Jim Shooter, who has been instrumental to comics for some time; serving as writer, artist and editor in chief of Marvel from ’78 to ’87; has started a blog devoted to telling stories about his storied career in comics.  There isn’t too much up there yet, but even the small bit that he has posted is amazing.  In one particular post he talks about what it was like working for DC (which was called National Comics at the time) when he was a teenager.  Here is an excerpt:

The guys would pass by my house on their way to play basketball or whatever the sport of the season was.  They’d yell “Hey, Jimbo,” my invitation to play.  Couldn’t do it most of the time.  Deadlines.  Had to sit there — the left end of the couch was my spot — sketch the pictures and write the words.

I wore out that end of the couch.  Upholstery rubbed bare.  Armrest frayed.

No choice.  First of all, my family needed the money.  Badly.  Second, my editor, Mort Weisinger, mean as a snake at his nicest, would have screamed at me more than usual if I was ever late.

Mort would call me every Thursday night, right after the Batman TV show to go over whatever I’d delivered that week.  He’d call me other times, too, whenever, but Thursday night was our regularly scheduled call.  The calls mostly consisted of him bellowing at me.  “You fucking moron!  Learn to spell!  What the hell is this character holding?  Is that supposed to be  a gun?  It looks like a carrot!  These layouts have to be clear, retard!”  When you’re 14 and the big, important man upon whom your family’s survival depends calls you up to tell you you’re an imbecile, it makes an impression….

It got to the point where any time I’d hear a phone ring I’d clench up, white knuckled.  Very Pavlovian.  Even in school, or some other place that was ostensibly safe, a ringing phone jolted me.

I HIGHLY recommend reading the whole thing by clicking HERE.

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