Alter Ego #9 Preview by TwoMorrows Publishing

Roy Thomas ’ Legendary Comics Fanzine

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No. 9 JULY 2001

JOHN ROMITA Characters TM & ©Marvel Characters, Inc.

... AND ALL THAT JAZZ!

Vol. 3, No. 9 / July 2001

™

Editor Roy Thomas

Associate Editor Bill Schelly

Design & Layout Christopher Day

Consulting Editors John Morrow Jon B. Cooke

John Romita Section

FCA Editor P.C. Hamerlinck

Comics Crypt Editor Michael T. Gilbert

Editors Emeritus

Jerry Bails (founder), Ronn Foss, Biljo White, Mike Friedrich

Cover Artists John Romita, Dick Giordano

Cover Color Tom Ziuko

Mailing Crew

Russ Garwood, Glen Musial, Ed Stelli, Pat Varker, Loston Wallace

And Special Thanks to: Jim Amash Jorge Iván Argiz Dick Ayers Mike W. Barr Mark Beachum Al Bigley Jerry K. Boyd Mike Burkey Sal Buscema Bart Bush Steven Butler Mike Catron Arnie Charkeno Dave Cockrum Gene Colan Ray A. Cuthbert Al Dellinges Rich Donnelly Shelton Drum Michael Feldman Ramona Fradon Jorge Santamaria Garcia Donald F. Glut Jennifer T. Go Rick Hoberg Alan Holtz Dave Hoover Adam Hughes Rafael Kayanan Robert Knuist Jon B. Knutson Paul Levitz

Scott McCloud Jesus Merino Brian K. Morris Bill Morrison Eric NolenWeathington George Olshevsky Jerry Ordway Ken Quattro Tom Palmer Fred Patten John G. Pierce Bud Plant Bradley C. Rader Ethan Roberts John & Virginia Romita John Romita Jr. Marie Severin Jeff Sharpe Dave Sim Joe Sinnott Tod Smith Joe Staton Robert Strawiery Marc Swayze Maggie Thompson Frank Travellin Herb Trimpe George Tuska James Van Hise Michael J. Vassallo Ed Zeno Mike Zeno

Contents

Writer/Editorial: Eight Is Enough . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2 Alter Ego goes to eight times a year. Shades of 1960s DC! Fifty Years on the “A” List . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 Jazzy Johnny Romita, Marvel’s art director supreme, interviewed by Rascally Roy Thomas. The Golden Age of Comic Fandom Panel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40 Bill Schelly moderates a look back at fandom’s roots in the 1960s and ’70s. Special Section on Roy Thomas’ Dream Projects, FCA, & Comic Crypt . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Flip Us! About Our Cover: John Romita had hoped to finish a brand new piece of art to be the cover of this issue. However, he’s been so busy with projects for Marvel and others—even though he’s officially “retired”—that at the last minute he had to beg off. So we assembled one of our trademark montages: a 1980 self-portrait, amid a frame of many (though far from all) of the Marvel super-heroes he’s drawn at one time or another. The framing art, according to Romita connoisseur Mike Burkey (who provided it) was previously used only as the back cover of a trade paperback in the 1970s. [Self-portrait ©2001 John Romita; Marvel art ©2001 Marvel Characters, Inc.; Red Sonja ©2001 Red Sonja Properties, Inc.] Above: This more humorous portrait by John R. of himself with the cast of The Amazing Spider-Man has been printed several times, beginning in Marvel’s own fan-mags. But somehow, we just couldn’t bear to leave it out! [©2001 Marvel Characters, Inc.] Alter EgoTM is published 8x a year by TwoMorrows, 1812 Park Drive, Raleigh, NC 27605, USA. Phone: (919) 833-8092. Roy Thomas, Editor. John Morrow, Publisher. Alter Ego Editorial Offices: Rt. 3, Box 468, St. Matthews, SC 29135, USA. Fax: (803) 826-6501; E-mail: roydann@oburg.net. Send subscription funds to TwoMorrows, NOT to the editorial offices. Single issues: $5.95 ($7.00 Canada, $9.00 elsewhere). Four-issue subscriptions: $20 US, $27 Canada, $37 elsewhere. All characters are © their respective companies. All material © their creators unless otherwise noted. All editorial matter © Roy Thomas. Alter Ego is a TM of Roy & Dann Thomas. FCA is a TM of P.C. Hamerlinck. Printed in Canada. FIRST PRINTING.

Fifty Years On The “A” List

A Candid Conversation With Marvel Artist/Art Director Supreme

John Romita A 1996 Romita Spider-Man sketch, flanked by Jazzy Johnny hard at work in 1967 amid furniture he made himself (“I must’ve been crazy!” he says). [Photo courtesy of and art ©2001 John Romita; Spider-Man ©2001 Marvel Characters, Inc.]

ROY THOMAS: Okay, John, just to get it out of the way—you were born in Brooklyn in 1930, right? JOHN ROMITA: Yeah. Just maybe five years too early—no, too late. Because one of my biggest regrets is that I wasn’t in the first generation of comic artists. While I was in junior high school, Joe Kubert, who’s only a few years older than me, got in on it, doing “Hawkman”! RT: Of course, if you’d had your wish, you’d be a decade older. ROMITA: Yeah, I’d be eighty now. [laughs] I started drawing when I was five. Parents and relatives say, “Ooh” and “Ahh” and how great it is, and you continue drawing because you like to get the pats on the back. I was a street performer when I was about ten. The gang of kids I hung out with used to scrounge bits of plaster from torn-down

Conducted by Roy Thomas Transcribed by Brian K. Morris with special thanks to Mike Burkey buildings, because we couldn’t afford chalk, and I would draw on the streets. Once I did a 100-foot Statue of Liberty, starting at one manhole and finishing at the next. That was the distance between manholes in Brooklyn. RT: “From sewer to shining sewer,” huh? ROMITA: People were coming from other neighborhoods to see it and hoping it wouldn’t rain. I also used to draw Superman, Batman—all the super-heroes that were coming out. [Virginia Romita says something in the background.] Virginia reminds me, as she always does, that I also became the source of little drawings of nude girls for all the boys in the neighborhood. Guys would beg me to do them, and she would say she was disappointed in me for doing those drawings. She was nine when I was eleven. Actually, she caused me to stop doing them.

A Candid Conversation With John Romita

When they did plays at the school auditorium, I was stuck with doing the backgrounds and scenery. Once they taped a huge roll of wrapping paper along the entire school corridor, and I did a mural down both sides of all the heroes I knew of, even Zorro, Flash Gordon, and Tarzan. RT: The comics pros a little older than you had grown up before Superman, so when they started drawing super-heroes, it wasn’t as natural a thing to them. ROMITA: Yeah, but they probably did Washington and Lincoln, like I did. I became a celebrity in school. I used to carve Lincoln heads, Mickey Mouse, things like that, out of cakes of soap. When I was 12-13, my buddies thought we were gonna go into business. They actually broke into the basement of a Turkish bath to get me a boxful of soap, so help me! I can still see this one kid half a block down the street in the tenement section of Brooklyn—you could see for two blocks, no trees, no nothing—there’s a policeman talking to him, and this kid—his name was Louie McDuff and he was a real weasel—was practically in tears. I can see him pointing to my house and telling the cop, “That’s the guy who told me to get the soap.” I never asked him to get the soap—I just stayed there in the cellar. I thought I was going to be arrested for

stealing a box of soap! When I was choosing a high school, somebody told me about the School of Industrial Arts in the city, where you were taught by professional artists. That captured my imagination. My local priest wanted me to go to a Catholic high school and later become a priest, but I wasn’t going to give up girls. But one of my buddies, who was doing full-color posters when I was just doing line-art stuff—truthfully, he was much better than I was—he advised me, “John, you shouldn’t waste your time going to the School of Industrial Arts. You’re not polished enough.” He went to the same school I did, and he never, ever made a living at artwork. [laughs] RT: Some people have talent but never get it together to actually do anything with it. ROMITA: On my 17th birthday I graduated from high school and I got a job right away. This wealthy anesthesiologist at Manhattan General Hospital was creating a new branch of medicine called pneumatology, and he hired me at sixty bucks a week, which was a fortune to me, to do

