DREW HENNESSY

 

Comic book inker, ANDREW (DREW) HENNESSY, died suddenly on the evening of Tuesday the 28^th October 2025.  He was 56 years old. I collaborated with him on Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Spellbinders, Union Jack and Avengers. He also worked on JLA, Sigil, Spider-Man, X-Men, Wolverine, Green Lantern, Batman and any other top tier comic character you can think of. He was my colleague and my friend.

I worked alongside him at Crossgen from 2001 until the doors finally closed ( he hated change) and then shared a studio with him, Butch Guice and Laura Martin for 3 years after that. We kept constantly in touch.

 I reached out to a few of his other friends and colleagues for a paragraph of two of remembrances and we all experienced the same Drew. A driven worker who loved his job and lived his dream. A smart guy with an acerbic wit who would stand by you. A private man who loved his gossip. You’ll get this impression of him through the many contributions below so I’m going to throw in a few moments that come to mind:

Drew sat quietly in the corner of his quad at Crossgen ( always inking on the flat desk with his legs crossed like a wise swamy). He just wanted to be left alone to concentrate on his work and so moved a bushy 5 foot fern in front of his space so he couldn’t be seen by the passing observer.

He would often ring me on the internal line with a snide and humorous remark if he’d overheard someone chatting to me (he worked on the other side of the partitioned wall) and would often call me, and vice versa, if that chat seemed to be going on a little too long. “ Oh! Excuse me! I have to take this call”.

When we shared the studio space in Safety Harbour he would receive so many Fed Ex boxes from pencillers that he decided to make functional furniture out of them.

As the evenings careened onwards and the conversation more enlivened his voice would move to a higher pitch, a more voluminous decibel and be punctuated by so much laughter. He became “Uncle Shouty” to my young daughter.

One Boxing Day a deer had weirdly dropped dead in our garden (probably fell of Santa’s sledge) and I phoned Drew to help me come and move it. We donned gloves and surgical masks in order to move it into the swampy conservation land by our home. Drew was revolted by the smell of it but then I informed him that he was actually just smelling the mask! For a few years afterwards we would always meet up on Boxing Day, or  the following day, for a few drinks - which is now forever renamed Deer Day.

I have so many audiobook recommendations from him that, if it wasn’t the case anyway, I would be forever remembering him.

Too many other moments pulse through my mind and I could be writing for a fair few hours but I’ll pass the baton on:

Mike Perkins

 

  "I met Drew back during our "Crossgen Experience". Hanging out with him, I learned two things about him very quickly....that he had a WICKED sense of humor, and that he didn't suffer fools easily. Years later, I finally got the chance to work with him and learned two more things...that his work ethic rivaled mine, and that he was a DAMNED good inker. Ask anyone who knows me and who I'd name as my favorite inkers to work with.....Drew is always among the top three names. It was always such a treat seeing his pages roll in on screen....even better when I'd get one of his industrial strength packaging jobs returning original art pages. His inks were astounding. I tried to work with Drew as much as I could over the last 10 years...I just wish it could have been more. I'll miss you, Dewey Fishbelly....I'm sure you're resting comfortable in the afterlife, floating in inky blackness and zip-a-tone."

 Paul Pelletier

 

 What is the quote?” Only the good die young”? It’s certainly true in Drew’s case. I’d worked with him and was a friend with him for over 20 years. Literally one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. He and I would often exchange suggestions for books that we’ve read, and just talk about general things having to do with life and the business and the usual stuff. I’m really gonna miss those talks and I’m really gonna miss him.

Mark Bagley

 

"I've had the incredible good fortune of making my living in the industry I love with some of the greatest talents ever to put pen to paper over the last few decades. I can say, without hyperbole, that Drew Hennessy was absolutely the best I ever saw do it with a set of inking tools. An incredible hand paired with a wonderful mind that was always able to tease out the perfect line choice no matter who the pencils came from. There have been many, many, days where I would sit at my desk and just be in awe of the work before me, some masterclass of inking writ large on the page of whatever book we were collaborating on at the moment. We are all deeply, profoundly poorer as a medium with his passing. I miss him already."

