Sekowsky, born on November 19, 1923 (it was a Monday), was another of those precocious, tireless, versatile pioneers of the comic book industry, such as Joe Kubert, Carmine Infantino and Alex Toth. He started out with Timely Comics in 1941.
I’ve always enjoyed his mature style most, as it became more eccentric and more distinctive, without sacrificing an iota of storytelling and compositional ability. We’ll come back to the topic with some examples in tow, but for the present, here’s a select gallery of his covers over the years. I stayed away from the more obvious choices… we hardly need to revisit his introduction of the Justice League of America (Brave and the Bold no. 28, March 1960), for instance.
I’m reminded of an old joke (usually) told about Beethoven: « A tourist is sightseeing in a European city. She comes upon the tomb of Beethoven, and begins reading the plaque, only to be distracted by a low scratching noise, as if something was rubbing against a piece of paper. She collars a passing native and asks what the scratching sound is. The person replies, ‘Oh, that is Beethoven. He’s decomposing‘. » This jazzy Mike Sekowsky / Mike Peppe (attributed) cover tableau sadly doesn’t turn up in any of the inside tales. Typical. This is lucky issue 13 of Standard/Better/Nedor Comics’ Adventures into Darkness (Dec. 1953.) And if you’re in the proper mood, the whole thing’s available for your reading pleasure right here.« Sorry, old buzzard! Pick on someone your own size! » One of the last new supermen of the Golden Age, the absurdly well-endowed Captain Flash came along just before the Code did, in November 1954. Captain Flash’s adventures were published by tiny Sterling Comics, which released a handful of titles in 1954-55 then vanished. Bad timing. Captain Flash gained his mighty powers through accidental exposure to cobalt rays, if you must know. Thrill to his heroics right here: http://comicbookplus.com/?dlid=17682« Blazes! And if I remember my Bat-lore, that’s the flying bat-cave he’s using to charge that bank! Hit the brakes, stoop-skull! » Bob Haney and Mike Sekowsky bring the wacky to this issue of The Brave & Bold no. 68 (Oct/Nov. 1966), with the saga of “Alias the Bat-Hulk“! Script by Haney, pencils by Sekowsky, cover inks by Joe Giella and story inks by Mike Esposito. Gotta love the cackling peanut/rogues’ gallery!I’ve always had a soft spot for Gardner Fox and Sekowsky’s JLA, but no-one else’s, really. Especially late in their run, when things got increasingly bizarre. This is Justice League of America no. 61 (March 1968). Cover by Sekowsky and Jack Abel.Ah, the always fun “screw you, hero!” cover theme. This is Green Lantern no. 66 (January, 1969), pencilled by Sekowsky and inked by Murphy Anderson, an unusual but effective combo. Within, «5708 A.D. — A Nice Year to Visit — But I Wouldn’t Want to Live Then!» is scripted by John Broome, pencilled by Sekowsky and inked by Joe Giella.The final issue of the Atom as a solo book. He would team up with Hawkman for a few issues (with gorgeous Joe Kubert covers), but all in vain. The Atom no. 38‘s (Aug./Sept. 1968) « SinisterStopover… Earth! » is written by Frank Robbins, pencilled by Sekowsky and inked by George Roussos. Cover by Sekowsky and Jack Abel.While newly-ensconced editorial director Carmine Infantino seemed to have boundless faith in Sekowsky in the late 1960s and early 1970s, pretty much every one of his creations and revamps turned out to be box office poison… but they were often bold, and certainly different. His take on Bob Kanigher and Ross Andru‘s Metal Men was odd, at times baffling, invigorating… and, at six issues, quite short-lived. This is Metal Men no. 38 (June-July 1969).« Do we dare follow? Keep your distance now… don’t let it know you’re there! » Nick Cardy crafted the majority of DC’s The Witching Hour’s gorgeous early covers, some of his finest work. But… *this* understated beauty was pencilled by Sekowsky and inked by Cardy. The picturesque results are set in the selfsame 1930s Universal Studios backlot Balkans of the mind so dear to several generations of monster-loving artists and kids. This is The Witching Hour no. 3 (June-July, 1969.)
