In August 1973, a teenage Robby Reed attended his first Comic Book Convention, held in a Manhattan hotel. The first thing that caught my eye when I walked into the comic con room was a large table with dozens of new comics on it -- but these books weren’t scheduled to come out until the following week!

Among them were The Shadow #1 by Mike Kaluta, Demon #13 by Jack Kirby, Tarzan #224 by Joe Kubert, Detective #437 by Jim Aparo, and Prez #2 by Joe Simon. Naturally, I had to have them all. And by the t ime I had found and purchased Justice League of America #21 and #22 (1963), featuring the first ever-meeting between the JLA and the JSA, plus various other back issues, my funding was reduced to just enough for train fare back home.

I was heading for the exit when word began to spread that in some of the smaller rooms upstairs, several professional comic book artists were doing sketches! This wasn’t a scheduled part of the convention; they had just shown up and started drawing. I stopped a kid rushing toward the elevators to ask him where he was going.

He turned to me, wild-eyed, and said “Neal Adams is upstairs, and he’s doing sketches!”

This was my reaction: “Gaaaaaa (drool) uh... Neee... Nee... Neal... GAAAAAA... AD... ADAMS?!?!?!?!?!!”

I am nothing if not eloquent! I rushed to the elevators, found the floor, and started to go down the hallways, looking into every open comic convention room, thinking of my favorite Neal Adams covers as I did, like the one below for The Spectre #2 (February 1968)...

Of course, it goes without saying that I had known all along that Neal Adams was an actual person. I mean, obviously Deadman and GL weren’t drawn by some kind of automaton.

But somewhere in the back of my young teenage mind, I still had the faint impression that NO ONE drew these adventures. They weren’t “drawn” at all! Instead, I was seeing events that had actually happened!

Of course, it also goes without saying that I absolutely love Neal Adam’s work. I just sit and stare at it for hours. I’d say that EVERY comic book fan worships Adams, but, strangely, some don’t. Poor deluded souls. Pray for them, for they cannot recognize genius when they see it.

Reader, I’ll tell you MY opinion of Adams, and in a manner ONLY a comic fan can truly understand. It’s very simple. For me, Neal Adams is… Neal Adams! Nuff said. I imagined that seeing him in person would be a little like seeing the President of the United States in person, or the Pope -- if they could draw like Neal Adams, that is. I mean, come ON! Take a look at this...

Then, suddenly, right there, in front of my eyes, there he was. Neal Adams! THE Neal Adams. The artist whose work on Deadman, GL and Batman had shaken comic book nation to its core; the crusader who had helped Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster get the their due recognition for creating Superman; the iconoclast who had single-handedly brought comics into the modern era.

Like the Militiamen who had fired the shot heard round the world and birthed a new nation, Neal Adams had brought the techniques of advertising to comic books, and in so doing, he had revolutionized comic book nation. Neal Adams -- the one-man revolution. What’s it like to watch him draw for two solid hours? Here, reader, in as much detail as I can remember, is what I saw at the revolution...

Mr. Adams was wearing a white, button-down shirt and dark slacks, sitting in the middle of a small room with only about 10 or 15 people in it (remember, this was an unannounced, impromptu event). He had a huge white pad of paper, and was drawing head shots for a modest $10, and complete figures for $20. (To my everlasting regret, I didn't have enough money left to buy a sketch from Mr. Adams!)

Surrounded on all sides by comic book geeks who were comic book geeks before the term even existed, Mr. Adams was the very picture of congeniality. He dealt with the small crowd like an experienced parent, and he was jovial, talkative, and personable in the extreme.

Adams accepted each request as a challenge, however small, and drew each hero in a completely new pose, imitating neither himself nor any other artist’s pervious drawings of the character. If you’re familiar with Adam’s work (and again, may God have mercy upon your eternal soul if you are not), you know his mastery of the human figure is nothing less than absolute.

He’s the kind of artist who could buy one of those “How To Draw The Human Figure” books and, just for kicks, draw OVER the lessons in ink to IMPROVE them. To put it another way, Neal Adams can draw anything and anyone, from every angle imaginable, and from several angles that are not imaginable – until he draws them...

