In the week since his passing, thousands of fans have expressed their sympathy, memories and eulogies of Mike. We wanted to offer something simple – a chance for Mike’s fellow professionals to remember their friend and colleague – and made the offer to professionals and Mike’s friends.

We received over 70 responses as of press time. Yes, the volume is huge, and yes, it will take you a while to read through it all, but taken as a whole, the sheer volume of remembrances that Mike received stands in and of itself as tribute to the kind of guy Mike was, and the way his life touched others. If the old saying is true, and the measure of a man is the number of his friends, and the lives he touches, then Mike was a giant.

A giant who will be missed dearly.

Here then, are Mike’s friends, acquaintances, and colleagues.

MARK WAID

Three reasons why I still can’t concentrate:

1)         Mike loved the Legion of Super-Heroes. Loved them every bit as much as I do, and that’s saying an awful lot. Loved them to the point where there was never any doubt in our mind whatsoever that we would eventually get to do Legion work together, someday, somehow. Mike did this sketch for me, purely unbidden, as a surprise gift when Barry Kitson and I began the new series. Look at the joy on these characters’ faces. It’s one of the most treasured pieces of art I own.

2)         Captain Marvel is another project that Mike and I were utterly confident that we’d be able to tackle together someday. Over the years, we spent hours and hours and hours talking over how we’d approach it, and how much we loved its sense of whimsy, and I don’t think there’s anyone with a lick of sense in his head that doesn’t realize that Mike would have been a perfect match for the World’s Mightiest Mortal. Here’s one of the many pieces Mike gifted me with periodically just because--because he was thinking of me or to remind me that we should never move our ambitions too far off the front burner.

3)         But before we got around to Cap...because in our minds, Captain Marvel was an eventual, unquestionable given...we wanted our crack at Aquaman. I was approached by DC in 2003 and 2005 to relaunch it, and this is what I pitched with Mike both times. For whatever reason, the editor in charge never liked Mike’s stuff--everyone’s entitled to one bad call, I guess--and passed. Twice. And since there’ll never be a third time--I’ve no interest in doing this now without Mike, the perfect partner--Newsarama’s welcome to run the pitch intact if they like. Even if they just run the sketch, look it over and be amazed; it’s one of the best, most vital Aquaman interpretations you’ll ever see.

Right click and "save as" here to download the pitch.

Three reasons I still can’t concentrate: all these projects were so utterly, so concretely supposed to have been part of our mutual future that I took their eventuality totally for granted, and now they’ll never be. Ever. I never get the joy of collaborating again with the best partner I ever had or will have. No Flash reunions, no FF reprises, no new projects. All we have is the work we did do together over the past fifteen years, and it’s just not nearly enough.

Love you, buddy. Thanks for pulling me up every time.

JAMAR NICHOLAS

It’s been tough trying to whittle down my thoughts to write out something about Mike. I have so many memories and great times in my head, but right now, my head is a huge mess, so I apologize if this doesn’t read that well.

Mike never had the ego of somebody who held his lofty position in the industry, or ever made you feel like you weren’t good enough or high enough on the food chain to breathe his air – he was an amazing, warm, REAL good person whom I feel very blessed to have had the pleasure of calling a friend.

After the news I got Monday morning about his passing away, I’ve run through an amazing range of emotions, and every day since, I’ve woken up and my mind keeps trying to disprove that this is real. I keep reading tributes and these amazing pieces about Ringo, and all of this cements something that I always tried to tell him – hell, all of his friends did – that he had NO idea how much people love and respect him. He was a beautiful person, who loved nature and animals, his friends, art and comics - all that they stood for and what they could be one day.

Out of many, a few things about Mike that we shared were a love of laughter, jokes and stuff that wasn’t comics. I would spend long hours on the phone with Mike talking about the Carolina Panthers’ football team, HBO cable shows or just making stupid voices and making each other crack up.

I know that Mike was down a lot, and sometimes I would just leave a silly message or joke on his machine when he wouldn’t pick up the phone – sometimes I could just feel that he was home, he just wasn’t in the mood to rap. And I was cool with that, but I would still let him know that I was thinking about him, and that he could call me back whenever he got around to it.

