Mike Mignola Before (And After) Hellboy

As I've mentioned many times over the course of this blog, I'm a fan of the comic book art form. Over the nearly 30 years that I've been in it, my tastes have evolved, as has how I enjoy the hobby. I can't even remember the last time I bought what one thinks of as a "comic book". I stick with collected editions, known as trade paperbacks, which group several issues that comprise one storyline or theme together into one you-can-actually-put-it-on-a-bookshelf book. And even within that parameter, I only buy books by certain creators. I've never really cared about one character or another, I'm just interested in good writers and artists. Within the confines of the story, of course I'll care about the characters, but that's because of the high level of the writing and storytelling due to the quality of the creators. And one of those high quality creators is Mike Mignola.

I was first introduced to the artwork of Mignola way back in around 1985. A schoolmate of mine named Steve Moy, also a comic book fan, encouraged me to check out books he'd drawn. And, as I am wont to do, I'm going to go off on a slight tangent here, as Moy was a good friend for around a decade or so. All thru junior high and high school we would go to each other's houses, read comics, watch movies, play baseball, and just hang out and have a good time. I met him thru another school friend who I still keep in contact with to this day, and comics was one of the things we all had in common. Moy used to bear a striking resemblance to Bruce Lee, particularly from his Game Of Death film. Somewhere along the way, I lost touch with him, as he went to college in Syracuse, New York, a good 250 miles away from Whitestone, where I lived. I think I'd heard something about him living in Seattle at one point. A quick Google search reveals way too many people with that name, and seeing as how I'm not on Facebook, we're not going that route either. Regardless, he was a good friend, made even more so by opening me up to the world of Mignola.

At the time, Mignola was an up-and-coming penciler in the comic book world. He definitely had a unique style, one which the word "quirky" would be very appropriate for. He's never gone for anything even remotely resembling photo-realism; from day one, he was always more concerned with the use of light and shadow and composition over pretty figures. His ability to establish a mood and advance the story with his pictures was always paramount in his work. He would even use his light-and-shadow talents to disguise the fact that he wasn't the greatest artist in the world, as he always struggled drawing hands and feet, and would often shroud them in mist or cloak them in darkness to avoid having to actually render them. You stick with what works.

There was something about his style that I almost instantly gravitated to. I liked the boxiness of his figures, the mysteriousness that his pages seemed to portray, and I really enjoyed the overall look of his work. His work was SO different that it demanded your attention. He was definitely a polarizing force, as you either loved or hated his art. There was no way to be indifferent about it. He was working on the Incredible Hulk in that summer of 1985, and then went over to a book called Alpha Flight. Even though he only lasted on that book for 3 issues, he made an impression on a 14-year-old me. I started to notice him here and there on other things, mostly superhero titles. At the time, there really wasn't much of a choice as to subject matter, as Marvel & DC, the 2 big comic book publishing companies, had well over 90% of the market, and practically their entire output consisted of superhero books. Thankfully, the narrow field of choice was just about to break wide open in the comic book world.

Thru sheer persistence, or force of will, or from just being able to produce pages in a timely manner, plus a healthy dose of actual talent, Mignola started to get higher profile projects to work on. He would fill-in on many titles in the Marvel Universe, doing one issue of a title when the regular wasn't going to be able to meet the deadline, or just to give the regular a break, allowing them either a vacation or a chance to catch up. He would also do many covers at Marvel. Over at DC, he was getting more regular interior work to do. He did a Superman mini-series that filled in some backstory of his home planet of Krypton, and a very highly publicized 4 issue bookshelf format comic called Cosmic Odyssey that starred all the major players in the DC Universe. He also did the covers for 4 issues of Batman's regular series when they were doing a story in which the at-the-time Robin's fate would be decided by the readership. Depending on which 1-900 phone number you called, you were voting for Jason Todd to survive a severe beating by The Joker, or succumb to his injuries and die. It was a marketing ploy that succeeded to immense proportions. When that book came out in late 1988, it made national news. The book sold out instantly everywhere, as all the press it received had ordinary citizens, ones who hadn't bought or even looked at a comic book in years, if ever, coming in to try and get a copy of the book. Although Mignola didn't draw the interiors, the mere fact that he did the covers on such a phenomenal selling book obviously helped his career a great deal.

Then, in the summer of 1989, 2 major projects that Mignola drew were published. For Marvel, he had done a hardcover graphic novel starring Doctor Strange and Doctor Doom, involving the hero and the villain teaming up in an effort to rescue Doom's mother. A beautiful book, it was definitely a project suited for Mignola, as he got to draw demons and monsters and other denizens of Hell, something that he always wanted to do. Over at DC, he did a bookshelf comic starring Batman in an alternate universe in which he was in London investigating the Jack The Ripper murders at the time they were occurring. Gotham By Gaslight, the title of the Batman/Jack The Ripper book, is another terrific use of Mignola's talents, as the foggy and shadowy London nights were perfect for his drawing style, and seeing as this was one of DC's flagship characters, it really helped to solidify him on the artistic map. Remember, 1989 was the summer of the Bat, as the Tim Burton, Michael Keaton and Jack Nicholson Batman film was about to debut. Mignola was much happier with these projects as well, because he had been starting to get known as a superhero guy, and he realized this was a category he did not want to be pigeonholed into.

