Wieringo and I shared a birthday — June 24th. Not something I knew until today. Jack Dempsey, I knew that one. But not Mike Wieringo.
I was familiar with Wieringo’s work only glancingly. I’d stopped reading The Flash not long before Wieringo took up the artistic chores on the comic, but though I liked the style he brought to the book I was cutting back on my purchases at the time. (And truthfully, I wasn’t sure how much further The Flash could go. Anyone who’s familiar with The Flash would probably say, “You’d be fucking surprised where Mark Waid and Mike Wieringo went.” Yep, even I make bone-headed decisions.)
It’s a shame. He was forty-four. Sudden heart attack. From all reports he was the healthiest person on the face of the earth.
Rest in peace, Mike