Joe Gravel’s Pop Culture Rampage

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« Go to your bosom; Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know » — William Shakespeare

Joe Gravel’s work came my way when, if memory serves, eBay suggested one his cartoons. As a fan of classic breakfast cereal mascots and vintage pinup art, this was as catnip to me.

I ordered his lovely Boob Berry keychain (shown below) — and Dracurella and Frankenbabe stickers and buttons, and my fate was sealed. Writing to thank him, I found Joe to be a gracious and erudite fellow, and so I kept an eye on his work from that point on.

Now, hypersexualization of superheroines and sundry cartoon characters is a bit of a cottage industry, and most of its fodder is quite devoid of interest. Another application of Sturgeon’s Law, if you will. Ah, but Mr. Gravel’s work is witty, accomplished, positive, and perhaps best of all, he doesn’t explain his jokes.

Joe was kind enough to answer my questions about his craft and inspiration… and here’s the result, peppered with some of his favourites and some of mine.

Boob Berry and her… progenitor (?).

WOT?- You draw from all genres, media and companies, yet maintain a consistency in style, and your own style at that. Does that come easy for you, or is it harder than it looks?

JG: Actually, I draw without any thought to staying in my style. It’s what comes naturally and what it has evolved to. 

Boob Berry has a way with all the understandably frustrated ladies of the King Features neighbourhood, including Lois, Blondie, and Alice Mitchell.

WOT?- You often produce multi-panel sequences… which brings your work closer to a panel approach, rather than the pin-up/splash one some often encounters. Is that because you have a fuller narrative in mind, one that you pluck sequences from? 

JG: Occasionally I’ll have an idea that I can’t condense to a single card so I’ll expand it to a sequence of multiple cards/panels and post them as a single auction. Other times, I’ll do a single card and get a good response to the theme and then continue the narrative with other single card offerings. Were I more organized I’d have themes a bit better planned out. 🙂

Speaking of Mrs. Mitchell… between that doltish husband and that demon offspring, how could she not use a little tenderness?

WOT?- Gender switches: who gets them and why?

JG: Gender switches are kind of random. Whichever character I figure would look good with a swapped gender is fair game.

Meet Frankenbabe and Chocurella.

WOT?- The basic, but crucial question: what are some of your influences… and I presume they are numerous and varied. 

JG: My influences include the usual cast of characters from anyone who read comics in the 80s such as, John Byrne, Frank Miller, Walt Simonson and Michael Golden. Pinup influences include George Petty, Gil Elvgren and Peter Driben – among many others. Probably the biggest was the Harvey Kurtzman / Will Elder collaboration on Annie Fanny.

Gender notwithstanding, I take it no introductions are needed here.
A rare instance of a multi-panel sequence, set in a slightly skewed version of the Harvey Comics universe.
The 1960s TV crossover you never dared hope for?

WOT?-  As a complement to the previous question, can you tell us a bit about your habitual comics and media diet? 

JG: I don’t pick up many comics regularly these days though I have taken a liking to Mark Spears’ Monsters series. Besides that, I’ve started picking up the Criminal series by Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips in trade format. Mostly I’m introduced to new artists through posts I see on Instagram and sometimes Tumblr.

As the joke goes: « I was recently asked who my favorite vampire was. I replied “the Count from Sesame Street.” They told me, “he doesn’t count!” I replied, “I assure you, he does.” »
For some reason, Elvira also fits beautifully into the 1966 Batman TV show aesthetic. That’s inspiration.

WOT?- In this digital age, your choice of technique is unusual (and refreshing, if you ask me). Why markers?

JG: I choose markers for my work due largely to the ease of use and the speed it gives me compared to painting. I’m old school so while I dabble in digital art from time to time, I very much prefer the physical media.

Kirby meets Kroc!

WOT?- In terms of planning and layout, are you more akin to, say, a Sergio Aragones or a Jack Kirby, who could start a drawing anywhere and make it work… or a Harvey Kurtzman, who needed a pile of preliminary drawings and overlays to achieve his goal? 

