With art by Tim Hamilton
I stumbled across a piece by Tom Brevoort about some of the first comics he read as a kid, in which Tom took joy at a JSA reprint in SUPER-TEAM FAMILY, and figured it might have appeared to plug the then-recent relaunch of ALL-STAR COMICS. Not illogical, but an example of a frequent type of error made by fans, academics and even those of us with insider experience: assuming logical causality.
It’s possible Nelson Bridwell (who edited that reprint issue) was motivated by the ALL-STAR relaunch; he was a great fan of the Golden Age and curious enough about doings in other editorial offices (as opposed to some others at DC at that time) that he’d have been aware of it. But it’s equally likely he chose the story for a JLA 100-Page issue a year before that got cut to ordinary periodical size, or just thought the first super-team belonged in his first reprint collection of that name. I have no memory of the events, but I’d lean to the former theory…but with no more certainty than Tom, even though I was working a few feet away from Nelson at the time.
My favorite illustration of the randomness of the day was my own experience on STALKER. The series was launched when Carmine Infantino asked a couple of editors for sword & sorcery titles, presumably motivated by CONAN’s success for Marvel. As Joe Orlando’s assistant editor, I used my inside track to pitch an idea as a sword & sorcery fan, and he got Steve Ditko and Wally Wood to illustrate it. An astounding bit of luck for a 17-year old new writer.
Carmine, however, wasn’t impressed by the material as it crossed his desk in cover design sessions, and cancelled the title as of the third issue. When Carmine’s secretary, Shelley Abramson, typed up the December 1975 production schedule though, she accidentally included STALKER #4. In those dinosaur days, correcting it would have meant retyping the entire page, and Carmine decided to simply let us have a fourth issue. Random enough for you?
With art by Tim Hamilton
Thinking about how I learned my trade, I realized that one of the ways I was incredibly lucky was the timing of the years of my apprenticeship at DC. The company was very small, and those of us just starting out got lots of opportunities to learn from an awesome group of talented people. Kind of the equivalent of getting to be the ballboy on the Yankee’s legendary Murderers’ Row, back when it was led by Ruth and Gehrig. But the Yankees had only 6 super-stars in that line-up, and DC was fielding a full nine: during the three years I was an assistant editor, this 30 person company had offices for Bill Gaines, Carmine Infantino, Julie Schwartz, Joe Orlando, Joe Kubert, Joe Simon, Archie Goodwin and Denny O’Neil …just listing the Eisner Hall of Famers. Oh, and there was Jack Kirby, writing , drawing, editing and sending in his wisdom from California.
Denny O’Neil
That meant I had a chance to observe the different approaches and strengths of a diverse group of masters of our form. Evesdrop from the hall, and overhear Julie Schwartz’s straight-forward plotting tips (“If you can change the hero’s name and the story still works, it means the story’s no good.”), lean across the desk from my boss, Joe Orlando, and watch him turn a pencil into a camera, showing how an uncomfortable hand move was bad storytelling, or be lucky enough to sit in on a cover conference, and watch two or three of these guys duel , shaping ideas. Some times you’d turn in a piece of your own work, and get an instant lesson (“Tightening your copy” by Denny O’Neil has served me for decades). And, of course, watching the work in progress on all their books, you got a good idea of how the craft should be performed.
Just celebrating the Eisner HOF winners gives short-shrift to a handful of other top talents. Gerry Conway was in his peak years as a comics editor and writer, and took particular care to pass along what he’d learned at Marvel to his not-much-younger juniors. Nelson Bridwell understood the multiverse in a way that no one living since ever has. And the production processes that are so important to good comics were explained by two of the men who had invented many of them, Sol Harrison and Jack Adler.
