« Well, that was the silliest tea party I ever went to! I am never going back there again! » — Lewis Carroll
One more item unearthed while rummaging through my unsorted boxes: a couple of back issues of The Funny Times, one from 2010, the other 2013. The former held a fascinating exercice by Herblock prize winning cartoonist Ward Sutton, skewering and subverting the conservative ‘mindset’ from within. Not an easy trick to pull off convincingly, I would think; yet it’s one of Sutton’s specialties, having honed it to perfection — of a sort — as The Onion‘s longtime political cartoonist (since 2006), fictive curmudgeon “Stan Kelly”. Here’s a trove of Kelly pieces, which The New Yorker deemed “brilliantly terrible”.
Remember the Tea Party? Of course, B.P. barely feels like parody, given B.C. creator’s Johnny Hart mesolithic views. A couple of samples from a 1999 interview: « Jews and Muslims who don’t accept Jesus will burn in hell », « Homosexuality is the handiwork of Satan ». [ source ]Ah, yes — that nonsense about Obama’s birth certificate, another MacGuffin in a seemingly endless parade of conservative bugaboos.By most accounts, Herbert Hoover was a pretty lousy president, though everything’s relative. Another fine myth, that of a liberally-biased media. Teanuts goes right back to the first Peanuts strip (Oct. 2, 1950) for its inspiration (though not its aspect ratio, for some reason).Here’s a pearl: « simply, homosexuality can be healed. That is, a homosexual can become a heterosexual; the homosexual orientation can be changed through prayer for inner healing and the power of the Holy Spirit. ». [ source ]Again, Diligent-Bert hews so close to its model that it might easily pass for an actual Dilbert strip.
The feature was accompanied by this deadpan caveat: « EDITOR’S NOTE: Ward Sutton, an elitist who lives in the elitist New York area, is a cartoonist, illustrator, animator and painter who has recently been lurking about the back of Tea Party gatherings, stuffing his pockets with American flag cookies, and brochures for camouflage underwear and mail-order ammo. Superpatriot and regular guy cartoonist Joe Smith disavows any knowledge of Mr. Sutton and his ilk. Need I say more? »
Given the context of pointless and (self-) destructive trade wars currently raging, I thought I’d focus on a topic closer to home, and befitting the season: we’ve received some 85 cm (33 inches) of snow in the past week or so, which makes it ideal snowmobile weather, as these things go.
While there’s been a vibrant comics scene in Québec for just about as long as there have been comics, financial viability has always been a problem. Magazines would pop up like mushrooms after a rain, only to vanish just as suddenly after a few issues. It probably didn’t help that Québécois bédéistes were generally far less interested in producing the next Blondie than they were longing to be the next Crumb.
And so, the best gig around turned out to be Perspectives, a general interest magazine (1959-1982) bundled into weekend editions of several of Québec’s major newspapers (La Presse, Le Soleil, Dimanche-Matin…) in largely distinct versions, which makes collecting them a most daunting task. It’s worth noting that the editorial content, not merely the cartoons and comic strips, were of a very high calibre. After profiling his colleague and predecessor André Montpetit a while back, it’s now time to turn the spotlight upon Gité, born Jean Turgeon (1952-2014).
Do you Snowmobile? « I snowmobile! »; If this traditional wintery scene evokes for you peace and serenity, then you’ve never seen… a snowmobile! This simple machine possesses the gift of turning the quietest of areas into a noisy corner of hell. Unless you can’t bear the silence of our countryside…; In that case, become a snowmobiler… you only need a little snow… not *too* much, though!
You have chosen your snowmobile… and your outfit… think of the essentials.; Stop, listen, look.; Don’t neglect the comfort of your passagers: « Darling, I’m falling! Hiiiik! »; Have you properly read the repair manual?
