Hey Kids, Comics!

Hey Kids, Comics!: True-Life Tales From The Spinner Rack

2011-11-28T00:03:00.001-05:00

It's been a long while since I mentioned any updates regarding the Hey Kids, Comics!: True-Life Tales From The Spinner Rack book, so here goes:

Despite having a literary agent representing me and the book, we're still having a difficult time finding the right home for it. I won't get into the specifics (at least, not yet), but suffice it to say I think most publishers just don't see the book the same way I do.

So, in the interest of keeping my options open, I've been thinking about other ways to get the book made and available. After all, I've been working on it for two years and I'm dying to get all the great material my generous contributors have sent in in front of people!

One of the ways I've been considering is via Kickstarter. Like I'm doing with my online comic strip Ace Kilroy, I've been thinking about putting Hey Kids, Comics! on Kickstarter, and try and raise money to get the book produced and distributed all on my own, without any publisher playing middleman.

So, that's where you all come in: I've put up a poll (to the right, at the top of the sidebar) to determine just how many of you would consider essentially pre-ordering the book via Kickstarter (which goes through Amazon, in terms of billing), which would front me the money necessary to make it a reality.

Obviously, there are a lot of variables here--I'm not sure of the price of the book (though I'm shooting for a 5x7" standard trade paperback format, priced at around $17.99), and the line-up of contributors may change a bit, depending on people's schedules, how many pages the book ends up being, etc. So I'm not going to take these results as any sort of final word; I'm just trying to gauge whether there are enough potential fans of the book out there willing to pay up front to make Hey Kids, Comics! a reality via this new, unorthodox style of independent production.

So please vote, and thanks!

Remember: You can see the tentative line-up of the book here, and download the Hey Kids, Comics! Free Sampler here!

1951 Newsstand

2011-11-27T23:17:00.002-05:00

What comics fan hasn't been here? Numerous times I had my Mom or Dad pull me away from a newsstand full of comics, because I just couldn't decide which one(s) I wanted (sometimes I hoped my indecision would cause them just to buy me all of them to save time).

This photo was hard to pin down, date-wise, until I could make out a copy of Avon's White Chief and The Pawnee Indians #1--the only issue--that came out in 1951, just to the kid's left.

Aww, Dad, just a few minutes more!

Rock on Sunday

2011-08-28T13:13:00.003-04:00

A little somethin' for the ladies (and gay guys) in the house: a skimpily-dressed Rock Hudson reading the Sunday Comics!

Can't tell which ones Rock is reading, but at the time this photo was taken, Mr. Hudson was the coolest of the cool. Neat to know he enjoyed comics once in a while!

Let's Rap with Cap! - 1941

2011-07-22T00:03:00.000-04:00

With Captain America: The First Avenger hitting theaters today, this seemed like the perfect time to post this vintage(?) photo!

I put the (?) after vintage because, while the photo looks pretty authentic, I have my doubts this is real: the kid is reading Captain America #2, cover dated April 1941. I can't imagine any kid could be that into Cap after just two appearances, not to mention the costume being really, really good--a little too good.

Of course, this pic could have been taken just a few years later, and the kid was reading a (by then) older issue of Captain America. Who knows, and I guess who cares? Its a great photo anyway!

Relaxing with Tintin

2011-07-02T23:41:00.004-04:00

I found this photo being used, of all places, for the website of a luxury spa called Foxhills.

Why one of their guests is reading Tintin, I know not; nevertheless I agree, its a great way to relax!

Madonna Loves Dr. Strange - 1981

2011-06-27T16:35:00.002-04:00

While doing some research for the Hey Kids, Comics! book, I found this surprising picture--Madonna (pre-fame) smooching a copy of Dr. Strange #45!

This pic is most likely from around late 1980 or early 1981, just a few years before Madge hit it big, to say the least. I wonder what the impetus for this photo could have been???

"Night (Force) & Day" - Rob Kelly

2011-06-24T16:28:00.003-04:00

I mentioned in one of my very first Hey Kids! posts that one of the more under-appreciated thrills of reading comics back when I was a kid was the uncertainty of what you'd find.

To people who have only ever bought their comics via comic shops, the whole idea of not knowing what books would be carried must seem annoying at best, most likely Completely Unacceptable. But that's what kids my age (and older) put up with--no matter how many different newsstands, candy stores, and supermarkets you got your comics at, no one place carried every title you wanted to read.

Even then, there was a more than decent chance that you'd miss an issue--and Lord help you if you turned to one of the clerks who worked there for help: there were much better ways for Pops or Gramps or whomever to earn fifty cents; no way was he going to go look in the back to see if he had any more of DC Two-In-One or whatever ("But that's not the name of...")

But, despite all that, there was the sheer fun, the joy of discovery, when you suddenly saw a book you had never come across before. Amid all your old friends (Superman, Spider-Man, Archie, Casper, etc.), here was something brand-new, unexplored...maybe even a little dangerous?

For me, one of those times was in 1982, when I was comics shopping at one of the many grubby newsstands that populated the area surrounding Lake Wallenpaupack in the Pennsylvania mountain area known as the Poconos. My parents and I vacationed there every year, the same time (two weeks in mid-August), and one of the great parts about the trip was how I would gorge myself on comics...bringing them back to the house, sitting on the porch that looked out over the lake, glass of (fill-in name of sugary beverage I was addicted to that week) at my side, became one of my all-time favorite vacation rituals.

Living via an allowance-based economy, I tended to stick to the books I knew I loved: Justice League of America, Brave and the Bold, Batman, Star Wars, The Incredible Hulk, All-Star Squadron. But in those days at the lake, I sometimes was handed a little more scratch to take care of my comics itch.

It was one of those days when, while scanning the racks of yet another gas station/newsstand rest stop, I saw this:

Night Force? What the heck is Night Force?!?

I had never seen this book before, but the cover leaped off the stands at me: the superb layout, the mysterious, shadowy figures, the eye-popping colors (magenta?!?). I simply had to buy it.

And buy it I did. I brought it home, and slotted it at the bottom of my pile, lest the book not live up to its captivating cover. As I worked my way through the books (the JLA, the JSA, and the All-Star Squadron vs. Per Degaton, Part 3!, Batman vs. The Joker again, hey, cool cover on this month's World's Finest) I started to grow almost...scared at what I was about to find inside the covers of this Night Force book. I mean, did you see that cover?

I made sure to read the book while it was still daylight out. Since our cabin was somewhat remote, and we had no real communication with the outside world other than a radio (not even a phone), the idea of reading this book while the nearby bats flew and crickets chirped was just a little too much for me to bear.

I would love to say that, after reading the story therein ("Eyes"), I became a rabid Night Force fan, quickly adding the book to my mental "must buy" list, but that's not what happened. No...actually, I found myself a little disappointed and confused: Marv Wolfman's story (of which this was but a chapter) was just a little too much for my then 11-year-old mind, weaned as I was on more traditional superhero fisticuffs. Night Force's moody character-driven story just didn't click with me.

But I never, never forgot the art, by Gene Colan. I was of course familiar with the man's work, having seen it in numerous other DC and Marvel books. But here, with its unfamiliar characters and setting, the art seemed to take on a whole other feeling, one of mystery and dread. This book didn't seem to exist in the traditional DC Universe, and that meant all bets were off: anything could happen, and the only thing I could be sure about was that the JLA was not going to show up to make everything okay.

And so while Night Force, as a comic, didn't quite live up to the hype I built up in my mind during the five or six-mile drive back to the cabin, the art, and especially the cover, lodged itself into my brain, and never left. And even though I eventually got rid of almost all my comics once I went to college, I held on to this one. I still have it to this day.

I thought of this book when I heard the sad news that Gene Colan had passed away today. I never met Mr. Colan, never had the chance to shove this book in his face at a con and babble about how much it meant to me. And while a billion other comic book images have come and gone, this one took up permanent residence in the part of my brain...the part that gets just a little bit scared when night falls. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Thank you, Gene Colan.

1952 Newsstand

2011-06-22T13:35:00.002-04:00

Another iconic "Kids Reading Comics" shot; this time its from around December 1951; which is when the center comic (Girls' Romances #13, cover by Alex Toth) was on sale!

1945 Newsstand

2011-05-28T13:48:00.003-04:00

Here are some proto-hoodlums checking out some new comics. You can clearly see Red Band Comics #3, which was cover-dated April 1945, making this around January or February or so.

Obviously this photo comes from the late, great Life magazine; but I found it online here.

1942 Newsstand

2011-05-27T16:26:00.002-04:00

Here's another great "vintage newsstand" photo I found online (in this case, right here). The comics selection is kinda hard to make out, even when blown up:

...you most clearly see a copy of More Fun Comics #78, which was on sale in February 1942. Love those fedoras!

1949 Newsstand

2011-05-25T23:22:00.003-04:00

I found this great "vintage newsstand" photo online, check out the comics selection! Here's a close-up:

...I had the hardest time dating this photo, since so many of the specific series' covers are hard to identify. But I was able to determine that the book seen third down from top right is Little Miss Muffet #13, which was cover-dated March 1949.

That would mean this photo was taken sometime in late 1948, early 1949--and judging by the men's outfits, I'd say this has to be California, Florida, somewhere where Winter is still pretty warm!

Celebrities Enjoying Comics!

2011-05-18T19:38:00.002-04:00

Brad Paisley.

Glenn Danzig.

Laurel & Hardy.

Buff Cobb.

Hey Kids, Comics! FCBD Sampler

2011-05-07T00:03:00.000-04:00

In honor of Free Comic Book Day, you can download the Hey Kids, Comics! Sampler as a .PDF right here.

It runs 16 pages, and features three stories from the upcoming book by author Kevin Dilmore, writer and educator Sholly Fish, and journalist/blogger Jill Pantozzi! I hope you enjoy!

Hey Kids, Comics! FCBD Sampler

2011-03-01T22:27:00.002-05:00

This is the front cover to the free Hey Kids, Comics! sampler book, which will be given out at selected (read: whichever stores friends of mine are generous enough to give it out at!) comic book shops this Free Comic Book Day, which is May 7.

It will run 16 pages, and feature three stories from the upcoming book by author Kevin Dilmore, writer and educator Sholly Fish, and journalist/blogger Jill Pantozzi.

As May 7 approaches, I will provide a list of the stores the sampler will be available at. Since its not officially part of the FCBD list of giveaway titles, it will only be a handful of stores. So I'm also going to provide it as a free PDF download here on the blog. Stay tuned!

Hey Kids, Comics: True-Life Tales From The Spinner Rack!

2010-10-08T07:55:00.003-04:00

Hey Kids, Comics!: True-Life Tales From The Spinner Rack is a book collecting stories from people of all walks of life, all of whom have fond memories of reading, collecting, and/or obsessing over comic books.

Contributors to Hey Kids, Comics! include:

Richard Harland Smith

News and further details are they become available will appear here and the Hey Kids, Comics! Facebook page, where you can become a fan!

Stand By Me - 1986

2010-09-04T09:35:00.003-04:00

Darlin' Tracy and I were watching Stand By Me last night (first time ever for her, first time for me since it was a cable staple in the 80s), and I had completely forgotten about this scene, where Gordie LaChance (Wil Wheaton) is seeing reading a copy of DC's Gang Busters comic.

The movie is set in September 1959, and Gang Busters ceased publication in 1958, so pretty much any issue in the series would have been correct, time period-wise, an attention to detail I always enjoy (in this case, the issue in question is Gang Busters #66, on sale August 1958).

Its interesting to me that the prop department chose such an obscure comic such as Gang Busters. Maybe author Steven King (whose short story from which this movie is based) mentions in the comic in the original story, since many of the details are taken from his life. Or maybe the prop department just wanted to use a vintage comic they didn't have to clear with lawyers.

Hey Kids, Juvenile Delinquency!

2010-08-27T08:57:00.004-04:00

This is a mailer being sent around by prospective Democratic Nancy King, who is running for State Senator in Maryland. I think it pretty much speaks for itself.

Its simply amazing to me that, in 2010 for Rao's Sake, we still have people demagoging comic books, as if they the pave the road to juvenile delinquency. Look at that--a kid reading Superman! Horrors!

I discovered this on the website of artist Dean Trippe, who wrote an eloquent response to Ms. King. I don't think it will make her change her views, but you never know...

Hey Kids, Howling Commandos! - 1973

2010-08-24T12:46:00.003-04:00

I found this photo (which is a close-up so we can better see the comic) online as part of a Life magazine photo essay called "In Praise of Classic Comics." Check it out, there's some amazing stuff on display.

The comic in question is Sgt. Fury and His Howling Commandos #98, first on sale in February 1972. This photo was taken on the streets of Vietnam in 1973--I can only imagine what American war comics must have read like to a child at that time, in that place.

Hey Kids, 3D Comics!

2010-07-25T09:41:00.003-04:00

A fan of the Hey Kids blog named Martyn McHale found this vintage shot of kids enjoying the first issue of St. John's Three Dimension Comics (on sale Summer 1953) and sent it along to me.

Obviously this is a staged shot, what with seven kids all reading the exact same book (most of them holding it in a way to show off the cover), but someone at St. John was good at marketing, since there are other photos from the time of people enjoying the book:

Thanks Martyn!

Newsradio - 1998

2010-06-17T00:39:00.002-04:00

I was catching up on episodes of the NBC show Newsradio, and in the Fifth Season episode "The Lam", we catch a glimpse of Matthew (Andy Dick) reading a Casper comic book, supposedly belonging to his boss Dave (Dave Foley) when he was a child. With a little detective work, I was able to determine the book in question is Casper's Ghostland #40, cover-dated Feb. 1968.

I always enjoy seeing real comics show up as props in TV or movies, but I really like it when a prop department bothers to get it right--this comic was on sale in late 1967. Since this set is the boyhood home of Dave Nelson, that means that the character would have been about five or six when this published, which lines up perfectly.

I'm sure it would have been easier just to grab any comic book and use it for the scene, because who else but obsessive nerds (cough) would notice? But they bothered to make the effort. Nice job, Newsradio Prop Department!

Weird Strange Christmas - 1974

2010-05-08T13:30:00.003-04:00

This great pic was sent to me by Buddy Scalera, who posted it on Flickr a while back trying to figure out what the books are in the picture.

If you read the comments, you see it didn't take long to determine that he's holding an issue of Weird Western Tales (#25, to be exact), with a copy of Strange Adventures on his lap. Looks like a Merry Christmas to me!

Hey Kids, Sunday Comics! - 1940s

2010-05-02T13:10:00.003-04:00

This is another family photo, again taken by my Great Uncle Fred, who was quite the photographer, as this pic exemplifies.

The kid in question is my Uncle Barry, who was sitting down to a practically iconic breakfast table (milk, egg, checkered tablecloth) and starting the day off with the Sunday Comics section in The Philadelphia Inquirer.

I wish I could make out what that top strip is on the front page, but I guess you can't have everything!

Hey Sis, Comics! - 1980

2010-04-24T21:57:00.003-04:00

I was digging through some old family photos and found this--a shot me, my sister, our dog Patrick, and a copy of Battlestar Galactica (#13, to be exact).

Finding a family photo that I have no memory of is surprising enough, but one that features a comic book in it that I'm not the one holding? Downright shocking!

Comics on A Clothesline - 1941

2010-04-06T23:03:00.002-04:00

Another vintage photo I found online, another newsstand so well-stocked it makes my mouth water (am I weird for saying that?).

Here's a close-up of the books on sale. In the center is Superman #10, which was on sale March of 1941. You can also see issues of Blue Beetle, Master Comics, Action Comics, and All-Star Comics:

If, when I was a kid, there was a place like this near me, I would've spent all my time there. Apparently you could get some comics, a soda, a sandwhich--and it seemed like the place was open to the air, so you could enjoy all those items on a beautiful sunny day, just hanging out.

My Dad was around eight in March 1941. Sometimes I envy him his childhood...

The "Show Me" Newsstand - 1951

2010-04-01T07:33:00.003-04:00

I found this photo online, of an unbelievably well-stocked newsstand. Judging by the comics on sale (that issue of Tarzan, for instance), this photo was taken sometime around late 1951.

For whatever reason, when I see photos like this, my eyes grow wide and I get a sense of anticipation I think similar to what foodies get when they watch the Food Network. It just seems so exciting!

The 1970's, Comics, and Me

2010-03-04T14:22:00.000-05:00

Mike Mitchell - There are many comic collectors who can tell you the first comic book they ever remember reading. There are some who can rattle off the names of writers and artists who have profoundly changed their way of thinking. There are some who can tell you the number of any issue some big shot comic character appeared in and even on which page they showed up on.

Some collectors are fanatical about their comics, they keep extensive lists, and meticulously sort their comics, still others pay particular attention to the grade and condition of the comics they buy. Some people speculate even on the future worth of comics.

I'm afraid I don't fit into any of these categories...

Still...my love affair with comics is just as rock solid as that of any other comic fan.

Instead of having strong memories of certain individual comics which served to turn me into a life long fan, I have very deep impressions of comics just being a part of growing up in the 1970's. The town where I lived was a Paper Mill town in Western Maine. We didn't know it then, but we were really quite isolated from the rest of the outside world.

In my town almost all my friends had cardboard super market boxes filled with comics under their beds. We traded comics and often kept them rolled up in our back pockets, our worse yet folded over in lunch boxes. To us there was no value to comics at all.... outside the pure entertainment of them.

I read all comics as a kid, anything that was in reach was consumed and absorbed with equal pleasure. I remember the guys up the block were heavy into DC, their stash was a bunch of Superboy, World's Finest, and Detective Comics.

I had an older foster sister who had loads of romance comics that I would swipe in some futile hope of mine that I could better understand the wiles of femininity. My school chums were all over Marvel titles like Spider-Man, Hulk, Thor, and Fantastic Four. Another friend had a nice big box of comics like Ripley's Ghost Stories, Magnus Robot Fighter, and Boris Karloff Mystery.

What did I bring to the mix? Well...I had an okay assortment of the above mentioned comic fare, but I was more taken in later years by comic magazines such as Mad, Tales of the Zombie, Eerie, Creepy, and Vampirella.

Yes it's true...I was one of those weird, "black and white kids." While everyone else was ohhing and ahhing about their favorite super-somebody, I was going ga-ga over art by Frazetta, Mort Drucker, and Angelo Torres. I just couldn't get over the intricacy of linework, the essence of expresion, the raw power these and many other talented artists from the B&W crowd could cram into a single panel. Sometimes I would get so lost in the art I would totally forget what the story was about.

However, it was comics like Howard The Duck, Vampire by Night, and Kirby's 70's run on Captain America that brought me a little back to the spinner rack.

As far back as I can remember I was drawing, usually I found myself drawing comic book characters. Most often these were the three inch tall, wooden knock-offs of the caped crusader variety, floating on an empty page of white. By the time I reached High School however, I began to create my own comics into which I would occasionally insert my friends, and even myself as either heroes, villains, or the occasional mad scientist. I began to have serious aspirations as a comic book artist.

The year I graduated I was accepted to Joe Kubert School of Art, (which at the time was mecca for aspiring comic artists it was the crucible that gave us Steve Bissette, Lee Weeks, and Rick Veitch...just to name a few) unfortunately I was unable to attend, mostly due to financial concerns...and alas my comic artist aspirations then withered, and died.

20 years later however, my dreams of comics were renewed. I attended a small press comics convention in Baltimore around 2004 and was amazed at the work average Joes like me were turning out practically all by themselves. Since then I have gone back into comics full swing. Drawing, collecting, and enjoying comics just like back in the day.

Today I create small press comics, some B&W and others color, that reflect the flavor of comics back when I was a kid,...back in what I think was the very best time to enjoy comics...the 1970's.

Hey Kids, Products!

2010-01-07T22:32:00.001-05:00

Now available through Zazzle.com are Hey Kids, Comics! T-shirts and mugs! Click the images to order, and be part of the cool kids!

WickerMan

2009-11-22T14:44:00.002-05:00

I was watching the 1973 horror classic The Wicker Man yesterday, and, aside from all its other qualities, there was a scene where Sgt. Howie (the late Edward Woodward) enters a seemingly-innocent (everything in this movie is "seemingly innocent") candy shop.

For a brief second, you can see a rack of colorful magazines hanging on a rack by the door. Here's a close-up, as close as I could get:

The second magazine is pretty clearly Jack and Jill, but the bottom couple of mags look like British comics to me--the very bottom one has a Disney feel to it, but of course I can't be sure. Anyone have any ideas?

For those of you who haven't seen the movie, I don't want to give anything away. But if they are comics, I'm amused by the idea of a comics delivery guy whose route includes this very creepy island.

I wonder if they sold a lot of horror comics here, or did the island's young residents buy nothing but family fare to keep the illusion going this is an innocent little community?

Box O' Marvels

2009-11-18T23:14:00.002-05:00

George Rears - It seems every comic collector of a certain vintage has a story about how at one point their mother threw out/donated/sold their comic collection. Not me. In fact, I am actually the beneficiary of one of those poor mothers who was probably disowned by their child oh-so-long-ago.

I come from a long line of comic collectors. My sister, who is eleven years older than me, paved the way for us by reading comics as through her pre-teen years. I can just imagine here reading Supergirl stories in the back of Action Comics after bedtime by the light of a flashlight.

My sister did quite well in school, eventually becoming Valedictorian in her high school class, so that when my brother, seven years older than me, picked up the habit, my parents if not actively encouraged reading comics, they did not discourage it. My brother bought books in late 60s and early 70s. His era was the "Kirby is Coming" DC, as Jack Kirby introduced the world to the New Gods. He saw first hand the O’Neil/Adams Green Lantern/Green Arrow series that introduced relevancy to comics, and the "Amazing New Adventures" of Superman produced by Julius Schwartz.

Sometime in 1973 or early 1974, (my details are sketchy on this, as I have not wanted to bring up painful memories) my Mother accidentally sold all my brother's comics at the military base. Apparently there was some misunderstanding, and only some of the books were to be sold. Regardless when my brother came home from school one day, his collection had been re-booted.

