Category Archives: New Book

S.R. Bissette on Pre-Code Horror Comics Collections: Part 1

Three brand-new books on a long-despised and now fashionable genre—the oxymoronic genre of “horror comics”—have hit bookshops and library shelves over the past month, and CCS’s Schulz Library takes a look at all three this week. All three arrive on the heels of editor/packager/archivist Craig Yoe‘s handsome resurrection of Dick Briefer’s Frankenstein,

  • another slice of Pre-Code horror (and humor) comicbook history we reviewed here last month (in time for Halloween!).
  • It’s been a bountiful harvest for horror comics hounds this fall! Here’s a review of the first—and in many ways, the best—of the crop…

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    * Greg Sadowski‘s excellent Four Color Fears: Forgotten Horror Comics of the 1950s (Fantagraphics Books) was the first of a quartet of books on horror comics to surface this fall, and for my money, it’s arguably the most invaluable of the bunch. Graced with an introduction and extensive additional material by vet horror comics scholar, archivist, collector, and expert John Benson, Four Color Fears offers over 300 pages of full-color complete stories lovingly selected from the non-EC Comics Pre-Code horror comics of the early 1950s.

    For reasons clear to anyone with any access to the real Pre-Code horror comics, EC Comics has long dominated any and all books about the genre and the 1951-1954 boom years in particular. But there was plenty of other outstanding, outrageous, exciting, and just plain bizarre material published in that fleeting but jam-packed three-year period, and it’s high time we saw some of that work disintered and shared. While collectors have rescued and savored much of this work, it’s been nigh on impossible for non-collectors (including scholars and serious researchers) to access the non-EC Pre-Code horrors.

    There are forty—count ’em, 40!—vintage horror comics stories showcased in this glorious collection. They are all reproduced from their original four-color printings, preserving the instrinsic flavor (and trash aesthetic) of the era and form, along with a handsome cover gallery insert (printed on slick paper) and abundant, informative, heavily illustrated notes on all the stories and what is known of their creators. This section of annotations also offers more delicious cover art, along with much previously unavailable information on the who, what, when, and how of the comics and creators themselves.

    There are some real revelations here, and I can tell you that this hardcore horror comics scholar/collector/creator is eternally grateful for all that Sadowski and Benson have added herein to a richer knowledge of these unique comics and this grossly misrepresented and misunderstood period in comics history.

    With an eye toward entertaining fully as well as curating, Sadowski’s greatest accomplishment here is making Four Color Fear such a fun and engaging read, cover-to-cover. Stories, and their order, have been chosen and orchestrated for optimum effect for casual reading, in the order presented. Let me tell you from hard experience (my years editing new horror comics stories in Taboo, 1988-93), that this is far easier said than done; in a genre grounded in provoking negative emotions for its primary effects (i.e., fear, dread, disgust, horror), it’s a real tightwire act to determine which stories belong where, and what effects are created by where an editor places a particular story, idea, or image. A misstep can either make or break a story, ending, or key moment, and careful orchestration of humor, horror, and variety is essential to making this sort of thing sing.

    In this, Sadowsky brings far more care to his anthology than any of the original editors of these comics seemed to; the cumulative effect, at times, is intoxicating, and the ways in which both the individual art styles and the narrative content are woven into a satisfying tapestry are often witty, sly and insidious. There’s a lot of smart work, here, and as a result it’s a super read for everyone, whether you’ve never before sampled this era’s strange fruit or are (like me) a long-time fan and collector.

    It’s gratifying to find a few of my all-time favorite stories and artists here (like Basil Wolverton‘s “Swamp Monster” from Weird Mysteries #5, June 1953, pictured above, left; and Reed Crandall‘s “The Corpse That Came to Dinner” from Out of the Shadows #9, July 1953, above, right). It’s even more gratifying to find so many surprises and—in the fresh context of Four Color Fear—stories I’d long ago read and shrugged off so revitalized by what Sadowski places them between and/or alongside here.

    [A notorious Bernard Bailey cover for Weird Mysteries #5 (June 1953) that I’ve always included in my own lectures on the Pre-Code horror comics, and that is featured in both Four Color Fear and The Horror! The Horror!; a small taste of how extreme the Pre-Code horrors could be and often were.]