The local fauna is gathered in this splash from Destroyer Duck no. 1 (Eclipse, 1982). In case you didn’t know, “the book was published as a way to help [Steve] Gerber raise funds for a lawsuit he was embroiled in at the time, in which he was battling industry giant Marvel Comics over the ownership of the character Howard the Duck, which Gerber created for the company in 1973.” It was an alarming account of the (not-fictional-enough) Godcorp conglomerate’s incalculable greed, its unchecked power, and how « It’s Got the Whole World… in Its Hand! », which, as true as it was then, is discouragingly even truer now.
« You all right in there, Walt? … say, what happened to all my beer? »
In the heart of every grown-up tyrannized, exploited, henpecked cringing little milksop lives an enthusiastic kid. (Or at least I hope so.)
Mild-spoken, well-mannered, and easily intimidated, Louie was created by British cartoonist Harry Hanan (who, it is told, rather resembled his creation). Louie was a perpetual victim of life’s vexations – bullied by a towering wife, mocked by colleagues, abused by neighbours, bitten by pets, let down by uncooperative furniture… Hanan described his character as “the anti-Superman”.
For once, poor Louie gets to have some fun. March 19th, 1972. Note the ever-so-slight smile on his face in the last panel… sweet.
However, Louie (and his creator) clearly had a sense of humour, if buried under layers of cowardice and mouse-like timidity. That’s what makes the strip so endearing, these occasional flashes of spirit and naughtiness. Hanan confessed to a having a « mischievous streak » in a 1952 interview with Erwin Knoll, admitting that « whenever he saw women with feathered hats he had to suppress the urge to snip the feathers off ».
This pantomime strip, syndicated by Chicago Tribune Syndicate, debuted in 1947 in The People (a London weekly tabloid). H.R. Wishengrad, head of Press Features, decided to export it to the United States and that’s how the strip crossed the ocean. Since it was silent and so needed no translation, it also appeared in more than 100 publications in 23 countries, including Turkey and Japan.
A cartoon appears in the Washington Post, prompting the Teddy Bear Craze, after President Teddy Roosevelt refused to kill a captive bear tied up for him to shoot during a hunting trip to Mississippi.
Boy, American presidents sure were different back in those days.
The history-making cartoon by Pulitzer Prize–winning cartoonist Clifford K. Berryman (1869-1949), who worked with the Washington Post from 1891-1907, then with the Washington Star from 1907-1949.
Which brings us to Teddy Bears (as they became known henceforth) returning the favour of protecting the vulnerable and innocent.
The earliest instance that comes to mind is Johnny Craig and “Ghastly” Graham Ingels’ holiday charmer, Shoe-Button Eyes!, which appeared in The Vault of Horror no. 35 (Feb.-Mar. 1954, EC), wherein a blind, put-upon little boy gets a new set of peepers… the hard way.
Post-Code, this sort of harsh poetic justice had to be handled very gingerly, if at all. The vengeful bear turned up again in Nicola Cuti and Jack Abel’s elegantly-told The Teddy Bear, in Haunted no. 15 (Nov. 1973, Charlton.)
Quoth the plush companion: « I was sent to you to protect you and I will! » Spoiler alert: the butler did it.
A couple of years down the pike, “Grisly”* Tom Sutton took up the gauntlet with his «Terrible Teddy!», from Ghost Manor no. 23 (May 1975, Charlton). Here it is, presented in its glorious entirety (including Sutton’s gnarly painted cover).
– RG
*perhaps more appropriately “Grizzly”, in this instance.
Greetings. Today’s theme: purple tentacles! (No, that’s not a euphemism.)
First up on our list is this beauty of an octopus, the Octo Rod.
This intrepid purple fella is part of Topps’ 1980 series, Weird Wheels, which had 55 cards in all. The credit for the gorgeous artwork is split between Norman Saunders and Gary Hallgren; nobody’s quite sure which artist worked on which card, and whether Saunders actually painted the images himself, or just retouched paintings by somebody else.
Sadly, Weird Wheels just didn’t sell all that well, so you can still purchase them for fairly cheap today. You can see the whole set here (and please do feast your eyes on them, they’re quite stunning).)
Octo Rod is no. 21, 1980. The art is by Gary Hallgren, at least according to David Saunders, Norman Saunders’ son.
Speaking of David Saunders and his dad, here’s a quote from “Norman Saunders” (a book written by David in 2009):
« In 1980, at the age of 73, with failing eyesight, cataracts, and advanced emphysema, Norman Saunders defied doctor’s orders and went back to work on one last card set. Weird Wheels are painted with full control of his creative powers, but with a morbid humor that reflects his attitude towards mortality. When reprimanded by his son for risking his life on low paying work, the artist said, ‘It’s fun! I gotta keep working! What the hell else am I gonna do?!‘ »
Saunders passed away in 1989, at 82, after a remarkably prolific and varied career.
