This popped up on the internet today. This photo from some long-forgotten day in 1992. I was just starting to get to know Hate Man at that point. I had put him on the cover of the Telegraph Avenue Street Calendar 1992 (the 3rd edition of the series). I operated the calendar under the same premise that most magazines operate under: “Stars sell magazines.” And the street scene — just like the Hollywood scene and the sports scene and all the other scenes — has it’s stars, too. With Hate Man most definitely being one of them (PS. That issue sold well).
I was 36 at the time. I had been working at my comic strip full-time for 6 years at that point. But I was just starting to get pulled into the Telegraph street scene, because, frankly, it was more exciting than sitting at a drawing board all day long.
I started out as a voyeur of the Berkeley street scene, an on-looker, an outside observer, not really a part of it. But eventually I ended immersed in it, if not overwhelmed by it. Eventually I would be taking part in funerals and weddings and births and deaths and everything in between. An active participant and member of the tribe. My life would end up intertwined with all sorts of other people’s lives, in all sorts of bizarre ways. Something me and Duncan never really anticipated when we first started the calendar.
Me and Duncan were just burning burning burning back then. We were never short of ideas or mad-cap schemes. As well as the burning desire to pull them off.
At the time it never occurred to me that it would one day come to an end. I guess you rarely do at the time. Especially when everything is just starting up. And all the stories are only just starting to unfold. When I was young, it seemed like I had this huge expanse of time ahead of me. And then you blink your eyes, and all that time has come and gone.