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    Caveats: Aside from quibbling with some of Sadowski’s selections, which I won’t do here (see “addendum & full disclosure” note at the end of this post; I have plenty of my own personal favorite Pre-Code horrors, and if anyone’s interested, I’d be happy to talk to an agent, editor, or published about putting together such a volume), a fuller working knowledge of the horror genre in all media would have lent even more weight and insight to this collection. While it may seem like hair-splitting to criticize such an incredibly generous tome, genre studies and horror genre academia in particular has been thriving, and the ways in which Pre-Code horror comics in particular both “borrowed” (often blatantly ripped-off) from all that came before, and anticipated much of what was to follow, is an aspect of the genre’s evolution in all media that has been lazily cited for decades but rarely, almost never, really brought to light. This was a stellar opportunity to do so, but Sadowsky and Benson keep their focus on the context of comic book history alone, which is occasionally a frustration for this reader.

    The ways in which particular comics stories appearing here stole from their precursors—in gothic, pulp, and radio genre fiction, as well as popular writers of their era—is mentioned, but rarely specifically cited. In other cases, a knowledge of past and future genre landmarks would have lent some heft to the legacy under scrutiny: for instance, a sample of how Matt Fox‘s Pre-Code comics covers reworked his venerable Weird Tales pulp covers would have been welcome. Mentioning the uncanny parallel between the Iger Studio “Experiment in Terror” (from Haunted Thrills #13, January 1954) and the final episode (“Theory”) in José Mojica Marins‘s notorious horror portmanteau film O Estranho Mundo de Zé do Caixão/Strange World of Coffin Joe /The Strange World of Ze do Caixao (1968) would have added resonance to the whole (in fact, Marins’s “Theory” is almost identical to “Experiment in Terror” in many particulars, right down to the philosophical intent of the madman staging the grueling ordeal; that Marins also spawned his own Brazilian horror comics only intensifies the associative links begging to be drawn here). Instead, we’re treated to another Jerry Iger anecdote that has nothing to do with the story itself (though it’s neat to see the connection made—in a caption—between the story and its apparently intended cover art, which instead was published eight months later on another title, Fantastic Fears #9).

    Sadly, it must be noted that the cover is the book’s greatest liability. Any one of the actual Pre-Code covers in the gallery would have done a better job of properly promoting and packaging the contents. I see what the designer was trying to do (conceptually a clever fusion of images from the Reed Crandall splash for “The Corpse That Came to Dinner” and page 4 of Howard Nostrand’s art for “I, Vampire,” from Chamber of Chills #24, July 1954, reprinted on pp. 209-213), but graphically it’s a failure and easily lost on both the book store shelves and online venues. The book’s title is lost, too, and the addition of a fancy varnish-printed blood splatter design (front and back) only further complicates the design. Again, I get the intention and concept, but… sigh. As with the otherwise definitive Fantagraphics Book on the late, great underground (horror) cartoonist Greg Irons, You Call This Art?!!: A Greg Irons Retrospective by Patrick Rosenkranz (2006), what should have been an easy-sell given the incredible imagery associated with the chosen subject has been compromised by a cover that simply confuses and/or repels the eye (and not in the way horror comics intend to repel). Here’s hoping either future editions or future collections from Fantagraphics better serve the genre and their own product.

    In all other departments, this is a terrific book, and highly recommended.

    This is a marvelous companion to Sadowski’s earlier Fantagraphics collection Supermen! The First Wave of Comic Book Heroes 1936-1941 (2009), in which Sadowski similarly shed light on too-long-forgotten gems, curios, and entertainments from comics creators and publishers that have been essentially ignored and/or disposed of by the forces that shape comics history. As in Supermen!, Sadowski’s appetites and reach prove satisfyingly diverse, all-encompassing, and yet quite selective— without catering to traditional, constrictive standards of “taste.” Sadowski knows that some of the most outrageous, insane, and appalling vintage comics stories and imagery are also among the most fascinating; and nowhere is this truer than in the horror comics of the Pre-Code boom years. Four Color Fear also whets this reader’s appetite further for Sadowski’s forthcoming Setting the Standard: Alex Toth (announced for spring 2011 publication).