JG: For planning and layout, I’m on the opposite spectrum of Kurtzman :). Often I do my rough sketch on the sketch card and then refine the pencils from there. If I have multiple elements on a card, I’ll do a super rough thumbnail on a scrap piece of paper to help visualize what should go where.

Speaking of gender switches: Star Trek’s James T. Kirk becomes Little Annie Fannie, and Gravel picked my favourite episode, Arena (based on Fredric Brown‘s 1944 short story of the same name) to put her through her paces.
Of course, who does Little Kirkie Fannie soon run into? Why, Frederic Mullally and Ron Embleton‘s Wicked Wanda, of course!

WOT?- Any collections planned? Since each panel is auctioned off individually, any collector of your work must be seething with frustration. Is there any hope on that front for the completists?

JG: A collection is a great idea. I’ve had a few people say that I should pull some of my storyline cards together for a booklet or PDF. My biggest hurdle is myself taking the time to do it. Having said that, I have a series going now that I’m going to make an effort to assemble into a sequential piece. Also, much of the time these ongoing series start out as one or two cards that I had gags for and if they’re well-received I continue the series without a pre-planned idea of where they go. Sometimes they just trail off. So, I’d like to get into the mindset of doing a rough arc in my head if an idea takes off.

Jessica Rabbit as Red Sonja — why the hell not?

My heartfelt thanks to Joe Gravel for his time, patience and insight! Check out his latest creations, up for auction right here: https://www.ebay.com/usr/rocketred23

-RG

Anatomy of a Swipe

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« Taking something from one man and making it worse is plagiarism. » — George Augustus Moore (1852-1933)

A fortnight or so ago, I came across an image that looked… familiar. It wasn’t slick enough to be AI, so I presumed it was a swipe. My first guess was Fiction House’s Planet Comics, but I initially came up empty. Then I realized my error: I was looking for a reproduction of the whole scene, involving both figures.

After a second pass… bingo: two issues of Planet Comics. At least the swiper was consistent: both covers were drawn by the same guy, Joe Doolin (1896-1967), a prolific pulp and comic book illustrator. Check out his interesting biography.

This is Planet Comics no. 26 (Sept. 1943, Fiction House), cover by Doolin. Frankly, it’s easy to imagine this one recycled, with minor changes, as a Sheena-style jungle scene, another of the publisher’s specialties.
As for the source of our second figure, here’s Planet Comics no. 57 (Nov. 1948, Fiction House), cover by Doolin.
This is Planet Comics no. 59 (Mar. 1949, Fiction House). A mere two issues later, Doolin virtually reused the same pose*, though obviously, he wasn’t so lazy as to not redraw it from scratch. Pretty nifty outfit on the heroine. Who are these bozos? Inbred descendants of the Savage Dragon and Razor Fist? Jeepers.

I mentioned the clumsy swipe in question to a long-time friend and colleague (salut, Éric!), who informed me that the ‘Space Sluts’ had been making the social media rounds (as they would), and that an alarming proportion of commenters had been fooled into thinking the piece was an artifact of some ancient origin, instead of a recent ‘creation’. No great shock there, as your average Joe Schmoe can’t recognize AI slop either when he sees it (but adores it indiscriminately).

I mean, it’s all wrong: the depressing 21st century desaturated colours (denizens of our current dystopian nightmare shun bright, saturated colours (see graphic below) like a vampire eschews garlic), the telltale phoney brushstrokes of digital art, the incorrect cropping (no art would have been published with the space beyond the edges showing), methods of shading, the ‘dust and scratches’ being the same colour as the printed ink,.. I could go on all night, but I’ve got better things to do.

