« The other three players dropped out… I could feel the tension buzzing right out of their twisted bodies… »
Poor, naïve Lou Beltram!
I first laid eyes on this one when I visited, in the fall of 1976, a tabagie (a tobacco shop) at a recently-opened shopping mall. For some reason, they had a batch of comics dating from 1973. This was one*.
The cover feature, « The Strange Game », is a typical product of the early 1950’s horror boom: it doesn’t make a lick of sense, but it is fairly irresistible stuff, at least from the perspective of an 11-year-old. This wacky cover art, from this May 1973 issue, is the work of company man supreme John Romita Sr., Marvel’s heavy-handed art director of the period.
This time (sorry!) you’re getting the story right here, since… who else would get interested in such a boneheaded piece of claptrap, badly drawn to boot? (technically speaking… I do, however, find its primitive ineptitude quite charming). Suspend all disbelief and critical sense, and enjoy!
The tale in question, scripted by an unknown writer and illustrated by Marty Elkin (reportedly Gil Kane‘s cousin!), was reprinted from Atlas’ (what Marvel Comics were called back in the day) Strange Tales #9 (August, 1952).
Oh, and something was nagging at me about a particular panel… so I did a little digging, here’s what I found: while swiping from Jack Davis has long been a national pastime, here’s one of the earliest infractions not perpetrated by Howard Nostrand (who’s fine in his own right, but he did have that singular, corner-cutting vice).
It’s a flipped (how devious!) steal from page 2, panel 6 of « Drawn and Quartered! » (script by Al Feldstein, art by Jack Davis), Tales from the Crypt no.26 (Oct.-Nov. 1951, EC Comics). Marty seems a bit hazy on the general concept of hands.
I also suspect page 2’s second panel to be an early EC Joe Orlando or Wally Wood swipe, but I can’t quite nail it down… yet.
-RG
*The Unexpected 146 and The Demon 8 (both cover-dated April 1973) were the others I picked up. What else was there? An issue of The Cat I didn’t buy, but otherwise, I’m drawing a blank. 😉
« Why do four skeletons and a coffin cross a small fishing village? The question has been asked! »
How’s this for setting the mood? Here’s a quintet of panels from Belgians Maurice Tillieux (script) and Willy Maltaite (aka Will, pencils and inks) gently ripped from the exploits of Tif et Tondu, a series that ran in the weekly bandes dessinées magazine Spirou from 1938 to 1997.
This standalone illustration originally saw print on the cover of Spirou no. 1789, in 1972. Incidentally, the guy on the left is just a passing acquaintance, a soap salesman who also found himself stranded in Brittany, some foggy night.« In Egypt, at least it’s dry! »« There’s still a cottage beyond the old castle. Let’s give it our last shot. » « Talk about a nest for ghosts. He’s straight out of a Perrault fairy tale, that one. »
These three come from the Les Ressuscités (‘The Resurrected”), Tif et Tondu’s 54th adventure overall, but no.20 in the album series), as only the post-1954 stories (when the series’ tone gained some gravitas, as well as its first significant scripter in Rosy) are considered, shall we say… canonical.
Panels from Le retour de la bête (“Return of the Beast”), serialized in issues 1988 to 1999 of Spirou magazine in 1976, sort-of sequel to 1971’s Sorti des abîmes (“Out of the Abyss”).
This is drawn from the 59th Tif et Tondu story (but no.25 in the collection). We’ve already been introduced to the Beast in question, as well as to Tif et Tondu, one misty Tentacle Tuesday last October.
Regrettably, nothing supernatural occurs, but talk about atmosphere! The series does veer into some pretty dark science-fiction at times, especially under Tillieux’s watch (1968-1978, his death).
The mysterious events are set in the fictive village of Grimwood, near the actual town of Grimsby, which is dear, perhaps sarcastically, to Sir Elton John.
« Gosh! I never knew you had a school for monsters! »
« There are a lot of things about Transylvania that you American tourists do not know! »
Archie Comics’ earliest foray into monster humour was its long-running, in one form or another*, Mad House series (1959-82).
It doesn’t get any better than Samm Schwartz‘s cover for Archie’s Mad House no. 16 (December, 1961). The early issues featured Archie and the gang in slightly more surreal settings than usual, then they were phased out, with the noteworthy exception of Sabrina the Teenage Witch, who was introduced in AMH 22 (October, 1962). The title was a fine showcase for Archie’s best and most idiosyncratic stylists, Schwartz, Orlando Busino and Bob White in particular.