Never wanting to make the same mistake twice, my parents actively supported my comic collecting. Never asking me to sell my books, nor complaining about shipping heavy books around when we moved. In fact, in 1980, my mother went above and beyond the call of duty.

My mother for a long time volunteered with the Officers Wives Club of Fort Dix, which ran a "Thrift Shop". The store featured used items ranging from clothes, furniture, and comic books that soldiers could buy when they arrived on a new base, or sell when leaving. The seller took a share of the proceeds, and the other part of the proceeds was used to fund scholarships. By the late 70s, my mother became the manager, and had an advance look at all the incoming merchandise.

Comics were in a sad state during the late 70s and very early 80s: The DC implosion, Marvel running fill-in issues every third month due to the "Dreaded Deadline Doom", The Human Fly...it would be a year or so before Shooter's ascension saved Marvel (and DC, for that matter, as defections such as Marv Wolfman, Len Wein, and Roy Thomas helped shaped DC during the 80s).

This is the era where I started buying Marvel books. I had been buying the Avengers and Fantastic Four, along with Captain America and Iron Man sometime in 1978. I didn't quite get Spider-Man, as he was so different from anything I had read as a DC addict. They were OK, probably even better than the DC books I was buying. However, it seemed comics weren’t quite as fun to collect anymore...until I came home from school one day to see a long box full of late sixties Marvels!

In this treasure chest were classic comics...S.H.I.E.L.D by Steranko, Lee and Romita Spider-Man, Kirby Captain America, Colan Daredevil, and Tuska Iron Man...curiously, there were no Lee and Kirby Fantastic Four...

I was never a fan of reprints, but these were back issues! I'd like to think I dove right in and read them all, but I didn't. For days, I would just thumb through the books, looking at the covers. It took me a while to get the courage to actually read them, but when I did...wow! The old comic smell, letter pages, goofy advertisements that were probably dated when they first appeared, not to mention the great stories--Marvel Soap Opera. Kirby action. I think these were the books were I actually "got" Marvel.

The collection had many gaps, so as I read each book, I craved to know what would happen next, only to be disappointed to see a three issue jump and all the sub-plots already neatly wrapped up. I knew from reading the current books that Spidey was able to pay the rent, but how did he do it? How? How?

These books helped keep my passion for comics alive until I was reinvigorated by The New Teen Titans a few months later. For that, I have to thank my mother, the woman who actually bought the box of comics, rather than selling mine.

I do feel bad for that kid somewhere, though.

Forget Santa Claus

2009-07-22T00:03:00.001-04:00

Glenn Walker - You want to see a little kid's head explode? Forget telling him there's no Santa Claus--just tell him about the Crime Syndicate.

There’s a saying that goes "The real Golden Age is ten." This goes back to second grade, so I guess for me, it's seven. I was on the swings at the old Waterford Elementary School. This was old school old school. Six classrooms, two floors, restrooms and a cafeteria. The building is still there but I kinda doubt it's still a school.

Me, Mark S. and Joey K. were on the swings, talkin' comics. Specifically we were talking about one of the classic quandaries of comic book lore--who's faster, Superman or the Flash? Even at that age, back in the early 1970s, we knew the answer--even though DC Comics wouldn't officially acknowledge it for another decade or so.

For the record, Superman is faster for longer distances and flying, the Flash for shorter distances and running. Duh. Easy-peasy. Now get thee to a comic book bar and start making bets. ;-)

The conversation took an odd turn when mark started telling us about a "backwards Superman," Bizarro, he had seen in one of his older brother's comics. Another fun "fact" of the comics industry holds that the audience turns over every ten years. It's the reason some folks grew up with Wally West as their Flash instead of Barry Allen or Jay Garrick--the next generation turnover. In this case it was true. With Challenge of the Superfriends still a few years away, and "Tales of the Bizarro World" gone while we were in diapers, neither Joey nor I had ever seen or heard of Bizarro.

Joey then countered that he had seen an ad in an old comic that featured a renegade Green Lantern...who had a yellow ring! As we all knew by heart, even at the age of seven: "Editor’s note: Green Lantern’s Power Ring is powerless against anything colored yellow, due to a necessary impurity in the ring." Mark and I stopped swinging and shuddered. We would soon learn this villain’s name was Sinestro. An evil Green Lantern? Wow.

Playing the generation card myself, I brought up a character of equal awe that I had seen in one of my big brother's Flash comics, the Reverse-Flash! He was just as fast as the Flash, came from the future, and wore a yellow costume with red lightning bolts--opposite colors to the Flash's uniform. Arrogant little punk that I was, I thought I had trumped Joey's Sinestro. There was a moment or two of appropriate awe and silence.

And then Joey, very quietly, said something that made our jaws drop.

"There’s an evil Justice League from Earth-Three."

The very concept boggled the mind. Could it be true? We all knew Earth-Two (something I might add, we never had trouble understanding as little kids even though it proved too difficult for grown-up editors and writers to comprehend in the mid-1980s) and the Justice Society, and knew there were two Supermen, two Flashes, two Green Lanterns, even two Robins--but a third Earth? Our wide eyes and dropped jaws spurred Joey to continue, "My big brother says there’s a evil Justice League from Earth-Three. They took over their entire planet and then tried to do the same to Earths One and Two."

We were spellbound. "An evil Superman who gets a new power every time he gets near kryptonite, an evil Flash, an evil Green Lantern, an evil Batman, even an evil Wonder Woman. It took both the Justice League and the Justice Society to beat them. They put them in a prison between the Earths with warnings in every language to never let them out." He said it all almost in one breath. "They’re still there."

Wow. "They’re still there." Brrrr...I still remember that day on the playground in recess when Joey K. blew our minds. When I found out years later that there was no Santa Claus, it wasn't as much as a blow...nor even as scary as finding out there was an evil Justice League from Earth-Three.

Mickey Rooney Reads Comics!

2009-07-18T15:41:00.003-04:00

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!

Men At Work, With Comics

2009-06-16T10:38:00.002-04:00

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!

Thank Heaven For 7-11

2009-04-30T00:03:00.000-04:00

George Rears - Long before I ever read a comic book, I discovered Slurpees. I am the youngest of five kids, and my brother closest in age to me is seven years older than me. Because I had teenaged brothers and sisters, as a 6 year old, I had access to knowledge that other 6 year olds could only dream about: Wacky Packages, Topps Baseball Cards, and Slurpees...and not just Slurpees, but Slurpee cups.

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...

Beyond Here Lies Comics

2009-04-21T16:35:00.002-04:00

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.

The Comic Book Baron of New Jersey

2009-04-06T00:03:00.000-04:00

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.

Why I'll Never Be As Rich As Bruce Wayne

2009-03-13T00:03:00.000-04:00

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:

Now, while these issues were reasonably priced, they were still rather pricey for someone in my financial situation. I remember them each going for around $40-$50 each, which means I could basically afford one a week, after I bought all my regular books.

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:

...I'm sure at least some of you are slapping their heads in Homer Simpson-like frustration right now, realizing that the above book is nothing less than the first appearance of The Riddler, one of the seminal books in Batman's long history.

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 bought all four issues, because I was a regular Batman reader.

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:

Collect Me If You Can

2009-02-08T21:04:00.002-05:00

My girlfriend and I were watching and re-watching(respectively) Steven Spielberg's 2002 film Catch Me If You Can, based on the true story of master con man Frank Abignale (played by Leonardo DiCaprio).

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!

Spirit of '74

2009-01-27T00:03:00.002-05:00

David C. Morefield - I can't even remember why I was being punished.

Most likely I'd manipulated my little brother into some dangerous situation or other, or shamed the family again with a poor showing at school. The point is I was in hot water with the folks and comics were strictly off-limits until my sentence was served.

The year was 1974. At nine years of age I was past the point where spankings were practical, so my folks had settled on a new form of punishment; taking away things I enjoyed. My most obvious passion, and therefore my primary Achilles' heel, was comics. This wasn't the last time I'd lose access to them for my misdeeds; the worst would come a couple of years later, when during another stretch in the "no comics" icebox, DC and Marvel would release Superman vs. Spider-Man, surely the greatest event in publishing since Gutenberg perfected movable type...and I was forbidden to buy it.

Even in the best of times, it took some effort to get my hands on a comic. I was living in the small town of Saluda, VA, which didn't rate a drug store or corner grocery, so the nearest source for four-color adventures was Marshall's Drug Store in the neighboring town of Urbana. I spent many an afternoon turning that creaky spindle rack, situated as it was between a lunch counter smelling of grilled cheese sandwiches and a magazine stand crammed with the latest issues of National Lampoon, Creem and Tiger Beat (the latter invariably featuring Bobby Goldsboro, Donny Osmond and/or the Jackson Five. Groovy!). It was there I would first encounter the manic energy of the Amazing Spider-Man, the "wow, everyone's in the same book" grandeur of the Justice League of America and the sublime awesomeness of the 100-Page Super-Spectacular.

But not on this day. For now, I'd have to make due with cap gun battles in the back yard, or maybe another Yeti hunt with my Adventure Team GI Joe (with "life-like hair!"...if you're a hedgehog). Or so I thought. Because to my enduring surprise, Dad returned home from his errands that day with a gift for me, a magazine with a colorful cover showing a man in a blue fedora and tattered blue suit standing atop a strange brick structure (A barbecue? A refrigerator-sized jail cell?) confronting a woman in a red dress. The magazine was called The Spirit, and inside were black and white comics unlike anything I'd seen before.

This was unprecedented; in the ongoing Cold War between parent and child, it was a development as momentous as Nixon's trip to China. By handing me this magazine before my sentence was up, it was like Dad was switching allegiances from Mom to me, if only for a moment. Remember, the ban was on comic books, and this publication, whatever it was, wasn't the typical comic. Magazine-sized, with black and white content and drawn in a "retro style" (I didn't know they were actually vintage stories) it was something new, something different.

I mean, who'd ever heard of "Warren Publishing"? On a fundamental level, of course, it was a comic, but by exploiting a seeming loophole, the warden himself had smuggled in contraband. If "no comics" was my prison, that magazine was my cake with a hacksaw baked inside.

Maybe I shouldn't have been so surprised, as Dad had been a comics fan himself growing up. More than once I wished I could've seen his collection of Golden Age books (his favorites were Captain Marvel and a character named Something-Eagle, or Eagle-Something, he could never remember and I've never been able to figure it out). Like so many readers of his generation, however, his comics were lost to time, in this case stored in a barrel in a shed and destroyed by mice(!).

I've never talked to Dad about it--I seriously doubt he'd remember that day anyway--but the whole "Spirit Magazine" episode only ever made sense as a "bonding" thing. Surely as a Methodist minister he wouldn't have bought me the magazine based on the content of the stories, which I'm convinced he never read.

I mean, on the very first page of the very first story, a man is brutally beaten (stomped!) to death by mob enforcers and abandoned on the sidewalk in a pool of blood. As the book progresses, another man is struck over the head with a heavy tool and dumped in a garbage truck bound for the city incinerator; a female prison guard gets a face full of scalding steam and lies clawing at her face in a silent scream; people are atomized by martian ray guns, and--most memorably--a beautiful woman doctor strips out of her surgical gown and changes to a dress (in one panel we see a shot of her bare back that, despite showing no "naughty bits," remains one of the sexiest images I've ever seen in a comic).

The fact that all this was drawn in a "cartoony" style somehow made it more shocking, not less. Weaned on DC and Disney comics, I couldn't help thinking, "Is it even legal to print this stuff?"

I pored over every page of the magazine repeatedly, and not just because it's the only comic I had for weeks. Even the ads in this thing were mesmerizing; original James Bond movie posters for $3.50 to $5.00 (today they'd go for hundreds and up), Mego superhero action figures (had to remember to look for those at the department stores!) and in the back pages, a veritable library of books collecting old comics; Superman and Batman From the 30s to the 70s (which I had and loved), Flash Gordon, The Phantom, Mandrake, Underground Comix (whatever those were), something called All in Color For A Dime and a paperback that promised to contain Green Lantern and Green Arrow stories drawn by Neal Adams (my hero! Did he really draw such books? Did Green Lantern really have his own title once?!).

In later years, I'd track down many of those volumes, but nothing could have lived up to the promise of those tantalizing ads. Even more fascinating, though, was the knowledge that I was reading Issue #2 of The Spirit. Thus Issue #1 took on an almost mythical status in my imagination. I knew from an ad that the cover had shown a giant Spirit looking down on a murder, but as the issue had come and gone a couple of months earlier, I might as well have missed it by 20 years. "Back issues" and "direct sales" were alien concepts to me then, and for years to come.

Later on, during another period of punishment (I must have been some rotten kid!), Dad would "bend the rules" again and get me DC's tabloid-sized Bible comic (it was an unusual size, and maybe I'd learn Bible stories, right?) but it didn't have the impact of The Spirit.

Eventually, of course, I'd figure out who Will Eisner was and where the comics in that magazine first saw life. I'd collect every "Spirit" story I came across, and most of the time I'd enjoy them. But nothing would ever match the impact of that first meeting with Denny Colt, Ellen Dolan, Powder, Bleak, Sparrow and the puberty-hastening Dr. Silken Floss.

I've held onto the magazine to this day while so many other artifacts of my youth have been lost to time. It's missing the covers, has holes where I cut out the James Bond poster images and now starts on page 7, but I've got it. And whenever I open it up, I'm nine years old again, ending my comics fast with a feast of powerful imagery and entering a fascinating, exciting, scary world far removed from the cozy confines of Metropolis, Riverdale and Duckburg, and offering a glimpse into still more worlds of adventure in those back-page ads that said, "There's enough of this stuff that you could read it for the rest of your life, kid."

And so I have. Thanks, Dad. I won't tell Mom if you don't.

The Deliberate Error

2009-01-19T00:03:00.000-05:00

Vincent Bartilucci - The last time Rob granted me the floor here at Hey Kids,! Comics! I wrote about my father, Shazam! #12, and a family trip to Scotland in 1974. I ended that piece on a bit of a cliffhanger. Here's a brief recap:

In the summer of '74, my family and I visited relatives in Scotland. Shortly before we returned home, my Uncle Albert purchased a copy of Shazam! #12 for me. That comic book was something of a milestone in my own personal comic-collecting history; it was my first encounter with the original Captain Marvel, who was one of my father's childhood favorites. Cap soon became a favorite of mine, as well. Almost 35 years later (yikes!) and I'm still fascinated by The World's Mightiest Mortal and his whimsical supporting cast.

But--and here's the cliffhanger part--as I mentioned in the first half of this tale, my Uncle Albert purchased two comic books for me on that fateful day in August of '74. Like Shazam! #12, this other comic book was my first issue of a series that I would follow for years to come, a series that would rival even The Brave and the Bold and Justice League of America for my affections.

At the time of the actual purchase however, this other comic book was barely on my radar. In fact, so intense was my focus on the cover of Shazam! #12 that I failed to notice so much as the title on the second comic that my uncle plucked from that wire rack in that Scottish pub (I swear, it was a pub!) we visited. And, since these comics were for me to read on the flight home a few days later, they both went into a bag and the bag went to my mother for safe keeping until our departure. We were airborne before I learned the identity of that other comic book.

Superboy.

Boring old Superman as a boring old kid. Ho-hum.

To be fair though, the cover to that other comic book, Superboy #201, did look kind of interesting, what with the unconscious form of the Teen of Steel lying in the foreground and some other super-hero squaring off with the issue's villain. I didn't recognize either of the combatants, or, for that matter, two additional characters that lay defeated in the background. Whoever they were, they all had neat costumes.

Despite the cover, however, I was still fairly certain that the story itself would be a dud because, as far as the Man of Steel concerned, the folks at DC were nothing but a pack of dirty cheats. Well, what would you call them? In the mid seventies, Superman and Action Comics boasted some of the most dynamic covers on the stands, exciting images that promised thrills and chills and adventure aplenty. Yet beneath those phenomenal front pieces lurked lackluster tales featuring goofy-looking aliens, monumentally outclassed super-villains, and a hero who was never, ever in any real danger. In my learned, seven-almost-eight year old opinion, Superman was dull with a capital D. I couldn't imagine how Superboy would be any different.

The fact is he wasn't any different. Superboy, the character, was just as boring as Superman. But Superboy, the comic book, was pretty darn exciting. Superboy, the comic book, had the Legion of Super-Heroes! And the Legion of Super-Heroes was…the Legion was…

I'm sorry but I just can't do it. I can't continue my tale without making an embarrassing confession. Do not judge me too harshly, fellow Legion fans but …

I originally read the logo of Superboy #201 as Superboy starring The Legend of Super-Heroes.

All these years later, I'm not exactly sure where "Legend" came from. Thanks to my comic book mania, I was a fairly strong reader with a vocabulary that was rather advanced for my age. Whenever I came across an unfamiliar word in the latest issue of Iron Man or The Flash or what have you I'd scramble to the dictionary to look it up. I knew what "invulnerable", "abomination", "supersonic", and a host of other words meant long before any of my classmates. I guess that's relatively common among young comic book fans.

In this case, however, I didn't investigate the unfamiliar word. Granted, I didn't have a dictionary with me on the transatlantic flight from Glasgow to New York. But I had better. I had my folks. I could've asked one of them what Legion meant. But I didn't. Instead, my brain just replaced Legion with a more familiar word. It was sheer laziness; the laziness that sometimes comes with being 'rather advanced' for your age.

I mean, the only alternative to laziness is that I glanced at the cover of Superboy #201 so quickly that I really believed the subtitle read Starring the Legend of Super-Heroes. But, if that was the case, if I had actually misread the logo, why the heck didn't I check it again when I discovered that the darn story took place in the future? I certainly don't recall ever thinking to myself, "hey, isn't a legend something that OCCURRED IN THE PAST?!?!?" Then, of course, there are all the times the words Legion or Legionnaire appeared in the issue. I just flipped thru a reader copy of this issue that I purchased recently and counted them up--19 in the main story, 12 in the back-up! 31 references to the Legion within the issue, averaging more than one a page, and I just sorta glossed over them all! Nope, I'm convinced it was laziness.

The really embarrassing part is that this went on for years. Even after I encountered and understood the word legion in other contexts--heck, even when I realized that the name of the group within the series itself was the Legion of Super-Heroes--I was STILL referring to the comic book as Superboy and the Legend of Super-Heroes. It became something that was willful, deliberate. I knew it wasn't right but I refused to correct myself.

And I guess that brings us back to my father and the tale I related last time. Captain Marvel was one of my dad's favorite characters and he filled me in on a lot of Shazam-lore before I ever set eyes on my first issue of Shazam! But somewhere along the line he had become convinced that Billy Batson, Cap's alter ego, was a crippled newspaper boy. Of course, it was Freddy Freeman, Captain Marvel Jr.'s secret identity, who was lame and hawked newspapers, but dad didn't remember it that way and he wouldn't be persuaded otherwise.

I don't believe for a minute that my father's error stemmed from any mental laziness on his part but I think I'm beginning to understand now why he stuck to his guns all those years. Sometimes what we remember is more important than the truth. Dad remembered Billy with a crutch and a stack of newspapers. I remembered reading Superboy starring The Legend of Super-Heroes. To correct those memories is to bring other, more important memories into question. And we derive too much joy from our memories to start tearing them down.

So, enjoy your memories. During glad times, revel in them. During sad, gain strength from them. Pull them all out and scatter them across the living room table like so many faded photo albums.

And, should you discover that a given memory isn't supported by historical fact, choose the memory. You'll be happier.

My First Comic Shop

2009-01-18T10:12:00.003-05:00

Rick Phillips I went to Phil's Records today perhaps for the last time. Oh I still like the place but it's just that they are moving. I heard about it a couple of weeks ago but I didn't hear the date. I just stop for one last visit and found out that today was the last day. So I bought a little bit more then I planned on.

You see they are moving to an area where I haven't been in about 10 years. So I may ever see the store again. Now why am I writing about a record store when the title is called my first comic shop? Well they also sold comic books. They didn't have a huge supply but I could always go there and find something if the regular store didn't have it and that was rare.

After I left I thought about the first comic book store that I found in my area. My cousin Randy and I saw an ad in the newspaper for Conner's Comics. It was near Industrial Road and both of us had our parents drive us over there to look for the store. My folks must have driven me up and down that road and the side roads at least a dozen times before they gave up hope of finding it.

About a week later Randy and I were going down Dixie Highway to the YMCA. We saw a small store across the street that had comic books in the window. We made a promise to each other to stop there on the way back. After a good time of swimming at the Y we headed home and stop there on the way back.

It was when I was looking at the books that I saw in the window from the street that I noticed something. It was laying flat so it wasn't viewable from the street. I picked it up with my eyes wide in amazement. I called to Randy and held up what I had just found. It was a wood sign and carved into it was the name of the store. It was Conner's Comics. It seems that it was near Industrial Road with the ad came out but soon moved to this location. We wound up finding the store when we quick looking for it.

The store was only at that location for less then a year but I had a lot of fun there and learned alot about my hobby. It was the first time I took a comic book to the store to sell to them. It was Justice League of America #129. Like any kid I folded it up and put it in my back pocket and made my way to the store. When I took it out and tried to sell it the counter person told me the crease made it worthless. That was how I learned to keep them in the best condition that I can.

I only saw one person at the store and when Randy and I talk to him he told us he knew nothing about comic books. He only collected baseball cards. When someone had a question about comic books he had to look it up. I was amazed at that revelation. Why hire someone who doesn't know anything about the hobby? Maybe he was the only one who applied.

"Thank Heaven For 7-11"

2009-01-11T02:24:00.002-05:00

Rob Kelly - Well, our first Hey Kids! poll is concluded, and the far away winner for where people would love to see comics sold again is...7-11!

Despite the fact that if comics were sold on a grand scale in big box stores like Target it would probably have a significantly positive effect on the comics industry, in the end most people who voted went for the place I bet most of them bought comics in the first place, the local 7-11 (or equivalent "Kwik-E-Mart"-esque chain).

I have to say that, while in my head I know that it makes the most sense for comics to be in the big-box stores (have you been to a Target during Christmas?), deep down I think I'd give my left arm to see them sold in 7-11s again--it would just make me feel good.

