Dick Giordano, 1932-2010
I just found out from a high school friend who has worked with The Hero Initiative that Dick Giordano died this morning.
For those of you not in the comic book geek sphere, Mr. Giordano was a longtime comic book artist, inker and editor. For me though, he was kind of like The Crypt Keeper for DC Comics.
As a kid, I grew up a Marvel nerd. They had bright, shiny heroes that seemed a bit more realistic than those two dimensional heroes on Super Friends that I watched on television every afternoon. Spider-Man was a real guy who lived in a city that I could find on a map (and that I dreamed of going to and writing Spider-Man’s stories when I got older). I loved and cherished my Marvel Comics that I read as a kid (in fact, the first comic book that I remember possessing was Amazing Spider-Man #193 and it sits in a frame on my wall- the only comic that I’ve enshrined) and thought DC were just bad comics.
Then, as luck would have it, I got a stack of DC comics from a yard sale. Among the copies of Jemm Son of Saturn, Legion of Super-Heroes, and Blue Devil comics were some Superman and Action Comics titles, a few issues of Batman and even some Justice League of America (the Detroit version of the League which was led by Aquaman!). The stories were mostly the continuity-rich, DC Comics that I love now, but were sort of impenetrable to my eight or nine year-old brain at the time. I do remember two things that I liked about those comics: the characters could say “damn” and that these weren’t the boring, vanilla heroes that hung out with Wendy, Marvin and Wonderdog on the Super Friends cartoon. So I decided to check out a few more of these DC Comics. Luckily, I had a guide.
In the mid-eighties Dick Giordano was the Executive Editor at DC and wrote a column that appeared in most of the monthly titles called Meanwhile…- it was sort of DC’s monthly hype machine in the years before the internet and Previews being available to anyone but retailers. In this column, Mr. Giordano often wrote about what creator was doing what series or the latest office news at DC, but he also spent a great deal of time hyping comics that were coming out soon (hence the Crypt Keeper comparison). It was there that I learned about Crisis on Infinite Earths and the John Byrne Superman reboot. Mr. Giordano had a style of hyping comics that wasn’t as manic as Marvel’s. While they were in your face and screaming that the new issue of New Mutants PROMISED TO BE THE BIGGEST ISSUE EVER, Giordano just kind of mentioned it in an aside right after saying who won the latest inter-office softball game. As a comics fan and as a nine year-old, I wasn’t used to being spoken to like an adult, and I really liked it.
So if Amazing Spider-Man #193 was my ground zero for comics in general, Dick Giordano and his Meanwhile… column was the first flickering of my comics adolescence. I discovered from him why Superman mattered. I discovered why Batman was a bad ass. I learned that history does matter in comics. I learned all of these things from Dick Giordano.
Later on, after he left DC and settled into a semi-retirement, Mr. Giordano wrote books on how to draw comics and still remained active. I always got the feeling from the guy that he loved what he did, and he did it for his entire life. I can only hope that I find that kind of happiness in my professional life one day, and that I do it with the kind of class that Giordano did it with. Who knows, maybe someone will look back upon my career and remember that when they were a nine year-old I spoke to them like they were a person with adult tastes and concerns. A lot of people want a million dollars before they die, I’d take that.
Tethered
Last night I stayed up way too late thinking about all of the things that I was going to do today. I sat in my bed with a my notebook that I usually write comic book scripts and story ideas in and made a list of things that I was planning on doing today, and began to think that today (Wednesday) was the last day this week that I could work on my writing for any sustained period of time. The weekend would be here, and with that came me trying as hard as I could to spend as much time with Jessie as I could while making the hour-long drive to work. I’m tired just thinking about it.
It was in those late hours trying to organize my day into shifts of writing that I wanted to do for money and writing that I wanted to do for myself that I realized something.
I realized that I hate my job. That’s a frightening feeling.
Elvis Presley and Superman.
Thirty One Years ago yesterday, Elvis Presley died a sad a broken man in Memphis Tennessee.
I’ve been wanting to write about Elvis for a while, but I didn’t know exactly what to say about him. I suppose like most people who weren’t alive when Elvis was alive or vital, Elvis isn’t exactly an exciting concept. More often than not, we are confronted with the sad, Vegas playing, rhinestone encrusted, fat and miserable King. Instead of the young, dangerous messenger or rockabilly that he was. I’m kind of glad that I didn’t discover Elvis until much later on in my life. I’m glad that I learned about punk rock and had that burn out inside of me before Elvis came into my world.
