The straightforward, yet lighthearted and personal banter between Lee and the reader had been developed over decades and dates back to his initial stories in Captain America in the early 1940s. The consistent—some might say relentless—patter between Lee and comic book readers had a major upside: the bond of trust that resulted. Whether Lee’s story about seeing the spider at his desk on the fourteenth floor of the Empire State Building is true or an utter falsehood, readers lapped it up. They fully believed in “Stan the Man,” no matter the increasing criticism of hardcore fan-boys and comic book historians. Spider-Man newspaper strip fan (and eminent novelist) John Updike caused a national stir when he wrote a letter to the editor of the Boston Globe for canceling the series (which the paper later rescinded). Lee sent Updike a Spider-Man sweatshirt for his wife and a framed, autographed copy of the strip—another satisfied fan.9
The centerpiece of the 1994 book was a novella by Lee that revised and expanded Spider-Man’s origin story. Peter Parker’s Uncle Ben and Aunt May are further explored and humanized. Lee’s playfulness is on display in the piece—Aunt May whacks a spider that gets in the way of her cleaning, exclaiming “I just can’t stand spiders, that’s all. Disgusting creatures.” She looks at the tiny dead arachnid to make sure it “was good and squished.”10
Lee’s new story is significant, because it reveals how he and later Marvel writers were willing to expand and revise a character’s origin story to develop with time. For example, Lee puts the infamous radioactive spider in Dr. Octopus’s lab at Empire State University and infuses it with thoughts and feelings, particularly after it is shot through with radiation. The spider later causes the scientist to set off a nuclear explosion and then, seconds after, land the bite that transforms Peter Parker forever. The accident not only leads to Spider-Man, but to Dr. Octopus having the metallic arms fused to his body. Spider-Man ultimately defeats the villain, but Uncle Ben still dies, and Parker battles with Flash Thompson. The final famous line is changed slightly to conform to the new origin story: “that with great power . . . comes great responsibility.”11
The Ultimate Spider-Man collection also played an additional role in Lee’s mythmaking. The biography section did not mention Kirby or Ditko, but stressed Lee’s role, explaining, “Hundreds of legendary characters, such as Spider-Man, the Incredible Hulk, the Fantastic Four, Iron Man, Daredevil, and Dr. Strange, all grew out of his fertile imagination.”12 Certainly, the bio is a form of publicity for Lee and the book, but these kinds of winner-take-all statements also alienated the comic book “true believers” who worshipped at the altar of the two great artists and co-creators. Granted, from Lee’s perspective, he didn’t directly make these choices, but since his name is on the book as editor, readers and comic book fans expected that he might demonstrate some level of modesty. A careful reader, though, may have noticed the Lee dedication: “To Steve Ditko, who was there at the beginning.”13
Under the leadership of Bevins and the strategic direction of Perelman, Marvel increased revenue and profitability. The mogul’s next move focused on taking the company public. That decision enabled him to extract more money from the company as investors bought up shares. The IPO resulted in about $82 million coming into Perelman’s coffers. He poured $50 million of that money back into a number of his parent companies, essentially guaranteeing himself a 500 percent return on his initial investment and a 60 percent stake in Marvel. As part of the public relations campaign, an actor dressed as Spider-Man appeared on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange, waving and shaking hands with the traders.14
The stock market valued momentum, and Perelman fed the beast with news of director James Cameron (having recent successes with The Terminator and Aliens) writing and directing a Spider-Man film (which made Lee’s heart sing and started a long friendship between the two). The stock price more than doubled, trading at $35 per share by the end of 1993 when the company reported revenues of $415 million and earnings at $56 million. On paper, Perelman’s stake in Marvel reached $2.7 billion.15 It seemed another enormous success for the financial raider.
While the future looked promising at Marvel, the boom market showed signs of cracking, and simultaneously Perelman’s purchase of trading card company Fleer in mid-1992 for $286 million took place at a shaky moment in professional sports. Fans responded by staying away. Then, Marvel gave toy maker Toy Biz, which specialized in action figures, a royalty-free license to its characters in exchange for a 46 percent stake in the New York-based company led by Ike Perlmutter and Avi Arad.
