« Before he can become a wolf, the lycanthrope strips naked. If you spy a naked man among the pines, you must run as if the Devil were after you. » — Angela Carter (1940-1992)
First of all, Happy Hallowe’en! On this finest of occasions, I bring you a wonderfully novel take on the hoary theme of the werewolf, handled by one of the truly unsung — save, it would seem, but some of his most distinguished peers* — draughtsmen of the Golden Age, namely Emil Gerswhin (1922-1999).
And yes, *that* George. Just like, say… the Partches, Virgil and Harry, genius clearly ran rich throughout the Gershwin line.
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I wasn’t alone (Steve Bissette saw it too) in concluding that the terrific Mitch O’Connell just has to be Mr. Gershwin’s most direct — and worthiest — artistic progeny.
*By « distinguished peers », I mean the likes of Alex Toth, Al Williamson and Stephen Bissette. The latter wrote, in his introduction (essential reading alert!) to PS Artbooks’ Adventures Into the Unknown Volume 4 (March 2013, PS Artbooks): « Like almost all of the ACG horror comics, Gershwin’s work was the antithesis of the festering, tactile rot that made celebrated Pre-Code genre artists like Graham Ingels, Jack Davis, and Basil Wolverton so indelibly iconic: horror comics you could almost smell. Gershwin’s imagery is comparably sterile, even antiseptic, but his storytelling is as direct and no-nonsense noir as the best of Johnny Craig, his energetic pen-and-brush work as crisp and razor-sharp as Jack Davis‘ (sans the grit and grue and bits of meat and dirt spattering every motion), his staging as audacious as that of any cartoonist of his day. »
Bissette goes on to quote Williamson on Gershwin: « Oh, God, Gershwin was good. … he and [Ogden]Whitney were their best ever! A real draftsman, a solid cartoonist all-around. You should look him up, you could learn a few things. »
As for Toth, check out — his handwriting’s always a treat to see — what he wrote to Emil’s daughter Nancy over the course of their correspondance.
Again, our spotlighted tale isn’t the cover feature, but I nonetheless felt it my sacred duty to share this unusual beauty by Ken Bald (1920-2019). This is Forbidden Worlds no. 34 (Nov.-Dec. 1954, ACG), the title’s final Pre-Code issue. In 1955, FW would return to the stands after nine-month hiatus and take its final bow in 1967 after a sprightly run of 145 issues.
-RG
P.s. And while I dodged the headache of our traditional countdown this year, nothing — least of all me — is preventing you from raiding the boneyard of our past efforts, shameless ghouls that you are. Here are some handy links to put you into Hallowe’en orbit for a good long while :
« I didn’t say she was dead, I said I killed her. » — Barnabas Collins
… and speaking of that tormented bloodsucker, Mr. Barnabas Collins — mentioned in passing just yesterday — here’s a look at the short-lived (fifty-two contracted-for weeks, just like Daniel Pinkwater and Tony Auth’s Norb) syndicated strip that appeared at the tail end of Dan Curtis‘ preeminent supernatural soap opera‘s run (1966-71). The strip was likely scripted — at least in part — by Little Abner creator Al Capp‘s prolific brother Elliot Caplin (who also had a hand in the creation of Russell Myers’ Broom Hilda around the same time!)
Dark Shadows, the comic strip, was illustrated by veteran cartoonist Kenneth Bald (1920-2019), who’d worked for Fawcett, ACG and Atlas before judiciously decamping to the more rewarding and respectable milieu of syndicated newspaper strips, first with Judd Saxon (1957-1963) and then with Doctor Kildare (1962-1984).
The March 28, 1971 strip. While I’m not inclined towards photo-aided realism in comics, Bald was such a master of the mise-en-scène — that is to say layout and pacing, that he rarely failed to draw me in, as opposed to, say, more acclaimed photo reference addicts such as Al Williamson or Gray Morrow. April 25, 1971.June 6, 1971.July 11, 1971.August 29, 1971.
December 12, 1971. Richard Howell explains: « The Dark Shadows strip also invoked a very unusual use of coloring techniques (for the Sunday instalment), which eschewed a realistic look in favor of underscoring the strip’s mood (including a meaningful experimentation with color knock-outs done in harmonious gradations in the same color families). The first two Sundays were colored by Bald himself, who gave it up due to dissatisfaction after seeing the printed versions, and the extensive amount of time it took him to achieve the color effects he wanted. »
Here’s a trio of examples as they showed up in (news)print.
May 2, 1971.September 26, 1971.October 24, 1971.In 1996, the strip was collected in more than satisfactory fashion by Pomegranate Press — colour might have been financially prohibitive — in no small part thanks to superb documentary material provided by Ken Bald and cartoonist and longtime DS fan Richard Howell. An actual fan, unlike, say, Tim Burton*.
-RG
*despite getting a free pass to see it, the abomination that was Burton and Depp’s franchise-murdering Dark Shadows (2012) made me want to scream for a refund. Or the perpetrators’ heads on spikes.
