Who's Who in the CBU 2008

Name: Regie Rigby

Regie is a strange, almost ethereal creature. Who can plumb the hidden mysteries of his dark and murky past - a past which contains a terrible secret. A secret that taught him that with great power comes great responsibility, that criminals are a cowardly superstitious lot and just who exactly knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men.

By day, he assumes the appearance of a mild mannered teacher, bringing the joy of literature and the English Language to classes of enthralled and enthusiastic students. But by night?

By night he goes home and writes lesson plans. Sorry. That's as interesting as he gets. Really.

The rumours about rooftop struggles with underworld uberfiends, the gossip about the hidden cave filled with hi-tec equipment and the suggestion that his car might be fitted with turbo lasers are all nonsense.

When he's not teaching he reads comics. Sometimes he combines the two activities. When he's not doing that he's either playing computer games or asleep.

In Memorium

By Regie Rigby

I’m not really sure exactly what I want to say here. At least, I know what I want to say, it’s a question of how to say it. This isn’t really the sort of thing you ever really expect to need to say.

When I first heard of the untimely death of James Reddington, I was initially a little confused. “I only know one James Reddington”, I thought, “and it can’t be him.”

It wasn’t just his age – James was 28, which is no age at all really – it was his whole way of being. I didn’t know James as well as I would have liked, but I’d met him several times and I genuinely don’t think my path has ever crossed anyone more ferociously, more intensely alive. The idea that such a concentrated well of energy and enthusiasm might no longer be with us is almost absurd.

Which makes me feel the loss even more keenly.

James was the sort of person comics needs. Intelligent, dedicated, and witty a distinctive presence on the floor of the hall at Bristol or in the bar – his height (taller than me at least), his red hair, and his sheer energy made him stand out. He was always happy to talk to people, giving freely of his time and seriously good fun to be around. His only real flaw was his inexplicable love of Superman – something I always assumed he’d grow out of. That, as you can imagine, had been the topic of much discussion between us in the bar at Bristol – and an argument I knew I’d never win. Basically the reason I liked him so much was because he was so positive about everything. That’s why he liked Superman – for all the reasons a negative moaning git like me doesn’t.

I’d always assumed that if I ever dedicated a whole column to James, it would be when he finally landed a big writing gig with one of the major comics publishers. As regular readers may have noticed, I have been a fan of his Rob and Duckie comic for some time, and he’d been on the receiving end of rather a lot of critical acclaim for many of the indie comics he wrote. He hadn’t had that call from Marvel or DC, but then he was only 28, and should have had a lot of time. I suspect I’m always going to feel that both he and we have been cheated of all the stories I know he had planned in the future.

Of course, while he was waiting for the call from the house of ideas, he didn’t just sit around. He was writing his own comics of course, but was writing about them too – James was a stalwart columnist and reviewer here at SBC. As you can imagine, I didn’t always agree with his review comments, our tastes were somewhat different, but damn I enjoyed reading them. He also made The Panel his own, putting a series of genuinely interesting questions to some surprisingly forthcoming panel members.

He was also about to take over the reins at The Real Mainstream, and I was really looking forward to his insider’s insight into what was worth reading. He seemed to know just about everybody, and he knew about comics I’ve never heard of, but would probably like.

It’s a cliché, but he really was one of a kind. The total human capacity for joy really has been diminished by his loss. Even though I didn’t know him all that well, I really am going to miss him.

But as somebody who knew him much better than I did has already said: “Sadly missed. Well, I say sad, but actually I've never seen James without a smile on his face, so I'd prefer to say happily remembered.”

Happily remembered indeed. I find it hard to recall any of my encounters with James without smiling. It’s a rare person who brings that kind of joy to the world. So raise your glasses folks, here’s to James Reddington.







A short column this week, because I really don't want to say any more - it seems wrong to do so. You should read Craig's tribute to James though, because it's better than mine, and it contains words by James himself. See you next time.