Neither Perelman nor his management team realized how the collector craze artificially propped up store sales. The 1989 Batman film, starring Michael Keaton, and the 1992 Death of Superman comic book, which had sold six million copies, had reinvigorated comic books, but that mania soon fizzled. The decline left Marvel vulnerable, despite its recent successes, especially when Perelman concentrated on profits, not reinvesting money into product development. His team attempted to correct the slide by buying a sticker company, another trading card company, and two small publishers: Welsh Publishing Group, which published children’s magazines, and Malibu Publishing, a small West Coast comic book company that DC had been courting (the directive at Marvel was to buy Malibu regardless of cost, because DC would have become the market share leader with the acquisition). The bloat from these acquisitions actually rocked the delicate infrastructure even more. By 1995, Marvel reported its first loss under Perelman’s control, losing $48 million, despite sales of $829 million. The debt swelled to about $600 million, which forced the company’s banks to put the company on watch. There wouldn’t be any money for new developments, like a much-needed Internet division or other projects that might help the company generate revenues.
Perelman had issued a number of junk bonds to continue the shopping spree. Fellow corporate raider Carl Icahn, even richer than Perelman, saw the company ripe for a hostile takeover and gobbled up the bonds, about $40 million worth. Eventually, when Marvel had trouble paying its debt obligations, Perelman offered to grant $350 million in exchange for more shares, but Icahn owned 25 percent of the company and refused the deal. Suddenly, in the midst of a downturn in the comic book market, two of America’s richest men went to war over the future of the company. Though Icahn seemed to want to save Marvel, few believed that he wouldn’t just buy it as cheaply as possible and then later sell it off piecemeal.16
On December 27, 1996, just a day prior to Lee’s seventy-fourth birthday, Perelman took the only step available and plunged Marvel into bankruptcy in a last-ditch effort to thwart Icahn’s takeover attempt. “The news release was short and not so sweet,” said Shirrel Rhoades, a Marvel executive during the tumultuous period. The comic book world shuddered: “It sent ripples of fear throughout the comics industry.”17 The two sides swapped reorganization plans, neither acceptable to the other. Ironically, the publishing part of the company held Marvel afloat after the bankruptcy announcement, while the trading cards continued to strain the budget, as well as advertising and licensing deals that disappeared.
In February 1997, the bankruptcy court allowed Icahn to take control of Marvel, and then in June, he won control over the company’s board of directors, thus enabling him to oust Perelman and his crew for good. Various estimates place Perelman’s profit during his ownership of Marvel at $200 to $400 million. While Icahn started to put a management team in place, suddenly, little Toy Biz, led by Perlmutter and Arad, jumped into the negotiations and put forth its own plan for rescuing Marvel. The company wanted to protect its no-royalty license agreement, particularly since more than half its toys were based on Marvel characters.
In December 1997, Marvel’s fate was in the hands of a trustee named John J. Gibbons, appointed by Delaware U.S. District Court Judge Roderick McKelvie. Marvel execs questioned the Toy Biz deal, which lit a fire under Perlmutter and Arad. They put together a group of investors and made a $400 million offer to purchase Marvel outright. Over Icahn’s objections, Judge McKelvie appr
oved the Toy Biz proposal. The newly merged company would pay creditors a portion of the debt and offer equity claims.18 Arad convinced many of the financial leaders involved in the proceedings that Marvel’s future as a film company warranted a gamble on its future. His impassioned overture would later prove prophetic.
