Tuesday, November 17, 2015
H. L. Mencken on Newspaper Artists
In H. L. Mencken's Newspaper Days 1899-1906, a very highly recommended memoir, he recounts his days as a reporter and editor at the Baltimore Herald. When Mencken took over the editorship of the newspaper's Sunday edition, he became de facto supervisor of the comic strip artists, as the Herald had not yet switched from local production of the Sunday color comics to a syndicated section.
Mencken mentions comics and cartoonists quite often in this book, showing a haughty disdain for their capabilities. In fact, he claims that he ended up writing most of the comic strip material as the cartoonists were unable to come up with gags.
Though newspaper art and artists are discussed throughout the book, Mencken devoted one chapter of the book to the subject specifically. I think you'll enjoy this taste of the muscular Mencken prose style ...
Mencken mentions comics and cartoonists quite often in this book, showing a haughty disdain for their capabilities. In fact, he claims that he ended up writing most of the comic strip material as the cartoonists were unable to come up with gags.
Though newspaper art and artists are discussed throughout the book, Mencken devoted one chapter of the book to the subject specifically. I think you'll enjoy this taste of the muscular Mencken prose style ...
Slaves of Beauty
It was not until I became
Sunday editor that I had any official relations with the fantastic Crocodilidas
known as newspaper artists, but I had naturally encountered a number of them in
my days as a reporter. The first one I ever saw in the flesh, so far as I can
recall, was an Irishman wearing a seedy checked suit, a purple Windsor tie, a
malacca stick, and a boutonniere consisting of two pink rosebuds fastened
together with tinfoil. This was in a saloon near the Herald office in the year 1899, and I remember saying to myself
that he certainly looked the part. It appeared at once that he also acted it,
for when the bartender hinted that the price of beer was still five cents a
glass, cash on delivery, the artist first snuffled up what remained of the foam
in his schooner, and then replied calmly that it was to be charged to his
account. I was still, in those days, a cub reporter, and full of an innocent
delight in the wonders of the world. The decaying veteran at my side had
invited me out, as he put it, to introduce me to society, and while he did the
introducing I bought the beer. He now nudged me, and whispered romantically
that the artist had spent his last ten cents for the boutonniere: it had been
bought, it appeared, of a street vendor in front of police headquarters — a
one-armed man who was reputed to get his stock by raiding colored graveyards by
night. This vendor trusted no one below the rank of a police lieutenant, so the
rosebuds had to be paid for, but bartenders showed more confidence in
humanity. After the artist had filled his pockets with pretzels and stalked out
grandly, flirting his malacca stick in the manner of James A. McNeill Whistler,
the old-timer explained that he was honorable above the common, and always
paid his reckonings in the long run. "Whenever," I was informed,
"some woman with money gets stuck on him, or he sells a couple of comics
to a syndicate, he goes around town settling up. Once I saw him lay out $17 in
one night. He had to beat it from England in a cattle-boat. There was
a rich Jewish duke packing a gun for him.”
I never saw this marvel
again, for a few days later he was shanghaied on the Baltimore waterfront, and
when, after a couple of months of bitter Winter weather down Chesapeake Bay, he
escaped from the oyster fleet by legging it over the ice, he made tracks for
Canada and the protection of the Union Jack, leaving more than one bartender to
mourn him. But in the course of the next half dozen years, first as Sunday editor,
then as city editor, and finally in the austere misery of managing editor, I
made acquaintance with many other artists, and acquired a lot of unpleasant
information about their habits and customs. They ranged from presumably
respectable married men with families (sometimes, indeed, with two families) down
to wastrels who floated in from points South or West, remained only long enough
to lift an overcoat and two or three bottles of Higgins's drawing ink, and
then vanished as mysteriously as they had come. A few of them even neglected to
draw their pay -— always to the indignation of the office cashier, who had to
carry a small and incredible overage on his books until he got up nerve enough to
buy the city editor a couple of drinks, and so discharge his debt for theatre
passes. But whatever the differences marking off these jitney Dürers into phyla
and species, they all had certain traits in common, mostly productive of
indignation in editors. Each and every one of them looked down his nose at the
literati of journalism, and laughed at them as Philistines almost comparable to
bartenders or policemen. One and all had an almost supernatural talent for
getting out of the way when fire broke out in a medical college or orphan asylum,
and there were loud yells for illustrative art. And so far as I can recall,
there was never one who failed, soon or late, to sneak something scandalous
into a picture at the last moment, to the delight the next morning of every
soul in town save what we then called the Moral Element.
I write, of course, of an era
long past and by most persons forgotten, and I have no doubt that artists are
now much changed, whether on newspapers or off. Some time ago a man in charge of the art
department of a great metropolitan daily told me that fully a third of his men
read the Nation, and that many of the
rest had joined the C.I.O. and were actually paying their dues. He even alleged
that there were two teetotalers among them, not to mention a theosophist. In my
time nothing of the sort was heard of. The artists of that day were all
careless and carnal fellows, with no interest in their souls and no sense of
social responsibility. Their beau idéal
was still the Rodolfo of "La Bohème," and if not Rodolfo, then some
salient whiskey drummer, burlesque manager or other Elk; for the
contemporaneous Roosevelts, Willkies, Hulls,
Ma Perkinses, Bishop Mannings and John L. Lewises they had only razzberries. Long
before naked women were the commonplaces of every rotogravure supplement —
indeed, long before rotogravure supplements were invented — large drawings of
ladies in the altogether, usually in the then fashionable sepia chalk,
decorated every newspaper art department in America. It was believed by young
reporters that artists spent all their leisure in the company of such salacious
creatures, and had their confidence. Even the most innocent young reporter, of
course, was aware that they used no living models in their work, for everyone
had noted how they systematically swiped from one another, so that a new aspect
of the human frame, or of a dog's, or cat's, or elephant's frame, once it had
appeared in a single newspaper in the United States, quickly reappeared in all
the rest. But the artists fostered the impression that they did hand-painted
oil-paintings on their days off, direct from nature unadorned. They let it be known
that they were free spirits and much above the general, and in that character
they sniffed at righteousness, whether on the high level of political and
economic theory or the low one of ordinary police regulations.
I well recall the snobbish
rage of a primeval comic-strip artist whom I once rebuked for using the office
photographic equipment to make counterfeit five-dollar bills. It was on a
Sunday morning, and I had dropped into the office for some reason forgotten.
Hearing me shuffling around, he bounced out of the darkroom with a magnificent photograph
of a fiver, cut precisely to scale, and invited me to admire it. I knew it
would be useless to argue with him, but I was hardly prepared for his screams
of choler when I grabbed the phoney, tore it up, and made off to the darkroom
to smash the plate. He apparently regarded my action, not only as a personal
insult, but also as an attentat against
human enlightenment. If the word bourgeois
had been in circulation at the time he would have flung it at me. As it was, he
confined himself to likening my antipathy to counterfeit money to Lynn
Meekins's Methodist aversion to drunkards, and laughed derisively at all the
laws on the statute-books, from those against adultery to those prohibiting
setting fire to zoos. I fired him on the spot, but took him back the next day,
for good comic-strip artists were even more rare in that age than they are
today.
Another that I fired — for
what reason I forget — refused to come back when I sent for him, and I found on
inquiry that he had got a job making side-show fronts for a one-ring circus. He
produced such alarming bearded ladies, two-headed boys and wild men of Borneo
that the circus went through the Valley
of Virginia like
wildfire, and in a little while he had orders from four or five of its rivals.
By the end of a year he was the principal producer of side-show fronts south of
the Mason & Dixon Line, and had three or four other artists working for
him. Also, he had a new girl, and she appeared in public in clothes of very
advanced cut, and presently took to drink. Undaunted, he put in another, and
when she ran away with a minstrel-show press-agent, followed with a third, a
fourth, and so on. Finally, one of them opened on him with a revolver, and he
departed for Scranton, Pa. When he edged back to Baltimore a month
or two later, glancing over his shoulder at every step, his business had been
seized by his assistants, and the last I heard of him he was working for a
third-rate instalment house, making improbable line drawings of parlor lamps,
overstuffed sofas, washing-machines, and so on. Many other artists of that time
went the same sad route. Starting out in life as painters of voluptuous nudes
in the manner of Bouguereau, they finished as cogs in the mass production of
line-cuts of ladies' hosiery.
In the heyday of this fellow
I had a visit one day from a sacerdotal acquaintance — a Baptist clergyman who
pastored a church down in the tidewater Carolinas.
His customers, he told me, had lately made a great deal of money growing peanuts,
and a new brick church was approaching completion in his parish. In this church
was a large concrete baptismal tank — the largest south of Cape Hatteras
— and it was fitted with all the latest gadgets, including a boiler downstairs
to warm the water in cold weather. What it still lacked, said the pastor, was a
suitable fancy background, and he had come to see me for advice and help on
that point. Would it be possible to have a scene painted showing some of the
principal events of sacred history? If so, who would be a good man to paint it?
I thought at once of my side-show-front friend, and in a little while I found
him in a barrel-house, and persuaded him to see the pastor. The result was
probably the most splendiferous work of ecclesiastical art since the days of
Michelangelo. On a canvas fifteen feet high and nearly forty feet long the
artist shot the whole works, from the Creation as described in Genesis I to the
revolting events set forth in Revelation XIII. Noah was there with his ark, and
so was Solomon in all his glory. No less than ten New Testament miracles were
depicted in detail, with the one at Cana given the natural place of honor, and
there were at least a dozen battles of one sort or another, including two between
David and Goliath. The Tower of Babel was made so high that it bled out of the top of
the painting, and there were three separate views of Jerusalem. The sky showed a dozen rainbows,
and as many flashes of lightning, and from a very red Red Sea in the foreground
was thrust the maw of Jonah's whale, with Jonah himself shinning out of it to
join Moses and the children of Israel on the beach. This masterpiece was completed
in ten days, and brought $200 cash — the price of ten side-show fronts. When it
was hung in the new Baptist church, it wrecked all the other evangelical
filling-stations of the lower Atlantic littoral, and people came from as far
away as Cleveland, Tenn.,
and Gainesville, Va., to wash out their sins in the tank, and
admire the art. The artist himself was invited to submit to the process, but
replied stiffly that he was forbidden in conscience, for he professed to be an
infidel.
The cops of those days, in so
far as they were aware of artists at all, accepted them at their own valuation,
and thus regarded them with suspicion. If they were not actually on the level
of water-front crimps, dope-pedlars and piano-players in houses of shame, they
at least belonged somewhere south of sporty doctors, professional bondsmen and handbooks.
This attitude once cost an artist of my acquaintance his liberty for three
weeks, though he was innocent of any misdemeanor. On a cold Winter night he and
his girl lifted four or five ash-boxes, made a roaring wood-fire in the
fireplace of his fourth-floor studio, and settled down to listen to a
phonograph, then a novelty in the world. The glare of the blaze, shining red
through the cob-webbed windows, led a rookie cop to assume that the house was
afire, and he turned in an alarm. When the firemen came roaring up, only to discover
that the fire was in a fireplace, the poor cop sought to cover his chagrin by
collaring the artist, and charging him with contributing to the delinquency of
a minor. There was, of course, no truth in this, for the lady was nearly forty
years old and had served at least two terms in a reformatory for soliciting on
the street, but the lieutenant at the station-house, on learning that the
culprit was an artist, ordered him locked up for investigation, and he had been
in the cooler three weeks before his girl managed to round up a committee of
social-minded saloonkeepers to demand his release. The cops finally let him go
with a warning, and for the rest of that Winter no artist in Baltimore dared to make a fire.
