In 2002, for example, hot indie filmmaker Kevin Smith (Clerks, Dogma), a lifelong comic book fan and comic book store owner, released Stan Lee’s Mutants, Monsters and Marvels, a collection of discussions between the two, along with additional Lee-centric material, heavy on his glory days and the consequences of superheroes on American culture. Lee and Smith had been friends over the years, particularly since the Marvel writer’s extended role in Smith’s 1995 film Mallrats. For Lee, Smith’s stamp of approval both paved the way and demonstrated how Lee should be put on a pedestal by his pop culture offspring—a generation or two of creators, artists, filmmakers, and others who grew up gazing in wonder toward New York City and “Smilin’ Stan.”
That same year, Lee published his long-awaited autobiography, titled Excelsior! The Amazing Life of Stan Lee (with George Mair). The book presents Lee as a kind of heroic figure who achieved the American Dream through smarts, hard work, and quick wit. For Lee aficionados, it is a priceless examination of his career, supplying many details that the icon had never discussed.
Lee traded on his expanding fame and celebrity on the West Coast, purposely distancing himself from the Marvel comic book business. Instead, as he had with Stan Lee Media, he focused chiefly on multimedia projects. Lee could never tear himself away from the superheroes he helped birth. He rarely had time to read the new comics coming from Marvel, but he endured as the father of the superheroes. The public persona as popular culture’s elder statesman helped him craft a new narrative in the post-SLM years.
At the same time, Lee and POW! concentrated on new technology and innovations. In late 2003, Lee served as a consultant for Activision, then one of the top video game production companies. Lee’s job—the kind that seemed to suit him best—involved developing future superhero video games. When Marvel and Activision agreed to a new licensing deal, which included Spider-Man, Iron Man, X-Men, and the Fantastic Four, Lee provided input on game design, story ideas, and character development.
These types of consulting jobs played to Lee’s strength as a creator and idea man, while letting others figure out the details and execute the larger grand vision he outlined. Within six months of signing the Activision video game contract, Lee made an agreement with Peak Entertainment Holdings, a United Kingdom–based multimedia company. Peak provided Lee and POW! with a production and distribution channel, while Lee could help Peak get its animated characters into live-action vehicles and films.
A substantial number of agreements and partnerships were in the works for Lee. However, the same challenges that had dogged him since the 1970s still existed—the deliberate pace of creating content and getting it produced. Sometimes it was POW! that overreached, while other agreements simply dissolved, which frequently happens in the entertainment world.
The challenge for Lee during the early and mid-2000s is that many deals would get signed, which sparked media interest. The news headlines spanned far and wide, yet little of substance seemed to later emerge. Some of the business leaders he made agreements with appeared shady, essentially bolstering the argument that Lee was selling his name and past successes for a quick buck.
One aspect of Lee’s work that frustrated audiences and fueled his critics was his frequent involvement in projects that many observers found sordid or beneath someone of Lee’s stature. In 2003, for example, he launched the adult-themed animated series Stripperella with Playboy pinup, Baywatch actor, and paparazzi provocateur Pamela Anderson. Jumping in bed with Anderson and other kinds of campy, adult content seemed tacky. A mercenary vibe surfaced, making it seem as if Lee worked on these topics simply to make money.
Lee had pitched the show to Anderson in person on the set of her television series V.I.P., where she played a bumbling celebrity bodyguard. The two had more than a passing interest in working together, since they shared the same agent. Anderson found him “kooky” and “very eccentric,” but grew to love the idea of an animated series of a stripper turned crime fighter.5 Part of Spike TV’s animated block of programming aimed to the station’s tagline: the “first network for men,” Stripperella certainly lived up to the adult theme, filled with double entendres and sexual overtones. The main character Anderson voiced, Erica Jones/Agent 0069, wore suggestive costumes, heavy on cleavage, with skimpy, skintight bottoms.