Then there’s the title. The art is insult enough, but was the shaming necessary? On Facebook, some mooncalf pointed out — incorrectly — that ‘slut’ didn’t have the meaning we’re familiar with until the 1960s. Nope (read on), but it likely wouldn’t have made it into print, and certainly not on the cover of a mainstream pulp magazine. I turn to a favourite reference work, Hugh Rawson‘s Wicked Words (1989, Crown) for the nitty-gritty:

slut. A slovenly woman, one of loose morals, a prostitute, HUSSY, or JADE. “He got very drunk and brought back a sluttish girl to the house. He woke me later to tell me that he had rogered her and her mama, too.“ (Evelyn Waugh, Remote People [in Kenya], 1931).
An old word, perhaps related to SLATTERN, slut was applied to women long before the nineteenth century, when it sank to the animal level, becoming a euphemism for a she-dog, or BITCH. In very olden times, it was not restricted to women, e.g. “Why is thy lord so sluttish“ (Geoffrey Chaucer, The Canon’s Yeoman’s Tale, 1387-1400). The feminine senses developed early, however, and they soon became dominant, which is usually what happens when “bad” words have both male and female meanings. Nowadays, only women are sluts or sluttish, the men having managed to get to escape the derogatory designation, just as they did with, for instance, GIRL, HARLOT, and SHREW.

As a side note, Doolin himself was no stranger to swipes, though technically these were above-board, publisher-commissioned recreations.

« The publisher of Fiction House, Thurman T. Scott, was notorious among pulp artists for repeatedly demanding additional revisions before granting final approval of his cover art. Most pulp publishers understood that good covers resulted in good sales, but Thurman T. Scott was obsessed with perfecting an unbeatable formula for maximum sales. The most obvious element of his formula was a big sexy pin-up. This same mania is reflected in the bizarre reappearance of Fiction House pulp covers on Fiction House comics. »

At left, Planet Stories no. 11 (Summer 1942, Fiction House), a cover painted by WOT? favourite Norm Saunders; at right, Planet Comics no. 45 (Nov. 1946, Fiction House), a line art remake by Doolin.
At left, Planet Stories no. 14 (Mar. 1943, Fiction House), a cover painted by Jerome George Rozen (1885-1987); at right, Planet Comics no. 40 (Jan. 1946, Fiction House), a line art remake by Mr. Doolin, with a couple of minor modifications tossed in.

-RG

*I expect more from Doolin than from, say, Ross Andru, who used the same basic pose on every single 1970s cover he drew, and I’m barely exaggerating.

At Eight o’clock in the Morning… They Live!

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« “Obey the government“, said one croak. “We are the government“, said another. » — Ray Faraday Nelson

I’ve been juggling several ideas for posts, most of them leaning more or less to the light-hearted and poetic, save one… and since that outlier is more suited to the current state of affairs, here goes.

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Nada appeared in Alien Encounters no. 6 (Apr. 1986, Eclipse; cat yronwrode, editor). An early work by cartoonist/animator and fine art painter* Bill Wray, he’s gloriously channelling all of his influences at once: Eisner, Steranko, Stout, Reese, Elder, and perhaps a smidgen of Thorne.

You guessed it, the story was adapted by John Carpenter for his 1988 film They Live, one of the great science-fiction films of that decade that bombed at the box office and were later reconsidered… more lucidly. Think Carpenter’s The Thing** (among others… poor guy!), Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner, and this one. At least it didn’t suffer a pointless remake or a Denis Villeneuve sequel. Yet.

Anyway, Carpenter recounted, in an interview published in the venerable American Cinematographer (Sept. 1988), soon after the film’s release: « They Live began three years ago with a comic book I bought called ‘Nada’. It was published by Eclipse Comics, a company which puts out very beautifully rendered science-fiction stories. This particular strip was taken from a short story called ‘Eight O’Clock in the Morning’ by Ray Nelson. » [ source ]

How refreshing it is to hear a filmmaker directly credit his source of inspiration, even if said source might be viewed as ‘low-brow’ by the holy arbiters of intellectual standing. Compare that to, say, avid comic book collector George Lucas, who brazenly pilfered elements from Jack Kirby’s Fourth World and Pierre Christin and Jean-Claude Mézières’ Valérian for his space opera, then pretended he’d been instead inspired by the scholarly comparative mythology theories of Joseph Campbell‘s Hero With a Thousand Faces. Riiight, George. And don’t get me started on Spielberg.

Related aside: on They Live‘s imdb.com page, some lout quite misunderstood the purpose of a FAQ — objectivity, for one thing — and took it upon himself to malign Ray Nelson’s essential contribution. To the question « What are the differences between the short story and the film? », he frothed forth:

The short story, titled Eight O’Clock In The Morning, is an exercise in awful writing. The protagonist goes around murdering “Fascinators” without any discussion of what changes him from a compliant citizen to this state.

