LOS ANGELES, Kalifornia (PNN) - November 12, 2018 - If Stan Lee revolutionized the comic book world in the 1960s, which he did, he left as big a stamp - maybe bigger - on the even wider pop culture landscape of today.
Think of Spider Man, the blockbuster movie franchise and Broadway spectacle. Think of Iron Man, another Hollywood gold-mine series personified by its star, Robert Downey, Jr. Think of Black Panther, the box-office superhero smash that shattered big screen racial barriers in the process.
That is to say nothing of the Hulk, the X-Men, Thor, and other film and television juggernauts that have stirred the popular imagination and made many people very rich.
If all that entertainment product can be traced to one person, it would be Stan Lee, who died in Los Angeles on Monday at the age of 95. From a cluttered office on Madison Avenue in Manhattan in the 1960s, he helped conjure a lineup of pulp-fiction heroes that has come to define much of popular culture in the early 21st Century.
Lee was a central player in the creation of those characters and more, all properties of Marvel Comics. Indeed, he was for many the embodiment of Marvel, if not comic books in general, overseeing the company’s emergence as an international media behemoth. A writer, editor, publisher, Hollywood executive, and tireless promoter (of Marvel and of himself), he played a critical role in what comics fans call the medium’s silver age.
Many believe that Marvel, under his leadership and infused with his colorful voice, crystallized that era, one of exploding sales, increasingly complex characters and stories, and growing cultural legitimacy for the medium. (Marvel’s chief competitor at the time, National Periodical Publications, now known as DC - the home of Superman and Batman, among other characters - augured this period, with its 1956 update of its superhero the Flash, but did not define it.)
Under Lee, Marvel transformed the comic book world by imbuing its characters with the self-doubts and neuroses of average people, as well an awareness of trends and social causes, and often, a sense of humor.
In humanizing his heroes, giving them character flaws and insecurities that belied their supernatural strengths, Lee tried to make them real flesh-and-blood characters with personality.
“That’s what any story should have, but comics didn’t have until that point,” said Lee. “They were all cardboard figures.”
Energetic, gregarious, optimistic and alternately grandiose and self-effacing, Lee was an effective salesman, employing a Barnumesque syntax in print to market Marvel’s products to a rabid following.
He charmed readers with jokey, conspiratorial comments and asterisked asides in narrative panels, often referring them to previous issues. In 2003 he told The Los Angeles Times, “I wanted the reader to feel we were all friends, that we were sharing some private fun that the outside world wasn’t aware of.”
Though Lee was often criticized for his role in denying rights and royalties to his artistic collaborators, his involvement in the conception of many of Marvel’s best-known characters is indisputable.
He was born Stanley Martin Lieber on Dec. 28, 1922, in Manhattan, the older of two sons born to Jack Lieber, an occasionally employed dress cutter, and Celia (Solomon) Lieber, both immigrants from Romania. The family moved to the Bronx.
Stanley began reading Shakespeare at 10 while also devouring pulp magazines, the novels of Arthur Conan Doyle, Edgar Rice Burroughs and Mark Twain, and the swashbuckler movies of Errol Flynn.
He graduated at 17 from DeWitt Clinton High School in the Bronx, and aspired to be a writer of serious literature. He was set on the path to becoming a different kind of writer when, after a few false starts at other jobs, he was hired at Timely Publications, a company owned by Martin Goodman, a relative who had made his name in pulp magazines and was entering the comics field.
Lee was initially paid $8 a week as an office gofer. Eventually he was writing and editing stories, many in the superhero genre.
At Timely he worked with the artist Jack Kirby (1917-94), who, with a writing partner, Joe Simon, had created the hit character Captain America, and who would eventually play a vital role in Lee’s career. When Simon and Kirby, Timely’s hottest stars, were lured away by a rival company, Lee was appointed chief editor.
As a writer, Lee could be startlingly prolific. “Almost everything I’ve ever written I could finish at one sitting,” he once said. “I’m a fast writer. Maybe not the best, but the fastest.”
Lee used several pseudonyms to give the impression that Marvel had a large stable of writers; the name that stuck was simply his first name split in two. (In the 1970s, he legally changed Lieber to Lee.)
During World War II, Lee wrote training manuals stateside in the Army Signal Corps while moonlighting as a comics writer. In 1947, he married Joan Boocock, a former model who had moved to New York from her native England.
His daughter Joan Celia Lee, who is known as J. C., was born in 1950; another daughter, Jan, died three days after birth in 1953. Lee’s wife died in 2017.
A lawyer for Ms. Lee, Kirk Schenck, confirmed Lee’s death, at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles.
