Author: Martha Thomases

I don’t even remember the first time I met Bob Morales.  We might have met when he was an intern at the Village Voice and I was a freelance writer, but I have no memory of that.  When I was publicity manager at DC Comics, he was always around.  As a writer and editor – for Reflex, for Publishers Weekly, for Vibe – he was an invaluable asset for me to exploit.

But he was so much more.

Bob was a world-class gossip.  If you read Bleeding Cool over the last 20 years, you’ve read one of Bob’s stories.  He would, occasionally, let me use him to snipe at someone who was annoying me, on the condition that Bob agreed the person in question deserved it (he always agreed).

Bob was a brilliant writer, of comics and of prose.  Most comics fans know him from his work on Captain America, but he was a brilliant critic, and an hilarious comedian.  He wanted to do an Elseworlds Batman story with Mark Twain as Batman, just so he could refer to “Twain Manor.”

Bob was connected.  He was editor and literary executor for writer Samuel R. Delany, and he helped put together the graphic novel Delany wrote, illustrated by Mia Wolff.  He helped me to get this interview with Harlan Ellison.  He talked about working with Neil Gaiman on packaging a line of public-domain novels.  He knew everyone in science fiction.  He knew everyone in hip-hop.

Bob was vicious.  If you ever crossed him (and didn’t try to correct your mistake), you were on the list.  And if you were on the list, he would do everything he could to destroy you.  Because he was so connected, that meant a lot.  If he found out you were looking for a new job, he’d make sure the stories of your treachery reached human resources at your hoped-for employer.

And yet …

Bob was a pussycat.  If you were his friend, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for you, as Heidi describes in this memory.  He always called you on your birthday.  He called all his friends who were moms on Mothers Day, and all his friends who were dads on Fathers Day.  He called me on every Jewish holiday.  He was thoughtful in ways that were unpredictable and touching.

Bob was my family.  He babysat for my son, and told me stories about my son’s other life, when he was his own person and not just my kid.  He introduced me to the woman who became not only one of my best friends, but also my son’s West Coast mom.  He stayed in my apartment when we went out of town so the cats wouldn’t have to be alone.  Quite often – almost always – some horrible mechanical event would occur in my building, and he would deal with it.

This is from Alan Moore (slightly edited), sent to be read at Bob’s funeral.

“I’m going to miss the savvy New York creak his conversation had as much as I will surely miss his writing; the commitment, insight and rare passion that he brought to every story, ever feature, every line. One of the comic field’s conspicuously rare voices of colour, he was also one of its most gifted and original contemporary writers. As a genuine creator of integrity, inevitably he came into conflict with an industry that much prefers a bland subservience in its employees to the fierce, ungovernable talent of an actual artist who has something deeply felt to say and does not care to compromise a work which he or she believes in…Moving with no apparent effort between his extraordinarily diverse realms of endeavour, Bob was like a human cultural adhesive that connected up a vast cobweb of people who, in every probability, would never have been introduced to one another save through him. One of the last authentic hipsters, he was sharp, astute, and very, very funny. If I’m honest it might be his anecdotes that I’ll miss most of all, the unexpected courtesy and deference extended to him by a crowd of strangers at a party whom, it transpired, had been informed Bob was a Puerto Rican mafia prince… Robert Morales had a fine and blazing life, a side or two of classic vinyl that I’m convinced will replay unendingly, just as I entirely expect to pick the ’phone up for an interview with Vibe, one day back in the hectic1980s, and commence a long, sweet friendship full of warmth and great ideas and lots of memorable laughs.  So long for now, Bob, from me and Melinda, and I’m looking forward to enjoying that mafia anecdote again.

The last time I saw Bob was on Saturday, April 13.  He’d been taking care of my cat while I was in Japan, and while I was gone he came down with a stomach flu.  He swore he was over it, but he insisted on doing the laundry before he left.  While we waited on the machines, we watched Rock of Ages on HBO, agreeing that Mary J. Blige should have been the main story, and that Catherine Zeta-Jones looked like Marie Osmond.