    While much work that was hacked out by impoverished creators working for opportunistic packagers and publishers paying chicken scratch rates has justifiably been neglected, both Sadowski and Benson make a strong case for preserving and reprinting the cream of such publishing backwash, and Four Color Fears is a welcome remedy and companion to the handsome EC Comics reprint volumes (many of which Benson contributed to or packaged himself) that have been available since Nostalgia Press‘s historic Horror Comics of the 1950s (1971, edited by Ron Barlow and Bhob Stewart) enshrined EC Comics as the peak product of the Pre-Code horror publishers. Ever since, EC’s horror comics have almost exclusively dominated any published reprint editions of the genre’s fertile Pre-Code explosion.

    Given the high quality of the EC line, that’s been completely understandable, but now that the entire EC line has been repeatedly (and beautifully) reprinted, republished, repackaged, and immortalized ad infinitum, it’s high time the other Horror Comics of the 1950s were allowed to rise from the dead.

    That classic 1971 book was a beautiful start; four decades later, Sadowski and Benson have at last graced us with a worthy followup.

    – S.R. Bissette, Mountains of Madness, VT

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    Addendum & full disclosure: Having been one of the active creative collaborators (I was the penciler) on DC Comics’s Saga of the Swamp Thing when that title was rejected by the Comics Code Authority (with SOTST #29, cover dated October 1984)—which was the wellspring for the entire Vertigo Comics line—I’ve had first-hand experience with (a) the Comics Code’s policies and (b) horror comics bucking the CCA. FYI, we did not change anything in the issue; it was sold without the CCA Seal; sales went up; after two more issues, we no longer had to submit to the restrictions of the CCA. Though I repeatedly asked for a copy of the extant CCA Code itself during that (brief) debacle, none was provided, and it seemed despite the fact that DC honcho (and my former Kubert School instructor) Dick Giordano was DC’s rep on the CCA, nobody at DC Comics actually had a copy of the then-extant CCA Code to send me.

    Finding this perverse process fascinating, and loving horror comics anyway, I spent much of the next five years researching and collecting Pre-Code horror comics. The fruits of that research and collection became my traveling slide lecture “Journeys Into Fear,” which I debuted as a one-hour talk at Necon (an annual July gathering of horror writers that I attended faithfully from the late 1980s until 1999, and which I sorely miss being part of) in the summer of 1988 or ’89. I expanded the lecture into a two-hour-plus illustrated presentation that was eventually presented in over 60 venues throughout the 1990s in the U.S. and abroad, often as fund-raising events for the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund. Along with presenting the lecture (at my own expense) as a CBLDF fundraiser during the mid-1990s Spirit of Independence tours, these venues included the Copenhagen Comic Art Library in Copenhagen, Denmark; The University of Connecticut, Storrs, Connecticut; Utica College, Utica, New York; Duquesne University, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania; the 2nd and 3rd Annual World Horror Conventions; the San Diego Comics Convention; Marlboro College, Marlboro, VT; Bennington College, Bennington, VT; Henderson State University, Arkadelphia, Arkansas; FantAsia Film Festival, Montreal, Quebec, Canada; and many others. In 1999, “Journeys Into Fear” was expanded into a one-week seminar for Smith College in Northampton, MA. Though I pitched Journeys Into Fear as a book proposal numerous times over the decade, there was no interest from publishers.

    I’m glad the times have changed!

    -SRB

    Halloween Horrors: Pre-Code Reprints Rule! Briefer’s Frankenstein from IDW

    We’re in an age of amazing reprint volumes resurrecting all genres of comics history—but this is the last week in October, so it’s time to carve out some space for two of the latest Pre-Code horror comicbook collections!

    And who better to begin with than…

    Frankenstein!!!
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    Comics archivist/scholar/historian/collector/editor Craig Yoe has been behind some of the most invigorating of the new collections of ancient work, including George Herriman’s Krazy + Ignatz “Tiger Tea,” The Golden Collection of Klassic Krazy Kool Kids Komics, Felix the Cat: The Great Comic Book Tails, Dan DeCarlo’s Jetta, The Art of Ditko, and two recently reviewed here on the Schulz Library Blog,

  • Boody: The Bizarre Comics of Boody Rogers
  • and The Complete Milt Gross: Comics Books and Life Story.
  • True to his love of vintage comics creators who embrace both the bizarre and the bawdy, Yoe‘s 2010 Halloween seasonal release this month offers a definitive collection of the one Pre-Code horror comic that schizophrenically shifted between the hilarious and the horrific: Dick Briefer’s Frankenstein!

