« Better to have a lousy character than no character at all. » — Alain Delon (Nov. 8, 1935 – Aug. 18, 2024)
Quite recently, we lost monstre sacréAlain Delon. He was a complicated man, a bit of a prickly bastard, but he sure made a lot of great movies*. But comics, you ask? Well, I’m sure he never asked for it, but like many a celebrity (Jean-Paul Belmondo, Ornella Muti…) his famous countenance was appropriated by those incorrigible rascals at Edifumetto and Ediperiodici.
So Alain Delon became… « Alain Velon, a billionaire playboy who lives on an island “a 3-hour flight from New York“. He spends his private life conquering women in a continuous stream even if he is already engaged to the film actress Lizzy Scarlett, but “due to his innate sense of justice” he periodically transforms into Playcolt, a sort of superhero. His enemy is Linda Darnel, also a billionaire: sadistic and fetishist, she turns into the anti-heroine Za the Dead. Another historical rival is the always sadistic but lesbian Mandrakka. »
Now don’t get me wrong: these are virtually unreadable, poorly drawn, sadistic, illogical, reactionary misogynistic claptrap. But the covers are fascinating in their gonzo way, randomly cobbling together purloined bits from famous likenesses to established logos. You’d think this brazen wave of wholesale filching would have led to swift and decisive legal action from several stars’ solicitors, not to mention Hugh Hefner’s… but it seems not. This was, after all, the Italy that gave us Silvio Berlusconi.
« To the Sound of Punches »; this is Playcolt Series II no. 9 (Nov. 1973, Edifumetto). Cover art by Carlo Jacono, a nice piece, but celebrity likenesses evidently weren’t among his strong suits.« Crimes on the Emerald Coast »; this is Playcolt Series II no. 14 (Aug. 1973, Edifumetto). This one’s *possibly* the work of Alessandro Biffignandi… or his studio.« The Golden Rain » (ahem); this is Playcolt Series II no. 23 (Dec. 1973, Edifumetto). Another Jacono, another botched likeness.« The Divine Sadist »; this is Playcolt Series III no. 1 (July 1974, Edifumetto). « Death laughs in Disneyland »; this is Playcolt Series III no. 11 (June 1974, Edifumetto). « There’s a mess in the middle of the sea »; a 1980 Brazilian edition reprinting Playcolt Series III no. 18 (Sept. 1974) in Portuguese. « The Flower Gang »; this is Playcolt Series III no. 22 (Nov. 1974, Edifumetto). I have no concrete evidence, but the technique displayed here reminds me strongly of British illustrator-cartoonist Ron Embleton (1930-1988), co-creator of Oh, Wicked Wanda! and illustrator of the immortal Captain Scarlet closing credits.No need for a translation, is there? A 1980 Brazilian edition reprinting Playcolt Series IV no. 1 (Jan. 1975) in Portuguese. « Operation Puzzle »; this is Playcolt Series IV no. 12 (Nov. 1975, Edifumetto). Cover painted by the prolific Emanuele Taglietti, who handled quite a few covers in this series. Here’s an impressive gallery of these.« The White Shark »; this is Playcolt Series IV no. 35 (May 1976, Edifumetto). Sharks were all the rage that year.« To Love a Hole »; a 1980 Brazilian edition reprinting Playcolt Series IV no. 2 (Jan. 1975). Dig that strategic blurb placement; the Italian edition was not so coy. Clearly a reference to the previous year’s hit ‘erotic’ film, L’histoire d’O; this is Playcolt Series IV no. 27 (Jan. 1976, Edifumetto). It’s funny how the Delon photos used span his career up to that point, which yields visual whiplash when you go from the Delon of Plein Soleil to the jaded, grizzled one of, say, Monsieur Klein or La mort d’un pourri from one issue to the next.« Terror in California »; this is Playcolt Series IV no. 44 (Oct. 1976, Edifumetto). The obligatory Jaws cash-in. Say what you will, those Italians didn’t miss a trick.
There was, concurrently, another Delon homage in Jean Ollivier and Raffaele Carlo Marcello‘s successful Docteur Justice, a humane but hard-hitting series about a physician and expert judoka who roams the globe’s trouble spots for the World Health Organization. There was even a film adaptation in 1975, with John Phillip Law essaying the title role… and co-starring Delon’s ex — and only — wife, Nathalie. Among Pif Gadget’s adventure series, it was only bested in popularity by the prehistoric blond heartthrob Rahan. I’ll tell you more about it one of these days.
-RG
*So claims the Russian pop song entitled Взгляд с экрана, and who are we to doubt it?
« Looking for love is tricky business, like whipping a carousel horse. » — George Cukor
As I’ve noticed that we’ve been dwelling strictly in the cartoonier suburbs of late, allow me to gently nudge us into the realm of high-end draftsmanship and bravura technique for a change. In so doing, let us turn the clock back a century or thereabouts.
