Comic Book Artist #4

EMPIRE OF HORROR: THE WARREN PUBLISHING STORY

No.4 Spring 1999

$5.95

In The U.S.

JAMES WARREN ARCHIE GOODWIN ANGELO TORRES AL WILLIAMSON ALEX TOTH WILL EISNER RUSS HEATH BERNIE WRIGHTSON RICHARD CORBEN

WILLIAM DUBAY LOUISE JONES SIMONSON ANNE T. MURPHY BRUCE JONES FLO STEINBERG THE SPANISH SCHOOL

Uncle Creepy ©1975 Warren Publishing

Hi there, fellow fiends and Horror aficionadoS! You all know me but you kiddies just might not know the GORY and mal evol ent history of one of horroRdom’s great COMICS publishers, Warren Publications! So come on in and join us for a frightfully fun TOUR behind the scenes at Jim Warren’s Company, from the start of Famous Monsters IN 1958 to the end of 1994 in--er--1982. (don’t worry, we’ll give you all the bloody details inside!)

And if my provocative presence doesn’t entice you TO buY this special warren tribu te issue of COMIC BOOK ARTIST, how about unpublished art by Richard Corben, Russ heath, BERNIE WRIGHTSON, KURTZMAN, ROY KRENKEL AND OTHERS? NEED MORE? HOWZABOUT AN EXTENSIVE INTERVIEW WITH JIM WARREN? OR ARCHIE GOODWIN’S OWN ACCOUNT? HOPE THAT’S ENOUGH, EFFENDI, COZ YOU DON’T WANT TO ANNOY MY DARLING FIFI HERE!

Unpublished Bernie Wrightson frontispiece.

Vampirella ©1974 Warren Publications.

conTenTs OUR COVER Courtesy of the artist, Bernie Wrightson, and avid Wrightson art collector Todd Adams, our cover features an unpublished Uncle Creepy drawing originally intended as a frontispiece for Creepy magazine. Colors by the newly computer-friendly Tom Ziuko! Uncle Creepy ©1976 Warren Publications.

Editor/Designer JON B. COOKE Publisher TWOMORROWS JOHN & PAM MORROW COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Due to the ongoing legal battle between James Warren and Harris Comics over ownership of many of the characters originated by Warren Publishing (perhaps most prominently Vampirella), we have listed copyright notices as they stood, undisputed, at the time the original material was published. No infringement or support is intended to either party by our doing this.

Contributing Editors ROY THOMAS JOHN MORROW DAVID A. ROACH CAM VILLAR Proofreading RICHARD HOWELL JOHN MORROW Cover Art BERNIE WRIGHTSON Cover Colorist TOM ZIUKO

Contributors This Issue JAMES WARREN LOUISE SIMONSON • WILLIAM DUBAY BERNIE WRIGHTSON • RICHARD V. CORBEN ANNE T. MURPHY • BRUCE JONES • JACK DAVIS ALEX TOTH • AL WILLIAMSON • ANGELO TORRES WILL EISNER • DON McGREGOR • RUSS HEATH WALTER SIMONSON • JIM JANES • LARRY IVIE FLO STEINBERG • TRINA ROBBINS • AL MILGROM MICHAEL T. GILBERT (continued on pg. 2) CBA CORRECTIONS: I extend to Bob Layton my apologies for reprinting images from his fanzines in CBA #1 and #3 without his permission. It was purely a thickheaded oversight, and they should’ve been listed as ©1999 CPL/Gang Publications. I neglected to mention Kevin Stawieray (who graciously shared the penciled “War of the Worlds” page on pg. 33) in the list of contributors last time—sorry, Kev! And, though it’s probably ancient history by now, Scot McIntyre long ago noted that we were wrong to credit HannaBarbera with producing the Hot Wheels cartoon series back in CBA #1. The distinction goes to Ken Snyder Productions! Ta, Scot!

Visit CBA at our NEW Website at: www.twomorrows.com/comicbookartist/ All letters of comment, articles and artwork, please mail to: Jon B. Cooke, Editor Comic Book Artist, P.O. Box 204 West Kingston, RI 02892-0204

ISSU E NO. 4 SPRING 1999

RANT: The Warren Experience 2 EDITOR’S The scoop on this “Empire of Horror” issue and our Summer con schedule!

MEMORIES OF JOE ORLANDO 3 Cartoonist Lee Mars recalls that old rascal comic artist and editor extraordinaire!

WINDSOR-SMITH: Storytelling Again A review of the artist’s new graphic novel from Fantagraphics, Adastra in Africa 4 BARRY SPRANG, COMICS MASTER A look at B. Koppany’s wonderful new book on the forgotten Batman artist 5 DICK COMMUNIQUES: Dick Giordano’s Rebuttal 7 CBA Replies to “Carmine Infantino’s Rebuttal,” and other missive missiles B-&-W WORLD OF WARREN PUBLISHING Archie Goodwin’s personal look and history of the great comic book company 8 THE DATELINE: @#!$?%!

12 HEMBECK’S Our Man Fred checks out the real “Collector’s Edition” of the Warren Days WARREN INTERVIEW 13 JAMES “Someone Has To Make It Happen,” and the emperor tells us how he did it TIMES Richard Howell waxes nostalgic about Warren’s Golden Age of b-&-w horror 44 GOODWIN TORRES INTERVIEW The great artist gives us a brief interview about his Warren work 46 ANGELO WILLIAMSON INTERVIEW Interview with EC fan favorite artist on his “Success Story” at Warren 48 AL T. MURPHY INTERVIEW 52 ANNE Archie Goodwin’s wife remembers the great writer/editor’s tenures at Warren I FORGET: TOTH’S WARREN DAYS 56 BEFORE Alex Toth uncovers the challenges of his black-&-white and tonal work SPANISH INVASION 63 THE David A. Roach’s amazing, in-depth investigation of Warren’s Barcelona Era DuBAY INTERVIEW Sharing memories of heaven and hell with Warren’s longest-running editor 78 WILLIAM WRIGHTSON INTERVIEW The master of the macabre arts recalls some of his finest work at Warren 86 BERNIE JONES SIMONSON INTERVIEW Weezie reveals the goings-on behind Warren Publishing’s Second Renaissance 92 LOUISE EISNER INTERVIEW The Father of Sequential Art reminisces about his Spirited Warren experience 100 WILL STEINBERG INTERVIEW 103 FLO A talk of errant monkeys and rubber bats with the “Captain” of the Company!

JONES INTERVIEW One of Warren’s greatest writers discusses his work, Weezie, and Wrightson 104 BRUCE HEATH INTERVIEW 110 RUSS The master storyteller shares a little “Give & Take” on his Warren days

COMIC BOOK ARTIST™ is published quarterly by TwoMorrows, 1812 Park Drive, Raleigh, NC 27605, USA. 919-833-8092. Jon B. Cooke, Editor. John Morrow, Publisher. Editorial Office: P.O. Box 204, West Kingston, RI 02892-0204 USA. Send subscription funds to TwoMorrows, NOT the editorial office. Single issues: $5.95 ($6.40 Canada, $8.40 elsewhere). Yearly subscriptions: $20 US, $27 Canada, $37 elsewhere. First Printing. All characters are © their respective companies. All material is © their creators unless otherwise noted. All editorial matter is © their respective authors. ©1999 TwoMorrows/Jon B. Cooke. PRINTED IN CANADA.

Editor’s Rant

The Warren Experience Are You Experienced? Black-&-White Horrors Await!

Contributors (continued from pg. 1)

David A. Roach • Cam Villar J. Hiroshi Morisaki • Todd Adams Glenn Danzig & Black Line Fever Words & Pictures • Richard Garrison Richard Howell • Bill Alger Fred Hembeck • Michael T. Gilbert Mark Wheatley • Underwood Books DC Comics • T. Horvitz • Albert Moy Sarge’s Comics • Glenn Southwick Roger Hill • Jeffrey H. Wasserman Ray Kelly & Kelly’s Comics Steve Alhquist & Atomic Comics Special Thanks James Warren & Gloria John & Pam Morrow • Beth Cooke Benjamin, Joshua & Daniel Cooke Ina Cooke & Nick Mook Andrew D. Cooke & Patty Willett Richard Cooke • Chris Cooke Susan Cooke-Anastasi • Becky Cooke The Boys at Graphic Innovations Trina Robbins • Michael T. Gilbert Mike Friedrich • Lee Mars Ray Kelly & Kelly’s Comics Michael & Julie & Zachery Taylor of Fantasy Zone • Steve Alhquist & Atomic Comics • Constance Mussells Providence Creative Group, Inc. Tim McEnerney • A.J. Greenwood Roger Hill • Richard Garrison Anne T. Murphy • Weezie Simonson Alex Toth • Al Williamson • Bill DuBay Allen Milgrom • Larry Hama Flo Steinberg • Angelo Torres J. David Spurlock • J. Hiroshi Morisaki Will Eisner • Victor Lim • Jeff Rovin Jim Janes • Richard Howell Jim Amash • Bhob Stewart • JD King Todd Adams • Sarge’s Comics Walter & Louise Simonson Bernie Wrightson • Dave Stevens Above: Bernie Wrightson spot illo of Uncle Creepy, circa 1976. Right: José Gonzales’ great Vampirella painting. Above right: Promo button. All ©1976 Warren Publishing.

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Well, we’re a few weeks late with this issue of Comic Book Artist but I hope you might find it was worth the wait. We uncovered so much fascinating material about the otherwise little-known history behind James Warren, his great publishing company and its many contributors, that we’ve added a startling 48 pages to the mag at no extra cost to you—throwing in an extra thick Alter Ego section to boot! There’s nearly twice the CBA section here than last issue—and about three times the work for yours truly.

I’ve had the pleasure to interview over a dozen participants (with a 12-hour interview with Jim Warren alone!) and, tardy or not, I think that this is the best issue yet. Hope you feel the same.

My prime motivation for helming this magazine is purely selfish. I have this compulsion to satisfy my curiosity about so much I don’t know about the comics I’ve enjoyed most in my life, and to hope some readers might like the ride. Apparently some of you are enjoying CBA because we’ve just received the honor of being nominated for GEM and Harvey awards! Thanks very much, ye nominating folks!

For those of you less interested in the storytelling of the behind-the-scenes antics, joys and heartaches of producing great comic books, this might not be an issue for your tastes. CBA has taken some criticism as being both a publication with a tinge of sensationalist promotion and a magazine designed to be the National Enquirer of the industry. Oh, well. I take no satisfaction in the ongoing slamfest taking place in the letter column and just hope some folks can lighten up about events of 25 years ago. Me, I’d like to have CBA likened as a Comics Journal focused on the days when there was no Comics Journal, though without the edge.

Anyway, this issue is as much about the person-alities and events that shaped one of history’s great comic book producers as it is about the art and stories that made it so. It’s a story of fortuitous happenstances that set events into motion leading to the creation of some truly legendary work—and maybe it’s a tale of pure dumb luck that books that good ever found a mainstream audience to begin with. Like the history of the man behind the company, the larger-than-life James Warren, it’s a story of great heights and woeful lows, about risktaking, sacrifice, success and failure—but mostly, it is a story about people.

Some of whom we need to know only by one name: Warren, Forrey, Harvey, Gloria, Woody, Williamson, Archie, Frazetta, Maroto, Bernie, Russ, Louise, Corben, Eisner, and on and on (plus a couple of guys named Jones). This here is a celebration of great stuff from fine people.

My publisher and I were a bit nervous about this issue, our first without bulging, spandexed biceps on the cover, and one that showcased (egads!) black-&-white magazines devoted to (gak!) horror. I was adamant about adding a Warren spotlight to our look at the ’70s (even before I met Jim Warren at a Big Apple Con prior to CBA #1 going to press) mostly because I’ve always been so damned curious about the company (and

pitifully little, besides Les Daniels’ chapter in his 1970 book, Comix: A History of the Comic Book in America, and an essay here and (hardly) there, has ever been written) and because discovering those magazines was such a kick way back when—an experience worth revisiting; but John Morrow and I were itchy about what the response might be because this ish ain’t about superfellas and all that. Well, we just got the orders from our distributors in for this issue and—if that don’t beat all—they surpassed CBA #1.

While certainly an anomaly in this first-issue fixated marketplace, maybe the figures reflect that readers are just as curious as I am.

I’d like to hope you’ll buy CBA regardless of the declared subject and more for the quality of the content, and accept us whatever our hits and misses, but I know better than that!

Anyway, rest easy and get that nap in now, John, because TwoMorrows’ Big Summer Push of Convention Hell is about to begin!

Producing this rag on some semblance of a schedule, all the while trying to maintain a full-time job (“I’ll get to that layout, Constance! Tim, what’s the d.p.i.? What timesheets, Lisa? Michelle, A.J.—get me an ambulance!”), fathering three boys (“‘Dad’? ‘Dad’ who?”), and being a dutiful spouse (“‘Husband’? I have no ‘husband’!”)—and don’t even mention freelance, Paulo!—can be taxing, and (cue the violins!) having just turned 40, I hope my creaky old bones can get out CBA on a (ha!) quarterly basis; but, please, be patient with TwoMorrows. We’re spinning off Roy’s A/E into its own quarterly mag plus we’ve more than a few special projects up our sleeves. In addition to getting out two—count ’em—two issues of CBA over the Summer, you’ll find John, Pam and I are off to look for America; on the convention circuit, that is.

Look for us at WonderCon, Madison Square Garden, Wizard, Heroes, San Diego, and SPX. And for those of you still hesitant to buy regardless of the subject matter, our themes for the Summer CBAs will be sequels to our first two issues, “DC Comics 1967-’74: The Daring and the Different” (#5—with *snif!* CBA’s final Alter Ego installment… promise you’ll write, Roy!) and “The Marvel Bullpen: 1970-77” (#6). Then we’ll steer away from the Big Two to take a peek at “The Madmen of MAD Magazine” in #7; but expect that one later in the Fall—after we wake up from the Summer heat.

Okay, now turn the lights low, snuggle up on this chilly night, turn the page, and come hither into the Gloriously Gruesome Black-&White World of Warren Publishing. Venture forth into a new experience of a history untold till now, of a monster mogul in the making, of a novice comics editor intent on reviving past glories, and of a crew of artists hellbound to create the best illustrated b-&-w horror stories of our fading century. Don’t be too afraid. Set a spell…!

— Jon B. Cooke COMIC BOOK ARTIST

Spring 1999

Memoriam

But We Never Had Dinner Lee Mars remembers that wonderful rascal, Joe Orlando I met Joe while I was still in college through a mutual artist friend, Tex Blaisdell. Joe was like a charming pixie flirt, and since I was a lifelong MAD magazine fanatic, I lapped up his tales of the usual gang of idiots.

Later on, lunching with Joe, when DC was at 575 Lexington, he shared his dream of a humor mag that would tell O. Henry type stories (for my generation: Twilight Zone stories). With super-heroes coming and going then wall-towall, I had no faith—but he was determined! He knew the talent, he knew where the bodies were buried, and so on.

After some horror work—which refers to the subject matter, not the working conditions—for Joe, I got to join him in his dream: Plop!, the comic made by a very unusual gang of idiots. You’ve never seen such glee—Groucho Marx eyebrows wiggling a mile a minute, Joe was flyin’.

Although he no longer had to share his space with three other editors, the DC editors’ offices were the size of a Motel Six bathroom. If you sat in the one chair, your knees squished against the desk’s front. Since Paul Levitz, Joe’s assistant, was almost always at these meetings, he’d have to stand. If Wally Wood was in town, he’d be asleep in the one chair, so we’d all stand.

Almost better than working for Joe was lunching with Joe. He was a rampant gossip and loved to share his goodies with someone safe—outta the loop. He knew fabulous eateries for us outtatowners. The most entertaining and longest lunches of my life were with Joe and Sergio Aragonés, or sometimes Alex Toth. Between cheery Sergio and gloomy Alex, the existential range of the early ’70s was complete.

For enthusiasm, storytelling and dedication, Joe was aces as an editor. The mix of freedom and formula he gave was invaluable. He’d cackle over the edge-pushing I’d try (underground comix, ya know) and then we’d work out the actuals.

This practical process was the only real mentoring in my life, and he’d later tease me about his imprint on my style.

But Joe was not Mr. Efficiency. No way. He was saved Winter 1999

COMIC BOOK ARTIST

from utter chaos by Paul, his stern Jiminy Cricket. These were the early years of Paul’s mustache—four hairs on the left and five hairs on the right—but despite his tender age, Paul was the grown-up of the two. Since I lived in California, most of my business with Joe was on the phone: I’d get the Echo Calls.

Joe would start out: “I’ve gotta pretty long story for ya…” Faint Paul voice in the background: “12 pages.” Joe: “It’s 12 pages, but I don’t need it for a while…” Paul: “Three weeks.” Joe: “Not for three weeks.” I never quite understood the deadline crunch because kindhearted Joe had a backlog of at least four years for each of his books after only eight months. (He must have been sneaking in some meetings without Paul.)

Working with Joe was such fun —and how many people can we say that about?—that I was deeply sorry to have to turn down the chance to co-write and draw Little Orphan Annie with him; but he himself had helped to teach me how restrictive the dough, pace, creator’s rights, and artistic range were in strips. “But you could come for lunches!” he cried.

He was so delighted to hook up with MAD again—and looking back on all those dreams he listed in the late ’60s, he managed to try them all.

Ya know, Joe was a shining example for creatives: His default answer was yes, and with remarkable stamina, he tried to make real whatever he could imagine.

And he did.

—Lee Mars Joe Orlando, legendary comic book artist and editor, passed away December 23, 1998 in Manhattan at the age of 71. The above was recited at the Joe Orlando Memorial Service held at the Time-Warner Building in New York City on February 10, 1999. Speaking on behalf of Lee was Andy Helfer, Group Editor, Paradox Press/DC. Lee Mars is an accomplished cartoonist and writer herself, possibly best known for her work on Plop! and her character Pudge, Girl Blimp.

Barry Windsor-Smith • Alex Bialy Glenn Danzig • Russ Heath Fred Hembeck • Sal Amendola Dick Giordano • Pat Basitenne Bruce Jones • Larry Ivie Nick Cardy • John D. Coates B. Koppany III • Fiona Russell Lester E. Grinnings III • Ken Steacy Bob Beerbohm • Rick Pinchera Tom Palmer • Jack Davis Al Feldstein • Don McGregor D. Hambone • Glenn Southwick Allan Rosenberg • Eric Reynolds Mike W. Barr • Tom Ziuko and all you folks who nominated CBA for a GEM Award and a Harvey Award! Tankyoutankyoutankyou!

THIS ISSUE AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED TO

Jim & Gloria David A. Roach Cam Villar THE M EMORIES OF

Joe Orlando Vince Sullivan Bruce Lowry AND TO THAT N EW KID

Zachery Michael Taylor Upper left: A young Joe Orlando during his EC days. Photo courtesy of DC Comics.

Above: Bernie Wrightson spot illo of Cousin Eerie, circa 1976. ©1976 Warren Publishing.

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CBA Review

The Storyteller Returns Barry Windsor-Smith’s spiritual tale, Adastra in Africa characterization (deliciously satirized in the afterward’s mock story pages). Originally conceived in the mid-’80s, the tale was (as a press If you read my tirade about the demise of Barry Windsorrelease from BWS Studio explains) “rejected by Marvel’s editors for Smith: STORYTELLER a few issues back, you know how I feel about what they perceived as an endorsement of suicide in the story’s BWS and his glorious (if short-lived) comics experiment. If not, ending.” lemme give you an update: I’m still pissed. Angry at the whining of a The press release continues, “Windsor-Smith, who vehemently “size does matter” contingent of comics collectors and their focus on denies that the story promotes suicide, refused to acquiesce to the the “inconvenience” of that magazine’s oversize format and not on editors’ demands to change the story and pulled the book from the quality of the work therein—but mostly I’m annoyed that I don’t them. With no X-Men continuity tying the story find a new issue of BWS:St awaiting me at the down (it was always intended as one-shot free shop every month (or every half-year for that from traditional X-Men settings), Windsor-Smith matter!). liked the story so much he decided to rework it as I love Barry’s artwork, adored the book, and an Adastra story shortly after undertaking the have been delighted to discover the growth of his BWS: STORYTELLER series a few years ago.” exceptional writing ability as well.

Upon reading Adastra in Africa, this Well, the Storyteller is back. reader is forced to view Marvel’s refusal to Proof of the creator’s talent can be found in his publish the story as absurd and hypocritical. latest work, Adastra in Africa, Barry’s 56-page This decision came from a comic book original black-&-white graphic novel. It is a company who has gleefully endorsed (to great simple story, wonderfully told. Featuring an financial reward) such sociopathic and anti-life uncommonly sedate Princess Adastra (usually “heroes” as Wolverine, The Punisher, and the one ballsy, free-spirited immortal last seen in aptly-named Carnage, promoting maiming BWS:St’s “Young GODS” serial—who thankand mindless slaughter to children worldwide fully makes an appearance in the delightfully (whatever the pat, phony moral inserted at bawdy text “interview” closing the book), it is a the inevitable multi-issue story arc’s end). For ith. spiritual tale of self-sacrifice and the cycle of life Windsor-Sm a Marvel editor to misread such a poignant, ©1999 Barry amidst a famine-stricken African village. The book life-affirming and hopeful tale is, well, par for the course, and they showcases some of the artist’s most finely rendered work to might have been better off revamping their line to focus on story date, exquisitely detailed to lush affect, and reminiscent of his above continuity, than on refusing to print stories of such high earlier, pre-BWS:STORYTELLER work. (I ain’t knocking his quality—but then, maybe the House of Idea(s) wasn’t the home for recent project: You try putting out 32 pages of consistently the story, after all. gorgeous artwork and writing every month!)

So it’s apt that Fantagraphics, the finest comics publisher in the And there’s a reason Adastra hearkens back to his ’80s world, has seen fit to publish this tender story, a company untethered work: It is, in essence, part of BWS’ oeuvre from the last by super-hero obsession and continuity adherence, the banes of the decade; the “lost” finale of his X-Men “Lifedeath”trilogy. mainstream industry.

Here, Adastra replaces the similarly-physiqued Ororo (a.k.a.

If you will indulge me a personal aside: I have a great deal to the mutant Storm), explaining the princess’ tempered live for; my exceptional wife, my wild and loving three boys, and the existence of this mag (in essence, an extension of myself), which I wholeheartedly love. Though I’m beleaguered with nicotine addiction, I have a passion for experiencing life and will not go to the Great Beyond too willingly; but—because of a near-fatal car accident in my ill-spent youth—I’m just not afraid of death. At the risk of slipping into a discussion of Taoism, let’s just say that death is okay and not the enemy. Fear is. Spend too much time being afraid of the Reaper, you’ll miss life completely and be denied the pleasures and torments of experience that make us so wonderfully human.

And, though it tells the story through the eyes of an immortal goddess, that’s the lesson of Adastra in Africa: Don’t deny the cycle of life and death; accept it and live.

And if your eyes don’t well up and you don’t suppress a choke when you view the final panel of Barry Windsor-Smith’s life-affirming tale, then you just ain’t lived enough. Step out and note the miracle outside: Spring is here—and thanks, Storyteller, you’ve made mine a little more meaningful.

Reviewed by Jon B. Cooke

©1999 Barry Windsor-Smith.

Barry Windsor-Smith’s Adastra in Africa.

56 pp. $15.00 hc. Published by Fantagraphics Books, Seattle.

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COMIC BOOK ARTIST

Spring 1999

Funnybook Books

Dick Sprang: Comics Master A look at B. Koppany’s The Art of Richard W. Sprang

by Joe Roberts In all the history of Batman, perhaps no artist had as much of an impact on Batman in the formative years as Richard W. Sprang.

Sprang worked on Batman continually for an unprecedented 20 years, from 1941-61, completing hundreds of stories and thousands of pages of Batman art through the decades.

Sprang’s artwork shows an architectural precision in rendering Batman, revealing deep perspective and visual impact on every page.

The artist is an excellent storyteller, rendering objects with a realism that seems absent today. When he drew a gun, it was a gun, even down to the detail of the safety pin. The stories have a life to them.

Many of his stories were reproduced in the 80-page Batman annuals, 100-Page Super Spectaculars, and in many of the Batman reprints appearing up to today.

However Sprang had been relatively unknown until recently.

All of his work had Bob Kane’s signature to it. After he left DC in 1961, he returned to draw Batman again in 1986, rendering cover recreations and conceptual pages for fans. Currently, his work is appearing as lithographs in Warner Brothers store nationwide.

In November 1998, after two years of research and development, a small-press limited-edition book, titled The Art of Richard W. Sprang was released by Striking Impressions Publishers, written by B. Koppany III. No other artist in comic book history has ever had a book published to the extent of this one on Sprang.

“It was about time someone came out with a book on him,” said Koppany. “He’s the best Batman artist to date, bar none. He helped define the Batman character, the Batcave, and was the first to draw the Riddler, among other accomplishments.”

The book had only 200 copies printed, plus some publisher’s proof copies, all signed by Sprang. They were distributed free to Sprang’s fans, comic historians, and research libraries. “Although the waiting list for one of Mr. Sprang’s recreations is 10 years long,” Koppany said, “we tried to pick and choose the people who would appreciate the book the most.” The book is now out of print with no plans for future printings.

“It’s important that Mr. Sprang gets recognized,” said Koppany.

“It’s a shame more people don’t know his name or his works better.”

The book is a compilation of Sprang’s work up to the present. It opens with his work as a child, in school, and then as a pulp magazine illustrator. “Many people who have seen the book find Mr. Sprang’s pulp work wonderful to look at,” Koppany noted. “It is done in dry brush and as exciting to see as his Batman renderings.” The book then covers his pre-DC and DC years. Sprang’s years between 196186 are also discussed. Some of the recreations are included, as is a checklist of Sprang’s work.

There are also articles in the book by some of Sprang’s appreciative colleagues; former DC editor Mike Gold, writer Mike W. Barr, comics historian Roger Hill, and Ike Wilson (Sprang’s agent). The book is 272 pages hardbound, with 174 illustrations, 68 illustrations covering his years at DC on Batman and other comics, including 63 illustrations in full color.

“I’ve been told that it’s become an instant collectible,” said Koppany, who has formed a waiting list for people who wish to obtain the book if a current owner wishes to give up their copy.

“There are about 18 on the list so far,” he said, although not one of the 200 people sent the gift book have decided to part with their copy yet. He said that some admirers of Sprang have contacted him, offering well over $1,000 for a book that is not yet six months old!

Koppany did mention a little dismay over the fact that he hoped Spring 1999

COMIC BOOK ARTIST

people would be loaning the books out for others to learn about Sprang, but he found that most people that received a book did not seem anxious to loan the book to anyone.

“The purpose of the book is to make more people aware of Mr. Sprang. That’s it in a nutshell,” Koppany added, “not to exploit him or his work. He is a fantastic artist and deserves credit long overdue. Everyone interested in comics, and especially in Batman should know about him.” When asked what his dream list for Sprang was, Koppany added, “I’d like to see more of his lithographs in Warner Brothers stores.

Perhaps a series of lithographs, similar in style to what Another Rainbow publishers did with the Disney duck characters.

“I’d like DC to produce a few volumes of The DC Sprang Archives with some of Mr. Sprang’s stories reprinted in them, similar to others that they’ve done in the past. These are great stories, timeless today as they were decades ago. DC already has the artwork and rights, and it would be simple for them to do it. There are dozens of superb Sprang stories they could reprint easily. The hard part would be deciding which stories to exclude. I’m sure it’d create more Batman readers now and for the future.

“I’d also like to see DC publish a book on Mr. Sprang’s recreations. Although there are less than 100, they are marvelously rendered. He hand-colors them himself, using ink pens that look like they were laid on by a printing press. It’s amazing to see how he colors the recreations, let alone how he inks them.”

After a pause, Koppany summarized by saying, “I guess what I’m after is to get more recognition for Mr. Sprang. People have to be made aware of the unsung artist’s work that has left such a legacy for Batman fans.”

Sprang is in his eighties, and it is Koppany’s hope to make up for lost time in getting recognition for the artist. The book is Koppany’s way of getting the ball rolling—and who knows; he may turn out to be DC’s equivalent of Disney’s Carl Barks or Marvel’s Jack Kirby.

Koppany said that those interested in seeing Sprang properly recognized should contact DC Comics, 1700 Broadway, New York, NY 10019, or Mr. Ike Wilson at 2904 Rankin Terrace, Edmond, OK 73013 (405) 340-1906, or Dr. B. Koppany at 4840 W 123rd St, Hawthorne, CA 90250 (310) 679-5604.

Above: Superb Dick Sprang color lithograph of the Caped Crusader and Boy Wonder. Sprang is a delightful (and highly underrated) cartoonist, deserving of more recognition (in this editor’s humble opinion). Batman & Robin ™ & ©1999 DC Comics.

The Art of Richard W. Sprang.

Edited by B. Koppany III. 272 pp, 63 color illustrations, hc.

Published by Striking Impressions, Hawthorne, CA. 5

Edited by ROY THOMAS The greatest ‘zine of the 1960s is back, ALL-NEW, and focusing on GOLDEN AND SILVER AGE comics and creators with ARTICLES, INTERVIEWS, UNSEEN ART, P.C. Hamerlinck’s FCA (Fawcett Collectors of America, featuring the archives of C.C. BECK and recollections by Fawcett artist MARCUS SWAYZE), Michael T. Gilbert’s MR. MONSTER, and more!

2012 EISNER AWARD Nominee Best Comics-Related Journalism

Other issues available, & an ULTIMATE BUNDLE with all issues at HALF-PRICE!

ALTER EGO #107

ALTER EGO #108

DIEDGITIIOTANSL E

BL AVAILA

ALTER EGO #104

ALTER EGO #105

ALTER EGO #106

Celebrates the 50th anniversary of FANTASTIC FOUR #1 and the birth of Marvel Comics! New, never-beforepublished STAN LEE interview, art and artifacts by KIRBY, DITKO, SINNOTT, AYERS, THOMAS, and secrets behind the Marvel Mythos! Also: JIM AMASH interviews 1940s Timely editor AL SULMAN, FCA, MR. MONSTER’S COMIC CRYPT, and a new cover by FRENZ and SINNOTT!

See comic art and script BEFORE and AFTER the Comics Code changes, with art

by SIMON & KIRBY, DITKO, BUSCEMA, SINNOTT, GOULD, COLE, STERANKO, KRIGSTEIN, O’NEIL, GLANZMAN, ORLANDO, WILLIAMSON, HEATH, and others! Plus: FCA, Mr. Monster’s Comic Crypt, BILL SCHELLY, JIM AMASH interviews Timely/Atlas artist CAL MASSEY, and a new cover by JOSH MEDORS!

DICK GIORDANO through the 1960s—from freelance years and Charlton “Action-Heroes” to his first stint at DC! Art by DITKO, APARO, BOYETTE, MORISI, McLAUGHLIN, GIL KANE, and others, Dick’s final convention panel with STEVE SKEATES and ROY THOMAS, JIM AMASH interviews Charlton artist TONY TALLARICO, FCA with MARC SWAYZE and ROY ALD, MR. MONSTER’S COMIC CRYPT, BILL SCHELLY, & DITKO/GIORDANO cover!

(84-page magazine with COLOR) $7.95 (Digital edition) $2.95

(84-page magazine with COLOR) $7.95 (Digital edition) $2.95

(84-page magazine with COLOR) $7.95 (Digital edition) $2.95

ALTER EGO #109

ALTER EGO #110

ALTER EGO #111

Big BATMAN issue, with an unused Golden Age cover by DICK SPRANG! Interviews SPRANG and JIM MOONEY, with rare and unseen Batman art by BOB KANE, JERRY ROBINSON, WIN MORTIMER, SHELLY MOLDOFF, CHARLES PARIS, and others! Part II of the TONY TALLARICO interview by JIM AMASH! Plus FCA, MR. MONSTER’S COMIC CRYPT, BILL SCHELLY, and more!

1970s Bullpenner WARREN REECE talks about Marvel Comics and working with EVERETT, BURGOS, ROMITA, STAN LEE, MARIE SEVERIN, ADAMS, FRIEDRICH, ROY THOMAS, and others, with rare art!

DEWEY CASSELL spotlights Golden Age artist MIKE PEPPE, with art by TOTH, TUSKA, SEKOWSKY, TALLARICO Part 3, plus FCA, MR. MONSTER, BILL SCHELLY, cover by EVERETT & BURGOS, and more!

Spectre/Hour-Man creator BERNARD BAILY, ‘40s super-groups that might have been, art by ORDWAY, INFANTINO, KUBERT, HASEN, ROBINSON, and BURNLEY, conclusion of the TONY TALLARICO interview by JIM AMASH, MIKE PEPPE interview by DEWEY CASSELL, BILL SCHELLY on “50 Years of Fandom” at San Diego 2011, FCA, Mr. Monster’s Comic Crypt, PÉREZ cover, and more!

SHAZAM!/FAWCETT issue! The 1940s “CAPTAIN MARVEL” RADIO SHOW, interview with radio’s “Billy Batson” BURT BOYAR, P.C. HAMERLINCK and C.C. BECK on the origin of Captain Marvel, ROY THOMAS and JERRY BINGHAM on their Secret Origins “Shazam!”, FCA with MARC SWAYZE, LEONARD STARR interview, Mr. Monster’s Comic Crypt, BILL SCHELLY, and more!

GOLDEN AGE NEDOR super-heroes are spotlighted, with MIKE NOLAN’s Nedor Index, and art by MORT MESKIN, JERRY ROBINSON, GEORGE TUSKA, RUBEN MOIRERA, ALEX SHOMBURG, and others!

Plus FCA, MR. MONSTER, more 2011 Fandom Celebration, and part II of JIM AMASH’s interview with Golden Age artist LEONARD STARR! Cover by SHANE FOLEY!

(84-page FULL-COLOR magazine) $8.95 (Digital Edition) $2.95

(84-page FULL-COLOR magazine) $8.95 (Digital Edition) $2.95

(84-page FULL-COLOR magazine) $8.95 (Digital Edition) $2.95

(84-page FULL-COLOR magazine) $8.95 (Digital Edition) $2.95

(84-page FULL-COLOR magazine) $8.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

ALTER EGO #112

ALTER EGO #113

ALTER EGO #114

ALTER EGO #115

ALTER EGO #116

SUPERMAN issue! PAUL CASSIDY (early Superman artist), Italian Nembo Kid, and ARLEN SCHUMER’s look at the MORT WEISINGER era, plus an interview with son HANK WEISINGER! Art by SHUSTER, BORING, ANDERSON, PLASTINO, and others! LEONARD STARR interview Part III—FCA—Mr. Monster—more 2011 Fandom Celebration, and a MURPHY ANDERSON/ARLEN SCHUMER cover!

MARV WOLFMAN talks to RICHARD ARNDT about his first decade in comics on Tomb of Dracula, Teen Titans, Captain Marvel, John Carter, Daredevil, Nova, Batman, etc., behind a GENE COLAN cover! Art by COLAN, ANDERSON, CARDY, BORING, MOONEY, and more!

Plus: the conclusion of our LEONARD STARR interview by JIM AMASH, FCA, MR. MONSTER, BILL SCHELLY, and more!

MARVEL ISSUE on Captain America and Fantastic Four! MARTIN GOODMAN’s Broadway debut, speculations about FF #1, history of the MMMS, interview with Golden Age writer/artist DON RICO, art

by KIRBY, AVISON, SHORES, ROMITA, SEVERIN, TUSKA, ALLEN BELLMAN, and others! Plus FCA, MR. MONSTER and BILL SCHELLY! Cover by BELLMAN and MITCH BREITWEISER!

3-D COMICS OF THE 1950S! In-depth feature by RAY (3-D) ZONE, actual red and green 1950s 3-D art (includes free glasses!) by SIMON & KIRBY, KUBERT, MESKIN, POWELL, MAURER, NOSTRAND, SWAN, BORING, SCHWARTZ, MOONEY, SHORES, TUSKA and many others! Plus FCA, Mr. Monster’s Comic Crypt, BILL SCHELLY, and more! Cover by JOE SIMON and JACK KIRBY!

JOE KUBERT TRIBUTE! Four Kubert interviews, art by RUSS HEATH, NEAL ADAMS, MURPHY ANDERSON, MICHAEL KALUTA, SAM GLANZMAN, and others, MR. MONSTER’S COMIC CRYPT, BILL SCHELLY’s Comic Fandom Archive, FCA’s Captain Video conclusion by GEORGE EVANS that inspired Avengers foe Ultron, cover by KUBERT, with a portrait by DANIEL JAMES COX!

(84-page FULL-COLOR magazine) $8.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

(84-page FULL-COLOR magazine) $8.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

(84-page FULL-COLOR magazine) $8.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

(84-page FULL-COLOR magazine) $8.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

(84-page FULL-COLOR magazine) $8.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95 • Ships April 2013

CBA Communiques

Dick Giordano’s Rebuttal Former DC editor responds to Carmine Infantino’s commentary Dick Giordano Palm Coast, Florida I’ve little desire to respond to Carmine Infantino’s “true facts.” I will stand by my original statements.

With one exception: After reading Carmine’s rant, I re-read my interview from issue #1 of Comic Book Artist and realized that, yes, I did “admit” that artwork had been stolen from DC’s offices and in so doing did a great disservice to several colleagues. My flip statement in that interview, if read with the previous question and answer, and with “stolen” in quotes is closer to what I was trying to say… but still a clumsy remark.

To clarify: At that time, art originals were returned to the publisher by the engraver after they were reproduced. Publishers then believed that they paid for the art and it was theirs. Since most artists at that time had no interest in the art they did not contest the publisher’s claim of ownership.

Publishers routinely destroyed (incinerated!—this was before shredders) the art since they had neither the space or the inclination to store it—and they did have the negatives.

Marv Wolfman and Len Wein used to come into DC after school and help out in the production department. They did it out of love for comics (so did Mark Hanerfeld… except he wasn’t in school).

When a batch of artwork was about to be sent to its final resting place, the boys were invited to help themselves to whatever pages they wanted by the grateful production department powers-that-be.

The pages they took were given to them, not stolen.

Additionally, some artists (myself included) would often try to “rescue” a special page or story or cover and give it a good home.

Everyone knew about the practice of art being liberated… and no one really cared and no one thought of the liberated art as being “stolen.”

Years later, publishers came to agree that the art did indeed belong to the artists and began returning art to the creators. The practice of taking art that you didn’t do stopped immediately!

And, of course, Carmine knows all of the above but chose to take my gaffe as “proof” that he was right.

Yeah, well…

Tom Palmer Oakland, New Jersey Comic Book Artist #3, the Neal Adams/Marvel issue, is spectacular! Especially with Neal’s version of the Marvel X-Men Visionaries cover! Their loss. I read the issue and found it enlightening with all the give and take between Neal and Roy Thomas. I was racing deadlines no doubt and keeping my head down for all the shots fired.

David A. Roach Cardiff, Wales U.K. No, you didn’t get all of Adams’ Marvel work in the checklist.

Here’s what you missed: Giant-Size Avengers #2. Uncredited inks over Dave Cockrum on several pages.

Marvel Premiere #19. A couple of penciled pages to help out Larry Hama.

Tarzan #11 & 12. Cover inks on John Buscema and some interior inks, again on Buscema.

Superman vs. The Amazing Spider-Man. Re-drawing some shots of Superman over Ross Andru (what a comic!).

Deadly Hands of Kung-Fu #27. Inks on Nasser frontispiece.

Doc Savage (magazine) #5. Frontispiece.

Dracula Lives #3. Cover.

Haunt of Horror #4. Several pages of inks (as a Bunker) on Pat Broderick’s illos to a Satana text story.

Marvel Preview #6. Inks on Val Mayerik frontispiece.

Spring 1999

COMIC BOOK ARTIST

Savage Tales #4. Frontispiece.

L’Echo des Savanes Special U.S.A. #7.

Prints “Curse of the Moonbeast.”

Written by Larry Lieber, drawn by Hama, inked by Adams and the Bunkers, eight pages long. Done for a b-&-w book—Monsters Unleashed probably, but never printed (except here, though translated into French).

It’s a gorgeous strip.

Oh, and that Man-Thing illo was a cover of Strange Tales, I believe (I didn’t buy it), and it looked amazing in color.

[I’ve dedicated this issue of CBA to David and my Atlanta friend, Cam Villar, because of their enormous help with this special Warren issue. David contributed the incredibly thorough and marvelously detailed essay on an almost completely unknown aspect of Warren: the Spanish school of artists—it is an amazing chapter in comics history and the perfect example of what I hope CBA to consistently achieve. I discovered David through his erudite and insightful entries on Warren’s publications in Frank Plowright’s wonderful (and apparently little-known) British trade paperback, The Slings & Arrows Comic Guide (1997, Aurum Press), a fabulous tome that lives up to its subtitle: “A Critical Assessment of over 2,500 Titles.”

Check out <amazon.com> for availability, and I’m eagerly awaiting the revised edition! Cam was invaluable in tracking down Archie’s essay from an old issue of Gore Shriek. Cam also visited contributor Richard Garrison, digging through Richard’s vast Roy Krenkel archives to find (jackpot!) Creepy and Eerie cover roughs done for Frank Frazetta for the latter’s unforgettable paintings. David and Cam represent the best of comics fandom: Selfless, enthusiastic and endlessly encouraging. I hope this issue does these guys half the honor they have given me.—JBC]

Above: Pencils by Larry Hama and inks by Neal Adams and the Crusty Bunkers: Splash page from “Curse of the Moonbeast,” unpublished Monsters Unleashed (?) story but eventually it saw print in the French magazine, L’Echo des Savanes Special U.S.A. #7. Thanks to David A. Roach for the detective work! ©1999 Larry Hama.

Carmine Infantino New York, NY Incredible! In spite of the documented facts already printed in previous issues of this publication, and with all the wonderful talents who worked with me and agreed with me 100% on the creation and production of Bat Lash, this self-absorbed alleged historian and secondhand mountebank, named Tom Stewart, still insists his distorted re-creation of comics history must be accurate.

With the recent demise of my very good old friend, Joe Orlando, I am further incensed by the facts that Mr. Stewart went to some rumor-mongering non-reporter for facts that were clearly made up.

Joe worked hard editing on the Bat Lash title, as he worked on all of his titles, and Mr. Stewart never ever contacted Joe to verify any of his statements in any of the articles he had printed in Comic Book Artist # 1, although he claimed he had.

I’ve recently received several phone calls and have personally met several associates from that period, some of whom were equally incensed over the false muckraking tactics, and have told me that they are more than willing to send letters to this publication, all of whom verifying my testimony.

But enough! It’s time to give no further credence to this virus and his bottom-feeding “all-knowing” sources who can only pollute a wonderful industry with their despicable taint.

7

The Empire of Horror

The Black-&-White World of Warren’s finest writer/editor, Archie Goodwin, gives us the history

by Archie Goodwin [The following intimate overview of Jim Warren’s b&w magazines was written by that line’s greatest editor and writer, the late Archie Goodwin, who helmed Creepy, Eerie and Blazing Combat during their spectacular mid-’60s heydays. It was originally written for a foreign publisher’s history of comics in 1981 and first published in the U.S. in the horror anthology magazine Gore Shriek #5 in 1988, titled “The Warren Empire: A Personal View.” We thank Anne T. Murphy, Archie’s wife, for her permission to reprint this fine essay written by a wonderful writer, editor, and lover of comics who will always be sorely missed. Please note there are some dated references.—JBC]

Above: Typically fine Basil Gogos cover for Famous Monsters of Filmland, this of the great Boris Karloff from the actor’s memorial issue, #56, July 1969. ©1969 Warren Publishing.

Below: Bernie Wrightson letter column header for Eerie magazine. ©1976 Warren Publishing.

8

Practically 20 years ago, Publisher James Warren held a dinner at the Cattleman restaurant in New York City. His guests were Frank Frazetta, Al Williamson, Reed Crandall, Roy Krenkel, Angelo Torres, Gray Morrow, Joe Orlando, George Evans, Russ Jones, and Archie Goodwin. They were all sharing drinks and steaks to celebrate the launching of a new magazine. Its name was Creepy.

Unlike any other magazine which Warren had published at that time, Creepy was entirely comics. Unlike any other comics published at that time, Creepy was in black-&-white and a magazine-size format. It was also done without the Comics Code Authority seal.

The time was 1964 and the American comics scene was beginning to come excitingly to life again after a ten-year doldrum brought on by the McCarthy-era hysteria which marked comic books as a major cause of juvenile delinquency. Within a year Warren’s comic line had expanded to three titles: Creepy, Eerie, and Blazing Combat, with a fourth, Vampirella, to be added several years later. Warren was the first new publisher to seriously enter the field since the ’50s and the only one among a number who would follow to succeed. The Warren comics never seriously challenged larger companies such as Marvel and DC in sales, but they very successfully created their own special niche in the market and in comics history, providing an alternative to the mainstream emphasis on super-heroes and a showcase for promising new talent as well as some of the greatest names in both the U.S. and Europe.

I was one of those at James Warren’s dinner, steak in mouth and drink in hand. I had written about half the stories in that first issue of Creepy and, by dint of knowing most of the artists involved in the venture, was sort of unofficial chief writer on the project. By the second issue I was declared story editor and by the fourth, I was the magazine’s full-fledged editor. For me, it was an extremely heady experience. I had been a comics fan since my early teens,

particularly of the EC line published in the ’50s. The Warren comics were initially an attempt to reincarnate that line and most of the artists who contributed to the early issues—as a reading of the dinner list shows—were strongly associated with the EC era and well-known and well-regarded by fans and professionals because of that association. As a fan, I had set my sights on becoming a comic book artist, but I believe I always harbored strong leanings toward becoming a writer and editor as well, even without any true knowledge or suspicion of what the latter even involved. I wouldn’t just draw, I would envision features which would fit into a whole comic book which in turn would be intended as part of an entire comics line. When my ability to produce in volume enough to fulfill these grand ambitions sagged well below the one-comic level, I began constructing imaginary comics and comics lines, drawing up lists of working artists I admired and assigning them to the various titles and features I intended my “company” (AG Publications, I believe it was) to produce. When EC actually used several of my choices, the entire process seemed justified—and though these lists never actually made the trek with me when I left my home in Oklahoma to seek fame and fortune in New York, the memory of doing them certainly influenced many of my choices of artists when I finally became an editor for Warren. I suppose a case can be made that teenagers often unrealistically nurture a fantasy, but you couldn’t prove it to me. Most of mine came true—and with the very first full-time job I held in comics.

Had Warren attempted the plunge into comics a year or so later, it’s doubtful the remarkable group of artists who launched Creepy would have still been available. The long dry spell of scrambling for assignments that since the late ’50s worked their toll on comics was rapidly breaking up and a large variety of higherpaying work was materializing more and more rapidly to tempt them all—but it hadn’t quite happened yet when Warren began Creepy. Busy though they might have been, they still had the time—and, more importantly, the enthusiasm.

Unlike other parts of the world, black-&-white comic books were something of a rarity in the United States. In an attempt to escape the comic book censorship imposed upon them, EC tried converting to a magazine format and eliminating dialogue balloons in favor of typeset text in what they would call their Picto-Fiction line. Distribution problems killed the concept, but the experiment did prove that their staff of artists could work well and with more variety than in the four-color comics. Other attempts were made by other publishers, but with the exception of Mad and several imitators, the black-&-white magazine format found no welcome in the marketplace.

Again, if time favored Warren in being able to gather the right group of artists, it also favored him in terms of an available audience. Warren had already perceived it and was reaching it most successfully with his pioneer publication, Famous Monsters of Filmland. The early ’60s saw the release to television of the classic horror and monster movies of the ’30s and ’40s, usually in the form of a regular scheduled “Shock Theatre,” complete with ghoulish host to introduce the films and make bad puns and jokes about them. These won a whole new audience for the old movies and their classic Dracula, Frankenstein, and the Wolfman characters.

Great Britain’s Hammer Films followed this success in movie theaters with their own new series of horror films and widened the popularity of the genre even more. In his efforts to broaden the range of products he was creating for the market, Warren began experimenting with visual adaptations of some of the most popular movies (and COMIC BOOK ARTIST

Spring 1999

Warren Publications behind the world’s greatest b-&-w horror magazines some of the deservedly obscure as well). Some of these were done in fumetti format, using comic book captions and balloons with photos from the films serving as art; others were done as actually comics inserts into his regular monster magazines. Russ Jones was packaging most of this material for Warren and he had managed to get both Wallace Wood and Joe Orlando to work with him; particularly impressive were two adaptations from Universal’s “Mummy” series done as comics inserts in Warren’s Monster World. Having done these, utilizing two of the most popular of the EC artists, it was not a great leap to the notion of producing the full magazine in the EC tradition.

Larry Ivie, a publisher, writer, and comics historian, had already approached Warren with the notion of doing such a project, but before Warren had experimented with comics-related format and fan reaction to them. It hadn’t been something he was ready to act on at that time—but, a year later, when Russ Jones resuggested the idea, Warren was receptive. Jones then enlisted Ivie to work on the new project. Ivie contributed three scripts to the first issue of Creepy and would continue to make contributions from time to time as the magazine grew, but it was also through him that Al Williamson first met Jones and became interested in Creepy. Al then brought in many of his friends from the EC era such as Frazetta, Krenkel, Crandall, and Evans. He also brought Angelo Torres and Gray Morrow, who had come into the comics field just a bit too late to become popular EC staffers, but who certainly possessed the potential, had the line continued. Williamson also volunteered me as an additional script writer for Creepy.

Al had met Larry Ivie and me when we were both in art school in New York and both rabid fans of both EC and Williamson’s artwork. He was responsible for starting the two of us comics writers by having us do scripts for him. Al continued to encourage us and was always ready to volunteer us for any likely project that came up. He was the same way with his other friends and fellow artists.

This was particularly true at the beginning of the Creepy project and aided substantially in getting it started toward success.

By the time the second issue of Creepy was out, Warren was already planning two more titles. The first was a companion magazine to Creepy, which—after much debate among Warren, Jones, and myself over such title possibilities as Ghastly, Spooky, and Macabre—became Eerie. The second was Blazing Combat. In addition to its successful horror and science-fiction comics, EC had done two magnificent and innovative war titles, conceived, edited and written by Harvey Kurtzman (who went on to do Mad and “Little Annie Fanny” and, in between them, a more obscure humor magazine called Help!, which was published by James Warren).

Since our version of EC-type horror garnered a good reaction, Warren was willing to gamble on another EC-style project—but this gamble was not a commercial success. Blazing Combat lasted only four issues. Yet it is well-remembered even to this day. Though the material I wrote for Blazing Combat was done relatively early in my career, I still get fans talking about it at every convention I attend.

One of the things most remembered is that the stories took an antiwar stance before protest over the escalating Vietnam war became popular or accepted in the United States. One story, “Landscape,” drawn by Joe Orlando, apparently caused the book to be banned from Army post stores since it portrayed U.S. and South Vietnamese forces being just as destructive to the life of an uninvolved peasant as were the Viet Cong and North Vietnamese. With time, this has been blown out of proportion a bit, making it seem we were far greater crusaders than was actually the case. Basically, I was trying Spring 1999

COMIC BOOK ARTIST

to write the same type stories that Harvey Kurtzman had in his EC war comics and to make those stories good enough to please and inspire the artists who were doing the book. In addition to Creepy regulars Angelo Torres, Gray Morrow, Reed Crandall, George Evans, and Joe Orlando, Blazing Combat also attracted the services of John Severin, Alex Toth, Wallace Wood, Russ Heath, and Eugene Colan, all of whom had an affinity for the material and managed to contribute some of their very best work to this short-lived title. Even Frank Frazetta, who is generally thought of as strictly a fantasy artist (perhaps the best fantasy artist), contributed four very striking and dynamic covers that lent the book an especially unique look.

Eerie, which would last much longer than Blazing Combat, had a far more troubled beginning. Once we finally settled on the title, we began promoting it in Creepy. Then Warren discovered that another publisher who used his same distributor was bringing out an imitation of Creepy and intending to call it Eerie. In the late ’50s, there had been a one-issue attempt at a black-&-white horror comic; its title was Eerie.

With its failure, rights to the title had lapsed. Now, whoever got their version of Eerie out first would have new claim to the title. Since Warren’s rival was going to be reprinting old horror comics material from the ’50s, there seemed little chance of beating them into print as all our stories for the first issue of Warren’s Eerie were still with the artists and none of them near completion. The distributor was after Warren to give in as the other publisher had a much larger line of magazines and was therefore considered a more valuable customer.

Warren had one day before he was scheduled to meet with the distributor and the rival publisher to argue his case. He had me and letterer Gaspar Saladino meet with him and, utilizing some inventory material from Creepy as well as some material already printed, the three of us cobbled together a pamphletsized little magazine emblazoned with the Eerie logo already designed for us by our regular letterer, Ben Oda. Warren had simple line repro printing done on it overnight.

By the next morning, there were 200 copies of “Eerie #1” in existence. Some were shipped to other cities where Warren had arranged for them to be displayed on sale. When he went to his meeting, Warren tipped the newsstand operator outside his distributor’s building so that several copies of our freshly printed “magazine” would be displayed. Entering the meeting, Warren handed a shocked distributor and competitor copies of Eerie #1 and announced that it was on sale downstairs. Confirming this, the pair capitulated (the rival publication wound up being something called Beware, I believe, and most buyers took it literally; it didn’t last long). Eerie was on its way and an instant collector’s item had been created.

The hastily-assembled, wretchedly-printed little pamphlet that launched the title would

Above: The above drawing features the notation: “Original pencil sketch for Uncle Creepy (1964) done for Warren Publishing Co.” and is signed “J. Warren, 5/22/70.” Below: Original cover sketch by Larry Ivie as he envisioned the cover of “Creepy Comix” #1. ©1999 Larry Ivie.

9

eventually be valued at $250 by collectors and actually have illegally-reproduced pirated versions of it made for sale to gullible fans— and what actually was intended to be the first issue saw official distribution as Eerie #2.

Though Warren’s comics started with EC as their model, they quickly enough acquired their own identity. EC’s stories were for the most part contemporary moral tales, their shock endings and horror elements played out against realistic modern-day settings. The Warren books—because of movies and TV trends at the time they were

Above: Frank Frazetta Vampirella sketch. ©1997 Frank Frazetta.

Above: Editorial material from the scarce Eerie #1 ©1965 Warren Pub. 10

produced and because of the interest of the artists and writers in these trends—were far more gothic and, early on at least, leaned heavily on the classic monsters and legends of horror.

Artist Roy Krenkel, though he only contributed a few onepage features of his artwork, was greatly interested in horror literature and the classic pulp magazines of the ’30s such as Weird Tales and through his enthusiasm turned my interests that way, introducing me to the work of Lovecraft and Howard and changing my thinking in the way the stories might be approached. Fantasy and science-fiction mixed with straight horror tales: Swordand-sorcery crept in. We experimented with longer stories and even continued ones and moved away from religious adherence to the shock or twist endings. The magazines, with twice the amount of editorial content as a regular comic book, benefitted from the great variety.

Chiefly, however, the early magazines owed most of their success to the richness of the artwork. Far from being limited by their lack of color, the artists seemed freed by it, able to expand upon their rendering techniques and experiment to suit the needs of the stories, which we tried to tailor to each artist’s liking. Hence, Reed Crandall would usually do period pieces that fitted his elaborate and finely detailed pen and ink style, reminiscent of Gibson or Pitz.

Gray Morrow favored fully-rendered washes or ink line and craftint tones which he could apply to everything from science-fiction to western settings. Al Williamson preferred fantasy and exotic locales where his combination of graceful drawing, delicate ink line, and well-patterned blacks and Pantone shading textures stood out. Angelo Torres liked variety in his stories and plenty of mood and atmosphere to complement the stark, rich black and whites of his style.

As time went on and some of the original regulars became committed elsewhere, other fine artists were attracted to the Warren books. Alex Toth, whose sense of design is unequalled in comics. Johnny Craig, former editor-writerartist of EC, who not only created his own stories but could render them in every technique from crisp brush and ink to pencil and texture-board. Steve Ditko, just leaving a comics-history-making run in Marvel’s Spider-Man and “Dr. Strange,” surprised many people with his mastery of line and wash and his ability to give visual life to Lovecraftian-style horror. Neal Adams, fresh from doing the Ben Casey newspaper strip, did his first comics work for Warren and proved particularly effective at meshing modern illustrative-styling with the vitality of cartoon dramatics. Jeffrey Jones’ first professionally-published comics story appeared in the Warren line.

All of this, plus the appearance of many other fine contributors space limitations prevent me adequately covering, occurred during a two year period. By then, Warren’s organization, which had been rapidly expanding, began having financial problems. By going to reprints and gradually rebuilding, Warren not only saved his company but made his magazine line stronger and more successful than before—but these troubles ended what has become one of the strongest remembered periods of his publishing history. Yet, there was so much more to come. Though I would work for Warren several more times, I was never again so fully involved as in those first days and my views are those of an outsider. Still, it’s hard not to be impressed. Even in the rebuilding period, when budget limited the magazines, striking new talent was developed such as artists Tom Sutton and Ernie Colón and writers Doug Moench and Don McGregor. The books became the place for gaining experience and entrance into mainstream American comics—and gradually more than that. With the introduction of a new title, Vampirella, Warren began moving not only out of his financial doldrums, but introduced a long-running continuous character who was to become a major horror-fantasy figure in comics, and one of the most sexy and provocative ones as well.

Vampirella, the character, began as a Barbarella-influenced vampiress, created by Famous Monsters editor Forrest J Ackerman, who wrote her first two adventures in a breezy, tongue-well-incheek humor style. Her costume was designed by underground cartoonist Trina Robbins, and interpreted by Frank Frazetta in an original cover painting that set the style for the character. Tom Sutton handled the art on [most of] her stories. Warren decided he wanted the character to have more elaborate adventures with a more serious touch and called me in to revamp (no pun intended) the budding series. I still retained Ackerman’s original concept of the character being from a planet of vampires and relocated through circumstance here to Earth, but grafted on a Lovecraftian cult of villains and demons for her to oppose (the Cult of Chaos) and some supporting characters (Conrad and Adam Van Helsing, Pendragon) for her to play against. In the fourth of her new adventures, “Death’s Dark Angel,” a beautiful cover by Sanjulian and dazzling interior comics art by José Gonzales brought the transformation to its completion and set the standards for the series. Gonzales’ version became, and would remain, the definitive Vampirella for the comics series, through the handling of the strip by a number of other writers and a few other artists.

This also marked, more or less, the rejuvenation of Warren’s entire line. Bill DuBay, Warren’s longest-running editor and shaper of his magazines, would soon take over, bringing a new consciousness for design and graphics to the magazines and a sometimes innovative—sometimes gross—stretching of the horror story range. The visual tone of the magazines was set, and the artistic standards raised, by the influx of many fine illustrators from abroad, mostly from Spain through the agency of publisher Josep Toutain; Esteban Maroto, whose “Dax the Warrior” became one of the most popular of the early experiments with long-running series in Eerie; José Bea, José Ortiz, Fernando Fernandez—and many, many more. The list is long and the high quality of the artwork brought a new awareness and appreciation for how strongly the illustrative approach could work on the right comics material. Meantime, impressive American talent was developing and returning to Warren’s ranks. Richard Corben began contributing and soon was setting his own standards with full color insert sections in the magazines. Wallace Wood returned with a striking series of sword-and-sorcery stories. Jeffrey Jones returned for a few stories, and Bernie Wrightson, having developed on an obscure Warren-imitation called Web of Horror and matured as an artist on Swamp Thing, contributed a number of stories and frontispieces that rank with the best material he’s ever done.

The high quality continued and perhaps reached a peak with the editorial services of Louise Jones, who took over the regular magazines while DuBay concentrated on specialized titles he had created such as The Rook and 1994 (the former a time-traveling not-quite super-hero and the latter a science-fiction/fantasy magazine in the Heavy Metal vein with a rather uncomfortable blend of satire, sex, and violence). There was no drastic change, but under Jones the editorial blend of the magazines attained a nice COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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balance between the European and American art styles resulting in some of the most visually pleasurable combinations of talents assembled on a regular basis. Opening any given issue, one might find the art of Luis Bermejo, Russ Heath, Esteban Maroto, John Severin, Victor de la Fuente, and Alex Toth, or any other imaginable mixture of some of the finest talents on both sides of the Atlantic.

Particularly memorable to me during the period were the short stories written by Bruce Jones and illustrated with the clear, solid draftsmanship and finely detailed rendering of Russ Heath. Jones seemed to outdo himself with each new script and Heath, too long typecast as a war comics artist—though he was a superb one— seemed inspired by the variety of Jones’ scripts and the opportunity they provided him. Al Williamson returned to do a number of impressive jobs during this time, and some of the newer American talents, previously monopolized by the more mainstream super-hero genres, such as Walt Simonson, Jim Starlin, and Paul Gulacy were drawn by Louise Jones into contributing.

Perhaps because of the way they continually changed and evolved, the Warren books were never truly, successfully imitated.

The very earliest attempts—mostly from publisher Myron Fass— dredged up comic book material from some of the very worst of the ’50s horror comics, packaged them in gory and ineptly rendered covers, and sold them cheaply. Perhaps the closest to Creepy and Eerie in format and quality was the aforementioned Web of Horror, which along with Jeffrey Jones and Bernie Wrightson, also featured the early work of Michael Kaluta, Ralph Reese, and Bruce Jones, each of whom have become top-flight professionals and mainstays in American horror and fantasy art. Skywald Publications, edited by Sol Brodsky, who is perhaps best known for his work as Stan Lee’s production chief during Marvel’s formative period, also produced several b-&-w horror magazines. With titles like Psycho, the magazines didn’t seem to be pursuing any goal other than quick sales to the sensational-minded, but good work was done in them and they provided the first American showcase for fantasy painter Boris Vallejo. The mid ’70s saw the greatest number of challenges to Warren’s lead in the b-&-w field when Marvel expanded into the marketplace with over 10 titles ranging from Vampire Tales and Monsters Unleashed, through Planet of the Apes and Deadly Hands of Kung Fu, to Savage Tales and Savage Sword of Conan. In time, like every other foray into Warren’s area of expertise, the Marvel books withered and died. With so many titles, their overall quality was extremely uneven; brilliant work would appear side-by-side with the slapdash; but at their best they had the vitality and flair that make Marvel’s products the most popular among American comics and they successfully expanded the b-&-w magazine beyond the horror/fantasy ranged staked out by Warren—and they created the only b-&-w magazine besides Warren’s to stand the test of time and the marketplace, Savage Sword of Conan. It, and Savage Tales when it featured Conan, found a regular and expanding audience and pleased it with an editorial consistency that most of Marvel’s Spring 1999

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other b-&-w's lacked. Roy Thomas and Barry Windsor-Smith created a classic in comics with their adaptation of Robert E. Howard’s Conan adventure Red Nails. When Conan shifted from Savage Tales to the character’s own title, Savage Sword of Conan, Boris Vallejo, coming into his maturity as a painter and illustrator, created a memorable series of covers that contributed much to establishing the magazine’s look and identity—and from the earliest issues to the present day, artist John Buscema, working with a wide variety of interesting inkers, has set a high and consistent standard for a continuing character, handling 25 to 40 pages, or more, on a monthly basis since the late ’70s.

Besides Marvel, DC and the short-lived comic book company Atlas also made brief forays into b-&-w comics magazines, all of them lasting about two issues per title. DC had writer/artist/editor Jack Kirby create two books. He came up with In the Days of the Mob, which recreated the life stories of famous gangsters, and Spirit World, dealing with psychic phenomena. Both explored subjects Kirby had dealt with more successfully in the late ’40s and early ’50s. Neither found an audience in the early ’70s when they appeared— nor did the magazines of Atlas, though the company was formed by Martin Goodman, the original publisher of Marvel when it hit its great success in the ’60s. Atlas’ horror book titles were extremely uneven and even their titles, Weird Tales of the Macabre, seemed to cry out for more editing than they got. Still, a nonhorror Atlas magazine, Thrilling Adventure Stories, with its second and final issue managed to offer a package of talent worthy of Warren: Russ Heath, John Severin, Alex Toth, and Walt Simonson, who illustrated a story I wrote that I consider one of my best.

Today, the time of the b-&-w comics magazine in the U.S. newsstand market seems to have passed. Warren has ceased publishing: Still monthly and still one of Marvel’s biggest moneymakers, Savage Sword of Conan continues to successfully survive.

It’s sad. The b-&-w approach to comics art extends back to the field’s earliest days and forms and offers the work in its purest form.

Some of the richest examples appeared in the pages of Warren’s books. Whether the b-&-w horror comic magazines will rise again on the newsstand as they have before remains to be seen. Whether they do or not, they’ve offered a long and interesting alternative to mainstream American comics and pointed the way for other magazines as well. I’ll miss them very much if they’re gone for good, but I’m proud to have been part of them for the time they were around.

Top: Cover concept rough by Roy Krenkel used by Frank Frazetta for the final painting, “Sea Witch,” the cover of Eerie #7 (inset). Roy frequently helped design Frank’s work. Below: Unused Krenkel cover sketch for proposed Eerie cover.

Both RGK sketches ©1999 Richard D. Garrison. Eerie ©1966 Warren Publishing.

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Dateline: G!!?*” and “Fred Hembeck” ©1999 Fred Hembeck.

You Axed For It!

THE JAMES WARREN INTERVIEW Spring 1999

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CBA Interview

“Someone Has To The James Warren Interview: Conducted by Jon B. Cooke Who is Jim Warren? I had no idea other than unsubstantiated stories about a legendary publisher who rocked the industry over and over again in the ’60s and ’70s, by shear force of personality and the quality of the magazines he published: Creepy, Eerie, Vampirella, The Spirit, and Blazing Combat. After he had utterly disappeared from the field in 1983 (when many thought he had passed on), I was astonished to find James Warren manning a booth at a Big Apple comic show in March 1998, and I worked up the chutzpah to approach him and ask him to write a tribute for the recently-deceased Archie Goodwin. Immediately he said yes—to a total stranger, yet—and since that moment we developed a friendship. I confess I like Jim Warren. He is energy personified, ever the salesman and always “on,” but also a man with true heart. His passion for excellence attracted such incredible talent… but, let’s hear him tell the story. The following interview took place during two long sessions (on October 17, 1998, and February 11, 1999) in the home of Jim and his paramour, Gloria (who joins in on the talk at times), located in Elkins Park, Pennsylvania. Jim provided the final copyedit (”Jim! We’re on deadline here!!!”).

Comic Book Artist: It was mentioned in a Rolling Stone article that you had a wall plaque that read: “Someone has to make it happen.” What’s the significance of that phrase?

Jim Warren: It means just what it says: Someone has to create the concept; someone has to see it through; someone has to get it into the hands of the public; someone has to make sure it’s accepted. Someone has to do it.

The deed becomes much more difficult when it involves working with a number of other people. If something simply has to be done—like filling up the bird-feeder—I can do it myself. If it involves two or three people, it comes a little harder because you have to coordinate efforts.

If it involves 25, 50, or 100 people it gets a helluva lot harder but it still means one person has to direct those efforts—and if 25 or 50 of those people happen to be writers, artists, editors—creative people—oh boy! You must never lose control, because if you do, you’re not going to make it happen. In this business (and it’s a marriage of business and the arts, as is the motion picture industry), having to work with creative people is a blessing, a joy, fun. It’s also a serious type of brutal torture—but no matter how bad the torture, one person has to see it through. It can’t be done alone, and it requires a lot of people with different disciplines—from the magazine wholesaler to distributor to retailer to any one of the artists, writers or editors. The difference between the business people and the creative people is usually light years. One person has to see it through, and has to deal with all those people. Someone has to land on Omaha Beach on D-Day. Someone has to eventually take the high ground—and the others will follow. Things rarely happen by themselves (except with very few exceptions—the sun rises, and the moon comes out, and even God does that!). Whew! Were you expecting a simple answer to this question?

CBA: [laughs] Newsweek magazine called you a “monster mer14

chandiser par excellence.” What is it that defines you? Where does your relentless drive come from?

Jim: “What makes Warren run?” Is that what you’re asking? Well, what makes people like Jon B. Cooke run after me?

CBA: A desire to know, to explain.

Jim: We’re driven by the same forces, but for different reasons. A lot of people have asked what makes me run. It’s particularly significant with me because it comes from the book What Makes Sammy Run? Bud Shulberg was the author (along with On the Waterfront and many other fine books and films). He was a friend and neighbor of mine for many years on Long Island. I’m getting ahead of myself, but there’s a quote by Gloria Steinem in that Rolling Stone article in which she likened me to Sammy Glick, the title character in What Makes Sammy Run? When you ask, “What makes Jim Warren run? Where did you get your relentless drive?” I have to be philosophical and say, “Yes, I run—but what makes guys like you run after me for interviews?” There must be something that makes you travel 300 miles for an interview—and, whatever that is, that’s what makes you run.

(Sammy Glick, by the way, was not a very nice guy; he was a Hollywood-based hustler who knew how to make things happen even if he had to work two points south of decency, and sometimes below.) You either have a drive or a dream or you don’t. Some mens’ dreams are to just be happy, live happily, and not tilt at windmills. I never wanted to be passive; I always wanted to be in the arena. I never wanted to be Vice-President of anything, even if it was General Motors or MicroSoft; I always felt I could do more in the power seat.

I’m not a team player and I never was per se, except in the Army. I guess I was born to be a solo operator, and always have been, most of my life.

When Newsweek said I was a “monster merchandiser par excellence,” they were referring to the fact that I could see the great appeal our subject matter had to the readers, and could marry that editorial material to items that could be sold, because they belonged in the same neighborhood. I never thought I was in the magazine business; I always thought that I was in the youth business. Our average reader back in those days was between 10 and 18, and if they liked your product and were on the same wavelength—they’re going to like the products you sell. If you love ice cream, you’re probably going to like vanilla, chocolate, strawberry and other flavors—but you might not like Jell-O or pie. Our magazine was chocolate ice cream and the things we merchandised were vanilla, strawberry and other flavors—but it was still ice cream. That’s what Newsweek was referring to.

CBA: Can you tell us about your background? You’re from South Philadelphia?

Jim: I see written on this list of questions you ask if I was born “Hymie Taubman from South Philadelphia.” Do you remember where you got that reference?

CBA: That was from David J. Skal’s book, The Horror Show, in his footnote references which cited a book by Bill Warren called “Keep Watching the Skies,” published in 1987.

Jim: The name Bill Warren is familiar. [Bill Warren was an occasional scripter for Creepy and Eerie, and no relation.] Was he the one who said I was born “Hymie Taubman of South Philadelphia”?

CBA: That was the footnote.

Jim: I’ll give you some truth: I was not born “Hymie Taubman of South Philadelphia.” I was particularly curious about that reference.

Did you know that “Hymie” is a derogatory term for Jews?

CBA: Yes. Jim: Morons and sick people who want to make an ethnic slur refer COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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Make It Happen” The Emperor of Horror speaks! to New York City as “Hymietown,” so I found this particularly interesting and I’d like to track down who stated it as fact. I would like to look this guy Bill Warren right in the eye and say, “Why did you tell that lie?” I want to see him look back at me and lower his gaze because he won’t be able to look me in the eye.

CBA: I’ll photocopy the reference for you and track down Warren’s book.

Jim: Don’t go to too much trouble. Someday I’m going to bump into this guy. He’s been bad-mouthing me for decades, so I’m not surprised by his anti-Semitic reference. What he wrote was a made-up, deliberate lie. The name on my birth certificate is James Warren Taubman. I legally dropped the last name when I was 21.

CBA: I was suspect of the reference, and that’s why I did it in the form of a question.

Jim: That’s all right. Now I know where the Big Lie came from.

In one of your questions, you said I’ve been described as “feisty, pugnacious, and a dynamo of energy,” and then you ask if I attribute my drive to growing up in the city. No. I think it came from confidence. Confidence gives both energy and strength. My confidence was given to me by my family. I had a loving family. A mother and father, both loving, plus aunts and uncles—five of them—living in one house in South Philadelphia. They were foreign-born, plus a few firstgeneration Americans. My grandfather came over from Russia and landed on a dock in South Philadelphia (instead of Ellis Island, which was crowded that day, so they routed the boat to South Philadelphia where they had a separate little Ellis Island). He settled there along with an entire generation of “tired, poor huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” He fathered five children: My mother and her siblings. I was the first-born son which in an Italian or Jewish family is a very big deal. My mother and those aunts and uncles surrounded me with tremendous encouragement, applause, support and enthusiasm for whatever the hell it was that I did. If I made a drawing with my Crayola, all five of them would rave about it and tell me how great it was and encourage me to do more. If I broke a window, they would all rally around me and say, “Okay, we’ll fix it—it’ll be fine—but here’s how to throw the baseball so you won’t break a window again—and it doesn’t mean you should stop playing ball.” I had all this great support. It gives you great confidence. I thought that I could do anything because they made me feel that way.

My uncles would literally toss me around like a ball; they would stand in a circle (I was about three years old) and they would throw me—not hand me—but throw me to one another. One uncle would catch me and throw me to the next guy—and I loved it! I always knew that when one threw me, another was going to catch me. It gave me great confidence, and that’s what I think made me feisty. I never thought there was anything I couldn’t do if I really wanted to do it.

CBA: Did you have any brothers or sisters?

Jim: I had a younger brother and an older brother but they didn’t survive. I lived in the spotlight. I had no siblings to compete with—but I also had the disadvantage early on of not learning, when I was young, how to get along with people.

CBA: What were your interests when you were a child? Did you have an interest in fantasy material, comics and movies?

Jim: Oh hell, yes. It started with comics when I was about four, Sunday comics spread out on the dining room floor with my aunts and uncles. One uncle in particular was an artist—a brilliant guy. Every generation in my family has spawned an artist—my uncle and a cousin before me, myself, and my younger cousins. Each generation produced an artist, and I was the one for my generation. My uncle, who was 15 years older than I, was the artist of his generation and he Spring 1999

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was brilliant. He would sit down on the floor and read me the comics along with a shirt cardboard (when you got your shirt back from the cleaners, there would be a sheet of cardboard in it) and, with a pencil, he’d say, “Let’s draw this one—let’s draw The Little King,” and I would draw The Little King. He would then say, “I want you to sign the name of the artist because that’s very important, Jim. Always give the artist credit.” He would make me letter “O. Soglow,” for Otto Soglow, the artist on the strip. Comics were my first big thing. I learned to read them and draw them at the same time.

CBA: Were you attracted to the adventure strips?

Jim: You bet! As I grew older, my taste in comics changed. Like everyone else, I had my own favorites. The first one I remember in the adventure category was Hal Foster, because of the great art.

CBA: His Tarzan or Prince Valiant?

Jim: Prince Valiant. My favorite in the adventure category was Chester Gould’s Dick Tracy. Then I developed a great love for Roy Crane and Milt Caniff.

CBA: Just to set a time for this, you were born in 1930?

Jim: Yes. A great time for comic strips. They were my number one genre. Comics were everything to me because they encompassed a story that excited me, coupled with the art, which I would copy on any drawing surface I could find. After you copy a lot, you tend to do your own original stuff. It’s like writers—you read a lot, and it’s like filling up a pitcher with water: Eventually the water’s going to overflow, and the overflow means you’re going to start to write yourself.

The more you read, the more you’re going to start to write; the more you see cartoon and comic book artwork, the more you’re going to draw.

Above: Making it happen. The Emperor of Horror, James Warren, hard at work at the office in the mid-’60s. ©1999 James Warren.

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Above: Jim Warren’s Sopwith Camel replica, gracing the front of his renowned Westhampton, Long Island beach house in the mid-’70s. Jim is a lifelong aviation buff, taking his first bi-wing plane ride as a boy with his father.

Below: Jim continued his love affair with all things airborne with his purchase of Action Comics #1 in 1938. “Superman to me was like seeing a movie in color for the first time,” he said. ©1999 DC Comics

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Gloria: Jim had a fabulous comic strip in his high school newspaper, and he was also a great fine artist.

Jim: C’mon! This is my interview! You can have yours later! [laughs] The next big thing after comics was radio. You lived in a house in the early 1930s and radio was your television. On radio I distinctly remember being in the house when Orson Welles’ War of the Worlds came on. I didn’t understand any of it or even know the subject matter—but I knew my father was highly excited. I couldn’t understand what he was telling my mother or what he was saying on the phone but there was this incredible excitement.

I found out years later, of course, that it was the famous Orson Welles broadcast on Halloween in 1938. I was eight years old.

CBA: Was your father upset?

Jim: I asked him later, “Did you believe that an alien invasion was happening?” He said, “Yes.” Even though there was a disclaimer before the broadcast, people missed it.

Gloria: Why wasn’t your father frightened?

Jim: First of all, my father wasn’t frightened of anything. He was fearless. My father was born with a medical disability; he was born with no nerves. For that reason, he had no fear whatsoever. He had no fear of heights and he gave that gift to me. He took me up in an open-cockpit Sopwith Camel when I was about 10 years old. When we landed, my mother almost killed him! [laughter] Gloria: She still remembers! [laughs] [Jim’s mother is now 95.]

Jim: We went out on the ledges of tall buildings. He had absolutely no fear, which I inherited.

CBA: [laughs] He was actually welcoming the aliens! He was looking forward to seeing them?

Jim: He wasn’t scared by the broadcast because they were supposed to have landed in New Jersey, and we lived in Philadelphia. I don’t remember exactly how he articulated it, but he said he believed it in the beginning—but gradually he saw it was Orson’s little trick on the world. He was excited by the fact that Orson Welles could pull it off because my father loved Welles and Mercury Theatre.

On radio I would listen to The Lone Ranger, The Shadow, the serials on at the time (Jack Armstrong, the AllAmerican Boy, Captain Midnight with his secret decoder ring). The radio was really the place where my imagination took off.

My world consisted of comic strips, radio and movies. I was about eight when I went to my first movie. I lived in the movies on Saturdays. On Saturdays there was a double-feature (a western and something else), a newsreel, selected short subjects, a cartoon, and then, after it was all finished, it ran again with no interruptions. My mother had to come to the theater and drag me out.

By 5 or 6 o’clock I wouldn’t be home so they let her in (because they recognized her) and she went down the aisle calling, “Jimmy!” It was embarrassing! [laughter] CBA: Did you immediately recognize Superman as something cool?

Did you clue into super-heroes?

Jim: That was the one that started it for me. Superman. I remember when it came out. I was eight years old and it was during the Summer. It was absolutely incredible for me. In the Action Comics which I got and kept (my mother threw it away while I was in the Army), I saw for the first time, a comic strip character that was not like Mandrake the Magician or The Little King or anything that was going on in comics at the time. The cape, blue suit and big “S”—the Man of Steel with that great jaw—was drawn by Joe Shuster who was only 19 years old at the time, and written by Jerry Siegel (who was about the same age) and Superman to me was like seeing a movie in color for the first time. It was just astounding and, of course, I drew it. A few hundred times.