While business titans and corporate raiders battled to control Marvel in the late 1990s, Lee played good company soldier and continued to weave his way through Hollywood and a variety of animation, television, and film deals. The only time the bankruptcy hurt Lee was when production companies grew leery about working with Marvel when the future seemed undetermined. Previously, Bevins generally let him work independently, only interfering once when Lee had different networks approve animated shows for Black Widow and Daredevil. The overall uncertainty regarding Marvel’s fate caused Bevins to squash the deal.19 A portion of Lee’s efforts also harkened back to his editorial days, primarily ensuring that writers for the animated programs understood Marvel standards for character development and plot. “I spend most of my time in the office working on movies, television shows and animation,” Lee said.
The fate of Marvel seemed to hang in the balance as courts and judges determined who would own the company after it emerged from bankruptcy. The outcome had little personal consequence for Lee, who was too valuable a property to be discarded, no matter who won control. He more or less stood above the fray. “I stay out of all that business stuff because my area of concern is the creative ends of things,” he said.20 And, the company saw a payoff for Lee’s supervision of the production line: Spider-Man, X-Men, and The Incredible Hulk drew significant viewers as part of the children’s television lineup. “Our shows generally do very well. . . . That’s the most important thing as far as I’m concerned,” Lee explained.21
Although often overlooked as part of a larger Marvel strategy, Lee’s work in building the animation arm of the company vastly expanded the fan base. For a lifelong movie buff like Lee, however, the real glitz and glamour came from the big screen. While a Spider-Man feature film seemed less likely, because of legal wrangling and disputes over who controlled the character’s film rights, other characters moved closer to production, including the X-Men and Hulk.
Surprisingly, the first Marvel feature to really break out of the pack turned out to be based on a lesser-known, supporting character: the vampire hunter Blade, created by Marv Wolfman and artist Gene Colan. The film version, starring Wesley Snipes, was released in late summer 1998 to mixed reviews, but fan acclaim. After opening strongly in the United States and abroad, the film eventually brought in about $70 million domestically and $131 million worldwide. Although Lee’s brief cameo ended up on the cutting-room floor, Blade confirmed his long-standing notion that Marvel characters would do well on-screen.
As the 1990s closed, Lee wrapped up an odd decade for him. His aspirations for bringing Marvel superheroes to life on film or television had either happened or appeared on the near horizon. Yet, Marvel itself seemed to tread on shaky ground. The company had a seemingly endless supply of characters, and its core superheroes were among the most well-known properties in the world, but the various corporate conglomerates that acquired it didn’t have a sense of how to make it work or a strategy that took advantage of its assets. Only Perlmutter and Arad at Toy Biz seemed to comprehend how to turn Marvel superheroes into cash, capitalizing first on the royalty-free agreement and later parlaying that into taking full control of the company.
Although in his seventies, Lee kept his eyes on how technology began to change the comic book industry. He investigated a whole range of options, from video games to electronic comic books delivered via CD-ROM or the burgeoning Internet. Lee starred in some of Marvel’s earliest Web work, answering fan questions on an AOL homepage in the late 1990s. He didn’t understand how the Web worked, but Lee knew that it presented the next significant entertainment channel for surfers around the world.
Few writers, musicians, artists, or other creative icons remained relevant at Lee’s age, but he refused to retire, imagining that the lack of work would sap his will to live. The constant buzz that followed him at comic conventions, media opportunities, and celebrity interactions in Los Angeles seemed like a magic elixir for the iconic writer. It wasn’t that Lee simply didn’t want to stop—he genuinely couldn’t.
CHAPTER 14
RISE AND FALL OF STAN LEE MEDIA
In January 1999, news of Stan Lee’s new Internet company Stan Lee Media Inc. (SLM) exploded across the Web. Journalists rushed to cover the story. An interview with Lee gave reporters a chance to hear about the start-up, as well as listen to the man himself spin yarns about the fabled creation of his Marvel superheroes. The marriage of the world’s most exciting storytelling channel and the world’s most interesting storyteller seemed to promise a surefire success.