    As Yoe details in this new volume’s excellent (and heavily illustrated) introduction, Briefer (1915-1980) attended classes in the late 1930s under Robert Brackman at New York City’s famed Art Students League before starting his comicbook career laboring in the Will Eisner/Jerry Iger sweatshop. Among Briefer’s earliest creations were an adaptation of Victor Hugo’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame (for Jumbo Comics; Yoe offers a reproduction of the first installment’s splash page), space heroes Rex Dexter (for Mystery Men Comics) and Crash Parker (Planet Comics), “The Pirate Prince” (for Silver Streak and Daredevil), Yankee Longago (Boy Comics), Biff Bannon (Speed Comics), and superheroes like Dynamo, Real American #1 (yep, that was his name!), Target and the Targeteers, and the Human Top, among others.

    Like many Golden Age creators, Briefer was incredibly prolific (at the meager page rates available, the only way to keep a roof overhead and food on the table was to grind out pages as quickly as possible) and worked under a variety of nom de plumes as well as his own name. Among the pseudonymous strips some comics scholars attribute to Briefer were the adventures of Communist hero Pinky Rankin for The Daily Worker (a stint that may or may not have been Briefer’s work, and may or may not have landed Briefer on McCarthy era blacklists).

    Briefer‘s claim to fame, however, was and remains his innovative horror comic series “The New Adventures of Frankenstein,” which debuted in Prize Comics #7 (cover dated December 1940, meaning it hit the racks in the fall of that year). Briefer did everything—script, lettering, pencils, inks—on this new feature for the Crestwood Publishing Company (aka Feature Publication and Prize Comics), which may have been the first contemporary spin on Mary Shelley‘s venerable 1818 source novel.

    The catalyst for Briefer’s resurrection of Shelley’s immortal monster was arguably the 1939 Universal Pictures re-release of the two feature films that launched their beloved 1930s horror cycle, Tod Browning‘s Dracula (1930) and James Whale‘s Frankenstein (1931). Universal had abandoned the genre by the mid-1930s, due in part to the loss of the entire British (and British colonies) market, where horror films were proving less and less marketable since the British censors had instituted the dreaded ‘H’ certificate. By the end of the decade, Universal’s fortunes had dwindled, and the surprise success of a regional “midnight movie” showing of the Dracula/Frankenstein double-feature prompted Universal to roll the double-bill out nationally and to rekindle their horror line with the production of an all-new Frankenstein entry, Rowland V. Lee‘s Son of Frankenstein (1939). It was a smash hit, saving Universal’s fortunes and kicking off a whole new horror movie cycle that lasted into the mid-1940s (ending with Universal’s parody Abbott & Costello Meet Frankenstein, 1948).

  • National Periodicals (aka DC Comics) featured an unusual photo roman (aka photo fumetti) adaptation of Son of Frankenstein in the debut issue of Movie Comics that same year (for more, and to read the complete eight-page “Son of Frankenstein” comic story, click this link for the first of four installments at Myrant).
  • Whether Briefer was directly or indirectly inspired to launch his own Frankenstein comic series by the revival of the Universal monster movie series and/or the Movie Comics adaptation, who can say? The fact is, those were the most direct precursors to Briefer’s series, which took the public’s conflation of the creator (Frankenstein) and his monster (Frankenstein’s monster) as a given—the monster was Frankenstein in name—and ran with it. Briefer took the public’s identification of the monster with its creator one step further, signing the original installments “by Frank N. Stein.”

    “I had a hard time convincing the publisher that [Shelley’s Frankenstein] was in public domain,” Briefer told interviewer Howard Leroy Davis, but it was, and Briefer thrust the monster into a new life with Prize Comics #7’s revisionist take on the monster’s birth. Beginning as an apparent Gothic, Briefer depicted Dr. Victor Frankenstein’s construction of the monster from “the dead bodies of scores of men” in an efficient single page; by page three, the monster was on the loose, and by page five (“one fine day at the zoo…”), 1939 readers were begin to fathom that this resurrection had somehow taken place in then-modern-day America! Briefer had his monster escaping the zoo on an elephant, terrorizing the Big Apple, climbing the Statue of Liberty and sparing the life of his creator as an act of revenge:

    “I spared you to live—to live in misery also—to watch and see the suffering and grief that I, your creation, will cause the human race!”