7-11s are the first store many kids can get to on their own, the place where they can spend their money without their parents approval (heck, from what I remember, most of the stuff you bought in 7-11 would be gone by the time you even got back to your house). At the 7-11 down the road from my house, kids still hang out outside, their bikes off to the side as they eat candy bars and smoke cigarettes. The more things change...

Back in 2007, Marvel tried a brief experiment and started putting together specially-made collections for 7-11 stores, and I was so excited I bought every copy I found. But to no avail; eventually the range of titles dwindled from half a dozen to pretty much just Spider-Man, and then even Spidey disappeared.

I guess sales just weren't there, which kind of confounds me, because at several 7-11s in my area, they regularly stock Wizard--Wizard!--a magazine about comics sells well enough to be in 7-11s, but the comics themselves don't. What's wrong with this picture? I'm not a fact and figures guy, but boy would I love the opportunity to dig into Marvel's 7-11 sales figures and see just what the hell went on.

Even though comics are gone--probably never, ever to return--I have to admit, every time I'm in a 7-11 (which is often) I find my head, more often than not, unconsciously turning towards the magazine racks, in some vain hope I'll see a huge selection of comics there again. It's like my own sad, four-color version of "Christina's World."

Oh well, at least they still have Slurpees.

"From The Sublime To The Ridiculous"

2009-01-05T12:32:00.004-05:00

I get a particular thrill following up Richard Bensam's fantastic, moving piece (see previous post) for Hey Kids! with these: photos from a nudie film.

These screencaps were sent to me by Hey Kids! contributor Brian Heiler, who tells me: "These are shots from the 1963 opus Goldilocks and the Three Bares (yeah, I like old-timey naked people movies) and that buldging comic rack gets featured for about five minutes (it's obviously a one-camera shot).

It looked better on my TV but I had to use VHS to catch it, so it lost some resolution, I could see the Batman logo on my TV."

Wow, what a catch, and what a bizarre place to spot some comics as props--a early 60s nudie film?!?

That's an odd-sized comic rack, it looks like it has two racks on two sides, and then one rack on the opposite side. Wherever this was shot, the kids in the area had a lot more comics to choose from than I ever did. (So not only did they have a porno being shot in their neighborhood, but they had Charltons, too!)

I can't make out the Batman logo, but am I crazy to think that I see Archie's Pep Comics six titles down on the left?

"A New Year"

2009-01-02T09:39:00.005-05:00

Richard Bensam - 1974

Just over thirty-five years ago, my family moved from a small town in Pennsylvania to New York City. Both my parents were native New Yorkers returning home after an absence of many years, but my sister and I knew the city only from visits to our grandparents in Brooklyn, or our aunt and uncle in Queens. To actually live in Manhattan would be a radical change in every aspect of our lives.

Sayre, PA was an almost impossibly perfect manifestation of the ideal American small town. It was unbearably picturesque: the town in which Norman Rockwell paintings seem to take place. Fictional towns like Smallville or Riverdale would have seemed bustling and cosmopolitan by comparison. But the town was also narrow minded, parochial, conservative, economically depressed and oppressive, with little hope of escape for those born there. The television series The Prisoner never seemed like science fiction; I always felt as if I'd lived it. The year we moved away, the population of Sayre was under seven thousand people; the population of New York City at the same time was well over seven million.

There was only one building in town more than three stories tall: the local hospital, also the only building in town with an elevator. A whole city full of elevators and escalators and skyscrapers and subways and buses and taxicabs was some kind of crazy space age dream--yet we were moving to a city with heliports on the roof! A couple of years earlier, my family had visited Disneyland and I wanted to spend every moment of it in the Tomorrowland area. The prospect of moving to New York was like being invited to live in Tomorrowland.

Not every change seemed positive at the time. There was a real possibility I would be left behind from my age group and have to repeat a grade, because the curriculum in my former school system was well behind that of New York schools. That would have been humiliating; I only narrowly escaped it. As it was, I faced an uphill climb those first few months in the new school to catch up with my fellow students. (My first day there included a test on expressing fractions in decimal notation, and I had never even heard of a "decimal point" before. I got every question wrong.) This was the first time in my life schoolwork really challenged me, and somehow I managed to rise to the occasion.

(In fact, though I'm not sure how I managed this, I did well enough in the new environment that the following year I became one of only three students in the entire school chosen to learn how to use the school's computer--actually a dumb terminal hooked up via acoustic coupler modem to a mainframe at nearby New York University--writing simple math programs in BASIC. Understand that this was over three decades ago; grade schools then did not normally have computers, and certainly not one available to students, so this was an exceptional privilege. But that came later.)

I don't remember those early months in the city too clearly: mostly the sheer terror of my first day at the new school, followed by a blur of social awkwardness and discomfort over a period of months, combined with a steady stream of culture shock and new experiences. What I do remember vividly is visiting my new school for the first time before the new year began--or more specifically, visiting the combination stationery store/gift shop/newsstand across the street from the school and finding their rack of comics. That's when I saw this:

SHAZAM! #11 was the first comic book I bought in New York. The issue was dated March 1974, but it appeared on the racks considerably earlier. I remember thinking the theme of the cover was a good omen. 1974 was indeed going to be a new year for my family; yes, let's salute that.

Funnily enough, I'm pretty sure the second comic I bought at the same shop would have been this one:

When this turned up, I was profoundly relieved to discover I hadn't missed an issue of the ongoing story. At the time I loved both varieties of Captain Marvel equally, though in more recent years I've become more passionate about the Fawcett original whereas Marvel's version has aged considerably less well...but that's a whole other topic. What mattered was that I'd found a new place to buy comics.

As it happened, three blocks away from my new school (and this gift shop) was something I didn't even dream existed until I saw it for the first time, a few weeks later: an entire store that sold nothing but comic books. Every new comic. Old comics. Original art from comics.

Back in our former town, there were two newsstands on the same block that between them carried most of the latest comics. Both knew me as a regular customer, and I was scrupulous about dividing my purchases between the two out of fairness. At one of them, I was even allowed to go in the back and open the bundle of newly arrived comics to choose my purchases before they were put on the racks. That was how I first saw The Demon #1 by Jack Kirby...and even today, whenever I see that cover, it transports me back to Morley's News on Desmond Street in Sayre.

If by mischance both of those establishments ever missed a comic I wanted, I knew every other place that sold comics within driving distance--testing my father's patience on many occasions. If you had asked me about any town in northern Pennsylvania or southern New York State, I'd have described it as that's the town with the drug store with a huge comics display along the wall. Or that's the town with the smoke shop on the foot of a steep hill, where the comics spinner rack is next to the glass case full of pipes and tobacco. Individual comics were landmarks: That shopping mall in Elmira was where I got Superboy #147. In that poster shop outside Athens I found Avengers #63. Watkins Glen was the perplexing THUNDER Agents #20. My brain was a GPS system of comics vendors.

All this is by way of explaining that getting comics was of critical importance to me. I did not live for comics. I lived in comics. To find a store that specialized in comics changed everything. But I don't remember the first comic I bought there. What I remember is the first comic I bought in New York City, knowing that from now on I was going to be living here.

"The Best Gift Ever"

2008-12-22T09:29:00.007-05:00

George Rears - The. Best. Gift. Ever.

I'm the last of five kids. Not only that, my four older siblings are within five years age of each other. Then, there is aseven-year gap. Then me.

My family moved to West Berlin, Germany, in the spring of 1974. All of us except my eldest sister. She was finishing her senior year in high school and was bound for Rutgers in the fall. She would never end up moving overseas with the rest of us, but would join us during the holiday seasons and the summer break.

For the rest of us, we lived off the army base in a small neighborhood filled with American families. Surprisingly, the experience growing up in this neighborhood was remarkably similar to that of anybody growing up in suburban America. Tons of kids in the neighborhood, always ready for a wiffleball game, bike race, or flashlight tag. I bought my first baseball cards while living there, and my first comics, too. But with two adults, four kids, and an over weight dog, the little rancher was a bit tight.

After one year, we moved to a much larger house. The new house was great--the basement had a bomb shelter, the back yard went on and on forever, and the attic had a few hidden rooms (To this day I'm convinced that people were hidden in these spaces during World War II). It was a great place for and eight-year old kid to explore and develop his imagination, which was important, since this house was not anywhere near the base or any American neighborhoods.

I think living far away from the rest of my friends fed my love of comics. I'd see friends at school and cub scouts, but most of my spare time at home became comic book time. Understandably, by 1976 I was buying most of the DC line.

One of my older brothers also bought comics, but being a sophomore in high school, the last thing he wanted to discuss with his third grade sibling was the logic of Batman teaming up with an elderly Sgt. Rock in one issue of Brave and the Bold, and then teaming up with a seemingly perpetually young World War II super hero Wildcat in another issue. Still, he lent me his comics, and gave me an appreciation for Jack Kirby, not a bad deal at all.

What I didn't know at the time was my eldest sister, Susan, also had enjoyed comics when she was younger. I would find out later that she used to sneak a flashlight up to her to read comics after "lights out" each evening. Being eleven years old, Susan and I weren't that close. The year I finished first grade in Berlin Germany, She graduated high school in New Jersey. We did have a lot in common, though. Obviously, we liked to read. We both took our studies very seriously and did well in school. Ironically we both ended up graduating from the same high school and university, although in different decades.

By Christmas of 1976 , I had been collecting comics for two and a half years. In Germany back issues were hard to come by, so my knowledge of comic book lore was limited to about 36 issues (or 18 for the bi-monthly titles) of story. It was devastating whenever a new creative team came aboard a title, because I just assumed the team that had been working on it when I started reading the book had been doing it forever, and would continue forever. For Christmas, I had asked for a bunch of Mego action figures, and if memory serves correctly, I think that year was the year I received the Wayne Foundation playset!

Yet the best gift I received that year, a gift I still have and treasure to this date, didn't come from my parents, didn't come from my comic collecting brother, or even Santa. That Christmas, my sister gave me a hardcopy cover of Superman from the 30's to the 70's. This book was a collection of Superman from his first appearance up until about 1971. It was mostly black and white, but every other decade section started over with a color insert featuring a collection of covers, and at least one story partially in color. I don't know how long it took me to read the 375 page book--but I remember re-reading it for most of 1977!

The book itself remains one of the greatest collections of Superman stories ever put together. From the first Superman story in Action Comics, to the most important 1970's Superman story (Kryponite Nevermore!), this book had it all. It featured the first appearance on the Superman/Batman team, the first Lori Lemaris story, the classic Golden Age imaginary story where Clark and Lois watch a Superman feature with Clark distracting Lois every time Superman switched identities. It has it all...did I mention Bizarro? The Luthor, Prankster, Toyman team? Superboy meeting President Roosevelt?

All of a sudden, I got to see this broad tapestry of Superman lore laid out in front of me. The super-vigilante from the Golden age, Super policeman from the 50's, the king of imaginary stories from the 60's, and the newer, relevant Superman from the 70's. This book opened up my eyes to the idea that various talents could interpret a character, and that each interpretation was not only valid, but each came with its own appeal.

The book also came with an introduction by Superman expert E. Nelson Bridwell, which gave me a behind the scenes look at the character, which I could never have imagined, such as the influence the radio show had on the comic book with the introduction of kryptonite (to let the voice actor of Superman take a vacation while not interrupting the show) and the introduction of the Superman/Batman team.

Throughout my childhood, this book remained one of my all-time favorites. I remember reading about a similar Batman book on the dust jacket, and then finding a copy at the Berlin American library (and more recently, on eBay). Reading that book led to a sixth grade debate about Bat-Hound: Can you believe children in the 70's knew nothing about a one-shot character, and a canine character, at that, from the fifties? All of a sudden, I was becoming the scholarly expert on super heroes.

This book still sits proudly on my bookshelf--right next to its modern descendents, the DC archive collections. Its nowhere near mint shape. In fact I still remember spilling chocolate pudding in it years ago. Reading it today, It looks as if I must have spilled some other things on a few pages, too. I would never think of replacing it, even if I found the book in mint condition, because this isn't just a comic book. This was the Best Gift Ever.

Vincent Bartilucci - 1974

2008-12-19T00:03:00.000-05:00

Vincent Bartilucci - My dad grew up in Brooklyn during the 40's. At that time and in that place almost every kid read comic books.

Not many of them collected comics, however. Collecting anything--comic books, baseball cards, postage stamps, or whatever--was for kids with a bit more money in their pockets than my dad and his friends had. Instead, if dad got his hands on an issue of Superman or More Fun Comics he'd read it from cover to cover then hand it off to a friend.

That friend would read it and hand it to the next kid. On it would travel from kid to kid until every child on the block had a chance to read the comic or until it fell apart from all the handling. Then it'd get tossed in the trash. I don't think it ever occurred to my dad or his friends to save their comics. Comics were ephemera, a thing to experience rather than to own, more akin to a stickball game or a Gene Autry movie than a baseball mitt or a cap pistol.

So, it is that my dad had no comics from his own youth to pass on to his comic book obsessed son. But he remembered a few of his favorite heroes and sometimes he would talk to me about them. There were three in particular about whom dad would reminisce.

First in this trinity of Golden Age greats was Captain America. Dad was a really big fan of Timely Comics' patriotic Nazi-smasher. I'm sure that the Star-Spangled Avenger placing so highly on my own list of favorite do-gooders is due in no small part to my dad's love of the character. Last year, when all the 24 hour news channels reported that Captain America was being killed off, dad called me at work to make sure that I'd heard. After verifying that I had my copy of the fateful issue reserved, he asked me why they (Marvel) felt the need to kill off Cap. Although he hadn't followed the character since he was a wee lad, he sounded a little bit sad about the whole thing. I, of course, assured him Cap'd be back before he knew it. It's comics, after all.

The second of dad’s childhood favorites was Fawcett's Lieutenant (later Commander) Don Winslow of the Navy. Winslow was an officer in U. S. Naval Intelligence who got into the types of two-fisted trouble one might expect of such a character. Whenever dad mentioned him, he was always Commander Don Winslow of the Navy, spoken in a dramatic near-shout. No matter how many times I heard him say it, dad's silly recitation of that name could always bring a smile to my face.

The final Golden Age hero that dad would discuss with me is Captain Marvel, and it's the Big Red Cheese who is the real subject of this story. Dad was a huge fan of the World’s Mightiest Mortal...maybe. I say "maybe" because dad had one incredibly crucial piece of info about Cap incorrect and this one bit of misremembered data kind of muddies the water. But, more on that in a few paragraphs. Right now, we've got to take a trip across the Atlantic.

In August of 1974, my immediate family--mom, dad, sis, and I--visited Scotland where my mom was born and raised. As I recall, I had a wonderful time across the pond even though the trip took me away from my swimming pool-based Aqua-adventures for three whole weeks. I met all sorts of family for the first time and visited cool sites like Edinburgh Castle. I also made a lot of friends among the neighborhood kids and spent a significant amount of time out in the street playing.

Despite the fun I was having, I still had a four-color monkey on my back and before long I was looking for my comic book fix. During one of our trips "down to the shops" I spied a Spider-Man comic and snatched it up. Now, I've never been the biggest Spidey fan but it was the only comic book I had seen starring a character I actually recognized so I bought it. Beggars can't be choosers, right?

But it wasn't a comic book. At least not a real (read: American) comic book. It was a God-awful, magazine-sized abomination with black and white interiors reprinting a variety of old Marvel stories in unsatisfying little eight to ten page snippets. I did not know at the time that this Marvel UK publication was aping the traditional weekly comic magazine format familiar to all British children. Nope, all I knew was that I was glad I didn't live in Scotland. The big family, new friends, natural beauty, and fantastic history and culture of the place could all go hang as far as I was concerned. These poor people didn’t have real comics! (Please forgive my seven year old self's limited world view.) Anyway, I figured I wouldn't see another real comic until I was back on U.S. soil. But I was wrong.

A few days before our vacation ended, I was traveling around Glasgow in the company of my Uncle Albert and we stopped in at what I believe was a pub. Y'know how the light rapidly dwindles the further you go into such an establishment? Well, this place was downright inky in back! In retrospect, I suppose it could've been a restaurant of sorts or even the world’s darkest lunch counter, but I'm pretty sure it was a pub.

And, if it was a pub, it was the coolest pub in human history because, just inside the entrance to the place where you could still see your hand in front of your face, stood a wire rack containing, among other things, the first real comic books I'd seen in over two weeks. One comic in particular caught my eye and wouldn't let go. I stood there transfixed, staring at and, most likely, drooling over Shazam! #12.

I had never seen an issue of Shazam! prior to that moment but, thanks to my dad, I recognized that mystical acronym instantly. It was the magic word used by Billy Batson to change into the World's Mightiest Mortal, Captain Marvel, just like it said right there on the cover.

And what an amazing cover. It's like a primer on all things Shazam. You've got Cap flanked by his two primary partners in adventure, Mary Marvel and Captain Marvel, Jr. Below the flying Marvels are their three alter egos, Billy and Mary Batson, and Freddy Freeman. You've even got the disembodied heads of Uncle Marvel and Dr. Sivana making an appearance. Man, I needed this comic!

There was one small problem. Not only was it the first issue of Shazam! I had ever seen it was also the first of DC's 100 Page Giants I had ever encountered. The darn thing cost 60 cents U.S. which translated to well over one pound sterling! I probably didn't have enough to buy that comic even if I had my vacation money with me, which, of course, I didn't.

My uncle saw me gazing intently at the comic rack and he quickly pulled Shazam! #12 from its wire cage. He took another comic book from the rack and paid for them both. He informed me that the comics were for the long flight back home and that they were going to my mom for safe-keeping until the family was airborne. I thanked him--gosh, I hope I thanked him--and we left the pub / restaurant / world's darkest lunch counter.

Later, we met up with the rest of the family back at my grandmother's house and I excitedly told my dad that Uncle Albert had bought me a comic book starring Shazam. "Do you mean Captain Marvel?" he asked. Having forgotten the 'fine print' below the logo ("The Original Captain Marvel") I said, "I think they call him Shazam now." Dad thought that was kind of silly. Captain Marvel was a perfectly good name. Why change it?

On the flight home, mom handed me the comic books my uncle had purchased for me and I dove right into Shazam! #12. I immediately grasped that, despite the title of the series, the star was, indeed, still called Captain Marvel. I also quickly learned what Shazam stood for; dad could never quite remember all the gods whose names made up that magic word and the power each one contributed. I was, however, surprised by a major mistake the folks at DC had made.

As I mentioned earlier, dad had one piece of Shazam-lore incorrect. Oh, he had the facts about the old wizard, the magic word, the extended Marvel Family, the talking tiger in the leisure suit, and the World's Wickedest Scientist right. But he always told me that, in his non-powered form, Captain Marvel was Billy Batson, crippled newspaper boy. Shazam! #12 depicted Billy as hale and hearty but showed Freddy Freeman, Captain Marvel Jr.'s alter ego, as walking with a crutch. What a goof! On the part of DC, of course. Dad couldn't be wrong about something so important, after all.

I reported this discrepancy to my dad who just figured it was another silly change made for no good reason. I soon discovered such was not the case. Despite having all the other particulars straight, dad's memory had somehow placed that crutch under Billy's arm not Freddy's. I'm not sure why.

Back on Long Island I looked for more issues of Shazam but I didn't find any at my usual comic book haunt, Clearview Stationary, until just a few issues before the series was cancelled. I picked those up then followed the feature when it reappeared in the pages of World's Finest and the digest comics run of Adventure. Unlike many Shazam purists, I enjoyed the Don Newton version of the Marvel Family and the World's Mightiest Mortal soon became my second favorite DC hero, right behind a certain sea king.

Through all the years, however, I was never able to convince my dad that Billy Batson wasn't the one with the crutch and the newspapers. Even when I showed him reprints of 40's era Captain Marvel stories that contradicted his memories, he was not persuaded. Now, my dad wasn't a stubborn man--he had absolutely no problem admitting when he was wrong. But, for some reason, he wouldn't budge on the matter of crippled newspaper boy Billy Batson. He was utterly convinced about these 'facts' regarding Cap’s alter ego and was sure that somewhere along the way someone must have made the decision to reassign these character traits to Freddy.

My dad, Richard Bartilucci, passed away last month. He was 69. It's funny where your mind goes when you're grieving. I guess death is so big that you can only process it in little pieces--little "sadnesses". I find myself really sad about stupid little things. Like, I'll never get to tell dad, "Hey, Captain America is back." And I'll never get to hear him intone, Commander Don Winslow of the Navy, again. And I’ll never have another chance to convince him that Freddy was the one with the crutch...

Okay Rob, fellow Hey Kids folks, I promise my next story won't be so depressing. I have to tell you about the other comic my Uncle Albert bought me, after all! Like Shazam! #12, it was my first issue of a soon to be beloved series, a series with a title that I initialed misread back in 1974 and, therefore, misunderstood for years to come.

Ooooo. Cliffhanger...

Russell Burbage - 1989

2008-12-18T00:03:00.002-05:00

Russell Burbage - 1989

Seigi No Nakama, aka "Friends of Justice"

In 1987 I went to a small town called Aya in Miyazaki Prefecture. It's located on Kyushu, the southern-most island of Japan. Most Americans who know of Kyushu have hard of it because it is where Nagasaki and Okinawa are. The average American, however, has never heard of the island, let alone the town of Aya. I'm only trying to explain how off the beaten path I was. It was worlds away from Tokyo, believe me.

My job was to teach English to adults and children in my town of 7,500 people. I worked in the Community Center and several dozen people of all ages came to me each week. I enjoyed teaching, but after two years at it I was looking for some way to spice it up.

In 1989 I hit upon the idea to write and draw a series of comic books in English and Japanese. This was right when the movie Batman starring Michael Keaton and Jack Nicholson was taking the world by storm. I wanted to harness Batman's popularity and use it in my English classes. I had always considered myself a bit on the artistic side, and compared to some of the horrible dreck I saw in Japanese manga I felt confident my Fred Hembeck-like style could get the job done. I also enjoyed the translation process. I worked with friends to get just the right nuances to certain phrases, and my Japanese language skills improved.

