Few things evoke Hallowe’en so vividly to me as Gold Key’s The Little Monsters, one of the publisher’s relatively scarce non-licenced properties…
The series had its unlikely début as a backup feature in The Three Stooges no. 17 (cover-dated May 1964 — meaning it hit the stands in January) — months before The Addams Family (Sept. 18) or The Munsters (Sept. 24) reached television. Which is meaningless, of course, since the source for all of these fiends was Charles Addams’ New Yorker cartoons, wherein the clan did not even bear his name. Monsters everywhere! There must have been been something in the water.
Oddly enough, while Orvie, Annie, Demonica and Mildew soon (Nov. 1964) earned their own book, they remained loyal to Moe, Curly and Larry, retaining their backup slot to the very end of the Stooges’ run (no. 55, June 1972). And while the regular Little Monsters title often comprised reruns — as early as 1971’s issue 13 — the Stooges-sponsored backups never were reprinted.
I was all set to run with a furry little yarn from 1965, but then, just a few days ago, my nice mail lady fatefully handed me a box of comics that included The Little Monsters’ titular inaugural appearance.
And, having mentioned it, here’s the story I had originally slated for this post: Moondust and the Werewolf from The Three Stooges no. 26 (Nov. 1965, Gold Key).
« This seems to be the Age of the Monsters. Monsters are all around us. They abound on the motion picture-screens, coming from the depths of the sea, from under the Arctic ice, from outer space, or other such unexplored regions. » — Robert Arthur, ghost-writing Alfred Hitchcock‘s introduction to Monster Museum (1965)
As Gold Key comics published fewer ads than most of their rivals, they could afford such frivolities as joke and riddle pages, even in addition to the legally mandated text pages.
One pleasingly off-kilter feature that appeared in the publisher’s small line of ‘spooky’ titles (Boris Karloff Tales of Mystery, The Twilight Zone and Ripley’s Believe It or Not) was “Monster Museum”. Though it seemingly couldn’t settle on an approach or tone, it was witty, lightweight fun. Here are most of the highlights.
Then, as 1967 gave way to ’68, The Monster Museum became a reader-driven feature… for a single issue, namely Boris Karloff Tales of Mystery no. 22 (June 1968, Gold Key) — and two pages.
« I see a wolf-like thing coming over a dark river — at the shallows — just above a waterfall, the starlight shining up his pelt. I see a brown oak leaf blowing far up in the sky. I see a small bat flying. I see many other things, running under the forest trees and slipping through the highest branches; and they’re all coming this way! » — Ray Bradbury, The Homecoming (1946)
In the early 1960s, before Warren Magazines handled the task more decisively, there was a minor reunion of EC alumni — Joe Orlando, Reed Crandall, George Evans, Wally Wood, Williamson and Torres — at Gold Key. It resulted in some lovely art but minor, toothless stories. Even without the Comics Code, Gold Key’s material was safe as milk.
Here’s my favourite of the lot, a tale published in Boris Karloff Tales of Mystery no. 12 (Dec. 1965, Gold Key). I’ve probably tipped my hand with my choice of quote: “The Convention” reminds me of Mr. Bradbury’s timeless The Homecoming [ read it here ].
Typically for Gold Key comics of that period, no credits are provided, but I’m strongly inclined to attribute authorship to Dave Wood (1926-1974), who happened to work for both Gold Key and DC at the time. It’s his kind of plot. Furthermore, as we’ve learned from the case of Steve Skeates, Julius Schwartz and The Spectre, there are instances when editorial changes to your original plot are significant enough that you can sell it again to someone else… and mum’s the woid.
What am I getting at? Why, our bonus, a cover-featured Dave Wood gem from the following year and with a quite familiar theme.
-RG
*One might reasonably argue that Tatjana Wood (née Weintraub in 1926), who anonymously assisted her then-husband on some EC stories, is also eligible. She’s ninety-seven if she’s a day!
