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Not quite quitting time for local working-class muse
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By: TED S. STRATTON Staff Reporter
The Quitter. By Harvey Pekar. Art by Dean Haspiel. D.C. Comics. New York. 2005. 104 pp. $19.99.
Success hasn’t changed Harvey Pekar. Much.
He’s still the same curmudgeonly worrywart, memorably portrayed by Paul Giamatti in the hit indie film “American Splendor.” But now he’s a little more well known.
The film, the story of a working- class Cleveland man’s adventures in comic books, made $8 million worldwide and garnered awards at Cannes and Sundance. It also sparked a brief but dizzying spell of fame for Pekar, 65.
But Hollywood is fickle, and Pekar says he isn’t getting any DVD residuals, so it was back to the drawing board for the inveterate pessimist. This time, he mined his colorful past for material. The result is The Quitter, Pekar’s first book-length autobiographical comic and his first project for a major publisher, in this case, DC Comics.
The Quitter traces Pekar’s path from early childhood to young adulthood, stopping just before he gained “fame” from the “American Splendor” comic books. The book documents Pekar’s uncertainty and anguish working through a series of flunky jobs and failed relationships, finally finding stability with a civil service position and a long-lasting marriage.
It’s an origin story not many would be proud of, let alone be willing to tell the world. But Pekar doesn’t flinch at baring his naked self.
“I don’t even think it takes courage to tell it,” he says. “I didn’t kill anybody. Everybody’s got faults. People can identify with (the character).”
Street fightin’ man
Pekar grew up the son of a grocery store owner in the Kinsman neighborhood of Cleveland. Every morning, his father would wake at 4 a.m. to purchase produce for his store. “My parents’ work ethic amazed me,” writes Pekar. “How could they put in such long hours, day after day?”
When Kinsman started to become predominantly African-American in the 1950s, Pekar’s family moved a few blocks over to the Moreland area of Shaker Heights, taking advantage of the better public schools and larger Jewish population.
Moreland “was kind of a working-class neighborhood, not like the rest of Shaker Heights,” says Pekar. It was on those mean streets that Pekar developed his first great passion and talent: brawling.
“I could have avoided fights if I wanted to,” says Pekar. But when he couldn’t cut it on the football team, street fighting was the best available outlet for his aggression.
He developed a reputation as the best street fighter in the neighborhood, a distinction that didn’t do much more than get him into more fights. After high school, he worked a succession of jobs from post office deliveryman to record distributor to beer bottler to the Navy. He even tried college for a while, but dropped out when he got a bad grade on a geography test.
When he took up comic book writing on a suggestion from artist Robert Crumb in the ’70s, he finally found something he could stick with. Along with writing jazz reviews, comics were Pekar’s creative outlet from 1965 until 2001, while he worked as a file clerk at Cleveland’s V.A. Hospital.
Jewish roots
Pekar, whose picture adorns a wall in the new Maltz Museum of Jewish Heritage, admits he doesn’t stay in contact with Jewish institutions much anymore. He went to Hebrew school and had a bar mitzvah ceremony, but grew increasingly alienated from the organized community. “I didn’t show much interest,” admits Pekar about his Hebrew education. “In those days, they didn’t concentrate much on teaching what the (words) meant. Just reading what was there.”
Pekar’s father was a Talmudic scholar who loved cantorial music. His mother was a socialist who supported Progressive candidate Henry Wallace for President in 1948. Both parents had an impact on young Harvey’s views.
“I’m strongly influenced by Jewish culture, but I’m not a nationalist,” he says. “I’d like to see (Israel) make an agreement with the Arabs, get an independent Arab state over there. Maybe internationalize Jerusalem.”
Pekar says he used to speak Yiddish fluently, and characters in his comic books spend a lot of time kibitzing in Jewish delis. Pekar even worked in a deli for a time during his fallow period and occasionally refers to himself in his comics as a “Yid.”
“I got a strong dose of things Jewish,” he says.
Chugging away
The author’s next project in the works for Pekar is a possible piece of graphic journalism about the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia. He’s also trying to get another movie deal for his latest book along the same lines as “American Splendor.”
Pekar admits that the notoriety he’s received is a nice side benefit. “Fame is nice, too. It helps you get money,” he deadpans.
