« If you did, you may find your letter printed in this book… If you haven’t written The Monkees yet, join the fun that’s going on inside this crazy, lovin’ book. »
In 1967, the phenomenal Jack Davis (1924-2016), as prolific and versatile as an artist can get, provided twenty-one original cartoons and the cover to this snazzy little tome issued by the Popular Library.
Dear Davy — I am one of your greatest fans. I have all the Monkees records that have been released so far. But I have one problem. I played your first record so much that it began to melt, and now it wobbles so much that I can’t play it anymore. I know it’s not your fault, but I don’t think it’s fair that I should be punished for being such a Monkee-lover. I think the record company ought to give me my money back so I can buy a new album. You could even think of it as a kind of award for loyalty or something. Please, Davy, talk to the record company and make them send me the money? Yours truly, Diana V., Charleston, SCDear Mike — You know your record ‘Gonna Buy Me a Dog’? Well, if you really want a dog, I have a three-month-old Great Dane that a friend gave me six weeks ago that I have to get rid of. He’s a little too playful. Last week he knocked over my mom’s favorite vase and my kid brother. His name is Linus, but he’s not too attached to it. Your fan, Steve R., Coral Gables, Fla.Dear Monkees — I like your group very, very much. You probably never heard of Varna. It’s a little town near Ithaca. I wrote a poem for you: I think the Rolling Stones are great, I think the Beatles are fine, On the other hand, I think the Monkees are DIVINE. Your fan, Jeannie G.Dear Monkees — My name is Wendy. I like your records. Please send me a picture of you. I forgot all your names so please put your autographs on the pictures. Sincerely, Wendy K., Butte, MTDear Davy Jones — I like your shows very much. I like all your songs too. I like all your clothes and your hair. You are very very cute. You better come to Wichita or I’ll smash you one. Lover, Carol K., WichitaDear Monkees — Please send me Davy Jones in the mail. Send it to Cindy L, Louisville, Kentucky.
In closing, I see Micky Dolenz (b. March 8, 1945) turned seventy-three… yesterday. Happy belated birthday, Corky!
In this installment of Tentacle Tuesday, we shall bear witness to a somewhat surprising facet of superhero life: superheroes sometimes struggle with tentacles, too.
To kick off the festivities (and to respect a chronological order of creation and publication), here’s The Flash narrating a story of woe, his almost-deadly encounter with a green monstrosity (Judging by its coquettish pink tentacles, the monster wanted to woo him, not snuff him out.)
Flash Comics no. 44, 1943. Cover by Lou Ferstadt (1900-1954), and here’s a bit of trivia: in addition to being a comics artist, he was a muralist, creating works for the RCA buildings and the 8th Street Subway station in NYC.
« The Liar’s Club », scripted by Gardner Fox and drawn by Lou Ferstadt, concerns itself with three men (one of whom is Jay Garrick, secretly The Flash) holding a fibbing contest to determine who can tell the biggest Flash-whopper.
Sadly, this tale was not the winner in the contest.
The Flash may have been embroiled in some purely imaginary tentacles, but his Earth-One counterpart’s teenage sidekick (it’s complicated), Kid Flash, encountered the real deal.
Teen Titans no. 32, March-April 1971. Drawn by Nick Cardy.
« A Mystical Realm, A World Gone Mad », scripted by Steve Skeates and drawn by Nick Cardy, is actually a pretty good read (with good art!), and I don’t even like superheroes. Just check out the beautiful results of a time travel experiment going wrong (when does one ever go right?), including the evil red eyes of a glaring octopus:
If we throw a whole bevy of superheroes at a tentacled monster, are they going to fare any better?
Fantastic Four no. 88, 1969. Pencils by Jack Kirby, inks by Joe Sinnott, letters by Sam Rosen. However… A house there was. Tentacles there weren’t.