An idea they liked so well they used it (at least) twice. Bonus points for bothering to redraw it! This was Archie’s Mad House Annual no. 4 (1966-67), cover art by the aforementioned Bob White.
-RG
*It was called Archie’s Mad House (issues 1-60), then simply Mad House (61-65), then Madhouse Ma-ad Jokes (66-70), Mad House Ma-ad Freak-Out (71-72), The Mad House Glads (73-94), Madhouse (in a non-cartoony horror format, featuring the likes of Gray Morrow and Vicente Alcazar, 95-97), then finally Mad House Comics (95-130).
« Got to get into my pajamas… quickly! Got to… oh, Lord… NO! »
High time for some grue! I couldn’t reasonably be expected to shy away from EC’s 50s horror line, now could I? Of Entertaining (formerly “Educational”) Comics’ infamous/legendary trio of “New Trend” horror anthologies, The Vault of Horror surely was the finest. The deciding factor? The meticulous editorship, writing and artwork of Johnny Craig. While Tales From the Crypt and the The Haunt of Fear fed us a steady diet of Jack Davis, ‘Ghastly’ Graham Ingels and *choke* Jack Kamen (grandfather of the Segway, incidentally), with the fourth tale generally handled by Reed Crandall, Joe Orlando or George Evans, or if you got *really* lucky with your dime, Bernie Krigstein, things got stale. It didn’t help that the writing of the Bill Gaines / Al Feldstein duo, despite sporadic excellence, was quite formulaic and oh-so-verbose. Things got kind of claustrophobic for the artists. The Vault of Horror was different enough: Johnny Craig took care of the opening story, and wrote it himself, sparely and with great intelligence. A true breath of fresh air, though I’ll admit it’s an odd thing to say about EC’s gory tales.
This particular cover (depicting a scene from Al Feldstein and Jack Davis’ « Out of His Head ») wasn’t originally slated for publication this way: EC’s attorney wisely insisted that it be toned down. The original version had appeared in house ads, so astute readers knew what they were missing.
To give you a sense of how far along things went before the punch was pulled, here’s the original, circa 1953, Silverprint cover proof in its original version, before being altered for publication. The proof was shot from the original negatives, with the image area reduced to printed size. Marie Severin used watercolours to specify the ink colours to be used.
Finally, the version below was recoloured (from cool to warm!) for Russ Cochran‘s deluxe hardcover reprint set of the 1980s and retained for subsequent Gladstone and Gemstone reprints.
« Ape is real spooked, guys! He’s always imaginin’ he sees someone in there! »
Here we have an evocative Steve Ditko cover, solid evidence of his tremendous design chops, from Charlton’s Ghost Manor (no. 7, second series, October 1972). A collaboration between Joe Gill and Ditko, « The Monsters Ride at Night » is an elegant bit of storytelling legerdemain, a fairly basic yarn that retains its mystery past the conclusion and whose deliciously dusty mood lingers in the mind. Well, in mine, at any rate. Back in the late ’70s, I traded a copy of Amazing Spider-Man 121 (acquired at a garage sale in a two-for-five-cents deal) for this one. I know I came out ahead in the deal*.
Again, I had every intention of providing the whole spooky shebang right here, but seeing as how I was preceded in this particular enthusiasm by a sinister confrère, it seems unnecessary. Just dim the light, settle in, point your browser to Destination Nightmare, pour yourself a noggin of your preferred poison, and savour this fine vintage.
I’m particularly fond of the mid-tale interlude, where our esteemed host, Mr. Bones, seizes the occasion to poke around the cobwebs a bit, a narrative game that the Gill-Ditko duo excelled at. DC and Warren’s hosts (with the obvious exception of Vampirella) never got to play such an active rôle in their respective recitals.
Oh, and since we’re on the topic of early 70s Charlton ghost books, here’s one I picked up just this afternoon, in the 50 cents box of the local comic book shop in Wolfsville, NS. It clearly had been through such hardships, I couldn’t resist giving it a home.
This is (or used to be) Ghostly Tales no. 86 (June, 1971), featuring three Joe Gill tales: « Return to Die » (illustrated by Pete Morisi), « Ghost Town » (illustrated by Pat Boyette), and « Someone Else Is Here! » (illustrated by Steve Ditko.) If books could speak…
« It was like plunging deeper and deeper into a growing nightmare! »
A powerful (what else?) Jack Kirby piece, one of his last before decamping to DC. He actually gets a full writer/artist credit (a telling tail end turning point of that Marvel residence) on this tale, … and Fear Shall Follow!. The lush cover inks are provided by fellow Golden Age titan Bill Everett (1917-1973), a far cry from the miserable Vince Colletta « finishes » he would be saddled with at DC for the next couple of years (at their insistence!)