French cartoonist-illustrator Chéri Hérouard, né Chéri-Louis-Marie-Aimé Haumé (1881-1961) is mostly renowned for his lengthy and fruitful (1910-1940) association with the ‘mildly risqué’ weekly La Vie parisienne. It is said that « During World War I, General Pershing personally warned American servicemen against purchasing the magazine, which boosted its popularity in the United States. » There always was — and let’s hope there always shall be! — considerable difference between the French and American mindsets.
« The Nightmare of Coal », Hérouard’s cover for La vie parisienne’s November 1st, 1919 edition. For those interested, there’s a classy hardcover collection entitled La vie parisienne: Covers & Cartoons 1917-1922 (Dover/Calla Editions, 2018). The art restoration is flawlessly executed and the translation is often hilariously botched. La vie parisienne’s May 19, 1923 issue. « The hotel mouse and the field mouse: enemy sisters ». A ‘souris d’hôtel’ was a thief that plied her trade in chic hotels. A cat burglar of a sort. This sleekly sexy look is clearly based on Musidora‘s legendary turn as Irma Vep in pioneering cinéaste Louis Feuillade‘s epic 1915 serial Les Vampires.
Like many of the best and most free-spirited cartoonists, Hérouard illustrated books and magazines aimed at both innocent and decidedly roué readerships…
To wit, Hérouard produced sixty-four illustrations for a four-volume set of ribald historical tales entitled L’Heptaméron des Nouvelles de la Reine de Navarre — which is to say Marguerite de Navarre (1492–1549) — in a rather exclusive print run of 1540 copies (Javal et Bourdeaux, Paris, 1932). It was quite a challenge to pick just a handful. If you want them all, here’s a copy for sale while it lasts!
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Even with a limited colour palette, Hérouard was a master of light and shadow.
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Admire the depth of field in this image… so many planes, and yet it never feels cluttered. That’s composition (among other things).
In addition to the book, hand-coloured engravings of the illustrations were produced in a run of five hundred. I recently acquired my very favourite of the lot, and the kind seller graciously included an uncoloured version for comparison. And so, before:
… and after!
Some background on the technique of stencil colouring: the stencil is created using a zinc sheet one-tenth of a millimetre thick. Using a very sharp metal blade, previously traced openings are cut into the zinc sheet, according to the drawing and colour required. The stencil is then applied upon the printed proof (e.g. engraving, lithograph or phototype). For faithful reproduction, the necessary number of stencils must be traced and cut (an average of fifteen to forty stencils, sometimes up to sixty for more delicate works). In the course of the tracing, one must determine the range of values of each colour, beginning with the lightest, and define with precision the shape and location of the gradations, keeping in mind the effects of superposition. For each stencil, the colour must be prepared, taking care to maintain its tonal intensity throughout the printing process. This colour — be it gouache, watercolour, India ink or wash — will be applied using a special round hog bristle brush. In the case of certain stencils, the colour will be softened after its application, mixed and blended using a small softening brush.
Oof! Given the immensity and delicateness of the task, it must be noted that the colourist in question was one ‘Jacomet’, presumably Daniel Jacomet (1894-1966). Bravo!
And finally, here’s a… striking quartet of sepia rotogravure etchings, which were discreetly sold as a set in the years just preceding the second world war. For these, Hérouard adopted the transparent pseudonym of ‘Herric’… but the style is unmistakable.
« After the horrors of 14-18, the healthy pleasures of peace. »
« If you saw a heat wave, would you wave back? » — Stephen Wright
Time to carry on with one of my pet quixotic missions, that of advocating the glory of Samm Schwartz (1920-1997), my very favourite Archie artist… and one of my favourite cartoonists, period.
Having acquired over the years most of the Jughead issues I could afford — for the most part cheap, but thankfully numerous — I’ve now reached the stage of acquiring scattered issues of assorted Archie titles featuring one or two Schwartz stories… along with often appalling page fillers by painfully lesser lights. To lessen the blow, I usually skip the Schwartz story — which usually opens the book… savvy thinking on their part, I’ll admit — then return to it so as to end on a high note.
I was hesitating between two stories, but since they’re both quite short, why choose? Hence the programme double.
« Summer Simmer » first appeared in Archie’s TV Laugh-Out no. 35 (Nov. 1975, Archie). Scripted by George Gladir, this story has the distinction of not particularly striving to be funny, instead focusing on character and situation.. which is totally distinct from the all-too-frequent straining for laughs and failing Archie blueprint. This sort of outlier is what makes the search worth the bother.
« The Defender » originally saw print in Pep no. 235 (Nov. 1969, Archie). Not only does Marmaduke “Moose” Mason get a rare turn in the spotlight, but it’s an unusually favourable depiction. It was most likely scripted by Frank Doyle.
It must be mentioned that Schwartz often tweaked the scripts he was assigned, but incognito. His collaborators trusted him, giving him free rein. Besides, let’s face it, the stakes were depressingly low.
