The WACKO Theory

digresssmlOriginally published June 4, 1993, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1020

I haven’t seriously annoyed bunches of people in a while, I think. Since I don’t dare allow matters in BID to become too complacent, something must be done. Let us see now, what can I possibly talk about that will honk people off.

I know…

Something fun may be brewing in the letters pages of Wizard magazine. Let’s see if we can cash in on it over here.

In issue #21 of that publication, a letter appeared from David Michelinie. David, being one of the more genuine gentlemen in the industry, very politely—polite to the point of bending over backwards, I would say—corrected what he felt to be a misstatement in the January issue. In that particular issue, David was referred to as the “co-creator” of Venom, the slobbering hulking arch-enemy of Spider-Man and faint-hearted parents everywhere.

Not so, said David.  Although his praise for Todd McFarlane was effusive, he stated that “there was only one person who actually created Venom, and that was me.”

Indeed, although David doesn’t mention it, I recall very distinctly when he was putting together the basics of the character—particularly because he discussed them with me. Not that I contributed anything to the character’s development: I didn’t. But there was a connection with the Sin-Eater/Jean DeWolff story I’d written, and David ran it past me in a “How does this sound to you as a tie-in?” sort of manner. It seemed pretty keen to me. And Todd was nowhere in sight, or even connected with the title at that time.

But here’s where things start to get fun. Because in issue #23 of Wizard (which, if I’ve timed this right, should just about be hitting the stands about now) a letter runs that’s signed by Erik Larsen.

Without going into detail on it, I will simply say that—using a somewhat more aggressive tone than Dave’s letter—Erik proceeds to dismiss peremptorily all of Dave’s contributions to Venom (origin, characterization, motivation—all that trivial stuff) as clichéd, unoriginal, and stupid. We’re left to assume, then, all of Venom’s success can be attributed to the teeth and tongue which Todd contributed.

What this calls into question is the whole notion of creating a character: who created this character, who created that. It’s probably an extension of the modern emphasis on character ownership. In the old days (note I do not say the good old days, ’cause they wasn’t good) the matter of who created what might have had less immediacy because the bottom line was that it didn’t matter—not in the legal sense, at any rate. In terms of personal accomplishment, certainly. But, legally, it was all owned by the company.

Nowadays, though, the idea of who created what can translate into serious money for the individuals present in the creation. The stakes have gone way up. Not only are entire publishing entities springing into existence based on the notion of character ownership, but even avowed work-for-hire bastions such as Marvel have New Character forms which, when filled out by the creators of particular characters, guarantees the creators a piece of the action.

The valid point that Erik does raise is in pointing out all the pre-existing elements that went into Venom’s creation.

Who did create Venom? Was it whoever came up with the concept of Spider-Man switching to a black-and-white costume? (Jim Shooter, who may in turn have been influenced by an intended costume switch for Spider-Woman, which became moot when her title was canceled.) Was it the person who decided that the costume was sentient? (Tom DeFalco and Ron Frenz.) Was it the designer of the black and white Spider-Man costume? (Mike Zeck and Rich Leonardi, among others.) Was it the creator of the Sin-Eater story with which it tied in? (Hëll, no.) Was it the guy who stuck in the tongue and teeth? (All Todd’s.)

Considering the evolutionary nature of so many things in the comic book process, is it possible for anyone ever to be termed the creator of anything?

Who created Venom? Dave and Jim and Mike and Todd? I wracked what I laughingly refer to as my brains for quite some time on this one before I came up with my answer. It’s not a perfect answer. It’s not an all inclusive answer. But it’s the only one I got.

Who created Venom?

Just Dave.

He’s right. He’s sole creator.

Because—and here’s where it gets dicey—it is impossible, except in the rarest of circumstances, to have co-creators of any character. The vaaaast majority of the time, a character has one creator. And of that majority, the vaaaast majority of the time, the creator is the writer.

Now, c’mon. You knew I was going to say that. It’s only fair. If artists get to sit there and proclaim that they’re the be-all and end-all of comics, then writers are entitled to display some chauvinism every now and then.

First, we have to define our terms.

What is “creation”?

When we say that someone is creating something, what the hëll are we talking about specifically?

Well, whenever I endeavor to define terms, I always crack open my American Heritage Dictionary. And in the reliable AHD, it states:

“Creation: (1) the act of creating.”

As always, a big help. But if we jump to “create,” we see:

“Create: (1) To cause to exist; bring into being; originate.”

