👮♂️"I Hunt Heroes…"
Recalling Marshal Law's creative genius
With Into the Storymaze you get writing ideas or writing-in-progress; something creative I’m excited to share; a highlight from my comic book writing; and a quote that’s worth a think.
This one seems right for a pre-Thanksgiving delivery. If that American holiday is on your calendar, here’s to a Happy one. And if not — may you still find time to be grateful for the good things and good people you have.🦃😌🙏
Jo Duffy’s decision to leave her #2 spot at Epic Comics was a sea change for all of us at the imprint. In the mid-eighties, Jo’s editorial influence and presence loomed large — even up against editor in chief Archie Goodwin’s leadership.
Her book of titles would be split between continuing editor Margaret Clark — and lil’ ol’ me, in my new role as “associate editor.” (Essentially an editor, but without the title or pay.) Was I ready and able? Sure, if those translate into 😳 and 🤯.
Among my new caretaker duties was a mystery comic: Marshal Law. I was told its British creative team had significant cred as contributors to the UK’s famous 2000 AD title. But beyond a surface awareness of Judge Dredd, my ignorant self had no point of reference.
And with no series pitch or character designs — I'm pretty sure Archie had bought the book based on the rep of writer Pat Mills & artist Kevin O’Neill — I wasn't sure what I was in for. Beyond some kind of "future cop who hunts down superheroes."
Pat’s script arrived and it was dense with distinct character voices, but short on context or scene description. The fact he and Kevin had worked together extensively probably contributed to a shorthand of convenience, and confidence that what was in the words would come to life on the page.
"Come to life on the page" would be an understatement for when we opened that first FedEx package from Mr. O'Neill. We were confronted/enthralled/assaulted/amazed by our first look at the Marshal and his deranged environs. It seemed — and was/is — unlike anything else in comics.
Even across the very eclectic Epic lineup, Kevin's savage angles and bold colors were a style onto itself, exciting and disturbing, frenetic energy somehow (barely) contained inside panel borders. Adding to the marvelous madness were wicked puns and one-liners he'd write into any open space, like Alex from A Clockwork Orange had been set loose with a marker.
On the phone, Pat was much like his writing: crisp, efficient, intensely on point. In contrast to his art, Kevin was genteel and ingratiatingly self-deprecating. The crossover point would be in his wicked sense of humor, which tended to mesh with mine.
Our conversations would quickly complete the business at hand ("The book is late, can you please send pages!") — to then extend into excuses to run up Marvel's international phone bill. I have a hard time recalling laughing more than I did during those wonderful transatlantic calls.
Wandering back further into this personal Storymaze, I feel now that it was working on Marshal Law where I really came into my own as an editor. Supporting Pat and Kev, both at the top of their game in their own ways — and combined, an unmatched knockout straight to the frontal lobe — didn't “force” me to up my game. It made me *want* to rise to the occasion, to respect their work — and to return the respect they afforded a fledgling editor trying his best on behalf of two of the best.
On my way to visit Alan Moore (yes, that’s a name drop. And another tale for another time…), Kev and his wife Chris hosted me overnight at their very London flat where we shared very English tea and biscuits (cookies to you yanks who haven’t had the pleasure.)
Kevin died this week, and in the right social media circles you can still find the many deserved tributes to him. Even though we hadn't spoken in too many years — I find today that I miss him very much.
Take a moment now to hunt down the heroes that have shown you respect and helped you rise up. And have a laugh together.
Let’s make this episode a themed affair. As noted above, Marshal Law was the manic co-creation of Pat Mills and the late, great Kevin O’Neill. An ostensibly fascist thug pushed to the edge by the experiments that gave him and his fellow vets literal war powers, the Marshal patrols the urban madness of San Futuro for the express purpose of hunting down “heroes.”
But look below its violent trappings and you’ll find savage wit, fiery observations on pop culture, and political rage, all even sharper than the razor wire wrapped around the long arm of this particular Law.
I contend it is a proto “The Boys” — or “The Boys” is a less satisfying, more one-note do over of Marshal Law. Point being, this is a fiercely original and ferocious read.
