I have a serious problem with Reggie Hudlin. I’ve known Reggie for over 25 years and although we’ve never been the best of friends, I liked Reggie and considered him a friend. Denys Cowan introduced me to Reggie when he took me to a party at Reggie’s downtown New York loft all those years ago. The loft was badass but when asked by this incredible looking woman “Isn’t this the nicest living space you’ve ever been in?” I said, “Nope, my cousin has a nicer loft, but this is cool also.” “Yeah, sure he does. Where in the projects?” was her reply.
She assumed my cousin was named Ray Ray and lived in the hood, in reality my cousin is William T. Williams, one of the most important artists in the 20th and now 21st Century. Don’t take my word for it that’s according to the Janson History of Art the definitive art history reference book and acknowledged authority on the subject.
In looking over my journal entry from that night I wrote the woman (now a fairly well known actress) was rather chilly towards me the rest of the evening. Maybe what I said got back to Reggie and when you’re riding high as a new hotshot director in your 20s that sort of shit brothers you. Perhaps that’s what’s prevented me from ever becoming real tight with Reggie, he heard his loft wasn’t the nicest living space I’ve ever been in.
Reggie was riding high after the massive success of his first movie, House Party. I couldn’t wait to tell him how much I was enjoying his house party two, get it? I thought I would get my chance when the circle of worshipers around him cleared for a moment and I said:
“Hi, thanks for having me. I’m really enjoying this House Party tw…”
“Excuse me. This isn’t the nicest living space you’ve ever been in?” Reggie interrupted.
“Well, no. But it’s very nic…
“EXCUSE ME, I’M TALKING! You said your cousin Ray Ray has a nicer living space?”
“I never said his name was Ray R…”
“EXCUSE ME, I’M STILL TALKING! How dare you not agree, this is the nicest living space you’ve ever been in!” Reggie then withdrew a small caliber gun and shot me.
Or more likely that’s my over imaginative imagination running a way with me. Except for the woman becoming a bit cold towards me because of my answer, none of that happened.
At the same party I met Reggie’s producer-brother Warrington. Warrington and I got alone well.
So well in fact when I purchased my first loft Warrington was one of my first guests.
Nowadays I seldom see Warrington but my relationship with Reggie has been constant. I’ve arranged events at San Diego Comic Con International (SDCC) the New York Comic Con as well as introduced opportunities and people to Reggie all with the goal of supporting whatever he was doing.
Reggie Hudlin is an important Playa within black arts culture. His contributions on the film side are legendary both as a producer and director. His comic book work although respectable was not on the same level as his film and television work.
But it’s about to be.
On January 21 2015 Reggie Hudlin, Denys Cowan, Derek Dingle changed the world of comics when Milestone 2.0 was announced. Reggie is now at the head of the most recognized African American name in comics, Milestone Media. Flanked by Milestone’s creator Denys Cowan and Milestone’s keeper for the last 20 plus years Derek Dingle it’s hard to see how this could be anything other than ground shaking. The addition of Jim Owlsey on any level makes Milestone’s potential almost scary.
Reggie is also producing The Academy Awards. The very same Academy Awards being boycotted by some serious people and the boycott has gained worldwide support. Reggie and host Chris Rock are under real pressure to quit.
It would be so easy to join that chorus. Reggie and Milestone, as Desi would say, still got some ‘plaining’ to do. It’s been a solid year since I was ignored and still not a word as to why. I’ve got more reasons to hope Reggie and Milestone fail than Trump has hoping his supporters never learn to read or write.
A dear friend of mind sent the following text:
Your boy is in the middle of some real serious 1965 shit. What did you do? Payback’s a motherfucking Bitch! LOL!
What did I do? I sat down to write what will surly get me some more haters.
The Academy Awards is 95% plus white, that’s the running narrative in the press. The insinuation is the academy is racist because of that. Is it? The part missing from those reports is the Academy is made up of mostly people working in the industry. You would think that’s general knowledge it’s not, far from it.
Many people think The Academy Of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences are like the Guardians of the Universe.
That’s the universe, not the galaxy.
From Wikipedia: The Guardians (of the Universe) evolved on the planet Maltus, and were among the first intelligent life forms in the universe. At this time they were tall greyish blue humanoids with black hair, who roughly resembled humans except for their skin color. They became scientists and thinkers, experimenting on the worlds around them.
Many think the Academy spawned from such a (albeit not so comic book) myth. No, the members of the Academy are mostly working professionals in Hollywood. That’s important and here’s why-If you’re an Academy member and you’re worked on a nominated film would that not be the film you vote for? If your film wins you now have an Oscar winning film on your resume. Put another way, how do you not vote for your film?
That alone seems like a screwed up way to conduct a fair vote.
The following is from the Producers requirements for membership into the Academy:
From Academy Bylaws:
Article III, Section 1. Membership shall be by invitation of the Board of Governors. Invitations to active membership shall be limited to those persons active in the motion picture arts and sciences, or credited with screen achievements, or who have otherwise achieved distinction in the motion picture arts and sciences and who, in the opinion of the Board, are qualified for membership.
Minority representation and respect in Hollywood is laughable. It’s very much like the representation and respect comic creators get in Hollywood with one blaring exception. Hollywood isn’t stupid enough to shun black creators of film and TV without trying to appease that segment of the industry when that segment becomes pissed.
That segment of the industry has a voice that carries beyond any award ceremony. You’re hearing that voice now. If you listen carefully you’ll also hear the voice of comics demanding respect from Hollywood for all we’ve done for them…nah, you won’t but that’s another story.
Is the exclusion of people of color racist or self-serving? The answer most likely lays somewhere in the middle. I’d say; having run some entertainment divisions its more the latter than the former but clearly each exists. Regardless if it’s one, the other or both it’s unfair and something drastic has to be done.
The Academy and Hollywood needs to be taught a lesson. That lesson must be loud and clear. That lesson must be bold and take no prisoners. It’s for that reason I support both Chris Rock and Reggie Hudlin.
Yeah, like Chris Rock says, I said it. A billion-person audience is exactly what the world needs to see just how people of color roll. African American culture is the world’s culture. There is no bigger influence in pop culture than us.
Period.
Reggie and Chris are well equipped to carry that message. That message can’t be subtle, understated, indirect, or delicate. That message must be brash and filled with swagger. Our intelligence and confidence must be painfully obvious as is our talent. A billion people and then some should have no doubt that we are indeed all that a bag of chips.
To that end, once successful in conveying that message we must then turn inward and tend to our own house. Even if for the boycott don’t throw insult at those who are opposed.
If opposed don’t belittle those who disagree. A disagreement is no reason to treat someone badly. An opinion is no reason to dismiss someone’s contribution. Telling yourself there are no common ground then acting on a decision without talking to the other party is one of the ways African Americans have been marginalized in America.
We should know better than to do this to ourselves. But there’s always a few or as Forrest Gump says, “Stupid is what stupid does.” I’ve said before, I support Milestone and I now support Reggie’s and Chris’s decision to stay the course with the Oscars.
Yes, it would be easy and some would say warranted to go the other way. But I’m not now nor have I ever been that guy. I can’t disregard everything someone does because I disagree with some things. That’s the current state of our two political parties.
Last year I wrote an article called the Middleman. ComicMix and Bleeding Cool ran versions of the piece. Written during a time the news was full of accounts of unarmed black men and women being killed. I was also diagnosed with severe depression during that period. My article was my account of what series of events may end my life. I firmly believe as an African American man my life can be cut short by simply exercising rights that white men take for granted.
White men can say anything they want at any time without giving it a second thought. Once, Denys Cowan and I were told “carry our bags” by two white guys in a Texas airport. They were joking and thought the whole thing hilarious. If we were joking with them Denys and I would have been the first to laugh. We weren’t and we didn’t. What could we do? We were two black men in Texas.
A few weeks ago I saw this white guy get out his car, throw his keys on the ground, and then rip up the ticket a cop had just given him while the cop watched. All the time screaming at the cop like a maniac such gems like, kiss my ass, fuck you, and I’m not paying shit!! Nothing happened to him, the cop just calmly wrote another ticket,
Me? I’m so distrustful of the way black men are treated by the police if I simply utter the words Lower Alabama with someone I was joking with, the cops may be called to arrest me. Yes, I know that’s far fetched, ridiculous, preposterous and simply outrageous.
And that is exactly what happened to me at a Hilton in Orange County California.
I was told I had 20 minutes to leave the hotel or the cops would be called and charges would be pressed because, I said, “To me, L.A. means Lower Alabama.”
