Here, a bit delayed -- What else is new? -- is the second chapter of my unofficial "report" about this year's Terrificon (or TerrifiCon*) in Connecticut.
First of all, I should explain something to those of you who don't attend conventions, or anywhere else where celebrities show up. Comic creators (as well as other "famous types") generally charge a fee to sign autographs, and set their own rates for said fee.
Right now, for obvious reasons, I'm just going to focus on the practices of comic book creators.
Writers will often sign something for free, or ask for a token payment of as little as one dollar.
Artists generally charge five or ten dollars for their autographs. Why? For a few reasons, actually. Artists are often approached by fans to do sketches of particular characters, and these sketches are time-consuming to draw, but bring in some very good money. Therefore, if one, or two, or thirty people in a row ask for an artist's autograph -- Or, oftentimes a convention-goer will approach an artist or a writer with a good-sized stack of books to sign! -- they're theoretically keeping that artist from drawing a picture that'll fetch him or her big money, so the artists charge the signature-seeker something as a minor compensation. Plus, a lot of fans turn around and sell these autographed books (or whatever else they have the artist sign) for a profit, so I suppose the artist figures, "Why should this fan get something, and I don't get a piece of it?"
(By the way, if you think I over-used the word "artist" in that previous paragraph, it's because it'll be a cold day in Hell when I'll use "drawer" to describe anything other than part of a desk or a bureau.)
As I explained in
Part One of my TerrifiCon 2018 posts, there were over a dozen comic writers and comic artists, plus some TV and movie celebrities, from whom I hoped to get a signature or two or three. I brought a printed list of the various writer, artists, and other celebs that I'd "targeted." I also had a relatively small stack of comics with me.
I was fairly lucky. There were only three comic creators that I "missed," one of whom (Keith Giffen) because he'd had a stroke and missed the convention. (I can't find any updates on his condition, in case you're wondering.)
So, to continue with my list of autograph "scores" in no particular order, let me begin with Barbara Friedlander.
Barbara worked for DC Comics during the 1960s. She wrote several stories for their romance titles and, as an editor, actually worked on comics
other than DC's
romance titles! Barbara was the only guest on a panel moderated by writer Paul Kupperberg (mentioned
last time), and shared a few interesting tid-bits about her job at DC Comics, which she left in the late 1960s to get married. (Well, it was the '60s, don'tcha know, and a chance at wedded bliss almost always came before a woman's career.)
I got the impression that Barbara was fairly new to the whole comic convention experience, as opposed to so many of the guests of this convention and so many others.
My main interest in Ms. Friedlander's presentation was to hear about what part she'd played in the creation of a 1960s DC character I'd once followed named "Scooter." The Swing with Scooter comic began with a rather clever storyline. Scooter was an English musician from a hugely successful rock'n'roll band called "The Banshees" who quit the music business and moved to the USA. Put it this way: If the Beatles had been a five-member band -- we're talking about their British Invasion era, not the earlier years when Stu Sutcliffe actually was "the fifth Beatle" -- and Scooter had been that fifth member, it would have fit perfectly with the story presented in Scooter's comic.
The very first issue of Swing with Scooter #1.
Barbara co-created Scooter along with writer Jack Miller and famed comic artist Joe Orlando. She wrote or co-wrote many stories and features in those early issues. And despite what you may have read or may someday read, Swing with Scooter was not just another rip-off of titles published by the Archie Comics Group.
Well, not in the beginning, anyway.
Swing with Scooter #14. I'd given up on the title long before this.
Eventually (and unfortunately), Scooter's stories and artwork (and even the book's logo font, for cryin' out loud) changed to become just another ripoff of Archie. I had stopped reading the title long before then, and was extremely glad to learn that Barbara had left Swing with Scooter (and DC itself) well before the title changed for the worse.
I actually got to meet and speak with Barbara the day after I'd attended her panel. My friend John and I were preparing to enter a room where they'd be holding a panel devoted to Marvel's Black Panther character, and I noticed Barbara speaking with a fan.