I was planning on featuring the entire story, but others have long ago preceded me down that primrose path. Why fight it? Just pay Diversions of the Groovy Kind a visit, where you’ll receive, as a bonus, Kirby’s other solo outing for the House of (mostly his) Ideas, The Monster!, from the previous issue of Chamber of Darkness (no.4, April, 1970). Both are sympathetically inked by Marvel’s production manager at the time, the underrated and gone-too-soon John Verpoorten (1940–1977). Again, several notches above “Valiant” Vince Colletta’s casual sabotage.
Plot-wise, … and Fear Shall Follow!, while another variant in the Carnival of Souls tradition, is enriched by its unusual setting and whiff of incense and philosophy. Reminds me of a possibly apocryphal exchange between Watchmen editor Len Wein and its writer Alan Moore: « Alan, that ending’s already been done on The Outer Limits! »; (in thick Northampton accent, dripping with sarcasm) « Yes, Len, but it’s never been done by me! ». With all due respect, it’s not as if Mr. Wein had any moral lessons to dispense regarding originality.
Finally, Tentacle Tuesday is here, and the tentacles are back with a vengeance! I’ve been waiting all week to spring ’em on you.
This cutie, the Triclopus, kindly agreed to let us use his, err, face to kick off the Tentacle Tuesday festivities.
The Triclopus is a Ken Reid creation from August 31st, 1974. There’s a full list of Creepy Creations (published in the British Shiver and Shake) – with pictures! – over at Kazoop!, a great blog about British humour comics of the 60s and 70s. Go check it out. As for Ken Reid, we’ve previously talked about him here.
Excerpt (or, as the Brits would say, extract) from Alienography by Chris Riddell (2010).
Chris Riddell is a British illustrator, writer of children’s books, acclaimed political cartoonist, talented doodler, etc. His hand-lettering (not at all on display in Alienography, I admit) is sort of Richard Sala, Edward Gorey-ish, as is his somewhat macabre sense of humour. Visit Riddell’s blog here.
This splendid illustration by Roger Langridge (tentacle artist par excellence) was published in Doctor Who Magazine no. 300 (February, 2001) to accompany some-article-or-other about “Spearhead from Space” (a Doctor Who episode, the seventh season opener, if you really must know).
A bit more information about the cool Dr. Langridge-and-Dr. Who pairing:
“Within Doctor Who comics, he can be regarded as effectively the current Doctor Who Magazine “house letterer”, having lettered the overwhelming majority of comics since his debut on DWM 272’s Happy Deathday in late 1998. Almost every issue of DWM published in the 21st century was lettered by Langridge.
He has also occasionally pencilled, inked and even coloured some stories along the way. Deathday, for example, was also his Doctor Who pencil and ink debut, and was followed by artistic duties on TV Action!, the back half of The Glorious Dead (where he was co-credited as penciller with Martin Geraghty), The Autonomy Bug, Where Nobody Knows Your Name, The Green-Eyed Monster, Death to the Doctor!, and Planet Bollywood. He is thus perhaps the only artist to professionally draw all eleven incarnations of the Doctor, even though many of his renderings were obvious parodic in Death. Finally, he coloured Me and My Shadow and Where Nobody Knows Your Name.” [source]
The Wizard, a weekly British publication put out by D.C. Thomson (without a P, though it’s tempting), was created in 1922 and lasted all the way until the late seventies (with periodic interruptions for a merger and several title changes, from “Wizard” to “Rover and Wizard” to “Rover” and then again back to “Wizard” in 1970 until its final demise in 1978).
This edition of The Wizard is from October 26th, 1974, but I unfortunately have no idea who the artist is.
Between WWI and WWII (and sometimes beyond), D.C. Thomson published a number of weekly magazines/papers aimed at boys between 8 and 16. They cost 2 pence, and were thus known as “Tuppenny Bloods”, or the Big Five: Adventure, Rover, Skipper, Hotspur and the aforementioned Wizard. What could one hope to find in a Tuppenny? Short stories with illustrations, some comics, some non-fiction articles…. pretty much everything a growing boy (and girl!) with a lively mind would want.
2000 AD no. 142 (1979). I call this the “dragons’n’tentacles” ploy. Other than tentacles on the cover, this issue contains part 3 of Judge Dredd: The Black Plague, which I highly recommend, and some Stainless Steel Rat adventures.