Lee did not write Stripperella but served as the show’s coproducer, art director, and story editor. He didn’t shy away from the cartoon’s racy aspects. He explained, “It’s not what I would call a dirty show. It’s kind of funny-sexy, bad taste, as treated tastefully.” Lee even compared it to a kind of “late-night version of The Simpsons.”6 Although the adult cartoon only lasted one season of thirteen episodes, stations around the world picked it up, often running it uncensored (Spike blurred out topless scenes), including Australia, the United Kingdom, Germany, Brazil, and Italy. One wonders how the clunky, ham-fisted villains, such as Klinko, who uses a copy machine to brainwash customers into becoming criminals, or the evil Queen Clitoris played to foreign audiences.
The success of the Stripperella series led to a series of deals with MTV and its sister networks, like Spike TV. Lee also served as an executive producer on MTV’s animated Spider-Man show. The network needed content that appealed to a young demographic and Lee had that pedigree.
In late 2004, Lee began working with Playboy founder Hugh Hefner on an animated show called Hef’s Superbunnies. Similarly to Charlie’s Angels, the hit ABC show that launched Farrah Fawcett’s career, Hefner would send out teams of playmates to save the world for democracy. In his distinctive overblown style, Lee praised Hefner and the project, explaining, “As a fan who bought and cherished the very first copy of Playboy in 1953, it is an enormous thrill for me to be partnering with a man who has done so much to shape the culture of the times we live in.”7
The comic creator always seemed to have a soft spot for Hefner. The two men had a great deal in common, born in major American cities in the same decade (Hefner in Chicago on April 9, 1926). Hefner took a more traditional route than Lee, active in high school politics and journalism, he started the school newspaper and created a comic book. Neither saw combat in World War II, and both emerged from the global conflict full of vigor and optimism.
After a brief stint working for Esquire, Hefner borrowed heavily from dozens of investors to debut Playboy magazine with just $8,000. He even initially wanted to call the magazine Stag Party, but couldn’t when Goodman had already copyrighted Stag. In December 1953, while Lee was editing and writing romance, western, and cuddly animal comic books, Hefner brought out the first issue of Playboy, featuring a color image of Marilyn Monroe in the centerfold. The magazine was an instant hit, its supporters viewing it as a fresh attack on the repressive postwar era. Hefner focused the magazine on urbane, sophisticated, intelligent readers, showcasing a lifestyle that would be both playful and aspirational. Before the decade ended, Playboy surpassed Esquire, and sold about one million copies a month.
Perhaps Lee sensed what life might have entailed for him if he had put all his efforts into one of Goodman’s men’s magazines, rather than toiling away in comic books. He certainly admired Hefner’s ability to earn credibility in a part of the publishing industry that many people looked down on. Playboy ’s critics constantly railed against the magazine, labeling it pornography. Lee had faced many conservative critics, such as Wertham and religious groups, before Marvel launched its iconic superheroes in the 1960s. Over the years, a friendship grew and they often considered working together, but while they both transformed popular culture in their own industries, none of the shared efforts ever appeared.
Decades later, Lee’s praise for the Playboy tycoon went overboard, calling him “one of the great communicators in our society” and admitting, “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather partner with.” The release that accompanied the announcement heaped the praise on Lee as well, calling him “godfather of the modern comic book superhero,” while Hefner claimed comic books were a lifelong passion for him
and that he couldn’t wait to work with “creative genius” Lee.8 Although MTV announced that it would pick up the pilot, the program never aired.
In the wake of SLM and perhaps the ongoing desire to show fans, critics, and even Marvel itself that he remained a vibrant creator, Lee latched onto these shady projects. While he hid his true feelings behind his always-smiling carnival-barker routine, Lee had something to prove and hoped to finally create franchises that he owned, and thereby not have to watch as some new corporate overlord reaped massive profits on his ideas and hard work.
Lee clearly enjoyed signing deal after deal and the spotlight that came with the resulting media frenzy. What he didn’t possess, in contrast to his Marvel years, was a team of creators, artists, and other visionaries that could assist him in transforming his ideas into completed projects and products.