This cover promises lots of tentacular fun. Instead of that, the Fantastic Four (and an infant) go looking for a new residence, something quiet and secluded – and the house that’s offered to them by a real estate agent appears to be haunted. At the very least, it causes migraines, gradually makes its inhabitants go blind, and shoots stun bolts out of its walls. The usual crap. I don’t want to tell you which super-villain is behind this mischief, but I will, however, point out that the bastard doesn’t have tentacles. Not even one. And neither does his lousy house.
The Flash is small fry, the Fantastic Four are mincemeat, but let’s see how Superman, the most superhero-like superhero of them all, fares when confronted with tentacles.
In “Danger — Monster at Work!”, the villain is a protoplasmic glob: some algae mutates after a lab accident and becomes an out-of-control, garbage-devouring, tentacled monster. Now, trash disposal is important, but when Superman realizes that everything on earth is impure to some degree, he has to stop the seaweed monstrosity before “it cleans Metropolis right off the map!”
This story was published in Superman no. 246 (December 1971), with a script by Len Wein, pencils by Curt Swan and inks by Murphy Anderson.
Incidentally, there *is* actually an algae farm that’s suspended over a highway in Geneva, Switzerland that gobbles up CO2 produced by car engines. I hope they’re keeping a close eye on it…
Tentacles? Well, “grasping appendages” anyway – let’s be generous. Superman no. 246, December 1971; pencilled by Curt Swan, inked by Murphy Anderson.
How about if we take a superhero who’s quite at ease with water, who can breathe H2O and communicate with sea life?
“Nope, sorry, still gonna gobble you.”
Adventure Comics no. 445 (May 1976). Cover by Jim Aparo, with colours by Tatjana Wood.This imposing figure of an octopus (even though he’s referred to as a “plant-thing” by Aquaman) is Krakor, the tentacled antagonist from “Toxxin’s Raiders” – the cover story written by Paul Levitz & David Michelinie and drawn by Jim Aparo.
Oh, no! What is our hero going to do? Why, dispatch the octopus in the most far-fetched manner possible, of course!
In conclusion, no superhero is immune from a harrowing encounter with a tentacled creature… but sadly, the latter is more often than not annihilated in the struggle. Next time, I’ll make sure to present you with some material in which the octopus gets the upper hand, so to speak!
It pays to be kind to your cat, particularly if said feline happens to be more than your match. Between dimwit Fat Freddy Freekowtski and F. Frederick Skitty, esq., it’s clearly no contest.
This electrifyin’ strip first saw print in Rip Off Comixno. 23 (Rip Off Press, Summer 1989). Script and art by Gilbert Shelton.
A closer look at the wily furball, cover detail from The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers no. 6 (Rip Off Press, 1980)
« We tend to think of age only in time, but I don’t think it has much to do with time at all; there’s a whole load of other things. I’ve met 16-year-olds who are old and 90-year-olds who are young. » — Roger Daltrey
Truly a master of all media, Roger is.
Today’s birthday number seventy-four for Sir Roger Harry Daltrey (born in London, England, on March 1st, 1944), Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire, noted thespian and lead vocalist of The Who. « And what’s this got to do with soddin’ comics? », the more boorish among you may ask. Well, thanks to the efforts of the genial Michael Kupperman, Sir Roger, and his unceasing quest for birds, have been duly immortalised in comics. Read on!
« Roger Daltrey’s Sex Diary », from Snake ‘n Bacon’s Cartoon Cabaret (2000, HarperCollins.) Story and art by Michael Kupperman, under his “P. Revess” nom de plume.
Farther along, having taken his quest below ground, our intrepid bird-rogerer encounters the dauntless duo of Mark Twain and Albert Enstein (of course!).
« SPECULATIVE PICTO-FICTION: What Might Happen if… Mark TWAIN and Albert EINSTEIN Were to TEAM UP to DIG a HOLE to the CENTER of the EARTH? », from Snake ‘n Bacon’s Cartoon Cabaret (2000, HarperCollins.) Story and art by Kupperman,
I’ve looked under chairs I’ve looked under tables I’ve tried to find the key to fifty million fables
They call me the Seeker I’ve been searchin’ low and high I won’t get to get what I’m after Till the day I die
Let’s commence Tentacle Tuesday on a ticklish note (tentacles are itchy, you know, especially when they’re crawling up one’s leg) with Rip Off Comics no. 23, “the rip-snorting science fiction issue!”
