It’s kind of sobering to chance across some regional comics… sometimes they’re of such high quality that I tend to wonder at, and regret, the vast bounty cast aside and left in the dust. How much more similarly fine stuff is out there is anyone’s guess. It makes me long for the days of greater cultural variety on a smaller scale, of humble local stations, local stardom and the unpredictable crazy quilt of regional popularity.
Houston, Texas’ Scott A. Gilbert is a prime example. If not for his being awarded a Xeric Grant in 1995, which financed the publication of It’s All True!, a concise 52-page collection of his favourite True Artist Tales, even fewer of us would have been exposed to his freewheeling talent. Without further ado, here are some of my picks from the booklet.
A Whiff of Hypocrisy (1992)One Art History (1993)Texas Monster (1994)Riverheaded (1994)I Fell (1994)
Gilbert’s True Artist Tales was published in rival alternative weeklies Public News (1988-97), and Houston Press (1997-2000). To answer our opening question, Gilbert got $25 a strip at Public News and $30 at Houston Press.
And for a bit more context, here’s an illuminating presentation that former Comics Journal managing editor Robert Boyd gave last year during a retrospective of Gilbert’s art Boyd was curating (now there’s something you don’t often see these days: the use of “curating” in its proper context!)
What better way to start Tentacle Tuesday than with the Big Pop-Up Book of Giant Squids? Sensitive people may want to skip this one.
« Dirk Dragonslapper », other than making me giggle every time, sounds like an actual character from some fantasy trilogy, which may be a comment on the state of fantasy these days (hint: it’s not fantastical). I’ll go with the cephalopods, thanks!
Incidentally, there’s a lot of dreadful fantasy covers out there (and that’s quite out of the scope of this blog, anyway), but I can’t resist sharing this one with you.
Poor Fritz Leiber! An octopus holding a bunch of swords at completely ridiculous angles, a squat muscle-bound freak with a bare ass and some booby green-and-purple women floating a distance away. Thanks, Peter Elson.
Let’s take a break from cuteness. Next up is some serious cause for alarm from Tom Sutton, who’s excellent at psychological horror. His weird art is full of details one can sink into; his sketchiness and sweeping lines leave one with the disquieting impression of being inextricably pulled into a distorted, nightmarish world.
Damsel in distress from « Budding Evil », Hauntedno. 17 (July 1974, Charlton), both scripted and drawn by Tom Sutton. Tell me you can look at the girl’s face as she’s getting strangled by tentacles and not get goosebumps.The meat-eating flowers have seriously disturbing “buds”… the best of us would have fainted!
There’s an inspired essay about Sutton here which I heartily recommend! I’ll take the liberty of borrowing a great Sutton quote from it (itself taken from a 2000 interview by Jon B. Cooke for Comic Book Artistno. 12). Voilà:
« They published weird stuff, and I have always been fascinated by weird stuff, and the weirder the better…. I do owe a certain amount to Charlton, because they allowed me to write a lot of ditties of my own, to paint a lot of horrible covers, and they never, ever, ever remarked on my technique. »
Brr. I think we need an example of straightforward macho heroism to counter-act the icky impression left by the creeping horror glimpsed above. Here’s Doc Savage to the rescue, as usual. Watch the epic struggle between muscled man and malevolent tentacled beast!
Original cover art for Doc Savageno. 8 (Marvel, Spring 1977) by illustrator Ken Barr. And no, I don’t have the answer as to why Doc Savage’s normally bronze hair looks like a white bathing cap here. However, Barr seems to have enjoyed painting it – just look at that glistening musculature!
Let’s see the cover as it was published:
A bit too much text, guys. C’mon, you have a tentacled monstrosity with indubitably evil eyes, a man with rippling muscles and bulging veins… We’ve figured out that Doc is its next victim (just as surely as we know that he will come to no real harm).
Interestingly, upon opening the magazine, the first thing one sees is a Tom Sutton illustration. Small world! The cover story, « The Crimson Plague », is an adaptation of a novella published in Doc Savage Magazine in September 1939, and most likely written by Lester Dent (as Kenneth Robeson), who’s responsible for most of the classic Doc Savage epics. It’s an « adventure in which Doc Savage and his team deal with kidnapped scientists, captured comrades, and the deadly secret of the Octo-Brain » (sounds exciting, doesn’t it?) and is illustrated by Ernie Chan.