Why? Somehow these two words insulted a pretty white lady’s grandfather, that’s why. The grandfather was not there and I was talking (and laughing) with the woman moments before, I don’t believe him but even if true clearly it was a misunderstanding and what of it?
I’ve had great relationship with Hilton Hotels all my life with wonderful memories of my stays there. It was at the New York Hilton I sat with one of my idols the artist Ernie Barnes while still a student at the High School of Art and Design. The New York Hilton was also where Clarence Avant, Chairmen of the board Motown booked a suite for my then wife so she and her friends did not have to travel to New Jersey after the 1993 Janet Jackson concert at Madison Square Garden. It was her birthday but Mr. Avant wanted me in L.A. for an important conference. I thought my wife would feel slighted. Mr. Avant sent her six front row tickets to the concert and I wasn’t missed at all.
Who am I to be summoned by one of the greatest and most powerful man in music? I’m the guy kicked out and threatened with arrest for daring to utter the words Lower Alabama.
When asked what hotel I’d like her in, without a second’s hesitation I said the New York Hilton. There was never really any other choice. My life long BFF Lee Speller and I would often gaze out the window of our job at the Hilton. We were hoping to see some booty and very often we did. Lee and I were Pinkerton guards in collage. One of our few shared posts (assignments) was the J.C. Pennys corporate office building at 1301 6th Ave. right across the street from the Hilton.
The Grand Central Hilton was the spot my brother from another, Bill Sienkiewicz, and I met every so often just to hang. Most times Bill would take a later train to Connecticut so we could talk bit more. That’s where Bill and I fell in love…
I can rarely speak of Bill without inserting some humor and although this gets dark in a moment thinking about those days with my friend, now one of the greatest illustrators of our time makes me happy. Not as happy as a returned call, text and occasional booty call, but happy nevertheless.
A caution, my humor love of friends and a promise made are all that have kept me from falling deeper into a despair where more than once I wondered if my solution was a bullet to my head. A smile and some silliness over cherished memories do in no way lighten this narrative.
My Hilton memories span over 30 years and one of the highlights was sharing the stage with Orlando Jones at the 2015 Eisner Awards at the Hilton San Diego Bay Front. I’m a Gold Hilton Honors member with more than a few stays in Presidential Suites at a Hilton. Some of those stays were complementary upgrades and anyone with access at Hilton can verify what I’m saying.
In fact, everything I say is easily verified.
Who am I to get kicked up to the Presidential suite for free? I’m the guy kicked out and threatened with arrest for daring to utter the words Lower Alabama. I’m the guy just caused unimaginable harm who’s considering which of the resources I have at my disposal to utilize.
What kind of resources do I speak of? The kind I used when UPS made the mistake of dismissing me. They lost a valuable package of art and tried at first to claim it was the sender’s fault. I was told it was impossible to track 26 pages of what they assumed was now scattered over some never to be found land.
The art was from Denys Cowan, one of the greatest black comic book artists in America, and was to be showcased at a galley show. That show, Milestones: African Americans In Comics Pop Culture & Beyond has since become the most successful show at the Geppi Entertainment Museum and one of if not the most successful show on African American Comics and Pop Culture.
Who am I to be chosen by a world-class museum to curate such an important show and significant piece of black history? I’m the guy kicked out and threatened with arrest for daring to utter the words Lower Alabama.
UPS found every single impossible to find page. They did so because corporate saw a bigger problem and made their people do the right thing. There was no silly Lower Alabama catch phrase for anyone to rally behind. Nor was there any video that tells the entire story like exists here.
Do not take my words, video, or narrative for gospel. Everything I speak of can be found on-line and as far as what happened at the OC Hilton I’m sure the powers that be at the Hilton will use their own videos and check my account against the front desk managers and I’m counting on that.
I fully support that and cannot wait to see them for I’d wager the film is vastly different than any report done before this article and that will be hard to explain. The tapes going missing will be hard to explain, the lack of a report will be hard to explain any additional narratives added to the front desk managers ‘report’ will be hard to explain. If there is any editing done to ‘cover up’ something (I’m not saying there is), now there is a reason to call the police. That’s would be an attempt to deliberately alter a report with the aim of doing me harm.
Oh, and UPS? Nowadays I can send a thought and UPS will make sure it gets there.
2016 begins my third year of unbelievable suffering. It seems each time a light bulb of hope appears above my head it goes out. The bulb doesn’t dim or fade or even ‘click’ off. It’s stamped out, smashed, the shattered shards of glass cutting my face making sure I remember just how damaged I am.
This all started when I called and asked for a late check out. As a Gold Honors member that’s a guarantee if possible. I was under the impression this would not a problem. It was. They gave me an hour pass the usual checkout time noon. I then asked if they had a short stay rate and what would that rate be until 4 p.m. I was told that rate would be the exact same rate as if I booked another night and get this – I’d still have to vacate the room.
I hate to rush, so I booked the room for another night to avoid the drama of having to deal with this anymore although I planed to leave after my next meeting, still a few hours because I had to get home.
Some time later I get a call from the front desk manager. She said I had to leave the room because they had booked someone else in it. Now, how is this my problem? I’ve already booked and confirmed another night. I’m already in the suite and that should have been that. A guest being asked to leave a room they had booked and confirmed? I’m sure that is not Hilton policy and I’m also sure if pressed the manager would have to concede the point.
I consented to move but told her it makes no sense for me to move into another room for another night when I only needed the room I’m in for another hour or so. That said, I asked what could be done so I’m not being taken advantage of?
I was told to check out, come down and she would take care of me. I told her it would take me a moment because I had to pack up a great deal of computer and camera equipment.
I explained this and she seemed OK until she called back and told me “you must vacate the room!” She sounded angry but had no leave to speak to me in that manner and it was my intention to tell her so. Once everything is out of the suite I’m on the line to see the front desk manager, she’s pointed out, I ask if I can have a moment but although she’s looking right at me she turns her back and leaves. I won’t suggest she did that on purpose, she was leaving for the day and most likely did not register my inquiry. I found this out from the front office manager who took over.
He was very professional and as such I asked if I could talk freely and rather he would be offended if I did. He said he had an open mind and wanted to hear what I had to say. I explained the rude manner the previous manager spoke to me and that its something I simply don’t tolerate. He listened closely so much so I told him I appreciated him taking the time to hear my vent and told him this.
I showed him the contact I had for the CEO of Hilton Worldwide whom I had met and although he and I were not boys (friends) by any means and the chances he remembered me were slim. This was done for no reason than to give an indication I knew of what I spoke. My objective was a simple one: for him to please tell that manager her tone was unacceptable and if I wanted to I certainly could with a bit of an impact, have her called on the carpet.
I then asked my iPhone what my name was to underscore the point was and add some humor. No idea if he thought it funny because after I played it I stepped away to allow someone to speak to him. I did that for anyone who formed a line behind me and there were a few. Two such people waiting on line for the front desk were a white couple who struck up a conversation with me. I found them charming and likable. Unless howling laughter means ‘screw you’ where they are from they found my company just as charming.
We talked for bit and they asked if I was from L.A. I said I was from New York and although I had a residence in Los Angeles to me L.A. means Lower Alabama. I then turned back to the front desk manager who clearly was no longer the calm pleasant human being I kept thanking for his time. His tone was now hard and he seemed angry.
“What is it you want? I’m not comping you a room, so what it is you want?” He asked.
“Where this coming from? A second ago we were fine. What is this?” I said.
“That was before you insulted a guest.” He told me this and I’m thinking, he’s kidding. He was not. I ask what he thought I did. He pointed to the white couple and told me I had insulted the grandfather of the young lady.
“Her grandfather is from Alabama!”
I see things clearly when faced with crazy. There was no grandfather there, the couple didn’t say a word to me about being upset and looked like they were fine. This was crazy. I told him I had done no such thing and I was just going too leave.
My present headspace had no room for this kind of stupidity. The best thing for me to do is distance myself from any and all drama hence I was leaving before crazy got crazier.
Too late, the front desk manager said, “You have 20 minutes to do so.”
What processed him to say that is beyond me. I was alreadyleaving my back was to him. I turned back and asked, “Or what? You call the police?”
Yep.
The front desk manager said he was going to call the police because I insulted a woman’s (I was talking and laughing with) grandfather (who was not there) because I said; L.A. stands for Lower Alabama.
