Stan Lee, Gene Rodenberry, and Me

By Gabriel Wisdom

I stepped out onto the stage at the San Diego ComicCon dressed as Thor. The wings on my helmet were slightly crooked, and the cape was too heavy for the San Diego summer weather, but none of that mattered. I can still feel the weight of the hammer in my hand, a ridiculous, glorious mirrored prop a friend of mine had built in his garage. The room was buzzing and in 1976, ComicCon was young and alive. The training wheels had come off and we had 3000 paid attendees – real fandom, but nothing like today’s 130,000 who attend each year.   

Behind me stood Stan Lee and his Marvel artist John Buscema, both of them watching the crowd like proud parents at a very strange school play.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” I called out, raising the hammer. “I am THOR, God of Thunder, Lord of the Savage Lighting, and host for tonight’s masquerade ball!”

The crowd cheered, and for a moment everything felt perfectly under control. Then I glanced at the judges seated in the front row. Gene Roddenberry, hands folded like he was observing a social experiment. There was Ray Bradbury, eyes burning with Fahrenheit 451 curiosity. And to Roddenberry’s right…a special surprise guest I’d brought along at the last minute, Timothy Leary, smiling like he’d just dropped in to see what condition his condition was in.

I felt my stomach drop recalling earlier how ComicCon co-founder Shel Dorf had pulled me aside, his face tight with concern.

“You brought him?” he asked heatedly. “Do you have any idea what this could do to us? The most dangerous man in America, isn’t that what Nixon called him?   

I had shrugged, maybe a little too casually. “Leary and I are doing a radio show together with rock stars and other guests talking about science fiction; stuff like that, only this is science-faction. He’s crazy smart, and funny. Great fun.”

Shel didn’t see it that way, but it was too late because there in the front row, the notorious “pied piper of LSD,” Doctor Timothy Leary was sitting between two of the most respected creative minds in speculative fiction. 

The first contestant came out dressed as a passable Spider-Man. “Have no fear, Spidey is here,” I boomed, voice steady, but my eyes kept drifting back to the front row.

Leary leaned over to Roddenberry saying something that made them both laugh. Bradbury looked less amused. He crossed his arms, studying Leary like he was a story problem he hadn’t solved yet.

Stan Lee was standing by the side of the stage, arms folded. “You’ve stirred the pot, kid,” he murmured.

“I may have left the gas on and blown up the kitchen,” I replied.

 “Even better,” Stan grinned. 

Murmurs started spreading through the convention ballroom about Timothy Leary. A number of older people stood and left for the exits, shaking their heads. A dozen others followed shuffling past the rows of seated attendees. The energy had clearly shifted.

I tightened my grip on the hammer and began swinging.

“Alright!” I bellowed, “The mighty Thor shall supply the cure!”

“True believers!” Stan Lee shouted. “What is a masquerade without a little chaos? 

The crowd laughed. The tension cracked.

I looked down at Roddenberry who met my eyes and gave an encouraging nod. 

“The great Gene Roddenberry,” I declared to a round of applause. Then I asked, “In the Star Trek universe, what happens when unexpected elements enter the system?” 

Roddenberry stood slightly but not all the way. “We adapt,” he said. “Or we evolve.”

Bradbury chuckled despite himself.

Leary raised both hands. “Yes, we evolve. Sometimes you have to go out of your mind to come to your senses,” he laughed. 

The room erupted with another round of applause, some cheers, some boos, but it was alive again. Electric.

I seized it. “Okay, let’s evolve this masquerade! Every contestant, you are now challenged to make it stranger, make it bigger, and make it believable!”



What followed was chaos, yes -- but the right kind. Comic-Con was still half counterculture experiment, half gathering of true believers and those who thought stories mattered more than the world seemed willing to admit. 

© 2026 Stan Lee, Gene Rodenberry, and Me ™ by Gabriel Wisdom