WHEN BATMAN WORE WELLINGTON BOOTS...

BATMAN & ROBIN copyright DC COMICS

What a difference four or five years can make.  I'd just turned 8 when JOHN FIDLER, who lived a couple of doors along from me, got one of the top toys of 1966 for Christmas - a 1st edition, diecast, CORGI TOYS TV BATMOBILE, the lucky little blighter.

I coveted it greatly, but for some curious reason (probably related to cash-flow), never got around to actually buying one until my 12th or 13th birthday in 1970 or '71.  (Though now that I remember, I had the chance of getting one while on holiday in Largs in 1968, but passed in favour of a bendy CAPTAIN SCARLET figure.)

Nowadays, 12 or 13 would doubtless be considered far too old to be buying diecast toy cars, but back then, boys of that age were a totally different bag of spiders to what they are now.  More innocent, not quite so eager to grow up, etc.  Well, at least, that's the way it seems to me through the mist-enshrouded maze of memory whenever I revisit my past.  And yes, Summers were longer and it snowed every Christmas.  (You can dispute it as much as you like - I prefer my version.)

John Fidler was around a couple of years younger than me and, consequently, smaller.  When we played at BATMAN & ROBIN, I naturally took the lead while John was relegated to the role of 'teenage' sidekick (even though he was only about 5 or 6).

In my homemade Batman costume (a pair of purple swimming trunks over corduroy trousers, brown gloves, black raincoat with sleeves pulled out-side in, a Batman badge on my jumper, a Batman mask bought from a shop - oh, and a pair of wellies) I cut an impressive figure.  (In my mind anyway.)  For my utility belt, I tied some dangly, strappy portion of my father's war-time morse-code apparatus around my waist.  I was nothing if not resourceful.  (Trust me - it looked the part.)

John sported a black domino mask with his mother's lemony silk headscarf tied around his shoulders.  He cut a less impressive dash in my opinion, but he was only the sidekick, remember.  Sidekicks aren't permitted to upstage the main hero, and that was me - by dint of being older and bigger and more oblivious to making a t*t of myself running around in a homemade Batsuit.

My "official" mask was like a black plastic bag with half of one side cut away to reveal the lower face, and eyeholes to allow anyone daft enough to wear it to see all those who were laughing at them.  The idea was that, when you pulled it over your head, the corners would stick up like the bat-ears on ADAM WEST's cowl, enabling you to strike fear and dread into the hearts of criminals, who, as we all know, are "a superstitious, cowardly lot".

Unfortunately, the corners stuck out rather than up, somewhat negating the desired effect and managing merely to strike mirth and merriment into the hearts of amused observers as they fell about in hysterics.  Undeterred, however, me and John both soldiered on, and we must've milked being the caped-crusaders of our neighbourhood for almost as long as the show was on telly to inspire us in our dashing deeds of derring-do.

Then, alas, as is the way of things, we eventually grew up.  I moved to another area in 1972 and saw John only in passing and from afar over the next few years.  Imagine my surprise (and annoyance) when I ran into John in adulthood, only to find that he'd grown at least half-a-head taller than me.  I realized, sadly, that if we ever decided to reprise our Batman & Robin roles (unlikely as it was), he'd be the "main man" and I'd have to wear his mother's poofy silk lemon headscarf.  Life can be so cruel.

Anyway, John and I reminisced and laughed about our childhood exploits for a while and then went our separate ways.  It must be close to 30 years since I last saw him, although, in truth, it seems like only yesterday, cliched as that may sound.  Where does the time go?  In fact, where did John go, for me not to have seen him since?  I hope he's well, wherever he is.

Sometime back in 1991, in a fit of nostalgia, I re-acquired (at immense expense) a boxed, pristine condition, 1966 Corgi Toys Batmobile from a shop in Edinburgh.  Whenever I look at it, I'm once again running around my old neighbourhood with my boyhood chum by my side, with no thought for the morrow and unmindful of what the passing years may bring. 

"To the Batpoles, Robin!"

LEGENDARY ARTIST JOHN SEVERIN DIES AT 90...

John Severin

BOOKSTEVE has reported the death of legendary artist JOHN SEVERIN.  Click here to read what Steve has written.  MARK EVANIER also has an interesting post about John here.