John and I had a couple of minutes before the Black Panther panel began, so I got her attention and asked what she charged (if anything) for her signature. I had a copy of Swing with Scooter #1 (shown above) with me that I wanted her to sign later. She said she didn't charge anything, then asked "Why, do some people charge for theirs?" (Things like that are what gave me the impression that she was knew to this whole "convention thing.") I briefly explained that many creators do, and why.
Then I told her I wanted to bring a comic to her table later to have her sign it, and she said "Oh, I don't have a table. I'll just be walking around in the convention hall."
I hesitated before saying "Uhhh, yeah, actually, you do have a table. I've passed it a few times yesterday and today, but obviously, you weren't sitting behind it."
"Oh," she said, turning to a young man who was with her. "We'll have to go find it."
After the Black Panther panel, John and I returned to the main convention hall, and I approached Barbara and that same young man, both of whom were now seated at her table. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that although Barbara was preparing to leave for the day, she had waited just for me because I'd said I had something for her to autograph.
As we chatted, she collected various comics and magazines she'd worked on and loaded them into a briefcase. She really was preparing to leave. We discussed a couple of comic book professionals of the 1960s (and later) whom I knew by reputation, and then I said my goodbyes so she could be on her way.
Another convention guest I met was artist and inker Joe Giella. Joe's career started in the 1940s. He worked for C.C. Beck and later worked for Timely Comics (now Marvel) on Captain America, the Human Torch, and Sub-Mariner. Later he joined DC Comics, where he did the work for which he is most renowned. From the Golden Age and into the Silver Age, he inked characters such as the original Flash, the original Green Lantern, Black Canary, Batman, the Silver Age Green Lantern, and the Silver Age Flash. In fact, Joe is the oldest living Batman artist. (Joe's ninety!)
I do not own a copy of The Flash #123 (shown above), the oh-so-valuable "Flash of Two Worlds" which firmly established the concept of parallel worlds at DC Comics. Then how, you might wonder, did I manage to get the following signature?!?
Quite simple! I cheated. Well, kinda. In the year 2000, DC reprinted that landmark issue as part of their series of "Millennium Editions" and I do own a copy of that, which Joe signed for the (I thought) ridiculously low price of four dollars.
And here's a treat for you comic trivia mavens! The cover of
The Flash #123, published in 1961, has inspired several tribute covers, like the following:
(The "legwork" for the above seven covers was actually done by a guy named Mark Engblom, who runs a fun website called
Comic Coverage. Check it out!)
And this fan creation is probably my favorite!
Anyway, did you know that the cover of The Flash #123 was actually based on the cover of a totally unrelated DC title published two years earlier? Here it is:
And now, back to Joe!
Mr. Giella also autographed a "real" Silver Age comic for me, the
Giant Flash Annual from 1963 which was and is one of my all-time
favorite annuals, as I said
here. Joe inked
several of the Flash stories reprinted in that incredible issue.
Actually, I was lucky enough to get another classic Silver Age issue signed as well, Green Lantern #16, the 1962 story which introduced the character known as Star Sapphire!
It was really nice to get to meet someone who was involved in the creation of so many comics that I read as a little foxling.
Now, the next encounter I want to tell you about is my meeting with writer (and fellow New Englander) Don McGregor, whose stories I first encountered in the early 1970s. McGregor may be known best as the writer of some incredible, ground-breaking Black Panther stories he did for Marvel Comics in the 1970s, but my favorite of all his works is his run (with artist P. Craig Russell) on Marvel's "Killraven, Warrior of the Worlds" series in Amazing Adventures.
McGregor's style of writing was very wordy -- not that something like that could ever bother me, of course -- and I always felt I was getting my money's worth reading his stories.
Okay, fellow babies, it gets more than a little wordy here – there's that word again, and you're going to see it a lot in the next few paragraphs -- but that's very appropriate, so please don't leave me now!
