« Carve out a pumpkin and fill it full of cake mix and raisins and bake for half an hour and then write me and let me know how it turns out. » — one of Patrick Dean‘s ‘Party Tips’
I never met Patrick Dean in person, but I did consider him a friend. I became aware of his work when we both contributed to the second issue of Danny Hellman‘s Legal Action Comics anthology, back in 2003. Looking back, it strikes me that we were among the very few participants not going out of their way to offend.
We began to correspond. Geography aside, we had plenty in common, and so we kept in touch over the years. Then poor Patrick was diagnosed with ALS and fell victim to that relentless degenerative disease a couple of years later. But that’s a well-documented tragedy, so I won’t dwell on it.
I know I’ll always be thinking of Patrick when the leaves turn to red and gold, and I do believe he would have liked to be recalled in that fashion. His own countdowns to Halloween were always heartfelt and delightful.
My partner ds is also a fan, and she shared her own appreciation here.
Patrick’s indispensable guide to all things Hallowe’en, The 2013 Haint Book (2013, of course).An early-ish strip, from Big Deal Comics & Stories no. 4 (Winter, 2004).Illustration for The Legend of the Jack-O-Lantern, from The 2013 Haint Book.From Big Deal Comics & Stories no. 7 (Spring 2006).From The 2013 Haint Book. If you must ask, a haint is « a type of ghost or evil spirit that originated in the beliefs and customs of the Gullah Geechee people, descendants of African slaves who live predominantly in the Low Country and on the barrier islands off the coast of the Carolinas, Georgia, and north Florida. » [ source ]A brew only a witch could love, presumably. From The 2013 Haint Book.With the passing years, Patrick’s work was just getting deeper and (yet) more emotionally layered. This is the opening page from Sometimes I Think About You at Night, the overlapping stories of two estranged couples, one living, one deceased, from Big Deal Comics & Stories no. 11 (2012).Over the course of our correspondance, Patrick never failed to winningly personalise his mailings: this envelope features a shared favourite, Charlton Comics host Dr. M. T. Graves, he of the Many Ghosts. A fitting coda to this (or any) edition of our Hallowe’en Countdown. See you next year, hopefully!
If you’ve missed any of our 154 previous instalments, here they are in handy and tidy fashion:
For the optimal Hallowe’en experience, you may kiss the Old Witch’s Finger (discovered on a beach while on vacation, earlier this month) and make a wish: a pox on your enemies or a tremendous candy bounty… you call it.
« And I haven’t even mentioned Stanley’s Nancy, nor her friend (and my favourite character) Oona Goosepimple. Next time… »
Well, that time has come. Despite my deep and enduring love of John Stanley, I never could warm up to what’s generally considered the cornerstone of his œuvre, Little Lulu. It’s hardly Stanley’s fault: I just happen to dislike Lulu creator Marjorie ‘Marge’ Henderson Buell‘s visual conception of her characters.
On the other hand, I’ve always been in thrall to Ernie Bushmiller‘s world. Purists will, and surely have, objected to the bold liberties that John Stanley took with Nancy and Sluggo, but I don’t care a whit. This collision between the singular visions of a pair of cartooning geniuses is every bit as delightful as I might have hoped.
Night Howls first appeared in Nancy and Sluggo no. 174 (Jan.-Feb. 1960, Dell). It was reprinted in Nancy, Volume 4: The John Stanley Library (2013, Drawn & Quarterly). Script and layout by John Stanley, finished art by Dan Gormley.
One more short one?
