In which we continue this alternate reality version of a “Comic Convention, c. 1979.” If there were a hundred vendors, I’m a monkey’s uncle! We saw them all twice.
Here:
Jim Steranko! You could just walk up to the guy and say, hi! All you had to do was buy a book from him and you could chew the fat and get an autograph for no additional charge. [I reminded Mr. Steranko that I had met him several times at the advertising offices of Marvel, which was some kind of concession deal, an outfit called Kalish, Quigley & Rosen. My mom worked there and he remembered her. He and I had a bit more odd things to reminisce about than most. Back then, he had the same dark shock of hair but also a biker’s leather jacket. Impressive. Almost as much as his The Steranko History of Comics, published by his own Supergraphics imprint. I highly recommend both volumes! The first volume had been sold with the help of K,Q&R wa-a-ay back in 1970… we all were waiting for the second volume!—Steranko Fan Brown]
June Foray! Just hanging around with a few dozen of her best friends. Us! You know her as the voice of Natasha Fatale, arch nemesis of Rocket J. Squirrel – whose voice she also voiced! One of the best Voice Artists ever, did countless voices through time. And there she is.
“I’m not going all the way to California and not go to the beach! Are you with me?” Ralph Macchio cried. Rick had some kind of heavy duty business affairs to see to, something about doing a deal with Ralph Bakshi himself(!). And he certainly didn’t want us two tagging along and making comic book jokes in front of the man.
Well, I may have told them some of my early move to southern California at the tender age of 12, but that was my last trip to Cali. I’m not a beach person but Cali beaches can be relaxing, so I said, sure! Off we tootled, heading west but stopping shy of the car floating.
Here’s me relaxing. I had spent some wonderful afternoons as a child, scampering in the tidal pools of Laguna Beach back in 1967, touching the sea anemones, making them snap shut—which now is probably a violation of federal environmental statutes. But back then, cram it Nature! Take it and like it! Speaking of environmental issues, here is a picture of me on my first trip to California and Disneyland…
Hard to believe, that wobble kneed stripling is me. My mother and I moved to California to try some business opportunities with the nice lady next to me, Pam Burke—that’s her dad next to her. My mom and Pam wanted to establish a photo concession at the newly parked Queen Mary in Long Beach with the photographer who took this picture, Bob Markus! Came pretty close, we moved back about 8 months later.
Here’s Ralph looking very relaxed.
Here is Ralph sorting through some future Frank Miller Daredevil plots… (no offense, Frank–).
You can tell this was on the last day of the con—Rick has thrown aside all his societal contrivances and his shirt tails are out. [Post Edit: thanks to my learned comrade, Ul, I can see clearly– ] This is young Frank Brunner having his pages fingered by Rick. I kept my distance as it was Frank and Steve Englehart (probably sitting across the aisle here—and Mike Friedrich who published a lot of their work—so this was a rogue’s gallery at this con!) who killed off The Ancient One! I’m still not quite over that one—hit me hard when young. Actually, so did his Howard The Duck. Frank is showing his good taste in literature by prominently flashing the paperback book in front of him which is The Princess Bride by William Goldman. A personal favorite of mine!
To give a sense of perspective to then and now (-ish, CoVid-19 laid the con low this year…), this was SDCC 2017. I attended in an effort to get the news out about this very blog. Let’s just say, my advertising chops were, er, um, chopped! This is a small view down Artist’s Alley, my table mates looking this way were the redoubtable Jason Adams, he of the masked silhouettes and an old comrade from Penthouse Comix, Jamal igle—a well-rounded talent who had a lock on Supergirl for nearly a decade.
Sniffle, back to 1979–!
David Scroggy meets Peter Ledger! Mr. Scroggy was one of the big wheel organizers of the SDCC—when it was small enough to be handled by a crack team of 3 or 4 people. I think those are quarts of motor oil they are toasting me with or somehow Peter found some Foster’s Lager and is encouraging Mr. Scroggy to, “chug it.”
Here we are just packing things up and waiting for– Peter Ledger and Gary Groth to show up! Peter is making his tearful admission of not finishing the last 4, 7 or perhaps 10 pages of Weirdworld art and Rick’s blood pressure is at ‘nuclear apocalypse’ levels.
We had to ship all our stuff back to the office. I am not sure the con helped us but there were UPS offices all over the place.
Last day of the San Diego Comic Con, listen… the crickets…
We all decided to have one last meal. We met up with Paul Power—friend from Down Under of Peter Ledger’s—an extraordinary talent, who has done tons of indie comic work, newspaper strips, movie story-boarding—a whole ‘nother level of storytelling and it was the wise director who listened to what Paul said—and at the time of this blog, he was ensconced at Hanna-Barbera as an artist!
Quick shot of the two Ozzies—Paul Power, Peter Ledger.
It was not easy taking group shots—not with these clowns helping. L-R, Ralph, Rick’s head, Gary, Peter and Paul.
All of a sudden, it was goodbye time. Peter was to fly back home soon after today, I believe he would crash at Paul’s till transit time. I do remember being touched at his heartfelt goodbye. He was going to miss us. He had spent the better part of a year in the Marvel offices, in the trenches with all of us—a bond that is hard to ignore. And seeing a farewell glisten in that pirate’s eye was new to me.
To the Bonaventure Hotel! And friends, when in Los Angeles, stay at the height of modern luxury. You will not find comic bums staying there, four to a room, not for the last couple of decades anyway.
A Rick Marschall study.
And that is how you run around a table and strike a pose within 8 seconds! Our last breakfast before we hurtle through LA traffic to make – oh wait—there’s the Hollywood Book Shop! C’mon, this won’t take but a minute, says RICK.
Rick managed to double the weight of his bags. But all for very good reasons.
Not many people know that Rick is also a weekend rally racer. True—when we stirred from the Hollywood Book Shop, we had 37 minutes to make it to Los Angeles International Airport. Rick may sound all stiff and formal, but throw down a tire iron and he’s ready to pop a wheelie. Starsky and or Hutch would have shaken their heads in wonder. Up over the median, on the sidewalk, drifting and dodging through intersections, shortcuts through gas stations and those straight-away garbage truck alleys—and we were 7 minutes late. And we lost all four hub caps.
Let me tell you folks, I think I started going gray that afternoon.
Cue the slow trombone music. When Rick is late is when he thinks fast, acts fast (just not in a bookshop). Before we knew it we were all booked on the red-eye back home. Now, we could slow down and enjoy the rotating restaurant in the LAX terminal!
Here’s Rick falling on his wattles as the floor moves under him. Gary, nimble as a gazelle, is about to let Rick hit the floor (I think we were all a little peeved at missing that flight).
Would you buy a used jumbo shrimp from this man? No need to answer—I had the fish. The worst thing about staying up all night is that a bad bit of food can be felt every inch of the way. I got home at 7:30 in the morning, just in time to relieve myself of that particular burden! And then go to work. Just an average day.
Winging it home in style. A sleek 747-200—the Queen of the Air!
You may not know this, but the 747 comes with 10 bathrooms! And when I first flew it, there was a magnesium piano in the First Class Lounge. On this flight the stewardesses were humming “When Johnnie Comes Marching Home Again.”
Now gang—I realize there’s a lot of after-dinner slide-show presentation to this. But this is comic history writ medium. We all know what the San Diego Comic Con has turned into—a beast of a group of monsters, 50 cons in one to quote Mike Carlin. Well back then it was a bunch of pals sharing and meeting and greeting and not much more.
The End!