However my big interest at the time was airplanes and not superheroes. To understand this, you have to go back to the way things were in the late ’30s. My idea of adventure and excitement was airplanes, Hollywood and adventurers. The movies I loved the most were with airplanes, Dawn Patrol (which I must have seen 800 times as a kid) was my favorite. Roy Crane drew airplanes in his strip Captain Easy, and they looked like this. [Pulls out a photo of a Sopwith Camel.] I drew these in school and out, whenever. This one in particular…

CBA: The GeeBee. Jim: How did you know that?

CBA: From The Rocketeer.

Jim: The GeeBee was a plane I loved because it won the Thompson Trophy. My father bought me my first model airplane kit and it was a GeeBee. We sat at the dining room table and (I was too young, but I helped a little) he built it for me, and taught me how to build them myself. I was nine. He told me all about the GeeBee and how five brothers had built it. It was built by the Granville Brothers and the man who actually flew it. It was very difficult to fly… not only did my father build the plane for me but he also made me read about the history of it (he didn’t have to work too hard to make me). While he was putting it together, rather than me just sitting there and watching him, I would read all about the plane. By the time it was finished, not only did I have this great model but I knew a lot about it. I learned that the pilot who mastered this tough-to-fly aircraft was a man named Jimmy Doolittle. Is that name familiar to you?

CBA: Yah. Thirty Seconds Over Toyko.

Jim: You sure know your history, Jon B. Cooke! Jimmy Doolittle flew off an aircraft carrier and led the first planes to bomb Japan during World War Two—and he did a lot of his early flying in this GeeBee. Alex Toth plays a role in this “love of early aircraft” saga. Let me show you why: [Pulls out Toth’s Bravo for Adventure strip from The Rook #3 and 4] Jesse Bravo was patterned after Errol Flynn. We ran these stories. I loved the excitement of the ’30s and the adventures with these airplanes (the same ones I had built). Manuel Auad honored me by asking me to write a foreword for a second book on Alex Toth and let me read you a paragraph which has to do with the airplanes: “Alex and I share the same age. We both discovered comics during the wonderful 1930s. As a kid, I built model airplanes because I first saw those planes in the great newspaper strips drawn by Roy Crane and Milt Caniff. Dawn Patrol was my favorite boyhood movie. Errol Flynn was the adventurer I wanted to be. When Warren Publishing produced segments of Alex’s Bravo in the 1980s, I secretly relived my Errol Flynn days courtesy of Alex Toth. Alex gave me back the ’30s we had both loved. Airplanes, adventurers, Hollywood, Howard Hughes, Wiley Post, Jimmy Doolittle; these are names that probably mean nothing to you, Dear Reader, but nobody memorialized that exciting world better than Alex Toth.”

CBA: And, boy, you received some of his finest work.

Jim: The story now has a happy ending. Again, when I was about eight or nine, my father took me up in a Sopwith Camel, the first plane I had ever been up in (I wish it had been a GeeBee but, of course, they were scarce). A barnstorming pilot in Atlantic City flew rides out of a small field. I think he got $4 a ride (an incredible amount of money in those days). Kids went free (if you were small enough to sit on your father’s lap). We got into the open cockpit (there were two cockpits), I got on my father’s lap and they strapped us in. We went up and I’ll never forget it! It was incredible! It was the kind of thing you dream about all your life after it happens. Every time I fly I think of it. Flying in the Sopwith Camel was an early dream come true.

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When I built a house on Westhampton Beach in Long Island, I structured my work so that I could take most of the Summer off. I worked hard nine months of the year and then took most of June, July and August off. During that time I did what I had always wanted to do since the time I was nine: I built a Sopwith Camel to put in front of the house. [Pulls out a photo.] It was a full-size airplane. I put two cockpits in it because I wanted the plane to be the same as the one I flew in as a boy. The training plane Sopwith had two cockpits for training, but the ones that fought in WWI (and shot down the Red Baron) had only one with twin Vickers machine guns. That’s the story of the Sopwith Camel.

Superman was an adjunct to this fascination with airplanes. It was an exciting time for me. I was surrounded by the love of the family I told you about and it was a time when a young kid like myself could grow up with the things we just discussed. There were Big Little Books, movie serials. Things like that. I guess kids have things that are just as exciting today but they’re in different mediums. All I know is that I had a great childhood with these things. Alex Toth, I believe, had the same kind of childhood.

CBA: I had a long interview with Gil Kane and he also said, to paraphrase him and quote Dickens, that it was the best of times and the worst of times. Do you think that the culture was so good because there was such darkness on the horizon? We were looking for fantasy because of the specter of Hitler?

Jim: I don’t know. The war to my family was perhaps more serious to us because we were Jewish. We knew things were going on in Europe over there that threatened us right here at home. We had a different perspective on it. As to the “Best of times, worst of times,” Hollywood knew there had to be escapist entertainment during the Depression, and my family, who could only afford 10¢ for a movie, would buy a ticket to see Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers cavorting on their yacht. Or a Noél Coward comedy about wealthy people who didn’t have to work and who wore tuxedos—Edward Everett Horton, Fred Astaire, Eric Blore. People would sit in that dark theater, look at that huge screen and suddenly the Depression fears and anxieties, and the terribleness of it, went away; they could lose themselves in that theater. I think that Hollywood deliberately made movies like that.

They weren’t going to show too many movies with bread-lines and selling apples on the street. When you could look up and see Fred Astaire on an ocean liner going to England or France, it was something that worked very well for American audiences; it was a fantasy that helped us get through that Depression—and, of course, we went from that right into the horror of WWII. Comics and movies certainly helped us get through the Depression.

Escapist entertainment always helps. Music also did an awful lot to take people’s minds off of terrible things. I know it did in our family.

That Victrola was playing all the time. My father collected Enrico Caruso records; he had actually seen Caruso perform when he was younger. He had shellacked 78 R.P.M. records and he played them. He would come home from work exhausted and then get lost in the music. It would recharge his batteries and give him great pleasure.

CBA: “The Spirit” by Eisner appeared in a Philadelphia paper, right?

Jim: In 1942, when I was 12 years old, I remember my father bringing home the Sunday newspaper. I immediately reached for the comics. Suddenly I see something that looked like a comic book. I looked at the splash page and I had never seen anything like it in my young life! Instead of it saying “The Spirit” at the masthead, the name was designed and constructed like a stone mausoleum—S-P-IR-I-T. It ran the entire width of the page. I had never seen any comic like this; it was like a movie on paper. I started to read it and saw how the artist used black areas and how dramatic the panels were. Every panel created a passion, an emotion. He could make it scary, he could make it mysterious, suspenseful, or funny! Other than Milt Caniff and his use of blacks, I had never seen anything like this—and the characters! Denny Colt in Wildwood Cemetery, Ebony, Commissioner Dolan (and we all know who he looked like). Here I am, 12 years old, looking at this magnificent excitement on paper, and I’m saying, “Geez, this is better than any comics I ever saw!” Who is this “Will Eisner”?

Even the way he signed his name was exciting. I knew every single Spirit story and every character.

Gloria: Eventually didn’t you do reprints of Will’s material?

Jim: Right. [Pulls out a photo of Jim and Will—see pg. 102] That was taken in San Diego this year. Will and his wife took Gloria and I to dinner the Friday night we were there, and we had such a great Spring 1999

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time! Will’s energy and vitality was still there. If Will couldn’t draw a straight line he’d still be a fascinating person.

CBA: As you entered adolescence, did you maintain an interest in comics? Or did you discover girls?

Jim: Things changed as I got older.

When I discovered girls, I lost interest in the Boy Scouts and I never made Eagle Scout. I quit a couple of merit badges short when I was 16 and learned how to drive. Knowing how to drive automatically meant girls. I fell in love with Gloria when I was 15. She was 13.

Gloria: But we had met earlier.

Jim: We had met a year earlier. It was 1944. In Atlantic City. My family stayed in a boarding house with eight or ten other families. I was 14 and Gloria was 12. I was on the beach and I saw her with her black bangs (that Vampirella has) and her black bathing suit. My heart stopped beating for a couple of seconds and I fell hopelessly in love for the rest of my life.

CBA: And here we are. [laughs] Gloria: That’s right.

Jim: It was a moment frozen in time.

This was Gloria—here’s a picture of us on the beach. Gloria was 15. The wind is blowing, so you can’t see the bangs but you can see that prominent, wonderful forehead. That’s me and that’s her. We both fell instantly in love with each other, and there’s nothing like love when you’re 15 years old. We went steady while I was in high school. When I went on to college we separated. I wanted adventure and excitement, and to get married young didn’t represent adventure and excitement. Of course, in retrospect, if Gloria and I had married young, we would have both gone to New York; I would have plunged into publishing, and she into music. She would have become one of the great musical concert pianists of our day, but the dream never happened. We drifted apart. We went our own separate ways. We lost touch. I subsequently went to New York.

Gloria became a housewife and a mother, and later a piano instructor and a psychologist. Exactly 50 years later, almost to the day, we met again. Gloria’s husband had died a few years before. I was in Philadelphia visiting my mother and we met again, 50 years later.

Right in this house; right there by the piano.

Gloria: Actually, I called him. I heard there was a sighting; somebody had said, “Jimmy is in Philly.”

CBA: A “Jimmy sighting”? [laughs] Gloria: Yes. They gave me his telephone number. I had been widowed a couple of years. Friends of mine were encouraging me to date again. This was about five years ago. Friends of mine were encouraging me: “Jimmy’s in town. You’ll have a nice time; he’s an old friend and you have a shared history.”

Jim: At any rate, I walked into this house, we looked at each other in the dining room, and it was like on the beach again. She came up to me, our faces touched, and we kissed. The music I had been hearing for 50 years played again. We are now back together again.

It’s been a remarkable love story.

CBA: Did you have an early interest in publishing?

Jim: Yes. The first editing and publishing I did was

Above: Summertime romance in Atlantic City. Gloria, 15, and Jim, 17. The couple reunited five years ago and have been inseparable since.

Below: Illustration from Will Eisner’s 1947 Christmas card.

That’s Will nervously puffing away in the background. ©1999 Will Eisner.

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Above: Gloria, Jim’s childhood and present-day sweetheart. Below: James Warren Taubman’s comic strip Lou Sleef, which ran in his high school newspaper. ©1999 James Warren

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when I was 11 years old. It was called The Olney Times (Olney was the section of the city I lived in). It was a four-page newsletter, printed on an inexpensive gelatin process (a mimeograph machine was too expensive). I sold ads for 25¢ or 10¢ and wrote them myself, designed it and laid it out, and sold it for 2¢. My print run was 25—an awful lot because I had to sell those 25!

Which I did after school.

CBA: What was your sell-through? [laughter] Jim: The advertiser would say to me, “What’s your circulation?” I would say, “25, but all of them are your customers.” (When you’re 11, that’s a brilliant thing to say.) That was my first publishing experience. It was a newspaper that covered neighborhood and local happenings. I would hear on the radio about a WWII incident in which a local soldier was involved and I wrote that up. It had a masthead and I drew pictures for it. It ran about a year.

In junior high school, I did covers for the school magazine. In high school, I was art editor of the yearbook. I also did a weekly comic strip with Gloria in it. (The cartoonist who did a strip before me in the paper was the great Arnold Roth.) I edited, wrote and designed the class newspaper. I submitted cartoons to the New Yorker and other magazines—and I have all the rejection slips to prove it.

Gloria: You did win a major competition, didn’t you?

Jim: That wasn’t publishing; that was an art contest. I came in sec-

ond for the state of Pennsylvania in the National Scholastic Art Competition. I remember coming home and saying to my father, “Look! I won second prize! I came in second in the whole state!” I knew what the answer was going to be, I just knew it! He said, “First is better. Next time try to come in first.” And that was when I first noticed the pains. Only kidding. He was a good man who taught me to be competitive.

CBA: Did you have aspirations to be an artist?

Jim: Sure did. Everybody around me knew I was going to be an artist because I was winning art contests when I was five years old.

Everyone knew that I wasn’t going to do what most of the kids in my neighborhood did—which was to go to college and take a business course or go to law school or medical school. I had a bit of a disadvantage in that the kids I grew up with were brilliant—all of them.

We’re talking about kids who had sky-high IQs and who were incredibly good at getting As in school. They went on to become doctors, lawyers, judges. I had to compete with them. It was tough for me.

After high school, I went to the University of Pennsylvania School of Architecture. I was offered a scholarship to Tyler Art at Temple University but at the time I thought I wanted to be an architect. I admired Frank Lloyd Wright. I also wanted to study under Louis Kahn—who was teaching architecture at Penn at the time. However the gods had other plans, and after two years at Penn, I ended up in an armored infantry battalion.

CBA: Were you drafted into the Army?

Jim: No. I quit Penn the Summer of my junior year to enlist. I joined the Regular Army. To understand this I’ll have to give you some background: I came of age during World War II. All during that war I silently wished I was old enough to be a part of the American Army that would conquer the Nazis and destroy Hitler.

Being a Jew, it was easy to think this way.

During this time I followed the war news, the battles and the units involved just as avidly as any military historian. I knew the various Army groups, their insignias, where they were fighting, who their commanders were. I grew to love the American Army ground forces. It was not just a high school boy’s hobby; it was something much deeper.

I identified with this great crusade in Europe and I grew to love the men who were fighting their way to Berlin. I couldn’t wait until I was 17 to enlist. The war ended 23 months before I could do this—but my enthusiasm for the Army remained. I resigned myself to the fact that there would, of course, never be another war in my lifetime—and I would never have the chance to be part of a military tradition I had come to love. Five years later, while I was a student at Penn, the Korean War erupted. I never went back the next semester, signing up instead for Infantry Officers Candidate School.

CBA: So you were just interested in war. It wasn’t the specifics of the conflict?

Jim: I wanted to soldier. I wanted to serve my country—the country that had beaten back the Nazis. I knew very little about the politics of Asia. I only knew that my country was at war again—and, at that stage of my youth, that’s all I had to know.

CBA: Were you seeking something in the military? You went into architecture and wanted to go right to the top but then, just as suddenly, you pursued a career in the Army.

Jim: I would never have enlisted in peacetime—but this was different. This was my chance to see how good I could be in an arena I liked. Believe me, the wartime Army is much tougher than architecture. I think I wanted to see how good I was—in a wartime Army. I never got to find out. During a night COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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training operation, a heavy machine gun let loose with a round of .50 caliber bullets a few inches from my helmet. As you can see [indicates hearing aids in both ears], this is the result. When I woke up, I was totally deaf and my ears were ringing. Gradually I got some of the hearing back, but the loud ringing never left.

CBA: How long did it take your hearing to return?

Jim: It never really came back fully, but as I remember it took about two days. However, my ears would ring all the time, constantly—and I had a difficult time getting used to it; it would drive me crazy. It took me a long time to adjust.

Gloria: It was irreparable nerve damage, wasn’t it?

Jim: That’s what they call it. An acoustic trauma nerve damage; once the nerve is damaged, you can’t repair it—it’s inoperable. As you grow older, the hearing gradually got worse. So that was the end of my Army career.

Gloria: Also, tormented by this ringing and the trauma of what happened to you, it didn’t seem so romantic any more.

Jim: No, it did not.

CBA: Did you have friends and buddies go into the Army, too, who went to Korea?

Jim: Yes. They were drafted. If you weren’t married and had finished school, you were drafted. It was just like WWII. Ted Williams was drafted back into the Army! People who had already put in three or four years in WWII and went into the reserve were activated for Korea. It was a necessary war but it was a grey-area war. A limited war—but it wasn’t limited for those who were on the front lines.

CBA: Ultimately you published Blazing Combat which featured stories that were ultra-realistic depictions of war—not glamorized at all, without the nationalism and patriotism you say you had going in the Army…

Jim: Those who were in the Korean Conflict didn’t have the patriotic atmosphere or environment of WWII. We were known as the “Forgotten War.” There were no big victory parades for the guys who came back from Korea. I think they’re talking now about building a monument of sorts in Washington.

CBA: Did you question U.S. motives in that war?

Gloria: I think he was too romantic at that time. It was not wise, but later he questioned.

Jim: Politically, few questioned the motives. It was the days of the Cold War. It was evil Communism versus our capitalism, and we were fighting Communists who were evil—which was a little difficult for me because I came from a very liberal, socialist family background. We believed there were social injustices and we were close to the socalled Communist line—we were left-wing. So here we were fighting the Communists even though we were smart enough to know that Stalin was a despicable tyrant—Stalin was Hitler! So we were fighting bad guys, no matter what the label was. It was us against the bad guys again—with Joe McCarthy carrying the American flag.

All our Army training classes contained a hidden CIC (Counter Intelligence Corps) guy. Nobody knew who he was until graduation.

He was planted there to listen and to see if there was anyone who might be a Communist. That’s how bad it was. Our own training unit, and each barracks, had a spy in it. You never knew who he was. The day we graduated, he would put his bars on—he was a lieutenant or whatever—and we said, “Who the hell are you?” He said, “CIC.” And we said, “My God!” (Actually we used stronger terms, but I’m assuming this is a family journal.)

CBA: Did he provoke political discussion?

Jim: Provoke is probably a strong word. He encouraged it; he opened up opportunities so that if anyone was a Communist, they would probably show it. He was clever. Then again, so were the Communists.

CBA: He was “ferreting out the Reds.”

Gloria: In light of Blazing Combat, was the change of heart and the wisdom that came to you as you got older responsible for a magazine that was about the ugliness of war and death?

Jim: The CIC thing was the first bit of ugliness. Having my own country spy on me? We’re supposed to be the good guys! “Well, we’re looking after your benefit. There may be Communists about and these people are dangerous because they pose as one of us but they undermine our democracy.” That was the thinking but it didn’t sit right with me.

CBA: You said your family instilled in you the belief that there Spring 1999

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really were no limits; you could do whatever you wanted to do. You came from South Philadelphia and the world was your oyster. Then a devastating event happened at Fort Knox where you damaged your hearing. Was that the first time you faced limitations?

Jim: I think so. I was scared. It wasn’t too much of a limitation per se, but for the first time I knew I was vulnerable. I wasn’t Superman.

I couldn’t do everything I wanted.

That took a while to get over. I didn’t really get over it—I buried it. I think it’s called denial. I said, “Not me! I can’t hear as well as the next guy but that’s not going to stop me.

I’ll just keep pushing harder.” I hate to use that old Nixon expression, “When the going gets tough, the tough get going,” but that’s what happens. You somehow pull up your socks and get going.

CBA: The American Male… Go! Go! Go! Jim: Listen, it wasn’t all macho. I lost a lot. I lost something I loved— I lost music. The hearing loss took away my ability to fully appreciate music. Also, I was ashamed to tell people about it, because it was a flaw, a limitation. Hell, I wanted to think I was John Wayne. No flaws.

Gloria: From my observation, he was at the center of a very encouraging family and he really felt that he could do anything he wanted to do—limitations or no limitations.. It encouraged a great confidence in him.

CBA: So when you went back to the family, did they say, “Well, go off and do something else. Don’t let that limit you.”

Jim: No, they didn’t say anything because they didn’t know how bad it really was. I didn’t tell them. I was 21 years old and I kept telling myself it wasn’t that bad.

CBA: I’m talking about the psychological effects—you didn’t tell them…?

Jim: I didn’t want them to know.

CBA: When your father says, “First place is better,” you still wanted to go back for the approval of your father.

Jim: Yes. I went home with my tail between my legs—but my father said, “Okay, you’re fine and you haven’t lost any limbs—it could have been a lot worse. If anything, you’ll overdevelop another sense. Your sense of smell or sight will get stronger.” It worked. When my father knew there was something in the distance that I couldn’t hear, he’d whisper it to me. It was total love and support.

CBA: Were they controlling?

Jim: Never. Just the opposite. I was a free spirit and they let me alone. My father was stuck in a job he didn’t like. He stood on his feet for 12 hours a day in a retail store—six days a week (and on Sundays sometimes he went in for half a day to do bookwork). He hated it because it didn’t give him any time for reading, or to be with me. My mother also worked which gave me total freedom because I would come home from school and there was no one there. They didn’t come home from work until 9:30 at night on Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays. I’d go out to a cheap restaurant and eat dinner myself. Then I would do whatever I wanted—I would wander the streets or take a subway into town. I became sort of a loner, looking for dragons to slay.

CBA: Were you a good boy?

Juvenile delinquency was all the rage.

Gloria: We were in these little pocket neighborhoods where I don’t think any one of us could have been one. The neighbors were always watching. They’d tell us to put a sweater on, or tell us to watch ourselves crossing the street . The sense of community was very strong.

Above: Will Eisner’s column heading illustration for Army Motors Vol. 5, #4, July 1944. Will’s provocative Connie Rodd, is still with us today in the pages of P.S. magazine, the preventative maintenance periodical the artist created for the Army in 1950. ©1999 Will Eisner.

Below: Another Will Eisner column heading illustration for Connie Rodd. This one from Army Motors Vol. 4, #11, March 1944. ©1999 Will Eisner.

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Above: Jack Davis’ original EC art to the cover of the seminal horror comic book, Tales from the Crypt. ©1999 William M. Gaines, Agent, Inc.

Below: Example of Jim Warren’s advertising work, this a brochure for a bathroom fixture manufacturer. Jim ran a one-man boutique agency in Philadelphia in the early ’50s. ©1999 James Warren.

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Jim: I wasn’t a Dead End Kid. John Wayne was our role model, not Leo Gorcey. We were lucky—we were a generation that didn’t know from drugs. The worst thing we could do was smoke cigarettes and I didn’t do that. (Well, for a while I smoked a pipe because I saw Clark Gable do it in a movie.)

CBA: So you went back to college?

Jim: No. I was too restless. For a while I toyed with the idea of hitchhiking to Hollywood and going to work for Walt Disney. I had an idea for a sequel to Fantasia.

CBA: Were you an avid collector as a kid?

Jim: You bet! Not only comic books but anything on paper that interested me. The first issues of Life magazine, Look, Boy’s Life, Popular Mechanics, cereal boxes with interesting stuff on the back, baseball program books, college football pictures, model airplane plans, you name it. The day I came home from the Army I discovered my mother had thrown out my comic book collection. Now, we’re talking Action Comics #1 to about #15. We’re talking World’s Fair Comics—New York World’s Fair Comics (1939 and 1940). We’re talking the first issues of Human Torch, Sub-Mariner, Captain America; we’re talking an almost complete collection of The Spirit from the Philadelphia Record newspaper. Shall I go on? It wasn’t my mother’s fault. Dim-witted lout that I was, I forgot to tell her what these cardboard boxes of magazines meant to me. Excuse me, I think I’ll cry now.

CBA: [laughs] Did you eventually forgive your mother?

Jim: Of course not. I still remind her of it. Each year on her birthday, I consult the comic book price guides and total up how much the collection would have been worth. I write the dollar figure on a piece of paper and enclose it in her birthday card. Then, when she opens the card, she cries. It’s been a running gag in our family for almost 50 years.

CBA: Were you noticing what was going on in comics in the early ’50s with EC? Jim: No. EC Comics started in 1950. I was then 20 years old. I was still in the Army. I was single. I was male. My world didn’t include EC Comics during this period.

CBA: What was your world during this period?

Jim: I had not yet found a meaningful outlet for my dubious skills.

So it was girls, customized cars, jazz, music, movies, theater, girls.

CBA: You already said girls.

Jim: I liked girls—but getting back to EC Comics: I knew they were out there. I saw them on the comics rack and I looked at them.

I’m sure I was impressed by the quality of the art and the stories, but at the time my mind and my interests were elsewhere. I still remember those great Johnny Craig covers, though.

CBA: When did you become aware of Playboy?

Jim: About 1954.

CBA: Did it have an immediate

impact on you?

Jim: Absolutely.

CBA: Were you attracted to provocative material beforehand?

Jim: I was 24. Normal, straight and with the raging glands of any 24-year-old who is not married. Naturally I was attracted to provocative material—but that wasn’t all I was attracted to with Playboy. I saw what this young dynamo Hefner had done. This smart, talented guy had created a market that didn’t exist before. He changed the cultural pattern of a nation and he did it so successfully on a shoestring, all by himself. He did it right out of his house, in his underwear, in his kitchen, and he revolutionized the market. I thought, if he can do that, I can do that too.

CBA: So you recognized the potential of Playboy immediately?

Jim: Not immediately. It took me about 20 minutes. I recognized it was possible to hit the top in publishing with a new idea, even if you don’t have money. If you have the idea, it can be done. Hefner proved it was possible. In addition to the new idea, Hefner also had the talent, the skills, the drive that most would-be publishers could only dream about. Hefner was brilliant; He was an artist, writer, liked science-fiction, incredible mind. (He loved our monsters, by the way.)

[Pulls out an autographed picture signed by Hefner.] I first met him at the World Science-Fiction Convention in Chicago around 1961 and, of course, it was love at first sight because we both had the same interests. He was a legend by that time and he loved Help! magazine. So, yes, Playboy had a big influence on me—but not because it was an instant financial success. It showed me what a new idea could do on the newsstand.

CBA: But the financial success accounted for something?

Jim: Sure—but a lot of publishers said, “Look at all that money!

Look at those Playboy sales! Let’s put out an imitation!” And by the time 35 Playboy imitations came out, mine was one of them. It was called After Hours.

CBA: Didn’t you work in advertising before After Hours? Is it true you were an ad manager for a Philadelphia appliance company?

Jim: Yes. After the Army, I started my own one-man advertising agency, doing everything by myself. First, you had to sell yourself to the account. Then you had to dream up the campaign, write with one hand, draw with the other, and then present the finished ad to him.

Then there was the last job, which was usually the toughest: Collecting the money from the client. I did all these things and it taught me a lot about commerce and human nature. I was pretty good at that.

The one-man ad agency concept—the boutique agency—worked well for me because I could study the client’s business and learn things. A man who owned a bathtub enclosure company told me he needed a brochure and he needed it next week. So I worked all night, designed it, wrote the copy, laid it out, and the next day hired a model and a photographer, posed her, and inside of a week that brochure was printed and waiting for him (for which I got maybe $100)—and I learned a helluva lot about plastic tub enclosures.

CBA: What was the name of your agency?

Jim: J. Walter Thompson. [laughter] It was the Jim Taubman Agency Limited. I hadn’t yet dropped the last name. A large firm called the Mort Company (a plumbing and heating supply outfit) hired me as their ad manager. I did some good work for them.

A national company headquartered in Philadelphia, the Caloric Appliance Corporation, saw my work and they called me in. They said, “We’ve seen the ads you’ve done for one of our customers.

How would you like to work for us?” I was 23 and this was Big Time.

I went to work for them as assistant advertising manager for $120 a week. It was very heady stuff. I was dealing with Life magazine, local television (Ernie Kovacs was at the TV station our company worked with) plus the networks in New York. I was brash, young, and not a yes-man. I produced some good things for Caloric. I learned a lot about running a company—finance, management, structure, along with the creative stuff I was doing.

CBA: So you were dealing with creatives?

Jim: Yes. Artists, writers, industrial designers, TV directors, and ad agencies. It was easy for me because I spoke their language.

CBA: Because you were creative.

Jim: Right. I would hire an artist or a writer, put them in an office, and they would put their feet up on the desk and stare out the window. My bosses would see this and say, “We’re paying him to work!”

And I said, “Listen, he is working. He doesn’t work like you do. I COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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don’t care if I have to send him to a movie; while he’s looking at that screen he may get an idea. You have to understand this.” The boss would say, “I don’t understand it; I just don’t want to see it. If that weirdo is going to stare out the window, keep the door closed!” I let them come in any time they wanted, and I’d let them leave any time they wanted. You don’t make an artist or a writer punch a time-clock.

Management thought I was nuts. After three years there, it was time for me to see if I could be an editor-publisher.

CBA: So when you saw Playboy, you started plotting?

Jim: While I was at Caloric [from 1953-57], I devoured every issue of Playboy, saw how it was done, and thought, “I have to take a crack at this.” I said goodbye to Caloric and started a magazine called After Hours, a Playboy-imitation. I worked at it 24 hours a day, seven days a week, and I got my first experience with national magazine distributors and retailers, and with large magazine printing plants. It lasted four issues. It was awful.

CBA: Do you have any copies of it?

Jim: No. CBA: Oh, come on!

Jim: I really don’t. I saw a copy at a dealer’s table at the San Diego ComiCon. The dealer spotted me and said, “Look what I have!” He wanted $250. I said, “When the price comes down to $50, I’ll buy it.

If you had any class, you’d give it to me.” He said, “No, I can get $250 for this!” I said, “Why? It’s awful.” He said, “It’s got your name on it.” I walked away feeling good.

CBA: What happened with After Hours?

Jim: Again, I learned a lot. I learned the hard way about Teamsters, truckers, loading docks, slowdowns at printing plants, and bankers who welsh on you.

But with the fourth issue, something good happened: A guy named Forrey Ackerman came into my life. Forrey was a Hollywood literary agent. Forrey, who was reading every men’s magazine in existence as part of his agency work, saw a new one called After Hours and he contacted me through the mail. He wrote that he had some stories to offer me for my magazine. I liked what he submitted and ran it. We were featuring “Girls of Amsterdam,” “Girls of Las Vegas,” “Girls of Singapore,” etc., and he came up with the idea, “Girls from Science-Fiction Movies.” He sent 8”x10” stills with it and wrote it himself. I saw his writing and thought it had an interesting, offbeat style. The more I read it, the better it became because nobody can write fantasy movie features like Forrey Ackerman. Nobody. He is the best specialty writer on the face of the Earth, bar none—a writer who is so head and shoulders above all other writers for our genre, that nobody will compare with him 100 years from now.

However, after four issues, After Hours folded.

CBA: Weren’t you prosecuted for the magazine?

Jim: [laughs] Oh, you found out about that?

CBA: Was Philadelphia a puritanical city?

Jim: Philadelphia wasn’t puritanical; it was political. At the time, we had a District Attorney who was running for office. The story goes that he had heard about another District Attorney (also running for office) who was behind in the polls and had no chance of winning, but went out and made an arrest of a guy who was publishing a Playboy imitation. The local newspapers came out with a big headline: “Pornographer Arrested by Crusading D.A.!” And he won that election with the help of all that publicity. Our man in Philadelphia decided to do the same thing. “How can I get my name in the papers for a full month, every day? I’m going to arrest and indict all the publishers from Playboy on down—anything that was distributed in Philadelphia.” Hefner was indicted and guess who the D.A. really zeroed in on because he didn’t have to go out of state to extradite? There was only one guy publishing a Playboy imitation in Philadelphia. Guess who that was? “We’re going to rid the city of pornography! We’ll start by arresting the publisher of After Hours.”

Gloria: Wasn’t there one woman who was bare-breasted in that issue?

Jim: I asked the police, “On what basis am I under arrest?” One of the cops pointed to Bettie Page, bare-breasted in the centerfold. I said, “But that’s not obscene! The Venus de Milo is bare-breasted and she’s on display in an art museum!” He said, “I know obscenity when I see it.” And I was indicted for pornography. The next morning the Philadelphia Inquirer, in giant headline type, announced the arrest of Spring 1999

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the editor/publisher of After Hours magazine. My name was up there.

CBA: It said “pornographer”?

Jim: “Porn Merchant Arrested with Million-Dollar Business.” At the time I think I had $45 in our bank account—but it did exactly what the D.A. wanted it to do: It got him headlines in the paper for two weeks. Everyone was indicted! Even Reader’s Digest because they had printed an article on sex education, or some such. He became known as the crusading D.A. who is going to rid the newsstands of this filth and slime which is corrupting our children! Shades of Dr. Wertham.

The D.A. knew it was all a sham but he didn’t care. He got his headlines. My father came to me and said, “I’m going with you to City Hall when they book you. I’m going to stand right next to you. Don’t worry.” I wasn’t scared as much as I was ashamed. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. I was afraid people would think that I was publishing the worst X-rated stuff in the world, when all I had shown was Bettie Page with bare breasts—and she wasn’t even on the cover; it was just the centerfold; and the stories had no pornography in them—they were mildly tittilating (I should use a different word here). The official police charge was, “bare-breasted women depicted in lascivious fashion.”

While I was being booked, the press photographers had a field day. Flashbulbs were going off everywhere.

CBA: Wow. The humiliation…!

Jim: Yes. I was ashamed for my family. I was ashamed the cops would come to the house and search it. I knew what cops could do.

News about our crusading District

Attorney appeared in the paper and stayed there long enough for him to be re-elected.

What hurt more than anything else was that people who I thought were my friends wouldn’t take my calls. “We don’t want anything to do with him. Porn merchant. Yuk. I don’t want to be seen talking to this guy.” It hurt.

A month or so later I appeared in front of a judge on the first day of the proceedings. The judge looks at the magazines (there must have been 25 different ones on the table). All the lawyers were there with their clients. “What’s this?” the judge asks. “This is the pornog-

Above: Jim Warren’s take on Hugh Hefner’s phenomenally successful Playboy magazine, After Hours.

The bi-monthly magazine lasted only four issues but importantly led to the 25-year collaboration of Jim with Forrest J Ackerman, editor of Famous Monsters of Filmland. ©1957 Jay Publishing.

Above: Jim Warren certainly could recognize new talent! After Hours #2 devoted an article to innovative television comic Ernie Kovacs, then a local TV personality just on the verge of national fame. ©1957 Jay Publishing.

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Above: House ad for Jim Warren’s first national publishing venture, the short-lived After Hours, from #2, 1957. ©1957 Jay Publishing.

Right: While some may have purchased After Hours for its articles on jazz, comedians, and beat culture, most probably bought it for the “glamour photography.” Here is Dotty Miller, “Dutch Treat” from Reading, Pennsylvania, from After Hours #2. ©1957 Jay Publishing.

Above: Ever the cartoonist, Jim’s work for a client of his oneman advertising agency. ©1999 James Warren.

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raphy.” The judge sees Bettie Page with the bare breasts and said, “Case dismissed!” But it was too late; the D.A. had already won the election. Every single case was thrown out; it was all over. It appeared in the newspaper the next day on the bottom of page 27 and nobody saw it—but I learned about the power of the press and the power of the police state and the power of unscrupulous men.

Gloria: And politics.

Jim: And politics. It was one of the low points of my life. I was dead broke, I had no job, I had no magazine. I didn’t want to go back to Caloric. I was only 27 years old. The kids I had grown up with were all out of medical school and starting to practice; most were established, married, and had children—they were living a normal, healthy life and there I was, 27 and no money and no job, labeled a pornographer. A failure.

CBA: When did you see the French magazine, Cinema 57?

Jim: Late in 1957 I arranged to meet Forrey in New York City. We had spoken on the phone many times, but had never met. At that first meeting, we looked at each other and it was instant good chemistry. He showed me a French magazine, Cinema 57, and this issue had been devoted to horror films. I looked through the magazine and it brought me immediately back to my Saturday afternoons; here was something I loved— the Frankenstein monster, director James Whale, Karloff, Lugosi, Lon Chaney. (They can make any bloody horror movie they want in Technicolor with all that sophisticated computer imaging, but nothing touches those great b-&-w horror movies made in the ’30s.) As I’m looking at these pictures, I’m thinking, “My God! I’m at the movies, it’s Saturday afternoon, and my mother’s coming to get me at 5 P.M. to drag me out!

CBA: [laughs] “Jimmy!”

Jim: Right! So there I was, in a small hotel room in New York, with a man who looks like Vincent Price’s twin brother, studying movie stills of old monster and horror movies.

Let’s interrupt this part to bring you some digression: Something was taking place on latenight television. I had been watching it for months. Universal Pictures had collected all their classic horror films, packaged them for TV syndication, and was selling this “Shock Theatre” package to TV stations throughout this great land of ours. These old movies (Frankenstein, Dracula, The Mummy, The Wolfman, etc.) were being shown usually late on Friday nights. Each TV station had its own “ghoul-like” host or hostess who generally spoofed the film being shown and provided some live, low-budget comedy relief. Kids were watching these shows, not adults; and these kids were rooting for the monster—not for the townspeople with the pitchforks and crude torches. A switch had taken place. When these films had been shown in movie theaters during the ’30s and ’40s, the monster was the bad guy. Now it was reversed. These 10-year-old kids saw the monster on their TV sets and embraced him as the protagonist. The townspeople chasing the monster had become the antagonist (authority figure). The kids were cheering for the monster—the anti-hero—to win. This was something different; something new. A magazine version of the TV show, carefully crafted to spoof the monsters and yet treat them as “heroes” made sense to me. The adults wouldn’t buy it, but the kids—those millions of Baby Boomers—would. A few weeks later I was in Forrey Ackerman’s living room in California, choosing the photos and article content for a one-shot magazine called Famous Monsters of Filmland.

It was a tongue-in-cheek pictorial history of past and present horror-monster movies, printed in b-&-w on newsprint. The cover was in color—showing me wearing a Frankenstein monster mask. We went on sale in February during a snowstorm that covered the Eastern seaboard. The magazine sold out within days—and the rest, as they say, is publishing history.

CBA: What made you think that kids go to the magazine racks?

They go to the comics racks.

Jim: Many of those kids also go to the magazine racks. That’s where they get Mad magazine. That’s why I launched a campaign to get the wholesalers and newsstand operators to position Famous Monsters next to Mad. For years I fought a running battle with the newsstand industry over this very problem. They were putting Famous Monsters in with the movie magazines. They thought it was a movie magazine because Peter Lorre or Vincent Price was on the cover. For the first few years most of the newsstand operators didn’t know where the hell to position the magazine.

CBA: You had a print run of 200,000 copies?

Jim: Yes. CBA: Was it printed in town?

Jim: No. The only printer I could get was located in upper New York state. The had great confidence in the magazine; they wanted the entire payment in advance.

CBA: [laughs] I thought they’d be unreasonable!

Jim: I got some advance money from my distributor but I was $9,000 short. I walked into a bank in Philadelphia to plead for a loan. I said, “I’m not going to tell you anything about the magazine but I need this loan.” The banker said, “For collateral, you’ll pledge your printing presses and your equipment. We require that as collateral against the loan.” I said, “My entire equipment list consists of a typewriter, two yellow pads, a drawing board and me. I have a distributor, an idea for a magazine, and I have a printer but I need $9,000.” I told him I wasn’t going to leave the bank without the money.

I must have sounded threatening because I got the loan. The printer got his money up front. The magazines were shipped, the newsstands sold out and Warren Publishing Company was born.

CBA: Who was your distributor?

Jim: Kable News Company. My relationship with them was bad. They couldn’t care less about me (because I only had a single one-shot magazine)— but because of the sell-out, they started to care a little bit. However I didn’t like them and they didn’t like me. I had to drink with them, I had to lunch with them, I had to spend time with them—but I hated it.

They were from the Midwest—Chicago. They were tough, shirt and tie, went to the right clubs, drank good scotch, and they had their kids in private schools. When they saw that my magazine was a winner, they grabbed Calvin Beck and distributed his magazine, Castle of Frankenstein. I walked in their office enraged and said, “How can you do this? I created this field and this market! I had an exclusive with you!” They said, “No, you didn’t.” I said, “It’s in my contract.” They said, “Show your lawyer the fine print in the contract.” My lawyer said, “You don’t have a prayer. They can do it.” Magazines like Playboy and Mad could negotiate an exclusive but the fine print in my contract said they won’t give an exclusive unless the magazine sells 90% every issue; and no magazine sells 90% each issue—not even Playboy or Mad. CBA: Mad magazine and Playboy were being distributed by Independent News—a division of DC Comics?

Jim: Yes. Independent had these two major magazine franchises. If you were a specialty magazine publisher, Independent was your first choice; your second choice was either Hearst or Curtis; your last choice would be the Kables, PDCs, and the Charltons. Independent was owned by three men: Harry Donenfeld, Jack Liebowitz, and Paul Sampliner. I went to them and I begged them to take my magazine.

They said, “Jim, come back when you’re bigger and you have a line of magazines.” It took many years, but by 1980, we were with Independent News.

COMIC BOOK ARTIST

Spring 1999

CBA: What was the impact of Famous Monsters of Filmland?

Jim: The letters from readers poured in. We knew we had a hit and we immediately started thinking about the second. We rushed out the second issue just in time for Halloween.

CBA: How many months was that since the one-shot?

Jim: The one-shot came out in January 1958. The second issue came out in October ’58. Nine months. I couldn’t do it any sooner because I had to wait until the money came in from the first issue and Kable wouldn’t advance it to me. I selected the material for the second issue, but with an emphasis of talking even more directly to kids in the 10- to 13-year-old range. In that second issue we had a letters column and a subscription coupon. We went out as a quarterly. I again posed for the cover wearing a werewolf mask, holding a sign that said, “Second Great Issue.” The material I picked for this second issue was not a duplicate of the first, but of a different category. We had a “What’s New” section on upcoming movies, “Fang Mail,” “You Axed for It.” The only ad we had was for subscriptions and a back issue. This second issue didn’t sell out like the first, but it was successful.

CBA: Tell me if I’m wrong but magazines weren’t really known for selling back issues. Was the stock overprints or overruns?

Jim: Here’s what I knew: I loved the editorial material in my own magazines. I never published anything that I didn’t have a passion for. I figured that if I loved it, there’s got to be 100,000 people out there like me. All I had to do was find them. These 100,000 people had to be like me: They go to movies on Saturday afternoon. And they also collect like I do! I’ve been a collector since I was born.

To answer your question: We never printed overage on the issues. Our back issue sales were recaptured magazines plus anything that was left over from the initial printing. The printer was allowed a certain percentage overrun—maybe it was a thousand—and that was what we used for back issues. Plus about 10,000 copies we would recapture from newsstand returns.

CBA: Normally, wouldn’t the retailer just tear off the covers and return those? Did you have to take less of a percentage to get the unmarred returns?

Jim: Sure. There was a handling charge—but the cover stripping was only done in the major cities. In the smaller markets they would return the whole issue. Sometimes my field representative would see unopened cartons of our magazines in the wholesaler’s warehouse. If the wholesaler had a tough time paying his bills that month and he was short on cash, he would just leave the magazines in their original cartons, and not send them out to newsstands. That was the nature of the business. Here we were, breaking our necks to get a great issue out on time, and somebody in a warehouse somewhere decides, “I’m not even going to take the copies out of the carton this month because we have a cash-flow problem. So take these Famous Monsters and these Batman comics—the stuff from the smaller publishers and just send it back.” So we never had a problem getting back issues because there were always wholesalers who would return our cartons unopened.

CBA: You had an ad background: Did you seek out advertising?

Jim: Yes. In the early ’60s I was not successful. It was, again, humiliation. Picture this: Madison Avenue, New York City, advertising agency row. I walk in with Famous Monsters and my presentation, in my tie and suit. I’m there to make my pitch, and FM is the perfect vehicle because the agency has a kids’ product account. Half the time I couldn’t get into the office; they came out to the reception area. I had to sit Spring 1999

COMIC BOOK ARTIST

in the lobby, in the chair next to him, and make my presentation. They would look at this and say, “What the hell is this weird stuff?” I said, “It’s not weird stuff. We have X-number of buyers with spendable income.

Schwinn Bikes would be perfect for our magazines—and our rate is only $200 a page, fully commissionable. The back cover is $275.” They said, “Get out of here with this!” I said, “What do I have to present you with to make this acceptable?” They said, “First of all, we wouldn’t put ads in this crap if you gave it to us for nothing.” I actually got that from a New York ad agency executive.

I had to count to 10 because I wanted to just nail him, put him right on the floor for saying that. You don’t say that to somebody—even if it’s true, you don’t say it—but I got it. I remember that. To this day I remember the guy who said it. Most of the time, however, they were polite and said, “I’m sorry, our client is not interested in advertising in this material.”

CBA: What disinterested them? The horror element?

Jim: Yes. Monsters were not something they wanted to be identified with. The powers-thatbe thought we were “unhealthy.” And at the same time, Parent Teacher Associations were starting to give me trouble.

Teachers would see kids reading FM and they would confiscate the magazine, saying, “This is pornographic! It’s trash! It’s garbage! It’s mind-rot!” The same old stuff, only this time from school teachers. The post office, at one point, almost refused to accept our application for second-class mailing privileges because they didn’t consider FM a magazine. They based it on the fact that the magazine started as a one-shot but I said, “Legally we have the right to go to quarterly.”

They countered with, “It’s a book, a journal—these contents do not qualify as an official periodical.” The guy gave me a hard time. He made me feel bad like I was publishing slop, garbage. (Did you see the monster stamps the Postal Service issued in 1997? They took them right off our covers! So I hope the guy who hassled me is still alive to see those monster stamps. There is, I hope, a special place in Hell for people like like this.)

We had trouble with groups who said we were the instruments of the devil. I had to fight a long battle. I went to PTA meetings. I did my best to convince them that our content was not bad for children—that this was a genre—that these early horror films were works of art.

“Frankenstein, Dracula, the Werewolf? How can they be works of art?” They laughed. I told them that the youngster reading our magazine would grow up to become the next generation’s writers, directors, movie makers. Again they laughed.

CBA: And look what happened.

Jim: The images, designs and ideas we created in Warren magazines captivated an entire generation of those baby-boomers. They were fans of our magazines—who grew up to create their own scripts, special effects, make-up and movies that went on to win an array of

Above: TV’s “Shock Theatre” host Zacherley whose punny humor paved the way for the kid-friendly Famous Monsters of Filmland (which featured this painting by Basil Gogos on the cover of #15). ©1961 Warren Publishing.

Left: The first issue of Famous Monsters of Filmland, Winter 1958. Yes, that’s Jim Warren under that Frankenstein mask! ©1958 Warren Publishing.

Below: Post Office-a-Gogos!

Gee, where do ya think the post office got its inspiration for the stamp art on these Halloween commemoratives, hmmm? ©1997 United States Postal Service.

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Left: Favorite Westerns of Filmland #1, May 1960.

Harvey Kurtzman’s first project with Jim Warren: Satirical magazine using stock TV western photos with typical irreverent word balloons added by Harvey. The cartoonist used a pseudonym, “Remuda Charlie Stringer,” under the editorial listing. Below: Typical article with the “Mad” Kurtzman twist, from Famous Westerns #1. ©1960 Central Publications.

Academy Awards. That’s what happened.

CBA: How did you develop Captain Company, the merchandising/mail order arm of Warren Publishing?

Jim: When I realized I couldn’t get outside paid advertising, I knew I had to roll up my sleeves and become “our own best advertising customer.”

I studied the mail that was coming in and I knew I had a rapport with my readers. I went back to the same formula: If I like it, they’re going to like it. I’m like them and they’re like me—we were all born under the same umbrella: We

Above: One handy guy. Harvey Kurtzman plugs The Jungle Book in this publicity shot. ©1961 Central Publications.

are collectors and we like certain things that are not readily available in the corner stores. I remember as a kid how much I loved the old Johnson-Smith mail order catalog. I loved sending away for things— loved it. I thought, “I’m going to find the items that appeal to me. I know I’m 29 but I also know I’m a supreme case of retarded development, so I can think down to an 11-year-old, and I know what I would like if I were 11.” So I spent a lot of time—a couple of months—searching for things I thought would be right for our audience. FM was a horror/monster magazine, so I looked for the horror/ monster items they couldn’t readily find or see in their local stores— the monster nails, Frankenstein mask, Horrible Herman in the box, spy camera, shrunken head, the Venus Flytrap. “Stephen King, Stevie Spielberg, Georgie Lucas—here they are! And please enclose 25¢ for postage and handling.”

CBA: Was the first issue of FM pun-filled and humorous, or was it straighter?

Jim: It was pun-filled and humorous. Forrey wasn’t crazy about it, but I insisted. We reduced the number of puns in later issues when I realized the readers were serious about the genre. The reason I had Forrey fill the first issue with puns was because I knew the humor was necessary for pulling the sharp edge of some of the heavyweight horror content.

CBA: When did you move to New York?

Jim: The year was 1960. In the publishing world at that time, there were no faxes, no e-mail, no Federal Express. Today you can publish out of Oklahoma City—but in the ’60s, you had to be at the center, where the action was. I had to be within three blocks of my distributor and I wanted to be in a place where writers and artists could get to me. They weren’t going to come to Philadelphia. Besides, I always wanted the glamour of New York. I wanted to work and play in New

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York. The city has everything. Every new movie, every old movie, every theater. I found a duplex penthouse in midtown Manhattan. I lived on the top floor. The bottom floor was the office; the living room, dining room, bath and kitchen, were the official editorial offices for Warren Publishing Company. Upstairs was a bedroom and bathroom. Captain Company offices remained in Philadelphia.

CBA: Did you keep Captain Company in Philly for your family?

Jim: No. Captain Company’s overhead was a great deal less in Philadelphia. It was a matter of economics.

CBA: Did you have many artists working on FM? Jim: You’re looking at the sole interior artist on FM. The covers were done by freelance artists living in New York.

CBA: When you mention artists and writers in New York, are you alluding to Creepy and Eerie?

Jim: No. In 1960, Creepy and Eerie did not yet exist. Our line of titles consisted of FM, Wildest Westerns, Spacemen, and Help! magazine. Help! required many artists and writers. It also needed production facilities which were much better in New York than they were in Philadelphia.

CBA: What was the genesis of Help!?

Jim: Help! magazine got its start the day I picked up my first copy of Mad, laughed my head off, and then zoomed to the contents page to see who was responsible for this great, funny stuff. The name that stood out was Harvey Kurtzman—the same Harvey Kurtzman I had seen listed as editor of Frontline Combat.

I followed Harvey’s career—through Humbug and Trump—but had never met him. Needless to say, I was in awe of this gifted man. We finally met face-to-face at Harry Chester’s magazine production studio in New York. I had heard some unhappy stories about Harvey and Bill Gaines, to the effect that Harvey had demanded control of Mad magazine. I believe he told Bill that unless Harvey got half of Mad, he would walk out, take all of the artists with him, and start a rival magazine. Gaines showed Harvey the door, made Al Feldstein Mad’s new editor, and the rest is history.

Unfortunately the history did not favor Harvey.

Mad went on to even greater heights and Harvey suffered through two big failures when he tried to create his own satirical magazines, Humbug and Trump.

Humbug was financed by a group of Harvey’s friends and associates who had worked with him on Mad—Arnie Roth, Will Elder, Jack Davis, etc. I thought the contents of Humbug were terrific, but doomed to failure because of its digest size and the inability of his distributor (Charlton) to market it correctly. Harvey’s next venture was at the other end of the spectrum—Trump—a glossy, very expensive, overproduced humorous magazine Hugh Hefner bankrolled and published. Trump lasted two issues and lost a lot of money before Hefner pulled the plug, leaving Harvey right back where he had been after walking away from Mad. Enter Jim Warren, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to do with Harvey Kurtzman what Hefner and Humbug could not do, namely to create a satirical magazine edited by Harvey that would succeed where Humbug and Trump failed. I was 30 years old, single, and absolutely confident I could harness Harvey’s genius (and he was a genius), add to it my own skills, and come up a winner. Because I was single I could make my own hours, and was prepared to work 18 of those hours each day to make this happen. At the same time I was editing and publishing my own line of magazines, running Captain Company, and trying to be a New York man-about-town (as well as a great American and a wonderful human being); and then—the brilliant Harvey Kurtzman enters the Warren fold! Life didn’t get any more exciting than this, I thought.

I needed to know if Harvey and I could work together before I structured a deal for a humor magazine we both envisioned. Coupled with this was Harvey’s need for immediate income. Warren Publishing gave him a proposal he couldn’t refuse. I envisioned a magazine called Favorite Westerns of Filmland, done satirically, using photo stills from old western movies plus the then-current crop of western-oriented shows which had captured the imagination of America’s TV audience.

Who better than Harvey Kurtzman to edit the first issue of this title? I COMIC BOOK ARTIST

Spring 1999

gave Harvey a very, very large fee to do this. I also supplied the movie stills and the production facilities (Harry Chester and his studio) and we were off and running on my first magazine project with Harvey.

The result was a magazine that was hilarious. The old Kurtzman brand of satire swept through all 64 pages of Favorite Westerns.

Harvey’s graphic use of stills—and his ability to use them just as a cartoonist would design and plot a comic strip—was incredible. The project was doubly successful: It produced a very funny product, and it showed me that Harvey and I could work together on a magazine.

We immediately made plans to create and produce Help! magazine.

CBA: How long did Help! last?

Jim: About five years. Our first employee was Gloria Steinem. Harold Hayes (the brilliant editor of Esquire) recommended that we hire her as an editorial assistant. Help! was to be a sophisticated Mad in which we created stories with photographs and word balloons [fumetti— Italian for “puff of smoke”]. We set up the scene and the actors just like a movie and we shot it like a movie. We used celebrities on our covers. It was Gloria’s job to get the celebrities—and she got them!

From Jerry Lewis to Ernie Kovacs, to Mort Sahl to Jonathan Winters to Woody Allen. What an incredible collection of wild, funny, interesting people! And you asked me why I moved to New York?

CBA: [laughs] Gloria was quite vivacious. If any woman epitomizes charm, it’s Gloria.

Jim: Well said. Steinem got Jerry Lewis to come to our photo studio for three hours. No one got paid for this; it was all done for no fee.

We would never have gotten these celebrities without her. It was a heady, wonderful, exciting, bittersweet experience—and it lasted for a few years.

CBA: It must have been fun.

Jim: At first it was—but then the fun stopped. Dame Fortune stepped in and killed it. Things happened that shouldn’t have happened, causing trouble in paradise. An unhappy situation developed and Harvey and I grew to dislike each other.

Help! featured news photos with word balloons. Adolf Eichmann [the man in charge of Nazi Germany’s concentration camps] had been captured in Argentina and had been taken to Israel for trial. He was subsequently hanged as a war criminal. One day, I walked in the Help! office—I had been away for a week—and saw the proofs for our next issue. There was a full-page picture of Eichmann, head and shoulders shot, and the balloon was saying, “Ever get the feeling that the whole world’s against you?” I thought it was awful. There were still people walking around with concentration camp tattoos on their arms. I said, “Harv, we need to talk.” He said, “Is there anything wrong?” I replied, “Harv, you and I had a long talk before we started Help! and you told me your ideas about what constitutes humor. You said that anything goes, as long as it was in good taste. Do you remember that?” He said, “Yes.” I said, “This Eichmann thing is not only not in good taste, it’s abominable, it’s shameful. Don’t you know what the holocaust was, and what this man represents? This is not a subject for humor.” Harvey’s face is getting red as I’m talking because I’m saying, “Editorially, you’re wrong.” And you don’t say that to a Harvey Kurtzman; but this time I had to say it. He said, “It’s all right; it’s okay.

It’s in good taste.” I said, “Harvey, nothing about 6,000,000 Jews dying is in good taste. It has to go. Take it out.” He replied, “Jim, you specifically agreed when we started Help! that I would make the editorial decisions.” I said, “Yes, I

did; but this is one I can’t let you make.”

CBA: Harvey Kurtzman was defending a picture of Eichmann?

Jim: Yes. I said, “Take it out, Harvey.” He said, “You’re like all the rest of the publishers.

You don’t stick to your word.

You shook hands with me and you told me your word is your bond and people don’t even have contracts with you, that your handshake was worth more than any contract, and all that bull.” I said, “It’s not bull.

It’s true, and I’ll live up to it— but do you realize what you’re doing?” He said, “I think it’s all right.” I said, “Harvey, I’ll have to sleep on it.” I went home, agonized over it, came back the next day and said, “I gave you my word and I’m sticking to it; but I implore you—I’m pleading with you—to take that out.” He said, “If we take this out then you’ll find something next issue and the issue after that, and I can’t let you do this. We agreed that I’m the editor.” And again, his face is getting red and he’s upset and excited. I thought he was going to have a heart attack. I took a deep breath, gave in and said, “All right, Harvey. Have it your way.” From that day forward, things were never the same between us. We were civil to each other, but he knew I didn’t like him for what he did and I knew he didn’t like me because I dared to question him. It was sad. The joy wasn’t there anymore. We were doomed, star-crossed. I never forgave him for running that—and I never forgave myself for letting him run it.

CBA: Was there fallout from publishing it?

Jim: Yes. We had a lot of letters and they were printed. I insisted that they be printed. Again Harvey and I fought over this. The situation between us got worse. In 1965, Harvey and I parted company.

We seldom spoke after that. As I said, Harvey was an authentic genius. He could recognize and attract talent better than anyone in the world. He was absolutely the best at what he did. I was crushed because I could not understand his idea of good taste. There was nothing we could do about it. I couldn’t change, and Harvey couldn’t either. When you have two guys working together on a monthly magazine, you have to have rapport; but we no longer had it—and I knew we would never have it again. Camelot was over. I lost interest in Help! It was my magazine—I was publishing it—and I didn’t like it.

I lost my passion for Help! and for Harvey.

CBA: Did Bill Gaines see Help! as competition?

Jim: No, not at all. I spoke with Bill about it many times. Mad was

Above: The Help! staff sets sail for new satirical sites. (And, yes, that’s the Gloria Steinem looking thoroughly modern). From Help! #9, April 1961. ©1961 Central Publications.

Below: Goodman Beaver looking perplexed amongst his comic strip cohorts. From the story, “Goodman Goes Playboy.” Story by Harvey Kurtzman and art by Will Elder.

From Help! #13, Feb. 1962. ©1962 Central Publications.

Above: Robert Crumb was introduced as an accomplished cartoonist in the pages of his idol’s Help! magazine. Crumb contributed two travelogue strips, this one chronicling a trip to the New York City neighborhood, from #22. ©1965 Central Publications.

Below: Not funny. The inside cover that drove a permanent wedge between editor Kurtzman and publisher Warren. ©1961 Central Publications.

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read by kids and young adults.

Ours was read by a more sophisticated, Woody Allen crowd.

CBA: Was Help! side-by-side with Mad on the stands?

Jim: No. Again, they didn’t know where to place it on the newsstands. It didn’t belong next to Mad. They wouldn’t put it next to the New Yorker.

Distributors were fed up with me because each time I came out with a new magazine it created a new category. They didn’t know where the hell to put it. The fact that I was breaking new ground and creating a field that didn’t exist before didn’t matter to them. Of course, if it was successful, 25 competitors would come in and they’d enjoy the business; but it didn’t matter to them. “Here’s another strange Warren magazine! Where the hell are we going to put this one?” It didn’t belong next to Mad or FM or TV Guide, so where did it belong? “Why the hell doesn’t Warren give us normal magazines like all the other publishers?” You tell me. Hearst was our Help! distributor and I told them, “All I can tell you is where Help! shouldn’t be—it shouldn’t be with sports, women's, or TV Guide. The closest I can think of is to position it with Playboy.” They tried—and failed—but the thing that killed Help! was not the distribution problem. I had lost heart. I lost my passion and enthusiasm. I also lost $50,000—a lot of money in 1960. We stopped publishing and I don’t even think Harvey and I shook hands when we closed the office in 1965.

Ten years later, 1975, at a Phil Seuling New York Comic Convention, Phil invited all the comic industry biggies to a private cocktail party. Harvey was there. It wasn’t an enchanted evening but I looked at him across the crowded room.

Harvey was surrounded by people who had not seen him in a long time and I thought, “I don’t want to go over there; let him have the spotlight. Later I’ll go over and shake hands.” Before I got that chance, Phil Seuling rapped the tabletop podium and introduced Harvey. Much applause. Harvey went to the podium to say a few words. I stood in the back of the large room.

Harvey made a nice speech during which he said, “The industry needs many kinds of people; we need talented people but we also very badly need people like Bill Gaines and Jim Warren, both of whom are credits to the industry.” I almost dropped my vodka tonic. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. In a million years, I never thought Harvey Kurtzman would say that about Gaines or me! But he did and I wanted to kiss him for it. I think Harvey had a change of heart in those ten years. Maybe he had had time to reflect.

After he left the podium, I waited a while and then maneuvered over to Harvey and spoke to

him. We shook hands and I gave him a hug. He was smiling and happy, and so was I. It turned out to be an enchanted evening. I wish it had happened ten years sooner. Later that night I thought about Harvey Kurtzman and realized that a large part of me loved him. The Beatles said, “All You Need is Love.” And then they broke up.

CBA: Terry Gilliam replaced Gloria Steinem as editorial assistant.

What was he like?

Jim: Strange and brilliant. Terry was a free spirit and a funny, off-thewall, innovative, wild guy. You saw his work on Monty Python? Only Terry could do that! I never thought that Terry would emerge as a filmmaker. Who knew? Look what he has done with his talent! His movie Brazil was named one of the top 100 films by the American Film Institute. He has worked hard—and it shows. All of his films are “must-see.” I hope he has a long career.

And let’s not forget that we published art spigeleman—and Robert Crumb…

CBA: Did they come around the office? In some ways, that’s where the counter-culture began.

Jim: Harvey had them come to the office. They were a colorful bunch. They were rebels, it was a rebellious time, and these kids were all young and destined for greatness. It was the early ’60s, and it was their time. I forgot to mention that we also did a lot of partying… and worked all night. I ordered in sandwiches from the Stage Delicatessen.

We ate tons of food, and worked all night.

Gloria: Tell him about how you would lock the doors.

Jim: When we had a tight deadline and I sensed the people were tired and wanted to go home, I would lock the doors and say, “You’re not coming out until you finish the job!” [laughter] “Here’s food; I’m sending in food.”

CBA: What was Gloria Steinem like?

Jim: Have you ever seen her on television?

CBA: I’ve met her on several occasions.

Jim: Great lady; superior mind—I agree with most of her views, but not all of them.

CBA: Gloria told Rolling Stone, “Jim Warren is a great operator.

We used to kid him about it; about being a Sammy Glick-type character. Y’know, great big cufflinks. I don’t know if it’s true, but it’s entered into the apocryhpha of James Warren that he used to do things like ride around in the Summer with the windows rolled up so people would think he had air conditioning.” Is that true?

Jim: I’ve always had immense regard for Gloria. I’ve read most of her books. It was not very nice to say, but in those days, Steinem felt it necessary to make up cute things that would make her look good in print and this was one of them. There were no cufflinks—I never owned cufflinks; my shirts were custom made, with small, dark buttons. I never owned a pair of cufflinks because I didn’t like French cuffs. I didn’t own a car. During those years in New York I only knew three cars—Hertz, Avis and limo. Gloria still rates very high with me. I liked her then and I like her now. She’s a good woman.

CBA: You were quoted as saying, in the same article, “At a party a long time ago, I think in fact it was Gloria Steinem who said, ‘Watch out for him. He’s laid everything except the Atlantic Cable.” Did you party?

Jim: If I ever got around to counting the number of dumb things I said when I was young, it would come in at 7,952. That was one of them.

CBA: Did you have a good time? Were you a bon vivant?

Jim: Me, a bon vivant?

CBA: Gil Kane told a couple of stories.

Jim: Are you asking this question in order to inflict discomfort on me? What did Gil say?

CBA: That… ahhh… you guys womanized and partied.

Jim: That’s outrageous!! Nothing like that ever took place! And if Gil says it did then he ought to be hanged upside-down like Mussolini! That’s the most ridiculous thing I ever… oh, all right, so we did socialize a little.

Look, I was in my early 30s. I was single. I was working hard to build Warren Publishing and I was playing hard. However I worked more than I partied. It reminds me of that famous Dean Martin expression: “If I had as many women as people say I have, my testicles would be talking to you from a test tube at the Mayo Clinic.” [laughter] Gloria: He remembers too many Saturday night television proCOMIC BOOK ARTIST

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grams!

CBA: So you dated Carol Burnett? [laughter] Jim: We never actually dated but we did spend a wild weekend in Palm Springs.

Gloria: You never told me about that.

Jim: It happened during a decade I don’t remember much about.

Anyway, I worked more than I partied—but I was not a womanizer. I was merely a credit to my gender.

Gloria: Over the years, I have heard from a couple of women who dated Jim; they always described him as a fabulous gentleman—very kind, sweet and fun.

Jim: Who could ask for anything more? Look, for 10 years the company office in New York was housed in a duplex penthouse apartment. The offices were downstairs and I lived upstairs. People thought that any time there was a woman in the office I would grab her and take her upstairs. Not true! I let people think it was true; it was good for my image. Hell, I loved my work but when it was time to relax, it was New York, and it was a fabulous city to party in.

CBA: You were obviously friends with Gil? Jim: I liked Gil. He was a good artist and a good guy. All of our artists were nifty guys. Each was different and individual and there was something to like about each one. Al Williamson (another great fun-loving guy), Wally Wood (an absolute maniac), Frank Frazetta (the wildest of them all in terms of being able to drive you crazy)— but I loved them!

Above: It’s… Terry Gilliam! The now-world renowned film director (seen here as soggy cover model for ish #24) once served as Harvey’s assistant editor on Help! Terry honored his old boss by naming a character “Kurtzman” in his classic film Brazil. ©1965 Central Publications.

CBA: Marie Severin mentioned that Angelo Torres, Al and Frank would hang together and be the Bad Boys.

Jim: They looked like they were bad boys and put on the appearance, but they weren’t. They were pussycats—pussycats who were also top artists, top pros, top you-name-it.

Let me tell you a Frank Frazetta story: I was at Frank’s house one day, and during the course of conversation I mentioned that another artist had gotten sick and couldn’t deliver his painting for one of our Eerie covers. Without saying a word, Frank went downstairs into his basement and returned with a piece of old plywood. Right in front of my eyes he put the plywood up on his easel—and 30 minutes later he finished the Neanderthal cover [Creepy #15]. It’s monochromatic because he didn’t have time to use colors! He hands me the plywood board (I get a splinter from the damned thing!) and says, “Here’s a Spring 1999

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Harvey Kurtzman on Help!

The following interview excerpt originally appeared in Joe Brancatelli’s lively (but short-lived) magazine, Inside Comics (#2, Summer 1974), and is from an interview with satirical genius Harvey Kurtzman entitled, “Conversations with the Brother-in-Law of Underground Comics.” In his introduction to the piece, interviewer Jeffrey H. Wasserman wrote: “[If] you were a card-carrying member of the American Grafitti generation… you read Help! magazine—and laughed. Or maybe you couldn’t believe your eyes when Help! displayed the talents of dozens of the world’s best known performers… And if you were unusually sophisticated back then, you filed names like Bob Crumb and Jay Lynch and Denis Kitchen in the back of your mind—all those peculiar names that popped up in Help!’s ‘Public Gallery.’ All those names who eventually became the backbone of the underground comix movement of the late ’60s.”

Our thanks to Joe and Jeffrey for their permission to reprint this excerpt, which is copyright 1974 by Galaxy News Service.

Jeffrey H. Wasserman: You returned to satire and you and Jim Warren began Help!

Financially…

Harvey Kurtzman: Warren and I dealt with each other on a partnership basis. He had been after me for a long time to do something.

Help! was essentially Warren’s money and my editing. Jim was fairly active at the time, so we pooled a certain amount of our resources. Jim was very deep into Hollywood photo-type magazines and Help! was a sort of a hybrid.

Wasserman: What do you mean, “hybrid”? Was Help! originally slated to be something else?

Kurtzman: I did a couple of western magazines for Warren on a non-partnership basis, an issue-by-issue basis.

That’s where I developed this format of using Hollywood photographs to fill pages in a satirical way. That sort of set the pattern for Help!

Wasserman: Help! was basically a fumetti magazine, though, and that originally became popular in Europe….

Kurtzman: Yeah, true. A lot of halftone stuff.

Wasserman: Help! never really made it though, and that’s always puzzled me. After all, these fumettis were phenomenally popular in Europe.

Kurtzman: All kinds of things happen in Europe that just don’t work here. My own longtime conclusion is that in the business of media, the ramifications of each foreign environment are so complicated it’s impossible to explain why something is a big smash success over there and nothing happens over here.

Wasserman: Did you think American television could have had some sort of impact on how the fumetti might have done here?

Kurtzman: It’s possible although the European fumettis were totally different in character. They were real soap opera stuff and had a much broader base than ours. We did satire, which was never very popular. European fumettis were soap opera sagas and very often they were a collection of still photographs. They would turn them into a photo-picture story.

Wasserman: Rather than putting out a novelization of the movie they would just put out a fumetti of the movie?

Kurtzman: Yeah, and it was real broad base kind of entertainment. So that may explain it. They once tried to translate European fumettis and it never worked. They’re still very popular in South America….

Wasserman: In many ways, Warren as a publisher was just as domineering and possessive as Gaines was. Did you have similar problems?

Kurtzman: It was a totally different situation, luckily.

Above: The With Warren, it was strictly a partnership basis, and I Help! gang guarded my half of the partnership very zealously, had a deliver in good lawyer, and we were on equal footing throughout the 1961 in project. these illos Wasserman: Even though Help! folded after several from #6 dozen issues, it was an amazing magazine. There were dozens of ©1961 Central continued on next page

Publications.

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continued from previous page unbelievably talented people associated with the magazine.

Kurtzman: We had a great collection of people. Gloria Steinem was my first assistant. We also worked with a whole galaxy of actors and actresses who went on to great things.

And cartoonists! We worked with Crumb, we worked with Gilbert Shelton. We were the first to publish “Fritz the Cat”… It was just amazing the caliber of people we had on Help!, Crumb included. There was Gloria Steinem and then Terry Gilliam, who later did marvelous animated material for Monty Python’s Flying Circus. Chuck Alverson was my third outstanding assistant… We also used big people for our fumettis and our covers. Just marvelous people. We used Jonathan Winters, Dick Van Dyke, Milton Berle, Milt Kamen, Sid Caesar—a whole bunch of very cooperative artists.

Left: Harvey’s cover rough to Help! #14. The magazine featured many prominent celebrities on the covers and interior fumettis, including Woody Allen, Jerry Lewis, Jackie Gleason, and—as you see on the published cover below, Mike Nichols and Elaine May, (once a comedic team and now renowned film directors).

Hmmm, that cartoon Nichols sure looks like President Clinton hard at work in the Oval Office to me! ©1962 Central Publications.

We practically used the whole of what developed into the comix underground. You know, we used everybody: Jay Lynch, Skip Williamson, Bob Crumb, Denis Kitchen, Bob Grossman and on and on and on.

Wasserman: Do you then think of yourself as the father of the underground comix?

Kurtzman: Perhaps the mother… no, not really. I think there was a connection though. I still haven’t figured out exactly what it was.

Probably the kind of thing Help! did— that underground comix continue to do— was “reality stuff.” We were really into reality stuff when nobody else was doing reality. I guess that was the bond.

Wasserman: What do you mean by “reality stuff”?

Kurtzman: There are several ways to entertain people. I’ve always felt there were two ends on the pole of entertainment: On one end is fantasy, the other end is reality. The pendulum swings. Sometimes people want The Wizard of Oz, and other times that want real life. Our underground people wanted reality….

Wasserman: Since you won’t admit to being the father of underground comix, will Above: Help! published a number of soon-to-be star you accept the mother of the undergrounds? underground cartoonists including R. Crumb, Jay Lynch, Kurtzman: Maybe the sister-in-law or the Skip Williamson, and Gilbert Shelton (whose “Wonder third cousin. I… Wart-Hog Goes A-Freedom-Riding,” from Help! #25—the Wasserman: How about brother-in-law? final issue—is excerpted above). Throw in Terry Gilliam and John Cleese, and while you can say Kurtzman’s Mad They always seem to fit in much better.

Kurtzman: Yeah, that’s it. I was the brothcomics inspired an entire generation of humorists, his er-in-law. I’m sure the guys will understand.

Help! put ’em to work! ©1999 Gilbert Shelton.

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cover!” That was Frank.

CBA: When you were conceiving Creepy did you intend it to be the next generation of EC Comics?

Jim: Not exactly. I wanted to present the very best artists and writers I could find, but I didn’t want to continue the same EC story level. I thought many of the EC stories were not suitable for Warren Publishing. The EC taste level was not my own. I knew we could make it with great art and very good stories; I didn’t think we needed the old EC bad-taste shock appeal to sell great art and very good stories. I didn’t want to be the “new generation of EC.” I wanted to be the first generation of Warren comics—and Creepy was exactly that.

The great Archie Goodwin said it beautifully in the introduction he wrote for The Best of Creepy paperback: He called it: “The Spell of Seven Sorcerers.”

“In this collection, as perhaps no other, vampires, werewolves, and other creatures of the night and the darkness of men’s soul live. The magic that brought them life comes from Reed Crandall, Steve Ditko, Frank Frazetta, Angelo Torres, Alex Toth, Al Williamson, and Wallace Wood. That magic is wrought, not by incantations or mystic potions, but with brush and ink, and mastery of an American folk art, neglected, as was jazz, but slowly beginning to come into its own—the comic book form.

“At a time when fine art is increasingly reduced to a series of fads, and illustration is the province of the designer and photographic renderer, the last refuge of the artist as a storyteller is comics.

The seven men represented here have long been rated among the best in that field. Horror and fantasy stories, with their many opportunities for graphically portraying what a camera, and even a skilled writer can rarely capture, provide spectacular vehicles for their abilities.

“In 1964, James Warren, publisher of Famous Monsters, brought these men—and others Above: Warren first experimented equally talented whom space has- with b-&-w horror comics in the n’t permitted us to showcase— pages of Monster World, a shorttogether to produce Creepy, a col- lived magazine that briefly lection of illustrated horror stories, replaced Famous Monsters in assembled in magazine form and 1965. ©1965 Warren Publishing. done in black-&-white (as opposed to the color normally, and often inappropriately, used in comics). Nothing quite like it had been tried in nearly ten years. The form and the artists contributing to it meshed well. Today, Creepy, along with two companion magazines, still thrives. Comic book professionals and fans alike still talk about the work done in those early issues.”

I asked Archie to write the preface to this.

After he wrote it, and before I gave it to production, I added this: “Through either modesty, or in the interests of alliteration, Mr. Goodwin failed to mention an eighth sorcerer involved in these proceedings. Archie wrote most of the stories appearing here, and was the guiding force, and the editor of Creepy at the time they were done.”

Archie wouldn’t mention his own name; you know how modest Archie was. The direction was set. I didn’t want to produce horror per se; I wanted to produce the best artists that I could afford. They were paid $35 a page—a lot of money for Warren Publishing at the time. I know because I know what I went through to provide the budget for these men—Reed Crandall, Jack Davis, Frank Frazetta, Gray Morrow, Joe Orlando, Angelo Torres, Al Williamson, Wally Wood. Nobody had ever put them together between the same covers. It was like having a Hall of Fame in a magazine.

Here’s something interesting: At the San Diego Comic Convention last Summer, there were 19 nominees for The Will Eisner’s Hall of Fame. Of these 19 people, Warren carried the work of nine of them (Neal Adams, Vaughn Bodé, Gil Kane, Jack Davis, Archie Goodwin, art spiegelman, Jim Steranko, Al Williamson, and Basil Wolverton). Of the 20 recipients of the Eisner Award (as of July 1998), eight of them appeared in our pages (Steve Ditko, Will Eisner, Frank Frazetta, Robert COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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Crumb, Harvey Kurtzman, Alex Toth, Wally Wood, and Jerry Siegel).

It isn’t generally known, but we published two of Jerry Siegel’s stories in Creepy or Eerie. Someone tipped me to the fact that Jerry Siegel was down and out, living in the New York City area, and trying to sell stories to general interest magazines. I said, “Are you talking about Jerry Siegel of Siegel & Shuster? He’s here? In New York?”

“Yes, here’s his number.” I dropped everything, reached for the phone, dialed the number, and a voice answered, “Hello?” I said, “Is this Jerry Siegel?” “Yes,” the voice replied. I told him who I was and that I was sending a car to pick him up at his home and take him right to our office—so that we could load him up on writing assignments.

He replied, “Well, I do have a couple of stories you might like.” I sent the car to get him and soon in walks the legendary Jerry Siegel—from whose teenage head and vintage typewriter came Superman. He was somewhere in his 50s, looking awful, wearing a shabby raincoat in the dead of Winter. My heart sunk. I asked him about Joe Shuster and he told me that Joe was legally blind, unable to draw, and living elsewhere. He had with him four or five scripts. I read them. They were not publishable. I said, “Jerry, I’d like you to take home a dozen of our magazines. Familiarize yourself with our kind of story. Then write something more in our line. It doesn’t have to be gothic or horror specifically—but it should be a story that belongs in our genre.”

About a week later Jerry telephones to say he’s coming in with his new scripts. I alert Archie and the two of us are ready and waiting.

Jerry arrives with two scripts. They were both awful. I glanced over at Archie, who was trying to hide his disappointment. One of us had to tell Jerry his work was unacceptable. Archie couldn’t. Neither could I. Finally I said, “Jerry, the scripts are good! We’re going to use them.

We’ll buy them.”

CBA: Did Archie go over the stories?

Jim: He rewrote it. I don’t know if Jerry knew the difference; he was that beat. It broke our hearts to see what had happened to this man who was once a giant of our industry—but at least we did something.

It wasn’t a lot—but it was something. I’m sorry we couldn’t have done more.

CBA: What did Basil Wolverton do for you?

Jim: In Help! magazine, he did some of his Lena the Hyena drawings. What a unique and unusual talent he was! Can you imagine the fun I was having with these great people? Of course, it was work, hard work—but when you have an Alex Toth, or a Wally Wood, or a Jack Davis, or a Will Eisner—my God! It’s like living in talent heaven!

And the best part is that they are giving you their best work. They’re not just serving it up for a paycheck. Alex Toth, particularly, would agonize over every panel and not send it in because he wasn’t satisfied with it, saying it was awful. I said, “Your idea of awful is my idea of acceptable!” Then he replies, “I can’t do it. If my name is going to go on it, it’s got to be my way.” I said, “But we have a deadline, Alex.” And Alex said, “I’m not going to send it in unless it’s right.” I would say, “Alex, the only reason I don’t come to your house and strangle you is because you’re built like the Hulk and you would do to me what Joe Louis did to Tony Galento.” Alex would say, “That’s about right.” And that was that; but when the job finally came in— Alex Toth was worth waiting for. That’s the kind of guys we had going for us.

CBA: How did you meet Archie Goodwin?

Jim: It was the early ’60s and I needed an editor for Creepy and Eerie. Archie had been recommended to me by a mutual friend.

CBA: Was it Russ Jones [the first editor of Creepy]?

Jim: Just the opposite. The reason Archie came in as editor was because Jones was on his way out. I had not known Archie beforehand and I knew very little about him. I was told by others that Archie would be right for the job because he was not only a good editor but also a terrific graphics man. I met Archie and he looked at me and I looked at him. We sort of tapped danced around each other. He was looking for some kind of stability; Archie didn’t want a freelance job— he was concerned that if he took this job and sales were bad, I might have let him go two months later. This happens a lot in the comic book industry, and that was one of his fears. I understood that. I know what it means to get a regular paycheck. Any freelancer knows that, and I freelanced enough to know that this was worrying him. I said, “Arch, this should make you feel better: I’ll draft a simple onepage contract that will guarantee you a year’s salary and you’ll get that salary every week no matter what happens to our sales. The Spring 1999

COMIC BOOK ARTIST

company can afford it. Even if sales are bad, you’re home free for a year at least. This will give you peace of mind.”

He said, “Well, I’d like to talk to my fiancée about this.” I said, “Why don’t you and Anne spend an afternoon with me at the Holiday Inn at LaGuardia Airport at the swimming pool.” (It was during the Summer and, in those days, I would rent a car, drive to LaGuardia on a Friday, check in, and come home on Monday. I would relax by the pool, do paperwork, call room service. This was my idea of luxury as long as the sun was shining.) So I said, “Come to the pool, bring your bathing suits, and we’ll have lunch.” And they did. We all sat down by the pool and I said, “I’m going to have to assume that because you’re here and you’re in your bathing suits, that the answer’s going to be ‘yes.’”