David Hedgecock, Publisher Fun Time Go, Inc.

 

I am not of the artist community to which most of you belong, but over 40 years ago I became fast friends with Andrew. He charmed all with his dry wit and immense likability, impressing high school classmates with offers of rides in his “Vette”. Upon learning this was a criminally underpowered Chevette, pure laughs from all involved followed.  Later in life I envied his ability to make his passion his career and love hearing the appreciation of his art from such a talented community. For me the personal relationship I had with him added profound happiness to my life. The combination of genuine kindness, modesty, and affection was unrivaled, and the loss I am feeling unmatched.  There will never be another like Drew.

 Sharif Mahdavian

 

 Working at CrossGen offered the rare opportunity for comics creators to actually work together and just hang out together. Drew was always a great hang, his acerbic wit and ready smile, his good cheer in the face of absurdity. I miss those days and now, very sadly, I will miss Drew McInky until we meet again down the road. 

 Chuck Dixon

 

When I married Nick Gamb, I also gained a friend - one who quickly became a true part of our family. It didn’t take long for Drew to be there for everything from holidays to hurricanes!

This past week has been really difficult, but it’s also reminded me of how many wonderful memories we shared together.

 Steadfast in who he was, Drew lived his life with integrity and was an example of what hard work accomplishes.

 I will always be grateful for the role he played in our lives — a best friend to my husband, and an uncle to my girls. I will really miss his weekend and holiday visits along with the conversations we had about every topic imaginable. His presence added more laughter and friendship to our home — and he will always hold a special place in our hearts. 

 Tracey Gamb

 

 I’m shocked and saddened to hear about Drew’s passing. He was incredibly talented, a consummate professional and a pleasure to work with. On a personal note, he was also my favorite inker to collaborate with, and the projects we worked on together remain some of the most special to me. He will be missed. My heart goes out to his family and friends during this tragic time. 

Pablo Raimondi

 

Andrew has been my friend for over four decades, and the thought of the world without his presence profoundly saddens me.  His magnetic personality found him spanning many social groups through high school - a true friend to many.  Perhaps a clown at times, he could sit and listen with compassion when the situation called for it.  

 

After graduating from Pratt with his art degree, his energy shifted to the pursuit of a career in the comic book world.  Not a more dedicated 20-something could be found when it came to pursuing his dream occupation.  It was often difficult to drag him out of the house if there were deadlines to be met.  Nonetheless we occasionally prevailed and have many great memories of gatherings and adventures to help keep his memory alive.

 

Things were picking up in his inking career as Andrew’s infamous “Vette” (Chevy Chevette) came to the end of its own career, leaving Andrew needing another car.  Much to my surprise, being the most frugal of all of us, he went out and bought a new VW fully equipped with heated seats.  With ironic timing, he then promptly decided to move to Florida.  Yes, work and warmth drew him south, but I believe he would have earned the ‘least sun-kissed resident’ in all of the state of Florida!  I suspect it may even have been years before he ‘discovered’ the beach.

 

Andrew was a dedicated friend.  I am thankful that our bond survived his relocation, and that the distance didn’t defeat us.  Fate (and some planning on my part) brought us together a handful of times when family visits brought me to Florida.  He would cancel on occasion if deadlines were looming too close, but if you knew Andrew, then you knew this was likely. He set the bar high for himself, and the work came first.  Even when much time had passed between visits, his presence brought me a feeling of comfortable familiarity, and the humor, though more subtle, persisted.

 

Dedication was the essence of Andrew, alongside persistence and hard work.  He set a goal, perfected his skills and didn’t let anything stop him in attaining that dream. 

 

Andrew, cherished memories of times well spent together will bring joy to your friends, and your immense body of creative work will bring joy to more people than any of us can even imagine.  Well done, good friend!