******

Copyright MARVEL COMICS

As for myself, I probably first saw JOHN SEVERIN's work back in the '60s on NICK FURY, AGENT Of S.H.I.E.L.D., reprinted in the pages of a British comic called POW!  John inked JACK KIRBY's pencils and, as with everyone whose art he embellished, made something that was great even greater still.  He did the same with HERB TRIMPE's pencils on The INCREDIBLE HULK in the '70s, and also his sister MARIE's work on KULL The CONQUEROR in the same decade.

John was no "mere" inker however, and was a penciller par excellence himself.  He worked on such titles as TWO-FISTED TALES, and FRONTLINE COMBAT for EC COMICS, as well as various western titles for ATLAS/TIMELY/MARVEL.  He also contributed (for 45 years) to CRACKED, a satirical magazine very much in the style of MAD, on which he had been one of the founding cartoonists when it first hit the stands back in 1952.

Definitely one of the greats, who will certainly be remembered for many years to come.

RAMBLING REMINISCENCES...

King's Reach Tower in Stamford Street

Talking of KING'S REACH TOWER reminds me of when myself and the previously-mentioned KEVIN BRIGHTON were getting into the elevator on the way down to (or way back from) the seemingly football pitch-sized IPC staff canteen.  (No doubt I exaggerate, but it was bloody huge.)  As we stepped into the lift, it was so full that there was only room to stand facing in the way as the doors shut behind us.

So we're face to face with a bunch of people blankly staring out at us, while we self-consciously stared back at them.  It was too good an opportunity to miss.  I raised my hand to my mouth, cleared my throat, then said: "I suppose you're all wondering why I've called this meeting..."  A split-second's silence while the penny dropped, then the elevator erupted into laughter.

Kevin Brighton and his pal Del in the IPC canteen

I've used that line a number of times over the years in similar situations and it always gets a response.  Casting my mind back, I even recall where I first got it from.  It was around the mid-1970s and a fellow named JOHN HATTLE (my boss at the time*), was relating pretty much the same scenario as the one above (with himself as the protagonist, obviously), in the car park outside a pub near his shop where I worked.  I don't know if he'd appropriated it from a movie for his own purposes, or it was a genuine, on the spot 'ad-lib' as he stepped into a lift.  Anyway, there I was, ten years later (though it seemed far longer at the time), regurgitating a one-liner from my past.  That wasn't even the first time I'd used the line, having done so a few times since I'd first heard it.

(*Or maybe it was just after I'd recently left his employ, but was signwriting a van for him.)

However, recalling the situation today, it made me realise how often we store things away in our minds, sometimes for decades, ready for use at a moment's notice whenever the situation demands.  As someone who sometimes sports a beard, I'm used to people commenting on it when I grow it back again, usually along the lines of: "I see you've grown the beard back, eh?"  (I guess they must lead really boring lives for such an event to be considered worth remarking on.)  I usually respond with: "This one's false - the real one's in my pocket!"  It was only when watching a MAN From U.N.C.L.E. 'movie' a while back that I was reminded of where I'd nicked the line from, so many years before.

A post this dull needs glamming-up a bit, so here's Bob Paynter's secretary, Caroline

Back in 1982, I sent a 'cassette-a-letter' to a friend who was temporarily living in Bournemouth at the time.  We replayed it about a week ago (to much merriment at the sound of my young voice) and I was surprised to hear myself tell a joke I'd only then-recently heard, and which I still tell today, thirty years later.  It made me realise how many of the jokes I tell nowadays are of a similar vintage.  (Note to self: Must learn some new material.)

So what's the point of this self-indulgent reminiscence you may be asking yourselves.  Only this:

We really are products of our past, aren't we?

******

Sadly, King's Reach Tower has lain empty for a few years since IPC Media moved out in 2007.  I understand there are now plans to add six floors, reclad the exterior, and turn it into luxury apartments.  I'll always remember it as it was though. 

STEVE THE MIGHTY STEPS DOWN...

I see that STEVE MacMANUS, one of the better editors at IPC's YOUTH GROUP until the infamous ROBERT MAXWELL bought it over, stepped down last year from his position as Managing Editor at EGMONT, after a career spanning thirty-seven or so years in publishing.  (Yes, it's old news, but I've only just heard.  I wonder if he got my last Christmas card?)