Beware of the frost. « Say, daddy! How come it’s frozen solid in mid-air… it defies the law of gravity! » « The law of gravity? That must also be frozen! »; … and of the thaw. « Where am I? »; Especially if you’re an inveterate daredevil!; while the more sedentary type…; And if it breaks your heart to put away your snowmobile for the summer…; « And so long live the snowmobile! As for me, I’m off to Miami... »
It seems to me that making a lot of noise and hitting absurdly excessive speeds are the prime draws of their ‘sport’ to a significant portion of fervent snowmobilers. Back in the 1970s, these vehicles were rather comically wheezy, but now can reach speeds far in excess of what a regular automobile can legally — or otherwise — hit on the highway, never mind the Autobahn. I remember one holiday season, not so long ago, when one of my clients topped himself on his snowmobile, leaving behind a tearful wife, three young children, and a couple of rudderless businesses. While someone *did* think of electric — and therefore quieter — snowmobiles (and Jet-skis), they pulled the now-usual arrogant move (think OceanGate and SpaceX) of paying plenty of attention to investors and waving off due process, the scientific method and their engineers, leading to a predictable fiasco.
A note on Gité’s technique, as he recounts it in an interview conducted — in the nick of time! — for Jean-Dominic Leduc and Michel Viau‘s Les années Croc (2013):
« I had developed a technique, during the Perspectives era, that I was probably the only illustrator to use. I first created an illustration in pencil, which I then photographed on a giant machine, as a photostat. I then applied colours in markers with my fingertips, which created a sort of stained glass effect in terms of luminosity. Sometimes you can even see my fingerprints… That technique was not only arduous, but also dangerous. It was really toxic, I was literally ripping off the skin of my fingers. No wonder I got sick a few years later! That method left no room for error. »
Here are a couple more Gité strips from the pages of Perspectives:
« Not so Dumb », from Perspectives vol. 16 no. 37 (Sept. 14, 1974); the sign reads “Mean Dog”.
« Inflation », a forever relevant strip that appeared in Perspectives vol. 17 no. 7 (Feb. 15, 1975).
A sample Perspectives cover, this one featuring national treasure Robert Charlebois, at the time but a single decade into his spirited musical career.
Then came Croc, handily Québec’s most accomplished and successful humour mag (1979-1995, 189 issues), more National Lampoon than Mad, at least in the beginning. Gité produced quite a score of tremendous Croc covers — possibly the epitome of his œuvre — and I was planning on devoting a post to that lovely lot… but discovered that Gité’s colleague and close friend Guy Badeaux, aka Bado, had beaten me to the idea by over a decade. Feast your peepers on his savvy selections!
Ah, but he missed this one, Gité’s first! This is Croc no. 4 (Jan. 1980); despair not, doomsayer: the end may *yet* be nigh!
« From October 1981 until December 2002, Maxine appeared in a head-scratching combination of publications such as San Francisco Chronicle, Heavy Metal, MS, Glamour, Austin Chronicle, LA Weekly, Utne Reader, Asbury Park Press, MAD, Funny Times, and even a newsletter for Hawaiian polygamists. »
Marian Henley‘s Maxine naturally brings Nicole Hollander’s Sylvia to mind – two contemporary women cartoonists and their outspoken alter egos, both drawn in an idiosyncratic style that I imagine some found too sketchy, or too much of an acquired taste… to these imaginary straw men I’d recommend taking a closer look – Henley’s anatomy is impeccable, every character imbued with dynamic movement. Where Sylvia is a sort of seer, always at somewhat of a remove from emotional entanglements, Maxine is right in the middle of them like a cat tangled up in yarn, muddling through life’s chaos on her own terms (though sometimes dispensing advice to friends — ‘do as I say, not as I do!’)
A ‘Best Of’ collection of Maxine, published in 2002 by Taylor Trade Publishing. Hilariously, some have confused it with John Wagner’s Maxine, with much disappointment resulting. I guess these two target audiences have very little overlap. I also found myself counting Henley’s fingers — I think semi-unconscious defenses against AI are kicking in.
Maxine is a recent visitor to my brainscape – co-admin RG dragged out stacks of Comic Relief (‘The lighter side of life. Fewer calories than a newspaper, more laughs per pound.’, a monthly magazine published by Page One Publishers & Bookworks in California) from the 90s to look for something else, and that’s where the lovely choppiness of Henley’s art was pointed out to me. Sylvia is in too, incidentally. Here are some selections from 1991-1998. Crazy to contemplate that this was some 30+ years ago, yet the concerns expressed could have easily been a reaction to any recent morning’s news. Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose….