    And so it began! Briefer’s original series was indeed a straight horror-adventure comic, the first of its kind in American comics history (seven to eight years before the first horror anthology comics surfaced with Avon’s 1947 one-shot Eerie #1 and American Comic Group’s long-lasting periodical Adventures Into the Unknown, which debuted in 1948). Craig Yoe offers the first three installments of Briefer’s initial series (pp. 21-44 of the collection)—which includes the monster’s one-on-one urban battle with a crocodile man—whetting one’s appetite for a complete reprint collection of the entire Briefer original series.

    Briefer’s revamp of the monster’s design emulated some aspects of Universal makeup genius Jack Pierce‘s original ‘look’ for actor Boris Karloff‘s movie incarnation of the monster: the squared-off skull, the ragged sutures across the forehead, the cadaverous pallor and sunken cheeks. But Briefer skirted any legal claims Universal might have made by traumatically rearranging the monster’s facial features, squashing the flattened nose directly beneath the knobby brows and between the outsized eyes, and dispensing with the electrode (“bolts”) protruding from the neck. Briefer’s monster was indeed hideous, and Briefer cranked out a tsunami of terror tales featuring the creature through to the April 1945 issue of Prize Comics #52 and the launch of Frankenstein in his own title that same year.

    Prize Comics #53’s “Frankenstein and the Beanstalk” was the last of the fantasy-horror Briefer Frankensteins; with a new original story in Frankenstein #1 (“Frankenstein’s Creation,” reprinted complete in the Yoe collection, pp. 45-59) and Prize Comics #53’s “Pour Out Your Heart,” Briefer redirected his ongoing feature, transforming it into an adsurdist kid-friendly horror-comedy comic!

    By this point, Briefer’s distinctively fluid brushwork had become absolutely breezy and more expressive than ever, and the complete change in tempo, temper, and tone suited his brushline. It was a new lease on life for Briefer and his beloved monster, whose nose slid progressively further up into his browline within the pages of Frankenstein #1 alone (as demonstrated in this collection’s generous reprint of no less than three stories from that historic first issue)!

    By 1947, Briefer was writing and drawing Frankenstein (now labeled “The Merry Monster”) for Prize Comics and for the character’s solo series (!). Editor Yoe offers two other Briefer comedic Frankenstein stories from this period, “Blooperman” (from Frankenstein #8, July-August 1947), included herein due to its pointed satire on the most popular four-color superhero of them all (and in case you’ve any doubt, Briefer’s satiric byline for the story, “by Seagull & Shoestring,” puts paid to that), and the beguiling Spirit parody “The Girl with the Bewitching Eyes” (from Frankenstein #15, September-October 1948). Well, I’d tag it as an Eisner parody, if only for its femme fatale, Zona, but the whole of Briefer’s approach to this one Frankenstein tale smacks of Eisner’s iconic 1940s body of work.

    Briefer’s Frankenstein shifted gears again with the hardcore horror comics boom of the early 1950s, and Yoe offers a quartet of Frankenstein tales from Briefer’s return to horror amid the Pre-Code horror swamp. “Tomb of the Living Dead” (Frankenstein #20, August-September 1952), “Friendly Enemies!” (from #24, April-May 1953), “The She-Monster” (#28, January 1954) and “The Tree of Death” (#31, June-July 1954) are indeed representative of the swansong years of Briefer’s series. These aren’t the stories I’d have selected from this period in Briefer’s horror series (there are better ones, to my mind), but they’re interesting enough horror tales, sparked with inventive imagery and bits of business. Sadly, they lack the energy of Briefer’s earlier stories. Even the brushwork denotes his exhaustion with the 14-year-run, though ever the pro, Briefer doesn’t short-shrift the reader: the storytelling is crisp, clear, and the narratives provide enough twists to keep even the most jaded genre reader’s interest.