« the escape from the black widow spider / is a miracle as great as art. / what a web she can weave / slowly drawing you toward her… » — Charles Bukowski, The Escape
This time around, here’s an over-the-top gem from ACG. No matter what anyone might think, I hold that the sloshed neighbourhood yokel bookending the tale is its star.
The striking artwork is by the mysterious King Ward.
I’d be inclined to say that the « In a lightning thrust… » panel surely wouldn’t have passed muster with the censors… but this was pre-Code horror, after all!
Incidentally, that bit about wasps and spiders, while essentially factual, smacks of your typical comic book oversimplification. Here’s the real-world lowdown.
It wasn’t the cover story — good thing, too: how much more of the plot could they have given away? — but said cover’s a nice one by Ken Bald (1920-2019), so I’m throwing in it. This is Forbidden Worlds no. 12 (Dec. 1952, ACG).
This year, since I am currently working from home and spending a lot of time on the balcony, I decided to take another crack at planting a few things in containers and taking a chance with the local squirrels’ tendency to root through soil and munch on whatever’s planted. Still, for all my adorable-yet-annoying rodent problems, I have to admit that I have it much better than some folks: there are no tentacles in this garden, thank you very much.
If you should ever see something of this sort emerging from the pot, run the other way!
ACG’s Adventures into the Unknown can always be relied upon for an octopus or two (or ten) – just see Tentacle Tuesday: ACG’s Adventures Into the Tentacles, for example. Tentacles of the plant variety also make a frequent appearance, of all shapes and sizes and degrees of grabbiness.
The Plant That Lived, illustrated by Harry Lazarus, was published in Adventures into the Unknown no. 38 (December 1952, KenACG). What happens when a young woman is forced to tend to a plant’s roots against her will?
It all starts with a dog in a botanical garden.
An interesting plot point, revealed at the end of the story, is that the plant’s fervent desire to become human is explained by his love for Phil Benson, the young botanist. I kind of want to see a follow-up story about that couple and the problems a plant-man pairing would be confronted with. And the classy blonde? She can find somebody else to hang out with.
A very similar blonde in a red dress was featured on the cover of an earlier issue, Adventures into the Unknown no. 32 (June 1952, ACG). It may not explicitly feature tentacles, but it is close enough in spirit for me to happily welcome it to the fold!
Another plant-tentacle offering from ACG comes from The Garden of Horror, illustrated by Lin Streeter, published in Adventures into the Unknown no. 48 (October 1953, ACG). This somewhat wordytale concerns itself with an archeologist who comes upon some strange seeds in a ruined temple in an unspecified ‘remote corner of Africa’. Arriving home, he plants them, and – surprise, surprise! – gets a little more than he bargained for. A dog is also involved, though this time it does not escape unscathed.
Carla gives her unscientifically-minded beau (strangely unconcerned with the killed dog, and later in the story, a similarly-dispatched burglar) an ultimatum: either he destroys this evil plant, or it’s all over between them! He chooses the plant – what the hell, she was a nag, anyway.
A subsection of mansplaining is giving directions that are not needed – I think Carla had the idea of ‘cutting the coils’ long before Roy told her to.
Continuing the theme of the strangulated man and the tentacle-throttled dog, we have two pages from a The Vision story (without a title) published in Marvel Mystery Comics no. 26 (December 1941, Marvel). A scientist finds some strange seeds and plants them. Does that sound familiar?
The tentacled creatures look like they’ve just woken up after a long night of partying with a terrible hangover. I love it!
Fortunately, the brave doggo that gets trapped by tentacles is saved in the nick of time by the Vision. Aarkus, aka The Vision, was created by Joe Simon and Jack Kirby (much like all roads once led to Rome, sometimes it seems that the latter has had a hand in creating nearly everything), as an alien enforcement officer from a dimension called Smokeworld. I stand by the side of any alien who saves braves doggos from a ‘horrible fate’!
This is neither here nor there, but The Vision has been repurposed by Roy Thomas in the late 1970s as part of the Avengers. I quote: « A great fan of Golden Age heroes, [Roy Thomas] first thought to bring back Aarkus, a 1940s hero who had been called the Vision due to his spectral appearance and smoke-based abilities. He discussed the matter with Marvel editor Stan Lee, who enjoyed the idea of a new member, but didn’t want it to be an alien or visitor from another dimension. After he suggested creating a new character entirely and that it could be an android instead, Thomas compromised by creating a new android character who resembled Aarkus and also called himself Vision. » Err, how is using the same name/moniker and a differently-coloured, but otherwise very similar costume considered “creating a new character”?
Glancing at some previous Tentacle Tuesdays, I realize I’ve actually built up a healthy nursery of plant instalments. If you’re still in a horticultural mood, here are some of them:
« Is the spring coming? » he said. « What is it like?» «It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine…»| Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden
Having been meaning for a while now to concentrate on tentacled plant life, I was hitherto stopped by the idea that it’s somewhat unseemly to talk about flora when most of our readership is buried in snow and ice. But now, well! – today was the first day of the year suitable for wearing shorts, and green shoots are popping up wherever one’s gaze happens to land.