This is Big Boss no. 6 (Oct. 1971, Arédit-Artima); cover by Ruben Moreira.
One might be inclined to say that, with its themes of adventurers cheating death or living on borrowed time, I Died a Thousand Times inspired Kirby’s Challengers of the Unknown, except that Ace, Rocky, Prof and Red had burst into print a few months earlier. Suffice it to say that they sprang from the same fertile well. It’s always intriguing to observe how the particular seed of an idea can be grown in a myriad of directions.
If you’ll forgive me the intrusion, this is how the opening panel appeared in the Big Boss reprint. In order to make things more readable in the digest format — and in black and white — Arédit‘s in-house art department routinely reframed and even augmented the artwork, with varying degrees of competence and success. This is one of the more accomplished efforts. The story’s writer is unknown (though it features a most Kirbyesque plot); it was pencilled and likely inked by King Kirby, and originally appeared in My Greatest Adventure no. 16 (July-Aug. 1957, DC); edited by Whitney Ellsworth; Jack Schiff; Murray Boltinoff and George Kashdan… let’s just say DC *was* a tad heavy on the management side in those days.
Though Kirby’s standalone short stories of this period are as charming and inventive as you’d expect, this modest trove of material has by and large been neglected. While a handful of these tales (The Thief of Thoughts; The Creatures from Nowhere!; The Cats Who Knew Too Much!; The Man Who Betrayed Earth; The Negative Man; and The Stone Sentinels of Giant Island) were semi-randomly reprinted in the early 1970s when DC had lots of pages to fill, this one didn’t resurface in North America until 2011’s pricey-then-and-pricier-now hardcover Jack Kirby Omnibus no. 1.
Holiday, Oh what a lovely day today, I’m so glad they sent me away, To have a little holiday.*
Today we embark on a V̶i̶c̶t̶o̶r̶i̶a̶n̶ r̶o̶m̶a̶n̶c̶e̶** romance set in 1889, seasoned with more than a dash of steampunk, all in the name of sweet (and currently very much needed) escapism. Expect NSFW, in case it matters.
Chester 5000 (Top Shelf, 2011) is a typical love story: boy meets girl, boy loses interest in girl sexually and so builds her a sex robot, girl falls in love with robot, boy gets jealous. The mechanical turn of the plot does in no way impede the emotional progression and, as a matter of fact, one finds oneself distinctly rooting for the very sweet Chester. Really, the fact that he’s a robot only comes into play to show off his many pleasure-centred tool attachments, not to mention his ability to hold a lover in mid-air for extended periods of time.
This comic is entirely mute, told in little vignettes which make it quite clear how the characters are feeling. American cartoonist Jess Fink has been singled out for her titillating talent of depicting luscious breasts, and I quite agree (and extend that compliment to the rest of female anatomy). Here are a few of the tamer scenes —
« Jess Fink’s “erotic, robotic Victorian romance” Chester 5000 XYV, an ongoing Web comic that’s recently been collected into a graphic novel by Top Shelf, is utterly of the zeitgeist. It has enough gadgets to entice the steampunk crowd, enough heat (tempered by romance) to seduce the yaoi*** crowd, enough sex-positivity for the feminist crowd, and enough craft for any “but girls can’t draw” naysayers. » (source: TCJ)
One might say this graphic novel is part of a wave of woman-penned, sex-positive, body-diverse comics — and indeed, Fink has several contributions to the anthology Smut Peddler. As for the anthology, I respect it as an admirable initiative, but is not something I collect because sadly most art within rubs me (ha, ha) the wrong way. I had purchased the 2014 edition because of Fink’s How You Gonna Keep ‘Em Down on the Farm story, but I gave it away to a rather stunned older man who came to pick up a box of random books I no longer wanted. Well, he said he wanted to read something new for a change (while his eyes goggled) — I hope he enjoyed it.
