by Cully Hamner
There’s a coffee shop right next door to our studio, and I go in there just about every day. Usually it’s in the afternoon when I start to run out of steam a little, and I need to keep working, but sometimes it’s just to shoot the bull with the folks that run the place. Yesterday, I walked in, and the guy working the counter waved at me, and then he did a double-take. “Hey, man,” he said. “What’s the matter? You look like you just lost your best friend…”
It’s a cliché because people do always say it. The sad part is that he was pretty much right on target.
I’ll make no claim to being Mike Wieringo’s best friend, and I won’t claim he was mine. We both had people who were and are closer, and whom we saw more often. I will say, though, that we were special friends, and we had a special relationship. We had similar outlooks on a lot of things, had a lot of common occurrences in our two lives, and even though we never got be around each other as much as we both would have liked, we really cared about each other. To most people, he was either Mike or Ringo; to me, he was always
Mikey. I can’t think of anybody right now who made me laugh quite as much, and as I write this, I can’t think of anyone who’s made me cry so much.
Back in 1990 (or maybe 1991, or so—I can’t be sure of the dates, so bear with me), I was just some long-haired kid who was trying to find an in to the comics business. I had become friends with the group that would soon become the first Gaijin Studios, and they were letting me squat on their table space at Heroes Con in Charlotte, NC. One of the first people I met was Mikey. He introduced himself in a humble, so-totally-him way: He asked me to review his portfolio. I was totally taken aback by this, because I wasn’t
anybody. But I guess Mikey felt I had something to offer, and it was the first time anyone had ever asked me for such a thing, so opened up his book. And then I closed it. I didn’t have much to say, because frankly, he was better than me. And that’s pretty much what I told him. (If you don’t believe me, check out his
Modern Masters volume-- those sample pages are in there, and they’re way better than anything I did on
Green Lantern: Mosaic). Well, he wouldn’t accept the compliment, and he insisted that my stuff was great and that he admired it, and he was nowhere near ready yet. But he handed me his business card, and asked if we could keep in touch. I gave him my card, and that was that. My first portfolio review.
A couple of weeks later, I got a letter from him in the mail, and I recognized the name (How could you not, really? It’s such an unusual name, and for years afterwards, we’d both complain to each other about how no one could ever get our names right.). I opened it, and within the first paragraph, I realized that this was a fan letter. A
fan letter! Who was I to get a fan letter from anybody, let alone this grey-haired guy who was so much better at this than I was? My first fan letter.
So, I immediately got the number off of his card and called him. He was totally flabbergasted that I’d deign to call him, and didn’t quite know what to say. But it was at this point that we began to chat as two guys who wanted the same thing, and we became the friends that we were to be for the next seventeen years.
I still remember the excitement and pride in his voice a couple of years later when he called to tell me he’d gotten
The Flash. By this point, I’d broken in with
Mosaic, and had moved to Atlanta as the final puzzle piece of that first iteration of Gaijin Studios, and Mikey had done some small-press stuff here and there. But when he broke with
The Flash, he broke
wide. He soon became a bigger name than I would ever be, and his run with Mark Waid on that book became a benchmark, and the standard by which the series is still judged. And he kept zooming upward to
Rogue, to
Sensational Spider-Man (with his best friend Todd DeZago), to
Tellos (his personal favorite work, in no small part because it was his and because he was working with Todd again), to
Superman, to
Fantastic Four (again with Mark, and another benchmark), and back to
Spidey, and a hundred other titles scattered in between. And in all that time, I never got any sense of ego from him.
He did sometimes feel that he deserved better things to work on, but honestly, we
all feel that. Sometimes, you get to do work that you believe with all your being, but mostly, you just pay the bills. Mikey was one of those souls that needed to be deeply satisfied with what he was doing, and he was depressed when he felt he didn’t measure up, or when the job didn’t let him measure up.
He was always too hard on himself. He never believed he was as good or as in-demand as everybody else did. I would tell him how brilliant he was just about every time we talked, and I’m glad I had the presence of mind to do that while he was alive, and I know all his peers and friends routinely did the same thing.
One thing to understand about him is that he was a
fan first, and was until he died. That’s been thrown around a lot this week, but only because it was never truer than with Mikey. He’d call me up and just rhapsodize about someone else’s work. He was just in awe of so many people, a number of whom were at our studio. I would always be taken aback when he would take the time to call me and tell me how
great he thought something of mine was—and I’d be so grateful to hear it, because I admired and respected him and his work so much—but he would gush so much, it would get embarrassing, so I’d tell him to stop. The thing with Mikey, though, was that he
meant it. Every word. And he’d only grudgingly accept a compliment from me, and only after a struggle.
The simplest statement I can possibly make is that Mike Wieringo was just a great guy—which, upon writing those words, doesn’t seem quite enough. It doesn’t seem to fully contain him, this fact of the matter. But he was great in every way you’d want your friends to be great: Kind, caring, sensitive, hilarious, intelligent, talented, skilled, responsible, and a million other things. We never had a conversation in which we didn’t make each other laugh. It was true of the very first, and it was true of the very last. And here come the waterworks again.
One thing before I go: I want to thank everyone reading this from the bottom of my very heavy heart for being a peer, a colleague, a fan, a friend to Mikey. You were
all his friends, and your many comments and expressions of love for him and sympathy for those closest to him prove that. That he touched so many people makes it a little easier to deal with all this. I mean, it’s still hard to deal with knowing that I won’t hear his big laugh or see his goofy, puppy-dawg face anymore, and that none of us will get any more of that gorgeous work of his again. But it makes me smile to know that I wasn’t the only person out there that Mike Wieringo had such an effect on.
I know you’re up there right now, Mikey, telling Kirby and Eisner and Kane how unworthy you are to be in their midst—trust me, pal, it’s
not a mistake, and I’d bet they’d be the first to tell you that-- so try to enjoy your time with them.
I miss you, Mikey.
Newsarama has received information regarding services and memorial donations from Mike’s sister in law. They read:
We do not have funeral arrangements finalized yet but will have those by this afternoon or early tomorrow. We are definitely having a service here in Durham this week- most likely Thursday or Friday.
I do know that in lieu of flowers, donations can be made to two charities that Matt [Mike’s brother] has decided on. I believe that Matt had mentioned The Comic Book Legal Defense Fund before, which is fine but he thinks this one below is actually more of what Mike would have wanted.
THE HERO INITIATIVE- www.heroinitiative.org They have a direct link on their homepage for you to donate. Matt said that Mike loved the old guys that blazed the trail for him. He would love to know that he's helping out in a small way.
ASPCA- www.aspca.org Mike donated regularly to the ASPCA. Anyone who knew Mike knew how much he loved animals, especially his cat Charlie. The ASPCA is the national chapter. If you go to their homepage you can click on the "Memorial Giving" button near the lower right and follow the directions.
Newsarama Note - Newsarama will be collecting tributes and memorials of any type from Mike's fellow professionals throughout the course of the next few days, and will be posting a tribute this weekend. If you are a professional and wish to have yours included, please send it to matt@newsarama.com