But it was not only artists
themselves who suffered from the harsh uncharitableness of the world; they
also conveyed something of their Poësque ill fortune to all their more intimate
associates. I never knew an artist's girl, however beautiful, to marry anyone
above a jail warden or a third-string jockey, and most of the early
photo-engravers came to bad ends, often by suicide. The engravers used various
violent poisons in their work, including cyanide of potassium. It was their
belief that a dose of cyanide killed instantly and was thus painless, but every
time one of them rounded out a big drunk by trying it he passed away in a tumultuous
fit, and made a great deal of noise. The survivors, however, no more learned
by experience than any other class of men, and cyanide remained their remedy of
choice for the sorrows of this world. They had in their craft a sub-craft of
so-called routers, whose job it was to deepen the spaces between the lines in
line-cuts. This was done with a power-driven drill that bounced like a jumping-jack
and was excessively inaccurate. If the cut was a portrait the router nearly
always succeeded in routing out the eyes. Failing that, he commonly fetched one
of his own fingers. Many's the time I have seen a routing machine clogged to a
standstill by a mixture of zinc eyes and human tissue, with the router jumping
around it with his hand under his arm, yelling for a doctor or a priest.
In those days halftones were
not much used in newspapers, for it was only a few years since Stephen H.
Horgan, of the New York
Tribune, had discovered that they
could be stereotyped. Most provincial stereotypers still made a mess of the
job, so line-cuts were preferred, and relatively more artists were employed
than today. Nevertheless, photographs were needed, if only to be copied in
line, and every paper of any pretensions had at least one photographer. The
first I recall on the Herald was a
high-toned German of the name of Julius Seelander, who had served his
apprenticeship in his native land. He wore a beard trimmed to display the
large stickpin that glowed from his Ascot
necktie: it was, in fact, two pins,
with a filigree silver chain connecting them. Julius was an excellent
technician, but had a habit of aesthetic abstraction in emergencies. Once, in
bitter Winter weather, I took him along when I was assigned to go down the Chesapeake on an
ice-boat, to cover the succoring of a fishing village that had been frozen in for
weeks. We got to the place after a bumpy struggle through the ice, and Julius
took a dozen swell pictures of the provisions going ashore and the starving oystermen fighting for
them on the wharf. But when we got back to the office, and I was in the midst
of my story, he came slinking out of his darkroom to confess that he had made
all of the photographs on one plate. He said he was throwing up his job, and
asked me to break the news to Max
Ways: he was afraid that if he did so himself Max
would stab him with a copy hook or throw him out of the window. But when I told
Max he was very little perturbed, for he believed that all photographers, like
all artists, were as grossly unreliable and deceptive as so many loaded dice,
and it always surprised him when one of them carried out an assignment as
ordered. The next day Julius was back in his darkroom, and so far as I know,
nothing more was ever said about the matter.
But the most
unfortunate camp-follower of art that I ever knew was not a photographer, nor
even a photo-engraver, but a saloonkeeper named Kuno Something-or-other, who
had a great many artists among his customers. When, in 1900, he opened a new
saloon, they waited on him in a body, and offered to decorate its bare walls
without a cent of cost to him, save only, of course, for their meals while they
were at work, and a few drinks to stoke their aesthetic fires. Kuno, who loved
everything artistic, jumped at the chance, and in a few days the first two of
what was to be a long series of predacious frauds moved in on him. The pair
daubed away for four or five hours a day, and it seemed to him, in the beginning, to be an excellent trade, for
they not only got nothing for their services, but attracted a number of
connoisseurs who watched them while they worked, and were good for an occasional
flutter at the bar. But at the end of a couple of weeks, casting up accounts
with his bartender, Kuno found that he was really breaking less than even, for
while the credit side showed eight or ten square feet of wall embellished with
beautiful girls in transparent underwear, the debit side ran to nearly 100
meals and more than 500 beers, all consumed by the artists.
Worse, the members of the
succeeding teams were even hungrier and thirstier than the first pair, and by
the time a fourth of one wall of the saloon was finished Kuno was in the red
for more than 500 meals and nearly 7000 beers, not to mention innumerable
whiskeys, absinthes and shots of bitters, and a couple of barrels of paint.
The easy way out would have been to throw the artists into the street, but he
respected the fine arts too much for that. Instead, he spent his days watching
the Work in Progress and his nights trying to figure out how much he would be
set back by the time it was finished. In the end these exercises unbalanced his
mind, and he prepared to destroy himself, leaving his saloon half done, like a
woman with one cheek made up and the other washed.
His exitus set an all-time
high for technic, for he came from Frankfurt-an-der-Oder, and was a Prussian
for thoroughness. Going down to the Long Bridge which spanned the Patapsco
below Baltimore, he climbed on the rail, fastened a long rope to it, looped the
other end around his neck, swallowed a dose of arsenic, shot himself through the
head, and then leaped or fell into the river. The old-time cops of Baltimore still astound
rookies with his saga. He remains the most protean performer they have ever
had the pleasure of handling post-mortem.
Labels: Bookshelf
Monday, January 19, 2015
Stripper's Guide Bookshelf: Popeye, London Style
by Bobby London
ISBN 978-1631401299
IDW Publishing, hardcover, $39.99
I generally don't bother reviewing multiple books in a series. If I did I would have bored you with effusions about IDW's Little Orphan Annie series, what, nine times now? I can't subject you folks to that.
I have to make an exception, though, for volume two of the Bobby London Popeye reprint project. I'll make it quick, though. In fact I can sum it up thusly: BUY THIS BOOK!
Okay, you wanna know why. Well I already said in the review of volume 1 that London did the seemingly impossible, writing humorous continuities that ran in the ridiculous, utterly impossible space of two teeny-tiny panels per day. What's more, in volume 2 he gets even better at it. These are funny strips, topical, and of course (this is Bobby London after all) outrageous.
Of course, everyone who remembers the brouhaha over London's firing from the strip is dying to read the final continuity. Be assured that it is here in all its glory, including several weeks of the strip that never ran in any newspaper, as they were rejected by the syndicate. London had to know that there was just no way these could have run in newspapers. They'll only only run cartoons that are fit consumption for even the most chaste and prudish grandma. Was London trying to see just how far he could stretch the boundaries? I imagine so, because he has other continuities here that are pretty darn outrageous. I get the impression that no one at King Features ever bothered to vet London's material before it was shipped out to newspapers. Instead, they would wait until a newspaper editor squawked and then raise hell with the cartoonist. That doesn't seem fair at all, and I think the syndicate should have manned up and taken the blame rather than firing London. I mean, they sent the damn proofs out, and only when the offending strips were about to run did they tell newspapers not to run them and fired London. That's bad business.
Is it London's fault that King didn't draw a line for him? I mean, he was an Air Pirate for goodness sake! He deserves to be considered at least a little dangerous. They must have been reviewing his material, if only for proofreading -- why did no one catch this?
But hey, I don't know what actually went on -- just my guesses. Maybe King bent over backward to work with London. I tried to ask King Features editor Jay Kennedy about it many years ago, and you never saw someone clam up so hard. An ongoing lively correspondence came to a dead halt with that question. Never heard from him again.
Labels: Bookshelf
Comments:
Comic Book Resources did an interview with London where he answered your questions.
http://www.comicbookresources.com/?page=article&id=57359
http://www.comicbookresources.com/?page=article&id=57359
KFS did try very hard to work with Bobby London, he is a real prima donna. When he started putting in his leftist political opinions, He was asked to tone it down. He didn't. He wanted to be controversial. He had something important to say and despite warnings, pleadings, all tradition, sense and logic to the contrary, he saw the until now apolitical, family friendly Popeye comic strip as a fit platform ridicule priests and show his so-important support for abortion.
This was intolerable, and he knew it. So he was let go. Perhaps that's just what he was calculating, because though everyone knows Popeye, it's in very few papers,so to get the maximum coverage of this event, he ran directly to the liberal tabloid New York Daily News (which has never run Popeye)which ran it as a headline cover story "OYL CRISIS Popeye Aartist says he got canned over drawing". Which is true, but it's not like he wasn't told not to do this to the strip. The News characterized it as a debate over Olive's "right to choose", and in the news story Bobby blubbers "I wouldn't have done it if Roe vs. Wade weren't threatened."
Once again, this is about the Popeye comic strip.
The reason Kennedy would no longer wish to talk about it was that he felt sure, and he was right, I take it, that no matter what he or the comapny would say, London would be believed first. He paints himself as the brave litle guy fighting for truth aginst the powers of corporate chieftans. All London had was Popeye, but it was more important to him to show off his liberal bona fides than be a syndicated cartoonist, so he ruined it intentionally.
This was intolerable, and he knew it. So he was let go. Perhaps that's just what he was calculating, because though everyone knows Popeye, it's in very few papers,so to get the maximum coverage of this event, he ran directly to the liberal tabloid New York Daily News (which has never run Popeye)which ran it as a headline cover story "OYL CRISIS Popeye Aartist says he got canned over drawing". Which is true, but it's not like he wasn't told not to do this to the strip. The News characterized it as a debate over Olive's "right to choose", and in the news story Bobby blubbers "I wouldn't have done it if Roe vs. Wade weren't threatened."
Once again, this is about the Popeye comic strip.
The reason Kennedy would no longer wish to talk about it was that he felt sure, and he was right, I take it, that no matter what he or the comapny would say, London would be believed first. He paints himself as the brave litle guy fighting for truth aginst the powers of corporate chieftans. All London had was Popeye, but it was more important to him to show off his liberal bona fides than be a syndicated cartoonist, so he ruined it intentionally.
# posted by 
: 1/21/2015 10:30 AM
: 1/21/2015 10:30 AM
Wow, after that absurd rant I wish you had the decency to sign your name.
I look forward to reading the strips and deciding for myself how harmless or evil London's attempt at recapturing Segar's original voice.
The interview is interesting and you should read it. Yes, it is bias from London's POV but it is enlightening to what happened behind the scenes.
Why did King hire London? And how is London being the same London of his entire life his fault?
The comment London made was King wanted the strip to sell the TV series Popeye and Son is most likely true. I was born in 1954 and grew up hating boring Popeye and the King Features lineup. It wasn't until I discover Segar's original work that I realized how badly King had ruined the character.
In cases like London vs King no one side is wrong. In this case the two were just incompatible.
I look forward to reading the strips and deciding for myself how harmless or evil London's attempt at recapturing Segar's original voice.
The interview is interesting and you should read it. Yes, it is bias from London's POV but it is enlightening to what happened behind the scenes.
Why did King hire London? And how is London being the same London of his entire life his fault?
The comment London made was King wanted the strip to sell the TV series Popeye and Son is most likely true. I was born in 1954 and grew up hating boring Popeye and the King Features lineup. It wasn't until I discover Segar's original work that I realized how badly King had ruined the character.
In cases like London vs King no one side is wrong. In this case the two were just incompatible.
The Popeye & son cartoons had nothing whatsoever to do with the London comic strip, other than the titular lead. The productions of King Features Entertainment had no co-ordination with the syndication and licensing division.