 

With deep gratitude for his friendship, 

 

Megan (McInnis) Smailer

 

 I came to know Drew at Crossgen - I had met him briefly at some point earlier, through his friend and mine, Ron Marz.  Drew was smart, sarcastic, and armed with a quick, sardonic wit. As an inker, his skill was top tier. Crisp, striking linework, rendered with almost supernatural consistency - it was beautiful to see. Twenty-five years later we finally had a chance to work together on Fun-Time-Go’s property Sugar Bomb, and it was a pleasure seeing that gorgeous linework of Drew’s over my pencils… so damn talented. I am terribly saddened by his passing.

 Bart Sears

 

 Drew was one of the most talented artists I've known dedicated to the craft of inking/finishing another artist's pencils. His work ethic is well known among his peers. He was hard-nosed about his time schedule but his sense of humor came through in unique ways. Once, a young couple who'd won a tour of the CrossGen Comics studios in a contest sent a thank you card to the company following their visit. They'd written their impressions of some of us they'd met that day. The young woman had written, "Drew's a cutie! Rick's scary!" When Drew read it, he said, "I'd rather be scary." We had a good laugh over it and on a couple occasions in the following years when we were under the deadline clock and nerves may have been a bit frayed, I'd break any tension with, "Drew's a cutie!" 

On another occasion in the final months of CrossGen, Mark Alessi (R.I.P.) , who had season passes to Tampa Bay Buccaneers and Lightning games that he'd give to staff from cities with teams that were in town to play Tampa, gave me four upscale buffet club level passes to a Lightning game at Amalie Arena the day of the game and told me to take Perri and another couple. Everyone was either too busy or uninterested. I twisted Drew's arm -- repeatedly -- until I wore him down enough to take a much-needed break from the board and join us. We'd cross paths post-CG at the studio he shared w/ Butch Guice (RIP), Laura Martin, and Mike Perkins, and a couple times at the Publix supermarket we shared. Not nearly enough.

One of the good ones. Rest in Peace, Drew. You earned it.

Rick Magyar

 

 I knew Drew Hennessy since he was 14 years old. He was Andrew back then, a few years younger than me, the brother of my high-school girlfriend’s best friend. He was the one who turned me on to bands like The Cure and The Smiths. He was also an artist and comic fan who dreamed of working in the comics business. It was my senior year of high school, and I was just rediscovering comics, stuff like Miller’s Daredevil and Simonson’s Thor.  Andrew’s preference was Byrne’s Fantastic Four.

 I graduated and went to college, a few years later Andrew graduated and went to art school. The Hudson Valley, where we grew up, was (and still is) a hotbed of comic pros, and we both broke into comic with help from some of those connections, me as a writer and Drew as an inker. We both wound up at CrossGen, working on staff in Tampa. When CrossGen imploded, I moved back to New York, but Drew stayed in Florida and continued to make his mark, no pun intended, as a sought-after inker for Marvel and DC, among others. The same kid who diligently practiced his inks all through his school lived his dream, inking Spider-Man and Batman and a host of others he grew up reading. And he was damn good at it; not just an ink slinger, but a creative partner sought after by pencilers from Mark Bagley to Paul Pelletier to Brad Walker, to name just a few.

 The comics industry allows you to chase your dream and for a fortunate few, to live that life. But it’s also a harsh mistress that demands long hours, less-than-ideal working conditions and compensation, and discards its creators regularly. There’s an old chestnut that in order to work in comics, you need to be at least two of these three things: good, fast, and pleasant to work with. Drew was all three, and we were lucky to have him.

 Yesterday, we were teenagers, swapping newsprint comics we’d picked up at the convenience store that was halfway between our houses. Today, I’m mourning a friend gone far too soon, and struggling to understand how we got here.

 Ron Marz

 

 “It’s that smile that I’ll miss. You see, once upon a time when my wife and I were strangers in a strange land (working at CrossGen in Tampa, FL), Drew silently appeared along with a circle of insta-friends that made us feel warmly at home. Ask around the comic industry and you’ll hear the respect of his consistent professionalism, artistic hand, and unwavering dedication to his craft…but ask his found family and you’ll hear the eternal gratitude for his loyalty, companionship and that darn smile. Rest easy, my friend.”