Fifty Years On The “A” List RT: You never had a singing career like a couple of others in your family? ROMITA: I had three sisters and a brother. Every one of them could sing and dance, and I can’t dance and I can’t sing. But I grew up loving music. RT: You’ve said you bought two copies of Superman #1, in 1939? That’s why you’re rich today—you kept that spare copy, right?

a medical exhibit from scratch. I designed and illustrated and lettered and cut out the boards and pasted and hung them on frames in the hospital corridors. I had no experience, but I did the whole damn exhibit in six months. While I was working in the hospital, several other doctors, including a plastic surgeon and a heart specialist, asked me to illustrate their books. There were only one or two top guys in the country doing medical illustrations, so I figured there’d be no competition. I thought I was going to be a medical illustrator! But when I finished the exhibit, none of these doctors had written a single chapter of their books, so I had to go out and earn a living. RT: They probably never even wrote their books. ROMITA: I guarantee you, they never did. They didn’t need the money. RT: Backing up a bit: In 1976, in a story with The Thing and The Liberty Legion, set in 1942, we showed you as a kid, saying you “deliver[ed] packages for some of the doctors around here”—in Times Square. We also had you spotting some Nazi planes overhead, since you said you knew the silhouettes and markings of all the planes at that time. ROMITA: Yeah. I delivered packages when I was fourteen, but not for doctors. I worked in the Newsweek Building for some minor-league outfit that used to mimeograph biographies of big band leaders like Louis Armstrong and Glenn Miller. Their customer was this agent uptown on 57TH Street. I would run 200-300 copies off on mimeograph and take them to the client, so he could hand them out as press releases. I’d go into the Brill Building, on what was called Tin Pan Alley. All the offices had music coming from them— people selling songs on the piano, songwriters pushing their songs. And when I’d go up to 20th Century-Fox art department, I could see the posters from my favorite movies being done, and I loved it.

ROMITA: [laughs] I kept one copy in a wax paper bag, the closest equivalent to plastic we had, but eventually it disappeared. I traced the other one until the cover was destroyed. I kept pressing harder and harder, until I could do that drawing by hand. RT: Were you aware, in ’39 and ’40, of the early Timely Comics?

ROMITA: I remember Human Torch, I remember Sub-Mariner, and then Captain America. One of my favorite companies was Lev Gleason. Charlie Biro’s stuff [for Gleason] appealed to me. His Daredevil was my favorite character. He wasn’t blind; he just had that split red-and-blue costume. RT: It’s funny that Biro’s Daredevil was one of your earliest heroes, and Marvel’s Daredevil was the first hero you drew in the ’60s. ROMITA: I told that to Stan in ’65, and he said he thought Biro was a genius. I maintain that Biro did a lot of the stuff that Stan did later, but it wasn’t noticed, even though he was putting a lot of personality into his comics. George Tuska did a lot of work for Biro. When I met Tuska in the late ’60s, I said, “I’ll tell you how far back I’ve been noticing your work. I remember ‘Shark Brodie’!” That was a back-up feature, a hobo adventurer connected with the sea. He was always on a dock somewhere. Actually, I’d seen Tuska years earlier, when I was delivering a horror story to Stan in the ’50s. I saw this big, strapping guy, and I didn’t know it was Tuska till afterward. He looked like a super-hero himself! RT: Doing Crime Does Not Pay stories for Biro, Tuska was one the most influential artists in the field. Later, for several years in the ’70s, he was one of only two artists who could draw any Marvel book and it’d sell. You were the other one. I remember he did two issues of Sub-Mariner and sales shot up. They went back down as soon as he left!

Two of John’s early faves were Charles Biro’s Daredevil and George Tuska’s anything! Here’s the cover of Daredevil #6 (Dec. 1941)—plus a handful of Tuska panels from Lev Gleason’s Crime Does Not Pay #60 (Feb. ‘48), by way of Mike Benton’s invaluable 1993 Illustrated History of Crime Comics. [Daredevil & CDNP art ©2001 the respective copyright holder.]

ROMITA: I remember. Everything he touched was great. He once did a thumbnail version of a Spider-Man from a plot by Stan. I was supposed to blow the thumbnails up and lightbox them—all contrived to save me time. It was a very interestinglooking job, with a lot of

A Candid Conversation With John Romita

J.R. says: “I saw George Tuska at the MegaCon this April. He’s still drawing. He and Nick Cardy and I posed for pictures. It was wonderful.” [L. to r.: Tuska, Romita, & Cardy; photo courtesy of John Romita.]

people in overcoats, and some beautiful shadows; I was dying to do it. But Stan said, “No, it just doesn’t look like a Spider-Man story,” and he decided not to use it. I could kill myself for losing those thumbnails. RT: Two of the comics artists most influential on your style—especially during the period I became aware of your work back in the early ’50s with “Captain America”—were Jack Kirby and Milton Caniff. That wasn’t just my imagination, was it? ROMITA: No. Milton Caniff was my god. Before I got into comic books, his Terry and the Pirates was my Bible. I used to spend hours looking at those pages. I still have two or three years of Sundays in an envelope. I still look at them and admire and sigh. Everything I’ve ever learned, I think, was established in those pages. He did some beautiful work later in Steve Canyon, but the Terry and the Pirates stuff— well, it’s probably partly because of Noel Sickles. They shared a studio for a time. Caniff helped Sickles with storytelling, and Sickles helped Caniff learn how to turn out a daily page without laboring over it. If Sickles hadn’t gotten tired of his own Scorchy Smith, there’s no telling how big it might have become, because that strip was an adventure story on the quality level of a Hitchcock movie. I’m telling you, the stories, the visuals, were so great—I don’t know about the dialogue, because Caniff had his own dialogue, that probably surpassed everybody. I had to scrounge up old Famous Funnies comics to get all of Terry! Each issue reprinted maybe two or three Sundays, or maybe two Sundays and the dailies in-between.

A recent Tuska illo of heroes he drew during the 1970s. For info on how to obtain original Tuska art, see his interview in our FCA section! [Art ©2001 George Tuska; heroes ©2001 Marvel Characters, Inc.]

time I was eleven. I’d tell my buddies, “This guy is great! Look at this stuff that’s popping out of the pages. Look at how he does that!” They thought the comics were some kind of tricky photo technique. They would say, “Aw, you’re crazy. Nobody’s going to do all those drawings by hand.” Years later, I used to hear that echoing, and say, “What am I, crazy, doing 120 drawings for how many stories?” [laughs] RT: You found out how many drawings people can do, right? ROMITA: I learned the hard way. But for a while I definitely felt I was doing comics only on a temporary basis. In the Army I did full-color illustrations and posters. The Saturday Evening Post, Collier’s, Ladies’ Home Journal—there were about a dozen magazines that had double-page illustrations to make your mouth water; but that field was slowly dying. My final year in art school, I studied magazine illustration and had given up on comics. I wanted to be a magazine illustrator. RT: Not a baker? [laughs] ROMITA: Well, not a baker—but I was going to drive the bread truck. My

RT: Moving to the Kirby half of my Caniff-Kirby equation— you were probably one of those kids who liked Simon and Kirby without knowing who did what. ROMITA: I was aware of everything Jack did from the

John (left) with his childhood idol Milt Caniff (center), circa ’70s. The longtime Marvel artist/production man at right jokingly titled this pic: “Hey, who’re those two guys with Tony Mortellaro?” The Terry and the Pirates daily for 2-8-38 featured two of Caniff’s trademark women—Burma and the ever-delightful Dragon Lady. As for Tony—he often slipped the name “Mort” onto backgrounds when working with John. [Photo courtesy of John Romita; Terry art ©2001 Chicago Tribune-NY News Syndicate, Inc.]