You don’t have to be a genius to know I insulted no one.
insult
verb |inˈsəlt| [ with obj. ]
speak to or treat with disrespect or scornful abuse: you’re insulting the woman I love.
noun |ˈinˌsəlt|
1 a disrespectful or scornfully abusive remark or action: he hurled insults at us | he saw the book as a deliberate insult to the Church.
a thing so worthless or contemptible as to be offensive: the present offer is an absolute insult.
2 Medicine an event or occurrence that causes damage to a tissue or organ: the movement of the bone causes a severe tissue insult.
The front desk manager then proceeded to beat me like he had a right to do so.
To be clear, no one touched me. A punch never landed on me for there was none thrown but it felt as if I was beat with a brick. I’d done nothing but that’s not where the pain came from. The pain came from the realization this man thought so little of me he could have the police arrest me over something any reasonable person would find silly.
The pain was because he was most likely right.
The front desk manager came from behind the desk and summoned some big white guy and both came towards me. The white guy had a kind face and clearly his heart was not into the bum rush I was about to endure. I backed out of the hotel repeating (taking care not to sound to blackish) “I did nothing.”
I backed out while at the same time trying to use my cell phone video. I got some but there are others who videotaped the entire thing. In my car I sat for a few moments trying to calm down then with a shock realized the manager had likely called the police. I did nothing, but a for a black man, doing nothing meant nothing if the cops are called.
I was sure I’d be arrested or worse. I had to get out of that parking lot. As soon as I exited a quickening heartbeat and hyperventilation began and I thought I was going to die. I fear the police because an injustice has more than once been the result of my dealings with them. I had done nothing but my heart would not stop pounding and now my tears are starting to flow because I’m livid I have to endure this unjust bullshit.
The Middleman was a suicide note written for every black man. The note taken from what would have been mine. I’m suffering from severe depression and each day is a challenge. I stay home; I stay off of the net stay away from the news stay away from social media. So when I’m told I have 20 minutes to leave a hotel one I have a long wonderful relationship with because I somehow offended a guest with a silly sentence or the cops will be called that is just as real as telling me I may be shot if I don ’t leave in 20 minutes.
How so?
Once the police arrived I would have insisted I had done nothing wrong and demand the manager show cause why I was being treated in such a way. I would not make any move nor issue any threats. That may not have mattered I may have been beaten, or shot.
Think that far-fetched? It is. But it’s a distinct possibility as any black man falsely arrested or black woman who just buried her 12-year old son shot for playing with a toy gun in a playground will tell you.
I’d say less far fetched than having the cops arrest you because you may have insulted someone you just met. Insulted them with two words you had no way of knowing were insulting. Insulting someone who felt her grandfather was somehow wronged in the way you used those two words even though he wasn’t there to hear it in the first place and by had no idea it was insulting.
Far-fetched has a different meaning when you have to fear your lighthearted conversation at the Hilton may get you arrested. Your freedom of speech during such a conversation ignored. It was a private conversation, ignored, I was a guest, and a Hilton Honors member to boot all ignored.
Don’t know if the young lady was an honors member but I do know she was white. I may be wrong but I don’t think she was upset at all, but if she was why was this the business of the Hilton? We were talking having a lighthearted conversation if something said, was off putting why tell the front desk manager? There was no dispute, no intimidation no danger of Lower Alabama hurting more innocent victims or their grand daddy’s.
Let’s flip it. What does the front desk manager do if I made the complaint?
“That woman just insulted my grandfather although she has no idea what she said or who he is or why it should be hurtful!” “She did what? I’m giving her 20 minutes then I call the cops and have here arrested!” Yeah, right. At most I would hear, “I’m sorry sir but there is nothing I can do about that.”
What that front desk manager did was wrong. Who he did it to was unfortunate for him but no one should be subjected to that type of completely bias and in my case potentially dangerous management.
Orange County California has a reputation of being racist. Again, don’t take my word for it, do the research. As a black man I can tell you the climate is not welcoming but I’ll also be the first to tell you that ‘climate’ is nothing tangible and not something to hang a ‘racist’ tag on an entire community. I’ve been to the OC many times with no problem but then again when you’re a black man you tend to ‘watch your step’ places where you know the climate does not favor you.
That doesn’t change the fact that I’ve never had a problem within the OC community. That is until a certain front desk manager decided the police had to be called because I had insulted a pretty white girl’s grandfather when I stated, ‘L.A. stands for Lower Alabama.’ What’s funny is the line is actually positive towards Alabama (where my stepfather was from and where I spent my summers) and the south as a whole.
I was threatened with arrest because I insulted someone with a riff from a James Brown song, a riff celebrating the south.
James Brown. Where’re you from, Albert?
Albert: Georgia.
J.B.: What part, man? Georgia’s got a big—. What?
Albert: Macon, Georgia.
J.B.: Macon. Don’t say it so low, bro. You make me think you don’t want the people to
hear you or something. …
Fred, where’re you from?
Fred Wesley: L.A.!
Band: Uh oh! Uh oh! [Laughter.]
J.B.: What you say?
Fred: L.A.
J.B. L.A.? Oh no man! We may have to make some changes.
You can find that riff in most live recordings of Escapism and/or Make It Funky. The riff may change a bit but the L.A. punch line is always there. The point? To celebrate the South. Any implied ‘insult’ came from the mind of that young woman or more likely from the front desk manager? I said, to me L.A. stands for Lower Alabama. Where’s the insult?”
This one incident does not make the OC racist. Although I doubt if calling the police over such trivial bullshit would be done if the front desk manager was not sure the cops would be supportive. I also doubt the cops would have been called if I were white. In my opinion this type of ridiculous misuse of authority is the reason The San Diego Comic Con International will never and should never move to the OC.
SDCC isn’t a convention, it’s a culture. It’s not just people in silly costumes parading around, it’s people who share a love of something that is hard to understand if you’re not one of us. In San Diego, there is no reason to think walking into a hotel lobby dressed as a character from an obscure comic book will get the police called on you. Even if said character is wearing a replica weapon and is a black man. In 40 plus years no one has been shot by the police nor has the police been called because someone was wearing a gun that looked too real during their show.
The police have talked to fans even cautioned fans about the wearing of certain items. That’s just common sense. I book between 20-50 hotel rooms a year at SDCC and have for 20 plus years. I’ve never been afraid to talk about anything at any hotel I’ve booked, nor has my staff or guests.
I’ve picked a fight with Klingons, screamed “Hey Batman, if I don’t get my money I’m telling everybody who you are!” followed by “Batman is Bruce Wayne!”
I did so knowing the management would get the joke and even if they didn’t I was safe from the police.
But in Orange County California, if I say something that’s positive, funny and no business of the front desk manager at all, I could be put in jail without even a second thought? That’s reason enough for me to think perhaps the OC is a bit racist and to oppose loudly any move of the SDCC to the OC.
I stated earlier I had to get home that day but I couldn’t. I was so shaken up by my humiliating treatment, I couldn’t drive, thoughts of police cruisers pulling me over contributed to my already screwed up head that I missed saying goodbye to Dexter, my dog of 10 years, hours earlier I learned had fallen ill and was suffering.
I had to grant permission to end his suffering to kill him without being able to hold him one last time and say goodbye.
If the front desk manager was looking for an insult, there it is.
Lastly, I was the keynote speaker at an event held in Huntsville Alabama at the University Of Alabama last year. The event
focused attention on the sexual abuse of women on America’s college campuses. The people of Huntsville were warm and welcoming to me. City officials have told me I’m to be made an honorary citizen of Huntsville and given the key to the city soon. That will be kind of achievement my mother would be so proud of if she were still here.
She lived to see her son survive the projects although her other child and mother did not. One of her greatest joys was seeing
Her daughter Sharon live on in the hit animated show Static Shock and when The Gordon Parks Academy named its auditorium The Michael Davis Auditorium.
Who am I to receive such honors? The key to a wonderful city? My name on the auditorium of a school named for one of the greatest thinkers of the 20th Century?
I’m the guy kicked out and threatened with arrest for daring to utter the words Lower Alabama in 2016 America.
Not the first but perhaps the best black superhero, Brotherman is returning in 2016.
After more than 20 years the Brothers Sims will publish what has passed cult status to become full on legend. All over the comics world people are rejoicing as this beloved Black Universe of characters gives old and more important new fans of color something all too rare for us, stories about people who look like us.
Sound familiar? It should, Milestone 2.0 announced its return at the start of this year, and now at year’s end, Brotherman follows suit. This would be the first time Brotherman followed Milestone in anything. Brotherman has always been ahead of Milestone, they published first; found alternate distribution first (something Milestone never understood fully) and realized first the revenue being ignored by the big two, Marvel and DC, namely the black market.