Steve was the fellow who gave me my big break at a comic mart in the MOIR HALL at the MITCHELL THEATRE in Glasgow on October 20th, 1984.  (So blame him.)  I well remember my subsequent trips down to London to the IPC offices at KING'S REACH TOWER in Stamford Street, and sitting chatting to Steve one sunny lunchtime in the garden of a cheery wee pub just up the road from IRWIN HOUSE, where the Youth Group had been relocated to in preparation for the sale to Maxwell.  If I remember correctly, art assistant KEVIN BRIGHTON was also there.

I may have told this tale before, but Steve, Kevin, and myself were standing looking out of a window on the 26th floor of KRT one afternoon (previous to the one above) in 1986, when I asked him what 2000 A.D. might be called in the year 2000.  He did a good job of hiding his boredom at hearing a question he'd no doubt been asked hundreds of times before and said something like: "Well, that's fourteen years away, Gordon - we don't have to worry about it 'til then."  And, truth to tell, it seemed an eternity away at the time.

It's a scary thought to realise that 2000 is now twelve years ago, and that moment on the 26th floor of King's Reach Tower is a whopping twenty-six years in the past.  (Almost half my life away.)  I just can't get my head 'round it - it seems like only a week or two back.

Copyright REBELLION

Strangely enough, CRISIS, a 2000 A.D. spin-off, was printed in my home town in '88, and I remember Steve coming up to watch the first issues roll off the presses, and graciously allowing me to accompany him to share in the occasion.  This may have been the final time I saw Steve in person, as I stopped going down to London in December of '87, but I still spoke to him on the 'phone from time to time for a few years after that.  (Come to think of it, I saw him at a Glasgow comic mart in the early '90s.)

So, if it hadn't been for ol' Stevie Mac, I might never have had a career in comics for as long as I did.  (Fifteen years.)  Just think - he has to live with the guilt of inflicting me on the comics' world.

Here's to Steve, and let's hope he goes on to even greater things from here on in.

******

Click here for my reminiscences of those early days.   

PARALLEL LIVES...

Copyright MARVEL COMICS

I sometimes feel that I've lived at least two different lives - and it's all down to reprints of certain MARVEL COMICS making an impression on me at various stages when I was growing up.  There are myriad examples I could mention, but I'll restrict myself mainly to one for the moment, that being the back-up tale in the nearly four decades-old issue of the U.K.'s very own best-selling SPIDER-MAN COMICS WEEKLY #7.

As related in an earlier post, I bought a copy of FANTASTIC #7 back in March 1967, probably around mid-week.  I never forgot the comic and the stories therein, and whenever I look at the comic nowadays, I'm back in the house I lived in at the time and still going to primary school just down the road from me.  Time travel, pure and simple.

Fast-forward to another house, almost six years later to the very day.  (Fantastic was cover-dated ahead to April 1st, but as I said, I got my copy halfway through the last week in March, more or less.)  SMCW was dated ahead to March 31st, but - for some strange reason - never appeared in my local newsagent 'til the Wednesday after the Saturday it was due.  That was when I bought it, on the Wednesday.  Funny how some things stick in one's mind.

Just like Fantastic #7, it also contained The MIGHTY THOR tale, "The THUNDER GOD And The THUG!"  (Unlike Fantastic, it printed the full story, not just the first half.)  I was only fourteen at the time SMCW #7 came out, so six years was almost half my life away.  It was certainly more than half my remembered life, so proportionately it seemed far longer than the same period would seem to me today.  (Six years nowadays seems like a fortnight back then.)

SMCW trimmed the panels of the stories they featured, and because of that and the two-tone grey on some pages, plus the red spot-colour on others, the strips had an individual aspect that distinguished them from earlier incarnations.  That's probably why, today, I can look at the Thor adventure in Fantastic and immediately recall that particular time back in 1967, and look at the same story in SMCW and be reminded of that halcyon period back in 1973.

Each printing has its own distinct identity, enabling me to associate it with two separate times in my life.  That would explain why, depending on what presentation of the tale I'm looking at, it sometimes feel as if I've lived two different, but parallel lives around it, daft as it may sound.

