Panning the murky old print stream for the odd glimmering nugget
By the Light of the Silver Age
We know when the Silver Age begins, but when exactly does it come to a close? Since it’s just arbitrary retrofitting, a bunch of events and dates have been posited, mostly from the early 1970s: Kirby leaving the Fantastic Four and Marvel, the “relevance” of Green Lantern/Green Arrow… The cut-off points of decades have been pretty misleading in the past while the middles have often been more pivotal: for instance, the years 1955 to 1965 are more of a piece than 1950-60, for instance. Same goes for 1965 to 1975. I therefore deem the end of the Silver Age to be the end of 1975, when Carmine Infantino stepped down as DC publisher, along with his brilliant art director Nick Cardy. Replace them with inexperienced Jenette Kahn* and the legendary (but not in a good way) Vince Colletta as art director, and you have a pretty massive sea change. Compared to that, comics from 1969 are virtually identical to releases from 1970. *creating Dynamite Magazine for Scholastic is what got Kahn the job. She only stayed for four issues, and Jane and Bob “R.L.” Stine likely did most of the heavy lifting, since the magazine only improved following Kahn’s departure. – RG
« 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?
« We can lick gravity, but sometimes the paperwork is overwhelming. » — Wernher von Braun
The other day, I was digging through my to-read pile, and came upon a 1950s Charlton science-fiction title I’d picked up for a song during a trip to the Maritimes (that’s New Brunswick in this case), last Fall. Its second story struck me as slight but quite fun, which is pretty much the best one could hope for in those strict, early years under the Comics Code’s oppressive authority. Despite the quickly executed job under overpowering Colletta varnish, I surmised I could identify the penciller’s style: none other than Matt Baker, whom I wrote about almost exactly a year ago, in Matt Baker’s Disquieting Romance. I’d advise you to begin there.
In his review of Matt Baker: The Art of Glamour (2012, TwoMorrows), cartoonist Eddie Campbell provided a useful bit of context: « A final phase, in which Baker had a hard time getting any work at all, is also examined briefly. Between 1955 and ‘59 he mostly pencilled for Vince Colletta, who was somehow well enough placed to pick up as much work as he could handle from Atlas and Charlton. He farmed a great deal of it out to others to pencil, leaving the inking for himself, which is one way to make a living and I’ve never had any problem with it. Colletta is a figure that comic book fans love to vilify. There’s him, Fredric Wertham, and the Red Skull, making the triumvirate of evil. »
But enough telling for now, time for some showing!
This is Mysteries of Unexplored Worlds no. 14 (Aug. 1957, Charlton); cover art by Charles Nicholas and Vincent Alascia. Yes, there was a time when the profligate Alascia was a decent inker.
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Though uncredited, the story was evidently written by Joe Gill. Typical of him, the story is driven by straightforward but purposeful dialogue, in which much is intimated between the lines. It takes the rare gift of economy that tell such a story — and make it work — in just a handful of pages.
So what was in it for Vince Colletta? Basic economics aside — it’s easier to ink well-executed layouts — perhaps he harboured sympathy for this massively talented Black man who couldn’t get work, as all but a few did — regardless of talent — after the massive contraction of the comics field in the mid-Fifties. As a native Sicilian, it couldn’t be far from Colletta’s mind that in America, his own people, not so long before, were forcibly excluded from the ‘Whites’ club.
As Brent Staples wrote in How Italians Became ‘White’ (The New York Times, Oct. 12, 2019): « Italian immigrants were welcomed into Louisiana after the Civil War, when the planter class was in desperate need of cheap labor to replace newly emancipated black people, who were leaving backbreaking jobs in the fields for more gainful employment.
These Italians seemed at first to be the answer to both the labor shortage and the increasingly pressing quest for settlers who would support white domination in the emerging Jim Crow state. Louisiana’s romance with Italian labor began to sour when the new immigrants balked at low wages and dismal working conditions.