He then branched out a bit more with subject matter. While he did a Wolverine bookshelf comic, and continued to draw many covers for Marvel and DC, those things paid the bills while he drew the smaller profile projects that he REALLY wanted to draw, like a little Swamp Thing story with a then-relatively-unknown writer named Neil Gaiman, a 4 issue adaptation of Fritz Lieber's Fafhrd & The Grey Mouser characters with Howard Chaykin, a Hellraiser story set in the universe of Clive Barker, and a massive Ironwolf hardcover graphic novel that Chaykin himself had approached Mignola about doing. And even the Wolverine book involved him in The Savage Land, where dinosaurs still existed, so he got to draw monsters there, too. The cover, owned by a Comic Art Fans friend, is also his best Frank Frazetta homage, an artistic hero of Mignola's (and basically everyone who's ever been an artist or art fan).

I can't remember if it was the summer of 1989, or January of 1990, but I really don't feel like digging thru boxes looking for some evidence to pinpoint it...and frankly, it isn't that important anyway. What does matter is that at one of those 2 times, I went into Manhattan to attend a comic book convention at which Mignola was going to be a guest. This was only the second or third big show that I had gone to, and I'd seen at the others that some artists would do sketches for people for a fee. I knew that I wanted to get something from Mignola, in addition to just being able to meet him, talk with him, and have him sign some of the books of his that I had. As I stood at his table waiting my turn, he was finishing a piece for someone else, and it was a drawing of the aforementioned 2 Dr.'s. I was so taken at just how cool it looked that when it came my turn, I said something to the effect of "Can I get one of those?" And so began a relationship that got to the point that he recognized me at shows, as he would be a guest at one in New York every 6 months, and I of course would be there as well. I wound up getting 3 sketches over those years, but the best part was just getting to hang around his table and talk with him about art, the comic world, and his origins.

As a directly related aside, I've always enjoyed finding out about the creative process as much, if not more, than the actual creations. If I really like a movie, I want the 3 disc DVD with the bazillion extras that gives all the behind the scenes stuff, and the commentary tracks, and the making-of features, and so on. And the same goes for the comic book creators I admire. The ones whose work I really enjoy, who've done work that has had an impact on me, are the ones who I go out and seek the trade publications that have interviews with them. And as I would talk more and more with Mignola at these conventions, I realized that no one had ever published an interview with him, and that in talking with him at show after show, I was practically conducting one. Hmmmmm...

So at the NYC show in June of 1991, I broached the topic of doing an interview with him. What I find amazing, to this day, is that here was this dopey long-haired 19 year-old kid, with no affiliation with any publication, and no real writing experience to speak of, asking Mignola to be the subject of an interview...and he said yes! I'm shaking my head as I write this. Now, I can't remember if I had contacted Fantagraphics (publishers of the comic book news and interview magazine Amazing Heroes) first, or if I'd gotten Mignola to agree to the interview first, but all of a sudden it was all set up, and the interview was a go! I got a list of questions and topics ready to discuss with him, and left early from my summer job in Long Island one sunny day in July to make my way down to his apartment in Greenwich Village. I took a small camera with me as well, so when I arrived at his apartment, we just chatted for a while as he toured me around the dwelling, and I took some pictures of him in his studio.

After a bit of this, we made our way to the nearby Slaughtered Lamb pub to conduct the interview proper. Over a great burger that Mignola paid for (thanks, Mike!), we sat and talked about his life, career, his art, and where he wanted to go with it. A couple hours or so later, I was making my way back home to Queens to begin the task of transcribing the tapes, and then editing the conversation down to the most interesting material that would fit in the space that I had been allotted for the issue, which was to be published just 3 months later! The final piece got mailed off to Seattle, home of Fantagraphics (remember kids, this is the dark ages before the internet was as commonplace as horrendous reality TV shows), and I went back to my life.

Needless to say, it was quite a thrill that October to actually get the published version in my hands. It's still something I'm rather proud of (obviously, if you've read this far...), and while it unfortunately didn't lead to a journalism career (not that I really wanted one), it's still something I can hang my hat on.

Not long after the publication of Amazing Heroes #196, he moved away to the West Coast, and then the conventions in New York disappeared as well. I finally saw him again in I believe 1994, and he told me that a picture I took for my interview with him had just been used in an interview with him in Fantagraphics other, more sophisticated publication about comics, The Comics Journal. I didn't even know he'd been interviewed for it, so I got a copy and yup, there was a now several-years-old picture of Mignola in his at-the-time studio that I'd taken accompanying a new interview with him. Frankly, it didn't really bother me...I just wanted to read the interview.

By this time, Mignola had done enough working with Marvel and DC on properties that they owned, and he struck out on his own with a little creation of his called Hellboy. All he'd ever really wanted to do was draw monsters, so in coming up with his own creation, he could set it in his own universe, where anything he wanted to happen could, and anything he wanted to appear could, and he could put all of these things in any setting he wanted. He had made his own kingdom, so he obviously had the keys to it. Aside from a scripting assist from John Byrne on the first mini-series, Mignola has written the Hellboy comics himself. The Hellboy stories were published thru a company called Dark Horse Comics, who from day one in 1986 have been completely creator-friendly, allowing the artists and writers to retain the rights to their properties. They has gone on to be such a success that it has afforded him the opportunity to do nothing but that for the rest of his life. It has birthed its own universe, with the agency that Hellboy works for, The Bureau For Paranormal Research And Defense (B.P.R.D.), having many series of its own published, written and drawn by people of Mignola's choosing (sometimes written by Mignola himself), and all under his supervision...but he trusts them enough to let them do their thing.