The only problem I had was that I was finding it hard to "dumb down" existing Batman stories for my audience, whose English was not all that good. My favorite Batman stories were by the likes of Steve Englehart, Alan Grant, and Denny O'Neil; none of them exactly slouches in the plot and dialog department. This was of course several years before Batman:The Animated Series came along and would have pointed me in a totally different direction.

Then it suddenly occurred to me to use the Justice League of America as my cast of characters. In their simplest form they are a group of good guys who come together, fight the bad guys, and save the world. No kid would find this hard to understand. Plus I had a large collection of JLA issues with me in Japan and the full run of Super Friends, which was actually a simpler, easier to follow "kiddie" version of the JLA.

The next problem, however, was who would be in "my" Justice League? I wanted to use the best characters, but there had been so many different versions of the JLA by 1990 that I had too many options to choose from. So I decided to consider how I could supplement my stories with other media. I already had Batman and Aquaman videos in my classroom collection. Everyone knew Superman from the Christopher Reeve movies. I had heard that there was going to be a Flash TV series that fall. And I hoped that I could eventually lay my hands on some Lynda Carter Wonder Woman videos.

So this meant that I would use the "original" Justice League of America. I decided to adopt whole-hog the Silver Age DC universe. After all, these were the characters and stories I knew by heart anyway.

Of the original seven, I still had to consider Green Lantern and Martian Manhunter. I pretty quickly decided to add J'onn. Not only was he the soul of the then-current JLA but he had a very different look to him compared to the other members. And if my students did not warm up to him, I figured I could write him out the same way he left the group in the comics, by having him leave with his people.

Green Lantern presented my first real dilemma. I was a huge fan of Hal Jordan, but I had always liked John Stewart, too. So in order to give Japanese kids a better representation of the USA, I decided to swap out Hal and replace him with John. So in "my" universe John is the only Green Lantern on Earth. He is friends with the Flash and Green Arrow. He was the seventh and final charter member.

In DC continuity, Green Arrow was the first new member. I liked the bearded, caustic version of this character and thought he provided another "type," so he was in.

That brings us to the Atom, the JLA's second new member. When he was used well in the comics he was an excellent character. All too often, however, he was a speck on the Flash's shoulder. I guess I probably would have used him except for one big problem: in Japan, the character known in the west as Astro Boy is called Atom. He is very, very well known, so if I had added Ray Palmer to the cast I knew my students would say in disgust, "That's not Atom!" So, because of his (bad) name recognition, I reluctantly decided that the Atom was out.

Then I got another brainstorm: I decided to switch the histories of J'onn and Ray! Instead of Martian Manhunter leaving, as he did in 1969, I would have the Atom quit. Ray Palmer did leave in the early 1980s, so I was only moving the resignation forward a few years. Looking back at it now, however, I wonder why I didn't just ignore the Atom completely. I guess I was trying to show the kids that the group had a history.

Chronologically, that brings us to Black Canary. With a nod to both traditional and revised continuity, I had "my" Black Canary be from another dimensional world where the Justice Society of America existed, but she was the daughter of the original. When both her parents were killed, she decided to leave that Earth and join the JLA. (Oh, and another change I made was to totally ignore the Leave of Absence Wonder Woman took in the comics at about this time. As far as I was concerned, she never left.)

And that brings us to our third female member. I felt that the Hawkman-Hawkwoman partnership was an exciting relationship. I wanted to have married characters in the group. And they both looked so darn dynamic! I very strongly considered having both of them join together, which would have been the sensible thing, but in the end I decided for something more dramatic. I chose Hawkwoman instead of her husband in order to give Shayera a chance to shine. I wanted to give the girl students another character to possibly enjoy without her being possibly overshadowed by her husband. So as I had supplanted Hal with John, I decided to supplant Katar with Shayera. Hawkwoman became the third new member of the group in "my" continuity.

That gave me ten members. Ten characters to play with. I thought it lent itself to all sorts of variations and mixes. This roll call corresponded roughly to the JLA of the very early 1970s, right before Len Wein took over as writer. So that meant I could rewrite some of my favorite stories.

In order to introduce all the characters to the audience for the first four issues I used static roll call pages that did not change in order or appearance. Then when there was an issue without one of the members present, I could mark "absent" in their profile.

I decided to use the members' names as is, and only add the definition of what their names meant in their profiles, underneath their English names. So, for example, Aquaman became "A-ku-a-man, mizu no otoko." I also decided that in this international age, and as an American living in a foreign country, I just did not feel it was appropriate to call The World's Greatest Super-Heroes the Justice League of America. They were sworn to protect the entire planet, right? This was also around the time when the actual comic book had dropped the "of America," as well (although they quickly reintroduced it). With another nod to continuity, however, I decided to keep the phrase "of America" in the name of the Justice Society. It seemed natural that a group that had formed in the era of World War Two would incorporate USA into its name.

And all that left for me was a translation of "Justice League." Think about it: a league by definition is an association or alliance. A "Justice Alliance" just doesn't sound right, though, right? So after talking to one of my friends and explaining "the pitch," he came up with the translation, "Seigi no Nakama." Seigi is the Japanese word for Justice. Nakama is the word for friend or partner. (No is the possessive adjective in Japanese; the equivalent of an apostrophe s in English.)

I printed the stories in black and white and handed them out to whoever wanted a copy. Then I colored one copy with colored pencils (on better paper) and saved it in the Community Center library. The scans that accompany this article are mostly from these colored copies, which I (eventually) managed to reacquire after I left.

As for my first issue, it was called "The Reign of The Queen Bee" and it appeared in December, 1990. I don't know why I picked Queen Bee to use in my first story; I think it must have been because I had a book on bees to use as a reference. I didn't use any of her comic book stories as a reference for this story, either; except for the scene where a bee flies into Superman's ear that I swiped from JLA #131, the whole issue was all mine.

And it was pretty bad. The art was haphazard, the lettering was hard to read (in both languages!), and the page layouts were confusing. So what did I do next? For some reason I can't begin to understand, I decided to adapt the stories that appeared in the Pocket Books JLA collection, namely JLA #s 118, 119, and 130. This was an especially odd choice since these stories very prominently featured the Atom, Hawkman, Red Tornado, and the Elongated Man...none of who were in "my" Justice League! I cut the pages up, changed Hawkman to Hawkwoman, cut out the Atom, changed Red to J'onn, and basically did a horrible job. The least said about these two issues the better.

I tried one more original story, this time based on JLA #12, the debut of Dr. Light. Except for an odd change of which heroes switch identities to fool him, this story made the transition to my universe pretty well. My lettering and layouts were getting better, but I was basically ready to throw up my hands and admit defeat for this failed experiment.

However, somehow, in spite of myself, I had managed to do something right. I had a handful of students who actually *liked* these characters and wanted to read more about them! Believe it or not, I had somehow managed to not be totally awful.

So I reexamined what I was doing to try to come up with an improvement. I had to give sufficient space to the pictures, the English, and the translation. I think that what Keith Giffen was doing in Legion at about this time had an effect on me, because I settled on a two (sometimes three) tier format with the English in a bolder, lettering style (but not all in caps, which the kids found hard to read) with the pronunciation written above that in a much smaller font, and the translation under the box kind of like subtitles.

I also made roll call "panels" for the members that I could rearrange in the order which the characters appeared in the story. And if a certain member didn't appear at all, I simply took that panel out. And I added panels for the bad guys and guest-stars so the kids could get a quick introduction before the action started.

I can still remember the first time I worked in this format: both because I was putting my heart and soul into it, hoping the kids would like it, and because my newborn daughter was asleep in the same room while I inked the Amazon forest.

Needless to say, I was more satisfied with the results. The boys (and a few girls) liked this version more, so I decided to keep creating them. This is the era I consider my "golden age." After Dr. Light made his repeat appearance I had my first two-parter with the Time Lord. He appears at the Star City Museum and when the League attempts to stop him, he sends them back to the Jurassic age. (Yes, dinosaurs were all the rage in 1992).

In the next school year I had Kanjar Ro and Despero kidnap the Earth members and draft them into participating at the Space Olympics. Following this was a story sporting my all-time favorite cover, "Nothing Beats the Royal Flush Gang." This guest-starred Hawkman and the Elongated Man. The next issue, "The Fingers of Felix Faust," guest-starred Zatanna. I was already thinking about adding new members, and I wanted the audience to know some of the possibilities. In the next year I produced adaptations of my two all-time favorite JLA stories, #s 111 and 112, featuring "War With The One-Man Justice League."

With my thirteenth issue, however, I started to lose my way. I had one issue where all the members took a tour of my universe looking for new members, and although I can see what I was trying to do (expand my universe) I can better see what I did: introduce too many concepts and characters too quickly. Then, I followed this yawn-fest with my "origin" issue, "The Story of the Justice League" where I basically had a history lesson of my universe. I know I wanted to (again) expand my universe and increase the depth of these characters, but the overall effect was not good. After these I wrote a story where the main characters were asleep!!

Yep, I had Dr. Destiny put the good guys to sleep; I showed the nightmares the members were having and the efforts by characters like Robin and Aqualad to wake up their friends. It was a huge undertaking but not very good storytelling. I could tell the kids were not happy with the stories, and I was not happy with the way they had turned out. I nearly quit right there, with issue sixteen being my last.

Something inside me, however, didn't want to end on such an off-note...with an issue that didn't even feature the Justice League on its own cover (it featured the Teen Titans). So for the next school year I committed myself to one or perhaps two stories. I reexamined the original idea to adapt existing comic book stories to my universe. Eventually I picked the stories where the Super Friends fought Chronos (SF #22) and where the JLA fought Eclipso (JLA #109). Thinking that one or the other would be the last story I did, I featured all the members in both. One appeared in late 1996 and the other in early 1997.

And then another funny thing happened: using all the members, in these "simpler" one-issue stories, the kids were drawn to the characters again! With my pride restored, I decided to commit to another few adventures, and to the story I had wanted to do for awhile but had kept putting off: I started planning my own JL-JSA crossover, for issues 21 and 22. I did another Super Friends story (substituting Psycho Pirate for the Monocle of SF #40, an issue that actually had a LOC from me on its letter page) and a cute little throwaway tale featuring the Weather Wizard. And then I had my "Crisis On Earth Two" two-parter.

I guess I hadn't learned my lesson with the New Members-Origin-Dr.Destiny-Teen Titans debacle, because these two issues bombed. Like many "classic" JLA-JSA team-ups before mine, too many characters and too many tangents did not naturally add up to excitement. It had its moments, but it was top heavy and (again!) I tried to introduce too many concepts and characters in too short of a span.

I knew what had to be done. (I'm slow but I'm not stupid!) I planned two stories with the League broken up into two equal groups, fighting the Scarecrow (from SF #32) and Felix Faust again (from JLA #103). This got the kids (and me!) psyched for what I was finally ready to do: add Red Tornado.

See, I had done my "Crisis" story based on JLA #s 100-102 (just without the Seven Soldiers, what, do you think I'm crazy?). This is the story where Red Tornado sacrifices himself to save his friends but actually sends himself to Earth One, where he ends up joining the JLA. I always liked Red Tornado and thought the kids would like him, too. So I simplified JLA #139 ("The Ice Age Cometh") and then coupled it with JLA #105 (Red's initial induction) with JLA #146 (Red's reappearance). I may
be biased, but I consider this two-parter the best of the series. I was in the middle of some type of renaissance, as I followed up these stories with two more smaller group issues, the return of Kanjar Ro (JLA #120-121 but without Adam Strange) and then various individual stories explaining why members had missed the previous adventure.

I was definitely on a roll with these comics. Unfortunately, I was not on a roll with my bosses. They kept making stupid administrative mistakes and I was getting more and more frustrated dealing with them. After more than ten years at my job I kind of thought I knew a thing or five about the best way to do international relations; I asked to be promoted (I was still considered a "contract employee") and I asked for more work responsibilities.

Keeping the overall work problems separate from the comic universe, I planned on doing a Christmas tale. The first one I chose was based on JLA #152, the story that introduced Traya as Red Tornado's "daughter." I thought she made a good supporting character for Red and I liked the story and characters in general. To keep Superman from appearing too much, however, I substituted Martian Manhunter for him in my version.

This was also because the second Christmas story I planned to do was based on JLA #110, and in that story there was a plot involving a red-sun that I absolutely needed Superman for. Unfortunately, as I was working on this story it became painfully clear to me that my time in Aya was coming to an end. I no longer wanted to be treated as a second-class employee, and faced with the prospect of playing with kindergarten children well into my forties, I decided to return to the States. Although it pained me to do so, I decided that I had no choice but to resign.

Before it got to that, however, I had to finish my series right. First off, I had to do a sequel to my Lord of Time story from way back in 1992. In the end of issue seven, the Time Lord escaped back into time and the Justice League couldn't follow him. He was the only villain the League hadn't ever caught, and I needed to resolve that. So I plotted a story based loosely on JLA # 159-160, substituting the League for those JSA members.

Then it was simply left for me to end the series. I picked Dr. Light as the final bad guy. He had been featured twice already in what I believed were the first "good" issues of my series, so it made sense to me to use him one last time. I decided to combine the two really good Dr. Light JLA appearances (JLA #122 and #149) into one mega-story. I also added the resignation of Hawkman and Hawkwoman into the mix to warrant the title, "Going Home."

In this story, the Hawks basically told the audience the reasons that I was leaving: "Our boss changed recently. He has no idea how to do international relations. We tried to talk to him, but it's hopeless. We must leave. There is no new challenge in the job. But don't get us wrong! We would stay if we could. But we can't." I ended the story with the most emotional series of good-byes I could think of: Shayera and Diana and Katar-Ollie, plus Red Tornado thanking both of them for their emotional support. I remember tearing up a few times as I wrote/drew these pages, knowing that I would have to be saying these same things very soon.

Issue thirty-one was my last issue. I made extra copies and handed it off to all of my students, both kids and adults. And a few months later, in Spring 2001, I left Japan and returned to the USA. I had worked in Aya for fourteen years, and had been making comics there for ten.

Looking over the series now I see mostly my mistakes. I tried to steal from the best, such as Gil Kane, Dave Cockrum, and Dick Dillin, but often I just messed things up. I'm especially embarrassed about my earliest work; I almost didn't scan any of that. Yet I can also see the care and time I took to make these 31 issues. So even if I failed in general, I do believe I did the best I could under the time constraints and other problems. I'm basically proud of my efforts.

Now that the series is over, I sometimes think I'd like to revisit it. I remember that back in 1999 or so when I toyed with the idea of staying in Aya permanently, I halfheartedly planned out the series through issue 50 (current issue would have been at about 26). I know I was going to add Zatanna for sure. I know I was going to do that JLA #110 Christmas story (substituting the Flash for Red Tornado and Wonder Woman or Aquaman for Batman). Other stories I know I had considered were where Aquaman saves everyone (SF #24), Puppets of the Overlord (SF #25), the Atlantis Kidnapping (SF #27), the Super Friends fight monsters (SF #28), and the three appearances of the Menagerie Man (SF #s 6, 19, and 33). Plus I had wanted to do another, better JSA team-up. (sigh) These stories exist now only in my imagination.

Two final things about my Seigi No Nakama series. A year after I returned to the States, Cartoon Network decided to create an animated version of the JLA. As many of you probably noticed already, the characters they eventually ended up using resemble very closely the characters I had decided were the best! When I first saw those seven animated JLAers my mouth nearly dropped to the floor. So I guess my decisions in the winter of 1990 were pretty good, after all! They even dropped the words "of America" from the group name!!

And just last month, in an episode of Batman: The Brave and the Bold, Batman is shown defeating Felix Faust in a scene I wrote nearly seven years ago! I know people will find this hard to believe, but I basically wrote the same scene for when Batman, the Atom, and Aquaman took down The Time Lord in issue 30. The Time Lord never paid much attention to who was who in the Justice League, so after all the other members were stymied by his force field and weapons, Batman appears on the scene and stops him, seemingly on his own. I'm presenting the whole series here for your enjoyment so that you will believe me. If you saw the cartoon I'm referring to, you'll have to admit that the scene is very, very similar. (And I know, I stole that punch scene out of a Gil Kane comic. I only stole from the best, I swear!).

I am always thinking of the best way to scan all these issues and post them somewhere on the Internet, but so far I haven't taken the time or effort to do it. Any suggestions as to how or where I should post them?

George Rears - 1975

2008-12-09T08:41:00.002-05:00

George Rears - I remember the day as clear as can be...

It's a bright sunny summer day, and I am on my bike riding through the park past a tiny stream. I'm on my way to a store with some friends to buy some modeling kits.

I remember carrying a Batman book which I stopped to read along the way. I can clearly picture Batman ducking from Catwoman's Cat-o-nine tails coming at Batman from the right hand side. I would later find out (or so I thought) that this issue was a return to the classic Catwoman costume, one of the last remaining artifacts from the 1960's TV show discarded. I can even hear "Old Days" by Chicago in the background!

Except one problem.

It never happened.

As I've gotten older, I realized my goal of owning every comic book ever was probably never going to happen. Heck, I'll probably never own all the appearances of the Justice League. What I have instead concentrated on is finding comics I remember owning as a kid. The ones that made me addicted to 32 pages of newsprint (plus covers!).

I've re-acquired many of the books I had long ago lost including many of the Flash and Justice League books that were my favorites. I even started to collect comics by months, trying to buy as many books I could find that came out during key months of my childhood. I have since tried to pick up other books that I have fond memories of, such as the so-called 12 Labors of Wonder Woman which features guest stars from the Justice League in a series of stories that ran almost two years from 1974 to 1975.

As I looked back at books that I wanted, I really needed to get this Batman comic. I still have a bike, and I have just about every Chicago song on CD, but I didn't have this Batman issue. If I really did want to recreate my childhood, well, I was going to need this book!

I recently went back to the town I grew up in, and in doing some research prior to visiting, I noticed something really weird. While looking over Google Earth, I couldn't find this park/bike path, or any evidence that existed...and where I thought it should be, there were houses that looked like they had been there at least 70 years (no, I'm not that old). Flash forward to a few months ago at a comic show, and I noticed I couldn't find this Batman book. Anywhere.

So...now I'm curious. Does this book exist? Well... not really. Extensive searching of the Internet (or least 10 minutes of scanning comic covers on-line) have revealed that the book I'm picturing is a cross between the Catwoman appearance in Batman #266 (August 1975), the layout of the cover of Batman #274 (April 1976) and the awful coloring of Batman #283 (January 1977). Unless someone else can Identify a copy of a Batman book with a purple cover, featuring Catwoman attacking Batman from the right hand side!

So why do I have this crazy memory? The best I can figure is that in order to save disk space, my brain compressed some memories, combining various incidents to into one, single event which never happened. It feels right, but when examined up close, it fails inspection. I'll never find this book, and the park was never there- although there was another one near my house, which was kind of similar. I hope I never have to tell this story in court. Too many holes.

I have a few other memories like these, mostly centered around Christmas, remembering different relatives attending different years, receiving toys that wouldn't have been out in the years that I remember them, etc. The Batman one, I hope is the only "false" memory about comics. I'd hate to think that the book I always thought was my first off the rack purchase (Flash #228) was really my second purchase, after "Baby Snoots".

So...the park doesn't exist. The book doesn't exist. The good news is that the song "Old Days" was released in April, 1975, right around the time of the first of these books. I could very well have been riding my bike, while hearing that song. Perhaps I will find this book someday...

Crisis on Earth-Conscience - 1985

2008-12-07T13:41:00.002-05:00

Rob Kelly - Maybe it was Vince's story just previous that got me thinking about this story, which is a less than cheery one concerning my love of comics.

Most of the stories I've related here have been good, if not nearly mythologically glorious, stories about my love of comics. But of course anyone who read comics as a kid before the mid-90s has at least one memory when they were made to feel really, really bad because of their hobby, and for whatever reason this one popped back into my head, having escaped a deep, dark corner of my mind where unpleasant memories reside.

In 1985, I started attending high school. Normally that's terrifying enough, but as an avid comic book reader, I felt like I had an extra level of terror--having to keep my #1 interest totally, completely secret, lest I be discovered to be Cherry Hill East's #1 Nerd, and be in for four straight years of torment.

Part of the benefit of going to a new school of course is most people don't know you, so you can present to them whatever image you'd like to project. And for the most part, I was able to just keep my head down and mouth shut, so instead of gaining a reputation for being a nerd, I went pretty much unnoticed. Which is what I wanted.

Except that anonymity disappeared when I was on the school bus. Since the bus of course picked up kids from my neighborhood, they knew me, and continued to carry all the petty and mean hostilities with them to the new school.

Case in point, there was one particular kid--let's call him Dickie Dickerson--who seemed to make it his goal in life to torment me. I would sit near the front, and he would yell out insults at me from the back, mostly about my comic book collection (I don't even remember how he knew about that, probably info gathered from his pact with Satan).

Of course, I was mortified to have my comic book hobby be revealed to a bus full of kids, many of whom I didn't know (since our bus now picked up kids outside of our neighborhood). I felt my closely contained secret would spread into the high school, and I'd be done for.

To make matters worse, I had made a new friend--let's call him Nerdy Nerderson--who had just started reading comics, and, like anyone who has just discovered something they love--could not stop talking about them, even on the bus!

As I as tried to just keep my head down and not develop an ulcer, here was this kid talking out loud, for all to hear, about the newest Batman and Daredevil and who is this Martian Manhunter guy...

I wanted to die.

One day, I got back on the bus, there was only one kid on before me--Dickie Dickerson. I tried not to make eye contact and sat in my seat, knowing what was coming.

"Hey Bob," his whiny, mean little voice carried up the bus towards me. "Do you collect comics?"

He knew the answer to this, he just wanted torment me. I waited for a moment, and said: "No."

I have never quite forgiven myself for this moment.

Sure, I was just a kid and it I was just trying to make a Faustian bargain where, maybe if I gave the correct answer, Dickie would leave me alone.

But I knew he wouldn't. And I felt like I should've, in that moment, turned around and said "Yes I do, you stupid little f**k. Jealous I can read?"