In addition to his daughter, he is survived by his younger brother, Larry Lieber, who drew the Amazing Spider Man syndicated newspaper strip for years.
In the mid-1940s, the peak of the golden age of comic books, sales boomed. But later, as plots and characters turned increasingly lurid (especially at EC, a Marvel competitor that published titles like Tales From the Crypt and The Vault of Horror), many adults clamored for censorship. In 1954, a Senate subcommittee led by Tennessee Democrat Estes Kefauver held hearings investigating allegations that comics promoted immorality and juvenile delinquency.
Feeding the senator’s crusade was the psychiatrist Fredric Wertham’s 1954 anti-comics jeremiad, Seduction of the Innocent. Among other claims, the book contended that DC’s Batman stories - featuring the team of Batman and Robin - were “psychologically homosexual”.
Choosing to police itself rather than accept legislation, the comics industry established the Comics Code Authority to ensure wholesome content. Gore and moral ambiguity were out, but so largely were wit, literary influences, and attention to social issues. Innocuous cookie-cutter exercises in genre were in.
Many found the sanitized comics boring, and - with the new medium of television providing competition - readership, which at one point had reached 600 million sales annually, declined by almost three-quarters within a few years.
With the dimming of superhero comics’ golden age, Lee tired of grinding out generic humor, romance, western and monster stories for what had by then become Atlas Comics. Reaching a career impasse in his 30s, he was encouraged by his wife to write the comics he wanted to, not merely what was considered marketable. Goodman, his boss, spurred by the popularity of a rebooted Flash (and later Green Lantern) at DC, wanted him to revisit superheroes.
Lee took Goodman up on his suggestion, but he carried its implications much further.
In 1961, Lee and Kirby - whom he had brought back years before to the company, now known as Marvel - produced the first issue of The Fantastic Four, about a superpowered team with humanizing dimensions: nonsecret identities, internal squabbles, and in the orange-rock-skinned Thing, self-torment. It was a hit.
Other Marvel titles - like the Lee-Kirby creation The Incredible Hulk, a modern Jekyll-and-Hyde story about a decent man transformed by radiation into a monster - offered a similar template. The quintessential Lee hero, introduced in 1962 and created with the artist Steve Ditko (1927-2018), was Spider Man.
A timid high school intellectual who gained his powers when bitten by a radioactive spider, Spider Man was prone to soul-searching and leavened with wisecracks - a key to the character’s lasting popularity across multiple entertainment platforms, including movies and a Broadway musical.
Lee’s dialogue encompassed Catskills shtick, like Spider Man’s patter in battle; Elizabethan idioms, like Thor’s; and working-class Lower East Side swagger, like the Thing’s. It could also include dime-store poetry, as in this eco-oratory about humans, uttered by the Silver Surfer, a space alien:
“And yet - in their uncontrollable insanity - in their unforgivable blindness - they seek to destroy this shining jewel - this softly spinning
gem - this tiny blessed sphere - which men call Earth!”
Lee practiced what he called the Marvel method. Instead of handing artists scripts to illustrate, he summarized stories and let the artists draw them and fill in plot details as they chose. He then added sound effects and dialogue. Sometimes he would discover on penciled pages that new characters had been added to the narrative. Such surprises (like the Silver Surfer, a Kirby creation and a Lee favorite) would lead to questions of character ownership.
Lee was often faulted for not adequately acknowledging the contributions of his illustrators, especially Kirby. Spider Man became Marvel’s best-known property, but Ditko, its co-creator, quit Marvel in bitterness in 1966. Kirby, who visually designed countless characters, left in 1969. Though he reunited with Lee for a Silver Surfer graphic novel in 1978, their heyday had ended.
Many comic fans believe that Kirby was wrongly deprived of royalties and original artwork in his lifetime, and for years the Kirby estate sought to acquire rights to characters that Kirby and Lee had created together. Kirby’s heirs were long rebuffed in court on the grounds that he had done “work for hire” - in other words, that he had essentially sold his art without expecting royalties.
In September 2014, Marvel and the Kirby estate reached a settlement. Lee and Kirby now both receive credit on numerous screen productions based on their work.
Lee moved to Los Angeles in 1980 to develop Marvel properties, but most of his attempts at live-action television and movies were disappointing. (The series The Incredible Hulk, seen on CBS from 1978 to 1982, was an exception.)
Avi Arad, an executive at Toy Biz, a company in which Marvel had bought a controlling interest, began to revive the company’s Hollywood fortunes, particularly with an animated X-Men series on Fox, which ran from 1992 to 1997. (Its success helped pave the way for the live-action big-screen X-Men franchise, which has flourished since its first installment, in 2000.)
