Dalton Webb
It’s the hardest obit to ever write, that of someone you’ve known for more years than you care to count, a beloved kindred spirit, my friend in life and forever, Dalton Webb. There’s a whole other world out there beyond social media and the internet that we touch, feel and experience. Not so long ago, we used to be in that world so much more than we seem to be now. Go further back, and the world becomes more and more real. In our youth, or relative youth, Dalton and I navigated a more real world. Yeah, I think it’s safe to say that. I was the older guy, by a decade or so, but, whatever. Our paths crossed, and once they did, we became fast friends. Dalton, being younger, perhaps was more prone to want to be a part of whatever the next big thing was at the time. I guess that was mastering that new up-and-coming Adobe graphic design software. We met as students of an illustration class. This, of course, back then, was in-person. There wasn’t any other option back at the start of the 21st century. We were both coming from different backgrounds and circumstances but, at that time, we were both living life by the seat of our pants, hanging on by our fingernails, on budgets so tight it could make your head spin. We got to talking and then more talking. It turned out that we had a lot in common, like an interest in the metaphysical and supernatural. And we were both Texas boys who decided to seek our fame and fortune in what was still then the wild and untamed hipster universe of Seattle, circa 2000, still trembling over what grunge had wrought. I’d originally moved to Seattle back in 1993. Kurt Cobain was still among us. In those years, I’d already lived a lot of life, even leaving Seattle for Spokane for a while. Anyway, we got to chatting and discovered we both were grappling, in very different yet very similar ways, with finding success as artists, or, at the very least, making our lives more artful! We both loved art in all its many forms and we had a keen interest in the comics art form. Lucky for us, Seattle was, and still is, a hotbed of activity for all kinds of creative people: musicians and writers; painters and photographers; and, most definitely, cartoonists.
Wally Mammoth, written by Corey R. Tabor and illustrated by Dalton Webb
The history of comics in Seattle is a whole thing all to itself and I can tell you that Dalton and I found our way into the very thick of it all. We stood our ground, we were part of it all and we evolved. We both created zines, comics, illustrations and did our fair share of networking. Fast forward a couple of decades and we matured as serious contenders. More recently, in more receptive times for both of us, we each got picked up by publishers. Very different books and set of circumstances but we could both say that we’d arrived. I have had a very busy year and I think that partly explains why I’d been so out of the loop with Dalton lately. I am thrilled about the new book (written by Corey. R. Tabor, illustrated by Dalton Webb) that just came out, Wally Mammoth: The Sled Race, published by HarperCollins, and I will provide a full review soon. I knew Dalton for so many years that, when he grew his hair long again, it wasn’t a surprise to me, as it was to newer friends. I’d known him back when it would have been a surprise to suddenly see him with short hair. I knew all sorts of things about him, and he knew all sorts of things about me. The point is that we knew each other well beyond the surface level. Heck, we were roommates for a time. We witnessed countless triumphs and failures between the two of us. So, when I moved away from Seattle a few years ago, it was hard to say goodbye and face the inevitable drifting apart. When I got a phone call from a family friend letting me know that Dalton had passed away, it hit me like a mack truck. What?! Where was this coming from? The last I’d heard about Dalton was from an Instagram post announcing the Wally Mammoth book, part of a new series. I just assumed this was the beginning of some well-earned career milestones. If I kept up with Facebook, which I do not, I would have learned that Dalton had been facing health issues. Sadly, we live in a world where it is assumed that everyone is connected to Facebook. It has been baked-in and there’s no going back, unless we really want to. Well, like a number of people, I don’t subscribe to the Facebook hive mindset and so I guess I miss a few things, but I never imagined Dalton was in such a bad situation. I’m thinking this wasn’t news that he would have readily shared with anyone. But I can only speculate about this most recent period. And it hurts that I somehow fell out of the loop.
illustration by Dalton Webb
Dalton was no hack artist, and neither am I! That distinction goes to the heart of our bond. He truly loved the whole art of problem-solving, the entire process. Yes, amen to that. We were a few years apart in age but essentially coming at things from a Gen X ethos: keep it authentic and don’t take any guff from anyone. Now, Dalton had the gift of gab and he could shop talk with any and all industry folk. I can too but I really do best with intimate and real conversation. And I know Dalton preferred that too, that’s why we got along so well together. Dalton, at the end of the day, genuinely enjoyed talking and sharing. He adored vintage illustration techniques and would pore over a book about a legendary illustrator for hours and then, all inspired, proceed to draw for hours. He loved such illustrator-artists as Walt Kelly, Eric Carle, Carl Barks and Maurice Sendak. Dalton just needed some more time. He was well on his way.
