Chris Claremont, with whom I worked at Marvel Comics back in the ’70s, turns 58 today. Chris is perhaps best known for his 16-year run on Uncanny X-Men.

But Chris wasn’t always the trusted comics veteran that he is today. When I was editing the Marvel fan magazine FOOM, I asked Marie Severin to draw this image for the June 1975 issue just as Chris was at the beginning of that amazing run.

According to the caption, the image depicts “What the fans wanted to do to Chris Claremont, Len Wein, and Dave Cockrum for destroying the X-men before they saw the book. Once the finished product was in their hands, they quickly changed their minds.”

But as I look at the expression of agony on Chris’ face, I suspect that what this picture really shows is how he might be feeling inside today as the realization sinks in that another year has gone by.

Happy birthday, Chris!

Yesterday’s New York Times contained an Op-Ed piece by James Gleick which for the most part had little new to say, merely recycling platitudes we’ve all already read elsewhere.

But the piece, titled “How to Publish Without Perishing,” did contain one passage which, while it may also be obvious to you, seemed new to me:

It is significant that one says book lover and music lover and art lover but not record lover or CD lover or, conversely, text lover.

I’d never thought of it in quite that way, though I’ve often thought something similar—that is, we love the wine, and not the bottle.

And so the text is more important than the clay tablet upon which it is baked, the sheepskin scroll on which it it inked, the book in which it is printed, or the pixels of which it is made.

If nothing else, at least that one concept of Gleick’s stood out.

Over at The Beat, Heidi MacDonald recently shared a photo taken in a comics shop in 1967. She found the photo at the UCLA Charles E. Young Research Library Department of Special Collections, which has digitized 5,746 images from its photographic archives which originally appeared in the Los Angeles Times and the Los Angeles Daily News from the 1920s to the 1990s.

As fascinating a photo as that is—you can see a copy of Action Comics #1 out on a table rather than under glass—I’m not going to share it with you here, since you can wander over to Heidi’s site and check it out for yourself. But as soon as I heard of the existence of those UCLA archives, I immediately went and did some research of my own. I found this fascinating photo of Los Angeles city councilman Ernest Debs holding horror comic books which he had purchased in his district.

I have no idea what Deb’s role was during the comics censorship scare, but from his expression, I’m guessing that he didn’t enjoy the experience!

With a little browsing at The Grand Comics Database Project, I was able to identify all six comics. They are Tales From the Crypt #43 (August-September 1954), Chamber of Chills #24 (July 1954), Forbidden Worlds #31 (July 1954), Marvel Tales #125 (July 1954), Strange Mysteries #17 (May 1954), and Fight Against Crime #20 (July 1954). I’m not 100% sure that’s the correct Chamber of Chills issue, since so much of the cover is obscured, but the other IDs are definite.

And here they are! (more…)

Perhaps this is a completely inappropriate entry, but I couldn’t help but think that the recent tragedy at Wal-Mart could have been avoided if only those holiday shoppers at the Green Acres Mall had paid attention to those one-page public service ads which used to run “in cooperation with the National Social Welfare Assembly” in the pages of DC Comics.

Those ads were hokey, but I loved them anyway. Here’s a panel from “How Are Your Shopping Manners?” which could have changed the tenor of the day had it only been digested by them decades ago when they were impressionable youths.

You can check out the complete ad here, smurched from Booksteve’s Library.

I’m fairly certain that this was penciled by Carmine Infantino, and less certain that it was inked by Joe Giella … but I’m sure that one of you will show up eventually with the actual credits.

I guess I should apologize now …

In my final dream of the morning, I’m at a minor league baseball stadium with Paul Di Filippo. We’re not paying much attention to the game itself as we sit in the bleachers, though, entertaining ourselves more by eating stadium food and drinking our bottled water than we are with what’s happening on the field. In fact, as I get up to head over to a nearby snack bar to restock us, I never even notice that a foul ball is heading our way. It bounces once against an empty seat and lands right in my hand, surprising me. The crowd reminds me to hold it high over my head to claim it. As I do, I can hear a small boy cry out, “That was supposed to be my ball!”

I walk down to the bottom of the bleachers, and the player who had hit the ball comes over to autograph it. I look at the ball as I hand it over, and it’s nothing like an official baseball. (I know this because in real life I once caught one and had it signed by Cal Ripken, Jr.) Instead, it seems solid rubber, is green, and has already been signed by others many times before.