The thing the hits me the hardest about Mike’s passing is that we just talked to him – my girlfriend and I – last Saturday, the 11^th, the day before he died. I had been out of the loop with a lot of friends for about a month’s time because of work, and I wanted to spend Saturday procrastinating from cleaning my house, and calling buddies sounded like a great way to while away the afternoon. Mike and I talked for about 90 minutes, and we chatted about everything under the sun. I remember he mentioned that he just got a new SleepNumber Bed, and I said that I hoped he looked better than Lyndsay Wagner does in those commercials! That rolled into a 5 minute laugh-fest of monotone testimonials from Ringo, spoken in a slow teleprompter-style, about the wonders of this miracle device and how he’d never be the same. After I asked him what his SleepNumber was, we then jokingly asked what his cat, Charlie’s was. He shrugged it off and said that Charlie never slept on the bed, and then he laughed and admitted, “Ok, it’s 39”.

Mike was really funny. I don’t think he let on in public how quick with a joke he was because he always seemed to enjoy just listening and soaking in what was around him. Given the chance, he would have me crying with laughter. Now I’m just crying.

I miss you, Ringo.

JEFF PARKER

(From his website – by permission)

http://parkerspace.com/

Remembering Mike

I thought I could dive into some work to keep my mind busy, but it’s just not happening. I’ve spent much of the day looking around on line for tributes to Mike Wieringo and grabbing every picture I see. To hold up my end on that, I’ve dug out some old photos. I know I have more than this, but this is what I found in my basement boxes this morning. I warn you that my memories are fuzzy in places, so some details are surely wrong.

I first met Mike at a New York comicon in 1992 I think. He was only in his twenties, but like a lot of people I thought he was older because his hair went silver so early. He had just drawn Doc Savage for Millenium Comics and had been invited to contribute to a JLA annual by Brian Augustyn and Ruben Diaz. One of my favorite stories of his from later was that this big break was apparently an accident. When Ruben called Mike to hire him for a short story, Mike realized from what he was saying that he was talking about someone else’s samples instead of what he’d sent in. Mike did the right thing of course and said “thanks!” and took the job. I always wonder who that other guy was. Soon after they offered him what became his much loved run with Mark Waid on The Flash.

Not a year later we were in Artamus Studios together. Everyone assumed we just couldn’t spell ‘Artemis’, but it was a play on Toys R’ Us, Art-am-us. Blame Richard Case and Craig Gilmore for that one, I do. At first we were all crammed in Richard’s Hillsborough studio which had no air conditioning- this is North Carolina of course, where you don’t have to cook food in the summertime. Still it was exciting all working together, and Mike was the emerging force in comics. We all drew an issue of Hardcase (for Malibu) that paid for our photocopier. Mike would be in until the wee hours working on Flash. I remember being excited briefly because there was talk of him drawing Captain Marvel for DC, but that didn’t pan out. Mike would show me how to make a dynamic perspective shot work or come in and make a layout work for someone else who might be stuck.

It was the dark days before Google Image search, so we were always heading to the library or raiding magazine recycling bins for reference. We had a Polaroid and constantly took pictures of everyone in the studio in poses to draw from. I’m not sure what I had Mike doing in that first shot- it may have been for some samples I drew of the Fantastic Four that landed me all my work at Malibu Comics. In the background I see that enormous light table that Mike and John Lowe had bought, which was actually a display for X-Ray pictures- we weren’t far from Duke University and all of it’s cast-off hospital and school salvage. Here’s one that I remember specifically as being for an issue of Wonder Woman I drew, in 93 or 94. Mike was posing as a pimp named Big Jake, I think. From the nice door I can tell we had moved around the corner to The Mercantile Building, where we all had separate office spaces in one main suite. It was a beautiful old building with a leaky skylight that never got fixed well. We would all use the Ladies bathroom on our hall because it was much nicer than the tiny Men’s room where the toilet faced right into a wall. We spent a fair amount of time climbing through the windows to walk out on the roof to get some air during the day, and just look around at the town.