Genius.
This in no way takes away from the vision and brilliance of Denys Cowan and his creation of Milestone. I’d say to think such would be stupid but I don’t want to insult the stupid. Denys’ idea was a black comic book company. That was a first in the modern day of comics as there have been black comic book companies before Milestone. The most notable, Golden Legacy, started in 1966 and still publishes material today.
The black market is so underserved is easy to tag someone as a copycat because there are so few black endeavors into certain areas like comics. When Image was formed I didn’t notice anyone pointing out that the founders were ripping off Marvel. Nor did anyone say Malibu was ripping off Image. There were quite a few comic book companies that sprung up around the same time as Milestone, Image, and Malibu but nobody compared those other guys to Ania a comic book company that many mistook for Milestone. When asked to comment on each other’s companies and what was the difference, Milestone’s response was-‘they do what they do we do what we do. There’s room foreveryone.’Ania’s response?
“Them be some House Niggers.”
That’s not exactly how they said it, but they did say it and that’s how real niggers talk so I wrote it that way.
Black comic book content is always being compared to each other if its black people in control of the project-it’s a knee jerk reaction so it stands to reason Brotherman would get the “following Milestone” tag.
That’s not what they are doing but it certainly will look like that to a public brainwashed to think all black people follow one another in all things.
20 plus years ago Brotherman’s creators chose family over their publishing endeavors. 20 years later they return as family. Despite hardships and outside pressure, they chose family. You can read about it here.
African Americans have faced challenges in America since we were brought here in chains. We are stronger by far when we stand as one. For many that’s hard to do. That’s one of many purposes of the song, slogan, or anthem within our culture, to strengthen resolve. Most preach courage hope and/or perseverance like these:
We shall overcome
Keep your eyes on the prize
Lift every voice and sing
Some are defiant:
Say it loud, I’m black and I’m proud.
A few are hard truths:
Brothers gonna work it out
The hard truth is, we can be our own worst enemy.
“If not us, then who? If not now, then when” John E. Lewis said that. Others have used different words to say the same but it took the great Mr. Lewis to make it short, simple, urgent and easy for those to understand how completely fucked up it would be not to work it out. Brotherman did it right.
Those brothers worked it out, that’s family. Family doesn’t stop at blood. Blood or not family doesn’t come to your mother’s funeral, stand in front of her casket and say; “we’re family” then crush you without a word to you months later. Funny, I’m still grateful he attended the service because I know at that moment we were family.
Then we weren’t for reasons still unexplained, some “brother” he turned out to be. Gary Byrd said every brother ain’t a brother. Sometimes every brother ain’t a brother or a man.
I know I know I haven’t written to you in years and this is reaching you a dozen days after your birthday Nov. 10th. That’s not really that bad if you consider you’re been gone 35 years and change. Before you get all bent out of shape you’re not doing so well in the- keep in contract with your brother department either.
Even when you were alive you weren’t much of a letter writer, but you have not visited me in my dreams in well over a year. In fact the last time I talked to you in a dream was the day Jean died. I’d like to think you have been busy catching up with our 26-year-old mother. You remember the day she came home on her 26th birthday and declared loudly so the entire neighborhood heard, “Sharon, Michael, this is my last birthday! From now on I’m always 26 years old.”
She meant that too.
For the rest of her life each and every birthday card I gave her had to say “happy 26th birthday!” She picked the right age because her 26th birthday was magical. Robert actually showed up and showed up sober! He was taking us to Palisades Amusement Park and everyone including mommy was excited. Oh, tell mommy she’s been lax in the visiting her only grandson department also. It’s something how we call our grandmother Lenard, ‘mommy’ our mother ‘Jean’ our great-grandmother Sophie ‘grandma,’ our step father Robert, Robert and each other, ‘High Yella’ and ‘Dark Side.’
Dark Side, my name for you was so cool even you said it was. You asked me a zillion times where I got the name from and I never told you. still the longest secret kept beating yours by about 34 years 11 months, three weeks and 23 hours. I loved that-who can keep a secret longer- game Jean invented. Ya know, I should just tell you where that name came from…but I won’t and you know why.
I have not forgotten that long ass car ride on Jean’s birthday where everybody was so excited but nobody found the time to tell me why. You did find the time and the ideal way to torture me. I really thought you were serious when you whispered “They’ve taking you to New Jersey to leave you there.”
“That’s not true!”
“Oh yes it is. What other reason would we be going to a park in New Jersey at night?”
You knew I had no concept of any other kind of ‘park’ besides the park I played in and never ever would I be allowed there at night. You got me good that night because I absolutely stopped reading (more like stopped looking at the pictures) the Long Ranger Big Little Book I loved so much. I pleaded with you to convince everyone to keep me.
“What are you telling that boy?” Mommy snapped at you. Then I thought… wait a second…mommy loved me! Every morning she would make my cereal (sometimes with water when there was no money so no milk) and she’d tell me how much she loved me at dinnertime. Some times no one would eat dinner but us, which we both found curious. That is until you figured out why it was OK if we didn’t ‘clean our plates.’ It was because Jean would finish what we left.
“Sharon said you all were going to leave me, that’s why we’re going to New Jersey and a park at night!!”
“Sharon Davis!!” Jean yelled at you “Why you go and tell that boy that?” I was feeling pretty darn good and about to get all up in your face then Jean said, “We’re not leaving him in the park, we’re dumping him out on the highway. That way we don’t have to stop. Michael, remember, tuck and roll, tuck and roll.”
For a very very, very long moment I was scared shitless. Then I started to cry like I’d never cried before…then everyone started laughing. Which made me cry even harder. Funny Dark Side, real freakin funny.
Ha. Really funny, ha.
I remember how you kept telling me, “We’re here! Highyella, look!” I didn’t budge I was determined not to get out of the car despite everyone saying they were sorry. Nope, I didn’t need to see some park after dark I had a real good mad on and I was going to keep it and yeah, I know the story so well because you and Jean took turns telling it for years.
Then Robert opened the back door and the lights of the Ferris wheel hit me…
Wasn’t that a magical night?
It was the most perfect night ever. We were all together, Robert and Jean were getting along and Palisades Amusement Park was beyond anything we’d ever imagined because we had no concept (I didn’t) such a place existed
It was a dream comes true but the better dream was Jean, Robert, mommy, you, and me a family just like the Brady Bunch…and just like the Brady Bunch our ‘family’ was cancelled.
I don’t think as a child I ever saw Robert sober again did you? That was the year we moved from mommy’s house to the projects in Rockaway and that was the Christmas Eve when Robert, drunk out of his mind opened Jean’s skull with the die cast metal Tonka truck he brought me for Christmas. How on earth could you witness that at 10 years old and function Sharon? You did and you saved her. You called 911 and she survived. It all came back to me sis, 30 years later.
You were already gone but every single detail came back to me. I called Jean–she confirmed I had repressed the memory. Once she confirmed it I never saw Robert again. The man I idolized I cut out of my life because of what he did 30 years prior.
He died 10 years later never knowing why.
Cold right? I Know. Terribly cold and a terrible thing to do to someone. He had changed and I didn’t care. I was full of such anger I just couldn’t trust myself to even speak to him. I’m haunted by that…or is that you?
Yeah, I still got jokes. But funny as I am, Jean was by far funnier. I actually called her once to help me write a scene for a show I was on. Oh yeah, your brother is a HUGE writer, producer, artist, governor of New York and I’m married to Susan Day. Yep, I married Laurie Partridge my boy hood crush.
What?
Guess what?
Chicken Butt!
Milestone is back and Static Shock is going to be a live action television show! Your little brother is in charge of everything! You live on as Sharon Hawkins! As does our mother as Jean Hawkins and yep Robert’s there also!
Except, well…about the writer, producer, artist thing…I am all of those things and I make a good living but I’m not huge by any means. I’m also not governor of New York and I’m not married to Susan Day.
Milestone is back and Static Shock is going to be a live action television show but I’m not running the show. I’m not even on the show.
They didn’t want me and get this, I asked.
They didn’t want me on the show I created the universe for they didn’t want me at Milestone although no has worked harder than me to keep Milestone current and always in the thoughts of fans:
Yeah, I know that’s a lot of stuff but its not all I’ve written or done to keep Milestone in the public eye. Yeah sis, it floored me when I was omitted. Not a word, not a call, nothing.
But your little brother is doing OK.
The Gordon Parks Academy houses The Michael Davis Auditorium, my mentor program has been recognized on such a level I’m asked to speak all over the world. I’ve given keynote addresses at the places you would not believe! I’ll just name one, the FBI.
