Comic-Con International, more familiarly known as the San Diego Comic Con, is the Mecca of American comics aficionados. Every North American comics enthusiast should make the pilgrimage at least once. The 2006 Comic-Con International is the seventeenth San Diego Con that I’ve attended in the last twenty-five years; the Con marked its thirty-seventh anniversary this year.

But then there are some people who resist the San Diego Con’s siren call, such as my fellow Quick Stop columnist Fred Hembeck, who has never been there once. How can this be? Have you ever had the feeling, when you finally visit a distant place that you’ve long read about, or seen on television or in the movies, say, like Paris or the Grand Canyon, that by gosh, this place really does exist. Perhaps, deep down inside, Fred doesn’t quite believe that something as reputedly fantastic as the San Diego Con (or, I suppose, southern California) actually could be real.

For the benefit of Mr. Hembeck, and of all of you who couldn’t get there this year, for this and the next several weeks I will be reporting in detail on my experiences at the San Diego Con, as I did last year and in 2003.

At any given point while the Con is open, there are so many panels or other events taking place, that no two attendees, unless they travel together in lockstep, could possibly have the same experience there. I attended several high profile panels and events, some of which had an audience comprising thousands of people, as well as panels which attracted only several dozen attendees.

Last year Mr. Hembeck’s endurance seemed somewhat strained when my Con reports ran into their fifth and sixth week. I doubt that this year my reports will take up quite so many pages, inasmuch as I’ve never worked at a San Diego Con as much as I did at this one. All of my journeys to the San Diego Con have been business trips, but I spent most of my time attending panels, and, in the early years, company and convention parties. In 2003 my reason for going to San Diego was the showing of Constantine Valhouli’s documentary Sex, Lies and Superheroes, which I co-wrote and executive produced, at the San Diego Con’s Film Festival. Last year I appeared on a panel at the Comic Arts Conference, an academic conference held during the Con, to promote The Supervillain Book, which I and others had been writing. My expenses were picked up by the Big Apple Conventions, which sent me to scout for possible guests. This year half my expenses, including my hotel accommodations and plane flight, were being picked up by DK Publishing, for whom I wrote The Ultimate Guide to the X-Men, now in its third, expanded edition, and collaborated on the forthcoming Marvel Encyclopedia, which comes out in October. I was scheduled to appear on DK’s panel and to do two signings at their booth. I also appeared on another Comic Arts Conference panel on behalf of The Supervillain Book and ended up doing a signing for it. The book officially comes out this fall, but we had advance copies to sell at the Con. I was also scheduled for a business meeting with The Supervillain Book’s editor, Gina Misiroglu, to discuss ideas for possible follow-up books. Moreover, while I was planning to write up the panels I attended for this column, which I do for free, I was hoping to do some reporting for Publishers Weekly, for which I would get paid.

Perhaps one of the factors that discourages Fred from going to the Con is the sheer difficulty involved. It has become a very expensive proposition in recent years, with hotels charging hundreds of dollars per night. And that’s if you can find a hotel room. Last year 100,000 people attended Comic-Con; according to early estimates, there were 125,000 people there this year. Rooms at the principal hotels get snapped up months in advance, and plane seats vanish quickly too. Much as I always enjoy the Con, I’ve decided that nowadays I should only go if I have a specific project to promote (as with Constantine’s movie) and if someone will pick up a major part of my expenses, as DK did this year.

But, inevitably, with so much going on at the Con, when I’m doing a signing or appearing on a panel myself, I can’t attend another panel that’s going on simultaneously that I would dearly love to see. So my coverage of the Con this year shouldn’t be as long as it has been in the past, simply because I wasn’t able to attend as many panels.

I hope that my detailed coverage of what I did see at the Con will convey to those of you who didn’t attend some sense of what it was like to be there, and perhaps even excite some of you into making the pilgrimage yourselves.

Concerned as I am about testing Mr. Hembeck’s patience with my long reports, this year I am borrowing a device from one of our favorite television series to enliven my coverage: the digital clock from 24. I will keep you informed as to exactly when these events started and stopped, and whenever you see the time listed, you and Fred can chant along with 24’s ominous clock music: KA-CHUNK! KA-CHUNK! KA-CHUNK!

