Post by The Ultimate Nullifier on May 7, 2014 9:53:41 GMT -6
blog.sfgate.com/thebigevent/2014/04/30/the-wrath-of-wondercon-why-a-geek-convention-is-good-for-san-francisco/#22906101=0
Once again this year, I had the urge to crash the American Association of Neurological Surgeons convention at the Moscone Center, with my young sons in their Boba Fett and Ringwraith costumes.
I would bring the R2 Builders Club with me, along with the 501st Legion, as many Image Comics artists as we can fit in the minivan and maybe Lou Ferrigno. Call it a peaceful protest or support group. Or maybe just an attempt to send a message.
This marks San Francisco’s third spring without WonderCon, the comic book, science fiction and fantasy convention that started in the Bay Area in the 1980s, before moving to Anaheim in 2012. It wasn’t a clean breakup. We were told the convention would be missing for a year, because of Moscone renovations. Each year since then, this family-friendly convention with deep local ties gets a little further entrenched in Orange County — more than 50,000 people attended WonderCon Anaheim last weekend. Yet another year passes, as local geek feelings ricochet between confusion, withdrawal and anger.
We’ll start with withdrawal … I’ve always enjoyed comic book conventions. As a very dorky kid growing up with a “kick me” sign on his back in the South Bay, comic book shops and sci-fi/role-playing game conventions were the two places on the planet where I felt 100 percent certain nobody was going to kick my ass.
That womb-like feeling never went away. The first time I walked in WonderCon as a reporter, in the mid-2000s, my blood pressure immediately dropped. The organizers were a bit concerned I might write a let’s-make-fun-of-the-nerds WonderCon story (worries were put to rest when I showed up wearing an Uncanny X-Men tie), but the attendees themselves couldn’t have been more friendly.
The convention was going through its own growing pains, ending its shift from a local comics-focused convention to a glitzier Hollywood movie showcase. But even as the biggest presentations became more corporate, the positive vibe scaled up as well. Attendees were happy. A larger non-geek crowd emerged, but they assimilated well. People were nice to each other. It did not, in the words of my favorite geek icon, feel like a trap.
I took my 5-year-old son for the first time in 2011, and the feelings were reinforced. As memorable as the kindness was to me, it was magnified when I watched costumed attendees and others being kind to my son. He didn’t know that wasn’t the real Jango Fett.
We didn’t know at the time, but it was the last year for WonderCon in San Francisco.
WonderCon was making money, the city was making money, people were having fun and it gave locals something positive and social to do on a weekend. So why again is it no longer here?
I’ve asked a lot of people close to the convention scene this question, and this is what I’ve come up with:
WonderCon is not a low-maintenance outfit. It needs extra time set up and tear down, doesn’t have a lot of date flexibility and brings a huge crowd. (Regular attendees know that fire marshal intervention was an occasional reality.) It may not be the greatest convention if you operate a five-star hotel or Michelin starred restaurant, or you’re a City Hall lobbyist who represents those types of interests. Whether it’s true or not, the perception is that the heavy geek demographic spends a majority of its disposable income inside the walls of WonderCon.
As a journalist working two blocks from Moscone Center, it’s clear to me on a daily basis how much disposable income runs through these conventions. I see doctors and lawyers happily waiting in long lines for a questionable meal. Tech firms celebrating their tech firm-ness have shut down an entire street — making it rain on a part of town that 40 years ago was arguably the most notorious Skid Row. At a time when many of the WonderCon attendees would have long since tucked their kids into bed, the California Building Industry Association is closing down a dozen or so local bars.
So we can see why city leaders might not care whether WonderCon comes back.
Here’s why they should:
1. It was promised to us. When the Moscone Center was built in 1981, it was sold to voters as both a money-maker and civic institution. I read all the stories in the Chronicle archives — hot dogs and balloons were handed out to kids at the grand opening. The two-page Moscone Center opening day advertisement in the Chronicle features portraits of children skipping through the halls. And Moscone Center was, in fact, filled with civic-minded events in the early years. In the six months after the center opened in 1981, it hosted boat and auto shows, the San Francisco Fair and Exposition, “Sesame Street Live” and the University of San Francisco graduation.
2. WonderCon was good for local families. Want to guess the next kid-friendly, middle class-friendly event on the 2014 Moscone Center calendar? The San Francisco International Auto Show on November 22. In a one-month period between April 9 and May 9, Moscone will be visited by three different kinds of surgeons. You will hear city leaders swear up and down that they want to fight to keep San Francisco a welcome place for families. So why is this city-controlled institution catering so heavily to wealthy adults from out of town?
