As I walked down the hallowed Hall of Fame at Universal Press Syndicate to sign my first contract, I stopped before a larger-than-life photo of a wild-haired man in a city park mischievously grinning as he groped the bare-breasted statue of a woman. "That's Jim," said the syndicate vice-president rolling his eyes. "I understand you met him?" I had.

       Two years earlier I flew to the Bahamas to meet the legendary creator. "Next time you're in Nassau, come and visit," was all the encouragement I needed. Within minutes after hanging up the phone, I booked the flight and was on my way.

       I had only recently begun self-syndicating my comic to a few dozen newspapers, when a mutual business acquaintance offered me Jim's private telephone number and suggested I meet him. "Funny you're both from Ottawa, Canada. You should meet him!"

       "Maybe I will," I said as I wrote down the number, but there was no doubt about it.

       For years I had studied and deconstructed his work - as I had done with many other humorists. Jim was undoubtedly master of the visual gag. Each panel portrayed an outrageous story of what has happened, or what is about to happen. With a unique illustrative style and an economy of line, Unger presented the funniest imaginable characters with truthful accuracy. But what makes HERMAN particularly hilarious is the characteristic wry response to repressed seething rage, bizarre circumstances, or perhaps a doomed fate.

       I wanted to learn more about how Jim Unger worked, who he was, and perhaps catch a glimpse of what life may be like as syndicated newspaper cartoonist.

       Jim greeted me outside the hotel in a rusty Jeep, sporting a Tilley hat, white khakis, and photographer's vest. He looked more like a war-correspondent than a cartoonist and welcomed me as an old friend. Jim charmed everyone that way.