When he left, he said he was glad he could help me get away for a real vacation.  I think –  I hope – I told him I loved him.  On Thursday, I got the call that he had died.

Bob was a talker.  He’d call and say, “Hey, got a minute?” and you’d be on the phone for an hour, minimum.  I don’t know what I’m going to do with all this new free time, but it won’t be nearly as much fun, nor as valuable, as what I did with Bob.

SATURDAY: Marc Alan Fishman

SUNDAY: John Ostrander

Related articles

• RIP: Robert Morales (comicsbeat.com)
• Robert Morales Passes (bleedingcool.com)
• Robert Morales, Writer Of Marvel’s ‘Truth: Red, White And Black,’ Passes Away (comicsalliance.com)
• Robert Morales: RIP (comicmix.com)

While I was out of the country, there was apparently a media kerfuffle about the introduction of a transgender character in the pages of Gail Simone’s Batgirl. There were stories in the LGBT press, in USA Today, and on comics sites (here) (and here too).

A lot of these stories said that this was the first transgender character to appear in a mainstream comic, and I don’t think that’s true. There was a transgendered character in Mike Barr and Brian Bolland’s Camelot 3000, published by DC. The lead in Milestone’s Deathwish from the 1990s was transgendered, and that book was distributed by DC, which to my mind makes it mainstream. It was also quite a beautiful mini-series, and I really can’t recommend it highly enough. There were also several transgender characters in various Vertigo series.

However, I’ll accept that these were seen by fewer people than a Batbook.

The reaction by the audience for these books has, for the most part, been better than I predicted. Relatively few people are calling it a “publicity stunt,” and those who do seem to not understand what a publicity stunt actually is. For example, I seriously doubt that DC’s publicist went to Gail Simone and asked her to introduce a transgendered character.

When I was DC’s publicist, I would have been fired for trying to influence a storyline. The closest I came was suggesting to Neil Gaiman that he might enjoy the chance to do a public service comic about HIV. And even then, there were lots and lots of corporate hoops through which I had to jump, not because of any political controversy but because of a corporate culture that respected the separation of editorial and marketing.

And then there are the people who get defensive. For example, in the second article to which I linked above, there is this in the comments thread:

• I think all DC characters should become lesbians,gay and transgendered.

• Why?

• Because the majority of DC’s audience is.

• Mainstream America stopped reading DC comic books a long time ago. Respectfully, “The Amazing Stam,” Make Mine Marvel!

There are so many things wrong with this. For one thing, I don’t think Marvel’s audience is significantly larger than DC’s, and, in fact, I suspect there is a tremendous amount of overlap. For another, there are transgender characters on television shows like Glee, which have a larger audience than DC and Marvel combined. And, finally, it is disturbing that in 2013, this moron still thinks it is an insult to suggest that DC’s audience is queer.

Whenever a character is introduced who is not a straight, white Christian male, there is inevitably someone who complains that this is done because the creative team is being “PC.” It is impossible for these critics to imagine that creators could find diversity interesting in and of itself, or want to reflect the world in which they live. Perhaps the creators want to challenge themselves to imagine different ways of being human. I never hear anyone complain that someone who writes stories about straight, white Christian people is pushing a political agenda.

Because I’m still jet-lagged, I haven’t read Batgirl #19 yet, as I write this. I plan to get it this week, when I go to Forbidden Planet for my regular fix.

I hope it’s not sold out.

SATURDAY: Marc Alan Fishman

SUNDAY: John Ostrander

Our columnist Martha Thomases has spent the past two weeks in Japan with her son, Arthur Tebbel. By all reports, they’ve had a swell time. Here’s some of it, in her own words and pictures:

Kyoto is a city I have always wanted to visit.  The traditional Capitol of Japan is known for its beauty and history, its cultural importance. Naturally, the first place I went when we arrived was the Kyoto International Manga museum. The building, a former elementary school, has a collection of more than 300,000 volumes, as well as a great deal of original art.  In addition to the permanent collection, there are special shows as well. This is the current show.  Not really graphic story, but an assortment of panels by international artists.  I am embarrassed to say that the only name I recognized was Mike Mignola.

