Stan Lee, the patriarch of Marvel Comics, passed away yesterday at 95 years of age. I had heard he was in poor health, but the news was really crushing nonetheless. Stan got started at the age of 18 working for Timely Comics in 1941. After the creators of Captain America left abruptly, he was thrust into editor, getting his start in writing, his true passion. After many years of working for other people, he finally broke out in the early 60’s, starting a run unprecedented in American lore. America loves superheroes. Paul Bunyan, John Henry, and even our own like George Washington crossing the Delaware or Abraham Lincoln using his intellect and will to overturn slavery. We can’t enough of people who rise above and achieve extraordinary feats, whether real or imagined. Stan Lee was able to tap into that and interject humanity into characters.
He helped create, even with later controversy about who exactly got credit, heroes like Spider-Man, Iron Man, the Fantastic Four, the X-Men, Black Panther (the first black superhero), Dr. Strange, the Avengers, Daredevil, Hulk, Thor and more. He added relatability to characters. Spider-Man had to pass tests and help his Aunt May pay the mortgage. The Hulk had to fight to constrain his emotions which overtook him and destroyed his personal life. Even Thor, the God of Thunder, had issues with his half-brother. His creations were unique, but like us. Diverse and yet everyone. He voiced the intros on cartoons, became the face of an entire universe of make-believe and from his work, plus the tremendous artists, spawned the most powerful comic company on Earth.
Stan didn’t create Spider-Man, he made the Amazing Spider-Man. Not the X-Men, the Uncanny X-Men. The Incredible Hulk. The Mighty Thor. Captain America’s shield wasn’t good, it was indestructible. He loved to add the adjectives to make the good be great. Yet the heroes were what we wanted to be and could understand.
I read stories routinely of people who abuse kids, rip off the elderly, assault innocents and take advantage of others. That, in part, is what makes Stan’s life so important. The joy he provided to millions, just from a pen and his imagination. I have seen, hundreds, if not thousands, of children wearing t-shirts, costumes and capes, on Halloween or just waiting for the school bus, all from his characters. I have seen the smiles on faces at the movies, time and time again, from the Marvel Studios films. What a light especially compared to the darkness we can find in the corners of society. All from his ideas. My own daughter called me Captain Dada and it made my whole month. I have been passed over for opportunities, had bad days but at home, to a little girl, I was Captain Dada as she ran up and down the hallway with a cape on.
Stan’s life shows that tremendous good can come from one individual. And we need it. One mind, one heart, one creative spark set off hope and inspiration. It created jobs for very talented artists and editors where none existed before. Films, that put food on the tables of many small theater owners and movie extras and stunt men. Cartoonists and toy makers, not laid off, but gainfully employed crated memories for kids…and maybe some adults.
I had a chance to see Stan Lee at a Comic Con and I missed it because it was right after we landed coming back from our honeymoon and I regret not going. I was Spider-Man and Hulk for Halloween as a kid and probably have more Captain America stuff than any living person. Stan was, and will be always, the Man. While not uncommon for his age, Stan meant so much to so many that no time was the right time. Humor and hope, humanity and superhuman feats – Stan brought it all to us. Excelsior, Mr. Lee, you were necessary and are missed now, but not forgotten. Not where good will fight with everything it has and the next superhero is just one dream away; born from a true believer little kid’s imagination and hope.