Now that’s helpful. Before exploring it further, we can touch base with one of the better-known instances of creation, namely:

“In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.

“And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.

“And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.”

Two things can be discerned from the foregoing. First, it’s rather interesting that, according to Genesis, God created the heaven and the earth before he created light. Some have held that this supports the Big Bang theory. Of course, if one wanted to be cynical, one could point out that apparently God created the earth before He could see what the hëll He was doing, which would certainly explain quite a lot.

The second is that, when one is talking about creation in its purest form, one is talking about bringing something from nothing. That’s creation. To cause to exist. First there is nothing, then there is something. And the person who causes something to exist is the creator.

When one is creating life (aside from single-celled animals), that’s a different story. Every single person reading this column is a genuine, indisputable co-creation. It took two to tango—and an X and a Y (or an X and an X) chromosome to get things rolling.

But the creation of a comic book character is something else again. That’s not creating life. That’s creating a semblance of life. An illusion. And that sort of thing cannot be a co-creation because, as described above, the creator is the one who sets it into motion. The one who makes it happen. And that is, also as noted, usually the writer.

The writer is the one who sits there with a blank sheet of paper or the blank computer screen. The writer is the one who has to reach into the ether of nothingness and pull forth from it, dripping and raw, something.

The writer is a character’s creator. The sole creator.

I like to refer to this as the Writer As Creative King/Overlord theory or, more simply, the WACKO theory.

Now—although there are quite a few artists who would be quick to diminish a writer’s participation in the creative process, no sane writer would return that favor (indeed, I understand that David Michelinie has declined to fire back at Erik’s missive). Naturally the artist’s visualization is vital to the development and, ultimately, success of a character. A crummy artist can drag a creation into oblivion; a talented artist can cause the character to transcend what the WACKO has initiated.

But creating a look for the character is not the same thing as creating the character himself, and should not be lumped together. Did Spider-Man cease to be Spider-Man when he changed to the black and white costume?

Everything that comes afterwards is other people—pencilers, inkers, whoever—building upon the concepts that the writer came up with. That makes the writer the creator and the penciler the—what?

Developer, I suppose. Co-developer, because frequently the writer’s input becomes instrumental for such trivial things as dialogue. That’s if you want to be accurate.  I’m reluctant to say that, though, because now we’re beginning to understand why screen credits read the way they do. Because if Venom’s pedigree were correctly (dare we say “politically correctly”?) listed, it would be as follows:

Venom: A Marvel Comics Production.  Created by David Michelinie. Developed by David Michelinie and Todd McFarlane. Based on ideas by Jim Shooter, Tom DeFalco, Ron Frenz, Rick Leonardi, Louise Simonson (since her handling of the costume in Web of Spider-Man established important foundations), and Mike Zeck.

You see how complicated it can get. That’s why no one with any brains gets involved with this kind of argument. Of course, that does nothing to deter me.

Now of course, the WACKO theory only relates to writer/artist teams. If Erik Larsen the writer started arguing with Erik Larsen the artist about who created Savage Dragon, it would make a rather bizarre spectacle (albeit one that I’d certainly pay five bucks to see).

But when the artist and writer are two different people, you get into all sorts of problems. For example, according to the WACKO theory, Stan Lee is the creator of most of the key Marvel comics. Why? Because he came up with the ideas.

Stan’s creatorship of the characters, however, has been hotly disputed. I’m not going to get into that at any length because it’s been done to death. But what I will point out is that, even as far as Stan’s own recountings of Marvel’s origins are concerned, there is one character who was indisputably created by the artist: the Silver Surfer.

Because by Stan’s own printed recollections, the art pages for Fantastic Four #48 came in and Jack had drawn a herald for Galactus that Stan had known nothing about. Jack’s contention (according to Stan) was that someone as powerful as Galactus should have a herald. Therefore, the Surfer’s pedigree would be:

The Silver Surfer: A Marvel Comics Production. Created by Jack Kirby. Developed by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby—according to the WACKO theory.

Ah, you say, but I stated that the character’s visual was secondary to the character himself. So I did. But Kirby not only created the inspired and truly bizarre non-sequitur visual of an Oscar statue on a surfboard (a surfboard?! I mean, we take it for granted now, but—a surfboard?! And the fans bought that? This silver guy shows up on Earth for the first time, riding a distinctly Earthian artifact complete with racing stripes, and no one commented on how completely insane this was?), he also developed the Surfer’s reason for being and gave him the distinctly noble look that Stan keyed off of in dialoguing him.