Surprise! Happy birthday to Lois Lane artist supreme Kurt Schaffenberger (December 15, 1920 – January 24, 2002), here working under the alias of Lou Wahl, (he was also Jay Kafka, which would have been fitting here!) a popular and entertaining practice at ACG and Marvel. The DC brass were presumably *not* amused by these moonlighting shenanigans. I’m looking at you, “Adam Austin”, “Mickey DeMeo” (aka Joe Gaudioso), “Jay Gavin” and “George Bell”…
This is Unknown Worlds no. 55 (April-May 1967, ACG), one of the final issues of this fine anthology title.
In case you were wondering: Adam Austin was Gene Colan‘s alias, Mickey DeMeo and Joe Gaudioso were Mike Esposito‘s nomsdeplume, and Jay Gavin and George Bell were pseudonyms respectively favoured by Werner Roth and George Roussos.
« What are you mumbling about? »
« Oh, nuthin’! … just that my false teeth get loose an’ make a lot of noise! »
Today marks the one hundred and third anniversary of the enigmatic Jack Cole (December 14, 1914 – August 13, 1958) a man embodying, in equal parts, hilarity, talent and torment. Just when everything seemed to be going his way, he took his own life in 1958, for reasons still surmised about. His widow was the only one to know, and she took her secret to the grave.
Let’s move past this morbid stuff and concentrate on the man’s creative legacy, shall we?
Cole’s cover for his Plastic Man story « The Rare Edition Murders » (originally called « The Bookstore Mystery », judging from the cover art) cleverly ties in the mag’s other features. And they do need to be mentioned: Flatfoot Burns by Harvey Kurtzman, The Darson Twins by Jack Keller, The Spirit by Will Eisner (or his talented ghosts), Manhunter by Reed Crandall… This is Police Comics no. 25 (December 1943, Quality).Routine, the same old grind… another issue of Police Comics, another splendid Jack Cole cover. This is Police Comics no. 27 (February, 1944), featuring Plastic Man in « Woozy Winks, Juror », and tales of Dewey Drip, Flatfoot Burns, Destiny, Manhunter, Dick Mace, The Human Bomb, Burp the Twerp (by Cole), and of course The Spirit. Sounds potentially entertaining? Read it here, then: http://comicbookplus.com/?dlid=37421Cole’s Plastic Man, one of the timeless wonders of comics’ Golden Age, a character only his creator truly knew how to handle properly. This is Police Comics no. 72 (November 1947, Quality).Another vivid (what else?) example of Mr. Cole’s boundless inventiveness, featuring his flagship creation, Plastic Man (and rotund sidekick Woozy Winks). This is Police Comics (1941-1953, 127 issues) no. 76 (March 1948, Quality).« You mean this guy had nine slugs in his chest and still choked the other one to death? » Web of Evil no. 5 (July 1953, Quality).Web of Evil no. 6 (September 1953, Quality).This lovely watercolour ran in Playboy Magazine‘s August, 1955 issue. It’s titled « The Elongated Hand ».« Like they say in the travel folders, Miss Duncan – ‘Getting there is half the fun’ ». Playboy Magazine, August, 1956.
There’s only two Tentacle Tuesdays left in the year after today. Well, let’s not bashfully bury our tentacles in snow and get on with it.
I don’t think Tove Marika Jansson, Swedish novelist, painter, illustrator and of course comic strip artist, needs much in the way of introduction. Merely one word is necessary, and that word (more of an exclamation, really) is “Moomin!” But did you know Snork-Maiden and Moomin-Troll once had to grapple with an octopus?
Montréal’s Drawn and Quarterly is currently « reworking classic Moomin stories in full colour, with a kid-proof but kid-friendly size, price, and format » (to quote their website) for their Enfant collection. « Enfant » means « child », but I think any adult with a sense of humour and just a pinch of childlike innocence will enjoy these stories.
This page is from « Moomin and the Comet » (although I prefer to call it « Muumipeikko ja pyrstötähti »… if I could only pronounce it!) by Tove Jansson and and Lars Jansson, her brother and writer and occasional illustrator of the Moomin comic strip. Published in July 2013 by Drawn & Quarterly, originally published on April 9th, 1958 in London’s The Evening News.
Incidentally, isn’t this photograph of Tove Jansson lovely?