Yep, that FBI.
Imagine me in front of a crowd of mostly white cops without my hands being up. OH and you know I talked about that which was not to be named. You KNOW I named it. I won’t do it here as your little brother has learned not to rock the boat
Some think it takes courage to stand in front of an institution and bring to light the hypocrisy of its leader who reportedly sort out Gay Americans to discredit while he and his boyfriend vacationed on Dick Island.
What?
The FBI gig was cool but this was cooler, Rosamond Bernier called me her inspiration and did so with a full page in the Playbill of her Lincoln Center school age lectures. Before she started lecturing to kids and teens she sort me out to see how your badass brother did it. She’s only the most important art historian ever, no big deal.
That’s just some little old stuff I do to give back. I’m also the only person in comics with distribution into the schools with The Action files from Simon & Schuster & Person Learning and the Black Church with the Guardian Line from Urban Ministries and Sharon guess what?
There’s more and nope no joke is coming. Well, the following clip has some jokes but its no joking matter. I curated a show at the Geppi Entertainment Museum called, Milestones: African Americans In Comics Pop Culture & Beyond. In the 20 plus year history of the esteemed museum, Milestones has been recognized as the most successful exhibit ever mounted. The funny thing is although it appears to be an exhibit of Milestone Media its not. Nope.
Missy Geppi the museum’s President originally contacted me to put together a retrospective of graduates from my Bad Boy Studio mentor program. Bad Boys: African Americans In Comics Pop Culture & Beyond was the original name of the show. I changed the name and focus when I was to be a part Milestone 2.0 and had the idea to announce there.
We didn’t and there were a few other places we were going to announce all I arranged and paid for. We didn’t announce at any of those places. Somewhere and somehow ‘we’ became a ‘them’ then a ‘they.’
They announced in Jan. I became a trivia question.
Our cousin’s Regina and Desiree are trying to be slick. They don’t think I notice how they conveniently hit me up on Facebook right after I say some sad shit. That’s their way of looking out for me.
Doris their mom our Aunt was Jean’s maid of honor when she married Robert. Doris reached out to me a few times to try and get me to talk to Robert. I’d tell her I would, I didn’t. Robert tried to see me often all I could think of was Jean lying on the floor blood pouring from her head and just could not.
Jean had the presence of mind to tell Robert to leave before the cops came. I made up my mind telling him to leave was not to save him from jail. In my mind she wanted him gone before he realized what trouble he could be in and killed us all. I kept that thought more than any other.
He wouldn’t have. I know that now. He was just a sad beaten man who made bad choice after bad choice. Jean forgave him and told me I needed to also, I couldn’t. Someone, I think Doris, gave him my number and he left me this last message; “Son. I’m dying. Please come see me.”
Nope. True to his word (for once I thought) in less than a week he was dead. Jean called to tell me and once again suggested I forgive him.
No.
Never.
Fuck Robert Lawrence.
Those were the choice words I used when writing about that day in my journal. Rereading them before writing this letter dropped me to my knees and finally after 20 years I cried for Robert Lawrence and yeah sis I’m crying for him now.
When I think of Robert the image of the monster that almost killed our mother has been replaced with a moment from when he was the most important man in my world. That’s the day he remembered to buy me Spiderman number 100 and ask me why Spiderman had 6 arms.
That began the best comic book conversation I’ve ever had.
With the authority of a foreign policy expert asked to comment on developments in middle east in front of the U.N. I brought my father up to speed on Peter Parker, Spider-Man and those six arms.
Then together we read that double issue. Kinda like when you and I played together that one Christmas Eve when I let you convince me to let my GI Joe marry your Barbie.
Yuck!
Fun fact-I now collect Barbie. How did I go from hating them to a collection worthy of more than as few interviews? You. I wanted one to remind me of you and I found every time I buy one, for the briefest of seconds you’re with me.
Except you’re not. Yes, you’re in my dreams and memory but I wanted more. That more came when I wrote the Static creative bible used our life as the inspiration. I was not alone when Static was created. Far from it, Dwayne McDuffie, Jim Owlsey (a.k.a. Christopher Priest) Denys Cowan and Derek Dingle were right there.
I was certainly alone when Dwayne told me to write the Static bible aka the Static Universe. For over 20 years nobody from Milestone disputed that-in fact they co-signed.
Now I was just ‘one of five guys in the room.’
Funny, how it just so happens Static’s life events and family is a carbon copy of ours right down to the names. Clearly that’s an amazing coincidence.
Sharon, I wanted Jean to see you live on she had such a hard life she needed some joy so no matter the current spin your little brother created the Static Universe and co-created the most successful black superhero ever created by black people, and I can prove it.
Our mother, Jean, and you saved me. Man, I should have been dead so many times but you saved me.
I couldn’t save you.
I couldn’t save Jean.
I didn’t even try to save Robert.
I’m sorry.
I will save your legacy-the world will know where the inspiration and swagger of Static comes from. It comes from, Sharon Davis, Jean Harlow Davis, Robert Lawrence, Sharon’s little bratty brother and Regina’s cousin.
Happy Belated Birthday Sharon
Your brother,
High Yella
P.S. OK I was late getting this to you so I’ll tell you where ‘Dark Side’ comes from. Jack Kirby created a villain called Darkseid I got it from there. I could have said nothing giving you the impression it was all me but that simply would not be right to do to anybody but family??
Unforgiveable.
Writer’s note: This was to run November 10th my sister Sharon’s birthday.
I had every intention that it would, even going so far as to ask Mike Gold if I could get it to him on the day it was to post, something my editor and friend for almost 28 years would prefer not. I had written and rewritten several versions of this and was sitting on the one that I was sure I was to send Mike in one hour, give or take 167.
I re-read the piece and realized I was making a rather large mistake so once again I had to re-write it. My mother didn’t raise any fools as such I neither watch FOX nor will I announce the coming rapture to non-believers.
God help me I love the comics industry even more. My reason for this foolishness? The comics industry is full of really wonderful, wonderful (YEP TWICE) people. On the flipside, if you’ve met me you’re aware more than a few assholes stalk the floor at Comic Con.
I know it’s hard to believe but there are people in the industry who think I’m an asshole. I’m not the kind of person to label others because they label me. I’m above all that high school crap. I refuse to create falsehoods in response to falsehoods created about me. I deal in facts, people, and it’s a fact the people who think I’m an asshole fall into one of three categories: (more…)
It’s been suggested my sense of humor can be silly, risky, risqué, downright ghetto and (on rare days) intelligent. Sure, I’ll buy that. It’s fair.
What exactly ghetto humor is depends on where you’re from, what you meant and who will laugh. I assure you, when I inject humor on a subject somebody somewhere is laughing. It may not be you or your circle of friends and family, but someone gets the joke.
The audience I’m aiming at gets it more times than not. I’m not interested in what those outside that audience think and that’s often the problem for some. The same goes for the matter-of-fact blunt way I speak my mind. I’m often told my profanity is something I should work on.
I get it. I say and write things not funny to some people who also feel expressing myself without vulgarity is the way I should go. I’m from the hood. The hood took half of my family out. It was only by the grace of God and my mother Jean Davis, the inspiration for Static’s mom Jean Hawkins, that I made it out of the hood. My sister, Sharon Davis, the inspiration for Static’s sister Sharon Hawkins did not make it out and neither did my grandmother.
I still got a bit of a hood in me and will keep that bit in me till I die. I only go buck wild when it’s challenged in such a manner I feel it’s appropriate to let the other party know just who they are dealing with.
Making the rumor rounds now as to why I’m not with Milestone 2.0 are these two never failing Michael Davis major flaws – I’m too loud and brash to be a role model and those failings make me a business risk. The word is there is no place within the black household I’d be welcome and no one in business looking to invest some serious funding would ever consider me. I simply could not be vetted.
Really?
Simon and Schuster, one of the worlds biggest and most successful publishers, must have relied on Huggy Bear for my background information, because word on the street is they gave me my own imprint, the Action Files, which incidentally has been in the schools for 20+ years. What a massive screw up that must have been. To give me my own imprint and continue to publish the high interest, low level, conflict resolution comic book reading program I created for over 20 years.
Pearson Learning, perhaps the biggest educational publishing company in the world, must have jumped on that Huggy Bear bullshit also and then somehow they sucked in the world’s most powerhouse retailor because for the last couple of years you can get the books without the lesson plans and teachers guide on Amazon.