Fred may have further good reason to shy away from trips to San Diego. Based on past experiences, I have formulated a rule that no major trip can take place without something going wrong. For example, years ago when I took a trip to Rome, despite the fact that I was on a nonstop flight from New York City to Rome, the airline still succeeded in losing my luggage. I told the tour guide what happened, and she breezily informed me that I’d never see it again. The next day, on returning from sightseeing, my bag was waiting for me in my room. So a seeming miracle occurred, befitting the vacation in which I visited the Vatican, as well as confirmation of my rule about travel.

Last year, as regular readers of this column may recall, on my trip out to San Diego I had to change planes in Dallas, but the first plane (of course) arrived late, and I was stuck in the Dallas/Fort Worth Airport for five hours, reading The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe while awaiting the next plane, and thereby missing all the Thursday panels I wanted to see. But far more annoying were my dealings with Kinko’s in trying to get the business cards my redoubtable editor Ken Plume had advised me I should have.

For this year’s San Diego trip my rule went into overdrive. Fred, prepare to have all your fears about long-distance travel confirmed.

And Kinko’s was only a minor factor this time around. My old business cards, you see, listed this column’s old web address, over at IGN. But now I’ve moved to Quick Stop, rendering the old cards obsolete. Determined to avoid Kinko’s, I made the long walk to the neighborhood Staples, where an attractive young woman at the printing counter, who told me that it would take seven to fourteen days to print the cards. (Considering that she seemed to have nothing to do, why couldn’t she print them now?) The trip was less than a week away, so I was forced to try Kinko’s again. This time on their first version of my new cards, Kinko’s managed to spell my name “Petre.” (I take it from what I heard other people in line say, that I am far from the only person who has problems with Kinko’s.)

I know better than to trust Kinko’s, but it is really disturbing when you think you can count on a trusted friend on a major matter, only to have the rug pulled out from under you. In June I made contact with a good friend with whom I’d lost contact the previous fall. But it was if no time had passed as we animatedly talked on the telephone. Since she had done a great job in making my travel arrangements for last year’s Comic-Con, I asked her if she’d do it again this year, and I would send her a check. She agreed, and on our second phone conversation, a week later, she was busily reading to me a list of inexpensive plane fares and assuring me that she could find something even cheaper. I asked her to call me back in a few days when she completed her search.

Then she stopped answering her phone and e-mails. For weeks. In imitation of my hero, Stephen Colbert, I have put her on my “On Notice” list.

By now it was early July, and, well aware of the difficulties in booking planes and rooms for the San Diego Con, I was getting worried, and starting sending out e-mail calls for assistance. And miracles occurred again. Only moments after I mentioned my dilemma in an e-mail to her, the Beat, that living nexus of all comic industry realities, phoned me to offer a solution. She put me in touch with her friend Frank, who was in contact with a young nanny named Daniela, who was trying to sell two U. S. Airways/American West vouchers she had gotten after being bumped from a flight. Frank was also heading to the San Diego Con. But U. S. Airways informed Daniela that in order to transfer her vouchers to us, all of us would have to come down to the airport. Since I’m a freelancer, my schedule is malleable, but Frank’s and Daniela’s were not, so all of us headed down to Kennedy Airport (a thirty dollar cab ride for me) one evening. I arrived first, shortly after 8 PM, and discovered something that Dani the Nanny had not been told: the U. S. Airways ticket counter was already closed for the night! So we all had to get up at the crack of dawn the next morning to head down to Kennedy Airport yet again so Frank could get into Manhattan by 9 AM. Thus time everything went smoothly: I would fly out on Wednesday, the day before the Con’s official start, arriving around 10:30 PM, and would fly back the following Monday night. Since I finds it difficult to sleep on planes, I’m not fond of redeye flights, but this would give me a day in San Diego after the Con. It seems pointless to me to fly all the way out to San Diego, with its brilliant sunshine, gorgeous sights, and nearly perfect weather, and then spend the whole time inside the Convention Center. I feel my San Diego trips are not complete until I spend at least an afternoon out of doors.

