Tuesday, February 22, 2005

Book Report

People keep writing to ask what I think of Men of Tomorrow, a new book by Gerard Jones, which focuses on the backstory of the gents who founded and built the comic book industry, with special emphasis on Harry Donenfeld (who founded and owned DC Comics), on Jack Liebowitz (who ran that company when Harry was drunk) and on Jerry Siegel and Bob Kane (who made that company into something when they co-created its star characters). Until the other day, my answer to that question was that I hadn't gotten my mitts on a copy of Gerry's book yet but expected to, shortly. Mentioning that on this site the other day prompted Jim Henley (thanks, Jim) to have a friend come up to me at WonderCon and present me with one, and I read it in my room that very night.

So now, my answer is that it's a terrific book, easily one of the most important things ever written about the history of the American comic book. I just left a message on Gerry's voicemail asking him to call me so I could tell him that directly, and now I'd like to tell you.

For some time now, I've been telling people that any understanding of comic book history has to flow from an understanding of the Depression-era generation, particularly of the culture and world in which young men in New York then resided. Most were Jewish, a few were Italian, and some managed to be one but bond well with the other. Most of the writers and artists of comics' first years shared a certain common background, finding themselves at an early age expected to bring home a paycheck and contribute to the family's subsistence. Spurred on by some creative muse they'd derived from movies, pulps and comic strips, they scurried to make that living in comics before it became necessary for them to give up on that dream and go build a career in some metal-stamping factory. Siegel and Shuster...Bob Kane...Jack Kirby — all of them, young and determined and talented in one way or another — built an industry because they had to. They needed a place to earn a living.

That story has been told before, though rarely as well as Jones does in Men of Tomorrow. What he does that is truly unique in my experience is to explore the lives of the men who financed that industry...the Donenfelds, the Martin Goodmans, the Charlie Gaineses. And then he details the intersection of the financiers and the creators. Guess which generally got the better of that marriage. And yet, the book is not rooted wholly in the rich publisher/screwed creator mentality...even though that is generally what occurred. Gerry sifts through the lives and motives on both sides to discuss how they needed one another and how they used one another. It really is a most remarkable narrative.

I am cited repeatedly in the book as a source of info, and most of what's in there (the bulk of which did not, of course, come from me) corresponds to my knowledge of the facts. There are a few places where I'd quibble, but none of those affect the over-all portrait of the players, nor do they alter any of Gerry's astute observations and deductions. Maybe we can do a convention panel one of these days and discuss a few of these areas. Overall, the worst thing I can say about this book is that there are many places where I wish its author had expanded on a certain player or event and written more. It's such a rich, insufficiently-explored topic that it deserves further exploration...and this book deserves purchase by anyone interested in how the comic book industry came to be.

• Posted at 5:01 PM · LINK

John Raitt

My favorite of John Raitt's many appearances was not in The Pajama Game or in the many exciting, memorable moments he gave the world from the Broadway stage. Not that there was anything wrong with any of them. He was as fine a singer as there ever was, and he sure set a fine example of what it meant to be a musical comedy star. But my favorite John Raitt moment came around 1964 and it took place on the stage of the auditorium at Ralph Waldo Emerson Junior High School in West Los Angeles. That night, as a fund-raiser for something-or-other, my mother and I attended a show that a couple of the teachers had thrown together, mostly with talent from the faculty.

The cast, performing songs and sketches, consisted of a number of teachers, a few students...and an advertised "Surprise Special Guest Star," who was rumored to be someone very famous. Who would it be? A few years earlier, before any of us had been students at Emerson, a similar benefit had closed with Jerry Lewis. Legend had it he came out for what to have been ten minutes and it turned into more than an hour of songs and banter and falling off the stage. Would we get Jerry again? If not, then who? We all expected someone equally stellar, and a lot of names were bandied about in tingly expectation. None of those names were John Raitt, in large part because few of us had heard of Broadway Legend John Raitt. We had kids in my class who hadn't heard of Broadway. So when he was announced like the biggest star in the world, most of us went "Who?" and felt a little cheated.

But actually, that was just us students. The parents who were present — my mother, for instance — sure knew who John Raitt was, and they were more than a little delighted. And I knew who he was, sort of, and I realized I should have guessed it might be him. There was a girl in some of my classes named Bonnie who occasionally sang (I think she was also in the show) and I knew her father was the guy in the movie, Pajama Game.

So Bonnie Raitt's dad came out to perform. With great wisdom, and some knowledge of the ability of our school band, he brought along his own piano player. And he proceeded to sing for maybe forty minutes...songs from Oklahoma! and Carousel and a couple from Gigi, as I recall. What I really recall is him just winning over that whole audience. He had the adults from the moment he walked out on stage, and he even won over a couple of the teenage girls just because he looked so danged handsome. But by the time he closed, he had everyone in the house cheering, and very happy it wasn't Jerry Lewis.

A few years ago, I attended a concert by Kristin Chenoweth and as a surprise — planned, I am sure — she introduced John Raitt in the audience and had him come down on stage to do a number with her. Backstage afterward, I met him and told him about the time I'd seen him at my junior high school and how impressed I'd been. He had only a vague memory of that performance, and I think he was wondering why I'd brought that up instead of one of the many wonderful things he'd done in more impressive venues. But he did appreciate that he'd done something I thought was very, very good. I hope, wherever he is now, he appreciates that so many people feel that way about so many things he did.

• Posted at 9:30 AM · LINK

Back Home...

I was going to post every day of our trip but owing to the frequent rain, things got a bit too hectic and I got a bit too weary. I really enjoyed the WonderCon itself, and San Francisco is a great city. But I had enough problems and plans that were cancelled due to weather to make it, on balance, a pretty unpleasant trip. Today, however, there seemed to be blue sky around so Carolyn and I walked down to a great restaurant for Dim Sum (here's its website) and then rode the cable car to Fisherman's Wharf. By the time we got there, it was pouring rain and we finally just gave up and headed for the airport early. It was that kind of excursion.

Sunday at the WonderCon, I did two panels — one with Sergio and me talking about our work together, and one about Comic Books for Kids. The latter featured Arnold Drake, Gail Simone, Bill Morrison, Scott Shaw! and Amanda Conner. Just to cause trouble, I launched into a theory I've developed that comics may have irrevocably lost the younger audience; that there's too little comics can offer that a kid can't get cheaper and easier (and with sound and motion) via Cartoon Network, Boomerang, Nickelodeon, Disney Channel, VHS tapes, DVDs, PlayStation and many more we could all mention. No one on the panel (or even in the audience) really agreed with me...but that's okay since sometimes, I'm not entirely sure I agree with me, either.

No real memorable exchanges on the convention floor. It was nice to see Tony DeZuniga and Ernie Chan — two fine comic artists I haven't seen nearly enough of, these last few years. I also ran into the son of the late Alfredo Alcala, who's currently assembling a book of his father's work, as well as curating an exhibit of same. I had nice conversations with Neal Adams, Dave Stevens, Tom Yeates, Al Gordon, Jim Silke, Bob Burden, Dan DiDio, Trina Robbins, Steve Leialoha, Scott and Judith Shaw, Steve Lieber, Erik Larsen and others I'll probably remember when I'm less tired.

Gotta go unpack. More normal posting resumes later, plus I'll start playing Catch-Up with my e-mailbox.

• Posted at 12:33 AM · LINK