Archie says, “Where do I sign?” I said, “Right here!” I reached into my beach bag and pulled out the contract. Archie signed it with a flourish. I then took the paper, tore it up, threw it in the pool, and said, “So much for written contracts!” I did it to be funny but I don’t think Anne appreciated it. I quickly wrote another one and gave it to Anne. It was a good beginning for Archie and Warren Publishing. Archie could do anything. He could edit, write, draw, art direct, design. There wasn’t a thing he couldn’t do well—but he was being paid as an editor, and not as a writer. It was his job to hire writers and assign stories to them. One day he came to me and said, “Al Williamson will work for us, but he wants me to write the story.” Well, I wanted Al in the book because he’s terrific. I said, “You mean Al won’t take anybody else’s script? It’s gotta be your story?” Archie replies, “Yeah, that’s what he said.” I said, “Then write the story.” Archie said, “Well, should I pay myself the $25 for the story?” I said, “Absolutely! It’s your story; but, Arch, better let me read your story before you give it to Al.” So he comes in with the story and it was magnificent! I said, “Write more stories!” Archie ended up writing almost all the stories in the books, and so he got an editor’s pay and a writer’s pay. When he would buy stories from other writers, I would yell at him, “Don’t!” The scripts in Blazing Combat were all Archie’s—and they were all superb.

During the early days I applied for a company loan at a neighborhood bank. I represented to the loan officer that we had an office with a production man, an editor, a writer, a letterer and an artist. I filled out the papers and the banker said, “It looks good. I’ll let you know next week.” A few days later the banker showed up unannounced at the office—the doorbell rings, I answer it, and it’s the banker. He says, “I was just in the neighborhood.” But he wasn’t “just in the neighborhood”—he had come to look around. He said, “Mr. Warren, you told me your company had five employees.

Above: The beginning.

Cover to Creepy #1 with art by Jack Davis. Warren immediately abandoned the lighter, humorous approach in favor of the Frazetta touch. Left: A house ad illustration by the great Frazetta, circa 1965. ©1965 Warren Publishing.

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Above: Cover rough by Roy Krenkel This sketch resembles Frank Frazetta’s final painting for Creepy #6. ©1999 Richard D. Garrison.

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Where are they?” I said, “There they are!” And I pointed to Archie and said, “He does all of these things. He’s an editor, writer, artist, letterer, and production man!” Meanwhile Archie is sitting there, wondering why I’m pointing at him. I said to the banker: “Go over and ask him.

He’ll prove it to you.” We got the loan. Archie was a five-way threat.

CBA: Before Creepy #1 was announced, and in the first two issues of Monster World, you featured “Monster Comics,” one seven-page story adaptation of the Universal Mummy films per issue. The first was by Wally Wood and the second, Joe Orlando. Was this a dry run to see what kind of response horror comics would get? Were you testing the waters?

Jim: Not at all. Those two comics features had nothing to do with the concept of Creepy. I put them in for only one reason: I love comics. There was no linkage to Creepy whatsoever; I might add that the Monster World readers were not too crazy about these comics features.

CBA: How do you recall the creation of Creepy magazine and doing horror comics in black-&-white format?

Jim: I was a product of comics, and I grew up on them. Comic strips and comic books were my first love. I was a writer and an artist as a kid so the love of comics came naturally. Comics were primary. I started drawing my own comics when I was eight years old. Even though Warren Publishing started with Famous Monsters and other pictorial magazines, my inner desire was to do comics. I started to study the comics market in 1960. I looked at DC, Marvel, Archie, Harvey, and even Gold Key. (I even experimented once with a teenage comic book but wasn’t satisfied with the early drawings and the project was killed—but I knew that eventually I would take a crack at comics.)

The Warren publishing genre was horror and monsters, so it was logical to put this same theme into comics. A lot of serious thought preceded the decision to launch Creepy; a lot of soul-searching. The specter of EC and Bill Gaines—the humiliation he suffered, and the terrible things that Congressional committee did to him—hung over me. I knew that the industry’s Comics Code Authority (which was very strong at the time) exercised an authority (a word not misused— they had authority!) over an entire industry. You could not print comic books or be distributed in America without their blessing and seal of approval. It was self-censorship, similar to the movies’ Hays Office, which granted the Motion Picture Seal of Approval to a film before it was shown in movie theaters. The Comics Code saved the industry from turmoil, but at the same time, it had a cleansing kind of effect on comics, making them “clean, proper and family-oriented.” How do I surmount this? Fasten your seatbelts. We would overcome this obstacle by saying to the Code Authority, the industry, the printers, and the distributors: “We are not a comic book; we are a magazine.

Creepy is magazine-sized and will be sold on magazine racks, not comic book racks.” Creepy’s manifesto was brief and direct: First, it was to be a magazine format, 81⁄ 2” x 11”, going to an older audience not subject to the Code Authority. Second: Creepy writers and artists must be the best. They won’t be good and they won’t be excellent.

They will be the best. Those two formulas—magazine format and the best. If I could do that, the public will accept us and the industry will have to accept us. That was the blueprint for Creepy. That’s how it started.

And then it progressed with people like Joe Orlando and Archie Goodwin. The idea of bringing together the old EC people belonged to Russ Jones. Russ, at the time, was doing covers for FM and had

worked on the one-shots, The Horror at Party Beach and The Mole People, in a production and editorial capacity. He was an artist, writer, production man, and comic book guy. It was his idea to gather these people together; I did not know them personally, only by reputation. I did know Jack Davis, who had worked on Help!, and through my relationship with Harvey, I knew of all these people but I had never met them. I knew Russ Heath and Wally Wood. Al Williamson, Angelo Torres, Gray Morrow, Frank Frazetta—the hard-core EC people—I had not met. It was Russ Jones who introduced me to Joe Orlando, Reed Crandall, George Evans and the others I mentioned. I saw their work and immediately fell in love with all of them because they were all home-run hitters, operating at the same level as Jack Davis and Wally Wood. These were the people I wanted to publish, edit, and work with. I didn’t have to search for better people. We had the best right there.

I selected Jack Davis for the cover of Creepy #1. I was still fearful we might get flak from the Code, so I wanted to give the magazine a light touch. It was a mistake. In hindsight, we should have gone with this [points to the cover of Creepy #2], but I figured a light touch was necessary to soften what they’re going to see inside. The comic book world in America had not seen material like this since the days of EC Comics. Had I published Creepy as a regular comic book, the Code would never have allowed this material. They would have cranked up the Enola Gay for me.

That’s how Creepy and Eerie came about. I fulfilled a dream of a lifetime: Publishing, editing and creating comics. I had around me the best and the brightest. Who in the world was better than Archie Goodwin, Joe Orlando, or Ben Oda [the letterer]? Who could ask for anything more? Now it was just a question of building a readership and having to fight the natural resistance of the wholesalers and distributors, both of whom said in unison: “Damn it, Warren! You did it again! You’ve produced another strange magazine we can’t categorize! Where the hell are we going to put this one?!? When you came out with FM, there was no category—and now you’ve done it again!

You’re going to have the same uphill battle you had with FM, only worse. At least with FM, you’ve broken ground and the newsstands know where to put it, but this—where is it going to go?” I said, “Put it next to Mad.” “But Creepy is a comic book!” they said. I replied, “So is Mad, you cretins.”

CBA: What was Larry Ivie’s role in the genesis of Creepy and Eerie?

He professes that he was the originator of the concept of b-&-w horror magazines and that he pitched the idea to you.

Jim: I’ve read his articles in Scary Monsters. Larry Ivie has maintained that the idea for Creepy—horror comics in magazine format—is his.

That using the EC artists was his idea and that this was all his creation, and that he told this to Russ Jones and that Jones then came to me, saying it was his idea, and that Larry Ivie had very little to do with it, and blah, blah, blah.

Ivie never worked directly for Warren Publishing. We purchased and used a few of his stories for Creepy. Ivie tells people he invented the black-&-white comic book. He’s also written that, if I had listened to him and followed his advice, Creepy would have been a much better magazine than what it was. If anyone gives him a soapbox, I’m sure Ivie would speak volumes on how he can conceive and execute wonderful magazines. I know of nothing else he has done in the magazine world other than tell people how great he is. I know he did work for Calvin Beck’s Castle of Frankenstein. He has praised Calvin Beck as being a very fine gentleman and a wonderful human being.

Those of us who knew Calvin Beck have other opinions. Ivie prefers a Calvin Beck for the magazine industry. (In the movie industry I suspect Ivie would prefer Ed Wood rather than Martin Scorcese.) He has made a career of telling people how much better he could do Warren magazines than Warren. People have said to me, “What is this guy’s problem?” Look, the world is full of Larry Ivies; there are people who claimed they originated the idea for Citizen Kane and, because Orson Welles had a stronger personality, he was able to pull off the movie.

I’m sure there are people who actually believe this.

My parting shot on Larry Ivie is the Mount Wilson story I’ve told many times before…

On Mount Wilson the astronomers have a telescope that can magnify the most distant stars to 34 times the magnification of any previous telescope. This remarkable instrument was unsurpassed in the world of astronomy until the development of the Mount Palomar COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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The Great Jack Davis (kinda) remembers his days at Warren Interview conducted by Bill Alger Jack Davis is one of the most renowned and successful cartoonists of the last half-century in the United States, revered (and endlessly copied) for his ever-popular big-foot art style and envied for his astonishing speed. His accomplishments are far too numerous to recount in such a short paragraph but we will mention Mad comics & magazine, EC horror, Topps parody cards, movie posters, major magazine covers, and mountains of advertising material. Jack has done it all, and was involved in the preliminary days of Warren’s foray into black-&-white horror comics. Jack gave a short interview via phone on February 22, 1999 (all the while polishing off a few jobs, no doubt!). [Ye Ed’s special thanks to Wild Bill Alger for pulling through at the last minute!]

Bill Alger: When did you first meet Jim Warren?

Jack Davis: I really can’t remember. It goes way, way back with Harvey Kurtzman and the whole bit. Didn’t Jim back Harvey at Help!?

Bill: Yes. So you knew Jim Warren while he was publishing Help! magazine?

Jack: Harvey was looking for somebody to back him at a publication and along came Jim and they hit it off.

Harvey, I guess, liked to have his free hand to do what he did.

Bill: What was the working atmosphere like at Help!?

Jack: I worked at home. I wouldn’t go in to Help! very much. Everything I did was pretty much over the telephone. I do remember going into their offices. Harvey and Harry Chester—they put the magazine together—we’d laugh and we’d have lunch over jokes and things. I also remember Gloria Steinem. She worked with Harvey as an editor. She had a good sense of humor. She wrote the gag lines for a lot of his pictures. She would pick up stills and put gags to them and they were very funny.

Bill: Did you have any idea that she would become as successful as she eventually became?

Jack: [laughs] No way! She was a very attractive girl back then. She and Harvey were very close. She never really mentions ever working with Harvey. I think she had a big input in Help! magazine.

Bill: Were you reluctant to draw horror comics for Creepy after your experiences at EC? Jack: Well, I was because when I look back, my artwork was bad on those horror books—and the writing! Of course, I didn’t write it. Every time I’d go in, I’d pick up a story and draw it. You don’t really realize the influence it had on kids. I just kind of shucked it. I don’t mind drawing [the six-foot] Frankenstein [poster], though—it’s kind of up my alley. I don’t go in for all the gore or the stuff that’s in Mad magazine right now. It just kind of turns me off. [laughs] I’ve always been kind of a prude—but not really.

Bill: Was any of your EC work shown during the Kefauver hearings on comics and juvenile delinquency?

Jack: That I don’t know. I just remember Bill Gaines having to go to Washington for the Kefauver thing. As I remember, Bill had a cold or a temperature and he couldn’t respond in his usual way—because he’s good at coming back and presenting his side of the case. I think the time I watched it it was kind of embarrassing.

Bill: What was your impression of Jim Warren?

Jack: I liked Jim. I didn’t really, really know him personally. The few times I met him, he seemed like a very nice fellow.

Bill: How did Jim Warren convince you to start working on Creepy?

Jack: Well, probably, I needed the money back then, I think! [laughs] I had left Mad and that was probably one of the reasons. You’ve got to pay grocery bills and pay rent or whatever.

Bill: There is a story going around that Jim Warren bribed you to work on his books by sending you a portable miniature Sony TV set. Is this true?

Jack: Oh, no. I don’t think so. If he thought that… I don’t know, but I don’t think so. I think he was a generous man that way. He was a good man.

Bill: Did you design the characters Cousin Eerie and Uncle Creepy?

Jack: I probably did a drawing that was used at the beginning of each story—kind of like Tales From the Crypt or The Crypt Keeper. I think they used it that way. All I did was have an assignment to come up with a character and I did it. Whatever they do with it—it’s theirs.

Bill: The Warren work you did was mostly covers and letter column mastheads. Why didn’t you do any stories?

Jack: I think I began to get into other things. The money in advertising was a lot better. Again it was horror stuff that I just didn’t want to do. I love to do sports and humor.

Bill: When did your career start to take off in advertising and illustration?

Jack: I think the RCA Records covers were sort of the beginning. Then the movie posters—It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, and The Russians are Coming, the Russians are Coming—and then into advertising. Back then they used a lot more cartoons. I’m 74 years old now and things have slowed down. I see a lot of computer work and I think the pendulum of commercial art and cartooning has swung a different way. It goes back to Ogden Nash and all of the old cartoonists. They worked a different way and then that changed—and along came Mad and I think that’s changing. A lot of the work I see out there looks kind of primitive to me. When I left Mad—those were lean times. It kind of took off and it all really seemed to be a blessing. I’ve enjoyed doing what I’m doing and having a rep to represent me and get me work that I otherwise couldn’t get.

Right: The legendary Six-foot Frankenstein poster art by Jack Davis as it appeared on the back cover to Famous Monsters #18, 1962. EC historian Roger Hill has a great story about finally tracking down the original art which we unfortunately couldn’t fit in this issue—but he tells us that the art is actually three-feet tall, yet as impressive as the printed piece! ©1962 Warren Publishing.

Above: Cover rough by Roy Krenkel for an unrealized cover. ©1999 Richard D. Garrison.

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Laser Telescope.

The new Hubble Space telescope is an even more remarkable instrument of magnification. Owing to advances and improvements in space-age optical technology it is capable of magnifying the stars and distant planets to 28 times the magnification of the Mt. Palomar telescope.

Now, if you could somehow put the Mt. Wilson telescope inside the Mt. Palomar telescope, and connect the both of them to the Hubble Space telescope and then look through it, you still wouldn’t be able to see my interest in anything Larry Ivie says.

CBA: Larry was a friend of Al Williamson, Archie Goodwin, and other contributors. He wrote a number of stories in the first issue of Creepy. It seems that Russ Jones may have been a front man for him, whether that was Larry’s intent or not. Though he was editor of the first two issues of Creepy, Russ has a reputation amongst some of the early Warren contributors as being someone they did not have much confidence in. I note that in a Monster World comics story, “The Mummy’s Hand,” Russ had a writing credit, and in subsequent reprintings, his name was eradicated. Did you wipe his name off?

What happened with Russ Jones?

Jim: Did I wipe his name off? Probably. Russ Jones did not fulfill the promise we all thought he had. When I saw he could not fulfill that promise, we said goodbye to each other. He was immediately replaced by Archie Goodwin.

CBA: That happened pretty quickly. Russ only lasted three issues as editor of Creepy.

Jim: It was known as the “Thursday Night Massacre.” A crisis suddenly occurred. It quickly became apparent to me that Russ Jones was not the man to edit Creepy. I took steps immediately to make sure that all the freelancers knew this. I called freelancers that Thursday night on the phone, four or five of them, talking a half hour or so with each. They had been under a set of impressions totally different from the truth. I had to quickly salvage that situation or I would have lost my artists—because they had known him for a long time and they didn’t know me, I figured they would be prone to side with him instead of me. It was a long night. The next morning I heard from all the artists. They sided with me. All of them.

CBA: You made another fateful decision that night: You hired Archie Goodwin as editor which immediately seemed to placate the artists.

Jim: I didn’t know that at the time. I didn’t hire him to placate the artists. I hired Archie for a totally different set of reasons. I hadn’t yet known about Archie’s remarkable reputation and the high regard our artists had for him. I knew they had worked with him, but I didn’t know how highly they thought of him.

CBA: When did you first get the idea to hire Archie as editor? He was initially a story editor, right?

Jim: Archie was a charter member of the original crew of contributors. Joe Orlando was the story editor on Creepy #1. I think Archie came on as story editor by #3. I don’t recall how I first encountered Archie but he was part of my Joe Orlando mix. When I met all these guys the first time, I was able to focus on one or two. Archie was one, and Joe was another. Everyone had an opinion on how and what Creepy should be. I listened to all of them, but those of Joe and Archie stood out. Joe because he said [gruffly], “Listen, here’s the way it’s gotta be!” (Joe looked and sounded like Telly Savalas—but with hair.)

And Archie, in his soft-spoken manner, said three or four sentences

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composed of pure wisdom. My antenna went up and I thought, “I’m going to listen more closely to these two guys.” Joe Orlando had been there with the original EC artists and he was a battle-scarred veteran, wise in the ways of the Comics Code and the Keafauver Committee that had destroyed EC. I wanted him as my consiglier.

Archie, on the other hand, I wanted as my Gary Cooper type; didn’t say much, but what he did say made sense—and, beneath Archie’s shyness, I detected strength. Joe Orlando would have been my first choice as editor of Creepy had he been available, because I knew Joe first, and he was a walking history book on EC—but I couldn’t afford to pay Joe what he needed to live, so he went over to work for Carmine Infantino at DC. (Years later I kidded Joe about this. I said, “Joe, the only reason you went to work for Carmine instead of me was because he’s Italian.” And Joe replied, “Wrong! The reason I went to Carmine was because I’m Italian!” We both had a good laugh.) As I said, Joe would have been the first editor of Creepy and not Archie Goodwin. This is not to say Joe wouldn’t have done a magnificent job, but it would have deprived me of a relationship with Archie. I’m glad that it happened the way it did because I enjoyed both of them and had the camaraderie and talents of both. I was very lucky.

And to Joe Orlando’s credit, even after Archie had taken over as editor, Joe would come over to the office and share his wisdom with Archie. There was no envy or jealousy with them; they were great friends. Maybe there was a little professional kidding around, but the magazine was the most important thing. They would argue over Creepy editorial decisions and I would try to calm them down, saying, “Fellas…” and they would say, “Butt out! What the hell does a publisher know?! Keep the hell out of this!” They’d kid me about it but that’s how they felt. That’s why I loved them: The quality of the magazine was everything. So, by default, I lost Joe to Carmine and I was blessed with Archie.

CBA: Do you recall the Creepy launch party at the Cattleman restaurant?

Jim: How could I forget it? It was a stag dinner I had for all the original Creepy artists. The wine flowed, the steaks sizzled, and I made a speech saying this was truly an historic moment in the world of comic art—because sitting around this table was the absolute cream-of-thecrop top artists in America, all of whom had gathered together to eat expensive food and listen to me tell them they were only going to be paid $35 a page.

CBA: [laughs] Archie wrote that the magazine came along at the perfect time because a lot of the artists did not have full-time gigs and were in transition. This was before Al Williamson got his own syndicated strip, for instance, and prior to Frazetta hitting it really big with the book covers. You snagged these guys at a perfect time.

Jim: Archie was right. Timing is everything, and luck was with us.

Had Al gotten the strip earlier or had Frank hit it big sooner, they would have never been available to do Creepy—but the gods were smiling, the timing was perfect and we were all coiled and ready to roll (but they weren’t smiling on us with Blazing Combat, so you can’t win them all).

CBA: You came right out of the gate with an extraordinary magazine.

What was the reaction at the time from readers—was it a sensation?

Jim: Yes. They told us, “We’ve been waiting for something like this all of our lives but we never thought it could be done!” I knew what the readers felt. They were seeing the best artists in the world. The readers were not only happy with the genre, they were happy with the writers and artists doing it. If I hadn’t chosen a book in the horror genre, I would have utilized this talented bunch with other subject matter. I had Spring 1999

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always liked Sherlock Holmes and tried to negotiate with the Conan Doyle Estate to do adaptations of the classic stories in a Sherlock Holmes comic magazine. I had Reed Crandall in mind for the lead artist. (Not all of the artists could have done it; you wouldn’t use Jack Davis on such a project, but there were certain artists whose styles were perfect: Frank Frazetta, Angelo Torres, and later Bernie Wrightson.) Unfortunately the people who administered the Conan Doyle Estate were not impressed by Warren Publishing’s comics. I sent them my magazines, Creepy and Eerie, and wrote that I worked with the finest comic book artists in America. They weren’t interested. I was a little hurt at the time, but got over it quickly.

CBA: It is legend that Jack Davis was embarrassed by his EC horror comics work. He was said to have been upset that some of his art was shown on national television at the congressional hearings as examples of the bad influence of comics on kids. Was he reluctant to return to the genre and do work for you?

Jim: I think he was. It was told to me that Jack would not work for Jim Warren—Creepy—because he was so humiliated by what went on. Jack was—and remains—a Southern gentleman, a fine man, and he was humiliated and embarrassed in his hometown by what was shown on TV. The Kefauver Hearings were seen by the whole world.

CBA: There’s a legendary Jim Warren story of you bribing Jack to do work for you—he received in the mail a small b-&-w TV and a request by you to do work. Is that true?

Jim: It was not bribery. It was a modest offering to a giant of a talent. The gift was one of the first portable Sony TV sets. It had an eight-inch screen with incredible clarity. I ordered five of them, not for myself, but for the five people I wanted for Warren Publishing. These five were my supreme objects of desire, and Jack Davis led the list. I said to myself, “If this doesn’t do it, nothing will.” It was in 1964. I convinced a Sony executive to sell me five of these TVs. (They were very expensive—about $400.) Because these were so innovative, it was like giving somebody a Rolls Royce—so it was a bit difficult to say “no” to the bearer of such a gift. The gift aside, I explained to Jack that we were not doing EC-type material and he agreed to do work for us. No gift in the world could make Jack Davis do anything he didn’t want to do.

CBA: He did the cover to Creepy #1, the six-foot Frankenstein poster, designed Uncle Creepy and Cousin Eerie, and some editorial illustrations.

Jim: Jack didn’t do all of that on the same day, but he was faster than Mario Andretti. I would say, “I need something for the top of the Famous Monsters letters column. The size is 6” x 4” with lots of loveable monsters. I’ll leave it to you.” Jack was visiting in the office at that time and I added, “In addition to your pay, I’ll buy you lunch.”

He said, “Do you have a piece of paper?” While I ordered lunch, Jack took out his pen and, right in front of me, he renders illustration! It was perfect! And in five minutes! Lunch hadn’t even arrived yet! [laughter] Then he said to me (and I’ll never forget it),

Below: Frightful Frank Frazetta’s gloriously toned letter column header art for Famous Monsters’ “Fang Mail” ©1965 Warren Publishing.

33

Above: Blazing Combat, the epitome of the Warren books. Inspired

by Harvey Kurtzman’s Two-Fisted Tales and Frontline Combat, Archie Goodwin helmed the finest b-&-w war comics magazine ever produced. Though lasting a mere four issues, it had a substantial impact on readers. Notably, each issue’s opening story was devoted to the then-growing Vietnam War, thereafter a subject pretty much ignored by mainstream comics.

Below: Detail of John Severin’s frontispiece for the first issue. ©1965 Warren Publishing.

34

“If this isn’t okay, I’ll do another one.”

That’s typical Jack Davis. What a man!

CBA: Jack also did the cover for lowdistributed Eerie #1.

Jim: That was really an inside cover for Creepy #2. He didn’t do that specifically for Eerie #1; we just picked it out from something he had done previously.

CBA: Wally Wood did a wonderful cover for another magazine of yours, Spacemen, and he also adapted “The Mummy” in Monster World #1.

How was Woody to work with? Did you two get along?

Jim: Yes. Woody was a sad guy. I looked at him and could see the melancholy in his eyes. I saw immense, incredible talent, but this talent would go largely unheralded during his life. Had he been born earlier—during the golden age of illustration—he would have occupied a different position in society; had he been born later things might also have been different. Instead he found himself in this terrible, in-between time when comics were in a state of flux. Woody’s talents could be found in Mad and at EC, and some of my magazines, but they deserved a wider public audience. I suspect Woody also had a built-in defeatism; he was not a happy person, and he drowned his sorrows in alcohol. He would sometimes call me at 4 A.M. to tell me about his unhappiness. I would listen to him despite the hour. Many times he would come to my apartment drunk, and would commiserate on how horrible life was, and how particularly unfair it was to artists. He would say, “I see people my age making a lot of money, and I don’t have rent to pay.”

He was bitter, sad, angry, and a brilliant artist and writer.

We had a fairly good relationship. He hated the fact that publishers had taken advantage of him.

He said, “The bastards are taking my life’s work and paying me such meager amounts, and they’re getting rich on it.”

Woody shared a bad experience with Harvey Kurtzman after doing Trump and Humbug. He thought they would be successful and they weren’t. He was trying to get freelance work wher-

ever he could. I told him, “Woody, anything you want to do for the magazines, I’ll take. You can write your own strip, I don’t care what the subject matter is—as long as it fits the book.” Woody would call and say, “Jim, I’m in town and I have something for you.” And I’d say, “Come on over right away.” He’d walk in, cigarette hanging from his lip (it was always there), and would put a package on my desk, open it up, and I would see before me the most magnificent artwork!

You never saw his torment in his work. Poor Woody.

CBA: Harvey Kurtzman said that it took innovative, special people to back special things. He said [in Rogue magazine, Dec. 1965], “Every one of the publishers I’ve worked with—starting with Mad— had to be willing to go out on a limb. They’re all unusual in that respect. They’re not run-of-the-mill, and they were fairly adventurous. Bill Gaines at Mad, Jim Warren of Help!, Hefner… they’re all unusual guys.” You guys took risks and did magazines that were recognized by artists and creative people as very special. You came out with a magazine that took a big risk called Blazing Combat, a comic that was very ahead of its time. Though it hearkens back to the best of Harvey Kurtzman’s war comics, it had a flavor of its own because it dealt sometimes with a contemporary conflict, the Vietnam War. What was your thinking behind Blazing Combat?

Jim: I knew this magazine was going to be risky. During those days I was not a total liberal; I had a militant right-wing approach to many problems, but at the same time I was not a macho, gung-ho war fanatic. Harvey and I disagreed constantly—but I listened to him and he listened to me. I said, “One of the things I love, Harvey, was your war comics with Bill Gaines.” The emphasis in Blazing Combat was not blood and gore, if you recall. The stories had a humane approach.

I was against the war in Vietnam because I’ve never believed in limited war. Either you go to war to win—and win quickly and decisively— or you stay out.

I thought what Harvey had done for Bill Gaines should have separated in some way from the EC horror comics. Harvey’s early work was the inspiration for Blazing Combat. I told Harvey Blazing Combat editorial was not going to be pro-war or blood and guts. It was going to be anti-war, and that I had the perfect writer and editor for this title named Archie Goodwin, because Archie and I think exactly like Harvey does about war. So between Harvey’s catalyst, Archie’s ability, and my own personal philosophy, we had a great stroke of luck. If Archie had not had Harvey’s mindset, Blazing Combat wouldn’t have been the critical success it was. I had these great artists, I had Archie, and I had the drive to produce the book, knowing full well that we were going up against strong resistance. The pro-Vietnam mentality at the time was immense—you can’t believe how strong it was— because America had been consistently lied to. Washington and the Pentagon were not telling us the truth. Had they been honest, we wouldn’t have had this gung-ho spirit and the war might not have been escalated. We know now, but we found out too late.

So here’s Harvey, who is the guiding spirit, and here’s Archie, who is the perfect editor to do it—and here is my distributor, saying, “Uh oh! Wait until our wholesalers—many of them belonging to the American Legion—see this!” They found out very fast that it was anti-war. The magazine had magnificent, poignant stories, and I was proud of it! It said things that had to be said. I was more proud of Blazing Combat than anything I had published; I loved FM, Creepy and Eerie—they were all my children—but the pride I have in those four issues of Blazing Combat is unsurpassed. Frank Frazetta’s covers were incredible. They belong in the National Gallery.

CBA: You had a story written by Archie and drawn by Joe Orlando, “Landscape,” that involved the Vietnam War from a peasant’s point of view. Is it true that the U.S. Army PXs refused to carry Blazing Combat because of that story, signaling the death knell of that magazine’s short run?

Jim: It showed me the handwriting on the wall—but the Army PXs’ refusal to carry Blazing Combat didn’t kill it. That wasn’t the death knell, but it told me the magazine would never make it on the newsstands. I was prepared to carry Blazing Combat and lose $2000 an issue on it. This was my contribution for a cause I felt was right (even though my bookkeeper and accountant were not thrilled about it). I said, “If we have to carry this book for five years, we’ll do it—as long as it doesn’t lose more than $2500 an issue.” When you’re a growing company, that’s a lot of money. My business managers thought I was crazy, but I said, “I feel this way. We could be doing a lot of good out COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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there that we may never know about—but we have to do it.” I understood their position. They saw their Christmas bonuses and profit sharing disappear—they knew this was coming right out of their pockets, reducing the company’s profit substantially. Then the loss hit $4000 for one issue. One of the reasons it dipped so low was because the PXs wouldn’t take #4, (Army PXs were a big chunk of our business) and wholesalers were returning bundles unopened, along with nasty letters to me. This was beginning to reflect on the other books.

In effect, they said, “If Warren Publishing is turning out this unpatriotic crap, we don’t want any of their other books!” My distributor was unhappy and said to me, “You think you’re being courageous, a hotshot sticking up for your rights, but if you keep it up, you’re putting yourself out of business. They’re going to take it out on Creepy, Eerie, and Famous Monsters or anything else Warren Publishing produces.”

And of course they were right. Was I going to sacrifice FM, Creepy, Eerie, Forrey Ackerman, Archie Goodwin, anyone who worked for us, and my own career for this stand? It broke Archie’s heart but not because we published a magazine that didn’t make it (that happens every day) but because of the reason it didn’t make it. They didn’t like the message, so they killed the messenger. It was censorship of the worst kind. I hated it, but I had to swallow it. In Blazing Combat, I believe Archie did his finest work—everyone did.

CBA: Did you receive any official documentation saying that the PXs weren’t going to carry it any more?

Jim: Sure. The official documentation was their monthly Order Form from them which listed “Zero Copies Ordered” for next month’s Blazing Combat.

CBA: Archie says in his article, “The Warren Empire,” that a rival publisher was planning to use the name “Eerie,” and you, Archie, and Gaspar Saladino had to put together an ashcan edition, Eerie #1, in 24 hours. Is that true?

Jim: We had even less time than that. I called Archie and Gaspar in and said, “Guys, the doors are being locked and no one is leaving.

We are closeting ourselves for as long as it takes, but we have to produce an issue in 20 hours.” We had a courier standing by to take it to Washington, D.C., to have it copyrighted, and there were two other couriers who had the job of delivering copies to four different states so that Eerie #1 could be quickly sold, thus establishing our right to the name. Our real issue #1 was still in production.

CBA: You only printed up a couple hundred copies of Eerie #1, so it was highly collectible, and about ten years later it was discovered that someone was counterfeiting copies and selling them for astronomical prices. How did you find out about the counterfeiting?

Jim: This is the kind of story that put excitement into my otherwise dull life as a comic book publisher. One day my secretary, Liz, walks into my office and says, “There are two gentleman from the FBI here to see you.” I knew from the tone in her voice this was no joke.

(Actually I thought she said, “They are here to arrest you.”) I said, “Before you send them in, offer them coffee and give them whatever they want but get on the phone and call my attorney.” The two field agents came into my office. They were very cordial—not friendly but polite. We shook hands and I asked for their identification, which appeared to be okay. I asked, “Are you here because I took a towel out of that hotel room last week?” And one of them said, “Mr. Warren, do you recognize this?” and he whips out the ashcan edition of Eerie #1. I said, “Of course I do.” They said, “Would you tell us the history behind this?” So I did, and they said, “Now we’ll tell you why we’re here: These are being counterfeited and sold across state lines. Because you copyrighted it in Washington, it becomes a federal matter under our jurisdiction.” I sighed and laughed, saying, “I thought you were going to take me downtown!” However, it was a serious matter because the counterfeit copies were being sold for some outlandish figure. They asked if I had any indication who might be doing this. I told them I had a hunch, because it seemed to be someone close to the company. They had nothing else to go on and I said, “This is just a hunch, so I need your assurance that you’re not going to accuse him without any real proof; but if you can prove it, will you tell me?” They gave me their assurance and said they would let me know if the counterfeiter was caught. At this point, I had to resist a wild thought that had just come into my head: I was going to give them the name of “Stan Lee.” However, sanity returned to me and I told them the legitimate name of the person I suspected. I never heard from them again. If someone were apprehended and brought Spring 1999

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to trial I would have probably been called to testify so I assume they never found the perpetrator.

CBA: You put a full-page “Wanted” poster in your magazines with a $500 reward for information leading to the conviction of the counterfeiter.

Jim: Yes, it ran for a while in our magazines. I first showed it to the FBI for approval, and at that time I told them I thought the government should pay for my running those ads, and that I would be happy to give them a special “FBI rate.” I left the office quickly when I saw the agent going for his gun.

CBA: The “Wanted” ad put the kibosh on the counterfeiters from selling any more, right?

Jim: I guess so—but no one came forward to claim the $500 reward; but if you were an innocent kid at a dealers show and someone says, “I have issue #1 of Eerie for $250,” the money could change hands before the kid finds out; but by then, it’s too late. The untrained eye couldn’t tell. Only when it hit the Overstreet Price Guide, years later, did collectors find out about the blue staples and printing differences. It became a cause célèbre with the result that many fans and collectors were saved from the counterfeited copies.

Still, I think J. Edgar Hoover should have worked harder on this.

CBA: For about 17 issues of Creepy and 11 issues of Eerie, your books featured some of the best art to appear during the ’60s. You printed Neal Adams’ first mature comics work, arguably the best work of Steve Ditko’s career, extraordinary material from Alex Toth, some Gil Kane here, Dan Adkins there—never mind the great stuff from the original crew—and Archie as a writer and an editor had found his calling as one of comicdom’s greats; but suddenly the quality dropped drastically when Archie resigned as editor and virtually his entire stable of artists vanished. By 1968, you were reprinting those early issues piecemeal and with great frequency, combined with sometimes dreadful work. What happened?

Jim: What happened is what happens with most companies, even governments: We hit a bad period. We ran into tough times. I had moved all the operations from Philadelphia to New York. The editorial and distribution offices had been in New York since 1960, but Captain Company was in Philadelphia, as was our large shipping facility. We went through a period of transition wherein we closed a warehouse operation where the company was paying $400 a month rent, and moved to New York where the same comparable spaces cost us $4000 a month. Plus I had to hire a New York workforce. Doing business in New York is a costly proposition, but I wanted everything in New York—it was the price we had to pay to grow. That move took a big chunk out of our resources.

Above: And, as luck would have it, at the Russ Heath same time we had this additional modeling for overhead take a chunk of our cashhis story “Give flow, we suffered a downturn in and Take,” possibly the magazine marketplace. This the best Blazing Combat happens in our business, and you tale. From issue #4. See just wait until they go up again; Russ’ interview this issue. but both events happening at ©1999 Russ Heath.

Above: The Wanted poster which appeared in Warren’s 1976 books seeking information leading to the conviction of the notorious Eerie #1 counterfeiters. Nothing ever came of the effort, Jim tells us. ©1976 Warren Publications.

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Above: Unpublished pencil piece featuring the entire cast of the Vampirella series by the great José Gonzales. ©1974 Warren Publishing.

Above: Cover to the extraordinary book, Icon, which features many Frazetta/Warren anecdotes, and it comes highly recommended by CBA. The publisher, Underwood Books, will be releasing a second Frazetta tome in the near future.

Inquire at Underwood Books, P.O. Box 1609, Grass Valley, CA 95945.

Cover art ©1999 Frank Frazetta.

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the same time hurt us badly. These pressures were enormous.

Nowadays they call it “downsizing,” but we called it by its real name: Cutting staff for survival. We couldn’t afford to pay the artists $35 a page. On top of all this, we changed distributors which meant additional cashflow problems. So I edited Creepy and Eerie for a period until I found someone who could take over. Staff was cut to the bone.

I took over as editor of all the magazines, picking the scripts, assigning the art, and doing all production. I didn’t have a production man or an editorial staff. I was working 20 hours a day, seven days a week.

Eventually I found Bill Parente and John Cochran, who each came in and did their stint as editor of Creepy, Eerie and Vampirella for a few years. Had I not found those two great guys, I would have collapsed.

Both of these men deserve credit for helping to save the company. It was a nightmare that lasted from 1968 to ’70. I never worked harder in my life.

During that period we had to rely on reprints for covers and the insides, the magazines went to 48 pages, and I was ashamed of the product. It was awful. There were misspellings, we didn’t credit the right people for stories, and sometimes there were no credit lines at all. It was hell—for both myself and our readers.

On top of it, I was getting offers from other companies to come and work for them for $50,000 a year.

CBA: But you kept at it. You went through a severe down period of quality, even page count, but in the middle of this slump, you came out with the most recognizable character you’ll probably ever be known for.

Jim: Vampirella. I learned that one from my father: He said, “When you’re down and out, and really at your lowest, that’s the time to go for the moon. Go for the home run, not a single.” Which is what the company did. It was the worst time to do it. We had no money, no credit line, nothing, no anything… except an idea for a woman char-

acter in my head, sketches in my notebook, Frank Frazetta, Forrey Ackerman, and Trina Robbins (who was in my office at the right time [see sidebar])—and enough energy left for a game-winning home-run.

Of all the writers to pick from to do “Vampirella,” I chose Forrey.

Forrey didn’t particularly care for comics—science-fiction is his first love. He had never done anything for comics and doesn’t even read them. (The only strips I think he ever read were Flash Gordon and Buck Rogers because they were S-F.) I said, “Forrey, I know you can do this.” We both had seen the movie Barbarella together and had loved it. I carefully outlined exactly what I wanted: A modern day setting but something with a mystique of vampires, Transylvania; something legendary—and Vampirella was born. I said, “Forrey, I know exactly how she’ll look; don’t worry about that. Her colors will be bright red for excitement and pitch black for mystery. Just give me something I can build on.” And he did—but it wasn’t what I wanted; it was too frothy, too light, too satirical—and the only artist I could get at the time was Tom Sutton. In retrospect, Tom’s drawing style was not right for Vampi, just as Forrey’s writing style was not hitting the mark I wanted. The first issue was awful—and the second issue was just as bad; it just wasn’t what I wanted. I struggled with various writers and artists for many issues. Suddenly she came alive in the 12th issue with Archie writing an entirely new origin. The minute I took one look at Pepe Gonzales’ artwork, I knew we had it! We survived 12 issues but there it was. This is what I wanted for the first issue but couldn’t put it together. Now if only there was a way I could wipe out the first 11 issues and erase it from memory. At any rate, by that time, we were back on our feet financially and on solid ground again, ready to go forward.

CBA: You combined horror with sex. Was that the formula?

Jim: Think about Bram Stoker and what he did with Dracula: Horror and sex.

CBA: It was SEX! Good American sex! There was this sexy babe on the cover, standing there…!

Jim: I didn’t want Wonder Woman. I didn’t want a super-hero type.

I wanted a modern setting. Sexy, but not naked or bare-breasted.

CBA: You originally intended to use another painting for the cover of the first Vampirella that was not by Frazetta.

Jim: It was by an incredible French artist named Aslan. I was set to use that painting for the first cover but then it occurred to me that we’d be better off using the gift God gave Frank. When Frank portrays a woman he injects a certain mystique into his rendering. I wanted my Vampirella to have that same mystique. Harvey Kurtzman said it before me: “How can anyone do something like this?” (Frank worked on “Little Annie Fanny,” and Harvey was amazed with what Frank could do with a brush… and Harvey was exposed to every great talent in the world!) I knew that in addition to being a great technician, Frank could also put something into a character that would give it a certain added dimension; a strangeness, a mystery. You’ve seen Frank’s women. Every one has a story behind her, a history, an H. Rider Haggard kind of mystery that you’re dying to know about!

CBA: In 1970, Marvel Comics came out with the first issue of Savage Tales, a b-&-w comic magazine. Within a few years Marvel b-&-w's flooded the market. Previously, did you ever have an agreement with Martin Goodman, Marvel’s publisher, for you both not to encroach on each other’s market niches?

Jim: I never met or spoke to Martin Goodman in my life.

CBA: DC made a lackluster attempt in those days into the same field with Jack Kirby’s Spirit World and In the Days of the Mob, which only lasted one issue each.

Jim: The story I heard was that National [DC] and Marvel saw we were making inroads into their market. They were Ford and General Motors, and here was this little Volkswagen guy, Warren, and he was capturing some of their market and creating some excitement. They had always said, “Forget about it! It’s nothing; he’ll never sell more than a limited number of copies. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Suddenly they took another look and said, “Hey, this guy is doing pretty good. Maybe we ought to get into this business. We have the newsstand clout, the power, and the reputation, and if Warren can do this at his level, imagine what we can do.” Had I been National or Marvel, I might have thought the same way—but they didn’t understand what was involved. They weren’t set up at the time like we were; they didn’t look at their artists and writers like we did—they were production houses with deadlines to meet. My approach was, COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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“What’s more important? Making a deadline to meet a printing and distribution date, or giving the artist another day or two so that he produces something that you publish and will be remembered by people 40 years from now? I think the mindset at National and Marvel sometimes regarded scheduling and deadlines as being more important than the product.

So when they came out with their b-&-w books, I thought it was a half-hearted attempt to float something to see if it’ll sink. It was no way to launch a new line. I would never do that! They flooded the market just to see what would float. You saw the content; it was mediocre. I talked to Stan years later and said, “You have ‘Stan Lee Presents’ on these books! How can you have your name on stuff like this?” I now realize I was saying the wrong thing because he was part of a huge company that operated on a different mindset. (Stan offered to buy Warren Publishing a few years later. I’ll tell you that story someday.)

CBA: In that Rolling Stone [April 25, 1974] article, “Citizen Pain” [laughter], there was a profile of you and you vehemently came out against the Man, saying, “I hate Marvel—but they didn’t bother to check out where I was born.” And Stan was also quoted as saying, “[Warren] despises me. If I had any sense I’d hire a bodyguard.” Was it the invasion of Marvel’s b-&-w books that pissed you off?

Jim: We were competitors. We were in the magazine business. Do you know what the competitive publishing business is? It’s war without death. I discovered some of my office people were fraternizing with people from Marvel. I told them, “Don’t be friendly with them!

These people are taking bread out of your mouth! How can you be friendly with people at Marvel who were competing with us. Look at our newsstand sales: We were selling this amount before Stan came into the field, and now he’s flooded the market. Our sales are down because he’s cutting in on us. It’s not enough to put us out of business, but it’s enough to reduce your profit-sharing bonus at the end of the year. If you expect your profit, how can you just lackadaisically accept this? You have to learn to hate the people who are taking the bread out of your mouth!” Of course, I was speaking for myself and not for the staff. I said, “I can’t command you not to talk to them or to dislike them, but I hate them! I hate anyone who is taking our concepts, our ideas, and because they have the big machinery of a big company like Marvel flooding the market. They get the newsstand space. I hate them! I broke my neck to get that space! Do you know what I had to go through to get Creepy #1 accepted by the distributors? I invented a field, and now Stan Lee is just flooding that field with his stuff.” I realize this is the nature of American business: The big eat the small—but I’m not going to like him!

Now, in reality Stan is the most likeable guy in the world and I like and admire him on a personal level. Do I really hate Stan Lee? Who can hate him? Stan is one of the most loveable guys in comics—but if Stan Lee is going to go head-to-head with me in the world of commerce, I’m going to get a glass-bottom car so I can look over his face when I run over him. What I said in that article, I said to set an example for my people.

CBA: In late 1969, you got competition from the publisher of Cracked magazine, with the debut of Web of Horror. What was your reaction to that publication?

Jim: Same thing. I wanted to kill. They came out with a copy-cat imitation and rode in our monster thing. It was printed in Canada, distributed cheaply, and they flooded the newsstands. They didn’t have to blaze a trail. They just rode in on our coattails, and I hated that—but there was nothing I could do about it. At one point you say, ‘I have to take this passion involved in the hatred and channel it toward creating new things’—because if you let that hatred consume you, you’re going to end up wasting your energy on your competitor, instead of using it to create new things for him to steal.

CBA: At Web of Horror, a number of important creators were cutting their eye-teeth, before they moved on to you. At that same time, your page rates were low and you brought in some new talent, including Billy Graham…

Jim: Good old Billy!

CBA: Billy very quickly ascended to being art director.

Jim: Not very quickly. It took over two weeks! I sensed Billy had the ability to handle it; certain artists and writers are great but they can’t shift out of their specialty and do something else. Billy could. So I said, “Billy, you are now art director! Whether you like it or not.”

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Michael T. Gilbert: Pay The Dollar!

In 1973, I was a college senior who secretly yearned to be the next Frank Frazetta or Bernie Krigstein.

A year earlier I’d met Larry, another aspiring cartoon-genius, and we soon became friendly campus rivals. Between art classes, we drew comics—each trying to top one another!

Eventually, we both decided to journey to the big city and try to sell our work. We knew our best chance of breaking in was with a small, quirky publisher—and they didn’t come smaller or quirkier than Warren Publishing!

As a teenager, I devoured each issue of Warren’s main horror magazines, Creepy and Eerie. In their prime, they boasted clever stories by Archie Goodwin—illustrated by such cartoon giants as Alex Toth, Gray Morrow, Tom Sutton, Steve Ditko and many of the legendary EC cartoonists. The quality of the books varied, depending on Warren’s financial situation at any given time—but when they were good, the Warren books were unbeatable! For years, I’d dreamed about someday seeing my work side-by-side with my favorite cartoonists.

I finally took a shot at it in 1971. At my friend Harvey Sobel’s suggestion, we made the trip to the city to meet James Warren, and show him some of our work. The experience was both exhilarating and intimidating. While offering encouragement, Warren ultimately rejected my submission. He felt my work had promise, but “didn’t make the mark, professionally.” He encouraged me to try again. I was disappointed, but hopeful.

Now I was ready for another try. I called for an appointment, and Larry and I arranged to get together during school break. Weeks later, the two budding cartoon geniuses met at Grand Central Station, where we caught a subway to the offices of Warren Publishing. Minutes later, we were ushered into James Warren’s office. We were slightly terrified, as Warren had a well-deserved reputation as a rough, abrasive personality. He certainly didn’t disappoint!

James Warren appeared to be in his late 30s, looking every inch the hard-driving businessman he was. He growled at us to sit down—then immediately went on the offensive! While Larry and I nervously squirmed in our chairs, he demanded to know why we had the nerve to think we were good enough to draw for Warren Publishing! I had the impression that he thoroughly enjoyed playing cat and mouse with green college kids like us. I decided not to give him the obvious answer (“because it’s easier than breaking into Marvel!”). Instead, we stammered some lame response.

Finally, after a little more small-talk, Warren got to the point. We wanted him to look at our art and critique it? Fine—but there was one catch: We’d have to pay him. One dollar—cash!

Larry was aghast! A typical college student, he fancied himself quite the “artiste.” He told Warren in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t about to pay an editor to look at his work. My ego was pretty healthy too, but I wasn’t about to leave without finding out if a real publisher liked my work. Not after traveling all the way from Long Island by train. Not for a lousy dollar!

I took a bill out of my pocket, and Warren told me to sign it. Larry tossed me a scornful look as I scribbled my name. That look quickly faded as Warren reached into his large desk and pulled out a thick wad of dollar bills—each signed by some of the best young cartoonists in the business! As Larry watched, wide-eyed, he added mine to the stack.

Apparently, Warren had been pulling this trick for years with artists who’d come looking for a work. I seem to recall Berni Wrightson, Frank Brunner and Richard Corben among the list of superstar talent.

Larry’s mouth dropped as he read name after name. Then Warren moved in for the kill!

Glaring at Larry, Warren pointed out that as the head of a huge publishing company, Warren’s time was worth about $200 an hour. He added that he’d spent an hour of his very valuable time with us.

How unfortunate that Larry didn’t feel Warren’s time was worth so much as a single dollar! Larry flushed. Warren then mentioned invaluable editorial experience he’d acquired through decades of hard work. Warren gave another withering glare. How sad that Larry felt all that knowledge wasn’t even worth a single dollar! By this time Larry was sweating profusely, and wishing he was anywhere else!

Warren, of course, was playing for effect—and no doubt having a grand old time. Watching Larry wilt, I couldn’t help thinking I’d never spent a dollar more wisely—but for the grace of George Washington, that could easily be me slowly melting on the hot-seat!

Eventually the tirade stopped. Completely ignoring Larry, Warren asked to see my work. I nervously pulled out some pages, and he stared at them, silently. When he finally spoke, it was a very different James Warren than Larry had experienced!

Jim gave my pages a long, thoughtful critique, taking time to carefully point out what worked and what could be improved. I didn’t make any sales that day, but I was happy that he’d taken my work seriously. At least now I felt there was a chance I could someday “...make the mark, professionally.”

Finally, our meeting ended. Jim shook our hands, and thanked us for coming. Larry didn’t say a word.

After the interview, the two of us walked back to the train station, both slightly shell-shocked. Larry never did find out what Warren thought about his art. At this point, the poor guy was probably grateful! Larry and I lost touch after graduation, and I haven’t heard from him in decades. For better or worse, I eventually became the comics professional I dreamed I’d be—perhaps in part because of James Warren. And Larry? Well...beats me! But I do know he’s not making a living drawing comics—and maybe James Warren had a small part in that, also.

If there’s a lesson in this story, it’s this: Don’t ask James Warren for advice unless you can take it— and if you do ask, for God’s sake... pay the dollar!!!

—Michael T. Gilbert February 1999 37

Trina Robbins: Vampirella’s Designer It was in 1968 or ‘69 (jeez, I forget!) and Jim Warren was already publishing Creepy and Eerie, and I met him (I think at a convention?—Ah, the memory goes!) and showed him my pitiful stone age underground comics and he said he might have work for me—he was about to publish a comic magazine with a female theme, top secret, which of course turned out to be Vampirella.

So I went to his office and even tried to do a comic for him, but let’s face it, I wasn’t good enough. However, at one point, I was sitting in his office when a call came in from Frank Frazetta, who was doing the cover of the first issue. Judging from what I was hearing from Jim on my end, Frank wasn’t getting the costume right. Jim was saying stuff like, “No, cut the legs higher,” and ”the collar should stand up.” So as I listened to this, I sketched out the costume on a sheet of paper and passed it to Jim, who then said, “Just a minute, there’s a young lady here who knows what I want. Talk to her.” And he gave me the phone and I described in minute detail to Frank exactly what I had drawn (never did meet him in person!). My payment was a lifetime subscription to Vampirella, which actually ended in 1973 or thereabouts.

Nowadays, when some people hear I designed Vampi’s costume, knowing what a feminist I am and how much I hate “bad girl” comics, they’re confused, until I point out how much more she wore in those days, and how today’s Vampi is nothing like the original one.

I recently had coffee with a woman who’s teaching a class on super-heroines at UC Berkeley, and she told me how she grew up reading the original Vampi and how much she loved it because it was the only comic with a strong female lead, but that recently she picked up today’s Vampirella and was horrified and repulsed by what she saw.

—Trina Robbins January 1999 [Editor’s note: Look for Trina to be guest-editor of our upcoming special “Women & the Comics” issue due in early 2000!]

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Now you have to understand that all Billy wanted to do his whole life was just be Jack Kirby. I said, “You’ll be the Black Jack Kirby, but not today! Today you are art director of Warren Publishing.” But he said, “I can’t art direct!” And I said, “I’ll show you how. There’s your office; you now have a full-time job. A paycheck every Friday. Do you accept?” And he said, “Yer goddamn right!” And I taught him how to art direct during our slow period, and it only took a couple of issues—and he did pretty well (though I gave him a nervous breakdown).

CBA: Billy went on to work for the competition (in his case, Marvel), along with a number of creators who worked for you. Did that annoy you?

Jim: You bet it did—but I didn’t let them know it. However they eventually caught on by my looks, by my manner, and the snide, underhanded, subtle insults that I threw their way. When someone would announce such-and-such is here, I would say in a loud voice, “Oh, that rotten bastard son-of-a-bitch traitor who sleeps with the enemy? Send him in! [laughter] Don’t let him drink our coffee; let him get coffee from Skywald or Marvel!” Now I realized these men had to earn a living and I couldn’t curtail their departures. I only wish I could’ve given them enough to keep them with us.

CBA: You also published the first mainstream comic book work of Mike Ploog. What was he like?

Jim: Far out and beautiful. He has a style that’s unique. Mike as a person is just like his work on paper— fun. You can imagine Mike Ploog right in one of his strips. He’s a free spirit with a first-rate creative mind.

CBA: Do you remember Will Eisner’s comments to you when Mike started working for you?

Jim: Here is Will Eisner—my idol—a man who I revere like God, telling me I’m a son-of-a-bitch for stealing Mike Ploog from him. I think I mumbled something, “Well, if I’m going to steal, Mr. Eisner, sir, than I’m going to steal from the best.” Will is the kind of a guy who can call me a son-of-a-bitch and make me love it. You can’t take umbrage.

CBA: Will told me he got an offer from Stan Lee for Marvel to license The Spirit, but he went not with the big guy, but with Warren, the little guy.

Jim: ”Little guy”? Hell, I’m not as tall as Stan but I have more hair! I never told Will this (and I don’t think I ever told anybody) but I would have mortgaged everything I owned to publish Will Eisner—to be involved in anything Will Eisner was doing. I called Will and said, “Mr. Eisner, I’d like to take you to lunch.”

(I had to call him “Mr. Eisner” because I was only 10 years old when I first discovered The Spirit.) I knew Will was talking to Stan Lee about The Spirit and that DC was interested in his company, American Visuals.

I also knew that Harvey Comics had done a couple of Spirit reprints and that they might be interested again. I had to move fast. So I took him to lunch, sat him down, and said, “There’s no possible way that I’m going to let the great Will Eisner escape. You are someone I have revered since 1940, when I saw the very first Spirit section in the Philadelphia Record with that splash page that changed my life. Do you think I’m going to let you go to Stan Lee, whom I ‘hate’ and ‘despise’ as a competitor? Do you think I’m going to lose you to that unrepentant sociopath? You’re just going to be a computer number to Marvel; they have a factory, where they cookie-cut comics, turning out 400 titles a month! But if you let me publish you, I’ll treat every issue of The Spirit with such tender loving care that it’ll knock you out! It will be in b-&-w, not in color.” And I saw the expression in Will’s face—he had his pipe in his mouth at the time, just like Commissioner Dolan—and I could see that I had him. (Will, at the time, was the spitting image of Lee J. Cobb. At that stage of his life, Will was a few years shy of 60, and he was the handsomest guy you ever saw, with no right to be that handsome! The guy who created The Spirit should look like Robert Crumb!)

This man, who was not only the greatest creator in comics, was also tough, tender, and streetwise— sometimes all three on the same day. We negotiated a deal right then and there, on the tablecloth, and Will is one tough negotiator. He could sit down with Donald Trump and come out ahead. He’s that good.

People think that he can just write and draw The Spirit. Like hell. He was the sharpest knife in the drawer, and he still is… the older he gets, the sharper he gets!

Here I am, negotiating with the toughest guy in the world, knowing that anything he asked for, I would have said yes to. He named a figure that was much more than I wanted to pay but I said yes right away.

What Will didn’t know, is that if he had asked for three times that amount, I would have said yes. Hell, I was ready to give up eating three meals a day to publish The Spirit and keep him away from Stan.

Will said, “I’ll think about it.” I looked at my watch and said, “I have all afternoon. You can think all you want—but we’re not going to get up from this table without saying yes.” Of course, all I needed was a handshake from Will Eisner; contracts can come three weeks later. So he looked at me and he saw the passion he probably wouldn’t get from Stan. The advantage I had was that Stan probably had eight million things going on, and The Spirit would just be one of them.

I knew what Bill DuBay could do with The Spirit. I would say to Bill, “Let’s do a Spirit cover that’s never been done before. Let’s capture the authentic old Spirit but with modern techniques. We’ll do color that’s three-dimensional and yet we’ll still keep the old flavor. It’s the biggest challenge in the world.” So we got Rich Corben to do the cover colors, but it was Bill DuBay who initially figured out how to do it, with layers of transparencies. It was great stuff.

CBA: Help! #13 reprinted a Spirit section way back in 1962. Whose idea was that?

Jim: Did you think it was Gloria Steinem’s idea? [laughter] Harvey and I both idolized Will. It was like discovering you both like the same movie star. As soon as we realized we had this mutual love, we both agreed we had to have Will in the magazine. Harvey knew Will, so it was relatively easy for us to arrange.

CBA: Do you recall dealing with Denis Kitchen about The Spirit?

Jim: Will had given his word—and his word is his bond—for Denis to reprint The Spirit (this was before Will and I negotiated a deal). Denis had spent money on preparing the reprints. Will said to me, “It would be a nice gesture if you would reimburse Denis, who is a good guy, for the material he’s already prepared.”

I think Will looked on me kindly when I said, “Absolutely.” (What Will doesn’t know is that if he had asked for me to give Denis a Rolls-Royce, I would have driven it to Wisconsin myself!)

CBA: In a tribute to Phil Seuling, Denis and Will both wrote about how their lives changed by attending their first comics convention, the 1973 Seuling July 4th Convention in New York City, the show where both you and Denis first met Will. Yet you were involved in conventions as early as 1965.

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Jim: Try 1962. I have a picture of me and Forrey Ackerman at our first Famous Monsters convention.

CBA: Here are the program books for some of Seuling’s Comic Art Conventions. There are pages of Warren advertising and you bought the back covers and seemed to be involved in production. When I went to the cons as a kid, the Warren presence was everywhere. You even had buttons made up. You advertised the cons in your magazines which introduced many fans to the convention experience. You obviously helped subsidize fandom in the ’60s and ’70s, way beyond the support of the Big Two. Jim: I believed in the conventions and young fandom because it was something I didn’t have as a kid. If I wanted to talk comics with somebody, I had to find them. They didn’t flock so you had to find them individually—and cons were the place where people didn’t look down their noses at comics—and the artist was recognized as contributing to (and I hate this expression) an art form. In the early days, cons were the only place to expound on comics as art, walk around with your head up, and have fun. You could also find dealers with the things you had been searching for for 10 years. Where else were you going to find people who shared this love? Where else are you going to see a Will Eisner, and writers and artists you would never normally see in your life? Where you could actually talk to them, get their autographs and buy their work! There was nothing like it anywhere for comics fans.

And it was Phil Seuling who was able to put it all together and package it. Phil was a school teacher with a full-time job, and Sal Quartuccio was Phil’s schoolboy assistant. You know how Phil staffed his conventions? He used his students! So I went to Phil and said privately, “I like what you’re doing and I believe in it—but what you should have is not a mimeographed program, but something better. I know you don’t have any money so I’ll tell you what: Warren Publishing will subsidize the program book, produce it and make it something you can be proud of. I’ll take an ad on the inside covers, back page and supply the cover art, which will be in color. We’ll pay for all of it a year in advance, to be used for next year’s July 4th convention.” And I gave him a check for a couple of thousand dollars, enough to print the program book. “It’s not a gift; we’re just paying in advance.” In time, Phil was able to do this on his own. By then, he’d say, “Jim, an ad page is now $650.” And I’d say, “Are you crazy? I was with you in the beginning! I won’t pay that much!” He said, “That’s okay. I’ll sell it to Marvel.” And I would say, “I’ll take it, you shameless bastard!” [laughter] CBA: You obviously took time out from your Summer vacation and became a presence at the cons.

Jim: I did it because I loved it. I had more fun at those early cons than I did on any vacation.

CBA: When did Bill DuBay come on board?

Jim: I remember the first time I saw him. I said, “You are too young to work for this company, too young to work for anybody. You are a callow youth. You don’t even shave yet. Let me see your work.” I took one look and said, “You’re hired.” [laughter] Bill had a habit of never doing the job I gave him. He would do the job plus 25% more.

CBA: He brought in a very strong design element into those books.

Jim: We agonized over the graphics. We needed to give the books a total Warren look, something different and instantly recognizable— and that design was classic. He was able to take my sketches, ideas and concepts and translate them into reality—and if you think that’s easy, it isn’t. You can say the same thing to three other art directors and they won’t get it—they’ll do their version and ignore the concept you’re trying to establish.

CBA: On and off, he spent 13 years with you.

Jim: He didn’t spend 13 years. Let me clarify that: He spent 20 years because Bill DuBay didn’t come in at nine and leave at five; Bill DuBay usually came in at 10:30 and left at 10:00 at night—not eight hours a day, but 12.

CBA: Bill mentioned that before every Summer, there was….

Jim: “The Big Push.” I got the phrase from Vince Lombardi, coach of the pro Green Bay Packers, who (during the last half of the season) would say, “Gang, this is the Big Push.” Warren Publishing’s Big Push started at the end of March and went until June. During that threemonth hectic period, we prepared and produced our Summer product.

We were delivering great books, one a week! Week after week after week! It was the busiest and best time of my life. We never knew what a Spring season looked like. The birds and the flowers come out, Spring 1999

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but we hardly saw them. April and May was spent inside the Warren Publishing offices. After it was over, everyone was exhausted but we knew we had produced magazines that fans would collect 40 years hence. The rest of the Summer was okay.

CBA: And Bill said, like clockwork, he would step into your office after the Big Push and he would quit—and you would buy him back.

Jim: It was an annual scenario. I said, “Bill, I realize you want to quit, and I understand that, but A) your resignation is not accepted, and B) I have a beach house for you on the ocean in the Hamptons and it’s yours next Summer if you stay. Now, are you going to stay or are you going to quit?” Every year, like clockwork.

CBA: Only you had to up the ante.

Jim: One year it was an apartment in New York City. I would have bought him a helicopter to stay! Bill was, and remains five stars in anybody’s book.

CBA: At around the same time you first met Bill, you got in touch with a Spanish artists’ representative, Toutain, and his agency, Selecciones Ilustrada (S.I.).

Jim: His name was Josep Toutain. I didn’t get in touch with the agency. It was four o’clock on a weekday afternoon in the New York office and my secretary, Liz Alomar, said, “There’s a Mr. Toutain here to see you.” I said, “Liz, he doesn’t have any appointment. You know I want to get out early today because I have a date at 4:30.” She said, “Mr. Toutain wants to show you some artists’ samples. He represents an art studio.” At Warren Publishing, we would get five of these salesmen a day, and I said, “Liz, this is not really the time.” Now, Josep Toutain was from Barcelona, a Spaniard who was very imposing at 6’2”, he spoke like Ricardo Montalbon, and wore a foulard around his neck. He could have been a Shakespearian actor. Liz was very taken by him and fell in love with him right on the spot. She said, “Mr. Warren, he came all the way from Spain, and he’s flying back to Barcelona tomorrow morning. Could he please show you his portfolio?” I said, “Liz, don’t do this to me. You know I’m on my way out.”

But Liz persists and I say, “Okay, bring him in—but only for 20 minutes!” In comes Josep Toutain carrying a portfolio (imagine John Carradine with a heavy Spanish accent, only better-looking). He bows and says, “Mr. Warren [pronouncing it ‘Wahr-den”], I am Josep Toutain. I do not speak English too well but I represent a group of Spanish artists from Catalonia, Spain.” He asks me if I mind if he smokes, I shake my head, and he holds his cigarette like Peter Lorre in Casablanca—Josep was a character and I was enjoying it. And I then made my first mistake, and I bit my tongue right after I made it, but I said, “Liz, perhaps Mr. Toutain would like some coffee.” God, it was ten minutes after four! You don’t give someone coffee who is scheduled to be kicked out in five minutes! But I couldn’t help it, he was so charming. She brings in the coffee and I knew I was dead. I would never make that 4:30 date. He said, “Are you familiar with Catalonia?

It is the birthplace of Picasso, Dali, and many other great artists. I have artists who admire your magazines for many, many years, and I have just come from Carmine Infantino and Stan Lee. Now I would like to show you some samples of art.” I said, “Oh, you went to them first?

That’s all right. I understand. DC and Marvel are a little bigger than we are—but before you show me this artwork, tell me: Did they buy any of it?” He looked at me very shrewdly and said, “Not yet. They are thinking about it.” So I thought, “Okay. Let’s see what all the fuss is about.” He put his large leather portfolio on the desk, opens it up, and I look at two samples of artwork. The first page was an artist named José Gonzales. Drawings of women. The second page was by a man called Esteban Maroto, and I don’t say anything—I’m not reg-

Above: Harvey Kurtzman and Jim Warren were both such enormous fans of Will Eisner and that they ran a seven-page Spirit story, “Sand Saref,” in Help! #13, Feb. 1962. The Spirit ©1999 Will Eisner. Editorial matter ©1962 Central Publications.

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Above: Page from an unpublished collaboration with artist Billy Graham and writer Don McGregor.

Don will be sharing his Warren horror stories in our upcoming Marvel Bullpen issue due late Summer. ©1999 Don McGregor.

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istering an expression; but by the time I was on the third page, I couldn’t hold back. I said, “This is exceptionally fine work. Who are these people?” He said, “They are the artists I represent. I, myself, am an artist. Do you know Will Eisner? We correspond.” This tells me he knows comics. So I’m looking at page after page of this incredible art, in a style that was best described as “European.” It was a different flavor, a different style of art. Toutain also showed me paintings that he was selling as paperback cover art to Dell and other publishers. I started to ask questions about the art and Spanish artists. By this time it was 6 P.M. I had completely forgotten about my earlier 4:30 date. I no longer cared about the 4:30 date. I no longer cared about any dates. I kept gazing at that art until I lost my senses. I was staring at the Vampirella artist I’d spent two years searching for. The date was cancelled and she never talked to me again. Josep Toutain and I then went to dinner at 8 p.m. We negotiated prices, deadlines, banking arrangements, everything before the waiter served the main course. I had Veal Saltimboca. Josep Toutain had Filet of Flounder. Vampirella had Pepe Gonzales to draw her. The company entered a new phase and a new level. It was the new era of the Barcelona artists.

CBA: Did you take flak from fans for using so much Spanish work?

Many readers seemed to want a return to past days and have the American veterans come back.

Jim: It was expressed to me more than once. My stock answer was, “I don’t care if my artist is from Venus or Mars or Pluto, Barcelona, Bayonne or the Bronx—all that matters is that they are the best avail-

able. I will gladly use all the American Frazettas in the world, but they’re all working, and they can’t work for our rates.”

CBA: It’s maybe not well known that Fabulous Flo Steinberg, Stan Lee’s legendary onetime secretary during the ’60s at Marvel, came to work for you in the ’70s. How do you recall Flo? Jim: I believe I met Fabulous Flo at an early comic convention in New York. I took one look at her bangs, thought of Gloria, and knew I wanted her as part of the family. There are certain special people who belonged in the company. These good people are not necessarily the most skilled or the most talented, but they are the most enthusiastic. Enthusiasm is everything. I hired Flo to manage Captain Company and she had her little cubicle I called “Flo’s Place.” I would walk by and make some outrageous, unspeakable remark that I was sure would embarrass her, and she would nonchalantly say, “Oh, I heard that yesterday.” Is there anyone in the industry who doesn’t love Flo? I sure do.

CBA: Another interesting person involved with your books was Richard Corben, who started off as a fan of FM. What was he like?

Jim: We had a mostly through-the-mail relationship because Rich lives at the other end of the planet. God, that man can draw! I watched him develop and evolve beautifully. He did all our early color work, developing and inventing a whole new process. When we were first trying to get adequate coloring, Bill DuBay would spend two hours on every panel. You have no idea of the effort and toil that went into these early film separations. It was all done by hand. Rich experimented and taught us a lot about what not to do. He opened up the world of color for us.

Rich, who emerged as one of the giants of the comic art world, did his first work for Warren Publishing (we are proud to say), and his work exemplified the kind of superior eye-opening material I wanted to publish in magazines that carried my name. He was a quiet, reserved man and I’m not sure he would have been happy working in a Manhattan atmosphere. I was in awe of Rich Corben and I still am.

Who isn’t? He is a perfectionist—my kind of artist—and perfectionists are usually the biggest pains-in-the-ass to work with; but not Rich. He is a top pro and a top guy.

CBA: 1974 was a pivotal year for Warren. Will Eisner was at last being published again, reprints or not. Rich Corben was reaching glorious heights with his color work showcased in a new magazine called Comix International, and a whole generation of kids was being exposed to some truly superb work in your books. So you threw a party at The Plaza for Will, Rich, and for the return of Archie Goodwin as a Warren editor. What were the circumstances behind Archie coming back?

Jim: I never asked Archie for details as to why he was available again. Look, Jon, if an Archie Goodwin says he would like to come back, you don’t ask why. He was probably restless, and when I bumped into him, I saw he wasn’t happy doing what he was doing.

So I grabbed Archie back with us; but I did it in the wrong way—and it turned sour. 1974 was a very heady year for me. Other things were occupying my time outside of the company, and because I didn’t give it proper attention, I let a terrible thing happen. What I should have done was to make Archie Editor Emeritus, given him an executive suite somewhere, and let him develop a new magazine… or bring back Blazing Combat. That was one of my big dreams. I didn’t do it because I wanted to be there to do it personally, and (as luck would have it) I was involved in something else that took me away for two years.

CBA: And Archie and Bill came to a head at that time.

Jim: I don’t remember the details. All I remember is that I had put the two of them together in close proximity, which was dumb on my part. Can you imagine Bill and Archie looking at each other? Here’s Archie, who was the father and creator of everything good in Warren comics, sitting in a minor position; and here’s Bill DuBay, sitting in a position he earned, over Archie—and it’s like putting two brothers together when the room is not big enough. One of them had to go, because I’m sure both of them looked at each other and each saw danger and a threat to his own security—and I had created this awful situation, which was horribly unfair to both of these outstanding men.

What was I thinking at the time?! It was the second dumbest thing I ever did.

CBA: What was the dumbest?

Jim: Maybe I’ll tell you later.

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Anyway, it was stupid and insensitive to create a situation that put Bill and Archie at odds. Had I been paying proper attention to the company, I would have never done that. I should have said, “Bill, Archie has been hired in a different capacity. I want him to develop ideas for magazines he thinks might make it, with a budget and the autonomy to hire any writers and artists he wants. There may be rivalry, but it’s got to be friendly rivalry, because we’re on the same team.” I should have said, “Archie, what kind of new comics magazine should we create? Let’s do it!” And with Archie as editor, the worst that could happen is that it could bomb—and if that happened we’d start all over with a new idea. I should have named Archie Editor Emeritus of Warren Publishing Company but it occurred to me too late.

CBA: By that year, 1974, Warren Publishing also appeared solidly back on its feet financially.

Jim: By 1972, we were firmly back in good shape. We were healthy, and morale was high again.

CBA: Bernie Wrightson talks about going into the office for the first time and you said that you were going to give him the best rates that he ever got and he would get his original art back. He says it was a great first meeting and that you made a small bet with him for a buck, he lost, and you had him sign his losing dollar. Then you pulled out a fat wad of ones that had signatures of many of the artists who worked for you. What was that?

Jim: Most artists and creative people have big egos and sometimes they think they’re absolutely right about certain things. Once in a while, I would catch them at something, challenge them, bet them a dollar they’re wrong (they would always take the bet), and would end up taking their dollar bill, which I would have them autograph, and add their dollars to my collection as a souvenir.

CBA: People who worked there have a lot of strong memories about their time at Warren. They also universally said that it could be hell because of the Big Push. Louise said she came in, enjoyed the work, but noticed that you would seek out people’s “buttons,” and try to get to people one way or another—but she said you knew when to back down. Were you searching out people’s weaknesses?

Jim: Do you know how steel is forged? I sometimes took anger from inside myself and projected it upon other people. It seemed I was able to do my best work when I had anger in me (it was hidden but it was there). The anger had nothing to do with Warren Publishing per se. It was something from my youth. I found that when I was angry, and the chips were down, and there was three minutes to play, I had to throw a touchdown, and win the game. The anger made me perform best. When we were ahead by 30 points the anger went away, and I didn’t play my best. I recognized that in myself but thought everybody else had the same condition (P.S.: They don’t). I also thought that anyone who creates—writer, artist, or anyone involved in the process of creating something that didn’t exist before—all work the same way, and they had to be forged into steel. Steel needs fire; without fire you can’t make steel. Fire burns. It’s hot and it hurts, but it’s the only way you can make steel and get the brilliance. I functioned that way. I thought other people did, too. So I deliberately pushed people’s buttons. I even did it once to Will Eisner.

CBA: He mentioned one incident with you….

Jim: Did he tell you how he stormed into my office, and almost took the door in with him, and blasted away at me?

CBA: Over The Spirit #1 cover painting by Sanjulian? Yes. Jim: It wasn’t my fault! [laughter] Bill DuBay commissioned it! I’m in my office, sitting at my desk, reading something, at peace with the world, and VOOOOM! In comes Lee J. Cobb (with no pipe), and I thought, “Will may be 60 years old but if one of his punches connect, he’ll knock me through the wall!” Thank God, I had a nice wide desk Spring 1999

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because it stopped him from throwing himself across the desk and choking me! He had fury! But when he calmed down, we learned exactly what it was that had set him on fire. What we were doing with the Sanjulian painting was taking the Will Eisner out of The Spirit and making it something else. We fixed it.

Louise was right: I did it with her and did it with others, even my secretary. I thought my pushing would get the best work out of them and many times it did—but in too many instances, it was the wrong, dumb approach, and it achieved just the opposite.

CBA: Some people were terrified of your ranting.

Jim: I’ll admit there were times I set off burglar alarms in the Tri-state area; but generally speaking I’m a likeable, easygoing, fun guy—and God help anyone who gets in my way.

CBA: Louise told me a story about you screaming in her face, and she stopped you and said, “I don’t take yelling very well.” From then on, you yelled around her, about her, and sometimes in her direction, but you never again yelled in her face.

Jim: I think I remember the incident. She stood her ground and stared at me steely-eyed. Weezie looked at me in the eye and said something like, “I don’t care for that kind of treatment and I don’t perform well under these conditions.” I got her message: “Don’t do that again if you want me to work here,” and from then on, I yelled at her from two offices away.

CBA: Do you recall when she resigned because of an incident regarding Close Encounters of the Third Kind?

Jim: Columbia Pictures had signed an agreement giving me exclusive use of some of the film photos. We had the license to do a CETK magazine, for which we paid a lot of money. The deal gave us exclusive coverage, and guaranteed that no other company could get the pictures for six months. They assured me that no other competitor would have access to them; we had the exclusive print and magazine license. The contract was very clear. So when Louise innocently told me that Marvel had some of the same pictures I had, and that Walt Simonson and Archie Goodwin were working on the comic book version—well, comics appear on the same newsstand as my magazine, and that was in violation of Columbia’s contract with us. So I called up Columbia and told them they were in violation, and why. They looked into it and said, “You’re absolutely right.” I said, “Well, you have to do something about it. Either Marvel gets it or Warren Publishing get it; we’re both going to be on newsstands.” I don’t really remember how it was resolved. I just know it was resolved quickly and we came out with our CETK magazine.

CBA: Walter said they really didn’t have the pictures. Archie and he saw some footage, were allowed to look at some stills, and Walter made some cocktail napkin sketches. They saw a fuzzy shot of the mother ship.

Jim: I wished they had called Steven Spielberg to arbitrate.

He was a big Famous Monsters fan when he was a kid.

CBA: While he had been absent at times when he was setting up the Cartoon Factory, Bill DuBay finally did leave Warren.

Jim: He was burned out. I said, “Bill, do not consider yourself fully released from prison. Consider yourself pardoned temporarily. You’ll be back! I’ll get you back after you recover.” Bill correctly saw that comics and publishing were changing, and that a good future lay in television and animation. He said, “I have to go with the future.” I said, “You’re right. Publishing is facing a crossroad—and the future is pointing towards animation and computer graphics. Go to school and learn it. If you were my son, I would advise you to do just that. I’m staying in publishing, because I still have printer’s ink in my veins, but I would love to go with you, but I have a company to run—but my heart’s with you.” I forgot the actual arrangement we

Above: Fuzzy shots of the Plaza’s Eisner/Corben party sponsored in 1975 by Warren to celebrate their achievements.

Below: Self-portrait of Richard Corben. From the book, Richard Corben: Flights into Fantasy by Fershid Bharucha. ©1981 Richard Corben.

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Below: Cover rough (which was rejected in favor of the one found on pg. 92) by Richard Corben depicting the story, “Within You… Without You,” featuring time travel, dinosaurs, and one buxom blond. ©1999 Richard Corben.

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had but I made sure Bill was still connected to us. I knew that whenever I had a problem, he would come down from Connecticut on his motorcycle and solve it. He always did.

CBA: So he produced some Warren magazines in his studio?

Jim: He might have, but I’m not sure of the exact titles. He might have done the Moonraker one-shot and a few others.

We never farmed out work—but because it was Bill DuBay, we might have. He maintained the Warren look, and did it beautifully.

CBA: With DuBay more absent, Louise came in as editor and under her tenure, though the books’ quality had consistently risen in the ’70s from their late ’60s slump, the books she helmed rivaled the first Creepy and Eeries for excellence in writing and art. Bernie Wrightson came to full flower, Richard Corben hit his peak, Russ Heath came back in the fold, Alex Toth produced great material, Bruce Jones, Budd Lewis, Jim Stenstrum, and other writers simply rocked.

Jim: We worked hard to get those people and even harder to maintain an atmosphere in the company to keep them. There was a difference between our company and the other companies. When an artist had an appointment at our company, we had a sign in the waiting room that said, ‘Warren Publishing Welcomes’ (whatever their name was)—it was like a theater marquee. I did that because I used to sit in waiting rooms as a young freelancer and hated it. You sit there with your hands on your lap, waiting for someone to come up and see you. In the meantime, you’re sitting there like a little schoolboy. It’s an awful thing to have to sit in a waiting room, so whenever a freelancer came in, we offered them coffee and had the sign with their name to make them feel welcome.

CBA: Did you feel that the books were achieving a great stature again? Were you involved in the day-to-day process of the company to notice that this new writer, Bruce Jones, was doing great work like “Jenifer” and “In Deep”?

Jim: I read everything we published.

CBA: Did you see a trend that the stories were shifting from a more visceral type horror to a more psychological, character-driven frame of reference?

Jim: The same way that super-heroes shifted from Superman to Spider-Man? I knew we were getting away from the classic purity of what we started with—and I was criticized for it. I was told, “You’re watering down and departing from your mandate.” But I felt we were increasing our base, and that our purists would stay with us because we weren’t deviating that much. It was a calculated risk, but one worth taking.