3. It celebrated local achievements. Founded by local comic book store owners as the Wonderful World of Comics Convention in 1987, WonderCon had strong Bay Area history. Hollywood dominated the largest halls, especially in the later years. But the convention was still represented by local artists, local merchants and most of all local fans. The Bay Area has a rich comics creation history, a wonderfully diverse array of comic book retailers and a strong geek core. The local feel was diluted, but not lost.
4. It was positive. I’ve seen WonderCon cosplayers in stifling Stormtrooper or oversized Alien costumes, standing in the lobby for minutes that stretched into hours, just so every fan who wanted to could get a photo. I’ve seen a skilled model builder, hiding behind a pillar with his remote control, so the children who run into his life-size R2-D2 robot don’t lose the illusion that it’s the real thing. I’ve seen filmmakers from Pixar, Bay Area comic book artists and local TV stars from yesteryear treated like their WonderCon visit was a huge homecoming, even though they traveled from 10-15 miles away.
So who will step forward?
I’ve thought a lot about this.
A comic book convention doesn’t make for a politician’s legacy project. There’s no lobbyist for the cause. There are few perks involved, no private boxes to watch sailboat racing and the prospect that the Joss Whedon fans are going to volunteer for your next political campaign are dim.
But I believe there’s at least one geek working in City Hall or the SF Convention and Visitors Bureau who loves “Star Trek” or superhero comics, and sees the value of another family-friendly, affordable weekend event at Moscone. I’m betting there’s at least one city supervisor who has given the speech about the importance of keeping families in San Francisco, meant every word they said, and understands the benefit of making the largest indoor meeting place in the city useful to the city’s and region’s residents.
Someone in power must want the thanks of hundreds of Stormtroopers, a dozen (give or take) people dressed up as Green Lantern and thousands of children. The Bay Area is the home of “Star Wars,” Mr. Incredible, Charles Schulz, Daniel Clowes, the Cartoon Art Museum and Batkid. We’re a quirky place that loves to dream.
We should have a comic book convention in San Francisco in 2015.
Ed. note: Comic/fantasy fans who miss WonderCon might want to check out The Big Wow Comicfest, which is coming to San Jose Convention Center on May 17-18. The artist-heavy lineup has a lot of local talent. More info here.
PETER HARTLAUB is the pop culture critic at the San Francisco Chronicle and founder/editor of The Big Event. He takes requests. Contact him at phartlaub@sfchronicle.com. Follow him on Twitter atwww.twitter.com/peterhartlaub. Follow The Big Event on Facebook.
Once again this year, I had the urge to crash the American Association of Neurological Surgeons convention at the Moscone Center, with my young sons in their Boba Fett and Ringwraith costumes.
I would bring the R2 Builders Club with me, along with the 501st Legion, as many Image Comics artists as we can fit in the minivan and maybe Lou Ferrigno. Call it a peaceful protest or support group. Or maybe just an attempt to send a message.
This marks San Francisco’s third spring without WonderCon, the comic book, science fiction and fantasy convention that started in the Bay Area in the 1980s, before moving to Anaheim in 2012. It wasn’t a clean breakup. We were told the convention would be missing for a year, because of Moscone renovations. Each year since then, this family-friendly convention with deep local ties gets a little further entrenched in Orange County — more than 50,000 people attended WonderCon Anaheim last weekend. Yet another year passes, as local geek feelings ricochet between confusion, withdrawal and anger.
We’ll start with withdrawal … I’ve always enjoyed comic book conventions. As a very dorky kid growing up with a “kick me” sign on his back in the South Bay, comic book shops and sci-fi/role-playing game conventions were the two places on the planet where I felt 100 percent certain nobody was going to kick my ass.
That womb-like feeling never went away. The first time I walked in WonderCon as a reporter, in the mid-2000s, my blood pressure immediately dropped. The organizers were a bit concerned I might write a let’s-make-fun-of-the-nerds WonderCon story (worries were put to rest when I showed up wearing an Uncanny X-Men tie), but the attendees themselves couldn’t have been more friendly.
The convention was going through its own growing pains, ending its shift from a local comics-focused convention to a glitzier Hollywood movie showcase. But even as the biggest presentations became more corporate, the positive vibe scaled up as well. Attendees were happy. A larger non-geek crowd emerged, but they assimilated well. People were nice to each other. It did not, in the words of my favorite geek icon, feel like a trap.
I took my 5-year-old son for the first time in 2011, and the feelings were reinforced. As memorable as the kindness was to me, it was magnified when I watched costumed attendees and others being kind to my son. He didn’t know that wasn’t the real Jango Fett.
We didn’t know at the time, but it was the last year for WonderCon in San Francisco.