The Ghost Story first appeared in Four Color no. 1034 – Nancy and Sluggo Summer Camp (Sept.-Nov. 1959, Dell). It was reprinted in Nancy, Volume 2: The John Stanley Library (2009, Drawn & Quarterly). Script and layout by John Stanley, finished art by Dan Gormley. Fancy, uh? This is Nancy, Volume 2: The John Stanley Library (2009, Drawn & Quarterly); meticulous series design (and covers) by Gregory ‘Seth’ Gallant. Now if only D&Q would finish building the library, or at the very least give us Kookie and Dunc & Loo!In 1975, when fandom movers and shakers Robert Overstreet and Donald Phelps visited Stanley in his home, « … he dug into a closet, and said, ‘I have something that might interest you.‘ He pulled out the roughs for the first Oona Goosepimple story for Nancy. Stanley told Phelps he could keep it. (Actually, it was the script for an unpublished story). » [ from the late Bill Schelly‘s illuminating Stanley bio, Giving Life to Little Lulu (2017, Fantagraphics). ]
While he worked for just about every New York comics publisher under the sun (and certainly some under a rock), let’s note that he displayed and gleefully indulged his flair for the macabre at Harvey in the 1950s, and his versatility while Illustrating the Classics for Gilberton, tackling for instance Poe’sThe Cask of Amontillado, Cooper’s The Prairie and Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment.
Palais kept a low profile during most of the Sixties, but turned up at Gold Key and Charlton around 1967. For the latter, he crafted his final work in comics. Between 1967 and 1974, he sporadically turned his hand to a handful of short tales in the western, war and mystery genres. As far as I can tell, his comics œuvre respectably concludes with the quite amusing Cry for Tomorrow, in Many Ghosts of Doctor Graves no. 46 and The Last Cruise of the Princess III in Ghostly Haunts no. 39 (both July 1974, Charlton), the latter also featuring some of Mike Vosburg‘s earliest pro work. As one door closes…
Beyond the Grave appeared in Ghostly Tales no. 61 (June 1967, Charlton). Script by Joe Gill, art by Rudy Palais. Mark Evanier called Palais’ Charlton work “very odd, impressionistic short stories“, and concludes, on a personal note: “I never met the man but I followed his work and you could tell that he really cared about doing good comic art.” I’m most inclined to agree.
« The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over the harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on. » — Carl Sandburg
The first novel I ever read was a Bob Morane… so we’re old friends.
This was the one. I ask you, how could any self-respecting, red-blooded boy resist the lure of a book entitled ‘Monsters From Space’? And no, I don’t remember a thing from it. Cover art by the prolific Pierre Joubert.
Bob Morane, created in 1953 by yet another Belgian writer* both talented and astoundingly prolific, Charles-Henri Dewisme aka Henri Vernes (1918-2021), has been the hero of over two hundred novels, movies, television shows, animated series, records, you name it.
A foray into comics logically followed in 1959, when, according to Vernes,
« Femmes d’Aujourd’hui, a women’s weekly, asked me to do a series. I said: ‘why not?‘ And so I did, that’s all. »
For brevity’s sake, we’ll stick to the comics, one album in particular at that (the series numbers, after all, over one hundred by now.) I’ve always been intrigued by this one, though I never have, as far as I know, encountered a copy in the wild. In fact, a couple of weeks ago, I queried my go-to bédé provider about it, and he responded that: « Bob Morane albums sell just as soon as they arrive. We can’t ever keep them in stock. » So I ordered a copy from Belgium. One must choose one’s battles with care.
This is Les yeux du brouillard (1971, Dargaud). First serialised in Belgian women’s weekly Femmes d’aujourd’hui (issues 1295 to 1316, 1970), which might seem odd… but said magazine regularly featured several pages of comics, and not just ‘women’s comics’, whatever that may be. What can I say? The Belgians, bless ’em, appreciate their comics. Cover art by William Van Cutsen, aka William Vance (1935-2018). While I’ve never been much of Vance fan, finding him a bit stiff and generic, I’d never claim that he doesn’t get the job done, however. He’s clearly at his peak here.Spoiler alert: disappointingly, the ‘Eyes of the Fog’ turn out to be more or less what this novelty comic book ad promised, though far cooler. Plus they did a great job of keeping the superstitious natives away and the phone booth repairmen puzzled (but gainfully occupied).