Punk rock promises adolescent boys a life of danger, of rejecting what has come before us, of breaking all the rules and maybe a few hearts along the way, all wrapped up in an all inclusive Lilly-white world. We are taught about these things, and about the only true path to punk nirvana is laying in a gutter somewhere begging for change to buy forties.
The problem is that before we were taught those lessons that were written on the back of a leather jacket Elvis was writing the lessons as he went. Here was a guy, and I’m not naive enough to think that he was the first to do it, who brought black culture to the mainstream. Here was a guy who the youth could grab hold of and say that he was theirs. Here was a guy that didn’t sound like the people their parents listened to. Here was a guy who reminded people that they had hips, penises and vaginas. That was Elvis.
At first, like most people who aren’t in the know, I thought of Elvis as the fat old man that he turned into. In a way we are sold that image of Elvis: the washed up, no longer relevant walking parody. In a way, he’s kind of difficult to look at. But that’s what people think of now when they think of Elvis. There’s a sadness in that picture. There’s a quiet desperation about Elvis’ final years, being suffocated by the tight white jumpsuit and the years behind him. In 1956 this man was every bit the revolutionary as many other people in the news (more on that in a few) and in 1976 he was a walking parody, playing tiny concert halls in South Dakota. His body died in 1977, but the man died sometime before, crushed by the world, cheapened by the grannies that went to his shows.
Chuck Klosterman, a writer whom I admire, said this about Elvis and the legion of follower’s he’s developed:
I walked around Graceland this morning, and it kind of made me embarrassed to be American. I have always sided with Chuck D’s original take on the King: Elvis never meant shit to me. I don’t like any of his songs except “Suspicious Minds”, his only good movie is Roustabout, and his whole career seems like a sociological experiment. But the main thing I dislike about Elvis Presley is the idea of Elvis Presley, and that idea is what keeps Graceland in business. It’s the religiosity of garbage culture; it validates the import of tabloid aesthetics, and it makes our society look stupid. Presley fanatics are worse than the dopes who still care about JFK Jr. and Princess Di. For some reason, there is a stunning number of Americans who desperately want celebrity royalty and cultural dogma, and that’s all Graceland is. Oh… and karaoke. There was also some karaoke.
In a sense, I agree with Klosterman, but at the same time, he’s so off base that it’s frightening. People don’t worship Elvis for the same reason they worship Princess Di, they worship Elvis for the same reason the worship Martin Luther King, Jr. By no means am I saying there is a direct comparison, but I am saying that they are similar social forces. King brought race to the forefront by turning a mirror onto our collective conscience and showing us how ugly the realities of segregation and institutional racism really are, while Elvis showed us that black culture wasn’t going to destroy us, that instead it could enrich us. I think people go to Graceland for the same reason we go to the Vietnam War Memorial, because it’s something that we can collectively touch and see to let us know that this thing did happen. Elvis was real. Sure, the gaudiness attracts it’s share of lowest common denominator retards, but it also attracts it’s share of people wanting to look at the velvet walls and five televisions playing at once and wonder where it all went wrong. When did that beautiful young man turn into that fat walking tragedy? How did this happen.
Also of note is that later on in that same Chapter Klosterman speaks glowingly of Jeff Buckley, so that must tell you something about his taste. Fucking idiot (just kidding, Chuck if you read this, get in touch).
If there is one person Elvis reminds me of, it’s Superman. People always forget what Superman stands for. About how Superman was an alien who came to Earth with these tremendous abilities and he did good. He didn’t do good because of his powers, and he didn’t do good because of his alien heritage, Superman did good because of how he was raised. He knew that he had to inspire people because he was stronger than they were.
Elvis was the same way. He did what he did because he was a simple, poor southern boy, raised beside of black people. He learned their culture, and showed us boring white people what we can do if we open our eyes.
Elvis inspired people, whether it was The Beatles, the Stones, Bruce Springsteen, or even your girlfriend when she blows you, Elvis’ fingerprints are all over this world.
Rest in Peace Elvis.
In memory of Elvis, here are some tunes that you should listen to.
First up are two songs from Elvis’ debut album, Elvis Presley.
Elvis Presley- My Baby Left Me
Elvis Presley- I Got a Woman
Next up is a medley of sorts from Elvis’ ’68 Comeback Special. The sound quality isn’t the best (I’m too lazy to go buy the remastered edition), but check it out. It’s Elvis in a rather loose, almost Mtv Unplugged like setting goofing around and playing guitars with some friends. You really get to hear the power of his voice in these songs.
Elvis Presley- Lawdy Miss Clawdy/ Baby, What You Want Me to Do?
Until tomorrow, be good. I’ve got some political stuff I’m writing about tomorrow. Be warned.