What John Carpenter’s story does, in essence, is add fat, muscle, a brain, and pretty much everything else a living organism needs, to a skeleton in the most literal sense. Everything that fills out John Nada’s back story and makes him seem like an actual person who thinks and feels is all John Carpenter’s idea.

Ahem. It seems to me that there just *might* be a slight difference, in terms of expansiveness, between a 94 minute motion picture… and a five page short story. Well, you be the judge: read it here, in its original context and everything!

-RG

*I simply must point out that, though I like Mr. Wray’s work as a cartoonist, I am in absolute awe of his paintings. Here’s how he helpfully puts it: « Making his living as a cartoonist who specialized in painted subjects, he spent many years coalescing a eclectic array of art styles, ultimately finding his voice in a contemporized reflection of traditional California regional painting that focus on humble subject matter rarely considered as fine art. » His paintings are so very *soulful*, demonstrating a glorious grasp of colour and composition, to say nothing of subject and technique. Take a leisurely look here.

**Farewell to The Thing actor T. K. Carter, who passed away just today. What a cast that was!

Treasured Stories: New Year’s Revolutions (1954)

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« New Year’s Resolution: To tolerate fools more gladly, provided this does not encourage them to take up more of my time. » — James Agate

And another one gone… another one bites the dust, in the immortal words of John Deacon. Adios, 2025.

To send off the annum, and instil some hope into the ceremony, I turn to the superlative Carl Barks (1901-2000), « The Good Duck Artist », and this classic — but not overly familiar — ten-pager from Walt Disney’s Comics and Stories no. 173 (Feb. 1955, Dell)*, scripted, pencilled and inked by Mr. Barks and lettered by his wife Garé, a superb artist in her own right. Take it away, folks!

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The boys’ ironic recycling of the giant bird stilts is a brilliant touch.

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One of Barks’ most refreshing innovations is that he steered Donald’s nephews away from the typical, simplistic ‘little devils’ characterization they were saddled with at their conception. Barks made them crafty but essentially noble, in marked contrast to their Unca Donald.
The issue of WDC&S that our story premiered in didn’t feature a New Year’s-themed cover, so here’s an earlier one, from none other than Walt Kelly. This is Walt Disney’s Comics and Stories no. 88 (Jan. 1944, Dell).

At the end of this wretched, truly merciless year, I dedicate this post to our beloved cat, Barnabas, who left us — peacefully — just this afternoon. May he be 2025’s final innocent victim.

Goodbye, Barnabas (2009-2025). Rest easy, beautiful friend.

-RG

*However, I opted for the superior reproduction values — trust me — of the reprint featured in Walt Disney’s Comics and Stories no. 623 (Apr. 1998, Gladstone). Kudos to Susan Daigle-Leach for the tasteful latter-day colouring.

Christmases, Both Sour and Sweet

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« In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter, long ago. » — Christina Rossetti

Christmas is nearly upon us, but while a great many will opt to retreat into the miasma of nostalgia to forget what an annus horribilis it’s been, I’ve picked something a bit more appropriately sombre in tone to nail down the occasion.

But with a more hopeful chaser… to balance things out a bit.

When the indefatigable Carmine Infantino (1925-2013) stepped down from his multi-hatted rôle of publisher, editor-in-chief, cover designer and art director — and so on — at DC, he found that no-one was beating his door down to offer him a similar position.

So he went back to drawing, as a freelancer. As Infantino put it: « Jim Warren was the first comics publisher to contact me after DC. I said “I’ll do work for you, but nothing full-time because I’m busy with other things.” He said, “Okay, whatever you’re willing to give me.” I wasn’t really comfortable with the Warren material — it was the sexiest work I’d ever done! Jim had an older audience and wanted it that way. My feelings about the material never affected the mutual respect Jim and I had for one another. » [ source ]

All told, Infantino pencilled around forty stories for Warren in a span of four years. There was even a brief period when he just about monopolized individual issues of Creepy and Eerie, which was offset by pairing him with wildly disparate inkers. Sometimes the results sang, sometimes they croaked.