Bill Rosemann

I met Andrew in the late 70s through my brother Sharif.  Even then he was special to me.  When I lived in Albany there could be no proper New Year's Party without them in attendance.  He nearly froze  in the Vette at one of the gatherings having 'dozed off' after enjoying a beverage at the hands of Scotty the bartender.  He followed my brother through his Triathlon career... gleefully napping as Sharif navigated the course.

When I moved back to Kingston, Andrew was here inking Tweety Bird mugs waiting for his passion to become realized.  For those years we were inseparable.  We worked on my house, we traveled to England, we folded napkins at a fledgling restaurant, and played pool until the wee hours of the morning.  We watched the first South Park when it aired.  We watched 1999 become 2000.  I was with him when he finally laid the Vette to rest. (I kept a piece for a few decades in my home).  We drove to Florida together and I flew back alone.  Happy for him but quietly devastated.  

 While abroad an acquaintance somehow brought up comic books and I mentioned I knew Andrew.  "ANDREW HENNESSY!... YOU KNOW ANDREW HENNESSY?!"  The young man then held me in the highest regard.   It was only then I realized that my friend was a giant in a world I didn't really understand.  Typical Andrew.  He spoke about work of course and I always had questions but never did he hint at his standing in the field.  

 Since his departure for more Southern climes we always stayed in touch.  Most recently my brother insisted we have an annual reunion in the Poconos.  For the last 2 years he showed up.  I am so thankful he did.  I can't imagine not sharing those days.  I can't imagine they have come to an end.  He was kind, and funny, and smart, and always up for an adventure, and he was among my dearest friends.

 Love you, Special Boy

 Jamal

 

 Drew was my good friend and closest artistic partner for over 15 years. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the news that he’s passed away. 

 There were times where it felt like we were of one mind when we worked, even though we were 1000 miles away from each other. I would text him with a thought or an intention about some little aspect of a page he was starting and he would just say, “Yep, yep, I get it”, and then he would do something better than what I had intended, to begin with. 

 He was such a masterful craftsman that, even after years working together, I would stare at the scans or originals he sent trying to figure out how he did various things. He had one of the most confident, smooth brush lines in all of modern comics, plus an entire arsenal of variations and textures in his fingers. If he had had an ounce of ego, he would’ve been one of the most famous inkers in the business. 

 But he never needed any more work than he had, he seemed to like my pencils, and that was enough for him. He just liked doing the work. He was incredibly passionate about the work itself. It was such a contrast to a lot of personalities in comics that seem to be chasing fame or validation, and the work ends up feeling secondary. Sometimes he would text me a brilliant little bit of brick texture that he was proud of, or some strands of hair. We both loved that kind of thing. It would inspire me to get back to work, even though that wasn’t even his intention.

 We only hung out one time in person and had a handful of phone calls when I’d get offered a new job. I’d call him up to ask him to come with me. But for years, we texted through the day, five or six days a week. We’d talk about work, or joke about life, comics, art. Mundane things. He didn’t speak much about his personal life, but he struck me as relatively private in that way. So I didn’t pry. Now I feel guilty and wonder if maybe I should’ve. I don’t know if he knew how much I appreciated him. That he meant a lot to me. 

 But our friendship was very warm and we both made an effort to “take care of” the other. I don’t think we ever once disagreed of shared even a terse word. His deadline pressures were generally my fault. So, when I was running too late, he would do as much as he could. If he couldn’t finish a few pages of an issue and we had to call in somebody else, I tried to make sure he didn’t feel any disappointment from me. He made my life easier and I wanted to do the same for him. But no matter how talented the person we brought in, it was never the same as me and Drew. And I always made sure to tell him that.

