A Yankee In The Deep South – Vermont
Tag: Mourn
Mike Wieringo
Almost a full decade ago, I had the pleasure of meeting one of my favorite comic book writers – Todd Dezago. He made an appearance at the first ever Coast City Comicon here in Portland, Maine. Due to scheduling conflicts, I couldn’t attend the con for more than a day and thus I didn’t meet him that year – but the following year I finally made it when he came back.
I caught him at one point when he was sitting by himself at his booth. I never imagined I would get any one-on-one time with him, but it was important that I talk to him because if I was a fan of Todd Dezago, I was doubly a fan of the amazing Mike Wieringo – who worked with Todd on one of my favorite comic series of all time; Tellos.
When I heard Mike Wieringo died of aortic dissection a few years previous, I was devastated. He was only 44 and he was my artistic hero. I never tried to ape his style, because I never could, but his artwork is unmatched even today, in my eyes.
As I approached Mr. Dezago, I was dressed as Abraham Lincoln – so I was a bit apprehensive. Yet, he was as open to me as he was to anyone else, and we soon fell into an easy conversation.
“I love Tellos, man,” I finally said at one point. “It’s an amazing book. It seriously had an impact on my life.”
“Thank you,” he said, nodding. “I’m really glad. It was a special book to me.”
I then told him that aside from his own wonderful story and writing, that Mike’s artwork was what initially drew me to the book. I explained that I loved their work on Spider-Man, and that to me – ‘Ringo’s version of Spidey was my favorite and most iconic. I loved his cartoony style and I wanted to be able to draw as dynamically has he could.
“Thank you so much for that,” he said. “Mike would really appreciate hearing that.”
There was a point where he told me a bit about what Mike had meant to him and how he had been so very angry and bitter that Mike had suddenly passed away. It was all very surreal and heartbreaking for me to be talking to this actual friend of Mike Weiringo’s who also happened to be the writer of one of my favorite titles. Nobody else came up to the booth, it was just me and Dezago for what seemed like an hour. Eventually, I had to force myself to leave his booth before he grew too uncomfortable with my fanboy presence. I probably could have stayed there all day.
Later, though, I was able to speak with him again during one of his presentations. He went around the room and asked everyone who their favorite artists were and for what books. Naturally, I said Mike Weiringo for Spider-Man and I talked a bit about his cartoony style and fluid lines and how his characters were always striking and dynamic. He thanked me and then talked more about ‘Ringo and then thanked me from the front.
Finally, as he was leaving the convention Todd Dezago actually sought me out while walking by me with what must have been his kids and he shook my hand and thanked me for my kind words about his friend. He told me he appreciated meeting me and getting the chance to talk about Mike.
It was a strange moment with the both of us mourning and reminiscing about a man who had been dead for five years. One, a close friend and colleague and the other someone who he had never met or knew existed but whose life he changed in little ways.
I guess I was thinking about this interaction because I’ve been going through and cataloging all of my comics and I’ve finally reached my collection of Tellos books. I’m definitely going to re-read them before I seal them all up again.
Excelsior: My Tribute To Stan Lee
*Artwork by me.
I don’t have any photos with Stan Lee. I was never lucky enough to meet the man in real life – So, on top of that, I also don’t have any touching anecdotes about how I met him in an elevator once, or how I sat down next to him at a convention, or anything else I’ve been grateful to read about him on the day of his death. Stan Lee never encountered me once during the 95 years he roamed our Earth – he didn’t know I even existed.
And yet the mark he left on me was indelible, and though he didn’t know I existed – he knew lots of people LIKE me. I was an archetype in his world. Underdogs, the kids who were picked on – the heroes of Marvel fought to protect those like me, and the stories he had a hand in creating, those were stories I found strength in when I was just a boy and going through things that a young boy shouldn’t have to be a part of.
My favorite Marvel character has always been Spider-Man. I drew him when I was little, collected the comics, and even more recently I was drawn back into the comic-collecting world by the events of Spider-Geddon. Though Stan Lee was a corporate mascot of sorts, he was akin to Walt Disney in that he made himself into a character. Uncle Stan, Grandpa Stan, whatever you wanted to call him – he was as much a part of the Marvel Universe as Hulk or Thor or Spidey.
Comics taught me to read. Comics taught me to draw. Comics taught me to write. Comics, and by extension Stan Lee, helped to shape my childhood in ways that my real life couldn’t afford me. In my real life, I was surrounded by poverty, filth, and misery for much of my childhood. Marvel Heroes were like an oasis in the sea of detritus that surrounded me and I stayed there as often as I could, as long as I could – clinging to tales of heroism and excitement. Though I suffered hunger, sickness, abuse, bullying in my childhood, and though I could barely pay bills, succeed in a relationship, or juggle school and work and a personal life as an adult – Marvel Heroes were always there to show me that despite all that, you could still be a good person. Spider-Man struggled with bills, Hulk struggled to be understood and not feared, the X-Men struggled to be accepted. Yet, they all remained true heroes and almost always did the right thing despite their circumstances.
When I heard the news about Stan Lee passing away, I cried. More than with David Bowie, or Robin Williams – I openly cried. Then, I fell asleep for a few hours because my brain was just in an overload of emotion and thoughts that I couldn’t process. I knew that his time must come, as is the case with all childhood heroes, and eventually for me as well, but Stan seemed at times more character than man. And, though I know he had his faults as a human being, the character of Stan Lee is what shone through the darkness and gave kids like me hope. In fact, some of the best Marvel Heroes were ones who were flawed – just like Stan the Man – like the conflicted Hulk or the bad-luck-beset Spider-Man or the alcoholic Iron-Man. I personally think that the good Stan Lee gave to the world outweighed the bad, and by a large margin.
Rest in peace, Stan. The world mourns you so fiercely because it needs you now more than ever, but you’ve given so much to so many and you couldn’t do it forever. I will always appreciate your legacy, and if I have children, I hope they find the world of comic books as magical as I did when I was little. #Excelsior
Away With Words 