As the player, who turns out to be nicknamed Sparky, signs the ball, we joke, but he tells me to keep it clean since we’re being picked up by live television. While we banter, I’m thinking that perhaps I might turn the ball over to the child who’d bawled about wanting it, but then the player asks my name, and autographs the souvenir to me directly, which kills that idea. (more…)

We spent Thanksgiving over in Maryland yesterday at the home of my 94-year-old mother-in-law. And a fine time (naturally!) was had by all.

We made sure to do all the cooking this year so that she wouldn’t have to do anything more than eat and rest—she’s pulled together more than enough Thanksgiving feasts in her lifetime!

One thing we did while there was to gather together her stamp collection so that we could help her evaluate it. Back in the ’20s, ’30s, and ’40s, Margaret had been an avid collector of first day covers, but it’s been many decades since she’s had the time to devote her attention to it. So we’re trying to understand her collection and figure out what she actually has.

As with any sort of collecting, many of these items can be appreciated only by the cognoscenti, such as with envelopes which mark the first day of air-mail delivery to certain small towns in Canada. But there are some items in the collection which can be enjoyed even by a general audience.

Take the first one that caught my eye, which commemorates a visit by the 11th Bombardment Squadron to Midland, Texas on May 12, 1931. Ordinarily, such an obscure military event wouldn’t excite me, but look more closely at the top-hatted, cigar-smoking character in the circle above. You might recognize him. That’s the character of Jiggs from the comic strip Bringing Up Father (also known as Maggie and Jiggs) with a bomb tucked under one arm. It turns out that the squadron insignia was designed by cartoonist George McManus, who in addition to creating that strip, was also a member of the unit. (more…)

In last night’s dream, Irene and I are at a science-fiction convention walking through the halls of a hotel, heading toward a ballroom at which a cocktail party is being held. As we near the room, we bump into David Hartwell, and continue along with him, chatting. Once in the vast, high-ceilinged, and crowded room, we grab drinks, split up, and proceed to mingle and schmooze. As I stand there, drink in hand, surveying the crowd, I realize that I don’t know what day it is. Is the Hugo Awards ceremony still to come, or have I missed it?

I spot David again, this time standing by a small table with Marty Greenberg. I go over to ask them, because if the Hugos are that night, I need to head back to my hotel room and change into a suit. But before we can talk, we’re suddenly no longer at a World Science Fiction Convention …

… but instead in the cul-de-sac of Woodview Drive, the street on which I used to live over in Maryland from 1989 until 2004. I’m standing in front of my old house with Irene and Marty and David, but also with Lois Gresh, and they all have luggage, as if they plan on staying with me for awhile. There’s a problem, however, I tell them—I don’t live there anymore. We need to head over the West Virginia, where I’m living now.

So I get into my Jeep and drive down the street. I don’t get more than a quarter of a mile before I realize that my guests are not in the Jeep with me, they’re instead walking alongside it. I decide that this is silly, that we won’t get very far that way, and so stop, get out, and tell them to get in. But once I do, the vehicle is no longer something large enough to carry us all, but rather a motorized golf car, open to the air on all sides. Perhaps four people could fit inside, but not a fifth, and certainly not the luggage as well. (more…)

With no apologies to Mark Englblom, and him’s horrible, unfun Comic Coverage site, me pass along the awful “Unhappy Bizarro Thanksgiving!” wishes which him first served up last year.

Me could not have said it worser me self!

(more…)

Roy Robbins informs me that artist Dominic Harman will be providing the cover and interior illustrations for the Bad Moon Books release of my novella The Hunger of Empty Vessels, which will appear during the first quarter of 2009. I’m happy to see Dominic attached to this project, because I loved the work he did for me back when I was editing Science Fiction Age. Finally, this time, he’ll be decorating my words.

The Hunger of Empty Vessels will appear in a limited numbered paperback print run of 150 copies and a limited lettered hardcover print run of 26 copies. Purchasers of the lettered hardcover will also get a copy of “Here Choose I,” an additional original story exclusive to that edition.

I’ll share further details here are they’re announced. Meanwhile, start saving up that spare change!

Since I’d mentioned earlier today that a short story of mine which had originally been published in Space and Time had been adapted into an episode of Tales From the Darkside, I figured I’d share it with you, even though it had been extremely loosely adapted and was painful for me to watch.

As I’ve written elsewhere, the original short story told the tale of a man for whom gravity did not work. It had what I felt was a bittersweet ending, sort of like the one in the “Time Enough at Last” episode of The Twilight Zone. (You know, the one in which Burgess Meredith starred as the guy who broke his glasses.) But by the time the script rewrites were done, the TV episode was awash in buckets of blood.

Seeing my name on the screen was fun. Seeing what came after … not so much. But since you couldn’t possibly be as close to the source material as I was, the disparity might not bother you. (more…)