When I approached Don McGregor's table, he was standing in front of it. He greeted me very briefly, then turned to speak with an artist whose name I unfortunately can't recall. Their conversation lasted quite a while, but I stood a few feet behind Don, waiting patiently because, after all, I had two comics for him to sign. When his conversation ended, he turned and realized I had been waiting. He apologized profusely, walked around to the other side of the table, and sat down. There was no one else in line, so for the next few minutes, his attention was totally on me.
The “Killraven” series was originally called “The War of the Worlds,” as it was based on the novel of the same name by H.G. Wells. Simply put, Wells' story described a failed Martian invasion at the dawn of the 20th century. The Marvel series established that the Martians attacked again roughly 100 years later, and this time, they conquered and enslaved our people. (In 1973 we were safely removed from the 21st century, so creative minds could predict all sorts of things!) Killraven and his band of “Freemen” were part of the resistance, you might say. After a promising start, the series floundered a bit, despite writing by such stalwarts as Gerry Conway and Marv Wolfman, and I was on the verge of no longer buying the title.
Then Don McGregor took over the writing chores, and things improved drastically.
McGregor's plotting, characterization, and dialog kept me absolutely enthralled (as they did whenever I encountered his other projects over the years). And my modern-day self suspected – hell, hoped – that Don would be as wordy in person as he was on the printed page.
He did not disappoint me.
Finding only one to bring, out of all the Killraven stories, was difficult. There were two issues that stood out, and I finally narrowed it down to one:
I gave him the above-shown issue of Amazing Adventures, spouting a few words about how much I enjoyed the series, and rather than just saying “thank you” and signing the damned thing, he looked at me and asked “Why did you choose this issue?”
Like he cared.
Cuz he did care.
I explained that the issue I'd brought to him had the satisfactory resolution of a handful of plotlines, et cetera, et cetera.
The story in question contained a sub-plot involving a group of people making a pilgrimage of sorts to worship at the foot of a giant metal archway. At the story's conclusion, that archway ended up being revealed as the remains of a 20th century McDonald's! Don was referring to that when he signed my book, as shown below.
I had one other comic for him to sign. In 1984 and 1985, Don and legendary comic artist Gene Colan (1926-2011) produced two four-issue mini-series featuring a 1930s detective named Nathaniel Dusk. Issue #3 of Nathaniel Dusk II ended on a “cliff-hanger.” Dusk was locked in a steam room, and the heat setting for said steam room was set high enough to fry Dusk in a matter of minutes. The beginning of issue #4 told how he got out of this fix.
Another writer might have spent two, maybe three pages showing how the hero extricated himself from his predicament. Don took twelve pages. Twelve. And he made it interesting. No, scratch that. He made it riveting!
I told him that over the years, I have bought literally thousands of comics, and parted with most of them at one time or another. Sometimes I'll buy one or more a second time, years later. There are even books I currently own which I've owned three different times.
However, as I told Don McGregor, I've had my original copy of Nathaniel Dusk II #4 since it first came out in 1985. And when I said that, he launched into the “story behind the story” of the steam room, as it were.
Wordy? Oh, you bet. And I loved it. I loved it so much, in fact, that I'll even forgive him for twice writing my name as “Dave” rather than “David.” That should show you what a nice guy I can be.
It was only much later that I figuratively kicked myself after realizing that I had forgotten to tell him how much I'd enjoyed his work on Topps Comics' Zorro series back in the '90s! And Zorro was one of my role models!
Next Wednesday: Part Three of my Terrificon experiences, where I describe meeting several artists (and one amazing writer/artist) involved in some of the many comic book stories about Thanos, the main baddie in last spring's blockbuster film, Avengers: Infinity War!
Thanks for your time.
P.S. ~~ COMING SOON! (Watch for it!) A Re-Posting of One of the Best (and Longest) Stories I Ever Posted on This Blog!
*Even their own website doesn't seem to know!