Moving on, here’s a thrilling scene of purple tentacles vs Nemesis:
This is ACG’s Adventures Into the Unknown no. 157 (June-July 1965). The cover is by Kurt Schaffenberger (who signed as Jay Kafka here). “Case of the Tittering Texan” sounded intriguing – I figured that the Texan was being tickled by a tentacle – but no, he’s just a stuttering, crazy, power-hungry villain in a cowboy hat and spurs. Same old, same old…
I would also like to mention that Nemesis *is* wearing pants (well, shorts, at any rate), but his costume is still gosh-darned stupid. You try wearing a hood under water and see how far it gets you. I’m normally a fan of ACG‘s Adventures, but Nemesis is by no means a favourite character of mine.
Further developing the theme of violaceous violence, here’s another:
« Giant squid, giant water rats! Are we in New York, or are we on Mars? Down here, it’s hard to tell! »Ghostly Haunts no. 31, April 1973, cover by Jack Abel.
“Sewer Patrol”, the cover story, is also illustrated by Abel, with an excellent script by Nicola Cuti – it’s a story about people who dump their pets (and still-alive food) when they don’t want them anymore… and where and how these pets end up. (The answer to that, of course, is “mutated, gigantic and in the sewers.”)
« Herbal tea. My own recipe. It’s added years to my life. May I offer you a cup? »
After producing some exceptionally solid fan art (chiefly for the long-lived Rocket’s Blast Comicollector (153 issues, 1961-1985), Arizona art teacher Don Newton made his jump into the pro leagues in 1974 with Charlton, where he got his chance to show off his considerable painting skills. After a handful of mystery stories, he took over Charlton’s version of Lee Falk and Ray Moore‘s The Phantom, which he drew for six issues (and one cover) before the title was cancelled… along with the rest of Charlton’s original comics line, really.
Newton’s original cover painting for issue 68 (December, 1975, Charlton) of The Phantom, illustrating the tale of The Beasts of Madame Kahn by Nicola Cuti and Newton.Newton’s cover painting (in acrylics, if you must know) for the penultimate issue of The Phantom’s Charlton run, no. 73 (October, 1976), “The Torch”, written by Ben S. Parillo (alias Bill Pearson), pencilled and inked by Don Newton. The wizened mastermind is a fella who simply goes by the name of ‘Raven’.« How could a snake be alive here, buried deep in the earth for thousands of years? » Don Newton’s painting (Ghostly Tales no. 115, May, 1975) depicts a scene from Joe Gill and Steve Ditko’s “Wings of Death!”« Turn her loose, Pike… I want to road-test the new talent! » Mr. Newton illustrates the Unknown Scribe and Demetrio Sánchez Gómez‘s biker operetta “Running Wild!”, from Teen Confessions no. 89 (June, 1975, Charlton.)
Newton would go on to DC (and a couple of brief dalliances with Marvel), illustrating Batman, Captain Marvel (er, “Shazam!”), Aquaman, Star Hunters, and The New Gods for DC, before being, all too soon, felled by a heart attack at the age of 49. Most of the time, though, he provided great art to ho-hum stories.
Against all odds, around 1982, scripter Gerry Conway, a name synonymous with half-assed, content-free hackwork since the early ’70s, actually blossomed into a decent writer. Fortuitously, while assigned to pencil Batman’s adventures in Detective Comics, Newton was paired with prolific* Filipino legend Alfredo Alcala, and the stars were in proper alignment. You won’t have to take my word for it, however. Feast your eyes on the palpable ambiance from the Conway-Newton-Alcala trio.
Picking up strands from Steve Englehart‘s run on the book (nos. 469–476, in 1977-78), creepy-but-buff scientist Hugo Strange returns to pester his murderer, crooked politician Rupert Thorne. Colourist Adrienne Roy’s hand is betrayed by the 100% magenta/30% black mix.Well, I have to show Newton’s actual Batman, don’t I? His was one of the few characterizations that were physically believable. You could buy this guy as an acrobat, as a fighter *and* as detective. Alcala often overwhelms whomever he’s inking, but since Newton’s pencils were probably tight as a camel’s ass in a sand storm, both men’s contributions mesh splendidly with no loss of identity. Pages 2 and 7 from Detective no. 520 (Nov. 1982).