    With Dick Briefer’s Frankenstein, archivist/editor/packager Craig Yoe continues to provide a service to the comics community. While this tome is as stylishly produced as all Yoe’s books—if anything, the cool die cutting of Frankenstein’s eyes lends this volume an appropriately children’s storybook flavor—Yoe has finally addressed the one complaint I have with too many of such compilations: Craig cites the original publication source, date, and year of publication on the first page of every story. Kudos, Craig, and here’s hoping this practice becomes standard operating procedure for all future collections.

    Per usual, the color reproduction from the original comics retains the flavor of the Pre-Code four-color showcases, and the restoration work on the stories themselves is exquisite. While the Briefer Frankenstein comic stories have periodically been reprinted in the years since Briefer’s death—including reprints in Dr. Frankenstein’s House of 3D (1992), the Cracked monster magazines Cracked Monster Party (1988) and Monsters Attack! (1989-90), and a recent black-and-white paperback reprint volume entitled The Monster of Frankenstein (2006)—this current collection eclipses them all handily, while offering the most comprehensive overview of Briefer’s life, work, and the arc of the Frankenstein comics stories Briefer single-handedly created.

    Yoe spices the stew with a generous helping of Briefer artwork from his other Frankenstein efforts, including his ill-fated comic strip proposal(s), stages of work (roughs, pencils, inks) preserved from Briefer’s process, and an eye-popping array of cover reconstructions Briefer painted and drew for fans later in his life.

    Dick Briefer’s Frankenstein is the ideal Halloween/Christmas gift for any monster-lovin’ comics reader, and establishes a welcome new threshold for the entire Yoe/IDW line of reprint volumes. This is highly recommended reading, and as with all the Yoe collections, a grand entertainment from cover to cover.

    – Stephen R. Bissette, Mountains of Madness, VT

    Fantagraphics Ain’t Throwing Just Peanuts

    A box arrived at the Schulz Graphic Novel Library with a dizzying amount of books, so heavy that I blacked out and began to see dazzling images.

    And then it all started to come into focus…

    It was PEANUTS! Charles Schulz, the man our illustrious library is named after, is still garnering a space in our hearts AND bookshelves. Fantagraphics has almost finished printing the entire, complete Peanuts collection. These wonderful tomes filled that heavy box.

    As you can see, even the box of books came with some ‘peanuts.’ Our shelf dedicated to the man and books is slowly spilling over in abudance. If you have yet to check out these beautiful books, with Seth as the designer, then you have yet to truly live.

    Jen Vaughn

    P.S. Let’s just call those flat things ‘momes’ from now on for good measure.

    Don Flowers and His Lovely Ladies

    A Schulz library favorite and avid patron, Evan Dorkin, recently donated Alex Chun and Jacob Covey’s retrospective book of The GLAMOUR GIRLS of DON FLOWERS (published by Fantagraphics). This thick beauty of a book features work spanning several decades (1940’s-1960’s) and Flower’s duel pen and brush captured all the fashion that lied therein. Flowers gained popularity in newspapers for his gorgeous woman, their cutting edge fashion and high-class life.

    Part of the appeal of this strip lies in the fact that just as many jokes are made by women at the expense of men, Flowers made sure of that. As the 60’s pressed on, Flowers strip began to drop from newspapers so he made himself relevant again with the addition of teen humor and even cheeky children.

    This is where some of his best work came from.

    I, myself, do not draw children often or well so I spent several nights aping Flowers and his thick-legged half-beings.

    Nor could I resist the chance to draw a most classy lady, teetering on pencil-thin stilettos doling out the sarcasm. So spend an afternoon and revel in the line work of someone you admire. I know where to look for my favorite: Don Flowers resides happily in the gag section of the Schulz Library.

    -Jen Vaughn

    Comics about Volunteering: Joe and Azat

    Cartoonist Jesse Lonergan donated something very precious to the world and to Turkmenistan. He gave two full years of his life to the country via the Peace Corp program. Through few drawn lines Lonergan creates the most expressive characters. Here we see Joe, the American in glasses, looking for something rather important to any traveler.