Typical: the good-looking gal has to defend herself and her goofy-looking idiot of a partner from tentacles, claws, fangs, and other typical dangers of deep space. Rip Off Comics no. 23 (summer 1989), cover by Hal S. Robins, with colours by Guy Colwell. Look closely at the tiny drawings hiding inside “Rip Off”, and you’ll see Fat Freddy’s cat bouncing around merrily! Actually, you’ll see pretty much the whole cast of Furry Freak Brothers, and then some.
If a tentacle creeps out from the pages of a book you’re reading to gently prod you, you know you’ve made the right choice of reading material.
This Wacky Packages card (from the 14th series, released in April/June 1975) is painted by Norman Saunders from a concept by Jay Lynch (which looks like this). Given that the moon is grinning at them, I think these two are high on something (I’m willing to accept tentacles in space, but I draw the line at anthropomorphized satellites).
Sometimes tentacles masquerade as waves, but we know better! Dunno why some sea god would want a cyborg chunk of metal, though.
Rom no. 1, July 2016 (IDW), a variant cover from something called « Retailer Incentive ». Art by the ever-decorative and undeniably stylish P. Craig Russell, who unfortunately seems to mostly have squandered his talents on operatic and fairy tale adaptations (not counting a few marvelous short stories). Some people’s thing, no doubt, but not mine!
Rom the Spaceknight was a toy created by three men (Scott Dankman, Richard C. Levy and Bryan L. McCoy) in 1979. His creators called him COBOL (a programming language), but he was renamed into ROM (« read only memory ») by the executives of Parker Brothers, the company that bought rights to the this « beeping, thinking toy » (which Time predicted would « end up among the dust balls under the playroom sofa »). As part of a promotional effort, Parker Brothers promptly licensed him to Marvel. Rom the toy was a commercial failure, but Rom the comic book went on to last 75 issues, beeping its last bleep in 1986 (not counting the comic’s revival by IDW in 2016).
The comic may have passed from Marvel’s hands into IDW’s, but the description still seems to have been written by a hyper-ventilating lummox flinging spit everywhere as he croaks: “WE’VE BEEN INVADED AND ONLY A SPACE KNIGHT CAN SAVE US! Now the ongoing tale of ROM begins in earnest! Christos Gage, Chris Ryall, and David Messina kick off the wildest new series of the year as Rom’s war with the DIRE WRAITHS hits close to home in ‘Earthfall, part 1!’ ‘The long-beloved and even longer absent space hero returns at long last! First, we brought back MICRONAUTS! And Now… ROM! As if Rom’s return wasn’t enough, wait’ll you see how this one ends!” Brr.
So far, the tentacles featured have been rather on the tame side. Let’s have something properly terrifying…
Lance Lewis (Space Detective) and his girlfriend Marna may be in a tight spot… but I’m sorry, I’m having trouble imagining the terror of being overcome by these teeny-tiny octopuses. They’re just too dang cute, clinging to Marna’s legs like puppies begging for food. Startling Comics no. 53, 1948, the last issue of this series. Cover by Alex Schomburg (1905-1998), a prolific Puerto Rican artist (this is signed as Xela).
Oh well, terror petered out today. I guess this Tentacle Tuesday is not going to scare anybody witless. There’s always next time!
« Krokodil » («Крокодил» in Russian, a crocodile) was a Soviet satirical magazine founded in 1922 and that outlasted the Soviet Union by a number of years. In 2000, it was driven to its deathbed by a general lack of interest and failing finances – no longer being relevant to the modern age, alas! – and though weak attempts were made to breathe life into it in the 2000s, it finally croaked altogether, wheezing its very last in 2008.
