We miss you, Len.
***
When I first began working with Len, he was—despite being just past thirty—already a legend in the industry. This was the writer who, with the equally-legendary Bernie Wrightson, created the groundbreaking Swamp Thing series. Unless you were around when that book debuted, you can’t really grasp how truly revolutionary Swamp Thing was, how different from everything that had come before it. I remember being floored by the emotional power of the art, the pulp-poetry of the language and the big beating heart at the story’s core. You couldn’t read an issue of Swamp Thing without feeling something, without being moved.
If that series was all Len had done, his place in Comic Book Heaven would be secure, but he was also the guy who co-created Wolverine, one of the most successful, and popular, characters in the medium’s history... resurrected and revitalized the X-Men franchise...had memorable runs on everything from Justice League to Hulk, Batman to Spider-Man...and, oh, yes, was editor-in-chief of Marvel Comics along the way. Len could do slam-bang superhero adventure with the best of them, but the hallmark of a Wein story wasn’t the action, it was that aforementioned beating heart. All of Len’s best work was marked by a deep humanity and a profound compassion.
Which is why, when I entered his office in the spring of 1979, I counted myself among the lucky ones: I didn’t realize just how lucky until I got to know Len. There are some writers whose work you admire, but then you meet them and it’s impossible to make the leap from the words on the page to the person across the table: there seems to be some great cosmic disconnect—and, yes, a great disappointment, as well. (It’s unfair to expect a writer or actor or musician to somehow be the embodiment his art—the work alone should be more than enough—but we hope for it nonetheless.) With Len, though, the man and the work were one. He was just like his stories: charming, funny, eloquent and all heart. He extended that heart to me. There wasn’t a hint of self-importance to the man. His editing style was warm and welcoming. He taught through encouragement, enthusiasm. Even if he didn’t like a particular story—and, believe me, some of my early scripts were massively flawed—he never eviscerated the work, never bullied: just found a gentle way to guide me out of the morass of my own inexperience and onto solid creative ground.
In a very short time, Len became not just my editor, but my friend and first real mentor in the comic book business. He saw a spark of something special in my stories and, through his patient guidance, helped fan that spark into a flame. There I was, an insecure, working class kid from Brooklyn, uncertain of my own talent, wondering if I could carve a career for myself in this wonderful, and hugely peculiar, business—and there was The Legendary Len Wein providing the answer: “If you want it, you absolutely can.”
You can’t put a price on that.
When I first began working with Len, he was—despite being just past thirty—already a legend in the industry. This was the writer who, with the equally-legendary Bernie Wrightson, created the groundbreaking Swamp Thing series. Unless you were around when that book debuted, you can’t really grasp how truly revolutionary Swamp Thing was, how different from everything that had come before it. I remember being floored by the emotional power of the art, the pulp-poetry of the language and the big beating heart at the story’s core. You couldn’t read an issue of Swamp Thing without feeling something, without being moved.
If that series was all Len had done, his place in Comic Book Heaven would be secure, but he was also the guy who co-created Wolverine, one of the most successful, and popular, characters in the medium’s history... resurrected and revitalized the X-Men franchise...had memorable runs on everything from Justice League to Hulk, Batman to Spider-Man...and, oh, yes, was editor-in-chief of Marvel Comics along the way. Len could do slam-bang superhero adventure with the best of them, but the hallmark of a Wein story wasn’t the action, it was that aforementioned beating heart. All of Len’s best work was marked by a deep humanity and a profound compassion.
Which is why, when I entered his office in the spring of 1979, I counted myself among the lucky ones: I didn’t realize just how lucky until I got to know Len. There are some writers whose work you admire, but then you meet them and it’s impossible to make the leap from the words on the page to the person across the table: there seems to be some great cosmic disconnect—and, yes, a great disappointment, as well. (It’s unfair to expect a writer or actor or musician to somehow be the embodiment his art—the work alone should be more than enough—but we hope for it nonetheless.) With Len, though, the man and the work were one. He was just like his stories: charming, funny, eloquent and all heart. He extended that heart to me. There wasn’t a hint of self-importance to the man. His editing style was warm and welcoming. He taught through encouragement, enthusiasm. Even if he didn’t like a particular story—and, believe me, some of my early scripts were massively flawed—he never eviscerated the work, never bullied: just found a gentle way to guide me out of the morass of my own inexperience and onto solid creative ground.
