We're still reeling at the news of Dave Cockrum's passing. In case I didn't make it clear in the earlier item, Dave was one of those folks who was genuinely liked. People liked his work but they also liked the guy who did it. He had an enthusiasm for what he did…or at least, he had it up to the time when taking care of his health became the dominant concern in his life. Earlier this evening at the con here — I'm still in Columbus — a bunch of us were sitting around, lamenting how Dave didn't get to do so many projects that he wanted to do. And how the fact that he wanted to do them made you feel that they would have been really, really good. He and I were going to do a John Carter of Mars graphic novel once but the deal fell through. I don't think you missed anything by not getting my story but he was so excited about doing it that I know it would have been a very nice book.
Neil Gaiman has a nice piece up about Dave. Give it a read.
And I wanted to express my thanks and sympathies to two people who did so much to take care of Dave over the years. One, of course, is his beloved spouse, Paty. I never got to know Paty like I knew Dave but I know she kept him alive for years and years, despite some formidable misfortunes. Thank you, Paty. And then there's Clifford Meth, who was Dave's agent and (even better) his friend…who ran fundraising activities when Dave couldn't afford much-needed medical treatment, and who arranged with Marvel to pay Dave a pension. They didn't do that for very many of the people who gave them their top properties but they did it for Dave, and we have Cliff Meth to thank for that.
Several people have asked me for an address to which they can send condolences. I'm told Paty doesn't want to deal with that flood right now, and I can well understand that.
One quick Dave story. Dave and I did a couple of Blackhawk stories together. I thought he did a fine job but Dave was never satisfied with anything he'd done. We were at some San Diego Con, coming back from lunch when an attendee pounced upon us — and "pounced" isn't a bad way to describe what this guy did. "I've been waiting to get you both to sign this," he exclaimed, thrusting an issue at us. I scribbled my name but Dave took a few minutes with his inscription. He signed the first page of the story and then he flipped to page four or five and drew something in the margin. I couldn't see exactly what it was but it looked like a hand. As we walked off, I asked him what it was he'd drawn.
He said, "I decided I drew Blackhawk's hand wrong in that panel so every time I sign a copy, I draw it right in the margin. I've done that about thirteen times now."
I said, "You can't fix 'em all, Dave. They printed 150,000 copies of that issue."
Dave grinned through that beard of his and said, "Okay, so I've got 149,987 to go." How do you not like a guy like that?