Hellboy even went on to become so successful as to spawn 2 feature films directed by Guillermo del Toro. To go back on the Mignola history a bit, his first involvement with Hollywood involved Francis Ford Coppola's Dracula film that was released in November of 1992. Mignola was the artist of Topps' Comics adaptation of the film, and Coppola's son Roman was a big comic book fan. When Francis decided that he wanted to change the look of certain set pieces, Roman suggested to him that he bring Mignola in to do some of the design work. I remember Mignola telling me a story of one of the most surreal days of his life. He was invited by Francis to come view a rough cut of the Dracula film at George Lucas' Skywalker Ranch. Mignola was living in San Francisco at the time, so it was a short drive up to Marin County where Lucas lives. Mignola, expecting this to be a screening for dozens of people, was stunned to discover that the entire audience would consist of him, Coppola, and Lucas. But that began his involvement in the film world.

He then went on to be a concept artist on the 2002 film Blade 2. There is some slight irony here, as Blade was based on a Marvel Comics' character. The director was del Toro, who is also a huge fan of comics in general, and Mignola in particular. While working on the film, the idea of making a Hellboy picture brewed between the 2, and it culminated in April of 2004 with the release of the first Hellboy motion picture, with Ron Perlman starring as the big red guy. A second film was released in July 2008, also helmed by del Toro, with Mignola along fully involved in all phases of production for both pictures. He even makes a brief cameo in the first film along with del Toro. And yes, there is an ultra-deluxe 3 disc DVD of the first Hellboy movie, which, of course, I have...

With the disappearance of a regular big comic book convention in New York City in the mid-1990's, I pretty much stopped seeing comic book professionals for quite some time. Other interests took over my time as well. It wasn't until after I moved out here to Las Vegas in March of 2000 that I started branching out my traveling. I now had more time and money, and the combination afforded me more opportunities. After touring some friends back to NYC in May of 2005, and spending hardly any time seeing my parents, I realized I needed to remedy that. I saw there was going to be a big comic book con in NYC that fall, so I decided to fly in, spend some time at that, and just hang out with my folks at home as well. I had such a good time at the comic book show that I started to look at going to other ones on my half of the country as well, and it was at one in Phoenix, Arizona in January 2007 that I was finally able to see Mignola again. It had been nearly 13 years since I'd last seen him, I wondered if there was any way I could get him to remember me? I realized I'd just bring the pictures of him I'd taken lo those many years ago, when we both were of the long-haired variety. By this time, we were both of the shaved-head variety, I suspect him for the same reasons as me.

Upon arriving at my hotel that was right next to the convention center in Mesa, Arizona (a suburb just southeast of downtown Phoenix), I pretty much went right over to the show. There was a small line at Mignola's table, so I got on, and upon getting to the front, dropped the pictures in front of both him and his wife Christine, and pretty much got a pair of dropped jaws, which made me very happy. Mignola looked up, we shook hands, and started catching up. I spent quite a lot of time at their table at that show, and the 3 of us talked about everything under the sun, including their daughter Katie, who didn't exist the last time I'd seen him. He even showed me copies of the pencils of the first issue of the at-the-time upcoming Hellboy series Darkness Calls. This was to be the first major Hellboy book not drawn by Mignola, as the art chores were to be handled by Duncan Fegredo. I first remember seeing Fegredo do a Kid Eternity series with Grant Morrison, but these Hellboy pages were a completely different style. Mignola said Fegredo was terrific, and only getting better with each issue. I was so impressed that I eventually bought a page from the first issue, which had Fegredo himself exclaim "Ugh! Those stairs!" when I met him in New York City the following April (yup, got to see the folks again, too). I also chatted with Christine about the fact that my parents now live in the same town in Long Island, New York that she grew up in. Small world.

Before I left the next afternoon, he was also nice enough to draw a sketch for me. He was doing free head sketches at the show, as he does at many of his convention appearances, and nearly everyone was asking for Hellboy, so much so that he wasn't even looking at the paper as he was drawing it anymore. In my never ending quest to not be just another cog in the machine, and to retain SOME sort of uniqueness, I asked him if he'd draw a sketch of Fafhrd, especially since a trade paperback collecting the original bookshelf comics was finally just about to come out. He obliged, but actually asked for reference, because it had been so long since he'd drawn the character. I'm pretty happy with the results.

Fast forward to October of 2009, and I'm poking around on an online auction site, and lo and behold, I come across a very interesting piece of original artwork by Mignola. It was the title page to the previously mentioned Ironwolf graphic novel that he was just finishing when I'd actually done the interview with him. This particular piece has a nice double meaning for me. In addition to being something he was working on at the time, it was also based on a piece of reference material. Turns out, the same piece of reference material was also the inspiration for the drawing of the wolf's head that adorns the banner outside of The Slaughtered Lamb pub in Greenwich Village. What better reminder of a terrific day in my life than to have that actual page hanging on the walls of my home.

I've now seen Mike & Christine at several shows since then, most recently in Seattle this past March. It's always a pleasure to run into them, chat for a few minutes, and Mignola is always nice enough to sign whatever books of his I bring. And as a final point of irony, I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Although he moved from that address a few years before the publication of any Hellboy comics, when I conducted the interview with him, he was living at 666 Greenwich Street. You can't make this stuff up.


