My Father, Stan Lee, And Three Comic Books That Changed My Life!

A Father's Day Journey Through Generations, Comics, And Life Under The 7 Train.

My first three comics. They’re torn to bits but will always be in perfect condition in my eyes.

José Luis Quesada

That was my dad's name. It's mine as well.

According to my mom, before I was born, my dad was insistent that if they had a son, he would be named Domingo. She secretly hated the name but smiled and nodded every time he whispered "Domingo" into her expecting belly.

On the day I was born, my dad filled out the birth certificate and Social Security paperwork, and Domingo Quesada became official. Or so he thought. It wasn't until they brought me home days later that he saw that the birth certificate read "José Luis." My mom confessed that she had the name changed before it could be processed because she couldn't bear the thought of kids in the neighborhood or school calling me "Sunday."

My father called me Joe, Joey, or Josey (Joh-say), but never José – or heaven forbid, Junior. As it turns out, this whole Domingo thing was a way to avoid having another Junior in the family. You see, we had generations of Juniors, even a Junior, Jr. – and it was confusing as hell.

It's a Cuban thing.

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My Father’s Invisible Footsteps

My Dad (standing) and his cousin Esteban. Manzanillo Cuba, 1939

In 1939, my grandfather left Cuba and came to New York City. His plan was to build a financially secure foundation and then send for his family a year or two later. Back in Cuba, José wanted to be an artist, but his aspirations were derailed when a little thing called WWII broke out. My grandfather was given a choice: He could be sent back to Manzanillo or enlist to fight for his adopted country – and if he made it out alive, he would be granted full citizenship. He chose the latter, which meant José had to drop out of school at the age of 13 to go to work to support the family.

Growing up on 95th Street in Jackson Heights, Queens, I wasn’t aware at the time of my father's artistic aspirations. So, I couldn't quite understand why he was buying me books on the Renaissance masters and Norman Rockwell while all my friends, who were also first-generation Americans like me, were being encouraged by their parents to become Doctors, Lawyers, or Accountants. 

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Bob Ross Before Bob Ross

Sometime in 1970, my dad plopped me in front of the TV to watch a show called “Learn to Draw” featuring artist Jon Gnagy.

I had no idea that the show I was watching was originally recorded in the 50s, nor did I care because watching Mr. Gnagy draw was like a magician performing the world's greatest magic trick. It was the first time I had seen a professional artist demonstrating his craft.

Imagine how thrilled I was when my dad surprised me one day with the official Jon Gnagy Learn to Draw Kit.

The John Gnagy Learn to Draw Kit is still available today and completely unchanged.

Even though it was meant for beginners, trying to grasp basic perspective, lighting, and shading was discouraging for an eight-year-old. I couldn't understand why I couldn't do it as easily as Jon Gnagy. If not for my dad telling me that it took Gnagy decades to get to this point, I probably would have given up drawing completely. I stuck with it, and eventually, he bought me a second Gnagy art kit telling me that maybe someday, if I get good enough, I could be teaching kids how to draw on TV too.

Prophetic words because in 2012, I recorded several of these segments that appeared Sundays on Disney XD.

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Bitten By The “Crazy Guy” Bug

In May 1971, my dad said that there was this "crazy guy" on the news promoting his latest comic book, Amazing Spider-Man. This particular storyline dealt with the evils of drug abuse. The “Crazy Guy,” of course, was Stan Lee, and at the time, Jackson Heights, like the rest of New York, was rife with drugs, and kids were dying of heroin overdoses at an alarming rate. Now I can’t tell you if my dad saw Stan on TV or read an interview with him in the paper. It really doesn’t matter because the results were the same. He walked away from that interview thinking, what better way to teach my son about the evils of drug addiction than through the pages of a superhero comic book! So off we went to the local newsstand.

By the way, what made this issue of Amazing Spider-Man newsworthy wasn't just the subject matter but that Stan was publishing it even though the Comics Code Authority refused to approve the story, making it the first mainstream comic since the advent of the Comics Code to hit newsstands across America without the cursed scalloped stamp on the cover.

Stan Lee's bold choice to defy the code profoundly affected me. Exactly three decades later, Bill Jemas and I withdrew all Marvel's publications from the CCA. But that's a newsletter for another day.

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The Universe Under The 7 Train

There was no comic book rack at Niño's Candy Store on Roosevelt Avenue right below the Junction Blvd. train station. All the books were thrown into a bin in the back of the store without rhyme or reason. After a bit of digging, my dad pulled out a copy of Amazing Spider-Man. He checked the cover – yep, that's the one the crazy guy had been talking about – and handed me issue 96. He came home from work the following month with issue 97. A month later, he returned with 98.

In August of 71, I asked him to take me to Niño's again, because he was right: Spider-Man did teach me about the evils of drug abuse. But what he wasn't aware of was that I had become addicted to something that, at 15 cents a copy and significantly less deadly than heroin, would eventually cost him more in the long run.  

My childhood had its fair share of ups and downs, and my dad was far from perfect, and perhaps I'll write more about that in future newsletters. But I had the great fortune to have him in my life, and every line I draw, every story and character I create, carries a piece of him.

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“Jazzy” John

As I started to put this newsletter together earlier this week, the heartbreaking news broke of John Romita, Sr.'s passing.

John, Sr. was a titan in the field, but what made him the beloved legend he became wasn't just his art; it was his generosity, patience, and positive disposition that separated him from everyone else.

One of my all-time favorite Romita, Sr. pieces.

When my dad bought me my first three comics, I had no idea that I would one day meet the man who inked them, the man who would become the greatest Spider-Man artist of all time! Or that decades later, I would become good friends with his son, John Romita, Jr (whose father clearly had no issue with the suffix).

Since today's newsletter celebrates Father's Day, I want to pass along a little observation that I hope Johnny Jr. doesn't mind me sharing.

John Romita, Sr. was an artist's artist, a titan in the field. That's what he did, not who he was.

Whenever Johnny Jr. and I spent time together, the topic of his dad always seemed to come up in conversation. Every single time, Johnny would talk about his father with a level of awe and admiration that most of us, well, we tend to misplace somewhere along the journey from kids to grown-ups. Johnny's reverence and respect for him spoke volumes to me about the kind of man Senior was.

And who he was, more than what he did, is what made him a legend.

Godspeed, John.

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One Last Thing

I'm not above admitting that the older I get, the more prone I am to tear up at the slightest sentimentality. It can be a movie, a photo, or when certain songs come on the radio. I can mark the exact day when this emotional shift happened. It was when my daughter Carlie was born. These days as an adult, she takes great joy in watching me get weepy and trying to convince her that it's my allergies.

I recently had one of these moments while researching John Gnagy for this newsletter and came across a Wiki entry I had never seen before. I wondered what José Luis Quesada would have thought to see my name on that list.

Hoo-boy! Is the pollen count high today?

To all you dads out there…

Happy Father’s Day.

I hope you have a great one!

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Next week I take on some of your questions. There’s still time, so ask ‘em if you got ‘em by dropping them into the comments or notes section.

Thanks for reading!

You’re Amazing,

JQ