Here’s a case of rarely combined styles that nevertheless meshed beautifully: Infantino and John Severin. Let’s face it, who’s more reliably excellent than Mr. Severin?

And so this is… Bloodstone Christmas, written by Gerry Boudreau, pencilled by Infantino, and inked by John Powers Severin (1921-2012).

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I won’t pretend that the entire cast isn’t peopled with stock characters, but its sting in the tail lands satisfyingly, prefiguring the flavour of weird westerns by Joe Lansdale, for one.

.And now, for something sweeter.

This is Creepy no. 86 (Feb. 1977, Warren). Cover by Ken Kelly (1946-2022).

And now, for the sweeter part of our double-header.

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Night Prowler was an early collaboration by Swamp Thing‘s co-creators, writer Len Wein and artist Bernie Wrightson. It was published in House of Mystery no. 191 (Mar.-Apr. 1971, DC). Joe Orlando, editor.

Oh, and Happy Holidays to you, esteemed readers!

-RG

p.s. Oh, and speaking of carmine, the colour, not the man: I just read, a few days ago, in Steve Ettlinger‘s superb Twinkie, Deconstructed (2007), that « the fascinating, rich magenta carmine, also known as cochineal, is extracted from the dried body of the female cochineal insect », and that « the output of the Canary Islands is used almost exclusively to colour the Italian apéritif Campari. » Caveat emptor, then! Ironically, « carmine dye is produced from the acid that females naturally secrete to deter predators. » Not, however, industrious humans.

Fungus Friday: Ah, the Bohemian Life

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« Parmi les champignons se cachent d’ignobles individus, des espèces savoureuses et des sujets tout à fait pacifiques… »

December may not be exactly the month one associates with mushrooms, but that is precisely when mycophiles get broody and start cataloguing (mentally or otherwise) new species encountered during the warmer months*, dreaming about spring and its new flush.

Here’s a selection of mushroom portraits taken from Le gratin des champignons by Roland Sabatier, an outstanding artist previously featured by co-admin RG in « Pépin le Long, You’re Fired! » (and, need I mention, a member of the Mycological Society of France). The second reaction I had upon leafing through this volume’s pages (the first was to squeal delightedly) was stunned admiration regarding the level of detail with which each mushroom is illustrated. I am by no means the first to note this (in his outstanding introduction, Georges Becker**, co-author of this tome, makes much the same point in far more eloquent prose), but it bears mentioning that while Sabatier may have transformed mushrooms into wonderful characters with their own games and stories, he managed to so very rigorously observe and illustrate their characteristics that one could actually use this book as a mushroom guide and not get, you know, poisoned.

Let’s get cooking!

Speaking of getting poisoned, meet four Amanitas, a most deadly genus… with a few delicious, choice morsels thrown in to keep us on our toes:

The Death Cap… distilling its own venom. A most lethal animal.
The Fly Agaric, probably the most depicted mushroom in the arts, ‘performing its function‘. Despite its reputation, it is not deadly per se, as alluded to in a previous post (Fungus Friday: Amanita New Year (To Get Over This One)).
The Blusher, so called for its propensity to blush a pink hue when bruised (or embarrassed, one presumes). These wino amanitae exiting the tavern definitely look sloshed.
The handsome Panther Cap, shaking the bars of its cage. Like its Fly Agaric cousin, it’s not deadly as such, and has some psychoactive components. Admire its striking looks here.