The Golden Age of Fandom Panel

The Golden Age Of Comic Fandom Panel San Diego Comics Convention - July 22, 2000 Edited and Abridged by Bill Schelly [INTRODUCTION: With the year 2001 marking the 40th anniversary of Alter Ego, and by my reckoning the 40th anniversary of comics fandom as we know it, it’s only fitting that we showcase this panel discussion of fandom’s early days by a group of its founders and most active participants. It was my great pleasure to moderate, though I hasten to add I was not the one who named it after my own book. That was the doing of Gary Sassaman, director of programming for Comic-Con International: San Diego.—Bill S.] BILL SCHELLY: Welcome to the Golden Age of Comic Fandom panel, where we have the opportunity to explore comicdom’s origins

Transcription by Jon B. Knutson the person who first assisted on, then took over, the legendary comics advertising fanzine Rocket’s Blast-Comicollector from Gordon Love. Michael T. Gilbert, who got involved in fandom in the late 1960s, was first drawn to comics of the 1940s, which were still shrouded in mystery because there was no body of literature to consult about them. I guess it’s logical that he would become best-known for a hero he would develop from an obscure Golden Age comic character by the name of Mr. Monster. Finally we have Paul Levitz, who told me he “kind of sneaked in at the end of fandom’s Golden Age.” He began at the top,

A triptych of photos taken (under less than ideal circumstances) by Mike Catron at the Comic Fandom Panel. From left to right: Bill Schelly, Fred Patten, Maggie Thompson, Roy Thomas, James Van Hise, Michael T. Gilbert, Paul Levitz. [Photos ©2001 Mike Catron.]

beginning in 1961 before there were comic book conventions, or price guides, or really any way for fans to get in touch with other fans. Until then, most fans appreciated comics on their own, and their relatives thought they were nuts. Fandom has been a godsend to all of us; and we should remember that our panelists, and many, many hundreds of other people, did a lot of the work to get it started. I’ll begin by briefly introducing each of our panelists: Fred Patten’s roots go back to science fiction fandom in the late 1950s. He went on to write for many comics fanzines in the 1960s, including Alter Ego. Fred was also central mailer of the first comics amateur press alliance, Capa-Alpha, for several years. Maggie Thompson, a talented cartoonist, was co-editor with her late husband Don of the fanzine Comic Art, and is a long-time columnist and editor of Comics Buyer’s Guide. Roy Thomas was the co-founder of the fanzine Alter Ego, and the first well-known comics fan to graduate to pro comics. James Van Hise is best known as the author of dozens of books about comics and other aspects of popular culture. As a member of fandom beginning in 1963, however, he will always be remembered as

taking over the publishing reins of The Comic Reader, the first and most important fanzine that published news of upcoming pro comics. Today, of course, he serves as vice-president and publisher of DC Comics.

As for myself, I got into fandom in 1964, published a fanzine called Sense of Wonder, and in recent years have been researching fandom’s past. I believe this is the first time a panel has been put together of this caliber on the subject of fandom’s history, with a stellar assemblage from its first decade. It’s a kind of historical event in its own right. Let’s begin with Maggie and Fred—because a big part of the beginning of comics fandom was the stream of fans who came in through the already-existing science-fiction fandom. Maggie, how did you first hear about comics fandom? MAGGIE THOMPSON: Well, we didn’t hear about a comics fandom, because there wasn’t a comics fandom to hear about. There had been publications that dealt at least tangentially with comics for some time in the science-fiction universe. Dave Kyle, for example, had a prototype that involved his enthusiasm about Flash Gordon; so, by some definition, that is a comics fanzine. My parents did a fanzine in the late 1940s called The Cricket, because they had seen comic books in 1947 and 1948 that they thought were cool, and they tried to tell their friends about it, to no avail. EC fandom came and went, but there was no continuing nucleus of people which slowly grew and grew into an

The Golden Age of Fandom Panel amoebae-like parasite, which took over the universe of the eclectic until much later.

41 of super-hero comics when we were 9-12 years old, and thought it was cool they were coming back. Then we were very impressed when Marvel’s stuff started. Stan Lee had his own very irreverent approach, and he set his stories in New York rather than mythical cities. That appealed to us.

BILL: Maybe you could tell us about the 1960 World Con in Pittsburgh, where some people were talking about forming a comics fandom? THOMPSON: Well, the people was us! What happened was, there was a costume competition, followed by a banquet. After the banquet, Don and I were sitting with Hal Lynch and (I believe) Bill Thailing. We looked around the room full of people who shared our enthusiasm about science-fiction and wondered, “Gee, could there be anything like this about comics? Wouldn’t that be great?” We actually conducted a correspondence with Hal Lynch in which we discussed what it would be called. We didn’t think we could call it fandom, because fandom was science-fiction fandom. Hal suggested the word “comdom,” but then said maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. [laughs]

BILL: [Holds up a copy of The Golden Age of Comic Fandom with photos of sf fans dressed as members of the JSA] Would you tell us how these photos came about? I don’t know if we can get Fred to re-enact this pose for us now... [laughter] but there was one time you wore a Flash costume at a World Con.

PATTEN: That was mainly Bruce Pelz’ idea. Bruce, Ted Johnstone, and Jack Harness were three of the most active fanzine publishers in the LASFS. They decided they wanted to make a spectacular showing at the masquerade event at the 1962 World Con in Cleveland, and they The cover of Comic Art #1 (“Spring 1961”). needed other warm bodies to fill the costumes. Alter-Ego #1 (“March 1961”) seems to have hit So I became the Golden Age Flash. Someone the mails slightly earlier, but the Thompsons’ It was comics’ time. At that World Con, else made the costume for me. We borrowed fanzine had been in the work months longer. Dick and Pat Lupoff attended the masquerade [©2001 Maggie Thompson.] someone’s father’s World War I doughboy as Captain Marvel and Mary Marvel. They helmet and spray-painted it silver. In our group were distributing free copies of their fanzine Xero, which had the first we had Hawkman, Wonder Woman, Dr. Fate, Green Lantern, and a few installment of a series about old comics called “All in Color for a Dime.” more. However, we didn’t see Xero #1 at that convention; somehow we missed BILL: Now that we’ve heard a bit about the ways science-fiction fans it. But, when we got home from the con, Don and I—we were dating, so began to express an interest in comics, let’s go to Roy Thomas for the I was Maggie Curtis then—decided to do a fanzine about comics. We story of how he met Jerry Bails. distributed a one-page flyer called Harbinger, in which we said, “We’re going to do a fanzine; if you’re interested send us a postcard, and we’ll ROY THOMAS: In late 1961 I wrote letters of comment to editor send you the first issue.” That was in October of 1960, and Comic Art Julius Schwartz about issues of Justice League of America, The Flash, came out the following year, primarily to a readership of science-fiction and Green Lantern, the hot new comics at the time. Julie wrote back fans. We didn’t know anything about what Jerry Bails and Roy Thomas that since I mentioned I had been a Justice Society fan as a kid, I might and that other crowd were up to. enjoy writing to the man who had written the JSA—and who was now BILL: Also from the Eisenhower era and science-fiction fandom, we writing JLA. He sent me Gardner Fox’s home address! It’s hard to have Fred Patten. imagine an editor today sending a fan somebody’s home address, but he just did it. I FRED PATTEN: My first personal experience wrote a letter to Gardner, which I’m embarwith fandom was when the World Con came to rassed to say still exists. To my query about Los Angeles, where I lived, in 1958. I met other back issues of All-Star Comics, he said, “I sold fans through that con, and eventually joined the the ones I had a couple of years ago to a guy Los Angeles Science Fantasy Society around 1960, named Jerry Bails, who lives in Detroit.” when I was in college. The LASFS was a scienceGardner gave me Jerry’s address and I fiction club started in Los Angeles in 1934; it had immediately wrote to him. I got Jerry’s been meeting weekly since 1939. Forrest J. response a couple of days after my twentieth Ackerman was one of its biggest organizers. birthday, in November 1960. He even sent me When I joined, I remember there were whole complete and quasi-complete issues of All-Star bunches of fanzines lying around to read, as well #4, 5 and 6, with a current street value of maybe as books and magazines. $2,000 even in that condition—a gift! BILL: When did you realize the super-heroes BILL: How did Alter Ego get started? were coming back in the comics? PATTEN: We didn’t really become aware of it until about the time Green Lantern and The Atom came along. A lot of us who were sf fans spotted the science-fiction references that [DC editor] Julius Schwartz put into his stories. I think the first issues of Green Lantern and Atom had references. Like The Atom’s secret identity was Ray Palmer [actual name of a famous sf writer and fan], and stuff like that. We responded to that. Some of us remembered we had been fans

