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IU Bloomington Commencement
Commencement Address
Michael Uslan
May 6,2006

Indiana University empowered me to get a job which could eventually lead me to my dream, and it did so by catering to the needs of one individual student. Here’s how it happened…and it’s hard to believe:

When I was an undergrad, IU had an experimental curriculum department in the College of Arts & Sciences. If you had an idea for a course to be taught here that was non-traditional and had never been taught before, and if you had the backing of a department, you could appear before a panel of professors and deans to pitch your idea. If they approved it, your course would be accredited and you could teach it on campus.

So, I created a college course on comic books, claiming comics to be not only a legitimate art form as indigenous to America as jazz, but also to be contemporary folklore… modern day mythology. The ancient gods of Egypt, Greece and Rome still exist, only today they wear spandex and capes.

With the backing of the Folklore Department, I appeared before the panel of professors and deans. I entered a dark, mahogany room with a long conference table right out of the Justice League’s secret sanctum. Now, keep in mind this was the early 70’s. My hair was down to my shoulders, I was wearing a Spider-Man T-shirt and I think I still had on my love beads.

The professor at the far end of the table looked down at me over the little half-glasses perched on the edge of his nose, and said, “So you’re the fellow who wants to teach a course on ‘funny books’ at my university?” I knew I was in deep… trouble.

He let me speak for about two minutes, then cut me off. “Mr. Uslan,” he said, “I don’t buy your theory. Comic books are cheap entertainment for children. Nothing more. Nothing less. I read them all the time when I was a kid. I read every ‘Superman’ comic I could get my hands on. But contemporary folklore? Modern day mythology? I reject your theory.”

It was my moment of truth. I inquired if I could ask him two questions, and he said I could ask him anything I wanted. So I asked if he was familiar with the story of Moses. He told me he was. I then requested that he very briefly summarize the story of Moses. Eyeing me as if I was insane, he replied that he wasn’t sure what game I was playing, but that he would play it with me.

The professor said, “The Hebrews were being persecuted, their first-born slain. A Hebrew couple placed their infant son into a little wicker basket and sent him down the River Nile where he was discovered by an Egyptian family who raised him as their own son. When he grew up and learned of his heritage, he became a great hero to his people by---“I said to him, “Thank you. That was great. You mentioned before that you read ‘Superman’ comics as a kid. Do you remember the origin of Superman?” He did. “What’s the origin of Superman?” I asked.

The professor said, “The planet Krypton was about to explode. A scientist and his wife placed their infant son in a little rocket ship and sent him to earth. There, he was discovered by the Kents who raised him as their own son. When he grew up---“Suddenly, the professor stopped talking and just stared at me for what seemed like an eternity, and  said, “Your course is accredited.”

I would be teaching the world’s first accredited college course on comic books! I’m walking on air back to my place at 10th and Grant when all of a sudden I recall what an IU business prof once told me: “Being creative is not enough. You must market yourself and your creative ideas if you wish to succeed.”

So I picked up a phone and called United Press International, the huge wire service in Indianapolis. I asked to speak to a reporter who covered education in Indiana. A man got on the phone and I started to scream at him: “What’s wrong with you?!? The press is supposed to be the watchdog for the people. I can’t believe you’re letting them get away with this!”

The reporter pleaded with me to calm down, and then fearfully asked me what I was talking about. I said, “I hear there’s a course on comic books being taught at Indiana University. This is outrageous! Do you mean that as a taxpayer in this state I’m paying for our kids to learn about ‘funny books’?! This must be some Communist plot to infiltrate the youth of America!” And I hung up.

It took this gentleman three days to learn if IU really had such a course and, if so, who the lunatic was who was teaching it. He came to Bloomington to interview me and then went out with a huge story with photos that was picked up by almost every newspaper in North America and throughout Europe. From that day on, my phone rang off the hook with requests for me to appear on TV and radio talk shows. NBC, CBS and other news crews came to IU and I never taught a class that wasn’t packed with TV cameras and reporters from “Family Weekly” to Playboy.” I even had my picture appear in “Ripley’s Believe It Or Not.” My mother was so proud!