Blog Post Soundtrack; The Doors (live), Louis Jordan, Mike Patton, Patti Smith, Pearl Jam (live), Metallica (live), Republica, Galactic, The Dickies, Beck, Sex Pistols, James Brown, Bad Radio, Sugarcubes, Florence & The Machine, Joe Walsh, The White Stripes, The Black Keys (nice juxtaposition), Mr. Bungle (live), Andy Breckman, Discharge, Van Morrison, Nuclear Assault, Bjork, The Ventures, Down, John Lee Hooker, Primus, The Company Band, Led Zeppelin, Bo Diddley, Faith No More (live), Simon & Garfunkel, Stevie Ray Vaughan (live), Jimi Hendrix, Jerry Cantrell, Fu Manchu (live), Clutch (live), Louis Armstrong, At The Drive-In, Slayer, Unida, Tool (live), Brant Bjork, The Dandy Warhols, KoRn, Portishead, Queens Of The Stone Age (live), Voivod, Orange Goblin, Hermano, Deftones, Pantera

Perfume & Cigarettes...And Batman, Neal Adams, And My Grandmother

Certain things are massive memory triggers for me. Smells are one of the better ones. I can be walking along somewhere, and catch a whiff of a certain perfume, and instantly be transported back to times when certain females were in my life. And regardless of how those relationships may have ended, the smell always manages to put a smile on my face. There was one particular woman who always had an interesting mix of perfume and cigarettes around her, and the intriguing aroma never failed to make me happy. Being a non-smoker as I am, that may seem odd, but her particular perfume, mixed with her cigarettes, always did a number on me.

But there are other memory stimulants as well, sight being possibly the biggest. I can look at a ticket stub from an event I went to 30 years ago and be instantly transported back to what transpired that evening, and the surrounding events as well. I can look at a book I own, or a poster or piece of artwork on my walls, that has a signature by one of the writers or artists that worked on it, and instantly be thrown back in time to the setting where I got to meet that person, and be able to remember the conversation I got to have with someone whose work I admire.

Much like Pavlov's Dogs, however, there is one specific conditioned reflex I have that happened again earlier this evening. Having gotten out of work around dusk, I was witness to the last remnants of what must have been an amazing sunset, for the few remaining cotton-candy-colored whisps of clouds only hinted at what had just been. Still, there was enough to enjoy for a bit. Driving off to do an errand before heading home, in turning east I was greeted by a very large, bright, and full moon. As wonderful as that was, it got even better when one of the cloud whisps that had been so recently rose-colored now acted as a bit of a shroud, only partially obscuring the view of the glowing ball in the sky. And this is where the conditioned response kicks in every time.

Whenever I see a full moon partially blocked by some clouds, I am instantly reminded of an incredibly iconic image of Batman. It is a full page splash from Batman issue 251, cover dated September, 1973, that features Batman sprinting across a beach at night, in pursuit of his arch-enemy The Joker. It's an issue written by a classic Batman writer, Denny O'Neil, but the artwork is by perhaps one of the greatest artists ever to grace the Dark Knight with his talents, Neal Adams. Adams is a revolutionary, a pioneer, a true visionary in the field of comic books. His work in the late 1960's thru the mid-1970's stands as some of the greatest the field has ever produced, and he was so far ahead of his time that much of that work could be published today, roughly 40 years later, and still look fresh and contemporary. His design work, his layouts, his choice of camera angles, and his flat-out drawing are all superb. In an art form that had been starting to get stagnant, his work was truly innovative, and it aspired to a higher level of quality as it turned the comic book world on its ear, and challenged it by saying "we can be better!" Living legend is NOT hyperbole in this instance.

While not old enough to know any of this at the time, I've apparently been a fan of Adams' work since long before I knew who he was. I would have been just about 2 years old when Batman 251 hit the newsstands, and while I DID start reading at an early age, no, it wasn't THAT early. How I was introduced to Adams' work however, I can remember clear as day. I don't recall the specifics of how or why this particular item was acquired, but I have a very vivid memory of standing in the kitchen of my grandmother's house while her and her daughter (my mom) opened what seemed like a half-scale paint can for me. The can was the container that held 81 pieces of a jigsaw puzzle featuring the Adams-penned image of Batman running along that beach. I had no idea of Neal Adams, or probably even comic books, at that point. I'm not even sure how old I was when they got me this puzzle, but I would venture to guess I was around 5...maybe younger. I'm sure it was bought for me because of watching cartoons with Batman, or maybe re-runs of the TV show that starred Adam West. But that's beside the point.

I do remember standing there in my grandmother's kitchen, with the 5 or 6 inch square brownish tiles with the half-inch or so of grout between each one. Since Grandma lived in the next town over from us, we would go visit her every Sunday. Sometimes Vlad (a nickname I've bestowed upon my father in the last dozen years or so...a story for another blog entry...) would go with us, sometimes not, but Mom and I would make the trip every week without fail. Frequently I would sneak off into said kitchen while the two ladies would talk, and I would open, and leave open, every bright yellow cabinet door and drawer in what can only be described as the crude beginnings of my career as a practical jokester. The image of my grandmother coming in and putting her hands on her hips in what I realize now was mock exaspiration is burned indelibly into my somewhat twisted brain, and it's the joy I derive from reactions like that which continue to inspire my pranksterish behavior today.

