The minute I threw my bag down and high-fived
I shook hands with Hasen and told him his work made a great impact upon me. He was kind yet meek. Very old. After all, he was cut from the cloth that kick started this comix form and it must burn a man out. Still, he was there, representing. I asked him if he had any original DONDI strips for sale. He smiled and pulled out a handful from his portfolio. Coming face to face with a childhood horror, I felt at a ease. A calm washed over me as I confronted DONDI in all his glory. I read each strip and broke it down to the three that resonated the most for me. I asked how much they cost and Hasen said "$75." I asked him if he took credit and he said yes. Then he helped me select one, his favorite of the bunch [a strip from 1968] and I agreed. I asked him again if he was sure he accepted credit and he said "Yes." I asked him if he would sign the original strip, perhaps draw me a DONDI. He was already doing it before I finished my request. The man was a pro. He asked my name and wrote "To Dean." It was mine.

I pulled out my credit card and handed it to Hasen. He looked at the plastic and then looked at me. His eyes began to water. He didn't know what to do with my credit card. I asked him if he had a machine to swipe it with so I could be charged. He said "No." The water in his eyes fell. It almost made me cry. I felt terrible. He had signed the DONDI piece to me and his senior moment [decade?] was betraying him. We stood there staring at each other's compromised eyes. Finally, I asked him if I could write and mail him a personal check the minute I got home. He said "Yes" and I sighed relief. I thanked him, shook hands, wished him well, and returned to my table, exhausted. You can't mess with DONDI or DONDI will make you cry.
To learn more about Irwin Hasen, a legendary New York cartoonist, read this wonderful ALTER EGO interview: http://www.twomorrows.com/alterego/articles/01hasen.html
I spent the next two hours signing BATMAN ADVENTURES #9 [that
Big Apple Comicon was packed with retailers selling classic comix and toys; a true superhero fan show like "back in the day" before the Hollywood hype took over the bigger franchise shows. I had to get back home to the drawing board, but I needed to witness one thing, which was the major reason I hauled ass in the blizzard to scurry over to the Penn Plaza Hotel. I grabbed
Days like these are far and few.