« The majority has no right to impose its stupidity on the minority. » — George Wolinski (1934-2015)
I realised this morning that yesterday was Mr. Wolinski’s birthday, so here’s a quick post. Despite what one might expect from the name, Wolinski was born in Tunisia; aged eighty, he perished in the terrorist attack on the Parisian offices of Charlie-Hebdo on that grim Wednesday of January 2015. For more context, see last year’s related post Never Forget: Cabu, le grand Duduche.
It would be futile to attempt to do justice to a brilliant, prolific and varied career spanning seven decades, so I won’t waste anyone’s time with such foolishness. Here’s Lambiek’s biographical essay, and here’s a conte cruel from Wolinski’s first solo collection, Histoires lamentables (1965, Hara-Kiri).
« Jean was the lone survivor of a fire that claimed his entire family. Having suffered atrocious burns to the face, he was as hideous as one could imagine. In order to avoid exposing others to that grim spectacle, he went to live deep in the woods with the wild beasts. However, each year, the returning Spring invoked in him strange reveries. » A PATHETIC TALE. « He then could not refrain from lurking about the homes of men. And so it was, one day, that he heard Isabelle’s song. Her voice made him forget his usual caution. » « Isabelle was blind. At the idea that she could not witness his ugliness, Jean felt an extraordinary emotion. He found the courage to speak to her. She responded with kindness, and he dared return. » « Soon, they became inseparable, and at last Isabelle agreed to follow him into the forest. »« Long months of happiness ensued. And then, Isabelle realised that, little by little, her sight was returning. When Jean learned the wonderful news, he was at once happy and desperate. Because he could no believe that Isabelle would remain by his side, now that she saw his ugliness. But Isabelle told him that his physical appearance mattered little to her, and that she would always love him. »« Jean, however, could not help but be miserable. One day, as he was hunting for mushrooms in the forest, he came upon a hare caught in a snare, pitied him and set him free. As it happened, that hare was a powerful genie who, in gratitude, transformed him into a handsome young man. »« Jean, delirious with joy, ran to meet Isabelle. The young girl was working at the beehive. Jean took her in his arms. »« Sweet Isabelle, assailed by this young stranger and fearing for her virtue, crowned him with the hive. »« Panicked with suffering, poor Jean fled like a madman. »« That evening, Jean returned late… » « Ah, if you only knew what happened to me. Some horrid masher attacked me. But I gave him a bad time. After what I’ve done to him, he must look quite a fright! »
from the look of this early style, I get the sense that young Wolinski was under the artistic sway of, say, Will Elder and Al Jaffee…. not a bad place to start!
Here’s a trio of his early gag cartoons (circa the early 1960s), working in a more natural, more direct style:
« Working in collaboration means spending half of one’s time explaining to the other that his ideas are stupid. » Wolinski served as the editor-in-chief of Charlie Mensuel from 1970 to 1981. His chief non-editorial contribution was his scripting, for his friend — and fellow Georges — Pichard, the adventures of Paulette, which ran in the magazine from 1970 to 1976. For more Pichard (and Paulette!), check out ds’ post Georges Pichard’s Distressing Damsels. This is Charlie Mensuel no. 80 (Sept. 1975), art — naturally — by Georges Pichard.« Happiness is an occupation » (2016, Glénat). Here’s an example of Wolinski’s fully evolved, more streamlined visual style, from the cover of a posthumous autobiographical collection. Wolinski was interred in Paris’ Cimetière du Montparnasse. Photo by Stéphane X. « Murdered on January 7 during the attack against Charlie-Hebdo. »
In the spirit of saluting our heroes while they’re still around to get a boost from it…
A few weeks ago, I got wind of a delightful bit of news: that local favourite Russell Kommer Myers now holds, according to Guinness, the world record for Longest running daily cartoon strip by a single author. Perhaps because of his chug-along consistency, the prodigious Myers is generally taken for granted. Well — I’m happy to say — not in these parts: see our tribute post from a while back, Growing Old Gracelessly With Broom-Hilda, for further, abundantly illustrated praise.
Here’s some of what the folks at Guinness (not the Dublin ones) had to say:
« The longest running daily cartoon strip by a single author is “Broom-Hilda” by Russell Myers (USA), which has been in continuous publication for 53 years 292 days since first published by the Chicago Tribune Syndicate on 19 April 1970, as of 5 February 2024.
Russell was born “BT” (before television) and fell in love with comics and cartooning as a child. He started a collection of over 2,000 comic books, which he still has.