The Surfer is a fascinating case study in how important a truly gifted team is. Without Jack, you wouldn’t have had the Surfer to begin with because Stan didn’t come up with him for the story. Jack is the all-important creator. However without Stan—the as-important developer—you wind up with—well—you get the Black Racer.

Even worse—you wind up with Cable.

Cable might seem, on the surface, to defy the WACKO theory. Yet, in fact, he’s practically the proof of it.

Who created Cable?

I’ve gathered the following from various interviews, and think I’m fairly accurate in describing the origins of the character as follows:

X-editor Bob Harras decided one day that the New Mutants needed to have a new adult leader in charge.

Does that mean, according to the WACKO theory, that Bob created Cable? If it weren’t for Bob’s editorial directive, Cable would not have been created. But it’s hard to designate Bob as Cable’s creator because “They need a new leader” is a bit vague.

Then Rob Liefeld drew a cyborg character with a glowing eye and a big gun. When Louise Simonson suggested the name “Commander X,” Rob declared that to be a stupid name and stated that he was called “Cable.”

So did Rob create Cable? It would seem so, particularly if we look at the Surfer example. Except that (nothing personal, Rob) there’s nothing particularly inspired or original about a cyborg character with one eye (see Deathlok or Cyborg of the Titans or even the Six Million Dollar Man). Furthermore, whereas “Commander X” at least harkens to “Professor X,” “Cable” conjures up associations with C-SPAN and Cinemax. He had a look and a name, but that was all. Like the Tin Woodman, he had no heart,

So is Louise Simonson, the writer of New Mutants, Cable’s creator? But she was third in the food chain by that point, behind Bob’s editorial directive and Rob’s visual. Furthermore, whatever plans and personality she had in mind for the character became moot when she left the series. Likewise with Rob when he left a year or so later.

As opposed to Venom (with David Michelinie exclusively handling the important Venom appearances—I’m not counting sales-jacking guest-shots) or the Silver Surfer (who was scripted by no one except Stan for years, at Stan’s insistence) Cable was left with no writer or artist or even a w/artist to guide him.

Who created Cable?

Ultimately—insanely—the only answer would seem to be: Marvel Comics.

There was no defining moment when Cable burst from the head of a writer as a character. He burst from the head of an artist as a visual. And when you look at a drawing for the first time, the natural inclination is to say—just as Stan did to Jack about the Surfer—”Who’s that?”

With the Surfer, three issues later, we knew. His character, his essence, everything. Same with Venom.

With Cable, it’s three years later, and we still haven’t a clue.

Cable is the ultimate, perfect Marvel character. He has no personality. His background is nebulous and can be shifted to something else the moment readers start catching on. There’s no writer attached to him who has invested a personal vision and will start fighting with the editor over what should be done. Readers will eternally be yanked around on the character’s mystery, because he has nothing going for him except mystery. He makes the company piles of money without one of those gosh-darned irritating creators-with-a-vision to confuse things.

He’s a zero, a cipher. He’s the definitive company man, because he was not birthed by a WACKO. His was a bášŧárd creation, and if the readers ever wake up to that, he’s history. But don’t bet on that happening anytime soon.

So—the WACKO theory. There will always be those rare instances where a writer and an artist are sitting side-by-side and develop a character. But in the assembly-line atmosphere of Marvel, DC, and whoever else is developing a work-for-hire super-hero line this week, it’s a different story. In those instances, the person who creates the character—the essence of the character’s being and reason for existence—is the sole creator. Co-developers are incredibly vital, and their importance cannot be diminished. But if we’re talking semantics, then there should only be one creator.

If nothing else, it’ll avoid arguments of “I created this!” “No, I created it!” “Yeah, but I helped!”

When it comes to arguing over who created what, one is prompted to think of JFK’s comment about the Bay of Pigs invasion—which he claimed was an old saying, but in fact wasn’t all that old, having been coined by Count Galeazzo Ciano in 1942. And that observation was: “As always, victory finds a hundred fathers but defeat is an orphan.”

Which is a highbrow way of saying, “Isn’t it weird that we never see any arguments over who created Night Nurse?”

(Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to at To Be Continued, PO Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705.)

