Author: Mike Gold

As these very words see the dawn of a new week, I shall be at home packing my ComicMix shirts for the San Diego Comic Con International. It’s the most important event in the comics year. Really; don’t read that with any sarcasm because I mean that. I agree with every word Michael Davis wrote in his column last Friday the 13th: it’s a hell of an effort, it’s a hell of a show, it’s a huge event.

But I can’t help but get a little nostalgic for the old comic book shows, where the primary focus was on comic books as a hobby and an art form. These days, most of Hollywood and all of New York moves out for the SDCC; it’s a massive business. Meetings, negotiations, mega-promotions, dealers dealing comic books made unreadable by being embalmed in plastic to other dealers for very high-stakes, lawyers, agents, managers, suppliers… it gets to be overwhelming.

My first national conventions were back in New York in the late 1960s, where the sainted Phil Seuling created the model for the comic book comic book convention. When I was involved with the Chicago Comicon (now Wizard World Chicago) back in 1976 – 1985, I shamelessly ripped off Phil’s format and approach; thankfully, he saw that as a tribute. It was a different world then.

As I recall, I was at the first Seuling show to crack the 300 barrier. That’s 300 fans. Today, San Diego has more than 300 pros in attendance. Hell, it’s got more than 300 lawyers in attendance. Back then, most of us were amazed there were so many of us all over the nation. For the first time, we realized we were not alone. We weren’t that unusual. Comics were not hip; hell, from a real-world point of view, they weren’t even very profitable. This was before the direct sales market – we have Phil to thank for that, too – and comic book stores only sold back-issues. There were no action figures or posters or alternate covers; in fact, there wasn’t much of an original art market as neither DC nor Marvel returned the art in those days.

As a young fan, I was exposed to older fans’ nostalgia. I read The Spirit and Justice Society, and I met people who gave me access to Milton Caniff and to The Shadow and to old time radio and movie serials and other relics of The Greatest Generation’s lost youth. Guys like Jim Steranko and Al Williamson would personally turn me on to great artists and concepts and projects. I was exposed to America’s popular culture history, and it was great fun.

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