More miracles followed. Bess Braswell of DK e-mailed me that they had already booked a room for me at the Doubletree Club (without telling me). Peter Coogan, one of the chairmen of the Comic Arts Conference, alerted me that another CAC attendee, Patrick Jagoda, was looking for a fourth person with whom to split a room (that cost over $300 a night total!), at the Coronado Island Marriott Resort. So now I had a choice of places to stay, and spent days mulling over which offer to accept. There was a water taxi that crossed the bay between the Coronado Island Marriott and the San Diego Marriott, which stands directly beside the San Diego Convention Center. I liked the idea of starting each day by riding a ferry across the bay, but the water taxi didn’t run at night, so I’d have to take a more expensive cab (a land taxi?) back each night. According to its website, the Doubletree Club was only “minutes” from a trolley that ran directly to the Convention Center. I was leaning towards the Doubletree, until I phoned the hotel, and discovered that the trolley was a five minute DRIVE from the hotel, across a highway! And even with DK picking up half the tab, the Doubletree would still cost me about twice as much as the Coronado Island Marriott. So I accepted Patrick’s offer. (Of course anyplace within easy walking distance of the Convention Center would have been booked solid months ago.)

And there were other problems. Publishers Weekly wanted me to bring a laptop computer to the Con so I could write articles out there and e-mail them to my editors Sunday night, in time for the Tuesday edition of their online newsletter Comics Week. But I discovered that the decade-old laptop was incompatible with recent versions of AOL. I figured out that I could still transfer the articles to the Beat’s laptop via Zip drives; Peter Coogan even offered to give me one, and the Beat approved of the solution. It meant lugging another shoulder bag, with the laptop, on the trip, but, hey, it’d be worth it if I get paid for the PW reports.

Then on the day before the trip, my watch stopped. I had the foresight to have a backup. At this point Fred Hembeck is reading this and vowing he will never venture any further from home than Disney World. And I haven’t even mentioned airport security yet. Without waiting to be asked, I put my bags, the laptop, jacket and shoes through the X-ray machine, though I thought the security people were a wee impatient in expecting people to redress hurriedly. (I understand that this summer security is particularly concerned about the possible danger of serpents on an aircraft.)

What else could go wrong? Actually, not much on the trip out. First I took a flight from New York City to Philadelphia (only thirty minutes; hardly seems worth going by plane!), and then boarded the America West flight for San Diego itself.

I spent part of the journey reading the new novel from Tor, Dark Shadows: The Salem Branch, by Lara Parker, who played Angelique on the original Dark Shadows television series. The book is quite good, and I will be discussing it in a future “Comics in Context.”

What made the flight even more enjoyable was the other passenger in my row. Years ago I found myself seated next to graphic novelist Kyle Baker on a flight (to Chicago for its con, I think), and he observed to me, “Did you ever notice that you never get seated next to an attractive woman on a flight?” (Certainly not that one, since I was sitting next to Kyle.) This year’s flight to San Diego proved the Baker Hypothesis to be wrong. Separated from me by a single empty seat was an attractive young German woman named Annette, who had flown all the way from Munich, changing planes in Philadelphia on her long trek to visit friends in San Diego. Between one or two hours into the flight, she did something I don’t expect from fellow airline passengers: she smiled and started a conversation with me, and apart from an understandable break she took to take a nap, we talked animatedly for the rest of the flight. I even sought to reassure her when she was frightened by some particularly nasty turbulence that shook the plane for five to ten minutes. She was intelligent, vivacious, nearly perfect in speaking English, and quite pretty. This was her first trip to California, and I advised her on various sights she should see not only in San Diego, but in Los Angeles and San Francisco. She mentioned that her friends would have to work during the week, so I offered to show her around San Diego on Monday before my return flight. She seemed open to the offer. Did she turn up on Monday? That’s right: this year’s San Diego report will have an element of suspense. (Fred is already on the edge of his seat!)

So, my many thanks to Heidi, Frank, Dani, Peter, Patrick, Bess, Rachel, Greg, and Zon for their part in making my expedition to this year’s Comic-Con possible. And to Annette for making the flight out so pleasant.

