REMEMBERING JOHN RENWICK... (Updated)

John Renwick in his church office in the mid-'80s

On my answerphone is a message I haven't yet erased - and I'm not sure I ever will.  As long as it's there, I can listen to it every so often and it's almost like he's still alive and left it only moments ago.  Sadly, he isn't, having died from cancer at the far too young age of 60 (or there-abouts), leaving a widow, Irene, and two adult children, John Anthony and Deborah.  The knowledge that I'll never again get to speak with him is a sad and sobering thought.

JOHN RENWICK was a minister I met in April or May of 1978 when I was a mere callow youth of 19.  (John was in his late 20s at the time, which is far younger than I am now.)  I attended his church one night, being at a loose end - and because free tea and biscuits had been advertised for after the service.  Free scoffs?  Lead on, MacDuff.

Gordon Shields (another minister), me, and John in 1978 or '79

John, originally from the Edinburgh area, had relocated to my home town sometime in the '70s (I think) and didn't stay too far away from me.  Subsequently, I would often drop in on him for a game of darts or chess (and sometimes even both), and we would sit and discuss the merits of the JAMES BOND movies and whether any singer ever had a smoother, more velvety voice than country crooner JIM REEVES.

Sometime in the late '80s or early '90s, John and his family moved to Stirling.  I spoke to him on the 'phone every so often, and on occasion met with him and Irene when they were back to visit various other friends they had in the area.  He often invited me over to his new home, and equally as often I promised to visit - but somehow the years raced away without me ever doing so, despite my best intentions.

John and me playing darts around '81/'82 - in a rather camp manner it appears, in my case

Then one day a mutual friend told me John had been receiving treatment for bowel cancer.  I 'phoned him when I heard the news, to express my concern and to ask after him.  Somehow I got the impression he was over the worst of it and would make a full recovery, and if John knew or suspected otherwise he never let on to me.  (Unless I was just too obtuse to pick up on it.)

One afternoon, in 2010, John 'phoned - I missed him by mere seconds, but after listening to my answerphone, I called him right back and we nattered away for 20 minutes or so, with John once again inviting me to visit and me once more promising to do so at the earliest opportunity.  I'm sure you know where this is going.  Sadly, John died not too long after, without me ever getting the chance to keep my word.  It's only now, with hindsight, I wonder if he knew his days were numbered and the call was his way of saying goodbye in case we never got to meet again.

Poor quality photocopy of a pencil sketch of John, circa 1980/'81

What can I say?  Time flies by so quickly, it seemed John had only moved two or three years before, rather than the 20 or so it actually was.  I wish I'd made more of an effort now - had managed to get on a train and journeyed to Stirling to visit John and his family, instead of feeling guilty for missing an opportunity which is now forever lost to me.

Maybe one day I'll make that journey and visit Irene.  And if so, I'm sure John will be there too, in spirit at least, to welcome me as I finally fulfil the promise I made to him all those years ago.

 

John and me in his church office in the mid-'80s

******

Update: Sadly, on the 30th November 2014, I discovered that John's answer-phone message was inadvertently wiped after I unplugged my telephone to facilitate a new carpet being laid the evening before.  The backup battery for preserving messages ran low during the night, and John's last call to me was lost forever.  Fortunately, many years ago, I'd recorded one of John's sermons, so I'll still be able to listen to his voice whenever the fancy takes me.  However, I'll miss being able to play his last message to me and hear him saying "Hello Gordon", as if he was just on the other end of the line and alive and as fresh as a daisy.

John & Irene on the night of October 19th 1987.  Photo by me

Me on the same night.  Photo by John

******

Another Update:  A couple of months or so back, while going through my writing desk cubicles, I found a card from John that I forgot I had.  In it he refers to music, which, in one instance, happened to be The GREAT COMPOSERS, and in the other, JIM REEVES cassettes I'd given him.  I already had the full set of Composers on vinyl, but John had the set on tape.  I asked him if I could borrow one particular tape to make a copy, as I wanted to avoid any surface noises or clicks on the record, and he kindly said I could keep the original and give him the copy.  So I did, and thanked him profusely for his generosity.  I must've also had a bit of a moan about the attitude of certain editors, which is what John is alluding to on the card, which I received a short time later.  Here, I'll let you read it for yourselves.

2000 A.D. - HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY...

Copyright REBELLION

I wasn't going to bother marking 2000 A.D.'s 35th birthday.  All the other comic blogs will most likely be doing something, I thought, so is there any real point?  Yes, is the answer on reflection.