So far, there’s something like 12 books published, and D&Q are releasing one or two additions to the collection every year. It’s the only thing I consistently buy from them (well, pretty much the only thing they publish that interests me). Highly recommended if you have any children in your life… and even more if you don’t!
The Bojeffries Saga (written by Alan Moore and drawn by Steve Parkhouse) concerns itself with a loosely-tied group of relatives all of whom are supernatural and/or insane and some of whom have vaguely Slavic names, for added hilarity. The family consists of the two uncles Zlüdotny (a werewolf and a vampire); a nuclear baby (whatever that means); the close-knit trio of father, daughter and son, respectively Jobremus, Ginda, and Reth Bojeffries; and last but not least, grandpa Podlasp, whose tentacles you can admire below. Not, it’s not “Podslap”, although he does slap people on occasion.
The first Bojeffries tale, « The Rentman Cometh », appeared in black and white in British Quality Communications anthology Warrior, to be more precise Warrior no. 12, August 1983. Here you have it in glorious (and appropriately stomach-churning) colour thanks to a reformatted & coloured (by Kenneth Smith) reprint in Flesh & Bones no. 2, 1986 (Fantagraphics).
The main… err, hero… of this tale is Trevor Inchmale, a fastidious pain-in-the-ass bureaucrat, who, whilst day-dreaming of glory, accidentally discovers the existence of a tenant who owes the council £32,000 in rent arrears. Guess who the tenant is? And guess what happens to Inchmale? (Hint: a flower pot is involved.)
The back cover of Flesh & Bones no. 2, 1986 (Fantagraphics). Getting to spend a little time with Dalgoda (Jan Strnad and Dennis Fujitake) and then visiting with the Bojeffries? Yes, please!
I have The Bojeffries Saga collection issued in 2014 by Topshelf Productions in collaboration with Knockabout Comics. Mr. Parkhouse calls it « the complete and final edition », so who am I to argue with that? He also says, in his introduction, that « throughout its entire run the Bojeffries has been sheer, unmitigated fun. It’s been tough, it’s been demanding – but the end result has always made me laugh. »
Let’s end on a properly horrible (or at least horripilating) note.
This could be part of a pretty convincing anti-smoking campaign. Gasp!, 1994; cover by John Totleben (a recycled painting of his from 1992, actually).
In 1994, Quebecor Printing sponsored Gasp!, a sampler of some independent titles (and not necessarily anything to do with horror, despite what the cover suggests). Its contents are a bit of a hodge-podge, with some highlights and some clunkers. You can get more information about the authors and stories within here.
A group of octopuses, by the way, is called “consortium”, although “octoposse” would perhaps make more sense.
« Comics! If you wanna read, read a newspaper like normal people. »
In the late 1980s, Deni Loubert’s Renegade Press published two issues of this neo-romance anthology. While the results were perhaps a smidge uneven, it was a worthy enterprise, a refreshing change from the often out of touch romance titles from earlier decades… RR’s feminine perspective wasn’t a token one and the boys were, for once, in the minority. Among the contributors: Lee Binswanger, Angela Bocage, Jackie Estrada, Colleen Doran, Krystine Kryttre, Cynthia Martin, Barb Rausch, Mary Wilshire… and some guys.
« I know what’s the matter with your comic artists, they’re all crazy. »
« Of course they’re crazy, they wouldn’t be worth a whoop if they weren’t crazy. »
Today we commemorate the birthday of Popeye creator Elzie Crisler Segar (December 8, 1894 – October 13, 1938). The man succumbed to leukaemia and liver disease at the distressingly early age of 43… but not before making his everlasting mark on the world of cartooning and the world at large.
In this Popeye Sunday strip dated August 14, 1938, J. Wellington Wimpy ably demonstrates his solid-gold mooching wiles.
And for dessert, have a chaser of Segar’s even more endearing (in my opinion) companion strip, Sappo, featuring his delightfully bonkers Professor O. G. Wotasnozzle.
Sappo appeared as Thimble Theatre / Popeye’s “topper” on Sundays. This out of sight entry appeared on April 8, 1934.
Happy Birthday and bon appétit, Mr. Segar, wherever you are!
Rail-Bangin’ Rick Geary gives us a not-entirely-literal, yet oddly fitting visual representation of Brian Wilson and Jan Berry’s timeless classic, a number one hit for Jan & Dean in the Spring of 1963. Wilson’s original working title for the tune was “Goody Connie Won’t You Come Back Home“, perhaps a tad less catchy appellation.
