A Legend Is Gone...

It was 1999. Atlanta, Georgia. Dragon*Con. I had a multi-fold purpose for making the road trip from Little Rock to Atlanta. On one hand, it was the second time that I was meeting my erstwhile partner in comics, Pat Nestor, as we hastened to pimp out as much preemptive hype of our new comic THE GECKO to as many people as possible. On the other hand it was my birthday weekend, and truly my innermost, secret plan was to meet, and perhaps talk to one of my biggest influences in the comics business, Will Eisner.

I snagged the convention schedule upon arrival and got the lay of the land in the retailer’s room. I saw the CBLDF booth had a plethora of Kitchen Sink Press material, particularly some of Will Eisner’s graphic novels that I hadn’t yet been able to procure. I asked the nice lady behind the table when Mr. Eisner would be around and she mentioned the best time to catch him on Saturday to meet him.

Saturday came and honestly, everything else that happened that day (which is a whole other story entirely) was a blur. Except for meeting Mr. Will Eisner.

I stood in what I considered to be a remarkably shortish line (probably about a dozen and a half of us) waiting to meet the man himself. This was the biggest reason I drove 800 miles across the Southland. I was giddy. I was nervous. I had probably the smallest amount of his work of anyone else in line with my paltry five graphic novels, two of which were actually compilations of THE SPIRIT. Everyone else was standing in line, shifting their weight to carry the dozen or more books they had in tow. Plus, I was easily the youngest person in line as well and commented on that fact to the gentleman standing behind me.

“Not a lot of younger people here are there?” I asked almost rhetorically. I tend to make small talk with complete strangers while waiting alone in line for things. Sometimes just to pass the time. Sometimes just for entertainment value.

The guy looked wearily at me. I’m not sure if it was because I was making an obvious observation of my surroundings, or if he shared in my amazement that people weren’t lining up in droves to meet this legend of the comics industry, or if the twenty plus Eisner graphic novels he was hefting under his right arm was the most exercise he’d had in months. “Nope,” he replied.

A few seconds passed and I really couldn’t help myself, “I mean, don’t these people walking by know who is sitting there? Every comic book in this convention, every fan, every creator of comics owes a debt of thanks to this man. He’s a pioneer. A legend! This line should be out the door, loaded with people that should do nothing but tell this man ‘Thank you. Thank you for all your work.’ Don’t you think?”

The guy blinked at me, seemingly astonished to be in any sort of conversation at all. “Yeah,” he finally said and shifted his load of books under his left arm.

At this point I dropped the small talk with the monosyllabic wonder behind me and concentrated on my place in line. The funniest thing about how the line was formed was we were forced to stand on the left side of the aisle to allow for people to pass freely. When it was the next person’s turn to see Mr. Eisner, they had to walk about 10 feet over to stand in front of him. Mr. Eisner was very congenial with everyone. It was not just a “sign the book and go” sort of thing. He chatted briefly with everyone who approached him. But the way the line was set up, it was like we were there to have “our moment”. Just us. As private as you can get in a Dealer’s Room full of thousands of people. Very cool.

As it came to my turn, I walked toward him and inwardly smirking at how almost ceremonial it was, I knelt on one knee in front of him and presented my meager smattering of his work for him to grace with his signature. I introduced myself and tried to keep from gushing too much. I mentioned that I’d driven quite a way to get a chance to meet him and cited him as one of my biggest influences in getting into the comic book industry.

He actually brightened when I said that, as if he hadn’t heard it from a million other people before. He shook my hand and smiled warmly at me looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Welcome to the business. Have fun with it.”

I thanked him and walked away holding my five newly signed books with what felt like winged feet.

I opened my hardback copy of “Comics and Sequential Art” and looked at the inside front cover.

“To Michael, From Will Eisner”

I felt like I had just been knighted.

Thank you, Mr. Eisner for everything. You will be missed.