« … it was a balled-up thing… like an empty wrapper thrown carelessly aside… but somehow still recognizable as having once been human… »
Dell’s Ghost Stories (1962-1973, with issues 21 to 37 lazily and straight-up reprinting numbers 1 to 16… with a single, perplexing exception, the all-new, surprisingly decent issue 35, late in 1972) were quite tame, trifling stuff, with one notorious bright spot: the première issue, entirely written by John Stanley (1914-1993) and comprising, amidst other excellent short pieces, what’s possibly the most nightmarish tale to see print up ’til then in American comics (particularly all-ages comics!), « The Monster of Dread End ». It represented the kind of material few comics publishers could have gotten away with at the time, save, ironically, one of the squeaky-clean stalwarts (Dell, Gilberton, Gold Key…) that opted out of the industry’s recently-instituted governing censorship board, the Comics Code Authority. Their reasoning was that, having never published anything objectionable to begin with, they were unlikely to head down that sordid path in the future.
Journeyman cartoonist Frank Springer (1929-2009) provided some decent artwork through most of the book’s run, but as he didn’t have much to work with, script-wise (Carl Memling was no substitute for Mr. Stanley), the end result remains underwhelming. Looking at the bright side, he did provide a couple of quite alluring covers, the final, non-painted entries in our select little gallery.
If you haven’t already made its acquaintance, treat yourself to the nerve-tingling Number One, available gratis under the auspices of the fine folks at comicbookplus.com. Love the semi-woodcut technique used on the cover by the Unknown Artiste.Ghost Stories no. 3 (April-June 1963). Cover artist unknown.Ghost Stories no. 10 (April-June 1965). Cover artist unknown.Ghost Stories no. 19 (August 1967). Cover and interiors by Frank Springer.Ghost Stories no. 31 (January 1972). Cover and interiors by Frank Springer, price and indicia aside, a facsimile of issue 11 (July-September 1965). My own tepid introduction to the series.
« His face taut… his coloring now shell white… Fred took the object from his bowling bag… his friends screamed in horror… »*
Welcome to the second edition of Who’s Out There’s annual Hallowe’en Countdown. We’ll be greasing the rails to carry us along with sinister haste through to that most shiver-iffic of holidays, but duly noting and relishing each daily marker along the way.
Let’s push off with a tasteful dash of splatter and a tidy selection of Eerie Pubs‘ typically over-the-top, gloriously gory cover artwork. While EP covers featured the work of a handful of artists, none is better-remembered or more closely associated with the line than former Irving Klaw-associated fetish specialist Bill Alexander. Fact is, the notoriously cheap-jack publisher cut ‘n’ pasted and endlessly recycled (not to say bowdlerized) Alexander’s work, and it’s sadly safe to assume he was only remunerated once, and poorly at that. Just another soul stranded in the limbo of exploitation publishing…
And the insides, you ask? Oh, that. Some reprints of lacklustre pre-Code
horror (Ajax/ Farrell) owned by publisher and gun enthusiast Myron Fass sometimes with added gore, sometimes redrawn from scratch and updated. Then, for a while, actual original material, not entirely devoid of occasional just-about-accidental charm. It’s a special kind of charge to witness the Grand Guignol excesses of pedestrian early 60s Jack Kirby inkers Dick Ayers and Chic Stone as they give vent to their less wholesome tendencies, overcompensating with eyeball-gouging and limb-hacking vengeance.
But all is not blood ‘n’ guts ‘n’ fury… sometimes the quiet, ink-washed ambience weaves a low-rent hypnotic spell and the fool thing works. But what with all the reprints and mediocrity, it’s a uncommonly perverse mania that drives a collector to pursue a complete set of these musty bits of flotsam. After decades of neglect, they’ve become impressively pricey.
– RG
* from « The Mad Bowler » (Horror Tales vol. 4 no. 6, Oct. 1972). Read it here!
French comics artist Georges Pichard (1920-2003) specialized in erotic comics, and his work ranged from “just controversial” to “outright banned”. I have a soft spot for his excellently-endowed women with almond-shaped eyes – what they lack in sensuality (to my opinion, at least), they compensate with cantankerous personalities and odd liaisons with deities. Pichard also displays a preoccupation with labour and industrial themes, kind of a communist thing to my mind – his women are called upon (mostly unwillingly) to work with heavy hardware, build railroads, excavate mines, and undertake other menial tasks involving much metal and machinery. This, of course, is accomplished while naked, or nearly naked (shackles are frequently involved.) It doesn’t come off as sadistic or even sexist, however – it’s more like a grotesque comedy or satire. Anyway, I’ll get to all that in just a second.
