Sounds like an action movie. But let me fill you in on this arm-grabber of a story!
Y’see, at some point in time, Editor Extremo Mark Gruenwald had been locked in at the office, one weekend and he set off the alarm when trying to leave! Working late or on the weekend and having an office space was seen as pretty much a simple, natural occurrence. We had not fully understood the ramifications of what “natural” meant in the face of Comptroller Barry Kaplan’s desire to make Marvel settle down to regular hours. The idea of counting beans till 1 O’Clock in the morning is a string of words that meant nothing to him. “Working on comics” till that time, was a close second…
Let me fill in some details. In 1982, when Marvel Comics moved downtown to the new offices (in an old building) on 27th Street and Park—it got itself a real whiz-bang alarm system. [Eventually! “Security” for the first few months were key-locks on the elevator doors for both floors… I know! Kooky, huh? The inner elevator door would open and there was an old-ish metal door with a lock. You needed a key to open it. Now there was an alarm of some kind, but it might not have been set up properly.]
The alarm system was unbeatable! It featured infra-red motion sensors—so anything body temperature that moved across a field of view of the sensor and WHOOooooOOOo00, etc. Strobes flashing, cops called—the works. Careful readers of these blogs may recall my insidious scheme to set up a box with a motorized lid that was controlled by a timer and when the lid opened, an iron would start heating up… [my hope was that a hot plume of air would be enough to trigger the sensors… fiendish, right? But it would also have annoyed the hard-working men and women in blue, NY Police, needlessly… Oh well!]…
Mark and I contemplated various ideas—the most obvious was to simply camp out in an office over the weekend—one would need food, water and some sort of toilet-like thing. It was that idea coupled with some light carpentry I had performed in Mark’s apartment (building a sleeping loft held up by some Furniture-in-the-Raw bookcases), that engendered The Platform!
Here is the dull as dish-water humble beginnings. The “new” offices were nice, though everyone disliked the floor-to-ceiling windows along the door wall. Contra-wise, the similarly floor-to-ceiling cork walls were a very smart architectural detail, eminently suited for a visually-driven business. The door was a monster, carving out a huge chunk of the available floor. The only “fun” in the set up was having the standard-issue poofy couch sit on top of the sturdy flat files. I should note that at this point in time, Mark’s Fab Assistant Editor, Mike Carlin, had been kicked up the ladder and was an Editor! Mark’s new Assistant was Howard (better introduced below!).
[I must once again recognize my indebtedness to and thank the generosity of my old colleague, Creator Artist Editor Carl Potts, who went to the remarkable trouble of scanning Mark Gruenwald’s Daily Desk Calendar and leaving us with a mind-boggling account of life, love and death in the Marvel offices.]
On Tax Day of 1985 (April 15 for my international readers), Mark and I communed to design (oh, where is that tech page?) what was needed and draw up a shopping list. Mark was contemplating buying the wood just a couple of weeks later—it is not clear that he did just then. I say that because the materiel would have had to be stored somewhere for quite a while! Unlike the many times I threw myself in front of my own flailing circular saws, I didn’t go to a lumber yard and carry the wood back—or carry it up flights of stairs – by myself. The wood just was in his office. Now, it wouldn’t have been so onerous to have it delivered and run up in the freight elevators, but I don’t remember doing that!
As it turned out, months went by! In 1985, Labor Day Weekend, included a Monday, a Monday, September 2. I did drag all my wood-working junk in. Another thing Mark knew was that I had planned and executed in my own apartment, a set of bookshelves that would neaten up the piles and drifts of books. [Which I had to do; otherwise, my darling young bride would have flexed her frying pan swinging muscles… ] The more primitive construction methods I employed meant this would assemble itself in only a few hours! All 2×4 lumber, easily chopped with a small circular saw and everything screwed together so it could come apart.
The above drawing is a good start of just what I did. There were a lot more uprights holding up the deck. In fact my design was oriented to hold me up—for those of you lucky enough to have not met me in person, I was a good 225lbs.
There were two parts I had to be fussy with. One was the flat files had to be built around and the hatches had to be made safe.
‘Hatches’ – you might have blurted out? Yep.
The entire framework had to be skinned in plywood. The floor was dead level to the window sill ledge! Which means, yes, with very little effot, either person could roll right out the window. I considered installing a stop, but since they needed the extra room to roll around on—I said nah.
Something that was non-obvious was that Mark should not be doing this at all. I still don’t know what Editor in Chief Jim Shooter thought this was all about. Perhaps just showmanship—Mark did tell him he did it to loom over freelancers. My learned colleague, fabled writer (and writer of fables) Howard “Clone War” Mackie, recalls that Mark intended to loom over Shooter! Jim stood a mighty 6’-5” in his stockinged feet. In fact, Mark wanted to prevent Jim from being able to see what was on the desk top… no doubt a lesson learned from grim experience!
Mark believed the Rule of Comedy, that it happened “in threes.” And, he also tried to apply that to as often as he could to everything else! So that was one, the second reason was that Mark wished to be able to work over the weekend without anyone knowing.