***

Footnotes from the BID book collection:

1) Boy, did this start a hullaballoo, particularly on CompuServ. Two weeks of defending something that, to me, was largely tongue-in-cheek, but made more sense the more I had to explain it. Two further examples I used to illuminate it: a) Who created Mr. Spock? Gene Roddenberry, of course. Even though Leonard Nimoy came up with the nerve pinch and salute; even though others designed the costumes and prosthetics—Roddenberry is still “the creator” of Spock and no one disputes that; b) By the logic of those who say that an artist who first draws a character must be deemed co-creator, then whoever first drew the James Bond comic strip would be deemed the “co-creator” of James Bond. Which is, of course, ridiculous.

2) John Ostrander and Jim Valentino wrote in and disputed the theory—and Valentino stridently asserted that Rob Liefeld was Cable’s creator, period. Walt Simonson wrote in in defense of wife Louise’s participation, and said that I had made a dead-on analysis of Cable’s place in the Marvel Universe. I think Walt was actually going to write in and challenge the WACKO theory as well, but got sidetracked by Valentino. John Byrne wrote in, criticizing Valentino’s emphasis on character visualization to the point of excluding all else.

Valentino wrote back and apologized for possibly offending the Simonsons, and closed his letter with stating that John Byrne was irrationally jealous of Image, reaffirming that you can’t disagree with Image, only be jealous of them.

39 comments on “The WACKO Theory

  1. That was amusing.

    Also, looks like the blog is showing up on my reader again (after a hiatus of months where I forgot to check back in regularly. Thank you nagging reminders.)!

  2. It’s funny, as I was reading this I kept thinking, “Yes, but who created Cable?” only to find that topic being addressed at the end.
    .
    Technically, though, Cable was created by Chris Claremont, who wrote a story in which Cyclops and Madelyne Pryor had a baby, which some later writer (I’m not sure who) decided was Cable. I mean, Stan Lee can be credited with creating Franklin Richards, then Claremont should be credited with creating Cable.

    1. That was two characters that were later merged together. When Cable was first introduced, him being Cyclops’ baby wasn’t on the table (mainly for the reasons stated above, nobody had figured out who he was) – Nathan Summers hadn’t even been sent into the future at that point. So, while by Peter’s description I’d say Rob Liefeld created Cable (unlike Mr David), given that he conceived both the character and the design before the writer, the merge does rather muddy things.

      It’s not all that different with Venom – hard to say where one character (the black costume) ends and the other begins. (Although I struggle to understand what McFarlane brought to Venom that wasn’t already in the script – presuming the script called for an enlarged, muscular version of Spider-Man’s black guise with large teeth?)

    2. Of course, that opens up a whole other can of worms. By this argument, you could say Steve Englehart created Wiccan and Speed. Maybe it’s best not to think about it.

    3. If that’s the case (i was pretty much done reading X titles Way Back When, so i have no idea), then it sounds as if Scott and Maddy should be credited as co-creators…

  3. This was a really interesting read, considering I’d just read this piece a few minutes earlier:

    http://goodcomics.comicbookresources.com/2010/06/20/meta-messages-6/

    The disagreements between Mr. David, Mr. Larson, and Mr. Byrne have always interested me, particularly as I really enjoy Savage Dragon and X-Factor. The letters page in Savage Dragon featured some great diatribes back and forth. Not sure whose side I come down on in any of this, but I do wonder how the relationship between these guys is today?

    1. I am indifferent to Erik. In terms of Image itself, it should be obvious that I have no hard feelings considering that I was willing (and Marvel was willing to give clearance) to contribute to the Fractured Fables project edited by Jim Valentino. Sure, Jim and I had our disagreements back in the day, but we believe that past is past and that’s no reason we can’t work together. Jim is a class act all the way. And in case you’re wondering, I have absolutely no intention of weighing in on the CBR thread. There may be greater wastes of time than rehashing snipes from twenty years ago, but none come readily to mind.
      .
      PAD

      1. But it’s only been seventeen years, Peter…

        And besides, petty feuds are the foundation of sf fandom and, really, human interaction. Did Fred Pohl and Will Sykora ever patch up their differences after the 1937 Worldcon? Not that I saw. Do people still rag Liefeld about his art twenty years later, oh hëll yes. Just because some folk decide to bury the hatchet doesn’t mean they forget where they put it.

