My family and I recently attended the Orlando Toy and Comic show, and found it to be disappointing. The venue was to small for the number of venders scheduled, and the people running the show didn’t seem very forthcoming with information about what was going on and when, and it cost $15 a person to get in. I’ve been to similar sized shows in Daytona where the tickets were $5 and my daughter Elle got in for free. I was willing to pay the extra cost though because this show had advertised several creators I wanted to meet and have sign some of my books, which I assumed was the reason that the ticket cost was so high. Then, the biggest disappointment of all. Two of the four people I was anxious to meet, so I could chat and get an autograph, didn’t actually show up. There was no forewarning either, like a sign out front informing people before they payed to get in. Just a “hey how ya do” and “here’s your wrist band.”
At one time I might not have been so miffed, but I was really anxious to get my autographs. When I first started going to these shows back in the stone ages, it was different. For me it was all about finding a bunch of old Batman books in the quarter bins (otherwise known as the dollar bins today). Sure, I had met a few people here and there, but I was never much of an autograph hound.
That was my friend, we’ll call him Ringo. He was always sending off letters to minor celebrities, mainly musicians, in hopes they would write him back and include an autograph. Most of the time they did, and he had an extensive, if not suspect collection. How did he know after all that it wasn’t their personal assistant signing all that stuff. I don’t know whatever became of Ringo’s autograph collection, but I do know that I now have a whole wall of authentically autographed comics, but I’m not entirely sure how it all started.
Why collect autographs at all? As my wife KiKi frequently points out, they are just other people after all. They all put their pants on one leg at a time as the adage goes. So, why get all excited? I guess for me it comes down to three things, the creator’s greatness in my estimation, the opportunity for conversations it affords, and the stories I can tell about the experience.
When I went to Comic Con in San Diego last year, I saw, heard, and experienced a boatload of amazing things. But the memory I come back to the most is turning a corner in Artist’s Ally and seeing Bruce Timm, the creator of Batman: The Animated Series – my Batman – siting alone, sketching my favorite hero. I stood there mesmerized watching every stoke of the pen until he competed his work. I was not entirely sure he knew I was there at all, but when he finished he looked up at me. I was semi-speechless as I stammered though a nervous accolade and asked If he would sign my copy of “Mad Love” (As you well know, he is the co-creator of Harley Quinn). He was very gracious to a forty some year old man who had just turned 13 again. Why did I want his autograph, because his great work has had a real and lasting impact on my life. I liked Batman as a kid, the way kids like whatever hero they just saw on TV, and then like a different one after the commercial, but The Animated Series was a game changer. After that I was, am, and will always be a Batman guy. I’m wearing his shirt right now.
So, in that and other cases, the autograph represents a brush with greatness. I would never go on eBay and buy a Bruce Timm autograph, or any other one for that matter. Without the moment the memento is meaningless. But I have several autographs from those I consider great: George Peréz, Neal Adams, Chuck Dixon, Marv Wolfman, and Jim Steranko.
When I got Steranko’s autograph it was on a recent cover he had done for Batman Black and White. He talked at length about the whole thought process that went into creating that cover. He was telling me that if you can’t add something new to the character it’s almost not worth doing. “But what do you do with a character that’s been around as long as Batman?” Turns out he had plenty of ideas, including the addition of the radiating spikes out the cowl that allude to him as a Christ like character, the puzzle pieces under Arkham, and the ants that are seemingly blotting out Batman’s legs. What does it all mean? It means Steranko has an interesting mind and I dig it. He wouldn’t let me get his picture with him though. He said he reserved that privilege for beautiful ladies.
What a great conversation, which is another reason to collect the autographs. When I first started collecting autographs I was a little nervous to start conversation, but I quickly discovered, that not only can you actually talk to these guys but you should. When I met Tony Daniels recently, he relayed some of his firsthand experiences working on Batman and Detective Comics, which is fascinating to someone like me, who is also interested in publishing. Getting to know the ins and outs of an industry you want to be a part of is imperative, and these guys are a wealth of knowledge.
Even if you’re the nervous type, you defiantly want to praise the creator’s work. Jimmy Palmiotti gave me a really nice quick sketch of Jonah Hex on my All Star Western #1 because I related that it was my favorite non-Batman book of the New 52. I also received a beautiful gold signature placed in the perfect position from Darwyn Cooke after I praised his variant cover for Detective Comics #37 as “My favorite Batman cover ever” (It’s the one where Bruce Wayne is asleep in the chair, Batsuit still on, with the cape and cowl slug over the headrest. Alfred is covering him with a blanket.) These creators like to know why you want their autograph too. If you make it a little personal, so will they.
When I met Mark Waid at ComicCon, we had a funny little conversation. I told him he had become something of a joke around my house. I had been trying to get him to sign my Daredevil #1 for the last three years, but I couldn’t because I live in Orlando. So, I had to chase him all the way to California. He knew right away what was up because he had canceled his MegaCon appearances several times due to illness. He was a good sport about the ribbing and signed several things for me that day to “make up” for the absences. What a great guy.
I’ve also had opportunities to beef in the autograph lines. When I met David Finch, one of the books I asked him to sign was a Batman story he had worked on with Grant Morrison. It had a great shadowy cover and the silver pen he used really made the signature pop. He commented on what a great writer Morrison is, and I told him that I no longer buy Grant Morrison’s books. This was soon after he had killed Damian Wayne in that second rate Batman Incorporated book of his, then told the media that he was “As dead as Thomas Wayne.” Peter Tomasi had been on fire with his run on Batman and Robin, which I was actually enjoying more than either of Batman or Detective. The silent issue notwithstanding, the rest of the run became pedestrian at best without Damian. Finch was surprised by my reaction, but understanding. Oddly, Damian Wayne did not in fact stay as dead as Thomas Wayne. You can thank me by donating to my Kickstarter, once my book is finished.
So, I guess the answer to the question of why I collect these autographs is because it adds to the story. I can hang a book on the wall and it’s like hanging a memory up there. I can pull a book out of a box and remember the time I met the person who created that story or drawing that moved me. I see people in lines getting things signed and then running to the CGC table to get them sealed up, and you know what that deal is all about. You see them getting three copies of the same book signed and you know the score. It’s all going to be on eBay in the morning. That gig just doesn’t appeal to me. I want a signature for the same reason I wanted the book to begin with. It makes a great story.
Rex Vander 