« We all have a thirst for wonder. It’s a deeply human quality. Science and religion are both bound up with it. What I’m saying is, you don’t have to make stories up, you don’t have to exaggerate. There’s wonder and awe enough in the real world. Nature’s a lot better at inventing wonders than we are. » ― Carl Sagan, Contact
Time to keep a promise — a promise to myself, but just as worthy of being kept. A couple of years ago, I posted the first half of a favourite comics feature of mine, ‘The Hoaxmaster’, which ran in most issues of Gold Key’s UFO Flying Saucers in the 1970s. At the time, I declared that I might get around to posting the second half of the set some World Contact Day, which is today.
The bracing brand of skepticism demonstrated here by the Hoaxmaster, much needed as it was then — smack in the middle of the UFO-Spiritualism-Occultism mania of its era — is yet more urgently needed these days, as the merry-go-round of surreal disinformation spins faster and faster, further out of control with each passing day, it would seem. You may have noticed.
Ah, the nineteen seventies… and their Satanic panic, in which we can recognize so closely the roots (or at least relatives) of today’s disinformation maelstrom, before the politicisation and weaponisation of septic paranoia and lies had become honed to such an anti-science. In a lot of sordid ways, Lawrence Pazder was an Andrew Wakefield of his day.
Here’s a story that I first encountered around the time of its release, remembered, but didn’t revisit until a couple of weeks ago, when a good friend (merci, Keith!) helpfully snapped up a copy for me. This deceptively dark tale was created by writer Arnold Drake (I surmise), penciller John Celardo and mysterious inker Wanda Ippolito, who may have a been a spouse or relative of Celardo’s. It’s odd to find someone else inking Celardo, as this was his chief, most enduring and distinctive strength. For comparison’s sake — and presumably, reading enjoyment — here’s another Drake-Celardo outing, The Anti-13!
I won’t make any claims that this is great art: by this time, Gold Key’s printing was shoddy, they barely bothered with the colouring (straight Magenta and Cyan and Yellow everywhere — how lazy can you get?)… but I treasure this one because of the story. Given its moral — what moral? — it’s hard to imagine The Comics Code Authority giving this one a pass, as it merrily violates several of its key precepts. I’ve got another such blasphemous entry in the pipeline… this one duly Code-Approved! Just you wait…
On the other hand, the accompanying cover is spectacular.
And as (nearly) always, a bonus for context: Celardo had a long and fruitful career, and I’m sure one of its highlights was to number among Fiction House’s elite cadre of cover artists. I’ve said it before, but despite their mind-numbing repetitiveness, FH covers were tops in the Golden Age in terms of draftsmanship and production values.
« I was already doing a lot of splendid research reading all the books about ghosts I could get hold of, and particularly true ghost stories – so much so that it became necessary for me to read a chapter of Little Women every night before I turned out the light – and at the same time I was collecting pictures of houses, particularly odd houses, to see what I could find to make into a suitable haunted house. » — Shirley Jackson
This one’s from the department of historiated text. What text? “those fiction pieces that nobody read” in comic books, prose pages mandated by the United States Postal Service. The USPS insisted that comic books «… have at least two pages of text to be considered a magazine and qualify for the cheaper magazine postage rates. »
By the Sixties, most of these pages consisted of letters to the editor, but not every company followed this practice. After EC pioneered the letters page idea in the early 1950s, ACG, DC, Archie and Marvel followed suit. But not Dell/Gold Key, Harvey and Charlton.
For its mystery titles, Gold Key naturally opted for a ‘unusual history’ format, enlisting, to provide spot illustrations, veteran cartoonist Joe Certa, best known for his co-creation of and long run (1955-1968!) on J’onn J’onzz, the Martian Manhunter and his stylish run on Gold Key’s Dark Shadows comic book series (1969-76). While Certa started out with a pretty mainstream approach, as the Sixties wore on, his style got increasingly angular, spare and expressive. Personally, I love it… but I know it’s not for all palates.
One more? Here’s a favourite from The Twilight Zone no. 42 (Mar. 1972, Western):
I’ve always had a soft spot for Gold Key’s The Little Monsters, who dwell within a cleverly designed and unaccountably comforting, topsy-turvy world; we’ve featured them back in the third edition of this countdown. This entry, however, isn’t strictly a return visit: I’ll be focussing on the back pages of ‘Orrible Orvie and Awful Annie’s antics. Last year, I picked up an issue I’d been missing, and was delighted with a surprise section, which I’ll happily share with our readers.
