This web site is dedicated to our friend Gary Brickman, who passed away on June 26, 2000. Brickmanesque George Hickenlooper, 14 July 2000 Gary was like a character out of a Billy Wilder film with a little twist of James Thurber. From the first day I met him through his brother Danny in Palo Alto comic book shop in the fall of 1973, to the last day I had lunch with him at Duke’s Coffee shop on the Sunset Strip in the spring of 1999, Gary’s acerbic sense of humor was in overdrive. He was one of the few friends in my life who could cut through all the pretense, reach through all the layers of who I wanted to be, and pull out a portrait of who I actually was with a whimsical flourish that was very, shall we say, Brickmanesque. Gary was a great observer. As a child, I took my cues from him and Danny because I trusted the fact that even as an eleven-year-old, Gary knew how to handle the adult world. From our many trips to comic book conventions to our many, many poker games, Gary and Danny were my first links to real life. Even years later, Gary took me on my first trip to Los Angeles (which is now my home) and helped instill in me a kind of courage, not only because he was fearless in his curiosity about the outside world, but because he was fearless in his ability to break down my own trepidations, and always, of course, in a flurry of facetious humor. Even at our last lunch, where both of us talked about how far we’d come in twenty-five years, Gary (always the great equalizer) was able to reach back into the years and get us laughing about who we really were — a mirrored extension of our childhoods. As a kid, Gary made be feel like an adult. As an adult, he made me feel like a kid. That is a rare gift, and one I will always remember. Gary Brickman, 1997   »home