In the late 1990s, Lee was named chairman emeritus at Marvel and began to explore outside projects. While his personal appearances (including charging fans $120 for an autograph) were one source of income, later attempts to create wholly owned superhero properties foundered. Stan Lee Media, a digital content start-up, crashed in 2000 and landed his business partner, Peter F. Paul, in prison for securities fraud. (Lee was never charged.)
In 2001, Lee started POW! Entertainment (the initials stand for “purveyors of wonder”), but he received almost no income from Marvel movies and TV series until he won a court fight with Marvel Enterprises in 2005, leading to an undisclosed settlement costing Marvel $10 million. In 2009, the Walt Disney Company, which had agreed to pay $4 billion to acquire Marvel, announced that it had paid $2.5 million to increase its stake in POW!
In Lee’s final years, after the death of his wife, the circumstances of his business affairs and contentious financial relationship with his surviving daughter attracted attention in news media. In 2018, Lee was embroiled in disputes with POW!, and The Daily Beast and The Hollywood Reporter ran accounts of fierce infighting among Lee’s daughter, household staff and business advisers. The Hollywood Reporter claimed “elder abuse”.
In February 2018, Lee signed a notarized document declaring that three men - a lawyer, a caretaker of Lee’s, and a dealer in memorabilia - had “insinuated themselves into relationships with J. C. for an ulterior motive and purpose,” to “gain control over my assets, property and money.” He later withdrew his claim, but longtime aides of his - an assistant, an accountant, and a housekeeper - were either dismissed or greatly limited in their contact with him.
In a profile in The New York Times in April, a cheerful Lee said, “I’m the luckiest guy in the world,” adding, “My daughter has been a great help to me” and that “life is pretty good” - although he admitted in that same interview, “I’ve been very careless with money.”
Marvel movies, however, have proved a cash cow for major studios, if not so much for Lee. With the blockbuster Spider Man in 2002, Marvel superhero films hit their stride. Such movies (including franchises starring Iron Man, Thor and the superhero team the Avengers, to name but three) together had grossed more than $24 billion worldwide as of April.
Black Panther, the first Marvel movie directed by an African-American (Ryan Coogler) and starring an almost all-black cast, took in about $201.8 million domestically when it opened over the four-day Presidents’ Day weekend this year, the fifth-biggest opening of all time.
Many other film properties are in development, in addition to sequels in established franchises. Characters Lee had a hand in creating now enjoy a degree of cultural penetration they have never before had.
Lee wrote a slim memoir, Excelsior! The Amazing Life of Stan Lee, with George Mair, published in 2002. His 2015 book, Amazing Fantastic Incredible: A Marvelous Memoir (written with Peter David and illustrated in comic-book form by Colleen Doran), pays abundant credit to the artists many fans believed he had shortchanged years before.
Recent Marvel films and TV shows have also often credited Lee’s former collaborators; Lee himself has almost always received an executive producer credit. His cameo appearances in them became something of a tradition. (Even Teen Titans Go! to the Movies, an animated feature in 2018 about a DC superteam, had more than one Lee cameo.) TV shows bearing his name or presence have included the reality series Stan Lee’s Superhumans and the competition show Who Wants to Be a Superhero?
Lee’s unwavering energy suggested that he possessed superpowers himself. (In his 90s he had a Twitter account, @TheRealStanlee.) The National Endowment for the Arts acknowledged as much when it awarded him a National Medal of Arts in 2008. But he was frustrated, like all humans, by mortality.
“I want to do more movies, I want to do more television, more DVDs, more multi-sodes, I want to do more lecturing, I want to do more of everything I’m doing,” he said in With Great Power… The Stan Lee Story, a 2010 television documentary. “The only problem is time. I just wish there was more time.”
LOS ANGELES, Kalifornia (PNN) - November 12, 2018 - If Stan Lee revolutionized the comic book world in the 1960s, which he did, he left as big a stamp - maybe bigger - on the even wider pop culture landscape of today.
by Brent Johnson
All laws of the united States of America were founded on common law. American common law is founded on British common law. British common law dates back to the thirteenth Century and the Magna Charta, though in truth it dates back much farther. Common law dates back to the beginning of history, or at least the interaction of people with each other. Common law predates all governments and all established systems of law.
