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Wow!
Frequent Hey Kids! contributor Rick Phillips sent me this amazing photo of Mickey Rooney, circa 1940, reading an issue of Fawcett's tabloid-sized Master Comics series, which the publisher then smartly used in an ad for the book itself.
What a find, thanks Rick!
Wow!
Doug Slack sent me this amazing cover to a Men At Work single (remember those?), called "Overkill." Why the various band members are reading comics, and how that has anything to do with the song, I have no idea.
But check out those titles! Young Love, Detective Comics, and Plop!?--none of them were current at the time of this single (1983), so these were clearly from someone's collection.
Amazing stuff, thanks Doug!
In 1973, my family lived in Willingboro, NJ, a typical suburban community, with an elementary school in every neighborhood, and streets designed to funnel traffic on to main roads to alleviate traffic. However, the greatest feature of the town was the 7-11 at the entrance to our development.
My brothers and sisters were old enough to bike there alone, but I wasn't, being only 6. I remember their trips to the 7-11, and these amazing drinks they came back with: Slurpees. Cherry flavored and brown flavored (I really didn't know about soda at the time--so I went with "brown flavored"). After a while, I noticed that my family didn't throw out the cups when they were done with them--I didn't realize it at the time, but my brother Dennis was a comic book collector. At the time, 7-11 had licensed over 60 characters to appear on their 7-11 cups.
The Slurpee cups were pretty cool looking, white plastic (about 12 ounces) with pictures of DC characters on one side, and a little 7-11 logo on the other. I say DC Characters, because there were some screwy choices made to put on the cups: Martha Kent, anyone? Mr. Tawky Tawny?
It didn't take long for me to realize I could trade trips to the 7-11 if I was willing to give up or trade my Slurpee Cups to my siblings. See, this was back in the day when the counter clerk picked the next cup in the series, and filled the cup for you. There was no choosing. If he picked Commissioner Gordon, you got Commissioner Gordon. No ifs, ands, or buts. I probably gave away really cool cups like Saturn Girl and Braniac 5, all just for the Slurpee inside.
Flash forward four years, and I'm a full-fledged comic collector, living in Germany. Just one year after trading away Slurpee cups, I discovered comics, and I had become a big fan of the Line of DC Super Stars. Living near the base, I had full access to comic books at the base book store, and access to baseball cards at the base convenience store. When my parents announced we were going back to the States for a visit in the summer of 1977, I immediately thought of how to best take advantage of the situation. My conclusion: Slurpee cups. Must. Buy. Slurpee Cups.
I remember getting to my Cousin's house in Delaware and begging her to take me to a 7-11. I am not sure, but I think from that moment on my cousin must have thought of me as "that weird cousin from Germany." Nevertheless, off we went, and I happily bought a Slurpee. Only to find the cups featured Marvel Heroes! Oh the humanity!
Needless to say, one of childhoods major disappointments set in. Ironically, the Marvel cups pre-dated my collecting of Marvel comics by one year, just like the DC cups of 1973 pre-dated my first Flash comic in 1974. There must be something to this predictive power of Slurpee cups. I'll think I'll try one on the way home.
So...
Bob Dylan has a new album coming out next week, called Together Through Life. The cover sleeve features a photo by legendary photographer Bruce Davidson, so when it came time to produce a video for the first "single", "Beyond Here Lies Nothin'", someone decided to make the video up entirely of photos by Davidson, from the collection known as "Brooklyn Gang."
As you might have guessed, this particular one above caught my eye, featuring your typical 50s teen in front of a rack of comics!
I can make out copies of Patsy Walker, Strange Adventures, and House of Mystery. It seems to my eye that the issue of HOM is #87, which was on sale around March 1959.
Bob himself has made numerous comic book references on his Theme Time Radio Hour show, making the circle somewhat complete.
Doug Slack - "Five dollars!"
I said the words slowly and carefully enough to convey the prestige of the four color treasure I removed from the brown paper bag.
My mom hit the brakes and stared with her mouth agape. Perhaps her knuckles whitened as she gripped the steering wheel. I couldn't say because I was busy watching her eyes as they lifted from the comic book in my hands to my face to some point further on out in the distance where she may have been hopelessly looking to see where exactly she had failed. I recognized this expression and braced myself for attack.
The comic seemed like a sound investment at the time. I spotted Tales of the New Teen Titans #1: Cyborg a week prior, sleeved in a thick mylar and pinned to the wall behind the counter of Heroes World. I had been collecting comics regularly for a few years and had just entered the Anal Stage. This is the most regretful, shameful stage of a comic fan's life what with the plastic sleeves and the backing boards and the long boxes.