We have waited for quite a long time before co-admin RG managed to get his hands on this issue… and it turned out that the insides vary from ‘lacklustre’ to ‘wow, that’s ugly!’ Still, the wonderful, striking cover makes it worth owning, I believe.
Horror: The Illustrated Book Of Fears no. 2 (February 1990, Northstar). Cover by Mark Bernal.
ACG got its tentacle parade in Tentacle Tuesday: ACG’s Adventures Into the Tentacles, but as usual, some material didn’t quite fit the theme, and I saved the following cover for a more appropriate occasion. This, I do believe, is the moment.
Adventures into the Unknown no. 48 (October 1953, ACG), cover by Ken Bald.
Speaking of adventures, let’s delve into Strange Adventures for a bit. The following story has a rather peculiar plot – « Star Hawkins is down on his luck and has to pawn Ilda, his robot secretary. Luckily, Star is hired to locate a fugitive who’s thought to be hiding on Vesta, an asteroid mining settlement, in the Red Jungle. But with a little tracking skill and the help of the creepy vegetation of the Red Jungle, he nabs the fugitive, gets his prisoner, and gets Ilda back from the pawn shop, promising never to pawn her again. »
Page from The Case of the Martian Witness!, scripted by John Broome, pencilled by Mike Sekowsky and inked by Bernard Sachs, published in Strange Adventures no. 114 (March 1960, DC).
Here’s another Earthman (who has dreamed of this moment, by his own admission!) struggling with some coquettish plant tentacles that just want to be friends.
A page from Super-Athlete from Earth!, scripted by Gardner Fox, pencilled by Gil Kane and inked by Bernard Sachs, published in Strange Adventures no. 125 (February 1961, DC).
The next thing after adventures is, naturally, mysteries. If they’re strange, puzzling mysteries, even better… what’s that word I’m looking for… ah, yes: baffling! Another day, yet another ravenous man-eating plant.
Baffling Mysteries no. 19 (January 1954, Ace Magazines). Cover is presumed to be by George Roussos. I think strangulation is not even the worst option here.
One more happy tromp through the jungle? Sure, why not!
The following image was originally created as a cover for House of Mystery no. 251 (1977, DC), but was nixed in favour of another, Neal Adams-penned illustration, which we’ve already featured in a previous post (Tentacle Tuesday: Plants Sometimes Have Tentacles, Too). I prefer this gruesome version (complete with skeleton being digested!… also more detail, more dynamic layout and better anatomy of all involved), pencilled by José Luis García-López and inked by Bernie Wrightson.
It occurs to me that I haven’t focused on the good old mademoiselle-embraced-by-tentacles cliché in a while. If today has a further theme, it’s of women (both human and alien) being grabbed by the midriff. Polka-dotted tentacles in a swamp and furry tentacles on Venus, whether they’re latching on to a humanoid woman with four breasts or a blue-skinned Talokian, all basically behave the same way.
As usual, this is a chronological progression that takes us from early Golden Age days all the way to mid flamboyant 80s.
The Robot Masters of Venus, illustrated by Max Plaisted (of Spicy Mystery fame!), was published in Exciting Comics v. 1 no. 3 (June 1940, Pines).
The Vengeance of the Space Monster!, pencilled by Ken Bald and inked by Syd Shores (both names are, however, guesses), was published in Marvel Mystery Comics no. 90 (February 1949, Atlas).
I agree that having one’s ribcage crushed does not help with breathing, but still, I am not sure why Shadow Lass is choking on the panel on the right when the vege-demon has her by the midriff.
War of the Wraith-Mates!, scripted by Cary Bates, pencilled by George Tuska and inked by Vince Colletta, was published in Superboy no. 183 (May 1972, DC).
For a little variety, I’m also including the following warrior vixen as a pleasant exception to the rule – she is not only not being grabbed, but also has an octopus for an obedient pet.
Girl on Octopus by Brian Lewis, painted sometime in the mid 1970s.
Our next stop is a proposed illustration for the 1984 movie The Warrior and the Sorceress, painted by Bob Larkin. The movie in question (which I have never seen) is apparently “noted chiefly for containing extensive nudity and violence and for being one of the more extreme examples of the sword-and-sorcery genre. It is also considered by some to be a cult classic.“
The sorceress has 4 breasts – a logistical nightmare when selecting a bikini, no doubt.
As… questionable… as this is, the illustration that was chosen in the end is in a whole other class of cheesiness. The sorceress has also died her hair blonde, presumably because she wants to have (even more) fun! We also lost the cephalopod, unfortunately, but the maxim “one can’t have everything” comes to mind – and David Carradine in a pearly loincloth is plenty.
Art by Joanne Daley, who at least makes some sort of attempt at designing a functional four-breast-bra.
After *that*, the following cover looks quite humdrum by comparison. It’s difficult to imagine how Red Sonja will extricate herself from this situation…
Red Sonja no. 5 (January 1985, Marvel). The cover is by Pat Broderick.
Incidentally, there are tons of Red Sonja cover with tentacles, mostly of recent vintage, and most of them are ugly as sin. This one is decent:
The cover art for Red Sonja no. 21 (April 2007, Dynamite). This is a variant cover by Roberto Castro.
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