My Brilliant Aquaman Career

It didn’t actually happen, but maybe it almost did.

Long ago, still in the early half of my career, not too long after I’d pissed away my ownership of The Elementals comic book series, selling it for too little money to a crook (among the first of far too many shady businessmen who inhabited the funnybook fields in those days), I received a call from DC editor Kevin Dooley (who shared my love of singing waiter restaurants — but that’s got nothing to do with anything, so why even bring it up?). He asked me if I wanted to pitch ideas for Aquaman. They wanted to breathe new life into the moribund series.

I did pitch an idea to jumpstart the series. While I no longer have the text, I still have a few bad copies of the art that accompanied my pitch, for a series that I contemplated both writing and drawing.

Visually he was a traditional Aquaman, before the beards and severed hand came along. Mera and Aquababy were both dead at the time and, “Never coming back!” They were adamant about that, even though I (and the entire comic book world) knew it was a lie. Okay, let’s not be overly harsh. It wasn’t a lie so much as the standard self-deception of all editorial offices of giant corporations, in believing their hasty decisions of the moment will become the stuff of ages.

In any case Mera was forbidden to me, which was unfortunate, but such was the timing. But her loss, and the death of their child and heir gave me the kernel of an idea of what new thing to do with the old, old story.

Make it about politics. Make it about the struggle and intrigue to see who would end up with the throne of Atlantis, if it were ever vacated and lacking an heir for continuity of rulership. It was going to be Game of Thrones, long before Game of Thrones came along.

Here’s the situation I presented to the principalities and powers at DC:

Premise One: Atlantis has been long established as so far advanced over the surface world that, even in our modern times, the surface world are scattered tribes of barbarians by comparison. If alien envoys decided to visit Earth (which they would have done, had the series happened), they wouldn’t go to surface nations, they’d go directly to Atlantis. The king of Atlantis was the defacto king of the Earth, and the various presidents, dictators, satraps and leaders of the surface world know it.

Premise Two: Since Aquaman no longer has an heir, or even a queen with which to create substitute heirs, the rush is on from many political factions, to provide a new queen/wife, and through her the new heir. These factions battle and maneuver, sometimes openly, but more often behind the scenes, with each other, to be the house, the party, the alliance that provides the new bride. Aquaman can’t quite grok why so many eligible women are being thrust his way, but he doesn’t much like it. He’s not done mourning his lost wife and child.

Premise Three: The Complication. Rather than staying safe at home to rule, Aquaman insists on leading an adventurous life. He’s always running around with those surface fools, playing at being a super hero. He’s in constant danger. If he were to die, leaving no heir, it would almost guarantee a bloody war of succession, which could rend the world. They need to move fast! King Arthur must create babies now!

Other Matters of Note: I was going to radically redesign Atlantis, to try to imagine a city that had the advantage of living in three dimensions. No more copies of surface buildings, complete with (weighted) drapes.

It’s hard to make out, but I drew up a few ideas on what that might look like.

The First Six Issues: It starts with what seems like a standard superhero battle. A new villain character named Nautilus attacks Aquaman, as super villains do. Nautilus was a surface dweller in a suit of powered armor. Think of Iron Man, but with an aquatic theme. They fight. Aquaman wins. But now the radical changes begin: Because the battle occurred in the ocean, Aquaman turns Nautilus over to Atlantean authorities, who charge him with attempted regicide, the penalty for which is death. The trial is fair (Atlantean super science) and quick. In 24 hours Nautilus is dead.

And just like that, all of a sudden, we signal the readers that this isn’t your grandfather’s old funnybook. This is a political thriller.

There were other new villains introduced too:

DC hated the idea. I had my proposal returned to me (we were still using paper then) covered with the notes of at least five different unidentified people (judging by the different handwriting and pen inks). The upshot was, “Great proposal, Bill, but it needs just a little work. First of all, lose all of the politics. Atlantis has no factions and no death penalty! And various other criticisms and objections. The upshot was: “We want the guy who rescues people from sinking boats.”

I chose instead to withdraw the proposal. As the years passed, as the call went out time and again (through back channels) for someone to refurbish Aquaman I would dust off the old idea and give it another try. My favorite attempt occurred at a breakfast meeting at the San Diego show one year. The entire breakfast (prime time at San Diego for important meetings) was reserved for me to present my Aquaman pitch. But before I could begin, one of the two execs (no, I will not name them) said, “We already know what we’re going to do with the series!” The other exec gleefully exclaimed, “Octopuses with machine guns!” as if that explained everything the book needed. We enjoyed a nice and convivial breakfast, after which we went our separate ways.