On Monday, July 12th, 2010, comics legend Harvey Pekar passed away at the age of 70. Dark Horse Comics Editor Diana Schutz remembers her time working with one of the industry's most beloved creators.
Our man Harvey Pekar was an extraordinary, ordinary guy. In August 1982, comics maverick Clay Geerdes asked me to review American Splendor #7, the then-current issue, for his Comix World newsletter. This was my first real gig as a comics critic—and, man, was I nervous. Here’s some of what I wrote:
There are no superheroes in Cleveland, no knock-down battles, no spaceships—instead, there’s Harvey Pekar, quietly working day to day as a hospital clerk, collecting old jazz records and odd acquaintances in his spare time, a recluse with no ambition who wonders why he can’t make it with women. This is the splendor of America, folks!
By the way, I was wrong about Harvey having no ambition, but I didn’t know him then. When I was introduced to him, four years later, Harvey quoted a line back to me from that very review! Our man took his criticism seriously.
Monday night I was feeling pretty sad about the loss of this ordinary, extraordinary guy, remembering one crazy, post-convention meal in Dallas in 1987. Bob Schreck and I hosted a table of at least a dozen disparate comics folk, including Harvey and his wife Joyce Brabner. The talk was typical comics nerd fare, just a hair more enlightening than the usual “Who’s faster? Superman or the Flash?”-type conversation. Harvey wrapped his arm around his head and leaned face down on the table for the duration of dinner. Artist Doug Wildey, genuinely concerned, yelled over the food, “Harvey! Harvey! Are you okay, Harv?” Maybe the salsa was bad, but I never laughed harder.
In the process of putting together his thoughtful obituary of our man, Tom Spurgeon at The Comics Reporter asked me if I had anything to say about having worked with Harvey while American Splendor was published at Dark Horse (from 1993 to 2002). Here’s some of what I wrote back to Tom:
In 1992, Harvey called me up, completely out of the blue, and asked me if I’d be his editor. We didn’t know each other very well at the time, but Harvey knew I liked his work. I think I flew into Mike Richardson’s office to give him the news, and so Dark Horse published fifteen issues of American Splendor over the next ten years. And Harvey and I became friends in the process. He’d always painted such an unglamorous picture of himself in his comics that I was surprised to discover just how gentle a person Harvey really was. Which is not to say that he wasn’t stubborn and opinionated, because he could be both. And he certainly didn’t brook any bullshit. But it was that gentle core that allowed him to appreciate the small, honest moments of everyday living and to write about human frailties and foibles with a generosity of spirit that is uncommon—and undervalued. Harvey’s scripts are legend: those tiny, pencilled stick figures hobbled under the weight of enormous hand-printed balloons, with even more words falling out the sides!
Today I was remembering how our man got really excited about those scripts and would read them to me over the phone before sending them. That’s hard, editing script over the phone, but it was important to Harvey. And let’s face it, what he did—writing those extraordinary, ordinary stories—was much harder. He just made it look so easy.
Rest in peace, Harvey.