Mike was a living animation- his face always did exactly what you (and he) needed for a drawing, and he could always strike the optimum pose for a scene. I remember the Heroes Con that Alex Ross first came to where after meeting Mike, drew a perfect rendition of him hours later in a sketchbook. That corrected a lot of other artists who assumed Alex needed photos to draw a likeness, but as he said, “how could you forget that face?”

Back then we all worked through each other’s cd collections trying to find whatever music would inspire us to get through an issue. Mike was very open-minded and could listen to lots of different song genres. We often ate lunch down at Lu-E-G’s, a hippy cafe with maybe overly-healthy food but a great staff who would often come visit our offices. We were right around the corner from the house of Doug Marlette, who did the strip Kudzu. Strangely, Mike called me just a few weeks ago to tell me that Marlette had died. For whatever reason we never intersected with him, though we saw his wife around a lot. Hillsborough was an interesting town like that- writer Alan Gurganus lived just a block away as well.

My all-time favorite shot of Mike on one of his birthdays. We would often all do birthdays at Bandidos in Chapel Hill (everyone liked the chips) and inevitably one of the staff would make you wear the hat and add your picture to the birthday wall.

Below is another shot from that night, with Mike sitting next to Chuck and Marc Wojtkiewicz. We must have gone to a hundred parties held at their house out in the country. Mike was always being introduced to lovely physical therapists in a never ending attempt to pair him up. It never worked with me at the time either, but a valiant effort on Marc’s part. Mike had a girlfriend at the time who I really liked and wish could have been around for the long haul. He mentioned a few times that he would like to one day start a family, and I have no doubt he would have made a great dad.

I always remember one New Year’s Eve when I was single too, Mike met me down at the Buffalo-something bar on Franklin Street in Chapel Hill, and we just quietly drank beer and played trivia. We were work-out partners at the gym, which is the strongest I’ve ever been thanks to him busting my chops three times a week. Then we’d sit around in the sauna with other friends talking about comics or The X-Files or whatever geek stuff we were into that made the locals shake their heads at us. A few great parties at my house where we’d either end up playing some wacky game Scott Hampton made up or charades. Lots of trips to the theater. I remember us all heading out to see Pulp Fiction. The last one that a number of us got to watch en masse was the rerelease of The Exorcist when I was back in town visiting. We had fun watching an all new audience of college students get creeped out, then all had an unintentional laugh with modern sensibilities as Regan’s doctor prescribed her Ritalyn.

As time went on it got harder and harder to get Mike out of his Durham house. As most of the studio splintered and moved away, there wasn’t anyone to go drag him out. Most of his socializing then happened over the phone, and I know tons of those calls were friends trying to lure him to their various parts of the country. I sure did every chance. If only one of those calls had caught him at the right time and convinced him to sell the house and move to a community where he could get back out and interact with people firsthand. You may have read his excellent blog and got a sense of how he let things get to him. I think being isolated magnifies those worries, and being in the world around people gives us the perspective we need to shake that crap off. He had put a lot into his career over the years, and didn’t feel like it was progressing the way it should, that he was being marginalized. This dogged him constantly.

That’s why if I had any wish short of being able to get him into the hospital earlier, it would be to go back a week and let him see the massive outpouring of love and respect that’s coming from all camps for him now. I know he would be absolutely floored. All the time at shows that he exhausted himself doing laborious sketches- often for free- I keep seeing posts from those lucky fans and the closure that they didn’t ebay the pieces away, they treasured them ever since.

I’ll probably have some more thoughts tomorrow since I haven’t scratched the surface, and definitely some more pictures thanks to our friend Chris who’s found a few. Here’s one more, again a dinner shot, from a few years ago in Charlotte, just me and my buddy.

ERIK LARSEN

Mike Wieringo just passed away.

What a shock.

Mike was a healthy guy--a vegetarian, physically active, a non-drinker, non-smoker. The kind of guy insurance companies would drool over. And yet--miraculously--bafflingly--Mike Wieringo passed away.

Mike was a great guy--an enthusiastic guy--an optimistic guy--and a curious guy. And I don’t mean “curious” as in “odd” but rather “hungry to learn.” Mike was an intense fellow. When you talked to Mike he gave you his full attention and he was genuinely interested in what you had to say and he asked you questions and valued your input.