As I said earlier, there are other Marvel stories that have the same effect on me.  The FANTASTIC FOUR tale, "KURRGO, MASTER Of PLANET X!" also has two sets of memories associated with it.  When I look at the reprints of the story in WHAM! from 1967, all sorts of images pertaining to the time swirl through my head, and when I look at its later printing in The MIGHTY WORLD Of MARVEL from 1972/'73, a whole set of different images and recollections spring forth.  Same story, two sets of memories, two different eras.  It snaps my cap.

Now, will somebody please tell me what the hell I'm talking about.

BARRY SMITH'S THOR...

Images copyright MARVEL COMICS

BARRY WINDSOR SMITH, when he was just plain ol' Barry Smith in 1968, drew this back-page POWER HOUSE PIN-UP for FANTASTIC #50.  He'd have been only around eighteen years old at the time.  To be frank, some of the pin-ups in Fantastic were awful, so if young Barry was responsible for them, he really had progressed in leaps and bounds by the time he started drawing CONAN The BARBARIAN in 1970.

In 1973, SPIDER-MAN COMICS WEEKLY #16 printed the pulsating pin-up, below, of The MIGHTY THOR, 'borrowed' from the splash page of The AVENGERS #66.  One can see the KIRBY influence at once of course, but it's none-the-less effective for that.

I always regarded The MIGHTY WORLD Of MARVEL and SMCW as official replacements for Fantastic and TERRIFIC, so it's kind of fitting that pin-ups of Thor by Barry appeared on the back pages of weekly comics by both publishers, ODHAMS PRESS and MAGAZINE MANAGEMENT, the latter being the parent company of MARVEL COMICS at the time.

You've got to hand it to him - didn't the boy do well?  (Though it's a shame ol' Goldilock's nostrils seem to have gone walkabout at the printing stage in that second pin-up.) 

The MIGHTY WORLD Of YESTERDAY...

Copyright MARVEL COMICS

They say that when you're dying, your life flashes before your eyes - but there's a far less drastic (and not so final) way to achieve the same effect.  Simply flick through the pages of the comics you got as a kid (if they're still in your possession) and you'll find yourself transported back in time to when you first acquired them, with such clarity that you not only remember the past, but can see, feel, smell and taste it as well.

Such is the case with The MIGHTY WORLD Of MARVEL #51.  Look at the cover.  See the stars twinkling in the night sky?  One look, and I vividly recall the September evening when myself and one of my pals found ourselves crawling over the slated rooftops of a centuries-old public house in search of adventure.  I can remember the sudden thrill when, underneath us, someone suddenly emerged from the backdoor of the bar to obtain a fresh keg, while we hugged the roof and hoped that they wouldn't glance upwards.  Surely 'twas the exact same stars that shone down on us that night as sparkled from the cover of this comic from childhood, which I had bought the self-same morning in 1973?

Looking again at an old comic is much like rereading a half-forgotten diary entry, in as much that it invigorates the memory and spans the bridge between past and present, allowing us - for however brief a period - to revisit times and places from so very long ago.
 

The slates at left belong to the pub.  The photo is
taken from where we gained access to the roof

"I USED TO BE... HUMAN!"

Images copyright MARVEL COMICS

This is a 'luverly' little tale by STAN LEE and STEVE DITKO, reprinted in the FANTASTIC Annual for 1968.  (The story was originally published in JOURNEY Into MYSTERY #92, 1963.)  I remember redrawing the splash page in my back garden one day, with the intention of copying the whole strip, but no longer recall whether I ever finished it or gave up after the first couple of pages.

As was the custom with U.K. reprints of U.S. comic strips back then, credit boxes were deleted and certain words or phrases altered, such as "Good Lord!" to "Goodness!", and "thru" to "through", etc.  Can't take the chance of youthful readers picking up blasphemous oaths from their comics now, can we, or learning how to misspell?  That would never do!

Anyway, let's forego the customary waffle from me and get straight into the story.

DEFINITION OF AN EDITOR - SOMEONE WHO WANDERED IN OUT OF THE RAIN AND FELL INTO A JOB...