I was a devotee of the annual Robert M. Overstreet Official Comic Book Price Guide. I would actually spend hours reading that ridiculous book, pouring over titles and prices, admiring the ludicrous supplies advertised in the color pages, wishing I could someday own one of those precious collector's items that were worth thousands.
In my greedy quest to become New Jersey's biggest comic book baron I bought every "Collectors Item!" I could get my hands on. Somewhere within my moronic reasoning synapses, I determined that limited series and one shot issues were the best investment. Something about a limited run translating into increased consumer demand, I think. Occasionally this insistence on collecting first issues reaped quality material such as the original Claremont/Miller Wolverine miniseries. But it also compelled me to blow cash on Marvel’s Annie movie adaptation and Captain Carrot & His Amazing Zoo Crew #1 (Guest appearance by Superman?! Double score!).
So there was Cyborg, as rendered by George Perez, posing on the cover of the first issue of Tales of the New Teen Titans (4 issue limited series!) in all of his cybernetic glory. The hero who was part man, part robot stood firmly in the center of the cover, cyber feet planted a full yard apart, cyber fists clenched as he broke a giant steel chain from around his mighty cyber torso. It was the first time I had ever heard of the character and at least I can say that my initial interest wasn't capitalistic. I actually thought he looked cool.
When I noticed the title had "Teen Titans" in it the dollar signs cha-chinged over my eyes. This was 1984 when The New Teen Titans was DC's hottest book. The early issues were already worth double digits. Double digits! This was a mere spin-off title, but Heroes World--surely a fair minded establishment--already had it tagged at five dollars. Obviously the value of this book was going places and I could still afford to get in on the ground floor of this excellent investment opportunity.
The following week I returned with the cash in my Wranglers, ready to make my most expensive single comic book purchase to date. I distinctly remember how nonchalant the clerk was about the whole transaction. It was as if she didn't realize what a valuable commodity she was handling. I had assumed brokering this sale would carry the same weight as closing a deal at Tiffany's Auction. If she was impressed at what a big shot comic book collector I was (as I just knew she would be) her manner didn't betray it. Casually--I swear it was almost carelessly--she separated the issue from it's mylar sleeve.
I blurted out, "Oh no, uh, I-I'll take that too!"
"It's an extra fifty cents."
Good thing I brought some extra change just in case. No way was Cyborg traveling home in nothing but a flimsy paper bag.
I would be lying if I said I didn't feel a twinge of buyer's remorse. I'm sure every baron has moments of doubt. What I needed was a little reassurance. I needed someone else to tell me I made the right investment. So I showed my mom.
Which brings us back to the station wagon outside the mall.
"There better be something else inside that bag..."
"Nope! This is it!"
"No. Oh... no! Ohhhh you were ripped off!"
"No! No! It's the Teen Titans...and see? Number one! Number ones are always more--"
"Five dollars?!?"
"Well it is over a year old...!"
"It's not even a new one?! No, take it back."
"It's an investment!"
"Go inside and get your money back. I'll go with you."
"No!"
The horror of such a thing occurring--of my mother dragging me back through the mall to Heroes World to demand justice--was enough to put me on the defensive. I dug in my heels and said, "You don't understand! This is a collectors item! I'm a Collector! This is going to get more valuable!"
"Oh, Doug..."
"Look. I'll make you a deal. Just wait until next year's Overstreet Price Guide comes out and we'll see if it goes up in value. Just let me keep it until then."
In retrospect I don't know what kind of retarded deal that was supposed to be. What happens if she was right? Was Heroes World really going to give me a refund on a six month old purchase? But she relented.
"Alright. We'll just wait until that new book comes out and then we'll see. Grrr, mutter, gripe, five dollars, kvetch..."
After we arrived home I carefully read the issue (lay flat on the table, turn pages slowly from the top corner) then returned it to it's sleeve. I inserted an acid free backing board and sealed the top with scotch tape. Luckily the "T" titles fell in the middle of my long box so Cyborg was wedged safely inside my collection. There it waited to silently appreciate in value and ultimately vindicate me.
Today you can purchase Tales of the New Teen Titans #1: Cyborg from various online sellers for $1.00. That cost does not include mylar sleeve.
Rob Kelly - I'll never be as rich as Bruce Wayne.
That's mostly because my parents aren't loaded, so they don't have a Vast Kelly Fortune to leave me. But even if they did, I think my stunning lack of business acumen would render me broke within a few years.
I have two cringe-inducing examples of this, and they both involve Batman.