But I didn't--I caved. And instead of being proud over the thing that was the single most important thing in my life, I threw my comics under the metaphorical bus (while being on a bus--oh, the irony!) just to make myself a little more palatable for this member of the Hitler Youth, Cherry Hill Chapter.

Two thoughts occur to me as I write all this out--first, I have to thank Hollywood, whose desire for blockbuster tentpole franchises have made Batman, Spider-Man, Hellboy, and The X-Men movie stars, and now comics reading has escaped the horrible little ghetto they occupied for so long.

Also, while we don't have kids of our own, they are all around--various nephews, nieces, and children of friends. And I tell everyone of these kids when its appropriate that if you find something you really like--whether it be Star Wars, Legos, comics, anything--then enjoy it to the fullest, and never, never ever be ashamed of it.

Vincent Bartilucci - 1988

2008-12-06T14:26:00.003-05:00

Vincent Bartilucci - Here's another one for the "Hey, Young Adults! Comics!" file.

It's 1988 and I'm in the midst of my Dance Club Years. I live on Long Island which has about a million of these places. Many of them are former discos that have traded in their Donna Summer and Bee Gees records for Depeche Mode and Bow Wow Wow singles. They've got names like Spit, Spize, The Loop, Thrush, and Paris NY. Y'know, cool 80's type names.

My friends and I spend most of our nights at these establishments because, well, that's where the girls are. Sure, we enjoy hanging out together. And we all dig the music they play in the clubs. But we could just congregate in a parking lot with a boom-box and save ourselves a cover charge, right? Why don't we? The girls!

At least, that's the allure of clubbing for me. Y'see, I've uncovered a profound, life-altering truth about the fundamental nature of the universe--girls who frequent dance clubs like to dance. So important is this notion that I think it bears repeating. Girls who frequent dance clubs like to dance.

And I'm a really good dancer.

You don't have to take my word for it. Ask anyone. I mean, I get compliments from complete strangers, no foolin'. So, when my friends and I get to a club, I hit the floor immediately and, before you know it, I'm dancing with some beautiful girl who doesn't realize how out of my league she really is. Suddenly she isn't paying attention to tall, dark, and handsome nursing his beer over in the corner. She's paying attention to me. New Wave music, Vinnie's great leveler!

Anyway, my friends and I usually travel to and from the clubs together but occasionally we all take our own vehicles and meet up at our destination. That's why I'm driving home solo from a night at Spize as our story finally begins.

It's between two and three in the morning, and there is no one else on Hempstead Turnpike as my car runs out of gas. My car runs out of gas because I'm an idiot. It's another one of those profound truths--if your gas gauge works and you still run out of gas you're an idiot.

I knew I needed gas on the way to Spize. But I also needed money for the cover charge and to get a drink or two so I unwisely chose to push my luck. Now, I'm stuck on the 'Pike cursing a blue streak and trying to decide in which direction to walk to find the nearest gas station. I don't know what I'm going to do when I reach that nearest gas station,mind you. I have no gas can and there's only about two bucks in my wallet.

As I'm standing next to my car kicking myself for being such a dope, a pick-up truck passes by. I watch as it makes a u-turn up ahead, swings around to pass me again, and pulls over to stop three or four yards in front of me. The truck is hauling a couple of pieces of landscaping equipment in its cargo bed blocking the back windshield of the cab and preventing me from seeing how many occupants are inside. No one gets out of the truck for a few seconds giving me time to consider the possibilities. The occupant of the pick-up could very well be a Good Samaritan seeking to help a stranded motorist. And that'd be wonderful. But what if he's not a Good Samaritan? What if he's a jerk looking for trouble? Heck, what if he's two jerks?

And this is why the intro 'bout the dance clubs is important--I'm coming home from a New Wave club and I'm dressed accordingly. I've got on high boots, tight jeans, and a leather motorcycle jacket over a ripped t-shirt, all in shades of black. A silver cross dangles from my left ear and black eyeliner rings my eyes.

Yeah, I'm that guy.

I look, at best, kind of freaky and at worst...well, you know. It wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility that someone (or someones) might pull over to administer a beating to me just because of the way I look.

I weigh my options. All the dancing means I'm in the best shape of my life. But I'm still kind of a little guy and I know nothing about how to fight. It's shocking, really. Years of reading comic books have taught me nothing of any real value in the self-defense department. Except maybe to never turn my back on the Red Skull.

I decide that if more than one person gets out of the truck, I'll have to run for it.

The driver side door of the pick-up opens and a man gets out. He's tall, in his early thirties, and looks as if he probably wouldn't need any assistance beating me senseless, thank you very much. But I stand my ground, trying not to look frightened as I split my attention between the approaching man and the pick-up's passenger side door. I'm ready to bolt if I see the passenger door open.

He must sense my unease because he looks me right in the eye and smiles a broad, genuinely friendly smile that completely disarms me. He asks me what's wrong with my car and I sheepishly admit that I was dumb enough to let it run out of gas. He walks back to his truck and pulls a gas can out of the cargo area. Without a word, he empties the gas can into my tank then returns it to his pick-up.

I reach into my back pocket and pull out my wallet. Luckily, pick-up truck guy doesn't call my bluff. Instead, he hands me a little booklet, wider than it is tall. "Just promise me you'll read this," he says.

I thank him and promise to read the booklet. He gets into his pick-up truck and I get into my car, tossing the booklet onto the passenger seat in the process. He waits there to make sure that my car starts and, when it does, he drives off. I drive home, wash my face, brush my teeth, and hit the sack.

A couple of days later, I remember my promise to pick-up truck guy. I retrieve the booklet from under the passenger seat of my car where it has fallen only to discover that it's a comic book. A weird, poorly drawn, vaguely sinister looking comic book, but a comic book nonetheless.

And, would you look at that, it says I'm going to Hell! Fun!

The booklet is just one of hundreds of cartoon tracts published by Jack Chick and his company, Chick Publications. But I don't know that yet. All I know is that a complete stranger helped me out of a jam and all he asked in return was that I read a comic book.

So, I read it. It's an amazingly unsettling experience. The gist of this little cartoon screed it is that the Roman Catholic Church is actively working to pervert the true teachings of Christ. Therefore, all who call themselves Catholics and follow the teachings of Holy Mother Church are destined for Hell. Been a good person? Doesn't matter, you're going to Hell. Fed the hungry and clothed the naked? That's nice--you’re still going to Hell. Selflessly championed the cause of every single downtrodden segment of society? You guessed it, Hell!

I'm 21, just shy of 22 and I've read comic books my whole life. Comic stories have made me laugh, cry, cheer, rant, and hide shivering under my blankets. But I don't think I truly understood the power of graphic story-telling until reading this tract. The art is amateurish and the "story" is insane. But my skin is crawling and I've got a really sour taste in my mouth. All thanks to this little comic book.

I finish the comic--I promised, after all-- and toss it in the trash. But the whole incident plays on my mind for days. The more I think about it the more questions I've got. Did pick-up truck guy give me that tract because he saw the rosary beads hanging from my rear view mirror? Or did he give it to me because of the way I was dressed and it was just a "happy" coincidence that I was a follower of the religion it denounced? Is that how he spends his days, handing out packets of fear and intolerance disguised as crappy little comic books to unsuspecting people? And why do I feel guilty for having thrown the wretched thing out?

Eventually my skins stops crawling and I lose the bad after taste. But that comic book still exerts some crazy power over me because...

It's 2008 and I'm writing up a story for Rob Kelly's Hey, Kids, Comics! Site. It's about a little cartoon tract published by Chick Publications. I read it only once twenty years ago and I don't remember the title. I visit the Chick Publications web-site to try to find the title and maybe reread it to give my memory a little goose. I don't find the info I'm looking for because I only get through a few of the things before I have to leave the site.

Y'see, my skin is crawling and I've got a really sour taste in my mouth.

Pete Doree - 1974

2008-12-01T00:03:00.000-05:00

Pete Doree - In the summer of 1974, my Mum & Dad took me and my irksome younger brother on holiday to Somerset, a beautiful part of the English countryside that was completely wasted on my 10 year old, comic loving self.

We were staying at some ropey caravan park with possibly the scummiest amenities you've ever seen, but I'd eyeballed the newsagents on the way in, so, the second we parked up, I dragged my Mum over there, eager to see what goodies they had.

So it was, that in that campsite papershop, I came across The Scariest Comic I'd Ever Seen!

I don't know if at that point I'd read any of Marvel's then new black & white line. I don't think so. My all time favourite, Marvel Preview, was still a way off, so this particular issue may've been my first experience of that classic, much underrated line. And here it is:

Try being a 10 year old Marvel maniac and NOT wanting this book the second you see it. I mean, up in the left hand corner, there's The Zombie! Reading his own mag!

Thing is, being a magazine, it must have been up on the top shelf with all those 'True Crime' mags and (hem hem) 'adult' periodicals. So I must have asked my Mum to get it down for me.

What I do remember is that, as soon as I saw it, Mum wasn't impressed. She told me it looked too scary, I wouldn't like it, why not choose something else.

But I wouldn't be swayed. I'd read Tomb Of Dracula where the old vampire is speared on that spiked fence, I'd read Werewolf By Night & Frankenstein. I could easily handle Zombies.

Unfortunately for me, Tales Of The Zombie 7 was drawn by Alfredo Alcala.

Understand, these days, as an artist or just as a fan, I consider Alcala as nothing less than an absolute genius, particularly in the field of horror. But in those days? I hated him. He was on my (and my friends) list of all time most loathed artists, along with Frank Robbins & Carmine Infantino. (Yeah, I've changed my mind about them too, obviously.) His stuff always looked like someone had dipped it in heavy black tar.

Remember when Marvel would sucker you by letting someone like Gil Kane do a cover, so you'd buy the book, only to discover that Gil wasn't doing the inside, but it was some hack like Don Heck or Frank Springer?! That's much I hated Alfredo Alcala.

And no, I didn't check the inside of Tales Of The Zombie. If I had, I might've been spared a couple of months of nightmares.

So, I bought the thing, over my Mum's objections, and hurried back to our caravan to read it.

Opening the book up, I discovered not only Pablo Marcos (yet another artist I hated) but the dreaded Alcala. But, I'd spent my hard earned pocket money on this thing, so I was damn well gonna read it.

This particular issue features a story by Doug Moench called "The Blood-Testament of Brian Collier". It's basically an Agatha Christie type drawing-room murder mystery with some spectacularly grisly deaths, made all the more gruesome by Alcala's finely detailed, blacker than black artwork.

The Zombie himself only appears nominally, watching the proceedings from an outside window, and turning up at the denouement to wreak vengeance on the guilty parties in typically bloody fashion.

But it was one particular scene that haunted me, a scene where an old woman is murdered while looking through the eyehole's in a painting:

The second I saw that, I almost lost my lunch. Suddenly, this comic wasn't fun anymore. We'd gone beyond harmless, creepy chills into realistic, sadistic horror. I put the comic down and never went back to it. For the rest of the holiday, I avoided it's gaze, hiding it under clothes, keeping it away from my other, safe, comics. Not gazing into the abyss, in case it gazed back. And when we went home, I made sure that Tales of the Zombie didn't come with us, made sure it got 'accidentally' left behind.

I couldn't tell my Mum, of course, that would be like admitting I was wrong. And I'd be forced to admit I was still a child after all, and not big and brave like grown ups. But she knew. Mum's always know, and they never tell you they know.

This year, after having this story stuck in my head for over 30 years, I finally plucked up the courage to buy Essential Tales Of The Zombie, reprinting '"The Blood Testament of Brian Collier", and no, of course it doesn't scare me anymore.

But, those four panels do still give me the memory of fear, a tiny twinge of nausea, as my 10 year self recoils from The Scariest Comic I've Ever Read!!!

Wherever Alfredo Alcala is, I hope he's proud of himself.

Jim Hall - 1966

2008-08-01T00:02:00.000-04:00

Jim Hall - While this one isn't strictly 100% comic book material, with Batmania once again running high, I thought it might be appropriate.

The year is 1966. I'm all of 5 years old, and my younger brother John is a strapping lad of three. My best friend Larry, who lives across the street, is one of the fortunate few in the neighborhood who lives in a home with that miracle of the age--a color television.

Like all young men of the day, we were glued to our TV set in the living room, in early January. The dial had been carefully turned to Channel 13--our local ABC affiliate. At 7:30 it came on--Batman. And there, a banner unfurled on the bottom of the screen--"IN COLOR" it screamed at us.

Our father was a fine provider, and a truly great man in his own right. He worked hard and provided everything that we needed. And he sat in his big chair, with us on his lap, and painstakingly read to us each word that appeared on the screen--BIFF, POW, KZZAPP! But it was not enough for my brother and I.

For unlike Larry across the street, we were stuck watching this glorious action in boring old black and white.

Oh, the indignity! It clearly stated in every Bat-promo and at the start of every Bat-episode that this action was gloriously presented in COLOR, but not in our house.

So utilizing every resource at our young command, John and I began a campaign of excessive whining and begging. We simply had to have a color TV, because Batman was in color. We begged, we pleaded, we cajoled, we even offered to do extra chores. It was all for naught. As I mentioned, Dad provided us with everything we needed, but his sensibilities and ours differed on this key point. Dad simply did not understand that it was imperative that we see Batman in all of its full color glory.

But Dad was indeed a fine provider. As the next week approached, Dad promised us that he would provide a solution. We could tell that our campaign had worked! Dad finally understood that Batman simply demanded color.

And when he came home from work that fateful evening, he promised us that he had in his briefcase the solution to all of our troubles. We could hardly contain our enthusiasm as we wolfed down the evening's repast of tuna casserole washed down with glasses of milk. How could Dad have the solution in his briefcase? There was no way that a color television could possibly fit in his briefcase.

Then my genius little brother hit on the solution--the briefcase must hold the paperwork for the brand new color TV that Dad had hidden out in the back of his Ford Falcon station wagon that he bought second had from Larry's father's AMC dealership. That must be it!

We flew through our evening rituals with a speed that no superhero of the day could have possibly matched. John fed the dog, while I helped Mom dry the dishes. Then we raced off to put our pajamas on and brush our teeth. We actually squealed with glee, warmed by the knowledge that Mr. Friefeldt, our neighbor who owned the local Zenith store, must be in the living room at this very moment!

He would be helping Dad set the brand new color TV up in the living room, getting it warmed up, and connecting it to the aerial. The pressure was on now. Surely a color TV would take more time to warm up than our boring black & white model! Would the new TV require the painful readjustment of the antennae in order to pull in Channel 13? Oh, the terror! What if we missed the opening segment?

We dashed out of the bathroom, the nasty taste of toothpaste still foaming in our mouths. Much to our dismay there was no Mr. Friefeldt. There was no brand new color TV. There was simply Mom in her chair, and Dad in his. Dad said to us "hurry up, you’ll want time to read this before your program comes on." And he presented us with a Batman comic book (actually Detective Comics #352--which I still have in terrible, ratty condition). "Now," he said "you will know what color everything in Gotham City is and you won't even need a color TV."

Certainly we were deeply crestfallen. But the joys of watching Batman on Dad's lap as he dutifully read each POW, ZAP, BIFF, and BAM to us surely overcome our disappointment. And Dad's gift of that comic book, fresh from the spinner rack at DeWitt's Market started us on a lifelong addiction to four-color heroes that has not yet abated.

I hope that we thanked Dad properly for that gift, and for the wonderful childhood tale that we took from it. In the end, Dad's love, and his spirited reading of sound effect captions, was worth far more than any old color TV could have possibly been.

Vincent Bartilucci - 1977

2008-07-28T00:02:00.001-04:00

Vincent Bartilucci - Last year Brian Cronin over at Comics Should Be Good conducted a poll of the 50 greatest (read: most popular) comic book characters published by DC and Marvel or one of their imprints.

Readers were asked to send in two lists, one featuring their ten favorite DC characters, the other listing their ten favorite Marvel folks. Brian compiled the submissions and slowly counted down the results at CSBG. I'm a sucker for this sort of audience participation stuff and I quickly sent in my own carefully crafted lists.

The countdown was a lot of fun. So much fun, in fact, that Brian expanded the lists to include the top 100 characters from each company. Brian contacted several respondents and asked each to write a mini-essay about their favorite character. I was allowed to share a few words about the hero who topped my Marvel list, the Black Panther. Three guesses who my favorite DC hero was...

Reading the mini-essays was illuminating, if that's not too lofty a word. For example, while the essay on Mr. Fantastic mirrored my own feelings on the FF's brainy leader, the one about the original Captain Marvel pointed out facets to the character I hadn't considered before. And the essay on Wolverine allowed me to better understand the attraction Logan has for so many people. I'm still not partial to Wolvie, mind you, but I have to admit that his appeal was explained quite well.

The whole process got me thinking about my own favorite characters. Thoughts like, why did a relatively minor character like Thundra make my Marvel list instead of Nick Fury or Namor or the Vision? Or, why was Sunboy the only member of my beloved Legion of Super-Heroes to break my DC top ten? In short, why are my favorites my favorites--what originally drew me to them?

In at least one case, I can trace my fascination for a character back to a specific comic book. Heck, I can pinpoint the exact panel!

In 1977, I knew next to nothing about the All New, All Different X-Men. Truth be told, I didn't know all that much more about the All Old, All Similar X-Men, either. I had at the time exactly two issues of the X-Men in my ever-growing comic book collection. Those issues were #'s 83 and 90, both of which were reprints of earlier issues (#'s 35 and 42, respectively).

In addition to these comics, I may have read a reprint somewhere of the team's origin from X-Men #1. And I had a few issues of The Defenders where Professor X showed up and Magneto was one of the baddies. Last, but certainly not least, there was that absolutely awesome issue of Marvel Team-Up featuring Iceman first battling against and then alongside the Human Torch. That ish of MTU was really cool. The other stuff, not so much.

I mean, I thought Iceman was neat, primarily because of that MTU appearance, and Angel seemed cool, I suppose. And I liked the idea that the team wasn't a crew of world beaters with a Thor or a Superman or even a Thing, in their midst. But beyond that, the charm of Marvel's merry mutants was completely lost on me. The two issues of the X-Men's own title I had read made virtually no impression on me at all.

It makes me wonder now why I picked up X-Men #104. All I can come up with is that the cover looked really cool. Dave Cockrum drew the new line-up (most of them, at least) in combat with Magneto in a wonderful update of Jack Kirby's cover for X-Men #1.

I recall that I bought X-Men #104 at a stationary store next to the King Kullen supermarket that was a few blocks from my house. Generally, this stationary (if I ever knew its name I've since forgotten it) wasn't quite as well stocked as Clearview, where I normally got my comics fix. But every once in a while I stumbled onto a title there, like X-Men or Master of Kung Fu, that I didn't normally see at Clearview. I remember it was drizzling and I held the brown paper bag bearing my new acquisition close to my chest to prevent the rain from marring that beautiful cover as I ran to my dad's car.

Anyway, the cover to X-Men #104 looked really cool so I gave it a shot. Boy, am I glad I did. I wasn't exactly sure what was going on or who these new X-people were but that didn't bother me much. I had experienced the same confusion three years earlier when I read my first issue of Superboy and the Legion of Super-Heroes. I was used to picking up the story as I went along. We all were. In the 1970's, there was no such thing as a "jumping on point." Kids today!

What did cause me some consternation was the dialogue. Everyone talked funny, even the innocent bystanders! The dialogue was wordy. Weird, phonetic wordy. Sprinkled with foreign words and phrases wordy. Darn hard for a 10 year-old to follow wordy. But once the action started, I got over it.

What sort of action? Well, due to the evil machinations of the enigmatic baddie, Eric the Red, Magneto, who had been de-aged to infancy in The Defenders #16, is back in his adult prime. Baby Magneto was being held at the Mutant Research Facility on Muir Island which is where the X-Men find themselves en route to at the beginning of the issue.

The once more adult Maggie puts the long-distance magnetic whammy on the hovercraft that the team is traveling in and, after a brief swim in the North Sea the X-Men, reach the island. Magneto attacks the team almost as soon as they make shore and tears through them like the world class super-villain he is. Colossus, he of the organic steel body, and the adamantium-clawed Wolverine pose no threat whatsoever to the mutant master of magnetism.

Storm and Night-crawler don't fare any better. Four X-Men incapacitated and Magneto hasn't even worked up a sweat. But the new team isn't down yet. In a confrontation that lasts a little over a page, Banshee launches an attack on Magneto that earns the villain's respect.

And there it is. That panel at the bottom of page 13, where Magneto says, "Excellent, Banshee! Of all the new X-Men you are the only one worth fighting."

He then encases poor Sean in a form-fitting coffin of ferrous particles. Cyclops, who had arrived at Muir Island by X-jet, bursts onto the scene, drives off Magneto, and saves Banshee from suffocation. He then hustles his battered team out of harm's way pronto.

In my opinion, this is writer Chris Claremont at his best--you can almost "hear" the fear in Scott's voice as he commands his new recruits. He knows that they are too green, too untested to stand against Magneto. I reread this issue recently and this scene--the X-Men running from Magneto--is just as tension-filled as it was when I first read it 30 plus years ago. That thar is good writin'!

Yep, Magneto is truly to be feared. And Banshee is the only member of the new X-Men who he thinks is worthy of fighting. That panel at the bottom of page 13 made a huge impression on me as a kid. I guess I figured that if Magneto thought so highly of Sean Cassidy, so should I. I was eager for more X-Men and more Banshee.

So, of course, I missed the next two issues. Now, these were the days when the X-Men was being published bi-monthly so two missed issues equaled four X-less months. I'm sure I wondered if I'd ever even see another issue of the X-Men.

While I waited and wondered, I dug out my two back issues featuring the old team and gave them another look. To my surprise, I discovered that Banshee appeared in one of them. I guess those issues really hadn't made an impression on me the first go 'round! Anyway, Banshee looked a little weird in X-Men #83, with pointy ears and a strange headband that shaded his eyes and gave him a rather sinister look. But it was him. I thought it was cool that he had a history with the team beyond the recent reorganization. It was another leg-up he had over the newer X-folks.