Post a Comment
# posted by : 1/27/2015 1:07 PM
: 1/27/2015 1:07 PM Monday, October 27, 2014
Stripper's Guide Bookshelf: Retail Year One
Retail Year One: This is so Bogus My Head Hurts!
by Norm Feuti
ISBN 978-1-304-65379-6
Softcover, self-published (available through Lulu), $16.95
It used to be that the publication of a collection of a current comic strip wasn't a particularly newsworthy event. Until the early 2000s, most any comic strip with a decent fan following was available in reprint form at your local bookstore.
Well, with the slow but steady demise of those local bookstores, and the advent of comic strips archived on their syndicate websites, those collections are becoming rarer and rarer.
Of course, being a troglodyte, me wantum comic strips on paper. So I was delighted to find that one of my favorite current strips, Retail, has been given the reprint book treatment. Unfortunately, creator Norm Feuti apparently never got the call from Andrews-McMeel, which seems to have less interest in comic strip reprints these days, so he had to publish on his own through POD website Lulu.com.
I wonder in this age how many fans of Retail never actually get to see the strip printed on a newspaper page. I know I haven't. I developed a taste for the strip online, even though I really dislike reading comic strips in that milieu. Feuti's strip about a group of Grumbel's department store employees just seems to hit all the right notes. It is just a bit edgy, but nevertheless warm. There are no heroes and villains in his cast, which would be the easy way to play this game. Everyone at Grumbel's is just trying to make their way; some doing a better job than others, some more likeable than others, but no one is labelled BAD or GOOD. Dilbert, another successful workplace strip, takes the opposite tack and makes it work, but that strip is ultimately hitting the same few notes all the time, whereas Retail endeavors to use the whole keyboard. This approach limits the belly-laugh potential, but it makes you care enough about the characters to want to visit with them every day.
This book collects the first year (2006) of the strip, and works as a superb introduction to an excellent feature. Feuti was still finding his way at the time, but the strip was a good one right out of the gate. Not only is the strip funny, but Feuti's polished art is also a delight. It never calls attention to itself, but the spot-on expressions and body language always serve the gags perfectly.
So ignore, please, the awful hackneyed title of this collection (it really is the only klunky part of the whole package) and give Retail a try. If you've ever worked in retail, and who among us has been lucky enough not to, I think you'll become a fan of the strip.
Labels: Bookshelf
Monday, October 06, 2014
Stripper's Guide Bookshelf: Popeye by Bobby London
by Bobby London
ISBN 978-1-61377-874-6
IDW Publishing, hardcover, $39.99
There are some bits of comic strip history to which we fans all bow, but few of us have ever been lucky enough to actually experience firsthand. For instance, the near-legendary science fiction Connie stories from the late 1930s; scarce as all get out in the original tearsheets, and reprint books have barely scratched the surface. Yet we speak of those sequences in hushed tones.
To me, one of the most important of those 'white whale' classics is the stint by Bobby London on Thimble Theatre. Popeye is, of course, a comic strip legend initially set on his course by the genius of E.C. Segar. So strong was the strip and the cast of characters that decades of other cartoonists at the helm did not do irreparable damage to the franchise. What did happen, though, was that Thimble Theatre, at least since the 1970s, was little more than a legal requirement for a set of licensed characters to maintain their copyrights.
Enter Bobby London, underground cartoonist, member of the infamous Air Pirates, National Lampoon and Playboy contributor. His work was not only raunchy and anti-establishment, as one would expect from those credentials, but also clearly lovingly devoted to classic comic strips from the early decades of the century.
When London, amazingly enough, snagged the gig of drawing the daily Popeye strips in 1986, the comics world was simultaneously flabbergasted, intrigued, scared, and skeptical. It seemed like King Features was going out on a very thin limb indeed. Would London behave himself, or would we find Popeye and Olive bumping uglies in our Monday morning paper (those rare few of us who actually still had Thimble Theatre appearing there, I should say).
It turned out that London not only behaved himself (for the most part), but that his love of classic comics made him take this gig seriously. After a short stint of daily gags, London did the seemingly impossible -- he began writing long continuities that played out in increments of two tiny panels per day.
Since very few of us actually got to see these strips when they originally ran, we who were interested mostly got the news of London's Popeye work through the fan network. We knew that he resurrected the daily stories, but very few of us actually got to see them. We heard that they were good, but that was all second-hand.
Therefore, I'm thrilled that IDW has seen fit to finally let us judge firsthand. Having just finished volume 1, I can say that I am amazed and impressed. While it is of course impossible to tell Segar-quality stories at the rate of two panels per day, London did give 100% of his considerable genius in adapting the microscopic format to telling surprisingly intriguing, funny stories.
Because it is London, they're not just silly stories, either. They weave in messages about pollution, junk food, war in the Middle East, and other modern issues. Thankfully, Popeye is not stuck in some weirdly behind-the-times world that many comic strip characters are, like Jiggs running around in a top hat in the 1980s.
Do yourself a favor and check out Bobby London's Popeye, if only to be amazed at what London could accomplish in such a tiny space (did I forget to mention that the art is superb, too?). I'm certainly looking forward to Volume 2 of this series, in which we'll presumably get to 1992, and see London meet his unfortunate Waterloo.
Labels: Bookshelf
Comments:
Since you like volume 1 so much, volume 2 will be even greater when it's come out next month-November 18, to be excat!!!
http://www.amazon.com/dp/1631401297/ref=wl_it_dp_o_pC_nS_img?_encoding=UTF8&colid=2B54UX7XCJ3CO&coliid=I3N6ZHK4KZCDKD
http://www.amazon.com/dp/1631401297/ref=wl_it_dp_o_pC_nS_img?_encoding=UTF8&colid=2B54UX7XCJ3CO&coliid=I3N6ZHK4KZCDKD
I recently finished the first volume of Popeye by Segar from 1928-1930 and it is wonderful! I have the other 5 Segar books to look forward to. The daily strips are very good....the Sunday strips are even Better!
I have wondered what the hullabaloo was all about re: London's Popeye from many years later.....What happened to the years inbetween? etc. THANKS for shedding light on this.... I will keep an eye out for the London books.
(Of course, I would also like to see the pre-Popeye Thimble Theatre now. Maybe I'll have to get back to my old newspaper microfilm reading. )
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I have wondered what the hullabaloo was all about re: London's Popeye from many years later.....What happened to the years inbetween? etc. THANKS for shedding light on this.... I will keep an eye out for the London books.
(Of course, I would also like to see the pre-Popeye Thimble Theatre now. Maybe I'll have to get back to my old newspaper microfilm reading. )
Monday, January 13, 2014
Stripper's Guide Bookshelf: The Most Important Cartoons Ever Published
Doomed by Cartoon
by John Adler with Draper HillSoftcover, 310 pages, $19.95
Morgan James Publishing, 2008
ISBN 978-1-60037-443-2
I've read several biographies of the great editorial cartoonist Thomas Nast, and I've read a history of Boss Tweed's Tammany Hall ring, but what I've long pined for, and considered the most perfectly natural idea for a book, is a history of the Tweed ring as told through Nast's cartoons.
Finally such a book was written, and unfortunately has managed to fly under my radar for over five years. Well, better late than never, I did finally stumble upon it recently, and I'm delighted to say that the book is pretty much everything I could have hoped for.
John Adler navigated through a minefield of potential pitfalls to produce this book, which I consider just about as close to a perfect treatment of the subject as possible. He could easily have gotten bogged down trying to provide a thorough biography of Thomas Nast or Boss Tweed, or offered an exhaustive history of the deeds of Tammany. He resists those temptations, though, and confines himself to guiding us through the entire amazing episode via Nast's incredibly powerful cartoons. He explains all the nuances of what is depicted, and gives us enough of the history and biography of the personages involved to understand the enormity of the events and the genius of Nast's response.
It's a masterful piece of work, and Adler, with the expertise of cartooning scholar Draper Hill guiding him, deserve a much wider readership than, as best I can tell, they have gotten. These are the most important cartoons ever drawn; I can't even imagine that blunt statement garnering even a whisper of debate. So if you are seriously interested in cartooning, this book is not really optional in your library. It is basically a Cartooning Scripture, explaining how it was In The Beginning. For without Nast, and without Tweed, and the explosive confluence of those two mighty forces, cartoons may never have become synonymous with American journalism, and everything that followed may have changed course in unknowable ways.
I bring up a few minor negative points only because I'd love to see an even better second edition someday. The layout and design of the book was obviously handled by loving but not always highly accomplished hands. Among other layout problems, the cramped margins and large blocks of whitespace are a trivial annoyance, but they are an annoyance.
The other problem is not so easily corrected. It's a complication that has confounded every book designer when confronted with Nast's cartoons. His large double-truck cartoons, often full of important small details, are all but impossible to appreciate at the size they are reproduced. This book does an admirable job of mitigating the problem in some cases, by blowing up important vignettes for closer inspection. However, it would be ideal if the large cartoons were reproduced at close to original printed size. This would either take a skillful book designer, who could reproduce the double-trucks in their original form (though they would still have to be reduced a bit), or an extravagant budget would have to be allowed for fold-out cartoons. It's probably a pipe dream, but if Nast doesn't deserve the royal treatment, who does? Are there any publishers listening?
Labels: Bookshelf, Stripper's Guide Bookshelf
Comments:
Agreed, they should be reprinted in a larger format, perhaps like the Little Nemo "So Many Splendid Sundays."
# posted by : 1/14/2014 2:29 PM
: 1/14/2014 2:29 PM
This is a book that demands to exist, so I immediately ordered a copy. just arrived. Damn, all it wants is an ounce of design savvy. It looks like it's printed direct from a word document. It didn't need to be flash, just orderly
still, thanks for the recommendation. the information in it is invaluable
Eddie Campbell
still, thanks for the recommendation. the information in it is invaluable
Eddie Campbell
Now that I'm sitting down with it, my summary would be that it comes across like a thorough and exhaustive guide for somebody who has access to the real thing rather than the fair facsimile of the real thing hat it could easily have been. All the pictures are here. A few minutes in photoshop could have made each one look clean and sharp.
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Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Stripper's Guide Bookshelf: The Fred Files
The Fred Files
Orion Books, 2005
Hardcover, 6" x 8.5", 128 pages, $14.99
ISBN 0-75285-976-5
Now don't you roll your eyes at me. No, it's not Krazy Kat or Little Nemo, but it just so happens that Fred Basset was one of my favorite strips growing up. There was just something about the restrained humor and the deft cartooning, especially of Fred's very expressive face, that just enchanted me.
Growing up a British subject once removed (a Canuck, that is), I found the sly and understated British humor of Fred Basset delicious. Reading it every day seemed almost like a mini-coming of age rite. If I could appreciate the gags in Fred Basset, decidely written for adult sensibilities, I was well on my way to being one. And by "adult" I most certainly do not mean that the humor was racy -- it was sophisticated. Graham's gags are never knee-slappers -- he specialized in the knowing wink, the little observation and the perfect few words.