Right from the beginning, The Crocodile (personified by a pipe-chomping red crocodile, holding a pitchfork) featured quite a lot of satirical drawings, which were basically panel cartoons, and sometimes even actual comics. The magazine’s modus operandi was to viciously skewer various enemies of the State and the People, such as bureaucrats, alcoholics, bribe-takers, church-goers, various delinquents, ne’er-do-wells and anti-Soviet villains. Institutions were also attacked, sometimes gleefully and sometimes sternly, and that list was long, too: American imperialism and capitalism, German Nazism, colonialism, and more other -isms that you could shake a stick at.
“There were pickpockets, dope peddlers, murderers and thieves Card shark gamblers with aces up their sleeves Bank robbers, burglars, boosters and pimps Prostitutes and call girls and all kinds of nymphs Loan sharks, swindlers, counterfeiters and fences Crooked politicians spending campaign expenses Hijackers, arsonists, bookies and the mob And anybody else who ever killed, cheated or robbed” Hustler Groove, Apollo 440
I would not like to leave you with the impression that Mr. Crocodile was an unsympathetic fellow, however; in its gentler moments, Krokodil’s tongue-in-cheek humour could be a delight, and its savage attacks sometimes masked a subversive anti-Soviet streak. Many prominent writers and artists worked for the magazine, and some of them started their careers within its pages. Aside from a plethora of cartoons, the magazine also featured news, stories, aphorisms, epigrams, and reviews of books, films and theatrical plays, etc.
June 1927, cover by Hrapkovskoy.
Mr. Crocodile came with an extensive family. He had a wife, the Big Krokodila, who lost her marbles in the 1930s, and two twin children, who acquired hilariously caricatural careers in 1990 – Totosha went into management and Kokosha moved to the U.S. to design men’s magazines. These (and other recurring) characters marked several generations of Soviet citizens, and many of their catchphrases have become an everyday part of the Russian language.
Without further ado, here’s a few Krokodil cartoons on very Slavic topics, like drunkenness, and general debauchery and bureaucracy, including the disappointing lack of goods (and poor quality control of actually available goods). In no particular order…
“Fritz in Hell”, 1942. Illustration by Y. Ganf. “Fritz” is used as a moniker for any of your average, humdrum Nazi.“Tribe of wild ones at the seashore”, 1956. Illustration by I. Rotov.“We made a big mistake when we brought them to the puppet show!” 1978.“THE MAN WITH THE SUITCASE IS INDIGNANT: What the hell is happening!… There’s so many prostitutes… One doesn’t know… which one to pick!” Illustration by I. Yang, 1929.1987. Illustration by L. Nasirov. Nearly 50 years later, prostitutes are still around, but their goods are a little more on show. You couldn’t really be an above-board pin-up artist in the USSR, but some people clearly had, shall we say, proclivities for depicting the female form.The lion says in the first panel: “It’s disgusting! An elephantess in the role of a gazelle! I’ll go to the theatre manager and find out who gave her this role!” 1956, illustration by Y. Ganf.A charming case of bribery: “And here, dearie, is some evidence for your examination!” Perhaps this requires some context: this charming granny makes moonshine at home, and she hopes to soothe off the irate-looking policeman with an offering of a glass of vodka and a pickle (traditional accompaniment to vodka – highly recommended, perhaps with some mushrooms. I’m getting distracted, sorry.) Illustration by G. Ogorodnikov.“It’s a good omen: first let a cat walk into a new apartment!” 1975, cover by G. Andrianov.“And where are the potatoes, the pepper, the salt?” Illustration by V. Shkarban, 1979.1989, illustration by E. Bender. I think somebody wanted an excuse to draw voluptuous women!“Dressed like that? To the cinema?’ “– I’m going over there to be filmed…” Illustration by V. Mochalov, idea by M. Vaisbord, 1989.“Now just watch it: oink the way I taught you to!” Illustration by S. Kuzmin, 1963. What happened to the missing pigs? They were most likely sold off to finance the kolhoz foreman’s drinking and gluttony. A kolhoz was basically a sort of collective farm or production cooperative, but corruption and negligence ran rampant.“Same thing as in the vegetable patch: old horseradish next to a young potato.” Illustration by I. Semenov, 1945.“Where are all the Red Riding Hoods going?” “–To grandma’s. She decided to write a will for her country house.” Illustration by G. Yasinkiy, 1984.“In honour of the International Women’s Day, the dance of the Little Swans will be performed by the stage crew workers!” The 8th of March was a big deal in the U.S.S.R., and not only for one’s mothers and grandmothers; if I recall correctly, even students were supposed to bring in flowers for their female teachers. Illustration by I. Sichev, 1975.