 I’d been in comics about 6 or 7 years before our editor put us together on Guardians of the Galaxy. I’d struggled to find an inking partner that clicked. I worked with a ton of great people and either the chemistry was off, or they would do a few nice issues with me and then go off to work with some other artist. 

 On Guardians, I was paired with a good inker but he had a tremendous workload. I was really trying to do the big, crazy stories justice, and the inker was struggling to keep up. He expressed to me that the amount of characters and detail was wearing on him, so I talked to the editor about it and he threw out three names to try. I asked for Drew on the spot, having just seen and loved an issue he’d recently worked on. 

 As soon as the pages started coming in, it was like a revelation. It was like the art I had seen in my head, but could never convince my hands to make. They used to call inkers finishers. It felt like Drew was finishing the pages in my imagination. Making them look the way I hoped, but never could. I’ll never be really satisfied with my own abilities, but Drew made it feel like I got close, if we just stuck together.

 Drew and I both felt every little bit of the art was essential. Probably to a fault, but every little line, every detail, every expression was of equal importance. So, after years, it felt like having someone in the trenches with me. 

 He was such a comfort in my life. In stressful deadlines, he would be feeling it too. He would never minimize the feeling, but he had a way of making me relax. He had a way of saying, “Yeah, this sucks. But we’ll get it done, we always do.” And I can’t overstate the value of that, all these years. Comics is so stressful, so to have a friend, a partner, who not only makes you feel better about your own work, but alleviates some of the pressure of the business is really special.

 I remember a few years ago, mentioning to him that we’d been working together over ten years. In his unsentimental way, he just said something deprecating like, “Yeah, and look where it’s gotten us.” 

 I hadn’t worked with him as much the last few years because I’ve been chipping away on a creator owned book, having to ink it myself. But I’d been missing him lately. I kept meaning to reach out and just say hello and see how he’d been. See if he wanted to pick up a cover or something with me. Now I can’t. I feel a bit like I’ve lost one of my arms. Drawing feels a little more frightening lately. But I know he’d laugh at me and tell me I better hurry up, cause it’ll only get scarier the longer I take.

 Brad Walker

 

I was introduced to Andrew shortly after arriving at Pratt in 1988. He was a larger-than-life character within a tight-knit group of friends, and before long, I became part of that circle — eventually even rooming with him. 

Our Pratt days were filled with laughter, mischief, and camaraderie — moments that became some of my most treasured memories. I’m sorry to say but Andrew’s legendary work ethic in the comic book industry was not perfected in college or with me as his roommate.

I watched him chase his dream of working in comics with relentless determination, pounding the pavement in search of his big break. I’ve never met anyone who worked harder to earn recognition and acceptance in an industry he loved so deeply. Every setback only seemed to make him more determined.

After Pratt, we both had to set aside some of the fun and games as we focused on launching our careers. Though life took us in different directions — I moved to Orlando and Drew stayed in Kingston — we remained close. Once you were part of Andrew’s world, your life was changed forever. He was a dedicated, genuine friend — quick-witted, loyal, and always ready with a hilarious comeback.  When Andrew later moved to Tampa for a job opportunity, he called to say, “They’re finally recognizing my genius.” And of course, I replied, “Yes, Drew — yes, they have.”

Orlando became his escape from deadlines and daily pressures. He’d often drive over to hunker down during hurricanes or to unwind with countless hours of Rainbow Six — which he swore was a time machine. He never missed a family holiday in 30 years and showed up for every milestone — my daughters’ birthdays, graduations, weddings, and even baby showers. I think sometimes he came just so he’d have an excuse to change the oil in his car.

Though not related by blood, he became “Uncle Drew” to my girls. He wasn’t much of a hugger — but my daughters made sure that didn’t last long.

Andrew was the most straightforward, loyal, and all-in friend anyone could ask for — a true “ride or die.” I had the privilege of calling him my closest friend, and I will never stop telling his story.  Love you, Andrew. I miss you already — and I hope to see you again someday. – 

 Nicholas Gamb