasn't ready but that if he stayed with Art School and applied himself, he might be good enough to get work in a few years. Then Sol asked, "Any questions?"

The young man said, "Yeah. Who are you?" And then he said some other things that I didn't overhear but I gather he suggested that since Sol didn't draw comics, his opinion wasn't worth a whole lot.

"Wait right here," Sol said — in a tone of voice that made me think this wasn't the first time this had happened. He went into the inner office and returned a few minutes later with Murphy Anderson, who looked at the kid's work and told him he wasn't ready but that if he stayed with Art School and applied himself, he might be good enough to get work in a few years.

"Thank you, Mr. Anderson," the young artist said as he gathered up his samples and scurried off to Art School. I wish I could close this story by telling you that he came back to the field three years later and became a superstar pro but that's kind of where it ends. I have no idea what became of the applicant. I think though it's still a good story about how impressed everyone has always been with Murphy and his work.

Back at WonderCon: I'll close by listing the names of 25 people I enjoyed chatting with over the three days: Al Gordon, Tom Yeates, Colleen Doran, Amanda Conner, Ernie Chan, Tony DeZuniga, Kathy Garver, Ethan Van Sciver, Darwyn Cooke, Richard and Wendy Pini, Frank Cho, Matt Wagner, Bob Schreck, Tom Spurgeon, Scott Dunbier, Dan Herman, Gail Simone, Bill Morrison, David Gerrold, Dan Parent, Steve Leialoha, Michael Lovitz, Connor Cochran and Bob Wayne. In keeping with a social clumsiness I mentioned here the other day, I initially addressed Bob as Kurt, thinking for a half-second he was Kurt Busiek. I caught myself before he could even react but I still felt like a twit. There were others I enjoyed speaking with beyond the 25 but that's my new rule: No more than 25 namedrops per paragraph.

Come to think of it, I'll close by noting a lovely piece of synchronicity. This kind of thing happens all the time around me but every instance is worth noting. Loads of people were stopping by the table of Stan and Hunter Freberg, eager to meet one of the great comic minds of his day, along with his wonderful partner/spouse. They bought signed copies of Stan's autobiography — so many they were sold out, long before the end of the con. They bought signed pictures and many purchased the CD of Stan's great comedy album materpiece, The United States of America, which first came out in 1961 from Capitol Records.

One aisle away from the Frebergs was the great glamour artist, Jim Silke. I've known Jim for years and admired his artistry…and I guess I knew that he'd had a long, glorious career as the Executive Art Director at Capitol Records. Somehow, until someone mentioned it to me, I never made the connection. Jim, among his many other credits, was the Art Director for Stan's United States album. And there they were, seated ten yards apart in another world in another city. I don't know quite what you'd call that but I call it kinda neat. Everything about WonderCon sure was.

Matt Taibbi on how to save baseball. And after you read that, you might want to read Matt Taibbi on what the nation's largest banks are doing that you won't like…especially how much of it is legal.

Visiting New York in the seventies, I discovered the mixed joy of a chain of eateries, primarily around Times Square, called Tad's Steaks. A Tad's was a steakhouse the way a stripper is a professional dancer…but I have to tell you: I've had worse steaks in fancy, well-reviewed restaurants than I used to get at Tad's for a fifth the price. The decor was nothing fancy unless you have a thing for red-flocked velvet wallpaper, which is what they had at some of the Tad's outlets. It was cafeteria style and in every Tad's I ever visited in Manhattan, there was a little Hispanic fellow behind the counter — it seemed to be the exact same guy in every Tad's — whose job was to stand there and ask everyone as they slid their trays past him, "Jew want onions?" I always told him, "Yes, the Jew would like some onions." I was always afraid that since I'm really only half-Jewish, I'd only get a half-portion.

The onions were cooked, like everything else at Tad's, in this amazing, all-purpose yellow liquid. I have no idea what it was and had the ominous sense that I was better for not knowing — but they did everything with it. The chef would brush the grill with it, then cook your steak in it. The onions were cooked in it. If you got a salad, they'd daub it on as dressing. If you got a baked potato, they'd put it on in lieu of butter. The garlic bread was made by painting split french rolls with the yellow liquid, then grilling them face down. Once when the cashier handed me my change, I caught her making it out of the yellow liquid.

Great food? No. Good food? Good for the money, maybe. I don't recall what they charged in '70 for the specialty of the house, which was a steak, baked potato, side salad and maybe even onions if you were Jewish, but it was a tremendous bargain and it was also quick. My friends and I liked both those things about Tad's. Then. I haven't been back to one in New York in more than twenty years, though I've occasionally passed the few that have not closed and gone away. How good they are now, I leave to others to decide. A quick survey of Internet review forums shows the widest-possible range of opinions.

