Will Eisner (44 page)

One classic that caught Eisner’s attention was Charles Dickens’s
Oliver Twist
, a tale that had originally been serialized in a magazine for adults, then issued as a book by an adult trade publisher, but which over the years had become a children’s story. On a number of occasions in the novel, Dickens had identified Fagin, one of the book’s central characters, simply as “the Jew,” which Eisner found repulsive and damaging, especially since Fagin was the ultimate lowlife, a criminal who preyed on children to earn his income. The illustrations in the early editions of the book, focusing on the stereotypical look of European Jews, took it one step further.

Upon examining the illustrations of the original editions of
Oliver Twist
, I found an unquestionable example of visual defamation in classic literature. The memory of their awful use by the Nazis in World War II, one hundred years later, added evidence to the persistence of evil stereotyping. Combating it became an obsessive pursuit, and I realized that I had no choice but to undertake a truer portrait of Fagin by telling his life story in the only way I could.

Eisner’s graphic novel,
Fagin the Jew
, was a biography of Dickens’s fictional character. In interviews following the publication of the book, Eisner strongly defended his appropriation of another man’s character, stating that he had made no changes in his depiction of Fagin’s background that conflicted with
Oliver Twist
. In Eisner’s book, Fagin was still a criminal; he was still hanged at the end of the story. Fagin was useful as a tool for constructing a new type of graphic novel.

“Actually I am not intending this as an adaptation but rather a polemic,” he wrote Dave Schreiner in a cover letter accompanying an early pencil dummy of
Fagin
. “I hope I can attract sympathetic readers.”

What Eisner intended to do was present Fagin’s background in such a way that readers would see the reasons for Fagin’s criminal behavior and that those reasons had nothing to do with the fact that he was Jewish. By referring to Fagin’s Jewish background, Dickens had unwittingly reinforced a stereotype, similar to the way Shakespeare had in his portrayal of the moneylender Shylock in
The Merchant of Venice
. The illustrations in Dickens’s book did further damage.

Eisner conceded that his own cartooning history left him open to further criticism for his own stereotypical treatment—including the illustrations—of Ebony White in
The Spirit
. He’d taken a beating from critics and readers when the first
Spirit
reprints were issued, and he’d addressed the criticism at that time; he anticipated more of the same if he criticized Dickens for his portrayal of Fagin in
Oliver Twist
. Eisner learned during his research that Dickens was no more anti-Semitic than he, Will Eisner, was a racist, and that Dickens, troubled by his depiction of Fagin, had removed most of the references to his character’s Jewish background in later editions of
Oliver Twist
. Eisner addressed this in
Fagin the Jew
by working in a clever literary device: at the opening of his story, Eisner showed Fagin in prison, awaiting his execution, being visited by Charles Dickens himself. “Tarry a bit, Mister Dickens,” Fagin says, “while ol’ Fagin here tells you, sir, what I really was and how it all came to be!!”

What follows is Moses Fagin’s narration, the story of his life, as offered to the writer who created him. Eisner’s Fagin is the product of bohemian parents who, after fleeing a pogrom, wind up in London, only to find life slightly more tolerable than in their own country. Fagin’s father puts him to work on the street, selling buttons and needles to supplement the family income. But it’s a meager, steal-or-starve existence, and Fagin’s father learns how to swindle and steal in order to survive—a skill that he passes on to his son.

An orphan in his teens, Fagin grows up quickly, working as a servant to Eleazor Solomon, a wealthy and influential Jewish merchant who hopes to use his power to build a school for Jewish children. Fagin’s life might have gone well had he not become romantically involved with the daughter of the man building the school. Fagin is tossed out, forced to survive by using his wits as a common thief and swindler. He is eventually caught and sentenced to ten years of hard labor, but after a series of misadventures, he catches the second big break of his life when he saves the life of another businessman named Jack Dawson, who subsequently hides him from the authorities, employs him, and offers to stake him enough money to start his own business. Fagin might have become respectable again, but these plans, too, fall through when Dawson dies suddenly and unexpectedly. Once again, Fagin is out on the streets, this time permanently. He meets Bill Sikes, and the two team up to run a thievery ring, carried out by a group of street urchins who, like Fagin himself, have little choice than to steal to stay alive. One of them is an orphan named Oliver Twist.

From this point on, Eisner’s story is largely an adaptation of Dickens’s
Oliver Twist
. When Fagin is implicated in a murder and sentenced to hang, he is visited by Oliver Twist and Charles Dickens, Oliver because he needs Fagin’s help in tracing his lineage and claiming a large sum of money left to him after his father’s death, Dickens because Fagin requested his visit. Upon completing his story, Fagin and Dickens have an exchange about Dickens having attached the word
Jew
to Fagin in his book. “A Jew is not Fagin any more than a Gentile is Sikes!” Fagin shouts at Dickens. Writers, he accuses Dickens, are guilty of perpetuating the hurtful stereotypes. Dickens responds by promising to amend this problem in future editions of
Oliver Twist
.

The meeting between a fictitious character and his creator was an interesting device, requiring a suspension of belief on the part of the reader. Not only was such a meeting literally impossible, it was also impossible within the framework of Eisner’s story, since Dickens couldn’t have written his book while Fagin was alive. The contradiction, Eisner felt, was necessary.

“This book was intended as a polemic,” he insisted. “The confrontation between Dickens and Fagin is a way of adding realism to an otherwise fictitious character. I also felt it was necessary and fair to show Dickens as he really was, not anti-Semitic.”

