Lee brought superhero stories into mainstream
If you were an outcast — or felt a little like one — in the 1960s, ’70s or ’80s, Stan Lee provided an escape from an unforgiving childhood.
Working with artists including Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko, the comic book writer’s early career involved co-creating Spider-Man, the Hulk, the X-Men and many more iconic characters for Marvel Comics. He redefined superheroes not as perfect beings, but as flawed outsiders with problems that mirrored the comic readership.
It was an incredible run, helping to rewrite the language of popular culture in America.
But the writer, publisher and editor in chief, who died at age 95 on Monday, Nov. 12, may have had an even more impressive second act. When comic book culture went mainstream beginning in the 1990s, and the geeks inherited the Earth, Lee reinvented himself as a suave cultural elder statesman.
He took the victory lap for all of us, enjoying a cameo in every Marvel Cinematic Universe movie and sharing the stage with the biggest stars at comic book conventions, never letting the world forget that the nerd had become alpha in the entertainment world.
“Robert Downey Jr., I call him Bob . ... I give him what pointers I can, but he has to learn to (act) for himself,” Lee said of the “Iron Man” movie star, during an appearance at Silicon Valley Comic Con in 2016. “It’s a tough world out there. Hey, if you’re listening — just kidding … Bob.”
Lee was born Stanley Martin Lieber on Dec. 28, 1922, in Manhattan, a city that would become part of the language
of his characters — whether it was the Fantastic Four supergroup headquartered in a Madison Avenue building that redefined the New York City skyline, or blind defense-attorney-turned-vigilante Daredevil protecting the disenfranchised in the alleys of Hell’s Kitchen.
Lee started at the bottom in the late 1930s, filling inkwells for artists working on pulp magazines and comic books. He joined the Army in the early 1940s, serving in World War II.
The writer’s first major collaboration with Kirby was the Fantastic Four, a group that gained superhuman powers after being bombarded with cosmic rays. Like other heroes of the time, they delivered memorable catchphrases while fighting to save the world.
But they had more complex human problems too. Leader Reed Richards struggled with being less powerful than his wife. Ben “The Thing” Grimm was self-conscious about his appearance; he was transformed by the rays into a rock pile while the others could blend in with the crowd.
Whether it was Peter Parker as Spider-Man learning that “with great power comes great responsibility” (the teen’s heroic acts often cost him a date with one of his high school crushes), or the Hulk trying to manage his anger to protect the lives around him, Lee created characters who would give anything not to have their powers. Like his readers, they didn’t feel like they fit in.
“We consciously tried to make the readers not just feel like readers, but like friends,” Lee told The Chronicle in 1987. “The Marvel way is to take a situation that’s bigger-than-life and fantastic and to do it in such a way that it’s believable, because you believe in the characters.”
Lee’s run of iconic characters mostly ended in the 1970s, and he had an often rocky relationship with the modern Marvel Comics, starting competing entertainment companies that had limited success.
But Lee found a comfortable place in the fast-growing world of comic book conventions, drawing huge crowds and entertaining them with the fastthinking stage presence of a stand-up comedian. And he seemed to get better with age, commanding the stage as a nonagenarian with more flair than ever.
“I love conventions because I love the fans. I love seeing your enthusiasm,” Lee told the Silicon Valley Comic Con crowd in 2016, when he was 93. “I love seeing that every year there are more and more. That you used to be young fans, and now you’re older. … Once you become a fan, you’re in it forever.”
Lee returned to Silicon Valley Comic Con this April, even when he was ailing, and before other drama surrounding Lee became public, including elder abuse claims against Lee’s former business manager. While he didn’t address the public this time, he signed autographs in a private tent. There was a bravado to his quips, and also with his appearances during cameos in 20 Marvel films. Lee was rarely self-deprecating with his humor. It was as if his readers had been the butt of jokes for long enough. Often wearing an ascot with oversize sunglasses and his wild hair slicked back, Lee the comic book king was the coolest guy in the room. Between the oneliners, there was a constant message, about popular culture and art: that you were right and your tormenters were wrong. That these comic books, the ones you may have been teased for liking, were as creative and ultimately enduring as any art form.
“It should only be one word. A ‘comicbook,’ ” Lee said at Silicon Valley Comic Con 2016, explaining that the two-word version implies just a book with comics, not a complex artistic experience. “It’s like nothing else in the whole world. It’s a ‘comicbook.’ Not a ‘comic book.’ I hope all of you, when this panel is over, I hope you know the address of your congressman …” Peter Hartlaub is The San Francisco Chronicle’s pop culture critic. Email: phartlaub@ sfchronicle.com Twitter: @PeterHartlaub