This weekend, I'm in San Francisco for WonderCon and I've been eating some of my meals at a lone, seemingly ostracized Tad's they have out here about three blocks from the convention hotel, which is where I'm writing this. Going to Tad's is not because I'm cheap — the con reimburses me for meals so it wouldn't cost me a dime to dine in fancier places — but because it's fast and pretty good. Friday evening, I needed something speedy so I could hurry back here to work. The Tad's $13.95 steak special was ideal. Saturday morn, I went back for bacon and eggs, and Saturday evening my friend Buzz Dixon and I hiked over there. Buzz had the steak and I had as fine a piece of grilled halibut as I've ever had anywhere. The check for the two of us came to $39.90 — or an even forty bucks counting the tip.

Disappointments? The decor is only a bit better than the ones in New York and the place is more fast food style than cafeteria. There is no Hispanic kid asking if the Jew wants onions…though they do have onions for a buck or two extra. I saw no trace of the yellow liquid, which was sad. I was going to see if they'd let me buy a pint of it to put in my car. All in all, since Carolyn's not along this trip and I just want no frills and edible, I found it. And there was something nice about the fact that it was Tad's and it reminded me of the fun of running around New York when I was younger.

Oh, and there was one other downside when I went there for breakfast. I had to pass the Apple Store on the morning they began selling iPads. You have not seen crowds like that: Five hundred people buying iPads and seven hundred people shooting video for various news outlets. As I made my way through the crowds, I was in some camera guy's shot — and when I moved out of his shot, I was in someone else's shot and then in someone else's shot. If I made it onto the news, I probably looked like an iPad buyer desperately trying to get into the store and make a purchase. But really, I was just trying to get out of camera range and make it to Tad's. It turned out to be worth the effort.

Steve Kornacki debunks the claim (renewed recently by Dan Quayle) that the first President George Bush (and his Veep, Quayle) would have easily won a second term if that darned Ross Perot hadn't entered the presidential race in '92. Quayle thinks Perot split the Conservative vote. Actually, Perot split the "I hate Bush-Quayle" vote but it was large enough that Clinton could still win with his piece of it.

A report on one of the four panels I did today at WonderCon…a panel with Sergio Aragonés and Yours Truly discussing our work together. And not that it was my fault but I should apologize to those of you who were turned away for lack of seats. The convention promises me a larger room next time we do one of these.

Chris Collins sent me a link to this interesting blog post on the psychology of Costco.

And a big hound-dog howdy to you all from the scrumptious city of San Francisco where WonderCon is off to a grand start. I have given up trying to whip up convention reports that make one con sound markedly different from the same con in previous years. They rarely are. Certainly every WonderCon I've attended — must be about a dozen-and-a-half — has been great fun and I see no reason to expect any less of this one.

So what is different? Why, to paraphrase my people around this time of year, is this WonderCon different from all other WonderCons. Well, this one includes Hunter and Stan Freberg as guests. They were a big hit here today…folks flocking to get signed photos and books and CDs of Stan Freberg Presents the United States of America. The audience seemed to really enjoy the talk Hunter and Stan gave.

Me, I'm just wandering around, seeing friends, trying to overcome a weird mental block I seem to have developed upon running into folks I know at conventions. I don't know if I've talked about this here before but this is how it seems to work. I have a great memory for most things…and by the way, I've learned to always add that "for most things" part. If you just say, "I have a great memory," then people expect you to remember absolutely everything. If and when you don't, they think you're doing something deliberate — i.e., "You couldn't possibly have forgotten to pick up that package for me." You did but they don't believe that because, you know, you're the guy who remembers everything.

So I have this great memory but I also have a dread fear of addressing someone by the wrong name. I've only done it a few times in my life and I know it's no big deal to most people…but when it does happen, I feel awful — probably too awful. At a convention like this, the fear really takes over. I'll see Daniel coming towards me to say hello and I know it's Daniel. It's obviously Daniel. I know Daniel and that's Daniel. But just as I'm about to say "Hi, Daniel," a little paranoid voice in my brain suddenly goes, "Wait! Are you absolutely sure that's Daniel?" And to play it safe, I find myself saying just "Hi" and it's painfully obvious to all from the rhythm that the name should be in there. The guy just said "Hi, Mark" so I should say "Hi, Daniel" but I don't. I just say "Hi."

Whereupon Daniel, who I knew all along was Daniel, looks at me with a hurt look. The guy with the great memory didn't remember him.