Want to see what you actually received upon (well, six to eight weeks later, if memory serves) ordering your very own U-Control Life-Size Ghost? Brace yourself, and look here.
-RG
*Maigret creator Georges Simenon (nearly 500 novels!) and my favourite writer, Jean Ray, readily come to mind. Something in the water, perhaps?
Yet what had he to fear if this place were evil – was he not an upright and godly man who held no traffic with evil? If wicked spirits had power over such men as he, there would be no justice in it.
“That’s true,”said a voice behind him, “there isn’t.” — The Gibsons*
I must confess I had something else planned for today’s post, but I learned, at the last minute, of the existence of material that would vastly augment my intended post — and I wouldn’t want to drop the ball on that topic. One less piece to plan for the next Countdown, then!
I suppose I had thus far refrained from touching upon DC’s long-running Ghosts (1971-82) — too obvious? Well, here we are. Ghosts, like its presumed model, Ripley’s Believe It or Not: True Ghost Stories (1965-80, Gold Key), was always tame and rather formulaic, but frequently boasted wonderful artwork, and definitely great covers.
Ambiance, ambiance, ambiance. This is Ghosts no. 23 (Feb. 1974, DC); cover art by Nick Cardy.
Within its pages lurks this gorgeous three-pager written by Carl Wessler, pencilled by the mysterious (how appropriate!) J. Noriega, and embellished by the peerless Alfredo Alcala.
Find out more about this Captain Marryat character right here. The next time you find yourself ’round Norfolk way, you can drop by and visit the actual Raynham Hall and see for yourself if it’s truly crawling with spectres.This is the tabloid-sized Limited Collectors’ Edition C-32 (Dec. 1974-Jan. 1975, DC); edited by Murray Boltinoff, cover by Nick Cardy.
-RG
*« A couple called ‘The Gibsons’ won a New Statesman competition in Britain with a 200-worder about a man who grows increasingly nervous while walking down a winding moonlit road. » — From Dr. Van Helsing’s Handy Guide to Ghost Stories, Part III, by Kurt Van Helsing, in Twilight Zone Magazine vol. 1 no. 7 (Oct. 1981, TZ Publications).
« Nobody likes a clown at midnight. » — Stephen King
And now for a creepy tidbit with a sensibility at once contemporary and rooted in the somewhat faraway past — namely the 1930’s. From 1997, Amnesia drips from the mind and pen of the… unpredictableAl Columbia.
Born in 1970, Columbia…
« … started his career in comics at the age of nineteen, when he was hired to assist Bill Sienkiewicz. Together, they created ‘Big Numbers’. In 1992, however, the pressure of continuing this real-world, realistically painted comic series became too much for him. Al Columbia vanished, destroying the fourth issue of ‘Big Numbers’ he was working on, and nothing was heard from him until 1994. » [source]
Young Mr. Columbia then resurfaced with a new style more his own, and created The Biologic Show (2 issues, 1994-95, Fantagraphics). He also contributed a handful of striking short pieces to the publisher’s Zero Zero anthology, and this is one.
To my eye’s delight, the chief outside influence at work here is early cartoon talkies, in particular those produced by the Fleisher Brothers (Betty Boop, Koko the Clown, Popeye, Superman). In fact, I can easily envision Koko himself starring in this macabre vignette, though I sure would not wish it on the poor lad.
Amnesia originally saw print in Zero Zero no. 20 (Sept.-Oct. 1997, Fantagraphics), edited by the late Kim Thompson.
You won’t often hear me recommend video games, but there’s one that appears to draw from the same bottomless, poisoned inkwell as Columbia: Limbo (2012), brought to you by independent Danish game developer Playdead.
A sample from Limbo. Depending on your temperament, you may find the game terribly bleak and dispiriting or, conversely, oddly comforting.