Now we move on to more traditionally edible characters —

The Banded Agaric is also known as ‘Pavement mushroom’, which explains this fur-foxed lady showing her goods… walking the beat, as it were. This lady is tough as nails, and has been known to burst right through the pavement. Is she edible? You bet! ***
Ah, mushroom of many names (does this make it the rose of mushrooms?) – Penny Bun, Porcino, Cep, call it what you will… highly prized throughout cultures, fragrant à souhait. Here the cèpe de Bordeaux is about to savour some Bordeaux wine.
A favourite of WOT admins, the Fairy Ring Mushroom, saddled with an unfairly gloomy Latin name (‘marasme’ comes with an etymology of ‘wasting away’ or ‘decay’), dancing a ronde. Undemanding and widely spread, this mushroom dries most excellently (sometimes right on the very lawn it grows upon) and enlivens soups and stews throughout winter.
Another well-known mushroom, the Golden Chanterelle, as beautiful as it is fragrant. Will I picture these playing tiny little violins every time I find them in a forest? Absolutely.
We couldn’t resist adding this scene depicting the Summer Truffle trying to camouflage itself as a truffle-sniffing dog approaches. I love the inquisitive gleam in the doggo’s eye.
We wrap up with, well… I trust you can interpret the Latin well enough without me. The Common Stinkhorn (‘stinky satyr indulging in his depravity‘) is actually edible, though not nearly as popular (or tasty) as another member of its family, the pretty Veiled Lady. Whether you would actually want to eat it is another question.

First published in 1986, this book has known several editions to update nomenclature (some mushroom families and names have changed considerably in the last 40 or so years, which is its own topic). We have the 1991 edition, published by Glénat. Sabatier had so many favourite mushrooms he illustrated, they didn’t even all make it into the book officially… which is truly a crime. Take a peek at some other of his mushroom people, only included on the inside of the book’s cover (but at least included in that smaller capacity!):

~ ds

* Technically one can find some mushrooms during winter, but that is not my area of expertise (at least as yet).

** French mycologist of renown (1905-1994), as well as writer, politician and apparently even musician (piano).

*** I’m actually not a big fan. This Agaricus tastes too much like the ‘champignon de Paris’ mushrooms sold in supermarkets to be of much interest.

The Frescoes of Flanders

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« The mind loves the unknown. It loves images whose meaning is unknown, since the meaning of the mind itself is unknown. » — René Magritte

Last month, we flew off to explore the wonders of Belgium, most specifically Flanders. All other attractions aside, I thought I’d share with you some of the marvels of the country’s comics culture. Hop on!

At Ostende’s cozy Le Touquet seaside restaurant, we were shown the shortest path to the loo by no less a personage than the legendary Cowboy Henk, touting local drink Blonde Kuif.
This group scene from René Goscinny and Albert Uderzo‘s Astérix was appropriately located in a schoolyard, with kids eagerly playing ball just a few metres away.
In a different range, this mural suitably pays homage to French ‘ligne claire‘ master Yves Chaland (1957-1990).
It was nice to see the frescoes maintained. This one, located in Antwerp, celebrates Flemish cartoonist Jeff Nys‘ Jommeke: « It seems fitting that this wall by artist Jef Nys, the greatest Flemish cartoonist for children, is in an area surrounded by schools. His most popular comic was Jommeke, a story about a young boy, with a pet parrot named Flip, who goes on some crazy adventures along with his best friend Filiberke. Nys started Jommeke in 1955 and created close to 300 comic albums. They have sold over 51 million albums alone in Belgium, making Jommeke the second best-selling comic series in the country. » [ source ]
I’ve no idea who these characters might be, but I raise my glass (of Belgian beer, naturally) to the vibrant creativity of the nation’s graffiti practitioners.
Another lovely one saluting one of Belgium’s bédé superstars, Maurice de Bevere, alias ‘Morris’ (1923-2001).
We found that Brussel’s streets were frequently adorned with striking mosaic markers, such as this one, featuring André Franquin‘s Marsupilami. I forget what thoroughfare this was, I’m afraid.
This one captures Philippe Dupuy and Charles Berberian‘s Monsieur Jean and his presumed and entirely laudable and justified appreciation of Belgian beer, the world’s finest — you can keep your IPAs, thank you.
A mural devoted to Michel Greg and Daniel ‘Dany‘ Henrotin’s Olivier Rameau, fittingly painted on the side of a Fireworks store at 9, rue du chêne, Brussels. Top to bottom: Ebouriffon, Olivier Rameau, Colombe Tiredaile, the 3 Ziroboudons, Alphonse Pertinent.
Despite having no Belgian roots that I can figure, Hugo Pratt‘s Corto Maltese clearly is beloved in these parts. He landed no fewer than *four* murals, all neatly in a row. Here are my two favourites.
A most unusual — and striking — composition.
And now we come to my Holy Grail, Brussel’s Gil Jourdan mural… there are two more in Maurice Tillieux‘s hometown of Auderghem (here’s one, and the other, and yet another in the bédé-themed Janson metro station in Charleroi). The author appears for size comparison.
Local graffiti artists come to the rescue: it seems inconceivable — to me, anyhow — that there isn’t a mural devoted to Willy ‘Will’ Maltaite‘s characters. There used to be a lovely « Isabelle » fresco in Brussels, but, citing damage, it was painted over in 2017. However, here’s an unofficial, and brilliant one featuring Tif et Tondu… and their archnemesis, Monsieur Choc. Take a bow!