What do you say we take a peek at that Extra Bonus Book of Monster Jokes?
… and there you have it, and you didn’t even have to destroy a comic book (preferably someone else’s) to assemble it. The jokes are corny — what did you expect? — but I can’t help but find the whole thing quite adorable. Sometimes that’s precisely what one needs.
What’s that? You’re not familiar with Mr. Crawford’s name? Well, perhaps his work will ring a bell. Take a look at some of his œuvre through this fine overview by historian Ivan Kocmarek.
For some sense of Crawford’s range, here’s an episode of Professor Harbinger, a speculative ‘science’ backup feature that regularly appeared in Doctor Solar, Man of the Atom. This, the inaugural vignette, saw print in the magazine’s second issue (Dec. 1962, Gold Key). It was scripted by the prolific Dick Wood; Crawford must have enjoyed the feature, as he stuck around to illustrate its first dozen or so instalments. He was succeeded by fellow Ontarian Win Mortimer.
« Painting is the art of hollowing a surface. » — Georges Seurat
If you’ll forgive me the venial but gauche sin of quoting myself… three years ago, I posited:
« Luís Ángel Domínguez, reportedly born ninety-five years ago to the day… and still among the living… as far as we know. I like to envision him warmly surrounded by several generations of loved ones and well-wishers, an impish gleam in his eye. »
I found it sadly infuriating that such an important and accomplished artist’s latter-day whereabouts and circumstances were so shrouded in mystery… and largely, it would seem, indifference. The usual story: he didn’t really do superheroes.
Neither Lambiek nor the Grand Comics Database have anything to add on the subject, but a spot of digging turned up that he indeed was still alive until recently, though purportedly afflicted with Alzheimer’s in his waning years. Then I found what may well be his… very basic obituary, placing his date of birth exactly one month off (unsurprisingly, since accounts have long varied) and his date of death as July 1st, 2020, in Miami, FL. Unless something more definitive comes along, it’ll have to do.
I think we can all agree that ninety-six years is a pretty good run, even with the doleful decline near the end. Let’s look back on what’s surely his peak decade in comics, the 1970s. My picks have nothing to do with ‘key’ issues, character débuts or popular crossovers. I’ve judged these on artistic merit, keeping the pernicious influence of nostalgia at arm’s length.
For more Domínguez delights, just click on this link and explore away! I daresay that I only managed to keep it to an even dozen (difficult!) choices because we’ve already spotlighted many of his finest covers.
Eventually I accumulate enough material that posts bleed into other posts, sort of like a melting blueberry puddle gradually makes it way into the nooks and crannies of every object in its path on the counter (that happened recently, thus the very specific analogy). In this case, the blueberry juice is Uncle Scrooge et al., who have already appeared in Tentacle Tuesday: Duck Feathers!. Today our emphasis is more on Mickey Mouse, but I can’t promise other Disney characters won’t wander in for a cup of tea (or a quick tussle with an octopus).
As a matter of fact, my usual habit of arranging images in chronological order starts this post on a distinctly un-Mickey-like note…
The following sequence is from Ghost of the Grotto (written and illustrated by Carl Barks), published in Four Color no. 159 – Donald Duck in The Ghost of the Grotto (August 1947, Dell). You can read the full issue here.
Okay, I promised Mickey Mouse, so I’d better get back on topic!
Speaking of the aforementioned Paul Murry – I bet you have never seen an octopus adorned with quite so many bracelets.
Now we step into the dubious territory of European Disney comics – don’t forget to read about co-admin RG’s enjoyably scathing views on the subject here.
The following story, credited as ‘story and art: the Egmont Group, script: John Cochran, colour: Scott Rockwell’, was published in Walt Disney’s Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse no. 4 (March 1996, Gladstone). You can read the full issue here.
I’ll wrap up by going back to the top, which is to say finishing on as high a note as this post started on. Carl Barks, ladies and gentlemen!
Wishing you happy undersea adventures… until next Tuesday rolls around!