First I’d like to show a few examples of his earlier work, which wasn’t “pushing moral boundaries” (as an anonymous admirer once put it). His two early series – Ténébrax and Submerman – were collaborations with comics artist Jacques Lob. Although Pichard’s eye for pretty women was already in evidence, his style was much cartoonier, which is lovely.
Ténébrax is an homage of sorts to the roman policier (the French genre of detective stories): a villain uses the Paris subway for his base while he whips his rat army into tip-top shape for world domination, but his heinous plans are foiled by a whodunit writer and his assistant, who manage to throw a spanner into his nefarious schemes.
Ténébrax, the first collaboration between scénariste Jacques Lob and Georges Pichard, was published in episodes in the short-lived weekly Chouchou (1964.)The opening page of Ténébrax. The bottom panel says (or, rather, our human protagonist says), « Who are you? Help! »
Submerman, on the other hand, is a superhero parody:
A page from Submerman from Pilote n°527 (1969). See all Pilote covers featuring Submerman here. The series was published between 1967 and 1970. People looking for a really obscure Halloween costume, take note of Submerman’s get-up: it wouldn’t be so hard to draw a yellow fish on a red onesie.Submerman: La faune des profondeurs, published in Super Pocket Pilote n°4 (1969). « Sauve qui peut! » translates to « Run for your life! » Interestingly, English doesn’t have a « Save yourselves, those who can », but French and Russian do. I can’t vouch for other languages.
Now, I promised you some of Pichard’s women. An obvious place to start is the series Paulette, scripted by Georges Wolinksi (who, by the way, was killed in the terrorist attack on Charlie Hebdo in 2015) and illustrated by Pichard.
Paulette began in 1970 and chronicled the wild (and ever so slightly improbable) adventures of (who else?) Paulette. She gets kidnapped (more than once, by different parties), wooed, attacked, betrayed, saved, pregnant, communist-icated, converted to capitalism, harem-ed, and so on, not necessarily in that order. The only thing she doesn’t get is left alone. Poor girl. I wouldn’t say the series is entirely light-hearted, however – the authors used their pretty héroïne to ventilate all sorts of issues.
Paulette en Amazonie (Éditions du Square, 1975). Is it wrong that I love the drawing of evil Nazis and dumb soldiers a lot more than the damsel in distress? Pichard’s women all looked the same, but his villains had a lot more variety – which is not untypical of artists who are obsessed with the female form, actually. Silly, really; one would think that an obsession would lead one to exploring different shapes and forms, but somehow it rarely works out that way.
« Here she is, ready to climb aboard airplanes that are inevitably hijacked, to wind up in jungles, in wasp nests, in ambushes, to crash through panels, through traps, into the arms of men unworthy of her, and to come through all this with a smile, without blaming anyone, not even Pichard and Wolinski, whose main preoccupation it is to never leave her alone.» (Introduction to Paulette 4, 1975)
An illustration to the political-gone-absurd content of Paulette:
The colours make me think of a black light poster. Here Paulette wakes up her bearded beau (who figures that her « Something terrible has happened to me! » refers to a pregnancy, and responds with « Don’t worry, if you have money that’s nothing, In Switzerland or Morocco… ») to inform him that « I think I am a communist! »
Speaking of bearded beaus: one of my favourite Paulette plots – although I haven’t read the whole series – involves Joseph, the old perv we just saw in bed, whose job is to protect Paulette from… err, himself, I guess? When Paulette rescues a magical mole, it offers her one wish, and because she is terminally naïve (bordering on the cretinous, if with a heart of gold), she wishes for Joseph to become young again. The mole, however, is myopic like all others of its kin, and mistakes Joseph for a woman, so he gets transformed into a sultry brunette.
Moving on to other oeuvres…
Original art from Bornéo Jo (Dargaud, 1983), with script by Danie Dubos and art by Pichard.Marlène et Jupiter (Yes Company, 1988).A panel from L’usine (Glénat, 1979).
And I saved the funniest as a digestif: in the last panel, the man is saying « But what am I supposed to do now? », to which she responds with « Replace your windshield, of course! I’ll give you an address, they’ll give you a ten percent discount if you mention that you were sent by Fairy Motricine – I’m the sister-in-law of Fairy Electricity. » (Note: Motricine was a brand of gas.)
An idea they liked so well they used it (at least) twice. Bonus points for bothering to redraw it! This was Archie’s Mad House Annual no. 4 (1966-67), cover art by the aforementioned Bob White.
-RG
