Monthly Archives: August 2011

Okay, can someone explain this? I've been hearing for months that the MDA Telethon this year is six hours. I just went to my TiVo to set up a recording and I find that on my satellite dish (DirecTV), I have two choices. I can get it on WGN America, which is a superstation out of Chicago. It starts at 3 PM California time…and it runs seven hours.

Or I can get it on KCAL, which is Channel 9 in Los Angeles. It starts here at 5 PM and it runs seven and a half hours.

I want an explanation and I want it now. Anyone?

Like a traffic accident you know you shouldn't look at but you can't help yourself…

This weekend's MDA Telethon sans Jerry Lewis continues to intrigue. A few days ago, I was told on the condition I not post it here about a planned pre-tape of Jerry singing "You'll Never Walk Alone." I think it was originally to be done this evening, then it got moved to tomorrow evening…and now it's being reported that it's off. The idea was that Jerry would come in with a huge orchestra and record his song and perhaps a few words, and then it would run at the conclusion of Sunday's telecast. Now his spokesperson is saying he ain't gonna be there and he never committed to being there.

Obviously, the idea here was the MDA Telethon wanted to neutralize all the bad press by having him on…but didn't want to put him on live with a live microphone because God Knows What He'd Say. When I heard about it, some friends and I batted it around, wondering why Jerry would agree to such a thing — and now his people are saying he didn't. But musicians were booked and the MDA people must have had some reason to believe he'd show…like he said, "Set it up and I'll see how I feel that evening." Or something.

There's a certain tragedy about it all and I don't mean just damage to the ego or rep of Mr. Jerry Lewis. The MDA organization does a lot of good with the money it receives every year but the whole business model for telethons (not just theirs) has largely collapsed. They're not cost effective in terms of the hours they consume and the expense of staging them. Even with Jerry aboard, they could not have put together one of those 20+ hour extravaganzas this year. Not enough stations will air such a thing. Unless someone does one as a nostalgic stunt some day, we may never see that kind of all-night pledge fest again…but the MDA folks were hoping that they could raise enough funds with a stripped-down, six-hour version. They probably can't; not with so many people unhappy about Jerry's ouster. I don't know exactly what the controversy will do to corporate donations — which are what the telethon is really about — but I doubt it's good.

How will this all play out? I have no idea and doubt anyone does but I'm finding it hard not to invent possible scenarios…

Jerry lives in Vegas and his spokesperson has not yet said he won't be in town on Sunday. He could easily cut off the hope that he'll make an appearance by finding some reason to go to New York (or even to San Diego where I think he still keeps his boat) on Sunday and announcing that's where he'll be. So maybe he's fantasizing that the telethon will be a disaster for the first hour or so…no one calling to pledge, lotsa folks calling to say they're not donating because of what was done to Jerry. And at some point, the telethon organizers call him, or maybe he calls them, and he says, "Give me the last two hours live and I'll save your asses." And they throw out all the planned acts and film pieces and rehearsed bits for the last two hours and let Jerry just go in and do whatever he wants.

It's not going to happen but wouldn't it be great television?

His spokesperson says Jerry will have no statement until after the telethon. Maybe he'll hold a press conference and take note of the total amount of money pledged, declare it woefully insufficient and then say something like this: "I derive no personal satisfaction from this because it means My Kids will suffer. Wheelchairs will not be purchased. Therapy sessions will be cut back. Research will be curtailed. I can't allow that to happen so I'm going to raise the money they didn't." And he'll announce a phone number and a website address and maybe another telethon in a month or two…or something to drum up the X million that the telethon, he'll say, should have grossed.

It's probably not going to happen but wouldn't it be great television?

I have others, too. One fascinating thing about predicting Jerry Lewis is that he's so unpredictable. You can roughly guess what some people are going to do because you can understand their self-interests. Jerry has been known to act against his and also to operate on sheer impulse and emotion. He blurts out outrageous statements that a wiser, cooler person would have the reserve to not say. This has long been part of his appeal but it's also a lot of the reason he ain't going to be on the telethon this weekend.

Or will he? I'm betting no but I'm also not putting real money on it. What I'd like to see is this: Penn & Teller are doing a spot on the telethon. I'm not sure if it's live or a pre-tape but let's say it's live. They do their metal detector routine and the way that one works is that at the end, a female assistant pops up out of nowhere, appearing magically. When they do it on the telethon, Jerry pops up. He waves to everyone, walks out of the studio, gets in his car and goes home. So it's like: "There! He was on the telethon!" And then the ghost of Dean Martin walks out and sings a chorus of "Ain't That a Kick in the Head" with Tony Orlando. I'm going to set my TiVo just in case that happens.