I bought X-Men #107 at Clearview Stationary, my regular comics haunt. I was lost again--a lot must have happened in issues 105 and 106--but I didn't care. Issue #107 features the X-Men's battle with the oddly familiar Imperial Guard. It was great.

Issue #108, the debut of the Byrne and Austin art team on the title, was even greater. In it, Banshee single-handedly destroyed Jahf, the first guardian of the M'Krann Crystal. Jahf was an incredibly powerful little robot that tore thru the X-Men even more effectively than Magneto did in issue #104. But Banshee clobbered him.

Around the same time, I found X-Men #103 in a drug store that my family didn't often frequent. It was sitting there in a wire basket amongst a whole bunch of other Marvel comics that I guess were all about six months to a year old. The basket was down at the bottom of an end-cap of one of the aisles and I have a very distinct memory of crouching down in the store and franticly rooting thru the basket looking for more issues of X-Men before my mom said it was time to go. I didn't find any other X-titles but I did pick up a couple of neat Power Man comics.

X-Men #103 was the second half of a two-parter that brought the team to Ireland and Cassidy Keep, Sean's ancestral home, so Banshee received a fair amount of air time. The villains of the story were Juggernaut and Black Tom Cassidy, Sean's cousin. Tom's seeming demise at the end of the tale was straight out of a swashbuckler movie.

By this point I was completely hooked. I'd only read four comic books starring the new team and already the world had a new X-fanatic. The characters were so cool--especially Banshee--and the artwork was just about the best around.

Banshee had another great moment in issue #109 when Vindicator showed up in an attempt to reclaim Wolverine for the Canadian government. Moira MacTaggart (X-associate and Banshee's girlfriend) was injured during the fight and Sean unleashed a rage-filled attack on "Major Maple Leaf" that was something to behold.

Back in Banshee's earliest appearances in the original run of the X-Men he was often depicted in an eerie, wraith-like form when he flew. That was the Banshee that Byrne drew in this sequence. A scary, otherworldly Banshee who was not to be messed with. When next the X-Men encountered Magneto, however, there was no mention of Sean's status as the only opponent worthy of Maggie. Y'see, the other X-Men were coming into their own. And, although I didn't know it at the time, Banshee's time was almost up.

The Savage Land adventure followed. Then the team wound up in Japan. While there, the X-Men and Sunfire took on Moses Magnum. And, in issue #119, Banshee burned his powers out preventing Magnum from making good on his threat to sink Japan. The panels showing Sean straining his mutant vocal chords beyond their limits are beautifully rendered by John Byrne and Terry Austin. The image of Sean's face, equal parts searing pain and sheer determination, is one of my most vivid comic book memories.

And that was pretty much it for my favorite X-Man.

Oh, Sean Cassidy continued as a supporting character for awhile. But without his powers he couldn't really participate in their adventures. When the Dark Phoenix saga culminated with that incredible battle on the moon, part of me was deeply disappointed that Banshee wasn't a part of such a seminal X-moment.

With each issue it became less and less likely that Sean was going to be back in costume, screaming his lungs out at some mutant menace. I still loved the X-Men. The book still had great stories to tell. But Banshee had been my focus. Whenever I picked up a new issue of the X-Men, or found a back issue, I'd always flip thru it looking for scenes featuring Sean. It wasn't the same without him.

I liked Nightcrawler and Colossus. And Cyclops had really grown on me. But they weren't Banshee. The de-powered Sean was seen less and less frequently. He had a final hurrah when he joined a team of former X-Men in a mission to rescue the current team from Arcade's Murderworld. And then he was gone.

A few years back, I read somewhere that Banshee was written out of the book at John Byrne's request. Apparently, Byrne felt that Sean's powers weren't visual enough, which is damn hard to argue with, I suppose. Eventually, his vocal chords healed, Banshee returned to the team. But I wasn't there to welcome him back to the fold. I had become increasingly dismayed with the direction that the X-Men were heading and I stopped reading the book altogether shortly after the Mutant Massacre crossover in 1986.

I did pick up the first couple of issues of Generation X because they featured Banshee as mentor to a new group of young mutants. But I'd been out of the X-loop for too long and I discovered that I really didn't want to get back in. Nope, you can't go home again, boyo.

I hear that Banshee was killed off recently in an heroic but ultimately doomed attempt to save lives. If so, I'm sad that Marvel felt the need to make his sacrifice so pointless. I'm not sure if Banshee will ever fly again or, if he does, whether or not I'll even bother to take a look.

Too much has changed in the world of the X-Men. I'm not particularly fond of any of those characters anymore. I'm annoyed that I have to put up with Storm in the pages of Black Panther. And a Wolverine guest shot is enough to make me drop a title altogether. I'm a big, crabby X-hating baby, I admit it. But, for awhile there, I loved the X-Men. And the X-Man I loved most was Banshee.

Looking back on those stories I think I can identify a number of reasons why I was drawn to Banshee. I liked the idea that he was older and more experienced than the rest of the new X-Men and yet was still new to actual team membership, the whole "cake and eat it too" factor. I liked that he had a history that existed, at least partially, in back issues and not just flashbacks, if you know what I mean. I liked that he could be serious without being grim. I liked the cool ways he could use his powers.

But most of all, I liked that he made Magneto sit up and take notice when the rest of the team hit the floor.

"Excellent, Banshee! Of all the new X-Men you are the only one worth fighting."

Saints, Laddy! If that isn't the God's honest truth.

Hey Kids, Flash! - 1948

2008-07-24T22:24:00.002-04:00

Here's a cute shot of a bookish kid enjoying Flash Comics #102, along with some other comics. A nice way to spend the day.

George Rears - 1976

2008-07-22T10:31:00.002-04:00

George Rears - This is a weird one.

In my family, collecting comics was a solitary activity. My brother was with me the first two years, but dropped off as he hit high school.

My other and brothers and sisters were even older, and had no interest whatsoever. My parents? Don't even get me started. My mother couldn't tell Spider-Man from the Spider, as I found out one fateful Halloween when I had to explain who the Spider was to everyone during the 4th grade Halloween party.

My dad, also was not a comic guy. Not that he disapproved of it. Just no interest. Except for one character.

Asterix.

Asterix is a French comic book (graphic novel) featuring a town of hold outs from the Roman invaders of Gaul (France) in the early years AD. The only thing separating them from Roman domination was a secret formula that gave an individual super strength for 24 hours. Asterix drinks the potion, beats up Romans, strength runs out, Asterix gets caught, Asterix takes more potion, and beats up more Romans. Hilarity ensues.

So why would this strip appeal to someone who has no affinity toward comics at all? Quite simply. The books were in French. At least the ones in our house were. Every word. French.

You see, my Dad was (is?) a Francophile. He loves the French. He speaks the language fluently, studied in Paris, and even taught French at the College level. I guess you could say that Asterix spoke to him.

Well needless to say, since my Dad liked Asterix, I was going to like Asterix too. One problem. I couldn't speak French. Now the good thing is, Asterixwas translated into many languages, so finding a copy of one of his books in other languages was not hard, in fact, I found a copy in the local books store. Except for one problem. In 1976, the local book store for me was German, so that didn't do me good either!

Luckily, we were near a British base that stocked them English, and I was able to pick up a few English books there. I got to be fond of this little Asterix guy, and although I never picked up all his books in English, I made it a habit while I was living in Europe to try and pick up his books in whatever language I could. Even today, I have a copy of Asterix in Belgian.

I hadn't though much about Asterix lately until a few weeks ago when I found out that Orion books was publishing the entire Asterix series in a collection of 11 omnibuses (omnibi? omniboo?).

So here I am, 32 years later, reading these stories again, many for the first time in English. It's good stuff, too. European history mixed in with humor, and strong characters, including sympathetic villains (The Romans) abound. So far I'm three stories in, and I'm loving it. Luckily they are spacing these collections out in books of 3 stories. Otherwise, I'm afraid the stories might be a bit too repetitive.

So there you go. Asterix. The one comic that allowed me to bond with my Dad. In French. Go figure.

Russell Burbage - 1977

2008-07-11T00:03:00.000-04:00

Russell Burbage - 1977

As long as I've known of them I've always been a fan of the Teen Titans. I think this is partly because I have always liked Robin. When I watched the old Batman TV series my favorites were Burt Ward as Robin and Yvonne Craig as Batgirl. Even as a little kid I somehow knew that Adam West was not the "real" Batman.

Be that as it may, I first came upon the Teen Titans in the 100 Pages For
60c issue of Brave and the Bold #116. It reprinted "The Dimensional Caper" from Teen Titans #16. This is the story where Robin, Kid Flash, Aqualad, and Wonder Girl fight off an alien invasion from Dimension X. It had wonderful Nick Cardy art and a wacky story by Bob Haney, plus one of the all-time greatest comic-book covers ever. I liked how the Titans were all sidekicks, but they were not incompetent. And they were very obviously friends. They instantly became some of my favorites.

A few years later in 1977 the Teen Titans had their own book again. It featured Robin, Kid Flash, Wonder Girl, Speedy, and several other supporting characters slash members. Jose Delbo was doing what I considered beautiful art, and Bob Rozakis was doing the writing. Now I don't know about everybody, but I always found Rozakis' work entertaining. He created The Calculator in Detective Comics, he was doing great work on Freedom Fighters, and he wrote some great Robin and Batgirl stories in Batman Family. Plus he wrote some fun letter page columns.

In Teen Titans #48 Rozakis decided he wanted a better looking letter column heading for that book, so he announced a contest to get one. I guess contests were all the rage in those days, since he had done something similar over in Freedom Fighters already. Rozakis was promising an autographed script as the prize, and I thought that was well worth the effort. Something in my 12 year-old mind that that *I* could come up with something cool for this team I liked, so I set upon the task.

I reread that issue over and over again. I thought about the members. I thought about writing to the book. I thought about what you need when you write. Somehow, I came up with the idea to put the Titans themselves on stamps. Maybe I saw the Batman TV episode where the heroes are turned into stamps, who knows? I don't know how it happened, but somehow I managed to win the contest. My design had the six or seven main Titans grouped together on one large stamp, and somehow that design beat out everybody else's ideas.

A few months after I sent in my art I got the letter and the autographed script. To tell you the truth I had forgotten about the contest. As soon as I saw the return address and the size of the envelope, however, I think I had a spasmodic attack. It's really true what they say about letters from colleges and publishers: the bigger the better. I ripped open the envelope and found the script with the memo shown here. I couldn't believe it. Even now, I consider it one of the milestones in my life.

The script is something I treasure to this day. I think that it had a direct effect on how I was able to better understand comics, movies, TV, and eventually plays. I read it and reread it, studying it so I could one day write my own comics.

The script was for Teen Titans #51, so I naturally assumed that that would be the issue where my design would make its debut. I couldn't wait for that issue to hit the stands! When I told my parents what I had done, they of course showed enthusiasm and excitement, too. They couldn't wait to drive me to the bookstore to find the issue. I think for close to four weeks every time I went to the book store my mother asked, "Not yet?"

And then one day it was finally there. I saw it on the stands and grabbed it. I actually dashed out of the store with it in my hand and shouted to my mother in the car, "It's here!" Suddenly realizing that I was, in fact, stealing it, I went back and tried to calm down. I flipped through to the letters page and...my heart sank. My design wasn't there! In my confusion I flipped through the issue for some explanation. By this point my mother had joined me, and she looked, too. "It's not there yet" was all I could say. We decided that even though I got the script for this
issue, the design would not appear until the next. Dejectedly I bought my comics and had to wait an additional two months.

Finally I got the issue I was waiting for. Teen Titans #52 is nothing special as covers go. It doesn't feature any of my favorite characters besides Robin, and the story inside is nothing special. However...! A quick glance to the letters page will show that this issue is one of the most important in my entire collection.

I quickly bought up half a dozen copies to send to my sisters in college and to various aunts and uncles. I was pretty proud of myself; still am, really. Sure, it wasn't my original artwork, and that sort of bummed me out. On the other hand, when I saw that Terry Austin had redesigned it, I couldn't very well complain. As designs go, I still think it's pretty cool.

Unfortunately, just one issue later "my" Teen Titans was cancelled. That means my letter column design appeared in a whopping two issues of the book (sigh). It was awesome while it lasted.

After the glow of the actual incident began to fade, I kept a little bit of pride burning inside me that served me pretty well for several more years. For example, I had a hellish junior high (who didn't?), but whenever things got really bad and I started to feel totally self-conscious and put-upon, I could always pull the script out of my desk and show myself my greatest accomplishment.

People criticizing my art because it looked too much like Hembeck's? Okay, but my design ability was good enough to win a nationwide contest, wasn't it? In an odd sort of way, I thought of myself as a Jim Shooter-type of Child Prodigy. My talent had been recognized, and that gave me the self-confidence I needed to pursue everything else in my life. And although my interest in writing eventually overwhelmed my artistic ambitions, I never lost my self-confidence. After all, I *had* won a nationwide design contest at 12, hadn't I?

Even now, 30 years and plenty of other accomplishments later, I still relish my little bit of connection to the Teen Titans, as obscure or trivial as it may seem. I keep these issues in my "don't sell" pile so my daughter and maybe even my grandchildren will someday know that I had an all-too brief brush with fame in the world of comics.

And if I ever meet Terry Austin, I want to ask him whatever happened to this piece of original art. And I want to get him to autograph my copy of this issue. I'll gladly autograph his in return.

Superman on Superman

2008-07-07T00:18:00.003-04:00

I had never seen this super(!)-cool photo before, until it was generously sent to me by my pal Tommy, of the The Bat-Blog.

This is the voice of Superman on radio (and cartoons), Bud Collyer, checking out a 1946 issue of Superman.

Awesome pic, thanks Tommy!

Russell Burbage - 1975

2008-07-01T20:37:00.002-04:00

1975 - It happened during the summer of 1975. I was a ten year-old boy being dragged to some family reunion type get-together, probably my uncle's wedding in Vermont. I don't remember the destination at all, but the trip itself gave me something I still treasure to this day.

My brother and two sisters and I were allowed to wander around Lambert Fields Airport (St. Louis) because back then there were only one or two shops in the entire place, and my parents could station themselves in a central location to keep tabs on all four of us simultaneously.

I was the youngest. I always made a beeline to the biggest store there: what I considered The General Store of the airport, it sold books, magazines, toys, snacks, and drinks. I guess this was the precursor to the current Hudson News shops you find dotted all over airports all over the country, but because it was just the one place, it seemed bigger.

My parents always allowed us to get some books or magazines for our trips, so I guess I was handed a dollar and let loose. I don't remember the particulars. I don't really remember what other comics I bought or anything else about that day. I only remember buying Superboy and The Legion of Super-Heroes #212.

It wasn't in the comic book rack. I don't even think there *was* a comic-book rack. It was sitting on the floor-level of the magazine stand with various other comics and kiddie magazines, and my eye just naturally wandered over to it. On the cover, Superman (I mean, Superboy?) was the only character I recognized. But this wasn't Curt Swan's or Wayne Boring's or even Dick Dillin's Superman; this was some thin almost gangly yet still good-looking Super Youth.

Right away, I was intrigued. Then there was Calorie Queen and her group standing over the prone bodies of several characters I guessed to be Legionnaires. She is demanding the right to take their places! I think I may have recognized Mike Grell's style from his three-issue run on the recent Aquaman feature in Adventure Comics. Maybe I knew him from the recent Robin-Batgirl team-up in Batman Family. I don't know if I made the conscious connection or not, but his style definitely appealed to me.

Like I said, I was used to the somewhat more staid style of Swan, Boring, or Dillin art on the inside and Nick Cardy or John Romita on covers. So Mike Grell was definitely something different and eye-catching.

I don't think I could have asked for a better, kinder, gentler introduction to the complicated mythos of the Legion of Super-Heroes than this issue. Quick recap: six Legion Rejects get together to challenge the right of their fellow countrymen to represent their planets in the Legion. So right off the bat I get quick origins for Cosmic Boy, Saturn Girl, Phantom Girl, Chameleon Boy, Shrinking Violet, and Matter-Eater Lad, as well as important story points (each member has at least one unique super power, members are from different planets, teamwork is most important, nobody hogs the spotlight, etc).

This last point was especially awesome for a ten year-old boy used to Batman and Superman doing the majority of work over in Justice League. I was in hog heaven! And the characterizations were much stronger than what I was used to. When Chameleon Boy called Superboy "Super Buttinsky" my eyes nearly popped out of my head.

The story itself was well crafted; let's face it, First Come First Served is not always the best way to pick your super-hero. Why should Saturn Girl get to stay just because she was there first? Okay, maybe as a total newbie to all this the plot made more sense to me; but rereading it years later after I "knew" the characters, I still think it makes for a pretty good story. Besides, the Legionnaires prove it takes more than strength to be a hero, not only to themselves but to me, as well. I was convinced.

As I had never heard of any of these characters before, each of them was new and exciting. Yet, already I considered myself enough of a comics snob to think that this guy called Matter-Eater Lad was totally lame.

Perhaps another reason I liked this story was that it recognized ME Lad's failings and strengths, and then just as it reaffirmed him as a character, it shuffled him off stage to be a politician on his home planet. This was my kind of story! There was even an editor's note saying that this development had been predetermined back in some "Adult Legion" story!? Obviously, these characters had History. (I had no
idea....! Ha-ha!)

One last side-note about the main story: I always wondered why Calorie Queen didn't just take ME Lad's place in the Legion. Sure, the ability to eat anything was a stupid power, but Calorie Queen had the strength of three men, and her costume was hot. Why didn't she join? (She wouldn't have been any stupider than, say, Blok)

I guess I'm glad she didn't join, but at the time it seemed as if she should have. And although most of the other Legion Rejects reappeared years later as members of the Legion of Super-Villains, Calorie Queen was never shown among them. I always thought better of her for that. (I think she eventually did reappear during the Giffen "Ten Years Later" era) As for the others, if you go from "I want to join the Legion," to "I want to kill the Legion," I think maybe the Legion was right to reject them in the first place, with or without the duplication of powers rule, don't you?

The backup story featured Shadow Lass, Cosmic Boy, and some non-Legionnaire heroine called Night Girl in another finely written and drawn melodrama. This was another first for me because over in Justice League there were never backup stories, and when the stories were shorter, non-members were never featured.

Yet in this story I learned all about Night Girl and her group, the Legion of Substitute Heroes. Night Girl only has her super-strength when it is dark, but she insists on fighting the good fight (in a terrific costume I learned later had been designed by Grell). I think I fell in love with Shadow Lass and Night Girl during this story, and I think I had a man-crush on Cosmic Boy, too. He stuck by his girlfriend and supported her even though she wasn't "good enough" to be a Legionnaire. Talk about a nice guy! I think I wished my big brother was more like Cos.

With all the 30th Century architecture, alien bad guys, and drama, I was hooked. I've been a Legion fan ever since.

This issue represents the gate to a whole new world of heretofore unknown adventures. Before this I thought the (DC) universe revolved around Batman and Superman. After this, I knew that the Legion owned the future.

After I got back to St. Louis I started looking for Superboy at my regular comic-book haunts. I immediately found issue #213 and have never looked back. I spent my adolescence tracking down Dave Cockrum and Mike Grell back-issues; when I got S/LSH #197 in the mail I gave a little cheer. I even subscribed so I wouldn't miss any more issues. For nearly twenty years, I didn't.

Whenever I heard that the Legion mythos was hard for people to break into, I shrugged. I never had any problem picking the stuff up as I went along, but maybe that's because I started with an issue that was so accessible.

A few years ago I started buying the Legion Archives so I could have all their Silver Age appearances. I stopped at number ten because this is where my own collection starts. I read all their adventures in chronological order and fell in love with their world all over again. I hadn't been reading the new series (although I lingered, I basically gave up when Paul Levitz left the series in 1989). I decided to give them
another look.

Now I have all the Legion action figures that DC Direct has produced. I have most of the Legion Hero-Clix figures. I read their current series (by Jim Shooter again!!).

And it's all because I happened to be at the right place at the right time, flying to some family reunion I don't even remember. That's another reason I always keep a lookout at different places for different things, because you never know what you might find.

Long Live the Legion!!

Father's Day

2008-06-15T00:03:00.001-04:00

1983 - I've had this story rattling around in my head for a long time, and never got it down. Since today is Father's Day, I figured now was the perfect time.

A few years after moving to New Jersey in 1979, my comic book buying choices expanded exponentially when I discovered my first comic book specialty store--El Dorado, located just a few miles from my house.

Having subsisted off the vagaries of newsstand distribution before then, finding a whole store devoted to comics was like manna from heaven. I begged my parents as much as they could stand (and then past that) to take me there.

Unfortunately, not too long after I discovered the store, it closed down. Luckily, just before I was sent back to the sad spinner racks of my local 7-11s, I came across another store--Comic Crypt, located in Oaklyn, NJ, which was considerably further away (a 20 min. drive compared to the 5 min. one for El Dorado), but it was an even better store--more back issues, more new titles, more everything.

One of the titles I discovered via a comic book store was Marvel Fanfare, a direct sales-only "experiment" which featured the top creators of the day in a book that had no ads, and was printed on glossy, high-quality paper. The book cost $1.50 (horrors!) compared to the standard 60 cent comic of the day.

I loved Marvel Fanfare--the different creators and characters, editor Al Milgrom's sense that this book was a personal mission for him--I never missed an issue and I had managed to find the ones published before I discovered the book, except...#2.

Marvel Fanfare was one of those titles that most retailers didn't think would sell that well, so after ordering the standard amount for a first issue, they cut their orders for #2, since there's usually a big drop off in sales after the first.

But Marvel Fanfare sold well right off the bat, making #2 nearly impossible to find. As the series wore on, and I bought issue after issue, #2 still eluded me. To a twelve year old comic book collector, having the complete series was nearly as essential as Life Itself. The missing second issue nagged at me like the Tell-Tale Heart, instead the sound came from my long box, not the floorboards.

Then, one night, after making my Dad drag me to Comic Crypt one night, I was wandering the store, looking to spend every cent of the measly couple of bucks I had in my pre-wallet-days pocket.