Alex Toth
Besides the staffers, there were almost twenty other Hall of Famers freelancing for DC at the time. I got to learn by watching their work, seeing some of them translate my scripts in to finished comic art (17 and getting to create a title for Steve Ditko & Wally Wood to draw!), editing scripts by a couple of the most prolific writers of DC’s first fifty years, being saved from horrendous error by at least one (thanks, Len, for making sure I never used a non-repro blue marker to proof Bernie’s art) and making lifelong friends of more than a few. Oh, and after you’ve opened an acrid note from Alex Toth sending back a script he refuses to draw, you’ll never wince at anyone else’s invective.
Joe Orlando
It wasn’t as storied an office environment as E.C. Comics or the heady first decade of Marvel, and the creative quality of DC’s output from 1973-1975 doesn’t match what the company would achieve a decade later, but as a safe place to learn, it was pretty amazing. I only wish I’d thought to ask more questions and write down some of the lessons I was offered (there was a long lecture from Joe Orlando one day tracing the evolution of comic art and illustration placing names like Noel Sickles properly in the ‘family tree’ as he saw it that I wish I could recreate).
And, of course, I was much too young to realize what a unique experience I was having. Or would have a minute later when Jenette arrived and the bullet took an entirely new spin… Sigh…
Over the winter break, Newarama‘s Vaneta Rogers published a 4-part interview looking back over the early days of my career:
Part 1 From Fanzines To LEGION OF SUPER-HEROES & Beyond
Part 2 Looking Back At LEGION OF SUPER-HEROES, DC Implosion, More
Part 3 Deep Inside The Comics Business Of 1980s & 1990s
Part 4 Milestones as DC COMICS’ President, Publisher, Writer
If you read the lengthy series, you will essentially have experienced a day of my university lectures. Don’t fall asleep, there will be a test: find the place where a one word transcription error credited me with working on a series I never did a complete issue script for.
With art by Tim Hamilton
Around this time of year I get especially nostalgic about one of my old friends and my first professional mentor, Joe Orlando. Next week will be 44 years since he called me into his office as I walking the DC halls, digging up material for The Comic Reader, and offered me the assignment of compiling his letters pages, launching my freelance career. And it’ll be 18 years since he passed away, his heart giving out as he walked down the platform at Grand Central, heading home to join his family for Christmas. In between was over a quarter century of learning, collaboration, debate, and so much laughter. We swapped books, ideas and occasionally even skills: Joe knew far more about comics than I did, but there were some things I could help him with too.
If you’re reading this, you probably already know Joe was one of the great E.C. science fiction artists, one of the first artists on Daredevil, and the editor who spearheaded the revival of the mystery genre at DC. But he was an incredibly diverse creative spirit, working on everything from National Lampoon’s “First Lay” comics to Sesame Street books to a Henry Kissinger cover for Newsweek. And more, he was en enthusiastic and effective teacher, developing the talents of a generation of young artists and writers. If you enjoyed comics in the 1970s and 1980s, you benefited from his teaching and cheerleading, as so many of the generation of us coming up in those years were encouraged and developed at his hands.
But what I miss most is the twinkle in Joe’s eye, the elfin laugh as he planned his next moment of mischief, and his warmth. No situation was too grim for Joe to lighten up: when his old friend Bill Gaines passed away, Joe recalled a piece he’d illustrated for Mad, a deathbed scene with the man who was about to die reaching up and giving his friend “The Last Tag” with his last breath. It hung on our bulletin board for a long time afterwards.
If you haven’t finished your holiday giving, consider a donation to the Joe Orlando Scholarship Fund at the School of Visual Arts, where he taught for many years. Or to the funds at that school named after his mentor, the wondrous Wally Wood, or our colleague, Archie Goodwin. Even a small check to these funds is a nice way to remember these legendary creative people who gave us all so many great tales, and each taught so many other creators who to improve their craft. Their address is Visual Arts Foundation, 220 E 23rd, suite 609, NY, NY 10010, and it’s tax-deductible.
In this stunning series finale, Fate is captive on the world of the Dreamspinners as their threads of doom reach out to threaten Earth. Can Khalid find the power within himself to survive in a mythology not his own?
Art by Brendan McCarthy
