Interview so far...

Question 1: Aside from making all of you feel very old when I mentioned it's been 15 years since Fall From Grace came out, I was wondering what first went through your mind when I broached the subject of this interview? (Dan, you had mentioned something about a lunch with Tom DeFalco in an earlier e-mail, so maybe we can start with you?)

DAN:
The first thing that came to mind for me (aside from, “Gee, I haven’t touched base with Hector and Scott since my previous life!”) was to flash back to the state of mind I was in around then. And suddenly realizing, having stepped well outside that earlier incarnation, just how much Fall From Grace was written from a relatively angry place.

Especially when contrasted with Last Rites/Fall of the Kingpin, my first real pass at hornhead. In writing that proposal and dropping it off on Ralph Macchio’s desk, I had no expectation I would get the gig. That was all swing-for-the-fences stuff. The essential “Why not?” that, when I’m on, surprises me with where its answers take me. And leads to good narrative. Storytelling with a rush. I remember waiting to hear back from Ralph as being all about possibilities and potential and excitement. And when he said, “Take the blind guy for a spin around the rooftops!” it was making good on all that.

Contrast that with the climate just ahead of issue #319. Mutants ruled the day. A B-level, hypersensed lawyer couldn’t catch a break — or a promotional dollar. Word from Pat Garrahy, Ralph’s very tall and encouraging assistant, was that e-in-c Tom DeFalco was out to get me off the book. (I would soon after broach that subject with Tom directly. And my impression was that being called on it threw him off his game enough that it took much of the wind out of that shadow campaign.)

Scott and I were summoned to a lunch where we were supposed to lay out the details of this “big story” we had in mind. It didn’t have the feeling of a brainstorm, or a creative pow-wow. The tone, to my recollection, was much more, “This better be good!” (The first half of the lunch was actually pretty pleasant. Congenial comic book pro BS. I was hoping we’d be able to get to “Check, please!” without ever getting to the point. But then Ralph, curse him , had to go and, “Why don’t you guys tell Tom what you’re thinking?”)

And it wasn’t good. The whole Eddie loses the vial in the subway — and this happens — and that happens — and there’s a costume change — well, lead balloons were positively airy by comparison. Tom held a withering court around the breadsticks, and the verdict was a resounding, “Eh.” Take the stuff out of the subway, stick it in a warehouse, there’s a break-in. Done and done. All the rest — fuggedaboutit.

There was no joy in Murdockville that day. A long, long walk back to the nearby Marvel offices. And a resigned surrender from Ralph, who in effect said, “So, you’ll change things up like Tom says?” But the thing was, until that lunch, we’d all been jazzed about the story and direction. Editorial and creative. But now it was a bad idea, a bad scenario, a lousy approach? I told Ralph my inclination and intent was to move ahead with the storyline just as we’d been planning all along.

No marketing love for ol’ DD. No respect for my wordsmithing. No enthusiasm for our big pitch. What a chip I must have had on my shoulder! It’s right there, in the opening line.

“These are the facts. And they are indisputable.”

I guess I must have figured, “Fuck you!” wouldn’t have made it past the Comics Code.

(In fairness and through the lens of time, the story’s tendency to spontaneously convolute would have been better served by some injections of Tom’s inclination toward simplicity. Certainly if I ever get my flux capacitor working, the message I’d send back to that D.G. would be “Edit yourself, stupid!” A theme I’m sure we’ll return to many times throughout this exercise.)

HECTOR:
it's unreal that it has been 15 years since the FFG run. it feels as if it was yesterday! memories of sitting in the old studio in Queens pulling all nighters inking pages that were just beyond anything ... good days!.

Question 1 followup:

For Dan (and Scott, if you want to add anything here as well): So the lunch didn't exactly go well... how did the project get the go-ahead then? Were you doing this behind Tom DeFalco's back? And why did he want you off the book anyway?

For Hector: How did you get involved with the project, because I believe this was your first issue of DD, correct?

DAN:

Pretty much as I'd put forth: I said to Ralph, "We were all on board before the lunch, right?" "Right." "Okay, then I'm just writing the story that we all liked up until then."

It wasn't so much going behind Tom's back. But he never said specifically, "Don't do your story, do it this way instead." He just strongly suggested it. And Tom had a big, strong personality, so in general that would be that. But because it wasn't Yay or Nay, I took some advantage of that. "Is there wiggle room? Well, then let's wiggle." And Ralph, while a fabulous editor in may regards — tremendously encouraging, a deep understanding of the heart and soul of the characters — could have a tendency to "go along" with the strongest voice in the room. At lunch, that had been Tom's. Afterwards, me and Scott. If Tom had definitively said, "No way, this way…" probably a different story.

And after he "laid down the the law," Tom really didn't pay much attention to the day to day. And once the book started to get some spotlight (and not by pure creative magic, either — Scott and I engaged some PR on our own behalfs) — then even less reason to question what we were doing.

As to why he wanted me off the book, again that was what Pat had told me on the QT. And which I decided to address directly with Tom, rather than let it fester and work it's way through the shadows. Pat didn't have any more details than, "Watch out, Tom wants you off the book." Maybe 'cause my stories weren't standard? Maybe 'cause my writing sucked? Maybe 'cause I wasn't part of one of the many Marvel cliques? So while it wasn't confirmed, when I asked Tom straight on, "So, I hear you've got a beef with me?" — the look on his face and the fact he took my hand and made a great show of shaking it, paisan-like, said something was up. To me at least. And from that point forward I never heard anything else like that from Tom's quarter.

(I don't want this to seem like I'm knocking Tom DeFalco. I'm relating my addled impressions from another time. Which don't all together map to later. While I didn't agree with his take on our direction for the book, or had issues with his approach to me at the time, there's a lot to like about Tom, his writing, and certain aspects of his editorial vision. I think who I am NOW would probably get on with Tom better than whoever I was then.)