A friend of mine who works in a business that involves weather forecasts asks to remain anonymous but wants me to post the following…

Some of the private weather forecasting companies employ a very simple trick. Let's say the N.W.S. [National Weather Service] says it's going to be 78 degrees tomorrow in Los Angeles. Now, they don't mean 78 everywhere. It might be 77 at your house. It might be 80 ten blocks away. That is still an accurate forecast. The final recorded temperature might be 77 or 79.

So the private company doesn't say it will be 78. They just say 79. There's a 50-50 chance they will be right. None of their clients will complain about inaccurate forecasts but the company will be able to say, "Half the time, we're more accurate than the National Weather Service." What they don't say is that, first of all, they did no forecasting at all to come up with that "more accurate" prediction. And they won't reveal that they were only "more accurate" by one degree and in an utterly meanginless way.

There is some good work being done by private weather firms. Some of them develop their own computer models. For a given forecast, the N.W.S. might consult three or four different models. The private firm throws yet another into the mix and sometimes, the additional model makes their forecast a little more accurate but only a little. In any case, they couldn't do what they do without the N.W.S. model and the kind of proposal that Rick "man on dog" Santorum was pushing was just an attempt to help private industry make money. It's like how they don't want Medicare to be able to negotiate with drug companies. They want the drug company to get as much of that government money as it can. It is fine to tax lower and middle income people. This is why tax-hating Republican leaders never want to cut payroll taxes. They like having that money collected as long as it somehow winds up going to rich people.

The private weather companies do have much to offer. They wouldn't be in business if they didn't. Some of them are especially good at giving individual, personal information to a company to aid them with their planning. But as I read these articles wherein G.O.P. leaders are suggesting the government get out of charting and predicting the weather, I don't think they get how much the private companies rely on the N.W.S. and how good a job the N.W.S. does. Some people are carping because in their area, Irene wasn't as destructive as the National Weather Service said it could well be. Those folks are expecting a precision they will never get from any weather service, public or private.

A lot of folks are out there trying to politicize the recent disasters like Hurricane Irene. As Steve Benen notes, there's this bizarre attack on the National Weather Service coming from some Republican sources. It isn't so much that they want to eliminate it or stop paying for it as that they want it to stop giving away its data — paid for by our tax dollars — for free.

There are many private, for-profit weather services out there. None of them are as accurate as the National Weather Service…not even close. They can occasionally point to instances where their forecasts have been more on-target but that's always a matter of highlighting the one time in a hundred that they outperformed the N.W.S. and ignoring the 99 where they either were less accurate or (more likely) merely passed on the N.W.S. prediction. In any case, what the private firms largely do is to take the N.W.S. data and further refine or localize it. I don't think any of them bake from scratch.

Two agendas seem to be at work here. The lesser is that some Republicans appear to object to the National Weather Service because it's a government agency that does its job well at a reasonable cost. Moreover, it's one into which they cannot inject a "Heckua job, Brownie" crony who'll drag its efficiency down to the point where they can cite it as an example of how the government can't do anything right. The other agenda is to try and use the N.W.S. to make a greater profit for private industry.

In 2005, then-Senator Rick Santorum introduced a bill to prohibit the National Weather Service from releasing its data and forecasts to the public. Now remember, this is a service that we pay for and which is available to anyone for free. Santorum didn't like that. He wanted to make that information available only to private companies like Accu-Weather, which would then repackage and resell it. His premise was that it was "unfair competition" for a government agency to give away something that others could charge for. Needless to say, his bill went nowhere but it was probably successful from his vantage point. Before he introduced it, he got an awful lot of campaign donations from the Accu-Weather people.

Our friends at the Writers Bloc have two great events coming up, back-to-back. On Wednesday, September 21, Kevin Nealon will be interviewing humorist Calvin Trillin. On Thursday, September 22, Michael Moore will speak about his new book. If you're within commuting distance of Beverly Hills, go here to make reservations. You can have a real nice evening by attending one of these, then going across the street for dinner at Kate Mantilini's, which is open late and is a pretty good place to eat.

As I noted, yesterday would have been the 94th birthday of Jack Kirby, who more or less got me into the creative end of comic books in 1970. Yesterday also would have been the 101st birthday of Chase Craig, who was the Senior Editor — I think that was his title — for many years at Western Publishing Company for the Dell and later Gold Key Comics. (If you don't understand the business relationship there, this may clarify it for you.)

Recently, an article stated that Jack gave me my first professional writing job. He didn't. He gave me about my twentieth. And then not to take anything away from Jack but it was Chase who gave me my first somewhat-steady gig that paid me actual money. Before that, it was all apprentice-type pay and one-shot assignments and thinking, "Well, maybe I can sell another script to this guy." Chase was the first person to ever treat me as a bona fide professional, no different from guys who'd been working for him for 20+ years. If you are a professional freelancer, you know how important such a gesture is to your life and career.