The newcomers also chose to live together in Italian neighborhoods, where they spoke their native tongue, preserved Italian customs and developed successful businesses that catered to African-Americans, with whom they fraternized and intermarried. In time, this proximity to blackness would lead white Southerners to view Sicilians, in particular, as not fully white and to see them as eligible for persecution — including lynching — that had customarily been imposed on African-Americans. »
Baker didn’t delve much into the science-fiction genre, but here’s one such case: this is Atomic Comics no. 4 (July-Aug. 1946, Green Publishing). Read it here!Another rarity in Baker’s œuvre: blackness — despite being undermined by the colourist here. This is Amazing Ghost Stories no. 15 (Dec. 1954, St. John). On comicbookplus.com, where you can read this entire issue, a reader commented approvingly: « There are a lot of horror comics set in Haiti. This is the first one I’ve read where it looks like the author did some research on the history of Haiti. »
« There will be no questions asked if I kill you here, gringo! » — Bad hombre Alejandro Roja
On February 5, 2024, versatile veteran cartoonist José Delbo (born in Buenos Aires, Argentine, on December 9, 1933) left us at the most respectable age of ninety. Comics fans of a certain age will no doubt recall him chiefly from his long stint on DC’s Wonder Woman (1975-1981, issues no. 222-286), but to my mind, that’s hardly his finest hour: he wasn’t done any favours there, hobbled as he was by pedestrian (or worse) writing and indifferent (or worse) inking. Same goes for his run on Batgirl (1976-82) in Batman Family and Detective Comics.
For a detailed rundown of his remarkably long and varied career, you can’t go wrong with this excellent bio.
This post’s title gave away my candidate for Delbo’s magnum opus, such as it is; but I would be remiss in failing to also note his charming work on Dell’s The Monkees (fifteen issues), where he got to demonstrate his deft hand at humour; and his winningly bizarre collaboration with Tony Tallarico, Geronimo Jones (nine issues, 1971-73, plus one that remains unpublished).
This is Billy the Kid no. 58 (Nov. 1966, Charlton), Delbo’s second issue on the title but his first cover. After this one, he would go on to pencil and ink the subsequent fifty or so covers and most of the inside features. When you find an artist who can draw horses, you hold on to him (or her)! How many, among the current generation, could successfully handle that particular mission?
Incidentally, Billy’s distinctive steed appears to be an Appaloosa: « The Appaloosa’s eye-catching pattern comes from the spotted horses brought into the Americas by Spanish Conquistadors. Known as the Dalmatian horse breed, it was bred in the mid-18th century by the Native American Nez Percé people. Its name comes from the Palouse River that flows through what used to be Nez Percé territory. » [ source ]
Charlton Comics’ flagship western title, Billy the Kid (153 issues, 1955-1983, including its first five as “Masked Raider”), endured as long as it did for good cause: notable runs by accomplished artists, among them John Severin, Rocco Mastroserio, Luis Domínguez, Delbo, and finally Warren Sattler. Yet, for my money, it’s Joe Gill’s spare but psychologically consistent and highly humane scripting that holds the enterprise together.
This is Billy the Kid no. 69 (Nov. 1968, Charlton).This is Billy the Kid no. 74 (Sept. 1969, Charlton).This is Billy the Kid no. 80 (Sept. 1970, Charlton).This is Billy the Kid no. 94 (Aug. 1972, Charlton); I love the clever signpost integration of the featured title.This is Billy the Kid no. 98 (Jan. 1973, Charlton). Readers accustomed to Marvel and DC-style hype may notice how light on text these covers are. A lot of shouting isn’t what sells a cover: an arresting visual will do that.This is Billy the Kid no. 102 (June 1973, Charlton).This is Billy the Kid no. 103 (Aug. 1973, Charlton).This is Billy the Kid no. 106 (Dec. 1973, Charlton). The foxy villainess Billy’s tussling with is La Duquesa, featured in “Slave of Beauty”.
Happy trails, and gracias for everything, Señor Delbo!
« A merry Christmas to all my friends except two. » — W. C. Fields
I was in the middle of writing a post on another topic, getting bogged down in its complexities, and then it dawned on me that Christmas was fast approaching, and I’d better switch gears pronto.