I’d say more, but I kinda cover that in the next section…
When Graphitti Designs released their collection of Marshal Law (an absolute banger of a limited edition), editor Richard Starkings was kind enough to tap me for the book’s dust jacket intro. (I’d like to think Kev and Pat were happy enough with my original editorship to give him the idea).
Reading it now, I roll my eyes at the smirking youth that would write such a ridiculous sales lead, especially with so much more going on in the comic. Or the hubris that would stay chipped on my shoulder as kindling for my words. Or the double use of “of course” as a device that totally falls flat. (Kudos years after the fact to Richard for calling me on that — and shame to that smirking, shoulder-heavy kid for ignoring his editorial acumen.)
BUT — all that aside, I’m struck by how much it feels like I could have written it this morning. (Vs. scanning it from said dust jacket.) Whether or not I had similar skills then as now, it is undeniable that the good Marshal remains as indelible and insane as always.
I recall writing the words for the original MARSHAL LAW comic, an innocent enough next issue blurb:
Hitler Hernandez and Judas drop-kick a small child from San Futuro to Santa Monica.
Given the uproar that thundered down from the petty pulpits of the Morally Righteous, you would have thought I'd booted the rotten kid myself. As the material we published and the manner in which we presented it was reviled as deplorable and utterly irresponsible, I found myself wanting to scream, "GET A LIFE!"
Sadly, my mouth was then muzzled by the diplomacy of my editorial station in life; now, however, I am free to question such Pious Indignation over the good Marshal.
Here was a comic in which the title character was a self-proclaimed fascist, openly exhibiting violent tendencies bordering on the sociopathic, while wrapping lengths of barbed wire around his arm in a pathetic attempt to feel anything at all in a manic future world where most couldn't care less. One would think the Protectors of Decency could find other things to worry about than preschoolers achieving orbital velocity.
But more to the point, why worry at all? With such talents as Pat Mills and Kevin O'Neill under the Marshal's cap, things were always firmly in control - or rather, out of control.
Long-time complementary collaborators, Pat and Kev have always pushed the envelope on the accepted mores of comics — much to the ire of Those Who Judge. This is a subversive dynamic duo at work here, luring in the masses with promises of gratuitous extremes before springing the trap to reveal stories rich in theme and complexity; as Pat and Kev unravel the mystery of their murderous Sleepman, they simultaneously explore the enigmas of the futility of war, the exploitation of media, the glorification of violence.
In less certain hands, taking the occasional foot to a brat's backside runs the risk of excess, but for Mills and O'Neill it is only a tool to bring the reader face-to-face with more than their money's worth; ultimately, Pat's stories are visceral in order that they may convey the topical, and Kevin's art excites so that in the end it may effect,
Society's Watchdogs will never realize this. of course; they're too busy lifting things out of context to use in their next crucifixion, inevitably missing the larger picture.
Mills and O'Neill have no time for this, of course; they're too busy winding up their leather-clad lawman to knock the blinders off with a nail-filled two-by-four, comic book terrorists confident enough in the strength of their talent and medium that they can mix and match all forms of entertainment and edification for a world that has long since proven it can take care of itself.
And so, to those taking their maiden voyage into the Machiavellian machine of Marshal Law's San Futuro and the flesh-eating madhouse the future calls Manhattan, I envy you; don't be surprised if you return thinking as well as thrilled.
To those in the know, placing this exquisite edition on vour coffee table so that you may then take smug satisfaction in the shrieks of The Ignorant as they look between the covers, I commend you on your good taste.
And to one and all, a final warning:
Watch out for small children coming in for re-entry.
“Life begets life. Energy creates energy. It is by spending oneself that one becomes rich.” — Sarah Bernhardt
Amazing Times
I’m D.G. Chichester. If that looks pretentious, feel free to just call me “Dan.”
I earned my storytelling cred writing comic book titles like Daredevil, Terror Inc., Nick Fury Agent of SHIELD and Clive Barker’s Hellraiser, along with digital widgets in the world wide web of advertising. I like weird tales, so if things here bend that way — now you know why!
Folks seem to like the comic book adventures I’ve written, so if you haven’t checked one out — please do. Many are now available in fab collected editions.
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