WonderCon was making money, the city was making money, people were having fun and it gave locals something positive and social to do on a weekend. So why again is it no longer here?
I’ve asked a lot of people close to the convention scene this question, and this is what I’ve come up with:
WonderCon is not a low-maintenance outfit. It needs extra time set up and tear down, doesn’t have a lot of date flexibility and brings a huge crowd. (Regular attendees know that fire marshal intervention was an occasional reality.) It may not be the greatest convention if you operate a five-star hotel or Michelin starred restaurant, or you’re a City Hall lobbyist who represents those types of interests. Whether it’s true or not, the perception is that the heavy geek demographic spends a majority of its disposable income inside the walls of WonderCon.
As a journalist working two blocks from Moscone Center, it’s clear to me on a daily basis how much disposable income runs through these conventions. I see doctors and lawyers happily waiting in long lines for a questionable meal. Tech firms celebrating their tech firm-ness have shut down an entire street — making it rain on a part of town that 40 years ago was arguably the most notorious Skid Row. At a time when many of the WonderCon attendees would have long since tucked their kids into bed, the California Building Industry Association is closing down a dozen or so local bars.
So we can see why city leaders might not care whether WonderCon comes back.
Here’s why they should:
1. It was promised to us. When the Moscone Center was built in 1981, it was sold to voters as both a money-maker and civic institution. I read all the stories in the Chronicle archives — hot dogs and balloons were handed out to kids at the grand opening. The two-page Moscone Center opening day advertisement in the Chronicle features portraits of children skipping through the halls. And Moscone Center was, in fact, filled with civic-minded events in the early years. In the six months after the center opened in 1981, it hosted boat and auto shows, the San Francisco Fair and Exposition, “Sesame Street Live” and the University of San Francisco graduation.
2. WonderCon was good for local families. Want to guess the next kid-friendly, middle class-friendly event on the 2014 Moscone Center calendar? The San Francisco International Auto Show on November 22. In a one-month period between April 9 and May 9, Moscone will be visited by three different kinds of surgeons. You will hear city leaders swear up and down that they want to fight to keep San Francisco a welcome place for families. So why is this city-controlled institution catering so heavily to wealthy adults from out of town?
3. It celebrated local achievements. Founded by local comic book store owners as the Wonderful World of Comics Convention in 1987, WonderCon had strong Bay Area history. Hollywood dominated the largest halls, especially in the later years. But the convention was still represented by local artists, local merchants and most of all local fans. The Bay Area has a rich comics creation history, a wonderfully diverse array of comic book retailers and a strong geek core. The local feel was diluted, but not lost.
4. It was positive. I’ve seen WonderCon cosplayers in stifling Stormtrooper or oversized Alien costumes, standing in the lobby for minutes that stretched into hours, just so every fan who wanted to could get a photo. I’ve seen a skilled model builder, hiding behind a pillar with his remote control, so the children who run into his life-size R2-D2 robot don’t lose the illusion that it’s the real thing. I’ve seen filmmakers from Pixar, Bay Area comic book artists and local TV stars from yesteryear treated like their WonderCon visit was a huge homecoming, even though they traveled from 10-15 miles away.
So who will step forward?
I’ve thought a lot about this.
A comic book convention doesn’t make for a politician’s legacy project. There’s no lobbyist for the cause. There are few perks involved, no private boxes to watch sailboat racing and the prospect that the Joss Whedon fans are going to volunteer for your next political campaign are dim.
But I believe there’s at least one geek working in City Hall or the SF Convention and Visitors Bureau who loves “Star Trek” or superhero comics, and sees the value of another family-friendly, affordable weekend event at Moscone. I’m betting there’s at least one city supervisor who has given the speech about the importance of keeping families in San Francisco, meant every word they said, and understands the benefit of making the largest indoor meeting place in the city useful to the city’s and region’s residents.
Someone in power must want the thanks of hundreds of Stormtroopers, a dozen (give or take) people dressed up as Green Lantern and thousands of children. The Bay Area is the home of “Star Wars,” Mr. Incredible, Charles Schulz, Daniel Clowes, the Cartoon Art Museum and Batkid. We’re a quirky place that loves to dream.
We should have a comic book convention in San Francisco in 2015.
Ed. note: Comic/fantasy fans who miss WonderCon might want to check out The Big Wow Comicfest, which is coming to San Jose Convention Center on May 17-18. The artist-heavy lineup has a lot of local talent. More info here.
PETER HARTLAUB is the pop culture critic at the San Francisco Chronicle and founder/editor of The Big Event. He takes requests. Contact him at phartlaub@sfchronicle.com. Follow him on Twitter atwww.twitter.com/peterhartlaub. Follow The Big Event on Facebook.