Everywhere you look, there are books.  The shelves on the walls are higher than you could possibly reach.

The permanent exhibition shows the history and techniques of the form.  This, I believe, is the “Biff! Bam! Pow! Comics Aren’t Just for Kids!” of Japan.

Here is some original art, I think.  Really pretty stuff.

They consider cosplay to be part of manga.  This is a current exhibit linking these two powerful cultural exports.

SATURDAY: Marc Alan Fishman

SUNDAY: John Ostrander

Mad Men starts its sixth season this weekend. I won’t be able to see it because I’m out of the country, but my cat sitter has strict instructions to set the DVR, so I expect to be up to speed anon.

I am psyched.

The last season ended in 1967. I’m not sure whether this new season will pick up immediately after the last one left off, or if it will jump forward a year or two. In any case, the late 1960s were a time when any average Tuesday had more drama and conflict and human interest than all of the 1980s combined.

The advertising for this new season, at least as seen in the posters in the subway, hint at some of the challenges we can expect to see. Buttoned-up Don Draper versus a chaotic world.

To me, it looks like a Vertigo cover, circa 1998.

Which brings me around to comics, and the points I want to make this week. For as long as I can remember (which doesn’t include the late 1960s, by the way, because that’s what the late 1960s were like for me), comics fans have bemoaned the fact that comics don’t advertise. If only comics reached out to people the way books/movies/television do, we’d have a mainstream medium.

I don’t think it would make any difference. Comic companies don’t know how to advertise.

Let’s look at an ad for an upcoming series I anticipate eagerly, the new Constantine, written by Jeff Lemire, with art by Ray Fawkes and Renato Cuedes. John Constantine is one of my favorite characters.

The ad shows Constantine sitting in a graveyard, slouched against a tombstone with his name on it, smoking a cigarette. There is a vase of red roses at his feet. Zombie hands are reaching for him, and there is a drooling zombie behind him. A skull rises from a grave to his left. There is a logo above his head, and above that is the line, “Playing with magic always comes with a price…”

It’s a terrible ad.

If you didn’t know anything about the character, or the creative team, what would this tell you? It seems to depict a guy who is so lackadaisical about the undead that he can relax with a smoke. Where is the tension? Where is the drama?

What’s in it for me?

The best advertising suggests a benefit for the consumer. It elicits an emotional response (and if you don’t believe me, watch any episode of Mad Men in which Don Draper explains things to the client). Perhaps my dishes will be cleaner, my vacation more glamorous, my beer-drinking nights more fun. Successful advertising for entertainment promises me emotional highs and lows, laughter and/or tears. It promises me that I will experience something I’ve never had before.

Perhaps DC assumes that, since the ad is running in their books, the reader knows who the character is, and what the creative team can do. Perhaps they think this information is enough to motivate someone already familiar with the work.

After all, the Mad Men poster I praised earlier is just a picture of Jon Hamm walking down a city street. In this case, however, the average media consumer knows about the show, and even if that person doesn’t watch it, Jon Hamm is regularly in movies and other television shows, reaching an audience outside the show’s usual demographics. By using a master of advertising illustration from the same era as the show, the ad evokes the time period. The composition implies a tension that is at odds with the soft colors of the background.

My curiosity is piqued. I can’t wait. Anticipation achieved.

The DC ad does none of this. And until our industry learns how advertising works (and, no, this doesn’t count), we don’t deserve nice things.

Saturday: Marc Alan Fishman

Sunday: John Ostrander

DC Comics today announced that, in recognition of Breast Cancer Awareness Month this October, Power Girl would develop breast cancer and undergo chemotherapy.