To ensure that readers would not miss his points, Eisner bookended
Fagin the Jew
with two essays addressing the topic of stereotypes. In the foreword, as if to launch a preemptive strike against the criticism he was certain to receive when the book was published, he wrote of his feelings about Ebony and his use of stereotype in creating the character. In the afterword, he supplied a brief history of
Oliver Twist
, the illustrations for the book, and how the stereotyping, while not intended to be anti-Semitic, played into the hands of those who wanted Jews to be perceived a certain way.

Ironically, Eisner caught some flak from the Jewish press as a result of the title of his book. To these critics, including the word
Jew
in the title was an invitation to trouble.

“One man, a leading editor in Jewish publishing circles, wanted to know why I had to use the word ‘Jew’ in the Fagin title,” Eisner said. “I could only point out that was the precise point I wanted to address.”

In looking for a publisher for the book, Eisner sought a large house as opposed to a small press or publisher specializing in comics. Judith Hansen was able to place
Fagin the Jew
with Doubleday, meaning the book would receive first-rate publicity, marketing, and distribution, not to mention serious review consideration from the nation’s biggest newspapers. As expected, Eisner was questioned about how he, as creator of a character like Ebony White, could justify criticizing Dickens for his treatment of Fagin, and just as predictably, Eisner wearily repeated his old arguments, now three decades old, about his reasons for creating Ebony. What Eisner could not—or refused to—understand was that in arguing what he felt were the pros and cons of stereotyping, he was fighting a battle he could not possibly win:
stereotype
, as a word, always carried a negative connotation and was indefensible under any circumstances. Eisner was no more convincing this time around than he had been when the
Spirit
reprints were being issued by Warren and Kitchen Sink. People either bought his explanation or they didn’t. Eisner could only hope that time would be as kind to him as it had been to Dickens.

Eisner probably knew that his reputation would carry the day. He had spent a lifetime carefully cultivating an image that, with only a rare exception, was accepted industrywide—the image of an extremely talented artist who managed to stay congenial, generous, and highly professional despite the demands placed on him by a very competitive business—and he was as skillful as anyone in dealing with the press and seeing that the focus of the interviews remained on his artistic, rather than private, life. Not that he had much to hide, in any event: his life was devoted to and defined by his work, and away from the office he lived a quiet existence. He liked to travel, especially when he and Ann could attend conventions overseas, and he enjoyed the stream of visitors, including other comics artists, that he and Ann received in Florida. But in the end, he was still a child of the Depression, committed to working as if his livelihood might someday be yanked away from him.

All this was brought into sharp focus when he heard from two young men with a compelling new project.

Andrew Cooke was a documentary filmmaker with television credits under his belt. His brother, Jon, edited and designed
Comic Book Artist
, one of the leading magazines covering all aspects of the comic book industry. Neither had much money to finance the project, but both wanted to team up and make a full-length documentary on the life and work of Will Eisner.

By the end of his life, Eisner had become an iconic figure in comics, instantly recognizable at conventions, popular as a speaker, and still in demand as an artist. (Courtesy of Denis Kitchen)

The project started modestly in 2002 and snowballed—or snowballed as much as their limited budget would allow. Jon had been watching
American Masters
, the PBS documentary television series, and he wondered why there hadn’t been a segment devoted to a comic book artist or, more specifically, to Will Eisner. The next morning, he called his brother and suggested that they work on such a documentary. Andy, a comic book aficionado in his youth, liked the idea. Jon knew Eisner from past dealings with the magazine, and when he approached Eisner with his proposed project, Eisner responded enthusiastically.

“He was immediately very agreeable to it,” Jon remembered, “but he did have some caveats. We had to contact Tom Powers, who had started a documentary that had been put on hold. Will wanted everything aboveboard, and he wanted everything on paper. It was the first time that I worked in a business deal with Will, and it was a wonderful introduction to working with him in a business concern. Comic book people are notoriously bad businessmen, but he was quite the exception. He had some very practical ideas, and he was looking out for us, as well as for himself.”

Even though he had abandoned his plans to make a documentary, Powers turned out to be an important contributor to the Cooke brothers’ project. Powers had shot a lot of interview footage—including footage of Eisner in his studio—that wound up in the Cookes’ documentary.

“He was incredibly gracious,” Andy Cooke noted. “He had interviewed Kurt Vonnegut and Gil Kane; he’d shot an interview with Ann, and a couple of interviews with Will. There was some really great stuff.”

Eisner, of course, had been dealing with the media for decades. He knew of the high mortality rate of proposed movies and documentaries, of the great ideas that never saw the light of day through lack of time, money, or lost interest. A Brazilian documentary,
Will Eisner: Profession: Cartoonist
, produced and directed by Marisa Furtado de Oliveira and Paulo Serran, had been issued in 1999. He supported the Cooke brothers’ documentary, but he knew it could be years in the making, especially if the filmmakers had difficulty raising funds.

The Cookes shot and edited the film over a five-year period, conducting interviews at conventions, where they were guaranteed to find a number of comic book artists gathered in one place at one time. Like others before them, they found Eisner to be a gracious but elusive subject, willing to talk about his work but reluctant to discuss his private life. Early in the project, they decided that the theme of their documentary would be how Eisner had spent his life trying to legitimize comics and how he’d done so by telling personal stories. Eisner, they discovered early in their research, was fully aware of his historical standing in comics, but he somehow managed to keep his modesty and perspective.

“This is an industry of both monstrous low self-esteem and incredible egomania,” Jon Cooke remarked, “but he had his feet planted on the ground. You might not get that from a number of veterans. I was surprised by the amount of professional jealousy that took place. There was enormous jealousy for his success.”