-RG

It Was… the Day After Doomsday!

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« May the man who has his finger on the button have a lovely day today / Hope nothing hangs him up or ticks him off or bums him out in any way / Lord, help him keep his cool cause he could pull the final curtain on my play / May the man who has his finger on the button have a lovely day today. » — Larry Wilkerson (as warbled by Bobby Bare)

The idea for this post came to me a couple of days ago, and this afternoon, while cobbling together the visual components, it dawned on me that today’s Memorial Day (Remembrance Day for Canadians, and ‘Victory Day‘ for those afflicted with brain worms and/or syphillis), and therefore quite à propos.

DC’s The Day After Doomsday series first turned up — of all places — in the pages of The Witching Hour, a page and a half bit of filler fluff by Len Wein and Jack Sparling. It must have struck a chord, if not with readers, then with its creators, for the feature stubbornly kept a-rising from its post-apocalyptic grave.

In spite of its episodic and arguably slight nature, TDBD enjoyed surprising longevity. It truly found its home in the Joe Orlando-edited Weird War Tales (1971-1983, DC’s gateway title for war fans into ‘horror’ and vice versa), where most of its dispatches saw print. You never know what’s going to catch on with the unwashed masses.

A most humble beginning for a series, this brief scene appeared in The Witching Hour no. 9 (June/July 1970, DC). Script by Wein, art by Jack Sparling (1916-1997). Dick Giordano, editor.

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Humour rears its homely head in the concurrently appearing second instalment — too close to call! — this one from House of Secrets no. 86 (June/July 1970, DC). Same creative team.

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My candidate for the series’ finest hour, this episode elegantly riffs both on the Vietnam War Draft and on Fredric Brown‘s classic 1948 short-short ‘Knock‘, wherein «The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door… » 4-F, incidentally, signifies « Registrant not acceptable for military service. To be eligible for Class 4-F, a registrant must have been found not qualified for service in the Armed Forces by an MEPS under the established physical, mental, or moral standards. » And let’s hear it for perennially under-appreciated artiste Bill Draut (1921-1993).

That issue had a splendid cover, and so here it is!

This is Weird War Tales no. 30 (Oct. 1974, DC); cover pencils and inks by Luis Domínguez, from a probable design by publisher Carmine Infantino.

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A scroogey teaming of WOT? favourites Steve Skeates and Alfredo Alcala, this turned up in Weird War Tales no. 35 (March 1975, DC). I’ll bet they had trouble deciding whether to run it in Plop! or WWT.

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Finally, this one appeared in Weird War Tales no. 48 (Sept./Oct. 1976, DC). Script by Skeates, art by Buddy Gernale.

-RG

Hallowe’en With George’s Cousin Emil!

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« Before he can become a wolf, the lycanthrope strips naked. If you spy a naked man among the pines, you must run as if the Devil were after you. » — Angela Carter (1940-1992)

First of all, Happy Hallowe’en! On this finest of occasions, I bring you a wonderfully novel take on the hoary theme of the werewolf, handled by one of the truly unsung — save, it would seem, but some of his most distinguished peers* — draughtsmen of the Golden Age, namely Emil Gerswhin (1922-1999).

And yes, *that* George. Just like, say… the Partches, Virgil and Harry, genius clearly ran rich throughout the Gershwin line.