« Hey — if you’re looking for that curly machine, I saw some beasts run off with it. »
Missouri native Rick Geary, born 72 years ago today, on February 25, 1946 (in Kansas City, which isn’t in Kansas, despite its name) is in a classe à part: a true iconoclast, he’s quietly, steadfastly carved out for himself (and his fans) a varied and consistently strong œuvre, seemingly free from petty compromise.
A 1985 self-portrait.
He first gained notice in the mid-70s through his fanciful contributions to National Lampoon and Heavy Metal, and just kept up the pace from there. These days, he mostly concentrates on his true crime graphic novels series, published by NBM. One gets a sense of a man who works in comics because he’s passionate about the possibilities the form offers. A 1994 recipient of the National Cartoonist Society’s Magazine and Book Illustration Award, he certainly doesn’t need to work in the comics industry.
This charming one-pager saw print in the anthology Animal Confidential (May 1992, Dark Horse.)
He’s collaborated with fellow oddball genius Bob Burden, of Flaming Carrot fame, a dream pairing that manages to surpass the lofty expectations it implies. Their take on Art Clokey‘s legendary claymation characters Gumby and Pokey manages to be true to its source and to espouse both Burden and Geary’s respective slants.
Here’s a sequence from Gumby no. 1 (July 2006, Wildcard Ink.) Story by Burden, art by Geary, and let’s not forget the contribution of hue ace Steve Oliff. When it comes to Gumby comics, however, mind your step: don’t settle for anything less than Burden (whether with Arthur Adams or Rick Geary). A recent revival fumbles the childlike mood of infinite possibility and mires itself in mere childishness instead.
The Exploits of the Junior Carrot Patrol (2 issues, 1989-1990) was a solo Geary endeavour, but « based upon characters and concepts created by Bob Burden ». Pictured here is #2. From left to right: Dusty, Ethel and Chuck.
Perhaps the ultimate bonafide as a Geary-head: I am the proud possessor of a rubber stamp designed by the great man himself. Furthermore, I have it on good authority that one of our regular readers proudly wields a genuine Geary rubber stamp of his own, albeit a different one. For this particular print, I took advantage of the vegetable world’s finest provider of ink: a slice of beet.
« Are all your projects this dangerous, Dr. Solar? »
Dateline: 1962. Printer-packager Western Publishing had just dealt its biggest client, Dell Comics, its slow death sentence (by mutual agreement, it is diplomatically claimed), though Dell should have seen it coming: for decades, Western Publishing Co. had « secured the rights, created the comics, printed them and shipped them out for Dell. Dell acted as the publisher and distributor and did the billing and paid Western for its creatively manufactured products*. » In 1962, Western cut out the middleman and launched its Gold Key imprint (1962-1984.)
Enter, briefly, revolutionary illustrator Richard M. Powers (1921-1996), who successfully wed representational and abstract art for his paperback covers of the 50s and 60s, bringing science-fiction visuals an unprecedented visual maturity. Don’t merely take my word for it: treat your peepers to a gander at his work. You may well find that you know it already.
What with a Cold War on, in the early 60s, atom-powered heroes were understandably in vogue. Charlton even had two: after Al Fago‘s 1955 creation Atomic Rabbit, came Joe Gill & Steve Ditko‘s Captain Atom. In 1962, the newly-founded Gold Key threw their hat into the nuclear furnace with the advent of Doctor Solar, Man of the Atom. He was created by writer Paul S. Newman and editor Matt Murphy.