Fred Patten in 1962, in the costume he wore at the World Science-Fiction Convention. See Dr. Fate, Wonder Woman, and Green Lantern, as well, in Bill Schelly’s The Golden Age of Comic Fandom.

THOMAS: Like Maggie mentioned, it’s since been documented that Don and others were saying at a World Con that they wanted to start a comics fandom, but we didn’t know anything about that. Jerry was interested in pushing the JLA comic. He wanted to do a publication called The JLA Subscriber, which would be available only to people who could prove they subscribed to JLA. I was skeptical of this, because the last comic I’d subscribed to was

Roy Thomas ’ Dream Team Comics Fanzine

Plus:

5.95

In the USA

FEATURING RARE ART BY: AYERS BEACHUM BECK BORING BRUNNER BUSCEMA BUTLER COCKRUM COLAN DITKO FRADON GARCIA GILBERT HEATH HOBERG HOOVER HUGHES INFANTINO KANE KAYANAN MERINO NEWTON ORDWAY RADER REYES ROMITA JR. SEVERIN SINNOTT SMITH STATON SWAYZE TOTH TRAVELLIN TRIMPE TUSKA & Characters TM & ©Marvel Characters, Inc.

No. 9 JULY 2001

Vol. 3, No. 9 / July 2001 Editor

™

Roy Thomas

Associate Editor Bill Schelly

Design & Layout Christopher Day

Consulting Editors John Morrow Jon B. Cooke

Dream Projects Comic Crypt FCA Section

FCA Editor P.C. Hamerlinck

Comics Crypt Editor Michael T. Gilbert

Editors Emeritus

Jerry Bails (founder), Ronn Foss, Biljo White, Mike Friedrich

Cover Artists John Romita, Dick Giordano

Cover Color Tom Ziuko

Mailing Crew

Russ Garwood, Glen Musial, Ed Stelli, Pat Varker, Loston Wallace

Contents Writer/Editorial: Sweet Dreams, Baby!. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2 Roy Thomas’ “Dream Projects” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 Ye Editor kicks off an eight-a-year schedule with a survey of some series that time forgot. Wayne Boring: Superman and Beyond . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 Michael T. Gilbert on “life after comic books” for the Man of Steel’s second artist. FCA (Fawcett Collectors of America) #68 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39 P.C. Hamerlinck presents another frantic Fawcett festival— featuring George Tuska, Marc Swayze, C.C. Beck, and Bill Morrison!

Spectacular Section on Marvel’s John Romita! . . . . . . . . . Flip Us! About Our Cover: We’re truly grateful to Dick Giordano for taking the time to do two versions of the drawing that graces this section’s cover—the full-color one you just paged past, and another wherein he had five of Marvel’s Invaders facing not their usual array of foes—but a quintet of DC’s Justice Society and All-Star Squadron heroes from the World War II years. The companies prefer that we not mix DC and Marvel heroes on our covers, so we used this version, instead. For the five DC heroes as drawn by Dick, see P. 18. And, to find out how to purchase Giordano re-creations, commission drawings, or original art, e-mail him at < dickgiordano@yahoo.com >. Loads of great stuff available! Above: So what does this thought-provoking Adam Hughes illo, which appeared in the 1998 Heroes Convention (Charlotte, NC) program book, have to do with Roy T.’s “Dream Projects”? See Pp. 22-23. Thanks to Adam for permission to reprint it. [Art ©2001 Adam Hughes; Captain America ©2001 Marvel Characters, Inc.] Alter EgoTM is published 8x a year by TwoMorrows, 1812 Park Drive, Raleigh, NC 27605, USA. Phone: (919) 833-8092. Roy Thomas, Editor. John Morrow, Publisher. Alter Ego Editorial Offices: Rt. 3, Box 468, St. Matthews, SC 29135, USA. Fax: (803) 826-6501; E-mail: roydann@oburg.net. Send subscription funds to TwoMorrows, NOT to the editorial offices. Single issues: $5.95 ($7.00 Canada, $9.00 elsewhere). Four-issue subscriptions: $20 US, $27 Canada, $37 elsewhere. All characters are © their respective companies. All material © their creators unless otherwise noted. All editorial matter © Roy Thomas. Alter Ego is a TM of Roy & Dann Thomas. FCA is a TM of P.C. Hamerlinck. Printed in Canada. FIRST PRINTING.

Roy Thomas’ Dream Projects

All Of Roy Thomas “Dream Projects” Had Come True? by Roy Thomas (who else?) In one sense, this long, four-part article was suggested by the readers of Alter Ego and of the comics I’ve written over the years—intrepid souls who, in recent years, have come up to me at comics conventions (or sent me a letter or e-mail) asking me, in so many words: “Why aren’t you writing any stories with the JSA/All-Star Squadron (or The Invaders, The Avengers, or Shazam!) any more? Don’t you want to do any more with those characters?” I haven’t made a survey, but I’d wager that quite a few of my artist and writer contemporaries from the ’60s, ’70s, and even ’80s get asked the same type of questions about their own earlier areas of endeavor—Marv Wolfman about Dracula, Denny O’Neil

about Green Lantern/Green Arrow, Steve Englehart about Captain America, etc. This is my way of answering those questions—illustrating my responses with some great-looking art. What follows are a few of the concepts which I’ve submitted—in vain, as it turned out—to this company or that. I decided to limit myself for the most part to showcasing those unrealized “dream projects” which involve heroes I first encountered during my comics-reading childhood in the latter 1940s: The Justice Society of America (plus my later augmentation of same, the All-Star Squadron); Captain Marvel and

For Collector’s Dream Magazine #5 (1978), Franco Reyes drew this lavish two-page portrait of Ye Writer/Editor and some of the Marvel heroes he’d scripted up to that point. Artful Al Dellinges has obligingly covered over a few of the Marvel stalwarts with adapted renditions of DC stars. (We’ll ignore the fact that Roy is 23 years older now and no longer wears beads around his throat.) Special thanks to CDM’s publisher George Olshevsky; the original art is from RT’s personal collection. [Art ©2001 George Olshevsky & Franco Reyes; Captain America & Bucky, Human Torch, Sub-Mariner, Thor, Scarlet Witch ©2001 Marvel Characters, Inc.; Wonder Woman, Hawkman, Green Lantern, Captain Marvel ©2001 DC Comics.]

