Something you should know about me is that despite my oftentimes quite adamant (though strictly implied) distaste for numerous aspects of popular culture, I am a complete sycophant when it comes to celebrities. If you asked me right now, in the comfort of my own home, how I would react if I encountered Britney Spears or some other foolish-but-famous individual that my rational inner voice loathes, I would claim, proudly, that I would walk right by her without a second glance. The unfortunate truth, however, is that I’d absolutely stop, stare, and probably take a picture if I happened to have a camera with me. Then, later, after the giddy flush of proximity had worn off, I’d display the picture in my office in the hopes that some colleague would notice it and ask about it so that I could talk shit about this totally obnoxious famous person I’d seen on the street one day.
(I should insert a David Foster Wallace-style footnote here to mention that—as long as I haven’t just read an article about how Katie Holmes literally knelt down to worship her new brainwashing boyfriend, Tom Cruise, at the 2005 MTV Movie Awards, or about how Paris Hilton tried to copyright the phrase “that’s hot,” etc.—I honestly tend to believe that it’s not necessary to ruthlessly insult some of our more clueless celebrities such as Carson Daly or Jennifer Lopez. It’s not a crime to be dimwitted or insensitive or flashy or shallow or trampy or rich and popular despite having no talent whatsoever. But there are times when these people really bother me. I suppose it’s jealousy.)
In 1984, when I was 11, I remember being in awe when my parents returned from their trip to Terre Haute and told me that they had met Ronald Reagan. It was nothing more than a handshake, but still it impressed me. That was the point at which it became clear to me that meeting persons of world renown was not out of the realm of possibility.
Nonetheless, it took me a while to meet one myself. Southern Indiana, as you may have guessed, isn’t exactly a hotbed of celebrity activity. During my middle- and high school years there were frequent rumors that Harrison Ford (who just happened to be my favorite actor from about 1980 to 1994) was lurking in the Union Hotel because the Dalai Lama’s brother (a retired Indiana University professor) had founded the Tibetan Cultural Center in my hometown and thus attracted a handful of famous spiritually minded individuals. An acquaintance of mine in high school who worked as a busboy at the hotel once claimed to have literally run into Harrison Ford while carrying a stack of room service trays to the kitchen, but I have no way of confirming this.
In the end (or the beginning, I suppose), Dave Sim was the first famous person I met.
If you just said “Who?” to yourself, you’re probably not alone and that’s okay. But meeting Dave Sim was a landmark moment for me. It was the summer of ’92 and Dave was deep into his “Cerebus U.S. Tour.” You see, Cerebus is this independent comic book Dave Sim wrote and drew, and at the time he had just passed the halfway point of the book’s entire span (i.e., he was 150 issues into its projected 300-issue run). If you’re not a comics fan this may not mean much to you, but at a time when most comic book shops stocked hundreds of Marvel books, hundreds of DC books, and then three or four totally random independent books—on the dustiest shelf in the darkest corner of the store, no less—Dave Sim was not just a folk hero, he was a self-publishing god. Moreover, Cerebus was funny. Hilarious, even. In short, it was my favorite comic book at the time.
(David Foster Wallace-style footnote #2: Sadly, the second half of Cerebus did not even begin to live up to the first half, and in subsequent years I would lose interest in Dave Sim altogether. He finally reached the 300th issue last year—nearly 30 years after he began Cerebus—and I did read it, but wow what a chore. It’s frustrating, because Cerebus had the potential to become the greatest independent comic book ever created. Instead, it’s kind of like The X-Files. It started off great but eventually forgot what it was supposed to be about and rambled aimlessly for a while until it finally succeeded in becoming a completely different kind of story. And a laborious one at that.)
But all that is irrelevant. At the time, like I mentioned, I thought Dave Sim was a total Renaissance man, and one well worth meeting. So I stood in line for an hour outside the Twenty-fifth Century Five and Dime comic book store, waiting patiently for my turn to ask Dave to sign a few books.
I don’t know what I was expecting, since I’d never been to a book signing before, but Dave certainly surpassed whatever expectations I might’ve had. He didn’t just take the books out of my hands, scribble his name in them, and hand them back without a word. Instead, he engaged me in a little conversation (though I have no recollection now what we talked about), told me he had no plans to make a Cerebus plush doll (à la the very popular Bloom County Opus doll at the time), expressed surprise at seeing my copy of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #8 (which guest starred Cerebus), signed my Cerebus “phonebooks” (or trade paperbacks, so nicknamed because they were printed on newsprint and are quite thick) with hilarious little doodles, then pulled out a giveaway “Cerebus: The First Half” poster and asked me which character I wanted him to sketch on it. This last bit took me by surprise and I panicked. After a moment’s hesitation I said, “Cerebus, please.” (If I’d had more time to think about it I would’ve requested Jaka, whose story really affected me the most in the entire Cerebus saga. But Dave’s Cerebus sketch turned out quite nicely and I was so happy with it that I framed the poster a few days later. It still hangs on my wall today.)
Here’s my favorite autograph from Dave, which he did that day. What makes it so special is because it references events inside the book and made me laugh out loud once I realized what he was doing. See, Cerebus is running for Prime Minister (long story) and he and his chief rival, Elrod, begin sketching trees and bunnies, respectively, in an effort to win votes (and this little episode in the book also happens to be a comment on the plight of comic book creators who attend conventions and/or signings—so Dave’s use of it in autographs is nothing short of brilliant):
It’s kind of hard to explain. But lap knows it’s funny—right lap?
In the end, I have to say that—of all the “celebrities” I’ve met—Dave Sim treated his fans with the utmost respect. He seemed to really enjoy meeting the people who read his work, and did his best to make sure that we felt his appreciation. (Just ask lap, who got a bit of smooching action from the infamous ladies’ man one time.) I remember a little anecdote Dave told in one of the Cerebus letters columns about this time one of his signings was really crowded and he felt badly about the amount of time people had to wait in line, so at one point he got up and walked down the line, shaking everybody’s hand and saying things like “Dave Sim for president,” just to give people a little laugh. (Apparently most of the people in line just stared at him blankly when he did this, but still—it’s the thought that counts.)
When I met him again in 1996, at the first (and last) M.A.L.E. convention (I forget what the initials past ‘M’ [for “Massachusetts”] stood for, but it was such a poorly attended convention in the middle of nowhere that frankly it doesn’t bear remembering), I was at that point working in comics myself and had met my fair share of big-name comic creators, so the awe wasn’t quite as, uh, awesome. But as he was drawing me a sketch of Cerebus dreaming about Jaka (for free no less, something that just isn’t done by most comic artists—famous or not), I told him how much I’d appreciated his attention to the fans back in ’92. And when he said something like, “Well, I really enjoy doing it,” I could tell that he really did enjoy doing it. So thanks for that, Dave. You’re a prince.
Unlike Cerebus, who was always a total dick.
Along the same lines of “taking care of his fans,” Dave also provided three original cartoons for Bloomington’s three newspapers when he came to town (the above for the free Bloomington Voice, our modest town’s “alternative” paper).
This one was for the college newspaper. I’m sure Dave reused this theme for each university town he visited—and just changed the logo on the sweatshirt—but even so, this was before the age of easy digital manipulation, so this piece of art is 100 percent original, I’m sure. I wonder who has it now?
This was for Bloomington’s “actual” newspaper, and is definitely the funniest. (It also shows that Dave either did his homework before visiting Bloomington or happens to be a college basketball fan. Which, he being Canadian, seems unlikely.) If you’re not either from the midwest or a college basketball fan then you probably don’t understand this one. But trust me, it’s hilarious.
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