Much of Stan Lee’s effort to create new characters, companies, and heroic plots outside the Marvel Universe came about because he—like countless other artists and writers—did not own or hold the copyright on the characters he had created or cocreated. Right or wrong, this is the way the comic book industry ran during those early decades. The difference between Lee and the others like Superman creators Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, was Lee’s role as Marvel’s public face.
Despite his role as a self-avowed “company man,” Lee resented that Marvel made so much from his ideas, particularly after the movie industry finally caught on to what he had been preaching in Hollywood for decades.
In late October 2002, the popular news program 60 Minutes II aired a segment about the state of comic books and the tremendous popularity of superhero films. A large portion showcased Lee’s potential skirmish with Marvel over the contract language and what payment Lee justly deserved. The show painted Marvel in an evil light—a greedy corporation making insane amounts of money off the backs of its writers and artists. Lee’s contract seemed straightforward, but when it was inked no one expected the future to include such wildly successful films—X-Men (2000) earned nearly $300 million worldwide, while Spider-Man (2002) became a global phenomenon, drawing some $821 million. 60 Minutes II correspondent Bob Simon, employing a bit of spicy language for the venerable CBS show, actually asked Lee if he felt “screwed” by Marvel. Lee toned down his usual bombast, though, and displayed remorse for having to sue his employer, saying, “I try not to think of it.”9 As a result, many Marvel fans sided with Lee in the dispute.
Mere days after the segment aired, Lee sued Marvel for not honoring a stipulation in his 1998 contract that promised to pay him 10 percent of the profits from Marvel Enterprise film and television productions. Despite his $1 million annual salary as chairman emeritus, Lee’s attorney’s argued that the provision be honored. The grand battle between Marvel and its most famous employee shocked observers and sparked news headlines around the globe. Summing up the public’s general feeling about the controversy, one reporter said, “You can’t blame the pitchman for standing firm and insisting on his due.”10
The public nature of the contract and its terms (including his hefty salary for a mere fifteen hours of work each week, guaranteed first-class travel, and hefty pension payouts to Joanie and J.C.) led some comic book insiders to once again dredge up the argument regarding how the comic book artists and cocreators—most notably Jack Kirby—were treated by Marvel (and by extension Lee).11 Rehashing this notion and the idea that Lee attempted to capitalize off the success of the films turned some people against Lee. To critics, Lee got rich, while Kirby and others didn’t. The injustice had been done and they weren’t going to change their opinions, regardless of what Lee’s contract stipulated.
In early 2005, after the judge ruled in Lee’s favor, he again appeared on 60 Minutes. “It was very emotional,” said Lee. “I guess what happened was I was really hurt. We had always had this great relationship, the company and me. I felt I was a part of it.”12 Despite the high-profile nature of the lawsuit and its apparent newsworthiness, Marvel attempted to bury the settlement agreement with Lee in a quarterly earnings press release.
In April 2005, Marvel announced that it had settled with Lee, suggesting that the payoff cost the company $10 million. Of course, the idea that Lee had to sue the company that he had spent his life working for and crisscrossing the globe promoting gave journalists the attention-grabbing headline they needed. And, while the settlement amount seemed grandiose, it was a pittance from the first Spider-Man film alone, which netted Marvel some $150 million in merchandising and licensing fees.
The upside for Marvel was that the settlement put in motion plans for it to produce its own movies, a major shift in policy. Since the early 1960s, Marvel and its predecessor companies had licensed its superheroes to other production companies. Back then, the strategy allowed Marvel to outsource the risk involved with making television shows and films, but it also severely hindered it from profiting from the creations. This move gave Marvel control, not only of the films themselves, but the future cable television and video products that would generate revenues.