      2. People still rag Liefeld about his art because there’s been little, if any, improvement in the quality of his art since his earliest work. And I’m not just talking about the obvious flaws in his figure drawing, but also his severe lack in the area of composition.
        .
        He has no real ability to tell a story visually; he can draw a series of poses that roughly follow a script, with appropriate spaces to insert word ballons, but he has no clue how to make visuals that could move the story along without the benefit of dialogue.
        .
        I recall the Teen Titans storyline he worked on with Gail Simone a few years back, which I picked up on the strength of Gail’s writing and the fact that I had not seen anything from Liefeld other than cover images–I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and see if his skills had improved. What a mess! I actually had to re-read many pages of those issues just to comprehend what Gail was trying to convey, which was often completely at odds with the grimaces, bared teeth and fighting stances that Liefeld is forever compelled to draw every single character in.
        .
        Liefeld still gets flak for his work because he’s a hack. He’s always been a hack, and unless he makes some miraculous improvement in the years to come, he will always be a hack–and he will always get grief for it from people who expect more from a comic book than grunting, teeth-grinding muscleheads beating each other up.
        .
        Chuck

      3. Chuck – As opposed to the truly great ones such as John Romita Jr whose literally picture perfect art in Amazing Spider-Man 480 turned JMS’ “Meanwhile …” script into a wordless story where just subtle facial expressions allowed the ‘reader’ to follow what was going on.

        As for the ‘creator’ thing, I’d say that pretty much nails it. And it does help explain why I never had much use for Cable as a character.

  4. But this also brings up another question: who created Batman? This is another case, as with Cable, where it’s not so clear-cut. Bob Kane always gets the credit, but I’d say you have to include Bill Finger, who actually contributed more to his creation than Kane did.

  5. Cable makes my head hurt. It did then when he was the start of the 90’s mysterious anti-hero trend. It hurts me now with the resulting Quagmire-that-is-his-history was told.
    It was clear no one had any idea what he should be for a long time. There is always a feeling with such characters; like they’ve been put together like tinker-toys, and will fall apart under their own weight. His history was relatively well done considering, but still feels like the tinker-toys have just been duct-taped in place.
    Cable is one reason I’ve abandoned X-Men books for some time(well, outside the current X-Factor). He’s when the X-men stopped being heroes.

  6. What I found odd about what Walt is indicated to have said (I wasn’t reading CBG yet when he wrote it; I learned this through the BID collection), is that on two separate occasions, Weezie asserted to me (She often came into the comic book/graphic novel class Walt taught at the School of Visual Arts as a co-instructor of sorts) that Rob probably had more to do with Cable’s creation than she did.
    .
    Robert Fuller: Technically, though, Cable was created by Chris Claremont, who wrote a story in which Cyclops and Madelyne Pryor had a baby, which some later writer (I’m not sure who) decided was Cable. I mean, Stan Lee can be credited with creating Franklin Richards, then Claremont should be credited with creating Cable.
    Luigi Novi: I had similar thoughts about Cable, because since Cable is Nathan Christopher Charles Summers, then the first published inklings of his existence were:
    .Madelyne Pryor’s discovery that she was pregnant in X-Men and Alpha Flight, which Claremont wrote. There’s no “appearance” yet to speak of, so the fact that Paul Smith drew that miniseries is irrelevant.
    .Madelyne’s first appearance as visibly pregnant, in Uncanny X-Men #200, in which she also went into labor. Again, Claremont wrote that, and I don’t think John Romita Jr. should be credited as “co-creator”, just because he created the bulge of a fetus.
    .The first appearance of the infant Nathan Christopher Charles Summers in Uncanny X-Men #201. Again, Claremont wrote that, and I assume he decided on the tyke’s name. Sure, Rick Leonardi drew that issue, but is there really any sense in which he could have said to have “designed” him? Babies look pretty generically similar in comics, more so than adults, and there’s nothing about that infant’s appearance that ever carried over to the adult Cable’s appearance.
    .
    For this reason, I figured that Claremont should be credited with creating Summers, and Liefeld and Simonson with creating the Cable identity or persona. Looking over at his Wikipedia article, it seems that others agreed.
    .
    Also, I can’t remember if this was in a BID column or something, or if it was some thought experiment of mine, but I remember thinking about how Larsen’s theory would apply to Mr. Sinister. Larsen seems to think that, at least in comics, whoever first draws a character is its co-creator, which is silly. Under this idea, Marc Silvestri co-created Mr. Sinister, which is absurd. Putting aside the fact that Silvestri (whose artwork I really enjoy) essentially came up with a slightly different-colored version of Collossus, Silvestri was nowhere near Uncanny X-Men when Sinister was created. Sinister had engineered the Mutant Massacre, and had a name, before he appeared. Sabretooth mentioned him by name to Wolverine in Uncanny #212. We then saw a generic sinister in shadow in #213 (drawn by Alan Davis with a round, bald-looking head). Silvestri didn’t draw an issue of the book until issue #218, didn’t become the regular penciler until #220, and didn’t draw Sinister until #221. Under Larsen’s theory, Mr. Sinister, who massacred the Morlocks, created Madelyne Prior, and pit the Marauders against the X-Men and X-Factor (resulting in Nightcrawler’s mutilation, Collossus’ paralysis, Shadowcat’s near death, and Angel’s mutliation), “didn’t really exist” until a good nine issues after all that happened.
    .
    As far as Larsen’s handling of the Hulk and Doc Ock, and his problems with Peter’s “Round Two” between them, I remember when I first read that Hulk story, and hadn’t read or was aware of their fight in Larsen’s story, so I was oblivious to the “finger” and “holding back” and “image” references. That illustrates how Peter was able to write a sequence that stood on its own, even for those unaware of the satirical subtext. By contrast, when I flipped through an early issue of Savage Dragon, Larsen devoted an entire two-page spread to a bunch of characters that he used as poorly-disguised rants toward John Byrne, one of which commented that it was “abandoned” by its creator. Not only did he waste space pandering to a false perception about Byrne’s career, but it had nothing to do with the story that I can recall. Funny how he then whined about Peter’s retort in Hulk, which at least functioned as part of the story.
    .
    Reading the sequence at that above link in which Doc Ock trashed Hulk, I have to say that it’s completely ridiculous. Anyone who contends that Doc Ock could immobilize Hulk by simply grabbing his arms and legs with his tentacles, and knock him bloody by just hitting him or sending through a shingled roof, obviously hasn’t read enough of the Hulk’s stories to be familiar with the character.

