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When Joe Quesada, writer and illustrator of comic books, went to work as a freelance contractor for Marvel Comics three years ago, he found the so-called House of Ideas in ruin. The comic-book industry was, as Quesada recalls, "going down the toilet": Every month, 10 to 15 percent of readers were moving out and moving on, and there was no telling how far the bottom was, or whether the entire industry was just years from complete extinction. Books were being canceled, and every few months a dozen or more employees were being laid off, all the result of Marvel's having filed for bankruptcy reorganization in 1998 as billionaire bullyboys Ronald Perelman and Carl Ichan wrangled for control of a company carrying some $700 million in debt. The only titles that were selling were T&A comics--crap for the "boobie crowd," as one Marvel executive calls it. The whole place smelled like the bottom of a very dank barrel.
"It was bleak," Quesada recalls of the late 1990s. "We got tangled up in our own superhero underwear."
As recently as fall 2000, industry experts, from accountants to artists, predicted (if not prayed for) the end of the comic book. Adults who had coveted and collected the trash-can literature as children had long ago moved on, and their children had no interest in silly spandex heroes in a world plugged into the Internet and video-game consoles. Sales of comics had dwindled steadily since 1993, the most profitable year in comicdom's history: According to the January 18 issue of Comics Buyer Guide, the industry's key trade publication, sales fell off 14 percent in 1998 and 5 percent in 1999 and 2000. A billion-dollar biz in 1993 was, by 2000, pulling down less than half that. Who said superheroes were invincible?
But no one stays dead for long in the comics world, not Superman (killed in 1991, as if) and not Marvel Comics, which at long last has shed the stink of bankruptcy and humiliation--the subject of Dan Raviv's detail-drenched book Comic Wars, due out in April from Random House imprint Broadway Books--to again emerge as the industry's dominant publisher. For the first time since '93, the comic-book industry has posted a gain. Though the advances are small in the sales of comics and trade paperback collections (CBGestimates that revenue went from $219.4 million in 2000 to $219.5 million last year, a bump of less than 1 percent) and the numbers are easily manipulated, it's still a sign of newfound health.
Sitting atop the heap is Marvel, as the result of new leadership on the business and creative sides of the company. According to varying sales figures, the caretaker of Spider-Man, Captain America, the X-Men and the Hulk owns between 36.5 and 41 percent of the marketplace, while rival DC Comics (the AOL Time Warner-owned home to Batman and Superman) has slightly less. The extraordinary thing is that Marvel publishes far fewer titles--40 books and about 10 hard- and softback collections each month, which is half of DC's output--meaning Marvel is pulling in more with far less. The company has, on average, 20 titles on the list of top-sellers each month; DC comes in with but a handful.
The reasons for the company's resurrection are copious: Marvel Enterprise, Inc. CEO Peter Cuneo, hired in 1999, exorcised all the demons that plagued the company throughout the 1990s. He installed as president Bill Jemas, who had been in charge of Marvel's Fleer trading-card line from 1992 to '96 before managing Madison Square Garden's sporting events. In August 2000, Jemas wisely hired a new editor in chief: Joe Quesada, who had run his own company (Event Comics) and worked with filmmaker Kevin Smith on a successful run of Daredevil.
Quesada and Jemas concocted a three-year plan to get the staggering colossus back on its feet: They would hire well-known writers and artists and editors to resurrect their sagging titles, drop the Comic Magazine Association of America code left over from the 1950s, make amends with creators who'd left Marvel with harsh words and bad vibes, expand the company's tiny trade paperback division, create a division of explicit-content titles for grown-ups and launch a line of comics aimed at kids and teens for whom the medium held little interest.
"You sort of play fantasy football when you take on this job," Quesada says. "As a comic creator or a writer or publisher, all of us know whether we work at Marvel or not that as goes Marvel so goes the comic-book industry, because we're the number-one publisher. When I was an independent publisher, I would have my worst months when Marvel had bad months, because Marvel draws traffic into the stores. Without Marvel there's no DC Comics. It's over."
Much of Marvel's recent success can be attributed to the creative side: One of Quesada's first hires was editor Axel Alonso, a longtime editor at DC's much-vaunted adult imprint Vertigo. Alonso was initially hesitant to leave DC but did so because he felt the "sleeping giant" was about to awaken and stir up necessary trouble. He wanted "a front-row seat to the revolution," he says now, and once in place Alonso opened his Rolodex and brought in the writers and artists he had worked with at DC, among them writers Brian Azzarello and Garth Ennis and artist Eduardo Risso. He also hired Babylon 5creator J. Michael Straczynski to take over the moribund Amazing Spider-Man, which quickly became a top-seller; and Madmancreator Mike Allred to illustrate the forgotten X-Men title X-Force, now a hot property thanks to Allred's luminous pop-art illustrations and Peter Milligan's mordant storytelling.