It seemed important to Jim that everyone liked him. And everyone did. He was quick with a smile or laugh. And always had time to get to know the waiter, grocery clerk, and gas attendant. People waved as we drove down the street. In Nassau, few people knew HERMAN, but everyone knew Jimmy. Jim tipped excessively, handing out money to almost anyone he thought needed it. He knew many of them personally, and talked compassionately about their troubled lives. "Poor kid. He's got AIDS," he'd say with his Londoner accent.

       Everyone knew Jim to be sweet, loveable, spontaneous, child-like, trusting and, arguably, naïve. He had no interest in business or money. It bored him. One senior executive at Clement Communications said their team flew to Nassau to propose an enormously lucrative license to use HERMAN comics. As the CEO explained the workplace poster business, Jim could be heard snoring through the presentation.

       Jim often entrusted his financial and business affairs to others who may have taken advantage of his easy-going nature. Although he was aware of some crooked dealings, he wasn't too concerned. "Karma," said Jim. "What goes around, comes around."

       He was right. Things worked out well for Jimmy. He was living in Paradise as a world-famous cartoonist. Not bad for a poor kid who grew up on the tough streets of London and had numerous failed "careers" before discovering a talent for cartooning.

       We drove to his beachside villa, where I met Bob. Jim's brother had melted into an over-sized crescent-shaped leather sofa gazing at an enormous television screen. Behind him stood a picturesque window of a brilliant turquoise Caribbean Sea. Bob invited me to sit, and for the next several hours the three of us talked about anything and everything.

       Since 1982, Bob has lived in an adjoining house and authored many of the HERMAN gags. And he has inspired many more. (Yes, he accidentally ate a slice of the pizza box.)