Just before I left, I checked the Marvel Fanfare back issues, expecting to find nothing...and of course, there it was. Marvel Fanfare #2. Hark, the angels sing!

Unfortunately, it was stickered with a price tag of $6.00. Which meant, if I wanted to get it, I would've had to put back every other book in my hand. That was too tough a hill to climb, so I put the book back.

I walked out of the store, looking more dejected than I normally do when leaving a comic book store. I climbed into the back seat, and my Dad asked me something. I guess he noticed my mumbled, oh woe is me answer, and he asked me what was wrong.

I then told him The Tale of The Unpurchased Comic: A Tragedy in Two Parts. At that age, I just this side of being too young to try and angle for things, at least as consciously as I would later on. I was genuinely sad, figuring the book would be bought by someone else before I ever had the money to get it myself.

"How much is it?", my Dad asked.

"Six dollars," I said, as if that was the sum total of Croesus' fortune.

My Dad paused, then reached into his wallet, handed me the money, and said "Go get it."

I bounded into the store, the six dollars actually burning its way through my hand. I went in, bought the book, and walked out, feeling like a Big Time Spender.

I thanked my Dad profusely, and spent the rest of the ride home diving into its pages, lost in the tale of Spider-Man and the X-Men trapped in the wilds of the Savage Land. It was the Best Comic Book Ever, at least for those 20 minutes.

I'm sure there were many moments in my Dad's life where he metaphorically scratched his head, wondering who this kid of his was. I could care less about sports, and his attempts to play catch with me were met with grudging acceptance, and all the enthusiasm you'd have for an IRS audit. But hand me a pile of comics and I simply was in my element.

I guess, as a parent, you hope there are moments you have with your kids where you get to show them how much you love them, and they recognize that.

I'm sure my Dad would've never have guessed one of those moments would come sitting in a darkened car in Oaklyn, NJ, outside of a comic book store. But there you go.

Happy Father's Day, Dad. And thanks for the six bucks.

George Rears - 1980

2008-06-06T14:36:00.002-04:00

George Rears - 1980

By 1980, I was quickly outgrowing DC Comics. After the DC Implosion in 1978, I steadily lost interest in many of the DC books I used to love so much. In my opinion, when DC cut their publishing line, it seemed to really affect the quality of their books. They just didn't seem to have the heart or creative spark they had earlier in the 1970s.

Justice League of America was rolling along, Superman had Swan, and the Batman books still had Aparo, but books like Legion of Super Heroes, Flash, and Green Lantern felt like they were marking time.

Combine my growing appreciation for Marvel comics--specifically, The Avengers and Avenger-related titles like Captain America and Iron Man which I had been buying for two years now (due to the newly-narrowed line of DC Comics) along with a neighborhood full of Marvel Zombies, and it seemed inevitable that I was would soon morph into a Marvel guy.

I just started picking up X-Men, and really liked what I saw. On top of that, my new favorite artist was actually a Marvel guy: George Perez. His intricate work on The Avengers was amazing...and of course his attention to detail made him that much more appealing to me, as I was entering a phase that most new teenaged comic book readers go through, in which you try to distance yourself from "cartoony" artists and embrace the hyper–realistic artists. All in an effort to prove your maturity...by the way, it is so much fun to psycho-analyze yourself 38 years later.

My Marvel pull list was growing, and my DC list was still substantial, but the DC books were quickly dropping to the bottom of "read pile" after every comic purchase. With a looming price increase to fifty cents, it looked as if DC was on its last legs. Then little things started happening. Marv Wolfman, a long time Marvel writer, showed up on Green Lantern and George Perez showed up in my old favorite book, The Flash, drawing Firestorm.

I had no access to any fanzines, so I was completely stunned with what happened next. DC Comics Presents #26 introduced us to the New Teen Titans. I didn't know who half the characters were, but the artwork looked just like the Avengers! Turns out it was George Perez, working with Marv Wolfman--on a DC book! The dark ages were over! It didn't take long for Titans to become my favorite book (one month, to be exact--when issue #1 came out).

There were many reasons to love this book. The new characters allowed Marv and George (If I can call them that) to create well rounded characters with real personalities without violating any continuity. The personality "implants" for Robin (a strong tactician and leader) and Wonder Girl (noble and virtuous) made perfect sense for their characters based on their mentors.

There was no feeling of arbitrary personalities forced upon characters to make the stories interesting, as had happened a few times in the Justice League. As time would go on, I became less pleased with their handling of Kid Flash (since the Flash had always been my favorite), but eventually he left the team, and that issue went away.

The characters were all allowed to grow: Vic Stone started off in a very stereotypical manner as the angry monster character, but quickly became the heart and soul of the team. Gar Logan started as the class clown, but became the group's conscience. Well-rounded characters displaying organic growth in a DC comic was new for me, and I enjoyed it immensely.

It seemed within months, all DC comics started getting better...and within the next year and a half, the great Levitz run on Legion would begin, and Roy Thomas would introduce the All Star Squadron...DC was back.

I never thought of the New Teen Titans as DC's X-Men, as my Marvel friends always claimed. I had only read a few of the Claremont/Byrne X-Men when the Titans came out, but I felt there was a different vibe there.

The X-Men seemed to be young 20 somethings--kind of like the cast of Friends (except for Banshee and that Wolverine character), whereas the Titans seemed younger--kind of like the cast of Season 1 of Real World...the X-Men lived in an isolated corner of the Marvel Universe (until they got uber-popular and crossed over with everyone--including ROM), whereas the Titans seemed firmly routed in the DC Universe from the beginning, with the JLA appearing in the first arc, and the Doom Patrol having a major role to start the second year.

The tone of the X-Men seemed to be somber and pensive--the Titans seemed to be explosive and in your face. Even in the Titans issues with no villains, Perez made character interaction dynamic and exciting with his lush illustrations. I loved both the books. But they were very different.

The New Teen Titans stayed vibrant for about five years to me--only losing its "Top of the read pile status" when DC published the Crisis on Infinite Earths, another Wolfman and Perez collaboration. Ironically, when I was just hitting the same age as the Titans characters, was when I started to lose interest, however I think George Perez leaving the book was the real reason. To this day, George Perez remains my favorite comic book artist, and I still buy just about anything that has his name on it.

Vincent Bartilucci - 1981

2008-05-17T17:54:00.002-04:00

Vincent Bartilucci - "He must be a poor creature that does not often repeat himself. Imagine the author of the excellent piece of advice, 'Know thyself,' never alluding to that sentiment again..."

That's Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr. writing in...well, to be honest, I don't really know where that quote originated (in the words of Eddie Izzard, "I'm very thinly read.") A quick search on the 'net tells me it's part of a longer passage from Holmes' The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table published in 1858.

But I've never read that work. I lifted it from a book by P.J. O'Rourke--even my borrowed wisdom is second hand. Holmes' words, by way of O'Rourke, have been part of my "official" e-mail signature for the last few years. I guess I'm always hoping that it will somehow excuse my habit of rambling on and on, making the same point over and over again.

No doubt, this was not Mr. Holmes intent. But he's not around to denounce my usage so I'm keeping it. From time to time I latch onto a piece of purloined profundity like this and twist it to my own purpose. Which brings us to The Brave and the Bold #177.

According to Mike's Amazing World of DC Comics, The Brave and the Bold #177, cover-dated August 1981, went on sale May 21st of that year. But I really didn't need Mike and his wonderful site to tell me that. I remember the spring of 1981 very distinctly. Y'see, on June 12 of '81, my mother passed away following her second open heart surgery. She was 43 years old.

My mom was sick for as far back as I can remember. She underwent her first open heart surgery when I was too young to really understand what was going on--'70 or '71, I think it was. After that, every couple of years she'd be back in the hospital. As an adult, I think about what she and my father must have gone through and I am amazed at their courage and love. My mother was a good person and a great mom and I'm thankful for every year that God allowed her to remain in my life.

"Hey Vin," I hear you ask, "what does all this depressing stuff have to do with B&B #177?" I'm getting there, I'm getting there.

I didn't handle my mother's death very well. In my defense, I was only 14 and 14-year olds don't handle anything well. I was your typical sullen teenager, the hero of my own personal tragedy. Only I had an "excuse" for my behavior. My mother had died, after all. I knew I'd never get an answer as to why this horrible thing had happened to my family. But I kept searching for something to hold onto, something that made sense, something beyond the meager answers provided by well-meaning people who couldn't possibly understand how much pain I was in. Shortly after my mother's death I reread The Brave and the Bold #177 and this silly piece of newsprint became very important to me.

The main feature in B&B #177 is a Batman and Elongated Man team-up called The Hangman Club Murders. This tale, written by Mike W. Barr and drawn by Jim Aparo, is a murder mystery wherein the Dark Knight Detective and the Stretchable Sleuth attempt to uncover who is killing the members of the philanthropic Hangman Club before the culprit strikes again. It's the kind of nifty little story that we just don't see anymore--very well-done but hardly important continuity-wise. It's very important to me, however, because of an exchange between the Caped Crusader and the Ductile Detective that occurs on page 8.

By page 8, both the founder of the Hangman Club and its accountant have already been murdered. Batman and Elongated Man compare notes at Bruce Wayne's penthouse apartment before setting out for a night of crime-solving and, well, I'll let you read the page yourself. (That's the original art, btw. When I had the opportunity to purchase this page a couple of years back I jumped at the chance.)

Ladies and gentlemen, Alfred Pennyworth, the coolest supporting character in comics, bar none.

It's a wonderful bit of character work from Barr and he is to be commended for high-lighting a rarely seen facet of Ralph Dibny's personality. It's easy forget that those awful jokes are Ralph's armor; his protection in a sometimes brutal world.

To my 14 year old mind that sentiment, "And if I laugh at any mortal thing...", seemed so profound. I took Byron's words as my personal motto, my license to deal with this crummy life in whatever way I saw fit. That decision didn't always net the best results. I became a little bit self-destructive for a few years there. Oh, I never did anything really terrible--I was either too smart or too cowardly to get myself into any serious trouble. But the crap I did pull caused my dad more than a few sleepless nights, I'm sure. I hope he knows how sorry I am about that.

Now, over a quarter of a century later, I still have a soft spot in my heart for this comic book. I guess, if I said that The Brave and the Bold #177 helped me through the loss of my mother, I'd be overstating the case. The truth is, I had a very forgiving family and a great group of friends who kept me for going too far astray. If I am in any way a well-adjusted adult, the credit goes to the people in my life who did not give up on me. It would be wrong to equate their love and understanding with a bit of ink and paper.

What I can say is this: when I was hurting and every word of comfort seemed hollow and false, I found something that sounded true in the pages of B&B #177.

Thank you, Lord Byron. And thank you, Mike W. Barr.

George Rears - 1974

2008-05-14T13:23:00.003-04:00

George Rears - 1974

Comic books and travel go hand in hand. I guess comics were kind of like The Nintendo DS and Gameboys of the latter part of the 20th Century. Any long trip was usually preceded with the gathering of the comics to bring along for the ride. Even now, before I travel for business, I make sure I have a trade paperback for the plane.

In Berlin, Germany, where I spent my comic book formative years, collecting comics was tough. There were very few outlets to pick up American comics. There was the book store at the Post Exchange, but as I think back, there was one other place--The American train station. During the heart of the cold war, West Berlin was cut off from the rest of the West by the Iron Curtain, and travel to the West was extremely limited.

One of the ways for Americans to travel was something called the "Duty Train". The Duty Train was a sleeper train that took Americans soldiers and their families from West Berlin to Frankfurt overnight. A lot of kids thought it was cool because you got to travel through East Germany and see the "commies". A lot of kids thought it was cool because you got to "camp out" on a train.

I thought it was cool because they had a newsstand at the train station that was a week ahead in putting out their comics (we were a few weeks behind the US due to shipping distances--man the internet would have rocked back then). I don't know why there books were early--perhaps they were shipped via train, and they would unload them immediately?

The few occasions we took the train, I would always make a point of checking out all the comics. My most vivid memory: I discovered that DC was raising their prices to $.25 at the train station...I recall the shock to my system to discover that not only did the really cool red "Still Only 20 cents" become a stark black "The very best 25 cents", but Superman was changing his Secret Identity to Chris Delbart (Superman 283)! All in one month! So much for knowing one's own future--time travel was highly overrated.

The other way to leave West Berlin was via a single highway. The US military strongly urged Americans to pair up, so in case of any problems, one car could drive ahead and inform authorities ahead. As we left Checkpoint Bravo (Trivia time: Checkpoint Charlie took you from West Berlin to East Berlin. Checkpoint Bravo went from West Berlin to East Germany--End of Trivia Time).

On our first trip out of West Berlin, my Dad gave me the important job of watching to ensure the car behind us had no issues. For this task, I would be compensated a whole dollar. That would be in addition to my allowance, by the way. So for the next two hours I sat in the back seat of the car, looking out the back window, making sure my fellow American made it to Helmstedt, West Germany safely!

Needless to say, I did my little bit for the Cold War, and both cars arrived safely in West Germany. Now flush with cash, I took my windfall and headed for the American newsstand. Not realizing I was acting as the poster child for rampant American consumerism, I spent my entire dollar on one book Limited Collectors’ Edition C-31, affectionately known to most people as "That Superman tabloid from 1974 with that beautiful painted cover of what looks to be a Joe Shuster Superman".

As to be expected, I don't remember much from the book. Although, I also don't remember much else from that trip, since the rest that weekend, instead of looking out the window seeing Europe unfold before me, I read Superman stories over and over. This was one of my first experiences with reprints, and I was fascinated with the different style that Superman was portrayed in.

Two things I remember from this book is this really awesome map of a Superman theme park which was "planned" from Metropolis, Illinois. That looked real cool...also, there was a Diorama that you could cut out and create a 3-D Superman scene. I believe that diorama was the first instance of the collector winning out over the kid--I never did it cut it out.

About two years ago I traveled back to Berlin to see what it was like with no wall. I guess I don't have to mention that I brought comics. I didn't bring a trade paperback of a fancy graphic novel, though. I brought a few books from 1974, proudly emblazoned "Still only 20 cents". This time, I guess, I was hoping to go back in time.

Rick Phillips - 1967

2008-05-11T00:19:00.001-04:00

Rick Phillips I was first introduced to Plastic Man around 1966 or '67. My Dad had a part-time job selling second hand comic books in local stores. One of the stores was (I hope I spell the name right) Knapmeyer's Drug Store.

They sold new comics there as well as the older books that my Dad put in. He and my Mom would package them 3 books to a package and sell them as 3 books for 39 cents. It was a pretty good deal back then and a fantastic deal today if you could find it.

I was usually with my Dad when he did his deliveries. One day Mr. Knapmeyer was talking to my Dad in the parking lot of his drug store. I guess I looked kind of bored. Mr. Knapmeyer looked at my Dad and asked him if I liked comic books. He told him I did and he went back into the store. I asked Dad why he left. He said I think he went to get you something. Out he came with a new issue of Plastic Man. This was a pleasant surprise to be given this gift from a man I hardly knew.

Now this was the first time I ever saw Plastic Man and I have loved him since. I couldn't read at the time so I was years later when I found out this was really Plastic Man Jr. and not the real Plas. Over the years I did read other stories of the original Plastic Man and his pal Woozy. The best to me have always been written and drawn by Jack Cole. Others attempted to be that good but rarely came close.

The worst of the bunch is my first connection with Plas. However that moment has been kept near and dear to my heart. I don't know if the issue above is the one I was first given but I believe it is.

Not too long after that Mr. Knapmeyer retired and left the store to one of his sons. That son tried to see how fast I could answer a math problem once when I was at the store. Now how fast did I answer? Not at all. It was a situation that normally I could have given him the answer but when put on the spot I blanked out. A few years later he sold the store as he graduate law school and became a respected attorney. The building was torn down to widen the street and to build a used car lot on next to it.

A few months ago I found out that I worked with Mr. Knapmeyer's daughter-in-law. I told her these two stories as I thought she would want to know. She liked hearing how nice her Father-in-law was to me and the second story could have been her husband or her brother-in-law.

When I described him to her and said he became a lawyer she said it was her brother-in-law. The sad part is that both of them are now dead. The Father died not long after he retired and the son died a few years ago. Still these two men who were local merchants touched my heart and gave me some fond memories. People need to remember they are providing more then service they are providing memories. I hope I see them some day in Heaven.

I Am "It"

2008-05-10T09:22:00.002-04:00

"Tag--now it is you who are it."

I have been tagged by one of those internet memes by my pal Pierre, of Frankensteinia fame, where I have to turn to the nearest book, turn to page 123, locate the fifth sentence, and then post the next three sentences on your blog, and then tag five other people.

Like Pierre, normally I don't go in for these things, but this one sounded different and weird, and in any case I find it hard to turn down Pierre, since I'm afraid he'd send The Monster down to Jersey after me.

So here goes:

The nearest book: Universal Horrors, Second Edition, by Tom Weaver, Michael Brunas, and John Brunas

Sentences: By January, the reliable John L. Balderston was commissioned to write an original treatment with a finished script by William Hurlbut (who penned 1930's The Cat Creeps) and mystery writer Edmund Pearson.

(The latter contribution's appears to be negligible as his name doesn't appear on the official credits.)

With the crucial casting of Boris Karloff and Colin Clive secure, the studio turned to Valerie Hobson, whom the studio was working heavily, for the role of Elizabeth.

...how weird is it that the chapter from the book I happened to see first is about The Bride of Frankenstein?

Anyway, now I'm supposed to "tag" five other people whose blogs I like, so here goes:

Adama of Dispatches From The Arrowcave

Brian of Plaid Stallions

Charles of Electorama

Swinebread of Atomic Romance

Siskoid of Siskoid's Blog of Geekery

...ok, fellas, have at it!

Hey Kids, Boobs! - 1981/1996

2008-05-04T16:57:00.004-04:00

Rob Kelly I haven't written a piece for Hey Kids! in a while, and since I've always had this story in the back of my head, I figured it was time I jotted it down.

It doesn't involve comics, per se, other than the fact that it concerns the Swamp Thing movie, based of course on the classic Wein/Wrightson comics of the 1970s.

Anyway, back when I was a wee lad, my Dad took my sister and I to see a movie about every other week, and it was during this time around--around 1980 til about 1984 or so--we saw every cool movie out there. You name it--the Star Wars movies, the Star Treks, Raiders, Flash Gordon, even Conan the Barbarian and Swamp Thing.

Its these last two that I'm concerned with today, since this was the time before the PG-13 rating, so an astonishing amount of adult material got slapped with a PG rating. Since they were based on comics, that was all I needed to know to want to see them, and probably the main consideration as to why my Dad took us to them. Family entertainment!

Cut to: 1996. I'm working full-time at Movies Unlimited, a video store in Cherry Hill, NJ. Aside from wondering how three years of art school led to this, I at times liked the job. I had been made Assistant Manager (not Assistant to the Manager, thank you very much), and since the store was more Obsessive Movie Fan-friendly than the Blockbuster across the street (filled with its dead-eyed customers and employees, to whom Star Wars was an old movie), the staff was a fun bunch and the nights I was in charge I liked to make sure we had as much fun as possible.

To that end, we would have theme nights--or even weeks--over the store's video monitors. We tried to come up with bizarre--yet appropriate for public consumption--choices, since we thought it was beneath our extensive movie expertise to show the latest "feel good hit of the summer." One week it was Planet of the Apes week, where we showed the Apes films in order. We did Snake Week, outer space week, Dukes of Hazzard Thursdays, etc.

So one night in the middle of our Comic Book Week, I was rummaging through the shelves trying to find something to put on. Then I came across--Swamp Thing! Wow, I hadn't seen that in years! Rated PG? Perfect!

I put the tape in, and went back to work, probably putting little red stickers over all the naughty parts on the porn boxes, only occasionally looking up at the monitor. Wow, that Swamp Thing suit is pretty cheesy...is that a zipper I see on the back?

Anyway, as I'm putting boxes back on the shelves, I hear a few gasps, and one of the other employees calls my name. I turn to see what they want, and catch this on the monitors:

What the hell?!? What's a nude scene doing in a movie my Dad took me to?!?

I dropped the boxes, ran over, and popped the tape out. I couldn't believe it--I had completely forgotten that there's an actual nude scene in Swamp Thing. I mean, I guess that's a lot of the reason the pneumatic Adrienne Barbeau got hired in movies like this, but it still seems amazing to me there was a time when a movie adapted from a (quasi-)superhero comic book could have a nude scene in it.

I had so retrofitted my memory, that I simply assumed any movie my Dad purposely took me to must be ok for public viewing. But I had forgotten how different movies were, not all that long ago.

Luckily, no customer saw it--at least the ones who did didn't complain--so we moved right on to Doc Savage or something, and no one was the wiser.

Except me. In that moment, and ever since, my Dad has seemed just that much cooler to me.

George Rears - 1977

2008-04-29T00:23:00.001-04:00

George Rears - By the summer of 1977 (How come almost all childhood comic book memories take place in summer?) I was a full fledged comic book junkie. Now that I had a regular allowance, I had enough income to support my habit. I bought just about every DC super hero title, and was just about ready to start venturing over to the Marvel side--but I heard all their stories were continued...

Living in Germany meant the only source of comics was the Post Exchange complex--there were no comic shops. But there was one other place I could find Superman adventures: the newsstand. Except there was one problem--all the comics were in German!

Out of curiosity, I picked one or two German Superman comics up, and noticed they were direct translations of stories DC had published a year or two earlier (ancient stories in a ten year old's eyes). The paper was a bright and flimsy, and the lettering was mixed case type set.

Thumbing through the books the other night it reminded me of some of the early Ultimate Spider-Man books in look and feel. Needless to say, the German comics just didn't feel right...instead I gravitated to the "Taschenbuchs" (German for "paperback") which look uncannily like the DC Digests that would debut a few years later. I bought a few of them, and enjoyed looking through the stories I had seen earlier in my English DC books.