Today’s entry is fun and light-hearted, but as this is the last week before Hallowe’en, let’s open on something with a bit more decorum!
Once upon a time, Vincent Price accorded his (paid) stamp of approval to Creamettes, a brand of elbow macaroni. You can read all about that in Vincent Price’s Supper Casserole! on the Dinosaur Dracula blog (where there are plenty of other things, too). I far prefer the version below. Who was this delightful parody created by? Is it something that would be served at The Monster Club with a nice glass of ruby red what-is-this-liquid-anyway? So many questions!
*No actual octopuses were eaten in the making of this post
Actually, no. Before that, there arose the idea in art director Warren Kremer‘s ever-effervescent mind:
One of Kremer’s surviving preliminary sketches.
Then there was this one, more refined and with wonderful suggestions, instructions and notions addressed to the assigned cover artist, Lee Elias.
Ah, here we are. The final (in more ways than one!) version. This is Chamber of Chills Magazine no. 18 (July 1953, Harvey). Art by Lee Elias… but you know that’s not the entire process. Check out this earlier Hallowe’en post for more of that magical Kremer-Elias collaboration.
Then, one year on…
… appeared this cover entry by Québécois Joseph Michel Roy aka Mike Roy (inks likely provided by George Roussos). This is The Unseen no. 15 (July 1954, Pines), the series’ final issue. To give credit where it’s due, the death’s head reflection is a cute new wrinkle.
More than two decades down the road, Marvel, since they were already borrowing Harvey’s Chamber of Chills title (did they even ask? I wonder), figured they may as well reenact one of its classic covers.
Say, what’s this about the day’s first shave? … is there shaving after death? Hassles, hassles.
Though most would nowadays call upon electric shavers or disposable plastic razors, I presume that straight razors have made a comeback among the hipster set. Still, a niche is hardly universal.
This is Chamber of Chills no. 22 (May, 1976, Marvel). Pencils by Larry Lieber, raised on high by the masterly inks of Tom Palmer, who, not content with being one of the all-time finest ink slingers, was also an excellent colourist.
As a bonus, here’s one on the general topic by the immortal Chas Addams. It appeared in The New Yorker in 1957, then was reprinted later that year in his solo collection Nightcrawlers (Simon and Schuster). For more of that excellently-morbid Addams mirth, amble over to this earlier spotlight from our Hallowe’en Countdown’s initial edition.
Most modern reprints of Addams cartoons I’ve seen tend to be on the washed out, blurry side, so I’m grateful to have my ancient volumes of his work. Feast your weary peepers on this fine vintage!
A decade-and-a-half after his unceremonious cancellation, the Stranger was dusted off and given another shot in Showcase no. 80 (Feb. 1969), which was gorgeously illustrated by Messrs. Grandenetti and Bill Draut, and the Stranger, fedora, turtleneck and all, was soon spun off into his own title once more. It began well enough, but despite some often gorgeous covers, in no time descended into endless formulaic repetition: the PS makes vague, laughably pompous statements, his skeptic foil Dr. Thirteen fumes and rants, and my candidate for all-time most tedious arch-nemesis, Tala (introduced by Bob Kanigher and Neal Adams in issue 4) almost invariably turns out to be behind the issue’s menace.
It’s surely a minority opinion, but I only regain some interest in the series after its most celebrated creative team, Len Wein and Jim Aparo, have moved on. Scripters Arnold Drake, David Michelinie and Paul Levitz pick up the mantle, along with artists Gerry Talaoc and Fred Carrillo, and the book improves as its sales slowly tank. Near the end, editor Joe Orlando adds The Black Orchid as a back-up feature, and Deadman becomes a regular participant, both inspired decisions, but insufficient to stem the tide.
This is The Phantom Stranger no. 41 (Feb.-Mar. 1976, DC), the series’ final bow. Art by Jim Aparo. While I’m quite underwhelmed by Aparo’s work on the insides, just about every cover he provided, during and after his run, was outstanding.