Take, for instance, a strip in which Fred and a larger dog are waiting for their masters outside of a shop. The day is windy and rainy and both dogs look miserable. In panel one, Fred bemoans his lot, "Inhuman I call it ... leaving us out here in this perishing east wind." In the second panel, Fred has moved over to the lee side of the larger dog, "Still, might be worse, I suppose." Elegantly constructed, seemingly effortless. In the hands of a lesser talent that simple gag probably would have either used too many words or too few. Graham could have done the gag pantomime, but that would have left us without that ever-so-British dialogue that is the icing on the cake. Heady stuff -- the whole British psyche rolled up into two panels. You can almost hear Eric Idle singing the unofficial British anthem "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" in the background.
Perhaps I go too far. It's like that with the treasures of our childhood. We can glorify them for what they meant to us, but that doesn't make them objectively great. If you didn't have the opportunity to read Fred Basset in your impressionable years the art may well look crude, the gags basic and sterile. Tough luck for you. But give it a try with this little book and see if you can capture a little of the magic.
The Fred Files is a quick read, and the promise of the 'inside story' is a bit thin on the delivery. We get a four page reminiscence by daughter Arran Graham, a very short interview with Alex that ran in a 1976 issue of Cartoon Profiles, and a small gallery of photos, special art and ephemera. The bulk of the book is a reprint of the first Fred Basset annual, originally issued in 1963. The strip reproduction is awful. It looks almost like they photocopied a badly printed copy of the original book. Surely either the family or the syndicate could have provided proof sheets? If not, then a little basic restoration would have tidied things up considerably.
The sub-par reproduction aside, the early Fred Basset strips show Graham at his best and freshest. I was glad to see that we get the original British versions of the strips -- I really hate the Americanized version shorn of references to kippers, cricket and cottage pie, and where wonderful Britishisms like "cor" and "blimey" are edited out in favor of bland American terms that are at odds with the atmosphere of the strip.
I lost interest in Fred Basset in 1991 when I learned that Alex Graham had died. Although the Graham name dutifully lived on in the credits, a tiny "MBM" began appearing on the strips, whispering the presence of new creator Michael Martin who produces the strip still. Nothing against Martin, who does a creditable job, but some bit of Graham magic has been lost. For me it's just another dog strip now. This book provided a delightful trip down memory lane to the glory days of the strip.
Labels: Bookshelf
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Stripper's Guide Bookshelf: The Misadventures of a Roving Cartoonist
The Misadventures of a Roving Cartoonist -- The Lone Ranger's Secret Sidekick
by Tom Gill with Tim Lasiuta
Five Star Publications, 2008
244 pages, 9.5" x 6.5" hardcover
$29.95
ISBN 978-1-58985021-7
The back of this book contains a 'comicography' for Tom Gill, page after page of art credits. Looking through that long list you can't help but wonder how this workhorse cartoonist had time for any adventures that didn't occur within a few feet of his drawing table. Obviously he was chained to the darn thing.
But adventure he did. Before Gill's recent passing he put together a memoir of sorts, an account that dwells mostly on his overseas tours to visit armed forces bases where he put on chalk talk shows for the troops. The stories of those trips are delightful, frank and wittily told. Gill had a knack for getting into interesting scrapes on these trips. He gets pinned in a car wreck, marooned in a blizzard, stuck in an air transport that runs out of gas and goes into a vertical dive. Some adventures aren't of the life-threatening variety, like the hilarious story of his encounter with a masseuse in Japan who is intent on selling him a 'happy ending'.
Although Tom Gill was primarily a comic book artist and therefore seemingly beyond the purview of the Stripper's Guide blog, he did have a syndicated strip for a few years ("Flower Potts" for the New York Herald-Tribune) and he discusses this experience along with a chapter about his days on the art staff at the New York Daily News. Also of interest to the newspaper comic strip fan are the capsule bios in the back of the book that provide background on the cartoonists Gill encounters in the rest of the book. Some of these are surprisingly informative with some insider information that I'd not encountered before.
Gill apparently wrote the chapters of this book over a long period and for different audiences, and certain episodes are repeated. Tim Lasiuta, who put the material together for publication, really should have done some editing to tighten it up. Instead he seems to have taken the tack that Gill's essays are sacrosanct; unfortunate but not that big a deal. Also in the minus column is the section of photos and Gill drawings -- the photos are badly reproduced and the original art is a miscellany of material that does not represent so much Gill's best work as what happened to be conveniently at hand when the book was being readied for publication.
These few problems aside, this is a delightful book that will make for a pleasant evening of reading by the fire on one of these cold winter nights. Being in Florida, I read it on a chaise longue basking in the sun, but we can't all be that lucky.
You can order this book at Amazon.com and give Stripper's Guide a little kickback on the purchase by clicking through on the Amazon 'recommended books' widget in the left siidebar of this blog page (you may have to scroll down a-ways).
Labels: Bookshelf
Comments:
Thanks Allan.
Yes, we did largely leave Tom's writing alone. He passed away before the book deal was signed and his sight was shot so we kep true to his manuscript with some spelling and corrections. The stories no one could verify details and as a result, we used what we had.
It was fun to write and even better to see in print. This was his tribute and life for his grandkids.
As for the art. We used the best we could. Comic book art is tough to find from the books Tom worked on. And, I have only ever seen 1 example of original flower Potts art. His photos were scanned by Trish and we did not get to do justice to them.
Enjoy the read.
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Yes, we did largely leave Tom's writing alone. He passed away before the book deal was signed and his sight was shot so we kep true to his manuscript with some spelling and corrections. The stories no one could verify details and as a result, we used what we had.
It was fun to write and even better to see in print. This was his tribute and life for his grandkids.
As for the art. We used the best we could. Comic book art is tough to find from the books Tom worked on. And, I have only ever seen 1 example of original flower Potts art. His photos were scanned by Trish and we did not get to do justice to them.
Enjoy the read.
# posted by : 3/08/2009 7:09 PM
: 3/08/2009 7:09 PM Monday, December 08, 2008
Stripper's Guide Bookshelf - Alex Raymond: His Life and Art
Alex Raymond - His Life and Art
by Tom Roberts
Adventure House, 2007
ISBN 978-1-886937-78-9
312 pages, hardcover, 12.75" x 9.5", $49.95
The warning bells started going off not long after I opened this eagerly anticipated book. On page four the author tells us that the Buck Rogers strip was syndicated by NEA. Then a few pages later he tells us that When Mother Was a Girl was the topper to Blondie and that Dumb Dora was Chic Young's first syndicated strip. These errors aren't exactly earthshaking I suppose, but such details, all of which could have easily been fact-checked, don't speak well for the quality of the research that went into this book.
I soldiered on, though, and found that Tom Roberts is certainly an expert on all things Raymond. Only when his story has to touch on other creators and comics does his expertise take a serious fall. In fact Roberts is such a Raymond fanatic that his devotion to the subject ends up being the real source of the project's undoing. The book is chock full of rare Raymond artwork, but that material is presented in lieu of long loving looks at Flash Gordon, Secret Agent X-9 and Rip Kirby art, the sort of material that this reader presumed would be given more play in a Raymond bio. We do get some material from all those strips, of course, but the book is chock full of all manner of oddball Raymond work -- movie poster designs, pulp illustrations, ad campaigns, etc. It comes across as if the author is trying to impress us with the breadth of his Raymond collection which, don't get me wrong, is indeed astounding. The sense that the book was put together by a Raymond collecting wonk is highlighted when the author occasionally switches to first-person commentary explaining just how rare such-and-such an item is and how many eyeteeth collectors would gladly trade for it. Nowhere is that wonkish attitude more vividly apparent than with an utterly pointless two page sidebar detailing how an auction house approached the author to authenticate an unsigned painting as being the work of Raymond.
Some of Raymond's rare artwork could just as well have stayed under wraps, too. For instance, we get fourteen pages of art from the juvenile book Scuttle Watch, and another ten from an insurance ad campaign. In neither case did Raymond produce particularly distinguished work (at least by his lofty standard), so I would have much rather seen a few representative images from those venues and allotted some of that space for more of Raymond's best works. Roberts has the collector's myopia -- his devotion to Raymond leads him to focus more on minutiae than on what made Raymond famous.
And speaking of minutiae, a fifty page chapter detailing Raymond's service in World War II is enough to test the patience of even the most devoted reader. Raymond served on the U.S.S. Gilbert Islands, an aircraft carrier that I now know in such intimate detail that if I materialized on its deck I think I could find the mess hall blindfolded. I dutifully read the whole chapter, a feat few will or should attempt, and got treated to a detailing of that ship's activities that might be fine military history but goes ridiculously far afield from telling the story of Raymond's life. Here's a taste: "The Gilbert Islands was an escort carrier of the CVE 105 Commencement Bay class. With a displacement of 23,200 tons, she carried a 28-foot draft. Not as big as her sister carriers of the Essex class, the Commencement Bay class had a flight deck spanning 500 feet..." etc., etc., ad infinitum. Look, If I wanted an exhaustive history of the Gilbert Islands I'd buy one. Any competent editor would have slashed this chapter by 30 pages without losing anything of Raymond's story.
It's hard to imagine that a book so lovingly produced, about one of the greatest cartoonist/illustrators of the twentieth century, could fall so far short of what it could and should have been. And yet, even though the book is flawed in a whole variety of ways, I still have to give it a pass. Even a cocktail napkin doodle by Raymond is worth a look, and so a whole book chock full of his art, despite the questionable choices made in the selection, is a joy to behold. And since this is the most complete biography we're ever likely to have of the great penman it's a book that, flaws and all, deserves a place on any fan's bookshelf.
PS -- for those keeping score, Buck Rogers was syndicated by John Dille, When Mother Was a Girl was the topper of Dumb Dora, and Chic Young's first syndicated comic strip was The Affairs of Jane.
Labels: Bookshelf
Comments:
check this link out. i love original art work. http://ilovecomix.blogspot.com/2005/04/rip-kirby-by-alex-raymond-1946-framed.html
I worked for an eBay store in Alabama an actually witnessed this being auctioned. I believe it went for somewhere in the neighborhood of $12,000. Though at one point during the 7 day listing I would have given my right arm to own this framed strip. -Steve
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I worked for an eBay store in Alabama an actually witnessed this being auctioned. I believe it went for somewhere in the neighborhood of $12,000. Though at one point during the 7 day listing I would have given my right arm to own this framed strip. -Steve
Monday, December 01, 2008
Stripper's Guide Bookshelf - Prince Valiant Far From Camelot
Prince Valiant Far From Camelot
Gary Gianni and Mark Schultz
Andrews McMeel 2008
192 pages, softcover, 10.5 x 8.5, $19.99
This reprinting of the first four years of Prince Valiant under the new helm of Gianni and Schultz is an eye-opening experience. Unlike many of you, I do get the Val Sunday page in my local paper, and I've been enjoying Gianni's art despite the criminally small quarter page presentation. What I failed to recognize reading the strip in weekly installments was the superb craftsmanship of Mark Schultz's script.
Under the ridiculous strictures of a strip that tries to advance the storyline in a quarter page (even while sacrificing some of that space for a weekly synopsis) one doesn't expect all that much from a writer, and I confess that on Sunday mornings I failed to recognize the artfulness of the plot that Schultz was weaving. The reprint book gives me the chance to read the entire story at one sitting, though, and under these conditions it's plain that Schultz is a master at working under these severe restrictions.