CBA: You also did some theme issues. You did all-sport issues.

Jim: I came in and said, “Gang, you may not be sports fans but I’m one.” When I grew up, all the kids played ball, and you were evaluated by your peers by how good you were at ballplaying. (I had my own football team as an adult called Warren’s Warriors, all in our forties playing touch football.) So I decided that we would have these theme issues. We had three different covers: Baseball, football, and basketball. I don’t remember if Weezie was thrilled with it—but the editorial gang treated it whimsically, and it came out looking pretty good; but I knew that it would touch certain nerves out there, because I had a hunch about our readers. Everyone had a picture of our readers as nerds—but I said, “Uh uh, that’s not so. Give them more credit than that.” And it worked out. It was a fun thing even though the hard-core fans weren’t crazy about it.

CBA: You had comics’ premier sports artist, Carmine Infantino, working on those books, and a great deal of other material. Carmine was dismissed by DC in January 1976, and Joe Orlando told me that he was fired in particularly brutal fashion. Immediately thereafter, you hired Carmine and he almost replaced the entire Spanish stable of artists with his incredibly prolific output. He was a single-handed studio and Louise told me that you gave him a room in the office.

Jim: I had heard that Carmine had the misfortune of leaving DC under very bad circumstances. Carmine helped build DC just as Julie Schwartz, and Jerry Siegel & Joe Shuster did. He was a giant who gave years of his life, talent, and skill to the industry.

I had only met Carmine once before this: We shared a plane ride together going to Canada. I liked him but we weren’t close. I said, “Carmine, I have to hate you, because you’re a competitor. For all I know, you might come out with another b-&-w, so I can’t like you— but I’ll have to work hard not to like you.” And he understood.

When I heard about his leaving DC, I contacted him. I said, “C’mon in. What are you going to do now? There’s no way I’m going to let Carmine Infantino sit and wait for the phone to ring. Come to work for us. Give our office some class! Every hour you’re not penciling is the fan’s loss and the world should not be deprived of that.

We’re not big and I wish we had plush offices like DC but we don’t— but we’ll make space and give you your own office, and you don’t have to let anybody in that office unless they knock first and are invited in, including me. Would you please do it?” He said yes and was I happy. I was thrilled—as thrilled as when Will Eisner said yes. Carmine raised the spirits of everybody in the place—a legend was working in the office! It was terrific that he stayed for as long as he did, and I’ll always be grateful to him for this.

CBA: You did the right thing.

Jim: DC should have done the right thing. There were better ways to do it. On the other hand, DC did a lot of things right: DC hired Paul Levitz, Joe Orlando, Archie Goodwin, Denny O’Neil, Dick Giordano… should I go on?

CBA: In the later ’70s and early ’80s, DuBay produced The Rook and The Goblin. Were you looking to get into the super-hero market?

Jim: Bill was, and I went along with it. I liked Bill and wanted to do something for him. My way of doing it was to take what he was really enthusiastic about, and had passion for, and publish it. I gave Bill ownership rights. Had The Rook or any of Bill’s creations taken off and become movies or TV shows, it would have been a great thing for Bill, and this was a way of trying to make that happen. It was also good for the Warren Publishing Company.

So, the answer is: No, I didn’t particularly want to get into superCOMIC BOOK ARTIST

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heroes. For instance, if Bill had come to me and said, “I want to do romance comics,” I would have said, “Okay, do romance comics—but make sure it’s the best in the world.” I didn’t care what the genre was; what’s important isn’t the subject matter, but the enthusiasm and passion and skill of the person doing it.

CBA: Louise observed that, just before she left, the atmosphere in the company was changing and that you seemed to be losing interest in publishing. Within three years of Louise’s move to Shooter’s Marvel, Warren Publications folded. Why? Jim: Louise was right when she said things started to change around the office; the reason they started to change was because I wasn’t there. My presence was necessary for the vitality and day-to-day morale of the company. When I would come in, bellowing, yelling and moaning, they would say, “He’s here.” And I was there—for all the right reasons; but when I stopped coming into the office, a lot of emotion, ardor, fervor, zeal—call it what you want—stopped. The people were directionless. There was no rudder. They were confused.

They couldn’t reach me on the phone. Louise was demoralized. Louise thought I had lost interest in publishing but that was not so—I never lost interest in publishing. Never will.

Something happened to me: I got very sick. I didn’t understand the sickness. It was frightening, debilitating. I couldn’t focus or concentrate. I didn’t know what was happening to me—and I didn’t want anyone to see me this way. When I did come to the office—and I wasn’t a tower of strength, particularly if I hadn’t slept in days—I was supposed to be the leader and the guiding spirit. However I didn’t want anyone to see me this way. I saw the look on Liz’s face and other people’s faces when they saw me this way, and I didn’t like it. I knew they were startled and puzzled. I didn’t want that to spread, so I stayed away thinking I was going to get better; that whatever disease or sickness this was would eventually go away—but it just went on and did not get better. I stopped coming into the office. I didn’t take phone calls. Nobody in the company knew what to do. I didn’t have a second-in-command, I had no partners, I owned my company outright, and I had not as yet groomed a successor. I had a comptroller, an office manager, an office staff, a production staff, a creative staff— I had all of that in place. They were trained to function like the proverbial well-oiled machine; but when their leader wasn’t there, and there was no direction, everything went downhill—and I wasn’t there to repair it. When I was healthy and there was a problem, I fixed it.

When there were no problems, I said, “Okay, gang, let’s increase the revenue and expand.” Now there were problems, and I was too sick to come in and fix them. No one else had the power to do it. I didn’t delegate that responsibility. So the inevitable happened.

I had heard the gossip and the rumors: People saying, “Well, he’s not interested in publishing. He’s involved in real estate.” Or I was going to go into politics. (I had been active politically, and have always been all of my life, but not to the degree where politics took me away from my company.) But the sickness took me away from politics and everything else. It was a terrible, awful, debilitating sickness.

CBA: What was the sickness called?

Jim: There is no formal name for it that I know of. Immune deficiencies have strange ways of attacking the body. Because of the sickness, I fell into a deep depression. When I saw what was happening to me, I became terribly depressed. It lasted for almost ten years.

CBA: Were you living in the Hamptons?

Jim: Sometimes. Other times I stayed in New York or an apartment in Philadelphia.

CBA: You completely disappeared; you were off the map.

Jim: I didn’t exactly have a high profile. Not being visible, not having my company visible, I became the target of the rumor-mongers. The gossip and the rumors were made up by highly imaginative liars such as: I was heavily on drugs; I was in an asylum in Connecticut; I weighed 300 pounds; I was seen wandering the streets of New York, unshaven, unkempt, selling drugs. One story had me in a monastery in South America; another report had me in a commune in Arizona.

More than once I heard the news I had been reported dead, and was buried in a cemetery in Philadelphia. One report claimed someone had actually visited the gravesite. I hope they brought flowers!

Now that I’m back on my feet and healthy again I’m determined to fight the legal battle for my magazines and the properties I spent a lifetime creating. This is where you find me now.

Spring 1999

COMIC BOOK ARTIST

CBA: While you had an intense relationship with Bill DuBay, you didn’t set up an heir apparent. You always trained people to do the tasks you were too busy for so why didn’t you set yourself up for someone to take the reins?

Jim: I had a game plan for the company in the 1980s, had I not gotten sick. I celebrated my 50th birthday in 1980. I had intended to restructure the company over the following three to five years. I knew we would require a different style of leadership and management. The plan called for me to be replaced as President and Chief Executive Officer by two people. One would be a business management and marketing professional (I had my eye on somebody). The other would be a creative comic book type.

Bill DuBay would have been the likely candidate and my first choice. Both of these people would receive excellent salaries and an ownership interest in the company. Their motivation would have been enough stock ownership in the company to build their future on, and to bring the company into the ’90s, well-positioned to compete as a leader in the industry.

I intended to step down as President and assume the title of Chairman of the Board. The company would be owned by myself and the two people I’ve described. As chairman I would have spent the next few years coming into the office, where I would have a tiny cubicle to sit and yell at people.

CBA: They say that there are no second acts in American life, but I have a sneaky suspicion that you might have an interest in returning to the business. Is that so?

Jim: One of the problems with second acts is that when the curtain goes up, and you’re standing stage center, ready to dazzle them – you look out over the footlights and see a different audience whose faces are much younger than the theater-goers you saw while you were knocking them dead during the first act—and this new audience wants to see how good you are before they jump to their feet for a standing ovation. Not only is the audience different, but the environment of that audience is different—and why are they staring at those flat screens instead of watching what’s up on the stage? I better find out fast so I can give them what they want. Fasten your seat belts, it’s going to be a helluva ride!

CBA: How do you want to be perceived in the history of comics?

Jim: As a guy who created a few magazines that weren’t there when he started—but are still being read forty years later.

[Jim added the following as a postscript] It was a long-term illness.

By 1983, one of my companies, Warren Communications Corp., was forced into bankruptcy. The magazines ceased publication and my offices were closed. The bankruptcy proceedings lasted about 10 years. During most of that time, I was ill and out of the public eye.

The sickness was crippling. It sapped my energy and debilitated me.

In addition to the sickness, the people who were advising me financially had put me into a series of large investments that just disappeared. It was later discovered that some people involved in these transactions had been deceitful. Others were outright crooks. One committed suicide after fleeing the country. Another is now in a Federal Penitentiary. All of this left me without adequate financial resources to continue my publishing business. The end result was that I was left with no money, no home, no office, no assets, no facilities, and a debilitating sickness that brought me close to thoughts of ending my life. I lost my health and was despondent beyond belief.

On an even more personal note, at the time of the bankruptcy, all of my personal memorabilia was stolen from my office. My personal library of all the copies of the early issues of all of the magazines I published since 1958 were stolen as well. It pains me to say there are collectors out there who are buying and selling my personal early mint issues of Warren magazines. Art and personal items displayed in my office were stolen right off the walls. Some of those collectors have part of my life, framed and hanging on their walls.

But I still had some luck left. At the very lowest point of my life, sick and weighing 119 lbs., a chance encounter brought me together with Gloria. This extraordinary woman—whom I’ve loved all my life— took me into her home and gradually made me well and strong again.

I regained the energy for my current legal fight against Harris Comics.

In this regard, I’m especially gratified by the support I’m getting from the many fans who wished me well. I need their backing; I welcome it, and I’m very, very grateful to them.

Previous page and above: Uncle Creepy and Cousin Eerie á la Corben. ©1973 Warren Publications.

Below: Auction ad heralding the end of the Warren Age of Comics.

Notice of the Warren Communications bankruptcy sale from the August 29, 1983 New York Times classifieds.

43

The Era of Archie

Goodwin Times A Brief Look at Warren’s Golden Age of B-&-W Horror

by Richard Howell

Above: The highly-underrated artist Jerry Grandenetti’s splash page to the Goodwin-authored story, “The Art of Horror,” from Creepy #14. ©1967 Warren Publishing.

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By the early 1960s, horror comics were essentially dead. They'd been dead since the mid-1950s, and—unlike so many of their characters—showed no signs of a surprising return from the grave. Oh, sure, there were those milder “mystery” comics, which mimicked the chills of real horror comics. These pretenders regularly featured Strange Tales—of Suspense, Phantom Strangers, Mysterious Travelers, Amazing Adventures, Journeys into Mystery and even encounters with the (hopefully) Unexpected; but the ghouls, vampires, ambulatory rotting corpses, menacing monsters, and unnamed horrors from other dimensions were nowhere to be found.

The reason for all this is no Mystery, of course.

The very public demise of EC Comics’ enormously successful line of horror titles, in the wake of Congressional hearings on the alleged link between comics and juvenile delinquency, ensured that no other comics publisher would be willing to print material that was that strong. (By “strong” I mean “intense,” through the EC material was also prodigious in terms of quality.) The demise of Tales From The Crypt, Vault Of Horror, The Haunt of Fear, and their fourth title, the practically-stillborn Crypt of Terror, as well as that of all their imitators, left a huge genre void in the comics publishing field that no one was being encouraged to fill.

As time went on, the American public became less concerned with the evil effects comic books might have on impressionable youngsters (movies and TV being obviously much more subversive), and the atmosphere for comics grew less oppressive. By the waning days of the ‘50s, there was quite a bit of experimentation going on.

In 1958, publisher James Warren tested the waters for horrorbased magazines by launching Famous Monsters of Filmland. The new magazine was under the titular editorship of science-fiction agent and enthusiast Forrest J Ackerman; the photos and writing in FM were exclusively his. Encouraged by the success of his first horror venture (and egged on by both Ackerman and Kable, his distributor), Warren took the big plunge, and in 1964 launched

Creepy, a quarterly, black-&-white, magazine-sized comic book that featured horror stories—real comic book horror stories. For the first time since 1954, a publisher was carrying on the EC tradition.

Warren’s faith in Creepy was justified by encouraging sales, and the magazine jumped to bi-monthly with its second issue. Those first two issues featured, along with some spectacular art, some fine, craftsmanlike stories by Russ Jones, Bill Pearson, Larry Ivie, and a relative newcomer to comics named Archie Goodwin. By the fourth issue, initial editor Russ Jones had departed and Goodwin—by then the series’ primary writer—assumed the editorial chores as well.

Goodwin’s background was working in the editorial staff of Redbook magazine, and he’d gotten acclimated to comics via various assignments in the comic strip field (including a stint as scripting assistant on Leonard Starr’s superb On Stage). His early scripting efforts on Creepy showed great promise, and he quickly established himself as a meaningful—perhaps irreplaceable— component in the new line’s success.

Goodwin’s scripting work of this period contained all the elements which would eventually propel him to the top of the industry. His stories were expertly paced, very economically dialogued, and flawlessly structured. Using the EC-horror story as a model, Goodwin mastered it and used it as a framework for fashioning tales of lurking horror, hinting at a chaotic universe which continually threatened the “safe” reality of normal life. Most of these stories hewed to a successful, familiar model, which still managed to be enjoyable, surprising, and—at times—genuinely frightening. The very act of reading Creepy or Eerie during Goodwin’s tenure was to surrender to the atmosphere of menace and chaos, and the cover copy frequently emphasized this phenomenon: “Join us for a haunted journey into illustrated terror and suspense!!” “Can you face these new haunting tales of fear and terror?” and “ Within this magazine lurks a world of illustrated terror and suspense! Can you meet its fearful challenge…?”

It should also be mentioned that Warren published a third comics-style magazine during these years, the war anthology Blazing Combat, which was also edited by Archie Goodwin and was comparable in quality to Creepy and the latter-day addition Eerie.

Blazing Combat was launched in October of 1965, and was a worthy successor to the late, highly-respected EC line of war comics masterminded by Harvey Kurtzman. (Early Vietnam-era America did not seem ready for the gritty, downbeat, anti-war sentiments of Blazing Combat, though, and it was discontinued after a scant four issues.) Perhaps because of early, discouraging sales reports on Blazing Combat—or perhaps merely because it made good business sense—Warren’s new commitment to comics-style publications was next manifested by his expanding in the same direction as his already-successful Creepy; another horror magazine, in other words.

For all his facility as a writer, however, Goodwin’s real flourishing at Warren was as an editor. One of the aspects of his ability at managing talent was that under his tenure, the Warren comics-style magazines continued to add more and more talent to their roster on “Contributing Artists.” Creepy #1 listed Reed Crandall, Jack Davis, George Evans, Franks Frazetta, Gray Morrow, Joe Orlando, Angelo Torres, Al Williamson, and Maurice Whitman. By the time the sun had set on Goodwin’s run as editor on the Warren magazines, those stalwarts had been joined by such stellar talents as Neal Adams, Dan Adkins, Gene Colan, Johnny Craig, Steve Ditko, Jerry Grandenetti, Rocco Mastroserio, John Severin, Alex Toth, and Wallace Wood!

What would attract that level of talent? These were immensely COMIC BOOK ARTIST

Spring 1999

talented craftsmen, working in very different styles from each other, and yet—in each case—their work for the Warren horror magazines equalled or surpassed their work anywhere else. This simply could not be a coincidence, some concatenation of extraneous factors. No, we have to assume that the most salient, preeminent factor in that equation was Archie Goodwin himself.

Goodwin had an unerring editorial instinct for pairing up each story with an artist whose style was a sympathetic, attractive match.

As mentioned before, the art on the stories of this period was exceptional, showcasing some of the most talented artisans toiling in the comics field at the time, and in almost every case: John Severin’s command of subdued menace in stories like “Dark Rider,” and “Drink Deep”; Angelo Torres’ high-contrast realism in “Soul of Horror”, and “One for De-Money”; Dan Adkins’ detailed literalism in “The Day After Doomsday”, and “It”; Joe Orlando’s atmospheric murk in “The Slugs” and “House of Evil” and the tragic sweetness of “Image of Bluebeard”; each represent individual high-water marks in the careers of each artist. Neal Adams demonstrates his command of composition, perspective, anatomy, and scratchy pen inking in “Fair Exchange”, one of his early triumphs. Adams would establish his reputation with a handful of brilliant art jobs during this period, most notably “The Terror Beyond Time” and “Curse of the Vampire.” Gene Colan’s Warren jobs comprise the only vehicles which showcase the full range of the remarkable subtlety of his work—surely a consequence of the artist’s expert use of gray wash tones—which is almost always lost elsewhere. “Full Fathom Fright” profits from the decision of writer/editor Goodwin, nobody’s fool, to set most of the adventure underwater, allowing Colan full rein in employing gray wash to indicate the shifting patterns of light and distortion in clear, shallow water. Another of Colan’s masterworks, “Hatchet Man” has some of the most amazingly expressive faces ever shown on the comics page, and “The Changeling,” is an affecting gothic tale with a sympathetic heroine. The story situation’s horrific elements are made much more effective in contrast with Colan’s lovely, sensitive handling of the governess’ and the boy’s facial subtleties and his effective evocation of the rarefied old-world setting. Steve Ditko’s Warren jobs feature the Ditko approach at its zenith, “Room With a View” accomplishing this with Ditko’s mastery of detailed pen-and-ink and “Second Chance” with his astonishing wash technique with which this artist’s artist created some of the most nightmarish visions ever seen on the comics page.

There’s also a school of thought—of which this writer is a devotee— which contends that Steve Ditko never produced a finer art job than “Collector’s Edition.” Its attention to detail, command of technique, and overall pacing are all breathtaking. Also, Al Williamson and Gray Morrow lent their realistic approaches to many superb Warren jobs, each of which profit greatly by the artists’ command of shading and perspective, and each artists’ ability to create a believable setting for each story’s horrific plot events.

Another hugely valuable aspect of the Goodwin-era Warren magazines was the revelatory flowering of some of comics’ more eccentric talents. Several highly stylized craftsmen contributed stories which were amazing testaments to their individual visions, and the wise usage to which Goodwin put their uniqueness. Every one of Alex Toth’s artwork contributions for Warren were brilliant. On “The Monument,” his work is so sharp and angular it’s almost brittle; a most fitting approach to visualize a short horror story involving modern architecture and a lead character who would kill to possess the most up-to-the-minute progressive designs. Toth’s designs are exceptional, as usual, and they rarely found a more suitable subject.

Goodwin also supplied Toth with stories involving modern art, costuming, and fractious dimensional upsets. Perhaps the biggest surprise for comics readers was the astonishing work of Jerry Grandenetti. In a handful of stories for Warren, Grandenetti established himself as a horror artist of the first order, and those handful of stories constitute a remarkable, unduplicated body of work within the Warren run. Each of the Grandenetti stories are individualized and intriguing, and several are masterworks of the genre, with a palpable miasma of apparent evil and horror and madness all-too-obvious in every scene. Goodwin tended to assign Grandenetti the “awful things in the haunted house” tales, and the artist’s facility with twisting each setting’s structural perspective to

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COMIC BOOK ARTIST

strike terror in the hearts of every reader could only have been accomplished by a former architectural student (which he was). “Cry Fear, Cry Phantom” and “Art of Horror” are superlative example of the old-dark-house school of illustrated genre horror, and “The Adventure of the German Student,” and “House of Fiends,” are immensely chilling examples of the storyteller’s art—aesthetically redolent, remarkable pieces of work by any standard.

It’s emblematic of the work of this period, though, that so much remarkable work was achieved by so many artisans on so many stories during such a short time—all under the guidance of one remarkable, visionary editor. Many (most?) of those craftsmen owe Archie Goodwin for the opportunities that his stewardship of the Warren titles afforded them to experiment, and to the editorial attention that provided them with such insightfully suitable material in which to do so. An evaluation of that material would judge it to be as fine a collection of horror stories—of artfully produced visions of terror— as has ever been produced in the entire history of the comics industry, and they are as masterful and accomplished today as they were back when those fine efforts first disquieted our nights, roused our admiration, and stirred our souls. For that, each of those artists, and every one of those who thrilled to those stories, owe a deep debt to Archie Goodwin, an exemplar of an editor whose commitment to the flourishing of the material and the artists resulted in some of the best, most committed and expertlyrealized comics stories that have ever been produced.

Above: He was always good but was he ever this good again? The unbelievable linework of Mr. Steve Ditko. From the fondlyremembered (and Goodwin-scripted) story, “Collector’s Edition,” Creepy #10. ©1966 Warren Publishing.

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CBA Interview

The Torres Effect “Gentleman” Angelo Torres on his work for Warren Conducted by Jon B. Cooke Arriving at EC Comics just as their heyday was ending, Angelo Torres made up for lost time when he arrived at Warren, producing bold and invigorating work. Obviously a favorite artist of Jim Warren and Archie Goodwin (as Angelo’s stories frequently ranked the lead spot in the magazines), the artist’s use of solid blacks and strong composition continue to delight the eye. Angelo is best known as the artist on Mad magazine’s television show satires. This brief interview was conducted by fax in February 1999.

Below: Besides doing some of the finest b-&-w work of the Jones/Goodwin era, Angelo also contributed a number of house ad illustrations to Warren, revealing his humor approach. ©1965 Warren Publishing.

46

Comic Book Artist: Pardon me if I’m mistaken, but didn’t you arrive at EC late in the game?

Angelo: In 1954 Al Williamson and I became close friends and I worked with him in different capacities on many of his EC jobs. I believe it was 1955 when I was offered my own script by Al Feldstein, “An Eye For An Eye.” The Comics Code was in full swing then and my job got rejected time and time again and never saw print. Eventually the great horror and S-F books would come to an end as did the EC era shortly thereafter when only Mad remained.

CBA: Harvey Kurtzman called you, Al Williamson, Frank Frazetta, Roy Krenkel, and George Woodbridge the “Fleagle Boys.”

Angelo: It might have been Nancy Gaines or Marie Severin who remarked one day when a bunch of us barreled into 225 Lafayette Street, the home of EC, "Here comes the Fleagle gang." It stuck. The group probably consisted of Al , Nick Meglin, Roy, possibly George, and me. Frank never went with us to EC but he too became a Fleagle by association. If Al called me the gentleman of the group I am flattered. In reality, we were all gentlemen and a greater bunch you couldn't find anywhere. My bonding with Al was due to our common sharing of favorite movies and serials while growing up—he in Bogota, Colombia and me in Puerto Rico. Wally Wood was never part of this bunch and was rather reclusive. I visited him a couple of times when he was working on Mad. Roy was the intellectual guru, the mad genius of this crowd. You asked Roy over just to hear him expound on his pet peeve of the day and he never let you down. One of the funniest and most complex people I have ever known—and what a fine artist.

CBA: As EC was in trouble, how did you view the future?

Angelo: I was sorry, but not worried, to see the end of EC. It seems I always had some work to do.

CBA: How did you hear that Warren was doing a b-&-w comics magazine?

Angelo: I'm not sure but I think Jim Warren called each one of us on the phone and then organized the now famous Cattleman dinner. Besides Wally Wood, Al Williamson, and Frank Frazetta, (l don't remember if Roy Krenkel and Reed CrandalI were there) Jack Davis, Joe Orlando, Gray Morrow, and many others attended and Archie Goodwin must have been there.

CBA: Remember meeting Jim Warren for the first time?

Angelo: It was at that dinner that I first met Jim Warren. He was full of enthusiasm that night and excited about recapturing the EC days of publishing. He was

a terrific guy to work for and to know.

CBA: What was Archie Goodwin like?

Angelo: I had known Archie Goodwin a few years before we went to work for Warren. Archie will always be remembered as one of the nicest people in this business. Loaded with talent and a great sense of humor, he made the Warren books the success they were.

CBA: Did you enjoy your work at Warren?

Angelo: I had fun working on the Goodwin scripts for Jim. Mostly I enjoyed being free to use any approach and any style to get the job done.

CBA: How do you approach drawing a story?

Angelo: I like to read the script and let the pictures form in my head. Then I break down the job right on the pages and figure out what reference I will need; cars, planes, etc. I put together a reference file over many years and still found myself having to go out looking for things. I finally threw most of it out and my files are now the local magazine shops and book stores. I also rely on on-the-spot sketches and my camera.

CBA: Did you socialize with other Warren creators much?

Angelo: During the Warren years, I mostly saw Al Williamson since we lived close to each other in Pennsylvania and I was working with him on different projects. I also saw a lot of Gray Morrow after he moved back to Brooklyn.

CBA: Were you excited about your Warren work?

Angelo: What made those books fun to do was the freedom to use whatever means you felt like using to get the job done. Their policy was that of EC: Give the guy the script and let him have fun with it. The finished product was often a surprise to Jim and Archie.

As far as the content of each script, I left that up to the editors.

CBA: Do you recall the pages rates and business arrangements?

Angelo: The working arrangement with Warren was that of most freelancers. You got a script, you did it and turned it in. If the editor and publisher were happy with your work, you got another script.

The page rate was good for the times and Jim was ever the enthusiastic boss, always full of praise for the artist. He once sent me a telegram to Pennsylvania praising one of my jobs, “Ogre’s Castle.”

We didn't spend much time in his offices which I believe were in midtown Manhattan and we didn't see that much of Jim Warren.

Many times we would meet with the editors outside the offices to deliver the work.

CBA: Did you feel appreciated by Archie and Jim? Angelo: They were both great to work for and with.

CBA: I think your work on the Warren books was among the best material of your career. How do you view it?

Angelo: I look back on my work for Warren with some satisfaction. Some of the stories I still look at with pride, some didn't quite come out the way I wanted, and a few were total disasters—but overall, I'm satisfied.

CBA: Around 1967 your work ceased for Warren. Why? Angelo: By the time Archie left, a lot of the original artists had also dropped off. I was tired of drawing mostly horror stories and felt it was time to move on.

CBA: Did you have other clients during your Warren stint?

Angelo: I continued working for Sick, did some children’s books, helped out with the Big Ben Bolt, Rip Kirby and Secret Agent X-9 daily strips, and did a lot of advertising work.

CBA: Can you describe your transition over to do work for Mad? Angelo: After working on Sick all those years, Al Feldstein offered me a script and my years at Mad began.

That was in 1968.

COMIC BOOK ARTIST

Spring 1999

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CBA Interview

Shades of the Crypt Al Williamson discusses his great work at Warren Conducted by Jon B. Cooke Okay, so you’ve heard the phrase before, but for Al Williamson, it’s true: He is an artist’s artist. Almost more an illustrator than comic book artist, Al was a part of the original EC gang of S-F artists and was, according to legend, pivotal in helping to organize the first Warren dream team. Still hard at work in the industry, Al kindly submitted to a telephone interview on January 20, 1999.

Below: You can call him Al. Williamson’s send-off panel from his tale “The Tube,” which appeared in Flo Steinberg’s Big Apple Comix.

Art ©1975 Al Williamson.

48

Comic Book Artist: When did you first meet Wally Wood?

Al Williamson: Maybe 1948. I met him briefly while he was going to Burne Hogarth’s art school. I was working for Hogarth at the time. I penciled a couple of Tarzan Sunday pages for him but it was nothing to write home about.

CBA: How was it working for Burne?

Al: It was a pain in the neck. Let me put it this way: I was just a kid and you always defer to your elders when you’re a kid. I have to admit he always treated me very nice—except a couple of times when I could have killed him. I met Hogarth in 1945 when I just turned 14; I was attending his sketch class.

CBA: Then what attracted Burne to hire you?

Al: When you’re a kid, you’re influenced by Alex Raymond, Hal Foster and Hogarth—they were the three at that time. I went up to United Features to get some comic books that I was missing, and the girl came out and said, “I think we have them; please wait here.”

While I was waiting there with my mom, there were pictures up on the wall of the people who worked for United Features at the time: Ernie Bushmiller and others. The gal came back with the books and I said, “Which one is Hogarth?” (I didn’t know his first name as he only signed “Hogarth.”) She said, “This guy here,” and pointed him out. She said, “Are you interested in art?” I said, “Yeah, I like to do comics.” And she said, “Well, he has a school,” and she gave me the phone number. I was too chicken to call, so my mom did and he said, “Yeah, I have the school.” So we made the appointment, went to see him that Saturday morning, and I showed him my work. That’s how I met him.

CBA: Your work was heavily influenced by Raymond. Did you look back at the old illustrators?

Al: No. I didn’t know them at the time. I didn’t realize illustration until I met Roy Krenkel in the Fall of 1948. He opened my eyes to all the good stuff. Raymond was my boy and, of course, Hogarth wasn’t too keen about that— he didn’t like Alex’s work.

CBA: Why? Al: After about two months of going to the school, I guess maybe I talked about Raymond once too often and he just went off on a tear. He said, “Raymond can’t draw! Austin Briggs can draw rings around him!

Every time Raymond draws male figures, they all look like fairies!” This went on and on and on. Here I am, 14 years old, see, [laughs] and he’s absolutely raving! I figured, “He’s Hogarth, so he should know.” But he didn’t.

CBA: Do you feel you picked up anything from Burne?

Al: No. Not a thing. Anything I picked up I had to quickly forget. As time goes on, there’s nothing in Burne’s work for me—time will tell.

Raymond and Foster are better now than they were 50 years ago and Hogarth hasn’t moved. I’m sorry but that’s

the way I feel about it.

CBA: Did you want to get a syndicate comic strip as opposed to comic book work?

Al: Oh yes. When I discovered Flash Gordon, I found what I wanted to do—and I discovered him through the films, which were in English but with Spanish subtitles—the best of two worlds.

CBA: How did you meet other guys who were into comics?

Al: I went up to Fiction House where I met Bob Lubbers, Johnny Celardo, and dear old George Evans (who I’ve been buddies with ever since). I also met a wonderful artist who I liked very much: Joseph Dillon. George and I became friends right away.

CBA: Marie Severin told me that you, Angelo Torres, and Frank Frazetta were known as “The Fleagle Gang.”

Al: Harvey Kurtzman gave us that name.

CBA: Were you guys carousers?

Al: Not in the way that you might think. We would go to films together and play baseball together—that was about it. We had a wonderful time but we didn’t carouse and go to beer joints, get drunk, and raise hell. No, no, no—nothing like that. It was strictly films and baseball.

CBA: Did you live hand to mouth when you first became a pro?

Al: No, my mom worked so I worked at home in Brooklyn.

CBA: Did you ever work in-house at EC? Al: No, I just went in to deliver the work. I usually went in around lunchtime and they’d always invite me for lunch (and that’s why I went in at that time of day).

CBA: Bill Gaines would hold court?

Al: Yeah. It was great. He was fun to work with.

CBA: From the interviews I read, it seems that work could be agonizing for you.

Al: Well, it’s not agonizing so much as… [sighs] impatience. I never thought I could do it as well unless Frank would help me or Roy would do a background—unless I worked with somebody on it, which was always fun and I always enjoyed that.

CBA: You bonded with the guys because you were into the same stuff?

Al: I think so. We all loved good stuff like music. We were all Sinatra buffs and I liked jazz very much (most of the guys didn’t dislike it but they weren’t into it like I was). Ange and I were into classical music.

We had different likes but they all had to do with art, creative stuff.

CBA: Did it feel like a community? Was it a part of your lifestyle to be with these guys?

Al: We all knew what we were doing. We were all in the same business. Ange, Roy and I used to go to the movies a lot.

CBA: What is Angelo like?

Al: First of all, he’s the gentleman of the bunch. He really is. He has a wonderful sense of humor and is very bright, talented, and a down-to-earth fellow. We had something in common in that he spoke Spanish and we had that together because we could make jokes in both languages. [laughs] CBA: I would argue that you both had a similar style. Did you two rely on photo reference?

Al: No, we made all of that stuff up. Sometimes we used photos but I would take them myself and only from time to time would I swipe from other photos. As a rule, I would take the Polaroid shots myself for my own stuff.

CBA: In James Van Hise’s The Art of Al Williamson, there were ’50s photos of you guys posing. Was that for your stuff?

Al: Yeah. I guess we all wanted to be in the films and this was the closest we ever got. We photographed ourselves with guns, pretended COMIC BOOK ARTIST

Spring 1999

to belt each other around, and it all worked out. I thought some of those photos were very good. They looked like the real thing. We were talented. [chuckles] CBA: Was your aspiration to conquer the world of comic books?

Al: I never thought of it in that respect. I didn’t want to set the world on fire; I just wanted to keep my balls warm. I always wanted to do a strip and would have loved to have just done Flash Gordon.

You know what I mean? Then I could just sit down, do what I love, make a little money, and that would have been great—but it turned out that I got to work differently (and eventually I did get to do Flash which was fun) and work with wonderful people. I worked with Johnny Prentice on Rip Kirby and he was a wonderful guy to work with. We’re very good friends and I learned a helluva lot with John.

CBA: A lot of you guys had a very similar style that seemed to be coming to fore in the ’50s. Did you feel like you were a part of a school?

Al: No, I don’t think so. We didn’t think of it that way. We admired the same artists—Foster, Raymond, and Caniff—so maybe that’s it.

CBA: How did you meet Roy Krenkel?

Al: He was a student at the Hogarth School of Cartoonists and Illustrators. We hit it off immediately. The thing is, he could have made a wonderful illustrator—he did do some beautiful illustrations— but he was a wonderful pen and ink artist; but nobody was interested in that stuff in those days.

CBA: How did he survive?

Al: He lived at home but I don’t know actually. I know that I asked him to work with me, doing backgrounds and I paid him for it. I don’t remember.

CBA: Some artists, like Wally Wood, obsessed on their work, but you once said that you never let your work interfere with your life.

Were you able to segregate the solitary life of being an artist from having a fully realized life?

Al: I was lucky. I got into something that I love and I don’t mind being alone because, first of all, I always have music going. I have my family around me. I don’t like to be alone—I like to have my moments, of course—but I enjoy doing comics. I guess one of the reasons I worked with my friends in those days was because we could be together. It was more fun.

CBA: Did you guys ever consider sharing a studio together?

Al: We never got around to it because we never made that kind of money. [laughs] But that would have been nice. If I would have been a little more on the ball, I would have worked harder in those days and I could have gotten a studio—but I didn’t and worked at home. I was very lazy. Mom worked and took care of me.

CBA: Did you feel that those were special times at EC? Al: Yes, and I think we all felt that they were special.

CBA: What did you do on your off times?

Al: Go to the movies and hang out.

CBA: When Wertham and the Kefauver Hearings started, was that an uneasy time for you?

Al: I never thought about it. It never bothered me. Even when EC went under, it didn’t bother me. Those things happen.

CBA: When the idea of Warren comics came up, did you feel that they could be the same special kind of thing as EC? Al: When Archie Goodwin took over; that’s when it was fun.

CBA: You met Archie in 1956 at Larry Ivie’s place. Who is Ivie?

Al: A dear friend who loved comics. He’s living in California now and he was a wonderful, sweet guy.

CBA: Was his interest to be a professional comics artist?

Al: I think so but he never quite made it. He didn’t push it.

CBA: Did he seek you out?

Al: He got in touch with me when he was going to the Hogarth school. He came over to my home and brought his work. He talked about this and that. He’s a collector at heart and he collected a lot of stuff—that’s how we got to know each other. Then he invited me to come over to his apartment and he introduced me to Archie and another fellow (whom I’ve forgotten the name of).

CBA: What was your impression of Archie upon meeting him?

Al: He wasn’t shy but a little aloof though not in a bad way. He was a gentleman and it took a little while—we saw each other and always had a good time—but little by little we really got to know each other and we became very, very good friends.

CBA: Did you admire his cartooning?

Spring 1999

COMIC BOOK ARTIST

Al: Oh God, yes! I thought he was wonderful! It was so unique and very, very funny. I have some of the sketches he gave me through the years and I’ll never part with them. He was an unsung hero when it came to being a cartoonist.

CBA: So you saw his work when it was in that fishing magazine?

Al: Yes! I have an original he gave me: “The Dock’s Rotten.”

CBA: Did you have an inkling that he was a fine storyteller?

Al: A publisher was looking for writers in late ’59 and I suggested Archie. He went up there, wrote some scripts and they liked ’em.

CBA: What made you think of Archie to write scripts?

Al: It must have been because I knew he was a writer.

CBA: Did people come to you for suggestions on who to hire?

Al: Yes. If the fellow was from a decent company, I would definitely give names of people who I thought would be able to come through for the company. Archie never let anybody down—he always came through with a good story.

CBA: You did a few stories for black-&-white magazines before Warren. Were you developing a taste for b-&-w work?

Al: I always liked b-&-w, which is great. Of course, the first comics I ever saw were in b-&-w.

CBA: How did you first hear that Jim Warren wanted to do comics in magazine format?

Al: There was Russ Jones and he seemed to be connected with it. I was introduced to Jones by Wally Wood. It turns out that he was trying to sell this idea (which I understand was not his idea but Larry Ivie’s) of doing a horror book.

CBA: Do you recall the pitch at all? Was it, “Let’s revive EC”?

Al: I don’t remember any of that. I met Jim Warren through Russ Jones but I honestly don’t remember how it all started. Jones seemed to have ideas but he didn’t seem to be able to follow through with them. I think that’s what the problem was. That’s why they got

Above: Roy Krenkel was a frequent collaborator with Al Williamson. Here’s an unpublished cover drawing by Roy, exquisitely rendered. ©1999 Richard D. Garrison.

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Archie as the editor.

CBA: Did Jim Warren come to you and say, “I need an editor. Any suggestions?”

Al: No, I don’t remember any of that. Archie got started because he wrote some of the scripts for the books.

CBA: Legend has it that you made the suggestion to Warren to hire Archie as editor.

Al: That could be but I don’t think so. I’ll tell you why: I was a little disenchanted with that whole thing and I cut out. The next thing you know, Archie was the man and that’s when I started working for Warren again. Because I knew that I could trust Archie—but I can’t take credit for being the one who suggested Archie to him; I may have but don’t remember.

CBA: Did the larger page format and b-&-w free up your art?

Al: It was a lot of fun. I prefer b-&-w.

CBA: How did you and Archie work?

Al: He’d give me a script and I’d do it. [laughs] CBA: Did you collaborate with the plots?

Al: No. We worked together on [the syndicated comic strips] Secret Agent X-9 and Star Wars where I had some suggestions but I didn’t write the stories. I would say, “Gee, I would like to do such and such a scene; you think you could maybe incorporate it sometime in the story?” And he’d do it so I could draw it. The stories were his.

CBA: What made Archie a good collaborator?

Al: First of all, he’s an artist. When he wrote a story, he knew the pictures and could see them in his mind. Consequently, when he wrote a story, he made it very simple for the artist. It was right there. A lot of writers will write a script that can’t be drawn. My God, they’ll ask you to draw a million things in a panel that you can’t do. That’s not all of them, of course, but I have had scripts that I had to send back. You have to keep it simple and you can’t throw everything in one panel; you have to tell the story.

CBA: Was it memorable to receive a script from Archie?

Al: I always knew that I was going to enjoy it. How can I explain? When you work with someone like Archie (not only a terrific talent but a dear friend), there was never any problem. You got the script, sat down, and you did it. I never had to redo anything.

Archie was the best.

CBA: How do you work? Do you start with thumbnails?

Al: I just sit down and do it. If I have a problem with a panel, I’ll sit down and do it on tracing paper and work something out.

CBA: You’d characterize it as working with Archie rather than working for Warren?

Al: I worked with Archie because I knew that there wouldn’t be any funny business; if you got a job in, you’ll get paid for it. So there was never any of that problem because I knew that if there was any funny business, Archie would pull out before you can say, “Jack Robinson.” As long as Archie was at the helm, I knew that everything was okay.

CBA: So obviously when Archie left, you didn’t do any freelance work for Warren.

Al: Actually when I left, Archie was still editor when I started working on my own stuff. I started doing a lot of ghosting on other strips which paid better. So I didn’t do as much comic book work even though Archie was still editor. I worked on Rip Kirby with Johnny Prentice; I did Big Ben Bolt for John Cullen Murphy; and I also worked on another strip called Dan Flagg for Don Sherwood. I worked on them at home.

CBA: Did you have an interest in getting back into color comics?

Al: Yeah but they weren’t doing my kind of stuff. I didn’t care for super-heroes—I don’t hate them but they’re not my thing. I can’t think “super-hero.” [laughs] I like adventure, western, SF. CBA: You worked for Warren in the ’70s—what brought you back?

Al: Good question. [laughs] I think it was Louise Jones. I didn’t do many stories for Warren.

CBA: You did what many consider a favorite tale, “Success Story.” Did you base any of those characters on real people?

Al: Yeah, me. [laughs] CBA: They were all you? [laughs] Al: Actually they were based on somebody else but we will not mention who.

CBA: Oh darn. [laughs] Al: I shouldn’t say it like that because it gives you the wrong idea; it was based on all artists who use assistants. I’ve met a couple of artists who would say, “Hey, look at what I’ve worked on here! What do you think?” You’d look at it and know that Joe did it because Joe was working for him at the time—and you’d find out later that Joe did do it because you asked Joe! [laughs] Some of these guys… but, hell, you’re only human.

CBA: You had a great collaboration with Krenkel on “H20 World.”

Al: That was nice! Roy did all of that on tracing paper though I did all the figures myself. He did all the underwater cities.

CBA: You said that there was “funny business” at times with Warren. Was it simply in late payments for work?

Al: Well, when I said that it was because I couldn’t think of a better term. When you work for Archie, you can trust Archie. I knew Warren and didn’t figure that he was going to screw anybody but I didn’t know him that well. I have worked with people who have screwed me and I didn’t want that to happen. That’s part of learning the 50

business. If you have any doubts at all about anybody, you don’t work for them. Archie was a very intelligent man and he knows his stuff. He was very straight forward and he would not work with anybody who was going to be a pain or be a cheat or not pay the artist or be a crook. That’s why I was able to work with him and knew there wasn’t going to be a problem.

CBA: Did you feel that those early Warren books edited by Archie were special? Did you feel part of a gang again?

Al: Not really, no. It was nice to have a gang together but it was a different ball game—I was married, working on strips, and I finally grew up a little bit—y’know, meeting deadlines. My wife and I wanted children so there you go.

CBA: What was the high point doing work at Warren?

Al: It was working with Archie, of course—but I didn’t do that much because I was doing other stuff. No, I never had a problem with Warren or anything like that.

CBA: Your material has been reprinted ad infinitum— Al: No, I never got any money for that. None of us got any money and it would have been nice if everyone had gotten something out of it, even if it was just a little bit.

CBA: Do you do much penciling any more?

Al: Very little. I work so slow now that I wouldn’t be able to make any money and I’ve got a kid about to go to college.

Available at www.twomorrows.com COMIC BOOK ARTIST

Spring 1999

THE RETRO COMICS EXPERIENCE!

Edited by MICHAEL EURY, BACK ISSUE magazine celebrates comic books of the 1970s, 1980s, and today through recurring (and rotating) departments like “Pro2Pro” (dialogue between professionals), “BackStage Pass” (behind-the-scenes of comicsbased media), “Greatest Stories Never Told” (spotlighting unrealized comics series or stories), and more!

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“Gods!” Takes an in-depth look at WALTER SIMONSON’s Thor, the Thunder God in the Bronze Age, “Pro2Pro” interview with TOM DeFALCO and RON FRENZ, Hercules: Prince of Power, Moondragon, Three Ways to End the New Gods Saga, exclusive interview with fantasy writer MICHAEL MOORCOCK, art and commentary by GERRY CONWAY, JACK KIRBY, BOB LAYTON, and more, with a swingin’ Thor cover by SIMONSON!

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“Liberated Ladies” eyeing female characters that broke barriers in the Bronze Age: Big Barda, Valkyrie, Ms. Marvel, Phoenix, Savage She-Hulk, and the sword-wielding Starfire. Plus a “Pro2Pro” interview with JILL THOMPSON, GAIL SIMONE, and BARBARA KESEL, art and commentary by JOHN BYRNE, GEORGE PEREZ, JACK KIRBY, MIKE VOSBURG, and more, with a new cover by BRUCE TIMM!

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“Avengers Assemble!” Writer ROGER STERN’S acclaimed 1980s Avengers run, West Coast Avengers, early Avengers toys, and histories of Hawkeye, Mockingbird, and Wonder Man, with art and commentary from JOHN and SAL BUSCEMA, JOHN BYRNE, BRETT BREEDING, TOM DeFALCO, STEVE ENGLEHART, BOB HALL, AL MILGROM, TOM MORGAN, TOM PALMER, JOE SINNOTT, and more. PÉREZ cover!

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“Toon Comics!” History of Space Ghost in comics, Comico’s Jonny Quest and Star Blazers, Marvel’s Hanna-Barbera line and Dennis the Menace, behind the scenes at Marvel Productions, Ltd., and a look at the unpublished Plastic Man comic strip.

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“Tabloids and Treasuries,” spotlighting every all-new tabloid from the 1970s. Superman vs. the Amazing Spider-Man, The Bible, Captain America’s Bicentennial Battles, The Wizard of Oz, even the PAUL DINI/ALEX ROSS World’s Greatest Super-Heroes editions! Commentary and art by ADAMS, GARCIA-LOPEZ, GRELL, KIRBY, KUBERT, MAYER, ROMITA SR., TOTH, and more.

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CBA Interview

Anne & Archie A talk with Archie Goodwin’s widow, Anne T. Murphy Conducted by Jon B. Cooke Anne T. Murphy was the wife of Warren’s greatest editor—and quite possibly greatest writer—the late Archie Goodwin, and she is a lifelong editor herself for Redbook magazine (where she met Archie when they both served on staff in the early ’60s). In meeting the many artists and writers Archie worked with, Anne witnessed much of the history of American comics in the last 35 years, including the early days of Warren. She has keen insight into the inner workings of our art form and is, as you’ll read, an engaging conversationalist.

The following telephone interview took place on February 9, 1999 and the transcript was copyedited by Anne.

Below: Archie Goodwin’s high school chum, noted poster artist Paul Davis, drew this cartoon of the artist/writer/editor for the EC fanzine Squa Tront. It depicts Archie working on Hoohah! (another EC fanzine) during the 1950s. Art ©1999 Paul Davis.

52

Comic Book Artist: Do you recall Russ Jones’ involvement with the formation of Warren’s b-&-w horror magazines?

Anne T. Murphy: Russ Jones’ contribution seemed—to me— that he brought all these people together and managed to convince everybody there would be work for them with this guy Warren and to generally get things underway. Somehow, he didn’t carry through very well and many people ended up feeling he couldn’t be trusted— but he did set the stage in a way, and Archie, as the main writer, was in place when whatever went wrong went wrong. So Archie ended up as editor. It’s not the only job in his career that came to him this way.

CBA: It seems that Larry Ivie might have been the one to initially put the bug in Jim Warren’s ear.

Anne: That’s possible; I don’t know. I knew Larry Ivie as a comics fan and former art school classmate of Archie and Paul Davis. Larry also trained in Visual Arts and was involved in a lot of interesting things then—but I recall Archie dealing mostly with Russ when he started writing for Warren. I forget who drew Archie into working for Warren—maybe Al Williamson. Archie and I were dating at the time and he was also still working at Redbook. He did the writing in his spare time on nights I was at NYU getting my Masters and actually was able—even with his full-time job at Redbook and going out with me—to churn out two Warren stories a night in those years, a pretty incredible turn-out.

CBA: What were the rates?

Anne: I don’t remember— everybody recalls them as terrible rates. I don’t think they were working for the rates, because there hadn’t been much real comic book work available and they were all interested in doing this work.

CBA: Did Archie always aspire to comics work?

Anne: Oh, yeah. He talked about the fact that he never had wanted to do anything else—and he had to battle his father to do it, just like a lot of people in comics. As far as his

father was concerned, you couldn’t make a living doing it. He had also had to battle his father to go to art school and was made to put in several months at the University of Oklahoma first. He came home at Thanksgiving and simply told his father he was never going back, he was going to New York. His mother was supportive but his father never stopped arguing the issue. Archie had also taken care to make sure he wasn’t really passing his classes. [laughs] He was determined to do what he wanted and his father was determined that he wasn’t going to—but truthfully Archie was right, because what would he do in Oklahoma? His father had no real idea what he should do; his father just knew what he didn’t want Archie to do. His father was a truck driver and then a gas station owner and finally had a tire retreading place. Archie worked in the gas station for a half-year when they couldn’t pay to send him back to School of Visual Arts. I think his father wanted him to stay in Oklahoma and be like a normal person, only he wasn’t sure what he meant by “normal.”

CBA: Was Archie a “born artist”?

Anne: He was just one of those kids—and you’ll find a lot of them in comics—they weren’t jocks, who had their noses in books and lived in these private worlds and found a little circle of friends who fit their interests—they definitely weren’t friendless but neither were they all-American boys who grow up to be businessmen or lawyers like Dad. This is very common in comics, I think. Archie was born in Missouri and his family lived all around the Missouri/Kansas area his parents came from. Both his parents came off farms on the MissouriKansas border. They lived for a while in Coffeyville, Kansas, famous for the Dalton gang’s last shoot-out when they tried, and failed, to rob two banks at once. When Archie was in junior high, his father picked the family up and moved down to Tulsa, getting involved in a partnership in a trucking company. Tulsa was Archie’s first experience with truly segregated schools and movie theaters, and he mentioned how strange it seemed even though Kansas and Missouri didn’t exactly boast mixed neighborhoods. Archie didn’t make many friends in junior high because it was too short a time to really connect with anyone—but when he got to Will Rogers High School, he made a circle of friends who were all in art class together; Paul Davis the illustrator and poster artist was one of them and so was Russell Myers, who does the comic strip Broom Hilda. After graduation they all wanted to go to New York except for Russell who went to Kansas City to work for Hallmark Cards, and they all thought he was nuts.

Then, years later, he pops up with a successful comic strip! They all shared a very good art teacher called Hortense Batehoiz.

CBA: Did she help direct him to seek an artistic career?

Anne: They always spoke well of her, so I would imagine so. Paul and Russell also went on to art careers; I always got the impression she was a teacher who brought out the best in the kids, and they did all go on to good art schools and to work in fields that interested them. I know, when our children went to specialized art schools in New York City—our son, Sean, to Music and Art and our daughter, Jennifer, to Art and Design—Archie did say he would have loved to have had somewhere like that to go to.

CBA: So Archie came to New York and went to school and his first professional job was at Redbook?

Anne: He may have had something before but Redbook was the first long-standing job. That, of course, was interrupted when he was drafted into the Army. He was in the Army from 1960 to 1962, or thereabouts, during the Berlin Wall and the Cuban Missile Crisises. I met him after he came back to Redbook; I was in editing—in the fiction department and later in copyediting and production—and he was in the art department. So that’s where we met, although I was COMIC BOOK ARTIST

Spring 1999

very iffy about getting involved with someone at work.

Archie had an interesting encounter in the late ‘50s while he was at Redbook: He got to turn down Andy Warhol, [laughs] which we often joked about—but he was quite right, because Andy’s work wasn’t right for the magazine and Archie had specifically been sent out because he was the junior art-department employee and no one else wanted to see Andy Warhol—they said, “He’s got lots of pretty good shoe drawings and other strange stuff on foil!” So Archie went out to look at the portfolio as a courtesy and to tell Andy they couldn’t use him because they had no shoe pieces coming up. Archie, fresh out of art school, had been exposed to “You don’t trace! “ in his classes so he actually gave Andy a little lecture on doing his own drawings instead of just tracing on silver foil, which he viewed as swipe. [laughter] We laughed about that for years. Like all Archie’s stories, it’s more a joke on him than one aimed at Andy. l shared this story with Jenette Kahn who used to be a friend of Andy’s.

CBA: Way back when?

Anne: Way back when Andy was still alive. [laughter] CBA: Did Archie talk about comics back then?

Anne: Oh, sure. When I met him, I had no idea that people did comics. I never thought about how they came about, so it was a real revelation. Over the years, I met and got to know a lot of these makers of comics. I’m not interested in comics the way fans who avidly follow a book or character are but I am interested in the people who do comics and in certain things in comics, so I get very annoyed at the way they’re trivialized in America. Critics gave a wonderful review to something like Maus, which is wonderful, but insisted on adding, “Of course, this isn’t really anything like comics.”

Which art spiegelman himself disputed in the New York Times. It is comics; in Europe there isn’t this hang-up that comics are junk and must be put down or apologized for. You have good comics and junky comics, just like you have good movies and bad movies, or great books and trashy books. It’s a legitimate form of communication; l’d take many comics over The Bridges of Madison County or Tom Clancy’s oeuvres, both best-seller list fixtures. Condemning an entire genre says more about the critic than the actual genre—it says ignorance, snobbery and probably passing judgment without even reading the material. So, I didn’t know comics but, when Archie asked which ones l read as a kid, he fell over laughing when I said Little Lulu and “American Eagle.” He, of course, was into EC and didn’t regard my choices as real comics, although in later years he admitted my taste had been vindicated.

CBA: When you first met Archie, were his aspirations to get into the comics field?

Anne: He talked about it. He was taking a story-writing course at the New School then and submitted the story written in class to Ellery Queen Magazine. They wrote back accepting it but barred use of that pen name—Archie Goodwin is the sidekick of Rex Stout’s fictional detective Nero Wolfe—and then were so delighted when he wrote back to say it was his real name that they used the anecdote as an introduction to the story, which ran in the July 1962 issue. [laughter] This was, I think, Archie’s first published prose work, unless you count the EC fanzine Hoohah that he worked on with Ron Parker. Archie, Paul Davis and Larry Ivie were all going to School of Visual Arts (renamed from Cartoonists and Illustrators during their student years) and living in the same dumpy rooming houses. Archie was first introduced to John Benson (editor of EC fanzine Squa Tront)

by Larry Ivie at that time, although John already knew his name from reading Hoohah—and Larry also introduced Archie and Al Williamson then. So it was a little hotbed of EC fans.

CBA: Did Archie seek out other EC artists to visit?

Anne: If the opportunity came up—but Archie wouldn’t have just sought out or intruded on strangers; but they all moved in the same circles and artists weren’t huge stars as some of them are now, It was thin pickings as far as work and fan attention. No conventions, but they would hang around together.

CBA: Was this at a fan level or was it camaraderie?

Anne: I would call it camaraderie. There were no conventions or huge fan following, just other people interested in what interested you. We’d go to parties early on and Harvey Kurtzman or Wally Wood would be there and it wasn’t a big deal. To us, they were people like us, friends, not celebrities. Archie was doing some cartoons for a fishing magazine, Fishing World, which Al Williamson may have connected him with and a bit of writing for strips, including assisting Spring 1999

COMIC BOOK ARTIST

Leonard Starr with On Stage.

There wasn’t much comic work until this thing came up with Warren and Archie starting doing the writing. He ended up writing the bulk of the Warren stories, even before Russ left. So Archie just happened to be waiting in the wings when whatever happened happened—whether some big event caused Russ to leave or Warren was watching the whole situation and realized the artists were feeling iffy about Russ. I don’t remember the exact circumstances, if I ever heard them, but Archie was there and a discussion took place with Jim about taking over the editor’s job. We went out to an airport hotel in Queens to “take a meeting,” Hollywood-style, around the pool with Jim. CBA: How old were you when you met Archie?

Anne: Me? Very early twenties. I’m just enough younger than him that I got rock ‘n’ roll, and he didn’t. [laughter] He was in the Army and remember, constant rock ‘n’ roll and Elvis in the barracks, and he just hated it all. Remember, he graduated high school in 1955, right before Buddy Holly, Eddie Cochran, all those people. He came of the era that listened to Patti Page, “Crying in the Chapel,” “How Much is that Doggie in the Window,” music like that. I was horrified! [laughs] But he was pretty funny, he didn’t have to like the same kind of music I did. Eventually, he came around and ended up liking the Beatles, Herman’s Hermit, the whole British invasion. So we weren’t stuck with this culture gap between us.

CBA: Did Archie see himself foremost as a cartoonist?

Anne: He originally planned to be a cartoonist and, because a lot of these guys, as kids, did their own little comic books—writing, drawing, creating their own characters—I think he envisioned himself as doing it all. He always said that when he went to Visual Arts he was too slow to turn comics out at a per-page rate and that his kind of stylized drawing wasn’t what fans wanted anyway—they wanted a more-realistic style.

CBA: His cartooning seemed very in sync with its time, though. If you look at the animated shows of UPI and, for instance, the almost abstract cartooning of Virgil Patch, he seemed to fit right into that late ‘50s style. Did he ever approach Harvey Kurtzman to be part of his crew?

Anne: I don’t know. Archie was in some ways a bit shy; I think he was already writing anyway, and he was always interested in writing as well as art. His ideal would have been to be able to do it all, control everything, self-publish (a nonexistent notion at the time) and be able to make a living from it. I think he felt he couldn’t do it with drawing alone. He felt he could write fast enough and he was very good at being able to tailor-write for particular artists. He didn’t just write a story for anyone; he wrote with particular artists in mind, keeping their strengths and weaknesses in mind. He knew what each

Above: Another high school friend, Russell Myers, went on to fame as the comic strip artist on Broom Hilda. Here’s the witch playing out Vampirella’s pose from the cover of the 1973 Comic Art Convention souvenir book. Broom Hilda ©1973 Chicago Tribune.

Below: Archie’s hilarious contribution to Flo Steinberg’s Big Apple Comix, a look at New York’s peep shows. ©1975 Archie Goodwin.

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Above: Can you spot the typo in this story’s title? No? That’s because Anne did when the job was about to be printed. Literate spouses do come in handy, yes?

From Blazing Combat #3. ©1965 Warren Publications.

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one was interested in and what he could do well. He gravitated to writing that way and—with so small a comic book market— writing for Warren was a perfect fit; but Archie always sketched too. He did thumbnails with all his scripts. I think his best drawings are those for “Shop Talk” and the cartoon editorials in the Epic books. He also drew on our children’s lunch bags and sometimes did sketches on two adjoining bags which become a complete cartoon again only when put together. I have a collection of lunch bags that the kids remembered to bring home.

CBA: So cartooning was part of everyday life?

Anne: I guess so. He did wonderful cards for our birthdays and other occasions.

CBA: When did you and Archie get married?

Anne: The mid ‘60s.

CBA: Was it unusual at the time for a woman to retain her maiden name? Did you do it for a professional reason?

Anne: I guess it was unusual, because people demanded a reason, seemed to think you should provide a good justification like professional reasons for violating custom. I just wanted to— and l kept my own name on the Redbook masthead. My real reason was not the masthead but simply that it was my name, my identity, I saw no reason to be expected to give it up. It was my family name. I never even use the term “maiden name” in reference to my name because it’s a relevant term only if you have multiple family names and need to distinguish one from another. Times eventually caught up with me but, until they did, you have no idea how many people with no legal knowledge and no stake in my life would challenge me, insisting that I use my “legal” name. Clerks taking credit-card applications, or forms for library cards would insist, “You have to use that name.” Eventually, I understood they somehow perceived my rejecting custom to be far more of a personal threat than a total stranger’s little private decision ought to be; and I learned enough about the law—particularly from joining The Lucy Stone League, a feminist organization decades older than Betty Friedan’s Now—to tell them no law existed requiring me to change my name. These amateur legal advisors never believed it; I have no objection to other women changing their name if they wish, but wouldn’t dream of making them justify that choice to me and I expect the same acceptance.

CBA: Did he see the work as a godsend—EC come alive again?

Anne: I think he was very excited by the opportunity and it was like a dream coming true, but I don’t think he was respectful to the point of repeating things. Some of the work may have been a certain amount of homage, but I think he used it to very much do his own stuff. I think EC informed what he did but I don’t think he out-andout imitated it.

CBA: No, I didn’t mean imitate. Kurtzman, Feldstein and Gaines’ material has been pastiched to death, but Archie took EC as a springboard with a healthy nod in their direction.

Anne: That’s what I think he did. He always had his own little twist of irony. He had a humor that could poke fun and be a little sardonic without ever being mean. By and large, he was never meanspirited to other people.

CBA: That really is a major appeal of Archie as a person.

Anne: He also was one of the very few people able to leave one company and go to another without burning his bridges. Some of his peers would stalk off and say, “I have trouble with management, this happened, that happened, and I’m never going to work for them again!” And, in fact, very often they do end up working for them

again. Archie never left bad feelings behind, CBA: Archie told me that he couldn’t stay with one company too long or he’d get antsy. Was it always an economic decision?

Anne: Well, it often had to be; you have a family. Someone said in the early ‘90s, “It’s a shame Archie is on staff and not freelancing and writing his own stuff.” Archie had medical needs by that time, and the job, and not much spare time. I know what that person meant, but I had to say, “He can’t freelance, he needs the health insurance.” DC was really great to him through the whole ordeal.

They gave him every support to keep doing the job and also to get time off for medical care, to stay in a job he cared about and to keep medical insurance without which he probably wouldn’t have lived as long as he did. Some of his earlier job changes, though, definitely were precipitated by management decisions that eroded his autonomy and ability to do the job he wanted to do.

CBA: When Archie left Warren in the ‘60s, did he leave for greener pastures or did he jump a sinking ship?

Anne: I don’t remember where he went right after leaving Warren the first time but jumping a sinking ship sounds possible. Archie always identified with creators even while representing management, Warren wasn’t paying on time; the artists, who trusted Archie, were asking for assurance Archie couldn’t really offer; and Archie felt caught in the middle because he wasn’t getting any solid explanations to pass along to the artists. Archie was uncomfortable stringing them along; Russ Jones would have been the man for that. Of course, Warren survived for quite a while after that and I have no idea what the financial problems were.

CBA: He went on by reprinting Archie’s work! [laughs] Anne: I never heard Archie express any bitterness or bad feelings about that.

CBA: Did his work at Warren make Archie’s career?

Anne: He had always wanted to be in comics and by then he had a name. He had shown he could not only do most of the writing but also the editing. He had all that art department and editorial experience from Redbook, professional magazine experience. So he came to Warren with that and didn’t really need to pick up how to put a magazine together professionally at a comic book company. He already had this knowledge to build on and would have made a career in comics one way or another.

CBA: I’m also talking about his rep as a star among pros; all the contributors talk about his stories and editorial style so lovingly.

Anne: He was well liked by everyone; they liked working for him and they trusted him. Admittedly, he did rip off Edgar Allan Poe a lot. [laughter] CBA: Well, might as well rip off from the best!

Anne: That’s what he used to say.

CBA: Were you a progressive liberal couple? Judging from the stories in Blazing Combat, with its very strong anti-war sentiment….

Anne: I guess so. We’re Upper West Siders. He was from a very red-necky Republican part of the country and I came from conservative Irish Catholics. Whether we were reacting against that or just being Upper West Siders… I can’t believe I once supported Barry Goldwater. The very liberal Redbook staff was annoyed but my real reason was that I didn’t trust Lyndon Johnson because of his shifty eyes, and Archie later said I was right about that. [laughs] CBA: Archie had a strong humanist feeling that came out in those Blazing Combat stories. That famous story Joe Orlando drew….

Anne: The one about the peasant caught in the middle? That’s the best known story. Supposedly the magazine went under because the U.S. Army banned it from the PXs during the early years of the Vietnam War, before there was widespread protest. I don’t think he was writing an anti-Vietnam War story; I think he was writing an antiwar story, questioning who a war really profits. Don’t forget Archie had been in the Army himself and didn’t go willingly. He didn’t like the Army mentality.

CBA: Those stories are fondly recalled by many, many people.

Anne: They’re good. And I always liked the graphic design of Blazing Combat.

CBA: Louise Simonson told me that Warren knew how to push people’s buttons.

Anne: I think Jim had a vision of himself as the guy who had everybody’s number and who understood motivation, who could step in and get people to do what he wanted. I sensed he had an image of who I was based on one or two characteristics and, in fact, COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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MATT BAKER: The Art of Glamour

between Jim’s financial problems and being comfortable with what he told the creators.

The second time Archie left over a misunderstanding about autonomy and who was in charge of what. In that case, Jim probably thought he knew Archie and his response to the situation and, in fact, didn’t.

CBA: Do you recall a party at the Plaza Hotel that Jim threw for Archie, Richard Corben and Will Eisner?

Anne: Jim hosted a dinner in a private room in the Plaza followed by the revue EI Grande de Coca Cola downstairs. Archie used to order in egg salad on whole wheat toast every day for lunch and at this party Warren, as his grand gesture, had the server put a covered dish before Archie, a guest of honor, then whip the cover off to reveal Archie’s meal: egg salad on toast. Then, after the joke, Jim had them serve the real dinner.

CBA: In some stories in the Warren books Archie edited, you have some credits.

Anne: I recall credit for a story idea—and I recall stopping by and being shown a Blazing Combat story entitled “Thermoplae.” Huge lettering! I clearly remember it was all ready to go to the engravers and I said, “Pretty nice splash page—but, you know, Thermopylae is spelled with a Y in it.” “Oh my God,” he gasped, and rushed to get it fixed and reschedule engraving—and I also recall some editing on the serialized Adam Link during which I found the script had set up a massive hole in the plot; luckily we were in time to replot before the serialization headed irretrievably down the wrong path and it was too late—and I also suggested some story titles that were used.

CBA: Were you actively involved in Archie’s work—or was it here and there?

Anne: Here and there probably but I was never on Warren’s writer’s roster nor did I want to be. I was actively involved in my own interests and work commitments.

CBA: Did Archie always fondly recall his Warren days?

Anne: Yes, although he wasn’t thrilled with the six-week episode in the ’70s as editor of Creepy and Vampirella that worked out badly or with feeling caught in the middle earlier on. He was very proud of much of the Warren work. When he was doing it and all went smoothly, he was happy—even with occasional minor hassles—just being able to set the whole tone and feel it was very much his creation editorially.

In that respect, yes, he did.

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I don’t think he knew at all who I was. I sensed he created a stereotype, a central casting version that defined for him who you were—and although I very much liked his words about Archie at the memorial service, I still think it was more Jim’s image of Archie than Archie himself.

We invited Jim to our wedding and he warned us he would only drop in briefly—I always felt he was expecting an American Legion hall wedding, Irish Catholic, y’know?

CBA: And the Okies…. [laughs] Anne: And we laughed about it later because Jim was one of the last persons to leave.

We had it at the Hotel Carlyle and he was probably surprised. [laughter] Jim always tried to impress you with grand gestures but they depended on the assumption that you were less sophisticated than he and would be easily impressed by grand gestures.

CBA: Did you guys have affection for each other?

Anne: Me and Archie?

CBA: No! [laughter] You guys and Warren!

Anne: I’m not sure we knew him well beyond the persona he presented—which seemed how he wanted people to know him. I do recall he asked Archie what we wanted for a wedding present and Archie said, “A blender.” Well, Warren borrowed photos of us and had a Japanese artist featured in New York Magazine do a wooden wall hanging with Uncle Sam at the bottom, Archie standing on his shoulders like an acrobat and me standing on top. At the bottom was a nameplate saying “Goodwin.” I don’t think Jim had anticipated that I wouldn’t use the name Goodwin. [laughs] But I still have it and it’s nice—similar to Paul Davis’ style… I remember Jim had a mounted tissue paper—or papier-maché—moosehead in his apartment.

CBA: What brought Archie back to Warren?

Anne: Maybe it seemed like a good offer and one thing he had liked at Warren was the autonomy. I have the impression one of the things Warren did very right was not to intrude too much into the editor’s decisions. Certainly things were checked with Warren but he didn’t hang over Archie’s shoulder. Jim left Archie to do what he did best and trusted him. So, on the one hand, Jim thought he had everyone’s number, and was very often wrong but, on the other hand, one of his very good qualities was not intruding: If you get someone who does what he does well, then just let him do it, and intrude only if you have to. Archie left the first time when he felt caught in the middle

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CBA Commentary

Alex Toth: Before I Forget The artist discusses the challenges of his black-&-white work at Warren Magazines

“Proof Positive” Creepy #80. ©1976 Warren Publishing.

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“Survival!” Blazing Combat #3. ©1966 Warren Publishing.

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“The Monument” Eerie #3. ©1966 Warren Publishing.

“Grave Undertaking” Creepy #5. ©1965 Warren Publishing.

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“Ensnared!” Creepy #76. ©1976 Warren Publishing.

“Kui” Creepy #79. ©1976 Warren Publishing.

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“The Hacker is Back” Eerie #65. ©1975 Warren Publishing.

“Unree(a)l!” Creepy #78. ©1976 Warren Publishing.

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“Phantom of Pleasure Island” Creepy #75. ©1975 Warren Publishing.

“Daddy and the Pie” Eerie #64. ©1975 Warren Publishing.

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“Bravo for Adventure, Part II” The Rook #4. ©1980 Alex Toth.

Batman Black & White #4. ©199 6 DC Comics.

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Spring 1999

The Spanish Invasion

An In-depth look at Warren’s Spanish Artists

by David A. Roach Spring 1999

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Spanish Gold

The Spanish Invasion An in-depth look at Warren’s Spanish Artists

by David A. Roach

Far right: Cover to the first issue of the legendary British “cartoon” weekly comic, The Eagle, April 14, 1950. ©1950 Hulton Press

Europe

Inset: Map showing the location of the Barcelona school of artists in Catalonia, Spain. There’s got to be something in the water, eh?

Preceding page: Sanjulian painting used as the cover to Eerie #41. ©1972 Warren Publications.

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In early 1971 fans picking up the latest copy of Vampirella would have had no idea that they were witnessing the start of a revolution. Hidden deep in the pages of Vampirella #11, cover dated May ’71, was a story drawn by the artist Luis Roca which heralded an invasion of artists, not from America, but from Spain. In the magazine’s next issue, readers were greeted by a Sanjulian cover and a “Vampi” strip drawn by José Gonzales and, by #15, it was being drawn entirely by Spaniards. Over the next decade, Warren would come to use 45 different Spanish artists and transform his own fortunes in the process. For a while they also appeared at Marvel, Skywald and Charlton—but it was an invasion that was short-lived and left no lasting mark on American comics, no acolytes to carry on in its tradition.

There is a saying that history belongs to the victors, and this is true of an American comics industry built on the success and dominance of super-heroes. On the rare occasion that historians have written about Jim Warren’s line of horror magazines, they have invariably been seen merely as an epilogue to the glory days of EC. The usual story goes something like this: Warren wanted to recreate the old EC horror books and gathered together as many of the original artists as he could find. After a few years of great comics, they all left and the company slid into the doldrums only to be saved by cheap foreign artists from Spain. They could draw pretty pictures but couldn’t tell a story and after a while Warren went under. The End. But the true story of Warren’s great Spanish experience is far more complex than that. It’s a story that has its roots not only in Spain but also in Britain. It’s a story of warring art agencies and it’s the story of a generation of artists that created something unique and then gradually disappeared. Almost all of Warren’s artists came from the city of Barcelona, the capital of the Spanish region of Catalonia, and were mostly born within a few years of each other. As the artist Marcel Miralles puts it: “The biographies of Spanish comics artists are almost always the same: Most are from working class families, and as they say in bullfighting, ‘A hungry bull is the meanest.’

Perhaps this is what leads these kids to get into comics. These artists are self-taught Catalonia, and they usually start Spain working when they are 12 or 13.” Spain in the 1950s was an isolated, repressed country, dominated by one of Europe’s last dictators: Generalissimo Francisco Franco. It had its own comics industry but it was small and woefully underfunded.

There was an alternative, however: Britain. Working for British comics they could earn the relatively vast sum of a thousand pesetas a page and it gave them access to the sort of Western consumer lifestyle their fellow countrymen could only dream about—but to explain how the Spanish came to work in Britain, one first needs to

understand the history of British comics themselves.

Comic books first appeared in Britain in the 1890s, a good 40 years before America; they were aimed at a young audience and dominated by two publishers, Amalgamated Press (later known as Fleetway) and D.C. Thomson. Up until the Second World War, it was an industry without a significant tradition of adventure comics, rather their strips were either humorous funny animal tales or stories of children that owed their origins more to the book illustrations of the day. In 1940, paper rationing severely curtailed the output of the big two companies, but also allowed a number of smaller, so-called “pirate publishers” to step in, offering gaudy, cheaplyproduced comics to a thrill-starved audience. In the ’30s, American comic books had begun to establish a foothold in Britain but the outbreak of war effectively brought that to a halt, allowing the pirates to step in. With a generation of artists at war, the pirates had to make do with whoever they could find and their resulting efforts were sometimes exciting but more often brash and crude.

1950 was to prove the key year in British comics. It saw the end of paper rationing which heralded an explosion of publishing including the first issues of Cowboy Comics and Schoolfriend from Fleetway, and The Eagle from Hulton Press. The Eagle’s editor was a priest, the Reverend Marcus Morris, who had been so appalled by one of the pirate comics, The Bat (published by Gerald G. Swann), that he became determined to create a more acceptable alternative.

The Eagle, with its mixture of full-colour painted strips, informative features, and text stories was an instant success selling 750,000 copies a week. Its main appeal was the science-fiction strip “Dan Dare,” drawn by Frank Hampton and a small army of assistants (including inkers, painters, photographers and prop builders!), which set an almost impossibly high standard for the rest of the industry to follow—but follow they did and as more glossy tabloid-sized comics appeared, so too did artists like Ron Embleton, Don Lawrence, Frank Bellamy and John M. Burns to fill them. Eagle was in many ways the voice of the establishment, resolutely middle-class in its worldview and respectable in every way. So too were rivals like Junior Express, Boys World, Ranger, Look and Learn and T.V.21. Hulton soon expanded its line to include Swift and Robin (for young readers) and Girl (for the burgeoning female market created by the success of Schoolfriend). Fleetway’s Schoolfriend was a comics revival of an earlier story paper (Britain’s rather more genteel equivalent of the American dime novels or pulps) and it was aimed at an early-teens female audience. With sales of a million copies a week, it was the biggest-selling comic in British publishing history and naturally spawned a whole industry of imitators. The typical Schoolfriend story would involve plucky young girls, boarding schools, horses, ballet, and derring-do in endless permutations, a formula seized on by rivals like Girls Crystal, Princess, Diana, Tina and June.

Schoolfriend’s format, roughly the same dimensions as a Warren magazine, printed mostly in black-&-white on cheap paper and usually 32 pages long became the industry standard. Boys weeklies like Valiant, Tiger, and Lion soon followed, all containing a mixture of war, suspense, sport, detective, and humor strips and at anytime COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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from the ’50s to the ’70s boys had the choice of up to twenty-such titles to choose from.

The third major format had its roots in the story library tradition of the detective series Sexton Blake; 64-page digest-sized booklets with painted covers. In the late ’40s, Fleetway editor Leonard Matthews was contacted by a New Zealand firm to produce western strips. These proved to be so successful, Matthews reprinted them in Britain, adopting the story library format simply because there was spare capacity on the presses. The resulting title, Cowboy Comics, proved as successful in Britain as it had in New Zealand and Fleetways’ line soon expanded to include Super Detective, Thriller, True Life, Love Story, Air Ace, War and countless other titles. Rival D.C. Thomson responded with Commando, which is still being published today, well into its 3,000th issue! At 64 pages, the picture library format encouraged more considered, literate writing, and it was generally aimed at an older readership.

Where most British comics were published weekly, these were initially published twice a month (though this gradually increased to eight issues a month for Battle and Commando and a staggering 12 a month for War).

For every boys’ comic there was an equivalent (or two) for girls, for the under 10-year-olds and even those under five. Nursery comics like Playhour, Jack and Jill, and Pippin were intended to be read aloud by mothers to their children and is one of few areas of the industry still healthy today. The pre-war humor tradition is still very much alive as well and D.C. Thomson’s Beano and Dandy comics are both well into their seventh decades. American comics have always been reprinted in various formats and, in the ’50s and ’60s, a flood of repackaged strips appeared. Dell, Fawcett, Prize, Charlton, and Marvel were all extensively reprinted and even the most obscure titles (Silver Kid Western or Captain Flash anyone?) could have a British equivalent.

For a country the size of Britain to support an industry that big is astonishing, but largely explained by the postwar baby boom that conveniently supplied an ever-expanding audience. For a nation only just emerging from a decade of rationing, and with television still a relatively scarce and expensive commodity, comics represented a cheap and exciting form of escapism. The problem facing publishers wasn’t finding an audience for their comics—it was finding the talent to draw them. Homegrown artists were assiduously sought out and cultivated but they were never going to be enough to cope with the demand so the industry turned to Europe. The first foreign artist to appear in Britain was Giorgio Bellavitis in Swift, soon Spring 1999

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followed by Jesus Blasco in Comet. The year was 1954.

Soon after they were joined by Francisco Cueto, Ruggero Giovanni, Ferdinando Tacconi, and an avalanche of others. These first artists were invariably represented by the Belgian art agency A.L.I. and one of the peculiar features of British comics is the ubiquity of these agencies. In fact, until the appearance of 2000 A.D. in the late ’70s, almost all comic artists worked through agents or agencies, and this was particularly true of foreign talent. In 1955, Gino D’Antonio started drawing for Junior Express through Rinaldo D’Ami’s Creazioni Agency in Milan, and soon others entered the fray.

One of A.L.I.’s artists, Jorge Macabich, suggested to Fleetway editor Barry Coker that they set up an agency together and Bardon Arts was created, with offices in London and Barcelona. A.L.I. soon faded from the scene but D’Ami and Barden were soon joined by Studio Giolitti of Rome, Luis Llorentés Creationes Editoriales of Barcelona, V.V. Arts, the Solano Lopez Studio and Selecciones Ilustrada (S.I.).

Agencies such as Bardon, or the British Temple Arts, often paid the artist on completion of a strip, and then passed the work onto the publisher for payment. Knowing that they would get paid irrespective of the job’s quality (or the vagaries of the editor) must have given the artists a strong sense of security.

Nevertheless, their lineup of artists was far from stable with artists swapping agencies in the pursuit of ever-more-favorable terms and agencies constantly stealing the top talent from each other. Events had grown so serious by the late ’70s, that the top three Spanish agencies—S.I., Bardon, and Creationes—held a summit meeting to calm things down and eventually traded off artists between them-

Above: An unpublished promo piece done to create interest in a Vampirella movie. Half the panels are José Gonzales reprints, half originals. Vampirella ©1972 Warren Publications.

Above: Jesus Blasco page from the series “Invasion” as seen in 2000 A.D. #2, March 5, 1977.

Panels two and three depict U.K.’s then-Prime Minister Jim Calaghan being hanged! ©1977 IPC Magazines Ltd..

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Above: Felix Mas could give Steranko a run for his money in the romance department, eh?

From Romeo, Nov. 8, 1969. ©1969 D.C. Thomson.

Below: The “new look” arrives.