Copyright relevant owner

Right, Crivvies, now that I've got your attention with that provocative title, let's talk about editors.  Editors, like everything else on this planet, come in all shapes and sizes - good, bad and indifferent.  I've worked for some really good editors in my time, but I've also worked for some total incompetents.  The incompetents make for a much more interesting study, so let's focus on them.

Some incompetents may actually be quite proficient in ensuring that the whole process of comics production runs smoothly, and that the finished result arrives at the printers when it's due with as few hiccups along the way as possible.  In short, they're good traffic managers.  However, that doesn't necessarily mean that they have any particular skills for editing a comic, in the sense of choosing good writers and artists, matching the most suitable ones together, and catching mistakes - whether it be of spelling, punctuation or grammar.  Some editors I've experienced over the years have been diabolically deficient in some or all of those departments.

Let me tell you of such a tale which demonstrates the truth of the above.  I was once approached by an editor about whether I might be available to letter a Holiday Special featuring some HANNA-BARBERA cartoon characters.  I was busy at the time, but mindful of the fact that I might have a quiet period in the future, I enquired about the possibility of it leading to regular work.  "We have quite a number of upcoming projects," I was told, "so there's bound to be something or other we can send your way."

I therefore acceded to lettering the proffered project and duly received stats of the artwork.  There were three stories which required my tender attentions: The FLINTSTONES, SCOOBY DOO & YOGI BEAR.  These strips had originated as English-language tales, and then been translated into Spanish or Italian for the foreign market.  Presumably, the English versions were not readily available, necessitating the foreign editions being re-translated back into our mother-tongue to make them suitable for U.K. distribution.

The editor happened to speak whatever foreign tongue the strips were in and had enclosed a script of the English equivalent.  As most bi or multi-lingual speakers will appreciate, when one language is directly-translated into another, adjustments are often required to accommodate the rhythm and phraseology of the latter, otherwise the result are stilted.  So a verbatim translation might read: "The butter pass me please!", instead of the more natural "Please pass me the butter!"  While it wasn't quite as bad in this case, it wasn't too far removed in some instances.

Even worse, however, was that she was completely unfamiliar with Hanna-Barbera characters, which one would have thought a prerequisite for her position.  For example: RANGER SMITH was called WARDEN SMITH, PICNIC BASKETS were referred to as LUNCHEON HAMPERS, and I remember seeing another issue in which the TOWN Of BEDROCK was rendered as ROCK CITY.  In the Yogi Bear story, the veterinary surgeon's hut originally sported a doctor's sign outside.)  Going from back issues, this sort of thing was a regular occurrence, made worse by the fact that the finished strips were submitted to HB representatives for approval before publication.  (Who, it would seem, were also sound asleep at the wheel.)

On top of that, though, the dialogue and captions were just a statement of what was evident in each individual pic, while at the same time (in one particular story) suggesting an overall plot that didn't match anything shown in them.  So, if a character was running away, someone would be saying "He's running away!", while someone else replied something like "He doesn't want his picture taken!" - even if a camera was nowhere in sight.  Worst of all was that no-one ever said anything remotely humorous.

Being conscientious, I 'phoned the editor and described the all-too obvious problems with the scripts, and asked her permission to address them and to add a little humour.  She grudgingly acquiesced, recognising that I was correct, but with her nose out of joint at me detecting flaws which had escaped her attention.  The Flintstones story I amended by about 60%, the Scooby Doo tale by about 85%, and the Yogi Bear one by about 95%.  All this extra time and effort I gave for free, my chief concern being only that the stories made sense and were as entertaining as possible.

I also took time to letter some suitable story titles for the splash pages (they ruined the Flintstone's one by not adding colour), and photocopied the established character mastheads from some of my old Hanna-Barbera annuals so that the stories would look as 'authentic' as possible.  I doubt that anyone ever lavished as much attention on previous specials as I had with this one.  The finished result certainly looked far better than those which had preceded it.  After finishing a few pages I noticed another problem, so I then took special care to make the new lettering accommodate the speech balloons as closely as possible, without them looking too big (or small) for the enclosed dialogue.  (Which was often a feature of pre-computer relettering on translated strips.)