Thankfully, I had something in mind: an Angel and the Ape tale initially produced in the late 1960s but orphaned with the book’s cancellation. It was half-heartedly released from limbo –shall we say buried? — in one of those awkward tabloid format volumes, Limited Collectors’ Edition C-34: Christmas With the Super-Heroes (Feb.-Mar. 1975, DC) and not even advertised on the front or back cover… which is why it took me decades to learn of its existence.
On average, Angel and the Ape was only marginally funnier than the rest of DC’s humour books (save of course for Shelly Mayer’s consistently hilarious Sugar and Spike), but still leagues ahead of Marvel’s painful Not Brand Ecch et al. A&A was, imho, at its peak when E. Nelson Bridwell wrote it, lobbing some choice barbs at the esteemed competition.
To briefly illustrate my point, here’s a relevant panel from Angel and the Ape no. 3 (Mar. 1969, DC).
Script by Bridwell, pencils by Oksner, inks by Wood. The redhead in the green cape and star-spangled tights is Stan Bragg, editor-in-chef at Brainpix Comics, a clever amalgam of the Smilin’ One and his Rascally subordinate. “When you write good stories and do good artwork, don’t I sign it?“
« It’s easy, from our 21st-century perspective, to condemn Waldman as nothing but a sleazy bottom-feeder eking out a precarious living by pirating the marginal dregs of an industry he was only peripherally a part of. » — Don Markstein
It’s been suggested to me several times that I should devote some column space to Rostislav “Ross Andru” Androuchkevitch (though my co-admin ds certainly has, by dint of the man’s long stint on Bob Kanigher’s regressive Wonder Woman), but the trouble is, unlike the many of my generation who, presumably more through circumstance than discernment, imprinted on Andru and Gerry Conway*‘s The Amazing Spider-Man (1973-76), I had already lost all interest in Spidey after Steve Ditko‘s rightly acrimonious 1966 departure; I just wasn’t buying what they were selling.
My own, somewhat less agreeable run-in with Andru was through his ill-advised residency as DC’s principal cover artist (under “art director” Vinnie Colletta) paired up with Dick Giordano**, who reportedly slapped inks, and likely some coffee, on a few covers each day before catching his train to work.
However, as I always say, with a career that lengthy and prolific, there’s bound to be exceptions. Which brings me to a comment a dear friend and old comrade in ink-slinging made — just this week! — regarding an Andru cover I featured during last month’s Hallowee’n Countdown:
« Mmmm… that Ross Andru cover. Such a delightful classic! Who knew he was so good back then compared to his later work, which was pretty damn awful. »
So, like John Severin, Andru (with inking partner, for better — though mostly for worse — Mike Esposito in tow) was approached by Israel Waldman to gussy up his shoddy, oft-illegal reprints.
Redoubtable comics historian Don Markstein (1947-2012) did a breathtaking job of compiling a dossier of the whole I.W./Super Comics operation, complete with the cross-referencing of most — if not all — the ‘borrowed’ properties and personages. Essential reading if you’re at all intrigued by crafty reprobates of Waldman’s ilk.
This is Doll Man no. 11 (1963, Super Comics). Read it here!This is Strange Mysteries no. 11 (1963, Super Comics). Read it here! The 60s Marvel colouring gimmick of leaving the background grey to make the foreground figures stand out (not to mention spare much time and effort) leads me to think that resident Marvel hues-man Stan Goldberg (no Rube he) may have been moonlighting for Izzy Waldman. This is Danger no. 12 (1963, Super Comics). Read it here!
Mr. Markstein on The Black Dwarf: « The first question, of any character, is — why? Putting on a bizarre outfit to battle crime on an unpaid, freelance, anonymous basis seems pretty strenuous, requiring strong motivation. But his isn’t much. He just hates crime, no particular reason cited.
Next, what’s with the name? He was shorter than average, but not so short he qualified as a Little Person. Santa Claus would reject him on sight. And would identifying himself as a dwarf instill fear in criminals, confer fighting prowess on himself, or in any other way be an asset in his war on evildoers? It just sends a message that he’s small, so the evildoers can probably beat him up. At least he made up for his shortcomings by packing a gun. »
This is Mystery Tales no. 16 (1964, Super Comics). Read it here!This is Strange Planets no. 16 (1964, Super Comics). Read it here!This is Danger no. 16 (1964, Super Comics). Read it here! I was tempted to quip that it takes tremendous chutzpah to hire the then-current Wonder Woman artist to illustrate a cover featuring one of her numerous knock-offs… but I’m pretty sure Waldman, hardly a comics insider, didn’t know and didn’t care.
