The Big Fish

Originally published August 23, 1996, in Comics Buyer's Guide #1188

A great personal tragedy had just struck at the household of Bill Mumy.

Mumy and I were up in his office, working on a script for Space Cases, when Bill's 6-year-old son, Seth, appeared at the door. Tears were rolling down his face as he sobbed out the heartrending news, "George the Third is dead and Ming ate him!"

Bill was promptly consoling. I, of course, said the same thing that you doubtless said upon being presented with that declaration. Namely: "Huh?"

Apparently, the tragedy had occurred in the Mumy fish tank. George the Third was one of the smaller goldfish, and Ming was an extremely large fish in a tank that was too small to properly accommodate him. And when smaller fish would die (occasionally worried to death by the larger fish), why, then, Ming would consume them. Any remains of the victims would go down the toilet.

So here I am now, a short time later and I've just learned of the absorbing of Capital City by Diamond. And for some reason I can't quite put my finger on, I'm reminded of the fish-tank scenario.

This isn't to say that John Davis and Milton Griepp are George the Third or that Steve Geppi is Ming the Merciless. Nor is there any implication that something fishy is going on.

However, years ago, when there were nearly 20 distributors (maybe more), Marvel's then-sales-manager Carol Kalish kept a wary eye on Steve Geppi. "If Steve had his way," she said presciently, "he'd be the only distributor." One of Carol's major concerns was all of the comics market's eggs being in one basket. To that end she was particularly aggressive in opening up new and regional distributors, strongly favoring a distributor base of many small fish rather than one large one.

As years passed, it became evident that the direct market was underscored by head-to-head competition between Capital and Diamond. And Carol would say that Steve Geppi was the more aggressive, the more determined to come out on top.

Steve Geppi is a man who seems to get what he wants. A Barks painting at an auction? He gets it. Dominance of comics industry distribution? All his.

It's now official. The comic book market's eggs are all in one basket. Carol was right again (as she so often was). And Steve Geppi is now the most powerful—and the weakest—man in the comics industry.

How is it possible for both to be true?

The former is obvious. Steve is now in a position to completely control the ebb and flow of the comics market. If he liked a particular comic book, he could promote the hell out of it. If he didn't like a particular comic book, he could bury it. If a particular publisher offended him or proved too troublesome to carry, he could effectively put the publisher out of business (unless the publisher has the patience, organization, or wherewithal to distribute itself). He could issue editorial fiats: Diamond, he could say, won't carry any comic books that are not in keeping with Steve's personal tastes or preferences. Diamond could also take forever to pay smaller publishers, causing major (possibly terminal) headaches for them. When one person is holding that many cards, you certainly don't want to go up against him in "guts" poker.

This is not to say that Steve has done any of these things or would do any of these things. Just that he could. Any situation in which one person holds that much power is cause for concern. And we all have to keep our fingers crossed that this time power will not corrupt.

But how is he the weakest, as well?

For starters, as I've mentioned in a past column (but it would appear to bear repeating), Steve Geppi has managed to paint a gigantic target on his back. Any zealot, any pressure group, any religious rightists, any politically correct leftists—in short, anyone at all who has an ax to grind about comics has just had his whetstone supplied to him.

After all, if any such folks get upset about a television series, they have to go to an assortment of sponsors to try to get the sponsors to withdraw support. And, if the sponsors blow them off, then a pesky boycott has to be arranged in hopes that the sponsors will knuckle under. It's involved and time-consuming, involving a barrage of letters, telephone calls, etc.

But not with comics. Not any more. All the pressure groups have to do is lean on Steve or threaten Steve or picket Steve or—most worrisome of all—genuinely get Steve on their side.

How conservative can people be? Well, there's one cable channel I know of that is family-oriented. So much so that it has a set of guidelines so stringent that it makes the Amish look like hedonists. For instance, one fiat issued by the cable channel to producers was, "No character may say, 'What th—?' because it sounds as if the character is about to say, 'What the heck?'"

Yes, you read that right. No, that wasn't CBG being prudish. "Heck" is verboten because it's a euphemism for "Hell"—not a profanity in and of itself, but, rather, a substitute for one. One would have thought that the whole point of euphemisms was that people could know what you were saying without your actually having to say it. And "What th—?"—which isn't a substitute for anything—is also off-limits.

For that matter, what if legal action is threatened? What if material is of a questionable, potentially actionable nature, for any reason ranging from possible libel to possible charges of pornography? Think about the guys in Oklahoma who had to deal with vice cops coming in and confiscating their inventory. Would Steve Geppi really need the tsuris of carrying a comic book that could bring local cops in, helping themselves to the entire inventory of whatever the exposed local warehouse happened to be?

Most perilous of all, Steve is working without a net.

After all, in the past, if a distributor ran into trouble—if it looked as if things were going down the toilet and retailers were going to be left without product—not a problem! Diamond would be able to step in, buy out the distributor, and continue customers' service uninterrupted. But if Diamond runs into trouble—who bails out Diamond?

It's doubtful that anyone in the industry could step in and snap up Diamond, if problems arose. And God help us all if, with absolutely no warning, Diamond cracked. Impossible that people could be caught that flat-footed, you say? I assume you've heard about the surprised retailers who called Capital City only to find their calls answered by Diamond.

Not to mention that, if either DC or Image suddenly pulled out, who knows what sort of effect that would have on Diamond's cash flow? Would it survive? Could it?

For that matter, would DC or Image risk pulling out? For sake of argument, let's say that DC decided to handle distribution of its comics through the Warner distribution system. If this move caused Diamond to collapse, how quickly would retailers go under before matters could be sorted out? I doubt that a substantial percentage of retailers are working on a generous cushion or margin for error these days. How would DC's health be affected, if a large chunk of the retailer base crumbled?

You might think that Marvel is sitting pretty. After all, it thought it was completely in charge of its destiny. Not so. Actually, Marvel's long-term health is now intertwined with that of Diamond, even though Diamond carries no Marvel product. If the distribution network fell apart and Marvel were the only game in town—well, how long do you think that retailers could hang on selling exclusively Marvel Comics? I suspect Marvel would like the answer to that question to be "Indefinitely," but I think everyone knows the truth.

There's no way to speak in absolute positives about this latest development in the steady shoe-dropping storm which constitutes today's comics market. All we can do is talk with guarded optimism. We hope that everything will work out. We speak of Diamond's positive track record and efficiency. We point out that retailers who didn't like having to deal with three different distributors now only have to deal with two.

Still—just to put a coda to it all—Ming the Merciless was moved out of the Mumy fish tank, into a larger home which could accommodate his aggressiveness and bulk. And Diamond is a very big fish in a very small pond—a pond in which we're all paddling around together, hoping that the food chain is suitably conducive to a long, healthy existence.

Because, otherwise, we all go down the toilet.

Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to at Second Age, Inc., P.O. Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705.