In her secret identity as Karen Starr, Power Girl will discover a lump in her breast while taking a shower. It has not yet been explained how her Kryptonian invulnerability will affect her treatment.

In a statement, DC co-publisher Dan DiDio said, “We are proud of our outreach to female readers, and this is our way of showing that we value them, that we care about their well-being. Yes, Power Girl will lose her hair, and the chemotherapy will eat away at her super strength. But instead of defeat, she will keep her mental strength, her determination, and the very things that make her a hero.”

The issue, Power Girl #1, by the Red Hood and the Outlaws team of Scott Lobdell and Kenneth Rocafort, goes on sale for $2.99 October 9.  Variant issues with enhanced covers, including one with a pink ribbon that readers can wear in support, will begin at $14.99.

Although my cable company provides me with hundreds of channels, there are still occasional day parts during which it is impossible to see an episode of Law & Order. Even if I broaden my parameters to include the one with the sex and the one with better writing, there are precious moments when neither Tamara Tunie nor Leslie Hendrix is being a tough-talking, no-nonsense medical examiner.

It’s not that I think it’s a great show, although I do kind of like it. I think Vincent D’Onofrio is brilliant, and not only because he did both this and this. I like the fact that someone who played a murderer in an early episode can be a criminal, or even an assistant district attorney in a later episode. I like seeing almost every working actor in New York get at least a few minutes of screen time… and a paycheck.

But mostly, I like how predictable it is.

The original show (which I’ve heard is referred to as “The Mothership”) was originally formatted quite strictly. At the time, the syndication business favored half-hour programs, so the idea was to run the series on broadcast as an hour-long drama, and syndicate it as two half-hours – Law and Order. I’ve never heard of that happening. All the re-runs I watch last the full hour.

And they all follow a fairly predictable pattern. There’s a murder, and the police first identify a suspect, who turns out to be a false start. Then they find the real killer and arrest him/her. After that, the lawyers take over. In addition to the murder, the suspect probably has another ax to grind. Maybe this person is a rabid environmentalist, or anti-abortion, or can’t get the affection of mommy or daddy. There is angst. Deals are offered. Deals are rejected. The trial takes place. Usually, the prosecution wins. When they don’t, it’s clear the jury was bamboozled.

All is right with the world.

The two spin-offs don’t separate the cops from the lawyers with quite the same egalitarian rigidity. In fact, both concentrate more on the police, to the point that there are hardly any lawyers at all in CI. This is fine by me.

The sexual politics of these shows are terrible. The male lawyers do all the work. With the exception of Kathryn Erbe and Mariska Hargity, the lead cops are men. (Sidenote: Kathryn Erbe’s partnership with D’Onofrio might be the most feminist ideal on all of television.)

I like to have the shows on while I work. It’s a way to tell time without looking at a clock. It’s entertaining if I pay attention, but not so distracting that it interrupts a run of productivity.

It would be a service to freelance writers everywhere is there was a cable station exclusively devoted to the various shows. Combined, they’ve been on the air for about 40 seasons, more than enough to fill a schedule. They could add in tie-ins, like Homicide: Life on the Streets (a much better show) and Oz, which both share a few cast members and a co-creator.

The biggest problem will be that the demographics are probably too old to attract quality advertising, and ads for catheters supplies are disgusting.

Which brings me to comics.

I love the comics I read as a kid. I even love the comics I read in the 1980s. There are comics I enjoy today, but I rarely have that sense of discovery and wonder I had back then. But I don’t really expect to be knocked out in the same way. I’m older. I’ve seen those tricks before. It’s difficult to invent something I haven’t already seen.

Some friends lament the fact that today’s titles aren’t like the older stuff with which we fell in love. And I get it. I’d like to be young again, too. I’d like to be a desirable demographic.

But I can reread the comics of my youth any time I want, and I do.

Please don’t put these ads in my comics.

SATURDAY: Marc Alan Fishman

SUNDAY: John Ostrander