  7. I guess it’s not possible to bring up the topic of Liefeld and Cable without thinking about the commercial (Levi Jeans?) with Liefeld illustrations (X-Force characters) blown up to “life-size” with Rob at his drawing board in front of them, proclaiming that he’d created all of these characters. Well, actually, they were existing characters that were in new costumes that Rob had designed. It seemed apparent that someone somewhere believed that a new costume = new character. I wondered if that carried through if you took the illustration, bleached out the color, and gave it a new color scheme….

      1. Although that amounts to little more than coming up with a title. Other than Cable, Shatterstar and Domino, all the characters were pre-existing, and the concept of the book was no different from what New Mutants had already become: Cable and his little paramilitary group running around and accomplishing little while looking badass. God, even the background stuff he created for New Mutants/X-Force was just photostatted material he’d originally developed for Teen Titans when he was doing Hawk & Dove.

      2. It was Spike Lee who said, “And you created X-Force”, and Rob said, “Um, yeah.” True, Rob did create that team, and that is the way credit is given regarding teams. Bob Haney and Bruno Premiani are credited with creating the Teen Titans, rather than the creators of those individual characters, so it’s pretty much S.O.P.
        .
        Besides, the distinction between the team and the individual characters is not a hair people are going to split in a 30-second TV commercial intended for the non-comics reading audience.

  8. Not a fan of Liefeld or Cable, a character that never held any fascination for me, but I would have to lean toward giving Liefeld the lion’s share of the credit for the creation of the character. The only difference PAD has between the creation of cable and the Silver Surfer is that “There’s nothing particularly inspired or original about a cyborg character with one eye” and that his name is not terribly inspired either. But not being a good creation doesn’t mean it’s not a creation. Expecting Liefeld to ever come close to creating on the level of a Jack Kirby is a pretty unfair hurdle to expect him to overcome.
    .
    To put it another way…if Stan had more or less ignored what jack had done and just left the Surfer as a silent ornament buzzing around Galactus (In other words, if Norin Radd had ended up as uninteresting as Cable) would Kirby no longer be the creation of Kirby? I say, Liefeld is pretty much the creator of Cable and boy, he can have him.
    .
    Of course, one gets into a sticky situation when one considers that ANY creation within the Marvel Universe is in some way building on all that came before it. The history of comics is littered with the bodies of failed concepts and heroes who might have really caught fire had they been introduced in the pages of Spiderman or X-Men or The Fantastic 4 and not in the pages of Black & White Semi-Vanity Press Funnies #4. It’s not fair but there it is.