However, Superman Taschenbuch #7 intrigued me. On the cover was a picture of Supergirl breaking into a Justice League meeting, obviously with something important to say. It looked like a great story. So I bought the digest, skimmed through the whole thing (I can't read German) recognizing every story in the book from my collection. But there was no Justice League story in the book. None. No Supergirl, either. So I went to my Justice League collection, and started researching.

Supergirl had some Justice League appearances in the mid 1970s, but none with this drawing. I remember the Justice League appeared in Superman Family where they were under Cleopatra's mind control, but this picture didn't seem to fit, either.

As time went on and we came back to the United States, this story was on the back of my mind, especially as I started to get serious about collecting the JLA. The hype built in my mind--the big guns of the JLA, and Supergirl, too! It didn't take long to figure out that this picture had to be post-1970, due to the hot pants and puffy shirt outfit Supergirl was sporting. I later checked out all the issues of Supergirl’s own magazine from 1972-1974, and none of them had this cool image.

I knew Supergirl had an early 70's run in Adventure Comics. That series started out as the old figure-skating outfit Supergirl, and later on it became a costume of the month club. One thing I did notice--the Adventure books were hard to find--I never could find anything from Adventure #420 until when the Spectre run started (Issue 431). Perhaps people stopped buying it when it became a fashion magazine? Since, I was more serious about my JLA and Flash collections this curious little story disappeared from my consciousness. Until last month.

While doing some investigating on eBay for another project I was doing, I came across a whole bunch of Adventure Comics--including a bunch I had never seen before...among them was Adventure 423..."Treachery".

After having wondered what this story was about for thirty years, it was inevitable that I would be disappointed, and needless to say it met my expectations. Three words: Mind Control Glasses. I give the Germans credit. They were smart enough to use the really cool cover image. They were also smart enough to use other stories on the inside. The cover is still cool, though.

Planet Comic Book Radio

2008-04-26T12:04:00.001-04:00

My episode of Planet Comic Book Radio--"Son of My 70s Show"--is now available as a podcast.

I had a lot of fun talking with pal Javier, and we mostly talk about my time at the Kubert School, treasury comics, Power Records, and black and white magazines, but other stuff finds its way into the conversation, as well.

It's broken up into three parts so you don't overload on my geeky ramblings:

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3

Javier told me his highest rated episode was his first, when my pal Ben Holcomb was on the show. I'm hoping I at least match that, so Javier will be inspired to do another 70s-themed show (Beneath the Planet of the 70s Show, perhaps?), so please check it out!

Comics = Happy - 1942

2008-04-22T11:45:00.003-04:00

Another photo sent to me by my pal Rick, of Mail-It To Team-Up fame--a bunch of kids enjoying comics! What could be better?

Actually, it could be a lot better--I've seen this photo before here and there, and I believe its a shot inside one of the Japanese internment camps set up right after Pearl Harbor, one of the more shameful moments in our country's history.

But, if anything, this photo reiterates the Transformative Power of Comics--look how happy these kids look as they devour the newest issues of Marvel Mystery Comics, Feature, Wings, Blue Beetle, Spy Smasher (no irony there), and Uncle Sam Quarterly (ok, lots of irony, actually).

Planet Comic Book Radio - 4/22/08

2008-04-16T17:55:00.001-04:00

Shameless Plug Department: I will be the guest on my pal Javier "El Muerto" Hernandez's swell online radio show Planet Comic Book Radio next Tuesday, April 22nd!

I will be the guest for the whole hour, and we will talk about my various blogging endeavors, and Hey Kids! is sure to come up.

The show airs every week live at 8pm Eastern/5pm Pacific Time, and of course available for Podcast afterwards. Please check it out and tell Javier Hey Kids, Comics! sent you!

George Rears - 1981

2008-04-15T14:50:00.003-04:00

George Rears - I always loved Earth-Prime stories. Earth-Prime was supposed to be where we lived. You and me. Really. No super-heroes. Theoretically, these comic book characters did exist, just in a different dimension, vibrating at a different speed than us.

All you had to do was change the rate your molecules were vibrating at, and boom--you could be on Earth-1, the home of DC's silver and bronze age characters. It's true. I read it in The Flash #228--the first comic I ever bought.

So I was a sucker for these crazy Earth-Prime stories. The Justice League had two Earth-Prime writers visit for a team-up with the Justice Society in 1975, and later, the League visited our Earth when they discovered our Superman: Ultraa...of course that incident was kept hush-hush. You can only read about it in the comics (JLA #153). Neither of these stories, nor the Flash yarn I mentioned earlier, are considered classics today--although I love them all.

It was the next Earth-Prime story, though that raised the bar forever. "To Kill A Legend", the lead-off story from Detective Comics #500 (March 1981) blew me away. Upon first seeing this story, I was confused...here we had probably the biggest anniversary issue in comic history (Issue 500! Detective Comics!) and DC let an unknown writer, Alan Brennert, have the lead story! Needless to say, as a fourteen year old I wasn't familiar with Mr. Brennert's multitude of other work in science-fiction and TV. I guess I needed a life outside of comics. I probably still do.

So after I got past the writer confusion I sat down and read what was to become my favorite Batman story. Dick Giordano provided stunning artwork as Batman and Robin are interrupted in the middle of the case by the Phantom Stranger (definitely the coolest member of the Justice League, though not necessarily my favorite). It seems the Phantom Stranger wanted to offer Batman the chance to stop the cycle that occurs every 20 years that creates a new Batman.

Off goes the Batman, with Robin following behind him to a world without super heroes (I forget whether it is named as Earth-Prime, but it definitely could have been). So here you have the World's Greatest Detective trying to solve a murder before it happens--researching the would-be killer, investigating the would-be victims, trying to make it all fit. Meanwhile Robin sees something that Batman appears to miss: young Bruce Wayne is a spoiled brat.

The story briskly follows Batman and Robin as they solve the case using knowledge from Batman's own life and clues from this new world. Interesting twists lead them down false paths, and finally they make it to the crime scene, where Robin confronts Batman about the natural order of things and how Bruce Wayne of this world appears to be destined to be a spoiled brat. Batman makes a case for how he has lives to save, and then he does just that...and then they return home.

What really makes the story, though, is the epilogue: Apparently young Bruce Wayne is inspired from that event to get his act together. He now wants to be just like the man that saved his parents. There will be a Batman on this world after all!

I can't do the story justice in one paragraph; after all, I'm no Alan Brennert. I'd recommend reading it. DC has reprinted this story in just about every "Greatest Hits" or "Best of Batman" package they have produced, and deservedly so.

I just remember reading this story, then stopping and putting the book down to take it all in. I was trying to process the many different themes: One man can make a difference vs. The natural order of things, not to mention the nature vs. nurture conflict. I'm sure I eventually read the rest of the book, heck it was $1.50, but I couldn't tell you one thing about the other stories today, many years later.

I have since become a huge fan of Mr. Brennert's comic work. After this story I would always have the highest expectations when I saw his name attached to a book, and he never did let me down. A lot of his work focused on both Earth-2 and Batman, including Brave and the Bold #s 182 and 197. Each of which I could write about in length, also.

When the DC multiverse went away in 1985 due to the Crisis on Infinite Earths, we lost Earth-Prime. Gone was the idea that these characters really do exist, just at a different vibratory rate. Now, they were just imaginary characters, all living in their imaginary world. I guess we don't live on Earth-Prime anymore.

This Ain't A Library - 1946

2008-04-14T09:17:00.006-04:00

This cool photo was sent to me by my pal Rick, who runs several comic-related blogs (what's with that?) like Mail-It To Team-Up. I never realized kids of the 40s actually dressed like that--beany cap and all!

That newsstand is certainly like the kind I see in my dreams, loaded from top to bottom with comics, more than I could ever hope to buy in a month with my meager allowance (why I'm not a millionaire, since this is a dream anyway, I can't say).

That issue of Modern Comics (top center) is #56, cover-dated December 1946, which means this was taken around September of that year.

Thanks Rick!

Dennis The Menace - 1954

2008-04-05T23:38:00.002-04:00

Another famous Reading Comics photo, sent to me by my pal Tommy, of the The Bat-Blog.

Photos like these probably gave Dr. Wertham night sweats.

Man and Superman - 1948

2008-04-04T12:38:00.003-04:00

This famous photo of Superman Kirk Alyn was another one sent to me by my pal Tommy, who runs the The Bat-Blog.

Was there ever a photo of George Reeves doing something like this?

Comics Shop Pre-History - 1945

2008-04-03T00:11:00.002-04:00

This was another photo sent to me by my pal Tommy, who runs the super-fun Batman fan site The Bat-Blog. He doesn't remember where he found it; in any case, it sure is cool, maybe my favorite of all the ones I've ever posted here.

This industrious kid has set up his own little comics stand, and he's got copies of Gene Autry, New Funnies, Mutt and Jeff, Blue Bolt, and Captain Marvel Jr. for sale(that's issue #7, from 1945) as well as some other books.

You can see this was Comics Specialty Shop Retailing in its infancy, because A)there's a girl, and B)the owner is engaging the customers, not busy playing Magic: The Gathering.

George Rears - 1976

2008-04-01T12:14:00.003-04:00

George Rears - Growing up in the 1970s near a military base overseas, any piece of Americana was in high demand.

Probably none more so than comics. Except for maybe baseball cards. Baseball cards, of course, were seasonal. Sometime every March, a case would come into the PX, and it would be sold within a week.

Usually, they would reorder, and another case would come in some time in April, but that would sell out too. Just as fast. Think of all the dollars left on the table by not ordering baseball cards…

If nothing else, the one lesson I learned from my father serving our country, is that the Soviet Union was destined to collapse. Why? Because a centralized economy (as exemplified by the PX) was doomed to failure.

So anyway...by 1976, I was a huge comic fan. However, I wasn't much of a baseball guy. But, I did buy baseball cards. That is, I bought baseball cards when they were available. It didn't take long for my parents to realize I was headed toward a life of couch potato-hood, so they signed me up for baseball that year. Hey, I liked baseball cards, right?

So, off I want to play baseball. One problem. I hated it. I had never played before, and I was awful. Terrible. Even the outfield couldn't hide me. The season couldn't end soon enough for me. It wouldn't be long before I could go back to the comforts of comics. Except Julius Schwartz wouldn't let me.

DC Super Stars #10 featured Strange Sports Stories; however, not just the typical Strange Sports Stories that DC published--this was much wackier...essentially, the DC Super-Villains challenged the DC Super-Heroes to a baseball game. I know what you are thinking--"Shouldn’t they have challenged them to a softball game?"--but no. A Baseball game.

This is the point were I should start making fun of the story. Bruce Wayne and Ollie Queen in a bowling alley when Matter Master and the Joker attack. The Sportsmaster and Huntress solving a marital spat by placing a bet on the sporting event. And the baseball game. Can't forget the baseball game. However, I can't make fun of it. As a nine year old, this story rocked! As a 40 year old, well, not so much (although in place of the letter column is a play by play description of the entire game).

But what is wrong with fun comics for nine year olds? I loved the Killing Joke, Dark Knight Returns, and Batman: Year One, but many years ago I loved this crazy story where Uncle Sam gets to be the Umpire because everybody trusts him--and so does Amazo, because he is an android and can't lie (he can kill the Justice League, but he'll tell the truth while doing it, I guess).

Needless to say, I went on to love baseball (although I still can't play), and have come to view baseball's Opening Day as one of the great American holidays. I have been playing Rotisserie baseball (some call it Fantasy baseball) for 20 years now, which ironically, made me into even more of a couch potato than collecting just comics.

Hey Girls, Comics!

2008-03-30T22:33:00.002-04:00

My pal and frequent Hey Kids! contributor Russell Burbage sent me this photo, which he tells me his daughter found in an issue of In Touch Weekly.

I'm not familiar with who this guy is, but one thing I do know is, if comic stores wanted to start getting more female customers, they should hire this guy to do some Local Comic Store TV ads pronto.

No Fun Comics

2008-03-27T15:39:00.002-04:00

I'm in the middle of David Hajdu's excellent book, The Ten-Cent Plague, which documents comic books' early formative years, the people that made them, the kids that read them, and then the stunning societal movement to censor them. The book is heartily recommended to anyone who reads this blog.

I just got to a very chilling part, where the author talks about the students of St. Patrick's Catholic School, in Binghampton, NY, where the students formed their own self-censoring group, and took it upon themselves to go to any store that carried comics and demand they stop selling the ones they objected to.

That's bad enough, but then he talks about how the student body--399 of them--would stand outside these stores in protest, showing the shop owners just how many customers they were making mad by selling those evil evil comics.

Then, at one point, the one sole kid from St. Patrick's who wasn't part of the ban walked out of the store, reading a comic! Several members of the group then took it upon themselves to beat the kid up.

First off, boy, it had to have taken real guts to be the only kid in your whole school not going along with the ban, and what do you wanna bet that, of all the kids, it was Kid #400 who was the cool one to talk to, instead of the other 399 mindless little automatons?

Secondly, the book describes a comics burning party that actually got nationwide attention, the photo of which made it all over the country's newspapers. After listening to the description, I realized it was this photo:

...the very one sent to me(and posted here) a few weeks ago by my friend Tommy of The Bat-Blog.

Hearing the back story makes this photo all the more chilling to me. The country had just defended the world from a horde of goose-stepping fascists, and here was a group of American kids doing their best to imitate everything the country had just fought against.

Larry Eischen - 1950s/1960s

2008-03-25T04:12:00.004-04:00

Larry Eischen - Is there a boy alive who doesn't go through a dinosaur/monster phase in life? Playing with dinosaur toys, watching monster movies, picturing himself fighting T Rex and Godzilla--all part of a boy's growing up.

Back in the fifties, I loved the comics featuring monsters. And for a monster fan, nothing beat the Atlas line of anthologies--Journey Into Mystery, Tales of Suspense, Strange Tales, Tales to Astonish. Every issue was a treasure trove of science fiction, horror, and monsters.

There was a Ditko tale with mysterious drawings of swirling mists and weird angular drawings--usually accompanying a tale of science fiction or magic. Don Heck or George Tuska would illustrate a tale of strange planets, written by Larry Lieber with a twist ending.

And leading the issue, usually taking the cover spot, was a Jack Kirby monster.

Kirby could make a monster out of anything--giant trees, statues (the Easter Island statues terrorized DC and Atlas in Kirby tales), and even a living hill.

There were dragons, globs, and giants-hairy giants, bald giants, giant mummies. Droom, Goom, Fin Fang Foom, Spragg, It--names to fear. Every issue the story was the same--some lone figure wandering into the monster of the month, hearing that monster's plans for taking over the world or destroying humanity, only to be bested by the lone hero.

The army would occasionally get involved--presaging the numerous Hulk/US Army battles to come. The monster boom at Atlas lasted several years, from the imposition of the comics code to the coming of the Marvel heroes. When the heroes took over, the Kirby monsters lingered for a bit to be controlled by Mole Man or Sub-Mariner in battle against the FF (probably a reason why the Fantastic Four was my favorite Marvel comic) and finally in the person of the Hulk--the Kirby monster with the ongoing title.

Several of the monsters--notably Fin Fang Foom and the original creature named Hulk--returned to battle the heroes in later years.

DC featured science fictional monsters in their anthology titles too, but nothing as horrific as the Atlas stuff. House of Mystery, House of Secrets, My Greatest Adventure, Strange Adventures, Unexpected & Mystery in Space always had a creature or two and I would get each month's worth of them from a comics loving uncle in those days.

Unexpected and Mystery in Space frequently had monsters in the continuing features Adam Strange & Space Ranger. When Marvel started taking off, the anthology series started featuring continuing characters, Doom Patrol in My Greatest Adventure, Martian Manhunter in House of Mystery, Eclipso in House of Secrets. Lots of forgettable characters popped up quick and disappeared as quickly and the monsters were gone.

Over at lowly Charlton, they picked up the licenses for a couple of monsters featured in movies from England. Often they had Ditko art. Gorgo was a Godzilla knockoff--complete with parent monster and offspring. Konga was King Kong clone. Both series lasted a couple dozen issues plus specials and return of's--making them fairly long-lasting for Charlton and the only Charlton titles I bought regularly. They also did another Euro-monster--Reptilicus, but changed it quickly to Reptisaurus--a title that lasted less than ten issues.

Dell & Gold Key tried the monster route with various titles but their big success in that territory was fan favorite Turok, Son of Stone. Trapped in a lost valley, Turok and sidekick Andar fought 'honkers' for years before finally getting cancelled. If nothing else, you could count on Turok for a regular shot of cavemen and dinosaur action.

For a boy going through his dinosaur/monster phase in the 50s/60s, comics provided quite a thrill.

Hey Senators, Comics! - 1970s

2008-03-24T12:05:00.003-04:00

This was another photo I found on the web, and it stopped me dead in my tracks when I saw it. What presentation is this guy making, that it involves Luke Cage, Warlock, Star Wars, and Woody Woodpecker, and who is he making it to?

Sadly, where I found it offers no clues, since the photo was part of an article about comics as an instructional learning tool, but the text doesn't make any reference to the photo. So its remains a wonderfully goofy mystery...

Larry Eischen - 1950s/1960s

2008-03-23T00:06:00.000-04:00

Larry Eischen - I'm constantly amazed at DC's attempts to make Wonder Woman an equal partner with Batman and Superman. I've never thought of her as very popular, always way back in sales, close to cancellation several times, reworked and rebooted more often than any of the other DC stable.

But back in the late 50s, early 60s I would buy her comic regularly. By the mid-50s, Wonder Woman was well beyond her bondage stage. By the time I began reading her adventures, Ross Andru was illustrating them. I didn't know his name but his Diana was beautiful. And he would always throw in a dinosaur every few months. Andru's dinosaurs also graced another favorite--Star-Spangled War Stories' "War That Time Forgot".

Adding to the Silver Age silliness of the usual title were Wonder Baby and Wonder Girl--Diana's younger selves in their own adventures (DC figured Superbaby and Superboy caught on, so what the hell--let's try it with Wonder Woman). Now, it was clearly stated that these were the same character as Wonder Woman--just at different stages in her life.

Wonder Baby's favorite sidekick was a genie. Wonder Girl had 2 boyfriends--a merboy and a bird boy. But it got weirder. At some point, it was decided to have stories featuring all three Diana characters co-existing in a grand adventure. So there were Wonder Woman, her baby self and her teen self battling Andru dinosaurs and other threats. Kind of an Amazon Holy Trinity for this young Catholic boy.

This is the source of all of DC's problems defining Wonder Girl over the years--is she Diana? Is she her sister? Is she Donna Troy? Last I heard, they were still trying to sort it all out and make continuity sense of it.

One of the problems with Wonder Woman at the time was a lack of suitable villains. I can only remember two recurring villains--Angle Man, a cheap hood with a quick mind and Mouse Man, who was a guy who dressed just like you would think. Definitely not in the same league as Luthor or Joker. Thankfully, Ross Andru could draw a mean science fiction story, so in addition to dinosaurs you got a lot of giant aliens.

For a young boy in Chicago, Wonder Woman straddled the line between superheroes and 'girl's books'. No guy would be caught dead with a girl's book. Katy Keene, Millie the Model, Patsy & Hedy, and all of the romance books were girl's books.

Another borderline girls book was Lois Lane. I would buy it occasionally, but too often it was just a "gotta marry Superman" plot. ost of us couldn't figure out why Superman bothered with her. The most powerful man in the world and the only girl (girls if you throw in Lana) he can find has the distinguishing trait of being a monstrous pain in the ass. Yeah, there's the ingredients for the perfect romance.

But I digress--I don't remember any crossovers, but I would loved to have seen Superman joining Diana to battle some Andru dinosaurs. In the mid-sixties, Princess Diana became non-powered Diana Prince, an Emma Peel clone and I kind of lost interest. By this time, I was bummed about Batman's new look and de-powering Diana didn't help my attitude towards DC. That's when I started drifting more and more to Marvel.

Engrossed In Comics - 1939

2008-03-22T15:22:00.002-04:00

I love this photo of a gang of kids engrossed in reading their comics.

The only book I can make out is the one in the middle, which is More Fun Comics #46, cover-dated August 1939.

Peter Byrne - 1950s

2008-03-19T13:41:00.004-04:00

Peter Byrne In the mid-1950s, as an army draftee killing time in a motor pool near Stuttgart, I stumbled upon a relatively little known piece of cartoon art history. Left lying on a work bench was an Army publication, a digest format titled P*S The Preventive Maintenance Monthly. With a title like that, it just had to be almost as exciting as all the other mind-numbing, bureaucratic crap the Army was then producing.

Picking up the October, 1956 copy of P*S, I experienced a shock of recognition. It was unmistakably the work of the great Will Eisner. I knew the Eisner signature and style from his wonderfully drawn superhero crime-fighter strip, The Spirit, that ran in the comics section of the Sunday paper back home. Could this be, could somebody with the stature of an Eisner be illustrating a monthly Army "How-To" publication on the care and maintenance of military equipment?

Eisner, who had served in the Army during WW II as an illustrator, had been asked by the Department of Defense in 1951, the start of the Korean War, to take on the monthly publication of P*S. He did and continued to do so for two decades, right up into the Vietnam War, finally dropping out in 1971. I've learned that the magazine is still in publication.

The quality of Eisner's draftsmanship and his sense of graphic style lifted the delivery of a modest "nuts and bolts" digest into a much-anticipated monthly event. "Connie Rod," the provocative babe of a mechanic was pure Eisner, worthy of the best molls and dames that filled the frames of The Spirit.

M/Sgt. Half-Mast, the old Motor Sgt. is a ringer for The Spirit's Commissioner Dolan. And Eisner's technical skills were on display in his renderings of all sorts of complicated military hardware; tanks, guns, vehicles and their component parts. I was impressed. Still am.

Over my time in Germany, I had accumulated several dozen editions of P*S, current and back issues. But like my collection of EC originals, somewhere along the way to becoming a so-called grown-up, they sort of wandered away. And as much as I read or scanned Eisner's fine work in P*S, I never felt the slightest inclination to lift the hood of my jeep or deuce-and-a-half (two-and-a-half ton, six-by-six wheel Army truck) and perform any of the much vaunted preventive maintenance so well advocated by Eisner.