Meanwhile, he keeps writing freelance jazz reviews and articles for publication. Retirement isn’t coming up anytime soon for Pekar. “I don’t have enough money,” he says. “Maybe this will sell a billion copies, and I can retire.”
Success hasn’t changed Harvey Pekar. Much.
He’s still the same curmudgeonly worrywart, memorably portrayed by Paul Giamatti in the hit indie film “American Splendor.” But now he’s a little more well known.
The film, the story of a working- class Cleveland man’s adventures in comic books, made $8 million worldwide and garnered awards at Cannes and Sundance. It also sparked a brief but dizzying spell of fame for Pekar, 65.
But Hollywood is fickle, and Pekar says he isn’t getting any DVD residuals, so it was back to the drawing board for the inveterate pessimist. This time, he mined his colorful past for material. The result is The Quitter, Pekar’s first book-length autobiographical comic and his first project for a major publisher, in this case, DC Comics.
The Quitter traces Pekar’s path from early childhood to young adulthood, stopping just before he gained “fame” from the “American Splendor” comic books. The book documents Pekar’s uncertainty and anguish working through a series of flunky jobs and failed relationships, finally finding stability with a civil service position and a long-lasting marriage.
It’s an origin story not many would be proud of, let alone be willing to tell the world. But Pekar doesn’t flinch at baring his naked self.
“I don’t even think it takes courage to tell it,” he says. “I didn’t kill anybody. Everybody’s got faults. People can identify with (the character).”
Street fightin’ man
Pekar grew up the son of a grocery store owner in the Kinsman neighborhood of Cleveland. Every morning, his father would wake at 4 a.m. to purchase produce for his store. “My parents’ work ethic amazed me,” writes Pekar. “How could they put in such long hours, day after day?”
When Kinsman started to become predominantly African-American in the 1950s, Pekar’s family moved a few blocks over to the Moreland area of Shaker Heights, taking advantage of the better public schools and larger Jewish population.
Moreland “was kind of a working-class neighborhood, not like the rest of Shaker Heights,” says Pekar. It was on those mean streets that Pekar developed his first great passion and talent: brawling.
“I could have avoided fights if I wanted to,” says Pekar. But when he couldn’t cut it on the football team, street fighting was the best available outlet for his aggression.
He developed a reputation as the best street fighter in the neighborhood, a distinction that didn’t do much more than get him into more fights. After high school, he worked a succession of jobs from post office deliveryman to record distributor to beer bottler to the Navy. He even tried college for a while, but dropped out when he got a bad grade on a geography test.
When he took up comic book writing on a suggestion from artist Robert Crumb in the ’70s, he finally found something he could stick with. Along with writing jazz reviews, comics were Pekar’s creative outlet from 1965 until 2001, while he worked as a file clerk at Cleveland’s V.A. Hospital.
Jewish roots
Pekar, whose picture adorns a wall in the new Maltz Museum of Jewish Heritage, admits he doesn’t stay in contact with Jewish institutions much anymore. He went to Hebrew school and had a bar mitzvah ceremony, but grew increasingly alienated from the organized community. “I didn’t show much interest,” admits Pekar about his Hebrew education. “In those days, they didn’t concentrate much on teaching what the (words) meant. Just reading what was there.”
Pekar’s father was a Talmudic scholar who loved cantorial music. His mother was a socialist who supported Progressive candidate Henry Wallace for President in 1948. Both parents had an impact on young Harvey’s views.
“I’m strongly influenced by Jewish culture, but I’m not a nationalist,” he says. “I’d like to see (Israel) make an agreement with the Arabs, get an independent Arab state over there. Maybe internationalize Jerusalem.”
Pekar says he used to speak Yiddish fluently, and characters in his comic books spend a lot of time kibitzing in Jewish delis. Pekar even worked in a deli for a time during his fallow period and occasionally refers to himself in his comics as a “Yid.”
“I got a strong dose of things Jewish,” he says.
Chugging away
The author’s next project in the works for Pekar is a possible piece of graphic journalism about the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia. He’s also trying to get another movie deal for his latest book along the same lines as “American Splendor.”
Pekar admits that the notoriety he’s received is a nice side benefit. “Fame is nice, too. It helps you get money,” he deadpans.
Meanwhile, he keeps writing freelance jazz reviews and articles for publication. Retirement isn’t coming up anytime soon for Pekar. “I don’t have enough money,” he says. “Maybe this will sell a billion copies, and I can retire.”
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