    The stories are episodic partly gathered from Lonergan’s own experiences while in the country. Azat is Joe’s guide into the world of Turkmen culture and, as it turns out, Joe is Azat’s guide into the world of business. One of my favorite stories is about Azat starting an arcade in his own home. How many of you grew up believing capitalism was the BEST economic system to govern your life without understanding how it worked? Azat’s charming naivete is only outweighed by his sheer enthusiasm and you want, hope and pray he is successful.

    Lonergan’s well-balanced page layouts are so effortless you don’t even recognize how masterful he is until you slow down. Sometimes it takes an amazing confluence of story and art to do so, like rarely practiced old customs of bride-stealing or setting yourself on fire to win the woman of your dreams who happens to have a reluctant family:

    I asked Lonergan what he brought back with him from Turkmenistan other than memories. He said in Turkmenistan people hang out with each other and garner interest even if they are not similar be it socially, morally or politically. From Lonergan’s life in the US, he observed the opposite, a clumping together of people always sharing the same interests. Lonergan returned with a willingness to meet people who were not necessarily cut from the same cloth and much less likely to “write people off.” And, if you’ll excuse the soap box I’m a-standing on, that is one of the best lessons you can learn while volunteering and in life. Pick up a copy of the excellent comic Joe and Azat by Jesse Lonergan today!

    -Jen Vaughn

    Library Volunteer Days

    Summer days have rarely been hotter in White River Junction, Vermont. The rocks are sizzlin’ and a piece of bristol swells up to the size of a phone book with all the excess humidity! Luckily, the Schulz Library has air conditioning and a chance for students to work with some very amazing books. Every Friday from 2-5pm this summer is Library Volunteer Day and the students, alum and even some faculty (James Sturm and Alec Longstreth) are taking to it with gusto. The first Volunteer day we had six volunteers show up and we processed ~250 books, including the amazing collections below donated by Heidi Macdonald! We hope to see you this Friday for more of the same.

    “At Last You May Gaze!” – The Complete Milt Gross

    “Milt Gross’ loosey-goosey style followed the three Rs: Rebellion, Raucousness, and slightly Ribald on a few occasions…”

    – Craig Yoe, “Laughs by the Gross!” (from the book reviewed herein, pg. 17)

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    One-man comics tome cottage industry Craig Yoe (of Arf! fame, who launched his career in the 1970s editing/self-publishing fanzines, one of which I contributed art to) has gifted cartoonists, comics lovers and anyone who loves to laugh with the incredible The Complete Milt Gross Comic Books and Life Story (2010, IDW Publishing). In an era of abundant comicbook and comic strip reprint volumes, this handsome hardcover is worthy of special attention and celebration, offering a eye-popping treasury of high-octane hilarity from the one and only Milt Gross.

    Milt Gross (1895 – 1953) was a cartoonist’s cartoonist in his day, a dynamo of frenetic energy whose every line was alive and in-and-of-itself funny. His work was omnipresent and everywhere from the Roarin’ Twenties on, as were the many loopy non-sequiters he introduced into our culture via his comics: “Banana Oil!” (or, as a mouse razzes it in Nize Baby, “Benena Hoil!!”), “That’s My Pop!” “Dunt Esk!” and “Nize Baby” (among countless other catchphrases) were all coined by Gross, fêted throughout his lifetime as one of America’s most beloved (and prolific) cartoonists. In his heyday, Gross seemed to do it all — single-panel gag comics, comic strips, comic books, pioneer wordless graphic novels (He Done Her Wrong, 1930, a savage parody of Lynd Ward’s sober ‘wordless woodcut novels’), movie title card art, gag writing, animation, advertising, etc. — providing inspiration for generations of cartoonists who followed, including Will Elder, Harvey Kurtzman, Jules Feiffer, Sergio Aragones, Sam Henderson, and countless others.

    The Schulz Library shelves are already peppered with venerable Gross classics, all of which are highly recommended. The titles alone lift the soul: Nize Baby, Deark Dollink, Dunt Esk!!, Banana Oil, De Night in de Front from Christmas, I Shoulda Ate the Eclair, etc.