We all have moments when we know we've "made it" in some important-only-to-ourselves fashion. A big one for me came after I did a few freelance jobs for Chase. It took place in the office in the above photo — a photo taken in 1969 by animation/comic historian Michael Barrier. The offices of Western Publishing were then up on Hollywood Boulevard and if you looked out that window behind Chase, you got a nice third-story view of Grauman's Chinese Theater, directly across the street.

In 1971, I helped my friend Mike Royer get work with Kirby. In gratitude, and because Mike therefore no longer had time to explore it for himself, he gave me a lead on work writing Disney comic books that were published only in foreign countries. Up at Western, Chase edited the ones published in America but once those were translated and reprinted overseas, there was still a demand for more such material. Thanks to Mike, I began selling Mickey Mouse and Goofy scripts to a gent named George Sherman, who worked in the publications division out at Disney Studios.

George was a major figure in the history of Disney-in-print but one who has never received his due. Part of that was because he was a quiet guy who, when there was credit to be noted, often handed his to others. Some Disney fans know him mainly as the person who brokered the deal whereby Carl Barks, in retirement, obtained permission from the studio to do his famous paintings of Uncle Scrooge and Donald. That was one of his smaller accomplishments.

And the other inhibitor of George's fame is that he died way too young. My pal Dana Gabbard recently wrote the first "history" of any sort about George when he authored this Wikipedia page. It has led, I'm happy to report, to me being contacted by George's daughter, who is working on a full-scale biography that I want to help her complete and that I really want to read.

I wrote scripts for George for a while and it was slow-going because he was out for weeks at a time due to the illness that took his life in 1974. When he'd come back from medical leave, he'd find his desk piled high with Evanier submissions. I joke that he referred me to Chase just to get rid of that drain on his health but the truth is, I'm sure, that he felt guilty about his slow response time on every script. One day, he was talking to Chase about perhaps improving the quality of the material Western was producing and Chase lamented that a couple of his best writers had left him or were burning out. George said something like, "Hey, I've got a kid here you oughta know about," and he sent Chase copies of scripts I had done for him.

I had met Chase once before this. Steve Sherman (my partner when I worked for Kirby) and I had created a couple of ideas for new comics. On a youthful impulse, we submitted them to Chase to see if Western would buy them and he invited us up to his office. There, he gave us a brief, polite explanation of why our concepts didn't fit in with what the company was trying to do at that juncture. I still don't know why it didn't dawn on me to ask, "Hey, you need anyone to write Bugs Bunny?" I guess thinking you could handle The Wabbit or any of the comics Chase was editing involved some level of chutzpah that I have just plain never possessed.

Then one day outta the blue, Chase called and told me about the referral from George Sherman. He asked, "Can you write Super Goof stories for me the way you write them for him?" I said I thought I could do that. I sold him a few, then he had me write an emergency, had-to-be-done-almost-overnight issue of The Amazing Chan and the Chan Clan. After I handed it in, there came this extraordinary (for me) moment in the office depicted above. He leaned back in his chair and said, "You know, if you were able to write four or five comics a month for me, I could probably use them."

Then there was a pause — and I really remember that pause because of what came after — and he said, "I could really use you on Bugs Bunny."

This will all mean nothing to most of you and perhaps it shouldn't. But somewhere out there, there's a fellow professional writer who'll identify. He or she will recall the instant when they thought, "Hey, I really may be able to make a living in this business." That was mine.

For Chase, I wrote Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck and Porky Pig and Beep Beep the Road Runner and Woody Woodpecker and Scooby Doo and many others. I largely moved away from the Disney titles, which was financially foolish on my part. Chase occasionally rejected a script — usually because I didn't have an idea but I wrote it anyway. If he bounced a Daffy Duck script, it went into my filing cabinet and I never got paid for it. If he bounced a Donald Duck script, I could sometimes sell it to George Sherman. But I didn't think that way. I just felt more comfy with Daffy than Donald.

One time, I wrote a Road Runner that I really liked but Chase didn't. Back it came with a polite note that said something like, "Sorry, this one just didn't do it for me." Chase was amazingly gracious in that regard. I've had editors who reject things and/or demand rewrites just to remind you who's in charge or so they can say to their superiors, "You need me to whip those writers into shape." I never felt Chase did any of that and I usually respected his decisions. Just this one time, I thought he was wrong.

A few weeks later when we were discussing another script, I rudely blurted that opinion out. The minute I said it, I regretted my impudence but to my surprise, he said, "Well, if you feel that strongly about it, send that one in again and let me take another look at it." I did and he sent me a lovely note (I still have it) that just said, "You were right." I've worked for a lot of editors and producers who would never in a zillion years do that.

Chase retired around 1974 and his job was assumed by Del Connell, whose obit recently (sadly) appeared on this site. Soon after, Chase came out of retirement to edit a new line of comics for Hanna-Barbera. He hired me to write them, did it for a while, got bored and then retired again, passing the whole job on to me.