Warts, Schwartz, And All

I no longer have that script, but it was written as All-Star Comics #58 (surprise, surprise), continuing the numbering of my all-time favorite comic, which had been discontinued in 1950. The basic premise and plotline of “The War That Never Happened!” was unabashedly lifted from a story of the same name and general story in Wonder Woman #60 (July-Aug. 1953). In my scenario, the JSA (expanding on Diana’s role in the original) are called in by the scientist Paula. In her “futuray,” which seems basically a souped-up version of Queen Hippolyta’s Magic Sphere, they behold images of an Earth reduced to rubble by World War III, ten years in the future. The All-Stars travel all the way to 1964 or ’65 to fight on America’s side, breaking into teams as per the later SchwartzBroome All-Stars. I took my tale’s climax nakedly from the original comic, with Wonder Woman finding a way to stop the war from ever beginning: She prevents an auto accident which had kept US delegates from getting to a crucial conference in time to vote against going to war. (Hey, don’t blame me! I didn’t write the original story—chances are Bob Kanigher did! But I liked it.) I had fun writing the script, but I doubt I ever showed it to anyone.

B. Jerry Thomas Lives! As it happens, the second unillustrated script I remember writing was actually submitted (unsolicited) to DC—to editor Julius Schwartz, to be precise. The cover and panels from five stories in All Giant Comics #1, done when RT was seven, with Elephant Giant, King O’Mighty, Goliath, Giant Caveman (wearing Flash’s helmet), and Black Giant. [©2001 Roy Thomas; like anybody’s gonna steal it!]

company; and the Timely/Marvel “Big Three” of Captain America, Human Torch, and Sub-Mariner, whom in 1975 I combined as The Invaders. Besides ideas involving Golden Age heroes, however, there are a few others on my list—pet proposals involving the Justice League, the KreeSkrull War, and one or two additional bits of flotsam and jetsam from my four-color past, as you’ll see.

As a few doddering oldsters may recall, in Jerry G. Bails’ original 1961 Alter-Ego fanzine, at age twenty, I wrote and drew a parody of the JLA called “Bestest League of America.” Later, in Justice League of America #16 (Dec. 1962), Julie and author Gardner Fox paid Jerry and me

But let’s start back in the ’40s and ’50s, when the very idea that I would one day be a professional comic book writer and/or editor would have been an “impossible dream” project, in and of itself...

Part I WARTS, SCHWARTZ, AND ALL A. All-Star Comics #58—Two Decades Early! Though I drew my first crudely-executed comics in 1948 at age seven—a multi-story, 50-page All Giant Comics, one of whose heroes, Goliath, was visually based on the depiction of that Biblical bad-guy in the then-recent All-Star Comics #38—my first attempt to write a script, as opposed to both writing and drawing a story, was made in 1954 or ’55. Ostensibly, the major subject of Joe Kubert and Norman Maurer’s 1954 Comic Book Illustrators Instruction Course, Lesson One (and, as it turned out, Only), was drawing the human head. But it also sported examples of two panels in script form, which I used as my template. (For this and other pages of the Course, see Alter Ego: The Comic Book Artist Collection, currently available from TwoMorrows.)

Irwin Hasen drew the cover of Wonder Woman #60. Inside, “The War That Never Happened!”—whose history-altering denouement is shown here—was the work of a tiring H.G. Peter. The 1953 issue was reprinted in 1977—as a premium given away by Pizza Hut! A zillion thanks to collector Bart Bush for gifting Roy with what amounts to a copy of a comic he hadn’t owned or even seen in nearly half a century! [©2001 DC Comics.]

Roy Thomas’ Dream Projects the mind-blowing compliment of creating an offstage fan-cartoonist named “Jerry Thomas,” who in “The Cavern of Deadly Spheres!” had written and drawn his own notion of a JLA case. I didn’t think it likely, by any stretch of the imagination, that a young high school English teacher in Missouri would ever sell a script to a big New York comics publisher. Still, one day in 1963 I sat down at my Smith-Corona portable and banged out a 25-page JLA story which made an onstage character out of Jerry Thomas. In it he sent the heroes a second story he’d drawn—this one a parody of them called, er, “Bestest League of America.” To their shock, the JLAers saw that various freak misfortunes which had just befallen them (tripping themselves up while chasing crooks, etc.) were all closely foreshadowed in JT’s spoof, where they happened to their lampoon equivalents (Green Trashcan, Martian Manhandler, Aquariuman, etc.). Learning that Jerry Thomas had drawn the story using a strange pen he’d found, the JLA traced the pen’s origins to another dimension and fought some menace there. I don’t recall whether that weird pen had wound up on our Earth by accident, or if it was part of someone’s clever plan to lure the JLA into the other dimension. I duly mailed my script to Julie, with whom I’d been corresponding since late 1961. I said he could use it gratis if he wanted, or have Gardner Fox rewrite it. I don’t believe I ever got any response from Julie, but I took that in my stride. After all, I remembered that once, when I’d mentioned in a letter that he hadn’t responded to a couple of my recent missives, Julie had written back to inform me, quote: “I’m a busy man!”—which was certainly true—so the last thing I wanted to do was annoy him.

If Roy’s mid-’50s script for an “All-Star Comics #58” had seen print on some “Earth22,” its splash might have resembled this 1948 Hasen-Oksner one—only with the three pix of the Magic Sphere displaying World War III images like the ones we’ve added. [Art from All-Star #48 and JLA #207 ©2001 DC Comics; art from covers of World War III #1 (1953) and Atom-Age Combat #2 (1959) ©2001 the respective copyright holders.]

So obtuse was I back then that it never occurred to me that Gardner might have had cause to be angered by my presumptuous action. After all, if Julie had used my JLA script, it might have replaced one of his— though at that time Gardner would have had something else to take its place on his schedule. My main regret, though, is that, for whatever reason, that script no longer exists. Small loss, I suppose.

C. By Any Stretch Of The Imagination (or, To Make An Elongated Story Short...) That sample JLA script turned out to be good practice, because early in 1964 I received a letter from Gardner, who was my other major professional correspondent at the time, and who of course had been the original scribe of All-Star Comics in the 1940s, as well.

The Roy Thomas half of the offstage “Jerry Thomas” amalgam wanted to move JT to center stage—and bring the Bestest League with him! JLA by Gardner Fox, Mike Sekowsky, and Bernard Sachs; BLA art by RT for CAPA-Alpha #3, Nov. 1965. [JLA #16 panel ©2001 DC Comics; Bestest League art ©2001 Roy Thomas.]

I had already learned on the Q.T. from Julie that he’d been assigned to edit all the Batman titles to give them a “New Look,” and that, starting in Detective Comics #327 (cover-dated May 1964), Gardner would be scripting a new back-up featuring The Flash’s stretchable supporting star, The Elongated Man. To my amazement, Gardner told me he was so busy with other work that, with Julie’s permission

Wayne Boring: Superman and Beyond

Mr. Monster’s Comic Crypt

Wayne Boring Superman And Beyond by Michael T. Gilbert tone of Boring’s caricatures is understandable. In the article, the artist had this to say: “I enjoyed working with National Periodicals for years. This was a good company until the original builders started leaving. I worked for years with Jack Schiff, editor. When Kinney took over, I was in a box with Mort Weisinger. I bowed out due to editorial stupidity. My Sunday and daily strips had folded, anyway, which was my main effort.” There may have been more to it than that. Comics expert Michael Feldman recently cited a 1983 interview, conducted by Richard Pachter in Boring’s Fort Lauderdale home. In it, Boring tells of being fired by Superman editor Mort Weisinger. Astonished, Boring muttered, “You mean I’m not working for you anymore?” Weisinger repeated, “You’re fired!” Boring persisted, “Fired? What do you mean? All you’ve got to do is stop sending me scripts!” Wayne Boring at work, as seen in Coronet magazine, June 1954. The original caption read: “Boring’s drawings are from memory.” [©2001 the respective copyright holder.]

