The publisher hated what I was doing, which was not something I'd never knowingly experienced before. Bill Jemas, along with Joe Quesada, gets and deserves all the credit in the world for making Marvel Comics vital again for the 21st century. And Joe was always very supportive, is very supportive, of my work. Bill, on the other hand, handed down marching orders pretty much out of the blue to Brevoort that he didn't like our direction, and he dictated to Tom a whole new concept for the FF--which was to take the "Fantastic" totally out of the series. First off, said Bill, the whole family had to move to the suburbs. Immediately. No explanation necessary. Reed was to be a wacky, scatterbrained inventor who kept coming up with cool stuff (like "waterless fish tanks," whatever those were) that had no commercial applicability, meaning the family was living check-to-check. Ben was working construction. Johnny was a fireman, and--and this is the best one, please sit down for this--Sue was a beleaguered secretary who would go invisible every time her boss was looking for her. No, no, no, not a super-spy; that would make too much sense. No, a secretary. Oh, and their "super-villain arch-enemy" was the suspicious neighbor next door who thought there was something weird about these people. Gladys Kravitz.
Brevoort and I were just gobsmacked by this. Just speechless. And there was no arguing with Bill--he wanted the MUNDANE FOUR because they'd be more "relatable." BUT--he was the boss, and Marvel owns the characters, not me, so we actually took a stab at trying to give Bill what we thought he wanted without destroying the FF. We planned a story arc in which Reed had been forced to brainwash the entire family, including himself, into this basic scenario for reasons I forget. It was actually a pretty elegant workaround--I can't remember the details, but I promise it was better than it sounds--but Bill decreed that it was too little, too late (three days later was "too late") and one Friday, poor Brevoort called me to tell me that I didn't have to bother with the next script because Bill had already written it himself and had dropped it on his desk. I was fired. I had never been fired off an assignment before. I was stunned. Artist Mike Wieringo was asked if he'd stick around, but in a gesture I thanked him for till the day he died, he told Jemas to take a hike.
And before either of us had a chance to really have the news sink in, it hit the internet...and, my God, what a firestorm. Bill had a rep by that time among the fans for making bonehead plays, but this seemed to them to be the proverbial straw, and it melted the internet. Almost literally. Every major comics newssite crashed. CRASHED. As in, couldn't handle the traffic of the outraged. Newsarama was down for nearly 48 hours. It was incredible. And when these sites did limp back to life, the outpouring...I felt like Tom Sawyer at his own funeral. I couldn't believe how vocal and strident such a vast majority of people were about how much they loved what we'd been doing and how nuts Jemas was to let us go. Never before or since have I ever felt more loved and respected for what I do than I did that weekend.
Not long after--I doubt because of this, but we can dream--Bill was let go from Marvel, and Joe Q asked Mike and I to come back. I was far enough ahead on the scripts where I could just move on without a break in publishing, and Mike rejoined me ASAP. We stuck around for another year and change until Mike felt the urge to move on, at which point I left with him--he wasn't just my partner, he was one of my best friends. But we never forgot the outpouring of faith and good wishes. So, thanks, Crazy Unca Bill, wherever you are, for ginning up the love! And good luck with that waterless fish tank!