Posted By Dan Greenfield on Jan 27, 2024 | 5 comments

A NEAL ADAMS CHRONICLES birthday tribute to one of Adams’ greatest proteges…

By PETER STONE

Frank Miller is a comics legend… an Icon… a Hall of Famer in the first year.

Daredevil, Ronin, The Dark Knight Returns, Batman: Year One, Daredevil: Born Again, Give Me Liberty, Electra Lives Again, Sin City and 300, among so many other titles. He wrote two screenplays for Robocop and his work inspired movies based on his work, like 300, The Wolverine, Batman Begins, The Dark Knight Rises, and two Sin City movies. He’s been an artist, a writer and both. He’s been a director. His career has changed the way comics creators look at what is possible. Now, we all dream of Hollywood and the possible money and fame to be gained.

However, Frank Miller — born 67 years ago, on Jan. 27, 1957 — started as we all do… a young man with a dream of getting to draw (and one day write) comic books. We loved them. We read them when everyone else was playing football or baseball or dating the cheerleaders. We were reading, writing and drawing our favorite heroes when we should have been finishing our homework. We had our favorite artists’ work on our walls. Artists like Frazetta, Boris, Adams, Rockwell, Windsor-Smith, Buscema, Eisner, Foster and so many others. We all dreamed of one day being as good as them.

In the shadow of Adams: Miller’s first Batman story, from 1979’s DC Special Series #15.

Frank, growing up in Vermont, surely dreamed of one day becoming a comics artist, but I can’t imagine that he knew what kind of influence he would have not, just on the comic industry, but the entertainment world. But we all start somewhere and for Frank, he found one of his idols, Neal Adams. So, in the 1970s, he managed to get to New York City – the heart of the comics industry at the time. All he had to do was get to Neal.

I always said that when I first worked at Continuity Associates, I felt like I was stepping into a movie – specifically The Godfather. In 1987, artists would show up at the front desk and ask to see Neal. Sometimes they would get to see the man, but once in a while he was on a deadline, and they would have to come back. I used to call it “Kiss the Ring.” They came with their portfolio, but really wanted to pay homage. You can hate that concept but remember that Neal (at the time and possibly even now) was still influencing the artists of the industry. Frank was one of those artists. He wanted to show Neal his portfolio. For whatever reason, Neal looked at this young man’s art.

Oh, it was savage… as I am told. Neal told him to pick something else to do. Be a plumber. Work in construction. Fix cars. But Frank was determined. Even after Neal put tracing paper over his pages and showed him more dynamic and exciting positions. Frank never swayed from wanting to be a comics artist. When Neal was done with him, he stood sadly at the elevator. Kristine, my future wife, would offer a box of tissues. Frank may or may not have taken some.

Neal’s belief about portfolio reviews was that the artist deserved the most honest critique possible. If you sugar-coated it, they wouldn’t get a real review. It would just be mollycoddling him or her. If they reacted with anger and gave up, they would never make it as a freelance artist. But if they got angry and redoubled their efforts, then they had a chance. They would learn and get better. Now, that said, many professional artists just can’t bring themselves to be mean to young, upcoming artists. Neal viewed it as making an artist better. If they can’t listen, learn and get better, they shouldn’t be doing this as a living. Frank Miller learned… and got better all the time.

Frank returned. New portfolio pages. Same result. This time, Frank HAD gotten better. He listened. He learned. He got better. Neal showed him how to make these new pages better and, I suspect, Frank took all his advice. He went away again with the precious tracing paper corrections.

Miller and Adams, the later years

A couple weeks later, Frank returned with NEW portfolio pages. Neal looked at his art and pulled out the tracing paper again. Maybe he sighed. Maybe not. Neal saw something in this kid… not a great draftsman, but a possibly a great storyteller. But he had taken Neal’s corrections. He didn’t discard them. He LEARNED from them. What Frank didn’t know was that Neal had made a phone call for him. Frank got work. Paying work. He got work at Gold Key. So, when he came back to Neal and showed what he had learned. Neal, seeing progress, pulled out his tracing paper to teach him more. Neal showed him how to make those pages better… but Frank interrupted.

“But Neal… these are already printed. I got work.”