After years of having other comic strips rejected, Russell sold “Broom-Hilda,” which became an overnight success. He is a “one-man shop,” writing and drawing every strip himself, over 19,710 as of the 54th anniversary. »
For a little perspective, here’s what Lambiek had to say on the subject:
« He leaves previous record holders behind, like Frank Dickens (‘Bristow’, 51 years), Charles M. Schulz (‘Peanuts’, 49 years) and Marc Sleen (‘Nero’, 45 years). Yet Myers is still behind Ed Payne (‘Billy the Boy Artist’, 56 years), Fred Lasswell (‘Barney Google & Snuffy Smith’, 59 years), Jim Russell (‘The Potts’, 62 years) and Russ Johnson (‘Mr. Oswald’, 62 years, though this was a monthly comic). » Honestly, one is inclined to gently bring up the touchy, controversial issue of, ahem… assistants.
Having already dealt with Broom Hilda, let’s dig a little deeper. In 1974, early in his strip’s run, he contributed illustrations to California paediatrician Lewis A. Coffin’s book, The Grandmother Conspiracy Exposed (Good Nutrition for the Growing Child)… and did a lovely job. Given the ever-fickle nature of the dietary business — to say nearly nothing of its oft-political ramifications — Coffin’s book now seems of its time and place, but he was pretty progressive, and put forth a lot of sound notions. Here are some of Mr. Myers’ fun chapter illustrations:
« The best way to get vitamins is to eat foods which contain them. »« The advantages of breast feeding are well known: lack of preparation, sterility, natural warmth, ready availability, proper nutritional balance of ingredients, prevention of anemia, attractiveness of container design, transfer of protective factors against disease, apparent lower incidence of allergic disease, relative absence of intolerance to milk, and all the emotional gain for both mother and child. » « Unless you live in a semi-tropical area or are a heavy manual labourer who sweats profusely for long periods, you probably require no salt beyond that found naturally in food stuffs. »« I believe that a person who has felt a sun-warmed, firm but ripe tomato in his hand, lifted it up to his nose and savoured the deep, earthy aroma, and tasted the full, tart-sweet taste, juice and seeds dripping down his chin, will never forget the look, feel, smell or taste of that real tomato, and will know how to pick out the best tomatoes in the supermarket, because he will have that supreme standard to measure them against. »« My children love raw vegetables. They dislike many cooked vegetables, often the same ones they like raw. While I’m not saying you should sell the stove, it seems they sense that something’s missing after cooking. » « For many years Americans felt secure in the belief that the government and, more specifically, the Food and Drug Administration was constantly screening all processed food for harmful additives. It has finally become evident that this is not the case. » « Most school systems have completely abdicated the responsibility for nutritional education and have totally misused their most potent teaching tool, example, in the name of economy. » « Your children will sneak around your back and gorge at the neighbour’s house, or will slither down to the local store and furtively cram candy-bars and soft-drinks down their deprived throats. »« It wasn’t until television came along that the finely honed art of brain-washing children came to full flower. »« … we know that the majority of peoples in the world not only don’t drink milk, but they would be quite ill if they did. »« You would naturally assume that your local school’s lunch program was nutritionally a good one. »And here’s my durably bound copy of this lovely tome, discarded early this century from the library of Alma College, a private Presbyterian liberal arts college in Alma, Michigan.
And since I’ve touched upon Mr. Myers’ Broom Hilda achievement, I would be remiss in not giving our readers a look at what he’s been up to lately. After all, an endurance record means little if the work itself has scant remaining merit. If you ask me, his timeless charm has weathered the years admirably well.
A Sunday strip from June 9, 2024.And a daily from June 15, 2024. Pretty sharp for a guy in his mid-eighties!
« Fascism will come to America wrapped in a flag. » — Sinclair Lewis
With the exception of its daily strip incarnation (1941-44), principally ghosted by Jack Cole, the early years of Will Eisner’s The Spirit never drew me in. Next to the work Eisner produced upon his return from WWII, the first years seemed tentative and inchoate. It didn’t help that the original artwork — or even quality photostats — of the material had not survived, and so reprints were consequently hobbled by dodgy reproduction.
The other day, a most generous friend presented me with the second volume of Will Eisner’s The Spirit Archives — he had a spare copy — and, not wishing to look a gift horse in the mouth, I duly proceeded to read it. I should state that DC Comics’ complete reprinting of Eisner’s magnum opus is a definitive one, so the pill was far easier to swallow this time.
I was particularly taken with one gem near the end of the volume. And since America is currently awash in fascists and Brownshirts, Eisner’s political parable seems unnervingly apropos. See what you think!
Like it says at the top of page one, The Tale of the Dictator’s Reform was originally published on June 22, 1941. The United States’ December 9th entry into the war was still several months away.