Lee launched SLM with Peter F. Paul, an entrepreneurial Hollywood gadfly who had started a nonprofit foundation with legendary screen star Jimmy Stewart and led several high-profile fund-raising campaigns. SLM marketing documents called Paul a “new media producer,” touting his experience as founder of Digicon Entertainment, which created a Marilyn Monroe artificial intelligence/virtual reality animation for Sony.1 More recently, Paul had successfully boosted heartthrob Fabio’s career and displayed a keen knack for making friends with the rich and powerful, like President Bill Clinton and wife Hillary.
The rise of the Internet and its global significance provided Lee with yet another opportunity to show that he could master a new media form, even at seventy-six years old. “When Peter Paul suggested we start an Internet company, the only thing I really knew about the web was that it was going to be the biggest force for entertainment and communications that the world has ever known. So, naturally, I was excited about getting involved in it,” Lee explained.2 Paul estimated that Lee’s name alone accounted for about $30 million in brand value. SLM could not use the super-heroes that Lee created or cocreated, since Marvel owned the copyrights, but the old master could launch an entirely new superhero universe that the start-up venture would own outright.
The idea of showing Marvel and the world that he could unleash a rival super-hero collection fueled Lee, his competitive streak sparked by the recent woes Marvel had faced and the slights he felt in the battle over his lifetime contract, despite the “Chairman Emeritus” title Marvel bestowed on him. He chafed at the notion that after a lifetime of service he was little more than a figurehead.
Lee also felt hurt and angry that he had to grovel with new Marvel head Ike Perlmutter to renegotiate a new deal after he had been working under a lifetime contract that provided financial security and acknowledged his role in building the company. Lee found Perlmutter’s initial offer insulting, from a lifetime contract to a two-year deal at “exactly half what I had been earning.” Lee wondered whether the ghost of Martin Goodman may have been guiding the new Marvel leadership team.3
Ultimately, Marvel executives realized Lee’s value as spiritual head of comic books and couldn’t risk a public relations nightmare if the legendary figure went off to DC or another publisher. Attorney Arthur Lieberman negotiated the final deal that gave Lee a raise (to more than $800,000 annually for life) and $125,000 a year for the Spider-Man newspaper strip, but more importantly a $500,000 annual pension for Joanie and a 10 percent stake in future Marvel film and TV profits.4 The new contract also gave Lee an escape clause, essentially permitting him to work on any other projects he wanted, regardless of publisher or organization.
Now, with the launch of SLM, Lee could take a bit of a shot at Marvel, declaring that in contrast to his former outfit, SLM would produce online comic books and superheroes that were “edgy, high-concept, and surprising.”5 According to Lee, the new company would also partner with online production firms, create Web pages and virtual comic books, launch interactive games, and feature Web-based classes with the comic book legend for those who wanted to break into the business.
Stan Lee Media launc
hed in early 1999 in a typically nondescript office building on Ventura Boulevard in Encino, California. Although on the outside the place looked just like all the other businesses in the sea of buildings twenty miles from Los Angeles, SLM issued glossy press kits in bright, almost garish colors, hyping Lee and his past successes as a way to draw in new investors and spring quickly toward a stock IPO, the route to riches that Internet companies had charted over the last several years. The press kit exclaimed that Lee had “exerted more influence over the comicbook industry than anyone in history” and that “more than 2 billion of his comicbooks have been published in 75 countries and in 25 languages.”6 SLM’s centerpiece was www.stanlee.net, a hub for new characters and products.
The icon’s move to the Web created headlines. People were curious about how printed materials would transition to the virtual world. Lee’s earnestness and enthusiasm spilled out in countless interviews and profiles. In an interview on NPR, Lee explained that the Web-based comic books were “really miniature movies. We have actors reading the roles. There are no dialog balloons.”7 The idea of Lee creating a new superhero universe intrigued investors and excited fans. SLM had a jump on its competitors in moving online, another factor that led institutional investors to fund the enterprise. One reporter explained Paul’s vision of SLM, explaining that the deal maker would trade on Lee’s past accomplishments to create “a Stan who could be offered up piecemeal to fans and eager licensing partners from the virtual balcony of a new House of Old Ideas built on the fluid foundation of the Internet.”8
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