I recently had the unsettling experience of watching Fantagraphics Publisher Gary Groth eviscerate, disembowel and fillet estimed representatives of virtually every major print and online comics news publication. The bloodcurdling incident occurred in public at the San Diego Comic-Con panel "Does Comics Journalism Still Matter?" Besides Gary, the panel was made up of web journalists Michael Doran and Beau Yarborough, CBG contributor Gary St. Lawrence and Wizard senior writer Jim McLauchlin. One minute, bright young men in the prime of health; the next minute, jibbering, twitching wretches. Not a pretty sight, but even more disturbing than the ritual sacrifice of these youths to a withering barrage of shame and ridicule was the principle to which each had pledged allegiance one after another. To wit: Comics journalism, unlike other forms of journalism you may have heard about, is not concerned with anything so off-putting as -- ho, ho, ho -- news and controversy; it is, instead, a form of entertainment.

This sentiment has been expressed before, of course, and if you gather enough news professionals in one place, someone is sure to make a case for the kind of news that soothes the weary working man and boosts the economy, news that sells products, gives one a healthy laugh at the foibles of oddball America and maybe shows a little skin. No one would deny that there's room for this sort of thing. Even the Washington Post has its Sunday supplement features about hamburger academies and Elvis impersonators.

But there's something troubling about hearing spokespersons from every corner of the tiny spectrum of surviving comics news venues stand up and disavow any intention of covering hard or controversial news. Asked to recall one shining news moment that represented the pinnacle of their respective journalistic careers, each proudly pointed to some frivolous puff piece that would have been laughed out of Reader's Digest.

The most hard-hitting story, cited by either Yarborough or Doran, concerned a college that published a student comic book. St. Lawrence gushed about interviewing Jim Steranko, a reclusive gentleman who St. Lawrence had persuaded to break a media silence of several months to promote a then upcoming Victorian cover for Pennyfarthing Press. Most pathetic of all, if it weren't so loathesome, was McLauchlin's unmitigated joy in reporting the story of two comics fans who had gotten married while wearing Batman and Catwoman costumes.

"Let me get this straight," Gary said in disbelief. "These are the stories you're proud of?" These were, in fact, what each perceived to be the absolute zenith of comics journalism. No one on the panel who was not sitting in Gary Groth's seat even hinted that a comics-related news story should ever have a goal more serious than a mild chuckle. To a man, they expressed the same bland philosophy: Comics fans want to be entertained. The comics industry needs to be supported by positive news.

It was a soul-chilling sight, and Groth had no recourse but to destroy them all. Between ego-crushing jibes at any panelist still moving, Gary cited as the Journal's high points a story by Eric Reynolds about Diamond's exclusive deal with DC (based on a leaked internal DC memo), as well as some recent stories of my own, including an investigation of corporate skulduggery behind the collapse of Kitchen Sink. (These were the first favorable remarks I had heard him make about my articles, which he usually refers to around the office as pansy-assed treacle.) Essentially, Gary made the point that someone needs to believe that comics are important enough to merit important stories. Comics journalists need to be on guard against the abuses, lies and cover-ups that are as routine in the comics industry as they are anywhere else. And when circumstances call for it, there needs to be a place in the comics field for impassioned advocacy journalism.

The other panelists were reduced to shamed silence. Even McLauchlin, who had begun the evening with a smirking cockiness familiar to any reader of Wizard, was driven to purple-faced, apoplectic, impotent rage. Strong men wept and others howled for blood, but mostly the audience applauded -- an encouraging sign, which I take to mean readers are hungry for stronger news than geek weddings and book-shillings.

God bless Captain Groth for understanding that journalists sometimes have unpleasant non-entertaining duties to perform. Because, if the field's own journalists don't take comics seriously, who will?

My apologies if I have misremembered any elements of this occasion.

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