Guest Post - Recollecting on Collecting

Doug: Welcome to another guest post in what is becoming a long line of guest-writing here on the Bronze Age Babies. Karen and I are excited for not only what has gone before, but for posts already in the queue that will be winging your way in the not-too-distant future. Today we welcome Mike S., better known to friends and foes as Martinex1. Mike pens a love letter to comic books and comics collecting, and we're sure you'll want to discuss your passion for the hobby as he so eloquently does below. 

Martinex1: I was doing some reorganizing of my long boxes and comic art this past weekend, and as I came across certain books and original pages, it caused me to reminisce. I suspect that enjoying memories is a big part of collecting comics. Like all entertainment and art, comics are an escape. For me it’s a chance for my imagination to go places I never can, while at the same time thinking about childhood and the fun and growth of those days.

Comics were interwoven in my life from a very young age. I grew up in the south suburbs of Chicago in a large family within a larger family. My six brothers and sisters and I had an extended family that seemed to poke into many neighborhoods. We were all very close knit, from my Grandfather who lived right next door to us, to the many aunts and uncles and second cousins and relations that lived in the sturdy brick bungalows in the city. On a fairly regular basis, our family of nine would load into our van and visit my great grandmother; she was a tiny woman of Polish descent who lived in a doily filled duplex and treated us to Pringles and Goofy Grape punch. Upstairs from her lived an aunt and uncle and their three older teenaged boys.  

My first memories of that house and those family members are from around age five, and they are some very vivid and happy memories indeed, particularly those around my cousin Joey. Joey was the middle son who lived upstairs; he was thin and wiry and soft spoken. He was about 18 at that time, but he always had time for us youngsters. Most impactful to me was the fact that Joey was a collector. Every dresser and shelf in his room had sports’ bobble heads adorning them. He had Bears bobble heads, and White Sox bobble heads, and hockey bobble heads.  My brothers and I would run around the room trying to get them all nodding simultaneously to his shouts of, “Cut it out. Cut it out”, and laughter.  Joey also had G.I. Joes, not the small ones that came out in the ‘80s, but the tall military characters.  He had their jeeps, and their weapons, and their space capsule as well. Joey had large plastic figurines of army men, and Vikings, and knights. They were similar to the small army men that you can purchase 200 at a time and appear in Toy Story, only these were about 4 inches tall and very detailed.  And Joey had comic books. Stacks and stacks of comic books were tied neatly in his closet with soft twine.  We could hardly ever touch them while we were there, but we could see the stacks and make out some of the books on top… Avengers, Fantastic Four, Sgt. Fury and his Howling Commandos. He kept them stacked nicely, all in their spot, all in order. The brightness of the covers, with the characters in their costumes in dramatic poses, called to us. Once in a while, one would be lying about free and the kids in my family would quietly page through it; I distinctly remember looking at a Sub Mariner comic as a graduation party carried on throughout the house.  But that was rare; Joey kept the comics tucked away for the most part. 

Joey was very giving. Over the course of our visits to their house, he would always give us something he no longer had need for, so the G.I. Joes, and their supplies, and the Vikings and knights were soon ours.  It was like Christmas whenever we went visiting, and I can remember countless hours playing at home with all of those toys.

After one of the family parties, in which the kids had their fill of Shasta soda pulled from large ice tubs, we climbed into the van and took our places. As my mom got in she loaded a cardboard box into our midst. What was it? What was it? I am sure all of our hearts leapt with the excitement. I was shocked.  It was a huge box of COMICS!

I can recall a lot of them, but I probably cannot remember most even today.  Some stand out in my memories; some are lost to the hazy clouds of time.   He gave us Avengers!  Avengers #s 34 and 35 with the Living Laser, #59 with Yellowjacket, #61 with the Black Knight and Dr. Strange, #69 with the Growing Man, #71 with the Invaders, #86 with that big headed Brainchild. Wow! And also Silver Surfer 2, Iron Man 21, Fantastic Four 87, Captain Marvel 17, and more and more and more. There were Archies, stacks and stacks of Archies:  PEP, Jughead, Lil’ Archies, Betty and Veronica. And Sad Sack, lots of Sad Sack. And Sgt. Fury, dozens of Sgt. Fury.  

A side note: with the G.I. Joes, army men, Sgt. Fury, Sad Sack, etc., it was obvious Joey had an affinity for anything related to WWII; his father was in the war and we knew of him as Uncle Jeep (because he drove a jeep in the war and the name stuck from those days when his buddies simply called him, “Jeep” instead of his given “Eugene”).  