I’m still very much involved in the education market, co-venturing on series for the US Army and testing giant A.C.T among others. My new imprint Level Next published by Simon and Schuster and Karen Hunter Publishing will launch in 2016. The Guardian Line, a line of faith based comics I created distributed by mega publisher Urban Ministries Inc., the most powerful media company in the African-American home and church space, is celebrating its 10th year. I’m hard at work on the second wave universe, also for release in 2016. I’m also in the music space producing groundbreaking projects with Hidden Beach Records, Wu Tang and Neyo.
When talking about levels and what is needed to be vetted at those higher levels I’m at a real lost. It simply cannot be that Simon Schuster, Urban Ministries, Pearson Learning, and quite few more (all I’m still in business with) are not good enough. No way the Black home and church, education and the music market isn’t big enough. So, whatever can be the basis for the new wave of reasons I’m not with Milestone 2.0? Must be the role model thing.
Funny, Bad Boy Studios, my self-funded completely free to students mentor program, has been recognized with proclamations from over a dozen cites. Mentor Magazine named me Mentor of the Year, and the Gordon Parks Academy is home to The Michael Davis Auditorium.
There’s a lot more, but what’s the point? What I’ve listed is more than enough to get me vetted anywhere. Anywhere except a place where my assets and attitude were once invaluable is now somehow invalid.
When he first came to LA from New York, I was the one who drove him around for weeks. He didn’t drive. Who does in New York? I took him shopping to the barbershop, comic book stores, wherever. If he needed to go somewhere, I was his ride.
His first Christmas in California, Dwayne was my date for director Bill Duke’s Christmas party. He and Bill became the center of the evening engaging in a conversation so riveting everyone – everyone – who went into Bill’s huge ass kitchen stayed and listened. In the African American community the kitchen is always the center of a holiday dinner, regardless if you live in a small apartment or a mansion.
This was something else beyond the holiday tradition. Dwayne and Bill were engaged in conversation that made black Hollywood stop put down the chicken and listen.
Black Hollywood giving that kind of attention to some guy they never met? Rare.
Putting down the chicken? If I didn’t see it for myself…
Dwayne McDuffie and I were not just friends. We partnered on projects after Milestone. We had projects at Dark Horse and DC. Here’s a kicker. I created those projects, and I brought Dwayne on to write them.
I sold DC President Jenette Kahn a limited series Keith Giffen called the greatest idea since Watchmen. Keith wanted to write it and I wanted Keith to do it but the more I talked to Jenette about the project it became clear to us both this was a Dwayne project if ever there was one.
I told Jenette I was going to ask Dwayne, she was overjoyed, as was I when he said it was a great idea and would write it.
All was good in the hood until the DC editor assigned to the project said “Love this… just not with Michael Davis.” Yeah, I get that a lot. The editor suggested DC buy me out. Dwayne told the editor it was my project and he was not doing it without me.
I took it to Dark Horse and sold it there. Mike Richardson and Dwayne went back and forth as to what the direction the series should take until Mike realized the historical backstory was the story he wanted told. Dwayne didn’t want to tell that story, although I did.
The beauty of Mike Richardson’s insight was the original superhero story was still a doable project. A few years later Dwayne took it back to DC and for a while it was a go, until it wasn’t. This was the when Dwayne was retooling the Milestone and DC relationship and there was real talk and excitement of Milestone entering the DCU.
The project was at one point considered the initial starting point of the combined universes. That Milestone reboot didn’t happen and although there was some movement on the project even after Dwayne passed, the New 52 prevented any further talks. DC was all about the New 52 and this did not fit.
It’s important to me to get these events into the public record because of the narrative forming that erases my contribution from Milestone’s history and left unchallenged that narrative will become truth to most. It’s only a matter of time before Dwayne McDuffie’s problem with Michael Davis bullshit makes its way to a black comics forum. All it takes is someone pointing out I didn’t attend his funeral for a senseless rumor to become a certainty to the sheep who live for such trivialness. After a million sheep blog it so, it becomes so.
I didn’t not attend his funeral, not because there was an issue between Dwayne and I but because I decided to stay with a friend who was asked not to attend. I stood by my friend, I always did.
Those who spread poison about me should understand by now I can prove each and everything I say and just as easily disprove what they say. I see things clearly beforehand because I’m smarter than they are.
They will simply look at this preempted strike as just another stroke of luck on my part.
I’ve been betrayed, stabbed in the back, lied to and about, I’m depressed, alone and if not for the kindness and love of some friends most likely I would be dead. Thinking I’m lucky makes “stupid” too polite a word to use on them.
The truth can be bought. The truth can be killed. The truth can be jailed, silenced, controlled, and changed.
However, I can not be brought, I’ve been jailed, I won’t be silenced nor controlled. Unless you kill me the truth can be proven. I keep everything, forget nothing, and fear nobody.
The day before he died, Dwayne emailed me. He wanted me to see the prototype of the adult Static action figure. Keeping in touch with an enemy especially from your hospital bed isn’t something people do. They do that for friends.
“I heard payback’s a motherfucking nigga, that’s why I’m sick of getting treated like a goddamn stepchild, Fuck a punk cause I ain’t him.” • Ice Cube, The Nigga You Love To Hate
The truth will set you free.
As a African American man, my truth is not unlike the action toys I once collected with such gusto. To really enjoy both an action figure and truth I must purchase additional accessories
Truth can be bought. Truth can be killed. Truth can be jailed, silenced, controlled, and changed.
Truth with proof is the only truth that matters most times. That’s most times.
Not to long ago I was arrested after two drunken white people attacked me and I defended my self. It’s on tape. The Los Angeles D.A.’s office didn’t even look at the tape.
They wanted to go to trial even though 18 people in some way supported my story yet only two backed my attacker’s story and those two were my attackers.
Black men (and increasingly more black women) have been targeted long before the current crop of videos that show some cops think so little of black lives. Even when there is a videotape, public outrage on the net and the media in general, even then, it may not matter.
How many millions of people saw what the police did to an unarmed black man for daring to tell them he was tired of being harassed? Eric Gardner was murdered and no matter how many FOX News reports slant that to fit their racist agenda that man was murdered. For as long as I remember, black people have shouted “the truth shall set you free” as if the very words have power.
Truth set nobody free but his murderers.
This sort of occurrence is rare, not as rare as white America thinks but rare. I use it only as an example of how truth can be manipulated to be something other than simply truth. I make no comparisons between others and myself as admittedly, Eric Gardner’s tragic story is much more severe and important than anyone or mine I reference.
The truth is not just what you say is, it’s what others say isn’t.
Almost half a million people have viewed “The History Of Static Shock” on the Variant web site. Almost a year before the Static was a live action show or Milestone 2.0 was announced, I contacted Variant and asked them to changed the credits to “Static Shock was created by Dwayne McDuffie, Denys Cowan, Derek Dingle and Michael Davis.”
I wrote articles, emails, and Facebook messages. As of July 2015 nothing has been done. I had no idea the show was going to happen, I thought I’d be a part of M2.0 but had no idea when we were going to announce, I just knew that piece was going to be trouble for me, and like always, I was right.
I’ve always looked at truth as a fact that can be proven beyond a shadow of a doubt.
That last line stands repeating. The truth is a fact that can be proven beyond a shadow of a doubt. However, having proof isn’t the power play the power play is patience. Patience, my friends, is what most who dismiss me believe I don’t have because I’m loud.
Patience is why many think I’m lucky not smart.
I can prove without a shadow of a doubt I asked Variant to change the Static video before it hurt my business. They didn’t, it did. They most likely paid no attention to me because I’m loud.
Bad, bad, move.
There, hidden in plain site, is the reason I am not a partner in Milestone 2.0. Milestone 2.0 the company I named and have been trying to bring to life since 2000. Patience, the power that allows me to endure the last seven months of M2.0 bias spin.
I wrote of my support of M2.0. I wrote how the change in the infrastructure caused a change in my ability to be apart of M2.0. I wrote how I was not going to be involved in another black-on-black war.
All true, although incomplete. What was also true was the only one talking was me.
I didn’t want to talk. I made it clear to M2.0 I wanted a statement issued that would answer the questions I knew were coming. I just wanted to be left alone, left out of the storm I knew was coming.
I was told a statement was forthcoming. Nope. No, it wasn’t.
I wrote to Denys, Derek, and Reggie and have written to them regularly since the day the news dropped around the world unveiling M2.0
To this day, I’ve been ignored, completely or dismissed as a joke in any M2.0, interview, or panel, and although I reached out time and time and time again to my former partners, I have gotten not one response from any of them via email. Reggie was kind enough (no joke or sarcasm) to return a text I sent him, apologizing for a horrendous message I left him. Denys and I have spoken on two occasions in almost eight months since the bomb dropped.