Three weeks later, my phone rings. “Is this Michael Uslan? This is Stan Lee from Marvel Comics in New York.” For you uninitiated, Stan Lee is the co-creator of “Spider-Man,” “X-Men,” “Fantastic Four,” “The Hulk,” and the entire pantheon of Marvel super-heroes. Hearing Stan’s voice over my phone was what I call my very own “Burning Bush” moment. He said, “Mike, everywhere I turn, I see you on TV or in magazines or newspapers. This course you’re teaching is great for the whole comic book industry. How can I be helpful?” Not two hours later, a similar call comes in from the head of DC Comics, publisher of Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman. He said he had special plans to target more comic books to college students and asked if he could fly me to New York to meet. 

“Uh…okay.”

I’m now at DC in New York and they offer me a summer job. So, one July day as I’m walking by the office of the editor of a comic book character called “The Shadow,” I hear him complaining loudly that he has no idea for a “Shadow” script due the very next day. Quickly, I poked my head into his office and blurted out, “I have an idea for a story.” I didn’t. But I did realize here was a “moment” …a chance to get my foot in the door. Carpe Diem. I hemmed and hawed and created a story on the spot. The editor told me to have the script on his desk in 24 hours. Suddenly, I’m a comic book writer for DC Comics.

Two weeks later, the editor of “Batman” comics passed by in the hallway. He was very gruff, but once you got to know him, he was a marshmallow inside. “Hey, kid,” he said to me. “I read your ‘Shadow’ script.” “You did?” I asked excitedly. “Yeah. It didn’t stink.”  “Oh, thank you!” I beamed. And then he said, “How’d you like to take a shot at writing ‘Batman’?”

Since I was eight years old, I dreamed of writing “Batman.” He was my favorite super-hero because he had no super-powers. His greatest super-power was his humanity. Plus, he had the best Rogues’ Gallery of villains ever! In my heart of hearts, I believed at age eight that if I studied hard, worked out, and if my Dad bought me a cool car, I could be this guy!

Now that my dream of writing “Batman” comics came true, I needed a new dream. While staring out the window of my Bloomington apartment, I decide I wanted to get to Hollywood and produce the dark, serious “Batman” movie the way he was created in 1939 as a creature of the night stalking criminals from the shadows.

The President of DC Comics listened to my goal and tried to give me fatherly advice. “Michael,” he said, “since the ‘Batman’ TV show went off the air, no one’s been interested in Batman for movies. He’s as dead as a Dodo.  Go get credentials in the film business, then come back and talk to me.”

So, every Friday of my senior year, I went to the IU Library and read “Variety” magazine, the weekly bible of show business. I jotted down the name of every movie and TV executive mentioned in its articles. By the end of the school year, I had the names of 372 people to send resumes to, instead of having to send out “To Whom It May Concern” letters to personnel departments. And I typed every one of those 372 cover letters with two fingers on a typewriter. For those of you who don’t know what a typewriter is, visit your local museum. Look for it right next to the VCR.

From 372 resumes, I received two job offers: a major New York talent agency invited me to join its agent training program, which would sentence me to two years in their mailroom at $95 per week; and a big-time producer in LA made me an offer to become a production assistant in charge of Xeroxing and going for coffee at a salary of $95 per week. Time for Plan “B.” And if there’s no other advice I could give you, I’d simply urge you all always to have a Plan “B”…and a Plan “C.”

Plan “B”: Unable to get my foot in the door creatively in Hollywood at a pay scale above “starvation,” I considered a different route via law school. If I could become an entertainment lawyer as my entrée into the motion picture industry, learn how to finance and produce movies, and meet the power brokers in Hollywood, I could one day sneak in the back door of the creative side.

IU School of Law empowered me by allowing me to take an independent study course since I was the only student interested in entertainment at that time. It was that independent study course that impressed United Artists studio honchos enough to give me, over some 200 applicants, the motion picture production attorney job they had open. Thank you, IU, for yet again accommodating the needs of one individual student.