Doctor Solar, Man of the Atom no. 1 (October, 1962)Doctor Solar, Man of the Atom no. 2 (December, 1962)
So far so good, right? And then… we may never know exactly what transpired, but I assume that some art director at Western Publishing chose to second-guess Mr. Powers… smothering the tonal and compositional balance of his painting (« can’t… bear… negative space! »), and likely depriving the outfit of Powers’ further services. He was at his peak, was being offered assignments than he could hope to fulfill, assignments surely more lucrative and friction-free. He wisely scooted along.
The printed version:
Boris Karloff Thriller no. 2 (January, 1963.) It was decades before I realized that this ho-hum comic book cover was the work of Richard Powers. In truth, the scales only fell from my eyes when I caught a peek of the original art. The printed version is so tame, so drained of its power(s) that the issue didn’t even appear in Jane Frank’s checklist of book covers in her fine The Art of Richard Powers (Paper Tiger, 2001).See? Now *that* is clearly Powers. « Just slap a 60% cyan overlay over the dang thing, Gertrude. It’s too effin’ artsy! »
And the tale might have ended there, but here’s the curveball: in the mid-to-late Seventies, Powers provided the fading publisher with a pair of gorgeous, but seldom-seen cover paintings.
A lovely Rorschach blot of a cover for the inaugural issue of Starstream, issued in 1976 under Western’s Whitman imprint. Starstream‘s four issue-run offered sober adaptations of smartly-chosen science-fiction short stories by the exalted likes of Theodore Sturgeon, Robert Bloch, A.E. Van Vogt, Robert Silverberg, Isaac Asimov, Larry Niven, Jack Williamson, et al.Let’s hear it for unearthly-looking extraterrestrials. With their translucent skin, these guys remind me of unhatched fish. The fifth and final cover created by Richard M. Powers, this is UFO & Outer Space no. 17 (continued from UFO Flying Saucers), published in September, 1978.
See what I mean?
If memory serves, my own Powers epiphany took place in the autumn of 1982, in Lennoxville, a small college town in the Eastern Townships of Québec. There was this little bookstore… and its fine selection of 60s horror and science-fiction paperbacks, priced in the 35-to-50-cents range. The kind of place book lovers dream about stumbling upon, and wake up dismayed to find themselves in the real world… empty-handed.
My favourite (inside and out) of the lot I picked up that day? Fritz Leiber’s (despite the name being misspelled on the cover) Night’s Black Agents (June 1961, Ballantine Books). If you’ve had a similar thrill of discovery with Powers’ art, please do tell us about it!
Compared to their bodies, octopuses have fairly small eyes. Yet in comics they often sport saucer-sized peepers, and like villains in a bad Broadway production, they love to glare menacingly at their potential victims from under their impressively wrinkled brows.
Case in point, these two Tales of Suspense covers, close cousins despite the change of scenery. They’re both from 1960, both penciled by Jack Kirby and inked by Dick Ayers. Both monsters promptly acquire loving nicknames from people you would think have more important things to think of, like not getting eaten and/or crushed. Meet Monstro and Sporr!
Tales of Suspense #8, March 1960. An octopus who was minding his own business gets temporarily but dramatically enlarged by radioactivity from nuclear tests (*communist* nuclear tests). “He lives! He moves!” – I fail to see why that’s amazing more than, oh, say “this thing’s gigantic on a scale heretofore unknown to man”.
Tales of Suspense #11, September 1960. A well-intentioned but overly enthusiastic scientist exposes an amoeba to an « experimental death ray » and the poor thing grows into this.