    My personal all-time favorite remains Hiawatta Witt No Odder Poems, reprinted complete in Thomas Craven’s marvelous book Cartoon Calvalcade (1944), which was inexplicably on my mother’s bookshelves and always in reach. I used to read Hiawatta aloud at a tender age. I had to read it aloud to divine its meaning — it was scribed in Gross’s patented phonetically-rendered urban Jewish near-gibberish (well, to me it was almost gibberish), completely disemboweling Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s 1855 epic poem The Song of Hiawatha, a model of trochaic tetrameter. Gross’s exquisite pen-and-ink illustrations reduced me to tears laughing, and they kept tempting me back into my rereading Hiawatta until I’d finally decoded it, which took years (hey, whatdyawant? I was a backwoods kid). I’d practically memorized it by the age of six — which is more than I can say for the original Longfellow poem.

    I thus inadvertantly divined my first mega-dose of Jewish humor in a surprisingly unadulterated form, though I was a Duxbury, VT lad growing up far, far from the Bronx neighborhoods Gross grew up in (Hiawatta also prepared me for Mad and Harvey Kurtzman’s brand of cartooning and satire, which I was exposed to soon after first laying eyes on Hiawatta in Craven’s book).

    With The Complete Milt Gross Comic Books and Life Story, editor/author Yoe offers an ideal intro to Gross’s life, times and career. Though the Al Jaffee introduction and Herb Gross (son of Milt, natch) foreword are models of economy, Yoe’s lavishly illustrated biographical essay is almost worth the price of admission in and of itself. Punctuated with many never-before-published Gross cartoons and comics pages, Yoe’s overview provides a snapshot of the cartoonist and his personal life. The whole is rich in anecdotes and candid about the health issues that plagued Gross in his latter days without succumbing to morbidity; the reader’s spirits remain as spry and high as Gross’s gags throughout.

    What Craig Yoe showcases herein is not just a stellar, comprehensive introduction to Gross’s best-known works, but a sterling and truly all-inclusive showcase for the complete uber-rare ACG (American Comics Group) comicbook series Milt Gross Funnies (1947), which only ran two issues.

    It’s an unusual chapter in Gross’s career and in comics history, and in its way a Holy Grail of sorts for Gross aficionados. As Yoe notes, “there were no other comics named after their creator, unless you count Walt Disney’s Comics and Stories, which didn’t have one line drawn by Disney in them.”

    The particulars of the deal between Gross and ACG has always been tough to define. ACG expert Michael Vance once wrote, “These books were printed in Canada by Milt Gross Publications (both deviations from standard ACG procedures) and may have been only produced and distributed by the [Benjamin W.] Sangor Shop. Whether this title should be listed as an ACG book remains unresolved… Gross’s final work in comics would appear for several years in random ACG titles, including Giggle and Moon Mullins…” (Vance, Forbidden Adventures: The History of the American Comics Group, Greenwood Press, 1996, pg. 30).

    How Milt Gross Funnies emerged from the usually staid ACG lineup remains a bit of a mystery. Yoe goes further in his own research, connecting and contextualizing Milt Gross Funnies with the various ACG humor titles packaged under the guidance of vet animator Jim Davis (of Fox and Crow comics fame, not the Garfield creator of today) and offering insights from ACG business manager Frederick Iger from Yoe’s own interviews with the industry vet. Iger recalls Gross working from his hospital bed at times during his brief fling with ACG and Milt Gross Funnies, which makes the unflagging vim and vigor of the work bubbling off these pages even more remarkable.

    Yoe also publishes (for the first time anywhere) Gross’s cover for the planned third issue, along with a plethora of four-color stories, gags and comic pages from Giggle Comics, The Kilroys, Moon Mullins (all 1948), and more — all in all, over 300 full-color pages of antic Gross comics, long unseen and unread save by the lucky collectors of such vintage rarities.

    Despite the familiarity of the silly Gross slapschtick for seasoned devotees, it’s a hoot to drink it all in illuminated with color (all my childhood Gross exposures were black-and-white only), and the procession of beloved characters and tropes — from “That’s My Pop!” to Count Screwloose and more — only fuels the fun.

    Whether you’re a geezer like me tapping old veins or a neophyte new to Gross, these pages are percolating with pleasures few 21st Century comics even approach. Give it a gander — or, as Gross himself would have put it, “At Last You May Gaze!”


    – Stephen R. Bissette, CCS Faculty since 2005; 

    May 4, 2009, Mountains of Madness, VT