However, as of this writing, no email I’ve sent has been returned, although one wasn’t completely ignored. In yet another attempt to build a bridge between us I wrote a M2.0 panel description for the SDCC program book: Milestone 2.0: The Return Of The Mack.
They used the description, yet I received no email thanking me. I was responsible for every single Milestone panel, party, event, and hype at SDCC since Milestone folded and over the last four years, I’ve been on a tear.
From the Comic Book Resources article Milestone 2.0 Promises, New Static, Icon & More:
Racialicious editor-at-large Arturo Garcia asked if the new stories would be a reboot and asked about statements made by co-founder Michael Davis at his black Panel previously in the convention, saying that his Milestone legacy had been “glossed over.”
“Some of the mythos and storylines, things that we did before, will resonate in what we’re doing now, but it’s a reboot,” Cowan replied. “It’s a new environment. It’s the Dakota Universe; it’s updated, juiced up. There’s new characters, old characters, there’s a lot of stuff. As far as Static Shock is concerned, Michael’s awesome, but the thing with Static Shock, there were five people in that room when Static Shock was created, very simple. We all contributed to Static, we all had something to say about him, we all jammed on Static just like the rest of the other characters. Any time you see ‘Static Shock’ on the screen, you will see credits. Do you know what those credits say? Michael Davis. Denys Cowan. Dwayne McDuffie. Derek Dingle. Every time. No one has been denied credit for anything. Let’s look at the facts.
That’s just laughable, but since we’ve on that, why has there been no attempt to give that, “five guys in room” explanation to any other Milestone character, none of which I’m credited with most places?
Robert Washington, John Paul Leon, and Dwayne are overwhelmingly credited with the creation of Static. Look at any Static Shock press release over the last year where’s my name? Denys has gone on record saying who was the driving force behind each book. Dwayne, Icon, Denys, Hardware, Static, me.
YES! There were five guys in the room when the superhero Static was born.
YES! A team came up with a black teenage superhero modeled after Spider-Man with static electricity powers! YES! A team came up with Static! YES! There is no ‘I’ in team!
But the guy who created the Static universe, friends, family, attitude and swagger that makes up who and what Vigil Hawkins is? That guy did that by himself when he wrote the Static bible all by himself.
I know! I know! I was part of a team! There is no ‘I’ in team! But…there is a ‘m’ and ‘e’ that spells me.
There has been movement and I do notice my name is appearing more but that’s because of my efforts and the efforts of those who see an injustice happening.
That’s a verifiable fact.
You want to look at some other facts? Fine, lets do that.
Any and all actions I’ve taken regarding Milestone over the last 15 and with the last four years particularly, were undertaken to bring Milestone back to life. Again, I was responsible for every single Milestone panel, party, event, and hype at SDCC since Milestone folded.
I was never told I was not to be a part of M2.0. I was just left out.
The day I found out I cried like a little girl to each and every M2.0 member.
No one has ever expressed anything in writing nor was I told anything of substance when I asked why I was left out.
All of the above are verifiable.
They may think what they did and why they are doing is the right thing to do. But when someone says “Let’s look at the facts,” that implies someone is lying, in this instance that someone is me. I gather M2.0 sees me as a problem. I wasn’t, they made me one.
I don’t want war all I want is, kindness and fairness. I know what’s being said and to whom and I could care less. I have no desire to be part of M2.0 because they don’t want me. My contributions and efforts over the last four years were embraced then without a word to me ignored and discounted. I was called crazy and dismissed at the Milestone 2.0 panel at SDCC. I was devastated when the world knew when I did I was not a part of a Milestone 2.0.
Nothing above makes me a problem.
Sometimes harsh in anger, sometimes begging trough tears so thick I couldn’t see, I put out my hand and still not one act of kindness was I shown.
You are an actress. You’re an actor. You’re a singer, a dancer, model, novelist, journalist cartoonist, illustrator, photographer, or designer.
You are an artist.
You’re not just any run in the mill artist. You are a badass mofo, the absolute real deal. You’re a phenomenal talent and everyone knows it. Your family and friends, producers and editors, creative and stage directors, publishers and choreographers, marvel at your talent.
You know it’s going to be a hard climb. It’s hard to make it as an artist, any kind of artist. That’s not really a concern because you have the goods. Your Academy Award is assured. Amazon won’t be able to keep up with orders on your first novel. Your single will break iTunes.
Your peers are jealous. They talk about you, spread rumors, and take any opportunity to dismiss your genius. Some who’ve been in the game longer than you, offer council. Before you know it, your circle is full of like-minded people who have your best interest at heart.
It’s certainly hard to get your foot in the door, but you do it. Before you know it, you score an assignment from Marvel. It’s just a fill-in, but its real. It’s all down hill from there. The first day of shooting you have a little run in with the director. No biggie, he needed to understand your point of view and now he does.
It’s obvious the massive amount of notes given were guidelines, not direction. They sought you out for your voice and this is your novel after all.
What is the problem with your boyfriend? He knows the head of Sony. What’s the big deal? Why can’t he simply introduce you? You’re what they are so looking for. Is your girlfriend crazy? She thinks a mention and a plug of your latest article by a well-known editor is a good thing. You know that “mention” and “plug” is all bullshit an attempt to screw you over.
Man, are you tired of people not listening to you when it’s obvious you know what you are talking about. You didn’t need to meet any music producer the day you encountered a nice looking guy who brought you drinks and said he was a movie director.
Your boyfriend can hook that music producer meeting up any day.
So what if it’s the second time you’ve done that. He’ll get over it. You didn’t flake nor did you lie, you simply changed your mind.
Man, is that bitch crazy or what? You can certainly do a boys weekend in Vegas and meet your deadline Tuesday. It’s a 22-page story you have three, almost three pages done and all day and night Monday to do it.
She’s always bitching.
It doesn’t matter if your friend gets a movie; it has nothing to do with you.
Oh, yes it does. You’re much more talented than she is.
You don’t ask a powerful publicist to pitch you especially if she doesn’t represent you.
She reps your girlfriend and it will only take her two seconds. What’s the big deal?
Seeking funding for your production? There’s a procedure you have to follow.
Why? Why can’t they just give you the money?
Just because something’s done a certain way doesn’t mean it can’t be done another way. Don’t you dare listen to him when he say’s you’re not ready for primetime.
You have all the talent in the world, you really do. He’s an idiot when he said that talent, without professionalism, doesn’t mean shit in this business.
He’s full of himself, and his ‘everybody’ example was just ignorant.
Everybody was the best actor, writer, or singer back at Whatever Happened To High School. In entertainment, you need people around that will tell you the truth, not hangers-on who have not done a thing for your career but keep promising they will. “They won’t and you know why? They can’t. They can’t do a motherfucking thing; they have no connections, no power, and no scruples. Posers all.
Just because someone is super-successful and gets paid handsomely for advice they give you for free, does not mean you have to listen.
You keep doing things the way you do things. Don’t listen to anyone’s advice You know better. You are better.
You’re a star and one day all your years and years of shortcuts will pay off!
My wife (now ex) came home to find me wailing like a wounded animal. Seeing this started her crying also, convinced yet another tragedy had taken yet another member of my family.
She was right.
Lots Of Years Earlier…
That was my first day on my first job and I was looking forward to my first paycheck. I’d never had that kind of bank all at once. This was to be a day of firsts, after I’d gotten my scratch; I was going to shop at my first bookstore. The 8th Street Bookstore in New York City to be exact. My visit there would see me purchase my first hard cover book as this was the first time I saw value in one thing as opposed to many things.
My first paycheck, my first visit to a bookstore to buy my first hardcover book and the first time I saw value in one thing as opposed to many things?
You’re thinking I was either:
Really stupid
An illiterate adult
A really stupid illiterate adult
All of the above
It’s E, none of the above. Why is E not listed? Why’d you think it had to be one of those? Yeah, right.
I was 10. I said it was a lot of year’s earlier, sheesh.
This was the first day I was going to work in my cousin’s studio. My cousin, William T. Williams, is one of the 20th and now 21st century finest artists. Don’t take my word for it; Goggle him or check out the Janson History Of Art for the last 20 years or so.
I was going to work every Saturday at my cousin’s studio because I’d shown an interest in art. But the real reason is my mother and cousin had cooked this up to keep my ass off the mean streets of Rockaway Queens during the weekends and summer.