I anxiously awaited the conclusion of this "opening ceremony" so I could get my hands on the treasure within. It was in a tin can, and although it had a plastic lid like on a tennis ball can, there was a piece of tin that sealed the can shut underneath. It didn't have a pop-top or pull-tab, so they must have used a manual can opener to unseal the can (this was the mid-1970's, before electric can openers had been invented...apparently...), and they were both concerned that I might cut myself on a slightly jagged edge they had left. After a little bit of masking tape had been carefully applied, I was finally able to get down to the business of assembling this gem. And lo and behold, a gem it was.

Over the years, I must have assembled and disassembled that puzzle dozens of times. The can was always a fixture in my room, and every once in a while I'd pull it off the shelf and piece together the costumed detective, and just stare at the scene, wondering what had transpired to make him be in such a state. I would also analyze the position of the Caped Crusader, as the camera angle chosen featured major foreshortening, making the hand on his forward outstretched arm as big as the thigh of his corresponding rear leg that was powerfully thrusting him ahead.

It would be many years before I learned that Adams was the artist responsible for the drawing that I had put together and taken apart many times. It would be an additional many years before I actually acquired a book that reprinted the issue in question. The final volume in a beautiful 3 volume set entitled Batman Illustrated By Neal Adams didn't come out until 2005. Each hardcover contains nearly 300 pages of, well, Batman, um, illustrated by, uh, Neal Adams. Kinda self-explnatory. Over the course of the 3 books, you see his style and technique improve and evolve. As it turns out, Batman 251 was one of the very last Batman stories Adams would draw. He was probably at the peak of his talents when he produced the issue in question, and in particular, that one single, striking, image.

I have been able to meet Adams numerous times over the years at shows, but it wasn't until into the 2000's that I was REALLY able to appreciate how much of a talented artist he is. I have met him enough times in recent years that all 3 of my Batman hardcovers have been signed by him, but perhaps more importantly, I one time brought a few pieces from that very puzzle to a show that he was at, and while assembling them, told him a very abbreviated version of this story. The puzzle was assembled one final time when I returned home to Las Vegas from that New York trip, framed, and has been hanging on a wall in my home ever since.

My grandmother died in 1995, just several months before I started my career as a mailman. She never got to see me become the reasonably successful and happy person I like to think I've become, but hopefully, somewhere, she knows I think of her whenever I see a partially cloud-covered full moon.

Hi Grandma, and thanks.

Blog Post Soundtrack; Foo Fighters, David Bowie, Motörhead, Sugarcubes, Probot, Eagles Of Death Metal (live), Pearl Jam (live), Leadbelly, Metallica (live), The White Stripes (live), Deftones, The Mars Volta, Kyuss (live), Nuclear Assault, Alice In Chains (live), Public Enemy, Fu Manchu, Guns N' Roses, Tom Lehrer (live), Queens Of The Stone Age (live), The Blues Brothers, Cheryl Wheeler, Lou Reed, John Lennon, Deep Purple (live), Simon & Garfunkel, The Doors (live), The Vandals, MC5, The 5,6,7,8's, Judas Priest, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Mad Season, Tool

House Cleaning & Baseball Memories

What with working way too much last year, and the Christmas season being nuts for the post office, and then all of my time off recently involving trips somewhere (either short or long), I really have made quite a cluttered mess of my house over the last few months. I have a lot of stuff, so in order to be able to find anything, I have to know exactly where it is. A place for everything, and everything in its place, so to speak. This hasn't been the case lately, and it has bothered me to some degree. I finally have a weekend where I'm not going anywhere; not going to any hockey games, not going to any concerts, nothing involving even leaving the house since getting home from work Saturday afternoon. Aaaaahhhhhh.....

What this means is, I can finally tackle some of the "putting things away" task that I've been sorely neglecting for far too long. For example, in going thru one of many piles of books and papers, I came across all the ticket stubs from my Pacific Northwest vacation that I took with my Mom in March of 2010 (yes, that's nearly a year ago already...I told you it's been far too long since I did this...). Which reminds me, I never wrote THAT trip up on this site...something else to put in the mental rolodex for a future write-up here...

In putting the ticket stubs away in a binder that I have for just such things, I started to look thru the entire binder, which contains ticket stubs from nearly every event I've ever gone to in my life. I'm not talking about movie stubs, but concerts, sporting events, museums, things like that. And all my brain needs is that small piece of paper to trigger a whole series of memories relating to that event. One of the ones that really caught my eye last night was 2 stubs to a New York Mets baseball game from September 18, 1981. It was the second Major League Baseball game I ever went to. I was a couple months past my 10th birthday, and baseball was the biggest thing in my life. That year involved a strike that lasted nearly 2 months, which must have been devastating for me.

The biggest memories those ticket stubs bring up are the weeks of anticipation I had, knowing I was going to an actual game. Even though I lived less than a 10 minute drive from Shea Stadium, going to games just wasn't something my family did. We used to go to my grandmother's house in College Point every Sunday, and on the drive to and from our house in Whitestone, you could see Shea Stadium exactly 2 miles off to the southwest as we drove in the car along 20th Avenue. It seemed like it was an eternity away. I used to wish that Shea Stadium was at the southeast corner of 14th Avenue & 127th Street, because every time we stopped at the light at that 5 corners intersection, it just seemed like the perfect place for the park to be. And then I would be able to experience the sights and smells of the game up close and personal at least once a week. I don't remember exactly when it was official that I would be going to that game in September with my Dad, but I do remember it seemed like FOREVER until that day came...time passes so much more slowly when you're a kid.

