He was one of the founding fathers of science-fiction fandom and later of comic book fandom. For a time, he was an agent for science-fiction authors where among other accomplishments, he sold the first stories by a kid named Ray Bradbury. But you could only go so far in that field so when he heard about an opening as an editor of comic books, he grabbed it, figuring it might be good for a few years of increased income. On his way to the job interview, he later claimed, he read the first comic book he'd ever read. He apparently gleaned enough of the form because for the rest of his life, Julius Schwartz was not only an employee of DC Comics but, some said, the best comic book editor there ever was. His background as science-fiction fan and editor served him when he helmed comics like Strange Adventures and Mystery in Space, but he really distinguished himself as an editor of super-hero comics. Whatever the "Silver Age of Comics" was, it more or less commenced with Showcase #4, which revived The Flash in a new form and figure. Super-hero comics had been in decline before Schwartz edited that book, supervising and steering the reinvention of an entire genre. It led to more revivals: Green Lantern, Hawkman, Atom and (best of all) The Justice League of America. And then, at another company across town, came The Fantastic Four and all the Marvel heroes — all born or reborn because Julie had paved the route.
Later, when sales on Batman were sinking, DC turned to Schwartz to institute a "new look" and bolster the character, which he did. And when Superman was in need of an editor who knew what he was doing, Julie came to the rescue. How many people in this world could say honestly that they saved both Superman and Batman?
But the main beneficiaries of Schwartz being on this Earth (as distinguished from the others he presided over) were not comic book characters, and they fell into two groups. First, you had your writers and artists who loved working with the man. They found him encouraging, stimulating and devoutly intent on producing the best comic books humanly possible at the moment. And yes, they sometimes found him maddening to deal with. But despite all the years I've been around comics and Julie Schwartz, I've only known of one writer who did not love the man and their association, and it was the kind of writer you'd be proud to not have like you. Given Julie's years and position, that is a truly amazing accomplishment: To do so much hiring and firing and rewriting and critiquing…and to be almost completely undespised.
And the other group that profited from the existence of Schwartz was the readers…those of us who got to buy and read and savor all those fine comics. We loved Schwartz and he loved us, possibly because he had been one of us. He and his boyhood friend Mort Weisinger had published one of the first, if not the first science-fiction fanzine. Julie loved fanzines. He loved conventions. The last few years, nothing depressed him more than the fear that some physical ailment would keep him from the annual San Diego gathering. (Quick Story: Last year, Julie was reticent to come out because he was having trouble walking and didn't want to be rolled about in a wheelchair. I asked him why not and he said, "Because old men are in wheelchairs." I told him, "Julie, you're 88 years old. You are an old man." He still balked so I said, "Tell you what. Come out, sit in the wheelchair and I'll arrange for a woman with large breasts to push you around in it." He said, "In that case, okay.")
Perhaps the greatest thing about Julie was that there was so much overlap in the above two groups. He gave many readers the opportunity to become writers and even artists. And he stood on no ceremony: Anyone who met him at the conventions can attest to how friendly and accessible he was. He got annoyed with you if you didn't ask him questions. It's going to be sad going to conventions without him.
Julie died this morning at Winthrop Hospital in New York — around 2:30 AM. It was not a surprise and it was one of those deaths that, and everyone reading this will understand what I mean, provides a certain amount of relief. He had been in terrible shape the last few weeks. His hearing was almost gone and I had to shout to be heard in our last phone conversation. He had been proud and fiercely independent in his apartment but he had begun falling down and had come to the very sad realization that he could no longer live alone. He'd been in and out of Winthrop, staying with his granddaughter during the "out" parts, and plans were underway to move him to a senior home. The last thing I said to him about a week ago was to promise, because he was afraid he'd never see his friends again, that I'd round up half the comic book biz and come see him in his new digs.
I first knew Julie like most of you did — as a reader. I had letters printed in a lot of his comics and we corresponded, and once I started writing comic books, I politely declined his invitations to submit ideas to him. Frankly, he scared the hell out of me. When I finally did work for him, I found it a delightful experience and after two assignments, opted to quit while I was ahead. I liked writing for Julie but I liked being his friend even more…and perhaps foolishly, didn't want to jeopardize that friendship.
It is sad to lose the man we called, only half-jokingly, The Living Legend but there's a positive way to view our loss: Like one of the Challengers of the Unknown (a comic he never edited), Julius Schwartz sometimes seemed to be living on Borrowed Time. Close to twenty years ago, his wife Jean passed away. They were one of those couples that are practically inseparable. Each day when he went to work, he would phone her on the odd-numbered hours (9:00, 11:00, 1:00, etc.) and she would phone him on the even. When she died, everyone who knew them said, "Oh, poor Julie. He'll go to pieces. He won't last six months without her." You've all seen that happen with older married folks but in this case, it didn't. After a suitable period of mourning, Julie was at conventions, partying 'til dawn, charming the ladies and displaying more energy than guys half his age. I always thought there was a wonderful symmetry there: Schwartz had helped create fandom and now fandom was embracing him and providing him with a place to be in his senior years.
I'll think of more things to write about him here later today. Right now, I just want to sit here and think how wonderful it was to have him around for so long.