« If you take drawing seriously, you never quite feel you’ve arrived. » — Ed Sorel
This time out, I’m pinch-hitting for my co-admin ds, who’s burning the midnight oil these days.
Just about a month ago, when I wrote a piece about Seymour Chwast (b. Aug. 18, 1931), it occurred to me that I should also devote post-haste (just in case) some column space to his fellow surviving Push Pin Studios co-founder, Edward Sorel (b. March 26, 1929). Let us celebrate the living while we can. The dead don’t appreciate nearly as well such gestures .
Opting for a freelancing career, Sorel left Push Pin, just a few years after its founding. He made it, all right, becoming one of the greatest caricaturists of the century. But he was every bit as accomplished a writer, which elevates his work above the ‘merely’ visual.
I’ve always been blown away by how deceptively easy he makes it all look, and that’s what’s so impressive: very loose on the surface, but with an underlying, laser-sharp precision. I could easily go on at some length, but Sorel’s career and art are well-documented themes. Check out, for instance, The Enigmatic Edward Sorel(From The Comics Journal), or this fine New York Times review of his recent memoir (circa 2021), Profusely Illustrated.
And now, some of the man’s work:
« My long association with Penthouse was unique. They bought every idea I submitted to them, and never changed anything except my spelling. This solipsistic strip appeared in 1990. »He can draw *anything*! This one appeared as The New Yorker‘s Jan. 31, 1994 cover illustration.I suppose every cinephile has his favourite Hitchcock film; mine’s The Lady Vanishes (1938). An entry in Sorel’s “Movie Classics” series, published in the March, 1981 issue of Esquire. « The General, starring Buster Keaton, is the only silent movie I included in my “Movie Classics” series. Based on an actual incident in the Civil War, it often has the look of a Mathew Brady photograph. » From Esquire, Dec. 1980.« Tenor Enrico Caruso is a guest at the St. Francis Hotel when the 1906 earthquake hits San Francisco. He vows *never* to return to a city “where things like this are permitted”. From Sorel’s pictorial essay “Keyhole History” (GQ, Oct. 1984).More rollicking blasphemy for Penthouse (Dec., 1992). Ah, yes. « The 1973 Academy Awards are remembered for Marlon Brando’s refusal to accept his Oscar for The Godfather. His emissary, Apache tribe member Sacheen Littlefeather, explained that Brando’s rejection of the award was to protest Hollywood’s depiction of Native Americans. Backstage, John Wayne was apoplectic. As John Lahr wrote in his article “The Birth of the Oscar“, “The Duke, who had dispatched many an Apache on film, didn’t take kindly to Brando’s protest… Wayne had to be restrained by six men from yanking Littlefeather off the stage.” From The New Yorker, March. 21, 1994. And speaking of Brando… « Marlon Brando is sent up to Cape Cod to read the part of Stanley Kowalski in A Streetcar Named Desire for Tennessee Williams‘ approval. First he fixes the nonfunctioning electricity and plumbing, then he auditions. His performance was stellar in every role. From Sorel’s “First Encounters” series, this entry appeared in Atlantic Monthly‘s July, 1994 issue. Note the kitty’s rapt expression.« Exodus revisited: an educated guess as to what Moses endured as he led his people through the Red Sea. A cartoon for Penthouse, the only mass-circulation magazine to welcome my blasphemy. » Penthouse (like the man said), Apr. 1995. Oh, and Plotz: To burst from strong emotion; often used humorously to express minor shock or disappointment (פּלאַצן, platsn, ‘crack’; cf. German: platzen;) and Schlep: To drag or haul (an object); to walk, esp. to make a tedious journey (שלעפּן, shlepn; cf. German: schleppen;).« Another of my egocentric ramblings, this one a rationalization for not becoming a great artist. » It appeared in the Aug. 21/28 issue of The Nation.« How Was I Supposed to Know? », from The Nation, Sept. 24, 1990. Oh, the sequels just write themselves.Here’s a rather famous one: « Back in the mid-sixties, my friend George Lois had an idea for an Esquire cover that couldn’t be done with photography. He asked me to do it, and I panicked — i.e. I tightened up. When I handed him my finish, he rolled his eyes and said he’d give me until the next morning to do it over. I went beyond panic, but nevertheless did a drawing we were both happy with. » It appeared on the cover of Esquire’s April, 1966 issue, with the caption of “The problems of power for Frank Sinatra”.« Director Michael Blakemore, at a rehearsal of Woody Allen’s one-act contribution to Death Defying Acts, watches in horror as Allen scribbles copious stage directions for him to execute. (Caricaturing Woody Allen is so easy that after drawing him, many an amateur comes to think of himself as a pro.) » From The New Yorker, June 3, 1996. Look at that pen move!
« When the mind is thinking, it is talking to itself. » — Plato
The waning years of the 1950’s marked the beginning of the monster craze, which coincided with Mad Magazine’s ripest period of influence. Here, then, is a publication that sought to capitalize on both occurrences. Alas, chasing fads too eagerly always did land you all-too-promptly in the cultural ditch. Still… Thimk had its moment.
This is Thimk no. 3 (Sept. 1958, Counterpoint). Edited by Alan Whitney, cover by Sam Hayle (1911-1996), who later did a bit of work for Cracked.
This is Thimk no. 4 (Dec. 1958, Counterpoint); cover by Sam Hayle. Elvis finds out first hand how fickle teenyboppers can be, and how a two-year army hitch might as well be an eternity, as far as they’re concerned. Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown!
Thimk was a short-lived (6 issues, 1958-59) would-be Mad, also in the black and white magazine format.