Of this particular breed of characters, Markstein wrote: « Superheroes first turned up in American comic books just before World War II, and flourished during the early war years. Especially flourishing were a sub-species of superhero that wrapped themselves in the U.S. flag like a cheap politician. Inexplicably, these are referred to as “patriotic” heroes, indicating that wearing the flag like Captain Freedom or Miss Victory was deemed a mark of patriotism higher and more… »
This is Fantastic Adventures no. 16 (1964, Super Comics). Read it here!This is Strange Mysteries no. 17 (1964, Super Comics). Read it here!This is Daring Adventures no. 17 (1964, Super Comics). Read it here! « May I have this dance, Green Lama? » « Why, I thought you’d never ask, Falstaff! »This is Police Trap no. 18 (1964, Super Comics). Read it here! In my opinion, this is one of the best-composed of Andru’s Super/I.W. covers: very nice sense of depth, though the effect would play out far better without the quite superfluous ‘We proudly present...’ blurb, which breaks the visual flow. I think the guy on the left is a bit ticklish. This is Plastic Man no. 18 (1964, Super Comics). This is actually a pretty spiffy issue, featuring classic work by masters Jack Cole and Will Eisner. Read it here! DC, who owned the character — having bought it from its original publisher, Quality, when it left the field (along with Doll Man, Phantom Lady, Blackhawk…) — would resurrect Plas in 1966. That didn’t click. It wasn’t until the Steve Skeates / Ramona Fradon revival of 1976-77 that someone managed to grasp the appeal of Jack Cole’s unique creation. But again, sales were low. In 1980, Andru would again depict Plastic Man on Adventure Comics covers spotlighting Jean-Claude “Martin Pasko” Rocheford and Joe Staton‘s unfunny, misguided and mercifully brief run. And hey, if you’d always longed to see Andru’s version of Eisner’s The Spirit, this is all you get!
-RG
*Harlan Ellison on Conway, circa 1979: « I mean, the first time I met Gerry Conway, who the hell would’ve known that Gerry Conway would single-handedly ruin the entire comics industry. He’s a classic example of the deification of no-talent in all industries. He’s not good, but he has it in on Thursday. And that’s all they care about. You know, fill them pages. » [ source ]
**taking over from Mike Esposito and actually making him look good in comparison!
« If anything, I consider myself non-violent. I’m from the hippy era, peace, love, groovy. » — Rick James
1968 wasn’t exactly a banner year for Harry Shorten and Wally Wood‘s Tower Comics (1965-69); Wood’s flagship title, T.H.U.N.D.E.R. Agents, was down to running a mixture of reprints and inventory, and a mere two issues were cover-dated 1968. A final number, the 20th, limped onto newsstands a full year after its predecessor.
So it’s understandable that Wood started casting around for plan B. He gave Archie a try. It didn’t take… surely his fellow Tower editor and Archie refugee Samm Schwartz must have tried to warn him. Oh well.
« Our Monster Is Hip. Oh, Where Did We Slip? », most likely scripted by Archie mainstay George Gladir (1925-2013), appeared in Archie’s Madhouse no. 64 (Oct. 1968).
As far as I know, this was the only story Wood drew for Archie Comics, at least in their usual humorous mode. In the ’70’s, he would provide finishes over Jack Abel‘s pencils on one story (« Devil Rider », Red Circle Sorcery no. 10, Dec. 1974) for the interesting but short-lived, Gray Morrow-directed Red Circle Comics Group, a more ‘mature’ Archie offshoot… and that’s it.
Few things evoke Hallowe’en so vividly to me as Gold Key’s The Little Monsters, one of the publisher’s relatively scarce non-licenced properties…
The series had its unlikely début as a backup feature in The Three Stooges no. 17 (cover-dated May 1964 — meaning it hit the stands in January) — months before The Addams Family (Sept. 18) or The Munsters (Sept. 24) reached television. Which is meaningless, of course, since the source for all of these fiends was Charles Addams’ New Yorker cartoons, wherein the clan did not even bear his name. Monsters everywhere! There must have been been something in the water.