The story is a long one, a four year adventure in which Val and son Nathan set out from Camelot to find some respite from the boredom of court life. What starts as a simple desire to slay a dragon (!) turns into an epic adventure that eventually takes the pair as far afield as Africa. Against all odds, Schultz manages to keep this epic under control even when following up to three separate plotlines when the adventurers occasionally become separated.
Schultz not only writes a corking good adventure, a real page turner that begs to be read in one marathon bout, but his work is meticulous. His story is peppered with foreshadowing devices that sometimes don't play out for months in newspaper time. Adventure comic strips have always worked under the convention that characters are introduced and last only until they've fulfilled their role in the plot -- plot threads likewise can conveniently disappear without a trace. Schultz, though, surprised me over and over by having long-forgotten characters and hanging plot threads reappear and weave themselves back into the story, a plotting device that we might expect in a novel but is a marvelous and unexpected surprise in a comic strip.
After the sumptuous production of The Prince Valiant Page I was all set to hate this reprinting. The large format reproduction in that book is not used here. But given that Gianni is creating artwork that can withstand tiny reproduction, the mini-tabloid format in this Andrews McMeel production is perfectly suitable to the project. Of course I found myself wishing that Gianni had the elbow-room to produce a more detailed vision of Prince Valiant, but for that we must fault the syndicate and the newspapers that insist on offering the strip in microscopic formats, not the book publisher.
Labels: Bookshelf
Friday, September 05, 2008
Stripper's Guide Bookshelf: Little Orphan Annie Volume One
Harold Gray's Little Orphan Annie Volume 1: Will Tomorrow Ever Come?
IDW Publishing, 2008
ISBN 978-1-60010-140-3
385 pages, hardcover, 9" x 11 1/4", $39.99
It may come as a surprise to those who aren't devoted fans of Little Orphan Annie, but this is an extraordinary collection for the simple fact that the book begins with the very first sequence of the strip. So what? Well, when Little Orphan Annie began it appeared in only one paper in the world, the New York Daily News. That alone would make the early strips rare, but compounding that rarity is that the Daily News was considered a trashy tabloid and so it was never collected and bound by libraries. If there are no libraries collecting the papers, and then later disposing them, there are no opportunities for collectors to amass runs of the original tearsheets. The only known run of the first months of the strip is in the Daily News' own microfilm copies, and that microfilm, which I've had the opportunity to review, is an almost unbelievable mess.
I had the idea of publishing the early Annie strips several years ago and I hit this brick wall myself. Faced with the impossibility of finding these strips in anything vaguely approaching reproducible form I waved the white flag and gave up. Luckily Dean Mullaney and company were not so easily dismayed. They had the bright idea of checking the Harold Gray papers at Boston University and it turned out that the archive included an unexpected treasure -- an almost complete run of the strip right from the beginning. So, putting aside a wee bit of jealousy, I'm thrilled that finally we have the opportunity to read the saga of that little orphan gal right from the start, including the pivotal early days in the orphanage that have been unseen since they were published over 80 years ago.
And what a story it is! Gray was famed for his despicable villains, and his earliest are truly vile. Miss Asthma, who runs the orphanage in which we first meet Annie, is as rotten and nasty as I'd always imagined. Mrs. Bottle, a hag who works in cahoots with Asthma to 'adopt' Annie as slave labor, is similarly chilling. The two, and many who come after in quick succession, as far more repugnant because they represent the sort of characters who were actually known to prey on defenseless children, then and now. A good part of Gray's genius was in blending fantasy and reality so masterfully that the reader finds himself taken in by the narrative hook, line and sinker, the suspension of disbelief so complete that Annie and her travails are viscerally affecting (yes, I admit it, I got misty-eyed a few times). Only rarely in this early work does Gray lose us momentarily with an awkward bit of storytelling or a fudged plotline, a deficiency he would overcome soon. Even a sophisticated reader, determined to scoff at Gray's morality plays as mere histrionic melodrama can't help but get sucked in by the taut storytelling and heart-melting little heroine.
Harold Gray's artwork, almost woodcut-like in its frozen flatness, would seem to be a terrible handicap for an adventure strip. But somehow Gray makes it work. He freely admitted that he had an almost total inability to portray action scenes, and so these static daily tableaus often devolve into soliloquies in which Annie describes the day's activities rather than having the action depicted (by the way, one of Gray's many conceits, yet another that should have hobbled his strip but didn't, was that each day's strip represented one day in Annie's life -- no week-long fight scenes in this strip!). In these early strips Gray is already very close to his mature style, and the only stylistic misses are in some rather generic character designs -- again, shortcomings that he was already well on his way to overcoming.
The book offers an almost ridiculous quantity of strips -- 38 months worth to be specific. While I applaud the publisher for their generosity, I would have gladly traded some of that quantity to rectify two shortcomings. First, although the strips are only reduced by about 15% or so from their original published sizes, Gray's lettering is a bit hard to read due to the compression. Little Orphan Annie was a very text-heavy strip, and Gray's lettering was on the small side to begin with -- the reduction had me squinting on occasion, especially in the early sequences when the lettering wasn't quite as bold as it would become later on. My second objection is to the lack of strip titles. For many strips those daily subtitles are perfunctory, but Gray's were often witty little comments on the day's doings, or editorial commentaries that could change the way the reader interpreted the day's strip. I see no reason that they couldn't have been printed alongside each strip where the book leaves quite a lot of empty space.
My other objection regards the Sundays. The publishers has included a small -- very small -- gallery of selected Sundays from the period. According to the editorial notes most of the Sundays were omitted because they seldom related to the daily plotlines during this period. That much is true. However, some Sundays did advance the plot, sometimes as a pivotal episode in the daily storyline. The publisher claims that these important Sundays are included. That, unfortunately, is only partly true. Some storyline Sundays are indeed included but a number of important ones are not. And in Little Orphan Annie at this time there was no Monday recap to save us if we missed the Sunday. This is an error that's pretty hard to forgive when you're reading along and all of a sudden you're completely mystified at a major gap in the story.
Even the Sundays that are reproduced are a bit of a joke. Each one is 7" tall by 4.5" wide, two to a page. I may not be the eagle-eyed kid I once was, but I don't think many readers could read these strips without a magnifying glass, a crutch that I had to fall back on. Did it not occur to the publisher that they could have printed one Sunday per page, sideways? There's only eleven Sundays included, so would it really have broken the bank to allot them twice that paltry page count? I certainly hope this grievous error in judgment is rectified in subsequent volumes. And if the color is just too expensive I for one would be just as happy seeing the Sundays in black and white. Color was definitely not Gray's strong suit -- in fact I think his later Sundays, from the 30s on, are much more attractive in black and white or with the single spot color that was sometimes used on the Annie Sundays at less affluent papers.
In addition to the strips we also get a fabulous biographical essay on Gray by Jeet Heer. Gray was an infamously private man and Heer has uncovered many interesting and intriguing new facts (new to me, anyway) about the man behind the strip. Very highly recommended reading. And I can't close (or leave well enough alone) without also noting Dean Mullaney's introduction in which he sets the stage for the strip with an impressionistic piece about the 1920s. Oddly, Mullaney sees fit to let loose with an expletive, granted a very mild one, in the first paragraph. I guess I'm one hell of a prude that way, but this seemed very weird to me. Give stuffy librarians an excuse to keep the book off of school shelves, Dean. Goodness knows we don't want to have classic strips fall into the hands of the next generation!
Labels: Bookshelf
Comments:
At least they didn't ruin the strip, as this publisher has done with their DICK TRACY books...talk about cramped, eye-straining unreadability!
I can't read the sub-microbic Sunday strips WITH a magnifying glass!
I'm glad they're breaking away from that damnable tiny book size (copied from Fantagraphics' PEANUTS books) with the ANNIE series. If they can incorporate the Sunday strips at a visible, readable size, I will heartily support this series.
I've given up on the TRACY books. They do Chester Gould's work a great dis-service.
I can't read the sub-microbic Sunday strips WITH a magnifying glass!
I'm glad they're breaking away from that damnable tiny book size (copied from Fantagraphics' PEANUTS books) with the ANNIE series. If they can incorporate the Sunday strips at a visible, readable size, I will heartily support this series.
I've given up on the TRACY books. They do Chester Gould's work a great dis-service.
Thank you for your inciteful comments. My passion for all that is L.O.A. leaves me anxious to read volumes 2 and 3 when released despite the shortcommings you mentioned about volume 1. The lack of competition in this area leaves avid readers with little choice. In any case I am grateful for whatever L.O.A. crumbs come my way. I would be thrilled if the publisher continues on to volume n when all of Harold Gray's L.O.A. work has been reprinted.
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# posted by : 12/29/2008 1:54 PM
: 12/29/2008 1:54 PM Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Stripper's Guide Bookshelf: The Prince Valiant Page
The Prince Valiant Page
by Gary Gianni
Flesk Publications, 2008
ISBN 978-1-933865-04-1
Hardcover, 12.5" x 9.25", 112 pages, $29.95
I order most of my books online. When I saw a Gary Gianni Prince Valiant book pop up in a search I confess I didn't even bother to read the description, I made a beeline straight for the Order Now button.
My quick trigger finger on the book ordering button often makes books show up in my mailbox that don't live up to expectations. Especially when doing research I tend to just order everything that could conceivably be of interest and sort the wheat from the chaff as it arrives. It can be a rather expensive indulgence, but on the other hand occasionally I end up with some really great books that vastly exceed expectations.
So it is with The Prince Valiant Page. I ordered it assuming that I was going to get a reprint volume of Gianni's work on the Sunday strip. Though that's not what I received, and that's a book I still would be delighted to have, The Prince Valiant Page is one of those unexpected delights that will keep me hitting those Buy Now buttons.
What we actually have here is a combination art book, instructional book and history of Gianni's involvement with the strip. The book is full of reproductions of Gianni's pencil sketches, working drawings and finished pages (in glorious black and white), all of which are lovely to behold -- far more beautiful than the postage stamp size color versions I see in my local Sunday paper.
Gianni does a great job of explaining his working methods and those of his predecessor on the strip, John Cullen Murphy. Many model photos are reproduced along with the drawings that were produced based on them, an invaluable peek at methodology for aspiring artists and fascinating too for those of us with no such ambitions.
There are a few color Prince Valiant pages reproduced, mostly on foldout pages so we can see them in glorious full tabloid format, a size that isn't used by one newspaper out of a thousand. These are just glorious, and confirm for me the reason that while I really love Gianni's version of Prince Valiant I just can't bring myself to read it in my local paper reproduced in that abominable quarter-page format.
The history of the strip, which focuses mostly on Gianni and the elder and younger Murphys, reveals a lot I didn't know about the working relationships. For instance, I had no idea that Gianni was ghosting selected pages before he began taking credit, or that John Cullen Murphy finally handed the strip over to him in such an abrupt fashion, very much unlike Murphy's extended tutelage under Foster.
Gianni shows several of his early PV pages along with Murphy's comments and corrections. Murphy's corrections are heart-rending in their constant admonitions to Gianni to drop details and shading that would turn to mud in the printed form. If only these damn newspapers would give strips like Prince Valiant some space! What a glorious page Gianni could produce for us if only they'd give him some elbow room. As it is Gianni's work on Prince Valiant is terrific, but oh, what it could be!