Merrill Lynch & Co extended a $525 million credit line for Marvel to launch the venture (using limited rights to ten Marvel characters as collateral), and Paramount Pictures signed an eight-year deal to distribute up to ten films, including fronting marketing and advertising costs.13 Interestingly, the details of the agreement shed light on the suspect Hollywood accounting practices that film companies use to artificially reduce profitability. For example, for all the successes Marvel films had in the early 2000s, raking in some $2 billion in revenues between 2000 and 2005, Marvel’s cut for licensing equaled about $50 million. Despite his earlier contract with the company, Lee had received no royalties.14
Lee had always been a self-promoter, but what he realized in the midst of the legal battle with Marvel was that in a world driven by pop culture influences and hyperdedicated fans, he could market himself just as readily as the company and its superheroes. The idea to license himself as a character took shape in 2004 when Lee founded Stan Lee Collectibles with his personal assistant and event manager, Max Anderson, and entrepreneur Tony Carroll. Lee’s familiar face became a product and collectors could purchase memorabilia signed by Lee and authenticated by the store. For Marvel comic book and film fans, Lee’s image was almost as recognizable as Spider-Man or Iron Man. Through Stan Lee Collectibles, fans could own a piece of “the Man.”
In 2006, in celebration of Lee’s sixty-fifth anniversary with Marvel (which would have incorrectly put his start date in 1941 rather than 1938 or 1939), the company released a series of comic books called Stan Lee Meets . . ., which featured Lee as a character within the story who meets and interacts with his creations. Lee wrote the first adventure with the specific superhero, and other writers penned minitributes to him to fill out the book, including Joss Whedon and Jeph Loeb. Comically, most of the heroes and villains Lee meets don’t actually like him much or at all.
The episodes Lee wrote were filled with inside jokes and plenty of Lee’s corny humor. In the Spider-Man issue, for example, the story opens with Lee in the kitchen baking up some cookies, wearing a Fantastic Four apron. In the foreground, the reader sees an image on the television screen of Lou Ferrigno as the Hulk. Later, it turns out that the web crawler wants to live a “normal” life and approaches Lee for advice. When the hero reconsiders, Lee jokes: “The next time Spidey has a problem—I wish he’d take it to Ditko.” In the issue where he meets the Thing, New York City is filled with billboards that make fun of past Marvel artists, such as Gene Colan and the Buscemas, as well as Lee’s 1976 commercial for the Personna razor in which he declared himself “Personna Man.”
Lee’s “King of the Cameos” title pushed into other media, not just Marvel films. On April 28, 2002, Lee guest-starred as an animated version of himself on The Simpsons in an episode titled “I Am Furious (Yellow).” After a comic book craze blossoms in Bart’s class, the students all rush to create their own heroes. Lee waltzes into the Comic Book Guy’s shop, deftly
placing an issue of X-Men in front of one of Superman on a countertop display rack. Then, he criticizes Danger Dude, a comic book created by Bart Simpson, but encourages him to keep trying. Lee jokes: “If you fail, you can always open a comic book store.” Then, taking a Batmobile from another young patron, he attempts to jam The Thing into the car, breaking it into pieces. When the child cries that Lee destroyed it, he retorts: “Broke, or made it better?” Later, he is portrayed as a little crazy, ripping off his shirt and attempting to transform into the Hulk.
Joining the reality television craze, Lee created and hosted the Sci-Fi Channel show Who Wants to Be a Superhero? Season One debuted on July 27, 2006, featuring twelve contestants who created their own superhero personas, such as Ty’Veculus (thirty-four-year-old E. Quincy Sloan from Bakersfield, California) who possesses super-strength and the ability to detect when people are lying, since he could only hear when people are telling the truth.
Similarly to reality shows like Big Brother and Survivor, participants engaged in a series of contests designed to prove which of them could be most heroic. At the end of each episode, Lee evaluated the way the players contended with the challenge and then eliminated the player who displayed the least heroic qualities. The first season winner was Feedback (a.k.a. Matthew Atherton, a thirty-four-year-old computer whiz from New Mexico). His superpower consisted of absorbing limited power from video games and being able to disrupt electronics in a fifteen-foot radius. As the winner, Feedback was featured in a Dark Horse Comics issue written by Lee in July 2007 and appeared in the Sci-Fi original TV movie Mega Snake (August 25, 2007). Atherton also played the character at several subsequent comic conventions and fund-raisers. A second season debuted on July 26, 2007, and ran for eight episodes.
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