** Co-admin RG would like to point out that this isn’t really Victorian other than in costume, and so objects to that categorisation. I’ll leave the reader to decide whether works of fiction set in a specific period (well before the author’s lifetime) deserve that era’s label or not. The Professor’s Daughter (discussed in Félicitations, Emmanuel Guibert!) was described in a review as ‘a love letter to Victorian London’ despite having been brought to life by two men from the late 20th century, but it was better researched than Chester 5000 — though the latter still has historical details, especially in the second volume, and Fink clearly knows a lot about Victorian costumes, as evidenced by this fun interview. If you want smut from the actual Victorian era, I’d like to point you in the direction of Victerotica – A Carnal Collection, volumes 1 and 2. RG also points out a certain plot similarity to La poupée sanglante, a 1923 novel by Gaston Leroux (author of Le fantôme de l’opéra).
***Speaking of yaoi, volume 2 of the series, Chester 5000 book 2: Isabelle & George (also published by Top Shelf), has some nice mann-gegen-mann action.
While that chain of events is a fascinating bit of history, what I’m here to celebrate is a sequence of classic covers by recent — 2024 recent — Will Eisner Comic Awards Hall of Fame inductee Creig Valentine Flessel (1912-2008). Flessel produced eighteen of the first nineteen Detective Comics covers (the premiere issue bore a striking, but rather primitive drawing by associate editor Vin Sullivan), visibly gaining assurance and verve as he sped along. By my reckoning, however, it’s only with the eleventh issue that he solidly hit his stride, which he never let up until the assignment passed into other hands… and then came Batman.
Anyway, here they are: no hand-holding, no patronising, superfluous captions… just graphic purity — and sweat-soaked, pulpy thrills galore.
This is Detective Comics no. 11 (Jan. 1938, DC).This is Detective Comics no. 12 (Feb. 1938, DC).This is Detective Comics no. 13 (Mar. 1938, DC).This is Detective Comics no. 14 (Apr. 1938, DC).This is Detective Comics no. 15 (May 1938, DC).This is Detective Comics no. 16 (June 1938, DC).This is Detective Comics no. 17 (July 1938, DC).This is Detective Comics no. 18 (Aug. 1938, DC). Even as a relatively sheltered white teenager, I could easily tell that Sax Rohmer‘s Fu Manchu stories were racist (and sexist as well) « Yellow Peril » tripe… even in the context of their era, they went the extra mile. This is Detective Comics no. 19 (Sept. 1938, DC), Flessel’s final cover for the title.
Flessel would turn up all over the place. Gary Groth writes, introducing his definitive, career-spanning Flessel interview:
« Flessel never became an auteur with a truly recognizable narrative voice or characters that he could call entirely his own. He was so skilled and versatile that he became an artistic chameleon, a commercial propensity that served him well throughout his career. He wrote and drew stories for the earliest published comic books: More Fun, Detective Comics and Adventure; worked for the advertising firm of Johnstone and Cushing; assisted Al Capp on Li’l Abner and worked with Charlie Biro on Crime Does Not Pay in the ’50s; spent the ’60s and early ’70s drawing David Crane, a comic strip about a minister in a small town and segued seamlessly into an eight-year gig doing The Tales of Baron Von Furstinbed for Playboy. »
Detail (the whole spread would have been impossible to scan properly) from one of Flessel’s long-running series of Eveready Batteries adverts, done in the employ of the celebrated Johnstone and Cushing ad agency (this one’s from 1951). On his The Fabulous Fifties blog, Ger Apeldoorn showcases a number of these lovelies — check ’em out!Flessel turned up as Jerry Grandenetti‘s inker on my favourite issue of Joe Simon and Grandenetti’s much-maligned, short-lived but quite charming Prez (no. 4, Feb.-Mar. 1974, DC). Notwithstanding the — intentionally — fanciful elements of the Wild in the Streets-inspired social satire, old hand Simon had a much firmer grasp on how politics actually work than did any of the earnest, self-consciously ‘relevant’ comics writers of the day. And one can only sigh nostalgically at days when the worst thing that might slither into the White House was a mere vampire…
Flessel’s ability to depict ladies of the buxom and comely variety had certainly played a role in his landing a gig assisting Al Capp on Lil’ Abner for a couple of years in the late 1950s. At the time, Capp spent much of his time touring college campuses and berating the younger set, as was his wont.