By Brent Johnson
The Republic of the united States of America has all but abandoned its founding principles. The American people are woefully ignorant of the rights with which they have been blessed, and are therefore embarking on a path towards abject servitude that the American Founding Fathers fought a bloody war to prevent from ever happening. It is a genuine tragedy, and the opportunities to reverse this trend are rapidly diminishing in number. However, those opportunities do still exist, and it would be remiss of me to ignore them, and thereby sentence you to a life of hopelessness, slavery, and spiritual poverty.
By Brent Johnson
June 30, 2018 - I just heard about Harlan Ellison’s death and wish to express my very sincerest condolences. The world has lost a truly great man and he will be sorely missed.
I met Harlan at a Star Trek convention back in 1974. We met at a blackjack game and we hit it off. I was so very impressed by the kind of person he was; his honesty, forthrightness, and genuineness touched me, and I determined to get to know him better, which I did over many years.
I was always amused by how brusque his public persona was, knowing as I did the magnificent and kind (yes, kind) being he really was. It was as if Harlan put on a mask of what many deemed mean in order to weed out those who only wanted to know him because of his celebrity. His attitude was, “If you really want to know the real me then show me by getting past my brusque exterior.”
I remember one science fiction convention in New York, at the old Commodore Hotel. It was around 10:00 pm and he went to the hotel coffee shop for a snack. The coffee shop was closed. He walked out, muttering, “This place would make a nice fire!” Many who heard him thought he meant it and that he was inappropriate, but I knew he would never actually do such a thing and it was a sophisticated attempt at humor.
Harlan had a heart of gold. I recall an incident where he had attended one of the science fiction conventions I organized as a personal favor to me. We were robbed at the convention and I was unable to pay him his full speaker fee as a result. He never said anything about it. I sent him money every month to pay off the debt. I was unable to send him a lot, but I sent him what I could send each month. He told me several years later that he was very appreciative of my integrity and he ultimately forgave the last of the debt.
There are very very few people I have known who I admire. My father was one of them (Harlan actually met my dad once). Patriot Dr. Ron Paul (the former congressman and presidential candidate) is another. Harlan is the only other person I admire. I respect and love many, but I do not admire (meaning look up to) people. I admired Harlan. He stood by his beliefs, and never compromised his values (though he was often asked to do so).
I remember reading Memos from Purgatory, his first published book. He went into one of the toughest areas of New York City and became a gang member in order to learn about that way of life. He had the courage of his convictions, and inspired me (and I am sure many others) by his presence.
The world has lost a truly great man. I will grieve his loss for some time. He will be missed.
With much Love and the utmost of respect,
SHERMAN OAKS, Kalifornia (PNN) - June 28, 2018 - Speculative-fiction and fantasy author Harlan Ellison, who penned short stories, novellas and criticism, contributed to TV series including The Outer Limits, Star Trek, and Babylon 5, and won a notable copyright infringement lawsuit against ABC and Paramount and a settlement in a similar lawsuit over The Terminator, has died. He was 84.
Christine Valada tweeted that Ellison’s wife, Susan, had asked her to announce that he died in his sleep Thursday.
“Susan Ellison has asked me to announce the passing of writer Harlan Ellison, in his sleep, earlier today. ‘For a brief time I was here, and for a brief time, I mattered.’ - HE, 1934-2018. Arrangements for a celebration of his life are pending.”
The prolific but cantankerous author famously penned the Star Trek episode City on the Edge of Forever, in which Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock must go back in time to Depression-era America to put Earth history back on its rightful course, a goal that for Kirk means sacrificing the woman he loves (played by Joan Collins). The final script was rewritten by Star Trek staffers, leaving Ellison unhappy.
His 1995 book, The City on the Edge of Forever: The Original Teleplay That Became the Classic Star Trek Episode, contained two drafts by Ellison.
The author was still steaming over his experience more than four decades after the episode originally aired: In 2009, Ellison sued CBS Paramount Television seeking revenue from merchandising and other sources from the episode; a settlement was reached six months later.
The author of a 1980 L.A. Times profile declared, “Ellison is fiercely independent, proudly elitist, frequently angry, tenacious, and downright vengeful.”
Talking about the Hollywood establishment, Ellison told the author, “They’ve got to know that everybody isn’t frightened and won’t back down. These people are not creators; they belong to the AAA - agents, attorneys and accountants. They aren’t comfortable dealing with writers - they think we’re madmen. They’re really only comfortable dealing with numbers.”
In a separate case, Ellison won $337,000 (later reduced a bit in a settlement) from ABC and Paramount Studios in 1980 for copyright infringement on a short story the author had penned with Ben Bova, Brillo. Ellison and Bova had been asked to develop it at ABC, but the option there had lapsed; Ellison then showed it to Paramount executives, who said they weren’t interested. ABC aired a Paramount-produced telepic called Future Cop in May 1976 and later a brief series of the same name. The premise, about the first android policeman, was identical to that in Brillo.