The other thing that really struck my mind instantly upon seeing those ticket stubs was the feeling I got when I first walked thru the tunnel out to the field level seating area, and the way I felt when I first was able to lay my eyes on a field of grass that was the greenest green I had ever seen. I'd been watching games on TV for several years at that point already, despite my young age. I was more of a Yankees fan than a Mets fan, but I still rooted for the Mets, and watched every telecast I could. This was back in the days when almost every game would have been on a local non-cable channel (WPIX Channel 11 for the Yankees, and WWOR Channel 9 for the Mets). Those announcers for both teams became like friends for me, seeing as I got to listen to them for endless hours during my childhood years. Phil Rizzuto, Bill White, and Frank Messer for the Yankees, and Ralph Kiner and Bob Murphy for the Mets were voices I heard probably more often than my parents when I was growing up.

However, watching games on TV did nothing to prepare me for actually walking into the seating area and seeing the field laid out before me. I'd been playing little league baseball for a while by this time, and hanging out in local parks playing games, so I was used to dirty and dusty fields, which had grass that seemed fine to me. But it paled in comparison to the vast field of lushness that greeted my eyes. I had been to a Yankee game 3 years earlier (my 7th birthday, matter of fact), but that had been a day game. This game had an 8:05PM start time, so seeing the glow of the artificial lights illuminate the pristine playing surface laid out before me was truly breathtaking. Again, picture this thru the eyes of a baseball-enamored 10 year old boy; I'd pretty much gone to heaven.

I don't really remember anything about the game itself, but that's not the point. The memories I do have from that night and the experience in general are ones that I will treasure forever, and no matter what picture I try to find online of Shea Stadium, nothing will compare with the images on the mental projector that are sparked by those 2 ticket stubs.

Thanks, Dad.


Blog Post Soundtrack; Led Zeppelin, Liz Phair, Black Flag, Traditional Japanese, Refused, AC/DC, The Misfits (live covering Black Flag), Fu Manchu, Pearl Jam (live), Paul Simon, ZZ Top, Nirvana, Monty Python, Deftones, Pantera, The Chenical Brothers, Skeleton Key, Helmet, Desert Sessions, Mr. Bungle, Queens Of The Stone Age (live), Primus (live), Eric Burdon & War

An Open Letter To Graig Nettles

A very important part of my youth was sports. I was a huge devotee of New York sports teams, in particular the Giants and the Yankees. I was a fan thru many a lean year for the Giants, so it was rather gratifying to see them win a couple Super Bowls when I was still a big fan. I started following the Yankees just in time to catch their mid to late 70's success, so I was kinda spoiled with them at first. I stuck with them thru their lean decade of the 80's though, and then was pretty much out of pro sports before their return to glory.

I've gotten extremely burned out on sports in the last couple decades, finding it rather hard to pay attention to the exploits of millionaire convicted felons and drug addicts whose sole reason for existing is to pound their own chests and jump around like idiots in an effort to be highlighted on SportsCenter, caring nothing for the team's fate, or for the regular-joe working stiffs who devote far too much of their family's income to supporting these greedy selfish bastards.

The following is a letter I wrote to Graig Nettles, Yankee third baseman from 1973 thru 1983. I was crushed the day he was traded to the San Diego Padres in early 1984, due to his book Balls that was about to be published speaking in less-than-flattering terms about George Steinbrenner, the Yankee owner who was just about the worst thing to happen to professional sports in this country. Regardless, this letter was written and sent to Nettles in April of 2009, and I post it now because despite my modern cynicism, I was once more...pure...


Dear Graig Nettles,

My name’s Ken Fries, and I grew up being a huge Yankees fan, and in particular, you were my favorite player. Even though I lived in Queens, I always preferred the Yankees over the Mets (although I followed them too). I was around 4 or 5 when I first started following baseball, and while I enjoyed Bob Murphy, Ralph Kiner, and the other Mets announcers, I really came to like Phil Rizzuto and Bill White (I didn’t really care for Frank Messer at the time…I watch old telecasts now and realize how great he was too!). So that’s what probably drew me to be more of a Yankee fan in the first place.

At the time, my next door neighbors had season tickets, and I must have said something (pestered them is probably more like it…), because they wound up giving me their tickets for my 7th birthday, July 16, 1978 (sorry, I’m probably younger than your kids). My first time ever to Yankee Stadium…any MLB game, for that matter. Already a thrilling experience for any youngster, it got better when the seats turned out to be around 10th row, field level, between home plate and the Yankee dugout! I remember realizing that bringing my glove was now useless, being behind the screen…I was OK with that.

The thrill wasn’t even lost when the Yankees went on to lose 3-1 to the Royals (another thrill, seeing the Yankees go up against the hated and fierce rivals from the AL West), because the sole Yanks run came from a home run off the bat of…well, do I need to tell you at this point that it was you?!?