Said virtuosity in the light-hearted and erotic stood him in good stead for an eight-year gig on The Tales of Baron Von Furstinbed for The Playboy Funnies; this one’s from the January, 1983 issue of Playboy Magazine. And here’s another, for good measure.
In closing, a brief exchange from The Comics Journal interview — please do go and read the whole thing, it’s a gem!
GROTH: I have a note that you had something to do with Superboy from 1958 to ’59.
FLESSEL: I did one. You know, it’s frightening; it’s like going out and drinking a lot of martinis and doing a job and not remembering.
I grew up on the illustrations of Soviet illustrator/cartoonist Victor Chizhikov (1935-2020). I’m not sure whether I’m from the last generation that remembers his work this well — on a similar topic of ‘boy, we’re old’, older non-Slavic readers might be familiar with Misha, the mascot that Chizhikov designed for the 1980 Moscow Olympic Games.
Chizhikov with his creation Misha (both a nickname for Mikhail, and a contraction of ‘bear’).
In 1955, Chizhikov started contributing illustrations and caricatures to Krokodil, a publication I was born too late to be personally familiar with (though I did write a post about it). While he has definitely drawn a number of ‘adult’ cartoons in his life, it’s his cheerful anthropomorphic animals, mushroom-studded landscapes and gently roguish children that linger in people’s minds, and those appeared from 1956 and onwards, frolicking through the pages of Весёлые картинки (Merry pictures), a publication aimed at children between 4 and 11. In 1958, Chizhikov also joined the staff of Мурзилка* (Murzilka), a magazine for the 7 to 13 year old crowd. I had subscriptions to both as a child. My grandfather was especially keen on giving me a well-rounded education, though he needn’t have worried, as I come from a family where nearly everybody was a voracious reader, albeit occasionally disagreeing on genre. I used to have a stack of Весёлые картинки somewhere, but I got rid of it at some point with the impetuousness of a young adult, alas.
An issue of «Мурзилка» from 1968.
A page from a 1965 issue of «Мурзилка» depicting scenes made up of palindromes.
Original art for an illustration created for a 1975 issue of «Мурзилка».
Page from a 1966 issue of «Весёлые картинки» — ‘Petrushka in the land of fairytales‘ was a recurring feature. Chizhikov had a most fluid line when needed.
The October page from a 1972 calendar published in «Весёлые картинки».
An issue of «Весёлые картинки» from 1982.
Interestingly, Chizhikov was daltonic, something one would never be able to guess from his illustrations. It is said that his wife would label pots of paint and pencils to help him out, but I don’t know what variant of colour blindness he was stricken with. A critic once described his characters as having a ‘mischievous squint, as if they live in an eternal summer in the bright sun‘ — maybe they were just squinting trying to discern the nuances between colours?
‘The Lamplighter Ant’
Issue of «Пионер» from 1958 — this was a magazine for 10 to 14 year-olds, but I don’t remember ever encountering any issues in the wild (possibly because my family objected to buying something called ‘Pioneer‘).
I owe this trip down memory lane to a friend who gave me a 1971 edition of 25 загадок — 25 отгадок (25 riddles — 25 answers) written by the immensely energetic and thus ubiquitous Korney Chukovsky** and illustrated by Chizhikov. Many thanks, Drew!
« Two stallions I have, they carry me on water. The water is tough, as if it were a stone. »
« If pine trees knew how to run and jump, they would flee from me to never cross my path again, because I am very steely, mean and toothy. »
« Small houses are running down the street, carrying little girls and boys. »
« Kondrat was walking to Leningrad, and coming towards him were twelve kids, each with three baskets, with a cat in each basket, and each cat having 12 kittens, each kitten holding four little mice. How many kittens and mice are the kids carrying to Leningrad? »
Cover of another book by Chukovsky, the ever-popular Doctor Aybolit, whose name translates literally to something like ‘Doctor Ouchithurts’. This character was loosely based on Hugh Lofting’s Doctor Dolittle, as well as Chukovsky’s friend Zemach Shabad, known for treating not only sick children, but also the equally ailing animals the children would bring along to their appointments.