While we continue to ponder newspapers' wanton disregard of producing a Sunday comics section that could actually sell papers I suppose we'll have to get our fix of great art from books such as these. So thanks Gary Gianni for this wonderful peek into what is and what could be. Now get busy and find a publisher to produce reprint volumes of those superb tabloid Prince Valiant pages of yours. We can't get them in the newspaper so we're all chomping at the bit to read your Prince Valiant any way we can.
Labels: Bookshelf
Comments:
Hi Richard -
I must confess to not knowing anything about feeds. I checked the blogger help, though, and added what I hope you're looking for. There is now a "Subscribe to Posts" option on the sidebar of this page. Let me know if that's what you're looking for.
--Allan
I must confess to not knowing anything about feeds. I checked the blogger help, though, and added what I hope you're looking for. There is now a "Subscribe to Posts" option on the sidebar of this page. Let me know if that's what you're looking for.
--Allan
Woo hoo! That did it, now all of your updates will automatically be delivered to my Reader (I use the Google Reader) instead of me having to come to them.
Thanks much!
Thanks much!
Allan sez: "Now get busy and find a publisher to produce reprint volumes of those superb tabloid Prince Valiant pages of yours."
They did.
http://www.andrewsmcmeel.com/products/?isbn=0740777378
They did.
http://www.andrewsmcmeel.com/products/?isbn=0740777378
Well, good thing I put in that request then. Fast service, too! Seriously, though, that's great but I note the size of the book is nowhere near as large as the color repros in this one (which are 11" x 17"!). Why must so many reprint projects suffer from the same size problems as we see in newspapers? I can see badly reproduced miniature comic strips in my local paper. How about giving me good reason to buy the book???
--Allan
Post a Comment
--Allan
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Stripper's Guide Bookshelf: Willie and Joe - The World War II Years
Willie and Joe - The World War II Years
Edited by Todd DePastino
Fantagraphics Books, 2008
ISBN1-978-1-56097-838-1
2 hardcover volumes in slipcase, 692 pages, $65
When we talk about editorial cartooning we often indulge in the discussion of the 'importance' of a given cartoonist. We all know that Thomas Nast was instrumental in bringing down Boss Tweed, for instance. We say, then, that Nast was important, most likely the most important cartoonist of the 19th century, because his cartoons had a direct measurable effect on the world.
In the 20th century we had a number of editorial cartoonists that typically get the 'important' tag -- Rollin Kirby, Robert Minor, Herblock, Garry Trudeau, Arthur Szyk, and so on come to mind. But if we're really honest and admit that all these cartoonists did much less to shape popular sentiment but rather are celebrated for their skillful reflection of it then we are left with just one name.
Bill Mauldin changed our world. There's just no getting around it. Mauldin showed America the reality of war, and we've never thought about it in the same way since. Until Mauldin war was a star-spangled adventure, brave young men donning dashing costumes to go off and make the world safe for democracy. Yes, some of those young men died, but we knew they sacrificed themselves willingly, joyfully, for the greater cause. War was about great battles, derring-do, flag waving and chest beating.
Mauldin showed us that the reality of war is dirty, cold and wet, and there's damn little romance in being shot at. War is about incompetent officers, getting drunk, and the inglorious and very messy deaths of your buddies. The legends embodied by Sergeant York and John Wayne were liars.
To be sure Mauldin wasn't a lone voice in the wilderness. There was All Quiet on the Western Front, there was Ernie Pyle, there was newsreel footage. But Mauldin somehow made it all seem so much more real. He was literally drawing cartoons in a foxhole. His cartoons were the product of a dogface, not a reporter at the sidelines, not an artful statement on war made from an armchair. There was no wiggle room, no dissenting opinion -- it was reality and it wasn't pretty.
What's perhaps most amazing is that Mauldin's cartoons made it into our daily papers at all. Other G.I. cartoons appeared in the papers back home, but they were all heavily sanitized, like Sad Sack and Private Breger. Mauldin's cartoons, hated and actively suppressed by military brass, frequently off-color, often featuring the blackest of black humor, should by rights have never made it to the American public. But they were just that good -- like manifest destiny there was just no stopping them.
This impressive two volume set reprints all of Mauldin's wartime cartoons, or at least all that the editor has been able to find. Some of Mauldin's work, especially the early stuff, is extremely rare, in some cases perhaps no longer in existence. Much excellent material, often in the form of original art, was gathered from the Library of Congress.
A short and lively introduction begins volume one, but the vast majority of the whopping 692 pages are Mauldin's cartoons. And what cartoons! I was certainly familiar with the later material, the cartoons that saw print in the States, but had no idea that Mauldin had this quantity of cartoons published earlier on. Mauldin's early work uses a somewhat slicker style that his later, grittier, cartoons. It was a surprise to me that Mauldin was an absolute wizard with zipatone, a technique he later abandoned (perhaps out of necessity -- how do you get a supply of zipatone in an obscure Italian village?).
His earlier stateside work, focusing on barracks life and going on maneuvers, is of course not as interesting as the later material. It has a charm that bespeaks his own innocence, soon to be dashed in Europe. The later work is powerful far beyond my skills of description, and it is fascinating to see Mauldin's gradual growth.
The reproduction of the cartoons is, by necessity, very uneven. Cartoons reproduced from cheaply printed base newspapers are, of course, sometimes a bit of a mess. Luckily editor DePastino had phenomenal luck in finding many originals from which to reproduce, so while some cartoons are a muddy mess we can see originals of many others from the same period for comparison. Even many of the cartoons printed from published sources are presented in amazingly great shape. I don't know if we have an accomplished restorer to thank or if DePastino just got incredibly lucky with his sources.
I was surprised, though, to see a few of the later cartoons also printed from bad source material. Better sources are definitely available, a fact I can vouch for based just on my own collection. I was also a little disappointed that the cartoons end on July 30 1945 when there was three months left to go in the saga of Willie and Joe. Mauldin officially retitled his cartoon at the end of October -- why not finish off the run?
One nice feature that could have been presented far better are the editor's notes on the cartoons. Providing valuable background information, they are almost all quite short so there's no obvious reason why they weren't printed on the same page as the cartoon on which they comment. Instead they are printed near the back of each volume. Not at the back of the volume mind you, which would have been at least reasonably convenient, but preceding a final section of miscellaneous Mauldin art that closes out each volume. Every time you go searching for a note there's a whole lot of unnecessary page flipping involved. Most readers probably won't bother which is a shame because the notes supply some very interesting context.
The presentation is delightful. The slipcase and two volumes are clad in that famous olive drab colored cloth, and the overall design is meant to evoke an old military manual. A great deal of thought and care obviously went into this presentation and it succeeds completely. The hefty price on the two-volume set, which made me think twice before placing my order, seemed downright cheap once I actually got to see the product.
If you want to see the work of a man who truly did change the world, a man who finally made Americans think twice before supporting war (though apparently that lesson has faded considerably of late), this is the best and only reprint volume of his wartime works you need.
Labels: Bookshelf
Comments:
Your blog is excellent!
Here is the url from the blog of the Archives of the Sandusky Library if you would like to take a look:
http://sanduskyhistory.blogspot.com
Post a Comment
Here is the url from the blog of the Archives of the Sandusky Library if you would like to take a look:
http://sanduskyhistory.blogspot.com
# posted by : 7/04/2008 8:22 AM
: 7/04/2008 8:22 AM Monday, June 02, 2008
Stripper's Guide Bookshelf: Dondi
Following is our very first guest reviewer on the Stripper's Guide blog. Since I would rather have bamboo shoots shoved under my fingernails than read Dondi I'm not a good candidate to review this new book. The saccharine sweetness, Dondi's third-person references to himself, his constant "goshes" all make my skin crawl. That doesn't mean it's a bad strip, though. Just not my cup of tea. I do, however, have handy a Dondi fan in the person of my lovely, talented and otherwise discriminating wife. So take it away Judy ...
Dondi
by Gus Edson and Irwin Hasen, edited by Charles Pelto
Classic Comics Press 2007
ISBN 978-1-60461-686-6
262 pages, $21.95
The Dondi comic strip, created by Gus Edson and Irwin Hasen, was about the adventures of a war orphan from Europe. He is befriended by two American G.I.’s and comes to live with them here in the States. The Dondi reprint book by Classic Comics Press reprints the first 19 months of the strip, from it’s inception on September 25, 1955 until March 17, 1957. The book’s format (11" x 8.5") allows for 3 dailies or one Sunday per page, which is a perfectly acceptable presentation — the strips are readable while the book is manageable. There is a delightful introduction by Jules Feiffer about Irwin Hasen and an extensive interview of Hasen by Bill Baker. The reproduction is superb — only one or two strips have a few minor dropouts — noticeable more by contrast with the excellent reproduction of all the other strips than by any glaring fault of the few affected strips.The Sundays are reproduced in crisp black and white.
As a child I was a fan of the Dondi strip but only had access to the Sundays, reading them in the Pittsburgh Press in the late 60’s and early 70’s. So it was with great anticipation that I began reading these early strips; my memory of details had faded and the Sundays simply could not tell the whole story. I mostly remembered the sweet innocence of Dondi and the obnoxious Mother McGowan. The strip’s storyline begins with two American G.I.’s—Corporal Ted Wills and PFC Whitey McGowan—returning from Europe and reminiscing about the war orphan — Dondi — they had befriended and taken in. But when the Army says it’s time to move you move, so, missing the lad, they are headed back to the states in a far darker mood than you should be after two years away. But Dondi, showing the ingenuity that will serve him well throughout the strip, has stowed away on the troop transport and is reunited with his ‘buddies’.
The strip continues to tell the tale as the state must decide Dondi’s immigration status and whether or not Whitey will be allowed to adopt him. We learn that Whitey is a bit of a millionaire playboy, but has a good heart in contrast to his over-bearing mother who is far more concerned about her position in society than the well-being of her only child. Because of Whitey’s money, Ted reluctantly agrees that Dondi will be better off living with the McGowans in New York than going with Ted to small town America where he lives with his mother and drives a delivery truck. But not to worry — Ted’s not written out of the strip — not by a long shot!
Gus Edson does a masterful job of keeping the strip moving while managing to fill in the back-story so new readers won’t be lost. In these first 19 months we have marriage and death, poverty and privilege, prejudice and tolerance, all handled intelligently but not belabored. While the strip would seem to be an innocent diversion about an orphan, Edson and Hasen used it from the start as a commentary on whatever struck them as important. In the Baker interview we learn that later, after Edson had died and Hasen took over the writing, the strip would tackle such topics as toxic waste and child abuse. Even in the early strips the reader is confronted with some unpleasant aspects of society, such as entrenched attitudes about immigrants and the state of public education.
Anyone who was even a passing fan of this 31-year strip should enjoy reading (or re-reading) these early strips — I certainly have!
Dondi
by Gus Edson and Irwin Hasen, edited by Charles Pelto
Classic Comics Press 2007
ISBN 978-1-60461-686-6
262 pages, $21.95
The Dondi comic strip, created by Gus Edson and Irwin Hasen, was about the adventures of a war orphan from Europe. He is befriended by two American G.I.’s and comes to live with them here in the States. The Dondi reprint book by Classic Comics Press reprints the first 19 months of the strip, from it’s inception on September 25, 1955 until March 17, 1957. The book’s format (11" x 8.5") allows for 3 dailies or one Sunday per page, which is a perfectly acceptable presentation — the strips are readable while the book is manageable. There is a delightful introduction by Jules Feiffer about Irwin Hasen and an extensive interview of Hasen by Bill Baker. The reproduction is superb — only one or two strips have a few minor dropouts — noticeable more by contrast with the excellent reproduction of all the other strips than by any glaring fault of the few affected strips.The Sundays are reproduced in crisp black and white.