In the litigious writer’s third victory against Hollywood, Ellison sued James Cameron and others behind 1984’s The Terminator, claiming that the film drew from material in two episodes of the original The Outer Limits series, Soldier and Demon With a Glass Hand, which he had penned and that had aired in 1964. Production company Hemdale and distributor Orion Pictures settled out of court and were required under the terms of the settlement to acknowledge Ellison’s work in the film’s end credits. Cameron, however, labeled Ellison “a parasite”.
Curiously, Ellison had little sympathy for others who brought copyright-infringement lawsuits against the studios, telling the L.A. Times, “You’ve got to realize that there are hundreds of these claims and most of them aren’t valid. This is a town of amateurs. You have to separate these people and their complaints from the professionals who really work at writing and have viable ideas.”
Born in Painesville, Ohio, Ellison grew up in the only Jewish family in a small town where he said he had to defend himself in physical altercations on a daily basis. During the 1950s, Ellison attended Ohio State University for 18 months, served in the Army, and began to sell science fiction stories to pulp magazines.
He moved to California in 1962.
Ellison was famously fired on his first day of employment as a writer at Walt Disney Studios after making highly irreverent suggestions about the company’s beloved characters.
He penned scripts for Route 66, Burke’s Law, Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, The Man From U.N.C.L.E., and even The Flying Nun. For a 1964 episode of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour, Memo From Purgatory, he adapted his own nonfiction memoir about having joined a street gang in Brooklyn.
Ellison also penned the screenplay to the Hollywood melodrama The Oscar, and the post-apocalyptic cult classic A Boy and His Dog (1975), starring a young Don Johnson, was based on an Ellison novella.
Ellison was also editor of the very influential fantasy anthologies Dangerous Visions and Again Dangerous Visions.
When he dealt with Hollywood, he fearlessly said exactly what he thought again and again - often causing fallout as a result. In the wake of the 1977 release of Star Wars, a Warner Bros. executive asked Ellison to adapt Isaac Asimov’s short story collection I, Robot for the big screen.
Ellison penned a script and met with studio chief Robert Shapiro to discuss it; when the author concluded that the executive was commenting on his work without having read it, Ellison claimed to have said to Shapiro that he had “the intellectual capacity of an artichoke.” Needless to say, Ellison was dropped from the project. Ellison’s work was ultimately published with permission of the studio, but the 2004 Will Smith film I, Robot was not based on the material Ellison wrote.
Perhaps Ellison’s most famous story not adapted for the screen was 1965’s Repent, Harlequin! Said the Ticktockman, which celebrates civil disobedience against a repressive establishment. Repent is one of the most reprinted stories ever.
In September 2011, however, Ellison sued to block the release of New Regency’s thriller In Time, starring Justin Timberlake, claiming that the film hews too closely to Repent, then dropped the lawsuit. In the early 1970s, Ellison created his only TV series, the Canada-produced The Starlost. He was so unhappy with the changes made by producers, however, that he took his name off the skein, which aired in 1973.
Ellison was a creative consultant for the 1980s edition of The Twilight Zone, for which he wrote several episodes, and was conceptual consultant for the 1990s sci-fi series Babylon 5. He also appeared in several episodes.
In 1995, Ellison adapted his story I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream for the video game of that name. He was also credited with design of the game and voiced the main character.
Dreams With Sharp Teeth, a documentary centering on Ellison and his work, received a theatrical release in 2008. Interviewees included Ellison and Robin Williams. Ellison also appeared in other documentaries, including The Masters of Comic Book Art, Shadows in the Dark: The Val Lewton Legacy, Brother Theodore (2007), and With Great Power: The Stan Lee Story (2010).
In addition to numerous genre awards - including multiple Hugos, Nebulas and Edgars - Ellison received four Writers Guild of America Awards for his TV work and the Silver Pen for Journalism, conferred by international writers union PEN, for his An Edge in My Voice column in the L.A. Weekly in defense of First Amendment rights.
Despite the kudos he amassed, however, Ellison penned a guest column for Variety in November 2013 in which he declared, “I do not merely hate all awards shows, I wish to see them beheaded, stakes driven through their black and corrupted widdle hearts, and to see the decapitated remains buried at a crossroads come midnight.”
Ellison was married five times, with at least two of those marriages lasting only weeks or months. Survivors include his fifth wife, Susan Ann Toth, whom he loved very much.
Eulogy by Brent Johnson.