~ ds
*Мурзилка is still around today, and given that it began publication in 1924, it is now listed in Guinness Worlds Records as the longest running children’s magazine in the world.
** 1882-1969, author of innumerable absurd ditties, rhymes and poems so well remembered and loved that many got incorporated into Russian as idioms; brilliant translator of English novels, stories and poems, making them accessible to a Russian-speaking audience for the first time; dissenter of governments, be it Soviet or Russian.
« I find vocabulary to be a great drawback. » — Elizabeth Taylor
I think most of us will concur — sorry, Liz — that a rich vocabulary is a useful asset on multiple levels. And in riding with that particular train of thought, if a new year brings new goals and resolutions to achieve them, what could be more judicious and feasible than picking up a handful of new words… and their proper meaning?
Cartoonist Mickey Bach (1909-1994) made it his mission to help the newspaper-reading masses bone up on unusual vocables. While he’s never ranked among the cartooning greats, the premise of his feature, Word-a-Day, was a rock-solid one, granting the panel a healthy run from 1946 to 1979, first with the Publishers Syndicate until 1967, when it merged with the Hall Syndicate*.
It’s also worth noting that, for a feature that’s been officially defunct for some forty-five years, it’s a pretty lively one: an admirably devoted and industrious fan has kept the Word-a-Day flame alive with the Word A Day Revisited Index. Kudos!
As far as I can tell, there was only one Word-a-Day collection published, but it was a successful one. First published by Scholastic Book Services in 1965 and comprising selections from 1960 to 1963, it received at least four printings through 1972, this being the fourth, from April of that year.
Let’s see what lies within, shall we?
Part of the nostalgic fun in these images is their reliable repertory company of cartooning archetypes such as sandwich men, hobos, boxers, cranky bosses, talent agents, bearskin rugs, door-to-door salesmen, masked burglars, beret-sporting artistes…Ah, yes: that nagging feeling that we, as a society, are somehow regressing rather than progressing.Bach had a somewhat generic, but pleasant and competent cartoon style, wherein I detect the great Bill Holman as a principal influence. Bach clearly was a man of discernment.Don’t be that boorish chump: here’s a handy guide to tipping étiquette from no less an authority than Emily Post (not to be confused with Emily Ghost). This one’s a particular favourite of mine, having had to correct its misuse time and again; apparently, some people have surmised (without checking, naturally) that ‘fulsome’ means, ‘full’, only more so and in a fancier way. No, guys, ‘a fulsome investigation will be conducted‘ does not signify what you think it does. Derived from the French ‘Gasconnade’, which refers pejoratively to the speech of denizens of the Gascony region. « Speaking with the Gascon accent, which is to say accentuating silent ‘e’s, and letting ring out several final consonants that the French leave silent. »I find this one particularly clever.This one’s considered archaic nowadays — when it is considered at all — though its close relative, insipid, endures. Not to be confused with its homophone, incipience, which refers to the beginning of something.Sadly, Gorilla will likely pound the erudition out of that unfortunate pugilist.Here’s a sentiment most reasonable the world over are currently experiencing, to their chagrin.
« There could be no jealousy/over my poetry/it’s my weakest quality/no vocabulary » — Todd Rundgren, Chapter and Verse
From both of us at WOT?, thanks for your continued support and interest, and may the coming year bring you as little as possible of what you’re dreading.
In 1967, Field Enterprises acquired Robert M. Hall‘s New York-based Hall Syndicate, merging it with Publishers to form the Publishers-Hall Syndicate. » Phew.
Speaking of festive mayhem, there is none better than penned (imagined, executed!) by Roger Langridge. Over the scope of his long (and ongoing!) career, the whole ‘rocking around the Christmas tree’ thing has shown up at least a couple of times — you may not have snow where you live, but take a gander at these and watch your holiday spirits soar (especially if bolstered by a bit o’ tipple).
