I love Jim Steranko. Always have, ever since he first appeared on the comics scene. His work immediately blew me away, and I became a Steranko fanboy, which is why I bought a copy of what Wikipedia calls “the extremely limited edition Steranko Portfolio One” as soon as I saw it.

Here’s the cover to the copy I picked up at one of Phil Seuling’s July 4th cons, either in ’70 or ’71. I think it was in ’70, the same con at which I paid for my copy of The Steranko History of Comics. (I write “paid for” because it wasn’t yet available except as an advance order. I can still remember paging through the thick mock-up of what it would eventually look like.) As you can see below, I made sure to have Jim sign his Portfolio.

I was still a kid when, not so long after, I read an article about him that appeared in the September 16, 1971 issue of Rolling Stone. For some reason, I was upset by the tales included there of his criminal youth, and decided to write him a letter about it to see if they were true. (more…)

I did something a little bit obsessive this evening.

OK, a lot obsessive.

I went through the membership list for World Fantasy Con and counted the number of people with whom I shared a meal, plus the number with whom I chatted, some briefly, some extensively.

I had my reasons, though.

I’ve never taken the life I lead for granted. But two recent conversations with people not part of my convention-going life reinforced how lucky I am to have what I have.

In talking to one person, I tried to explain the experience of entering a crowded room, knowing everybody, and having to decide with whom to strike up a conversation first. (more…)

As I shared in July, Twitter changed Readercon for me. But who knew that it would affect the recent World Fantasy Con even more?

For those of you still thinking that Twitter is only about us all sharing what we had for breakfast, here are a few specific ways Twitter made my WFC better.

Live audience feedback

I’ve been on hundreds of panels over the years, and I’m used to judging the mood of the crowd by where it laughs, where it applauds, and where there’s just stupefied silence. When I was moderating a panel at the Stokers back in March, I used Twitter to poll the audience for questions and received suggestions from those on the floor as well as around the world.

But this was the first time I ever witnessed ongoing chatter as to which panelist quips audience members felt worthy of sharing with their circles of friend, thanks to updating the #wfc2009 hashtag on my iPhone.

And no, it wasn’t distracting. It was fascinating, and made the panel a richer, more complex, more rewarding experience. (more…)

I’m sure I’d have had a lot more to say about this year’s World Fantasy Con if I’d had a lot more sleep and was a lot more coherent. I’ll probably do a recap tomorrow when I feel less like these revelers at the local Dia de Muertos festival look.

Check out my flickr set to see all 90 photos taken at WFC ’09.

There may be more pictures tomorrow, depending on who and what I find in the lobby as I check out …

I am continuing to have more fun than should be allowed by law at World Fantasy, which means that I have little time left over to blog about it here. Anyone who wants to follow along will have to settle for my twitter feed, which I’m managing to keep up with in the midst of the maelstrom.

Or you can check my WFC 2009 flickr set to see what I’ve been catching the rest of the world doing.

Meanwhile, here I am with Nina Kiriki Hoffman at about 1:00 a.m. this morning in the con suite, mere moments after she applied my lovely wrist tattoo.

Nina was tattooing anyone who came within reach, so if you’d been there, you could have gotten one, too!

I arrived at the Fairmont and immediately had a powerful sense of deja vu, as this was the same hotel I spent much of the San Jose Worldcon partying at back in 2002. I missed yesterday’s opening ceremonies, and showed up too late to register, but I was immediately in a boisterous maelstrom of friends. No name badge was needed with this crowd.

I ended up going to dinner almost immediately with John Kessel, Paul Park, Kij Johnson, Leslie Howle, and Neile Graham. We ended up at a joint called Don Pedro’s, where I had a big bowl of goat soup—but only because they were all out of the fried pork skin!

Here I am on one side of the table with John and Kij:

You can see the rest of my few initial World Fantasy photos here.

I partied much too late—at least for this East Coast body&#8212and so by the time I crashed my internal clock was telling me it was 3:00 a.m. I’m sure I missed most of the fun. I look forward to being a more well-adjusted partier tonight!

Since it’s hump day, and I’m smack dab between two weekends, I think it’s still OK if I make one final comment about last weekend before the new one begins.

On Sunday morning, Irene and I took off from the Marriott at which the New Jersey Romance Writers annual Fall for the Book conference was being held, and after a visit to the grave of my late Uncle Jack, conveniently located directly across the street, we headed to Long Island for lunch with mirthful Marie Severin, our favorite person from all our days at Marvel. (Except for each other, of course!)