This episode was cited as a solid favourite of his lone surviving The Spirit assistant*, the mighty Jules Feiffer (born 1929) in his pioneering work of comics history, 1965’s The Great Comic Book Heroes. Mr. Feiffer wrote: « Eventually, Eisner developed story lines that are perhaps best described as documentary fables — seemingly authentic when one reads them, but impossible, after the fact. There was one about Hitler walking around in a Willy Lomanish middle world: subways rolling, Bronx girls chattering, street bums kicking him around. His purpose in coming to America: to explain himself, to be accepted as nice guy, to be liked. Silly when you thought of it, but for eight pages, grimly convincing. »
When the story finally was reprinted — some sixteen years after Feiffer’s tantalising plot summary — in Will Eisner’s The Spirit no. 32 (Dec. 1981, Kitchen Sink), associate editor Cat Yronwode added: « Indeed, the story is all that Feiffer said of it and more. He forgot to mention that The Spirit fixed Der Fuehrer a nice bag lunch, for instance, and obligingly flew him home after his American sojourn. It’s been a long time coming, but at last we can proudly bring you this little gem, possibly the most eccentric political homily ever produced in the comics form. Enjoy it, but don’t ask for more of the same. It’s unique. »
-RG
*the next-to-last Spirit assistant, Don Perlin, passed away earlier this month. He had pencilled three stories over Feiffer’s layouts in 1951, late in The Spirit’s run.
« Our Betty Cooper is still the girl next door – she literally lives next to Archie. And she’s the blonde all-American girl; she’s so sweet and forgiving, gives people the benefit of the doubt and second chances, wears her heart on her sleeve. But she’s also incredibly broken on the inside, for many different reasons. » — Lili Reinhart
As a whole, comic book artists are not a happy lot, and for good reason. During the Golden Age, at least, there were countless publishers, so one could move around if unsatisfied with the working conditions.. even if meant finding out that things were rotten all over. After the mid-1950s, when the field violently contracted — you know the story — leaving scant players standing, you pretty much had to take the work, and the abuse, as they came. And certain publishers frowned upon ‘their’ creators playing what little remained of the field.
Kurt Schaffenberger had steady work at DC, but presumably — and understandably — sought to keep his options open, so he moonlighted for ACG, often under a pseudonym, probably unaware that the ‘competitor’ was covertly owned (at least in part) by DC co-founder and co-owner Harry Donenfeld. One can imagine Kurt’s distress when ACG folded in 1967. From what I can surmise, he did, in 1970, a lone, inexplicable cover for Stanley Morse… wildly outside his range but still kind of awesome. And then… he quietly boarded a bus to Riverdale.
A page from Voice of Doom; script by Frank Doyle, pencils by Schaffenberger, inks by Jon D’Agostino. Published in Archie’s TV Laugh-Out no. 16 (Dec. 1972, Archie).The, er… punchline from Peace of Mind. Script by Frank Doyle, pencils by Schaffenberger, inks (likely) by Chic Stone; published in Archie’s TV Laugh-Out no. 18 (Mar. 1972, Archie).Drawing for Archie wasn’t too much of a stretch for Kurt; whether it was Reggie or The Big Red Cheese getting knocked on his ass, he had his stock posture. This is Shazam no. 22 (Jan-Feb. 1976, DC). Pencils and inks by Mr. Schaffenberger.
A couple more samples from Mr. Schaffenberger’s all-too-brief Archie period — solid, well-paced, ably-designed and economical storytelling:
A slightly surreal one-pager from Archie’s Joke Book Magazine no. 150 (July 1970, Archie).A page from Luck Struck, published in Archie’s Pals ‘n’ Gals no. 73 (Oct. 1972, Archie); note the Captain Marvel tank top young Mr. Andrews is sporting!
And then, there’s the case of Sal Amendola, a Neal Adams protégé whose reputation in comic books largely rests on a single Batman story, 1974’s ‘Night of the Stalker’, a highly praised tale whose chief conceit is that Batman never utters a word and weeps bitterly at the end. I’d apologise for the spoilers, but honestly, it’s been half a century, what mystery is there to dispel?
An excerpt from Detective Comics no. 439 (Feb.-Mar. 1974, DC); I’ll rarely say this, but Dick Giordano’s inks are an asset in this case, not a liability. The story’s scripting credits are at once hilarious and a bit sad: Steve Englehart, script; Vin and Sal Amendola, plot; and… “from an incident as described by Neal Adams.” Yeah, Neal; that’ll surely earn you a Pulitzer.
Anyway, after his turn in the Bat-spotlight and 1975’s Phoenix, one of the short-lived Atlas-Seaboard‘s more daring titles, Amendola turned up at… Archie. And it was not a good fit.
This, in fact, was the springboard for this post: a couple of years ago, I encountered an Archie story that so grotesquely missed the mark — stylistically speaking — that it bordered on the fascinating. You guessed it, Sal Amendola, utterly out of his element, not to mention, surprisingly… his depth.
Here are a pair of pages from Coach Reproach, published in Everything’s Archie no. 71 (Dec. 1978, Archie), script by George Gladir, pencils by Amendola, inks by Jon D’Agostino.
