Letters From The Loft
Stuff From The Desk Of Chuck Thornton
DAY ONE - PAGE 3
And finally we were in, and we used the cell phone to home in on Alan in the Exhibition Hall. Alan and I keep in touch with each other and get together periodically throughout the year, keeping up with each other's lives and talking about stuff that we've pretty much been talking about since high school. Once a year, though, we get the opportunity to get together at the Con, let our hair down, and... do exactly the same thing, except in the midst of thousands of strangers. We talk while we stroll up and down the Exhibit Hall aisles until programming takes one or both of us away, or our legs start cramping up. I can't speak for him, but I have a great time, so I guess it's true that good company is good company no matter where you're at.
While we were walking around the booths, I noticed that a new collection of the comic Love And Capes was displayed prominently at a booth. I asked Alan if he had read it--- he hadn't--- so while I was buying it, I recommended it to him, letting him know that I already had the first volume of collected strips and would lend it to him sometime. I described the premise of Love And Capes to him: it's the comic book equivalent of a situation comedy about a girl engaged to a super-hero, focusing on their relationship and virtually ignoring what the hero does "on the job." The guy I was buying the book from piped in: "Yeah, you know, like in Friends, where Ross is a paleontologist, but you never actually see him do any paleontology stuff? That's what I was trying to do with this book." After peering at his name badge and getting his confirmation in writing by autographing my book, I quickly deduced that this guy at the booth was no other than Thom Zahler, the writer/artist of Love And Capes I also said a little prayer of thanks that I had said good things about Love And Capes before the author introduced himself. Tom may write a "relationship" book, but he still looked like he could wipe the floor with me.
During our stroll, we stopped by the Peanuts booth, which wasn't clogged with the cheapskates from the night before, and I picked up the shirts. The theme of the 60th anniversary of the strip is "Peanuts Then And Now" and the shirts have images of the 50's Charlie Brown and Snoopy next to their 90's counterparts. There's quite a change in appearance over the decades... that goes for both the Peanuts gang and for me. I guess change is inevitable; but the years seem to have been kinder to Charlie Brown.
Also celebrating 5 or 6 decades of existence was a woman in a Wonder Woman costume that she had no business occupying. I tried to take a picture, but my hands couldn't stop shaking.
As many of you know, I have a friend named Ken who a) is like a brother to me; and b) who has done more for me both spiritually and materially than I could ever reciprocate. So every year I try to salve my conscience by obtaining an original sketch from one of the artists at the Con that I can give to Ken as a gift. It can't just be any sketch. It has to be a sketch of Superman. (There is no bigger fan of Superman that Ken... not even Lois Lane. Ken collects all things Superman, including figures and art). And it has to be done by an artist that Ken would know. I'm glad that it's the thought that counts, because every year I fail to get the sketch. But I vowed that this year was going to be the year, and things looked promising when we spotted Bruce Timm at an exhibitors table.
Bruce Timm is the animator/artist best known as the creator behind Batman: The Animated Series; Superman: The Animated Series; and Justice League, three great television shows, and he continues to produce animated features for Warner Brothers and DC comics. Here's a sample of his work:
He seemed like a perfect choice to do a commissioned sketch for Ken because a) Ken liked Superman: The Animated Series; b) Timm's style would result in something a bit different for Ken's collection; and c) Timm was conveniently sitting a few feet away.
I've never really asked a sketch before, and I didn't know the protocol, although I assumed that at some point I would extend my wallet in the universal gesture of commerce. But there was no one presently engaging Mr. Timm, so I figured this was a good time to learn. I walked up to opposite where he was sitting, but he was staring intently at something to his left, so I decided to wait till he notice me before I made my request.
After a couple of minutes, it was clear that I was relying too heavily on Timm's peripheral vision, so I finally did the Chuck Thornton equivalent of clearing my throat: I said, "Hi!"
This got his attention; he looked at me and said, "Yes?" which is as good as a "hello" in my book, so I dove right in. "I've got a friend who's a huge Superman fan and I know he'd love a sketch by you. Do you think..."
I didn't finish the sentence because Timm was already shaking his head as soon as "sketch" had left my mouth. "There's no way," he said. "I book 20 sketches per day, and today's already filled up." He produced a clipboard on which was attached a very official-looking form with "Sketch Policy" in the heading, a few paragraphs underneath and 20 signatures at the bottom. I briefly wondered what constituted the sketch "contract" and tried to see if the letters APR appeared anywhere on the document. But then I realized that he had only mentioned that day's workload.
"Oh, I'm here for the whole convention," I said. "I can pick it up later, or even have it sent to me."
"In that case," he said, "you need to show up here first thing in the morning tomorrow or the next day. The sign-ups are first-come-first-serve every day."
Sounded reasonable to me. "Thanks," I said, "I'll try tomorrow."
"Be here early," he said. "When the doors open, the list fills up quick."
I thanked him for his time, and told Sam we had to arrive earlier tomorrow. To his credit, Sam didn't object, although I could tell that he was worried he might have to experience a sunrise for the first time in his life.