Joey gave us so many comics, and being a collector today I know that those books were difficult to part with.

All of those comics were thrust into our little grubby hands.  And we read them over and over and over again until sadly the staples loosened and the covers fell off. I read them at the kitchen table while eating Honeycomb cereal. I read them during commercials while watching Sigmund and the Sea Monsters on Saturday morning. I read them by flashlight in a tent on a vacation stop at a KOA.   I read every inch of those comics. I didn’t even understand some of the words, but I read them.   And I drooled over the “Coming Soon” advertisements of future issues. And I wondered what happened in chapters that I was missing (IE. Avengers #60, the marriage of Yellowjacket and Wasp).  I read every checklist. I read every letter. I particularly read the Marvels until I memorized them.  And I loved every minute.  

Over the next couple of years, that was my exposure to comics. They were all gifts from Joey.  

When I was eight years old, my mom told me that Joey was sick; I can remember the conversation and I can remember not truly understanding. He had leukemia. It was discovered after a minor injury would not heal correctly. Within only a matter of months, Joey died. I can remember that conversation too; I can remember exactly where I was when I found out. I had to miss the wake and funeral because I had the chicken pox. I stayed home alone (in those days kids did that) and I read comic books and thought about my cousin. To this day, even as I type these words, I miss him tremendously.

Within a year or so, my mom bought me my first “new” comic. I was shopping with her at the local Jewel-Osco, and they had on a rack three bagged comics for less than a dollar. She let me pick one bag. It contained an Amazing Spider-Man, a Marvel Two-In-One, and an Invaders issue. I was ecstatic. I could not believe the Thing had his own series, and I saw more of what Captain America was doing back in WWII. I have to give my mother credit, because not only did she buy them for me, but she read them too. She was probably just checking to see if it was appropriate for me, but I distinctly remember her chuckling and saying, “It is very tongue in cheek”.

Not long after, I was venturing to the corner drug store and buying comics from the rack. My first purchase, using money from my part in a paper route, was Avengers #164. That is still my favorite comic in so many ways. To come in at the start of the Nefaria storyline with Byrne interiors and a Perez cover helped, but the issue brought together so many characters that I had known from the days my cousin shared comics. The Living Laser and Whirlwind were there; it had Black Panther and Yellowjacket too, but it also had some new guys I didn’t know yet like Wonder Man and the furry Beast. The continuity in the story and in my life just made sense; it made me happy.

Somewhere in my mind, even back then I wanted to collect everything that Joey had given me that as youngsters we had mishandled and destroyed. As I reached my teenage years, I set out to gather everything I could remember in that wonderful cardboard box. The first back issue I purchased was Avengers #47 with Scarlet Witch, Quicksilver, and Magneto.  It filled a gap. One down, dozens to go.

It has been easy for me, even 40 years later, to remember the Marvel Comics that I had to replace.   They had so extreme an impact. Honestly, I struggle to remember the DC issues, and I am sure I have not replaced them all in my collection yet. I can remember certain images or parts of storylines, but I have not been able to pin them all down. I recently came across a cover of the Flash that sparked a memory. Archies all started looking the same to me; I could remember some stories, but identifying the cover or issue I needed was near impossible. I’ve known for a long time that a gap is” Dennis the Menace Goes to Hawaii” but I have not made a purchase on that yet. 

 

There is also one issue that I know we had that I am afraid I will never be able to afford: X-Men #1.  Yes, unbelievable but true, I know we had it because I distinctly remember Iceman sliding down the pole on the first page and dressing like a snowman. I didn’t realize it until I read the reprint in Amazing Adventures much later. 

My preferences have always been superheroes and particularly Marvel characters, so my collection has grown in that way. I am sure my collection is far beyond anything Joey could have imagined, with plastic bags, and long boxes, and trades, and CGC, and original art. It has been fun to share some of it with my nieces and nephews and now my young sons, although they are more interested in Legos and Skylanders. That’s okay; maybe someday they will share the passion or maybe not. The main thing is that we share the imagination.

This all got me to wondering how the folks at the BAB site stumbled into comics, what their influences are, and what they think about comic collecting as part of their life.

So, how did your collecting of comics start? Did you happen into the local convenience shop or drug store to buy candy and have your eye caught by the four color magic on the spinner rack? Or were you led to the hobby by somebody you knew; did a family member or friend share the experience? What were your first comics and are they still amongst your favorites? Was it a Marvel, or DC, or Archie, or some funny animal book that first spiked your imagination? Do you still have that first book and how well do you remember it? Did you have a special book that was lost to the ages?

What makes your Bronze Age gold?