Where to begin? In the first panel, you give Archie a stiff, unnatural pose and you follow it up by repeating it on a background character in the very next panel. And Arch is due for a nasty case of whiplash if he keeps trying to make like Linda Blair.At this point, I’m thinking Sal had learned plenty from his mentor on how to utterly fail at comedy.If what I’ve observed about pitching stances is worth anything, Archie’s about to get brained by a baseball. Ginger boy is also looking right past Coach Kleats. Despite the low bar — issues of quality control were rampant at Archie in the 1970s — this is impressively incompetent storytelling,What happens when you never learn basic inking principles: one creates depth by using thinner lines — and less detail — on background characters, otherwise… visual chaos ensues, as demonstrated here. And Sal’s Betty and Veronica sorely need a brand of shampoo that won’t leave their hair so oily and limp… but the anatomy is beyond help. This is the opening page of The Specialty, from Pep no. 342 (Oct. 1978, Archie).
Schaffenberger’s fellow Golden Age veteran, Gene Colan, also found himself moonlighting in the 1960s. In his case, it was for Marvel, under the alias of ‘Adam Austin’, but also for Dell (just a couple of covers mid-decade) and more significantly for Warren Magazines. In the 1970s, he concentrated on Marvel and was, in the chaos that was the so-called ‘House of Ideas’ at the time, the single most reliable artist in the maelström: surely none can match his seventy consecutive — and meticulously detailed — issues of Tomb of Dracula, in addition to lengthy runs on Howard the Duck, Daredevil, Captain America, Doctor Strange and so forth.
« When writer Jim Shooter became Marvel’s editor-in-chief in the late ‘70s, the tension between Colan and the younger authors came to a head. By 1980, Shooter and Colan were totally at odds with one another over Colan’s approach to storytelling. »
« [Shooter] was harassing the life out of me. I couldn’t make a living,” Colan said. “He frightened me, he really did. He upset me so bad I couldn’t function.” Just as she had urged Colan to quit one job [in] the 1960s, wife Adrienne begged him to leave Marvel in 1980. After delivering his resignation, Colan was asked to sit down and seek resolution with Shooter and publisher Mike Hobson. Colan agreed to the meeting, but declined any overtures to stay at Marvel. “Shooter was in the same room,” Colan recalled, “and I said, ‘That man’s not gonna change. He is what he is. Whether it’s six days, six months or six years, it’s not going to be any different, so I’m not going to put up with it for another minute.‘ » [ source ]
He then scampered over to DC for a few years. His production there was hit-and-miss, but his Batman run (1981-86) was outstanding, pairing him with some of the rare inkers who could do his nuanced pencils justice: Klaus Janson, Tony De Zuñiga (to my amazed delight!) and especially Alfredo Alcala.
But once his contract ran out, he was out knocking on doors again. Against all odds, Archie beckoned.
This is the cover — dreadful, I’m afraid — of Jughead no. 17 (Apr. 1990, Archie), reviving the opportunistic, Batman TV show-derived ‘Riverdale Gang as superheroes’ de trop move of the mid-1960s, with even less aplomb. But then the Archie folks were plumbing an especially low point with such ‘experimental’ titles as Jughead’s Diner, Archie 3000, Dilton’s Strange Science, Jughead’s Time Police, Archie’s R/C Racers, Explorers of the Unknown, and of course The Adventures of Bayou Billy.An action-packed — and Colan-shambolic — excerpt from that issue’s Hatman saga, written by Robert Loren Fleming, pencilled by Colan and inked by Rudy Lapick. Notwithstanding his sticking out like the proverbial sore thumb, Colan clearly had a ball working on his Archie stories. He brought some urgently needed chutzpah to a perilously stale formula.A page from Will the Real Archie Please Stand Up!, published in Life with Archie no. 273 (July 1989, Archie), wherein Archie is mistaken for his doppelgänger, a foreign prince named Kafoufi… but of course. Pencilled *and* scripted by Colan, which is most unusual. Oh, and inked by Mr. Lapick, who doesn’t quite know what to do with those ol’ Colan worm-fingers, seen wriggling in panel five.
« Len Norris portrays rather the little man in his everyday complications, and by showing us his, and our own predicaments, he helps relieve us of the burden of the daily toll of bloodshed and terror we see in the news pages. » — Stu Keate
Here’s to a semi-forgotten Canadian legend.
In my long-ago teen years, when I began haunting second-hand bookstores, single-author collections of political cartoons were everywhere, dirt-cheap, largely interchangeable to the untrained eye.. and evidently hard to dispose of.
Most common were collections of The Daily Express’ Ronald “Carl” Giles (1916 – 1995), AKA Giles — but this being Canada, we saw plenty from The Montreal Gazette’s Terry Mosher AKA Aislin and the Vancouver Sun’s twin cartooning stars, Roy Peterson and Len Norris. Peterson is the one that first caught my eye — Vancouver was a long way off — thanks to his quarter-century run illustrating Allan Fotheringham‘s back page column in Maclean’s Magazine. However, I shelled out folding kale for but a single one of these collections, and it was the one comprising the cream of Norris’ 1960-61 output; it turned up in a long-neglected chest at my folks’ place last month, and so it’s ripe for rediscovery.
