Who is Steve Ditko? Why Steve Ditko?

The Question #1 - he's the co-creator, and original artist, of the Amazing Spider-Man, Dr. Strange, Mr. A, Captain Atom, The Question, Shade the Changing Man, and a host of other memorable characters in the last 53 years.

The Question #2 - we highlight him again today because this April marks the 10th year that I began my "Ditko Looked Up" web site.

A reminder that the Amazing Spider-Man Omnibus is on shelves April 25th features a 1500-word essay written by yours truly. With "Spider-Man Week" about to descend on New York City - thanks to the May 4th release of third Spider-Man movie - Ditko had a couple of mentions in the L.A. Times this week related to his co-creation of the lead villain, the Sandman, in the movie.

The Amazing Spider-Man Omnibus can ordered from Amazon.com in its two versions - the comic book store version, or the Alex Ross variant cover version.

The photo above is another taken by Eric Stanton - the fame fetish cartoonist - in 1959 when Ditko shared a Manhattan studio with Stanton back in the late 1950s to mid 1960s. It's a series of three from the same "session" that are out there. This is the one featured in the 2002 L.A. Times feature on Ditko, back when the first Spider-Man movie appeared, the second featured on the front of my Ditko web site.

In my April 16th, 2007, essay - A look inside the Stanton/Ditko studio - we talked about Jim Starlin's visit to Ditko's studio back in 1964, and today we'll recount my visit to his studio back in November of 2001.

It was the end of a long "Ditko journey," having been commissioned by his former co-publisher to design an official web site for the two of them back in the Spring of 2001. It debuted on July 4th and was actually responsible for my first meeting with Fantagraphics co-publisher, Gary Groth at the 2001 San Diego Comicon.

I had been befriended by Mike Catron (former co-publisher with Gary of the Comics Journal). Gary overheard me being introduced as the web site guy for Ditko and, given Gary's keen interest in Ditko's work, began a conversation with me that, a year later, would result in our coming together to do a book on the artist.

In that summer of 2001, everything seemed to be going along fine. I had a letter-writing relationship with Steve, but a ticking time-bomb was waiting in the wings.

Before the web site was ever conceived, I had written a piece of "historical fiction" (a term which, during my visit to Ditko's studio later that year, Ditko referred to as an "oxymoron") for a Wally Wood-themed issue of Comic Book Artist. It was centered around the year 1969, when everything was falling apart in Wally's life, and Ditko came calling to his studio.

I thought the piece was thoughtful, sympathetic and accurate, sent it out to others who knew Wally and they concurred, and sent it to the publisher and forgot about it.

Everything seemed to be going okay with the web site until Ditko's co-publisher started a roller-coaster ride of wanting me to pull it down, then telling me to keep it up; never once asking my opinion upfront on how to best handle the time impact, just dropping bombs into my email box and then retracting when I would explain how we could best optimize the site for its stated intent. Never a gram of manners, soft skills or explanations given, just shocking directives that would change from day to day. It's never a good feeling to work so hard, for so little, and be on that type of roller-coaster.

In late July of that year, the CBA issue made its debut at that San Diego Comicon. I was pleased as peach to see my first-ever work in print but, in early September, I'd learn that I had to do a better job of anticipating others' reactions.

I received an email, the day before 9/11, ordering me to pull down the site, that they could no longer work with someone who makes fun of Steve Ditko. Ditko had gotten a hold of the issue and was not amused in the slightest.

I wrote back, assuring them that this was not my intent, but it fell on deaf ears. The site, only two months old and super-successful, was coming down for good. No more (and none since) official Ditko presence on the 'Net.

About a week later, I received an email from Wizard magazine, asking me to contribute to a Ditko article. I did so, under certain conditions: 1) receiving a certain number of comp. copies (which I never received, even after complaining about it); 2) seeing the final transcript, so that my comments were not taken out of context (never saw it, as the writer left Wizard before the article came out, and he had put "final" on it, and then it was never sent to me, and some of my comments were "bolstered" to make me look like a buddy of Ditko that was speaking freely about him); 3) they would send me a list of quotes from my web site, to ensure we had permission from the authors (never happened).