You couldn’t have given a 7 year old a better birthday present. Going to the Bronx at that time was like going to China for my family (aside from a yearly trip to Cape Cod at the end of summer every year…which I hated, because it meant that school was starting when we got back), due to our not traveling much. So getting to go to what was already a Mecca for me was fantastic. Just so you know how serious I was about my New York sports, I’d been a Giants fan since I was 2. Probably my earliest memory involves running around the house pretending I was Ron Johnson, a running back for the Giants at the time, with a football about half my size, leaping onto the top of the offensive line (which was the living room sofa, and I really had to leap to make it!). So to be able to then see my favorite player hit a home run in person on my birthday cemented that you would always be my favorite.

Turns out I couldn’t have made a better choice. As the years went by, I grew to respect and admire your work ethic, your leadership by example, and your wit and willingness to say something when the silliness or stupidity just got to be too much. I also loved the fact that you were not a glory-seeker; you did your job consistently and you did it well, because that’s what you were supposed to do. Mostly due to my parents, who were the same way, but also at least partially due to you, I turned out much the same. Granted, I’m a mailman (for the last 13+ years), not a ballplayer (like I’d hoped…oh well), but still…

I actually did play Little League baseball for 4 or 5 years. I spent a good chunk of time in the outfield, but I also played my fair share of 3rd base, and I took my fielding responsibilities very seriously. I was always a better fielder than a hitter, but I tried my best at both. I also got to wear number 9, which was another thrill for me, especially when I was at third!

Your ability to see the humorous side of many bizarre and absurd situations is something else I always liked about you, and have incorporated into my daily life (you may or may not be surprised to know that the Post Office and the Yankee Bronx Zoo are remarkably similar…). Again, not that you are the sole influence, but you pick up certain things here and there from lots of sources over the course of existence, and you were definitely one of them. I need to read Balls again, I remember enjoying it immensely the first time.

Which I suppose brings me to the entire point of this. You’ll find nothing enclosed with this letter, because I’m not really looking for autographs. Besides, I prefer to have things signed by people I admire in person, so every time I look at whatever item, I’m reminded about the time I got to meet and briefly chat with them. I had such an opportunity with you at a card show in Long Island back in 1997, and I had you sign a few pictures of you I’d torn out of Yankee yearbooks many years before. They used to hang on the walls of my room, so it meant a lot to me that I was finally able to get you to sign them for me years later. One now is at the front of a binder containing dozens of your baseball cards, and another hangs framed on the wall of my home office, just off to my right. I’ve glanced at it a number of times while writing this, and it’s been in that spot probably since I got this house nearly 8 years ago.



So, my point, you ask? Pretty much just to say thank you. You played a large part in my formative years, although you obviously didn’t know it. So I just wanted to let you know that you did, and to thank you for it. It may not have been your responsibility (hell, you were just playing baseball!), but it sort of worked out that way. Thanks.

Hopefully I’ll run into you at another signing or something someday, and say hi and thanks in person, but for now, this will have to do.

Hope you are enjoying life and your family and everything else.

Have fun

Ken


Blog Post Soundtrack; A chunk of The Chemical Brothers' album Come With Us

I Like Some Noise While I'm Sleeping

Over the course of my working day I get to see many cool people, and in talking briefly here and there, I get reminded of stories. Don't ask me how this one came up, but here's a good one...

Back in the summer of 1994, I was working at Barnes & Noble in the stockroom. I unloaded trucks, entered inventory into the system, did some light maintenance work too. Two of my favorite bands were touring concurrently, and of course both were going to be in the vicinity on consecutive nights.

Soundgarden was playing in Manhattan on a Thursday evening. I worked that day, then went home, changed, picked up my friends, and we drove into the city for the show. I was living in Queens at the time, so although it was geographically close to Manhattan, NYC traffic is, well, NYC traffic.

So we get to the show, which of course we were looking forward to. They were playing at The NY State Armory, which none of us had ever seen a show at before. No one could remember a show ever being there at all. Turns out, there was a reason for that.

When you go see shows in clubs, it typically is hot. Lots of bodies jumping around in a small, dark, confined, not-very-well ventilated space, usually produces an excess of warmth that tends to be uncomfortable, but not unbearable. Of course, that same description applies to any summer day in NYC as well, so just imagine it that much more uncomfortable, but still tolerable. It's easier to put up with when there's a good band onstage.

As to the reason no one could remember a show ever having been done there by anyone; there wasn't. Why? Because part-way thru this Soundgarden show, it was becoming increasingly apparent that this venue was not designed to hold this many bodies in it at one time. After the initial burst of energy from the band hitting the stage, the crowd became rather subdued, due to the oppressiveness of the heat. There really wasn't much movement from anyone on the floor, because it was kind of exhausting just standing there. I'm pretty sure there was even a cloud forming above us in the venue due to all the heat and humidity. At one point, even Chris Cornell, Soundgarden's singer, thanked the crowd for being at the show, remarking something to the effect of they knew it was ridiculously hot, even for a concert.

Having seen Soundgarden a couple years earlier with some of the same friends, we knew that when Kim Thayil, their guitarist, propped his guitar onto the backdrop, feedback reverberating loudly and repeatedly throughout the venue, it was our cue to go. Last time they did that, the lights stayed out, so everyone expected the band to come back onstage for more. A good 5 to 10 feedback-filled minutes later, the house lights came up, and we let out a collective groan as we now knew the show was over. Having learned our lesson, as soon as he propped up the guitar and left the stage this time, we left the sauna we were in and bolted for the (relatively) cool air of a NYC summer night, leaving behind most of the crowd who, like us the previous concert, were hoping for more. Never had we been so happy to get into 85 degree air with 85 percent humidity, because it was an Arctic breeze compared to the interior of the NY State Armory. Drained and dehydrated, we made our way back to the car for the journey home. I must have made it to bed sometime after midnight, maybe closer to 1AM. The only problem was, this was Thursday night, and I still had to go to work on Friday.