– RG
*How prolific was Alcala? « It is said that his fastest page rate was twelve pages in a nine-hour sitting. » And the scary thing is that it hardly ever looked rushed or less than committed, unlike the work of some other inkers we could name. What a guy.
Looking for a one-of-a-kind tattoo, now that everyone has ’em?
I bet you didn’t think of hiccups as a possible solution, but anything’s worth a try at least once. So keep in mind these handy tips for inducing hiccups: have a large meal; do something really exciting (like buying a new comic, for instance); forget to breathe properly while laughing (which can also be achieved by buying a new comic, as long as it’s funny); swallow your food whole like an owl, or drink water like you’re a cow in hot weather (76 litres a day!) Is it working yet?
This Charles Rodrigues cartoon comes from a nifty little collection titled Spitting On the Sheriff and Other Diversions, first published in 1966. “Do you dig“, it asks the potential reader, « Crazy graveyards? Hilarious hangings that really swing? Sick medical humor? Screamingly funny torture-chamber gags? » What kind of stupid questions are those? Of course we dig!
If you’re hungry *hic* for more material from this collection without having to actually hunt it down, this blog has twenty or so other examples of Rodrigues’ sick, sick sense of humour.
« It’s kind of like a spider web, only sweeter, and also it’s more pink »
Today would have been the 91st birthday of the great Jack Mendelsohn (1926-2017), who passed away last January, leaving behind a life well-lived and a sumptuous, if often unsung or anonymous, legacy.
Yet Mendelsohn will be no stranger to those accustomed to reading the small print and staying for the credits crawl: he co-wrote Yellow Submarine (the film, and got credit for it, unlike Donovan for the song), episodes of Laugh-In, The Carol Burnett Show, then decades of soul-killing animation scripting, not to mention, er… Three’s Company.
Ah, but today we salute him for his greatest triumph, though probably not the one his fans brought up when they met him*: the short-lived Sunday-only King Features comic strip Jackys Diary** (1959-61). In 1960, Dell Comics (were good comics, so they said) in a fit of mad inspiration, issued a one-shot (Four Color 1091, April-June 1960) drawing from the strip’s run… a flashback to the early practices of the comic book industry, when its product consisted of repackaged comic strip reprints.
Jackys Diary, October 30, 1960.
For a more comprehensive sample, hunt down the comic book, or Dan Nadel’s excellent Art Out of Time (2006, Abrams), which may just turn you on to further neglected but worthy visions. Or get thee hence swiftly to Sam Henderson‘s wonderful blog, The Magic Whistle. Sam saved me a lot of work (and stole my thunder) by graciously providing top-quality scans of the entire Dell comic book.
Then, if you’re good and hooked, you’ll be chuffed to hear that a complete collection of the strip’s run was miraculously assembled and published a few years ago, and finer than even the most fervent optimist could have envisioned. Once again, international treasures Craig Yoe & Clizia Gussoni and their crack production team have delivered a dream.
Produced with utmost attention to detail, as well as the full and clearly enthusiastic coöperation of the auteur himself, this handsome tome boasts, in addition to the full complement of excellently-reproduced strips, a fascinating and richly-illustrated retrospective article by Mendelsohn and a fondly witty foreword and backword by colleagues and accomplices Mort Walker (then 90 1/2) and Mell Lazarus (then 86 1/2). As they say, get yours now!
Jackys Diary, August 6, 1961.
*On that very topic, from his interview with John Province, published in Hogan’s Alley no. 10 (2002): « What fans? I have no fans! Why do you think I’m clinging to you? »
**that’s how it was intentionally spelled, for effect. Unlike spelling nowadays…
Today’s Tentacle Tuesday features octopuses in water where, after all, they generally belong.
We open the festivities with a scene from Japan, the undisputed motherland of all things tentacular. As a bit of an aside, for those wondering what’s up with up with Japanese tentacle porn, there’s an interesting theory that suggests that the latter was just a way to avoid censorship and obscenity charges when drawing erotic manga.
According to hentai artist Toshio Maeda talking about his experience in the mid-80s, “At that time pre-Urotsuki Doji, it was illegal to create a sensual scene in bed. I thought I should do something to avoid drawing such a sensual scene. So, I just created a creature. His tentacle is not a penis as a pretext. I could say, as an excuse, this is not a penis; this is just a part of the creature. You know, the creatures, they don’t have a gender. A creature is a creature. So it is not obscene – not illegal.”
