🌟A Tribute to Jim Shooter

A personal take

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They say “fortune favors the bold” — and I believe that’s absolutely true. There have been times when I’ve had the courage to swing big, and it’s paid off. But I’ve also been very lucky with just the “fortune favors” part. Many good things have happened to me in my life and professional career, with the stars simply aligning in ways for which I’m very surprised. And very grateful.

One such opportunity was working almost directly for Jim Shooter, the one-time editor-in-chief of Marvel Comics, who recently passed away. When I went in for my interview at Marvel, it was for a part-time interim job to help pay off accumulated college debt while I was still finishing my junior and senior years in film school. I had no expectation that it would jump start my career path, and play a significant part of my professional identity.

I initially applied for a typist job in the international licensing department, but that position had just been filled. However, something about what I said or how I presented myself made a good enough impression that they passed me on to Lynn Cohen. Lynn was Jim’s direct assistant and needed an assistant herself. By that stroke of fortune, for the latter half of my junior year at New York University, I would be the assistant to the assistant to the editor-in-chief of Marvel Comics.

Jim Shooter was, as many have noted, a large presence — both physically and otherwise. At that time, I was both overconfident and hopelessly introverted — a combination that made it challenging to navigate my new role or interact with such a towering personality who loomed large over the Marvel universe and office.

But in that position, sitting right outside his door, I began to absorb a lot by osmosis and impression — which was an amazing opportunity. Listening to his interactions with editors and freelancers taught me a lot about comics, storytelling, and how to act as a leader of a large and sometimes unruly group.

I was often impressed by Jim’s approach to things. One instance involved a goading note from a college humor publication, demanding a paid ad from Marvel in their pages for what they considered the appropriation of their publication title (Gargoyle) as one of Marvel’s characters.

I packaged up Jim’s response: “Walk north til your hat floats!” It was a master class in corporate communications done right: calling out the absurdity of the request while giving it back in full force. At the same time, he had the “largesse” to agree to take out an ad, perhaps recognizing their chutzpah.

Jim’s direct assignments to me were often a bit…out there. One that stands out was when he wanted a gag gift for longtime bullpenner Jack Abel: a stuffed toy turkey. In those pre-internet days, even in New York where you could find almost anything, this seemed like a tall order.

But I managed to bag the prize, navigating 42nd Street novelty shops between theaters showing E.T. and Maniac Cop side-by-side — and came back with a garish toy turkey that accomplished both the gag and the gift. Jim looked at me with wide eyes from above: “Where did you find this? How did you find this?” That was a good day.

Jim always treated me graciously and professionally. His sense of humor stood out, too. When everyone at Marvel were learning to juggle, I noticed Jim’s fumbling efforts and suggested “Juggling for the Complete Klutz” — earning a priceless look from Archie Goodwin but laughter from Jim himself.

Two particular professional interactions with Jim were especially meaningful. When I finished that spring stint at Marvel, I would be going home for summer since I had another job lined up and still had schooling to finish at NYU. During that spring fling, among my other tasks I had I’d taken on some grunt editorial work on Bernie Wrightson’s graphic novel Hooky: a Spider-Man meets monster riff.

My work was pure production — arranging overlay balloons and pagination — but there was a fair amount of it, and it was a heavy lift among the other goings on. (Such as answering the daily fan call insisting to know, “Can Hero X beat Hero Y?”)

That summer, out of the blue, I received a bonus check for that additional work signed by Jim Shooter. Whether via Lynn or Jim himself, there was recognition that I’d gone above and beyond. That few hundred dollars meant a lot at that point and warmed me up to Marvel even more when they later extended an offer for me to return in the fall as an assistant editor at Epic.

The other notable interaction came after Marvel was acquired by New World Pictures. There seemed to be new synergy between comics and movies in the air. A liaison position between the studio and Marvel was floated, to help comic writers unfamiliar with film translate their ideas into movies. With my interest in film and background from NYU film school, I overcame my nervousness to put my name forward with Jim.

Jim’s reaction wasn’t an immediate “Of course! You’re the guy for the job!” Instead, he challenged me to prove it. This made me think harder about the role, and forced me to create a presentation showcasing my limited creds — all I had was my film school work to rely on for qualifications.

That extra push led to Jim offering me the position — right before he was let go from Marvel. Unfortunately, higher-ups didn’t honor that arrangement post-Jim’s departure. “That deal was between you and Jim Shooter.” Yes, it was. And despite it not leading where I hoped it might — it still meant a lot.

Years later, in that window of time when social media still had positive value, I reached out to Jim with appreciation for our interactions:

“I've often considered how fortunate I was to observe you in your role, at the top of your game. What I perceived and took away was a unique combination of authority, wit, and necessary directness — channeled in a commitment to great work. It's a model that's stuck with me. And, on reflection, a core one l've tried to emulate in my own leadership roles. Of course, being young and full of swampy, unmerited overconfidence, I was never clear enough to articulate that then. So...a long overdue thank you for that.”

My sign off was “Kind regards.” And wherever he’s off to, to continue his storytelling — I continue to wish Jim the same.

“You are obliged to make your work unique in some way. If it falls too much into tropes or patterns that it doesn’t bring something apparently fresh in one way or another,
it just doesn’t have a chance.”
— George Miller

Amazing Times

If D.G. Chichester looks pretentious, feel free to just call me “Dan”, and have a go at the last name as Chai (like the tea) Chester (like it looks). I’ve written comic books like Daredevil, Terror Inc., Nick Fury Agent of SHIELD and Clive Barker’s Hellraiser, along with all manner of digital widgets in the world wide web of marketing. I like weird tales, so if things here bend that way — now you know why!

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