Juan Gonzalez Alacrejo’s “Terror Team” from Commando #401, 1969. ©1969 D.C. Thomson.

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selves to create more stable lineups. Each agency had its own specialties and its own specific contacts, and for Barcelona’s S.I., it was romance comics. S.I. was formed in 1952 when Josep Toutain found himself unable to find regular comics work in Spain so he traveled up to France to test the waters. He soon found himself with more work than he could cope with and gave some of it out to his friends. In time, his career as an artist dwindled away as he devoted himself ever increasingly to searching out work and making contacts for his colleagues in Barcelona. In the late ’50s, S.I., as Toutain was now calling himself, ventured over to Britain and later found work from Atlas and Fleetway, primarily on the latter’s newlyformed romance line.

Of all the genres comics had to offer, romance was the one area Britain’s artists seemed to show the least aptitude for. The Spanish, on the other hand, were naturals. As John M. Burns said, “They were better artists. If you look at the romance titles they took over, they had a much better feel for that sort of thing than we did over here. Perhaps that has something to do with the climate.

Girls don’t take their clothes off so quickly over here, do they?” By the late ’50s, Fleetway Publications like Valentine, Mirabelle, Roxy, and Marilyn were almost entirely Spanish-drawn, and S.I. was invariably the agency supplying the artists. One of the myths that has grown up around the Spaniards is that they were used because they were cheap, but all the editors I’ve spoken to over the years have consistently denied this. Gil Page at Fleetway has said that it was not a case of seeking out cheaper artists, but rather the demand for artists was so high that they could never find enough talent.

But the Spaniards were highly prized for their undoubtedly superior drawing abilities and Fleetway’s editors were well aware of what they had. Valentine, the best of Fleetway’s romance line, was edited

by Mike Butterworth whose wife Jenny (herself a prolific writer) has written about their early contact with S.I.: “They had some wonderful people at the time. Jorge Longaron, I remember—and there was one who was only 16 but drew like an angel. Yes, they drew some bizarre things in the early days.

None of them (including Josep Toutain at the time) spoke English and they had an ‘interpreter’ they relied on—whose English was dodgy to say the least.” Toutain was an avowed Anglophile who shared an interest in Sir Francis Drake with Mike Butterworth and the two soon became friends. It was almost certainly at Toutain’s suggestion that Butterworth found work at Warren, writing several “Vampirella” stories under the name “Flaxman Loew.”

Under Butterworth, Valentine, and the whole of Fleetway’s romance line, was a constant treat for the eyes.

Almost any issue from the late ’50s to early ’70s of Fleetways or Thomson’s weeklies, or Picture Libraries was likely to contain stylish, sophisticated art by the likes of Longaron, Badia Romero, Carlos Freixas, Garcia Pizarro or Carlos Prunes. It was also the place the core of S.I.’s future Warren stars learned their craft, including José Gonzales, Felix Mas, Ramon Torrents, Esteban Maroto, Fernando Fernandez, and Luis Garcia. Sadly, few copies of the comics remain, despite considerable print runs at the time, so the full extent of

many of these artists’ romance work has still to be documented.

As the ’60s progressed, the agencies began to explore other markets and other countries. Spanish artists began to make inroads into Germany, France, and particularly Scandinavia where Bardon formed a strong partnership with the Swedish firm Semic; but there remained a bigger prize out there—America. The first Spaniard to have a strip published in the States was Carlos Prunes. His one story appeared in Creepy #30 in late ’69, a good 18 months before any of his fellow countrymen. Whether he had arranged the commission himself or got it through an agency is unknown, but he never worked in the states again. Bardon had the first significant success when that same year they arranged for Jorge Longaron (whom they had poached from S.I.) to draw King Features’ Friday Foster strip.

Bardon’s Barry Coker had discussions with Stan Lee but nothing concrete ever came of them and instead it was S.I. who managed to really crack the American market when they teamed up with James Warren.

For many of Barcelona’s comics community S.I. was as much a club as an agency; the artists often worked together and regularly socialized with each other as well. Many of them were fans of Warren magazines, particularly the early EC-inspired issues, and were desperate to work there themselves. They saw it as the chance to escape the confines of British romance and war comics and to finally express themselves; to test the boundaries of the medium. At their urging Josep Toutain flew to New York in 1970 armed with a portfolio bulging with original artwork. Jim Warren agreed to a meeting and was astonished at the quality of the work laid out in front of him. An arrangement was soon struck for S.I. to start providing strips and the first commission (which was also the first story to be published) by Luis Roca duly saw print the next year. The artists that followed Roca were initially self-selected, since so many wanted the chance to work for Warren, and the first few years of the Spanish “invasion” of the company saw a wide variety of artists try their luck, not all of them successfully. The talent pool these aspirant stars was drawn from was simply whoever was at S.I. in 1970, and there appears to have been little attempt to screen out the most suitable artists, or the biggest stars. This led to some unusual, inventive, or occasionally awful approaches to the horror genre, but more often than not, the results were extraordinary. A few years after this initial influx of talent, S.I. introduced a second wave of artists, drawn from the Valencia Studio of Luis Bermejo (rather than Barcelona), whose background was in adventure and war comics, rather than romance. They quickly supplanted many of the first wave regulars and went on to become the backbone of the company until the arrival of a third wave of imports from the Philippines.

One of the more striking features of the Spanish approach was their unusual inking technique—a combination of wash, sponged-on charcoal or ink, and physically scratching the page with a knife; but although this approach soon became ubiquitous, none of the artists had used it on their British work. I suspect the style came from the near universal admiration they had for Alberto Breccia, who was a legend in the European comics scene. Breccia was a Uruguayan artist who came to Britain in 1960 following a successful career in Argentina. He was one of many South Americans (including Hugo Pratt, Arturo del Castillo, Luis Dominguez, Leo Duranona, and Jorge Moliterni) to find work in the British comics scene, and he was soon established at Fleetway. Following a few years drawing Westerns and spy strips for Thriller and Cowboy Picture Libraries, he returned to Argentina where he drew “Mort Cinder” for Misterix magazine.

He had already begun to explore the possibilities of textures in Thriller’s “Spy 13” strip but on “Mort Cinder,” this exploded into a frenzy of experimentation. It was an extraordinary strip that mixed powerful expressionistic drawing with all manner of textures and tones—from sponges, collage, rubbings, wax relief, and even famously applying ink with stokes from his bicycle wheel. “Mort Cinder” was widely reprinted and his influence on S.I.’s artists can’t be overstated. Fernando Fernandez for instance has called Breccia, “The master of us all,” and his influence underpins much of the artists’ works at Warren.

I suspect the scratching on the other hand came from the Italian artist Dino Battaglia whose work quite closely resembles the Warren “look” of the Spaniards (for the purposes of this article I will hereafter refer to this as the “new look”). Battaglia’s horror strips like “Totentanz” and “The Mask of the Red Death” were both heavily COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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textured and vigorously scratched, and S.I.’s artists must have seen them. Juan Gonzalez Alacrejo, a colleague of Luis Bermejo in Valencia, used scratching extensively in a 1969 issue of Commando (“Terror Team” in issue #401), which has become almost legendary amongst British collectors for its extraordinary realism—but Alacrejo never returned to the approach and it’s questionable how many of his contemporaries back in Spain would have seen it. Alacrejo himself would have been perfect for Warren but, as we’ll see, circumstances and timing prevented him (and several other potential stars) from reaching an American audience.

There has been an unfortunate tendency to view Spanish artists as a monolithic block—as artists that all drew identically and with little to distinguish one from the other qualitatively—but, despite a shared background, nothing could be further from the truth. They were all highly individualistic artists who adopted similar visual elements but used them in widely varying ways. Similarly the work they had done in Britain colored the way they drew for America. So, these are the artists, and this is their story.

The first artist to make an impression on an American audience was Esteban Maroto, who for many readers came to personify the Spanish invasion. Born in Madrid in 1942, he is thought to have entered comics as an assistant to Manuel Lopez Blanco in the early ’60s (although romance strips by “M. Esteban” appeared as early as 1958 in the British Glamour title). He went on the collaborate with Carlos Gimenez on the “Buck John” and “El Principe de Rodas” features before joining Garcia Pizarro’s studio in 1963.

Pizarro had already established himself as an accomplished romance artist in Britain, and by ’63 he had graduated to the up-market Boys World comic where he drew “Merlo the Magician,” written by SF author Harry Harrison. It is thought that he also worked for a while in the studio of Luis Bermejo but there is little evidence of his later style in either Bermejo or Pizarro’s work of the period. It took a move to S.I. to allow his talent to bloom. Through the agency, he drew “Alex,” “Beat Group,” and “Amargo” for a variety of European countries as well as the inevitable British romance strips.

Though to date I haven’t been able to positively identify any strips of the period as Maroto’s, he clearly left an impression on Fleetway’s editorial staff. When asked today to recall the names of their romance artists they will invariable mention Maroto first. Several have sworn that they served their apprenticeship at the company by cutting up and re-sizing old Maroto originals for later reprintings (a common—and horrifying—practice affectionately known as “bodging”).

Whatever the length of his immersion in the romance books, by the time he resurfaced in Spain in late 1967 with Cinco Por Infinito, his style had emerged. His women had impressive, tumbling locks of hair, pouting lips, and heavily mascaraed eyes, while his drawing was highly linear and decorative. In other words, it had all the hallmarks of the classic Spanish romance style. Cinco Por Infinito’s combination of science-fiction, wildly imaginative popart inspired layout, and pretty girls proved to be a potent combination and established Maroto as one of the leading artists of his generation.

Through S.I., Maroto then contributed to the German adventure strip “Roy Tiger” and created his own “Tomb of the Gods” and “Manly” for the Spanish market. In 1971, he drew the sword-and-sorcery strip “Wolff” for Buru Lan’s revolutionary Dracula magazine which was simultaneously published in English by Britain’s New English Library. Dracula was a lavish, large-sized magazine printed in searing day-glo color which was designed (once its 12-issue run had finished) to be collected into a hardback book. In addition to Wolff, each issue features José Bea’s “Sir Leo,” Solsona’s “Agar-Agar” and a horror strip by Enric Sio, wrapped up in painted covers by Enrich. Soon after Dracula, the first Spaniards began to appear at Warren, with Maroto, Bea, and Enrich amongst them, and it’s tempting to see Dracula as something of a prototype for Warren’s Spanish experiment. Maroto’s first strip for Warren was probably his best, “Wolf Hunt” in Vampirella #14. This saw him combine his flair for immaculately drawn figures (most notably beautiful women) with the moody, textured backgrounds of Battaglia and Breccia. A few issues later, the comic started serializing the more linear and pop-artish “Tomb of the Gods” while Manly began appearing in Eerie with #39 (retitled “Dax the Warrior”). Like Wolff, Dax was a barbarian strip that left no cliché unplundered; its Spring 1999

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wizards were devious, monsters repellent, and heroines imperiled and (of course) beautiful. Visually it owed as much to Alphonse Mucha as to Frank Frazetta, and its layouts were as wild as anything Jim Steranko had dreamed up. The fans loved it, and it’s easy to see why: Maroto was the one Spanish artist who understood the appeal of super-heroes and Dax’s lithe physique contained echoes of Gil Kane and Neal Adams. (In Adams’ case, the admiration was mutual; he had championed Cinco Por Infinito at the time and later reprinted it in the Continuity comic, Zero Patrol).

However the same playful invention that the fans responded to in the early ’70s soon became the metaphorical albatross around the Spaniards’ collective necks. When critics complained that the Spaniards couldn’t tell a story, it was Maroto’s work they were invariably thinking of. He could tell a story, of course—his British and European editors of the ’60s would have demanded it—but the late ’60s and early ’70s was a time of great experimentation, and he was obviously keen on playing his part. He went on to draw almost 100 strips at Warren and stayed with them until their demise in 1983, but increasingly his art lost its earlier finesse. The solid draftsmanship stayed with him but (perhaps through overwork) his linework became hurried and indifferent.

The ’70s saw him experiment with paintings, several of which turned up in Vampirella and Heavy Metal and it’s possible that he simply became disinterested in the precision of inking. However, as part of Marvel’s brief flirtation with all things Spanish, he produced a few absolutely wonderful strips: “Satana” in Vampire Tales #3, an Ambrose Bierce adaptation in Vampire Tales #4, and a “Red Sonja” tale in Savage Sword of Conan #1 (inked to great effect by Neal Adams). He also designed Red Sonja’s infamous chain-mail bikini (for which a generation of readers will be eternally grateful). Maroto had been the only Spaniard with any sort of profile in America in recent years. For DC, he had drawn Zatanna and The Atlantis Chronicles; at Marvel, he appeared in Conan; and at Topps, he worked on Cadillacs and Dinosaurs and Vlad the Impaler. All had merit but none scaled the heights of his earlier work.

Maroto’s colleague on Dracula, José Maria Bea Font (or simply José Bea as he signed his work) also made the jump to Warren in 1971, and was one of the most prolific creators of the first wave. He was born in 1942, and some of his earlier work was for Fleetway’s romance line in the late ’50s, and for Miller’s T.V. Heroes (which confusingly had nothing to do with television!). In the early ’60s, he was the principal artist on Atlas’ “Space Ace” Feature which appeared both in its own book and in Lone Star Western. Like Miller’s more famous Marvelman comic these Atlas Books were designed to look like American comic books, but were printed in b-&-w, and were usually bargain-basement copies of the real thing.

Both Space Ace and Lone Star were entirely produced by S.I. artists (and they might even have written them as well since the writing was undemanding, to say the least, but the art was often surprisingly good). Bea was still only a teenager and his “Space Ace” strips were understandably a bit crude but there was an undeniable energy to them and his inking was surprisingly accomplished. Where most British artists looked to the sophistication of Alex Raymond for inspiration, many of S.I.’s artists had clearly been inspired by the rather more roughand-ready U.S. comic books, and there were certainly traces of Joe Kubert in Bea’s drawing.

In 1962, he left comics and moved to Paris to study painting, which he pursued until almost a decade later when Maroto recruited him for Dracula. 1971 also saw Bea resurfacing at Fleetway’s Marilyn romance magazine,

Above: Esteban Maroto, the (alas) only true “star” Spanish artist revered by the American audience.

On top is fabled Spanish Dracula magazine (#19, 1972) with Maroto cover art. ©1972 S.I. Artists.

Below: More pop style. This splash panel by José Bea done for Mirabelle, May 29, 1971. ©1971 IPC Magazines Ltd.

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Above: José Ma Bea Font and his splash to Space Ace #19, 1962. ©1962 Atlas.

Below: Ramon Torrents and a panel from his story, “Destiny’s Witch,” from Creepy #59. ©1974 Warren Publications.

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though these simple yet bold strips bore no resemblance to Dracula’s wildly imaginative “Sir Leo” feature. At Warren, he continued to draw in the style he had developed on “Sir Leo”; a mixture of darkly realistic figures with bizarre, often cartoonlike creatures, rendered in a mixture of textures, collages, and cross hatching.

Breccia’s “Mort Cinder” was an obvious artistic touchstone here but so too were George Grosz, Breugel, Edward Gorey, and Hieronymus Bosch. While he could clearly draw representationally when he wanted to, he was obviously disinterested in heroic ideals; there’s a graceless, awkward feel to his figures and their faces often seemed fixed in cadaverous scowls. His strips, most of which he wrote himself, were populated by a succession of grotesqueries that seemed to inhabit a world that was part-’70s chic, part-Brothers Grimm “Mittel European,” and wholly unsettling. Over the course of his 30-odd strips for Warren he proved himself to be a unique talent. After his departure in 1976, he continued to challenge both himself and his readers with the “Tales of the Galactic Inn” series (which ran in the Spanish version of Comix International). Always something of a subversive, he caught the wrath of the Spanish authorities with the sexual content of one of the “Galactic Inn” episodes, and in 1979 was convicted of offenses against morality! The sentence was a ban on any further artistic activity and to date I haven’t seen any new works by him.

Several of his “Galactic Inn” strips have been printed by Heavy Metal which also championed his cause as an “artistic prisoner of conscience.” There has been a suggestion that he has diverted his energies into the field of computer graphics. If so, their gain is our loss. More so than any other Warren artist, Bea’s was a unique vision that carried echoes of other strips but brought them all together to create something completely new. Unusually, this later mature work appeared to owe nothing to his more conventional British beginnings; his artistic reinvention was so complete, it was as if the two periods were drawn by different people.

José Bea was not the only associate of Maroto’s to find work at Warren. On both Cinco Por Infinito and Roy Tiger he used a number of collaborators, all of whom later found work at the company. Adolpho Usero Abellan, Luis Garcia, Carlos Gimenez, Suso (born Jesus Manuel Pena Rego), and Ramon Torrents, met with varying degrees of success in the states, with Torrents proving to be the most resilient. Ramon Torrents was born in Barcelona in 1938, and from the very beginning of his career was associated with S.I. Like Bea, his earliest known work appeared in Space Ace and it was of an extremely high quality even then. He soon graduated to the inevitable Fleetway romance books like Marilyn and True Life Library. His art work here, like

his subsequent work for Warren, was characterized by highly accomplished, graceful draftsmanship and almost obsessively detailed rendering. After leaving the British scene to draw Cinco Por Infinito, Torrents rather dropped out of sight for a couple of years, at least as far as English language comics were concerned, reappearing at Warren in 1973. Over the following six years, he drew just under 40 strips, usually for Vampirella, of extraordinary quality and detail. Rather than adopt the “new look” approach of his colleagues, he invariably preferred to painstakingly build up layers of almost impossibly fine pen lines, enticing the reader to luxuriate in their detail. If there was a criticism of his artwork it was that with all the rendering the actual drawing could occasionally appear a little stiff, and his sense of place, of settings, was sometimes a bit more vague than necessary. Faced with a beautiful job like “Destiny’s Witch” in Creepy #59, however, these criticisms can seem rather petty. Inexplicably after leaving Warren, and subsequently terminating his relationship with S.I., all traces of his work seem to disappear and his current whereabouts are unknown.

Though less prolific than Torrents, Luis Garcia Mozos made even more of an impact, at least on this writer. After the usual apprenticeship drawing romance features for Fleetway, he became one of the first Spaniards to draw for Warren and first appeared in Vampirella #15. Much of his late romance work had consisted of very realistic pencil illustrations to accompany articles or short stories in Mirabelle, and a lot of his early Warren material used the same approach. Whether in pencil or ink, his strips were examples of the “new look” par excellence; they were a seething mass of textures, tones, and almost manic scratching. Garcia was undeniably the strongest draftsman of any of the Spaniards (though he was also more reliant on photo reference (and the occasional swipe) and less interested in storytelling than he should have been). In 1973, he left Warren to produce a series of creator-owned strips for the prestigious French magazine Pilote which were written by the top Spanish writer Victor Mora. Five of these were later reprinted in Vampirella in 1975 though Mora’s name was usually replaced by the likes of Budd Lewis or Gerry Boudreau (who presumably had merely translated them). These showed Garcia to have moved on even further— and as well as being amongst the most realistically drawn strips ever to appear in the comic medium, they revealed a stronger grasp of storytelling techniques as well. In France these and other strips not picked up by Warren were collected into the album Les Chroniques de L’Innomé by Dargaud, who in turn sold the rights on to H.M. Publishing. This resulted in Garcia’s finest hour; “The Wolves at War’s End” being printed in Heavy Metal #11 and 12, a mere three years after appearing in Vampirella #43.

Two of Garcia and Mora’s collaborations give a telling insight into what it must have been like to be a Spanish artist drawing endless romance strips for Britain. The writer and artist protagonists of “Love Strip” in Vampirella #44 fantasize about creating strips for adults that deal with issues of the day and allow them to express their inner feelings, while all the while having to churn out mindnumbing romances. Throughout the strip the artist visualizes scenes from his dissolving marriage as panels from one of his romance comics (drawn by an uncredited Carlos Gimenez, Garcia’s old colleague on Roy Tiger). In 1981, Garcia drew the extraordinary Nova II (which was serialized in Heavy Metal a year later in the March to July 1982 issues). Nova II dealt with the aging Catalonian artist Victor Ramos as he contemplated suicide. At one point he was shown working on an episode of his romance feature, called “Love Story” (again), which has “S.I. (Inglaterra)” clearly written across the top of the page, making the British connection transparently clear. The accompanying text revealed some of the artist’s agonizing despair at his life: “That night, after a day as horrible as all rest— drawing the romance comic that he worked on, day in and day out for 22 years. He took the gun from the bottom of his coat pocket, holding it in his hand.” The strip was rendered entirely in pencil and was an extraordinary feat of photorealistic draftsmanship, without ever appearing dry or lifeless.

Ironically, the romance strip that “Victor Ramos” so derided, and which we see a full page of, was absolutely gorgeous and would have stood out in even the best British comics. Garcia continued to work in comics COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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throughout the ’80s, including a feature called (I believe) “Rambla.”

But in recent years, he has moved into the fine art world. As his thematic concerns grew ever more sophisticated, so too have the venues for such material sadly disappeared and, for an artist of his gifts, gallery work was the obvious move.

The aforementioned Carlos Gimenez also went on to be a major presence of the European comics scene, with numerous SF series to his name (as well as “Los Proffessionales” which told the story of the early days of Spanish comics through thinly-veiled caricatures of its leading creators), and he had a relationship with S.I. that stretched back to the ’60s space opera “Delta 99” series, but he never actually drew anything directly for Warren. Three of his science-fiction strips were however printed by the company in 1980 as part of their later move into the European syndication market (of which more later).

Adolpho Usero Abellan drew 14 strips for Warren between ’73 and ’75 without ever really impressing his personality on the company. He went on to work with Luis Garcia in Spain as a writer but as an artist he often came across as a poor man’s Garcia. On romance strips for D.C. Thomson’s Romeo, Abellan’s work looked light, breezy, and stylish but for some reason by the time he reached Warren it had become rather ugly and unappealing. In ’75, he teamed up with Victor Mora to produce SF strips for the French comic Vaillant and never returned to England language comics.

Abellan, like Carlos Gimenez, worked on Delta 99 as had the other future Warren artists Nebot and José Perez Mascaro. Nebot’s cartoony style may have been fine for the light-hearted “Delta 99” but it was hopelessly out of place on horror strips. Surprisingly he managed fully seven appearances between ’72 and ’82, and was rather more successful than Mascaro (who drew for the company only once). In the early years of the Spanish invasion, a whole host of artists tried their hand at horror strips, irrespective of how inappropriate they were likely to be, but in the case of Nebot and Macaro, there was at least one factor in their favor. After Carlos Gimenez relinquished “Delta 99,” its writing was taken over by a certain Señor Toutain and it’s perhaps no surprise that he might want to give his old collaborators a chance. In addition to Nebot and Mascaro several other artists failed to establish themselves at Warren: Suso, Escolano, Zesar, Blasquez, Galvez, Romero, Roca, and Miralles.

Escolano shared the same humorous approach as Mascaro and Nebot, and his one strip, an episode of “Vampirella,” had to be extensively redrawn by José Gonzales in an unsuccessful attempt to save it. Unlike many of his more illustrious contemporaries however, he continued to find work in the comics field, creating mystery strips for Britain’s Misty and Eagle titles and cartoon features for the Spanish comic Buru Landia. Suso (Jesus Mauel Peña Rego) also managed a paltry one strip for Warren despite having a much more suitable style; he had sponge textures down to a “T,” and his work certainly had the required mixture of mood and glamour. He managed to carve a niche for himself at Skywald and that might have been his undoing since it’s known that Jim Warren frowned upon anyone working for his principal rival. At Skywald, Suso was the artist on Scream’s wonderfully Improbable “Victims” serial, and he also found work at Atlas/Seaboard. Unusually for a Spaniard, his main British work appears to have been on the spy strip “The Steel Claw,” rather than the usual love material, Zesar (born Cesar Alvarez Cañete), on the other hand, was more typically rooted in the romance tradition. Zesar’s style had all the romance hallmarks of the day: a light, linear drawing style with very little spotting of blacks and tall-haired, big-eyed girls. Surprisingly for an artist with no sense of drama or mood whatsoever, he drew five strips for Warren and many more for Skywald.

Joaquin Blasquez was briefly the artist on Eerie’s muddled “Mummy” series but—although clearly being very adept at drawing, and at using the various “new look” techniques—he was perhaps fundamentally not a comics artist. While always very pretty to look at, there was little sense of panel-to-panel continuity and an over-reliance on close-ups at the expense of establishing shots. He later found work on D.C. Thomson’s Spellbound which, like Fleetway’s Misty, was a horror comic for girls. Spellbound’s lead strip was “The Super Cats,” a sort of Charlie’s Angels in space (but with less depth) which was drawn by Jorge B. Galvez. Galvez and Spring 1999

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his cousin Enrique Badia Romero worked together throughout the ’60s and ’70s on a huge number of British romance strips for all the top weeklies and monthlies. Romero was very much the senior partner in this team, and his glamorous, exotic women and polished, ultraslick inking made him the country’s preeminent romance artist. Following the sudden death of Jim Holdaway in 1970, he became the artist on the Modesty Blase newspaper strip (seeing off competitors like Frank Bellamy amongst others), and in ’78, started drawing the sword, sorcery, and cleavage strip “Axa.” Despite this formidable workload, he found the time to draw for a number of U.S. companies. For Warren he drew an episode of the “It’ series, while at Atlas/Seaboard he worked on the legendary “Bog Beast” (clearly his American editors saw him as the perfect rotting corpse artist).

Marvel, on the other hand, had the good sense to give him some pretty girls to draw, and his two “Satana” strips (in Haunt of Horror #2 and 3) rival even Maroto in their pulchritude. Without the workload of a regular strip to hold him back, Galvez found time for five Warren stories, which were all but indistinguishable from Romero’s, before returning to Britain’s love factory. Like Romero, Luis Roca also made the leap from romance comics to newspaper strips, in his case it was Scarth for the Sun which started its run in 1969. Although ostensibly a science-fiction strip, it was primarily an excuse to draw pretty girls in various stages of undress. Roca mixed the classic late ’60’s romance look with real drawing ability but there was a cold, artificial feel to the strip, as if it was populated with exquisite showroom dummies. In contrast, his three strips for Warren in ’71 had a warmth and sense of mood that marked him out as a major talent. Sadly, it would appear that his daily schedule simply wouldn’t allow for any extracurricular activities.

José Miralles barely made an impression with his one story for Vampirella but in any case by ’77, when it saw print, he had mostly left comics behind. As his brother Marcel wrote in the introduction to the Catalan Books Zora graphic novel, “One fine day in 1965, Fernando Fernandez and his colleagues Miralles, Felix Mas, Domingo, Lopez Espi, and Prunes decided to give up comics (the sort they could do at the time) and enter the broader field of cover illustration for paperbacks and interior illustration for magazines.”

Miralles’ one story was beautifully drawn and imaginatively composed and he also had a painting used as the cover of Eerie’s last issue (although it had originally seen print in Skywald’s Nightmare many years earlier). Both his Warren and his earlier romance strips closely resemble his colleague Fernando Fernandez, though Fernandez would go on to produce many more comic strips right through to the ’90s.

Fernandez was born in Barcelona in 1940 and (after the usual period of apprenticeship) started work on his own for S.I. a the tender age of 16. From ’58 to ’64, he worked exclusively for various British publishers, both on war material (Air Ace and War Picture Library) and romance strips

Above: Luis Garcia and two panels from his story “Welcome to the Witches’ Coven,” (Vampirella #15) one of the first Warren/Spaniard pieces. ©1971 Warren Publications.

Below: I know this is Esteban Maroto’s work, but I’m not sure where it appeared. ©1999 Esteban Maroto.

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Above: Boris Vallejo cover to Zona 84 #16, 1984, a Spanish magazine that was edited by S.I. founder Josep Toutain, and featuring many of his artists. ©1984 S.I.

Below: Future Vampirella artist José Gonzales’ Valentine story, “He Could Never,” published in the Jan. 22, 1966 issue. ©1966 Fleetway.

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(for Valentine). His war stories revealed a strong American influence, in fact they looked remarkably like early Don Heck, but by the mid ’60s, he had adopted the more sophisticated style of contemporaries like Longaron, Pizarro or Gonzales. After a lengthy period of illustration work (which saw him paint covers for numerous paperbacks and picture libraries like Commando and Chiller), he was approached by S.I. to work for Warren. Fernandez suggested that he both write and draw the strips himself and then syndicate the stories around Europe, retaining their copyright. He drew 13 of these strips altogether and Warren printed 12, mostly in Vampirella between #28 and 43. Each strip was rendered in a different style but all shared exquisite draftsmanship and highly decorative panel arrangements. However, although they positively dripped atmosphere and sensuality (Fernandez’ women were amongst the most beautiful in comics), his stories were occasionally less interesting than his artwork. He had a tendency to dress up fairly ordinary genre pieces in rather self-conscious intellectualism, and there was also the nagging doubt that he was more interested in beautiful drawing than storytelling. After a period of educational book illustrations for France in the mid ’70s, he had a collection of short stories printed by Toutain as part of his Cuando el Comic es Arte series, which was followed in 1980 by Zora. This was again drawn for S.I. and initially saw print in Toutian’s Spanish edition of 1984—but its English translation appeared not in a Warren title, but in Heavy Metal. Zora, and Fernandez’ next project, Dracula, were rendered in paint (in fact Zora often changes medium from panel to panel) and showcased his extraordinary abilities as a draftsman and designer. More recent work like ’90s SF album Lucky Star revealed an artist definitely treading water. The drawing ability was still there but his rendering and design work was decidedly uninspired, sacrificed on the altar of conventional storytelling techniques, perhaps. It’s no surprise then that in recent times he was concentrated on illustration and the fine art market, as has another ex-romance artist Feliz Mas. Mas left romance comics with Fernandez in ’65 but returned to them in the late ’60s before becoming one of the most distinctive artists at Warren. Amongst his earliest work was the detective character “Lieut. Kane” for T.V. Heroes (in ’59), as well as the usual love strips for Fleetway. At this stage in his career, his clean, streamlined style bore a strong resemblance to Pete Morisi (or “Pam” as a generation of Charlton readers remember him). 1969 saw Mas return to romance comics, on this occasion for D.C. Thomson’s Romeo title. These revealed an artist completely in tune with his time, mixing elements of pop-art, fashion drawing, and art nouveau into a stark, immaculately designed package that predated Steranko’s similarly stylish lone romance story by a year. At Warren, he combined this approach with the textures of the “new look” on 17 strips from ’72 to ’75. He was evidently popular enough with fans to warrant one of his pages being enlarged and sold as a poster through Captain Company, but perhaps he lacked the sense of the dramatic needed to be truly convincing horror artist.

His strips were always beguilingly beautiful, but where his romance work captured the frivolity and élan of the late ’60s, this occasionally translated to an inexpressive superficially on darker, more somber material. In the mid-’70s, Mas left Spain—and comics—to live in Venezuela and later moved to Florida where he pursued a career in fine art.

Though now relocated to Barcelona, he still sells paintings to the American

market through S.I.’s New York branch, and one of these unexpectedly appeared in the recent Heavy Metal pin-up special.

The painting, a portrait of a waif-like girl, stunningly shows Mas mixing elements of his old comics work with clear echoes of both Jeffrey Jones and Gustav Klimt. While he may have left comics behind long ago, it’s pleasing to see that their influence on him still lives on.

Mas and Fernandez appeared primarily in Vampirella magazine, as did José Gonzales who so memorably drew the alluring vampire throughout the ’70s. Again, like his erstwhile colleagues he had a background in British romance strips and also went on to do extensive work in illustration, but significantly he never completely abandoned comics and at his best was able to combine both disciplines. José “Pepe” Gonzales was born in 1939 in Barcelona and started his career at the age of 17 drawing Rosas Blancas and Brigitte for Editorial Toray. In 1960 he began working for S.I. and spent the next decade drawing strips for Fleetway’s romance line. Where Mas’ women resembled the somewhat frail, delicate models of swinging ’60s London (such as Jean Shrimpton or Twiggy), Gonzales’ were Mediterranean beauties and his men suave Latin lotharios, giving his work an exotic romanticism that must have been enormously attractive to young British girls. He also had a background in cartooning and a light humorous approach always underlined everything he drew. As well as romance strips Gonzales had a parallel career as a pin-up artist and produced a large number of cheesecake gags for the international market. Indeed, his first work to appear in America was not in Vampirella, but rather in Cartoon Laughs in 1970 (one of Martin Goodman’s line of bargain basement humor magazines).

HIs first “Vampirella” strip appeared one year later in Vampirella #12 and caused an immediate sensation. Here was the same glamour and sophistication that had worked so well in Britain applied to a character of enormous potential but hitherto little direction. The cover of #19 featured Gonzales’ memorable full figure painting of Vampirella, a bat balanced on her outstretched hand, which came to symbolize the character on everything from posters and books to stickers and pillows. It was as an icon, as a pin-up for adolescents (of all ages) that his vision of her worked best since his strips, particularly in the early day, sometimes failed to live up to their full potential. Much of the problem lay with his schooling in Britain romance comics. A typical British weekly would contain as many as ten strips per issue, often with no more than two or three pages for each strip. This means that the artist was often illustrating the story rather than telling it, with so little space in which to work the sort of panel-to-panel continuity that is such a feature of American comics was impossible. Gonzales’ disinterest in storytelling, coupled with an increased workload made many of the early “Vampirella” strips disappointing. His salvation came partly from a fall in the number of pages each episode, a succession of fill-in artists, and the arrival of an old friend.

Over his many years drawing for Valentine, Gonzales had established a strong relationship with its editor Mike Butterworth, a partnership that was revived when Butterworth started writing for Warren as “Flaxman Loew.” Butterworth fashioned a number of short, frothy tales whose “boyfriend of the month” subtext would have felt right at home in Valentine. While Butterworth may have been wrong for Vampirella, he brought out the best in Gonzales and the episode’s shorter length allowed the artist to bring a more realistic, illustrative approach to the strip. Many of his mid ’70s strips contained beautiful pencil, wash, or intricately cross-hatched pen and ink drawings of almost photographic realism, garnished with his usual cartoon flavorings. The mix was occasionally jarring but at best it was amongst the most appealing material Warren ever published.

Many issues of Vampirella featured beautiful pencil drawings by Gonzales on the inside front cover: 29 in all, in fact, and this side of his career began to distract him away from comics. Posters and portfolios of the likes of James Dean, Humphrey Bogart, and Marilyn Monroe appeared across Europe and, by 1979, he had left Warren.

Some of his last jobs had been decidedly lackluster suggesting a disinterest in the medium—but in ’82, he surprisingly returned to the company for six final stories that were as well-drawn as anything he had done before. Subsequent strips for Cimoc back in Spain were certainly proficient-enough but appeared curiously listless. Perhaps just as Vampirella needed Gonzales, so too Gonzales COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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needed Vampirella. Recent years have unsurprisingly seen him concentrate on fine art and illustration. In total, Warren published 58 strips by Gonzales making him one of their most prolific artists.

Martin Salvador, Raphael Auraveon and Isidiro Mones were also highly successful in the states and, like Gonzales, enjoyed lengthy runs at Warren.

Santiago Martin Salvador was born in Madrid in 1936 and by the age of 18 was already a professional, drawing the western strip Mendoza Colt. After an enforced spell in the military he returned to comics and immediately started working for Fleetway on Thriller Picture Library’s “Robin Hood” series.

While many of the Barcelona artists worked through S.I., and invariably on romances, Salvador’s principal agency was Bardon which had access to the top British boys’ comics. “Robin Hood” was followed in in 1960 by the Canadian Mountie feature, “Dick Daring,” (also in Thriller) and then by a lengthy spell drawing military strips for Commando, Battle and War Picture Libraries.

From ’61 to ’70, he drew over 3,000 pages of valiant British soldiers defeating the dastardly Hun, but amazingly this still only accounted for a portion of his output. In 1963, he began work on the strip that most British fans still remember him for, “Iron Man,” which ran in Boys World and Eagle. Unlike the American Iron Man who was a man who wore a robot suit, the British version starred a robot who wore a human suit! The lavish tabloid-sized format of both Boys World and Eagle afforded Salvador ample scope to showcase his immense drawing ability and also allowed him to experiment with wash for the first time. While many of the Spanish artists did their growing-up in public, so to speak, improving their technique as the years went on, Salvador came to Britain fully formed. There’s little to choose artistically between “Robin Hood” in 1958, “Iron Man” in ’68, or Creepy in ’78. His British work, “Iron Man,” “Wildcat Wayne” (in Look and Learn), and “Commando,” all stopped suddenly in ’69 when he began working on the Swedish strip, “The Saint,” a job he continued to do even after joining Warren in ’72.

At Warren, Salvador effectively assumed the same sort of position that Jack Kamen held at EC, that of the quiet, undemonstrative journeyman and, like Kamen, he was rarely a fan favorite. Salvador’s seeming restraint concealed an intuitive draftsmanship and effortless mastery of storytelling that only the very finest artists possess. Unlike his fellow countrymen, he had no use for the “new look,” there was no obfuscation or experimentation, just fine drawing. With the exception of a fallow period around ’79, Salvador stayed with Warren until the end in ’83, drawing 59 stories in total (and still found time to draw “The Saint”—and even briefly returned to British comics in D.C. Thomson’s Warlord). It is thought he has since retired.

Raphael Aura Leon, or simply Auraleon as he invariably signed his work, was also used as a workhorse by Warren, creating over 70 stories during his decade at the company.

Auraleon was born in 1939 and apparently started his career in 1959, drawing the western strip, “Flash” for Space Ace and Lone Star through S.I. An artist signing his work Rafael had a romance strip in Arthur Pearson’s Glamour comic a year earlier and might well be him, but if so, it was his only brush with the genre. In any case, his early work had a fluid (if rather chunky) look and was clearly influenced by American comic books. Auraleon was presumably picking up assignments from many Spring 1999

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sources since his work in Britain was sporadic and he next appeared in a 1961 Commando. At this stage, his basic drawing ability had improved and was showing a pronounced Joe Kubert influence. He returned to Commando in ’68 and in the interim had matured out of all recognition.

These strips revealed Auraleon had clearly been studying Breccia’s mastery of black&-white and his drawing now had real character and bite. Three years later he surfaced at Warren, adding the compulsory “new look” style of rendering to his Brecciaesque drawing. Where some of his colleagues struggled with the horror milieu, the misty graveyards and rotting corpses of the typical Warren story suited his style perfectly. By the time he assumed the artistic chores on Vampirella’s “Pantha” strip in 1974, he had added Sergio Toppi to his list of influences and his rendering changed again. The Italian Toppi is a master composer of monumental and almost abstract figures who renders in a meticulously linear style; a typical Toppi image is built up through a vast number of expressive pen strokes weaving in and out of each other. It’s a technique that Walter Simonson and Denys Cowan have both been influenced by at some point in their careers.

Where Auraleon had previously used a combination of solid blacks, wash and scratching, in his work on “Pantha” it had evolved into a deliciously rich juxtaposition of textures and lines. One criticism of his work however was its limited emotional range; his strips were populated by peculiarly glassy-eyed, expressionless characters occasionally enlivened by the odd look of surprise. His unusual shading technique also grew extremely mannered, so that male figures in particular seemed to be in a state of advanced decomposition.

Throughout his career there appears to have been a constant series of trade-offs; on Commando he achieved his best figure work and emotional range, but partly with another man’s style. At Warren he evolved a rich, wonderfully unique style of his own but at the cost of his work’s warmth and humanity. Later the constant workload robbed his art of some of its vivacity and charm, and his tenure on Vampirella’s “Cassandra St. Knight” feature was sadly uninspired—but Don McGregor’s “Sweetwater Nessie,” with its delicate pencil shadings, suggested yet another transformation was possible.

This was not to be how-ever as Auraleon left S.I. in the mid ’80s and died soon after, still a relatively young man with a lot of promise still unfulfilled.

Unusually for one of Warren’s artists, Isidiro Mones came to the company with no significant comics experience. His fan page biography explained that he had come to comics from a background in advertising and children’s book illustration. They must have been very macabre children’s books since his strips had a dark, sinister and often gory dimension to them. As with many so-called “first wave”

Above: José Gonzales and his Vampi frontispiece for Vampirella #39. ©1974 Warren Publications.

Left: Unpublished (and unfinished) José Gonzales’ tryout page for Warren Publications, circa 1972. ©1972 José Gonzales.

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Above: Unpublished Enrich’s preliminary painting for the cover of Vampirella #21. The Vampi figure was altered to a more dynamic pose in the final published piece. ©1972 Warren Publishing.

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Spaniards, he left Warren in the mid ’70s, but uniquely he returned to the company, and then left again—twice! His first spell, from ’73 to ’76 (during which he was often miscredited as “Munes”) saw him resolutely in the thrall of the “new look” which he used to particularly fine effect on the Holmesian “Dr. Archeus” series (which ran in Eerie from #54-61). Despite his apparent inexperience, his storytelling was fine and the artwork was a nice mixture of realistic drawing, painterly tones and a very black sense of humor. In ’76, he left Warren for the dubious pleasures of Britain’s D.C. Thomson and was featured in several issues of Commando and Bullet. Shorn of the new look, and presumably downcast by Thomson’s lower page rate, this material was disappointingly ordinary. Two years later he was able to return to Warren and simultaneously graduate to Fleetway’s Warreneque Misty comic. In both cases, the work was an improvement on his Thomson period but still a far cry from his earlier triumphs.

Quite why that should be the case is not at all clear but it was certainly not an irreversible decline. After a further two-year hiatus from both Britain and the U.S., Mones reappeared in 1982, refreshed and reinvigorated in Creepy #143, where his mastery of tone was once again excitingly in evidence. After this he appears to have left comics completely and like so many others, presumably turned to illustration and painting.

With so many Spanish artists turning to the fine art world through lack of work, it’s strange that some of the few that did go on to further success in comics were also the least notable at Warren: Azpiri, Font and Rubio. Alphonso Azpiri had been a minor artist at War Picture Library and Spellbound when he drew two strips for Warren in 1978. They were characterized by his vibrant, almost rubbery, cartoony drawing which did not sit easily with the

horror material it was illustrating. At the same time, he was drawing the more appropriate “Ant Wars” for 2000 A.D. (giant ants rampaging across Argentina!) and “The Angry Planet” for its companion title, Starlord. Azpiri’s European profile has grown throughout the ’90s and his humorous cheesecake SF strips have appeared in titles like Cimoc, Zona 84, Totem, and regularly in Heavy Metal. Alfonso Font was the artist on Britain’s answer to Enemy Ace: “Black Max” which ran in Fleetway’s Thunder comic in the early ’70s. His one strip for Vampirella appeared in 1982 but was clearly drawn about a decade earlier, at about the same time, in fact, that a number of his strips appeared in Marvel’s Dracula Lives and Monsters Unleashed. His early work had a Bracciaesque feel to it which he gradually replaced with a more fluid, cartoony approach, which gave him a big Spanish audience (like Azpiri, in magazines like Cimoc). Rubio’s three Warren strips in the early ’70s were rather undistinguished, overly mannered affairs which lacked any understanding for the horror genre. However, subsequent SF strips in Heavy Metal reveal a fine drawing ability and subtle use of color that his earlier work never hinted at. (There is a possibility of course that this might be an entirely different Rubio!)

Timing can be everything in comics. When DC spirited Jack Kirby away from Marvel in 1970, it was a major event and the resulting Fourth World series justified everyone’s excitement. Had they got him in ’76 or ’80, there could have been far less fuss.

James Warren was extraordinarily lucky with the timing of his Spanish influx and most of the artists were either at their peak or about to enter it. For Rubio and Font however the call came too soon and, in the cases of Aldoma Puig, Garcia Pizarro, Victor de la Fuente, and Jaime Brocal Remohi, it was too late.

Throughout the ’60s, Aldoma Puig Domenech had been one of the best artists of Fleetway’s War Picture Libraries but his two strips for Eerie in 1973 were almost unrecognizable. His style showed a mastery of b-&-w composition coupled with an effervescent, gritty draftsmanship. By ’73, however, he was moving in an ill-advised humorous direction, sacrificing his previous lively realism for a broader, almost caricatural approach which was totally wrong for Warren. Garcia Pizarro had drawn for both Fleetway’s romance books and the prestigious Boys World comic where his “Merlo the Magician” feature (written by Harry Harrison) was one of the main attractions. By the late ’70s, when his two stories for Warren unexpectedly appeared, his sharp, incisive inking and Alex Raymond inspired drawing had been replaced by unrecognizable blandness.

Had either Pizarro or Puig been captured at their heights, I’m convinced they could have been major stars in the U.S. Both de la Fuente and Brocal were at their very best when they drew for Warren, but in this case unfortunate timing meant that their blossoming European careers prevented them from doing much work.

Like Aldoma Puig and Martin Salvador, Victor de la Fuente had been a permanent feature on the British war books but belonged to an earlier generation of artists. He was born in 1927 and at the age of 17 started working in the studio of cartoonist Lopez Rubio. In 1945 he emigrated to Chile to pursue a career in advertising, only returning to comics in the late ’50s at the urging of legendary “Cisco Kid” artist José Salinas. In 1957 he was instrumental in reviving the magazine El Paneca where he created the western strip “Poney Durango.” It is rumored that he also did some work for Dell at around this period but in 1960 he moved back to Spain to work with his two brothers who were artists themselves. A year later he was offered work by S.I. and began a long association with British comics. From ’62 to ’71 he drew in excess of a staggering 5,000 pages for Battle, War, and Commando as well as working on “Blackbow the Cheyenne” for Eagle (in ’63) and “Trelawney’s Mob” in Lion (from ’66-’67). His earliest strips closely resembled his brother Ramon’s work but he soon loosened up and established his trademark spontaneity and energy. Energy is very much the best word to describe his work; there is an exciting, kinetic, gritty feel to everything he does, harnessed to a wonderful sense of composition. Again, like Martin Salavdor, de la Fuente is one of those artists gifted with the ability to draw absolutely anything; any configuration of characters, any permutation of visual elements and to fill them with life.

In 1969, together with Victor Mora, he created the adult western strip “Sunday” which was followed by “Haxtur” and “MathaiCOMIC BOOK ARTIST

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Dor” (both for the Spanish magazine Trinca). These were swordand-sorcery strips with philosophical undertones that were aimed at the emerging adult audience. In 1974 he moved to Paris where he created “Haggath” (which was all but identical to “Haxtur”) and another western character “Amargo.” A succession of successful albums followed throughout the ’70s and ’80s from westerns (Les Gringos) and ’30s style adventure (Agnes d’Alier) to historical (L’Historie de France en bandes dessinés) and even Biblical subjects.

He also found time to contribute to Marvel’s Epic magazine and to ghost a few weeks of the Star Wars newspaper strip for Al Williamson. His most recent work has been for the legendary Italian western character “Tex” and he is still widely regarded as one of the best artists in the world.

Consequently his career barely allowed him the time to do much work for Warren and in fact he managed to only draw one strip, which appeared in 1971 (in Eerie #35). However during the ’80s, Warren turned increasingly to reprinting European strips, rather than self-generated ones, and both “Haxtur” and “Haggath” were serialized (in Eerie and 1984) over the course of 20 issues. The latter years of Eerie saw Warren art at its most directionless and de la Fuente’s strips stood out as shining beacons of quality amongst the ill-judged SF serials that surrounded them. Sadly, while his art was inspired, his writing could appear at times to be rather formulaic and the readership proved to be largely unenthusiastic. A generation raised on super-heroes was beginning to dominate the market and de la Fuentes’ loose and gritty expressiveness was misconstrued as hurried and slapdash.

Jaime Brocal Remohi similarly enjoyed a wide European audience, particularly in France, although unlike de la Fuente he managed to draw 16 strips for Warren between ’72 and ’74. Prior to Warren he had been an artist on “The Saint,” but his real forte proved to be barbarians, from the imaginatively titled “Cronan” (in Trinca and Pilote) to Taar (for Dargaud) and even Tarzan. Brocal’s style was straight forward and muscular, not unlike John Buscema’s in many respects, with the trademark rich, slick inking so many Spaniards seem to possess. At Warren he proved to be adept at the “new look” as well, and his sure handling of tone helped create what was probably the best work of his career. If he lacked anything, it was probably the distinctive touch that would give him the uniqueness of an Auraleon or a Bea, but the strips he did were nonetheless enjoyably atmospheric and well-told.

The first few years of the Spanish experiment saw Warren utilize over 30 different artists, many of whom managed to draw only one or two strips. Clearly a process of selection was going on.

In 1974 a second wave of artists started to appear who gradually replaced many of the earlier Spaniards and were centered around the Valencia studio of Luis Bermejo. The Valencia group of Bermejo, José Ortiz, Leopold Sanchez and Miguel Quesada had previously been veterans of the British comics scene and proved to be perfectly at home drawing horror comics. Luis Bermejo Royo was born in 1932 and was amongst the first Spaniards to appear in Britain in the late ’50s. His earliest U.K. work was commissioned through the A.L.I. agency (not S.I., significantly) and included minor work for Girls Crystal (for Fleetway) and back-ups in Tarzan Weekly.

The ’60s were Bermejo’s peak years as an artist and his tenure on Thriller Picture Libraries’ hip, jazz-loving P.I., “John Steel” (from ’60-’62) was already incredibly assured. His strengths were his unusual, inventive compositions which made great use of asymmetrical designs and negative space, matched with a flair for expressive drawing. A lengthy run on War and Battle Picture Libraries soon followed as did the adventure strip “Pike Mason” for Boys World.

In 1962 he started a productive relationship with The Eagle (which was at that time still the top-selling boys comic in the country) on the war strip “Mann of Battle.” The following year he began work on “Heros the Spartan,” alternating with the great Frank Bellamy, which ran across Eagle’s center pages in full color. It’s a great testament to Bermejo that he was never overawed by the inevitable comparisons to the best artist in Britain and his energetic, dynamic drawing proved to be a worthy match. “Heros” described the perils facing a platoon of Roman Legionnaires in the wilds of barbaric Europe and gave Bermejo ample scope to stretch himself artistically.

His next feature by contrast was one of Britain’s few super-heroes, the fondly-remembered “Johnny Future” which ran alongside reprints of Marvel strips in Fantastic. This had none of the elaborate, Spring 1999

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rococo inking of “Heros” and instead saw Bermejo playing with compositions in a stark, almost abstract way. His focus was far more on the inventive placing of blacks and stylized, almost Breccia-like faces than the more explosive, panoramic approach he had used on his previous strip.

Throughout the ’60s Bermejo worked closely with the other Valencia-based artists and established a hard-working, informal studio. They had usually been represented by Bardon Arts but in 1968 the Italian agent Pierro D’Ami poached the studio’s best artists: Bermejo, Ortiz, Quesada, Emilio Frejo, Alfredo Sanchez Cortez and Juan Gonzalez Alacrejo. Under the auspices of D’Ami, the studio members, who had already done a number of color strips for British annuals, moved increasingly towards painting for books and educational magazines. The British-based Italian agent Verlio Vuolo used D’Ami’s stable of artists on his lavish Tell Me Why and Once Upon a Time magazines for which Bermejo created a number of painted strips, often of historical or fairy tale subjects. In ’71, he painted similarly-themed features for Fleetways’ Look and Learn and Tiny Tots magazines, and the stylized, flat colors and whimsical flavor of these strips owed more to children’s book illustrations than to adventure comics. At some point Bermejo must have become aware of the opportunities Warren was presenting and with Ortiz, Leopold Sanchez, and Quesada, joined S.I.’s group of artists to do work for the American audience. Why the other studio members didn’t go with them remains something of a mystery, though it has been suggested that they had already left comics behind entirely. Certainly Alacrejo still enjoys a strong reputation as a gallery artist today.

Whatever their reasons, it’s a sad loss since Frejo, Cortez and particularly Alacejo would have made superb horror artists.

Above: Enrich’s unpublished pencil study of his Vampirella #17 cover painting. ©1972 Warren Publishing.

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Above: José Ortiz’s gorgeous linework at its best: A chapter from his “Apocalypse,” Eerie #65. ©1976 Warren Publishing.

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For his part, Bermejo made an immediate impression in the states and by way of recognition, Creepy #71 was entirely devoted to his work, showcasing six stories rendered in beautiful tones and washes. Bermejo enthusiastically embraced the “new look” and his earliest work for Warren was strongly reminiscent of Dino Battaglia, complete with sponged-on textures and rigorous scratching.

However while the drawing ability was always evident, his earlier interest in innovative composition soon began to wane and by the time he started work on “The Rook” (Eerie #82) a lot of his vitality was gone. In the late ’70s, his workload at Warren trailed off to a degree while he drew an adaptation of Lord of the Rings back in Spain, though he kept working for the company until ’83. Whether his colossal workload sucked the life out of his drawings or whether he was just losing interest in comics anyway we will probably never know but ultimately his spell at Warren must be viewed as a disappointment. He went on to create a large body of work for the Italian anthologies Skorpio and Lancio and contributed to the multi-volume Spanish Relatos Nuevo Mundo series in the ’90s but never again reached the heights of his British work.

José Ortiz Moya (who was born in 1932) came to British comics a little later than Bermejo because of a successful spell in Spain drawing the “Sigur the Viking” feature. In 1960, he was approached

by Bardon and began working on War Picture Library, soon followed by Battle, Air Ace, and Commando. His first few war strips were very similar in style to Bermejo: Exciting, anatomically strong, and with a sure handling of blacks. Where they differed was in the almost savage edge his drawings had and a gritty rendering style that became more pronounced as the decade progressed. Always a prolific artist, Ortiz augmented his war material with a wide variety of strips including Carol Baker (for The Daily Express in ’62), “John Brody” (Boys World ’64) and “Trelawney’s Mob,” “The Phantom Viking,” and “The 10,000 Disasters of Dort” (all for Lion ’67-’68).

From 1966 to ’68 he painted the “UFO Agent” and “Sky Buccaneers” strips for Eagle before temporarily leaving British comics when he joined the D’Ami agency. The early ’70s soon brought more strips though, including “Snorkel” for T.V.21 and “The Persuaders” for T.V. Action in ’73.

By the time Ortiz joined Warren in mid-’74, he was already an artist of world-class quality with the ability and drive to tackle even the hardest scripts with ease. He was always less mannered than Bermejo and had a more straightforward approach to storytelling, but what he uniquely possessed was the ability to compose panels through the spotting of blacks that was the equal of a Caniff or a Toth. Like Victor de la Fuente, the mid-’60s saw his inking grow even more vigorous, although at this point his war material was still relatively tight and controlled. Eagle’s “UFO Agent” feature allowed Ortiz to extend his range to include a mastery of painting and his subsequent work invariably showed that influence. He became increasingly less interested in the line quality of his inking and instead used a looser, gestural approach to approximate the tonal

qualities of color. At Warren he embraced the “new look” with relish to produce a succession of superbly-drawn stories such as “Coffin,” “Jackass,” and his masterpiece, “The Apocalypse” (which ran in Eerie #62-65). This looked like it wasn’t so much inked as feverishly scratched out of a morass of black ink and seething textures. Something that can’t be overemphasized is that while Warren certainly offered more money than they were used to, it was the chance to finally express themselves as artists that was important to the Spaniards. What the ultraconservative British market gave them was the grounding in solid, straightforward storytelling that would allow them to experiment later at Warren and still remain accessible—but the sort of techniques and subject matter tackled by the artists in the U.S. market was completely out of the question in Britain. You can see in the work of Auraleon, Gonzales, Torrents, and particularly Ortiz that they were seizing their newfound liberation and really pushing themselves.

Almost inevitably Ortiz was not able to maintain the intensity of his work on “The Apocalypse” forever and after a few years of astonishingly high quality he abandoned the “new look” in favor of a less elaborate b-&-w approach. Altogether he drew 119 strips for Warren, making him by far their most prolific artist and while he was not always inspired he still frequently produced strips of real craftsmanship. Amazingly, despite the heavy workload, he still had time to moonlight for the pan-European Tarzan line and after Warren closed down, he returned to European comics with renewed energy. Through the Norma agency he drew several strips for Fleetway including the Warrenesque “13th Floor” series which ran for almost 150 episodes in Scream and Eagle. In fact Ortiz appeared in The Eagle each week for over seven years while at 2000 A.D. he drew a number of “Judge Dredd” and “Rogue Trooper” stories, including a nice collaboration with Alan Moore. It was in the rest of Europe that he found his biggest success however and throughout the ’80s and ’90s his work on such strips as “Morgan,” “Burton and CYB,” “Ozone,” and “Atilla” appeared across the continent, as well as in Heavy Metal. His post-apocalyptic “Hombre” series was particularly noteworthy with Ortiz relishing a return to painting.

Even in his mid-sixties, he is still capable of producing work that ranks with his very best as his most recent work on “Tex” (for the Italian publisher Bonelli) shows so majestically.

Leopoldo Sanchez was the youngest of the Warren artists at only 26 when he joined the company in 1974. He had been drawn to the world of comics through his cousins José and Leopold Ortiz and entered the industry at the age of 14, assisting Gines Garcia.

While studying art in the late ’60s, he assisted the Ortiz brothers on their strips and subsequently struck out on his own on British and French projects. He stayed at Warren for barely four years but in that time drew a staggering 50 strips in a style that contained elements of both his cousins and Luis Bermejo’s art but which was always underpinned by a darkly humorous edge. On strips like “Spook” and particularly “Godeye” in Eerie #68, he used wash to COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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soften his bold lines and broad swaths of black, bringing to mind some of Bernie Wrightson’s early work, but this was a short-lived experiment. He was perpetually changing his style in fact moving from “new look” scratching to stark minimalism and even some very strange looking wax relief rendering. Sanchez returned to Warren in the early ’80s but by this time most of his efforts were concentrated on the witty SF series “Bogey” which was syndicated around the world (including an English translation in Britain’s legendary Warrior magazine). During Sanchez’s hiatus from Warren an artist credited as “Lozano” mysteriously surfaced at Fleetway. He drew a number of strips for Action (“Blackjack”) and 2000 A.D. (“Mach One” and “Ant Wars”) which look exactly like Sanchez’s work (but to date I’ve yet to find any confirmation that they are one and the same). In recent years Sanchez himself has become as elusive as the mysterious “Lozano” and he appears to have left comics entirely.

The final member of the Valencia group to appear at Warren was Miguel Quesada who puzzlingly only drew one strip for the company. He had been another of Fleetway’s War and Air Ace regulars and had a style that was very reminiscent of Bermejo.

Following Martin Salvador’s departure he took over the art on both “Iron Man” and “Wildcat Wayne” and then in the early ’70s concentrated on color strips such at “The Persuaders” (in T.V. Action) and Dan Dare (in several Eagle annuals). It is thought that he moved into children’s book illustration soon after this, so in some respects his Warren strip was an aberration, though it was amongst the best art of his career.

The remaining artists I have yet to cover are José Gual, Vicente Alcazar, Pepe Moreno, and Jesus Blasco—each of whom came to Warren via different routes. José Gual was yet another longstanding member of S.I. who had started out as a romance artist for Fleetway in the late ’50s and eventually came to draw practically every genre under the sun. In the mid-’60s he created a number of spy strips for Spain and then came to Warren in ’72 where he drew 14 stories in total without ever really making an impression. Like Bermejo he had an issue of Creepy devoted to himself (#72) which revealed him to have a firm grasp of drawing and a Brecciaesque gift for characterization. However, despite having a slick, detailed inking style, he was never a crowd pleaser in the way Maroto or Gonzales were; his people were never attractive enough for that and often they had a sinister, grotesque appearance. In the late ’70s, he returned to British comics and contributed to Action, Misty, Tarzan and Battle Weekly where he drew the “Black Major” strip. In recent years, he has been the artist on The Sun newspaper cheesecake strip, George and Lynn, which has revealed a previously unseen gift for humor (and glamour!).

Vicente Alcazar came to Warren by an altogether different route: He moved to America. Alcazar was born in 1944 and moved to Britain in the ’60s to study at art college. By the decade’s end he had established himself at Fleetway. Cut off from the Spanish comics scene, his earliest work owed more to the Italian artist Gino D’Antonio who was Fleetway’s preeminent war artist. Fittingly it was on War, Battle and Air Ace Picture Libraries that Alcazar first found success. By the late ’60s, almost all the best Spanish and Italian artists had left the war books and Alcazar, together with his friend Carlos Pino, soon became their top artist. Periods drawing “The Saint” (for T.V.21) and romance books followed before he moved to America where he and Pino initially found work at Gray Morrow’s short-lived Red Circle line. After a while Pino returned to British comics but Alcazar was more successful and was soon working for DC, Marvel and Warren simultaneously. For Warren he drew eight strips in a variety of styles, one of which (in Eerie #53) was inked by none other than Neal Adams. Alcazar adopted all the trappings of the “new look” and he was obviously highly influenced by Luis Garcia, though perhaps with a better understanding of action. At Marvel, he contributed to many of their b-&w magazines as well as to Creatures on the Loose, Conan, and even Moon Knight. At DC, his natural style was well suited to their mystery books but he also appeared in Weird Worlds and Jonah Hex. In 1976 he drew some very poor installments of Space: 1999 for Charlton, but that same year also saw the publication of his finest work: “Satana” in Marvel Preview #7. In fact these Satana stories had been drawn two years earlier for the cancelled Haunt of Horror magazine and Spring 1999

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were contemporary with his stay at Warren. With their realistic drawing and imaginative tones they were Warren strips in all but name and even contained the occasional swipe from Luis Garcia!

After the ’70s, Alcazar surfaced in English language comics only fitfully and was last seen drawing Megalith for Neal Adams’ Continuity Comics.

Pepe Moreno Casares also came to Warren by moving to the states but unlike Alcazar he was still something of a novice. In the mid ’70s he had illustrated for the Spanish title SOS, a very poor attempt at a Warren style magazine, but his first significant work was drawn in the states.

Between ’78 and ’80 Moreno worked prolifically for Warren on series like “Mac Tavish” and later created similarly futuristic strips for Epic and Heavy Metal. Albums such as Gene Kong and Joe’s Air Force found receptive audiences all over Europe, and particularly in France but he eventually abandoned conventional drawing techniques in favor of computer-generated art. DC’s Digital Justice, which was entirely created by Moreno, was the first computer graphic novel (and the last?) and since little has been heard of him. It is likely that he has concentrated on computer graphics. He is a significant figure in Spanish comics because he so perfectly reflects the changes that affected their industry. He was from a different generation of Spanish artists, one that had no experience of British comics and no interest in the “new look.”

Moreno’s style owed more to artists from the magazine Metal Hurlant, particularly Moebius, than to the rich artistic heritage of his own country. In many ways the Warren period can be seen as the finest, and possibly the last expression of a distinctly Spanish comics tradition—a tradition that the artists of Moreno’s generation moved away from.

The final Spanish artist to join Warren was also the most famous artist in the country and was in many ways the father of Spanish comics—the very personification of the Spanish tradition.

Jesus Blasco Monteverde was born in Barcelona in 1919 and his work first saw print in 1935.

Many of his earliest strips, such as “Cuto” or “Anita Diminuta,” starred children and were aimed at a young audience but they gradually evolved into fully fledged adventure strips and his art evolved with them. Blasco shared a studio with his brothers Alejandro and Adriano and his sister Pilar and all four had nearly identical styles. They were able to produce an enormous output to a consistently high standard for all manner of Spanish periodicals and soon appeared all over Europe.

Blasco was the first Spanish artist to work in Britain and went on to be one of the most prolific as well. His earliest work was on “Buffalo Bill” for Comet, through the A.L.I. agency, which was followed by a succession of westerns for Cowboy Picture Library, as well as “Dick Turpin” for Sun Weekly. In the ’60s, he appeared

Above: Leopoldo Sanchez’s fine work from “Godeye,” in Eerie #68. ©1975 Warren Publishing.

Above: Jesus Blasco’s “Steel Claw” from Valiant, July 8, 1972. © 1972 IPC Magazines Ltd.

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of artists when they first made contact with Jim Warren. Even if his three Warren strips were commissioned by S.I., at that stage it was too late for him to make much of an impression in the U.S. and sadly he was never able to create a market for himself. He continued to work in comics right up to his death in 1995 and amongst several highlights was a beautiful adaptation of the Bible in 1983.

Above: Sanjulian cover painting to Vampirella #14. ©1971 Warren Publishing.

Below: Cimoc, another Spanish comic magazine, only this one with Norma’s artists. ©1987 Norma Agency.

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across the whole of Fleetway’s boys line, from Ranger to Eagle, from Tiger to Lion, and so on but it was for Vaillant’s “Steel Claw” series that he is most fondly remembered. The Steel Claw was a secret agent who could become invisible when his metal hand touched electricity and it was a monumentally dark and moody strip. It ran until well into the ’70s, a decade that saw Blasco turning more to girls’ comics and nursery strips, though he did find time to contribute to early issues of 2000 A.D. and Action.

Three Blasco strips appeared in Creepy in the late ’70s, all miscredited to Joaquin Blasquez and none of them I’m sure actually commissioned by the company. Two of the three were heavily censored and chopped about, while the third was an adaptation of Edgar Allan Poe’s “Tell-Tale Heart” which had been rewritten as a totally different story altogether. Since Warren was beginning to translate European features like “Haxtur” and Carlos Gimenez’s work, it’s possible that the Blasco strips were reprints as well. The Poe adaptation (in Creepy #110) in particular showed what an asset he would have been. His art combined the heroic, classically idealized drawing of a Raymond or Buscema with the florid, dark inking of a Nestor Redondo and he was a natural at horror comics. He had already confirmed this several years earlier when he drew three stunning stories for Marvel in Monsters Unleashed #2 and Vampire Tales #2 and 9. Several factors probably contributed to the small amount of work he was able to draw for the U.S., principal among them his popularity in Britain. Blasco was highly regarded by his British editors who valued his drawing prowess as well as his productivity. In a crisis he could always be relied upon to turn a job around and meet any deadline, consequently he was constantly kept in work. Another factor was probably his independence; on occasion he used agents such as A.L.I. or Bardon but usually he represented himself directly. So since he had no need for S.I. he never built up any sort of relationship with them and consequently was not among their group

One of Warren’s main selling points had always been their painted covers, a tradition started

by Frank Frazetta, of course, and here, too, the Spaniards made their mark. Segrelles, Pujolar and Ribas managed only a few covers between them but Sanjulian, Enrich and Penalva proved to be much more prolific. Manuel Sanjulian (born in Barcelona in 1941) had a background in illustration and paperback covers but was also a comics fan. His heroes were Hal Foster and Frank Frazetta so it’s fitting that he effectively took over from Frazetta as Warren’s top painter. Sanjulian was gifted with tremendous technical ability and an intuitive grasp of fantasy and horror themes coupled with an understanding of comics that underscored many of his most successful covers (such as Vampirella #12) He was a more realistic draftsman than Frazetta though he lacked the latter’s gift for dynamic compositions (but then so did everybody else). A vast collection of his paintings that was published by Norma in 1984 revealed the full breadth of his range; from sword-and-sorcery to romances, from westerns to historical subjects and all points inbetween. Clearly his 59 covers for Warren represented only a tiny percentage of his total output, an amazing fact considering their constant high quality. In recent years Sanjulian has moved ever closer to fine arts and is now an established gallery artist, as is his erstwhile colleague Enrich.

Enrich Torres was born in Barcelona (in 1939) and prior to working for Warren had pursued a career in illustration. If anything he was an even more accomplished painter than Sanjulian but had a much smaller compositional range. His covers for Vampirella, which was where he primarily appeared, were invariably scenes of either Vampi with a monster or, for good measure, Vampi without a monster. He had a strong pulpy sense of the striking pose or image however, and perhaps more importantly, an understanding of the iconic value of a good cover.

For much of the readership, it was Enrich’s sultry, seductive, glowing Vampirella covers that personified the character, every bit as much as Gonzales’ interiors. After Warren Enrich occasionally appeared on the covers of Sapin’s adult magazines but his subsequent career as a gallery artist was no surprise.

Jordi Penalva came to Warren long after Sanjulian and Enrich.

His first cover appeared in 1978 and he consequently only managed to paint 15 covers for them before they closed shop. His background in comics by contrast was very lengthy and his first covers for Fleetway’s Picture Libraries appeared as early as the mid-’50s.

These were mostly westerns and even at this early stage his vigorous dynamic painting and chisel-jawed heroes were much in evidence.

By the early ’60s, he had established himself as one of the best cover artists in the country and over the next two decades he painted literally hundreds of covers for Fleetway and Thomson war comics.

These war covers were a mixture of the dynamism of Frazetta (particularly his Blazing Combat paintings) and the loose textured renderings of contemporary American illustrators such as Mitchell Hooks or Joe Bowler. Thematically Penalva was a fine proponent of the heroic ideal; of manly, ruggedly handsome men striking impressive poses, concerns he shared with another contemporary of his, Doc Savage cover artist James Bama. At Warren he tightened up his painting technique but retained his sense of dynamics and all of his covers were wonderful, particularly those pieces he created for The Rook. It is not entirely clear why Warren didn’t use him earlier, though like Jesus Blasco he was known to frequently represent himself and thus might not have had close contacts with S.I. His covers COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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started to appear when Sanjulian’s were trailing off so it’s possible he was seen as a replacement for the great man and perhaps Warren had felt that with Enrich and Sanjulian they simply didn’t need anybody else. After his spell working for the U.S., Penalva reestablished himself in Spain and created some fine paintings for Zona 84, Cimoc, and the rest. After the recent collapse of the mature comics scene in Spain, it’s entirely possible that he turned to fine art like so many of his colleagues.

So some artists stayed the course, but most moved on to other things. The big question is why? Why did they go? Or perhaps more pertinently why were they allowed to leave? Marcel Moralles, who was S.I.’s production manager throughout the ’70s, believes it was a combination of factors; that some artists felt that they had achieved all they wanted to and just naturally moved onto other areas; that Jim Warren himself felt the experiment had served its purpose and now was looking elsewhere; and that just as the Spaniards had supplanted an earlier wave of American artists so too in turn they were replaced by an influx of artists from the Philippines. Moralles’ suggestion that their departure was due to the inevitable petering out of enthusiasm on all sides has a ring of truth about it; it is always difficult to maintain the excitement of any project for a long period, but I suspect another factor was Warren’s own success. By the mid-’70s, both sales and the company’s image had improved and it was now able to attract a number of the best homegrown talent. Whereas in the early ’70s, almost the only Americans at the company were Richard Corben, Billy Graham, Tom Sutton, and Ken Kelley, within a few years they were joined by Alex Toth, Bernie Wrightson, John Severin, and Carmine Infantino.

According to Louise Simonson, who was an editor at Warren during this period, after Infantino left DC his first port of call was Warren.

Jim Warren was so thrilled to have him that he let it be known that Infantino should be given as much work as the artist wanted.

Infantino was a fast artist who could cope with up to two strips a week and since most Warren titles rarely featured more than six stories an issue that was a significant amount of work that was not available to the Spanish contingent.

Some artists, such as Felix Ma,s were in the process of moving away from comics entirely, while others left for other venues and were simply not replaced. A major factor in this gradual exodus was the emergence of a strong comics industry in Spain itself and one of the prime movers in that scene was Josep Toutain. As Warren lost its Spanish artists and fell into decline, so too did Toutain pick them up and create his own line of Spanish-Warren comics. Warren’s strips had long been translated all over the world (indeed, the Italian magazine Terrific was still reprinting them in the ’90s), and nowhere more so than in Spain. The first period of Spanish reprints mixed Warren material with DC mystery and war strips but by the end of the ’70s Toutain hade taken over the license and was printing them himself (the jump from agent to publisher was not unknown in Europe but must still have been a brave move). Toutain’s magazines (Comix International, Creepy and 1984—later retitled Zona 84) more closely resembled Heavy Metal (as did many European comics) but initially still based their contents around Warren’s back catalog.

In time they supplemented and eventually replaced this with new material from Bea, Fernandez, Azpiri, and Gimenez as well as imported strips. Just as Warren had used foreign artists from Spain so in turn did Toutain translate work from Breccia, Altuna, and Juan Gimenez from Argentina, Paul Gillon from France, John M. Burns from Britain, and Will Eisner and Rich Corben from the U.S. Not content with Spain, Toutain also made inroads into the American market through Catalan Communications. Toutain teamed-up with Bernd Metz, S.I.’s American agent in the ’70s and Herb Spiers who had run their New York office since 1978, to bring the cream of Europe’s creators to an English-speaking audience.

Their line of graphic novels met with considerable critical and, for a time, commercial success throughout the ’80s and was largely responsible for popularizing artists like Milo Manara, Jordi Bernet, and Victtorio Giardino in America. Another company that sprang from Toutain’s S.I. organization was Norma which was formed in 1976 by Raphael Martinez soon after he left the agency. Norma was itself initially an agency, handling José Ortiz for instance—and as usual supplied artists to British companies; but like S.I., it soon began publishing comics as well. They published magazines like Cimoc and Spring 1999

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Cairo as well as a vast line of graphic novels (or albums as they are known in Europe) which featured Warren stalwarts such as Ortiz, Sanjulian, Gonzales, and de la Fuente as well as latecomers like Font and Blasco.

Ironically, where Warren led the way in the ’70s, so did S.I. and Norma in the ’80s. The publishing model they set up in Spain could possibly have saved Warren had the American company been prepared to follow it. In the last few years of publishing, Warren was already moving closer to the Spanish model and had begun to concertedly license European strips: Paul Gillon’s “Les Naufrages du Temps” (or “Spacewrecked,” as it was retitled) ran in Eerie while his “Jeremie” series appeared in Vampirella, as did “Torpedo” by Abuli, Bernet and Toth. Victor de la Fuente’s “Haxtur” and “Haggarth” were translated in Eerie and 1984 and the latter title also ran a number of creator-owned series

by Corben (“Mutant World”) and Frank Thorne (“Ghita of Alizarr”).

It had been announced that “La Derniére Recrée” (“The Last Recess”) by Horacio Altuna was to be translated but sadly the company folded before it could see print. A mixture of top European strips like these, creator-owned U.S. strips, and Warren’s own Spanish- and Filipino-drawn creations could have seen them seriously challenge Heavy Metal and Epic, but sadly that was not to be. In the early ’80s, while space for comics on newsstands was inexorably contracting, the emerging direct sales audience had little time for horror comics—or for b-&w comics or comics drawn by foreigners or even comics that were the “wrong” shape! What the ’80s audience wanted was John Byrne, George Perez and Frank Miller, and the Warren Empire that they neglected could never be replaced once it was gone.

Quite how Warren will be remembered only time will tell. So far there has been little serious evaluation of the company and even less so this great Spanish experiment. Perhaps now is the time for that long-needed reassessment of what Warren achieved. His Spanish artists left a legacy that was rich, diverse, and unique and not many other groups of artists can claim that. They represented the highest expression of a nation’s artistic tradition, a tradition that died with them. The generations that followed in America and Spain have chosen to go in other directions, so we have no living legacy, only the glorious heritage of a period when, for a while, Warren published the best comics in the world.

Above: Variant cover from the U.S. novels; this British version from 1977 is by Gino D’Achille.

Vampirella ©1977 Warren Publishing.

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CBA Interview

The Big Push & Other Tales William DuBay reveals the real horror stories of Warren Conducted by Jon B. Cooke William DuBay (a.k.a. Bill or Dube) was Warren Publishing’s longest-running editor (whether as editor-in-chief, contributing editor, consulting editor, art director, story editor or managing editor—he was always running) and a prolific writer and artist to boot throughout the ’70s and early ’80s. He is probably best known for his creation of the time-traveling character The Rook (which received its own book in a memorable 14-issue run). William was interviewed via telephone on January 10, 1999, and he copyedited the final transcript. Before I even got an opening question in, Dube was off and running….

Above: A William DuBay self-portrait, “produced in those early days,” DuBay explains, “when I’d just opened the studio, was still going to college and drawing those freelance stories for Warren—including ‘The Frog Prince,’ ‘Devil’s Hand,’ and ‘Life Species.’” ©1999 W.M. DuBay.

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William DuBay: We both know what you want to start off with. You want a Jim Warren story. Something fun. One of the legends you’ve heard so much about. Why else would anyone do a Warren Publishing special? Fine.

Here’s my lead-off. I call it: “Boris.”

I remember one morning when Jim and I were catching up—just chatting in his office after he’d been away a while. He was nonchalantly opening a huge stack of mail as we spoke. Not giving it his complete attention, he picked up a nice, padded, oversized envelope and slit it open. A huge spider virtually leaped out onto his lap.

Jim shrieked like a banshee, bolted four feet into the air and came down stomping like a flamenco master… until the spider somehow managed to “skitter” safely under his desk.

“Did you see that?” he screamed, pointing at the floor as he curled up cross-legged, feet perched safely on his plush executive rocker. “Did you see the size of that mother? That was one of those killer African tarantulas,” he gibbered, visibly shaken. “Get Donato and Jacinto in here,” he ordered, referring to his Captain Company shipping crew. “Tell them to bring something big and heavy to smash that steroided little bastard.”

Nonplused, I walked out, afraid that I’d bust if I told him that the spider was simply a realistic toy… a sample sent by some manufacturer who wanted Captain Company to carry his product.

I told Flo Steinberg (his Captain Company buyer) though. We rolled with laughter. Then, she ordered a gross of the little rubber guys. From there after, we dubbed the spider “Boris.” We figured that if anything could scare Jim Warren, it deserved a frightful name.

To this day, I don’t know if Jim ever figured out that he’d almost been assaulted by a toy.

That said, who exactly is this guy W. B. William Bill Dube DuBay you’re talking to?

In a nutshell: A good Catholic boy, William DuBay grew up in a big family in San Francisco in the 1950s. He knew he wanted to write and draw comics early in life, and started with Charlton while still in high school. He was writing and drawing pieces for Marvel, Warren, and Sproul (Cracked) while in the Army and college. Before

receiving his degree, he opened his studio, The Cartoon Factory, and published The Bay Area Entertainer, a weekly S.F. newspaper.

Joining Warren Publishing full-time in ’73 as editor/art director, he opened a Cartoon Factory office in New York and dabbled in advertising, animation and comics-related work. He drew several dozen comic stories, wrote several hundred more, and probably became best known for his humorous cartoon-style contributions to Cracked and Crazy magazines. His style has been categorized as a cross between Mad’s Paul Coker, Jr. and George Woodbridge.

DuBay left the Warren magazines in 1982, a year before the company closed its doors. He kicked the Cartoon Factory into high gear and was inundated with television work—in animation, licensing and screen writing—for Twentieth Century Fox, Marvel, DIC, Saban and Disney. Still doing the same today, he has a lot to say about his first love, the medium of comics.

Comic Book Artist: You’re from San Francisco, aren’t you?

William: Born and raised.

CBA: When did you develop an interest in comic books?

William: Early on. My grandmother was a nurse in the children’s ward at San Francisco County Hospital. She’d bring comic books home from the hospital from about the time I was three or four years old. I always had a pretty vivid imagination, so I genuinely believed that some of those comics had comforted kids in their dying moments. With that viewpoint, comics seemed like a worthwhile and even noble career choice—at least to a four-year-old. Grandma didn’t particularly agree. She wanted me to study medicine or enter the priesthood. To avoid either, I let it be known, even at that tender age, that I was headed for comic books—and that was simply the way it was going to be.