After all, it was 2000 A.D. that gave me my first big break when they employed me to letter a THARG'S FUTURE SHOCKS story (EXTRA! EXTRA!) back in January of 1985.  (That said, my first published IPC work [not counting a back-page drawing inked and tweaked by KEN REID in a 1973 issue of SHIVER & SHAKE] was a CAP'N & The KIDS strip in WHIZZER & CHIPS.  So, to celebrate the comic of the future's lengthy run, I now present some hopefully pertinent ponderings from a purely personal perspective.

I have to be honest - I was never a great fan of 2000 A.D. when it first came out.  I remember buying the first issue on February 19th, 1977, and probably bought the next few issues, but it never really grabbed me so I soon gave up on it.  Two years later, in 1979, a feature on the new JAMES BOND movie, MOONRAKER, started me buying it again for several weeks.  Then the printing changed from web offset and the comic didn't look quite so good, so I dropped it like the proverbial hot potato, fickle lickle fecker that I was.  I still continued to buy the occasional holiday special though.

So why bother seeking work on the comic then, if I wasn't a huge fan?  Simply because STEVE MacMANUS and the 2000 A.D. crew were attending a Glasgow comic mart back in October 1984 and I decided to go along and show them my samples. I had determined to do so several weeks before, after a spell of unemployment, and I thought it was time to put the 'gift' that friends kept telling me I had to good use.  When I look back on it now, it was a doddle - no hard slog, no years of constant rejection, no agonizing over whether I was ever going to make the big time - simply "Here's some lettering samples, any chance you could you give me some work?"

However, I really wanted to pursue an art career, so lettering was merely a way of getting my foot in the door.  It had worked for WALLY WOOD and DAVE GIBBONS, so why not for myself?  Thing is, I got as much lettering work as I could handle, plus a chance to use my drawing skills on various IPC comic libraries, annuals and holiday specials, so I never had the time (or the inclination, to be honest) to do much more about it.  I was soon earning good money, so why take the risk of 'switching lanes' and doing something else?  Besides, lettering was easy and I could turn out many more pages of calligraphy a day than I ever could of artwork. By that I mean artwork I was happy with.

I remember lettering a CHARLIE'S WAR strip for BATTLE one day, at a desk in their offices, and looking at the detail in JOE COLQUHOUN's artwork - each panel would've probably taken me several days to draw, what with soldiers, tanks, battlefields, etc.  I'd have been lucky to turn out a page a week, not counting time required for research, so I quietly (and easily) abandoned any full-time aspirations I may've had in that direction.  Comicbook artists don't just get to draw the things they like, but also have to meet the artistic requirements of subjects in which they often have little or no interest.  I'd settle for making a living in the medium I loved, but without the blood, sweat and tears involved.

However, I recognized that 2000 A.D. was the jewel in IPC's crown at that time, and had a huge respect for it.  I was proud of my association (minor as it was) with the comic, and always strove to do the best job possible, redoing speech balloons or 'sound' effects I wasn't happy with.

And it was great to get work on all the other titles which were extant at that time: WHIZZER & CHIPS, BUSTER, SCHOOL FUN, WOW!, WHOOPEE!, etc.  One or two of these weeklies may only have survived in the form of specials and annuals, but it gave me a huge buzz to work on them nonetheless.  I remember lettering a strip by LEO BAXENDALE's son, MARTIN, which was just as much a thrill as if it had been his dad.  It was a link to my past.

They say that things must come full circle, and such was my experience.  My comics career started at 2000 A.D. and finished in 2000 A.D. (the actual year I mean), an ironic profundity which isn't lost on me.  The reasons are many and varied, but far too boring to go into in this already over-long personal reminiscence which I hope will be of interest to someone. 

I have many fond memories of working on 2000 A.D. and take great pride in having done so during part of the period that many people regard as its 'golden years', when Steve MacManus was at the helm.  It's the last surviving link to a time when there was a thriving boys' weekly adventure comics empire in this country.  So happy birthday to The GALAXY'S GREATEST COMIC, and here's to at least another 35 years - for all of us!  "SPLUNDIG VUR THRIGG!"

JUST WALKIN' IN THE RAIN...?

Outside, it's a wet and windy day.  The rain lashes the streets with unrelenting fervour as, from my window, I observe a few bedraggled passers-by scurry for shelter or in pursuit of some purpose know only to themselves.  The sky is grey and ominous, clouds swirl overhead in regal, grim-miened majesty, contemptuously regarding us mere mortals as the lowly ants we undoubtedly are.

And that's the weather forecast for today.

However, cosily ensconced within the comfortable confines of my comics covered cubbyhole, I luxuriate in the warmth emanating from the radiator and concern myself with what pithy (no, I don't have a lisp), profound and poignant comments I can bestow upon my eager audience, who look to me to lighten and brighten their unbearable burden by bedazzling them with the wit and wisdom which so freely pours forth from my meaningful, methodical and monumental mind. 