Early in my new responsibility, I went to my filing cabinet and hauled out the pile of scripts Chase had rejected. It wasn't a huge stack but I figured there had to be some good ideas in there that I could use on the H-B comics. There were two Scooby Doo scripts that Chase had bought but which had never been published or even drawn because Western lost the rights to do Scooby Doo comics. In my capacity as editor, I immediately purchased them from myself. But among the scripts Chase had rejected, I didn't find a single plot, joke or line of dialogue I could recycle. That was how good an editor Chase was.

In the last few years, I've become very sparing in the use of words like "mentor" and "protégé" when I write about my years with Jack, Chase and a few other talented folks who I've been blessed to have in my proximity. While those nouns might apply in some senses, I see them frequently used by a "new kid," consciously or not, trying to claim a piece of someone else's greatness. Not always but too often, it's like "Hire me because I was that guy's protégé so I'm therefore in his league." Nope. One thing I did learn from both Jack and Chase is that your work is your work. It stands or falls on its own merits, if any, and who you know or knew doesn't make it one iota better. When I write a joke, no one laughs at it because I've worked with a lot of funny people. (Sometimes, no one laughs at it at all but that's a separate matter…)

Still, you can learn things from a "mentor," particularly the really valuable lessons where they don't teach you so much as they set an example from which you can teach yourself. I learned a lot of things from both of these men born on August 28. Because I'm asked so often to do so and because I enjoy doing it, I write an awful lot about Jack Kirby. I should also probably write a lot more about Chase Craig.

Hello. Sorry to disappear on you like that without even a soup can but I got swamped on deadlines, had a series of very minor disasters…and I kind of liked leaving the big Jack Kirby post at the top of this page for a while. All is well here and I'm happy to say that all my friends who had Hurricane Irene threaten their homes seem to be okey-dokey, as well. Actually, my "minor disasters" were microscopic compared to what they faced so maybe I shouldn't use the word "disasters." Will do my best to catch up here…

In the photo above, the fellow on the left is Steve Sherman, who was my partner back when I worked with Jack Kirby. The lady on the right is Rosalind Kirby, who was Jack's partner from the moment they married until…well, I was going to say "the day he died" but it was more like the day she died, a few years after him. I'm the tall guy in the back.

Had Jack not left us in the physical sense, he would have been 94 years old today…and probably coming up with fresher ideas and concepts than any hundred guys in their twenties. As I've said so many times I've even started to get sick of hearing me say it, he was the most amazing forward-thinker and visionary I've ever met. And I've met some pretty incredible people.

A lot of us, as we get older, develop a new appreciation and perspective on our parents and other older figures of our youth. We discover that Uncle Nate's advice, which sounded so patronizing or foolish when we were 15, wasn't as silly as it sounded then. Or maybe it was wrong but it had its value in leading us towards something that was very right. In Kirby's case, I have given up counting the number of times in the last few decades when I read something or saw something and had to pause and say, "Gee, Jack sure saw this coming."

Or sometimes, I figure out what the hell he was talking about. Jack had this odd, disconnected way of speaking. His mind raced from one concept to another, from Topic A to Topic Q without bothering to get there via Topics B through P. Some folks never quite understood him or perhaps chose not to. Those who did always came away energized and proud. He was a creative person who made you feel like a creative person. He was also a very nice man.

Every year at the Comic-Con in San Diego, at least one person comes up to me, shakes my hand and says something like, "I never got to meet Jack but at least I can shake a hand that shook his." There are actually quite a few in that convention hall that shook Jack's for he was very accessible to everyone when he was around. He went to conventions not to make money and not even for the ego-stroking of so many grovelling before him. That kind of thing meant nothing to Jack and you impressed him most by talking to him like an equal. He liked meeting people, especially young people. He liked connecting with his readers and getting a sense of who they were and how they thought. And he thought (correctly) that he had valuable wisdom to impart and wanted to throw it out there for those who stood to inherit the world.

I'm sorry on so many levels he's not still with us…but of course, it's hard for me to go anywhere these days — and certainly not into a comic shop or convention — without feeling him all around me. And I'm pretty sure he knew that was how it would be.

Below is a documentary that was made a few years ago to go on a DVD release of, I think, the Fantastic Four movie. Or one of those. It's in five parts that should play one after another in the player I've embedded below. Mine is the first voice you'll hear and then you'll see me weighing about a hundred pounds more than I do now. Then a few seconds later, there's an old photo of Jack and that's a young me sitting next to him at some convention.

But forget about me. The thing you should take away from this is that so many important folks in comics said what they said about him…and the documentarians could easily have found a hundred more. I used to say, "If Jack Kirby isn't your favorite comic book artist, he's probably your favorite comic book artist's favorite comic book artist." This runs a little more than an hour but it's a pretty good overview of the man and what he meant to a lot of us…