Those familiar with Wayne Boring’s comic book work may be surprised to discover his lengthy secondary career as a syndicated cartoonist. Boring’s newspaper connections began early. In fact, he was doing layout work for one paper, The Virginia Pilot, when he spotted a want-ad placed by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, the creators of Superman. Boring answered it, and his life was changed forever. By 1938 he was assisting the two on such DC series as “Spy,” “Federal Men,” “Slam Bradley,” and of course “Superman”! Boring is said to have been only the second artist to work on the legendary character. The bulk of his work on the Man of Steel began that year, ending around 1968 when DC changed ownership and fired many of their longtime writers and artists. It was a brutal time for many. In 1973 the Canadian fanzine Now & Then Times published an excellent article on the cartoonist by a young Dave Sim, future creator of Cerebus the Aardvark. Accompanying the piece were two scathing editorial cartoons by Boring, drawn especially for the magazine. Each reflects his lingering ill feelings towards the company for which he had worked for three decades. We’re reprinting both cartoons here as a rare behind-the-scenes look, drawn by a loyal company man, who felt abandoned after a lifetime of service. Seen in that light, the bitter

To which Weisinger replied, “Do you need a kick in the stomach to know when you’re not wanted?” If the story is true, it was a rough way to lose your job after decades of loyal service. Judging by one of the cartoons reprinted here, Boring was well aware of the earlier shabby treatment of his old bosses, Siegel and Shuster. Luckily, Wayne Boring had other options besides comic books. Throughout his career, the artist had a long history of illustrating newspaper strips, working primarily on the Superman strip from 1939-1950, and again from 1959-1967. The day after Boring was sacked by Weisinger, he contacted Hal Foster and became Foster’s first assistant on Prince Valiant. Of Foster, Boring wrote: “Foster was okay, but a perfectionist. I did all those damn castles, snow in the forest and the boats and storms at sea.” Wayne later worked with John Prentice on Rip Kirby, another newspaper strip, and with Sam Leff on Davy Jones. The latter had a strange history, as comics historian Alan Holtz relates in a recent note:

“Wayne Boring had the dubious distinction of putting the venerable Joe Jinks strip into Davy Jones’ locker (literally). Joe’s Car, which began in 1918, switched titles to Joe Jinks in 1928, then to Curly Kayoe in 1945, then to Buttons in 1959. The final title, Davy

Wayne Boring: Superman and Beyond

The main players in the above cartoon appear to be DC co-publisher Jack Liebowitz holding Superman creators Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster in a stranglehold. In the foreground, editor Mort Weisinger talks about “grabbing a Superman synopsis for a Batman yarn”; this is most likely a reference to his reported habit of rejecting a plot from one writer, then handing it to another to script as if it were Weisinger’s idea! The two folks behind Liebowitz, according to retired DC editor (and Mort Weisinger’s longtime friend) Julius Schwartz, are probably editor Jack Schiff and one Herbie Siegel, who had evidently done original DC publisher Harry Donenfeld a great favor in his Spicy pulp days, and afterward had a job at the company for life—though Julie says he had no real function there. [Art ©2001 the estate of Wayne Boring; Superman ©2001 DC Comics.]

Jones, came in 1961, and Boring handled the art from 1968-71. That, mercifully, was the strip’s last gasp (if I may stretch the metaphor).” Whew! On the next two pages we’re reprinting a sample of that strip, and a rare Wayne Boring photo that appeared in the June 1954 issue of Coronet magazine. While we’re at it, we’ll also pull out a sample of The Awful World of Ticker Tynn, an unsold sci-fi strip Boring drew in 1966 at the request of the Toronto Star Syndicate. It would have been a bit of “wink-worthy” irony if he’d snagged the job. When Siegel and Shuster created Superman, they originally named Clark Kent’s newspaper The Daily Star rather than the better-known (but later) Daily Planet. And they may have named it after that very Toronto newspaper! Hmmm... I wonder if Mr. Boring’s wife, Lois (!), would have appreciated the irony! [Michael T. Gilbert, writer/artist of the recent book Mr. Monster: His Books of Forbidden Knowledge, Volume Zero from TwoMorrows, extends a special tip of Mr. Monster’s cowl to Ken Quattro, Dave Sim, Arnie Charkeno, Alan Holtz, Ray A. Cuthbert, and Michael Feldman for contribution art and information regarding this article.] The cartoon at left shows editor Weisinger looming behind (and holding the wrists of) Wayne Boring. The nervous figure crouching behind the drawing board is presumably artist/inker Stan Kaye. Though well drawn, Boring’s depiction of DC in the “good old days” is not a pretty picture! [Art ©2001 the estate of Wayne Boring.]

in this issue... George Tuska

no. 68

Plus:

We Didn’t Know...

41 The Phantom Eagle... and Wow Comics, the romances... all Fawcett comics... gone! Flyin’ Jenny, too, took off down the runway... up into the clouds... gone! On the other hand, I had married the girl I wanted, had four of the children I wanted, the house I wanted, the hobby I wanted. As I’ve said, comics were good to me. It was still the Golden Age!

[EDITOR’S NOTE: From 1942 to 1953, Marcus D. Swayze was one of Fawcett’s top comic book artists. He was the first artist to bring Mary Marvel to life on the drawing board, but he was hired primarily to illustrate (and write) “Captain Marvel” stories. After returning from military service, he freelanced from his Louisiana home, where he produced art and stories for “The Phantom Eagle” in Wow Comics and for many of Fawcett’s romance comics, in addition to drawing Bell Syndicate’s Flyin’ Jenny newspaper comic strip, which had been created by his mentor and friend, Russell Keaton. Marc’s ongoing professional memoirs have been a vital part of FCA (and our most popular feature) since his first column appeared in issue #54, 1996. This issue, Marc discusses his work for Charlton Comics shortly after Fawcett dropped its comic book department in 1953, and the people he met there—including, briefly, Jack Cole. —P.C. Hamerlinck.]

Toward the end of 1954 I found myself exchanging correspondence with a man I didn’t know, regarding a subject with which I was scarcely familiar, and a company that rang only a faint bell in my memory. The man was Ed Levy, co-owner of Charlton Publications. Quoting from Levy’s letter of December 14, “... we can use a satisfactory artist of comics experience here in Derby...”

When we speak of—and write about—the Golden Age of Comics, it’s easy to agree that it was the fun age, and that it began around 1939 or ’40. Aside from the historians and scholars, however, who may have established something definite, there doesn’t appear to have been a lot of compromise as to its finale. Seems to have been a personal matter in some cases. It was in mine. I’ve associated it with my own career in comics. But I’ve had second thoughts about that. If the Golden Age hadn’t already slipped away by 1955, then at least the gold had begun to tarnish. I could have unpleasant thoughts about the ten years that followed my 1944 retreat to the Southland. But I don’t. Just look at it. Captain Marvel, as we had known him, disappeared. So did Mary Marvel... and

Letter to Swayze from Charlton Comics president Ed Levy, 12/13/54... courtesy of the artist.

Here in Derby. That was interesting. It so happened that I was working with the people at Bell Syndicate, making revisions to a feature for release the following year... my own creation, The Great Pierre. Derby was within a reasonable drive of New York City. I took the Charlton job!

Levy had said that all art was prepared through an independent contractor. That meant their comic books were reprinted from proofs, plates, and/or originals purchased from various publishers. Trouble was, the Comics Code had sprung up in the meantime. My responsibility was to clean up the material to conform to Code Office guidelines... replace nasty words like “cop” and “babe” with “police officer” and “young lady”... and raise necklines, lower skirts, cover midriffs and anything else that needed it.