    1. Agreed. Who created what is generally a question of fact, and shouldn’t be seen as a value judgment, as Larsen did with Michelenie’s assertion that he created Venom (which he did).

  9. Wow, that essay still holds up 20 years later.

    I’d be willing to suggest that it be used as SOP when attributing credit to creations.

    And, oh yes, hope the back is continuing to feel better.

  10. Frankly, I like the idea of Cable’s creator being Marvel Comics rather than any one person. He certainly has the feel of a superhero designed by committee.

  11. Sometimes I don’t think even the first guy to WRITE a character should be rightfully considered the creator. The Wolverine that became a worldwide icon owes very little to the character that Len Wein wrote in 4 stories in the 1970s. I’d say Chris Claremont created everything that defines Wolverine, on top of the rather generic mold Len Wein supplied.

    1. Which means that he developed Wolverine. Not that he created him. Again, the definition of a word is fairly factual in its basis: Len Wein is the one who brought him into being. That makes no statement about the worth of his work, or for that matter, Claremont’s. Just because someone brings depth or popularity to something has nothing to do with whether they created it. Two different things.

  12. Rene,
    “Sometimes I don’t think even the first guy to WRITE a character should be rightfully considered the creator. The Wolverine that became a worldwide icon owes very little to the character that Len Wein wrote in 4 stories in the 1970s. I’d say Chris Claremont created everything that defines Wolverine, on top of the rather generic mold Len Wein supplied.”
    .
    Rene, I see your point. But that gets tricky. Siegel and Shuster did not have Superman originally fly for example and a whole host of powers that we now associate with Superman today came much later. Where do we draw the line?

    1. Good point.
      .
      It gets very tricky when you look at Spiderman. Who gets the credit? Stan Lee gets a lot but so much depends on how much detail he gave first Kirby then Ditko. My recollection of things is that Kirby’s take on the matter didn’t work and it was Ditko who came up with the vast majority of the visuals. For a character like Spiderman the visuals are an integral part of what makes it work…but the initial spark of creation came from Stan. Then again, the “Marvel Method” left an awful lot of creativity and storytelling in the hands of the artist. Tricky, very tricky.

      1. Also, Stan admitted in print that the name Spider-man came from the pulp hero “The Spider-Master of Men!” so it could be argued that Spidey didn’t pop out of his head independently and fully-formed. Very tricky indeeed!

    2. I think in Superman’s case, the ratio of stuff created by Siegel & Shuster as opposed to later developments is much bigger than in Wolverine’s.

      In addition, the character Len Wein envisioned is wildly different than the one Chris Claremont ended up giving life. In his original couple of Len Wein-written appearances, Wolverine was meant to be a impulsive teenager with Spider-Man-like superstrength and agility, and special gloves equipped with claws.

      Claremont re-imagined everything except the codename, costume, and nationality.

    3. Where do we draw the line indeed. As the chap who hosts the DIAL B FOR BLOG site demonstrated, it’s too easy to draw parallels and put origins into doubt. Consider that comic book quartet who survived a crash that ought to have killed them and went on, led by a polymath scientist, to deal with invaders, monsters, and other threats, without the benefit of secret identities or even – at first – uniforms, often squabbling all the way. No, no, not the FF, he was referring to DC’s Challengers of the Unknown. He even managed to draw parallels with Doc Savage and his crew, albeit stretching the point a tad more in that instance.

  13. Who created Cable? That’s easy: Rob Liefeld. The one slight catch is that Marvel decided not to use that character — and created a different one with the same name and look.

    .
    Peter says in the column that Cable was a blank slate, with no real character or history — and that’s somewhat true of the character Marvel chose to publish. But when Rob Liefeld drew the character who became Cable, and said the character’s name was Cable, he did have a character in mind.

    .
    I find it frustrating when a storyline gets started by one writer and finished by others, and the way it ends up is clearly not what the original writer intended when it started. But because a later writer has wrapped the story up, and that version is in continuity, we rarely get to learn what the original writer intended. I’ve always wanted to know, for instance, what Jim Steranko had in mind with the Scorpio storyline in Nick Fury, Agent of SHIELD. Roy Thomas wrapped up the story, but it never felt to me like the correct solution to the mysteries Steranko had created.

    .
    I had the same feeling with Cable — but there, thanks to Liefeld’s greater willingness to talk about what he had in mind, we are able to know who Liefeld intended the character to be.