CBA: What comics particularly interested you?

William: I loved Mickey Mouse’s adventures. The only trouble was, I always seemed to get the first half of a continued story. I really didn’t care for the super-hero stuff until much later. When I was eleven or twelve, I remember a friend of mine asking if I’d seen “this new Hawkman” character. I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about—but, after I tracked down a copy of that first The Brave and the Bold issue, I was hooked.

CBA: Were you interested in any specific artists?

William: From early on, I felt that anything Joe Kubert drew was just fabulous. He captured a dark and surreal mood that seemed a nice fit with the comics of the period. I never really cared much for Dick Sprang or anyone who signed the name ‘Bob Kane,’ no matter who it was—though I later had the chance to meet and befriend Jack Burnley who was doing an awful lot of Superman and Batman work in the ‘40s.

CBA: How did that come about?

William: When I was in high school, our journalism class took a tour of the old San Francisco Call-Bulletin operation—San Francisco’s afternoon newspaper at the time. Though it was after hours and there was no one in the art department, I saw Jack’s name on the assignment board and, wondering how many Jack Burnleys there could be, I gave him a call the next day. Turned out, he was indeed the same guy who had created DC’s Starman and had been that company’s primary Superman/ Batman ghost artist. That was about ’64 or so, and we struck up an instant friendship.

CBA: I’m surprised you recognized his name back in 1964.

William: By that time, I was well into collecting comics. I had mounds, and had long since begun to recognize different styles of art and storytelling—even though most stories went uncredited. Some, like Kirby, Kubert, and Ditko, were uniquely distinctive. Others, like COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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Infantino, the Barrys, and Toth had a studio sameness—with enjoyably differing subtleties. I made a game out of identifying, studying, and emulating those differences.

I also liked to think I could recognize those rare timeless treasures when they hit the newsstand. My buddy, Marty knew how, too. The day they came out, we stockpiled every copy we could find of Fantastic Four #1, The Flash #123 and Amazing Fantasy #15.

Grandma thought we were nuts; but she saw the passion—and encouraged it.

CBA: Is that Marty Arbunich, who worked with you on Fantasy Hero, Voice of Comicdom, All Stars and The Yancy Street Journal?

William: Man, you don’t live anything down in this industry, do you!? [laughter] Yeah, we helped each other out, Marty always tackling the more anal aspects of the job. He used to justify type on his typewriter, just so the columns of his fanzine looked perfect! And bugs! “Stretch” (so nicknamed because of his 6’ 6” frame) could find the most decorative printer’s bugs devised by man—placing them with an almost artistic precision—just so his pages would look nicer for his readers.

He also had a talent for making friends. He made one of Steve Ditko—and got him to produce the single best piece of art Ditko ever drew. We used it on the cover of All Stars #1, then Stretch tucked it in the back of a closet where it’s hidden to this day—a piece of work that should be in a museum; or on my studio wall.

CBA: Were you obsessive about comics?

William: I made a career choice, way early, and studied every aspect of it to the best of my ability. I’m from a long line of proud French Catholics. Oldest son of an oldest son. Strong, focused, (and I’d like to think) disciplined. Starting to see why comics looked a whole lot better than San Francisco General or St. Paul’s rectory?

Obsessive? No—but, I was then and remain a good student. Did I keep any of my old funny books? Some. The fun ones. The rest I’ve brought to kids on children’s wards. Have you seen the price of today’s hospital stay? I always imagine that Grandma would find it somehow karmically bemusing.

CBA: How did you break into comics?

William: As I said, I worked hard at my studies. By the time I was sixteen, I was convinced I was the best comics writer/artist who’d ever lived. I started submitting my work to DC, Marvel, Charlton and Gold Key then, and it would come back to me with the standard form rejection. After two or three months, I couldn’t understand why I was having such a hard time breaking into the field.

Jack, who’d become a friend by that point, explained that comics was an “old boys’ network” in those days, and not just anyone could walk through the door. That’s when I hit on the idea of sending my art and story samples to an editor using his name, coupled with a note saying, “I’d like to get back into it.” Sure enough [laughs], it worked. The first assignment was from Dick Giordano at Charlton— for Go-Go Comics, one of those really hot, cool sassy ’60s titles. [laughs] I completed the assignment, a simple four-pager, and turned it in with a note from “Jack”: “Didn’t have time to finish this, so I gave it to my assistant—Bill DuBay. Did a wonderful job, didn’t he?”

Dick wrote back when he sent the first script intended for me. “Boy, he sure did!” [laughs] From there, I was off and running.

CBA: So Dick published it?

William: In Go-Go #4. My first professional work. Bylined and all—and I was still in high school—which just confirmed the fact that I was the best who ever lived! [laughter] I did a couple of assignments for Dick until I graduated. 30 seconds after that, I was awarded the earliest draft number imaginable and had to relinquish a budding career to join Uncle Sam. CBA: You had some fan art in Creepy #12. So, you were clued into the Warren magazines when they first came out?

William: When Creepy debuted in ’64, I was already well into collecting those “ancient” ECs. Since Warren was using the same artists, I don’t think I was the only one who felt, “They’re back—and they’re better than ever!”

CBA: With your prolific fanzine efforts, did you develop an early taste for magazine production work?

William: Publishing was our life back then. Marty and I worked up four or five issues of Fantasy Hero, a half-dozen Voice of Comicdoms and maybe a dozen or so Yancy Street Journals. We received some excellent material from some wonderful contributors. People like Ronn Foss, Biljo White, Mike Vosburg, and Tom Conroy and Roger Spring 1999

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Brand—two guys that, if they’d lived, would’ve been among the industry giants.

Like us, Roger was out of the San Francisco area. Throughout high school, he’d come around and we’d play a little basketball together. He was maybe four or five years older than Marty and I (and a pretty good hoopster, too). Besides comics, basketball was Marty’s, Rudy Franke’s, Barry Bauman’s and my main interest. We’d hit the court, play hard and talk comics. It was a lot of fun—and Marty’s still about the best center I’ve ever met. The social aspect of what we were doing was far more rewarding than any of the production work.

CBA: Were you trying to attract professional talent with your fanzines?

William: Wasn’t everyone? We were able to snag a few interesting contributions—most notably the aforementioned work by Steve Ditko. He did a few other spots for us along the way; but, for me, the fun was in tracking down Golden Age writers and artists for interviews, retrospectives and appreciations—and because I liked picking their brains. It was probably the most exciting part of my educational process.

CBA: How did you begin working with Warren Publishing?

William: I was in the Army and had been stationed at Ft. Bragg, North Carolina for about two years—editing the newspaper there, The Ft. Bragg Paraglide—when I took a trip to New York, walked into Jim’s office and introduced myself. Jim was always pretty confrontational, so the first words out of his mouth were, “So, what makes you think you’re good enough to work for me?” I shot back, “‘Cause I’m the best who ever was!” I then whipped a couple of pages from my portfolio and threw them on his desk. “That’s why I think I’m good enough.” [laughs] We struck up an instant adversarial friendship—and I walked out with a script. That was in ’69—and it was that regrettably forgettable story that appeared in Neal’s “Rock God”

Above: When the boss was away…. DuBay as the emperor-inabsentia. “I was just a boy feelin’ my oats,” DuBay professes meekly, looking back at embarrassing photos from that era. Alongside DuBay are (clockwise, standing) advertising production artist Sherry Burne, assistant editor Louise (Weezie) Jones and colorist Michelle Brand. Photo by W.R. Mohalley.

Below: “As far as I was concerned,” DuBay said, “this magnificent Steve Ditko cover contribution to our fanzine All Stars #1 was the single most beautiful piece of art of his entire career.

Now, you’d need a crowbar to get it out of Marty Arbunich’s closet.” ©1965 Steve Ditko.

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issue of Creepy. [#31] CBA: That sample art—was it comics, illustration, or copies of the newspaper? Were you also pushing for writing assignments?

William: As I remember, I was just trying to score some art assignments. I knew that writing my own material would come eventually; but I remember being pretty burned out by the endless stream of newspaper deadlines.

I’d been doing some pretty intense work that required a lot of long research hours. In particular, there was an extensive behind-the-scenes look at the thalidomide children of military personnel—and, another, a revealing look at sex on a military base that had been prompted by a fetus found in an AWOL WAC’s locker. After hard-core horror like that, you’re not looking to write fluffy vampire stories.

CBA: Were you ever sent to Vietnam?

William: I received orders. My first military job was as Command Illustrator to General William Westmoreland—a protected position that classified me Above: A lifelong student of comic art, DuBay was only 16 when he produced this sample art page for Warren Publishing. Warren wrote him back in 1965, “With artists like Frazetta, Crandall, Williamson and Wood, what do I need a hack like you for?”—little realizing that this young “hack” would head his magazines in the coming decade. ©1965 W.B. DuBay.

Above: Warren staff playing with Barbie dolls (!) during a lull in their schedule. Clockwise from bottom: Bill Mohalley, Michele Brand, ?, Louise Jones, and Bill Dubay. Sherry Burne swaps places with DuBay in picture at right.

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as ‘essential stateside personnel.’

CBA: “Command Illustrator”?

William: It meant that I was issued a little basement office where I could sit and draw all day. Basically, the job was to doodle caricatured mementos of dignitaries who visited the base—from Robert Kennedy (who inspected because we were the JFK Center for Special Warfare—The Green Berets) to John Wayne (who was filming that movie there at the time). There was an endless stream of Middle Eastern princes, foreign and national diplomats, dignitaries, senators and congressmen. I was in the job about six months when Westmoreland came down with orders for ‘Nam. His entire staff was supposed to go, but the in-coming guy—Throckmorton—liked my work. So I stayed. A month later, I walked down to the newspaper offices at the end of the hall and said, “Okay, what do you have for me?” I struck up a relationship with them, did some articles and art

and, when the editor left, I stepped into his shoes.

CBA: Did you continue to illustrate while you were editor?

William: I was (then, and am still) a shameless workaholic. I probably had a little something published at least once a week. I knew it was a good portfolio builder and a great way to experiment and improve.

CBA: You had no plans to go back to the Bay Area after your dis-

charge?

William: I was headed for New York—to become Mr. Funnybook Super-Star!

CBA: Did you have aspirations to do any type of genre work?

William: I wanted to work for DC. I loved their characters and prayed for the chance to work with them. Write. Draw. Edit. Didn’t matter. I had ideas and passion and needed an outlet for it all.

Dick was at DC by then. He said I could play, so I waited.

Promises weren’t kept. I continued working with Warren and opened a full-service cartoon studio—working mostly with Madison Avenue.

I was off and running—but still sometimes wince for not hanging in.

There are a couple of stories I’d still love to do—but only if I could get Kubert involved. With maybe Toth thrown in for good measure— and it would have to be their best work—or I wouldn’t want to play.

CBA: Did the discouragement of that broken promise affect your later editorial style in dealing with freelancers?

William: I like to think there’s an upside to every seemingly-negative situation. After dealing with DC, I promised myself that if I ever filled an editor’s slot I’d be straight with every artist and writer who walked through the door. Our dreams are too precious for even a moment to be wasted.

Years later, at Warren, boys would come in every day and say, “I want to work for you.” And every day, I’d tell them yea or nay— straight up. Most of them didn’t like what they had to hear. Couple even got physical. I only let one slip by who eventually became an industry giant. At the time, he wasn’t ready yet—but I let him know he was going to knock everybody out when he was. He eventually turned out to be one of the best DC, then Marvel had to offer. That’s George Pérez—and I think we’ll always have a mutual respect.

CBA: Which leads to how you became Warren’s go-to guy.

William: He was Jim Warren. He needed someone good. Did anyone have a better suggestion? Writer. Artist. Chameleon. Boy Wonder who knew he was the best of the best!

I was out of the Army, going to college, 12 units from my B.A., doing cartoon art for everybody under the sun and publishing a laughable little rag called The Bay Area Entertainer. People liked it because it was free and told them where to party—and it got me in everywhere. I was having a time and still doing the occasional story for Warren. Jim knew I was the guy. He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.

CBA: So you got to do comics full-time? A dream realized?

William: More than you know. I got to do the comics. I had to reach the standards of those early issues—every issue. Because that’s who I was. No one was more cognizant of the failings, nor more jazzed with the successes. To work with Crandall, Wood, Toth, Evans, Williamson—! A good Catholic boy sometimes feels almost obligated to genuflect. (Not unlike being in the presence of Jim Warren.) Jim allowed me a lot of freedom and I had a lot of fun. It was hard work, but I loved every minute of it.

Imagine—writing, editing, designing books, telling stories, talking to serious artists—being confidant and confessor to the legends who turned out work for the best comic magazines ever published.

Makes me feel as though I got to be priest, doctor, funny book prince and legend all at the same time.

CBA: How were your early days with Warren?

William: Jim was pretty hard back then. He wanted everything a certain way—his way—and he put me through some pretty serious basic training in every aspect of his magazines. We came close to blows a number of times. His life was usually spared when I went storming out of the office.

He had a comptroller, Dick Conway, who came after me on one occasion when I was determined to leave for good. “Look,” Dick explained, “You’re as close as Jim’s ever going to come to getting what he wants, so come back, take his sh*t, and it’ll be worth your while.” I did—and I worked my butt off. Not really for Jim or Dick, at COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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that point, but because I really loved what I was doing.

CBA: How hard was it?

William: Every year we had what we called “The Big Push,” a three-month period where we put out one, two and sometimes three magazines a week to hit the profit-intensive Summer release period.

We wanted to get every title to press with no more than a three-tofour week span between issues. It was nightmarish.

CBA: Was that also to accommodate Jim so he could take summers off?

William: It was done solely to take advantage of our maximum sales period—when school was out and people read for fun. It was a fact of business that Summer titles sold better than those released at any other time of the year. It was solely that, but it also coincided with Jim being able to take Summer months off; and he did—with predictable consistency.

But, I have to say, I was just as predictable. Every year, after the last deadline had been met, I’d go into Jim’s office and say, “That’s it.

I’ve had enough. I’m out of here, and I’m not coming back.” I sincerely didn’t want to look at another comic book for the rest of my life, That’s how draining those deadlines were.

CBA: Sounds like Hell.

William: Pure and absolute—and Jim knew it. So, every year, he’d make me a different offer in an attempt to keep me around. He’s say, “Here’s more money. Here’s a beach house in the Hamptons. Here’s a bonus check—go buy a new house and car. How would you like an apartment in the city? Why don’t we set it up so you only have to come into the office one day a week!” At the end of every Big Push, I was serious about leaving, so it wasn’t manipulation on my part— but Jim seemed to know exactly what to say and do to keep me around. At the end, though, it came down to him asking, “What more is there??”

CBA: What was the overwhelming pressure?

William: You edit a magazine. I think you understand to some degree. Let’s make sure that every “i” is dotted and every “t” crossed.

The stories and art had to make sense as well as look good. Things had to be perfect and they had to be right. God forbid if I came in with anything Jim didn’t agree with—and, if his quest for continual perfection wasn’t bad enough, Jim was never an easy guy to work for anyway. A few of the staffers even referred to him as “Mr. Monster.” And it wasn’t because he published monster magazines.

I eventually grew to love him like a father—and I know he loved me like a son—but the road there was a rocky one.

CBA: What did you find particularly taxing?

William: The art. For the most part, the scripts were produced by Warren regulars—Nick Cuti, Budd Lewis, Jim Stenstrum, Gerry Boudreau, Bruce Jones, Doug Moench and Rich Margopoulos—and, while we always seemed to be blessed with wonderful American artists like Severin, Toth, Heath, Wrightson, Elias, Wood and Infantino, we also had a superstar roster of talent from around the world. No matter where the art came from, though—from Hollywood to Barcelona—we’d have to make all of the changes and corrections and paste in all of the hand-lettered balloons and captions in-house. That’s labor-intensive in itself—but, I’d often create more work for myself by seeing a fresh or missed angle in a story during the final editing process. Then I’d have to add new art or make changes to the existing material.

We didn’t have a staff capable of making those types of changes, so I’d end up doing it myself—working in the original artist’s style.

There were probably, on average, half a dozen or so changes like that in every issue—and I’d have to be a passable Wood, Severin, Maroto or Niño. There were far too many long nights in my studio where Tom Ghee, Susan Fox or one of the other assistants would be pasting in balloons behind my art corrections. Do that intensively for five to ten years and see what kind of taste you develop for comics production!

CBA: What did you think of Warren’s magazines when you first Spring 1999

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arrived?

William: I though they could be improved.

CBA: When the Warren books first came out, they were extraordinary—with great contributors.

William: They were the best.

CBA: But then, something happened. The quality of the art dropped dramatically.

Yet, after your arrival, the quality level quickly rose again. Richard Corben showed up. The Spanish artists began to shine. Alex Toth did some of his best work— and artists like Lee Elias hit a career-best stride.

William: I thought so.

We scoured the world looking for the best comic artists. It didn’t matter where they lived; but, we received a lot of flak from people who said, “Oh, Warren is using those foreign guys because he pays them less.” That wasn’t the case, of course. As a matter of fact, Jim paid them more and our rates were better than the other comics companies at that point. I think the story of how the Filipino artists came to work with us will attest to that.

Around ’76 or so, I picked up a few Filipino comics at this wonderful international book store down on 42nd Street, and noticed this astoundingly innovative artist named Alex Niño. I called the Philippines and spoke with the publisher of those comics, who told me that Alex was unavailable. He was working in America for a “comics industry giant.” I was given a friend’s number, who in turn gave me Alex’s Detroit address. A week or so later, we spoke and Alex was elated by the possibility of joining us at Warren. When I asked if we could get his best art for $125-$135 a page, he laughed and said, “DC’s been paying me $7 a page for two years, now.”

So to me, the rumor that Jim was exploiting off-shore artists with slave wages was just more of the same bad press others were spreading to cover their own sins.

CBA: I’d heard that a prominent Filipino artist and his wife brokered the Filipinos’ services, billing DC for $35 a page and giving the artists $7—keeping $28 a page as a brokerage fee.

William: Once word reached other Filipino artists about our rates, I was inundated by art samples from the Philippines. Suddenly I was their best friend—and all I was looking for was to be fair. If their work was good enough for our magazines, we wanted them.

We never paid anyone less just because they came from a Third World country.

Jim was good that way. He paid José Gonzales, José Ortiz, Esteban Maroto, Luis Bermejo, Alex Niño, Paul Neary, Alex Toth and all of our artists top dollar. We had guys out of England, France, Spain, The Philippines, Korea. The policy was firm: If an artist was good enough to work for Warren, he deserved top dollar.

CBA: What was your relationship with Rich Corben? You published him in your fanzines.

William: Some of Rich’s earliest work was published in Voice of Comicdom, after Rudy Franke took it over from me. Even in that early material, you could see that Rich was going to be one of the

Above: Nestor Redondo wasn’t only one of editor DuBay’s favorite artists. “He was, quite simply, one of the best human beings I ever had the pleasure of knowing,” DuBay said. “He produced far too little art for Warren.

If I had my own way, his work would have appeared in every issue of every magazine—and most of the covers, too.” Redondo used DuBay’s son William as the model for Astroboy, the young hero of this beautiful Eerie cover painting. “You can’t begin to imagine how excited that made my boy,” DuBay said. ©1980 Warren Publications.

Left: One of his studio’s most high profile assignments was this series of subway ads produced for Parker Bros. in the late ’70s and early ’80s, touting the new game The Black Box. “I don’t know what it was like elsewhere,” DuBay said. “But in New York, you couldn’t ride the subway without seeing one of the six huge billboard designs we produced—at virtually every stop. These were great big, full-color comic-strip styled billboards featuring beautifully rendered art by Rudy Nebres.” ©1980 Parker Bros.

Games, Inc. 81

Above: Carmine Infantino was one of DuBay’s favorite collaborators.

After Warren they went on to work together at Red Circle and to pitch a comic book idea, “The Baptist,” that never was realized. Above is an unpublished penciled page by Carmine for the Cronk story “Half Man,” that was partially inked by Al Milgrom, who kindly shared this piece with us. Words by Nick Cuti(?). Art ©1977 Carmine Infantino and Allen Milgrom.

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biggest and best. It just seemed natural to invite him to work with us at Warren.

CBA: Were you cognizant of the underground comics movement of the ’60s?

William: Absolutely. Gary Arlington, of the San Francisco Comic Book Company, even took over one of our old fanzines—All Stars.

CBA: Did you have an interest in R. Crumb?

William: A strange man, but brilliant cartoonist and always one of my favorites.

CBA: When you first arrived at Warren, was it your immediate intent to lift the standards?

William: I was privileged (or cursed) to walk into a company that cried out for artistic improvement on a number of occasions. If you’re aware of that at the outset, you really don’t have any choice but to strive for something better.

CBA: When you started with Warren, did you immediately get on the phone to creators you admired?

William: From day one, hour one. I called Reed Crandall, Al Williamson, Johnny Craig, Ditko, Toth, Severin, Neal Adams and Wally Wood. Some agreed to take assignments. Others had to pass because of prior commitments. There were a few (then) regular contributors who didn’t approve of my so-called “new direction.” I remember some minor altercations with a couple of them. [laughs] CBA: What was the conflict?

William: They simply weren’t producing the type of art I wanted for the magazines.

CBA: Did you have strict standards as an editor? Were you tough?

William: I felt I had to be. I was representing Jim with every decision I made. I had to constantly ask myself, “What would Jim want?

What would Jim do? Does this meet Jim’s standards?” With that mindset, you have to constantly strive to make sure your contributors—both writers and artists—are among the best in the business.

CBA: How did Warren’s writers feel about you?

William: I think most knew what I expected and attempted to meet those expectations. Still, there were very few scripts that got though intact. As a matter of fact, there was only one writer whose scripts I’d pretty much leave alone: Jim Stenstrum. When he brought in a story, he’d been working on it a minimum of three months—and it was ready to go. He never made much money, but he was the most brilliant comics writer (if you can use that adjective with that noun) with whom I ever had the pleasure of working. He became a close friend and, towards the end, around ’81, ’82, when I was burned out, I wanted him to come in as editor. He lived with me for a while—in my studio, actually—but, the job turned out to be a lot more than he bargained for, so he moved to California to work in animation.

CBA: What were the Warren offices like?

William: When I first started working for Jim, he was on 42nd Street. It was a second or third floor standard New York office building. There was a costume or novelty shop downstairs and Jim’s offices took up an entire floor above it. When he moved to 32nd Street and I started with him full-time, he actually had two floors, as I recall. There was half a floor for the administrative and editorial offices; a floor and a half for Captain Company’s inventory. The offices were nice enough, large enough and comfortable enough to sleep in during our yearly “Big Push” period.

CBA: How much of the company was devoted to merchandising?

William: Space-wise—three to one, as I mentioned. There was a crew that processed and filled the orders and we usually had someone in the art department writing and designing the ads. The editorial offices expanded as we hired in-house artists for both production and color work and took on an expanded editorial staff. Once it started, it seemed like we just kept knocking down walls and building new offices. We even created an art office for Carmine after he left DC and came over to work with us full-time.

CBA: Any memorable staffers?

William: All of them were memorable. We were in the trenches together, so they all pretty much became family.

Bill Mohalley was my first assistant and first hire. I took him out of The School of Visual Arts and ran him through the same sort of nearsadistic basic training Jim had given me. He produced virtually every page of every issue of Famous Monsters and stayed with the company till the very end. After that, he went up the street to Starlog and has been their Creative Director for the past 15 years.

Louise Jones came in as my assistant around ’75. I met her when Jim threw a party at the Plaza Hotel to welcome Will Eisner and Rich Corben to the company. She walked in with then-husband Jeff Jones and, when the party carried over to my apartment, I learned of her interest in comics. I didn’t bother to take her number, but called Archie a day or so later to set up an interview. She was working as an editorial assistant for McFadden Publications at the time, but apparently found Warren more interesting.

Then there was Sherry Berne, our Captain Company advertising designer, sweet, pretty, and talented—someone who just filled the offices with her contagious good spirit. Michele Brand, Roger’s widow, came aboard to produce our color comic separations. Suzin Furst, another wonderful production artist, was a lot of fun. As were Ray Gailardo, Kim McQuaite, Tim Moriarity and Nick Cuti. We had some great people—and some great times!

CBA: Did you ever consult with Archie Goodwin to any degree?

William: At one point, Archie came in to edit Creepy and Vampirella. We were expanding and Jim saw the intense workload I’d taken on, so he hired Archie back to head up the two magazines.

I guess he and Archie didn’t communicate clearly because after two weeks, Archie stormed into Jim’s office complaining about having to answer to me as his senior editor. He was probably right about that. I mean, this was the editor who launched these magazines, and certainly someone I admired—put in the position of having to answer to me. It made us both uncomfortable.

CBA: Were you involved in marketing decisions like producing Comix International or The Spirit?

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William: I’d like to believe I was instrumental in bringing The Spirit to Warren Publishing. To this day, however, I don’t think Jim knows it. Will’s office was just up the street from ours. I’d actually interviewed with him a couple of years earlier, when he was doing P.S. magazine for the Army. So, I’d stop in occasionally to chat and say how wonderful it would be if he’d consider publishing again. I’d tell Jim about my visits and always stress that there was considerable fan interest in The Spirit. Eventually, they both took the hints, got together and hammered out a deal for Jim to reprint the best of those old stories. Will just handed me all of The Spirit stories and said, “Use what you want to put the magazine together.” There were stacks of xeroxed stories—and the Master himself had given them to me! It was the ultimate fanboy trip!

Will had what he called a “vault” with his stockpiled Spirit originals. He’d make professional quality photocopies of the stories I’d selected and we’d add both color and gray-scale toning before each issue was shipped to press. As I recall, the magazine didn’t make a tremendous amount of money, but it was always profitable. Even more so with Captain Company-generated advertising in every issue.

CBA: Was the infusion of color into the books a difficult process?

It was, at times, very high quality.

William: It didn’t start off that way. I can’t remember exactly who came up with the idea of using color stories. I’d always wanted to do color comics and, when Jim gave the go-ahead, I remember not knowing what to do next.

We had a guy who used to work for Jim in some production capacity—Chuck McNaughton. He approached me and said, “I can do these color stories. Let me show you how.” He disappeared for two weeks, brought back the first two stories, which he’d colored with rubylith, basically doing solid color seps with very few tonal gradations. If you take a look at that first story—a Maroto tale called “Nimrod,” you’ll see that it was just awful.

But, Jim was undaunted. I remember him saying, “We didn’t quite pull that one off, did we?” [laughs] “Let’s try something else. You do it this time.” So, I experimented with the inside covers for a while and hit on doing tonal gradations of color using Prismacolor pencils, which, I later learned, was what Corben had been using all along.

Suddenly we were doing these really nice in-house color separations. Then Rich walks in and shows us a completely different way.

Still using Prismacolors, he added the technical advantage of a stat machine—and suddenly we were able to transform black and white halftone art into beautiful color work.

I remember one instance when Jim Stenstrum, who is as extraordinary an artist as he is a writer, turned in a beautiful piece of black&-white art for an issue of 1994 magazine. It depicted a thicklymaned barbarian wench sporting a well-used sledge-hammer as she stood atop a battered pile of cinematically-inspired robots—with a Frazetta doppelganger clinging to her thigh. Brilliant, inspired work and a total take-off on clichéd good girl art. I just had to use it as a cover. So I went into the stat room, followed Rich’s “Corben Color” directions and emerged with a classic 1994 cover. You have no idea how appreciative I was of all Rich’s talents—and, on that day, Stenstrum’s, as well.

CBA: Warren’s was vastly different from comic book color?

William: Oh, completely. It was an elaborate process that we kept changing, perfecting, and attempting to simplify. Michele Brand was brought in after our first few successes and she spent her entire time at Warren producing some of the best separation art that had ever been conceived to that point. She was simply masterful.

CBA: What was Eisner’s involvement with each issue of The Spirit?

William: Will designed the covers. He wanted to draw them, and Jim wanted them painted. Initially, Will was open enough to try it Jim’s way, so we commissioned Sanjulian to paint the first issue’s cover. When the art arrived from Barcelona, Will didn’t feel it reflected the spirit (if you will) of his character. So Jim recommissioned basically the same art from Basil Gogos. That painting was used on the cover of The Spirit #l, but Will still didn’t like it.

After that, Will began drawing the covers—but Jim stood his ground with wanting traditional Warren-style cover paintings. So I came up with a plan to satisfy everyone. We enlarged Will’s line art, photocopied it onto illustration board and again onto acetate. Ken Kelly would then paint the illustration board copy and we’d place the acetate with Will’s pristine line atop the final painting. The results were pretty nice—and Will’s Spirit remained solely Will’s Spirit.

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CBA: Were you involved in the production of Famous Monsters?

William: Early on. I art-directed FM when I first walked in. My job was to produce every page of mechanical art, design the advertising and put the covers together—a seriously labor-intensive effort—but, when I took over editorship of all the magazines, I hired an assistant.

Bill Mohalley ran with it from that point. A 20-year-old kid fresh out of art school, he claimed to know what he was doing, so I threw him into it cold. He butchered his first issue, and for the next 10 years I never let him live it down. We called him “The Kid,” but he was two, maybe three years younger than me.

CBA: So you had to put together all of those catalog pages for Captain Company.

William: And we did it working for Jim Warren—sadistic drill instructor! [laughs] CBA: When Heavy Metal came out, did you aspire to soliciting outside advertising, putting in more color or printing on slick paper?

William: Jim never wanted outside advertising. We were aware of Metal Hurlant because we were constantly looking for artists all over the world.

One of the first things I’d done when initially coming to New York, some years before, was to freelance for National Lampoon. So, I was familiar with Matty Simmon’s Twenty-First Century Productions. When they first started Heavy Metal, I went up to talk to Matty and his editor about what they wanted to do. I wanted to make sure we weren’t going to be crossing swords. Our publications were clearly in different ballparks, though we’d occasionally use the same artists and/or writers.

CBA: But, previously, Marvel had heavily entered into the black&-white comics magazine field. Did you feel that Marvel was encroaching on your market?

William: Jim felt that way—but Marvel didn’t seem to be even denting our sales. Our magazines’ circulation figures seemed pretty steady—but, Warren was the first to come out with b-&-w comics magazines, so he felt violated.

CBA: How did you feel about Warren’s distribution?

William: Jim’s magazines were always profitable. He was able to maintain a pretty comfortable lifestyle and was always able to escalate my salary, offer bonus checks, apartments, homes in the Hamptons and Connecticut. So, I never had any complaints about how well his magazines were distributed.

I know that he signed with different distributors at varying times in the company’s history. We went with Larry Flynt’s publishing conglomerate at one point, PDC, Independent, and Fawcett at others.

Like any good publisher, I have to believe he was always looking for better results. If it could have been better, the bottom line didn’t seem to suffer.

CBA: When did Warren start initiating the return of artwork?

William: Pretty much from day one as I understand it. Working as a freelancer before joining him full-time, my artwork was always returned… as was everyone else’s.

CBA: Were the rates good doing Warren material? Did they increase over the years?

William: They did. When I started writing in 1969 Jim was paying $35 for a script and $35 for a page of art. By ’82, the rates were $35 a page for script, $150 a page for art.

CBA: Did you mentor Louise Jones?

William: I don’t think she’d want you to call it that. She was my assistant for a few years; but she definitely had her own ideas about

Below: “Life Species,” from Eerie #30, was a simple four-page story written and illustrated by DuBay in 1970. “It’s one of those stories that refuse to go away,” he said.

“People still mention both the craft-tint rendered art and the offbeat storyline to this day. ©1971 W.B. Dubay.

Below: 20 years later and, though the hair is shorter and women are no longer in evidence around him, DuBay still cuts a trim, youthfullooking profile as both football fan and student of Kaballah on the beautiful beaches of sunny California. Photo by Venessa Hart.

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Above: Gorgeous Alex Niño splash panel to a joint DuBay/Niño project originally intended as an animated series—but the presentation was reformatted and used in Pacific’s Bold Adventures of the early ’80s. ©1983 W.B. DuBay and Alex Niño.

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what the magazines should be. You can see distinct differences between her issues and mine—in art, covers, story direction. I think she was far more graphically adventurous than I tended to be. That’s something you have to appreciate.

CBA: When did that editorial transition take place?

William: I walked away from the job with Vampirella #50, a booklength story that teamed Vampirella and Pantha with The Spirit. It was a fun idea I’d wanted to do for a while and I looked forward to writing a book-length Vampi and even drawing a small portion of it.

As always, I was strapped for time, so Jeff Jones came in and inked my Vampi chapter—and did a far better job than I ever would have on my own. You know, I didn’t realize it at the time but, I later learned that Jeff’s birthday was only a day away from mine, that our first offset comics work had been published together in Bill Spicer’s Fantasy Illustrated #4—and we also had our first Warren work published just a month or so apart.

After that issue, Jim didn’t want me to leave, so he kept my name on the masthead as consulting editor, giving him the option to call me back in to do special projects, movie magazines, one-shots, and compilations. To keep me around, he kept asking, “What do you want? Would you like a magazine featuring your own character?

Let’s do The Rook and see how that works out. How about doing this 1984 magazine for me?” I’d accept as long as I could work away from the office.

When Louise left—I think she was there three years or so—he asked me to come back on as full-time editor. I wasn’t particularly interested—The Cartoon Factory was keeping me busy—but I agreed to train another editor for him, so he wouldn’t have the same growing pains he had with me. That’s when Chris Adames, Jim Stenstrum, and Timothy Moriarity entered the picture, in rapid succession, and I stayed behind the scenes.

CBA: Could you characterize any of your time at Warren as a pleasant experience?

William: [laughs] It was memorable, of course. I was able to work with artists and writers I admired, and Jim was the best mentor anyone could have ever had. I feel as though I earned an honorary doctorate in magazine and comics publishing under him—and I appreciated being there. I was especially grateful when the realization set in that maybe I wasn’t going to be the next Frazetta—and that maybe (just maybe) I wasn’t even as good as I originally thought. When that sets in and you begin to see that you’ve actually been learning from virtually everyone you’re working with—from the way Ortiz drew, Toth told a story, Corben did his coloring or Stenstrum his scripts—an unexpected maturing process begins to set in and an entirely different sort of excitement takes place. Once that change began, I remember feeling a whole new range of excitement every time a new script or a finished strip came through the door.

Of course, that would diminish the moment Jim bellowed for me

with that “I need somebody to fight with” tone. [laughs] CBA: I hear he made people feel that their best was often never good enough.

William: I’ll have to say that there were times he had me wondering if I was suffering from delusions of adequacy. [laughs] CBA: Could Jim compromise?

William: [hysterical laughter] How are you going to write that? Just “one long laugh”? Or more like a pent-up emotional release at the realization that those days are far behind me?

CBA: There was no compromising?

William: The name of the company was what? [laughter] Look, Jim and I had a great relationship—and I thank God we did. He was constantly playing at one-upmanship, and I’d do my best to give as good as I got.

CBA: Is there another story coming on?

William: How about the story—at least as far as I’m concerned. It took place shortly after Jim and Sir Michael Carreras of Hammer Films settled, after months of searching, on the actress they both agreed could play Vampirella.

CBA: Sounds like a good one.

William: Let’s call it: “Barbara!”

First, understand the nature of the beast that is Jim Warren. Brilliant. Outrageous. Competitive. Confrontational.

With just enough war-juice and bluster to seem to be in constant competition—with anyone and everyone.

It was sometime in 1975. The morning was unusually electric. The office was crackling with an undercurrent of excitement while a syrupy thick, near-crippling fog of upscale men’s cologne (Aramis) wafted heavily through the hallways.

It was reliably rumored that Barbara Leigh, the freshly-chosen cinematic Vampirella was coming to the Warren offices to meet her new producer for the first time—and Jim had started strutting and primping early. You never saw his cheeks so rosy or that slicked-down little boy part in his hair so straight. It was one of those times the bad boy in me just wanted to smear a dab or two of mud on his wellscrubbed plans—but, he was, after all, Hammer Films’ newest Big Time Producer, and I did have a deadline. So, there was no time for play that day, I knew.

God, in His Infinite Heaven, rewarded my discretion two hours later however, when, after ducking out to grab a quick sandwich, I stepped onto the elevator with The Vision of Vampirella—in the flesh. I stared across the small space between us shamelessly, thoughts I knew were anything but silent, lewdly dancing in my head. I knew I was going to be condemned to Hell for eternity and beyond, just for conjuring the images I was conjuring. I didn’t really plan the words. Suddenly, they were just there—one of the all-time greatest opening lines of my life. “I dream about you every night.”

Barbara Leigh, spirited and gorgeous, up-coming Hollywood super-star, stared into me, those perfectly glossed lips pursed in thought as she sized me up. I know I shivered—and it wasn’t from the cold.

“I’m Dube,” I followed through, as suavely as an infatuated boy could manage. “I write your stories.” She had to smile then—a smile that formed an instant friendship. We talked a bit before the elevator doors opened onto Warren’s seventh floor lobby. We stepped off together, then I took her hand and kissed it sweetly as our wide-eyed receptionist, Pat, watched. I excused myself to tackle the impending deadline, knowing that, at the very least, it wouldn’t be long before the entire office would hear that I’d kissed Jim’s lovely new leading lady before anyone else had even met her.

Two hours later, duty done, I ambled into Jim’s office to report that another issue had been put to bed. Smug with boyish pomp before his stunning new star, Jim sh*tgrinned condescendingly and asked if I’d like to meet the lovely Vampirella.

I looked suavely into Barbara. Eyes dancing with mischief, she looked playfully into me. Then, in less than New York heartbeat, she flew from her seat, drove me hard backed to the wall and planted the sweetest lips with which a woman had ever been blessed squarely on my own. I reel even now, in the memory of it. The kiss, suggesCOMIC BOOK ARTIST

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tively more than a moment too long, was interrupted only by the sound of Jim’s jaw dropping to the floor like a cartoon anvil.

I pretty much had to be scraped up, too, when Barbara broke for air and whispered, “Doooo-oob,” as breathlessly seductive as a young Marilyn Monroe. (And why not? She’d just wrapped a film playing Mrs. Rock Hudson.)

“You know each other?” Jim groped hollowly, vainly attempting to regroup as he stared incredulously at the boy who was his squire, now suddenly swaggering in Lancelot’s armor.

“I’m not going to begin to tell you how well I know Dooo-oob,” Barbara cooed, pressing tighter, eyes and smile suggesting an intimacy far beyond any budding boy’s fantasies—and, before Jim could press any farther, she slipped her arm through mine and started for the door. “If we’re finished here, maybe we’ll see you in the morning.”

I don’t know how I got out of that office or down the elevator. It felt more like a dreamy, cloud-like floating motion than anything else.

The one thing I do remember well is Jim’s face.

Never have I seen a look of such boyish expectancy crushed with so few words. The moment was memorable. Once outside, Barbara and I laughed, then said good-bye and went our separate ways.

The office buzzed for a week after that. Jim waited for a full report, but was too proud to ask—and I never said exactly how it was that his star and I had become so close.

CBA: I like it.

William: Bet I liked it more.

CBA: Back to our discussion. Did you have a dream team of creative talent you would have liked to have worked more regularly on the books?

William: We had a couple of issues where I felt we’d assembled the best group of artists and writers imaginable. Elias and Severin were two of my favorite people—and consummate artists. Toth was, simply, the best storyteller the comics have ever seen. He couldn’t have been otherwise with his cinematic/storyboard background. No one could touch Bernie’s illustrative quality. Corben was powerful, dynamic, raw and untamed—and Adams was just born the world’s best draftsman. There were a few issues where I was able to get them all. Too few. I was always pushing each of them to do more work for us—but quality like that takes time.

I also tried to get as much as I could from Wally—but, he wanted to write his own material at that point in his career and I found I had to rewrite him pretty heavily. Naturally, he didn’t take that well. He was probably the best all-around comics artist who ever lived, and I could certainly understand why he wanted to do his own thing—but it didn’t always work.

CBA: Did you feel you were getting Bernie Wrightson’s best work?

William: Bernie was coming through fabulously. Great as he’d always been, he’d never produced the quality of work he was creating for us. He was a pleasure and a joy and when he walked in with a job, the entire office was excited to see it.

CBA: Did the quality of the stock Warren was printing on bother you?

William: Not as much as it did Marvel. Look around at the other magazines produced during that period. Our stock and quality of printing were by far the best. Stan later told me that Marvel was always trying to figure out what we were doing—but I ain’t saying! [laughs] I was very pleased with our product and it’s held up over the years.

CBA: Warren didn’t seem to fit in well with the growing direct sales market. Why was that?

William: I don’t think Jim was interested in the direct market. The newsstand was his bread and butter. Foreign editions were always profitably brisk, as well. Why would he want to change that? The marketing was sound.

CBA: Then why did the company close its doors?

William: Now, that’s a question for Jim Warren, isn’t it?

CBA: You left Warren almost a year before the company shut down. Why? William: I felt as though I had given the job, the company and Jim my all. Everything at that point seemed repetitive. I was tired of comics, of New York with its unending winters and dismally gray skies. I wanted to go home to California, kick back and do nothing.

After hundreds of stories, hundreds of issues, thousands of pages, I was done. I gave it my best; hope it was good enough. It was for me—and in the final analysis, that’s all that matters.

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CBA: Now would be a good time for a final Jim Warren story.

Maybe something that definitively defines your relationship.

William: Okay, I’ve got one: “The Color Yellow.”

Jim loved to shock. He was a master at catching you off-guard, then zinging you with something you’d never expect. I remember one time when he was taking a seemingly endless series of meetings with the people at Hammer Films; setting up production schedules for Hammer’s epic Vampirella production. Because “my expertise on the character was required,” I was summoned to his South Hampton beach home one afternoon. I took a train for the long ride from Manhattan to the Hamptons and was picked up by Jim’s own Yellow Cab. It took me to the Big Yellow Palace, his home, navigated the big yellow-stoned driveway that circled his restored WWI Sopwith Camel—a big yellow biplane that sat decoratively before the Big Yellow House. I was greeted at the big yellow door by Kato, the houseboy (I always thought it should have been The Yellow Kid—or at the very least—Nemo). Then, I was led out onto the big yellow pool deck where Jim’s bright yellow shorts were hung on the flagpole (ostensibly to dry, but more to let the members of the Social Club next door know that Jim was letting it all hang out again).

Jim was, of course, in the pool, conducting his “meeting” with several brilliant young studio lovelies whom, I hadn’t noticed before, also had suits flying in the sea breeze with Jim’s. My boss, my publisher, my mentor, my god, looked up at me sweetly and politely asked to to join in the meeting.

CBA: Did you?

William: I was Jim’s only protegé—and I must say, it was one of the most enjoyable meetings I ever attended.

Above: The illustration used on the cover of Eerie #83 for The Rook’s debut appearance, employing spot cameos for the supporting characters as portrayed by series artist Luis Bermejo, and DuBay’s finalized Prismacolor-rendered version of the time master himself.

“The Rook was one of the easiest and most fun series I’d ever written,” DuBay said. “The characters just seemed to write their own lines—and the stories, about a man who was discovering his own family identity, always seemed to be among the most popular with our readers.” The Rook ™ & ©1979 W.B. DuBay.

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CBA Interview

Wrightson’s Warren Days Bernie Wrightson talks about his great b-&-w work Conducted by Jon B. Cooke Bernie Wrightson is the penultimate comic book horror artist (after Graham “Ghastly” Ingels) and one of the first superstars of the field to emerge in the 1970s, acclaimed primarily for his work on DC’s Swamp Thing comic series—but his best work for comics could very well be his handful of black-&-white horror tales done for Warren Publishing during that same decade, including the renowned tale of murder and obsession (written by Bruce Jones) “Jenifer.”

(The artist’s recollections of his ’70s work for DC will be covered in the next issue of CBA.) Recently relocated to the Los Angeles area, Bernie gave this interview via telephone on January 24, 1999, and subsequently provided the final copyedit.

Right: Bernie’s unused cover for the (legendary if aborted) fourth issue to Major Magazines’ Web of Horror (with logo design

by Bruce Jones!). Art ©1970 Bernie Wrightson.

Below: Bernie Wrightson’s contribution to the 1977 Warren Calendar. ©1976 Warren Publications.

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Comic Book Artist: You grew up in Baltimore and were obviously a fan of EC Comics. When did you first realize that Warren was publishing horror comics?

Bernie Wrightson: I was actually there for the first issue of Creepy in 1965. I was buying Famous Monsters and they were advertising Creepy so I was keeping an eye out for it—and, oh God, I loved it! I thought it was great. I read ECs as a kid in the ’50s and they disappeared. Then in the mid-’60s Ballantine Books came out with the paperback-sized reprints of ECs and that was around the same time as the first Creepy. It was just a thrill to read Creepy.

Frazetta’s story in the first issue (which was the last comic book story he did) was incredible as was just everybody in the magazine. There was Frazetta, Al Williamson, Reed Crandall, Angelo Torres, Gene Colan—all of those guys. Frazetta was absolutely my favorite. I had been following his work for a few years with the Ace Edgar Rice Burroughs paperback covers.

CBA: So you became an avid reader of the Warrens?

Bernie: Absolutely. In 1966, I had my first published work on a Creepy fan page.

When I saw it printed, you could have knocked me over with a feather! I couldn’t afford to buy more than one issue—those things were expensive at 35¢!—but I showed it around to everybody. I stayed reading Warrens until they started with the reprints and then all the Spanish work—which didn’t appeal to me and kind of all looked the same. When the American comic book veterans started to disappear I lost interest.

CBA: You didn’t even consider submitting work to Warren when you started your professional career?

Bernie: No because by that time it didn’t seem as though he was hiring American guys. It was just full of the Spanish work and DC was doing the House of Mystery back then and that was what I really wanted to break into. DC was as close to EC as I thought I was ever going to come with full-color horror stories.

CBA: Did you want to work in black-&-white?

Bernie: I guess I always did. Color was never completely satisfying. I always felt that the color would

obscure the linework and it was hard to see my work. That was always a problem. When I finally started to work for Warren, it was great. I knew that every line I drew was going to be reproduced.

CBA: You did work in b-&-w in the early ’70s with a magazine called Web of Horror?

Bernie: Yeah, that was the Warren rip-off. That was done by a guy named Richard Sproul out in Long Island. His company, Major Magazines, put out Cracked magazine, obviously a rip-off of Mad magazine, and his whole line of magazines were rip-offs of other established, successful books. They had romances and the last few men’s magazines. The sweat stuff like Stag, For Men Only, and that kind of stuff.

CBA: “Real Balls Adventure.”

Bernie: [laughs] “Real Hairy Scrotum Adventure.” [laughter] A fellow named Terry Bisson tracked down me, Mike Kaluta, and Jeff Jones, and presented us with a proposal to do this b-&-w horror magazine in competition with Creepy. At the time, Creepy was doing a lot of reprints and—y’know I wasn’t looking at it as I already had all the stuff first edition—and Terry said, “Now’s the right time. We can do original material and really stand to compete well with Warren. We’ll give you total freedom.” That’s how it got started.

CBA: Did you look to try different techniques with the b-&-white medium?

Bernie: Yeah, it was a great opportunity to play around without strictly using hard line and being able to use tone. The first couple of things I did for him were wash jobs. A lot of the other guys played around too—Ralph Reese did some beautiful things with duotone board. Terry Bisson (who was writing blurb copy for romance magazines when I first met him) left after the third issue under very mysterious circumstances—and the running of the whole magazine, for some reason, fell into Bruce Jones’ and my laps (and I can’t remember if Terry said, “Here, you guys take over the editorial,” or if we volunteered). Bruce and I put together the whole fourth issue which had already been assigned.

CBA: Were you a de facto art director?

Bernie: We were working at home! We were calling the artists and we put together a monster drawing contest. We went out to the office in Long Island and would pick up all these packages of this artwork these kids sent in for the contest. It was just piles of stuff we put in Bruce’s living room, and we looked at every single drawing, trying to decide and pick the best one. There was so much good stuff there that we changed the prize to include first, second and third place, and honorable mention. I don’t know whatever happened to all this stuff because Major Magazines just literally packed up and left COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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overnight. We had to take this incredibly long trip to get there— Bruce lived in Flushing at the time and from there we took a train to the end of the line and from there we had to take two buses and then walk about 10 blocks to get to the office! It was an all-day thing and we finally get out to the office. It was on the second floor, and we went upstairs, open the door, and the place was empty. All the desks, all filing cabinets, everything, was gone! There were only scraps of paper blowing across the floor—it was like the Twilight Zone—and we never learned where the guy went and what happened to him. We had all this stuff for the fourth issue and we were planning issues five and six—Bruce and I were going to take over the magazine and make it like Creepy or EC Comics—but they just left! Mysteriously, in the middle of the night.

CBA: They took the fourth issue’s content?

Bernie: Whatever had been turned in already, they took with them. I don’t think anybody got paid for anything—and Bruce and I took a bath on it.

CBA: Did it look like a sweet deal for you guys to do the editorial work?

Bernie: Y’know, it was never discussed! [laughter] Bruce and I were doing this because we were all excited! “Wow! We got our own magazine! We’re gonna take this is an all-new direction!” At some point we were planning to talk to somebody about getting paid for it but, at the time, I was just expecting to be paid for the work I was doing.

CBA: So you went to DC and weren’t interested in the stuff going on over at Warren at the time. Did you take any heat from Warren later because you had worked for the competition?

Bernie: I didn’t hear a word. I couldn’t tell you, even at this point, if Jim was even involved on a day-to-day basis with the magazine. I seem to recall that he took a leave-of-absence from publishing and the whole thing was pretty much turned over to somebody else.

CBA: Did you hear stories about Warren from other freelancers?

Bernie: I heard that Jim was a loose cannon. I heard, for instance, that he really wanted Jack Davis to work, if not on stories, then spot illustrations or advertising work—but Jack at the time was not interested in doing anything associated with a horror comic because apparently his whole experience with EC Comics really left a bad taste in his mouth. With the congressional hearings and his work being singled out (with the baseball story), horror really left a bad taste in his mouth and he was embarrassed. He had moved on to being very successful in advertising and commercial work and the funny stuff. So this is how I heard it (and it ain’t gospel): His position was, “No, I don’t want to be associated with some crummy magazine,” but Jim kept calling and writing letters. Finally, Jim sent him one of these little Sony TVs with a three-inch screen which at the time were expensive—you could stick one on your drawing table and watch TV while you worked. Basically he blackmailed Jack Davis into doing the first cover and a few interior things.

So I heard that and a couple of other stories about Jim, so when I went in to work for him and, yeah, the man’s reputation did precede him, but he was paying real well—especially compared to what I was making at DC. I think when I left DC I was making $65 a page, pencil and ink—pretty good money at the time—and when I went to Warren, he was offering me $110 a page, pencil and ink; and he was returning originals and that was another big thing—this was about a year or two before Marvel and DC started to return originals. So that was one of the things that pulled me in. I can’t remember who I was talking to but a friend of mine was working for Warren and he said, “Hey, Warren will give you back your originals.” At the time it was— and it still is—a big deal for me. There was never a question at DC. They owned the artwork, period. If you wanted to work for DC, you gave up the work.

CBA: They had a policy to actually destroy work. Did you know that at the time?

Bernie: I had heard rumors and it was really heartbreaking but at the time, what could I do? I was brand-new in the field and, yeah, I wanted my originals back but I couldn’t work and keep my originals, so I had to make a choice.

CBA: You’ve mentioned in previous interviews that Warren had approached you a few times before you finally went over; do you recall those instances?

Bernie: He called a couple of times—he might have sent a Spring 1999

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telegram. Apparently, after these years of reprints and the Spanish work, Creepy and Eerie started using American comic book artists again. He was attracting people like Richard Corben, Alex Toth, John Severin, and a young guy named Billy Graham. I think Billy was art director when I first went up there and then Bill DuBay took over.

CBA: Did you see that it was Bill Dubay’s editorial shift that was bringing back the essence of what Warren was in its heyday?

Bernie: That never really occurred to me. All I did was look at the artwork and say, “Wow, the artwork’s getting better and it’s not something I have seen before!”

CBA: Your peers must have told you about the improved page rates at Warren.

Bernie: When I finally went up to the office and talked to Jim, one of the first things he brought up was what he was going to pay me. My God, it was $40 more than what I was getting at DC! I thought, “Well, the money’s better; he’s going to print it in b-&-w and not muddy it all with color; the format was bigger; and hopefully he’s going to leave me pretty much alone.” Another appeal was that it was going to be a different story each time; I wasn’t going to be married to a character—that was pretty important because I was burned-out by Swamp Thing.

CBA: Was it the character per se, or the endless Universal monster riffs?

Above: Bernie’s pencils to page three of one of his finest works, “Jenifer,” written by Bruce Jones.

The inked version appeared in Creepy #63. Art ©1974 Bernie Wrightson.

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Above: Creepy #70 frontispiece by Bernie Wrightson. This was rendered in full color when Warren was briefly considering using full color frontispieces in 1974, according to Bill DuBay. Uncle Creepy ©1975 Warren Publications.

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Bernie: It was all of that but mostly I was tired of the grind of doing a whole book bi-monthly. I really started feeling stale; I felt like it was time to stretch and time to grow a little bit—and I was not able to do it at DC. CBA: Was the transition that you went immediately over to Warren from DC? Bernie: Yeah. I got my first job at Warren and I stayed with him for the next couple of years.

CBA: In preparing this interview, I took out all of your Warren material and I’m surprised that it’s not a big body of work— though the quality is superb—maybe nine stories and a lot of frontispieces.

Bernie: The frontispieces were my idea. Back then it was possible to not do a lot of work and survive. Rent was cheaper—the cost of living was just cheaper.

CBA: Let’s say a story like “Night of the Bat” [Swamp Thing #7] and “The Pepperlake Monster,” discounting the page-size difference, would you say that you spent the same amount of time per page on each story?

Bernie: It’s hard to say.

For one thing, Warren’s pages were bigger and that was one of the real pleasures working there.

You could do stuff any size you wanted. At DC, you were locked into that 10” x 15” size. Like I said, I wanted to stretch—physically stretch by working in a larger format. The Warren work probably took a little longer. For one thing, I was putting a lot more work into the Warren stuff because it was going to be reproduced in b-&-w so it was only going to look as good as I do it, y’know? I can’t count on the color to save it, or for the color to make it so murky that it doesn’t matter. [chuckles] CBA: When I look at The Studio book, I marvel at the incredible amount of time-consuming, detailed work you guys did. Do you think that if it got down to an hourly rate, that it panned out? You guys put a lot of time into your work. Was there ultimately a practical frustration in that you were spending so much time on (albeit ultimately beautiful) work for what, at an hourly rate, amounted to peanuts?

Bernie: I don’t think any of us were all that concerned about the money. We wouldn’t be doing it for free but it was the work and it was the opportunity to draw. It was the attempt to try and outdo one another —outdo yourself and outdo your last piece.

CBA: You were just totally into it?

Bernie: Absolutely. Again, it didn’t cost that much to live in New York at the time. Those frontispieces for Warren were my idea because I had been doing them in House of Mystery for a while and I could do a couple of those and pretty much cover the rent for the

month. It was the same thing at Warren. That was basically all I cared about.

CBA: So you could do the frontispieces, cover your living costs, and then you could really afford to spend the time on the work?

Bernie: Exactly—and everything else was just gravy.

CBA: How did your initial meeting go with Jim Warren?

Bernie: It was very pleasant. I was a little apprehensive because I had heard these stories about him. So I went into his office and I’m talking with him—he said that he was following my work and obviously wanted me. He said, “Okay, I’m going to pay you the best money you ever made in comics.” (And he was right.) He told me, “Yeah, I’ll return your original artwork. However, I don’t own the originals but I do own the rights. That means everything. Every printing right imaginable. Do what you want with the originals— put ’em in your closet, hang ’em on your wall, give ’em away, sell ’em, but, if you sell your work and the guy you sell it to sells it to the next guy and he sells it to the next guy and he sells it to the next guy—all the way down the line—and if the 17th guy who buys it, prints it somewhere without my permission, I’m going to hold you responsible.” I said, “Okay. Fair enough,” and that was pretty much it.

We got through the business part of it pretty quickly and he made me some kind of a bet—and I can’t for the life of me remember what the bet was, but it was some kind of trick thing that he loved doing and I couldn’t possibly win. He said, “I’ll bet you a dollar,” and I said, “Okay, fine.” He said, “Let me see your money.” So I put my dollar on the desk and he put his dollar on the desk. He proves me wrong, takes my dollar, and opens the drawer to put my dollar in and then says, “Wait a minute. Here: Sign this” So he slides the dollar back to me, I sign it and, from his desk drawer, he takes out this wad of dollar bills in a rubber band, all with signatures by Frank Frazetta, Jack Davis, Reed Crandall—anybody who has ever worked for him! He was fun. He was a character. He never screwed me. Jim was always fair with me and there was very little bullsh*t—very little of that annoying, exasperating bullsh*t that I heard he gave other people. With me, it was more playful. If there was any bullsh*t involved, it was more in fun and we both knew it. He would give me some sh*t about some pages I brought in but it was always in a real lighthearted way—it was always a joke. If he put me down then I would just come back and put him down. We’d go back and forth, and we’d have this little slamfest, laugh about it, and it would be done. I know from talking to other people that he wasn’t like that with everybody.

CBA: Did you frequent the Warren offices?

Bernie: I came in whenever I had a job done and sometimes just to come in and hang out. We did that a lot in those days—just go up in the office and hang out with Bill DuBay and Louise Jones (who ultimately became story editor). My ex-wife was coloring up there for a little while before we were married—Michele Robinson Brand.

She was doing the color separations for the interior stuff. I had a ctually met her a few years before.

CBA: And you knew Louise Jones from earlier, too?

Bernie: Right. She was Jeff Jones’ ex-wife.

CBA: What was Bill DuBay like?

Bernie: He seemed just fine. I don’t really have much of an impression of Bill but we always got along. I liked him. God, he just worked all the time.

CBA: Somebody mentioned that you did an unpublished cover to The Spirit magazine. Is that true?

Bernie: Yeah, and it wasn’t really good. I was trying to make it look like Eisner and trying to make it look like me, and it was a bad mix. I just had to fight it every inch of the way. I don’t remember it that well but I remember really not liking it at the time I did it. As I recall, I never finished it.

CBA: How were you given assignments? Did you say, for instance, that you wanted to do a Poe adaptation or…?

Bernie: No, I would go to the office, delivering the first job, and they would have scripts there which I would look through. I’d find something to do for the next job. Sometimes I would come in and Bill or Weezie would say, “Hey, we got something in that we think you’ll really like.” And they’d show me the script and I would decide whether or not I wanted to do it.

CBA: According to a Comics Journal [#75] interview, you said you abandoned your first job for Warren, an adaptation of Poe’s “The Pit COMIC BOOK ARTIST

Spring 1999

and the Pendulum,” after penciling three pages and deciding that it wasn’t working.

Bernie: No, that wasn’t the first job. The first thing for Warren was “The Black Cat.” I did abandon “The Pit,” but that was somewhere down the line a little bit. I had been working for Warren for a while when I took that on. Basically, I just didn’t know what the hell to do with the story. There was not much happening in the whole story and I got three pages along and said, “My God! This isn’t going anywhere!” I had three pages of this guy lying on the slab and what could I do with it?

CBA: You did the writing on the adaptation of “The Black Cat,” your first published piece for Warren. Was one of your requests to do your own writing?

Bernie: It was probably something I had in mind to do for a while and the gig for Warren came along and here was the perfect place to do it. Jim had said in our first meeting together that he had wanted to do classic adaptations—and he had already had Reed Crandall do some Poe adaptations—and they had to be stories in the public domain. I mentioned to him that I wanted to do “Cool Air” by H.P. Lovecraft, and he had to get the rights for me from August Derleth.

CBA: “The Black Cat” features unbelievable linework—were you looking to break new ground in comics?

Bernie: I was having a lot of fun. I was playing and experimenting. I had gotten really tired of using a brush working on Swamp Thing, and the last issue of Swamp Thing was all done in pen. That was one of the things that really killed it for me: When that issue finally came out—and I had put a lot of work into that last issue— the colors were very dark, the linework could have been pen or brush or marker or finger paint; you just couldn’t tell. I thought it looked

Above: Bernie Wrightson in 1977. Photo by Bob Keenan. From The 1977 Phil Seuling Comic Art Convention Book.

just awful—and I thought, “Damn! If I’m going to put all that work into something, I want it to show!” That was one of the driving forces behind going to Warren in the first place. So I just went crazy with the linework on my first job. I said, “Here’s my opportunity to really go crazy, put a lot of work into this, and just basically show off.”

CBA: What was the page size you were working on?

Bernie: It was probably twice-up.

CBA: There was an extraordinary writer at Warren while you were there, Bruce Jones. You mentioned an earlier association with Bruce working on Web of Horror. Where did Bruce come from and who was he?

Bernie: He came from Kansas City and I met him at Jeff Jones’ house (no relation). Bruce came in and he was this young guy with a pile of artwork which really looked like EC Comics. We became friends immediately with our love for EC Comics, both growing up in the ’50s and having seen the same movies. We’re still friends—he lives out here in California now, just 20 minutes away.

CBA: Were you hoping to write more at Warren?

Spring 1999

COMIC BOOK ARTIST

Bernie: I wrote “The Pepperlake Monster.” I still have some stories I’d like to tell.

CBA: How do you approach doing a story? Do you do thumbnails and break it down?

Bernie: Oh God, it varies.

Sometimes I’ll start writing something out longhand; sometimes I’ll start with a bunch of doodles; sometimes all it is is a scene in my head and I would build the story around that. I don’t know where it comes from.

CBA: Do you do a lot of research? That “Cool Air” adaptation feels like Providence and was dead-on.

Bernie: No, I did no research at all. It was all made up. It was my impression of the 1920s.

CBA: The second story that you did was “Jenifer.”

Bernie: Yeah, I did that with Bruce. It’s one of my favorites and I really like it. That was done in grey markers.

CBA: Alex Toth discusses the learning curve of getting tonal work down right. Was the tonal work difficult to perfect?

Bernie: I never had a system. Sometimes I would go from light to dark, sometimes from dark to light. I never seemed to do it the same way twice.

CBA: You really approached each job unto itself?

Bernie: Yeah. I never really got locked into working any one particular way. I just never knew any better. [laughs] CBA: Was that a lack of discipline or was it actually an intense discipline of approaching each job in its own unique way?

Bernie: It was probably a combination of both. I was really into experimenting and trying out new things. I got into markers and used them for the longest time—that was partly because I liked the smell. [laughter] CBA: Did you resent the pressures of deadlines?

Bernie: I don’t think it ever got to the point of resentment, y’know. I was young and had a lot of free time—I wanted to play— but I could focus a lot better back then. When the time came to work, I could just stay with it for hours and hours and hours, not worrying about eating or sleeping or anything else.

CBA: Are you a late night guy?

Bernie: No, I’m an early morning guy. I get up at about as early as I can—sometimes 5:00 in the morning. I work every day until about noon or 1:00, when I get too hungry to keep going.

Then I stop, get lunch, and the rest of the day is for doing whatever, running errands or hanging out. Sometimes I’ll come back and work again in the evening.

CBA: That’s been the way you’ve always worked?

Bernie: No, that’s how I’m working now. Back then, when I was I doing the Warren stuff, I was pretty much a night owl. I started working for Warren when I lived in New York and the whole time in New York City, I worked during the night. It was quieter at night—the city quiets down, the phone stops ringing, and there are fewer distractions. Most everybody I knew was up all night. Kaluta wouldn’t go to bed until 10 or 11 in the morning. I knew that if I was feeling restless or just wanted to hang out, I could just go over to his place at midnight or 3 in the morning or whenever and he’d be up.

CBA: It seemed to me that the fan response to the Warren material was different compared to their response to the DC stuff. Did you get fans asking,

Above: Eerie #71 frontispiece by Bernie Wrightson. ©1975 Warren Publications.

Below: Cover art to Rocket’s Blast ComiCollector by Bernie Wrightson.

Art ©1973 Bernie Wrightson.

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Above: Bernie’s frontispiece to Creepy #64. ©1974 Warren Publications.

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“Why don’t you go back to color comics?”

Bernie: An awful lot of people seemed almost angry that I had quit Swamp Thing. I just blew them off because, well, it was my life and my decision—”Feel bad if you want to but DC is not what I want to do.”

CBA: And yet you were coming out with the best work of your career up to that moment.

Bernie: Yeah, I thought so. I felt a lot more freedom at Warren than I did at DC. CBA: Then you did a Little Nemo pastiche called “Nightfall.” Did Bill DuBay write that for you? Did you want to do your take on Nemo?

Bernie: I can’t really remember. I wanted to do the cover for that issue but they didn’t like the painting—it’s not a very good painting—but they were nice enough to put it on the back cover. I thought that was kind of cool.

CBA: Then you did “The Muck Monster.” I was surprised to see it colored.

Bernie: It wasn’t supposed to be colored. Something happened that issue and whoever was supposed to be doing the color insert didn’t deliver the work so they needed something at the last minute.

They said, “Hey, can we use ‘The Muck Monster’?” I said, “Well, it really wasn’t meant to be colored.” Then it was, “Please, please, please!” So I said, “Yeah.”

CBA: Did you supervise the coloring at all?

Bernie: No.

CBA: Were you happy with the results?

Bernie: No. [laughs] CBA: Up to that time, this story was your definitive take on the Frankenstein monster.

Bernie: It was almost like a dry run for me. I had Frankenstein in mind and I wanted to do it. I had an idea what I wanted the drawings to look like; and “The Muck Monster”—and a few other things I did for Warren—were the embryonic version of the penwork that finally showed up in Frankenstein.

CBA: Setting the stage.

Bernie: Exactly.

CBA: Then you did “Clarise.” You had an interesting approach with the static panels.

Bernie: That was definitely set up to be that way, a grid, very standard and cookie-cutter.

CBA: Bruce also wrote this one and it’s a very Poesque, romantic tragedy. Are you attracted to that kind of material as a person?

Bernie: I’m attracted to it when I’m attracted to it—but then there are times when I like to do something goofy.

CBA: Can the material get you down?

Bernie: No, because so much of it is funny. I’m not saying that real-life tragedy is funny; I’m talking about horror movies and comic books that are supposed to be serious and trying to scare you—but they just fall flat on their asses and it’s just funny stuff, y’know? It’s all pretend in horror movies—sure, there’s lots of real-life horror in the world and I don’t really address that. I draw zombies, werewolves, and vampires, all this fantasy stuff, and you can go either way being really scary or just play it for laughs. I think the line between horror and humor is very thin and very vague and it’s very easy to cross the line (whether intentionally or not).

CBA: Then you inked a job by Carmine Infantino.

Bernie: I did a couple of those and they were fun. Carmine was chief editorial poobah at DC when I first started working up there and he took me under his wing. I always liked Carmine and when I met him he wasn’t drawing any more and just doing all the editorial stuff. He left DC and he showed up at Warren and was drawing again. I got a look at his pencils and they were just beautiful. It was just great stuff and you could tell he was just having a great job doing it. I thought, “Man, the guy was just wasted editorially; this is what he should be doing! He should be drawing because he does it so well!” I just got all caught up in that and got so excited at how beautiful these pencils were. I said, “Wow! Who’s inking this?” They said, “Do you want it?” I said, “Hell, yes!”

CBA: While you were doing all this work for Warren, were you going back and looking at the great old illustrators like Franklin Booth and Kinstler?

Bernie: Oh, yeah! I was seeking the stuff out. Kaluta had a lot of that stuff, old books with illustrations, and I’d go over there, spend a lot of time just looking at them, marveling at this incredible penwork.

It was stuff that I’d look at and go, “Wow! I could never touch that!” It was gorgeous work.

CBA: And yet you seemed to assimilate some of the linework.

Bernie: I think that if you look at something hard enough, your eyes almost lift it off the paper. It sinks in. When it finally came to doing Frankenstein, I wasn’t actually copying Booth—I never had a piece of Booth’s artwork in front of me—but I spent so much time looking at his work, that that was the only way that I could see using a pen. Yeah, I was doing my Booth imitation as best I could.

CBA: Did you lament the fact that there wasn’t any commercial outlets anymore for illustration? Did you wistfully wish that you, Mike and Jeff could just do illustrations?

Bernie: I didn’t lament it or long for the old days. From the standpoint of keeping myself busy, I would (and I do this to this day; I have a pattern) work in comics for a few years and get really burned-out and then I’d want to move on to something else, doing illustrations or paintings—and I’ll do that for a year or two and get burned-out on that. Then I’d go back to comics because it would be exciting again.

CBA: Why did you leave Warren? Were you getting burned-out?

Bernie: Yeah, I was getting burned-out on comics. When I left Warren, I started doing posters and prints. I made a living (though I’ve never been rich) [laughs] and I’ve managed all this time. After a while I got burned-out on the prints and posters and I got back into COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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comics again.

CBA: How long did you spend working on Frankenstein?

Bernie: It was probably six years all together. That’s not constant work. It sounds worse than it was. I never had a publisher lined up for it and it was a labor of love. I would do the Frankenstein drawings between paying jobs; I’d do some comics or poster work, make enough money to keep me going a few weeks, and then I’d do another couple of Frankenstein pieces.

CBA: That didn’t create an anxiety of not knowing where your next meal was coming from?

Bernie: It never really got to the point where I was hurting financially or starving because I was doing Frankenstein. I just spread it out because Frankenstein was a very personal thing to me; it was, “I want to do this exactly the way I want to do it.” If I tried to work with a publisher on that, then I would have had to do it the way he wants it. That’s why I did it on my own because I had been in the field long enough by then and had had enough experience to know the way it works. I knew I would run up into this editorial wall and I was sure I was not going to find somebody who was going to be willing to go with a completely b-&-w book. When I finally signed the contract with Marvel for the first edition of Frankenstein, the first question they asked me was, “Gee, could we do some of these in color?” [laughs] I said, “No!” And they said, “But…” “NO!” [laughter] CBA: And the work maintained its integrity.

Bernie: I wouldn’t let them touch it.

CBA: If I can be frank here: One of the perceptions I had was that you pored your heart and soul into Frankenstein—you almost sweat blood—and you made it dropdead, gorgeous. It was the best work you had done up until that time. Subsequently….

Bernie: Nothing’s been as good?

CBA: Nothing’s been as good.

Bernie: That’s one of the old clichés: “God, why is your old stuff better?” All I can really say is I was younger and, I don’t know, maybe purer back then. I just had a kind of love for the work that I just don’t have any more. I’m not saying that I hate it but it’s just that that impetus (or whatever it is) just isn’t there any more.

CBA: Would you attribute that to the response that Frankenstein received? Did you think that it was going to be bigger than it was?

Bernie: No. I was always disappointed that it didn’t make it into bookstores because Jim Shooter made a point that it was going to get into bookstores—and it never did. It became a fan item. Not that it would have become a bestseller in the bookstores but it always seemed a shame to me that you can’t go into B. Dalton and Waldenbooks and find it.

CBA: You know that’s where I’ve seen it?

Bernie: Have you really?

CBA: I’ve recently seen it in Borders.

Bernie: Wow. I’ve got nothing to complain about then!

CBA: Sorry. [laughter] Bernie: Now I have no excuse! [laughter] CBA: I also heard a rumor that you had either contracted tendonitis or an aversion to some chemical because of drawing Frankenstein?

Bernie: What happened was that I developed a sensitivity to the metal nickel and that’s what the little metal part on a brush that holds the bristles is made of—it’s called the ferule—and it’s 90% nickel. It made my fingertips sore and inflamed—and they hurt and were really tender all the time. That’s all it was but, of course, I was worried about it because I didn’t know what it was. I saw several doctors who couldn’t identify it and I finally saw a skin specialist who diagnosed it and she gave me an ointment to put on. That cleared it up but the biggest problem I had was what am I going to do about holding a brush now? My fingers had to come in contact with the metal and I tried everything: I tried wrapping it in masking tape and that was no good because you lose the grip; I tried holding the brush further up on the stem so my fingers were on the wood but that was just ridiculous. So after trying all this stuff, my ex-wife suggested, “Why don’t you just paint that thing with nail polish?” Well, duh! [laughs] So I’ve been doing that ever since and it’s no problem.

About 1991 or ’92, I broke my wrist and I’ve literally not been the same since. I slipped on the ice—stupidest thing in the world—and I felt like a real ass; but that’s all that happened. Instead of wrapping my arms around me and falling on my butt, I had to put my arm out. I put all my weight down on my arm and broke my wrist. It hasn’t been the same since.

I’m trying to get movie work now but I still do some comic work. I’m working on a story for Vertigo’s Flinch comic which is a 10-page story which Bruce wrote and I’ll eventually get around to finishing that.

CBA: How would you characterize your time at Warren?

Bernie: Like in one word? [laughter] Happy? I had a really good time working at Warren. I can’t remember any problems or any real unpleasantness—certainly not from Jim or anybody working for him.

CBA: Do you view those days as a transitional time in your life?

Bernie: I felt that it was a growth period and I felt excited and challenged by the work I was doing there. It was a moment, y’know? And not just for me but for all of us who did some incredible work at Warren. Corben and Bruce were doing great stuff.

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CBA Interview

Weezie Jones Simonson Louise discusses her life & times as a Warren editor Conducted by Jon B. Cooke Though she’ll forever be immortalized as the model for the auburn-haired, well-groomed damsel on the cover of the first Swamp Thing appearance in House of Secrets #92, Louise Jones Simonson will also be remembered as one of comicdom’s great editors (especially for her tenure at Warren) and as a fine writer of fun comic book stories. Weezie (who was first married to artist Jeff Jones) is fondly recalled for her self-referential Power Pack comic for Marvel in the ‘80s and her current stint as writer on Superman. She is married to fan-fave artist Walter Simonson (who makes a cameo appearance during this talk). Weezie was interviewed by phone on January 25, 1999, and she submitted the final copyedit.

Comic Book Artist: Did you have an interest in comics and genre material when you were a kid?

Louise Jones Simonson: I read comics in the usual way that kids read comics. The most memorable comics story from my childhood, heaven help me, was in an EC comic—a Wally Wood story with two old couples sitting down to dinner. Aliens carried off the two women and neither man remembered it afterwards. The guys ended up as two old bachelors eating dinner together. That just blew my little child mind! I thought, “Oh man, what if that could happen? What if that were true? Whoa!” I read a lot of stuff but more books than comics.

CBA: Where’d you grow up?

Louise: Atlanta, Georgia.

CBA: When did you meet Jeff?

Louise: In 1964 at Georgia State College Art Department. I was an art/English major. Jeff was also from Atlanta.

Above: Richard Corben’s original cover sketch to Eerie #77, featuring his and Bruce Jones’ great story, “Within You… Without You.” Art ©1975 Richard Corben.

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CBA: What is your artistic forte?

Louise: [laughs] I didn’t have much of a forte! I’m a better writer! [laughs] I was such a naive kid—I don’t think I thought of either talent seriously in terms of a career. It was like, “Oh, well, I like to draw. Oh, well, I like to write.” I had never met any professional artists or writers; in a way, that was far above anything I aspired to.

I guess I thought that professionals were some sort of gods and I dared not look so high. [laughter] I knew that real people wrote books but…! [laughs] CBA: Was Jeff ambitious?

Louise: Certainly. He knew he wanted to be an artist; whether it was doing comics or book covers. Though he had a more serious interest in painting. We got married during the Summer of ’66.

CBA: What did you two do after college?

Louise: We moved to New York.

CBA: Were you looking for an editorial position?

Louise: Oh, no. I was pregnant at the time and looking to have a baby. Jeff was looking for art jobs—book covers were his main focus, though he did do a little bit of comic book work.

CBA: Do you recall when he got his break with Warren and was first published?

Louise: Gee, no, I don’t. [laughs] It’s bizarre but I don’t! I know he did something for Larry Ivie’s Monsters & Heroes.

CBA: And he did about four stories at Warren.

Louise: I have only the vaguest memory of those stories. Isn’t that funny? If you had asked me if he had done any Warren stories, I would have said no. So, there you go—that’s what my memory is worth.

CBA: Jeff was obviously in the fan circles. So were you starting to socialize with other fans and comics professionals when you were in the New York area?

Louise: Oh, yeah. Gee, we met everybody! At the time, there were “First Fridays” which were comic book meetings held on the first Fridays of every month when everybody got together; and quite often they would be at our apartment—maybe because we were centrally located but I can’t even remember why.

CBA: Roy Thomas says he started First Fridays.

Louise: Maybe he was out of the city by that time? I can’t remember why they were at our place, or why they were at other places other times. It’s been 30 years, give or take a few. [laughs] CBA: Well, I’m chronicling history here, Louise! [laughs] Louise: Yeah, it’s probably just as well that you get it down now because [laughs] memory is going to fade even more!

CBA: Alex Toth might be contributing a regular column to the magazine and its title is “Before I Forget.”

Louise: Fabulous title and quite appropriate. Alex’s memory is probably lots better than mine because obviously I’m fuzzy on a lot of stuff already! [laughs] CBA: Were First Fridays memorable get-togethers?

Louise: Sure. You’re looking for names: Let me see: Archie Goodwin, of course. (I met Anne later through Archie.) Neal Adams.

Bernie Wrightson. Mike Kaluta. Alan Weiss. I don’t remember if Woody was ever there. Bruce Jones, I think… Len Wein. Marv Wolfman. Bill Pearson. Allan Asherman. Roger and Michele Brand.

Vaughn Bodé. Flo Steinberg. Marty Pasko, maybe…? There were lots more people.

CBA: Word has it that you had a big apartment.

Louise: We had a couple of bedrooms and a pretty big living room. It was in one of the old pre-War buildings on 72nd St. CBA: Would the parties go on into the wee hours?

Louise: I suppose, though I don’t remember them running particularly late—but then I’m a late-night person so I probably wouldn’t have remarked on that. I don’t think they lasted till dawn, anyway! Ask somebody else! [laughs] We had a lot of fun and I remember enjoying them a great deal.

CBA: Do you remember Roy Krenkel?

Louise: Of course. What a character! He was cranky, talented, lazy (in his own way)—no, lazy is an ill-chosen word; what he wanted to do was what he wanted to do, and he didn’t want to do anything that anybody else wanted him to do unless it happened to coincide with what he wanted to do. That’s not lazy but just cranky.

He was a bit misogynistic—which didn’t bother me at the time because he was funny about it so it was hard to take him seriously.

It was pretty apparent, though, that he thought wives were a drag on an artist. He didn’t have a wife (as I remember—and we know what that’s worth—he lived with his mother) and was pretty much a COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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confirmed bachelor. His concept of wives (and women in general, I think) was that they allowed their husbands no creative freedom; that wives would say, “I want a new pink refrigerator.” And then their poor, benighted husbands would have to drop whatever important artistic endeavor they were engaged in and slave away to buy them a “new pink refrigerator.” It was absurd! [laughs] But in some ways, he was a mentor for the younger guys. He had a sense of himself as an artist but not as one who was better than they were.

He enjoyed the company of younger artists and he enjoyed his influential role but he never talked down to them. He amused them and they amused him.