We Didn’t Know... One of the former publishers of the reprint material was Fawcett. The features, however, were not the ones that I knew... mostly westerns. Later I learned that the reprints included Fawcett romances, some my own. I assume the reason I never saw them was because they didn’t need the cleaning-up required by the Code.

Jack Cole, creator of Plastic Man—oh yeah, and briefly the assistant to Marc Swayze at Charlton Comics, 1955.

The first person I met in the Charlton offices was a young fellow named Chad Kelly... an artist, but not of comics... talented, personable, and talkative. I don’t know how long he had been with the company, but he seemed to know everything about the place and everybody in it.

Chad told a story of a young Italian immigrant who, after watching some bricklayers at work, said to himself, “I can do that!” And he did. A few years later, as he prepared for a trip into the City, a family member requested that he get her a popular song of the day. When the store clerk brought out the sheet music and quoted the price, our man asked, “How much for just the words? She can’t read music!” Many people couldn’t. There was once the familiar scene on the streets of New York of a pink publication of “just the words” being hawked... by a peddler who miraculously disappeared at the approach of a police officer. The need was legitimate, though... and evidently “just the words” were now being published legally, appearing prominently on the newsstands... by permission of the copyright owners. That was the start of Charlton Publications. The other co-owner of Charlton was John Santangelo. It was a big outfit... in its own building... offices on the ground floor, presses below... lots of employees. And yet, no evidence of a chain of command. Everybody, from where I sat, seemed to report to either “John” or “Ed.”

City... experiences as a Marine trainee, night club doorman, TV repairman... kept us in stitches. It was from Rocky that I learned that... perhaps, after all... the Golden Age was over. He told of freelance work for publishers of “slow pay” and “no pay.” In efforts to collect, he said, he had been to the small claims court so many times the judges knew him by name. “You here again, Rocky?” Not far into 1955, somewhere in the Charlton Building, somebody, undoubtedly Ed or John, or both, must have said, “Let’s get into this comic book business with both feet... start putting together stories and art and publishing original stuff!” Or something like that. Anyway, there was a big reception held in the building, attended by a swarm of comic book writers and artists from all over. Quite an unusual occasion at Charlton. It was shoulder to shoulder, like at a crowded cocktail party... only we were having beer and pizza. At one point I heard my name being spoken behind me. Then a voice: “Know him? I brought him up from the South!” It was Ed Herron, first editor of the comics department at Fawcett Publications, whom I hadn’t seen in eleven years. I enjoyed talking with Ed, but I never saw him again after that day. The reception had immediate results. Within a short time came artists Bill Molno, Stan Campbell, Maurice Whitman, and Chic Stone... and writer Joe Gill... all with comic book experience... plenty of it! Meanwhile, things were happening to the building... construction work. When it was completed, there was to be a whole new upper-floor section with an interior that suggested office work of some kind. It was the new Comic Book Department. Wow! Rocky’s contact with the new artists was Molno; my contact was Rocky. When he told me the arrangement was that they were to work on a page rate... in the office space provided... I began to put two and two together. The page rate was unimpressive... but I was fast... and at my speed....

Which was okay with me. I learned that I was to be provided with assistance, and shortly afterwards I went straight to the top. You The splash page of Gabby Hayes #58 (June 1956); art in this Chad Kelly introduced the newcomer. I had never couldn’t always reach John and the following splashes is by Marc Swayze. heard of Jack Cole, an easy-going guy with a sense Santangelo, but when you did he [©2001 the respective copyright holder.] of humor. Jack seemed interested in the work of was easy to talk with. When I others, but rarely spoke of his own. It was Chad laid out my thoughts before him, his answer was, “So?” who told of the long Cole career of comic book accomplishments in writing and drawing. I was impressed with Jack’s tiny relief illustrations “So I want with those guys,” I said. that appeared regularly on the letters pages of Playboy... neat, tasteful little nudes with long black hair and stockings. “Okay.” As simple as that. Rocky, who had been standing nearby, moved closer. John turned to Rocky. “What do you want?” Jack Cole left after a few weeks, explaining that the regular hours interfered with his freelance work. What a nice fellow. Knowing him, Rocky made it short. “Me, too,” he said. even so briefly, was a highlight of my stay at Charlton. One of the wittiest individuals I have ever known followed Cole to assist with the reprints. Rocky Mastroserio loved to hear people laugh... and he made them laugh. His stories of being brought up in New York

The new upstairs office with north windows allowed for five drawing tables. I made sure one was mine. The others went to Chic Stone, Bill Molno, Stan Campbell, and Rocky. Set up just outside our door, which

“I Didn’t Stay In One Place!”

“I Didn t Stay In One Place!” by George Tuska Edited by P.C. Hamerlinck

George Tuska in the 1960s—a photo take in Stan Lee’s office at Marvel Comics. Courtesy of G.T.

[George Tuska, artist and comic book pioneer, reflects back on his long career, with special emphasis on the time he illustrated some of the early issues of Fawcett’s Captain Marvel Adventures, as well as “Golden Arrow” stories. Thanks to Mike Gartland for his assistance with this article.—PCH.]

I was born in Hartford, Connecticut, eighty-five years ago. My first interest in art was looking at my brother’s pulp magazine illustrations of cowboys when I was about seven or eight years old. A few years later, I had an appendix operation. At the hospital where I was treated, an elderly patient showed me how to draw a cowboy and an Indian. (Western adventures were the big thing at the time.) As I watched him draw the figures on the paper before my very eyes, I began to feel a little artist in myself for the first time.

I penciled some Spirit and “Uncle Sam” stories. To make some additional income, I decided to freelance a bit on the side. I paid a visit to the Fawcett offices at the Paramount Building. I met briefly with Fawcett Publications art director Al Allard. I ended up drawing a few more “Captain Marvel” stories. Allard had asked me to draw as close as possible to the way Captain Marvel had first appeared in Whiz Comics. I also drew two or three “Golden Arrow” stories while freelancing for Fawcett. A girl named Judy, I believe, handled the scripts for me. I would complete the entire final page; I drew all the figures and backgrounds, and inked everything. I was about 24 or 25 at the time. After those freelance jobs, I never worked for Fawcett again. I went on to work for Lev Gleason, drawing Crime Does Not Pay and others. From there I illustrated the Scorchy Smith newspaper strip for the Associated Press, then the Buck Rogers strip for the National Newspaper Syndicate.

After high school I visited my aunt in New York City, where I ended up working a few odd jobs. One was designing women’s costume jewelry. It was fun, but I soon found out that it just wasn’t my thing. Shortly thereafter, a friend of mine invited me to work out with him, lifting weights at a local gym. I exercised for five hours that day. The next day I was so sore I couldn’t get out of bed. My friend came over, and we dropped in to visit a friend of his who was a sculptor. His studio was on one of the West 70s Streets, overlooking Central Park. I never got to know his name, but he knew I was interested in art, so he recommended me to the National Academy of Design. At the time it was located at 104th Street and Amsterdam Avenue. Thus began my art career! I had filled out an application as an artist and cartoonist at a professional agency in New York City. Will Eisner and Jerry Iger called for me to submit some art samples. I was soon accepted and asked to work in their studio. I worked alongside Bob Powell, Lou Fine, and Mike Sekowsky. Later the studio expanded, with Charles Sultan, John Celardo, Nick Cardy, and Toni Blum joining in. I worked on “Shark Brodie,” “Spike Marlin,” and other strips. I soon left the Eisner & Iger studio to go work for Harry Chesler’s shop. Chesler was currently handling some comics for Fawcett Publications, who couldn’t keep up with the production of their successful and expanding line of comics. It was at this time I drew several early issues of Captain Marvel Adventures, as well as some other strips. We had a good group of artists at the Chesler shop: Ruben Moreira, Mac Raboy (who later worked for Fawcett), Ralph Astarita, and Charles Sultan, whom I had first met at Eisner & Iger’s studio. I left Chesler and found myself working again for Will Eisner, who had just separated from Iger. Will had his group of artists, including Alex Kotzky and Tex Blaisdell. Will was busy with The Spirit and also handled comics for Busy Arnold [Quality Comics]. While with Eisner, Splash panel from Captain Marvel Adventures #3, Aug./Sept. 1941. Art by George Tuska. [©2001 DC Comics.]