Some months after publication, I 'phoned her again to enquire about some courtesy copies she had promised to send which I hadn't received, and to ask if she might have any regular work for me yet.  She said she had sent the copies (which, going by her tone, I doubt) and frostily denied ever having suggested that she might send me other work.  Yet another example of an editor saying whatever is expedient to secure the services of some trusting freelancer, only to discard them when they're no longer required to meet a deadline and save their bacon.

Would it have been wiser if I'd said nothing and just turned in an inferior product?  Perhaps, but I was motivated purely by a desire to make the job as good as it could be, not to show off in any way.  Had she dismissed my concerns and asked me to do it as it was, I would have, but she couldn't deny that my observations had merit.  My wish to do the best job possible rather than just 'phone it in', made her look more efficient and competent than she actually was.  Trust me, some editors are absolutely bloody useless - but I'll keep their names to myself.  And if there's anybody out there who isn't as annoyed by this sort of thing as I am, then I'm a Dutchman.

(This is Kid Van Der Valk signing off.)

******

   

I should perhaps add that anything even remotely resembling humour in any of the above pages was dialogued by myself.

PART THREE Of FAVOURITE COMICS Of The PAST - "The WAY It WAS!"...

Copyright MARVEL COMICS

I don't want to create the impression that I was an overly-sick child when I was a lad, but I'm struck by how many comics I associate with days of school while ill in bed.  To be honest, usually my ailment consisted of nothing more than being sick of school and fancying a bit of a break, but, occasionally, I was actually suffering from some life-threatening illness - such as a mild cold or a dodgy dose of diarrhoea.  Sometimes I could even milk a slightly higher temperature and a headache for all they were worth.

So it was the morning of my 11th birthday, and my immediate fate had just been decided by my parents.  Because I was feeling 'off-colour', I didn't have to go to school that day (hooray), so I sat up in bed and allowed myself to be nourished by frequent administrations of American Cream Soda and a lunchtime bowl of tomato soup.  I was surrounded by a plethora of colourful comics, three of which I particularly remember, being the following: The MIGHTY THOR #158, MARVEL COLLECTORS' ITEM CLASSICS #6, and that week's issue of WHIZZER & CHIPS (#5 I think).

Although I now primarily recall these comics from that particular day, I had acquired the MARVEL ones perhaps a week or two before and can still remember buying them.  However, I tend to associate them more with my birthday because, in attempting to relieve my bed-ridden tedium, I completely immersed myself in their pages.  This no doubt accounts for why they and the day left such an impression on me.  Anyway, no doubt we'll someday get around to looking at MCIC #6 in more detail, but for now let's just focus on Thor #158.

"The Way It Was!" proclaims the splash page, and that's precisely what it delivers - a look back at how Thor The Mighty (as he was originally referred to) came to be.  Ol' Goldilocks' origin tale from JOURNEY Into MYSTERY #83 is re-presented, with some small alterations to its splash to accommodate a flashback scenario.  If you compare DON BLAKE's arm in the far-right bottom picture with its original printing, you'll see that it has been extended outwards to accentuate the appearance of his limp.

Interestingly, when Marvel first released their MASTERWORKS books, they recreated the splash page of Thor's debut from proofs of this reprint (as well as the rest of the pages) because they had apparently mislaid the proofs of the original printing.  Although a better-quality source has since turned up (which can be seen in the OMNIBUS and one or two other volumes), the inferior version still surfaces from time to time.  (Best to get a copy of the recent softcover Masterworks if you prefer archive quality.)

I remember my father reading this comic after me, and expressing his frustration that it was a continued story.  He never found out what happened to the 'real' Thor - mainly 'cause I never bothered to tell him when I read the concluding part of the tale reprinted in Marvel U.K.'s SPIDER-MAN COMICS WEEKLY #s 125 & 126 in June/July of 1975.  I doubt he'd have remembered ever seeing the cliffhanger ending to the first instalment by then anyway.

So there you have it!  I'll reveal the answer as unfolded in the above Thor #159 another time.  I had to wait about sixteen or seventeen years before I acquired the original American issue, so a few weeks or months of suspense isn't going to kill you.  (Update: Rejoice, you need wait no longer.  The answer can be found by clicking on this link.  So why are you still here?)

   

Click here for Part Two.  Click here for Part Four.