I Am Your Fan: On First Meeting Walt Simonson (1984) (Patreon)

On the occasion of the great Walt Simonson's 76th birthday, let me tell you about the time I first met the man. I'll try to keep the gushing to a minimum, and I know I will fail, so, forgive me, because as a creator and as a person, Walt Simonson is and has been a very important person to me. He's always been kind, generous with his time, fun to be around, full of stories about life and the comics industry, good to his fans, and someone who continues to push his craft and work the hell out of the page despite having nothing left to prove. The joy of drawing and creating and shaping worlds with marks on paper comes across in his work in a manner similar to Jack Kirby, and looking at his Thor run or Orion or the X-Men/Teen Titans crossover or his creator-owned Star Slammers (not too mention his current ongoing Ragnarok project) it's obvious that there's more than a little Kirby DNA within Simonson's work. Power, energy, motion, world-building, expansive locations and worlds, cosmic settings, large and larger-than-life casts of characters, unbridled imagination. Simonson can also dial it down and get grittier, for lack of a way of putting it – take a look at his work with writer Archie Goodwin on Manhunter and the exceptional adaptation of the first Alien film published by Heavy Metal (one of the finest film adaptations ever produced, especially given the time, when few people really put effort or consideration into licensed comic. It works as a comic and as an adaptation, which many of these projects don't in the least. I read the adaptation years before I finally saw the movie on cable, at the time it felt like I was watching a movie based on the comic).

If you're somehow not familiar with Walt Simonson's work, go check it out online. There's so much to pore over and study and marvel at. He's one of the few 70's pros who didn't relax his style, didn't devolve, didn't phone in the work, didn't take it easy and rest on their reputation. Or just turn hack (or disappear). He continues to challenge himself and the page, in ways that make me want to just go to bed and bury myself under the covers. His work with longtime collaborator/letterer John Workman remains fresh and impressive, a hand in glove (or mail fist) one-two punch of pure raw comic book power on every new page. At the same time, for all the power on display, Simonson's iconic line work, character and setting design, page layouts and panel compositions are just absolutely beautiful. It's a terrific trick, marrying power with beauty.

He's done breathtaking work that has laid fellow cartoonists and comic book artists low, and I think it's perfectly understandable to call him, without overstating it, a comics legend. I don't throw that word “legend” around much, it strikes me as a little embarrassing and possibly self-involved, like a standing ovation can sometimes feel like the audience is applauding themselves for their recognition as well as the person they're recognizing. Does that make even a lick of sense? I guess that's on me, and whatever personal issues I have, I just tend to shy away from going overboard on certain phrases that get tossed around so easily on IMDB or wherever. I try to keep an even keel even when fawning over someone's work, and not toss words around willy-nilly like “brilliant”, “genius” or, heaven forbid, “maestro”. But sometimes there's no other way around it. Sometimes it fits. Simonson's work commands deep love and respect from both fans and professionals in a way few other western creators have. And he's also deeply respected as a person. I'm one of those who holds him in incredibly high regard, as a fan and fellow professional and someone who has spent a small amount of time in his company. I was once invited to visit the Simonsons, and I kick myself to this day for being too scared to take them up on the very kind offer (I've done this on multiple occasions, so feel free to kick me physically if you ever see me at a convention. To quote Tom Spurgeon after I told him I never followed up on and offer to trade art with Mike Mignola, “I want to punch you in the fucking face.”). But I still won't call Walt Simonson  “Uncle Walt” as many others do. Again, that's on me, I can be pretty uptight and stuffy about things. I don't even like referring to creators I don't know closely by their first name if I'm in a certain mood. I never want to claim a connection or relationship that isn't there.

Anyway, enough about my issues, let me get on with the story. Or anecdote. The post.

