Posted By Dan Greenfield on Nov 14, 2023 | 2 comments

Peter Stone, our NEAL ADAMS CHRONICLES columnist, gives a birthday salute to the fan-favorite writer…

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Elliot S! Maggin was born 73 years ago, on Nov. 14, 1950. This year, he gets a twofer birthday salute — this warm tribute by Peter Stone and Paul Kupperberg’s column MY 13 FAVORITE ELLIOT S! MAGGIN STORIES. Dig it! — Dan

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By PETER STONE

I truly can’t thank Elliot S! Maggin enough for my career. I mean that with the utmost sincerity.

Maggin was the writer who cracked open the comic industry door for me, allowing me to look into the world of heroic men punching each other, beautiful women doing the same and hard-working artists and writers who just wanted to tell mythic stories.

For me, a 19-year-old college student, comics were the greatest place in the universe. Frank Miller, John Byrne, Alan Moore, Marv Wolfman, George Perez and so many others were my heroes. I wanted so badly to be part of that group of brilliant creators. My mother, however, wanted me to be the next John Irving but I wasn’t having that! It took me years to embrace the concept of writing a novel. I mean, at the time, I just wanted to write about Thor, the X-Men, the Avengers and Spider-Man.

Me

So, when my college offered a summer paid internship, my best friend told me I’d be a fool to not at least try for it. All I had to do was find a company that wanted an unpaid intern. Comics were a possibility, even though this was before comics were considered mainstream and “cool.” Coincidentally, I went to the same college as Chris Claremont did and tried to connect with him or at least use the college name to get me a better chance to be an intern. No dice. Even having another friend who knew Claremont distantly did not work at all. I was a nobody.

(Years later, I would have multiple dinners with Neal Adams and Chris at various conventions. They talked about the same thing every time. Chris would ask Neal to finish the X-Men project they had started together and Neal would remind him that he had given it to Brent Anderson and it was called God Loves, Man Kills. Neal had only done six or so pages before he went on strike with the Big Two comics companies.)

So back in 1987, I gave up on Marvel completely and turned to the independent comic companies like Eclipse, Dark Horse, Comico, and — gasp — Continuity. I sent samples of my writing to each one: The packages were filled with too long short stories, comic book stories and even some odd poetry. I was sure it was great stuff, but oddly, no one else did.

Until I got a letter back from someone named Elliot Maggin. He had read my writing and freakin’ nailed exactly where I was coming from. My stories were based on Edgar Rice Burroughs, Robert E. Howard, Joseph Conrad (but only Heart of Darkness) and Frank Miller. AND he was looking for an intern. I swear the skies opened up and the light of God came down, filling me with hope and positivity for the future!

Julius Schwartz and Elliot S! Maggin, back in the day

So, raised by my mother who loved manners and men who wore pink ties, I put on my white shirt, my khaki slacks, my penny loafers, my navy-blue blazer, and my colorful tie. (Nope, not pink, but still colorful.) I thought I looked sharp.

Right up until I walked into Continuity on 45th Street just off of 6th Avenue in Manhattan. The receptionist immediately thought I worked for the I.R.S. I might have had a briefcase as well. I asked for Elliot Maggin and was promptly told that Continuity did not have an Elliot Maggin. I could see the rocky shore I was about to be dashed onto, my ship splintered into a million pieces. I was going to drown in an ocean of abject failure.

Then Elliot came up behind me and introduced himself. I was saved. The receptionist said, “Oh. Him.” Elliot, strangely, did not wear a suit and tie to work every day. In fact, no one at Continuity did because they were artists. (Let me amend that and say that the great Win Mortimer did. Every day he came in wearing a jacket and tie. He hung up his jacket, took off his tie, rolled up his sleeves and got to work. When he left, he reversed the entire process and went home. A consummate professional.) I immediately felt out of place.

Elliot sat with me in the conference room, explaining what he needed from an intern: a smart young man who could type, research, knew comics, could Xerox and could learn. I promised I could do all of that… except I couldn’t type, had no idea how to research and had barely ever seen a Xerox machine. But I had bought Ms. Mystic, Armor and The Revengers comic books so I could talk about them. Elliot showed me pages of Samuree #3 that the very talented Mark Beachum was working on and I met Trevor Von Eeden, who was working on Toyboy. I was overwhelmed. Real comic book artists!