Roy had ties to the science-fiction community and had a lot of stories of his own “good old days.” One was about Harry Harrison, who wrote the very enjoyable “Stainless Steel Rat” series. Back when they were both young, he told us, Harrison had needed chairs to furnish a new apartment. He couldn’t afford the chairs he wanted— until he spotted them furnishing a lobby… I believe of an ad agency in Manhattan. So Roy and Harrison donned coveralls, entered the lobby pretending to be maintenance people, and made off with the chairs. No one stopped them and the price was right. [laughter] It was a very “Stainless Steel Rat” sort of a caper.

CBA: You read science-fiction and horror? Lovecraft, Poe…?

Louise: Sure. I liked S-F better than horror as a genre. I read avidly as a child and a young adult. I especially loved the work of Robert Heinlein.

CBA: Did you have an ongoing appreciation for comics?

Louise: My introduction as an older person—as a college kid—to comics was through the Warren books. Particularly Archie Goodwin’s writing and the first couple of years with that incredible art that Warren had gotten, including Blazing Combat (which was just a terrific, amazing magazine).

CBA: So you were appreciating it as it was coming out?

Louise: Of course! I had seen it and was completely blown away.

CBA: Did you express your admiration when you met Archie?

Louise: Oh, sure. I was pretty impressed with meeting him because I enjoyed the Warren books so much. I probably would initially have been equally as impressed with the other creators I met at First Fridays, had I been more of a super-hero comic book reader.

Of course, later, when I knew their work, they were all impressive. It was a pretty amazing crew. I was really impressed to meet the artists who had been in the Warren books though—Al Williamson, Frazetta, Orlando… that crew.

CBA: What was Archie like?

Louise: Very smart, in a laid back kind of way. A quirky combination of quiet and wildly funny. He could be any number of things depending on the appropriateness of the circumstances. He had a very wry sense of humor, and wasn’t above taking a pratfall to get a laugh. He was self-deprecating and not at all full of himself, not at all thinking that he was God’s gift to anything, which I think was sort of too bad, because he was such a talented man. I don’t know if he really appreciated his own talent as completely as other people appreciated it, y’know?

CBA: Do you think he needed to?

Louise: Maybe yes, maybe no. Archie was a real Renaissance guy, an all-arounder—talented as an artist, a writer, an editor. A lot of folks don’t know what a talented cartoonist he was. You can’t make people’s lives for them but I would have loved to have seen him do a newspaper strip where he could have used that wonderful artistic talent—creating stories he could have written and drawn. Which is not to denigrate in any way the wonderful memorable stories he wrote for other people. Still… maybe if he had been a little more full of himself and thought of himself as God’s gift to cartoonists, we might have seen more of his art. I think a little ego is important to creative types. Writers and artists have to think well of what they do or else they might not be bullheaded enough to push to do it!

CBA: You and Archie hit it off?

Louise: Yeah—but Archie hit it off with everyone. Archie was nine years older than I was, but we were all pretty young in those days— heck, Neal Adams was practically a kid when you stop and think about it—which is just a frightening thought! [laughs] We were all kids in the big city—and we were having a really good time.

CBA: You liked the social life?

Louise: [laughs] What’s not to like? You would have liked it too!

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CBA: Did Jeff find it frustrating trying to break into comics?

Louise: Not really. He came to New York and got book cover assignments almost immediately. As you pointed out, he did several Warren jobs (and maybe something for Gold Key, as well…?) but painting was more his interest and book covers paid better than comics. Eventually he did several strips—”Idyll” and “I Mage” among them—but these weren’t comic books. The limited strip format appealed to him but I don’t really think that he would have been all that happy drawing big super-heroes hitting other big super-heroes for 22 pages every month. It just isn’t his thing.

CBA: Making a living in New York at the time wasn’t difficult?

Louise: It depends on how you define “living.” Nobody was rich but we ate, [laughs] no problem there. Kids don’t need that much to live on. The overhead wasn’t that high; the apartments were not that expensive on the Upper West Side. Wrightson and Alan Weiss lived in the same building as we did. For a while, Kaluta was there, too.

CBA: When was your daughter born?

Louise: Julianna was born in July, 1967.

CBA: So when she was getting toward kindergarten age, were you looking to get a job?

Louise: Yep. Soon afterwards, Jeff and I split up. I was hired by the circulation department of a magazine publisher and distributor, McFadden-Bartell. They published Sport magazine, Photoplay, Motion Picture, True Confessions. I had wanted a job in publishing

Above: Note the incredible realism in this virtually painted page by Russ Heath. The story, “The Shadow of the Axe,” (from Creepy #79) was written by a young Dave Sim (later revered for his work on Cerebus). Heath’s work for Warren in the ’70s is incredible—and underappreciated—work. ©1976 Warren Publications.

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Above: Bernie’s evocative pencils to page six of one of his finest works, “Jenifer,” written by Bruce Jones. The inked version appeared in Creepy #63. Art ©1974 Bernie Wrightson.

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and pretty much figured I’d have to take what I got. The circulation department is not editorial; it’s involved with getting the magazines out to the newsstands—making sure retailers got 250 copies of Photoplay or whatever. Very useful experience, seeing how that end of publishing worked. If a magazine doesn’t get out on the racks, it can’t sell, can it? Eventually, McFadden shut down their circulation department and people were shifted into other departments. I was moved into advertising/promotion—the department that promotes the magazine to the advertisers. I learned all sorts of stuff there. I helped plan several banquets, and I put out—of all things—a sports calendar (and if you think I had any interest in sports, think again.

When I started it, I didn’t know one team from another! But you pick up stuff as you go along). I learned to do paste-ups and mechanicals—a lot of things that would be useful later.

CBA: So you interacted with production?

Louise: Oh, yeah. I learned how to do a lot of that stuff—even rudimentary lettering. I was an assistant to the Promotion Director and did anything that needed doing. I’ve always been the sort of person who said, “Yeah, I can do that!” [laughs] They’d say, “We need a sports calendar,” and I’d say, “I can do that!” I learned how to do a lot of things that way. I was at MacFadden for around three years. I went to Warren right out of McFadden.

CBA: At McFadden, were you dealing with creative types at all?

Louise: No, except for our art director who was very creative

[laughs] and another character! Not artists and writers—not at all. I still had friends in the comics industry, however—a whole batch of ’em.

CBA: Bill DuBay says that he first met you at a function held in honor of Corben and Eisner, and that led you to get a job offer.

Louise: Did it? I vaguely remember a party at DuBay’s apartment and meeting him. I do remember meeting Corben—a very interesting man. He seemed quiet, shy. Yet his work was like Jack Kirby’s or Wrightson’s, in that it created an abstracted vision of a powerful reality, just not necessarily our reality. He created this violently explosive art and yet he seemed like such a quiet, gentle kind of persona. I just loved the contrast of his calm exterior and the dramatic fantasy world of his interior.

My memory of going to work for Warren was Michele Brand was working in Warren’s production department—doing coloring, lettering, art corrections, whatever, and I ran into her at a party (maybe it was at that party) and she said, “There’s a job opening at Warren and it pays better than your job. You should apply for it.” So I did.

CBA: Do you recall your first time in the Warren offices?

Louise: I don’t remember exactly my first time at Warren other than that I actually got hired. DuBay asked me questions about what I could do and I said, “Yeah, sure. I can do that.” I expect DuBay’s recollection of this is more accurate than mine! [laughs] CBA: Did you know Jim Warren beforehand?

Louise: Yes. I had met him several different times. I vaguely remember a party he had in his apartment. He had mirrored tiles all over his living room walls, which I had never seen before. (Isn’t that an odd thing to remember? But what can I say? I was a little Southern girl! [laughs] It was the ’60s, so it wasn’t his fault. [laughs]) CBA: What was Jim like?

Louise: He was another real character. He was whatever he ever felt like being at any given moment. He could be the most charming man on earth, or the most utter pain in the neck. He could be viciously cutting if he chose to be; he could be angry and raging or very kind and nice and gentle. He was whatever he felt like being.

CBA: Did you ever feel like you saw the “real” Jim Warren?

Louise: I think it was all the real Jim Warren. He had the talent of being whatever he wanted to be. Heaven help me, I liked him.

Sometimes I’d want to kill him, but at his core he was amazingly likable. Very amusing. He was a very smart man, too. The charm wasn’t false—nor was the fury. It was all part of the nature of a very complex individual.

CBA: So you knew what you were getting into when you started at Warren, right? Did the violent content of the books…?

Louise: It did not faze me. In fact, some of the sickest stories were the ones I accepted as editor. (Though mostly they weren’t splatter-type horror.) I don’t like to watch really gross-out horror movies—there’s something about all that blood splattering on screen that’s just disgusting; I don’t even like to watch Walter play video games where characters explode in gouts of blood—but, for some reason, in a black-&-white comic, it didn’t bother me at all! It’s just a sad, sick commentary on just the person I am! [laughs] Didn’t bother me, nope! Actually it was kind of cool. I knew the books were horror comics, so of course you’re going to have horror!

CBA: Did you admire the books when you started working there?

Louise: Oh, sure. I knew Bernie—that he had done several stories already, including the wonderful “Jenifer” (written, of course, by Bruce Jones). That story just blew me away. The synergy between those two creators was top notch. It was very compelling… very strong… very visceral.

CBA: You can get into the mind of the protagonist and almost understand this horrible compulsion.

Louise: Yes. You could understand it and feel it, and it could happen to you! That was its strength. So, yes, I knew what the Warren books were like.

CBA: What were your duties when you first started?

Louise: I worked in the production department doing paste-ups, mechanicals, art corrections, erasing pencils off inked pages. It was pretty low-level duty. I wasn’t that great at the production-type stuff.

Because we were working over primarily S.I. artists, the pages would generally come to us unlettered. We’d have the lettering done at Warren and paste up the pages.

CBA: And you would use the stat room to reverse blocks of type?

Louise: Oh sure. I learned to use the stat machine and other esoCOMIC BOOK ARTIST

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teric equipment that doesn’t exist any more—but I could never do the thought balloon shapes (or wiggly balloon tails for that matter) to DuBay’s satisfaction. I think it frustrated him because he couldn’t understand why I was so incapable of doing these shapes!

CBA: Did you immediately get the title of assistant editor?

Louise: Within several months, I think. There was no assistant editor position when I arrived—but Warren was a small company and there were always more jobs to be done than people to do them. So if DuBay needed a letters column done or ad copy written… or a column of copy I would say, “Oh, I can do that.” [laughs] I was eager and willing to expand my repertoire and, it turned out, I was much better at editorial work than I was at doing production. Poor DuBay probably should have fired me! [laughter] But luckily for me, he found the place where I really belonged. You got to give the man credit! And I’m sure he was delighted to get me out of production! [laughs] Bless his heart.

CBA: Was Bill a perfectionist?

Louise: In his own way. He was not an unreasonable man mostly—occasionally, yes. [laughs] But aren’t we all? Mostly Warren was a very enjoyable, fun place to work. Tensions would run high, especially during Summer push, because there was so much work to get done, but we enjoyed it.

CBA: Who did you primarily use for a letterer?

Louise: Gaspar Saladino for the title lettering. Shelly Lefferman for comics lettering. He came out of advertising and lettered almost exclusively for Warren. Jean Hipp Izzo, Artie Simek’s daughter, also did some work for Warren.

CBA: Bill said there was the Big Push and it was just hell.

Louise: But it was kind of fun in a hellish kind of way—if you’re masochistic! [laughs] It was challenging and we met the challenge, generally speaking. I remember that Jim would not be there mostly during the Summer, spending most of the season at his beach house in the Hamptons (which was bright yellow and a very cool place, by the way). He would come in at the beginning of Summer, shout and carry on, and then he would pretty much leave us on our own to put out the books over the Summer. He’d show up maybe once a week or every couple of weeks—and then in the Fall, he would come back.

You know how in gorilla society, the dominate male goes wandering off around the jungle? Then, when he returns to the troop, he’ll beat his chest and knock the lesser gorillas around a bit, just to prove that he’s back and he’s boss? That was what Warren would do at the end of every Summer. He’d come in and shout, “Everything you did this Summer was wrong. The ad copy was wrong, the cover colors were wrong—how could you have chosen blue?!” He would create crisises and then he would solve them. He would say, “Yes! Now you see that red is better than blue!” And we would say, “Oh, yes, red is certainly better,” and he would say, “Why didn’t you see that?” And we’d grovel and say, “Oh, yes, Great Lord Master Gorilla! It is we lesser apes who are not worthy!”—well, we didn’t actually say that but we thought it! [laughter] Then, having knocked our heads together to prove that he was the dominant gorilla and could solve all problems, he would go away again for a while. It was fun in a bizarre way, once you caught the pattern of it. It was nothing personal and you hadn’t done a bad job; it was just that he had to prove that he was important—more important than anybody else.

That he was needed—and he was! A lot of the stuff he had to say made sense—red or blue mostly didn’t matter, but sometimes it did.

Contrast was very important. I learned a lot about art and publishing from him. Warren was a pretty cool character, if you could get him to tone down the volume. [laughs] What a character!

CBA: Was Jim a generous guy?

Louise: Well, sort of. [laughs] In many ways he was. I think that his impulse was to be generous. Every Christmas we would get decent bonuses and we would get raises in January. Then we would have a little hiatus, a couple of weeks of grace when things would run smoothly. Then Warren would start knocking heads together because he was paying us all this extra money now and we had damned well better be worth it! So that was the second ceremonial yearly fillip of yelling and insanity we would experience. Again… once you caught the pattern of that, and understood the motivation behind it, it was okay.

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moods personally. Though the first time he yelled at me, I did tell him “I don’t respond well to being yelled at, and I don’t want you to do it any more.” After that, he’d yell about stuff but never again yelled directly at me. This showed enormous restraint and that Jim was basically a reasonable guy in his own, quirky Jim Warren way. [laughs] Oh, he would push your buttons if he could find them; he loved to find people’s buttons and push them, just because it was fun for him to see them jump. Another example of his generosity: He had his own fancy beach house, of course, but there was this smaller guest house down the road (which I think he used before he built the big one and which he kept for company use). He’d let business associates and his employees use it over the Summer, when we could get away. It was a really nice thing to do. In many ways, he was a very benevolent dictator, and he trained me very well for Marvel and for dealing with Jim Shooter.

CBA: Do you see similarities in their personalities?

Louise: Yeah. Both were mostly benevolent dictators. Both were generous; both were smart; both were volatile. Both appreciated quality. Both had strong visions and were inclined to expect their employees to create those visions for them. Warren, for all his quirkiness, may have been a better people-manager than Shooter—but then, he owned his own company.

CBA: Did Jim Warren play the part of a playboy?

Louise: There were plenty of folks who said that was what he aspired to—that he wanted to be the Hugh Hefner of horror comics! [laughs] He had some attractive girlfriends here and there. Occasionally he’d bring some beautiful women into the office. I wasn’t as interested in that as a lot of the guys were.

Sure he would have liked to have been a great playboy. Isn’t that one of the American dreams…? When Warren left comics, many of us wondered where he had gone and what he was doing. I envisioned him out there at his beach house, soaking up the sun, surrounded by beautiful women.

Alex Toth was another very lovely man. He would never call me “Weezie,” always “Louise.”

There are a batch of people for whom I am “Louise,” and they

Above: Back off, Jimbo! A quiet moment for Weezie Jones in the mid-’70s. ©1999 Louise Simonson.

Below: Richard Corben noted that this was a Warren sketch from the ’70s. Can you identify where the final work appeared? Art ©1999 Richard Corben.

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Above: Gawd, ain’t Heath good?

Gorgeous work from the master— a page from “Thistlewhite the Bold.” ©1975 Warren Publications.

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would never call me Weezie because they think it’s the grossest nickname. [laughs] Actually, we just had too many Louises in our family—my mother and grandmother were both Louise—so I became Weezie.

CBA: When you were given credit as assistant editor, was that a bona fide position?

Louise: Whatever that means—I did letters columns, other columns… ad copy. It gave a title to what I was already doing.

DuBay, at that point, liked to deal with the stories and I only got to do that when he was out of the office—which happened, more and more frequently after he moved out of Manhattan to Connecticut. I always loved it when he was gone because I became editor-for-aday. [laughs] It was fun being an editor and doing stuff that editors did—and I was good at it.

CBA: Did you have favorite writers?

Louise: Bruce Jones was my favorite writer. He got a lot more work when I became senior editor because I really liked his work. My favorite writer of DuBay’s was Jim Stenstrum—I thought he was utterly and completely brilliant. He wrote a story called, “The Super Abnormal Phenomena Survival Kit,” brilliantly drawn by John Severin in the style of the Warren ads. (Jim Warren hated it because he felt that we were making fun of our own material which, in a way, maybe, we were.) In its way, it was just a brilliant story. To this day, when Walt and I watch a horror movie and see the people in the haunted house split up, and we say, “Get those folks a S.A.P.S. kit!” [laughs] That story had an impact on our lives! How many comics

have done that? Stenstrum also wrote “Hard John Apple’s Nuclear Hit Parade” and “Thrillkill.” I thought that everything he did was gold.

CBA: Jacob and Jones’ The Comic Book Heroes said that you were attracted to character-driven stories. Was that so?

Louise: Yes, I am. When I write, I usually come to a story through character—rather than through an abstract concept or a visual. I ask what the characters “wants, needs, gots-to-have more than anything in the world,” and what drive them to possess it. For me, character driven stories are almost always more interesting.

CBA: Did you seek to have your own editorial flavor?

Louise: What I wanted was to publish stories that I thought were really good and interested me. As an editor, I wanted to hire the writers who wrote the finest stories. For my money, Bruce Jones was really the guy who had “it.” Bill Toomey did some nice stuff, too, but his work was a little quirkier. As Jim Shooter once expressed it, an editor is there to decide. You decide on the work that most pleases you, that you find most interesting and aesthetically pleasing—and if you enjoy making those decisions, then you’re happy at the job.

Visually, the look of my Warren books changed when we hired Kim McQuaite—who was quickly moved up from production and given the title Art Director. Under Kim, the graphics became more modern and the overall look of the books became more contemporary and sophisticated.

CBA: Was it fun?

Louise: Being an editor at Warren? I loved it.

CBA: Archie, as an editor, would simply allow the artist and the writer to do the best that they could. There was something about Archie that made people want to please him. When you became senior editor, the books, to me, simply exploded with creativity. I think of one of my favorite stories, “In Deep” by Bruce Jones and Richard Corben, as a very human, character-driven story.

Louise: Those were the kinds of stories I liked best and consequently the kind of stories I bought. It doesn’t make sense to hire people who do one thing well and then force them to do something they don’t do as well. Maybe I got this from Archie: You hire the people who you think can do the best job and then just let them do it. You help them in any way that they require; whatever they need, you provide to the best of your ability. It’s absurd to try to interpose your vision on someone else when they have their own vision—if you don’t like their vision, don’t hire them.

CBA: Archie told me that by allowing an artist to do his best work, that the artist then would want to please him. Is that so?

Louise: Yes, of course. As a writer myself, I know that—you know that. If you have an editor who likes what you do, they get your best work, and it makes both of you happy. When an editor calls and says, “This is terrific!” you can’t wait to do the next page.

We fool ourselves into believing we work for the money—and the money’s nice… artists and writers have to eat like everyone else—but I think we really work for the audience; and the editor is the first audience that a piece of work has. So, yeah, sure! I agree with Archie. [laughs] CBA: When you started as senior editor, a lot of American artists started to come back in force. Heath, Severin, Toth….

Louise: They were so good, weren’t they? [sighs] John Severin!

The man was a perfectionist. The bulk of his work was done for the humor books—which paid much better than Warren did—and I felt very privileged to have him. Though I never met the man in person, I had a crush on him over the phone. He lived out in Colorado and I had a crush on him long distance. There was something so adorable about him that when I met Walter, I thought, “Y’know, he really reminds me of John Severin.” And that was Walter’s big selling point! [laughter] Funny, I don’t even know if John would remember me— and yet, today, every once in a while, I’ll hear Walter on the phone with some young assistant editor and I’ll think, “Yeah, maybe Walter’s her John Severin!” [laughter] CBA: You also had Alex Toth do quite a bit of work for you.

Louise: Alex is just wonderful and very dedicated—an artist’s artist and a brilliant designer as well as storyteller. We’d get his originals and be thrilled by the powerful chiaroscuro, the sophisticated simplicity and contrast, the bold design. Even on the pages with lots of blacks, you could see, beneath the strong blacks, that everything had been drawn. I thought that was very cool, that an artist could draw work in and then be bold enough to black in what he’d COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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drawn because the design—and the story worked best that way.

Besides being a brilliant storyteller and sophisticated designer, Alex is also very cool guy and a legend besides. How many artists get to be legends, I ask you?

CBA: Did you deal with Russ Heath a lot?

Louise: Oh, yes! [laughs] Russ, bless his heart, had very smart hands. Sometimes it would seem like his brain wasn’t paying attention but his hands always were—and, man, did we get some gorgeous work from him! He liked cannibalism stories! [laughs] That was a quirky thing—if you couldn’t get him to do anything else, you could offer him a cannibalism story and he’d bite! [laughs] He would always be one week late so you’d have to assign his story with a week to spare. That way he’d bring it in on schedule. It was just another quirk. (After you work with people for a while, you learn to work with their eccentricities.) Russ did a batch of beautiful stories in different styles; line, wash, pencil. One in particular—another Bruce Jones story—was about a young black man hunting a lion in Africa.

Russ rendered that one lovingly in pencil (if I’m remembering it right). Lots of lush, deep greys and loads of detail. Russ was really inspired on that one.

CBA: Did artists start coming in wanting to work for you?

Louise: I guess. I mean—it didn’t feel like there were whole groups of people trooping into my office. [laughs] But I guess most of DuBay’s artists had been S.I. [Selecciones Illustradas] artists from Spain (which I think was Warren’s preference at the time) though I think DuBay and I both worked with Alex Niño, Gonzalo Mayo, and Rudy Nebres. I brought in new artists, like Pepe Moreno and Leo Duranona, who weren’t S.I. artists. (Leo eventually went to California and did the station break art cards for the Johnny Carson show.

During the last show, Johnny actually thanked him on the air!) I worked with Walt Simonson, Terry Austin, Klaus Janson, Jim Starlin, Larry Hama—gosh, who else? Val Mayerick, Don McGregor, Paul Gulacy, Pepe Moreno—I know I’m forgetting people—some really excellent new, non-S.I. cover artists too… like Don Maitz (while we could still afford him), Ken Kelly, and Bob Larkin.

Eventually we had Carmine Infantino. He had been ousted from his position as publisher over at DC, and Warren promised Carmine as much work as he could do—little realizing just how much work Carmine could do! For a while, he was doing two stories a week.

CBA: 14 pages a week? Wow! Louise: I think he could have done twice that. Unlike our other artists, he worked at the office in the back room. He seemed like a private man. Mostly he kept to himself, though he was friendly enough. I think he enjoyed drawing, but also think having been forced out as publisher was difficult for him. For a while, the books became very heavily Carmine-influenced. Luckily, Carmine had been a long-time favorite of a lot of American artists who leapt at the chance to ink him.

Some of the Spanish artists were wonderful during that period, too. One of my favorite jobs was a haunting Bruce Jones story called “Magnificent Ephemeral.” Ramon Torrents drew in his decorative, linear, photorealistic style— very effectively. The S.I. artists were terrific. Ortiz, Bermejo, Sanchez, Maroto, were great. I was very privileged to work with a lot of very talented people.

CBA: Did you push for theme issues?

Louise: Occasionally. I enjoyed them when they seemed appropriate. One of the pleasures of working at a company like Warren was that, in a way, you had a lot of freedom. Theme issues stood out from the straight run of books, though some worked better than others. One of my favorite theme issues—and it sounds like a nutty experiment, now that I think about it!—was in response to some annoying fan mail. We would get letters from readers all the time saying, “Boy, that was a dumb story—by page three, I figured out the surprise ending!” and because I just got fed up with these letters, so I decided—”Look, put your money where your mouth is: We’re going to have a contest where we will print the first seven pages of five eight-page stories and you must guess the surprise ending. The first person who guesses all the endings correctly wins.”

CBA: Did anybody win?

Louise: One person—and we got a pretty big response. One other person guessed all the endings but one—and everybody else was way back in the pack. The joy of that was that it was maybe a year before we got another letter complaining about obvious endSpring 1999

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ings. [laughter] So that was fun. I enjoyed it and I think the readers did too; and maybe it made people buy the next issue—which is how I sold the concept to Warren! [laughs] I think that, when you reach the end of a really successful “surprise ending story,” sometimes the ending really is so perfect that it’s easy to tell yourself, say, “Oh yeah, I knew exactly what was going to happen!” I was amazed actually: I honestly thought more readers would call my bluff—and that’s why I said only the first person to guess wins. Never, in my wildest imagination, did I think that only one person would guess them all.

Sports issues were another experiment that didn’t work. It seemed to me that comic book readers and sports enthusiasts would probably be the same demographics. So I figured, “Sports horror comics, sure!

That oughta work!” Not! [laughs] Those actually dipped in sales and it became obvious that kids who liked sports were not the ones buying horror comics. That was a failure but it was worth the try.

I experimented with the covers, too. DuBay believed that if you put panels on the covers, people will think it’s interesting and buy it.

I thought they wouldn’t. So I tried it and checked the sales to try to find out what sold—and it turned out that panels didn’t sell… at least my books.

CBA: Sales figures were fully available to you?

Louise: Yeah. I don’t know how fully available but we could go back and ask the circulation director, Mike Schneider, and he would tell us how things were selling.

CBA: It’s interesting because, traditionally in comics, sales figures were guarded very closely.

Louise: At that time, there was a law that, once a year, you had to post the average circulation figures in any magazine sent through the mail. (At least, I think that was the rule. Maybe it still is…?)

These figures were semi-accurate—give or take. As for figures on specific issues, I’m not sure if Mike was supposed to give us that information, but I think Warren knew that we knew. In many ways, he was pretty innovative. At any rate, it was useful. It helped us tell our successes from our failures.

CBA: After a successful sales period, would you get bonuses?

Louise: Yeah. Warren was very generous with that kind of thing.

He expected us to work for the bonuses, he would give them to us, and then he would go into one of his… difficult periods when he’d all but say, “I paid you guys lots of extra money, and now you’re going to have to work harder and prove to me you deserved it!” [laughs] But that was all right. You go through a couple of years of this and you see how the patterns are.

It almost becomes an endearing trait (but maybe that’s just masochism talking).

CBA: Did you reach a point, like Bill did many times, of being exasperated?

Louise: I don’t think I got as

Below: Richard Corben’s cover artwork to Eerie #90. ©1978 Warren Publications

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Above: Great Walter Simonson and Terry Austin splash page to Bill Toomey’s story in Creepy #107. ©1979 Warren Publishing.

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exasperated as he did, no. At least, I didn’t express my exasperation by quitting all the time like Bill did—and the one time I quit, I meant it. Warren had licensed the rights to do a Famous Monsters of Filmland-type movie magazine about Close Encounters of the Third Kind—but all the really cool photos had been held back from him because Columbia didn’t want their surprises revealed before the movie appeared; they were really nervous about information getting out on that movie. At the same time, Marvel had the comic book adaptation rights. Archie was writing the comic book adaptation and Walter was drawing it. I mentioned to Warren that Walter had seen some cool photographs and the movie sounded great. Warren started pumping me for information—I began to get suspicious and clammed up. Turned out he wanted to use this information as leverage against Columbia Pictures to make them give him the cool, secret pictures. His argument was, here is this wild-eyed, woolly artist who had been allowed to see the pictures and Warren, this upstanding businessman, had not. So he called Columbia and complained and it got Archie and Walter into trouble. Even though I had never been told not to say anything about it I felt responsible, because it turned into this big deal. See… Walter had earlier been allowed to see some blurry footage of the mother ship and been allowed to scribble this rough sketch on a napkin with a felt tip pen… Let Walter tell you the rest because he was there.

Walter Simonson: I had walked into Marvel late one afternoon—they had been looking for me all day—and I was whisked up

to [publisher] Jim Galton’s office with Archie (though they had been unable to locate Klaus Janson, the inker on the project). There were two people from Columbia Pictures there and one of them was a PR guy who had previously shown us the pictures and the short video clip, and the other was a woman who explained that she was not a lawyer. (They didn’t say what she was but just that she was not a lawyer, which is kind of scary right there.) So they wanted us to sign a three or four page document that basically gave them the right to sue us for our back teeth if any information on the movie got out up to and including eight months after its release. There were several key scenes and each was given a date, so though the movie was released in November, we were unable to, for example, reveal whatever we knew about the mother ship until the following April. Bare in mind that we had only seen extremely fuzzy, 8” x 10” cropped pictures of the mother ship—we really had seen nothing of it—we had a script, no still, and we were shown a short video clip of the scene where they’re out on the road in the rural part of the country and the UFOs go shooting past (which looked great), but that was the only moving footage that we saw. Marvel did not have the right to use likenesses so we couldn’t use Richard Dreyfuss or anybody else who was in the movie; but the last condition was that we couldn’t reveal anything about the smiling alien at the end—we could reveal nothing about him until the following June, seven to eight months after the movie was released, on pain of them really suing us for our back teeth. This was in the days (‘77 or ‘78) when none of us had lawyers, there were no royalties (it was a piecework kind of thing). So Archie, Galton and I sat there, listening to this spiel, reading through it, and it seemed kind of ominous to me but I was still a relatively young, green guy. Galton—who was not young and green—got up, excused himself and went to show it to Marvel’s lawyers (who I believe at the time was Alice Donnenfeld). He wasn’t gone five minutes and he came back in, sat down—and I will always love Jim Galton for this—and said with a very charming smile, “I’m sorry but I cannot sign this onerous document.” I thought to myself, “Man, if Jim Galton isn’t signing this onerous document, then I sure as hell am not signing this onerous document.”

I didn’t have the napkin drawings on me so we sat and dithered around for a bit—I was worried about getting ahold of Weezie and telling her what was going on; I didn’t think she knew and this was kind of scary—and, at one point, Archie and I went downstairs to the sixth floor where I tried to call Weezie. I couldn’t reach her (it was about 6:30 in the evening; by then we had been up there well past closing) and Archie and I went back upstairs, and everybody was gone! We hadn’t closed the meeting as far as we knew but Galton was gone, the woman who was not a lawyer was gone, the PR guy from Columbia was gone. So we looked around and said, “Well, okay.” And we went back downstairs but nobody was there either.

“Well, I guess we’ll go home.” Again, I was concerned about Weezie running into a buzzsaw because she didn’t have any idea what was going on—and I honestly did not trust these guys not to go to my apartment (which was up on the West Side). Archie and I left together, and it was late enough in the evening that they had sign-out books, and we saw that Galton had signed out, so we knew that they had just gotten up and left. Marvel, at the time, was at Madison and 56th, so we could actually walk it but it was dark by then (this was right before the movie opened) and we didn’t feel like walking across Central Park with just the two of us. It was just beginning to rain lightly which meant there were no cabs. We waited for buses, we looked for cabs, but there wasn’t a blessed thing. At one point, we were heading down 57th St. towards 6th Avenue and I looked back to see an empty cab heading in our direction—and, oddly enough, 57th St. is empty of cars—so I hopped into the street to flag it down and, I swear to God, the guy pulled a U-turn in the middle of the block and headed into the other direction. [laughter] I was calling Weezie from every corner phone we came to. At this point, Archie and I just started laughing. We said, “Well, you know, we’re either destined to get home or we’re not. That’s all there is to it.” So, somewhere along the way, I got Weezie who had made it home. I said, “I’ll explain later but take the napkin drawings and the script and put them in my drawer. If anybody shows up, he doesn’t get anything until I’m there.” So we got home, nothing had happened, and Archie (who was then the editor-in-chief at Marvel) said, “Look. Give me the napkins; I’ll take them home. If anybody COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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shows up here, send them over to my place.” I said, “Okay, fine.”

Archie took the napkins—and we heard the rest of the story later.

Archie gets home and his wife, Anne, is serving tea or coffee to the PR guy from Columbia who had shown up at Archie’s apartment looking for the napkins. Archie makes the guy give him a receipt and he gives the guy the napkins. Now these are felt-tipped doodles on napkins done in three seconds from fuzzy photographs.

More than 20 years later I can draw a mother ship from those napkins just as well as I could at the time. It was berserk. That was my screwiest hour in comics—my worst experience, to date, of my career in comic books.

Somewhere in Archie’s apartment, there’s a receipt signed by some clown from Columbia, and somewhere at Columbia I like to think there’s some dumb drawings of mine on a napkin. That was a close encounter of the weird kind. It was very strange and so off the wall that I swore that I would never draw another adaptation of a Steven Spielberg movie; and I never have—I’ve written a couple: Raiders of the Lost Ark and Jurassic Park—and so far I haven’t seen any reason to break that promise. It was too goofy. Let me turn this back over to Weezie.

Louise: So, after this, I realized that Warren had sent the cat among the pigeons—that Warren had called Columbia and demanded that he be given the same pictures that the crazy artist had been given; and they said, “Oh my God! There’re pictures out there! Quick—confiscate them!” (Walter remembers this much more clearly than I do so he’ll get on the other phone.)

Walter: We later found out Warren suggested that if there were pictures at Marvel, by this time there must be a million Xerox copies all over America. Shiftless freelancers were just unreliable and if they were given reference material than it would be just all over America by this time. So he should get them too. Columbia freaked out (even though we only had napkins and no pictures).

Louise: Warren had misunderstood—or deliberately, perhaps misrepresented—what he…

Walter: He was trying to pry more material out of Columbia and he was very good.

Louise: So I typed up a letter of resignation. I really felt betrayed, so I just quit. I said, “I can’t work for anybody who would do this kind of thing.” I went in and gave the letter to his secretary (Jim wasn’t in), and I left.

Walter: That was on a Friday so we had a whole weekend to figure out what we were going to do without Weezie having a job.

Louise: “We’re going to starve to death here!”

Walter: [To Louise] It was before you were writing.

Louise: Right! I was just a poor pathetic editor.

Walter: And there weren’t a lot of editorial jobs floating around.

Louise: Interestingly enough, Jenette Kahn had called me several times earlier, offering me editorial positions at DC, but I had always just chosen to stay at Warren. It was too much fun there. You could run experiments! [laughs] So I had chosen not to go to DC and suddenly realized it seemed I had made a bad decision.

Walter: Warren came in Monday morning, first thing, and he found your letter on his desk and turned white.

Louise: At least that’s what his secretary told me. She asked, “What did you put in that letter?” And then Warren called and apologized to me and then he apologized to Walter! And, in the most graceful and charming way, he tried to explain his point of view, and how he had been so concerned because he had been denied these photos that would have made his magazine great. He said he honestly thought that Walter and Archie had been given them (which was against the contract or something).

Walter: He was wonderful! One of the things he said that I thought was so great was that, here, he had gotten all upset and, in the end, the only person who was going to lose was going to be him! Because he was going to lose his editor.

Louise: Oh, poor Jim Warren! He was such a character! He apologized and I went back and worked for him again—and he never pried me for information again. Truly, he hadn’t meant for things to explode like they did—it was just, like Lucy in Peanuts: He just “wanted his fair share… he just wanted what was coming to him!” [laughs] Walter: Who can blame him?

Louise: With Warren, things tended to get a little larger than Spring 1999

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they had to be—a little more dramatic sometimes. This was just one of those incidents.

CBA: Was Bill DuBay in and out of the offices over time?

Louise: When he moved to Connecticut, it was a really long commute to the offices. So he was working out of his studio and would come in every once in a while. A while after he quit Creepy, Eerie, and Vampirella, he started up 1984 and The Rook. He produced those two out of his studio in Connecticut.

CBA: 1984 took some critical heat for being overtly violent and misogynistic.

Louise: Well, it was, wasn’t it? [laughs] CBA: Did the content disturb you?

Louise: I suppose when I looked at it, I found it a little disturbing, but on the other hand, it was DuBay. You sort of roll your eyes. I don’t think DuBay meant evil by it. It was his personal fantasy! I have to say that in dealing with him, I never found him to be a misogynist. At any rate, it wasn’t my business to control what DuBay did but to make the books that I had control of the best I could make them.

CBA: Would you characterize yourself as a feminist?

Louise: Back then, I was too busy to characterize myself as anything; but maybe I was in that it never occurred to me that I — or anyone else—couldn’t do things because I was a woman. Earlier in the interview, I mentioned that Warren got a kick out of pushing people’s buttons..? DuBay had quit Creepy, Eerie and Vampirella, and Warren started looking around for someone to come in from outside the company and edit the horror books. I just hated the idea. So I went in to Warren and said, “I want to edit the books.”

And Warren said, “You can’t edit the books; girls can’t edit horror comics.” [laughs] Which, of course, was patently absurd, for a lot of reasons. Warren was just pushing a button and boy did I jump? [laughs] I said, “Give me six months. I will edit all the books and get them on schedule,”—they weren’t at that point—”and I will do it without an assistant—and in six months, we will renegotiate and if I have done what I said I’m going to do, I will be the editor with all the prerogatives.” He said, “Sure.” (No one ever said the man was stupid! It’s also possible that he intended to offer me the job all along, and just wanted me to say I wanted it.) Eventually he made me a vice-president—Warren Publishing’s highest honor, so there you go. I got to do really cool stories with really cool artists and writers—and got paid enough to live comfortably—and Warren, mostly, let me alone to do what I did best.

CBA: When was the last time you saw Jim? Louise: Until very recently, the last time I had seen him was at Warren the day I left. There was a growing belief among Warren’s employees that Warren had gotten bored with publishing. There were rumors that he was more interested then in real estate or getting into politics—that he planned to shut down the Warren Offices. So, when I went to lunch with Jim Shooter, and he offered me a job at Marvel, I accepted. (I think, too, I really was ready for a bigger pond.) At any rate, I accepted the offer and headed back to the Warren offices to tell him about my decision. The minute I set foot in my office, Jim called me in. He had found out from somebody over at Marvel that I had accepted a job and, before I could get a word out, he fired me. He must have had a pretty good spy at Marvel—somebody must have found out from Shooter and called him right away. He just completely blew his stack. I felt bad about that. I was really sorry someone else had called him and tattled like that. I would have tried to tell him more gently. I think he felt betrayed that I would leave Warren to go work for Marvel, actually.

About two years later, the company dissolved. I guess I saw the writing on the wall. I always remembered Jim fondly and was always sorry that it ended as it had. It’s hard to believe when you hear some of the more outrageous stories, but Jim was a sensitive guy. Mostly I saw the good side of him (although once in a while he would go psycho on us! [laughs} That just added a little spice… what can I say?).

CBA: Were you at Warren when you met Walt?

Louise: No. I was working at McFadden when Anne and Archie introduced me to Walter. I had known him about a year when I began working at Warren. In one week, I started working at Warren, started dating Walter, and Nixon resigned.

Coincidence or destiny—you be the judge! [laughs]

Below: Weezie hanging out at the Warren guest beach house in Westhampton, Long Island, in the Summer of 1974.

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CBA Interview

A Spirit ed Relationship Will Eisner discusses his experiences with Warren Conducted by Jon B. Cooke As the supreme master of sequential storytelling, Will Eisner really needs no introduction (but we’ll attempt a suitable blurb anyway!). Best known as the creator of The Spirit and writer/artist on a number of graphic novels, Will is also a passionate voice for the educational use of comics and the advancement of sequential art (the academic name he gave our art form) as a practical form of communication, universally recognized and clearly understood. He is also, as Jim Warren succinctly described, a “regular guy.” This interview was conducted by phone on February 1, 1999, and was copyedited by Will.

Above: Rarely-seen “Joe Dope” comic page as published in Army Motors, Vol 5, #4, July 1944 (cover below). This work led to Will’s 20+ year run producing P.S. magazine for the U.S. Army. ©1999 Will Eisner.

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Comic Book Artist: You’re one of the truly rare, early examples of an artist who retained copyright to his work, correct?

Will Eisner: For the “Golden Age” period, yes.

Nobody in comic books at that time owned his own work—that goes for Siegel & Shuster and even Bob Kane (he just got a very good deal).

None of them had the “muscle” to retain their copyright.

CBA: You’re also recognized as a pragmatic, sensible businessman. If someone had come up with a good enough price, would you have sold the rights to do The Spirit?

Will: It depends on the price. [laughs] After 1952 until 1964, The Spirit had no value as far as I was concerned. I kept the artwork for some reason and it was just lying in storage. (I am one who just doesn’t like to sell his original artwork.) As a matter of fact, I kept it in a vault and held onto every one of those stories—I had 250-odd stories. In subsequent years, I’ve been selling off bits and pieces (as my wife keeps pointing out, she doesn’t want to get stuck with them as a widow… but she doesn’t know that I have no plans to go before she does!) [laughter] Actually comic book pages had no value back then though, I suppose, I would have sold the character and the art if I had a substantial offer. I doubt that I would have sold it because, now that you make me think about it, Columbia Pictures came to me between 1952 and ’55 and offered to do a TV series on The Spirit—but they stipulated conditions which I felt were absolutely humiliating so I just walked out of the meeting. So, it depends on the time and the conditions.

CBA: Is this the chronology: You were in the service from 194145 and then you stopped doing government work? And, with the creation of your educational comics company, American Visuals Corporation, you started the P.S. magazine work?

Will: When I got out of the Army in ’45 or ’46, I went back to doing “The Spirit,” and I didn’t start American Visuals until 1950,

right after the Korean War started. I started the company because the Army came to me and asked if I’d be interested in reviving Army Motors, which I did, as P.S. magazine. By then, I had become interested in selling the use of comics and the medium as a teaching tool, particularly to industry. It all formed together.

CBA: The first revival of The Spirit occurred in a Warren magazine, Help! #13 (Feb. 1962), when editor Harvey Kurtzman reprinted a seven-page section. Do you recall how you were approached?

Kurtzman, I assume, was a fan of your work?

Will: Harvey called me. He said he was interested in reprinting some Spirit material. We knew each other. Harvey was a dear friend and one of the “giants” who added a level of quality to comics that influenced many of the cartoonists who followed him.

CBA: Do you recall the public reception of the strip reprint?

Will: No, I don’t think it was significant. Certainly Harvey never wanted to print any more. I don’t recall getting any fan mail.

CBA: Then, in 1965, Jules Feiffer came out with his book The Great Comic Book Heroes, which featured a Spirit reprint. Did that really reintroduce your character to a new generation?

Will: It probably did because in 1971 or ’72, when Phil Seuling held his July 4th Comic Convention, I visited it and, to my surprise, there were a lot of people walking around with the old Spirit comic sections. They were talking about The Spirit, and I remember saying to Phil, “How the hell do people know about The Spirit? I thought it was dead!” And Phil said, “No, there are a lot of guys around who remember it.” I must credit Feiffer’s book with calling attention to The Spirit.

CBA: And the New York Herald Tribune came out at around the same time?

Will: Yes. Around 1964, the Herald Tribune asked me to do a fivepage Spirit story for their comics revival article. I received mail on it but nothing really happened beyond that. I was, at that time, very much involved with American Visuals.

CBA: But since you had such an inventory of material you still owned the copyright to, were you looking to repackage The Spirit?

Will: By then I had realized that The Spirit had some life left in it.

Actually, I never believed that a comic strip, once it had suspended publication, would ever come alive again. So, in 1966, Al Harvey [of Harvey Comics] decided to reprint The Spirit stories which only lasted two issues. That was one of the first reprintings of The Spirit since the Fiction House newsstand comic books in the ’50s. I included a new origin story for them—but it didn’t go anywhere. The Spirit was never terribly successful on the newsstands in competition with the super-heroes. It always did best as a newspaper insert. The Spirit was not designed for comic book readers but for adults—that’s what attracted me to the feature in the first place, because it gave me an opportunity to do what I always dreamed of doing: Using the medium for literary purposes.

CBA: So in the children’s medium of Harvey Comics, The Spirit just didn’t click.

Will: Well, they also did Simon & Kirby’s Fighting American revival and that didn’t go for them either. Perhaps the time was not right for revivals.

CBA: Then, in the early ’70s, there were some reprints of “Spirit” sections. Was Denis Kitchen behind that?

Will: Not as “sections.” But as a comic book project it began with Jim Warren’s books. At that Phil Seuling convention, I ran into Denis (who at that time was starting an underground comic called Snarf) and he asked me if he could reprint The Spirit. At that time, I was astonished that it had any value, so I said, “Sure. You can reprint it.”

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There was another guy (named Gibson, I think) who did The Spirit sections in polybags. So Denis ran a couple of “Spirits” and after that I got a call from Stan Lee at Marvel who said he wondered if I would let them restart The Spirit—not as reprints but as a character in their comics line.

CBA: They wanted to license the character?

Will: Yes. By that time, I was running American Visuals, and another company, Educational Supplements, that involved producing social study enrichment materials for schools—selling it to teachers and colleges. These were substantial companies that needed full attention. So while I was thinking about Stan’s offer, I ran into Jim Warren. Well, Jim said that he’d like to run The Spirit on a reprint basis. I found that much more attractive. So I told Stan no, I would go with Warren—but that created a little bit of a problem because Denis had already gotten an inventory of stories, so the deal with Warren included that Jim would buy Kitchen Sink’s inventory to relieve Denis of the investment that he made. Warren then began publishing The Spirit as a bi-monthly and I began my relationship with Jim Warren.

CBA: Do you recall when you first met Jim? Will: I think I met Jim at a convention somewhere. He was “stealing” my employees [chuckles], like Mike Ploog. He would offer freelance work which lured a lot of guys over to Warren. Mike was working on P.S. magazine and suddenly I found out that he was doing freelance work. I said, “Who are you doing work for?” He said, “Jim Warren.” So when Jim and I met at that convention, I teased him about this. Of course, there was no way to stop anybody from “stealing” my employees. Jim said, “Well, you got the best staff of artists around town; I couldn’t think of a better place to go get them from!” [laughs] So I said, “I’m hardly flattered by that.” He then said to me, “Who owns The Spirit?” I said, “I do.” He said, “Would you be interested if I reprinted them?” I said yes and we made a deal that I was very happy with. I would rather have Jim do it than Marvel or DC because I felt if I did it with them, I would soon lose any personal connection with it.

CBA: Were you looking for The Spirit to be exposed to a more mature audience than you might have gotten in color comics?

Will: Yes. As I said earlier, The Spirit was designed for a more adult audience—actually a newspaper audience—and that was the reason I got into this in the first place. I left Eisner & Iger because I wanted an adult audience and the newspapers gave that to me. I felt doing the newspaper Spirit was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to reach out and go beyond the classic 14-year-old reader. Marvel didn’t offer me an adult audience and with the hope of Warren coming out with the format that he did, I felt that I would possibly get a more sophisticated audience; but I wasn’t thinking of going back and doing The Spirit again, anyway—the one I did for the Herald Tribune was a one-shot.

CBA: Did DC Comics make a pitch for The Spirit?

Will: No, I never had an offer from them at all. I never even approached them.

CBA: You said in a Comics Journal interview that Carmine Infantino had also expressed an interest.

Will: No, not The Spirit. They were interested in another thing: Carmine and Sol Harrison came to see me because they wanted to buy my educational comics business. We were publishing a series of comic books called Job Scene in which we introduce the work ethic, so to speak, to young high school dropouts. We were using the comics medium. Carmine asked me if I’d be interested in selling or merging with DC, allowing them to acquire the company—as a matter of fact, Stan Lee had the same interest at the same time.

But I was not interested.

CBA: Was this a part of American Visuals or its own company?

Will: It was a kind of subsidiary called Educational Supplements.

American Visuals was the parent company—we had divisions, and were publishing under different names. We were also contract publishing, doing a series of books for outfits like the American Red Cross or General Motors. Then the company expanded (it was doing very well) and we did a continuing flow of employee relations pamphlets for industrial companies.

CBA: Back to Denny Colt: Was it gratifying to have material that was over 20 years old find a new audience?

Will: Yes! It was surprising and I was astonished and couldn’t Spring 1999

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believe that this was happening. I never believed that a character that was closed down in 1952 would, 20 years later, find a new readership. That seems to be the fate of The Spirit anyway because it has been reprinted in entirety three times here in America—and just a few years ago it was reprinted in Spain, Italy, and Brazil—so I guess what I’ve got here is pretty much like Sherlock Holmes, which has also survived all of these years even though it was set in the Victorian period. Apparently The Spirit stories are still fundamentally sound. I was telling human experience stories rather than dealing with a super-hero that had a very shallow story base.

CBA: The longevity may also have to do that it was for, really, an all-ages audience.

Will: That’s right! I had a very unusual situation: I was blessed with the fact that he was in the newspaper whose audience consisted of mother, father, teenager, and little kids. I could go the whole range, any time I wanted.

CBA: At its height as a comic section, how many papers were you in?

Will: I think 19 or 20 papers. Circulation was roughly five million, which is not so tremendous when you consider some daily strips had 50-60 million circulation.

CBA: Jim Warren is from Philadelphia and he fondly recalls reading The Spirit in The Philadelphia Record. Did he express to you his admiration?

Will: When we first ran into each other, he talked about how he remembered The Spirit and loved it. Philadelphia was one of the pilot

Above: Unpublished cover art by Sanjulian originally intended for The Spirit #1. Will’s reaction to the art caused brief friction in his relationship with Jim. The Spirit ©1999 Will Eisner.

Above left: Will Eisner at the Eisner & Corben party held at The Plaza Hotel in 1974. Above: Will and Rich Corben at the same shindig.

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Above: Friends indeed. Will Eisner (left) and Jim Warren reunite at the 1998 San Diego International ComiCon. Photo by Gloria Goldberg.

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cities for the section.

CBA: Warren first ran The Spirit as a color section in Eerie. Do you recall that?

Will: But he went to b-&-w for the regular book. It’s very difficult to license The Spirit in color because there are no color separation films available—they were all printed on metal plates and those are now gone.

So it’s almost impossible to get the original Spirit coloring. In Europe, they recolored the whole series by European artists.

CBA: Did you have a preference for color or b-&-w?

Will: I prefer The Spirit in b-&-w—I prefer all of my work in b-&-w, to be honest with you. I believe the black line is a more pure contact with the reader. Color tends to obliterate or interfere with the flow of the story. I try very hard to make emotional contact with my reader early and to maintain an intense relationship as the story goes on. I find that anything that interferes with that is counterproductive.

CBA: Did the adding of tones bother you?

Will: That helped some. I found that more tolerable than the color because greys added dimension to the art.

CBA: Do you still have the original art from The Spirit sections?

Will: Yes, I have most of the original art from the stories that I did— but not the ones that were done in 1942-45, while I was in the Army. I don’t have any done by Lou Fine, Jack Cole—none.

CBA: You supplied the proofs to editor Bill DuBay at Warren?

Will: I gave them proofs and they made the film. What they decided to do was not to reprint chronologically (the way that Kitchen Sink did it later); they did those stories on a selected basis.

Bill DuBay would select a series of stories (for whatever reason; how they decided I don’t know) and they ran the series erratically. I would have preferred them to be run chronologically because some of the stories did connect. I never ran a long continuity but once in a while I’d run three or four stories that had a connection.

CBA: You were listed as an editorial consultant for the magazine?

Will: I don’t remember how he listed me but I guess I was a consultant. Financially, we were paid for a publication license to the rights—for a “one-time” usage.

CBA: Did you have any editorial input?

Will: No. There was no need. The only thing I insisted on controlling was that I would do the covers; I would do the line drawing and somebody would underlay the coloring. For instance, one of the early Warren covers had my drawing of The Spirit running on an elevated railroad track, and Bill had Richard Corben do the paint coloring.

Occasionally he would have someone do a cover painting that I would object to. Occasionally, we had a little brouhaha in Jim’s office over a cover rendering but we got along very well otherwise. There was one pulp cover artist who did one, and I walked into Jim Warren’s office (Bill DuBay was there at the time) and I said, “Over my dead body!” [laughs] I’m usually very generous with publishers; I give them a lot of room because I usually pick a publisher whose judgement I respect, so I really don’t have much occasion to contradict what he’s doing—but, in this particular case, the cover was pretty awful and I put a stop to it very quickly. Actually, I thought highly of Jim because he was responsible for raising the level of art in comic books by bringing a wave of Spanish artists who were brilliant illustrators. I think historians of this medium should recognize Jim for this.

CBA: Did you suggest to put your line drawings over Rich’s colors?

Will: Yes. Jim and I talked about it. Jim had a different taste in cover art; he didn’t feel that my watercolors had enough power to sell. He needed something that was brighter and more attractive. My paintings are a little bit more subtle or pastel, if you will, as you can see from the Denis Kitchen series that I did later on. So we settled on

the fact that I would do line drawings and a painter would come in and paint under it.

CBA: Did you retouch the art at all?

Will: No, I never touched the art. It was very hard for me to do that because I have a terrible tendency to try and go back to correct what I’ve done before. [laughs] But I did a couple of original stories for Denis Kitchen and a cover for Snarf, and I did do the covers.

CBA: Was the Warren series successful?

Will: For a while it was. I think the first issue sold 175,000 copies and then it began to dwindle.

CBA: Coinciding with the Seuling cons, did you perceive a resurgence of interest in your work because of the Warren magazine?

Will: You mean people calling me up to hire me for something? The answer to that is no, because during the Seuling conventions I was still a busy CEO of an educational publishing company in Connecticut. After I sold the company, I decided to go back to writing and drawing. I started doing graphic novels; I didn’t want to do any more publishing. First I did a couple of satirical books, Gleeful Guides. They were a series of four books (it was a fun thing). A Contract with God came after that. It was the first graphic novel.

CBA: Were you sensitive about the reception Ebony would receive to the ’70s audience?

Will: Look, I was never apologetic for the way I depicted Ebony. As a matter of fact, I was very comfortable with the way I did it.

Remember, Ebony was created in the ’40s and, at that time, you still had Amos & Andy. That sort of humor was prevalent and acceptable at the time—but I always treated Ebony very differently. As a matter of fact, I received very good mail; even in the Warren books you’ll see some supportive letters. This is not widely known but I was probably the first to have a Black detective, Detective Grey, who did not speak with the minstrel dialect. I treated Ebony very lovingly for a long time, and I was no more a promoter of civil rights (I never thought of myself as being involved in the Civil Rights movement) than I was a feminist creating strong, intelligent women—these were my standards; these were the kind of people I liked and admired.

CBA: At the core, your characters are human—there is a true humanity about them. What I mean is were you sensitive that Ebony would be misinterpreted (as he ended up being to some degree)?

Will: Oh yeah. I got mail from both sides. I got a letter from the Afro-American papers in Baltimore complimenting me on the way I treated Ebony. On the same day, I received another letter from a couple of fellows I had gone to high school with (in my radical days when I was going to change the world) and they said I betrayed socialism because of the portrayal. Oddly, the letters both came on the same day—I should have saved them.

CBA: What kind of man is Jim Warren?

Will: Today, he’s a lot more settled down than he was when I met him. When I knew him as a businessman, he was a lot more feisty and a little bit more aggressive than he seems to be today. (But then, of course, we all age.) At the time, I enjoyed working with him; he and I, we had a lot of business arguments—the problem for Jim was that I write my own contracts because I had a certain amount of business experience, so he was dealing with me not quite the way he dealt with other artists; but we got along very well. As far as I’m concerned, he was a fine person who I enjoyed working with. Other people had tough things to say about him—Wally Wood was unhappy with him and couldn’t get along with Jim (but, then again, Wally Wood was a difficult person himself). But there are always three sides to every story—but, as I said earlier, Jim should be credited with publishing books with a high art standard.

CBA: The Spirit lasted 18 issues with Warren. Was the shift (retaining the sequential numbering) immediate over to Kitchen Sink?

Will: It happened almost immediately. Denis had originally done those couple of Spirits before Warren, and by the time the Warren Spirits discontinued, Dennis had built his little publishing company into something a bit more substantial. He said he would like to continue The Spirit, and I said, “Fine. I’ll go back with you.”

CBA: So, though it only lasted a few years, the relationship with Warren was beneficial?

Will: Yes, it was very beneficial and the book ran as long as he could sell enough copies to keep it worthwhile. We got along very well and we’re still friends today. I saw him in San Diego last year and we had a good time. We keep in touch.

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CBA Interview

“Captain” of the Company Flo Steinberg discusses (spider) monkey business in the office Conducted by Jon B. Cooke What can you say about effervescent Flo Steinberg?

Undoubtedly best known for her stint as Stan Lee’s secretary during the early days of “The Marvel Age of Comics,” Flo also ran Captain Company, Jim Warren’s merchandising department, during the mid-’70s, during which she also produced the fondly recalled underground, Big Apple Comix. This interview took place via phone on February 4, 1999, and was copyedited by Flo. Comic Book Artist: What did you do after leaving Marvel?

Flo Steinberg: I left Marvel in March of 1968. It was time to get on with life. Unfortunately, people don’t believe it but it was a job, not a calling. I have friends there to this day (and I’m back working there), but I thought that I should do more than answer fan mail (which was an honorable task, of course).

CBA: On leaving, was the company being bought by Perfect Film?

Flo: No. When I was there Martin Goodman still owned the company, so I imagine the changeover happened right after I left.

Then I went to work outside the field at American Petroleum Institute, a trade organization, where I learned how to proofread and copyedit. (At Marvel, I didn’t have any marketable skills, so API prepared me better for Warren.) Then I moved to San Francisco and stayed a year. I went there because that hippy-dippy thing was happening, and I was friends with some underground cartoonists, like Trina Robbins and Michele (Brand) Wrightson. When I came back to New York in 1972, I went looking for work and heard there was a job at Warren. My contact was Jim Warren, who I had known.

CBA: When did you first meet Jim? Flo: I think I met him at one of those very early comic book conventions, even before Phil Seuling’s shows. It was at Dave Kaler’s convention which was held at a hotel that eventually fell down!

[laughs] I just remember meeting with him and talking. There was a lot of life and adrenaline in him, and, of course, he was very sure of himself—not all that common among comics people.

CBA: What were your duties at Warren?

Flo: I was in charge of Captain Company, the mail order business of Warren Publishing. I worked with all the rubber spiders, giant balloons and six-foot Vampi posters. It was pretty neat. It was a go-go place where everyone had a good esprit, and the books were great.

It was fun (and I’m not one who looks at work as fun). Warren was at 32nd & Lexington Avenue. It was a regular nine-to-five job; we Spring 1999

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each went to our alcoves and worked. Jim would have little pep talk meetings and little parties, or he’d chastise us if we were being bad. [laughs] CBA: Did you manage a staff?

Flo: Captain Company was just really me because everything at Warren was done minimally.

There were some guys in the mail room. It was a small office with one side for editorial and the other was my area. Bill DuBay was the editor when I first arrived and, towards the end, it was Tim Moriarity. I eventually left looking for another job, but I would come back on a freelance basis, helping with the mail, purchase orders, and mail order fulfillment. It was quite a wonderful storeroom of mail order stuff! The ads were the most fun to make up.

CBA: You made up the ads?

Flo: Yes, some of them. Had to sell those ant farms! [laughs] And sometimes people would return the spider monkeys they had bought (the monkeys were a drop-ship item); one time one was sent back to the office and it was hopping around. Feh! Ebola! [laughs] CBA: What was Jim like in the office?

Flo: Jim was really something else. He was very helpful to me when I started up Big Apple Comix—he let me store my books there and gave me advice. Jim Warren did fine by me. Though other people thought he was brusk and erratic, I thought he was great. He was a idiosyncratic guy—it was his company and he could do what he wanted. He had a unique management style but what made him really special was that he truly cared for everybody and could be very supportive. He turned out to be one of the good guys in the business. (And underneath all that bravado, he was a big pussycat.) [laughs] CBA: What was Big Apple Comix?

Flo: It was a one-issue underground comic book I did. I lived out in San Francisco for a year, where most of the underground comix were being published. When I got back to New York, I thought it would be nice to do an underground about New York. The underground seemed to be such a San Francisco thing and I thought we should have one. So that was how Big Apple Comix started; I just imposed on people I knew—Wally Wood, Neal Adams, Larry Hama, Ralph Reese, Marie Severin, Herb Trimpe, and so many others worked on the comic. They got about $10 a page! [laughs] It was a nice time. I was working at Warren when I did Big Apple. I was hoping it would sell well and it did get some nice write-ups. It’s sort of politically incorrect when you look at it now, and while I was embarrassed about it for a few years, now I think it’s a riot! [laughs] I’m really fond of that book.

CBA: Did it make you any money?

Flo: I made the money back and a little more; but I was doing so much myself—the shipping, the orders—and it got so tiring. I had a mail drop at Neal Adams’ Continuity Studio at 48th St., so I’d go up there to get my mail. That was the time of ACBA (Academy of

Above: Ain’t she a peach?

Adorable Flo Steinberg diligently at her desk as manager of Captain Company, Warren’s merchandising arm. ©1999 Flo Steinberg.

Left: Looking over a contact sheet of the Eisner/Corben party photos, who is that I discover? Could it be Archie Goodwin and Flo having a chat back in 1975?

continued on page 113 103

CBA Interview

The Bruce Jones Touch A conversation with one of Warren’s best writers Conducted by Jon B. Cooke Bruce Jones is a certified member of the “Macabre Mob”—a group of enthusiastic artists who emerged from the late ’60s to dominate comics art for a time, which included such luminaries as Bernie Wrightson, Michael W. Kaluta, and Jeff Jones. Bruce, a noted artist as well as renowned scribe, produced some of the most memorable stories for Warren during the ’70s. He went on to package the fondlyrecalled Pacific titles Alien Worlds and Twisted Tales. This talk took place via phone on February 1, 1999.

Above: Bruce Jones modeling for Bernie Wrightson, circa 1975.

Next page: Bruce Jones also served as the visual inspiration for Richard Corben with this cover depicting Jones and Corben’s greatest collaboration (in ye editor’s estimation, at least), “In Deep,” from Creepy #83. Oddly enough the cover wasn’t used until the story was reprinted in Creepy #101. It was originally rendered in b-&-w, with Richard coloring through his elaborate process of acetate overlays for separating the color plates. ©1976 Warren Publications.

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Comic Book Artist: Where are you from?

Bruce Jones: I was born in Kansas City, Missouri, and grew up in St. Louis and Richmond, Virginia. I lived in New York City for eight years doing the comic book work, and have since been transplanted to California.

CBA: Were you into EC Comics when they first came out?

Bruce: I was a little young for EC when they were being published. I remember my cousin having a couple of issues but I didn’t see that many until later when I found back issues in bookstores for a nickel a copy. As a kid, the comics of my generation were mostly nonsuper-hero. I came of age in the 1950s and, even though I sort of missed the EC heyday, I was still very influenced by the non-super-hero comic books (though comics were just one of the things I was reading). I was a veracious reader and most of the stuff I ended up doing for Warren (or anybody really) was based on the short stories and novels I was reading, as well as comic books. The comic books were a factor because I was drawn to the short story type of horror and science-fiction kind of comics rather than the super-hero or the funny animal stuff (though I liked the Disney stuff—I remember I had a subscription to Walt Disney’s Comics & Stories, and I thought Carl Barks’ stuff was brilliant). It was always the more anthology oriented short story stuff that I was drawn to. Super-heroes were on the way out and didn’t come back big until I was already in college in the ’60s.

CBA: So did you read Ambrose Bierce and H.P. Lovecraft?

Bruce: I read Lovecraft and that stuff, and I liked it, but I was a really big fan of Ray Bradbury, Richard Matheson and Charles Beaumont. I liked the fantasy more than the hard science-fiction (though I read Arthur C. Clarke, Isaac Asimov and those guys).

CBA: Were you into The Outer Limits and The Twilight Zone?

Bruce: I liked The Twilight Zone but I especially loved The Outer Limits—I thought that stuff was just great.

CBA: Were you attracted to the darker and more grown-up aspects of The Outer Limits?

Bruce: Definitely. It was especially that first season which was so dark—the way it was filmed with that Gerd Oswald photography with those weird angles. All the stories were pretty oblique! And I enjoyed Thriller; when that show was hot, it was really hot! I recall the episode adapting Robert E. Howard’s “Pigeons from Hell” was just a masterpiece. Even today, it is creepy.

CBA: Were you also clued into other anthology television— Playhouse 90, Paddy Chayefsky, Rod Serling’s “Patterns”…

Bruce: You watched what you had and we had three channels— CBS, NBC, and ABC. That’s all we had and it was all black-&-white.

In the early ’50s, it was all original live productions and you either watched that or you didn’t watch anything! We were lucky. A lot of it was just being lucky because though there was a lot of crap, there was also a lot of really fine work by Chayefsky, Serling, and others. I was just assimilating this stuff, not knowing that that age was going to pass and America was going to get into a lot of really crappy TV. A lot of it was over my head; I recall watching Serling’s “Patterns,” and I had no clue what that was about, but you pick up more than you think you do, I believe, and that stuck with me and affected my work later on. I was very lucky to live through that period.

CBA: Did you want to work in comics?

Bruce: I just wanted to work. I wanted to be a writer, I wanted to be an artist, I wanted to be an actor, I wanted to be a director. I wanted to do something that involved storytelling and, after college (where I studied art because it was easier than engineering) I knew that I was going to have to go to New York or California—but I didn’t have a clue how to get involved with movie making (I had no connections), and I had corresponded with a few people in New York and comics seemed easier. There seemed to be a logic to the comic book business: You put your portfolio together, put the stuff down on a table, and somebody said yes or no. That was it! But how the hell do you go out and make a movie? And screenwriting sounded harder to do than novels (for a long time I didn’t know how to make a living in the novel business, though finally became successful at it).

But I knew that I was good enough to draw some pictures and that someone in an editorial office would look at them and I could probably get an appointment. It was the path of least resistance, I suppose.

CBA: You artwork evokes a strong Al Williamson/Frank Frazetta influence. Were you especially clued into those guys?

Bruce: Oh, yeah. I think all of us were. Hal Foster was my biggest influence, more than anyone. I grew up with Prince Valiant and it really stood out in the Sunday newspaper—and, when I collected the EC comics in the used bookstores, the Al Williamson stuff really stood out. So when I moved to New York, I found out that Al was still there and still drawing! It was a big thrill meeting him at a comic convention—and then becoming his friend! It was a childhood dream come true. It was the next best thing to meeting Hal Foster. Frazetta was the same way because we just idolized the man—never mind there was no living to be made at it! We never stopped to think about that! We just thought, “We gotta do that!” When you’re 20 years old, all you want to do is be a terrific artist; you don’t worry about whether there’s any money to be made in it or how laborious it may be or how low paying. You don’t think about that, you don’t have a family yet. Also you think about the rational things like, when I moved to New York in 1968, the was no more anthology work, no one gave a hoot for science-fiction, and super-heroes—Stan Lee’s Marvel stuff—was ruling the roost.

The first office I walked into was Marvel and I had all this Fosteresque, Williamson kind of fantasy work, and (though I haven’t a clue who the editor was at the time) I put my work on the desk and the guy just didn’t have a clue. He looked at it and said, “What in the world!” Kirby was who you’re supposed to emulate and I was emulating Williamson—the guy must have thought I was out of my mind! I probably was; I don’t know where I thought I was going to get work! The only salvation was that I wasn’t alone; there were guys like Mike Kaluta, Jeff Jones, and Bernie Wrightson who were also into that kind of stuff. So we hung very closely together because we were all that we had! Of course, Bernie was so good and versatile that he was able to literally draw anything, and he could find work.

CBA: Did you meet those guys at the 1967 World Science-Fiction COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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Above: Russ Heath’s dynamic linework from his and Bruce Jones’ collaboration “Process of Elimination,” (Creepy #83) an unnerving story with a (literally) earthshattering twist in the end.

Wotta tale! Note Russ’ margin request to the Warren production department not to reverse the caption—a habit Russ found occasionally unnerving himself. ©1976 Warren Publications.

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Con in New York City?

Bruce: I think I missed the first one when they all met Frazetta.

Those guys all knew each other. Jeff lived down on West 79th St., and Bernie and Mike were rooming together on 72nd St. (or fairly near Jeff). We were all starting out in the business. I think Archie Goodwin was about ready to leave Warren when we got to New York.

CBA: Pretty quickly upon arriving in New York, Bernie and Mike found some assignments at DC. Carmine Infantino pretty much took them under his wing. Did you aspire to joining them?

Bruce: I should have aspired more because I would have made more money, but I never found that DC or Marvel had the mentality that I sought. There wasn’t that much of interest up there for me.

CBA: Even Joe Orlando’s mystery books?

Bruce: They were pretty tame compared to what I was used to, and I was never a very fast artist, anyway. It was tough for me in the beginning. I thought that comics were very children-oriented and that I was a more serious, adult-type of guy. I always felt that Bernie would have been just great at EC; I guess Frankenstein is his masterpiece, but I always thought it was interesting that guys like Wrightson came along in the late ’60s when comics were really pretty bland—they were not very good and not very imaginative. The guys at the helm just didn’t have the wherewithal to place guys like Bernie and know what to do with them. Also, you have to remember that the Comics Code was still very much ruling the roost in those days; you couldn’t do the things you could before and they would really come down hard on you. For a guy whose expertise was drawing the walking dead, there’s was a limited amount of work for guys

like Bernie—which is what made Warren so wonderful. Warren was a breath of fresh air because you were virtually unbound—for the most part. Sex was still pretty much taboo, but the horror was actually encouraged so that was great and we were so drawn to the company. Plus the larger size really helped a lot. In the glory days of Warren, the other comic companies were using terrible printing techniques and they just got worse and worse—the steel plates went to plastic and the fine linework became squiggly and the color was abominable. Warren, by comparison, had really good printing.

CBA: Were you into Creepy when it first came out?

Bruce: Absolutely, from the very first issue. It had that great Frazetta job about the werewolf. I was in college, just rummaging in a bookstore, and came across that Creepy. I had no idea it was coming out or anything about it, and I remember that Warren was one of the big draws to move to New York. I thought, “Yeah, if I can go there and work for this outfit, that’s what I want to do.” I was tremendously influenced by Creepy and Eerie. I had read Famous Monsters and the other Warren books, but I had always felt that I was too old for that stuff. The Creepy stuff was just where it’s at!

CBA: Did it feel like an EC revival?

Bruce: We really wanted that. Archie was a very capable writer— and the idea was to have the freedom in a magazine that you couldn’t have in a comic book. Unfortunately, by the time I got there, Archie was pretty much on his way out and things were in a turmoil.

CBA: Were you into the fan scene?

Bruce: There wasn’t much of a fan base at that point, but what little there was—and it’s an odd thing—was a way to make a living.

Guys were very, very serious about their fan projects and there were a lot of fan publications that gave me, Kaluta, and Bernie work. Not only would they let you publish your black-&-white job in their magazine but they’d actually pay you for it! That was kinda neat. You could do anything you wanted to do.

There was a book called Web of Horror published by the guy who did Cracked magazine. Web was his way of doing a Warren book and that was the other outlet for our kind of work. There really weren’t a lot of outlets. [laughs] In a lot of ways, it was a grim time.

It was tough just keeping body and soul together. If my wife hadn’t had a job at Macy’s, I don’t think I would have made it.

CBA: Bernie told me a great story about working at Web of Horror where you and he ended up being de facto editors of the magazine.

Bruce: The publisher (a guy named Sproul) was such a screwball that he had no clue what he had. There was a really good guy named Terry Bisson who was editor, but he went off to do better things and became a writer. He left one day and so the magazine was wide open. Bernie and I went up there and said, “Just to keep this thing going, we’ll do all the work! We’ll just do everything.” We just wanted to keep it going because it was an outlet for our work, and also because of the control we would have; but Sproul was such a peculiar man that we would take the train out to Long Island to see him and the guy would not be there. After three or four times of that, I finally asked the secretary, “We had an appointment so why doesn’t he show up?” She whispered to me that he was actually there behind the door but he didn’t feel like coming out. He was a very strange guy. [laughter] So that didn’t go anywhere. Some of those stories were salvaged and printed elsewhere eventually.

CBA: Web #4’s inventory, yours and Bernie’s first issue, was missing?

Bruce: Artwise, almost all of it. Bernie and I ended up with a big pile of art and we had enough for maybe two or three issues. It’s a crying shame really that someone didn’t get in there and continue it because there was some really good stuff. Bernie had a terrific job. If we had been able to pull it off, we would have just gotten more and more guys on board—because we knew Williamson and Frazetta. It was just a case of us being too young and really not understanding the business.

CBA: Was that your first taste at editing?

Bruce: Yeah, and an early taste of just sorting through the fan mail and doing paste-up work. We really worked hard on getting that one issue together. I remember Bernie had a cover for it—it was a three-armed man. We cleaned up the layout and made it a lot more of an illustrative magazine—taking out the blurbs and crap that Sproul had put on them. (The fourth cover featured my original logo; by the third issue Bisson called me and said, “We can’t get the logo together—it’s just junk. Can you come up with something?” I came up with five or six versions.)

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CBA: When did you have your first published story?

Bruce: It was for Web of Horror. I can’t remember even the name of it now, but it was some kind of time travel thing with a wrecked spaceship, Williamson-kind of figures, and naked women. I drew and wrote it, and Terry Bisson bought it. I was amazed because I didn’t even have it finished; I just had three or four pages and I was taking it up as a sample of my artwork to see if I could get on as an artist.

Terry looked at it—and, of course, it didn’t have an ending—and he said, “This is okay but how does it end?” I think I made something up at the spur of the moment and he looked up and said, “Fine.

Finish the last page and I’ll buy it.” I was shocked as I walked out of there with my first sale—I couldn’t believe it. The page rate was $32.50 a page for artwork—God knows what it paid for writing! We must have all been out of our minds! It was crazy.

CBA: Warren during that time was in the doldrums. Did you choose not to go to Warren?

Bruce: I remember thinking as I first hit the streets of New York that, almost to the month, Warren was in a lot of trouble and was starting the reprinted stuff. Where I had hoped to get on was a place that was in a lot of trouble—and he didn’t come back from that until a year or two later. What happened with me was that Jeff Jones and I had become very good friends, and he was married to Louise at the time. I had not much luck with selling material as a writer or an artist to Bill DuBay—I met with him a couple of times and I think he was less than ecstatic about my work—but I wrote a story called “Jenifer” and he liked it a lot. (I don’t remember how Bernie got involved.) They printed it and apparently it caused some commotion, and shortly after that, DuBay left and I moved away from New York, and the next thing I know, I got a call from Louise Jones who was now the editor. We were already old friends, so that helped, and she offered me work. She said, “I loved ‘Jenifer,’ so what else have you got?” And I said, “As much as you want!” She said she’d pay me top rates and to send it in. So that’s really how it started. In all the years I wrote for Warren, I don’t think she turned down a single story. That was the best relationship I ever had with an editor in my entire career—of anything, whether it’s movies, TV, or novels—and she bought everything that I ever mailed in, and with almost no comment! It was incredible! I was living in a dream world and I didn’t know it! I thought, “Oh, this is just par for the course,” but nothing could be further from the truth. She was just wonderful.

CBA: At Warren, you might say that there were two styles of editing: Archie and Louise giving the writer pretty much carté blanche to do their best work; and then there’s a more controlling method of Bill DuBay who rewrote much of what reached his desk. Did you write to please Louise?

Bruce: I don’t think there’s any question about it. One of the first editors to realize that you simply allow a writer or artist to do their best work was Bill Gaines at EC. I’ve read that Bill would really lavish praise on the art when he went over it with Feldstein or Kurtzman— of course he had stellar talent at his bequest, but at the same time, I know that that is why those books looked so consecutively great. I know that when I would turn a story in for Weezie, she would always praise it and say, “You’re one of our best.” If more editors realized that artists and writers have very fragile egos and consider their own work as an extension of themselves, they would get better work. It’s not that hard; all you have to do is be nice—but you tend to get more and more interference, and all that does is make the creator feel less and less secure, and you end up with less than desirable material.

CBA: Louise mentioned that your stories are character-driven and not necessarily by gimmicks—normal people involved in extraordinary situations. Was that your approach to storytelling—trying to explore character more than situation?

Bruce: I always seem to write about the single man up against the wall—I don’t know why; it’s probably just some peculiar facet of my personality—and I tend to write about things that are happening to me at any given time. If you had to go back and explore every single story, it’s probably embarrassing. They all seem to have something to do with sex and paranoia, and I’m sure that an analyst will look at a story of a man and a woman afloat in the middle of the Atlantic with sharks pecking away at them and find all kinds of Freudian things in there (that I would find distinctly unpleasant). At that time, I had a way of tapping into my psyche that I wasn’t particSpring 1999

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ularly aware of. It did become character driven because of whatever personal paranoia was happening in my life at the time. Psychological pieces were also the kinds of things I did; but let’s face it: I had great artists on my work and I was a very lucky man. It was completely serendipitous that I had moved away from New York and back to Kansas City, where I grew up, and just happened to have Rich Corben live a few blocks from me. I didn’t even know him when I lived there before I started working. He had lived there all of his life and I was there a good portion of mine, so we were able to get together, compare notes and talk about the story. It was just pure luck. You don’t get guys like that, and Bernie Wrightson, Russ Heath—my God! These were extraordinarily talented guys whose styles were just made for that motion picture type of storytelling that I was trying to do. I don’t think that you can recreate that; I tried to do that to a certain extent with Twisted Tales for Pacific Comics years later and, in some ways, I think I was successful but I just think that everything has its time and place. Weezie was there, Warren was there, Bernie was there, Corben was there, and all those talents who happened to be in that mix at that time. It was like The Outer Limits or EC! People say, “How come those shows were so great?” Well, they were great because there were talented people involved who happened to all be there at the time. It’s very hard to get that mix together; it’s complete serendipity.

Above: Still more pencils for the Wrightson/Jones masterwork, “Jenifer,” which appeared in Creepy #63. These are from page four. Art ©1974 Bernie Wrightson.

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Above: That ain’t no happy hippo, partner! Russ Heath mentions in his interview this issue how much he looked forward to stories with O. Henryesque, twist endings.

Here’s a doozey from the reincarnation story, “Zooner or Later,” (Vampirella #78) written by the twisted maestro, Bruce Jones. ©1979 Warren Publications.

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CBA: This might be a silly question: Was the lead character of “In Deep” based on you?

Bruce: Because I was in his proximity, Corben used to take a lot of pictures of me and use me as a model. There was a girl named Karen Gilbertson that he also used.

At the same time we were working on these stories (“In Deep,” “Time and Time Again”), we were involved in home moviemaking and Karen was an actress who was in the movie, so she was around at the time. Karen, Corben, and I were spending time together, so she became a natural part of that.

She was in several stories; she was in the time-travel trilogy. So that was her hair and her figure; Corben girls tend to all be buxom but in that case, that was really Karen. She was a dream. She worked up in Macy’s with my wife and we were casting about for a model so Karen said she was interested. I remember I brought her to Corben’s house and his jaw dropped to the ground. It was nirvana; like finding Marilyn Monroe! He used her a lot; she was willing and able, shall we say, to pose in any manner necessary.

CBA: Did you collaborate with artists on stories?

Bruce: Basically they received a script but that’s not strictly true.