Neal says he threw up his hands and laughed, responding with a relaxed expression. “Then, I’ve done my job.”

Whatever those two giants — one at the peak, one still climbing the mountain — talked about during those meetings are lost to the swirling mists of time, but they obviously connected. Decades later, Neal loved how far Frank had taken the comic industry and how far he had gone based on his start in comics. Neal supported everything Frank did. Did he love Frank’s vision of Batman? Probably not. Neal loved the sleek, smooth, ninja boots that he drew. He loved his vision of a brilliant super-detective Batman. Frank’s vision, on the other hand, was based on film noir, but Neal would watch or read anything that Frank did.

These two men were completely different but respected each other so much it was astonishing. Neal loved what Frank had done to the industry and the character he loved so much. It wasn’t his vision, but he loved that it had brought Batman back to the modern consciousness again. They made movies about Frank’s vision. Batman Begins is much like Batman: Year One. Neal knew that they were looking at his work as well. The Dark Knight owed much to his and Denny O’Neil’s The Joker’s Five Way Revenge. Neal knew his concept of Batman was possibly the best, but Frank had a perspective that spoke to directors and writers. A darker, more visceral character. A dark noir character. Jim Lee saw it. Tim Sale saw it. Jeph Loeb saw it.

Batman, as a character, transforms over the years. From Bob Kane to Dick Sprang to Carmine Infantino to Neal Adams to Marshall Rogers to Frank Miller to Jim Lee to Greg Capullo to Jorge Jimenez. There are hundreds of others. Each one brings a new vision to the Caped Crusader, the Darknight Detective. However, if you hone it down to the best of the best, Neal and Frank will be there fighting for whose vision of Batman is better. Neal’s inspired thousands as did Frank’s. It can depend on when you grew up and how you feel about The Bat. I personally love Frank’s Dark Knight Returns and his Batman: Year One. I also love Neal’s vision of Batman. That guy is coooooooool.

However (this is only my opinion), I freaking love Daredevil: Born Again. I think that is Frank’s very best writing. All of you can disagree. I have no problem with that. It’s just a matter of opinion.

Miller changed my writing career. I grew up reading Raymond Chandler, Jim Thompson, and Dashiell Hammett. So Miller was right in my wheelhouse. Beautiful women that tried to kill you. Heroes who drank too much and wouldn’t shoot the women who were setting them up. Long legs, red lips, sexy dresses. How could I not love that?

Neal also changed my writing career. He showed me that fantastic plots had tremendous value and not to do what other people had already done. Solid conclusions were vital and that your heroes had to be handsome, skilled, intelligent, and well designed. He guided me through the process of becoming a commercial writer.

Both men were my mentors, my guides and my heroes. Neal appeals to my intellectual side… but Frank, he speaks to my heart and soul. His dialogue is some of the best ever written.

“There is nothing wrong with you, Joker… that I can’t fix with my hands.”

“This would be a good life. Good enough.”

“There is no corpse.”

“And I… I have taught him that a man without hope is a man without fear.”

Neal even drew a version of Frank’s Batman for a commission on a blank cover. Then he drew Neal Adams’ version of Frank’s Superman: Year One cover. He told Kris, his daughter, that he knew why Frank does what he does; why he shadows the way he does. That is one of the greatest compliments Neal could give to anyone. It’s a shame that these two men never worked together, but I certainly understand why. Their visions of heroes (even the world itself) were so vastly different, any collaboration might have wrecked their friendship. Like when people used to say that Neal should have drawn Watchmen. Nope. Never would have worked. Neal’s view of storytelling was not like Alan Moore’s.

Neal and Frank are legends, but that doesn’t mean they were meant to work together. Neal would have done anything for Frank and I believe Frank would have done the same for Neal. I look forward to seeing more from Frank and I tremendously miss seeing what Neal drew during the weekend. Or listening to his interpretation of a movie he saw on a Saturday night. These two men helped each other whether they want to admit it or not.

And… don’t tell anyone… they loved each other as well.

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MORE

— Dig This SNEAK PEEK at the BATMAN: YEAR ONE Artist’s Edition. Click here.

— 13 QUICK THOUGHTS: The Enduring Greatness of THE DARK KNIGHT RETURNS. 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.