Here’s are some merry excerpts taken from The Four Seasons: Winter storyline printed in Muppets: The Four Seasons (2012, Marvel) for your enjoyment:
From the same issue, in this two-page digression (though what is The Muppets if not a series of glorious digressions), Sam narrates Dickens’ magnum opus… oh, nevermind.
Speaking of Dickens, though, he did not go un-Langridged, happily:
A Christmas Carol (2013, St Mark’s Press)
To further your cheer, a few more pages from Langridge’s Abigail & The Snowman (2016, KaBOOM!). This decade sure is a depressing one for all artistic professions — current active cartoonists seem to be mostly doomed to juggling thankless jobs for corporate giants such as Disney-slash-Marvel while defending their right to be (and to own their work) from AI pilfering (although ‘pilfering’ is too cute a word for it). Even such pundits as RL can rarely afford to work on what’s actually dear to their hearts. In that context, the sweet (and thoughtful) story of Abigail and her snowman friend was a very welcome addition to Langridge’s career, lodged as it was between two extremely underwhelming Dynamite-published affairs where he acted as the writer, namely King: Mandrake the Magician (2015) and Betty Boop (2017). I’m now convinced that Langridge’s art can save a poor script (thanks to jokes and beautifully non-sequitur asides inserted into the art), whereas a flat artist can ruin a plot faster than you can shout ‘Gisele Lagacé‘.
Langridge has been drawing daily cartoons based on his life for around 5 years now. This is the strip’s final week, as he has decided that it’s time to move on to something else, so I wanted to mention it before it’s too late — especially since it’s perfectly relevant to the season.
Strip from December 21, 2023
And a merry Christmas to all! We’ll see you again before the New Year.
« In World War One, they called it shell shock. Second time around, they called it battle fatigue. After ‘nam, it was post-traumatic stress disorder. » — Jan Karon
Jerry Grandenetti‘s whirlwind passage through the halls of Charlton (circa early 1966) was barely noticed, let alone commented upon. Ah, but it nonetheless was interesting. Grandenetti, frustrated with his limited prospects in illustrating war scripts for Bob Kanigher at DC, was in the middle of trying to expand his client base and break away from the obvious constraints of dealing with a petty tyrant. He was also eager to let his style evolve naturally, which certainly wasn’t going to happen in the pages of Star-Spangled War Stories.
And so, in 1966, Grandenetti, while keeping active at DC, passed through Tower (Fight the Enemy), Gold Key (The Twilight Zone), Marvel (Tales to Astonish: both The Hulk and Namor), Warren (Creepy and Eerie), though much of that work was ghosted for Joe Orlando and only revealed to be Jerry’s own… well after the fact.
For my money — and it won’t surprise anyone — the most unhampered and noteworthy art he created over that year was at Charlton. Here’s a sample!
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« Leadfoot Larry » was written by Joe Gill and inked by Jon D’Agostino.
While I prefer Grandenetti’s own inks (unless Wally Wood or Murphy Anderson are on the table!) over his pencils, future Archie stalwart Jon D’Agostino (1929-2010) performs a slick job that doesn’t smother Jerry’s pencils. A pair of romance stories saw him unfortunately saddled with indifferent Vince Alascia, but a teaming with Rocco Mastroserio proved attractive. The crown jewel of the ’60s Grandenetti Charltons was a sixteen-pager purporting to tell « The True Story of Jesse James! », wherein JG got to ink himself.
For me, what sets « Leadfoot Larry » apart is that it’s a character piece, the hot rodding taking a back seat to the — often underlying — themes of PTSD, sound reason pitted against blind rage, trust, maturity and responsibility facing callowness and cowardly chaos… with the sobering conclusion that you just can’t reason with some people. In typical Joe Gill fashion, most of the issues are circumstantial… they don’t explode into melodramatics. It’s not a perfect world, nor should it be, but one I’d rather inhabit, given the choice.
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Here’s the issue it’s from, Hot Rod Racers no. 8 (Apr.-May 1966, Charlton). Despite being cobbled together from interior art, the cover manages to be pretty striking. Pat Masulli, editor.
Who's Out There? 