I became a fan of Simonson's work through a small pile of 1970s DC Comics that somehow came into my possession in the 1980's (before The New Teen Titans became my portal into the Universe). The pile included several Simonson-drawn issues of a Metal Men revival. I just loved the style and energy, it hooked me in a way DC Comics normally didn't (the same thing happened with rest of the comics, which were Mister Miracle revival issues drawn by the late Marshall Rogers. I became interested in those characters without having first encountered the original versions, years later I drew three sample pages to show to editors at DC, which featured a team-up of Mister Miracle and the Metal Men. I think I posted those samples here earlier, of course, I never actually showed the samples to anyone at DC. Edited to add a link to those pages: https://www.patreon.com/posts/old-tryout-pages-55592003 )

In 1984 Simonson's exciting Thor run was in high swing at Marvel. He was knocking it out of the park with each and every issue, revisiting classic Kirby-Lee storylines and characters while bringing in his own characters and spins on characters (Beta Ray Bill, Malekith the Dark Elf and Frog-Thor, or whatever they called Frog-Thor). It was a rollicking, energized and fresh spin on the Norse and Marvel mythologies. It was a big deal series. Like many fans, I looked forward to every monthly installment. It was an epic run, when most runs were, well, run of the mill.  

In 1984. I was 19 years old, in college, hoping to break into comics and/or animation, working part-time at a comics shop (The Fantastic Store) and in my first extended relationship with someone (by the end of the year I'd be fired and on my way to getting dumped). I don't remember if I had ever met Simonson anytime earlier at a convention, briefly, in the way fans meet professionals at conventions. I may have, because he was local, and some of us from the shop regularly attended local conventions. Anyway, at some point, Walt Simonson was asked to do a signing at our shop. I assume he was asked by co-owner Jim Hanley, but it might have been both him and co-owner Dave Brucas (Dave's wife Cathy was the third co-owner, she wasn't in the shop much but if I recall correctly she helped set up the James Doohan signing at the shop owing to her time in early Star Trek fandom). Simonson agreed to do the signing. We were all excited. The customers were all excited. And I was especially excited, as well as incredibly nervous.

Because I was going to be the person who picked him up from his Manhattan apartment and drive him to the signing. And would be driving him back after the signing was over. And I was terrified.

Partly because I was scared to meet him in a one-on-one situation like that. I was scared of meeting comics professionals, just as much as I was with girls. Or job interviews. Or college interviews. And getting my driving license. I didn't get my license until I was 19, because I was scared and had avoided it for years. I got rides from friends, or rode my bike, or walked. It was another reason I couldn't ask anyone out directly. By the time of the signing, I had only been driving a short while and was still nervous behind the wheel. Making matters worse, my car was a bit of a starter vehicles. You know, used, cheap, something that could get dinged up by some crappy parking and whatever while. It wasn't unreliable, at least.

Until the carburetor went. And I didn't have time or money to repair it. And the car would only operate if I kept one foot on the brake and the other on the gas at all times. Which was stressful and slipshod and actually hurt my legs. And if I screwed up the pressure on the pedals the engine would shut off, usually at stops, which was frustrating, but sometimes while the car was in motion, which was sometimes scary. Especially on twisty NYC bridge off and on-ramps and those sorts of things. And the brakes weren't in great shape, for that matter.

So, basically, I was already stressed about going to Walt Simonson's apartment, picking him up, trying to act like a human being while in his adult professional presence, and on top of that I was scared I would get into an accident while I had one of my favorite comic book creators in my lousy car.

I must have sweated three pounds off on the trip into Manhattan. I wish I could convey how intimidated I felt just going to an address close to Central Park to pick him up. I know that sounds silly, but I had a mindset about people living in Manhattan, and people living uptown, and people in nice apartments, and all that stuff that to this day causes me itchy feelings. My sister lives on the upper east side, when I visit I still sometimes get nervous, like I don't belong there. Let's not get into it.

The story itself doesn't get much more interesting, I'm sorry to realize. I parked, walked cautiously up to the front door of the building, rang the appropriate bell. Walt and Louise Simonson lived there! I remember being kind of amazed at seeing this evidence that someone could actually have a nice existence while working in comics. Working in comics and living in an apartment in Manhattan. It just made the gulf between myself and my passenger that much wider.