A couple of years after the book’s cancellation, The Phantom Stranger and Deadman were teamed up again for a Halloween special. Beyond a decent cover, the results were rather… dire. I really, really wanted to like it, but it’s just a hodgepodge of overwritten mediocrity that can’t seem to decide what it wants to be or what its audience is: not scary in the least (even by Comics Code Standards), barely moody, a waste of trees.
This is DC Super Stars no. 18 (Jan.-Feb. 1978, DC)… also the final issue of that particular series. Cover art by Jim Aparo.
The first page, one of the better ones. Script by Martin Pasko and art by Romeo Tanghal and Dick Giordano (who’s actually in the plus column this time).
Sigh. Yet another self-indulgent reference to perhaps the Nerd-fest of the 1970s, the Rutland (VT) Halloween Parade, comes in to utterly derail the story.
Tala is behind it? You don’t say! And then the “creative” team shoehorns itself into the proceedings. How refreshingly outré. An excerpt from the second half of the, er, epic, written by Gerry Conway, pencilled by Tanghal, and inked by Bob Layton.
One of the earlier tributes to the Rutland parade, this is Batman no. 237 (Dec. 1971, DC); cover art by Neal Adams (with presumed design input by Infantino and Cardy). This has laughably been deemed The Greatest Halloween Comic Book Ever, which provides a view into the mindset of people who apparently deem only superhero comics worthy of their attention.
-RG
*helpfully reprinted, though in dribs and drabs and all over the place, through the 1970’s.
« Drinking your own blood is the paradigm of recycling. » — Gary Busey
Say, isn’t there something… sorta quaint about that cover?
In the 1970s, while DC and Charlton consistently provided all-new material*, Marvel quickly switched to an all-reprint formula (the better to save money whilst flooding the market, my dear!), sometimes even on the covers, with some amusingly inappropriate updates at times.
This is Dead of Night no. 2 (Feb. 1974). Alterations by unknown hands. Only one issue of this title would feature new material: its eleventh and final issue (introducing The Scarecrow); this number, however, reprints pre- and post-code Atlas stories from 54-56.
This is Marvel Tales no. 125 (July 1954, Atlas); cover art by Harry Anderson. The milky semi-transparency is a nice touch.
Okay, here are another pair of before and afters:
This is Tales to Astonish no. 34 (Aug. 1962, Marvel). Cover pencils by Jack Kirby, inks by Dick Ayers. Hardly a classic, not to mention that it lazily recycles the story’s opening splash. It’s also a textbook demonstration of what I dislike about Marvel colouring in the Silver Age: I’m guessing it was company policy to leave the backgrounds mostly in grey to make the characters ‘pop out’. A sound commercial policy, perhaps, but artistically, it seems pretty stale to me.
This is Monsters on the Prowl no. 29 (Aug. 1974, Marvel). A classic instance of John Romita‘s alteration-happy art direction. Making the protagonist a woman and adding a witness are both dishonest touches, for what it’s worth. On the plus side, I do like the lightning bolt (good use of existing space!), and the colouring is a marked improvement. Edited by Rascally Roy Thomas.
This is Mystic no. 30 (May, 1954, Atlas); colours by Stan Goldberg. A striking cover by Russ Heath…
… is, if not ruined, then at the very least diminished by clumsy and pointless updates, including the removal of Heath’s signature (although upon seeing the ‘improvements’ perpetrated upon his work, he might have opted for the comics equivalent of an ‘Alan Smithee‘ or ‘Cordwainer Bird‘ credit). This is Crypt of Shadows no. 9 (Mar. 1974, Marvel). Alterations, once more, by unknown, guilty hands. Also edited by Roy Thomas (just so you know who’s responsible).
-RG
*and if and when they didn’t, they’d tell you! Not so with Marvel. As for Gold Key, they would just pretend the material was ‘reprinted by popular demand’.
Who's Out There? 