One holiday gleefully bleeds into another… this is Thimk no. 5 (Feb. 1959, Counterpoint). “Free… for 25 cents!”
Thimk no. 5‘s back cover… a well-aimed barb at Viceroy Cigarettes.And some samples (there were many, many more!) from the object of parody, Viceroy’s The Man Who Thinks for Himself ad campaign. Lookit all them deep thinkers! (Martin Fry, cancer survivor, bottom left).And it wasn’t to be the last Viceroy parody, either: the brand was also an early Wacky Packages target. This entry hails from Series 1, featuring a rough concept by Art Spiegelman painted by Norman Saunders (1973, Topps). Heads up, Marlon… some… thing is about to cut in for a dance. Is his date dismayed or delighted? Last call: Thimk no. 6 (May 1959, Counterpoint) was the final issue. Cover art, again, by Sam Hayle.From Think to Thimk in one easy step. What began as a ubiquitous IBM slogan soon, inevitably, led to parodic counterpunches.During the late 50s, it spread seemingly everywhere.Legendary Detroit DJ Paul Winter (station WXYZ) got in on the act early (1957). Here’s a sample, Fallout, featuring Charlie Byrd on guitar!And of course, the great Steve Ditko took the slogan to heart (and mind), famously making his own sign. I wonder where it is now.
« When I was a boy, I always saw myself as a hero in comic books and in movies. I grew up believing this dream. » – Elvis Aaron Presley (1935 — ?)
Today, somewhere, the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll celebrates his eighty-fourth birthday, be he alive, dead or undead, he lives on. And never forget: Elvis is everywhere!
A most salty salute to the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll on his birthday! Compared to earlier decades, the 1980’s (and on!) were not kind to the anthology comic book. Thankfully, the meagre rewards and resounding indifference weren’t enough to quite dissuade some foolhardy souls from giving the format a go. But the fanboys wanted spandex, they wanted continuity and they soon wanted their « decompressed storytelling ». Bah. In 1981, Kitchen Sink Comix published the lone issue of Terry Beatty‘s labour of irradiated passion, Tales Mutated for the Mod. (June, 1981). Unlike John Byrne and others’ unceasing and pointless ‘tributes’ to Fantastic Four No. 1, this cover version of Harvey Kurtzman‘s Mad No. 1 is fiendishly clever. Kudos, Mr. Beatty!
Gary Panter crafted this loving tribute in 1984, a one-shot published by RAW. Such heady stuff was well ahead of its time!
The back cover… this beats Power Records‘ meek offerings flat!
The oft-inaccurate Grand Comics Database really fumbles it this time: the instantly-recognizable icon on the right is, according to them… Fabian. Dopes. Hamilton, Ontario’s Win Mortimer (1919-1998), inducted into the Joe Shuster Hall of Fame in 2006, drew this cover for DC’s Heart Throbsno. 95 (April-May 1965); given the time period and The Pelvis’ shirt, he would presumably be shooting the dire Paradise, Hawaiian Style. If you’re of a mind to commemorate the King’s anniversary with one of his mid-60s cinematic offerings, better opt for the far finer Tickle Me (1965).
His (alleged) paper boy claims, and I do want to believe him, that the Big E has peacefully decamped to the quietude of Eerie, Indiana. Looking good, Big E!
« My father had a lifelong interest in helping musicians. I even encountered his presence when reading the autobiography of Anita O’Day. She said that there was a real estate man in Chicago who always made sure her band had a place to stay. That was Pop. » – Justin Green
How did Justin Green, one of the Founding Fathers of the Underground Comix movement, wind up holding down a regular feature for a decade (1992-2002) in Tower Records‘ in-house magazine, Pulse!? The whole chain of events began with a strip about his dad’s drinking. Of course.
« It was my father’s spirit that instigated this cartoon project…. this was ’91 (Blab No.6, Summer 1991, Kitchen Sink Press), and I was living in Sacramento. Mark Weidenbaum was then an editor at Pulse! Magazine, published and distributed by Tower Records, which had its headquarters in West Sacramento. He had just seen the piece when he found out I lived nearby. He wanted to explore the idea of an ongoing musical biography cartoon feature. »
August, 1992. Elvis certainly had his faults, but racism or ingratitude were not among these.
My own introduction to the Reverend’s music came, as it surely came to many others, through Jackson Browne‘s fine cover of his Cocaine (Running on Empty, 1977). « I was talking to my doctor down at the hospital. He said, ‘Son, it says here you’re twenty-seven, but that’s impossible — you look like you could be forty-five’. »
The strip frequently appeared in colour. Here’s my favourite example, from April, 1994. And here’s a fine Venuti performance. No, he wasn’t *always* joking.
Ah, Rodd Keith, the main man behind those infamous Song Poems ads, comic book fixtures in the 1970s. The weren’t a scam… not in the traditional sense. November, 1996. Lend your ear to his Ecstasy to Frenzy.
While Green isn’t a native virtuoso draftsman like, say, R. Crumb or Rick Griffin, and he’s only fair-to-middling when it comes to likenesses, he *is* a born storyteller, and that’s really what’s most needed for an endeavour of this nature. Compressing a lifetime, or at least a career, into a single-page strip (two at the most!) is remarkably tricky and demanding, and if it looks deceptively easy here, he’s succeeded.
In selecting strips for this post, I didn’t lean towards my own favourite musicians, opting instead for what I felt were the strongest pieces, regardless of topic. However, I’m reserving my very favourite for a special New Year’s Eve post. Hope you enjoyed these musical time capsules! If you did, you’ll be happy to learn that the fine folks at Last Gaspcollected the set in 2003.
Who's Out There? 