Oddly enough, while Orvie, Annie, Demonica and Mildew soon (Nov. 1964) earned their own book, they remained loyal to Moe, Curly and Larry, retaining their backup slot to the very end of the Stooges’ run (no. 55, June 1972). And while the regular Little Monsters title often comprised reruns — as early as 1971’s issue 13 — the Stooges-sponsored backups never were reprinted.
I was all set to run with a furry little yarn from 1965, but then, just a few days ago, my nice mail lady fatefully handed me a box of comics that included The Little Monsters’ titular inaugural appearance.
And, having mentioned it, here’s the story I had originally slated for this post: Moondust and the Werewolf from The Three Stooges no. 26 (Nov. 1965, Gold Key).
« This seems to be the Age of the Monsters. Monsters are all around us. They abound on the motion picture-screens, coming from the depths of the sea, from under the Arctic ice, from outer space, or other such unexplored regions. » — Robert Arthur, ghost-writing Alfred Hitchcock‘s introduction to Monster Museum (1965)
As Gold Key comics published fewer ads than most of their rivals, they could afford such frivolities as joke and riddle pages, even in addition to the legally mandated text pages.
One pleasingly off-kilter feature that appeared in the publisher’s small line of ‘spooky’ titles (Boris Karloff Tales of Mystery, The Twilight Zone and Ripley’s Believe It or Not) was “Monster Museum”. Though it seemingly couldn’t settle on an approach or tone, it was witty, lightweight fun. Here are most of the highlights.
Then, as 1967 gave way to ’68, The Monster Museum became a reader-driven feature… for a single issue, namely Boris Karloff Tales of Mystery no. 22 (June 1968, Gold Key) — and two pages.
I thought it quite charming, brimming with that fascinating little-kid brand of logic we so quickly lose sight of as we ‘grow up’.
« I see a wolf-like thing coming over a dark river — at the shallows — just above a waterfall, the starlight shining up his pelt. I see a brown oak leaf blowing far up in the sky. I see a small bat flying. I see many other things, running under the forest trees and slipping through the highest branches; and they’re all coming this way! » — Ray Bradbury, The Homecoming (1946)
In the early 1960s, before Warren Magazines handled the task more decisively, there was a minor reunion of EC alumni — Joe Orlando, Reed Crandall, George Evans, Wally Wood, Williamson and Torres — at Gold Key. It resulted in some lovely art but minor, toothless stories. Even without the Comics Code, Gold Key’s material was safe as milk.
Here’s my favourite of the lot, a tale published in Boris Karloff Tales of Mystery no. 12 (Dec. 1965, Gold Key). I’ve probably tipped my hand with my choice of quote: “The Convention” reminds me of Mr. Bradbury’s timeless The Homecoming [ read it here ].
I like the point the story makes about how most towns — particularly their elected officials — will put up with a lot of obnoxiousness and outright toxicity if it fills up the hotels, bars, restaurants… and whorehouses.Really, a burning cross to vanquish evil… in 1965, given the headlines of the day? By the way, Angelo, that’s not a good Karloff.
Typically for Gold Key comics of that period, no credits are provided, but I’m strongly inclined to attribute authorship to Dave Wood (1926-1974), who happened to work for both Gold Key and DC at the time. It’s his kind of plot. Furthermore, as we’ve learned from the case of Steve Skeates, Julius Schwartz and The Spectre, there are instances when editorial changes to your original plot are significant enough that you can sell it again to someone else… and mum’s the woid.
What am I getting at? Why, our bonus, a cover-featured Dave Wood gem from the following year and with a quite familiar theme.
« Our appearance makes little difference… so long as we are in power! » Evidently, political cynicism is nothing new. DC’s Jack Schiff-edited “mystery” titles were a lot of utter bushwah, but oddly mesmerising if one surrendered to the spirit of the thing. And to a Bernard Baily and Mort Meskin fan, they offered a pretty sweet cornucopia. “The Monster Mayor, U.S.A.” is one of a series of oddball situations triggered by an invisible (but green!) sentient cloud from outer space called “The Green Glob“. The sort-of series ran in TOTU 85 to 98, then 100, 102 and 103. Weirdies!