Back in the mid-1980s, I was working at a Roy Rogers restaurant (mmm...bacon double-cheeseburgers...) and, because of the store's immense turnaround in employees, I was making a decent amount of money--something like $8/hr. That may not sound like all that much, but when you consider I was only about 16, living with my parents, no car, no bills of any kind, and this was around 1987, that ended up being a nice-sized check every week.
Having no bills to pay, that of course meant all my money went to my "habit", which was of course...heroin. No, no, of course I mean comic books.
And, around that time, I had exhausted my local store of its most interesting back issues, so I needed a new dealer (amazing how many terms involving drugs and comics overlap). I went searching for other stores to plunder, and found one in Center City, Philadelphia--Fat Jack's, located and 20th and Sansom.
Traveling by myself into Philadelphia seemed like a wonderful, adult adventure, which only added to the store's allure. And once I got there, I realized this was the store for me--thousands and thousands of back issues, all kinds of new comics I had never seen (what's this thing called Cherry Poptart?), and the walls were covered with Golden Age treasures, books I had never seen outside of an Overstreet Price Guide.
The books that most enticed me were a string of late-1940s issues of Detective Comics, with those gorgeous Dick Sprang covers. Here are three of the approximately 8-9 'Tecs I picked up:
After about two months of this, I decided to move on to other Golden Age books on the wall. For whatever reason, this was the only issue of Detective I left behind:
You see, at the time, I was not as well versed in comic history as I am now, and I thought that The Riddler was a contemporary of The Joker, The Penguin, The Catwoman, etc., meaning I thought he debuted in the very early 1940s, and that this issue was just another appearance.
I didn't know that The Riddler came along a lot later, and was a relatively minor villain, until the Batman TV show came along and catapulted him into the ranks of Batman's greatest foes.
This single issue is worth something like five grand now (there's a copy in absolutely decimated shape on eBay selling for $920!). Had I bought it, it would've been the single most valuable comic book I've ever owned.
And to think, I left it on that wall...
Ok, flash-forward to 1988. I'm in my final year of high school, and word of an upcoming Batman movie is making all of us comic book fans salivate with excitement. Imagine, a Batman movie!
Right around this time, DC ran their whole "Let's Kill off Jason Todd" thing, in a four issue series. You remember it, don't you?:
I had no idea, as most people didn't, that a wave of collecting frenzy would hit these issues, and thanks to extensive media coverage of the Death of Robin, these issues suddenly became very, very hot.
Among my group of high school friends, it was known I read comics. So one day, one of the girls in the group approached me. She asked me if I had all four of those Batmans where Robin dies.
I said yes, and she told me her boyfriend desperately wanted them, and would I be willing to sell them?
Before I could think of answer, she told me he'd be willing pay $50 each for all four books. Wow, I thought--$200.00? That's a lot of money, but I said no, I don't think so.
A few days later, she approached me again and said he was willing to up the offer--to $100 for each book.
This was getting serious--$400 for those four Batmans? To a seventeen year old with (again) very few expenses, $400 was a friggin' fortune. A Wayne Family-esque fortune.
But...I still said no. Those issues were beloved to me, they were important, and besides they'd only go up in value (cue Homer again), so I passed.
If I ever had access to a time machine, this is one of those moments I'd return to. After the young me walks away, the old me would grab me(?), slap me around and tell me that within a short time you'd realize those issues were, for all the talent behind them, total crap--ridiculous story, weak art (forgive me, Mr. Aparo), and a ghoulish, nasty gimmick that would presage the blood and guts superhero era that was the 90s.
I'd tell myself that, in less than two years, I'd sell 99% of my comics collection to help pay for art school, and that those issues wouldn't even be counted as anything unique, special, or value. They were just so much more paper stuffed in a longbox.
But of course, I don't have access to a time machine (yet), so I have to live with the pain of realizing that I've had two separate encounters with Batman comics where I left a lot of money on the table.
Sadly, my dream of a Rob Kelly Foundation Building (with a cool tree in the middle of the frigging thing!) will never be fulfilled:
Watching it over again, I had forgotten how much Abignale's love of Flash comics plays into the plot--there's an early shot in the film of some issues sitting on his bureau (top photo), then later he goes around telling people his name is Barry Allen!
Not until a helpful soda jerk clues the FBI Agent Carl Hanratty on the case (Tom Hanks) as to who Barry Allen is does Hanratty start to figure out how to catch him. And after they have and Abignale is in jail, Hanratty brings him a "present" of some new Flash comics (see second photo).
I remember being impressed that whoever was in charge of props made the effort to get period correct issues of the title--that's The Flash #135 seen on top of the pile in photo 1, which came out in 1963, which was correct for that point in the movie.
In the second photo, Hanks is showing The Flash #179, which came out in 1968, which is about when that second scene takes place. Well done!