Since the three of us always used to have lunch at Lotus Eaters back when we worked together, Irene and I tried to find the best Chinese food in the neighborhood. Using my iPhone to track down nearby restaurants, we eventually ended up at Dragon Gate. The place was empty when we got there, which worried us. But the food was so good that we’re sure it was football, and not any fault of the menu or chef, that kept people away.

So we had a great meal, filled with dumplings and gossip. We caught Marie up on the latest doings of every name from the ’70s Bullpen, and Marie cracked us up by telling us exactly what she thought about each of them. (Don’t worry, she wasn’t being snarky. Marie couldn’t be snarky if she tried. But, as always, her opinions were dead-on … and hilarious!) As for the details, uh-uh, not so fast. What’s said on Long Island, stays on Long Island.

After lunch, we headed to a nearby Carvel. We have fond memories of Marie and ice cream, ever since she once ended up face down in an ice cream cake we’d bought for her birthday. There’s no photo of that from the (sadly) pre-digital days. You’ll have to settle for this picture of her holding a humongous cone, which amazingly, happens to only be a medium. (more…)

After my breakfast with Sean Howe at Shopsin’s Saturday morning, and a brief visit to the Museum of Comics and Cartoon Art, I headed north for lunch with high-school friends at Nice-Matin, proving along the way that I am no longer a New Yorker.

First, I mistakenly took the 6 train to 77th Street, ending up on the East side rather than the West side, which meant I had to hike crosstown through Central Park. A pleasant walk amid the falling leaves, but still …

And then, after I came out of the park at 81st Street, I was so turned around that instead of walking two blocks south to 79th Street as I needed to, I walked two blocks north and wondered why I wasn’t finding the restaurant. Eventually, after much bewilderment, I realized I was on 83rd Street.

East, west, north, south—they were all blurred together. I guess when I trekked to New York this time, I left my mental compass home. So I got to the late lunch later than I expected.

Here we are at the other end our lengthy lunch which was so engaging it ran until what should have been dinner time: Donna Grant (the best-selling author), Mark Diamond (the lawyer), Barry Chaiken (the doctor and vintner), Marc Frons (the journalist), and me (whatever the Hell I am):

If you’re in the mood to, you can see what four of us looked like one year ago when we had our first mini-reunion. Not much difference, eh? (more…)

Irene attended the New Jersey Romance Writers annual Fall for the Book conference over the weekend, and I tagged along so I could (among other things) head into Manhattan to get together with friends both old and new. I’d planned to have lunch with a few other writers and editors from my high-school newspaper, a mini-reunion similar to the one I had last year. But since one of the group couldn’t get free until mid-afternoon, that meant it would be a late lunch, which also meant I’d have time for brunch with someone else.

That someone else turned out to be Sean Howe, writer/editor of the book Give Our Regards to the Atomsmashers! We’d been exchanging e-mails and a phone call as part of his research for his upcoming book on the history of Marvel Comics during the ’70s, and I thought, why not break bread with someone new for a change?

And I also thought—why not finally eat at the legendary Shopsin’s?

For those who’ve never heard of Shopsin’s, this lengthy New Yorker article will fill you in on the details. But the short explanation is that the food cooked at Shopsin’s was supposed to be so eclectic and ambrosial, and Kenny Shopsin himself such an improvisational artist of the griddle, that the combination would make me want to move back to New York just so I could work my way through the menu.

Here he is explaining how to prepare his famous mac ‘n’ cheese pancakes.

But Kenny Shopsin is famous for a lot more than just his food. He’s known for refusing to serve parties greater than four, believing it impossible to properly prepare a meal for such a group. He’s tossed people out for using their cellphones, or because they asked for substitutions, or took photos of the restaurant without asking. (And usually asking got you a no, anyway.) If he thinks you’ve ordered too much food, he’ll refuse to fill your order, and talk you down to a manageable amount. Some have compared him to Seinfeld’s Soup Nazi. But I decided it was time to find out for myself. (more…)

In the mid-’60s, I didn’t just like Soupy Sales, I loved Soupy Sales. There was a great joy to his TV show, combined with a delightful anarchy. He had the ability to make me feel like I was one of his friends, something Stan Lee was also accomplishing at around the same time via his Bullpen Bulletins pages back when the Marvel Comics universe was born.

That show was eventually canceled, but in the late ’70s, Soupy came back with The New Soupy Sales Show. After about a year, it was also in danger of cancellation. And though I might not have been able to do anything about the loss of Soupy’s first show, I swore I would do something this time. (more…)