Here’s a bit of background on the man… born in 1913 in London, England…
« Norris came to Canada with his family when he was 13, growing up in Port Arthur, Ont. (now Thunder Bay). He moved to Toronto during the Great Depression, where his artistic talents landed him jobs in ad agencies. Before he joined The Sun, he was the art director for Canadian Homes and Gardens Magazine.
Norris didn’t become a full-time cartoonist until he joined The Vancouver Sun in 1950.
Norris was a sensation out of the box, picking up a National Newspaper Award for Top Canadian Cartoonist in 1952. His work was so popular that 27 collections of his cartoons were published.
He produced an estimated 8,000 cartoons during his 38 years at The Sun. He officially retired in 1979, but kept producing two cartoons a week until he finally hung up his pen in 1988, at age 75. He died in 1997 at 83. » [ source ]
Ah, those quaint Colonials… « The phrase “the natives are getting restless” emerged from racist colonial origins. It sets up a scenario where wise, cool minds are overseeing and running things. And there is a more “savage,” “uncivilized” set of local people, the natives, who are seen as subordinate. Who deserve to be ruled by the lighter-skinned European colonists. »Quite timeless, that one — regrettably.Unlike a couple of these political parties, the Shrine Circus is still around — so it might have been the savvier investment after all. You can take the Englishman out of England, but… it’s snap to picture this appearing in the pages of Punch instead of a North American newspaper.Note that each and every child has his or her own ambulatory posture. Now that’s draftsmanship. Clearly, in Norris’ case, the verisimilitude of each detail, every gesture, springs from a deep well of visual observation — and he was no slouch with the verbal either. Like many a cartoonist, Norris was unambiguously on the side of the animals.I can relate far more readily with this gag since I’ve acquired a home with both a septic tank and lots of greenery.While the point might be a tad obvious — though still worth making — the expert composition is what makes this one special.Speaking of that Punch spirit: with this particular cartoon, Norris gleefully wanders into Rowland Emett‘s garden patch.I love how Norris didn’t stack the deck, where a lesser light surely would have: the members of the academic body on the right are still recognizably educators.Ah, poor Laika. Such a heartbreaking tale. Though she notably inspired a monument in Moscow, an outstanding Finnish rock band, a moving verse of a Divine Comedy song, and this cartoon, it’s a given that the poor doggie would have rather lived her life in peace than die alone and terrified.
The next two make it thanks to bravura use of compositional space. Such chops!
With a population of 3,985 — and rising — Grand Forks, BC, “is Boundary Country’s largest city”. All kidding aside, it does look like a very nice place to visit.Dig if you will the artist’s mastery of volume and gesture, of costume and body language. The Mr. Coyne alluded to is James Elliott Coyne (1910-1979), who was the Bank of Canada’s second Governor, from 1955 to 1961. He resigned in the aftermath of what was known as The Coyne Affair.
His Vancouver Sun colleague Trevor Lautens eloquently depicted the Norris he knew: « Len limned not the pompous event, but the pompous event’s effect on ordinary people. He seemed a small-c conservative, but look and you will find that his drawings were blandly subversive. The bureaucrats were black-suited, pince-nezed satraps. Pietistic Social Crediters wore haloes and walked on fluffy clouds. The Victoria Conservative Club was populated by dozing, look-alike, pear-shaped gents with walrus moustaches. »
For a deeper burrow into Norris’ œuvre and legacy, here’s a fine documentary film on the subject.
« I was a peaceful sedentary man, a lover of a quiet life, with no appetite for perils and commotions. But I was beginning to realise that I was very obstinate. » — John Buchan
Over the course of several posts, I’ve extolled at length Carmine Infantino‘s skill as a cover designer. Yet the ability to envision and execute a single static image does not automatically translate into the skill of clearly and tidily breaking down a story into a suite of sequential panels, in much that same way that a superbly dexterous surgeon may be incapable of writing legibly. It pleases me to declare that Mr. Infantino’s no one-way specialist.
Infantino describes the evolution of his visual thinking: « The use of negative and positive shapes inside the panel had to mean something. So, to me, if the shapes didn’t draw the eye in, then they weren’t worthwhile. I had to move and change the shape to make it work for me. And that’s what I did. For me beforehand, the figure was the most important thing, and nothing else in the panel mattered. But later on, I found out that it was the total figure I had to worry about. » (all Infantino quotes excerpted from The Amazing World of Carmine Infantino: an Autobiography (2000, Vanguard Productions; edited by J. David Spurlock)
I’ve long wanted to feature this particular tale… for both script and artwork reasons. However, my copy was in Mysteries in Space: The Best of DC Science Fiction Comics (Apr. 1980, Simon and Schuster/Fireside; Michael Uslan, editor)… and I’d be all-but-guaranteed to destroy this beloved book in any attempt to scan from it. But — aha! — I’ve recently acquired a copy of DC Special no. 13 (Jul.-Aug. 1971), which granted the tale its first encore. Game on!