Thanks to various delays on the flights, I arrived in San Diego not around 10:30 PM but closer to midnight; in fact, the airport was about to shut down for the night. Which means it was now–
COMIC-CON DAY ONE

The following events take place Thursday between 12:00 AM and 11:30 AM. (KA-CHUNK! KA-CHUNK! KA-CHUNK!)

As I explained to Annette, landing in San Diego after dark is always disappointing: you can’t see the palm trees, or the skyline, or the brilliant blue sky. Airports all look alike, and outside is darkness. I found a shuttle, which is less expensive than a taxi, and rode across a bridge over the bay to Coronado Island, and the Coronado Island Marriott Resort. Luckily, my three new roommates, Patrick, Greg, and Zon, young academics, were all still up. Patrick and Greg had claimed the two real beds, and I got a rollaway bed, which proved comfortable enough. (Zon got the floor. Being the eldest of the group, I decided not to feel guilty about getting a bed. Seniority can be a good thing.)

Through e-mail Patrick and I had agreed that I would pay him in cash for my share of the room, and then he would pay the hotel. So now I offered to give him the money, but he’d changed his mind. He arranged it so that there were four separate accounts, and each of us would pay the hotel directly for his share. This made sense at the time. But we had overthought the situation, and had laid the seeds of trouble to come. (Still more suspense.)

DAY ONE 8:00 AM
I may have been the oldest of the four CAC roommates, but I was consistently the first one to wake up, managing to perform my morning ablutions before the others could compete for bathroom time.

9:30 AM
As I had hoped, the morning ferry voyages justified my choice of the Coronado Island Marriott. My friend Meloney Crawford Chadwick had advised me that Hotel Circle, the location of the Doubletree Club, was the middle of nowhere. But here, we emerged into the hazy sunlight, crossed the swimming pool area (which seemed surprisingly bare and unmemorable in daylight), and strode out onto a pier extending into the bay. There you could look back at the island, or across the sparkling waters to the San Diego coastline, with the long bridge to Coronado Island to the right. Directly across from us was the San Diego Convention Center, with its sail-like structure, as if the building were a larger version of the many boats docked at the marina outside the Center. To its left were the two curved towers of the San Diego Marriott, and far to the Center’s right were enormous battleships at San Diego’s famed naval base.

The ferry is tiny; twenty passengers would be a crowd, and the open window areas make one feel even closer to the surrounding waters. The trip between the two Marriotts lasts no more than ten minutes, and this morning the waters were soothingly calm. It is a marvelous way to begin the morning.

9:45 AM
Contrary to earlier rumors, the line at Professional Registration was short and moved quickly. Once I got to one of the booths, my wait slowed down considerably. DK, CAC and PW had each registered me for 2006, and I know from 2003 that thanks to my many visits to the Con, my name is in their computers. But the two guys on duty at this booth were unable to find my name in their system. This, one of them decided, was my fault. The older-looking, bearded one began lecturing me that I should never let anyone register for me, and that I should always do it myself. Then a young woman came by, pressed a key on the younger guy’s computer, thereby immediately bringing up my name, smiled, and walked off.

9:50 AM
With only ten muinutes to go to the official start of the Con, I saw numerous people entering the doors to the main floor. Wearing my professional’s badge, I tried to go in, too, but was shooed away by one of the red-shirted minions of the unfortunately named “Elite” security force that patrolled the Con. He smugly told me to wait with everyone else. Puzzled that pro badges seemed effectively meaningless, I made my way upstairs, to the Sails Pavilion, where I saw hordes of fans lined up in zig-zag formation, waiting to be allowed onto the main convention floor. Unwilling to be regimented, I milled about and finally make my way into Room 5AB, where a surprisingly large crowd, leaving few empty seats, and an astonishing number of video cameramen (including the ubiquitous Mike Catron, king of comics convention video), were awaiting the first panel of the Convention.

