Chasing Jim Steranko

If you want to know who the first person was to bring optical art, and surrealism into comic books, look no farther then Jim Steranko. Known for his ability to tell a whole story in a single image Steranko, has inspired such artist from Frank Miller to Bill Morrison. The pioneering artist of Nick Fury, he has also worked on movie projects like Dracula, defied death as an escape artist, and now (well… then) a cover artist for Penny-Farthing Press’ The Victorian. It was during his work on the Victorian in the late 90’s, when I had the opportunity to interview him at the San Diego Comic Book Expo… Well, sort of.
I can’t remember the exact year, but it was in the late 90’s when I first met PF-Press’ editor-in-chief Marlaine Maddux. It was during a seminar on getting children into comics, (I subject which is often overlooked… children are the future of comics, and we should be catering to them) which my best friend Frank Kane was on. She stood out in the ten people there, as the only person diligently taking notes. Always interested in anyone who actually seemed to be, well interested, I decided to go over and see what she was up to. Upon introduction, I found that she, along with her husband, and a very gifted young creator named Trainer, were there for the first time, with a booth, for their new comic company. She was very nice and so enthusiastic, that Frank and I (for after the seminar I introduced the two of them) couldn’t help but like her. After talking for a while we were invited to go down to see her display and meet her staff and artists. “We’re very excited about our lineup. We have Jim Steranko doing our first cover.” She told us.
“Oh!” I said. “That must have been an experience.”
She hesitated, then “Well, yes it has been.”
After our parting, Frank turned to me and pointed out that I should try and get an interview with Steranko. “Dude, they’re a new company, and it would really be good for them to get him to talk about his work on their project. It would be really good for you to be in their graces, by showing them you can do this stuff.”
Later, when we went down to the Penny-Farthing display, I got a chance to meet the legendary artist. A short man, with silver curly hair, in a sport coat and gray turtleneck, his reputation for being difficult permeated the air, like so much frying garlic. An obvious tenseness in the posture of all the staff around him only served to bring out my defiant side. I could see they wanted to keep him happy, but it was hard for them. Was I impressed? Of course, he’s one of the great artists of our time. Was I going to despair before his superior wisdom, which had irreversibly changed the cores of comics, as all of mankind knows it? Hell no! I was going to get my interview on my terms, and show all that I was (I am) Christopher Moonlight. No man (or woman) is better or lesser then me.
I asked for an interview.
“Who are you?”
I told him. An interview was granted. Cool. Was it going to be the easy?
“…but not right now, I’m got a lunch I’ve got to go to. Come to the signing I’m doing tomorrow and I’ll do it then. I should be done around 10:30.”
He still had a very large line at 10:30, but I waited. I stood right next to him and was ignored. At the end, when he tried to get up and leave I blocked his way and asked for my interview.
“Oh, yeah. Right. Look I’ve got to be somewhere right now…” I’m paraphrasing by the way, ”… But I’m going to be at such and such a hotel bar at 11:00 tonight. Why don’t you come have some drinks with me and my friends, and we’ll do the interview then?”
So I did. Was the escape artist there? No, for that’s what I now saw this as. One of the incredible Steranko’s easier acts, and he wanted to let me know. The thing was, I didn’t care. I didn’t need this interview, and I certainly wasn’t going to wait all night in a bar like an ass for him. I knew where he would be tomorrow. In fact, I had his itinerary for the entire con, and on top of that, Marlaine knew his every move. If I wasn’t going to get to sit down and question him, I could at least have a little fun.
The next day I was on him. I came up on his blind side, first thing in the morning, and appeared like a wraith after overhearing his talk of drinking with his friends.
“So, you did decide to show up?” I chimed in, making him start.
“Yeah,” he said, without missing a beat. “Got there about one. Where were you?”
As if…
“I met a nice girl,” I teased, “and decided to leave with her.”
The master of the water tank blew a bubble. Was his audience’s interest waning? What ever was happening, his scowl told me he didn’t like it. Suddenly, he seemed more like Count Dracula, then the magician. Eyes crafty… Skin pale… A new slight of hand… Things were getting more interesting, indeed. The game was still afoot. I still didn’t think he would do it of course.
“Mr. Steranko, you don’t have to do the interview if you don’t want to.” I said, making sure to sound non-shallot.
“No, no! I’ll do the interview…”
I pulled out my tape recorder, and list of questions, before he could say anymore. I fired my first one. His mouth opened. Nothing came out.
Then, “You know what, I can’t do it now, but if you come to this booth at the end of the day, I’ll…”
I was there, and so was he, with a couple of people who worked with him. I stood by as they did their last minute business. Finally, an announcement rang out through the convention center. Comic Con was over. Everyone had to leave. The defiance in me blazed. The count saw that I would not leave. Yes, Christopher Moonlight was making the great Jim Steranko uncomfortable. Was it me or did his heir look a little askew? I turned on my tape recorder.
“So, there’s a lot going on in your cover for the Victorian. What’s the significance of it all?”
Mouth open, and then, “Let me see that list of questions.”
I handed it over to him, and left the tape recorder on.
“I don’t know if I have answers to these.”
“Excuse me.” A voice from behind came. It was a convention hall worker. “If you don’t have an exhibitors badge, I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”
I turned and looked at the artist. From behind him one of his friends handed me an exhibitor badge. The worker went away, but by that time Steranko had found another way to try and look busy. I tried asking him questions without my list, but he only talked to his friends like I was invisible. He couldn’t look me in the eye. How strange that he would be this way towards me. What had he archived? If he didn’t want to do an interview, he could have just said so to begin with. Had I starved the poor man’s ego. Had I missed something in this dance, this… flirtations? Flirtation? Was it that? Not to say that he was trying to pick up on me, or anything, but not once had I ever acknowledged his greatness. Not once had I blushed in his presence, or giggled at my privilege to be there with him. Was that all I had to do? There was only one thing for it. I turned to the man who had given me his pass, and handed it back to him.
“Thank you so much for doing that for me, but my friends are waiting, and we have a long drive ahead of us.” That was the truth, too.
Was I glad I went through that? Of course! I may have been to young to know it then, but better then a Q and A, I got this wonderful story to tell, an insight on the man that I had never read about, in any of the publications of that time. As time whore on the details got hazy, and I’m sure the escape artist would deny every word of this, but it’s the God’s truth.
I’ll tell you a little addendum in this story, which I’ve always found funny. Two things resulted from my efforts the fallowing year. First, Marlain offered to publish my comic The Black Lipstick Curse in the back of the Victorian, with the characters in her story (then written by comics legend Len Wein) reading my book, thus giving my title a place in there titles mythology. The deal fell through because of budget constraints, but I was flattered beyond all get out, by the sentiment. The other thing that happened was that while I was with some friends at the fallowing con, the great artist walked by. As he passed I said hello, thinking that he would just ignore me. Never stopping, he turned, and walking backwards said, “Hey, I’m sorry I never did that interview last year, but if you want we can do it this year.”
“That’s okay,” I told him. “I’m not interested in doing that sort of thing anymore.”
What was that perplexed look on his face? Disappointment? I don’t know, but it was the look on my friends faces that really made it all worth it.