For now we’ll stick with this G-rated page from Panorama Island.
From The Strange Tale of Panorama Island, a graphic novel by Suehiro Maruo, based on the novella by Edogawa Rampo, the Japanese Edgar Allan Poe and godfather of Japanese detective fiction.
Next in line is this cantankerous beak-mouthed octopus, actually Magica De Spell transformed (which explains why the creature appears to be wearing mascara – waterproof mascara, of course).
Uncle Scrooge no. 193, February 1982. Pencils by Pete Alvarado, inks by Larry Mayer. (This one’s a variant cover with a white Whitman logo.)
The last of Tentacle Tuesday for this week: a snippet of a rather gruesome story, in which a scientist transforms a poor, city aquarium-dwelling octopus who was minding his own business into a terrifying man-octopus creature who runs amok. In the end, the octopus reverts to his normal form and kills the scientist. (Justice, if not particularly poetic.)
The first panel of “Arms of Doom” from Harvey‘s Black Cat Mystery no. 32, 1952, drawn by Rudy Palais. So… how exactly is he going to destroy an entire city? He has 6 arms, all right, but he’s only human-sized, if a bit stronger than a normal man.
B. Kliban may not be a name that’s familiar to many (unless you’re one of those people who pays attention to the signature beneath a painting), but his cats will certainly ring a few bells, so to speak. They can be found on stickers and greeting cards, mugs and t-shirts, and, above all, calendars. Kliban’s Cat, a collection of cat cartoons that was published in 1975, was an instant hit, and its popularity hasn’t waned since.
One of the felines inhabiting the original Kliban’s Cat. Catchy little ditty, isn’t it? The official B. Kliban website is http://www.eatmousies.com/ – which is a very cute move.
One would expect something that’s been around for so long to be terrible and generic and banal (just think of Garfield merchandise – yuck!), yet each year a new calendar comes out, and each year it’s still stunningly beautiful. Kliban lamentably and tragically died in 1990, at only 55. Either he left behind an impressive number of cat paintings, or his ghost still comes out from retirement from time to time to continue the tradition. I mean, look:
« People assume I’m gaga about cats. I like them, but I’m not silly about them. Cats look like cartoons. There’s something funny and vulnerable and innocent about them. » (from a 1978 interview.)
Okay, the late 2010s seem to have some sort of carrot theme…
Maybe these images are created by a dedicated team of artists hell-bent on imitating Kliban’s style as closely as possible, adroitly channeling his absurd sense of humour, dressing in the Kliban uniform (jeans and sandals) to increase their precision. After all, if talented art forgers can copy a Vermeer or Picasso so meticulously that it confuses the experts…
As lovely as his felines are, it’s too really too bad that Kliban’s other books (most of them published by Workman Publishing) have been swallowed by the hungry maw of obscurity. His peculiar sense of humour, his love of puns and his unorthodox approach to everything from relationships to kitchen implements wonderfully combine with stylish art to create a glorious mindfuck in cartoon form. His books – Never Eat Anything Bigger Than Your Head, and Other Drawings (1976), Whack Your Porcupine, and Other Drawings (1977), Tiny Footprints, and Other Drawings (1978), Playboy’s Kliban (1979), Two Guys Fooling Around With the Moon (1982) and Luminous Animals (published by Penguin Books in 1983) – will make you wonder if Kliban ever underwent psychoanalysis, whether his doctor managed to hold on to *his* sanity after their sessions, and whether you should get psychoanalysed, too, because why else would you be enjoying these cartoons so much? The NY Times did a tribute to Kliban when he died in 1990, and all the author of the piece could say, somewhat diplomatically, is that « the books that followed Cat consisted mostly of extremely bizarre cartoons that find their humour in their utter strangeness and extremely unlikely environments. »
« Please », the journalist seemed to be saying, « can I go back to talking about cats already and skip over the weird shit? »
So here’s an example of some pleasurable weirdness:
Edgar Asleep has been scanned from Luminous Animals and Other Drawings (1983).
Kliban’s other work has certainly been overshadowed by cats, but at least it gave him financial security… and a life full of cats, drawn and otherwise, which is not that bad a thing.
« I spend twenty seven years making monsters and what does it get me?… A room full of monsters! » (Playboy, June 1972)