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I wasn’t alone (Steve Bissette saw it too) in concluding that the terrific Mitch O’Connell just has to be Mr. Gershwin’s most direct — and worthiest — artistic progeny.

*By « distinguished peers », I mean the likes of Alex Toth, Al Williamson and Stephen Bissette.
The latter wrote, in his introduction (essential reading alert!) to PS Artbooks’ Adventures Into the Unknown Volume 4 (March 2013, PS Artbooks): « Like almost all of the ACG horror comics, Gershwin’s work was the antithesis of the festering, tactile rot that made celebrated Pre-Code genre artists like Graham Ingels, Jack Davis, and Basil Wolverton so indelibly iconic: horror comics you could almost smell. Gershwin’s imagery is comparably sterile, even antiseptic, but his storytelling is as direct and no-nonsense noir as the best of Johnny Craig, his energetic pen-and-brush work as crisp and razor-sharp as Jack Davis‘ (sans the grit and grue and bits of meat and dirt spattering every motion), his staging as audacious as that of any cartoonist of his day. »

Bissette goes on to quote Williamson on Gershwin: « Oh, God, Gershwin was good. … he and [Ogden] Whitney were their best ever! A real draftsman, a solid cartoonist all-around. You should look him up, you could learn a few things. »

As for Toth, check out — his handwriting’s always a treat to see — what he wrote to Emil’s daughter Nancy over the course of their correspondance.

Again, our spotlighted tale isn’t the cover feature, but I nonetheless felt it my sacred duty to share this unusual beauty by Ken Bald (1920-2019). This is Forbidden Worlds no. 34 (Nov.-Dec. 1954, ACG), the title’s final Pre-Code issue. In 1955, FW would return to the stands after nine-month hiatus and take its final bow in 1967 after a sprightly run of 145 issues.

-RG

P.s. And while I dodged the headache of our traditional countdown this year, nothing — least of all me — is preventing you from raiding the boneyard of our past efforts, shameless ghouls that you are. Here are some handy links to put you into Hallowe’en orbit for a good long while :

Hallowe’en Countdown VIII

Hallowe’en Countdown VII

Hallowe’en Countdown VI

Hallowe’en Countdown V

Hallowe’en Countdown IV

Hallowe’en Countdown III

Hallowe’en Countdown II

Hallowe’en Countdown I

Treasured Stories: “Silver From a Dead Man’s Eyes” (1975)

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« Don’t pay the ferryman!
 Don’t even fix a price! 
Don’t pay the ferryman… until he gets you
to the other side. » — Christopher John Davison

Grimm’s Ghost Stories (60 issues, 1972-1982, Gold Key/Whitman) is a title I’ve been, in my usual fashion, lazily collecting for decades. I’ve always found in the Gold Key ambiance a soothing respite from the obsessive continuity and slam bam histrionics of DC and (the chief offender) Marvel.

While writer Arnold Drake‘s numerous credits at DC (and, to a lesser degree, Marvel) are well documented, his passage at Western/Gold Key in the mid-to-late 1970s is unjustly shrouded in obscurity. Let’s just say he — along with his young colleague Freff — brought complexity, warmth and wit to the publisher’s frankly formulaic fare.

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This isn’t the spookiest ghost story of them all, far from it, but that’s hardly the point, is it? Fun fact: the practice of putting coins on the deceased’s peepers was poetically called ‘Charon’s Obol‘.

I love the well-developed characters… despite the tale’s brevity. The willful stepson whose only sin is that of being a free thinker; the grave-robbers who can keep their wits about them in all circumstances; and the pragmatic miser’s spectre who’ll trade one act of revenge for another in a pinch.

I’ve already expounded on the merits of Frank Bolle (1924-2020); for more of the tawdry details, have a look at The Truth About UFOs: The Hoaxmaster Knows — and Tells All!

While ‘Silver’ wasn’t the cover-featured story, I wouldn’t pass up the chance to spotlight such a fine, understated Luis Domínguez painting. This is Grimm’s Ghost Stories no. 27 (Nov. 1975, Gold Key). For our gallery of this Argentine master’s finest, check out Luis Domínguez (1923-2020): A Farewell in Twelve Covers.

-RG