I was told I would get paid at the end of my day, a day I spent learning how to carry a painting. Trust me, it not as easy as you think, especially when some of the paintings were twice as big as me.
My cousin handed me my day’s wages and I made a huge mistake when I took the money. It taught me one of many lessons I’ve learned from him – but that’s another story. The moment I had that $10 bucks in my greedy little hands, visions of dozens of new comic books danced in my head.
That was the most money I’ve ever had at one time and nothing was going to stop me from overdosing on candy which I’m sure would include Black Cows, Now & Laters, Mike & Ike’s, Red Hots and Blow Pops. Yeah, back in the day they knew how to name the stuff that one day we would regret ever eating…not!
My plan was to binge on all that sugar love while reading my 50 or so new comics I was sure I could now afford. My cousin suggested we visit a bookstore with my newfound wealth.
“They got comic books?”
“I’m sure they do.”
That’s all I needed to know. On the way he asked if comics were the only books I buy. Nope, in fact I’d just brought my first paperback, 101 Elephant Jokes, a paperback costing an entire 25 cents, so there.
The 8th Street Bookstore did have comics but they were unlike any I’d ever seen before. The Furry Freak Brothers and Fritz The Cat captured my attention because there were a lot of naked people (and cats) having sex in black and white. For a moment I couldn’t care less that there was no Batman, Avengers, Spider-Man and the like. When I was told I was too young to buy them, all I wanted was to get the hell out of dodge, quick, fast and in a hurry.
Then I saw it!
I saw it and after finding the color section within this hard cover goldmine, I had to buy it, but there was wee bit of a problem. All In Color For A Dime cost $11.95, which was more than the $10 bucks my cousin had paid me for working in his studio. There was another problem, if I somehow managed to get the other $1.95 that left no comic book or Black Cow money. When my cousin handed me the two bucks I completely forgot about the candy and the comics, I can’t explain it but I just had to have that book.
Imagine what kind of impact that must have had on me. 10 years old giving up comics & candy for a book costing all the money I had in the world.
Almost Two Decades Later:
Yet another first, I find my “dad” when Don Thompson comes into my life.
It was also the first time I totally lost it upon meeting someone. I squealed like a little girl when I met Don at the old Chicago Comicon with his wonderful wife Maggie.
Maggie, bless her heart, reassured me it’s all right as I could not stop apologizing for my enthusiasm and downright giddiness. Don, along with Dick Lupoff, were the masterminds behind All In Color For a Dime, so to me, he was a god.
I’d spent countless hours reading All In Color and it became and still is one of my most prized possessions. Somehow, at 10 years of age I knew that book would change my life. When I met Don and Maggie, who at the time were the editors of the weekly The Comics Buyer’s Guide (CBG), I knew they would also. CBG was their baby, they were more than the editors and the face of the publication, they were its the heart and soul.
Those two wonderful people became two of my most cherished friends, valued advisors and are directly responsible for my writing career, which has lead to my own imprint among other things. Picture This was the name of the weekly column I wrote for CBG starting way back in 1989 or 90 (I think) don’t quote me on that but I know I started before Peter David.
Peter’s column, But I Digress, went on to become a must read for the entire industry and is considered the gold standard of weekly comic book opinion columns. Nobody even remembers Picture This (PT) and even I can’t recall what the other column name I wrote under before or after PT at CBG.
Forget This, does seem really close.
But I digress…
Don & Maggie, along with their kids Steven and Valerie became like a family I never knew I had. Every big move I made in comics I’d seek council from Don and Maggie. When they met me I had just began working in comics. Before comics I was a full time illustrator, my comics industry involvement was pretty much hanging around with Denys Cowan at conventions and comic book stores.
Someone must have spiked Mark Nevelow’s Diet Coke or had blackmail photos of him because Mark, the editor and supreme overlord at DC’s groundbreaking new imprint Piranha Press, gave me the assignment to illustrate ETC, the first offering from Piranha.
I had hit the big time and just knew after ETC, the comics’ world would bow at my feet. I would show these ‘artists’ just how to do a painted comic book!
Err, nope. Did not work out that way. The reviews were mixed; when they were good they were great. One reviewer wrote that ETC was ‘”one of few books which deserved the deluxe format and the price.” Like I said, when they were good they were great. When they were bad, ouch. Well, I knew CBG would have a positive review.
Err, nope.
Don Thompson wrote a review handing me my ass.
That broke my heart and he knew it. He spent a couple of hours on the phone with me explaining what was right (very little) and what was wrong (that took the two hours) with the book. After talking to him I was a much better artist.
Maggie on the other hands dismissed ETC entirely. That dismissal was not a grueling review but a personal insight she shared with me. “Michael, there will be other comics, that’s not what’s needed in this industry. What’s needed is your mentor program. What’s needed is what you’re doing there.” Don co-signed soon after, adding to a growing library of wonderful advice I’ll never forget.
If not for those two, my Bad Boys Studio (before Diddy) Mentor program may have ceased to exist. I was looking for more time to do comics and cutting that was looking pretty smart until Maggie and Don set me straight.
Before I accepted the position of President/CEO of Motown Animation & Filmworks I once again sort council from Don and Maggie. I flew to Iola Wisconsin (population 0 black folk) and spent a wonderful day with my “mom & dad.” It would be the last time I’d see my adoptive father.
May 23, 1994.
My wife (still now ex) came home to find me wailing like a wounded animal. Seeing this, started her crying also, convinced yet another tragedy had taken yet another member of my family.
She was right; the news that Don had died destroyed me for a few days. I’ve seen a lot of death in my life and when it happens I cry. Sometimes I sob so uncontrollably I’m amazed it ever stops. There are those who think men crying are a sign of weakness. Where I’m from, any black man crying is branded a little bitch or worse.
Whatever.
I cry for those I love. I cry for those I need but lose or leave. I cry when people I love hurt me. The day I had to leave Milestone 2.0 I cried. Like a little bitch I cried. I have no pride when it comes to pain in my life so I cry. If I didn’t cry I’d be the crazy motherbadsword some people think I am. Don’t get me wrong; I am a crazy motherbadword but only to those who come at me with malice and cruelty.
There was no malice and cruelty intended by M2.0. Yes, I was hurt and I cried over the lost of a dream. A dream I worked towards only to see it realized then fade away then vanish. People all over the industry are still waiting for the war I’m going to bring. News flash: I don’t live a life where I have to avoid something or someone for fear of a lawsuit or fear of losing face.
When things go south in my life I always (after pricing hit men) reach out to those whom I’m having the problem with. Especially if there was once love there. That’s a lesson many in the black entertainment space should learn. Often when I’ve reached out, I’m ignored.
What have I done when ignored? If for whatever reason those at odds with me refuse to even acknowledge me, then I move on, I leave it alone. Those who have squandered their chance to be kind and civil will one-day regret it. That’s not bravado, that’s the truth. The truth is those who create but don’t face the problem are always, always the worse for it.
Karma, my dear friends, Karma can be a real badword.
Don Thompson broke my heart with that review. It really wasn’t even the review, it was my hero, my ‘dad’ crushing me, that is what hurt most of all. I can’t comprehend on any level reaching out to Don after that heartbreak and Don ignoring me. He wouldn’t and neither would Maggie. I was thinking just that about Don on the eve of the 21st anniversary of his death.
March 23, 1994, that’s when I wanted my article on Don to run but couldn’t finish it. Thinking about him with all the badword I’m dealing with brought a new wave of sadness followed by a torrent of tears. Then, I was just angry. Angry at the last two years of my life, angry at Don for leaving but most of all angry with myself.
Indeed, I felt the most anger towards myself. Considering a final solution to my world of pain that I’m sure Don would find deplorable made me angrier and once I had that thought about Don an abundance of fury was undone as I imagined disappointing the rest of my departed family.
I was ashamed and my humiliation fueled my anger and I certainly couldn’t write about my “dad” angry. So I waited and wrote other things where my anger would be better served. I returned to this remembrance in the middle of the night weeks later, hoping I’d be able to finish my tribute and pay my respect to Don’s memory.
And I will. Don is still helping me. His light is still guiding me, his council easing some of my pain and some of my anger. I knew this for sure when Maggie tweeted me at the exact time I’d just written her name.
My regular readers will notice “badwords” instead of my usual bad words. That’s because there’s a pretty good chance Maggie may show this to some people who don’t know me. Like any good son I’d like to make mom proud. The knowledge she has a black son will likely be shock enough profanity would be too much. ;)
I love you, mom, more than any words I can say. I miss Don more than any words I could write.
I love comics.