10:30 AM-11:30 AM
This event was billed as “DC Comics Legacy: U. S. Postal Service First Day Stamp Issue.” As it would be explained to us, the U. S. Postal Service holds a ceremony marking the issuing of each new set of commemorative stamps. Today the Postal Service was officially releasing its new set of twenty stamps featuring ten DC Comics super heroes, including Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, the Flash, Green Lantern, Hawkman, Supergirl, Green Arrow, Aquaman, and Plastic Man. (How come Plastic Man, who originated at Quality Comics, not DC, made it and the more famous Captain Marvel, who originated at Fawcett, didn’t? If not for the references to him in HBO’s Entourage, would Aquaman have made this list? Didn’t Entourage pick him as a joke because he is such a minor character?) Even better, each image is taken from classic comic book artwork. Each character is represented by a stamp bearing a close-up of his likeness, and by a vintage cover. For example, a Green Lantern stamp bears an image of Hal Jordan, the Silver Age Green Lantern, from a cover by Neal Adams. The stamps would only be available that day in San Diego: in fact, the Postal Service had set up a special outlet right at the Convention Center. The stamps went on sale the next day around the country, and the Museum of Comic and Cartoon Art (MoCCA) hosted another ceremony for the stamps the following week in New York City.

The first speaker was Dave Failor, the Executive Director of Stamp Services for the U. S. Postal Service. He told us that he ordinarily “works inside the Beltway” but that “my job today is to come to Comic-Con.”

Failor said that there had been a “wonderful debate in the office” over how popular the stamps would be. He said they knew the stamps would be popular with comics collectors, and then asked how many people in the audience were comics collectors. Well, duh, this is the San Diego Comic Con: virtually everyone raised his hand. But then he asked how many in the audience were stamp collectors, and I was surprised at the large number of raised hands.

Explaining First Day Issue ceremonies to those of us who were attending one for the first time (like me), Failor said that the Postal Service “always selects one city” where the stamps would be exclusively available to be postmarked that first day of release. He said San Diego was “one of my favorite cities” and “a great fun city to come to,” a sentiment with which I certainly agree.

Then he introduced Jerry Sanders, the Mayor of San Diego. I never expected the city’s mayor to show up. Years ago, my friend Meloney went to one of Europe’s largest comics conventions, the Angouleme Festival in France, where she attended a dinner where the Mayor of Angouleme was present. When she told me about this years ago, I took it as a sign of how much more respect that comics receive as an artform in Europe.

And now, in 2006, the Mayor of San Diego appeared at the opening event of the San Diego Comic Con. This probably has much more to do with the economic impact on the city’s restaurants, hotels, and more from over a hundred thousand people attending the Con than with official recognition of the artistic merit of comics. Still, the Mayor’s appearance was an impressive gesture.

The Mayor began by saying that he “grew up on DC and Marvel comics.” (I suppose once upon a time that if a politician said that, he would be seen as having been a particularly dumb child.) He told us that he gave “a suitcase full of comics” to his nephew three years ago, whereupon the audience collectively went “awwww.” (They sounded sad, as if the mayor had enacted that archetypal moment in the lives of older fans, in which someone, usually a parent, gives away old comics, oblivious to their worth.) The Mayor called San Diego “America’s finest city,” as you would expect him to say, but went on to declare that “We are really happy to have Comic-Con here.” He also stated that “I can’t think of a more fitting subject for a postage stamp series” than super heroes. (Um, how about American Presidents?)

The Mayor observed that Paul Levitz, DC’s president and publisher, who was seated onstage, started his comics career thirty-three years ago. The Mayor said that he himself had started out in the police thirty-three years ago, and “we just went in different directions,” causing Levitz to break into a big grin.

“Please enjoy our city,” the Mayor concluded. “We welcome you with open arms.”

Next up was David Glanzer, the Director of Public Relations and Marketing for Comic-Con International, who said that the U. S. Postal Service and DC Comics had chosen Comic-Con as the site of this event. Glanzer said this “proves comic art has reached a new era of appreciation.”

Then Paul Levitz and many people connected with the U. S. Postal Service who were present were introduced from the stage.

The next major speaker was the U. S. Postal Service’s Judicial Officer William Campbell. We were informed in his introduction that “Bill was a comic collector as a child,” and his speech made it clear that yes, indeed, he is One of Us. Campbell began by welcoming the “comic collectors” in the audience and urging us to “give yourself a big hand.”

Commendably, Campbell then said that at this event “first we celebrate. . . fantastic artists” and “creative storytellers” who brought about a “new kind of heroes” in “the greatest comics industry in the world.”

