By actual count, there are 8,448,329 anecdotes about Harlan Ellison, 7,609,224 of which are actually true. This is one that fits into both categories and it involves a man named Julius Schwartz who was an important editor for DC Comics and a semi-important figure in the science-fiction community. Julie and Harlan had an extremely close relationship that some would describe as "father-son." Some would also tell you that at times, Julie — though he was nineteen years older than Harlan — was in the "son" role.
Most of the time though, Julie was the obstreperous adult and Harlan, the even-more-obstreperous child. Every Wednesday morning for a very long time, Julie (in the DC offices in New York) would phone Harlan (in his home in Southern California) and they'd talk about anything and everything. One day around 1971, the topic somehow ventured to the notion of Harlan, who had done very little writing for comic books, writing a Batman story. Julie Schwartz was the editor of Batman and Detective Comics at the time. Harlan did not want to do it with any sort of deadline but he said he would come up with something in the near future.
This was in 1971.
Now with Harlan's passing, the Internet is filled with remembrances and honors and cyber-mourning and tributes, and in lot of them you'll see some version of the phrase, "He inspired me to become a writer." Harlan did a lot of that. He inspired people in other ways, as well. He occasionally inspired someone to hate Harlan Ellison but we won't go into that here. Here, I'm celebrating him for inspiring so many people in a good way. Like I said, he was a writer who made other writers proud to be writers.
So many of us learned good, valuable things from him but a few writers I can think of learned to yell and scream about every rewrite, every note, every alteration. I can't guarantee the following but supposedly, someone once asked Ray Bradbury if it was a wise idea for a writer to fight about each bit of interference the way Harlan did. Bradbury reportedly replied — and this sure sounds like an answer he'd give — "I don't know if that's okay but if you try it, check first and make sure you have the talents of a Harlan Ellison."
(In truth, Harlan did not turn every single bit of producer or editor or network input into a battle. It's just that when he did, we who admired his work all heard about it. And heard about it. And heard about it.)
So there might have been a few wrong lessons to learn from the man. More serious was his occasional inability to meet deadlines. He turned his chronic tardiness in everyday life into one of his better stories, "'Repent, Harlequin!' Said the Ticktockman." It's a fascinating work because he seems to have tried to take every rule of Good Writing he could think of, violate it and still wind up with Good Writing. I know some disagree but I kind of think he made it.
But he was late with so much of what he wrote, and I suspect…well, I know there are writers who think, "If Harlan Ellison can be weeks/months/years late, so can I." To quote Ray Bradbury again, assuming he even said it, "I don't know if that's okay but if you try it, check first and make sure you have the talents of a Harlan Ellison."
One might argue that he was not late with the Batman story he promised in 1971 to write for Julie Schwartz since he never had a firm deadline. But it finally saw print in the October, 1986 issue of Detective Comics, fifteen years later…and eight years after Julie had stepped down as the editor of Detective Comics. Deadline or no deadline, that's late.
But let us step back to the ten-year anniversary of the promise to write this story. Imagine yourself back at the Comic-Con International in San Diego in 1981. It was at the El Cortez Hotel in that city and it wasn't even the Comic-Con International yet. It was the San Diego Comic Con and attendance was a whopping — brace yourself — 5000 people. Now, there's 5000 people in the hall dressed as Harley Quinn, many of them even women.
We're at the awards ceremony where they're presenting not the Eisner Awards like they do nowadays but the Inkpot Awards. They still give out Inkpot Awards but at panels and other programming, not at the big awards ceremony. One of them is to be presented to Julius Schwartz and there to watch him receive it is his friend (and former client back when Julie was an agent), Ray Bradbury.
I am seated at a table in the hall awaiting that impending moment when someone comes up to me and whispers that there's a man outside who needs to talk to me. "He says it's urgent," says the whisperer so I get up and go out to the hall and there is Harlan, who had not otherwise made an appearance at the con. He is clutching a manila envelope which he informs me contains his Batman script. He drove down to the con to surprise Julie with it and he wants me to help him sneak into the ballroom so he can make an effective entrance. At the proper moment — which may be only seconds away — he will spring up onto the stage and turn in the script in front of what seems like the entire professional comic book community.
Just then, we hear from inside the hall that the next Inkpot recipient is Julius Schwartz. There's a burst of applause and Harlan urges, "Quick! Get me in there while he's still on the stage!"
I say, "Relax! If Julie's making an acceptance speech, we have plenty of time." I tell Harlan to follow me and I will be his shield. I am 6'3" and somewhat wide. You could have hidden Lawrence Welk and his entire orchestra behind me. Harlan is 5'5" and somewhat narrow so as I make my way through the ballroom, few people notice that he is shadowing me. When I get to a pillar near the stage, I motion that he should hide behind it and he does as I continue on back to my seat.
Julie Schwartz is on the stage and so are Ray Bradbury and few other folks. Julie is thanking everyone and talking about how in his career, he was worked with so many talented writers and artists. Utterly unaware Harlan is even in the same area code let alone twelve feet away, he says something like, "Everyone helped me by getting their work in on time. Well, except for one person but I probably shouldn't mention his name."
Someone yells out, "Mention his name!" Once when Harlan told this story, he said it was me but I'm pretty sure it wasn't. I sorta recalled it was him but he would have remembered if it had been him. Whoever yells it out causes Julie to say, "It was Harlan Ellison!" There is a big laugh from the audience…and I don't think any of them had spotted Harlan behind that pillar. Julie adds, "He promised me a script ten years ago and I'll probably never see it. If I do, I'll probably reject it!"
Suddenly, Harlan leaps from behind the pillar and, making his way to the stage, he proudly waves the envelope. The audience is hysterical and Julie is gasping in amazement and laughing and having some sort of editorial seizure all at the same time. I doubt anyone who was there will forget that moment.
Once on stage, Harlan whispers something to Julie who laughs, then Harlan grabs the microphone and makes a wonderful speech about the honor of writing a Batman script for the great Julius Schwartz. Jackie Estrada, who now runs the big awards event at Comic-Con International, was there at that moment with her camera. Here with her permission is a photo she took. If you click it on it, it will fill your screen…but then come back and I will describe a few things to you.
The gent at the left is Ray Bradbury. In the back is Sergio Aragonés who was onstage during the ceremony to draw cartoons of the winners. You may notice that Sergio never gets older although his mustache does. You can only see a little of the man next to him but it's almost certainly Shel Dorf, one of the founders of Comic-Con. And then you have Harlan and Julie.
There is more talk and thanks and hugging and then Ray, Harlan and Julie depart the stage and the next award is presented. I am curious as to what it was that Harlan whispered to Julie when he got up there so as soon as the festivities end, I scoot over to Julie's table and I ask.
He leans in confidentially to me and says, "He said, 'It's just the first page but I promise I'll finish it in the next week.'" Julie then opens the envelope to show me and, sure enough, it's a title page and about fourteen sheets of blank paper.