Oddball Fawcett

The Marvel Family #79 by Bill Morrison

ancient Egyptian pyramid they’ve discovered on the bottom of the ocean. After freeing one of the scientists from the grip of a giant killer octopus, they decide to make things easier by bringing the pyramid up onto dry land. There, they smash a big hole in the side of this wonder of ancient architecture instead of wasting time looking for a door.

Edited by P.C. Hamerlinck This one could only have been produced in the early 1950s, a time when most of the super-hero titles of the 1940s were dead, and the survivors were trying nearly anything to stay afloat.

After switching to their alter egos, the Marvels join the archaeologists in an exploration of the pyramid. They ignore an inscription warning them away from the tomb of The Mad Mummy, and soon find a secret switch which opens a wall, revealing his dreaded sarcophagus. As it happens, another inscription reveals that the wizard Shazam himself has imprisoned the Mad Mummy here. The message warns the scientists not to “let this horror loose upon the world!” But of course they do, and Billy and Mary Batson and Freddy Freeman are forced to speak the magic words which change them into their Marvel forms.

The cover of The Marvel Family #79 (January 1953, Fawcett Publications) is a perfect example of the desperate lengths that a midcentury comic book publisher would go to in order to increase sales. At the time, humor and horror comics were doing great business, and it wasn’t uncommon to see your favorite super-heroes in situations that were either creepy or comedic. However, editor Wendell Crowley must have decided—or had been forced—to cover all the bases. Cover artist C.C. Beck depicts the Marvels in an Egyptian tomb, making goofy faces and yelling “BOO!” in order to scare away a mummy who yells “Yipe! Let me out of here!” And maybe I’m imagining things, but that mummy looks suspiciously like an emaciated gorilla (and we all know that a gorilla on a comic book cover is a sure-fire sales spike)!

A little mummy-bashing ensues, and the moldy monster is quickly vanquished—or so it seems! The Marvels switch back to their mortal The awkward marriage of super-heroics, horror, and comedy. The mad forms, just as the entrance to the tomb and crazy cover of The Marvel Family #79, Jan. 1953. Art by C.C. Beck. slams shut. Mary notices that The Mad [©2001 DC Comics.] Mummy has vanished; and, before the trio can speak those magic words again, he sneaks up from behind and bops them unconscious. Bound and gagged, they’re put into the And here’s the best part! Notice the blurb arms of a giant sphinx and the Mummy above the logo, which reads “Read THE MAD launches it out of the pyramid. They sail MUMMY! IT’S CRAZY!” The word “MAD,” through the air on a collision course for the as lettered, is a near perfect rip-off of EC’s city as the chapter ends! Mad’s original comic book logo; Mad was a big seller at the time. Also worth noting is the In chapter two, “The Horn of Howling use of the word “CRAZY” in the blurb, a hip Horrors,” Billy manages to stretch the moldy beatnik slang term of the day. Maybe Fawcett old mummy wrappings with which he’s been were also trying to attract the coffee house bound, and yells “Shazam!”—just in time to crowd. fly out as Captain Marvel and prevent the sphinx from crashing into the metropolis. Inside, the actual story, entitled “The Marvel Family Battles the Dynasty of Horror,” offers up more thrills than chills. Captain Marvel, Mary Marvel, and Captain Marvel Jr. lend a helping hand to a group of archaeologists who are trying to get inside an

Down, but not out, The Mad Mummy rolls out a malevolent device called the Horn of Horror, an enormous black horn of plenty which spews forth a plague of demons. The Marvels make demon paté out of them and return to the pyramid to find the Mummy and Billy, Mary, and Freddy in a familiar predicament, in a panel from TMF #79. [©2001 DC Comics.]

Ghosts

Ghosts by C.C. Beck Edited by P.C. Hamerlinck [EDITOR’S NOTE: FCA presents another previously unpublished essay from our archives by the original Captain Marvel’s first and chief artist, C.C. Beck. I was fortunate to enjoy an 11-year correspondence and friendship with Mr. Beck, up until his death on November 22, 1989, in Gainesville, Florida. The multi-talented C.C. was always modest, warm-witted, sincere, and, with his strong convictions, was never afraid to speak his mind! [C.C. wrote in February 1978: “I have been an artist for more than fifty years. My once-shining eyes are now dim with age, and my face looks much like an old mud turtle. Inside, of course, I’m still as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as I was when I started out, but nobody can see this today. Now I am called ‘feisty,’ ‘opinionated,’ and an old ‘curmudgeon.’ Others have been less kind!” [More unpublished works by C.C. Beck will be featured in each edition of FCA.—P.C. Hamerlinck.] The world of art is filled with ghosts—creatures who write and draw, but are invisible. Almost every cartoonist has assistants who come and go like phantoms, or like elves who creep out of their crannies at night to make the shoes that the shoemaker sells the next morning. I started out as an assistant to a syndicated cartoonist, doing his lettering. When I went to work for Fawcett Publications in the ’30s, I redrew old cartoons for reprinting, as the original art had been thrown away. For a time I drew a daily panel which appeared under the name of one of the Fawcett brothers. I had my own ghost assistant to do the lettering by this time. When Fawcett assigned me to draw Captain Marvel, neither the writers nor I signed our names to the work. Later, as Fawcett’s comics

expanded in the ’40s, I was given the title of “Chief Artist” and was supplied with a whole staff of ghost artists to do the work. None of us ever cared that we were being kept invisible; that was just the way things were done in those days. If the publisher made big money, lived in a big house, had his own private plane and so on, that was just dandy. We were all his elves, happy with a few crusts and a few pats on our little pointy heads now and then. After Fawcett folded their line of comic books in 1953, I moved to Florida and became a ghost for a commercial artist. I did all the work and he signed it. He got paid, I didn’t. I got my crusts and my pats on the head now and then. He never allowed me to meet his clients, who were all wealthy men with big cars, hunting lodges, luxurious offices, mistresses, and more. I worked in a back room, hunched over my drawing board, while he went to cocktail parties, meetings, and on trips with the clients. Somehow, during the course of my life, I have developed a belief that not only the field of art but most other fields of human activity are run by a few big shots in expensive clothing who gallop around in all directions without having the faintest idea of what they’re doing. We know our jobs and they seem to know nothing. I have never met any big shots. I have met writers, artists, actors, stuntmen, musicians—all hardworking ghosts like myself. A few publishers I have met seemed likable enough, but they all assured me that they, too, were only workmen. The real big shots, they told me, the ones who decide everything and put their names on contracts and collect millions of dollars for our work, are invisible. Perhaps my view of the world is warped and foolish, but I believe that my fellow workers and I may be the only real people on this globe. We are the ones who take paper and ink and by a sort of magic turn them into stories, artwork, music, plays, and things which make others wealthy. We never see those “others.” Perhaps they’re only unreal, phantom-like creatures of our imaginations. They and the public... that vast, incomprehensible monster that runs everything... may be nothing but ghosts themselves.

A Beck caricature of himself scribbling away on Shazam’s throne. And, under the text, a previously unpublished pencil sketch of Captain Marvel by Beck. Talk about ghosts! [Art ©2001 the estate of C.C.Beck; Captain Marvel ©2001 DC!Comics.]

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