Weezie and I would maybe talk briefly on the phone about who might get something. I remember that since I lived near Corben, I knew when he was finishing a job up, and I think I would recommend something. Louise was very good about that. Of course, I would mention who I would like to work with. For instance, I was always trying to get Russ Heath when I could. Of course, Warren had a limited budget and they had to work with a certain amount of European artists—including a lot of people whom I respected but wasn’t crazy about their style—so you went along with what you had to, but for the most part, we were really very lucky. She had to do what she had to do, and I think she tried to marry good stories with good artists whenever she could. Let’s face it: Warren didn’t have a lot of money to spread around.

CBA: Could you make a living from the writing?

Bruce: That’s a subjective question; it depends on how you live. I always lived beyond my means and wanted to live a certain lifestyle, so I always had to have my wife working at the same time. To live my life the way I wanted to—to answer your question, no, I couldn’t.

CBA: Would you rather have been writing novels or screenplays?

Bruce: Yeah! I would have loved to be making more money and writing novels at the time. I just didn’t have a clue of how to break into the field—but my principal goal was just to tell stories; I just loved to tell stories. I would have accepted work in any of those fields.

Comics was just another way to make a living. If my stories were distinctive (and this is not to pat myself on the back), the inspirations were drawn from short stories; that was in the flux of my system and what I grew up on. If you look at them, they tend to read like short

stories; they’re probably a little too verbose with too many captions and too much dialogue, and I was no great master of the medium, but I think that there is a trick and a way of using comics—a real skill—and I don’t know if I used it all that well; but I tried to write well and, if I did a good job at that, I think maybe I inspired the artist to do a good job—and there probably could have been a better collaboration between the two. Basically it was me turning in a script and the artist going with it, with Weezie being smart and talented enough to figure out the logistics in-between (where she did a very good job).

CBA: Did she do any editing to your work?

Bruce: Well, she was the editor. I don’t recall that when I would reread them later—not that I did reread them very much—that I saw a lot of changes, if any. I really don’t know. I didn’t look at the stuff that much; it was a job that was the best that I could do. I don’t find a lot of pleasure in rereading my own material. I don’t like my own work that much, so I try to avoid rereading it at all costs.

CBA: Are you too self-critical?

Bruce: No, but I know good work when I see it and I know good writers, and I don’t think I’m that good. It is, of course, always disappointing. I’d look at the art but I wouldn’t reread the stuff.

CBA: You were receiving some notice as a “hot” writer?

Bruce: Yeah, but I took a lot of that with a grain of salt because it always seemed to me that the stories that they would say, “Boy, this Bruce Jones is really terrific,” were invariably the stories in which the art was terrific. They would always say it about the Corben, Wrightson, or Heath stories, and I knew that I had written stories that I thought were just as good or better and had been given to artists who were indifferent, and no one would ever comment about them. [laughs] CBA: Well, it’s arguably a wedding between the two.

Bruce: It’s a funny medium; it’s more like movies in that it’s a very collaborative form, and not one to be selfish or egotistical about, because you do have to work with someone else; and the best artists know that, and they take advantage of that, as do the best writers.

One is very dependent on the other. Sometimes you have to let the story tell itself through the pictures in order for it to work; you have to give in to the artist. You were constantly having to do that with what is called the Marvel way of working—collaborative from the get-go. You turn in a synopsis of a story and give that to the artist.

So the writer would have to write around the pictures and, to me, that was a miserable way of working—I hated doing that. I wanted to write the story first and then have the artist draw to it.

CBA: Was it your intention to have Bernie work on “Jenifer”?

Bruce: It’s all very vague in my mind. As I recall, Bill DuBay was just about ready to leave Warren, and I had not been able to get anything by him—but I turned that story in and he really went wild for it and it could be, somewhere in the mix there, that Bernie caught wind of it; but I just don’t recall. I do know that I was delighted to learn that he was drawing it, and I was really very anxious to see how it was going to work.

CBA: The amazing thing about that story is one can really identify with the guy—the sensuality of that Twilight Zone-faced woman…

Bruce: Again, it probably had a lot to do with what was going on in my head at the age of 32 or whatever I was. Something was probably going on between me and a woman. We probably had a fight and, like all husbands at one time, we feel trapped in that situation.

These things are reality-based somewhere along the line.

CBA: But you never grabbed an axe. [laughs] Bruce: It never came to that; you extrapolate on these things.

CBA: I used to publish a fanzine devoted to horror fiction and I was always struck by how awfully normal and nice horror writers tend to be. Do you agree that you were able to vicariously release some of your inner demons through your work?

Bruce: I never thought about it that way at the time, but looking back, it certainly seems that way. I think a psychiatrist would have a field day with this stuff! You get the germ of an idea and you go with it; you don’t question where it comes from. It’s undeniably true that it has something to do with what’s going on in your life, and somehow you’re able to tap into your inner demons. Unless you’re just a hack, sitting there swiping from somebody else or your whole approach is just to make a buck; but if you’re really sincere, and trying to create a piece of work…

CBA: Are you healthier for your work?

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Bruce: Oh gosh, I don’t know. I never thought about it in those terms. The fact that I’ve always been driven to do it says that it’s a release. I’m compelled to do it—but the business end is always the most disappointing part! [laughs] That always comes later and is always invariably disappointing and not what you think it’s going to be at all.

CBA: I recall some great stories drawn by Russ Heath [“Process of Elimination”]. One was of a man who systematically kills his wife, kids, and mistress—whom we obviously think is a terrible person— only to show that he mercifully killed them so they wouldn’t suffer the nuclear holocaust we see in the last panel, totally shifting our sentiment. That last page sent a chill that I still remember.

Bruce: That was weird, wasn’t it?I used to work as story editor on an HBO show called “The Hitchhiker,” and it was an anthology show we tried to make into a Twilight Zone-kind of thing. Something a lot of people don’t know is there was a story (one of my favorites) called “Man’s Best Friend” (directed by Phillip Noyce who did Dead Calm) which was actually based on a story for Warren called “Hellhound,” illustrated by Russ. (That was the only time Weezie pulled a fast one on me and changed the title—it was originally called “Stalking.”) It was essentially lifted from one of my old comic book stories and the HBO people will probably come after me now! [laughs] CBA: Did you have any communication with Russ?

Bruce: Russ actually came to live in Kansas City for a time, just a few blocks from me. We got together on one of my favorite Warren stories, “Yellow Heat.” It was the story of a little African boy who goes out to kill a lion and you think he’s doing it to win this girl, but the twist in the end is that he’s a cannibal and he ends up eating her!

That was the prize! And Russ did this marvelous job, and he came over, we discussed it, and he borrowed one of my books on Africa for reference. It was one of the best jobs he ever drew! It was just stunning, just pencils and soft shades. I gotta tell ya: It was just stuff you don’t see any more, y’know? It just ain’t around. I just consider myself so lucky to have been a part of that. When it was good in those days, it was very good.

CBA: Do you still draw?

Bruce: I really don’t draw at all anymore. I was never very fast and I like my artwork even less than I like my writing. I really loathe my drawing and was never comfortable with it. I always thought that it was out of sync with my time; I draw like Hal Foster and everybody around you is drawing super-heroes, so [laughs] there’s a real discrepancy there. I was never like Bernie who could sit down and draw anything. It was tough for me.

CBA: Did you get to know Jim Warren at all?

Bruce: I think I got to know him as well as anybody can get to know a guy like Jim Warren. He was a very complex, singular individual. Bigger than life kind of guy. I was close to him and working with him, I got to know him as well as anyone. He was a very interesting guy; multi-faceted personality. He could actually be very charming and very giving to a fault even. I remember calling him out of the blue from a payphone when I was having some particular trouble with some publisher, and I called him just for some advice. I don’t know what prompted me to call him—it may have been on a separate business matter—but we got to talking about an agent or something, and Jim was very, very sweet and very caring. He listened to a lot of stuff he didn’t have to listen to; he was a busy man running a company and I was singing the blues about something. It was a nice thing to do. He tried to help a young kid out. I know that he has a reputation for being curt and in some cases, maybe even ruthless, but I think a lot of that was bravado, an image he liked to present.

Underneath it all, I don’t think that Jim Warren was any different than the rest of us: He was just a guy trying to make a living and he had a soft side, too. A real interesting character.

CBA: Did you quickly move over to Marvel from Warren?

Bruce: I went to Marvel for one reason: Because Weezie brought me with her. She left Warren and it was just another matter of getting a phone call. She said, “I’m over here now; do you want to come over?” I can remember my initial reaction was one of real consternation because I admitted to her on the phone, “I don’t know if I can do that stuff, Weezie. I really have no affinity for super-heroes at all and don’t know if I can do it.” She said, “Well, we have this Tarzan knock-off character called Ka-Zar who is more reality based,” and I read Edgar Rice Burroughs as a kid, so I said, “Yeah, I’ll take a whack at that.” The other thing she had me working on was Conan.

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So she knew what she was doing and where my strengths lay, so it worked out okay.

CBA: What was your highpoint working for Warren?

Bruce: I don’t think it was any single story. The highpoint came when Weezie would pair me with those guys I wanted to work with and it all would just come together. (Sometimes that would backfire: I wrote a story called “Reagan Redux” that I thought was one of my absolute favorite stories. I know that this wasn’t Weezie’s fault because it was a budgetary problem, but it was a story about a little boy and his dog who lived in a trailer in the desert with his mother. A stranger comes to the door and, to make a long story short, it was a time twist thing and the stranger falls in love with the mother but it happens that the stranger is the little boy. It was one of my very favorite stories but, unfortunately, it was assigned to an artist (who wasn’t bad), José Ortiz, who had no concept of how to draw really American stories. So this kid is a classic ’50s kid with the classic ’50s dog—a collie—that you and I have all seen on Lassie, and he ends up with a poodle! [laughter] It was horrible! And the splash, which was supposed to be this kid running over the sand dunes with this collie, is instead running with this fluffy-tailed poodle and I knew I was in trouble right away! It didn’t get better from there. You get stuck and there ain’t a darned thing you can do about it! It was nobody’s fault and just one of those unfortunate things.)

CBA: Lost in the translation…

Bruce: Really lost! The guy had no clue at all! But that wasn’t his fault; he was trying to do his job like we all were.

Above: Unpublished splash page to the unfinished story “Odysseus Denied” by Bruce Jones and Russ Heath, a 14-pager originally intended for publication in a Warren magazine. ©1999 Bruce Jones and Russ Heath.

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CBA Interview

Russ Heath’s Horrors The great artist on Help!, Blazing Combat & Cannibals Conducted by Jon B. Cooke

Below: Page to the story “Yellow Heat,” (Vampirella #58) a twist-ending cannibal tale written

by Bruce Jones. Jones, Heath and Weezie all fondly recall this macabre story—with exquisite art

by Russ—in their interviews this issue. ©1977 Warren Publications.

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Russ Heath is one of the finest artists the comics field has ever produced with a career spanning over 50 years. Weaned on Atlas western and horror comics in the ’50s, and developing on the “Haunted Tank” and Sea Devil stories for DC in the ’60s, Russ’ finely detailed and exquisite talent came to full force in Jim Warren’s black-&-white comics of the 1970s, in such memorable tales as “Yellow Heat,” “The Shadow of the Axe,” and “Zooner or Later.”

What follows is a candid phone conversation taken on February 7, 1999, with Russ providing the final edit.

Comic Book Artist: When did you first meet Jim Warren?

Russ Heath: I met him when I was modeling for a fumetti in

Help! magazine. At one of the New York cons years later, I was robbed, Jim was there, asked me if I needed cash and gave me $200.

(Which I thought I would get back to him in a week or two but I was having problems.) About two years later [laughs], one day I walked into Jim’s office and said, “I owe you $200.” He was amazed and pulled out a form to file a small claims suit from his desk and said, “I was going to do something about that, but I decided not to. I just tucked this in the drawer and kept it there.” So we ended up with me doing a lot of work for Louise Jones and Bill DuBay, the editors. I had known Louise when she was married to Jeff Jones.

CBA: You worked with Harvey Kurtzman on “Little Annie Fanny” for Playboy in the ’60s.

Russ: As I recall, Harvey had his solid core of artists and I was the nearest one on the outside. I never quite made it inside. I realized, years later, that all I had to do was have lunch with him to get more work. I used to call him and we’d go to lunch and then he would always give me a job; but it took me five years to realize that if I had called him for lunch a helluva lot more I would have had a helluva lot more work. [laughs] There seemed to be a definite correlation.

I did some stuff for Mad comics: “Plastic Sam” and the “Heathy Girl,” a take-off on the Petty Girl, which appeared on the “Spring” issue. I also did “Hairless Joe,” a Breck Shampoo ad lampoon for Trump. I worked on all of Harvey’s books. I was in a couple of the fumettis for his Help! magazine, and that was a lot of fun.

CBA: Was Gloria Steinem there?

Russ: Yes. As a matter of fact, I asked her out. [chuckles] She declined. Back in those days, she was the Girl Friday in the office for Harvey. Harry Chester was the production man.

CBA: Did you enjoy working with Harvey?

Russ: Very much so. We had a lot of fun. The part I did on “Little Annie Fanny” is very hard to explain. There were all kinds of chores.

I’d sometimes show one page and explain that I did the figures in the background in this panel and Willy Elder did both of the figures. In the second panel he did Annie and I did the guy that’s with her and the background. The third panel was the reverse. Then the next panel I did both the guys and Willy did the background. So there were no rules; we would just jump back and forth. Because of time constraints, we would sometimes cut the pages apart so that each of us could be working on a half of it, putting it together later. Then I had other chores: Harvey would first make b-&-w thumbnails the size of the printed page and Hefner would make all his notes and changes. Then he’d make up a color one and Hef would have more notes with more changes. Then a tracing would be made full-size to go on the board and that’s where Willy and I came in—he would do part and then I would do part. Harvey tried to pull in all of the guys he normally worked with: Paul Coker, Jr., Jack Davis, Arnold Roth, and others. All of those guys were extremely unique—like Coker and Roth—and their personalities didn’t always mesh with the Annie Fanny “look” we were trying to achieve. I had the job of making it consistent, using an electric eraser and rub out what Harvey told me to rub out. I remember sitting there and taking out nearly two-thirds of a panel; you had to go slow with an electric eraser or you heat the surface up and it starts to break up —I’d sit there for three hours just on one panel.

CBA: Harvey even brought in Frank Frazetta to work on the strip.

Russ: That was the one time I met him. We met in New York (because I was flying back and forth to Chicago). Finally I went to quit one day because I had been asking Harvey for more money for quite some time—but he kept saying, [emphatically] “But you’re working for Playboy! Hugh Hefner! Wow-wee!” And the pages cost COMIC BOOK ARTIST

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Hefner maybe $4000 apiece—probably the most expensive feature in the book. They took so long to do. So one day, after I had been up all night in my New York apartment working on the stuff, Harvey called and said that he would pick up the job at 8:00 A.M—but he didn’t tell me that he was bringing all his young daughters with him. [laughs] So I’m standing there in my skivvies, open the door, and all these girls run in. I’m looking at the job he dropped off and it’s covered with cut-up tissues, and I’m sticking those on with sticky tape over five overlays—everything is sticking to everything and it’s a total goddamn mess. So I’m looking at all this stuff with all the changes and waited until Harvey got home and I called. I said, “Harvey, why don’t you turn around, come down here, and pick up all this stuff?

I’m done. This is too much; I can’t handle it.” So he got panicky and by 5:00, Hefner was on the phone. Now, Hef knew I loved coming out to Chicago and I hated New York (I was getting paranoid of the crime and whatnot), so he said, “I’ll double your salary, give you my old office to work out of, and pay expenses to move you out to Chicago.” That was an offer I couldn’t refuse. So that’s how I got to Chicago. I was seven years in Manhattan, seven years in Chicago, and seven years in Connecticut. I’ve been out here in California since ’78.

CBA: Where were you living in the ’70s?

Russ: Before I moved back from Chicago to New York, I asked Carmine Infantino at DC, and I asked him if they could loan me the $2000 it would take to move. I said, “You can take it out of the work that you give me until I’ve paid it off.” So that’s how I got back to the New York area though I actually moved to Connecticut—I was just a little too paranoid about the city. You couldn’t carry enough ammunition and grenades to ride the subway at the time. I lived in Westport, which is one of the nicest towns in Connecticut.

CBA: Did you hang out with the Westport cartoonist community?

Russ: No. It’s a strange thing: I found out after I was there a number of years that a bunch of them would meet once a month and they’d lunch together. I called up Stan Drake one time to find out where I could get a Xerox and he knew me by reputation, and it took us about three years before we actually met each other. I used to ride the train in now and then with Dick Giordano and Curt Swan.

I never got into that group. Maybe I was too busy chasing women— I kept hoping that maybe I was going to catch one of them.

CBA: When you signed on with DC, was it an exclusive contract?

Russ: No. I just took whatever they gave me. I also did some jobs for National Lampoon and Carmine said, “What are you doing? You owe us…” I said, “As long as you’re paid back, it doesn’t matter who I’m working for. I’m doing stuff for you but I didn’t say that I’d do it only for you.” He was annoyed but I thought, hey, I never said this was an exclusive. It was paid off eventually.

CBA: I admired your Warren and National Lampoon work as a kid, but for some reason or another, I didn’t pick up your “Sgt. Rock” work. I’m literally going through a second childhood now seeking out that work. Your art in every issue is just unbelievable!

Russ: One of the things that led to that is, if you’re working away and not paying very much attention, your artwork doesn’t improve over time. During the Sea Devils assignments, a lady who was living with me had been to three different art schools, and they finally told her, “We can’t teach you anymore; you have to get some experience.” But here I was with nothing but experience and no schooling.

I didn’t understand a lot of principles like, let’s say, the theory of negative space. If something worked great, it was an accident—I didn’t know why it was great and I didn’t know why the bad ones weren’t working. So she taught me a few simple principles and I took a big step forward.

And, later on when I was doing “Sgt. Rock” and living in Chicago (out there working on “Little Annie Fanny”), I worked on the DC stuff on the side and exclusively by mail. The ’60s was quite a time in the world. [chuckles] Most nights I’d be out, in my sandals and bellbottoms, chasing girls, drinking, and doing all the good stuff, so I was having trouble getting my stuff in on time. It was driving Joe Kubert, my editor, up the wall. I remember one time he got so mad, he said, “If you were here in New York, I’d punch you right in the mouth!” I thought, “I deserve it!” [laughs] But I would try to make the stuff so great that it would startle the people when they unwrapped the package in New York. That’s when I tried to make each one better and different than I’d ever done before, trying to make up for being late. I did some of my best stuff then.

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CBA: Do you always rely on photo reference?

Russ: Rarely. I started out to be an illustrator and, of course, they work a lot from photos—but if you can’t correct the photograph, then you’re not an artist and you just become a photocopier. So I did things like build the airplane models to get an understanding of drawing them.

CBA: In the ’60s, you only did one story for Warren, “Give and Take,” from Blazing Combat #4?

Russ: I don’t recall the years, but I did about two dozen stories for Warren. I remember that story was in 1966 because I was working for Playboy at Above: the time. I decided that I had to do a really The finale of great story because the guys who were the Goodwin/Heath appearing in this books were my opus “Give and Take,” peers and the best from EC. So Blazing Combat #4. Right: Russ I took one of the Playboy as model for the same story. photographers on a Saturday and had him shoot 40 pictures to work from for that story. Although it lacked characterization (because I was the model for everybody in it!), it certainly got remembered in a helluva way. It’s funny: All the guys for that particular issue did great jobs and I’m glad I did that. It cost me a lot of money in time—it was a month and a half to do seven pages (because I went out and bought fatigues, web belt and a lot of stuff; and I did a lot of research).

CBA: Did you interact with Archie Goodwin?

Russ: A great deal. He wrote probably the nicest thing ever writ111

Above: Hey, who is that masked man? The denouement to “Dime Novel Hero”—another delightfully clever twist-ending by Jones & Heath. ©1979 Warren Pubs.

Above: Always appreciative of a pretty face, that’s Russ Heath as model in the Help! #13 fumetti, “The Mariners.” The girl is Lydia Wilen. ©1962 Central Publications.

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ten about me for a convention program bio that appeared during the ’70s. It was really a great thing to write. He wrote that when my packages came from Chicago, they would gather around and they would say, “What has that son of a bitch done this time?” So they’d open it up, ohh and ahh, and then they’d go back to their desks and typewriters. He wrote that maybe they tried a little harder because of seeing my work… or maybe it didn’t have anything to do with it—but maybe it did. It was a very flattering piece.

I mostly worked with Archie on stories he had written. Some of the writers had no sense of the picture that had to be drawn, no visualization, they couldn’t imagine the scene. A few of the writers drove me nuts as to what they wanted to show; they wanted to have 65 people drawn with 25 of them speaking, all with expressions on their faces. They had no visual sense. One time Archie sent me thumbnails—rough sketches of each page about two inches tall—and I thought, “I don’t want to be influenced.” So I put them aside and did my own thumbnails from the written script, and I compared mine and Archie’s. I planned to choose whichever one I thought told the story best.

Y’know, out of the 40 panels, there was only one that was different! [laughs] We both saw exactly the same thing! That shows you that he had top notch visualization; he actually saw the picture in front of him as a storyteller. I can’t sing any higher praise than that.

CBA: How was it dealing with Warren’s editors?

Russ: One of the nice things was that they thought enough of my stuff to offer me three scripts and I would pick the one I liked best, sending the other two back. I got a real kick out of doing some of them.

CBA: It’s interesting that you only had one Warren story during the ’60s. Did you have any interest in doing a horror story? Were you pigeon-holed as a war artist?

Russ: Eventually I did all kinds of stories but I was in Chicago between 1965 and ’73—and I started working heavily for Warren after I came back to New York.

CBA: Do you recall the other Warren artists?

Russ: Well, there was great stuff. I remember seeing Neal Adams’ first job and thought the guy must be 50 years old because he was so damn good. Then when I found out that he was this young genius… [chuckles] I had never heard of Neal Adams and I was struck by his first story for Warren. I eventually came back to New York and met him, and we became good friends.

CBA: You did some great stories with Bruce Jones.

Russ: Yeah. We seemed to work very well together. He’s an artist to begin with so that helped a lot.

CBA: A story that jolted me as a kid was “Process of Elimination.”

Russ: The one with the guy who kills his children, his wife, and his girlfriend? I used to go nuts to try to get a story with a unique ending—like that African thing, where the whole story leads you to believe that this guy wants to make love to a girl and, on the last page, you find out he wants to barbeque her! That just cracked me up! Of course, I handled it very seriously with the drawing. Jim Warren loaned me an expensive book to work from to do the research, and that made the story a lot better. I still got it. [laughs] In that story they revised a caption and the type ran a little long above this guy’s silhouetted head and it just stops, so it looked liked the top of his head was cut off! [laughs] CBA: Louise says that you liked to do cannibal stories?

Russ: I think that that was about the only one I did. There was one where a guy who’s dying of cancer goes over to Africa, looking for a cure, and there are these hippopotamus-worshipping natives way out in the bush who were supposed to have the secret of rebirth. He goes there, falls unconscious, and he wakes up, reborn— but the trouble is he’s a baby hippo! [laughs] CBA: You also did a story that you wrote (though dialogued by Cary Bates) called “The Executioner.”

Russ: I wrote that? I only recall writing “Easy’s First Tiger” [Our Army at War #244].

CBA: You worked with young Dave Sim for “Shadow of the Axe.” Russ: I was in gear for that one. Kids are so damn difficult to draw; I did quite a bit of illustration and photographic research for the kid—the proportioning of the head is so important. If you draw it too wide, you’ve aged the boy three years. I enjoyed that story a lot.

Although they reversed all the captions to white lettering on black and in a couple of instances, it didn’t work.

CBA: Did such intense attention for detail rub off from Harvey?

Russ: That had a good deal to do with it. My father used to be a cowboy (before he met my mother) so, on Saturday afternoons when I was growing up, he would take me to these western serials— The Lone Ranger, Tom Mix, Buck Jones—and he’d see these cowboys and say, “That’s not right! No cowboy would wear that; this is what he would of had.” So I got very fussy about drawing real things. Of course, with the war stuff you figure a G.I. is going to look at it and say, “This guy was never in any damn war—look at this!”

That ruins it when something stands out wrong. You’re trying to show reality and you have to try twice as hard when you’re drawing it as opposed to making a movie. That became one of my fortes to get all the nuts and bolts right. Apparently it was very well appreciated. I just had a guy send me some stuff—he is a very good illustrator, a top still life artist, and his stuff is beautiful—and he included a three-page letter and wrote, “I became an artist because of you, looking at your comics as a kid.” That’s nice to hear when you figure you’ve had that effect on people.

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Flo Steinberg continued from page 103

Comic Book Arts). It turned out to be a nice monthly meeting for people to get out of the house—it was a social thing. Neal fought for reprint rights, the return of artwork, etc., but at that time the generation of comic book guys were family people and they weren’t interested in any kind of a strike. I think they thought it was too radical. They had been through that comic book depression in the ’50s and weren’t interested in demanding things from the publishers. So it just didn’t work then but they eventually got their art back anyway.

CBA: You knew Archie Goodwin pretty well?

Flo: Oh, Archie was the best. In the last five or six years, we rebonded after being friends way back. I had been diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, which he also had. He called and for the next five years I would see him every month or two for lunch; we’d go out and make jokes about cancer (because you couldn’t do that with your other friends). He’d make me laugh and we’d talk about the side effects of chemotherapy—he was my whole support system.

I’ve been luckier than him. I just adore him—if he was a religion, I would join and worship him. The Archie religion!

CBA: And he’d probably be the first person to knock it!

Flo: Archie was unique.

CBA: Who else do you recall from the old days at Warren?

Flo: Gray Morrow used to come in. He was a real nice guy, quiet and very bright. I also knew Jeff Jones and Mike Kaluta, though it’s been a zillion years since. My best friends are Linda Fite and Herb Trimpe. They’re my favorite people—I’m godmother to two of their kids and just love them to pieces. One of the few times I leave the city is to go upstate to visit them.

CBA: What was Wally Wood like?

Flo: Woody was super. He was very selfabsorbed, of course (as all these geniuses are!).

He was very sweet and smart. He could read people really well.

CBA: Did he get along with Jim? Flo: Y’know, each thought himself the smartest person in the world and Woody was not very good at taking direction. They were both very stubborn and you couldn’t tell Woody anything about his artwork. I think that Jim liked to tease him. (Jim and his mind games!)

CBA: How long did you work at Warren?

Flo: Maybe about three years? I got tired of the grind. I had to do the ordering, write the purchase orders, listen to the complaints, and it got to be too much work. I have this habit of working long and hard, and then doing nothing for six months; but I worked freelance with Warren until I got a job with Arts magazine— something completely out of comics and a place I stayed for 12 or 13 years. That was my big job: I was managing editor: Preparing the copy, working with designers, going to the printers; but they’re not around anymore. Then I freelanced at print houses for many years, proofreading galleys. Today I’m back working at Marvel—though I’m a proofreader now—no more girl friday!—and I share a cubicle with George Roussos.

I’ve been back about five-and-a-half years, after becoming healthy again. I’m a lucky one!

Above: Flo’s great one-shot underground. An unbelievable roster of contributors grace the inside pages, plus this cover by Schwartzberg, Hama, Kirchner and (yes) Wood. ©1975 Flo Steinberg.

CBA’s Jon B. Cooke is back with his new mag, Comic Book Creator!

Make ready for COMIC BOOK CREATOR, the new voice of the comics medium!

TwoMorrows is proud to debut our newest magazine, COMIC BOOK CREATOR, devoted to the work and careers of the men and women who draw, write, edit, and publish comics, focusing always on the artists and not the artifacts, the creators and not the characters. Behind an ALEX ROSS cover painting, our frantic FIRST ISSUE features an investigation of the oft despicable treatment JACK KIRBY endured from the very business he helped establish. From being cheated out of royalties in the ‘40s and bullied in the ‘80s by the publisher he made great, to his estate’s current fight for equitable recognition against an entertainment monolith where his characters have generated billions of dollars, we present Kirby’s cautionary tale in the eternal struggle for creator’s rights. Plus, CBC #1 interviews artist ALEX ROSS and writer KURT BUSIEK, spotlights the last years of writer/artist FRANK ROBBINS, remembers comics historian LES DANIELS, talks to TODD McFARLANE about his new show-all book, showcases a joint talk between NEAL ADAMS and DENNIS O’NEIL on their unforgettable collaborations, as well as throws a whole kit’n’caboodle of other creator-centric items atcha! Join us for the start of a new era as TwoMorrows welcomes back former Comic Book Artist editor JON B. COOKE, who helms the all-new, all-color COMIC BOOK CREATOR! (And don’t miss the double-size Summer Special #2, paying tribute to JOE KUBERT, this July!

80 pages, $8.95 • Full-color • Quarterly Digital Edition: $3.95 Subscriptions: 4 ISSUES, $36 US with FREE Digital Editions • DIGITAL ONLY: $15.80 ($45 First Class US • $50 Canada, $65 First Class International) • Subscriptions include the double-size Summer Special

TwoMorrows. A New Day For Comics Fans!

TwoMorrows Publishing • 10407 Bedfordtown Drive • Raleigh, NC 27614 USA • 919-449-0344 • FAX: 919-449-0327 E-mail: store@twomorrowspubs.com • Visit us on the Web at www.twomorrows.com

THE ORIGINAL GOES DIGITAL!

Go online for an ULTIMATE BUNDLE with all print issues HALF-PRICE!

The forerunner to COMIC BOOK CREATOR, CBA is the 2000-2004 Eisner Award winner for BEST COMICS-RELATED MAG! Edited by CBC’s JON B. COOKE, it features in-depth articles, interviews, and unseen art, celebrating the lives and careers of the great comics artists from the 1970s to today. ALL BACK ISSUES NOW AVAILABLE AS DIGITAL EDITIONS FOR $3.95 FROM www.twomorrows.com!

TwoMorrows Publishing 10407 Bedfordtown Drive Raleigh, NC 27614 USA • 919-449-0344 E-mail: store@twomorrowspubs.com

Order online at www.twomorrows.com COMIC BOOK ARTIST COLLECTION, VOLUME 3 Reprinting the Eisner Award-winning COMIC BOOK ARTIST #7-8 (spotlighting 1970s Marvel and 1980s indies), plus over 30 NEW PAGES of features and art! New PAUL GULACY portfolio, MR. MONSTER scrapbook, the story behind MARVEL VALUE STAMPS, and more! New MICHAEL T. GILBERT cover!

(224-page trade paperback) $24.95 • ISBN: 9781893905429

#3: ADAMS AT MARVEL #4: WARREN PUBLISHING

#5: MORE DC 1967-74

#1: DC COMICS 1967-74

#2: MARVEL 1970-77

Era of “Artist as Editor” at National: New NEAL ADAMS cover, interviews, art, and articles with JOE KUBERT, JACK KIRBY, CARMINE INFANTINO, DICK GIORDANO, JOE ORLANDO, MIKE SEKOWSKY, ALEX TOTH, JULIE SCHWARTZ, and many more!

Plus ADAMS thumbnails for a forgotten Batman story, unseen NICK CARDY pages from a controversial Teen Titans story, unpublished TOTH covers, and more!

STAN LEE AND ROY THOMAS discussion about Marvel in the 1970s, ROY THOMAS interview, BILL EVERETT’s daughter WENDY and MIKE FRIEDRICH on Everett, interviews with GIL KANE, BARRY WINDSOR-SMITH, JIM STARLIN, STEVE ENGLEHART, MIKE PLOOG, STERANKO’s Unknown Marvels, the real origin of the New X-Men, Everett tribute cover by GIL KANE, and more!

(80-page magazine) SOLD OUT (Digital Edition) $3.95

(76-page magazine) SOLD OUT (Digital Edition) $3.95

#6: MORE MARVEL ’70s #7: ’70s MARVELMANIA

NEAL ADAMS interview about his work at Marvel Comics in the 1960s from AVENGERS to X-MEN, unpublished Adams covers, thumbnail layouts for classic stories, published pages BEFORE they were inked, and unused pages from his NEVER-COMPLETED X-MEN GRAPHIC NOVEL! Plus TOM PALMER on the art of inking Neal Adams, ADAMS’ MARVEL WORK CHECKLIST, & ADAMS wraparound cover!

Definitive JIM WARREN interview about publishing EERIE, CREEPY, VAMPIRELLA, and other fan favorites, in-depth interview with BERNIE WRIGHTSON with unpublished Warren art, plus unseen art, features and interviews with FRANK FRAZETTA, RICHARD CORBEN, AL WILLIAMSON, JACK DAVIS, ARCHIE GOODWIN, HARVEY KURTZMAN, ALEX NINO, and more!

BERNIE WRIGHTSON cover!

More on DC COMICS 1967-74, with art by and interviews with NICK CARDY, JOE SIMON, NEAL ADAMS, BERNIE WRIGHTSON, MIKE KALUTA, SAM GLANZMAN, MARV WOLFMAN, IRWIN DONENFELD, SERGIO ARAGONÉS, GIL KANE, DENNY O’NEIL, HOWARD POST, ALEX TOTH on FRANK ROBBINS, DC Writer’s Purge of 1968 by MIKE BARR, JOHN BROOME’s final interview, and more! CARDY cover!

Unpublished and rarely-seen art by, features on, and interviews with 1970s Bullpenners PAUL GULACY, FRANK BRUNNER, P. CRAIG RUSSELL, MARIE and JOHN SEVERIN, JOHN ROMITA SR., DAVE COCKRUM, DON MCGREGOR, DOUG MOENCH, and others! Plus never-beforeseen pencil pages to an unpublished Master of Kung-Fu graphic novel by PAUL GULACY! Cover by FRANK BRUNNER!

Featuring ’70s Marvel greats PAUL GULACY, JOHN BYRNE, RICH BUCKLER, DOUG MOENCH, DAN ADKINS, JIM MOONEY, STEVE GERBER, FRANK SPRINGER, and DENIS KITCHEN! Plus: a rarely-seen Stan Lee P.R. chat promoting the ’60s Marvel cartoon shows, the real trials and tribulations of Comics Distribution, the true story behind the ’70s Kung Fu Craze, and a new cover by PAUL GULACY!

(60-page magazine) SOLD OUT (Digital Edition) $3.95

(116-page magazine) SOLD OUT (Digital Edition) $3.95

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#10: WALTER SIMONSON

#11: ALEX TOTH AND SHELLY MAYER

#8: ’80s INDEPENDENTS

#9: CHARLTON PART 1

#12: CHARLTON PART 2

Major independent creators and their fabulous books from the early days of the Direct Sales Market! Featured interviews include STEVE RUDE, HOWARD CHAYKIN, DAVE STEVENS, JAIME HERNANDEZ, MICHAEL T. GILBERT, DON SIMPSON, SCOTT McCLOUD, MIKE BARON, MIKE GRELL, and more! Plus plenty of rare and unpublished art, and a new STEVE RUDE cover!

Interviews with Charlton alumni JOE GILL, DICK GIORDANO, STEVE SKEATES, DENNIS O’NEIL, ROY THOMAS, PETE MORISI, JIM APARO, PAT BOYETTE, FRANK MCLAUGHLIN, SAM GLANZMAN, plus ALAN MOORE on the Charlton/ Watchmen Connection, DC’s planned ALLCHARLTON WEEKLY, and more! DICK GIORDANO cover!

Career-spanning SIMONSON INTERVIEW, covering his work from “Manhunter” to Thor to Orion, JOHN WORKMAN interview, TRINA ROBBINS interview, also Trina, MARIE SEVERIN and RAMONA FRADON talk shop about their days in the comics business, MARIE SEVERIN interview, plus other great women cartoonists. New SIMONSON cover!

Interviews with ALEX TOTH, Toth tributes

by KUBERT, SIMONSON, JIM LEE, BOLLAND, GIBBONS and others, TOTH on continuity art, TOTH checklist, plus SHELDON MAYER SECTION with a look at SCRIBBLY, interviews with Mayer’s kids (real-life inspiration for SUGAR & SPIKE), and more! Covers by TOTH and MAYER!

CHARLTON COMICS: 1972-1983!

Interviews with Charlton alumni GEORGE WILDMAN, NICOLA CUTI, JOE STATON, JOHN BYRNE, TOM SUTTON, MIKE ZECK, JACK KELLER, PETE MORISI, WARREN SATTLER, BOB LAYTON, ROGER STERN, and others, ALEX TOTH, a NEW E-MAN STRIP by CUTI AND STATON, and the art of DON NEWTON! STATON cover!

(108-page magazine) SOLD OUT (Digital Edition) $3.95

(112-page magazine) SOLD OUT (Digital Edition) $3.95

(112-page magazine) $6.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

(108-page magazine) SOLD OUT (Digital Edition) $3.95

(112-page magazine) $6.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

#13: MARVEL HORROR

#14: TOWER COMICS & WALLY WOOD

#15: 1980s VANGUARD & DAVE STEVENS

#16: ATLAS/SEABOARD COMICS

#17: ARTHUR ADAMS

1970s Marvel Horror focus, from Son of Satan to Ghost Rider! Interviews with ROY THOMAS, MARV WOLFMAN, GENE COLAN, TOM PALMER, HERB TRIMPE, GARY FRIEDRICH, DON PERLIN, TONY ISABELLA, and PABLOS MARCOS, plus a Portfolio Section featuring RUSS HEATH, MIKE PLOOG, DON PERLIN, PABLO MARCOS, FRED HEMBECK’S DATELINE, and more! New GENE COLAN cover!

Interviews with Tower and THUNDER AGENTS alumni WALLACE WOOD, LOU MOUGIN, SAMM SCHWARTZ, DAN ADKINS, LEN BROWN, BILL PEARSON, LARRY IVIE, GEORGE TUSKA, STEVE SKEATES, and RUSS JONES, TOWER COMICS CHECKLIST, history of TIPPY TEEN, 1980s THUNDER AGENTS REVIVAL, and more! WOOD cover!

Interviews with ’80s independent creators DAVE STEVENS, JAIME, MARIO, AND GILBERT HERNANDEZ, MATT WAGNER, DEAN MOTTER, PAUL RIVOCHE, and SANDY PLUNKETT, plus lots of rare and unseen art from The Rocketeer, Love & Rockets, Mr. X, Grendel, other ’80s strips, and more! New cover by STEVENS and the HERNANDEZ BROS.!

’70s ATLAS COMICS HISTORY! Interviews with JEFF ROVIN, ROY THOMAS, ERNIE COLÓN, STEVE MITCHELL, LARRY HAMA, HOWARD CHAYKIN, SAL AMENDOLA, JIM CRAIG, RIC MEYERS, and ALAN KUPPERBERG, Atlas Checklist, HEATH, WRIGHTSON, SIMONSON, MILGROM, AUSTIN, WEISS, and STATON discuss their Atlas work, and more! COLÓN cover!

Discussion with ARTHUR ADAMS about his career (with an extensive CHECKLIST, and gobs of rare art), plus GRAY MORROW tributes from friends and acquaintances and a MORROW interview, Red Circle Comics Checklist, interviews with & remembrances of GEORGE ROUSSOS & GEORGE EVANS, Gallery of Morrow, Evans, and Roussos art, EVERETT RAYMOND KINSTLER interview, and more! New ARTHUR ADAMS cover!

(112-page magazine) SOLD OUT (Digital Edition) $3.95

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(128-page magazine) $6.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

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#18: 1970s MARVEL COSMIC COMICS

#19: HARVEY COMICS

#20: ROMITAs & KUBERTs #21: ADAM HUGHES, ALEX #22: GOLD KEY COMICS & examinations: RUSS MANNING ROSS, & JOHN BUSCEMA Interviews & Magnus Robot Fighter, WALLY WOOD &

Roundtable with JIM STARLIN, ALAN WEISS and AL MILGROM, interviews with STEVE ENGLEHART, STEVE LEIALOHA, and FRANK BRUNNER, art from the lost WARLOCK #16, plus a FLO STEINBERG CELEBRATION, with a Flo interview, tributes by HERB TRIMPE, LINDA FITE, BARRY WINDSOR-SMITH, and others! STARLIN/ MILGROM/WEISS cover!

History of Harvey Comics, from Hot Stuf’, Casper, and Richie Rich, to Joe Simon’s “Harvey Thriller” line! Interviews with, art by, and tributes to JACK KIRBY, STERANKO, WILL EISNER, AL WILLIAMSON, GIL KANE, WALLY WOOD, REED CRANDALL, JOE SIMON, WARREN KREMER, ERNIE COLÓN, SID JACOBSON, FRED RHOADES, and more! New wraparound MITCH O’CONNELL cover!

Joint interview between Marvel veteran and superb Spider-Man artist JOHN ROMITA, SR. and fan favorite Thor/Hulk renderer JOHN ROMITA, JR.! On the flipside, JOE, ADAM & ANDY KUBERT share their histories and influences in a special roundtable conversation! Plus unpublished and rarely seen artwork, and a visit by the ladies VIRGINIA and MURIEL! Flip-covers by the KUBERTs and the ROMITAs!

ADAM HUGHES ART ISSUE, with a comprehensive interview, unpublished art, & CHECKLIST! Also, a “Day in the Life” of ALEX ROSS (with plenty of Ross art)! Plus a tribute to the life and career of one of Marvel’s greatest artists, JOHN BUSCEMA, with testimonials from his friends and peers, art section, and biographical essay.

HUGHES and TOM PALMER flip-covers!

Total War M.A.R.S. Patrol, Tarzan by JESSE MARSH, JESSE SANTOS and DON GLUT’S Dagar and Dr. Spektor, Turok, Son of Stone’s ALBERTO GIOLITTI and PAUL S. NEWMAN, plus Doctor Solar, Boris Karloff, The Twilight Zone, and more, including MARK EVANIER on cartoon comics, and a definitive company history! New BRUCE TIMM cover!

(104-page magazine) $6.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

(104-page magazine) $6.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

(104-page magazine) $6.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

(104-page magazine) SOLD OUT (Digital Edition) $3.95

(122-page magazine) $6.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

#23: MIKE MIGNOLA

#24: NATIONAL LAMPOON COMICS

#25: ALAN MOORE AND KEVIN NOWLAN

COMIC BOOK ARTIST: SPECIAL EDITION #1

COMIC BOOK ARTIST: SPECIAL EDITION #2

Exhaustive MIGNOLA interview, huge art gallery (with never-seen art), and comprehensive checklist! On the flip-side, a careerspanning JILL THOMPSON interview, plus tons of art, and studies of Jill by ALEX ROSS, STEVE RUDE, P. CRAIG RUSSELL, and more! Also, interview with JOSÉ DELBO, and a talk with author HARLAN ELLISON on his various forays into comics!

New MIGNOLA HELLBOY cover!

GAHAN WILSON and NatLamp art director MICHAEL GROSS speak, interviews with and art by NEAL ADAMS, FRANK SPRINGER, SEAN KELLY, SHARY FLENNEKIN, ED SUBITSKY, M.K. BROWN, B.K. TAYLOR, BOBBY LONDON, MICHEL CHOQUETTE, ALAN KUPPERBERG, and more! Features new covers by GAHAN WILSON and MARK BODÉ!

Focus on AMERICA’S BEST COMICS! ALAN MOORE interview on everything from SWAMP THING to WATCHMEN to ABC and beyond! Interviews with KEVIN O’NEILL, CHRIS SPROUSE, JIM BAIKIE, HILARY BARTA, SCOTT DUNBIER, TODD KLEIN, JOSE VILLARRUBIA, and more! Flip-side spotlight on the amazing KEVIN NOWLAN! Covers by J.H. WILLIAMS III & NOWLAN!

(106-page magazine) $6.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

(122-page magazine) $6.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

(122-page magazine) SOLD OUT (Digital Edition) $3.95

Previously available only to CBA subscribers!

Spotlights great DC Comics of the ’70s: Interviews with MARK EVANIER and STEVE SHERMAN on JACK KIRBY’s Fourth World, ALEX TOTH on his mystery work, NEAL ADAMS on Superman vs. Muhammad Ali, RUSS HEATH on Sgt. Rock, BRUCE JONES discussing BERNIE WRIGHTSON (plus a WRIGHTSON portfolio), and a BRUCE TIMM interview, art gallery, and cover!

Compiles the new “extras” from CBA COLLECTION VOL. 1-3: unpublished JACK KIRBY story, unpublished BERNIE WRIGHTSON art, unused JEFF JONES story, ALAN WEISS interview, examination of STEVE ENGLEHART and MARSHALL ROGERS’ 1970s Batman work, a look at DC’s rare Cancelled Comics Cavalcade, PAUL GULACY art gallery, Marvel Value Stamp history, Mr. Monster’s scrapbook, and more!

(76-page Digital Edition) $3.95

(112-page Digital Edition) $3.95

C o l l e c t o r

The JACK KIRBY COLLECTOR magazine (edited by JOHN MORROW) celebrates the life and career of the “King” of comics through INTERNS VIEWS WITH KIRBY and EDITIO BLE A IL his contemporaries, AVA NLY FEATURE ARTICLES, FOR O $3.95 RARE AND UNSEEN $1.95— KIRBY ART, plus regular columns by MARK EVANIER and others, and presentation of KIRBY’S UNINKED PENCILS from the 1960s-80s (from photocopies preserved in the KIRBY ARCHIVES).

DIGITAL

Go online for #1-30 as Digital Editions, and an ULTIMATE BUNDLE with all the issues at HALF-PRICE!

KIRBY COLLECTOR #34

KIRBY COLLECTOR #35

KIRBY COLLECTOR #31

KIRBY COLLECTOR #32

KIRBY COLLECTOR #33

FIRST TABLOID-SIZE ISSUE! MARK EVANIER’s new column, interviews with KURT BUSIEK and JOSÉ LADRONN, NEAL ADAMS on Kirby, Giant-Man overview, Kirby’s best 2-page spreads, 2000 Kirby Tribute Panel (MARK EVANIER, GENE COLAN, MARIE SEVERIN, ROY THOMAS, and TRACY & JEREMY KIRBY), huge Kirby pencils! Wraparound KIRBY/ADAMS cover!

KIRBY’S LEAST-KNOWN WORK! MARK EVANIER on the Fourth World, unfinished THE HORDE novel, long-lost KIRBY INTERVIEW from France, update to the KIRBY CHECKLIST, pencil gallery of Kirby’s leastknown work (including THE PRISONER, BLACK HOLE, IN THE DAYS OF THE MOB, TRUE DIVORCE CASES), westerns, and more! KIRBY/LADRONN cover!

FANTASTIC FOUR ISSUE! Gallery of FF pencils at tabloid size, MARK EVANIER on the FF Cartoon series, interviews with STAN LEE and ERIK LARSEN, JOE SINNOTT salute, the HUMAN TORCH in STRANGE TALES, origins of Kirby Krackle, interviews with nearly EVERY WRITER AND ARTIST who worked on the FF after Kirby, & more!

KIRBY/LARSEN and KIRBY/TIMM covers!

(84-page tabloid magazine) $9.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

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(84-page tabloid magazine) $9.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

KIRBY COLLECTOR #36

KIRBY COLLECTOR #37

KIRBY COLLECTOR #38

FIGHTING AMERICANS! MARK EVANIER on 1960s Marvel inkers, SHIELD, Losers, and Green Arrow overviews, INFANTINO interview on Simon & Kirby, KIRBY interview, Captain America PENCIL ART GALLERY, PHILIPPE DRUILLET interview, JOE SIMON and ALEX TOTH speak, unseen BIG GAME HUNTER and YOUNG ABE LINCOLN Kirby concepts! KIRBY and KIRBY/TOTH covers!

GREAT ESCAPES! MISTER MIRACLE pencil art gallery, MARK EVANIER, MARSHALL ROGERS & MICHAEL CHABON interviews, comparing Kirby and Houdini’s backgrounds, analysis of “Himon,” 2001 Kirby Tribute Panel (WILL EISNER, JOHN BUSCEMA, JOHN ROMITA, MIKE ROYER, & JOHNNY CARSON) & more! KIRBY/MARSHALL ROGERS and KIRBY/STEVE RUDE covers!

THOR ISSUE! Never-seen KIRBY interview, JOE SINNOTT and JOHN ROMITA JR. on their Thor work, MARK EVANIER, extensive THOR and TALES OF ASGARD coverage, a look at the “real” Norse gods, 40 pages of KIRBY THOR PENCILS, including a Kirby Art Gallery at TABLOID SIZE, with pin-ups, covers, and more! KIRBY covers inked by MIKE ROYER and TREVOR VON EEDEN!

“HOW TO DRAW COMICS THE KIRBY WAY!” MIKE ROYER interview on how he inks Jack’s work, HUGE GALLERY tracing the evolution of Jack’s style, new column on OBSCURE KIRBY WORK, MARK EVANIER, special sections on Jack’s TECHNIQUE AND INFLUENCES, comparing STAN LEE’s writing to JACK’s, and more! Two COLOR UNPUBLISHED KIRBY COVERS!

“HOW TO DRAW COMICS THE KIRBY WAY!” PART 2: JOE SINNOTT on how he inks Jack’s work, HUGE PENCIL GALLERY, list of the art in the KIRBY ARCHIVES, MARK EVANIER, special sections on Jack’s technique and influences, SPEND A DAY WITH KIRBY (with JACK DAVIS, GULACY, HERNANDEZ BROS., and RUDE) and more!

Two UNPUBLISHED KIRBY COVERS!

(84-page tabloid magazine) $9.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

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KIRBY COLLECTOR #39

KIRBY COLLECTOR #40

KIRBY COLLECTOR #41

KIRBY COLLECTOR #42

KIRBY COLLECTOR #43

FAN FAVORITES! Covering Kirby’s work on HULK, INHUMANS, and SILVER SURFER, TOP PROS pick favorite Kirby covers, Kirby ENTERTAINMENT TONIGHT interview, MARK EVANIER, 2002 Kirby Tribute Panel (DICK AYERS, TODD McFARLANE, PAUL LEVITZ, HERB TRIMPE), pencil art gallery, and more! Kirby covers inked by MIKE ALLRED and P. CRAIG RUSSELL!

WORLD THAT’S COMING! KAMANDI and OMAC spotlight, 2003 Kirby Tribute Panel (WENDY PINI, MICHAEL CHABON, STAN GOLDBERG, SAL BUSCEMA, LARRY LIEBER, and STAN LEE), P. CRAIG RUSSELL interview, MARK EVANIER, NEW COLUMN analyzing Jack’s visual shorthand, pencil art gallery, and more! Kirby covers inked by ERIK LARSEN and REEDMAN!

1970s MARVEL WORK! Coverage of ’70s work from Captain America to Eternals to Machine Man, DICK GIORDANO & MARK SHULTZ interviews, MARK EVANIER, 2004 Kirby Tribute Panel (STEVE RUDE, DAVE GIBBONS, WALTER SIMONSON, and PAUL RYAN), pencil art gallery, unused 1962 HULK #6 KIRBY PENCILS, and more! Kirby covers inked by GIORDANO and SCHULTZ!

1970s DC WORK! Coverage of Jimmy Olsen, FF movie set visit, overview of all Newsboy Legion stories, KEVIN NOWLAN and MURPHY ANDERSON on inking Jack, never-seen interview with Kirby, MARK EVANIER on Kirby’s covers, Bongo Comics’ Kirby ties, complete ’40s gangster story, pencil art gallery, and more! Kirby covers inked by NOWLAN and ANDERSON!

KIRBY AWARD WINNERS! STEVE SHERMAN and others sharing memories and neverseen art from JACK & ROZ, a never-published 1966 interview with KIRBY, MARK EVANIER on VINCE COLLETTA, pencils-toSinnott inks comparison of TALES OF SUSPENSE #93, and more! Covers by KIRBY (Jack’s original ’70s SILVER STAR CONCEPT ART) and KIRBY/SINNOTT!

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97

KIRBY COLLECTOR #44

KIRBY COLLECTOR #45

KIRBY COLLECTOR #46

KIRBY COLLECTOR #47

KIRBY COLLECTOR #48

KIRBY’S MYTHOLOGICAL CHARACTERS! Coverage of DEMON, THOR, & GALACTUS, interview with KIRBY, MARK EVANIER, pencil art galleries of the Demon and other mythological characters, two never-reprinted BLACK MAGIC stories, interview with Kirby Award winner DAVID SCHWARTZ and F4 screenwriter MIKE FRANCE, and more!

Kirby cover inked by MATT WAGNER!

Jack’s vision of PAST AND FUTURE, with a never-seen KIRBY interview, a new interview with son NEAL KIRBY, MARK EVANIER’S column, two pencil galleries, two complete ’50s stories, Jack’s first script, Kirby Tribute Panel (with EVANIER, KATZ, SHAW!, and SHERMAN), plus an unpublished CAPTAIN 3-D cover, inked by BILL BLACK and converted into 3-D by RAY ZONE!

Focus on NEW GODS, FOREVER PEOPLE, and DARKSEID! Includes a rare interview with KIRBY, MARK EVANIER’s column, FOURTH WORLD pencil art galleries (including Kirby’s redesigns for SUPER POWERS), two 1950s stories, a new Kirby Darkseid front cover inked by MIKE ROYER, a Kirby Forever People back cover inked by JOHN BYRNE, and more!

KIRBY’S SUPER TEAMS, from kid gangs and the Challengers, to Fantastic Four, X-Men, and Super Powers, with unseen 1960s Marvel art, a rare KIRBY interview, MARK EVANIER’s column, two pencil art galleries, complete 1950s story, author JONATHAN LETHEM on his Kirby influence, interview with JOHN ROMITA, JR. on his Eternals work, and more!

KIRBYTECH ISSUE, spotlighting Jack’s hightech concepts, from Iron Man’s armor and Machine Man, to the Negative Zone and beyond! Includes a rare KIRBY interview, MARK EVANIER’s column, two pencil art galleries, complete 1950s story, TOM SCIOLI interview, Kirby Tribute Panel (with ADAMS, PÉREZ, and ROMITA), and covers inked by TERRY AUSTIN and TOM SCIOLI!

(84-page tabloid magazine) $9.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

(84-page tabloid magazine) $9.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

(84-page tabloid magazine) $9.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

(84-page tabloid magazine) SOLD OUT (Digital Edition) $3.95

(84-page tabloid magazine) $9.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

KIRBY COLLECTOR #49

KIRBY COLLECTOR #51

KIRBY COLLECTOR #52

WARRIORS, spotlighting Thor (with a look at hidden messages in BILL EVERETT’s Thor inks), Sgt. Fury, Challengers of the Unknown, Losers, and others! Includes a rare KIRBY interview, interviews with JERRY ORDWAY and GRANT MORRISON, MARK EVANIER’s column, pencil art gallery, a complete 1950s story, wraparound Thor cover inked by JERRY ORDWAY, and more!

Bombastic EVERYTHING GOES issue, with a wealth of great submissions that couldn’t be pigeonholed into a “theme” issue!

Includes a rare KIRBY interview, new interviews with JIM LEE and ADAM HUGHES, MARK EVANIER’s column, huge pencil art galleries, a complete Golden Age Kirby story, two COLOR UNPUBLISHED KIRBY COVERS, and more!

Spotlights Kirby’s most obscure work: an UNUSED THOR STORY, BRUCE LEE comic, animation work, stage play, unaltered pages from KAMANDI, DEMON, DESTROYER DUCK, and more, including a feature examining the last page of his final issue of various series BEFORE EDITORIAL TAMPERING (with lots of surprises)! Color Kirby cover inked by DON HECK!

(84-page tabloid magazine) $9.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

(84-page tabloid magazine) $9.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

(84-page tabloid magazine) $9.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

KIRBY COLLECTOR #55

KIRBY COLLECTOR #56

KIRBY COLLECTOR #57

KIRBY COLLECTOR #53

KIRBY COLLECTOR #54

THE MAGIC OF STAN & JACK! New interview with STAN LEE, walking tour of New York where Lee & Kirby lived and worked, re-evaluation of the “Lost” FF #108 story (including a new page that just surfaced), “What If Jack Hadn’t Left Marvel In 1970?,” plus MARK EVANIER’s regular column, a Kirby pencil art gallery, a complete Golden Age Kirby story, and more, behind a color Kirby cover inked by GEORGE PÉREZ!

STAN & JACK PART TWO! More on the co-creators of the Marvel Universe, final interview (and cover inks) by GEORGE TUSKA, differences between KIRBY and DITKO’S approaches, WILL MURRAY on the origin of the FF, the mystery of Marvel cover dates, MARK EVANIER’s regular column, a Kirby pencil art gallery, a complete Golden Age Kirby story, and more, plus Kirby back cover inked by JOE SINNOTT!

(84-page tabloid magazine) $10.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

(84-page tabloid magazine) $10.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

KIRBY COLLECTOR #59

KIRBY COLLECTOR #60

“Kirby Goes To Hollywood!” SERGIO ARAGONÉS and MELL LAZARUS recall Kirby’s BOB NEWHART TV show cameo, comparing the recent STAR WARS films to New Gods, RUBY & SPEARS interviewed, Jack’s encounters with FRANK ZAPPA, PAUL McCARTNEY, and JOHN LENNON, MARK EVANIER’s regular column, a Kirby pencil art gallery, a Golden Age Kirby story, and more! Kirby cover inked by PAUL SMITH!

“Unfinished Sagas”—series, stories, and arcs Kirby never finished. TRUE DIVORCE CASES, RAAM THE MAN MOUNTAIN, KOBRA, DINGBATS, a complete story from SOUL LOVE, complete Boy Explorers story, two Kirby Tribute Panels, MARK EVANIER and other regular columnists, pencil art galleries, and more, with Kirby’s “Galaxy Green” cover inked by ROYER, and the unseen cover for SOUL LOVE #1!

“Legendary Kirby”—how Jack put his spin on classic folklore! TONY ISABELLA on SATAN’S SIX (with Kirby’s unseen layouts), Biblical inspirations of DEVIL DINOSAUR, THOR through the eyes of mythologist JOSEPH CAMPBELL, a complete Golden Age Kirby story, rare Kirby interview, MARK EVANIER and our other regular columnists, pencil art from ETERNALS, DEMON, NEW GODS, THOR, and Jack’s ATLAS cover!

“Kirby Vault!” Rarities from the “King” of comics: Personal correspondence, private photos, collages, rare Marvelmania art, bootleg album covers, sketches, transcript of a 1969 VISIT TO THE KIRBY HOME (where Jack answers the questions YOU’D ask in ‘69), MARK EVANIER, pencil art from the FOURTH WORLD, CAPTAIN AMERICA, MACHINE MAN, SILVER SURFER GRAPHIC NOVEL, and more!

FANTASTIC FOUR FOLLOW-UP to #58’s THE WONDER YEARS! Never-seen FF wraparound cover, interview between FF inkers JOE SINNOTT and DICK AYERS, rare LEE & KIRBY interview, comparison of a Jack and Stan FF story conference to Stan’s final script and Jack’s penciled pages, MARK EVANIER and other columnists, gallery of KIRBY FF ART, pencils from BLACK PANTHER, SILVER SURFER, & more!

(84-page tabloid magazine) $10.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

(84-page tabloid magazine) $10.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

(84-page tabloid magazine) $10.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

(104-page magazine with COLOR) $10.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

(104-page magazine with COLOR) $10.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95

98

COLLECTED JACK KIRBY COLLECTOR VOLUMES, edited by John Morrow Each book contains over 30 PIECES OF KIRBY ART NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED!

VOLUME 2

VOLUME 3

VOLUME 5

VOLUME 6

VOLUME 7

KIRBY CHECKLIST

Reprints JACK KIRBY COLLECTOR #10-12, and a tour of Jack’s home!

Reprints JACK KIRBY COLLECTOR #13-15, plus new art!

Reprints JACK KIRBY COLLECTOR #20-22, plus new art!

Reprints JACK KIRBY COLLECTOR #23-26, plus new art!

Reprints JACK KIRBY COLLECTOR #27-30, plus new art!

Lists EVERY KIRBY COMIC, BOOK, UNPUBLISHED WORK and more!

(160-page trade paperback) $17.95 ISBN: 9781893905016 Diamond Order Code: MAR042974

(176-page trade paperback) $19.95 ISBN: 9781893905023 Diamond Order Code: APR043058

(224-page trade paperback) $24.95 ISBN: 9781893905573 Diamond Order Code: FEB063353

(288-page trade paperback) $29.95 ISBN: 9781605490038 Diamond Order Code: JUN084280

(288-page trade paperback) $29.95 ISBN: 9781605490120 Diamond Order Code: DEC084286

(128-page trade paperback) $14.95 (Digital Edition) $4.95 ISBN: 9781605490052 Diamond Order Code: MAR084008

NEW!

Lee & Kirby: THE WONDER YEARS

Celebrate the 50th ANNIVERSARY OF FANTASTIC FOUR #1 with this special squarebound edition (#58) of THE JACK KIRBY COLLECTOR, about two pop-culture visionaries who created the Fantastic Four, and a decade in comics that was more tumultuous and awe-inspiring than any before or since. Calling on his years of research, plus new interviews conducted just for this book (with STAN LEE, FLO STEINBERG, MARK EVANIER, JOE SINNOTT, and others), regular Jack Kirby Collector contributor MARK ALEXANDER traces both Lee and Kirby’s history at Marvel Comics, and the remarkable series of events and career choices that led them to converge in 1961 to conceive the Fantastic Four. It also documents the evolution of the FF throughout the 1960s, with previously unknown details about Lee and Kirby’s working relationship, and their eventual parting of ways in 1970. With a wealth of historical information and amazing Kirby artwork, STAN LEE & JACK KIRBY: THE WONDER YEARS beautifully examines the first decade of the FF, and the events that put into motion the 1960s era that came to be known as the Marvel Age of Comics!

(128-page tabloid-size trade paperback) $19.95 • (Digital Edition) $5.95 ISBN: 9781605490380 • Diamond Order Code: SEP111248

NEW!

SILVER STAR: GRAPHITE EDITION

First conceptualized in the 1970s as a movie screenplay, SILVER STAR was too far ahead of its time for Hollywood, so artist JACK KIRBY adapted it as a six-issue mini-series for Pacific Comics in the 1980s, making it his final, great comics series.

Now the entire six-issue run is collected here, reproduced from his powerful, uninked PENCIL ART, showing Kirby’s work in its undiluted, raw form! Also included is Kirby’s ILLUSTRATED SILVER STAR MOVIE SCREENPLAY, never-seen SKETCHES, PIN-UPS, and an historical overview to put it all in perspective!

JACK KIRBY COLLECTOR SPECIAL EDITION

(160-page trade paperback) $19.95 (Digital Edition) $5.95 ISBN: 9781893905559 Diamond Order Code: JAN063367

CAPTAIN VICTORY: GRAPHITE EDITION

Compiles the “extra” new material from COLLECTED JACK KIRBY COLLECTOR VOLUMES 1-7, in one huge Digital Edition! Includes a fan’s private tour of the Kirbys’ remarkable home, profusely illustrated with photos, and more than 200 pieces of Kirby art not published outside of those volumes. If you already own the individual issues and skipped the collections, or missed them in print form, now you can get caught up!

For the first time, JACK KIRBY’s original CAPTAIN VICTORY GRAPHIC NOVEL is presented as it was created in 1975 (before being broken up and modified for the 1980s Pacific Comics series), reproduced from copies of Kirby’s uninked pencil art! This first “new” Kirby comic in years features page after page of prime pencils, and includes Jack’s unused CAPTAIN VICTORY SCREENPLAY, unseen art, an historical overview to put it in perspective, and more!

(52-page comic book) $5.95 • (Digital Edition) $2.95

(120-page Digital Edition) $4.95

NOTE: THIS IS ISSUE #58 OF THE KIRBY COLLECTOR!

KIRBY FIVE-OH! CELEBRATING 50 YEARS OF THE “KING” OF COMICS

For its 50th issue, the publication that started TwoMorrows presents KIRBY FIVE-OH!, a BOOK covering the best of everything from Kirby’s 50-year career in comics! The regular KIRBY COLLECTOR columnists have formed a distinguished panel of experts to choose and examine: The BEST KIRBY STORY published each year from 1938-1987! The BEST COVERS from each decade! Jack’s 50 BEST UNUSED PIECES OF ART! His 50 BEST CHARACTER DESIGNS! And profiles of, and commentary by, the 50 PEOPLE MOST INFLUENCED BY KIRBY’S WORK! Plus there’s a 50-PAGE GALLERY of Kirby’s powerful RAW PENCIL ART, and a DELUXE COLOR SECTION of photos and finished art from throughout his entire half-century oeuvre. This TABLOID-SIZED TRADE PAPERBACK features a previously unseen Kirby Superman cover inked by “DC: The New Frontier” artist DARWYN COOKE, and an introduction by MARK EVANIER, helping make this the ultimate retrospective on the career of the “King” of comics! Takes the place of JACK KIRBY COLLECTOR #50.

(168-page tabloid-size trade paperback) $19.95 • (Digital Edition) $5.95 ISBN: 9781893905894 Diamond Order Code: FEB084186

NOTE: THIS IS ISSUE #50 OF THE KIRBY COLLECTOR!

KIRBY UNLEASHED (REMASTERED)

Reprinting the fabled 1971 KIRBY UNLEASHED PORTFOLIO, completely remastered!

Spotlights some of KIRBY’s finest art from all eras of his career, including 1930s pencil work, unused strips, illustrated World War II letters, 1950s pages, unpublished 1960s Marvel pencil pages and sketches, and Fourth World pencil art (done expressly for this portfolio in 1970)! We’ve gone back to the original art to ensure the best reproduction possible, and MARK EVANIER and STEVE SHERMAN have updated the Kirby biography from the original printing, and added a new Foreword explaining how this portfolio came to be! PLUS: We’ve recolored the original color plates, and added EIGHT NEW BLACK-&-WHITE PAGES, plus EIGHT NEW COLOR PAGES, including Jack’s four GODS posters (released separately in 1972), and four extra Kirby color pieces, all at tabloid size!

(60-page tabloid with COLOR) SOLD OUT • (Digital Edition) $5.95

TwoMorrows—A New Day For Comics Fandom!

TwoMorrows • 10407 Bedfordtown Drive • Raleigh, NC 27614 • 919-449-0344 • FAX: 919-449-0327 • E-mail: store@twomorrowspubs.com • www.twomorrows.com

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KIRBY COLLECTOR #61

ALTER EGO #118

COMIC BOOK CREATOR #1 COMIC BOOK CREATOR #2

BRICKJOURNAL #24

Former COMIC BOOK ARTIST editor JON B. COOKE returns to TwoMorrows with his new magazine! #1 features: An investigation of the treatment JACK KIRBY endured throughout his career, ALEX ROSS and KURT BUSIEK interviews, FRANK ROBBINS spotlight, remembering LES DANIELS, WILL EISNER’s Valentines to his beloved, a talk between NEAL ADAMS and DENNIS O’NEIL, new ALEX ROSS cover, and more!

JOE KUBERT double-size Summer Special tribute issue! Comprehensive examinations of each facet of Joe’s career, from Golden Age artist and 3-D comics pioneer, to top Tarzan artist, editor, and founder of the Kubert School. Kubert interviews, rare art and artifacts, testimonials, remembrances, portraits, anecdotes, pin-ups and miniinterviews by faculty, students, fans, friends and family! Edited by JON B. COOKE.

LEGO TRAINS! Builder CALE LEIPHART shows how to get started building trains and train layouts, with instructions on building microscale trains by editor JOE MENO, building layouts with the members of the Pennsylvania LEGO Users Group (PennLUG), fan-built LEGO monorails minifigure customization by JARED BURKS, microscale building by CHRISTOPHER DECK, “You Can Build It”, and more!

(84-page FULL-COLOR magazine) $8.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95 • Now shipping!

(164-page FULL-COLOR mag) $17.95 (Digital Edition) $6.95 • Ships July 2013

(84-page FULL-COLOR magazine) $8.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95 • Ships May 2013

ALTER EGO #119

ALTER EGO #120

ALTER EGO #121

JACK KIRBY: WRITER! Examines quirks of Kirby’s wordsmithing, from the FOURTH WORLD to ROMANCE and beyond!

Lengthy Kirby interview, MARK EVANIER and other columnists, LARRY LIEBER’s scripting for Jack at 1960s Marvel Comics, RAY ZONE on 3-D work with Kirby, comparing STEVE GERBER’s Destroyer Duck scripts to Jack’s pencils, Kirby’s best promo blurbs, Kirby pencil art gallery, & more!

AVENGERS 50th ANNIVERSARY! WILL MURRAY on the group’s behind-thescenes origin, a look at its first decade with ROY THOMAS, STAN LEE, JACK KIRBY, THE BROTHERS BUSCEMA, TUSKA, ADAMS, COLAN, BUCKLER, ENGLEHART, MERRY MARVEL MARCHING SOCIETY, MR. MONSTER, BILL SCHELLY, FCA, Golden Age Blue Beetle artist E.C. STONER, unused Avengers cover by DON HECK!

MARC SWAYZE TRIBUTE ISSUE, spotlighting FCA (Fawcett Collectors of America)!

Salutes from Fawcett alumnus C.C. BECK and OTTO BINDER, interview with wife JUNE SWAYZE, a full Phantom Eagle story from Wow Comics, plus interview with 1950s Dell/Western artist MEL KEEFER, MICHAEL T. GILBERT in Mr. Monster’s Comic Crypt, and a SWAYZE Marvel Family cover art from the 1940s!

X-MEN SALUTE! 1963-69 secrets, rare ‘60s BRAZILIAN X-MEN stories, lost ‘60s XMen “character sheet” by STAN LEE, ROY THOMAS on the 1970s revival, art and artifacts by KIRBY, ROTH, ADAMS, HECK, FRIEDRICH, and BUSCEMA—plus the MARVELMANIA fan club story, interview with Golden Age writer ED SILVERMAN, FCA, Mr. Monster, BILL SCHELLY, and JACK KIRBY’s unused X-Men #10 cover!

GOLDEN AGE JUSTICE SOCIETY ISSUE! Features on JOHN B. WENTWORTH (Johnny Thunder), LEN SANSONE (The Atom), and BERNARD SACHS (All-Star Comics inker), art by CARMINE INFANTINO, PAUL REINMAN, MART NODELL, STAN ASCHMEIER, BEN FLINTON, and H.G. PETER, plus FCA, Mr. Monster, and more! Cover homage by SHANE FOLEY to a vintage All-Star image by IRWIN HASEN!

(104-page magazine with COLOR) $10.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95 • Ships June 2013

(84-page FULL-COLOR magazine) $8.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95 • Ships June 2013

(84-page FULL-COLOR magazine) $8.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95 • Ships July 2013

(84-page FULL-COLOR magazine) $8.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95 • Ships August 2013

(84-page FULL-COLOR magazine) $8.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95 • Ships Oct. 2013

DRAW! #25

BACK ISSUE #65

BACK ISSUE #66

BACK ISSUE #67

BACK ISSUE #68

LEE WEEKS (Daredevil, Incredible Hulk) gives insight into the artform, YILDIRAY ÇINAR (Noble Causes, Fury of the Firestorms) interview and demo, inker JOE RUBINSTEIN shows how he works, “Comic Art Bootcamp” with MIKE MANLEY and BRET BLEVINS, “Rough Critique” of a newcomer by BOB McLEOD, and “Crusty Critic” JAMAR NICHOLAS reviews art supplies and software! Mature readers only.

“Bronze Age B-Teams”! Defenders issue-byissue overview, Champions, Guardians of the Galaxy, Inhumans, PETER DAVID’s X-Factor, Teen Titans West, Legion of Substitute Heroes, an all-star chatfest of Doom Patrol interviews, plus art and commentary by ROSS ANDRU, SAL BUSCEMA, KEITH GIFFEN, TONY ISABELLA, PAUL KUPPERBERG, ERIK LARSEN, GEORGE PÉREZ, BOB ROZAKIS, cover by KEVIN NOWLAN.

“Bronze Age Team-Ups”! Marvel Team-Up and Two-in-One, Super-Villain Team-Up, CLAREMONT and SIMONSON’s X-Men/New Teen Titans, DC Comics Presents, SuperTeam Family, HANEY and APARO’s Batman of Earth-B(&B), Superman/Captain Marvel smackdowns, plus art and commentary by BUCKLER, ENGLEHART, GARCÍA-LÓPEZ, GIFFEN, LEVITZ, WEIN, and a classic GIL KANE cover inked anew by TERRY AUSTIN.

“Heroes Out of Time!” Batman: Gotham by Gaslight with MIGNOLA, WAID, and AUGUSTYN, Booster Gold with JURGENS, X-Men: Days of Future Past with CHRIS CLAREMONT, Bill & Ted with EVAN DORKIN, interview with P. CRAIG RUSSELL, “Pro2Pro” with Time Masters’ BOB WAYNE and LEWIS SHINER, Karate Kid, New Mutants: Asgardian Wars, and Kang.

Mignola cover.

“1970s and ‘80s Legion of Super-Heroes!”

LEVITZ interview, the Legion’s Honored Dead, the Cosmic Boy miniseries, a Time Trapper history, the New Adventures of Superboy, Legion fantasy cover gallery by JOHN WATSON, plus BATES, COCKRUM, CONWAY, COLON, GIFFEN, GRELL, JANES, KUPPERBERG, LaROCQUE, LIGHTLE, SCHAFFENBERGER, SHERMAN, STATON, SWAN, WAID, & more! COCKRUM cover!

(84-page FULL-COLOR magazine) $8.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95 • Ships July 2013

(84-page FULL-COLOR magazine) $8.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95 • Ships June 2013

(84-page FULL-COLOR magazine) $8.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95 • Ships July 2013

(84-page FULL-COLOR magazine) $8.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95 • Ships August 2013

(84-page FULL-COLOR magazine) $8.95 (Digital Edition) $3.95 • Ships Sept. 2013

Ambitious new series documenting each decade of comic book history!

AMERICAN COMIC BOOK CHRONICLES: 1960-64 & The 1980s

JOHN WELLS covers comics in the 1960-64 JFK and Beatles era: DC’s new GREEN LANTERN, JUSTICE LEAGUE and multiple earths!

LEE and KIRBY at Marvel on FF, SPIDER-MAN, HULK, and X-MEN! BATMAN’s “new look”, Charlton’s BLUE BEETLE, CREEPY #1 & more!

MODERN MASTERS: CLIFF CHIANG

Spotlights the career of CLIFF CHIANG (artist of DC’s New 52 breakout hit WONDER WOMAN series) through a career-spanning interview, and loads of both iconic and rarely seen artwork from Cliff’s personal files. There’s also an in-depth look into the artist’s work process, and an extensive gallery of commissioned pieces, many in full-color. By CHRIS ARRANT and ERIC NOLEN-WEATHINGTON.

1960-64: (224-page FULL-COLOR HARDCOVER) $39.95 (Digital Edition) $11.95 • ISBN: 978-1-60549-045-8 • Out now!

1980s: (288-page FULL-COLOR HARDCOVER) $41.95 (Digital Edition) $12.95 • ISBN: 978-1-60549-046-5 • Out now!

(192-page trade paperback with COLOR) $27.95 ISBN: 978-1-60549-051-9 • (Digital Edition) $8.95 • Ships July 2013

All characters TM & ©2013 their respective owners.

(120-page trade paperback with COLOR) $15.95 (Digital Editions) $4.95 • ISBN: 978-1-60549-050-2 Ships May 2013

THE STAR*REACH COMPANION

Complete history of the influential 1970s independent comic, featuring work by and interviews with DAVE STEVENS, FRANK BRUNNER, HOWARD CHAYKIN, STEVE LEIALOHA, WALTER SIMONSON, BARRY WINDSOR-SMITH, KEN STEACY, JOHN WORKMAN, MIKE VOSBURG, P. CRAIG RUSSELL, DAVE SIM, MICHAEL GILBERT, and many others, plus full stories from STAR*REACH and its sister magazine IMAGINE. Cover by CHAYKIN! MATURE READERS ONLY.

KEITH DALLAS documents comics’ 1980s Reagan years: Rise and fall of JIM SHOOTER, FRANK MILLER as comic book superstar, DC’s CRISIS ON INFINITE EARTHS, MOORE and GAIMAN’s British invasion, ECLIPSE, PACIFIC, FIRST, COMICO, DARK HORSE and more!

DAN SPIEGLE: A LIFE IN COMIC ART

PLUGGED IN!

COMICS PROS IN THE VIDEO GAME INDUSTRY

Documents his 60-year career on DELL and GOLD KEY’S licensed TV and Movie adaptions (LOST IN SPACE, KORAK, MAGNUS ROBOT FIGHTER, MIGHTY SAMPSON), at DC COMICS (BATMAN, UNKNOWN SOLDIER, TOMAHAWK, JONAH HEX, TEEN TITANS, BLACKHAWK), his CROSSFIRE series for ECLIPSE, DARK HORSE’S INDIANA JONES series and more, with rare artwork, personal photos, and private commission drawings. Written by JOHN COATES.

Offers invaluable tips for anyone entering the Video Game field, or with a fascination for both comics and gaming. KEITH VERONESE interviews artists and writers who work in video games full-time: JIMMY PALMIOTTI, CHRIS BACHALO, MIKE DEODATO, RICK REMENDER, TRENT KANIUGA, and others. Whether you’re a noob or experienced gamer or comics fan, be sure to get PLUGGED IN!

(160-page trade paperback) $19.95 • (Digital Edition) $6.95 ISBN: 978-1-60549-048-9 • Ships May 2013

(104-page trade paperback) $14.95 • (Digital Edition) $4.95 ISBN: 978-1-60549-049-6 • Ships May 2013

(128-page trade paperback with COLOR) $16.95 ISBN: 978-1-60549-047-2 • (Digital Edition) $5.95 • Now shipping!

SUBSCRIBE! • Digital Editions: 3.95 each, or save with a digital subscription (digital editions are included FREE with a print subscription)!

• Back Issue, Draw, Alter Ego & Comic Book Collector are now all full-color!

• Lower international shipping rates! $

2013 SUBSCRIPTION RATES: (with FREE Digital Editions)

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JACK KIRBY COLLECTOR (4 issues)

$50

$68

$65

$72

$150

$15.80

BACK ISSUE! (8 issues)

$60

$80

$85

$107

$155

$23.60

DRAW! (4 issues)

$30

$40

$43

$54

$78

$11.80

ALTER EGO (8 issues)

$60

$80

$85

$107

$155

$23.60

COMIC BOOK CREATOR (4 issues w/Special)

$36

$45

$50

$65

$95

$15.80

BRICKJOURNAL (6 issues)

$57

$72

$75

$86

$128

$23.70

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TwoMorrows. A New Day For Comics Fans!

TwoMorrows Publishing • 10407 Bedfordtown Drive • Raleigh, NC 27614 USA • 919-449-0344 • FAX: 919-449-0327 E-mail: store@twomorrowspubs.com • Visit us on the Web at www.twomorrows.com

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THE BEST OF ALTER EGO, VOL. 2

This sequel to ALTER EGO: THE BEST OF THE LEGENDARY COMICS FANZINE presents more vintage features from the first super-hero fanzine, begun by JERRY BAILS & ROY THOMAS. Editors ROY THOMAS and BILL SCHELLY reveal undiscovered gems from all 11 original issues published from 1961-78, including features on Hawkman, the Spectre, Blackhawk, the JLA, All Winners Squad, the Heap, an unsold “Tor” newspaper strip by JOE KUBERT, and more!