Mike was a generous guy. Mike drew covers to books that he liked and wanted nothing for his efforts. He drew them because he wanted to help out and show his support. Mike did a dandy cover for Invincible.

Mike was a hell of an artist. He drew a great Spider-Man, a powerful Superman and he made the Fantastic Four come to life.

Mike was born on June 24, 1963 in Italy and was raised in Lynchburg, Virginia. Mike drew his own comics as a kid, creating a number of superheroes and writing and drawing their adventures in a series of unpublished mini-masterpieces.

Mike went to Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond, Virginia, and graduated with a degree in Communication Arts and Design.

Mike broke into comics as a penciller in 1991. A couple years later he was drawing the Flash for DC Comics, working with writer Mark Waid. Mike co-created Bart Allen, a.k.a. Impulse, with Waid, who proved to be a popular addition to the Flash’s cast. So popular, in fact, that he was rewarded with his own ongoing title.

Mike signed his work "'Ringo." He drew a short run on Robin and a miniseries at Marvel Comics featuring Rogue of the X-Men. Mike became regular artist on the Sensational Spider-Man at Marvel, teamed with writer Todd DeZago.

And then came Tellos.

Mike liked the characters at Marvel and DC, make no mistake--but he loved doing creator-owned stuff. Mike wanted to create. Mike had a passion for spinning his own yarns and it showed. Teamed once more with DeZago the two gave the world their epic fantasy series Tellos.

Tellos was a tale of pirates and talking tigers and danger and innocence. It was a stunningly gorgeous coming-of-age adventure set in a magical realm filled with flying ships, beautiful maidens and breathtaking vistas. It was his most personal work of his career and his passion for it was infectious. But fantasy is no easy sell in the ever-competitive world of comic books and despite a strong and loyal following, Mike and Todd had to throw in the towel after too few issues.

Mike returned to DC Comics for a stint on The Adventures of Superman, teamed with writer Joe Casey. Mike returned to Marvel to work on the Fantastic Four, reunited with Flash scribe, Mark Waid. So well-received was their run that the threat of their run ending prematurely prompted a letter-writing campaign that forced the company to reconsider. Mike penciled the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man after that as well as other small projects. Mike was biding his time for his next creative venture—a return to doing what he did best--creating characters of his own to breathe life into.

The Tellos Colossal hardcover was to be both a reminder of what he had created and a taste of what was to come. Mike had many more tales to tell, and he eagerly awaited the day when his exclusive contract at Marvel was up, so that he could go back to telling his own, more personal stories. Mike and I talked often about creating comics. He wanted, more than anything, to tell his own stories. He wanted to create his own worlds and our lives are that much poorer for his abrupt departure from ours.

Mike Wieringo died of a heart attack at his home in Durham, North Carolina, on August 12, 2007. He was 44 years old. He was survived by parents Cecil and Shirley Dean Wieringo, and brother, Matt.

Mike was a great guy, a terrific talent, and a good friend. I’m going to miss him and all of us will miss what might have been--the many exciting stories he would have created that will remain forever untold due to his passing.

JIM VALENTINO

It is a rare thing when someone’s passing affects so many. Not merely those who knew and loved him well, but those who knew him only through his works and writings. Mike Wieringo is one of those individuals. It has been a long time since our entire industry, fans and pros alike, have been so universally saddened.

I sit here trying to find words and fail. Tears pour down my face and my heart feels empty. I only met Mike a couple of times but I had the privilege of publishing Tellos, a book I loved dearly and he was a frequent contributor to my message board where his warmth, good humor and genuine kindness won him many friends, all of whom have had their hearts broken by this sad, sad news.

I admired the sheer joy in his artwork, his beautifully realized figures, his faces filled with the warmth of his soul. But more, I admired the man he was. Just a regular guy who never let any of the attendant nonsense go to his head. Who remained humble, kind, just one of the guys.

He shamed us with his humility.

He dazzled us with his brilliance.

He showed us all how to fly a little higher by his example.

He will be missed beyond any measure he could ever have imagined.