Walt Simonson was a peach. He could tell I was nervous. I tried not to let him figure out that my car was a fucked up disaster, and so was the driver. I felt young, stupid and embarrassed. I felt like I was also representing the store badly. Few of the employees had cars, several didn't even drive, including Jim Hanley. So we sent me in a shitbox to pick up one of our favorite comics guys. Holy Moses, there's a reason “comics” and “classy” weren't paired up together all that much back in the day (like they are now, haw haw haw!). I sweated off another six pounds on the drive to Staten Island, nervously negotiating the roads, while nervously simultaneously negotiating the conversation. Of course I was going to gush! And ask questions! Walt Simonson is trapped in my terrible death car with me, and I might end up killing us both! I have questions! The time is now, real frantic one! 

So, Mr. Simonson! Can you tell me how you came up with Beta Ray Bill?!?!?!

I wish I could remember the time spent in the car. It was thrilling, except for the fear of crashing or stalling or ruining the signing somehow. I got Simonson to the shop in one piece. The signing was fantastic. He drew free head shot sketches for absolutely everyone who asked (which is where I got into the habit of doing freebie sketches at cons and signings). He did extras for some of the staff, I got a Malekith and a Captain Marvel (Shazam), if I recall correctly. I may have gotten the latter another time, and am forgetting the third drawing I used to have by him. I say “used to” because the sketches – along with a really nifty collection of comic book promo posters – all got ruined some time later, unfortunately. I'm still in the grieving stages over that stuff. That Captain Marvel sketch was sweet.

So, yeah, the signing was a blast,. Simonson stayed for quite some time. H ay have stayed close to closing, because it was night out when I drove him back to Manhattan. I remember feeling a little bit better by that time, after spending time speaking with Simonson, and everyone having such a good time. I was a little more relaxed as far as talking to him went. But, the car was still a problem, obviously. Things went okay for the most part. I only remember a lot of apologizing for the car, during both trips. A lot of apologizing. Especially after the engine cut out on one of the twisty exit ramps coming off the Brooklyn Bridge, and I was free-wheeling down a curving section and things got a little scary for a little while before I could straighten out the car and get the engine going again. I remember apologizing profusely and feeling just awful.

Walt was a champ and a gentleman about the whole thing. He tried to get me to calm down, I know it wasn't as bad as someone talking down a jumper but that's the weird image I'm getting from the trace memories of the evening. I guess I'm calling him Walt now. I call him Walt when I see him. Let me call him Walt a few times here before I wrap up.

Walt has always been incredibly kind and patient with me over the years ever since I drove him around (drove him nuts?) back in 1984. He and Louse Simonson are two of my favorite industry people, and I hope I get to say hello to them again before too long. I have spent some very happy times listening to Walt tell stories and talk comics and dinosaurs and his signature and early job experiences before comics and some of the professionals he's known like Archie Goodwin and Howard Chaykin and NYC in the 70's. He's one of our best. I'm so lucky to have known him even a little bit. And I'm so glad I didn't kill him with my stupid car.

One last thing, a small bit of comic book trivia that I don't think I've mentioned before now. Some time after Walt had wrapped up his Orion series, I was talking to him at a show. I forget which one. I was asking him about the series, which I'd been following, asking about what plans he might have had beyond the final issue. And one of the things he said was that one reason he was sorry it ended was because there were more people he wanted to ask to do the guest back-up stories he was running in the book. And he had wanted to ask me to do one of the back ups. He mentioned this to me on another occasion, as well. So I don't think he was being nice or humoring me. I had no idea that Walt actually paid attention to my work. Let's just say the idea that Walt Simonson was considering asking me to do a back up story for one of his projects filled me with joy. It still does, when I think about it.

So I guess he doesn't hold that horrible car against me.

Here's to many, many more birthdays for the great Walt Simonson.