William Messner-Loebs


 


Go read this.

Bill is one of my true friends from the comics business--which means that when I left, I lost touch with him, seeing him at the odd convention (Mainly the Motor City Convention )--which means that the stuff in this article (whose author, Kurt Anthony Krug, had also interviewed me, and forwarded the article to me) came as something more than a shock.

Bill Messner-Loebs is one of these people who, in a world that made sense, should never lack for work, whose writing and drawing should be in constant demand.
Damn it.
Bill's writing, from his own Journey through Jonny Quest, the Flash, Wonder Woman, Dr. Fate, Thor, and the utterly delightful Epicurus the Sage, not to mention the deft way he pulled the elements of The Maxx into a coherent whole on the MTV animated series, shows both wide-ranging literacy and humanity that you don't find every day in the melodramatic world of comics. Bill just doesn't write cardboard characters. (Trivia note: 'twas Bill who wrote the bible on the otherwise-best-left buried !mpact line of comics, where his talents, as well as the considerable talents of Tom Artis (The Web) and the late Mike Parobeck (The Fly) were wasted. [Bill wrote The Jaguar.])
And Bill's drawing is flat-out beautiful, as you can see if you scrounge up some copies of Journey.

The comics industry really is the dartk side of fame in American culture. Especially these days, when Hollywood has seemingly dumped its old comics collection into the hopper (I just saw a trailer for the Constantine movie (a.k.a. Hellblazer)), the assumption is that fame equals fortune, and that the folks who have done a lot of the pipefitting on American Mythology live with the Olympians of movies, TV, etc.

Well, as you can see, it ain't necessarily so.

I'm frankly too heartsick to go on a rant about the creators who got shafted while the icons they created made billions for the companies that ripped them from their grasp, but the list is long. There's also this more general assumption (favored by Republicans and Ayn Randicans) that talent and genius rise to the top, which justifies their mean-spirited Social Darwinism. No, all too often Howard Roark ends his life in the quarry.

Bill's not dead yet, folks, and I know he'll be ticked about me getting all righteous over this. It's not over--but dammit, it should never have gotten anywhere near this far.

The other side of this is something I know to be true: that the suburbs and trailer parks of this country are home to beings of power, genius and delight. Astonishing musicians, vivid artists and vital writers--and not just in potential, but accomplished talents--who just have not gone through the american media machine. There's a tremendous reservoir out there: the true cultural wealth of this country is immense.

We just may never know it. And we won't if we believe that the Big Media Companies slice of America is, in fact, America.

I am trying to get a handle on what I can do for Bill, and I will post info as I get it.

But I'll close with Bill-and-Peter story.

Many years ago, there came a Sunday of the Chicago Comicon, when nothing was happening save dealers packing up and artists finishing their sketch commitments. I lured Bill out to my then-new house, offering to drive him to the airport, where he was to go on to Ellay where he was to consult on the Flash TV series. (O'Hare was an easy 30 minute jaunt from my place.)

We had a fine time, talking funny books and watching my LaserDisc of ALL the Fleisher Superman cartoons etc., when it came time for us to leave.

"So," I asked Bill, "What airline are you flying?"

"Oh, Midway."

Now Bill didn't know that Midway Airlines did not fly out of O'Hare, but out of Midway Airport, down on the Southwest side of Chicago, and more than twice as far away.

"All right, Bill, we have to switch gears. I'll get you there, but I have to go into something Like panic mode. Please excuse me."

"Quite all right," he said.

I got him there, and it's a good thing there a) was no traffic and b) were no cops around on that Sunday,

And as we hurtled along, Bill said, "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

And I said "Yeah."

Posted: Saturday - January 22, 2005 at 07:57 PM        

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