Then Elliot said he was going to get Neal. I steeled myself and remembered my mother’s fundraising parties where I had to smile and shake hands with a firm grip while I looked the person in the eye. (She may have been a little off the beaten track, but my mother gave me many, many tools to get through life.) Neal came into the conference room and sat down. He was a legend. A god of comics. He shook my hand. He started speaking. I’m not sure I even heard what he was saying. Here was the same guy whose art I had pasted on my bedroom walls in high school. Here was the guy who did my favorite cover of a reprint. (Baxter edition Green Lantern/Green Arrow #6 where Green Arrow says, “We lost” and Green Lantern says, “Like Hell!”) I cut out a second copy of that book and pasted it on my college dorm room door. I was sitting with Neal Mutha F’in’ Adams!

After a few moments, my head came back, and Neal told me about past interns and the problems they’d had with them. I promised I would do better, and I meant it. I guess that was good enough for Neal because he said, “Fine. See you soon. Elliot – all yours.”

Within a couple weeks I was there for the summer. Every day. All day. Before everyone else arrived and until after almost everyone left. I listened to Elliot, carefully studying everything he did. I wormed my way into the meetings he had with Neal, taking notes and taking the cotton out of my ears and putting it into my mouth. Elliot and Neal were working on a Megalith story that would be printed in the Revengers title. It would feature a new group of heroes called the Hybrids. Neal asked me to make a list of superhero powers and I remember trying to impress him by referencing Angel from the X-Men. He said something like, “Flight is just like something every hero gets. It’s not really a power.” Consider me shamed.

Elliot taught me some tremendously valuable lessons about writing and working with artists. In the end, as much as we (as writers) think we’re in charge, it’s the artists who guide this medium. You, as a writer, must give them juicy, exciting things to draw. Dinosaurs, giant gorillas, beautiful, sexy women, powerful men lifting aircraft carriers while they save the beautiful women, space, explosions, and drama, drama, drama. No armies (no artist likes drawing armies), no jungles (too many leaves), only a couple characters in any one panel.

Buy The New York Times every day because if you’re ever stuck for a story idea, there is always one in the Times. You just have to look. Could be on the front page or on one of the back pages of some section you don’t usually read. But it’s there.

Elliot decided after a few months of my tenure there that he wanted to run for political office in his native New Hampshire. He wanted to be in the House of Representatives, but he was defeated in the primary. By that time, he had moved on from the “funny books” to take the political world more seriously. He had written Superman novels, animation, video games and a host of other things. He worked outside of comics but remained a well-respected writer of many diverse media. I will never forget Elliot reading his paper, his feet up on his desk, dropping pearls of wisdom about what it was like to be a working writer and how to do it right.

After he left for his political career, there was a void I was eager to fill. I finished dialogue, fine-tuned scripts under Neal’s direction and finally, while I was still going to college, wrote my very first comic book story: Ms. Mystic #4. (I would like to offer my sincere thanks to Terry Shoemaker for dealing with me. He did a man’s job over a kid who added too many panels and didn’t give him enough splash pages. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Terry.)

Although we didn’t work together for all that long, maybe six months, Elliot cracked that door open for me and allowed me to find my own way after that. He saw that this kid who loved Tarzan, Conan, and Frank Miller would be perfect for comics. I wish Elliot the very best in life because he gave me a chance to work in an industry that I think is one of the greatest around. Working with artists? Amazing. Working with great artists? Heaven. They make all of us writers look way smarter than we really are.

Maggin

I have been very lucky in my career. I’ve been able to work with legends and wonderful artists. It all started with Elliot S! Maggin giving me a chance to enter this wonderful world of creativity.

Thank you, Elliot. I hope your birthday is the best day of your year. Do something wonderful and fantastic! Up, up and away, my friend and erstwhile mentor!

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MORE

— PAUL KUPPERBERG: My 13 Favorite ELLIOT S! MAGGIN Stories. Click here.

— PAUL KUPPERBERG: My 13 Favorite COMIC BOOK NOVELS. Click here.

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Peter Stone is a writer and son-in-law of the late Neal Adams. Be sure to check out the family’s twice-weekly online Facebook auctions, as well as the NealAdamsStore.com, and their Burbank, California, comics shop Crusty Bunkers Comics and Toys.