To make matters worse: At conventions, I've developed this bad habit, which comes out of the above concern, of looking at everyone's name badge. Everyone's. Even if I've known the person for 20+ years, when I run into them to double-check that I'm right about their name. Sergio Aragonés is probably my best friend in the whole world, at least in the Mustache Division. When I run into Sergio at a con, I can't help but peek at his name badge…like some little rogue bit of paranoia within me needs to be reassured that the guy I think is Sergio is Sergio.

And sometimes, it turns out that it isn't Sergio. It's Daniel. But that's too confusing even for me.

To further complicate my problem, a lot of folks at cons no longer pin badges to their chests. Some pin them to their belts so my eyes have to go wandering for the badge, which makes it more obvious. And some wear their badges on these lanyards around their necks. They're more convenient to put on and they don't leave your shirts full of tiny holes…but they yield about a 50-50 chance that your badge will be backwards and therefore inaccessible.

Yeah, I know I worry too much about stuff like this. I guess it's a compliment to the operators of WonderCon that that's about the only problem I can find to write about tonight. I'm going to try to knock this off. In fact, I will knock it off or my name isn't…

…Mark. Yeah, Mark. I knew that. I just had to mentally double-check it and make sure.

The many hassles of the airport were worth it, just for what I did once I got here. Comic retailer supreme Joe Ferrara and his lovely wife Dottie treated me to a San Francisco treat: An evening at Beach Blanket Babylon, a campy/outrageous revue which has been playing to packed houses in S.F. since 1974. There's a reason it's been up 'n' running that long. It's one of the finest, funnest pieces of live entertainment I've ever had the pleasure to witness.

Beach Blanket Babylon was the creation of a wickedly witty man named Steve Silver, who left this planet way too early in 1995, just past his 50th birthday. The show has gone on without him, carried forth by a superb crew headed by Kenny Mazlow and Jo Schuman Silver. I had the pleasure to meet and talk with some of the folks on and off that stage after the performance and I'm afraid I gushed a lot but, what they heck, they deserve it. They deliver a lightning-paced extravaganza that plays like one long, high-energy production number. Celebrities and politicians are relentlessly mocked, not only by song parodies but by an endless stream of colorful, hilarious costumes. Every time you blink, there's another one, topping all that came before. The music's great, the performances are all amazing…but you could easily leave the theater humming the wardrobe.

I was overwhelmed and let me list the entire cast because every one of these people impressed me: Curt Branom, Paulino Durán, Shawna Ferris, Jacqui Heck, Renée Lubin, Doug Magopiong, Kenny Mazlow, Caitlin McGinty, Tammy Nelson, Ryan Rigazzi and Phillip Percy Williams. To tell you the truth, I sometimes lost track of who was who because the costumes sometimes hide the performers and, well, the pace is so relentless that it's hard to take it all in or to watch the person instead of what they're wearing.

I've been hearing about this show since the late seventies and it wasn't until last night that — thanks, Joe — I finally got around to seeing it. Don't make the same stoneheaded mistake I made. If I'd gone to see it back then, I could have seen it dozens of times since then…and would have. As it is, I have a lot of catching-up to do. Here's a short commercial that may give you a brief sense of what you're in for, but which does not do this splendid show justice…

Got to the airport 2.5 hours before my one-hour flight to San Francisco this AM. That's about how early you need to be there some days to make it through the security lines. Willie Nelson was ahead of me and I said hello and mentioned he'd appeared in a script of mine with Richard Pryor on a TV show. Mr. Nelson was nice enough to pretend he remembered me, Richard Pryor and television shows.

We were all set for take-off (I thought) when it was announced that the pilot, in doing his walk-around, had noticed oil leaking from a seam on the plane's nose assembly. Instead of giving it a Claritin, they declared the plane "out of service" and told us we'd have to get off and wait a few hours while they figured out where they were going to find another plane to take us to S.F. I wound up on the same flight with Stan and Hunter Freberg, who are also guests at the WonderCon, which starts in about ten and a half hours. And that reminds me…

If you're there and you see me, say howdy and tell me how much you enjoy this blog. Say it even if you don't enjoy it. I'm willing to accept little white lies of any size or color.

Anaheim is trying to lure the Comic-Con International away from San Diego. I don't think that's going to happen but Wizard World is already heading there. I am not linking to this article just because I'm quoted in it.

Artist Kevin Nowlan, who knows this stuff as well as anyone, confirms my belief that Dick Giordano did not ink the cover of Green Lantern #85, which the New York Times included in his obit. I think Neal Adams inked it. Kevin thinks Neal Adams inked it. He says the fellow who owns the original art confirmed this with Neal.

This may seem picky and on some level, it is…and it happens all the time. When Jack Kirby passed, the N.Y. Times obit was accompanied by a drawing of Captain America…by John Romita. More of that damn liberal bias.