Portland, Oregon's role in comicdom

The Portland Mercury wrote some history of the city's role serving as a headquarters for various artists and writers, which is now the subject of a documentary:

It may surprise you to learn that Portland, Oregon, a mid-sized America city known for its rain and its many river spanning bridges, is a global hotbed for the production of comic books. A new documentary for OPB’s Oregon Art Beat, Indie Comics City: How Portland Built Its Own Comics Universe, which premiered at the annual Rose City Comic Con, tells how it happened, a story about the place of Portland itself, and the decentralizing modes of cultural production everywhere.

The documentary, helmed by OPB’s multimedia arts and culture producer Steven Tonthat, delves deep into the beginnings of local comics history. For the first 50 or so years of its existence, the comics industry was located along with the rest of the publishing industry: New York City. The artists who made the cultural load-bearing works that we associate with them—Superman, Batman, Shazam, Mad magazine, the EC Stable of bad boy books—worked liked sheepdogs, fulfilling a demanding monthly release cycle while supplementing their income with illustration work for magazines, book covers, advertising and any other clientele who needed a decent cartoonist for whatever it was they were trying to sell. Some of these comics artists worked in offices in the city, others plied their trade in home studios and delivered their pencil roughs to the main office where it would get inked, colored, and printed onto millions of forty page books that were distributed to drug stores and other retailers across the country.

Unfortunately, as could surely be expected, the report gushes over woke propaganda, which saw early examples in Oregon too:

Before the 1980s, Portland was a tertiary space for indie comics creators and cartoonists. The important early editorial cartoonist Homer Davenport, paraplegic gagman John Callahan, Simpsons creator Matt Groening, alt-comic sage Lynda Barry, and Rupert Kinnard—a queer comics pioneer who is profiled at length in OPB’s Indie City—all called Portland home at some time or another. These artists sourced work from local alt-weeklies, gay magazines, and esoteric, high-art focused labels like Fantagraphics—operations where wide distribution or even color printing weren’t front of mind. This is not to underplay their importance: their work still courses through the city’s comic scene, especially in the more zine-adjacent corners. But it was different from the highly rigorous, highly-edited milieu of DC and Marvel, with its colorful pages and ubiquitous distribution.

And no doubt, some of those early wokesters made inroads into mainstream, ruining it in their own way. Interesting they bring up the Simpsons creator, because he's quite a leftist himself, and as of today, I'm disillusioned with the Simpsons as a TV cartoon series, mainly because it's been running far too long, for possibly 37 years now with no end in sight. How many live action series see that kind of bizarre privilege?

In 1986, Mike Richardson, a longtime writer for comics and television, founded Dark Horse Comics in Portland. Dark Horse split the difference between the big distribution superhero publishers and the indie-comic scenes. In the late ‘80s and the early ’90s, Dark Horse published two kinds of monthly comic books. The major moneymakers were books based on big licensed properties, like the pre-Disney Star Wars literary universe, the adventures of terrible lizard Godzilla, and the Alien movies. The company’s other offerings were more obscure: creator-owned properties like Frank Miller’s Sin City, Mike Mignola’s Hellboy, and Stan Sakai’s rabbit-man samurai epic Usagi Yojimbo. The company eventually became America’s third largest distributor of comic books.

I find it interesting that, at least back in the day, adaptations of movies and cartoons were relatively higher sellers than comics with original concepts and creations, while Miller, Mignola and Sakai's creations less known, at least according to this article. Does that suggest the would-be fame they saw since is exaggerated?

Many of the people I spoke with at Comic Con were worried about the future of comics in Portland, where the coast-wide affordability crisis has dug deep into the city’s reputation as a fun, cheap haven for artistic pros looking to pay rent.

That's certainly eyebrow raising if there's a financial problem on the west coast, though if the folks in question are far-left advocates, some might find it hard to feel sorry for them. Whether Portland continues to prove a profitable burg for comicdom remains to be seen in the future.