    .
    Not sure if this needs a SPOILER WARNING or not, since this isn’t part of Marvel continuity. But Liefeld revealed (in an issue of Inside Image that I picked up for a quarter some years ago) that Cable was actually a grown up Cannonball. (The name Cable was a sort of slurring of the name Cannonball.) I forget all the details, but Liefeld provided enough to convince me that he did indeed have a character in mind to go with the visual he created. A character he created — but which Marvel chose not to use.

    .
    Marvel used the visual he had created — but chose to create a different character to go with the visual. I’m not privy to who created that character, but am inclined to agree that Louise Simonson is probably the person who did so. I assume she had something in mind for the character when she wrote the first stories. Just as Steranko created Scorpio (even though I’m fairly sure that the continuation of the character after Steranko left has been changed considerably from what Steranko intended) so Louise Simonson created Cable if she had a character in mind as she wrote the first stories (even if later writers changed the character from what she had in mind after she left the series).

    1. That was Liefeld’s intent? Then why, when he drew the character in the beginning, did Cable never exhibit any of Sam Guthrie’s powers, or even something that could be regarded as derivative of them? He showed up at first just sporting big ol’ guns and a mechanical arm, not even flying; later we saw a few flashes of telekinesis, kept carefully out of the view of the kids (I recall one panel from an early issue of X-Force where he was using TK to grab some wrenches while working on something, and Domino asking when he was going to be straight with his team).
      .
      Now, had he at any point in his early appearances flown or projected a personal force field, I might buy it; but as it stands, it sounds more like Liefeld trying to retcon his own history with the character.

      1. I’m sorry I don’t have that issue of Inside Image at hand to be able to re-read it. It’s been quite a number of years since I read it, so my memory of the details in the are a bit blurry.

        I was never a big Cable fan, although I did buy and read the early issues in which he appeared. But I remember being dissatisfied with what Marvel came up with as their explanation for who Cable was — and I remember being much more satisfied with the explanation Liefeld provided in the Inside Image piece.

        Your raise some good reasons for being hesitant to accept Liefeld’s story. It’s quite possible, though, that the article contains additional details which would answer these.

        It was in a 4 for a dollar box when I found it, and even thought that was probably 10 years ago I suspect copies can still be found in similar boxes today. Sorry, I don’t recall what the issue number was (and a glance at the covers for Inside Image at Mile High Comics doesn’t provide the answer) but if you see a copy on sale for a quarter, I recommend picking it up and reading the Liefeld piece. (If anyone here does, I’d be curious to know what they think about this after reading it.)

      2. It was the wrench-levitating and the fact that the metal limbs didn’t work when he lost his powers that made me think that Cable was an alternate-reality Magneto.
        .
        Theno

  14. I always expect the dispute over Cable’s creation to wind up like the dispute over Moosylvania –
    .
    “YOU created Cable.”
    .
    “No, YOU created Cable.” …

  15. I think you hit the nail on the head. I was listening to a podcast dealing with the issue of copyrighting and who really owns a comic book character, etc. and they were debating all of the legal issues, but I think you were able to break the topic down to its essence.

  16. “Cable is the ultimate, perfect Marvel character. He has no personality. His background is nebulous and can be shifted to something else the moment readers start catching on…Readers will eternally be yanked around on the character’s mystery, because he has nothing going for him except mystery…He’s a zero, a cipher. He’s the definitive company man, because he was not birthed by a WACKO. His was a bášŧárd creation, and if the readers ever wake up to that, he’s history. But don’t bet on that happening anytime soon.”

    I once read this to a friend and told him “if you replace ‘Cable’ with ‘The Doctor,’ ‘readers’ with ‘viewers’, and ‘Marvel’ with ‘The BBC’ it would be a perfect fit!” Funny how one cipher could manage to capture the imagination of millions for nearly half a century and another one got on people’s nerves in a shorter period of time!

    I also remember Peter being justifiably critical of CBS’ copout line as to why The Flash’s creators weren’t listed on the short-lived TV series (too many names!!!) and saying “it’s because of THEM that you’ve got a job!” I guess even big TV networks never learn!

    1. Doctor Who was built on mystery.

      Cable was built on next to nothing.

      Apples. Oranges.

      1. If you’re saying that The Doctor as a character had a more solid foundation and his adventures were better constructed than Cable, I would wholeheartedly agree. I was just pointing out that Peter’s description of Cable resembled a general description of The Doctor. I wasn’t saying that the two characters were identical.

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