Now, having been at work since 8AM (maybe earlier, I can't remember) Friday, I left around 3PM to go get a different friend. Him and I, along with 2 of his buddies, were going to see Metallica in Middletown, NY, that night. Suicidal Tendencies and Danzig were opening, so we kinda wanted to see the whole bill, as we liked all of them. Getting to Middletown involved a drive of between 90 minutes and 2 hours, and if I'm sitting still for that long, especially having worked and been up half the previous night at a physically exhausting concert, I'm gonna fall asleep. Even if I'm the one driving.

Somewhere along the gently winding, soothing, calmingly flat road that is the Taconic State Parkway, I know I woke up at about 60 MPH, and was quickly startled to full alertness when I realized I was not driving in the same lane as I had been prior to falling asleep at the wheel. Since all 3 of my passengers were completely passed out, no one but me noticed this, so I was the only one who had a heartbeat racing at breakneck speed. While I was still very tired, the rush of adrenalin from this incident was enough to keep me awake for the rest of the journey.

We weren't in time to catch Suicidal Tendencies from the beginning. In fact, I think we walked into the Orange County Fairgrounds near the end of their set. It was time to decide where we wanted to be for the show. As this is a horse racing track, the stage was set up on the infield of the track, the home stretch was the floor for the crowd, and the seats lining the home stretch were also available for those who wanted to sit. Say, me, for instance.

Even though this was an outdoor, open-air concert, and we were sitting about 20 rows up, plus had the width of the track between us and the stage, the noise level was still plenty high. Danzig came onstage, and gave a great show, performing all songs that I really liked, including a couple of fairly obscure ones from his catalog. I was eventually able to get a recording of this show later on, so I can still enjoy it today on my iPod.

After Danzig left the stage, I was still feeling pretty good all in all, and was fairly psyched to be seeing Metallica. We were having a good time, enjoying the show, the weather was nice, our seats were pretty good, things were fine. Metallica were 3 years on from their self-titled radio-friendly megahit album, which I personally found extremely disappointing. At the time it came out, I nearly chucked the tape I made off the CD out the window of my car upon first listen. I gave it more of a chance, but to this day, there's really only 3 or 4 songs from that album I can listen to, and those rank at the very bottom of a "songs I like the most from Metallica" list, were such a list to be made. However, in their live shows, they've always been very good about mixing in a healthy dose of things from every album, both in an effort to keep the old fans happy, and to show the new fans they've got some other cool stuff too, and those newbies should run right out and buy those CD's right now, so the incredibly greedy members of Metallica can make even more money (a subject I will leave for another post someday, for it will require even more space than this one...).

I can't exactly remember when during the show it was (probably when they were playing some of the drippy new stuff that I didn't like), but I finally had to just sit down. As the song went on, I felt myself starting to drift off, and as loud as they were, I started to feel myself going to sleep. My eyes were closed, and I didn't even try to fight it at this point. I could still hear everything, I knew where I was, and I knew what was happening, but I was definitely getting some much needed sleep. Since I was now asleep, I can't remember for sure, but I think I woke up sometime in the middle of the following song, feeling a little groggy and out of it, but relieved at the same time. I slowly got back into the swing of things, and by the end of whatever song it was that I woke up during, I was pretty much back in the real world. The rest of the Metallica show passed by without further incident, and when they were finishing Enter Sandman, their big single from that self-titled album, we made our way out back to the car, figuring this was the last song...only to hear them, from the parking lot, kick into So What, a cover song by The Anti-Nowhere League that was probably the best thing to come out of Metallica's Black Album sessions, and a song I had yet to see them perform live. I looked at my buddy, who understood the significance of what was going on, shrugged, got in my car, and started on the long drive home.

Amazingly, by this time (again, post 11PM as we left the Fairgrounds), I was actually feeling quite good. My 5-10 minute power nap thru 100+ decibels must have been enough to recharge the batteries, for I actually enjoyed the drive home thru the misty late-nite wilderness of upstate New York. And upon reaching New York City, there isn't any time to be sleeping while driving. Driving in NYC is too much of an extreme sporting event to be doing anything other than paying 100% full-on attention. I must've gotten into the house around 1AM or so, and thankfully it was now early Saturday morning, and I didn't have to be at work until Monday morning. And I took full advantage of that, going promptly to bed, waking up sometime after 2PM Saturday afternoon. I'm fairly certain I didn't wake up once during that 12+ hour block of time. Ah, to be young and stupid...

I've since acquired both video and audio copies of the Metallica portion of that show, so I have both seen and heard anything I may have missed while dozing during their performance.



Blog Post Soundtrack; Led Zeppelin, P.J. Harvey, Eagles Of Death Metal, Iron Maiden, Shootyz Groove, The White Stripes, The Misfits, Clutch, Portishead, A Perfect Circle, The 5, 6, 7, 8's, Metallica, Nirvana, The Doors, The International Noise Conspiracy, Ike & Tina Turner, Tricky, Apocalypse Now Soundtrack, John Lee Hooker, Pearl Jam, and probably other stuff that I'm not sure if I was writing or not when it played...