Not all puppy-eyed octopuses have two baby blues; unlucky cephalopods end up with Cyclopean anatomy and a bad case of suffering the wrath of grapes – a cherry in a glass of buttermilk, anyone?*
The original art for the cover of The Occult Files of Dr. Spektor #19 (Gold Key, April 1976). It was painted by Filipino artist Jesse Santos. Dr. Spektor is our protagonist, yet he looks particularly baleful here, hunchbacked and grinning, nothing like the kind of dashing hero who’d rescue a drowning maiden.A panel from « Loch of the Leviathan », also drawn by Jesse Santos, and written by Don Glut. I just love this panel – the gentle curve of tentacles, the skeleton and his pleading gesture…
I highly recommend the issue, certainly because of the art, but equally the story. You won’t find a straightforward man-finds-monster, man-kills-monster plot-line here; and there’s also bikini babes for your viewing pleasure.
* Your eyes look like two cherries in a glass of buttermilk
Don’t roll those bloodshot eyes at me
I can see you’ve been out on a spree (Wynonie Harris, Bloodshot Eyes)
Sometimes octopuses have big eyeballs *and* a vocabulary all their own.
Octopus language is the biggest mystery after “what does the fox say?” I bet you never knew that octopuses go “LURK LURK?!”
Akim was an Italian comic, published from 1950 to 1983, and translated into several languages, most notably French. Drawn by Augusto Pedrazza and wrtten by Roberto Renzi, Akim was a « tarzanide », which is to say heavily “inspired” by Tarzan, if not directly ripped off from it.
The LURK LURKs in panel above were no one-time occurrence. The octopuses in this story keep saying it again and again, and with different intonations, which I find hilarious. Turns out, a whole range of emotions can be expressed with this small four-letter word! My thanks go to co-admin and partner RG, who noticed this unpromising, poor-excuse-for-a-comic in a store and pointed out why we should pick it up after I had scoffed at it.
I can’t help but feel that the octopus is trying to say something important, but all its mouth (?) can form is a piteous luuurrrkk.
Another day, another birthday, it would seem. Well, I feel this one’s of particular importance… Gahan Wilson, born February 18, 1930, turns 88 today. As you may know, many an artist burns bright and burns fast, enjoying a peak of a handful of years followed by a settling into habit or mediocrity. That’s not our Mr. Wilson, who’s been prolific, reliable and versatile for over a half-century. That makes him, I suppose, easy to take for granted. Let’s not, shall we?
Most visibly, he’s built up a splendiferous body of work at Playboy, which was collected in exemplary fashion (2010), for your convenience, by the fine folks at Fantagraphics (in case you don’t have room for the entire magazines.) With the possible exception of Shel Silverstein, Gahan was perhaps the only cartoonist Hugh Hefner didn’t habitually encourage to throw in some buxom females.
« Well, it certainly is nice to know someone’s looking out for us old folks! » (Playboy, November, 1987.)
He’s also been a regular contributor to The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction since 1964, again gathered by the reprobates at Fantagraphics, this time in a tome entitled « Gahan Wilson’s Out There » (2016). Significantly, the book includes Wilson’s prose works for the magazine, gems of concision and dark wit.
Which brings us to another facet of Gahan’s œuvre: his writing. I greatly enjoyed his regular film column in Twilight Zone magazine (1981-89). For the publication’s August, 1985 issue, he provided, in addition to his regular contribution, an eye-catching (watch out!) cover illustration and a feature article « I Hear You Callin’ Cthulhu », a review of the role-playing game Call of Cthulhu. « Hot on the trail of Dagon, the shoggoths, and other Lovecraftian horrors, the noted cartoonist (and intrepid TZ columnist) finds himself drawn into a labyrinth of secret caverns, sinister intruders, tentacled monstrosities — and a terrifying thing called the Insanity Table. »
« Our intrepid gamesman gathers his courage… »« … tests his luck against the dark gods… »« … reads his fate in the faces of the dice… »« … and when the smoke clears, is seen no more. »
Happy Birthday, and thanks for all the tentacles, Mr. Wilson!
The Exploits of the Junior Carrot Patrol (2 issues, 1989-1990) was a solo Geary endeavour, but « based upon characters and concepts created by Bob Burden ». Pictured here is #2. From left to right: Dusty, Ethel and Chuck.
Who's Out There? 