Not knowing any of this would happen, I waited for the Christmas issue to arrive in my mailbox.

My friend Len and I decided to take a trip to New York City in November of 2001 - first time there since 1989 - and, on our first day, we just decided to drop by Ditko's studio.

I feared the worst, so it was a mess of trepidation and excitement after I knocked on the door and hear footsteps shuffling ever closer.

The door popped open and there was Steve, looking quite healthy and alert for a man in his 70s. I gave my name, started to shake his hand, and you could see the wheels of memory turning in his head. I said it may not bring back good memories, and he smiled and said he had just placed the name.

My friend and I had the same experience most who just pop by his studio have: he'll very graciously stand in the doorway of his studio and talk to you at length, but you won't get in.

I apologized for my Wood piece landing with him the way it did, we had a discussion on using living historical figures in such a fashion (although I didn't have the heart / courage to bring up his turning President Clinton into an alien in the Secret City Saga books, and how that differed from what I did), and I was quite surprised to see how empathetic, serene and understanding he was, but certainly a man sure in his convictions and ideals.

As we parted, I apologized again, and he said, "It's all in the past now." It was only halfway down the elevator that I wasn't sure if I had received absolution, or the Comic-Book Objectivist had just stated a rational fact, and that was that.

We were on such a buzz that we went out to that store owned by David Letterman's sometimes foils, Mujibur and Sirajul, and bought a Spider-Man money bank tin that had Ditko drawings all over it. What was most fascinating about the experience was that I couldn't maintain the image of the man's face in my head later than night. It was getting all fuzzy. My friend and I talked that my conversation with Ditko had appeared to be two men just talking about a particular point, rather than some "take it all in" hero-worshipping moment, and that I hadn't even considered to take "mental notes." It was very interesting to remember how many people walked behind us in the hallway outside his studio door and so matter-of-factly said, "Hey Steve," completely used to this legend's presence amongst them (no doubt helped by the fact he's the least "primadonna-like" famous person you'd ever meet).

So, I was feeling pretty good about my learnings from the whole experience...until that Wizard article came out in December. As mentioned above, I had no idea it was coming, never received my copies, and I didn't like the contents at all as they related to my comments.

I especially felt troubled that Steve was going to wonder, "What the heck's up with that Bell guy, coming here to apologize and then unleashing this on me?" I wrote Ditko a letter, explaining what I thought had happened, and prayed for the best.

I was on another trip to New York in January of 2002 and, when I got into the city, I called Ditko from 9 blocks away. I asked him if I could come to the studio to talk, and he said (very matter of factly) that there wasn't a point (gulp!)...because he had written a response back to my letter, that I should wait until I get home to read it, and then contact him back.

I said okay, and it turned out that the letter was quite understanding. He certainly made a point to highlight why he doesn't get involved with the press, and that I shouldn't be shocked at what had happened.

So, again, all's well that ended well...until the following winter (of 2002) when the press release went out about my Ditko book with Fantagraphics. The title ("Steve Ditko: The Mysterious Traveler") and the cover image (this one) did not sit well with him at all. Rather than remember our parting on good terms, he brought back all the negative parts of our history in a three-part series of articles denouncing the book (not having read it, even though Gary called to assuage him of its intent, Ditko saying to Gary, before he hung up, that we were "parasites") as a "poison sandwich," that will say some good things about him and his work, but will inevitably portray him in a negative light.

What do you do when you feel you can never please one of your artistic heroes? You give up trying? You just believe that you have good intentions and move on? We'll see, as the year progresses, and the finished book hits the shelves in 2008.

The Ditko dicotomy lives on: one moment, he seems to be the most rationale, genuine, calm person you've ever met and shared time with, but when he feels crossed and gets out that poison pen, look out.

Ditko continues to produce essays intermittently, but has not published any artwork since 2001. Still, I can only imagine him spending his days, drawing away in his Manhattan studio, satisfied with his work if he is satisfied with it, regardless if it never leaves his "Galt's Gulch" to be seen by the rest of the world.