As a child I was a fan of the Dondi strip but only had access to the Sundays, reading them in the Pittsburgh Press in the late 60’s and early 70’s. So it was with great anticipation that I began reading these early strips; my memory of details had faded and the Sundays simply could not tell the whole story. I mostly remembered the sweet innocence of Dondi and the obnoxious Mother McGowan. The strip’s storyline begins with two American G.I.’s—Corporal Ted Wills and PFC Whitey McGowan—returning from Europe and reminiscing about the war orphan — Dondi — they had befriended and taken in. But when the Army says it’s time to move you move, so, missing the lad, they are headed back to the states in a far darker mood than you should be after two years away. But Dondi, showing the ingenuity that will serve him well throughout the strip, has stowed away on the troop transport and is reunited with his ‘buddies’.
The strip continues to tell the tale as the state must decide Dondi’s immigration status and whether or not Whitey will be allowed to adopt him. We learn that Whitey is a bit of a millionaire playboy, but has a good heart in contrast to his over-bearing mother who is far more concerned about her position in society than the well-being of her only child. Because of Whitey’s money, Ted reluctantly agrees that Dondi will be better off living with the McGowans in New York than going with Ted to small town America where he lives with his mother and drives a delivery truck. But not to worry — Ted’s not written out of the strip — not by a long shot!
Gus Edson does a masterful job of keeping the strip moving while managing to fill in the back-story so new readers won’t be lost. In these first 19 months we have marriage and death, poverty and privilege, prejudice and tolerance, all handled intelligently but not belabored. While the strip would seem to be an innocent diversion about an orphan, Edson and Hasen used it from the start as a commentary on whatever struck them as important. In the Baker interview we learn that later, after Edson had died and Hasen took over the writing, the strip would tackle such topics as toxic waste and child abuse. Even in the early strips the reader is confronted with some unpleasant aspects of society, such as entrenched attitudes about immigrants and the state of public education.
Anyone who was even a passing fan of this 31-year strip should enjoy reading (or re-reading) these early strips — I certainly have!
Labels: Bookshelf
Comments:
I am enjoying reading the Dondi book,and agree 100% with your review,having never read it in papers it's a fun find...but the really IMPORTANT thing is
Classic Comics Press published it, and that fans of classic comics have a chance to enjoy it. There are so many great strips that deserve a book!
Dan
PS Great review! I hope we get to read more reviews from you, Mrs. Holtz!
Classic Comics Press published it, and that fans of classic comics have a chance to enjoy it. There are so many great strips that deserve a book!
Dan
PS Great review! I hope we get to read more reviews from you, Mrs. Holtz!
>The Sundays are reproduced in crisp black and white.<
What does that mean? Are the colour Sundays reproduced in halftone or is the original black and white linework (sans colour) printed?
What does that mean? Are the colour Sundays reproduced in halftone or is the original black and white linework (sans colour) printed?
Hi George -
The Sundays all appear to be reproduced from b&w proofs, not halftones of printed strips.
--Allan
The Sundays all appear to be reproduced from b&w proofs, not halftones of printed strips.
--Allan
I was a big fan of Dondi as a kid as well: it had the entire back page of the Sunday NY Daily News comics for many years. Judy, thanks so much for your review and Allan as well for his candor. I'll admit that it's probably nostalgia more than anything driving my love for the strip so I can understand your stand here.
# posted by : 6/03/2008 7:28 PM
: 6/03/2008 7:28 PM
Not to sound like a jerk but Dondi is not from Eastern Europe, he is Italian.He's wandering around looking for his parents and saying: "Donde?" (where?) and that's what the soldier, not knowing any italian, names the boy.
# posted by : 7/22/2008 1:33 PM
: 7/22/2008 1:33 PM
I was a Dondi reader from when I was seven to when Dondi left our local newspaper.Luckily the first story I read was when Dondi took a trip to Europe and revisited the place where he had first met Ted Wills many(three?)years before.It was revealed that Dondi's mother was an Italian girl who died in childbirth and his father was an American GI killed in action.
I have a friend whose elderly mother faithfully clipped and saved every Dondi episode for years and then when she found out it was to end she stopped and didn't save the last 2 or 3 weeks.
She has scrapbooks full of them. Amazing huh. Esther
She has scrapbooks full of them. Amazing huh. Esther
# posted by : 3/08/2009 2:24 PM
: 3/08/2009 2:24 PM
Hasen was still alive in December 2011 when the NY Times ran an article about him - Corey Kilgannon, “At 93, Still the ‘Staff Artist’,” New York Times, Dec. 16, 2011: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/12/18/nyregion/for-irwin-hasen-a-life-with-dondi.html?_r=1&src=recg
Sara Duke (who grew up reading Dondi too)
Post a Comment
Sara Duke (who grew up reading Dondi too)
# posted by : 1/21/2012 9:03 PM
: 1/21/2012 9:03 PM Friday, April 11, 2008
Stripper's Guide Bookshelf: Stay Tooned Magazine
I think it's safe to say that most regular readers of this blog were fans of Jud Hurd's Cartoonist Profiles magazine. The venerable CP was laid to rest along with its founder, and both he and his magazine are sorely missed. But now we may have a worthy successor in Stay Tooned. Editor John Read is unabashed in voicing his desire to take up Hurd's mantle, and if this first issue is an indicator of what's to come Jud Hurd would definitely approve.Read is following the Cartoonist Profiles model very closely, and where he strays he usually improves. The layouts in CP often resembled a pasted up scrapbook, whereas Stay Tooned has a slicker, more professional look. The samples of cartoonists' work, which in CP were sometimes limited to clippings from a cartoonist's standard portfolio or syndicate sales book, are more thoughtfully chosen here. Stay Tooned is what I believe Jud Hurd would be publishing today if he were technologically adept and full of youthful exuberance .
Just like a typical issue of CP, the selection of subjects for this first issue make for a nice grab-bag -- something for every interest. Some familiar names are interviewees, like Marcus Hamilton (Dennis the Menace), Scott Stantis (Prickly City) and Steve Kelley (New Orleans Times-Picayune editorial cartoonist). But then we also get John Deaton, a cartoonist and graphic designer who runs a sign shop in a small town, and Rob Corley, an animator who started his own business when Disney shut down the animation unit where he worked. Both these gents have some very interesting insights to share. Jud Hurd 's magazine was squarely aimed at aspiring cartoonists, and he recognized that not everyone is going to be the next Charles Schulz -- articles about the less glitzy cartooning disciplines were an important part of his magazine and Read evidently shares his philosophy. Aspiring cartoonists take note that there is more to cartooning than sending off submissions to King, United and Universal.
Each article is adorned with lots of examples of the artists' work -- especially welcome are the many roughs and pencil sketches, something we didn't see nearly enough of in CP. The interview questions, while by necessity somewhat formulaic (how did you get your start, what are your materials and methods), are knowledgeable -- I enjoyed the variety of answers Read gets to one of his standard questions, "who was the first pro cartoonist you met?" Of course there's a column by the great R.C. Harvey, who must be juicing to keep those typing fingers clattering away at such a pace. There's also some fun quickie items including a rant about beginner cartoonists from Daryl Cagle and a hilarious e-mail exchange submitted by Brad Fitzpatrick.
The magazine does have a few minor bugs that need to be worked out. The margins are so tight that many pages seems like a balloon ready to burst, and an occasional lettering SNAFU has a habitofturningwholesentencesintoonebiglongword. My copy of the first issue had about a half-dozen pages duplicated and out of order. And I blanched to see one of my biggest pet peeves, totally unexpected in a cartooning magazine -- it's Winsor McCay, not McKay!
A pretty big mistake, in my opinion, is the very name of the magazine. When I heard that there was a new magazine coming out called Stay Tooned I paid no attention assuming it was a fanzine about anime or Saturday morning animation. I had no inkling that a magazine with that title might be of interest until I was actually handed a copy and paged through it. I think a more descriptive title could only help sales. And speaking of sales, there's no subscription form in the magazine and no indication of the intended publishing frequency.
If I had my druthers I'd like to see an article in each issue focusing on the history of cartooning. Jud Hurd was pretty good about throwing us a bone in that regard, and it certainly doesn't hurt the aspiring cartoonist for whom the magazine is intended to see some work by great cartoonists of the past. Articles and interviews with syndicate personnel, newspaper editors and such (let's call it the loyal opposition) would also be instructive.
Congratulations John Read on what I hope will be a long-lived and prosperous magazine. You've got one in the can, so only 145 more issues to catch up with ol' Jud -- get cracking!
Subscriptions are available at the Stay Tooned website.
Labels: Bookshelf
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Stripper's Guide Bookshelf: Schulz and Peanuts
Schulz and Peanuts
by David Michaelis
HarperCollins 2007
ISBN 978-0-06-6213934
655 pages, $34.95
I'm going to make this short because you'll find no dearth of reviews for this bestselling biography of Charles Schulz (including an astounding 70-some reader reviews on Amazon). I only wish Michaelis had done the same -- keep it short, that is. I have no objection to long-form biography -- you've read my appreciative review of R.C. Harvey's Milton Caniff bio - but the way these two books approach their subjects are polar opposites.
Unlike the typical Peanuts fan, whose interest is probably more in learning what made Schulz tick, I'm looking for historical context. Harvey provided that for Caniff in great heaping gobs, while Michaelis' obsession is his psychoanalysis of Charles Schulz. Yes, we do get a reasonably detailed biography of Schulz and his strip herein, but that plays second fiddle to the constant drumbeat of skeletons from the closet of Schulz's private life, his obsessions, neuroses and Michaelis' analysis of same. And if you doubt that Schulz was a profoundly unhappy man, a cartoonist whose incredible success was a product of his own inner turmoil, Michaelis proves his case beyond a doubt. The public face of Schulz is not the man you'll meet here. If you loved Peanuts without seeing past the thin veneer of humor you will certainly have a much deeper appreciation of the dark side of the strip and its creator after reading this book.
But enough. As I said, I'm going to limit my remarks to a blog audience interested in cartooning history. If you come to the book looking for that you will be disappointed. Michaelis is no cartooning scholar by a long shot. You'll find that out pretty quick when the author mentions some of Schulz's cartoonist heroes, including Winsor McKay. There aren't many egregious errors like this, but its only because the author rarely speaks of other cartoonists or the craft and business of cartooning. Another instance that jarred me was his comment that "not since Beatrix Potter" had an artist chosen to exert serious quality control over the spin-off souvenirs associated with their characters. Walt Disney ring any bells? How about Johnny Gruelle? Grace Drayton? Another instance -- Michaelis pronounces that Snoopy was the first case of an animal taking over a "human cartoon". First of all, Snoopy did not take over the cartoon except as a marketing image, and second its not the only instance. One that comes to mind is the Mutt & Jeff companion strip "Cicero" which became "Cicero's Cat". Another candidate might be "Hem and Amy", which Frank Beck discontinued and then reworked as a long-running dog strip, "Bo". No doubt I'm forgetting others.