Next, Campbell said, we “celebrate the heroes themselves,” whom he described as “great characters and role models,” who also “had weaknesses and doubts.” (I suppose that actually applies more to Marvel’s classic heroes than DC’s, but DC has given its flagship heroes more complex personalities since Marvel’s Silver Age revolution.)

Finally, Campbell perceptively stated that today “we celebrate a moment of time most of us shared. . .when characters in comic books were our friends,” when “their battles were our battles,” and “their values” shaped “our ideas of right and wrong.”

Campbell pointed out that these were the “first stamps ever to commemorate superheroes.” Then a curtain at the back of the stage was dropped, revealing large reproductions of the entire set of DC superhero stamps. Paul Levitz, the mayor, and various Postal Service bigwigs posed with the giant stamps for the photographers.

Then it came time for Paul Levitz to make his speech. (Earlier Campbell had referred to him as “President Levitz”: I’d never heard him called that before, but it fits.) Whereas the Mayor and the Postal Service officials wore suits, Levitz was more casually dressed, with neither jacket nor tie. This initially struck me as unusual, but I would learn the wisdom of Mr. Levitz’s fashion choice later in the week, as you shall see.

Levitz began by saying that “The first day of the San Diego Comic Con is generally the best day in the comics business” because “we” get “to see our fans, “to touch them,” and to get “recharged.”

Levitz also said this was a “terrific day to honor” both the “characters” and their “creators,” whereupon he proceeded to introduce, in alphabetical order, a number of the people whose creations and artwork were represented on the stamps, and who were seated in the audience. The roll call included Neal Adams, who stood, turned, and beamed at the enthusiastically applauding audience; Silver Age inker Joe Giella; Flash and Batman artist Carmine Infantino; the blonde Elizabeth Kane, representing her late husband, Batman co-creator Bob Kane; the dark-haired Lisa Kirby, daughter of Jack; comics artist Adam Kubert, representing his father, Silver Age Hawkman artist Joe Kubert; latter-day Batman and Superman artist Jim Lee; Edgar May, a lawyer representing the family of Wonder Woman co-creator William Moulton Marston; Golden and Silver Age Batman artist Sheldon Moldoff; George Perez, looking very happy; Jack Kirby’s frequent inker Mike Royer, who wore a big Western hat which he tipped to the crowd; and frequent Jim Lee inker Scott Williams. Though he was not mentioned from the stage, I also noticed the Golden Age Batman artist Jerry Robinson in attendance. (But not till I started writing this week’s column did I realize that no one from the family of Jerry Siegel, Superman’s co-creator, seemed to be there.)

Levitz pointed out that today was “an important moment” for the early comics “artists who couldn’t sign their work” and who “received no recognition” at the time. He stated that many early comics artists were the children of “immigrants who made their art speak for their [new] country.”

Levitz also spoke of spending “hours of discussdion” to select the “right set of stamps and images,” and joked that “It beats the hell out of real work!”

The First Issue Day ceremony was still not finished, but I left early so as to catch the last part of the first Comic Arts conference panel of the Con. It was a little after 11 AM, but to find out what I saw next, you’ll have to wait for next week’s installment.

ADVERTISEMENTS FOR MYSELF

I’m scheduled to do one lecture per month in my series “1986: The Year That Changed Comics,” at New York City’s Museum of Comic and Cartoon Art (MoCCA). But as it turns out, there is only a week between my last lecture, on July 31 about Frank Miller and Bill Sienkiewicz’s Elektra: Assassin, and the next one, on Monday, August 7.

This will indeed be a special event. I will be giving a talk about the 1986 Squadron Supreme limited series, written by the late Mark Gruenwald. But this is only part of an evening designed as a tribute to Mark, who passed away ten years ago this month. Mark’s widow Catherine will be there, bringing with her something she only recently discovered: a eulogy that Mark had written for himself! Mark’s daughter Sara will also attend, as well as various colleagues of Mark’s from the world of comics, and a number of the current writers for Mark’s creation, The Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe. It starts at 6:30 PM and it’s free! I’m hoping to write about it in a future column, but if you’re in the New York area, please come experience the event yourself.

-Copyright 2006 Peter Sanderson

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