11/22/2020
Heartfelt condolences to the family and friends of Ann Eisner, wife of Will Eisner.
The passing of Ann Eisner a few days ago in Florida, at 97, was heartbreaking for us. She and Will were wonderful lifetime partners, and Ann was a staunch supporter of Will’s career, even as she maintained a separate active life, working for many years as an unpaid “candy striper” volunteer in New York hospitals, organizing book clubs, and in more recent years writing and editing a newsletter.
After Will died in early 2005, Ann sold the home they had designed and built from scratch near Fort Lauderdale, and moved to a large retirement community in Parkland. When I would visit once a year or so I was always amused when she chauffeured me around. A short woman, Ann could seemingly barely see above the dashboard. But she had a “lead foot”—heavy on the gas—and a short temper for any slower drivers ahead of her. I used to joke that she may have moved to Florida but driving brought out the New Yorker in her. Eventually, when she approached ninety, she stopped driving, but Ann remained involved and active till the end.
I even received an email from her last week, two days before her passing. Other than macular degeneration in recent years, and in August a fractured pelvis from a fall, Ann remained plugged-in. She was pleased to cast an enthusiastic Biden vote as her final political act.
When I knew her eyesight was worsening I began to send her emails with greatly enlarged fonts so they would be easier for her to read. First I bumped my email texts to 18 point, then 24 point, then 28. But I always got replies in 12 point. Then, only a few months ago Ann told me her personal caretaker Serena had—for a long time!—been reading all incoming emails aloud to her and then Ann would dictate the replies. She said in her firm Ann voice, “You don’t have to use those gigantic letters, Denis. Serena's vision is 20-20!”
I realize that nearly all of the followers of this FB page didn’t know Ann or perhaps only met or saw her at a convention or two superficially, so I thought the best way to remember Ann and to provide some insight was to tell an anecdote or two. Following is one of my favorite remembrances, necessarily told in three parts...
Sometime in the early ‘70s I visited the Eisners' home in White Plains, NY for probably the first time. I had arranged with Will for Kitchen Sink Press to reprint some of his Spirit stories. Ann prepared dinner. As the three of us engaged in table conversation, I turned to Ann at one point and very innocently said, “What’s your favorite Spirit story?”
There was silence. A long moment passed. Then she replied, “I’ve never read any Spirit stories.”
She no doubt saw my eyes widen and and my jaw hit the plate and she realized that she'd shocked the young fanboy. Ann then followed with the most perfect possible punch line, one I’ve never forgotten.
“I married the man, not the cartoonist.”
It was brilliant and put everything in proper perspective about their happy relationship. Will was a multi-faceted and cultured man, as was the better-educated Ann. Whenever I saw them at home they discussed politics and history and theater and cultural matters, but Will never "talked shop” with her, and he never expected her to have any interest in comics. Comic books, when she married Will in 1950, were under considerable public attack, and were looked down upon by nearly all adults. When she was just getting to know Will, his weekly Spirit feature was beginning to wind down, and by the time they married she knew her husband was primarily doing ”advertising” art and work for the government and army involving illustrations. It would never have occurred to a cultured woman like Ann to actually read any comics he had created, most of them done long before they met.
Flash forward, now to the late ‘70s, and another visit to their home, still in New York. By this time comics were gaining some respect. Articles were increasingly coming out praising the form, and Will was getting more and more attention as a progenitor of a new literary/art form. When I visited this time Will had nearly completed Signal From Space (later reprinted in black & white and renamed Life on Another Planet). In his studio I was looking at the original pages he'd completed, and I commented on certain ones that really jumped out at me, including the opening page of Chapter Six. I told him how much I liked the way he had the downpour of rain at the top of the page running down to frame all of the panels. It was a perfect example of what Harvey Kurtzman called “Eisenshpritz.”
“Oh, that page,” he chuckled. “It’s not all rainwater. I had to revise it a bit. My first version had Rocco [a mafioso in sunglasses] pissing in the next-to-last panel to merge with the other flow. But Ann came by, looked over my shoulder and noticed that detail. She said, ‘Will, that’s not you!’… So I changed it. Now it’s much more subtle.”
I said, “Will, I wish you had retained the more overt pissing. But I’m also confused—I thought Ann didn’t even look at your work, and now she’s censoring it?!”
“Not censoring,” he said, still smiling. “She’s trying to protect my reputation. Remember, I’m not an underground cartoonist.”
Flash forward one more time, now to the mid-1980s. This time I’m visiting the Eisners at their Florida home where they’ve recently moved. We’re having dinner. Will had just done a story called “Sunshine in Sunset City” that appeared in Kitchen Sink's Will Eisner’s Quarterly magazine. It was a short story about a lifelong New Yorker, Henry Klop, who sells his business in the city and retires to Florida after his wife has died. The retiree gets involved in an adventure and has a brief fling with a new woman. I had seen an earlier rough of the story but the finished one was expanded, with new front matter.
During dinner I said, “Will, I really love the final version of “Sunset.” I especially like the new pages at the beginning where Klop has flashbacks as he walks through the old neighborhood in a blizzard, with vignettes showing us his earlier life in the city. It put the rest of the story in a much better perspective for me. It made me care more about the lead character.”
Will and Ann glanced at each other. Then after a moment Ann announced with clear pride, “That part was MY idea!”
A bit startled, I said, “Ann! Whoa… When I first got to know you, you had never read any of Will’s comics and you had no interest in them. And now you’re collaborating with him!?” She smiled, acknowledging the slow transformation, and clearly pleased that her plot suggestion had been well-received by Will's publisher. Will was also smiling, happy that her contributing role came up.
Then I turned to Will and with a deadpan expression said, “I think we need to change the name of the magazine to Ann & Will Eisner’s Quarterly!”
For just a second or two I saw Will’s eyes dart at me and saw his brow wrinkle till he quickly realized I was only kidding.
_____________
Will Eisner is famous, a legendary figure in comics. Ann was not famous. But she was crucial in my view to his success. She unwaveringly supported him at all stages of his mature career. Together they survived the deep trauma of losing a teenage daughter to leukemia and almost simultaneously another child for mental health reasons. She patiently indulged her husband when he basked in the attentive adoration of fans at conventions while she made new and close friends in the world of comics. She engineered their move to Florida and took personal charge of the sale of Will’s art. Will always acknowledged that Ann was his anchor, and his primary intellectual stimulant. That she eventually took interest in his graphic novels and then even provided editorial input was a delicious bonus neither ever expected. They were the First Couple of Comics and I adored them both.