My point isn't to needle Michaelis for his lack of research in anything other than Schulz -- again, that's not his interest. It's merely to give fair warning that if your appetite runs more toward the R.C. Harvey style of biography then you'll be sorely disappointed with "Schulz and Peanuts".
Labels: Bookshelf
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
New Jim Ivey Book Published
I'm happy to announce that a new retrospective of Jim Ivey's cartooning career is now available. "Cartoons I Liked" is a compilation of some of his personal favorite cartoons from a long and distinguished career at the Washington Star, St. Petersburg Times, San Francisco Examiner and Orlando Sentinel. In addition the book offers some rare unpublished material, including rejected editorial cartoons and comic strip submissions.
If you are a longtime Jim Ivey fan or have just recently discovered him through his weekly comic strips on the Stripper's Guide blog you're sure to enjoy this book.
The book is available from Lulu.com for $9.95 (8.5" x 11" softcover) or $3 (PDF download). If you'd like an autographed copy with an original sketch send $20 check or money order to:
Jim Ivey
5840 Dahlia Drive #7
Orlando FL 32807
5840 Dahlia Drive #7
Orlando FL 32807
Domestic US orders only please.
From the back cover:
Jim Ivey’s editorial cartooning career spanned 1949-89. He was a political cartoonist at the Washington Star, St. Petersburg Times, San Francisco Examiner and Orlando Sentinel. His work was also syndicated through the Chicago Tribune and Ben Roth Agency. His uncluttered style rejected the grease-crayon and label-littered conventions of editorial cartooning and ushered in a new era of experimentation and graphic inventiveness in the field. This is a collection of Ivey's favorites spanning his entire career. In addition to editorial cartoons there are several bonuses including rare unpublished drawings and syndicate submissions.
In addition to his celebrated cartooning career Ivey also operated the Cartoon Museum, the first gallery of cartoon art in the U.S., was regional chairman of the National Cartoonists Society, and published cARToon, a legendary magazine covering the history of cartooning.
Ivey is now semi-retired but still accepts occasional commissions from marketing agencies and publishers. He also draws a comic strip that is a weekly treat for readers of the Stripper's Guide blog, a website about cartooning history.
Labels: Bookshelf
Monday, February 18, 2008
Stripper's Guide Bookshelf: Betsy and Me
Betsy and Me by Jack Cole
Introduction by R.C. Harvey
Fantagraphics Books, 2007
$14.95 softcover, 120 pages
ISBN 978-1-56097-878-7
Every biographer seems to be in agreement that Jack Cole's fondest professional desire was to author a syndicated newspaper comic strip. For Cole his classic Plastic Man comic books and Playboy magazine cartoons were never more than waypoints on a road that he hoped would end not at Oz but with a syndicate contract.
Other than a short stint ghosting Will Eisner's Spirit daily comic strip, Betsy and Me was Jack Cole's first, and as it turned out, only syndicated offering. The strip was offered by Field Enterprises, the syndication arm of the Chicago Sun-Times. Field had a rather pathetic track record for selling strips -- the syndicate (not to mention the newspaper) were said to be kept afloat mainly on the back of Milton Caniff's Steve Canyon, a bestselling strip in these years. This gives us the first inkling that Betsy and Me was not cut out to join the pantheon of Cole's greatest creations. Since Cole's reputation was well-known his syndicate submissions would not have had to wallow in slush piles, so we can safely assume that Betsy and Me was given a serious look at any syndicate to which he submitted. Signing up with Field probably indicates that there were no takers among the strongest syndicates.
Betsy and Me is a departure, and not a good one, for Cole. His reputation was made with the looney antics and superbly executed art of Plastic Man, and his stature grew in the 50s with his magnificent painterly Playboy cartoons. But Betsy and Me is in no way emblematic of either of his previous successes. Unlike the Playboy cartoons it is not risque or titillating, neither does it exhibit the loopy sensibilities of his Plastic Man. With this strip Cole is not adding a new chapter to his biography and inventiveness; Betsy and Me is formulaic, conventional and drawn in a fad style of the day unworthy of Cole's talents.
Betsy and Me rehashes the most overdone subject matter in comic strips -- the family sitcom. That's okay -- many great strips have worked within that hoary formula. But Cole's actors are pure stereotypes - Chet is the dimwitted dad and Betsy the cipher of a wife, both with bland personalities that have no originality, in fact no definition, at all. The kid, Farley, does have a hook but it's one that's been done a dozen times before -- he's a boy genius.
With a cast of characters straight off the assembly line, Cole takes his one stab at originality in the way the strip is built. Chet narrates most of the strips in the past tense, often framing the action by introducing the strip's subject in the first panel, then narrating the ensuing gag. Sometimes the commentary is cute, other times it consists of a lot of "he said"s and "she said"s surrounding the panels. Cole was so enamored of this motif that sometimes he doesn't bother with a gag at all -- the presence of the narration itself is, at least to Cole's thinking, funny enough. And it is a cute idea, just not that cute. The narration also has the problem of making the strip far too type-dense. In these tiny 4-column strips the addition of narration leaves darn little room for art. The result is unattractive and uninviting.
In a generously long and informative introduction punctuated with sample art from Cole's better efforts, R.C. Harvey rehearses Cole's life story. Cole's mysterious suicide, which took place bare months after the introduction of this strip, is discussed at length. The consensus opinion of Cole's biographers is that the suicide was a result of long-standing troubles in Cole's marriage. No one seems to have considered the possibility that Betsy and Me could have played some role. After all, this was supposedly Cole's fondest desire. Why would he kill himself after finally getting that syndicate contract he'd dreamed about for years? Well, if you'll forgive the conceit I'm going to indulge in some amateur psychoanalysis.
After working at Playboy, with its leisurely monthly deadlines, Cole was once again under the gun as he'd not been in a long time. The stress of producing a comic strip seven days a week is well-known, and not something that Cole was used to. He was probably working harder and longer hours than ever before, and all that toil spent on a strip that was not selling well at all. Betsy and Me had a tiny client list and no rosy prospects for improving. Worse still, Cole couldn't have helped but realize by then that his strip idea wasn't very strong. And this was not like comic books or magazine gags -- he couldn't just dump the concept and come up with something better. He had a syndicate contract that obligated him to continue beating this dead horse until the syndicate told him to stop -- they could keep the strip limping along for years. Granted he could break the contract but that would do a lot of damage to his professional standing.
I'm not saying that Cole killed himself only because of Betsy and Me, of course, but I think it could have been an important influence. Cole might have seen this as his only way out from a terrible situation, a shattered dream, of his own making. Just my two cents.
Fans of Jack Cole, and aren't we all, will want the book if only for its curiosity value. But be forewarned that there is little of the Cole we know and love to be found herein. The book is also far from a complete reprinting of the strip, despite the claim on the back cover. R.C. Harvey cites Jeffrey Lindenblatt and myself for the running dates of the strip, but the information he gives is long out of date. My research has since determined that Betsy and Me ran until December 27 1958 on the daily, December 21 on the Sunday, not December 10 and November 23 as listed in the intro. It will matter little for Cole fans because Dwight Parks had taken over the strip back in September, so these final months, of which the last is missing from the book, are a pastiche of Cole. On the other hand, the Cole material is also incomplete, and that's less forgiveable. By my count 8 Cole Sunday strips are missing, including the whole first month, and 13 Parks Sundays. Two of the Cole Sundays are printed in color (the rest are in black and white), but these two are the third-page incomplete versions of the strip.
Labels: Bookshelf
Comments:
Hi, Allan.
I am glad you tackled this. Although your amateur analysis doesn't sound weird, I guess the main reason people suggest a more personal reason for Cole's suicide is the fact that the note to his wife was kept in the family and mentioned at the coroner's trail but noit entered into the records. Somehow, I think that if the note would have said 'he couldn't take it anymore', the contents would have been made public.
I am looking for people who have the missing Cole sundays (at least) to find a home for them in a magazine or on a weblog somewhere. Anyone who has any, please contact me at geapelde@euronet.nl
I am glad you tackled this. Although your amateur analysis doesn't sound weird, I guess the main reason people suggest a more personal reason for Cole's suicide is the fact that the note to his wife was kept in the family and mentioned at the coroner's trail but noit entered into the records. Somehow, I think that if the note would have said 'he couldn't take it anymore', the contents would have been made public.
I am looking for people who have the missing Cole sundays (at least) to find a home for them in a magazine or on a weblog somewhere. Anyone who has any, please contact me at geapelde@euronet.nl
Hi Allan,
Thanks for writing this thoughtful review. But I'm not convinced by the linkage between working on "Betsy and Me" and Cole's suicide. The fact is that the one real piece of evidence we have on this matter -- the letter Cole wrote to Hefner right before the suicide and republished in the Art Spiegelman and Chip Kidd book on Cole -- speaks about a personal issue (not wanting to go on hurting those close to Cole). Given this evidence, anything else seems pure conjecture. Jeet Heer
Thanks for writing this thoughtful review. But I'm not convinced by the linkage between working on "Betsy and Me" and Cole's suicide. The fact is that the one real piece of evidence we have on this matter -- the letter Cole wrote to Hefner right before the suicide and republished in the Art Spiegelman and Chip Kidd book on Cole -- speaks about a personal issue (not wanting to go on hurting those close to Cole). Given this evidence, anything else seems pure conjecture. Jeet Heer
# posted by : 2/18/2008 2:18 PM
: 2/18/2008 2:18 PM
Hi Jeet & Ger -
As I said in the review, I was throwing out Betsy and Me as a possible contributing factor; I can't imagine anyone would off themselves if that was the only reason. I was just struck that other biographers hadn't even mentioned it as a possibility.
Best, Allan
As I said in the review, I was throwing out Betsy and Me as a possible contributing factor; I can't imagine anyone would off themselves if that was the only reason. I was just struck that other biographers hadn't even mentioned it as a possibility.
Best, Allan
Ger -
You can find the missing Sundays in the Washington Star microfilm. Not in particularly reproducible shape, tho.
--Allan
You can find the missing Sundays in the Washington Star microfilm. Not in particularly reproducible shape, tho.
--Allan
Well I thought more of the minimalist Cole art than you did, but that repetitive, and ultimately boring, script was something I couldn't get past.
Of course the hype that it was Jack Cole meant that it had to be great to meet expectations, unfortunately it wasn't.
Of course the hype that it was Jack Cole meant that it had to be great to meet expectations, unfortunately it wasn't.
# posted by : 2/18/2008 7:26 PM
: 2/18/2008 7:26 PM
I have quite a few issues from the Washington Star including one with a Cole sunday. All were sold to me by historicnewspapers at e-bay (the one you had issues with) so I guess that means they should be around somewhere. I don't think they have exhausted their warehouse yet. They haven't even started selling the remains of the books of the dalies, so those should be abtainable too. Hence my question... anyone who has any please contact me at geapelde@euronet.nl
Alan,
I have since found more of Parks' sundays, but not the last two you mention or the last month of dailies. All who wojuld like to see those (in a por state, due to the microfgiche origin should have alook at my site.
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I have since found more of Parks' sundays, but not the last two you mention or the last month of dailies. All who wojuld like to see those (in a por state, due to the microfgiche origin should have alook at my site.