Someone slightly goofed here : The Brave and the Bold no. 47 was published in April-May 1963, not 1953.
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« The silhouettes I used in ‘Strange Sports Stories‘ [featured in The Brave and the Bold nos. 45-49] were innovations. Julie [editor Julius Schwartz] gave me the script and said, ‘We want this book to look different.” That’s all he said, and I went home and what I devised to make it look different was by using silhouettes as a dramatic device. The action starts in the silhouette, and then you go to the conventional panel, and the action follows through. One might almost call it an animated treatment. »
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As smooth and effective as the Infantino-Anderson pairing looks, there was some friction behind the scenes. Infantino explains: « I was beginning to experiment at the time and I threw anatomy out in favor of a higher level of design. Murphy was an excellent draftsman and I’d try to explain what I was trying to achieve to him but this was quite contrary to his own sensibilities. The more stylized I became, the more he thought the work had to be ‘fixed up‘. At one point, he asked for a raise because he had to change my work so much. What he thought he had to ‘fix‘ was the new style I was most excited about. »
Our featured story shares a central perspective with Russ Manning‘s rightly celebrated Magnus, Robot Fighter, whose inaugural issue had come out a mere two months earlier — though with that close a gap, it’s most likely a simple case of coincidence.
A relevant page from Magnus, Robot Fighter 4000 A.D. no. 1 (Feb. 1963, Gold Key); story and art by Manning, with input from editor Craig Chase, who initially pitched the idea of a SF hero to the publisher.
Are we getting less physically able with every succeeding generation, as our elders have been claiming for eons? Is it just a mistaken, shallow assessment arising from tone-deaf obduracy and bad faith — or have our forerunners all been correct about a general and ongoing decline?
« Arrows of neon and flashing marquees out on Main Street / Chicago, New York, Detroit and it’s all on the same street / Your typical city involved in a typical daydream / Hang it up and see what tomorrow brings » — Robert Hunter
Among the foremost pleasures of a brick-and-mortar bookstore is the increased odds of stumbling upon an item whose existence you never suspected: case in point, another cheap (one buck!) gem I scooped up in Ellsworth, ME’s The Big Chicken Barn last Autumn.
Now — I’ve long been a huge fan of the pseudonymous Cecil Adams‘ sassy syndicated answer column The Straight Dope (1975-2018), in no small part thanks to resident — all the merry way! — illustrator Michele ‘Slug’ Signorino‘s waggish accompanying cartoons, rendered in what he colourfully called his ‘smudge-a-dot technique’.
And so, last October, I grabbed a lovely Scholastic publication that had until now ably eluded my radar — 1978’s Junior CB Picture Dictionary, compiled and edited by Joan Downing and dexterously illuminated by the aforementioned Mr. Signorino. I was delighted to discover that he’s still happily active well into his Eighties: « he still works and does not intend to retire. “This isn’t work,” he said. »
This slim-but-priceless tome happens to tick several of my pet boxes: a somewhat (but not quite!) passé communication technology; a lively, singular species of jargon; a merrily anarchic illustrative style… and so forth. Let’s sneak a peek, then!
Checking My Eyelids for Pinholes: Tired; getting sleepy.City Kitty: Local police.County Mounty: Sheriff or county police.Draggin’ Wagon: Wrecker or tow truck.Eatem Up Stop: A truckstop.Flagwaver: Road construction worker.Haircut Palace: A low bridge or overpass. There’s one of these a couple of blocks up the street from where I used to live, but I suppose every big city has to live with that problem. In Boston, MA, the phenomenon is particularly colourful, as is called ‘Storrowing‘. Mama Bear: Female police officer.Mixing Bowl: Highway cloverleaf.Motor Mouth (Also: Ratchet Jaw): One who talks too much.Rat Race: Traffic during rush hour.Skating Rink: Road slippery from ice, snow, or rain.Super Skate: Sports car.Truckin’ Teenybopper: Young hitchhiker. The bulk of my first-hand experience with CB came from hitchhiking in my youth so I indeed was a truckin’ teenybopper myself! I’m still warmly grateful for the longest ride I ever got: from Portland, OR, to Long Beach, CA, thanks to a friendly truck driving man. He was actually headed for San Diego, but I was already over three thousand miles from home… and had to get back in time for college.Wall to Wall and Ten Feet Tall: Good CB reception. A visual reference to famous pooch ‘Nipper‘. Window Washer: Rain. Is that you, Dirty Danny?
For more dirt on the magnificent Signor Signorino, feast your peepers on this lovely 2022 profile. And in case you’re wondering “Does Slug have a book about his career?”, why yes, he certainly does!
I’ll let Steve Earle have the last jab at this one: « Everybody told me you can’t get far/On thirty-seven dollars and a Jap guitar/Now I’m smokin’ into Texas with the hammer down*/And a rocking little combo from the Guitar Town**. »
Who's Out There? 