Surf City, the strip, appeared on the back cover of the lone issue of Bop, “America’s First & Only Music Comix Magazine“ (1982, Kitchen Sink Press.) Edited by Catherine Yronwode.
Let’s start with something hair-raising. Well, not really – we’re a blasé audience, and it takes something special to truly scare us. Yet can you deny the foul-smelling, palpable sense of foreboding, the billowing and swirling nightmare that beckons from the elegant inks of this page?
« She boiled up out of the sea that hellish night — a monstrous hideous creature, she was, with the craggy face of an evil eyed witch! » Giant-Size Chillers no. 1 (February 1975). The cover promises a « frightful, fearful first issue! » Does it deliver? Eh, not really. Here’s a page of the best story in it, The Gravesend Gorgon, scripted by Carl Wessler and pencilled + inked by Alfredo Alcala.
Gravesend is an ancient town in northwest Kent, England; as for the gorgon part, it’s not entirely accurate, but it’s clear that comic writers cannot resist an alliteration.
On a slightly more humorous front (unless one is directly involved with this green monstrosity, in which case the situation would quickly lose its humour), here’s a page that hails from Jonah Hex: Riders of the Worm and Such no. 4, (June 1995). The story features the half-worm, half-human albino Autumn Brothers, whom you can see here greeting the big worm-momma. Texas blues rockers Johnny and Edgar Winter attempted to sue, but the suit was dismissed after a judge begrudgingly ruled that « the First Amendment dictates that the right to parody, lampoon and make other expressive uses of the celebrity image must be given broad scope. » Thank you, Los Angeles court. Frankly, it seems that the brothers are more remembered for the lawsuit than their music.
« Sure like to make big worm happy, whatever she want. Not care much for tentacle down throat. » Jonah Hex: Riders of the Worm and Such no. 4, June 1995. Scripted by Joe R. Lansdale, pencils by Timothy Truman, inks by Sam Glanzman.
Jonah Woodson Hex, created by writer John Albano and artist Tony DeZuniga in 1971, curmudgeonly and disfigured but bound by a personal code of honour, is a favourite character of mine, although I only like the way he is written for DC’s Weird Western Tales. Well, with one exception, this one! I most tentacularily recommend Jonah Hex: Shadows West, a collection of the three Vertigo-published mini-series scripted by Lansdale and illustrated by Tim Truman and Sam Glanzman, containing the stories Two-Gun Mojo, Shadows West and Riders of The Worm and Such.
And to wrap this up, on an even goofier note, here’s Jughead getting into yet another weird situation, which is pretty standard for him.
This page from The Eyes Have It comes from Jughead no. 77 (October 1961). Script by George Gladir, pencils by Samm Schwartz, inks by Marty Epp. Schwartz is absolutely the best Archie artist to draw tentacles; most everybody else would have made a mess of it.
« In the big wrinkled world, it would be like looking for a straw in a needle stack…»
Based upon, but with savvy improvements, Peter Sellers‘ Inspecteur Jacques Clouseau from the popular series of films launched with 1963’s “The Pink Panther“, the animated Inspector and the titular feline (who first appeared in the opening credits of the film) were spun off into a pair of successful series of animated shorts. Produced by DePatie-Freleng Enterprises, these series have earned their place as highlights of 1960s animation, though the competition was pretty toothless, compared to prior decades.
As for funnybooks, Gold Key’s “The Pink Panther and the Inspector” title was a solid success, lasting 84 issues (73 under the GK imprint, then 11 more under Whitman, 1971-1984), leading to a solo spinoff for The Inspector (19 issues, 1974-78). This is surprisingly witty stuff, written and drawn with assurance and verve. Comic strip great Warren Tufts (creator of Casey Ruggles) was reportedly involved, though when it comes to Gold Key and Dell, credits are at best sketchy.
This is issue 2 of The Inspector (Oct. 1974, Gold Key.)Speaking of the « Case of the Stolen Kiss », here’s a rather… daring public display of affection! This being Gold Key, the material was not submitted for approval to the industry’s censorship body, the Comics Code Authority.
« Dirk Dragonslapper », other than making me giggle every time, sounds like an actual character from some fantasy trilogy, which may be a comment on the state of fantasy these days (hint: it’s not fantastical). I’ll go with the cephalopods, thanks!
Who's Out There? 