Vince Colletta’s Letter To Marvel’s “Droppings Of The Creative World”

On his newest Substack, Marvel Comics Executive Editor & Senior VP Tom Brevoort has revealed a letter despatched broadly by former longstanding Marvel Comics inker Vince Colletta, after Jim Shooter was fired as Editor-In-Chief at Marvel Comics and sure people in Marvel editorial and artistic celebrated.  Tom Brevoort remembers “Vinnie was a close friend of Shooter’s, not entirely because as EIC, he always made sure that Colletta had work on his drawing table. I think it can fairly be said that Shooter’s last few years at Marvel were tumultuous, and there were points where he pissed off a lot of people—staff, freelancers and management alike. I know of at least one Marvel Intervention/Mutiny that happened, when a group of creators and editors all piled into Shooter’s office to air some grievances. In any event, Vince clearly laid the blame for Shooter’s ousting at the feet of the rest of the editorial staff—as well as his own assignments being cut off—and so he registered his displeasure in this fashion.”

The letter runs under, and I transcribed it as a result of Vince’s scrawl is pretty unreadable. It may also be famous that this letter might have had higher affect to Marvel staff as Vince Colletta was additionally the son of Frank Colletta, with the fame of being “a pretty high-level Mafioso” and who “emigrated from Sicily to escape local law enforcement”.

Marvel Editors, you’re the droppings of the inventive world. You have been destined to drift within the cesspool until urine logged and at last sink to the underside with the remainder of the shit however alongside got here Jim Shooter who rolled up his sleeves and rescued you.

He gave you a title, respectability, energy and even a bank card that you just used and abused. He made you the very best payed Editors within the historical past of the enterprise. He protected you in opposition to all that would tamper together with your rights, your energy and your pocket ebook.

He backed you in opposition to all Prima Donna freelancers regardless of how large… his pockets have been at all times open to you, No cry of assist was too small for him to show his again on.

As heard within the “Brass” part of the corporate… “He never asked for anything for himself… always for his men.”

The roof over your head, the garments on  your again, the automotive you drive and the tickets you purchase in your blind wives and girlfriends you owe to the Pittsburg Kid

For all he did for you… you repayed him by attacking him like a pack of yellow priceless faggots. Ripping away his flesh from his physique and laughing and pounding your chest like conquering ghouls and lengthy after his bones have been dry, you continued to pour salt on them to squeeze each ounce of ache out of him,

Not the slightest whimpers or cry or tear got here out of this man. With you continue to biting at his ankles, he placed on his coat and walked away…Displaying extra class and poise in defeat than all of you probably did in victory. Jesus had one Judas, Jim had many, people who speared him and worse, people who watched…

I stick by him and for that you have nailed me on the identical cross… I thanks for that… It’s an honor to be crucified with Jim Shooter, a person who none of you’ll ever be.

Vince Colletta.