But the real reason… that’s where the hatches come in.
One must realize the atmosphere of outright fear that infused the very air of Marvel Comics. At Marvel we spelled “fear” V, I, R, G, I, N, I, A… This was also a time of interns, so that the ultimate plan was this: Mark and Howard (–Mackie, then, his North Star of an Assistant Editor) would be tootling away on the platform when terror would strike! Virginia would knock on the locked door and start yelling their names. Quick like nimble bunnies, Mark and Howard’s nimble bodies would roll the chair aside, lift the hatch, nimble into the hole and lower the hatch. The intern would then get the door and nervelessly tell Virginia they weren’t there.
I know what you’re thinking—that window wall was surely their undoing. As near-sighted as Virginia was, surely she could see them through whatever curtain there might be? One detail was the inclusion of giant sheets of specialty 1”-thick cardboard (gotten from that wonderful art and architect supply house, the late, lamented Charrette!) installed into the window frames!
Here it is! The ultimate Editorial Retreat!
But wait–! There’s more! Firstly, the rather poor security of the cleaning squad opening up every door on both floors and then vanishing for 2-3 hours (puh-lenty of time for mischief… ) then returning to take away the lesser freelancer efforts that didn’t make the cut (trash). Secondly, the wandering patrol of Luke the Security Guard! Very nice gent indeed, who would insist on escorting you to the elevator bank around 11pm. So! You had to hide in the platform till after then!
You might ask, well, gee… how do I do that? It was possible to remain sequestered from Saturday, 6-7pm to Monday, 7:30am—not being able to open your office door! Ahhhhh… now the true dimension of Mark’s genius presents itself.
Comic Pro Survival Gear/Operation: Secure Clubhouse: Sleeping bag, water, consumables, small B&W TV with earphones, a small refrigerator AND a leak-proof “honey pot” for when you have drunk too much beverage!
Bonus: Mark felt it was time to release his Playboy Magazine collection to The Cause!
It must be noted, I’m SURE the offer was made to various and sundry office, freelance and friend worthies who were female. But I’m equally SURE they all said a resounding, NO.
For the record: I *think* Mark stayed in one night. The only two people who over-nighted were Production Worker Jack Morelli and then-Assistant Editor Dave Wohl.
I must now express my indebtedness to old colleague, Editor Greg Wright, who went to the trouble of scanning and sending me two pictures of what I am about to reveal. Without photographic evidence, I have only told my closest friends who are never sure when I am making things up but will forgive me anyway. For no reason I can recall, save for that Mark asked for the negs and prints, I handed them over to him and they were never seen again. I shot an entire roll of film of the entire space—even capturing an action I still cannot believe. Since I always had “doubles” of prints, Mark handed these two over as a thanks. They are the only record of this bit of zane!
Good Mr. Wright, suffering under the burden of the lingering effects of Marvel’s new line of books: The New Universe (it cost me my job), heard of the plan to make a bouncy ball cage out of the area between the platform and the couch. In a flash of genius, awful to behold, he suggested all the New Universe comics in the office be used as the bouncy balls!
Would that work? Sure—could you “bounce” on it? Nah… Good Lord, of course not, that would be suicide…
Or not! Here, for a disbelieving world, is a picture of Creator, Artist, Letterer Exraordinary Jack Morelli, diving right on his head into a pile of crumpled paper. He is jumping off of the front edge of the platform. Note: I shot these two pics with a motor drive. That was a device attached to a camera that moved the film through the camera quickly. I did not have the kind of flash unit that could follow—so these images are a little dark, a bit blurry—but I am not complaining! I reckon, this is image #3 out of 7 or 8 and the one below is about #6. I was probably screaming, “NOOOooooooOOOoo!!!” but the pics look okay.
Here is Jack completing the rarely seen Triple Axle Bone Bender kind’a, mostly on the couch that is buried there. You can just see the large sheet of foam core which is holding back the ocean of paper balls. The door swing is just out of frame to the left. Mark did “butt dives” off the poop deck and even I, trusting to the New Gods, tried it. Talk about your leaps of faith!
For you cover cognoscenti (not you, Anne!) here is an enlargement of some of the New U covers. Nightmask, I knew you when. Kickers, Inc.… still kicking in memory!
Two crazed details, to put this all in a sort of perspective… Mark’s Number of Days was 11,400 and his sweet child, Sara, was born 12 days later…
To finish out this height of Marvel Madness, Howard told me a wonderful story. The late Paul Ryan, most excellent penciller and storyteller, always affected a three-piece suit (no one knows why), was enlisted by Howard to show up and pretend to be an executive of our parent company, New World Cinema. Greg Wright, who was Mark’s Assistant at the point, had not met Paul and so the trap was set! Paul bustled in, questioning who built this thing? — claiming insurance violation and someone being in BIG trouble… Greg turned whitish-green, or greenish-white and his youthful knees were knocking like castanets!
Or so the story goes!