Ever since I was a kid, all I ever wanted to be was a comic book artist.
I drew comics every day on my $14.95 Sears drawing table, all the time dreaming of the day I would walk into Stan Lee’s office and he would give me my pick of Marvel comics to draw.
Then in 1971, after I had worked up a whole bunch of samples, I discovered that it was the comic book WRITERS who got all the chicks, the money, and the fame. It was the comic book writers who were treated like rock stars and were carried into the studio daily on golden palanquins, and the artists were treated like crap.
Well, I never looked back after that, and I’m glad I didn’t. The royalties from all my Warren stories are rolling in so fast I have run out of places to launder my money.
Here then is a presentation piece I drew for THE HULK, circa 1971. It’s mild by today’s standards, but I like the fact the page is taller than it is wide and that the lettering is not misspelled. Someday I may ink this piece, but why bother when I can make $100,000 per script writing comics?