This week the Will Eisner Awards judges selected Mort Meskin for automatic induction into the Eisner Hall of Fame. A handful of folks have worked to keep Mort's work from vanishing into the past, chief among them Jerry Robinson, Dylan Williams, Steven Brower and Ger Apeldoorn (who almost single-handedly filled the internet with Meskin content), nice that it's paid off. Also, mad props go to Fantagraphics for publishing Steven's terrific Meskin books. Go buy them, and then let's lobby the hell out of DC to print Vigilante and Johnny Quick collections. It's the year of Mort!
Jack Kirby, inks by Bill Everett. Thor #175, April 1970.
A giant, anyway. 19 years ago today, Jack Kirby shuffled off the coil. It was six days after my mother died, and capped a monumentally lousy week.
I knew my mom way better, but I did meet the man once. Anyone that's ever had more than one Kirby conversation with me is tired of hearing me mention it again, but I shook Jack's hand when I was 12. Tons of times. In fact, I spent two solid days finding crap for him to sign and then going and waiting in his line again. There were other things afoot at the convention that weekend, but I was on a mission. Jesus, Kirby was in the room! JACK KIRBY.
Anyway, that happened. People live, people die. Young and old, some you know, some you don't, really. A couple of them had massive impact on my life and how I've lived it, and they died in the same week. And that was a hell of a thing.