In a very short time, Len became not just my editor, but my friend and first real mentor in the comic book business. He saw a spark of something special in my stories and, through his patient guidance, helped fan that spark into a flame. There I was, an insecure, working class kid from Brooklyn, uncertain of my own talent, wondering if I could carve a career for myself in this wonderful, and hugely peculiar, business—and there was The Legendary Len Wein providing the answer: “If you want it, you absolutely can.”
You can’t put a price on that.
Len Wein is one of those fascinating people in comics that got the respect he deserved, but not necessarily the admiration. I will explain.
ReplyDeleteFor instance, he gets credit for Creating Swamp Thing, but very few people nowadays how good and groundbreaking it was, they act like Wein just had the idea, and Moore is the real father.
I don't want to knock Moore's run, I do very much enjoy it, and I know Wein did as well and was even the first editor.
However, I read that run in the late 2000s or early 2010s at the age of 19 or my early 20s, I had read and appreciated many of the adult books that still get raved about....and still I was effected by Wein;s work.
No, it did not have the mature plots people think about. I will grant that. They were unique, but not "how dd they get away with this." However, the characterization was more deep than people give it credit for. The sense of isolation and longing came from a real understanding of how people work.
Wein is not the only one to suffer this fate. Marv Wolfman's Tomb of Dracula for instance. Master of Kung Fu, which interestingly was a more true noir vibe than Frank miller who gets credit for bringing noir sensibilities to mainstream comics (not that I am saying that is a bad run either).
I think there is a knee-jerk reaction among some to say comics became "legit" in the 80s.
The very real understanding of people those writers had, and tried to being to comics is often overlooked... Len Wein very much included.
Perhaps the best way to look at is, the common question of deconstructionist comics is "what would teh real world be like if these wierdos and monsters were around." BUt guys like Wein askd "what if real people were forced to deal with the comic world. And in some ways, that takes a lot more thought and imagination that guys like Len Wein had.
Also, Len Wein always looked like a guy who enjoyed a soup and half sandwich.I don't known if it is true about him, but it is true about my thoughts.
Jack
You know how I feel about 70s comics, so I couldn't agree more. One of the great comic book decades and a group of hugely talented creators.
DeleteONe of the interesting things... which I will go into more depth when I finally can get back to my "aventues heres and urbanism"
DeleteNot just because of the common place of that in media as "adventure heroes and adventure heroes ramble," it is interesting how little city blocke were level or major daage done.
This si not just bcause of how common it became in escaoist media in tehb 90s and so on, but how it relfects a difference in "realism."
As early as the 80s, decomstructionist tomes were showing the deadly toll of superhero battles tearing apart cities, but in truth there just was not that much.
Even if you exit that deconstructionist mindset, major stries to reflect teh "real world" are based around the idea of superheoes having major battles that destroy blocks... Civil War for instance. Though, of course, that was only five years after 9/11
BUt even stories like Armegedodon 2001 and Onslaught has big city block leveling fights. The idea being, even if it were some kind of popcorn-flick version of a comic, that was realistic. That even in a pop corn-flick it woulkd be too unreal to NOT see city blocks detroyed.
However, guys lke Wein Gerber, Starlin, Wolfman, and Englehart rarely if ever thoguht of that as realism. However, Wein's writing of isolation felt by Swamp Thing felt more real than any city being devestated by super beings
I actually remeber years and years ago reading in a MArvel book how Wolfman's Dracula in teh then modern daywould have likely written the vampire hunters as Punisher-like peopl with nothing else inside But that teh genius was in that he wrote people who seemed like they could have normal happy lives if not for Dracula's intervention.
It is just an interesting look at teh differnece in what determines "realism" between the decades, almost like a look at charcter vs. theme style of writing.
Jack
Reminds me of those great sixties comics where Kiby would have some massive battle going on and Stan would inevitably note that it was taking place in a row of abandoned buildings.
DeleteI remember, in an interview, Stan Lee said that was because he wanted to draw a distinction between action and violence.
DeleteJack