This is Tales of the Unexpected 94 (April-May, 1966). Cover by Murphy Anderson.
-RG
*One might reasonably argue that Tatjana Wood (née Weintraub in 1926), who anonymously assisted her then-husband on some EC stories, is also eligible. She’s ninety-seven if she’s a day!
« You should be ashamed, Mr. Lash! Making such noises in front of the children! »
Bat Lash was introduced with issue 76 (August, 1968) of DC’s launching pad title Showcase, wedged between the respective débuts of Hawk and Dove and Angel & the Ape. At various stages of his conception, the character of Bartholomew “Bat” Aloysius Lash reportedly went through the hands of Carmine Infantino (who designed or at least supervised all of the following covers), Joe Orlando, Sheldon Mayer and Sergio Aragonés. Sergio plotted and thumbnailed the mise en scène, Dennis O’Neil added dialogue, then Nick Cardy pencilled and inked. For such a product-by-committee, Bat Lash is quite remarkably good — but then consider the talent involved!
Mind you, I make no claims of originality for Bat — he was distinctly a product of the times, when the vogue of Spaghetti Western had peaked* and ironically left its (off)brand on its model. By the time — in 1968 — its market reached its apex, the Italian Oater idiom threatened to congeal into a morass of clichés, becoming, as these things tend to go, (over)ripe for self-parody. Intentional and otherwise.
I surmise that the key model for Bat Lash was the ever-charming Mario Girotti**, reportedly enlisted thanks to his resemblance to the intense but one-note Franco Nero, even replacing the latter in his star-making, titular role of Django (1966) for a 1968 sequel, Prepare a Coffin, Django.
Ripe for its time it may have been, but I suppose that American audiences were still quite allergic to jarring tonal shifts in their entertainment (now commonplace), and would be for some time — just ask, say, John Carpenter. So the blend of light comedy and dark drama that Bat Lash proposed must have been difficult to market.
Our streak begins with Bat Lash no. 2 (Dec. 1968-Jan. 1969, DC) since the covers of Showcase no. 76 and Bat Lash no. 1 were good, but not — imho — great. I daresay this one is, in fact, the finest of the lot, with Cardy at his most Tothian.A peek inside the same issue, for contrast: lively and loose inking over rock-solid pencilling, and miles away from the tone of the cover. My guess is that some people weren’t happy.Bat Lash no. 3 (Feb.-Mar. 1969, DC) highlights the comedic side of the feature, which all but evaporated by the last two issues.This is Bat Lash no. 4 (Apr.-May. 1969, DC). Dig Cardy’s expert use of the ‘drybrush‘ technique on the stones.This is Bat Lash no. 5 (June-July 1969, DC). I’m reminded of a similar, later cover featuring one of Bat’s successors, Jonah Hex. The price goes up and the comedy… just goes. This is Bat Lash no. 6 (Aug.-Sept. 1969, DC).… and there goes the original tagline. This is the final issue, Bat Lash no. 7 (Oct.-Nov. 1969, DC)… and so must end this particular hot streak.
And now, some choice bonuses!
From issue 7, editor Orlando gives us some cheeky insight into the creation of an issue of Bat Lash.And plotter Aragonés provides some visual direction. To give you a sense of the less flippant, but not altogether grim, tone of the later issues, this is page two from issue 7. DC Comics of that period were quite ambitious with the limited means of the four-colour reproduction process, using plenty of backlighting and projected light… quite another level.
I was *delighted* to see ol’ Bat Lash turn up in the Weird Western Tales of DC’s outstanding Justice League Unlimited animated series, , along with some of his distinguished colleagues. In the usual order: Ohiyesa ‘Pow Wow’ Smith, El Diablo, Bat Lash, Jonah Hex.
-RG
* “In 1968, the wave of spaghetti Westerns reached its crest, comprising one-third of the Italian film production, only to collapse to one-tenth in 1969.” [ source ]
Who's Out There? 