Dalton at an art show we organized.
Dalton was a lot of things: down-to-earth, stubborn, competitive, whimsical, kind, gentle, mysterious, and, did I mention stubborn? Well, let’s see, here’s a story. We, now and then, would do a road trip out to take part in a comics festival with our latest works. There was the time we drove from Seattle to Vancouver, B.C. to take part in an indie comics gathering. We stayed for the after-show dinner with various cartoonists. It was getting late, and it would have been so easy to just stay the night at a hotel, but Dalton was determined to drive back the three hours to Seattle. Against my better judgement, I agreed and hopped into the driver’s seat of my car. We were making steady progress on I-5 when Dalton insisted he wanted to give me a break, let me sleep, as he drove the rest of the way. I didn’t feel especially drowsy but I relented. Once I was riding shotgun, I let myself relax and doze off. No sooner was I in a deep sleep than I was awoken by a police siren and flashing lights. It turned out that Dalton had gotten drowsy and was weaving along as he was driving. By some miracle, the police officer let us go with just a warning! Even when he wasn’t trying, Dalton seemed to always charm his way out of things. I know he’s laughing at this.
Grasshopper by Dalton Webb
Well, as I was saying earlier, Dalton, the younger one of us, was a bit more eager to keep up with the latest trends. I did what suited me but was content to, more or less, miss the boat on some things, like Facebook, which, I love to point out, was originally intended as a way for fraternities to organize keggers. It wasn’t meant to be taken seriously as part of someone’s day-to-day activity but that is what it has become because we just don’t live as much of our lives in the real world as we once did. Anyway, when I got that phone call from a family friend letting me know that Dalton had died, I wasn’t struck with a need to post about it anywhere, let alone Facebook. You know why? Well, I just got a special phone call intended for certain people, right? In the real world, you readily appreciate the chaos and pain in a time of grief. What you do is let family lead the way and just wait. But, once news got out about Dalton’s death, it managed to make its way into the Facebook ecosystem. And, you know, worst things have happened. Dalton loved Facebook and, I imagine, he probably could get a chuckle out of the buzz of activity about him. But, he’s on a higher plane of existence now. And he most likely would get a chuckle over how utterly irrelevant so many things really are. Facebook is what it is. Maybe I’m supposed to embrace it more in the future–or maybe not. Dalton, I’m sure, is laughing his ass off that I’m freaking out over Facebook in the first place and he’d be right. He was, and remains, right about so many things.
Thank you for this. It’s so good to see his life celebrated with stories and his artwork. I was so excited by his picture book debut and have been waiting for it for years, because of all that obvious talent and hard work. I loved how proud he was of his family life too. I will miss him.
So wonderful to read this. Thank you!
Thanks for writing about Dalton. When I think of the earliest days of knowing him, it was him and you as buddies that I remember.
I had known that he was in the hospital a while ago, but didn’t know how dire his situation was. He wasn’t posting information about it on Facebook – he was quietly dealing with it in real life. I’d had no idea.
I’m so heartbroken by this. Dalton was kind friend and enthusiastic artist. I’m grateful to him for so much.
Thanks so much for your comments. I’ll be reaching out to you soon.
Thanks for the great obit on Dalton. I replied to your facebook message
Dear Pat, you are one of the kindest and most genuine of people. I truly appreciate what you had to say in your message. I’m going through a lot of comments and it’s humbling and inspiring to read them. Dalton was a complex person. Most importantly, he was a delightful human being. What more can any one of us hope to be?
My condolences, Henry, for the loss of such a special friend, and so abruptly–at least for you, due to not (wisely, in my opinion) being plugged into FB. It seems that his passing was somewhat premature, but it looks like he made his mark in the world in important and good ways, too, before that happened.
Thank you, Stacey. Yes, Dalton did make his mark and that made a big difference for him and for everyone who supported his efforts. The timing of it all was like it was meant to be. If the time left for him was short, then he made the most of it.