As part of Plan “B,” I stayed at United Artists as if was graduate school, learning all I could. Then, determined I would not be trapped into being a lawyer for the rest of my life, I found a partner and mentor in Ben Melniker, the former Executive Vice President of MGM in its heyday. Together, we raised money, went back to DC with my new credentials, and bought the rights to “Batman.” Believing I had a 51% chance of success with “Batman” in my pocket, I rolled the dice and quit my job, becoming an independent movie producer by sneaking in that proverbial back door.

I thought everyone in Hollywood would jump to finance my dark vision for “Batman.” Instead, I was turned down by every studio in town. The rejections piled up quickly: “Michael, you’re crazy! No one’s ever made a movie based on an old TV series. It’s never been done!” “Michael, you’re insane! Nobody will watch a serious version of “Batman,” only that pot-bellied funny guy with the Pows! Zaps! And Whams!” “Michael, you’re nuts! (Do you all see a pattern emerging here?) Your movie, “Batman,” will fail because our movie, “Annie,” didn’t do well.” I asked this exec if he meant the little red-haired girl who sings, “Tomorrow.” He shook his head affirmatively. “But what does she have to do with ‘Batman’?” I asked. “Come on, Michael,” he responded. “They’re both out of the ‘funny pages’.” Finally, even good, old United Artists turned me down cold when its exec told me, “Michael, you’re out of your mind! Batman and Robin will never do well because the movie, “Robin and Marian” didn’t do well.” Now, that film starred Sean Connery and Audrey Hepburn as an aging Robin Hood and Maid Marian. The man apparently turned down “Batman” simply because they both had the word “Robin” in the title.

From the time we bought the rights to “Batman,” it took ten years for the film to come out. Ten years. Then, it broke one box-office record after another, finally prompting my Mother to stop asking me, “So when are you going to get a real job?” and it spawned an on-going worldwide franchise of movies, animation, videogames, toys, and best of all, last year’s great film made by the genius director, Chris Nolan, “Batman Begins.”

There are four simple but critically important lessons I’ve learned during my journey from Bloomington to Batman, which I’d like to pass along to you at this moment of your graduation:

First, sometimes you have to take calculated risks and roll the dice, or risk growing old and having to say, “I could have been….”

Secondly, you must believe in yourself and in your work. When our first “Batman” movie broke all those box-office records, I received a phone call from that United Artists exec who, years before, had told me about “Robin and Marian” and let me know I was out of my mind. Now he said, “Michael, I’m just calling to congratulate you on the success of “Batman.” I always said you were a visionary.” You see the point here--- don’t believe them when they tell you how bad you are or how terrible your ideas are, but also, don’t believe them when they tell you how wonderful you are and how great your ideas are. Just believe in yourself and you’ll do just fine. And, oh yes, don’t then forget to market yourself and your ideas. Use both sides of your brain.

Third, you must have a high threshold for frustration. Take it from the guy who was turned down by every studio in Hollywood. You must knock on doors until your knuckles bleed. Doors will slam in your face. You must pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and knock again. It’s the only way to achieve your goals in life.

Finally, follow whatever your passion may be in life and do something you love. My father was a mason starting at age 16 when he left school to help his family survive the Depression, until he was 80. His whole life, he worked six days a week no matter how hot or how cold out it was. He was an old world artist… a craftsman who created magnificent fireplaces and homes out of bricks and stones. Every morning of my childhood, I saw my Dad hop out of bed before dawn, eager to get to work and do what he loved. Even then, I knew that was what I wanted in life… to be able to wake up on a rainy Monday morning and say, “I can’t wait to get to work!” I had to find my own bricks and stones. For me, that’s movies and comics. Today, I challenge you to find yours.

If there’s one quotation that sums up my journey through life and the choices I’ve made, it’s the closing lines of a poem by Robert Frost, which I now pass along to you:

“I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I---
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”

Bats of luck and congratulations, my fellow IU graduates!