Most fans wanted sketches of Batman, Deadman, Superman, or Green Lantern -- all the big guns. Adams knew them like the back of his hand. But for some obscure requests, such as Adam Strange and Metamorpho, he needed a costume reference for the character’s uniform. Interestingly, he absolutely REFUSED to “make up” anyone’s uniform, preferring instead to wait while someone fetched a comic featuring the requested character from the dealer’s room downstairs.

As previously mentioned, I used to imagine comic books weren’t “drawn” at all, and that I was seeing events that had actually happened. I viewed the artists and writers more as reporters than creators. They were bringing me news of real events that had actually happened.

One might think that seeing Neal Adams draw drove the final stake through the heart of that particular childhood fantasy... but the amazing thing is, it didn’t.

True, my initial impression was shock – here was proof positive that the adventures of my favorite characters were NOT really happening. They were just made up, drawn by artists like Adams.

But as I watched the man put pencil and pen to paper and actually DRAW, something unforgettable happened.
It wasn’t as if Adams was “drawing” at all. It seemed as if the lines and forms were somehow flowing out of his arm. It was as though liquid graphite coursed through his veins, and the pencil in his hand allowed it to form into images both fantastical and real at the same time.

Adams didn’t stare pensively at the blank page, then work his way into the drawing with a series of rough lines. No, he knew EXACTLY where he was going from line one, and he churned out drawings like it was going out of style. The speed at which he drew was mind-boggling! Trained in the heavily production-oriented worlds of advertising and daily comic strips, Adams could do a rough head shot in about five minutes, and a fully finished, penciled and inked figure took him no more than 15 or 20 minutes. (Dave Stevens, eat your heart out!)

As I watched, it didn’t even seem as though Adams was actually CONTROLLING his hand (he’s right handed)! It was more like he was revealing a pre-existing image by pouring his graphite-laced blood over it.

It can probably be said of every great artist at the top of his form that, “he makes it look easy.” But he did! Adams made it look SO easy! Watching him draw, you’d swear that at any second YOU yourself could pick up a pencil and turn out a totally professional level sketch at the drop of a hat.

Most fans wanted either Deadman or Batman sketches, because these were the characters Adams was known for at the time. Since Deadman is one of my favorite characters (as long as Neal is drawing him, that is), I was in heaven watching Adams draw him from scratch.

The sketches shown here and below were all done by Neal Adams, but not at this particular convention -- they're meant to be representative of the kind of work I remember Adams doing during this session.

The Batman sketch pictured left was done by Neal Adams for a friend (again, not at the convention we're currently discussing), and it became the basis for the cover of Batman comic book (Batman #241, seen right) that has since become a classic.

According to then-Batman editor Julie Schwartz, "We chanced upon a Batman sketch (pictured left) Neal Adams was dashing off for a friend. It knocked us out, but not before we commissioned Neal to blow it up to a cover (which he penciled and Berni Wrightson inked). Coincidentally, upon the very day the cover was completed, Denny O'Neil finished "At Dawn Dies Mary McGuffin," which struck us as ideally capturing the mood of the cover (with the help of a blurb)!"

Adams sketched for about two hours that day in August 1973. After people got their sketches and thanked Neal, they usually left the room. A few comic book geeks stayed to watch Neal draw, including among them Robby Reed, creator of the blog and author of this article.

Despite the fact that I said virtually nothing the entire time, Mr. Adams made not even the slightest inference that I ought to leave the room. It wasn’t that he didn’t notice me -- the room was fairly small. He noticed me, and saw I was totally hypnotized by his drawing, and that was enough. Thanks to Mr. Adams, I had an artistic experience I will never forget.

So, whenever any kid I know shows interest in comic books, I remember that Neal Adams once let me watch him draw for two solid hours, and I take the time to give them the same consideration Mr. Adams gave me. I suggest you do the same. Who knows? The kid you interest in comic books today might be inspired enough to one day make it all the way to Washington, DC -- fighting for truth, justice and the American way... all because of what HE saw at the revolution!