Oh, what lucky people you are.

When I was a boy in Belmont, we had an outside 'garden cellar' (as did most houses in the street), in which we stored coal in one half and garden tools (lawnmower, spades, etc.) in the other.  (It was called a cellar even though it wasn't underground, but apparently the term is not misapplied in such circumstances.)  On rainy days I'd sit on a deckchair inside the bigger-sized half with the door slightly ajar, reading comics and listening to the rain pattering off the pavement and caressing the concrete roof under which I ever-so-snugly sheltered.

Even today, I find it a supremely calming experience to sit in a car in the rain and listen to the drops rattling on the roof in their staccato, tinny-sounding fashion.  There's a wonderfully diverse quality to rain; when one is out walking in it, it invigorates, it refreshes, and it cleanses.  Yet, when one takes the time to regard its presence in quiet contemplation from the comfort of a dry haven, it also relaxes the mind and soothes the soul.

Sadly, refuge in the garden cellar of my youth is a couple of houses ago and many years in the past.  However, I can still seek sanctuary in its shadows with one short step into the hallowed halls of memory.  As Cicero himself said: "Memory is the treasury and guardian of all things."  Failing that, of course, I can always go and sit in my nice new acrylic garden shed and listen to the rain pitter-patter all around me, the door half-open to allow me to watch it in silent awe.

******

Incidentally, the photo below was taken about twenty years ago outside the very cellar mentioned, around twenty years after I had moved from the house.  How did I manage that, do I hear you ask?  Ah, but that's a story for another time.

The TERRIFIC ORIGIN Of RICK JONES' TEEN-BRIGADE...

Copyright MARVEL COMICS

Actually, there's nothing particularly terrific about the origin of The TEEN BRIGADE - or of RICK JONES.  And, to be honest, I hate teenagers - all teenagers.  Time they brought back conscription (now that I'm too old for it).  That's what they need - a good old-fashioned dose of discipline.  Get the unruly, rowdy, little hooligans off the streets and teach them how to march, peel spuds, spit-polish army boots, get super-fit - and - and - er, kill people.  (Wait a minute - I think I can see a flaw in my thinking.)

Anyway, here's their origin.  Try to ignore the clumsy 'drawing-up' in some of the panels, difficult as that might be.

"...Of CABBAGES And KINGS..."

Writing a blog can be hazardous at times.  It seems that there are those out there in 'Internet land' who are simply waiting for someone to express their opinion on a topic so that they can pounce on it and deride, mock, ridicule, and cast scorn in a piously condescending way as if those they oppose are intellectually retarded in some way.  (And, let's face it - sometimes they are.)  It happens to everyone who blogs and I'm no exception.

Having a blog requires having something to write about.  And sometimes it requires needing something to write about when new ideas are thin on the ground.  If there's a space, it has to be filled.  Believe it or not, this very site gets visited many thousands of times every month by people looking for something to read and I hate to disappoint them.  I discuss mainly comics and collectables, though sometimes indulge in personal reminiscences and social comment.  Even then, however, I try to include some kind of reference to comics, tenuous as it may be.

Sometimes I revisit a topic because there's something more I want to say on the matter, or I think it might be of interest to someone, or I simply can't think of anything else to comment upon.  Due to the intended scope of this blog, I'm somewhat restricted by certain 'parameters' and don't like to stray too far beyond them.  That sometimes necessitates a certain amount of repetition of subject matter, but I take the view that not everyone will have read my previous posts and therefore some topics can bear another outing.  Just like comics, every post is someone's first.

I must confess, therefore, that I find it irksome when I hear of certain people accusing me of having an 'agenda' or an 'obsession'.  As it happens, I do have an agenda - but it's merely to inform and to entertain and, yes - perhaps sometimes even to educate - in some small way on various details.  The 'agenda' I'm accused of, however, is ascribed to me by one particular person in a pathetic attempt to cast doubt on my motives for commenting, and to diminish my opinion on matters of which I actually know a fair bit about from many years of personal experience.  (Fifteen of which were in a professional capacity.)

His issues with me spring mainly from him having an opposing view to my own in regard to one particular topic.  (Regular readers will doubtless know to whom and what I refer.)  Others share his perspective of course, but tend to be far less 'enthused' about it than he is.  Lest anyone think I'm developing a persecution complex, far from it.  I'm well aware that my 'detractors' consist of (at most) a handful of people with a vested interest in shouting me down and undermining my credibility.  I find such efforts amusing for the most part, but they can also be irritating on occasion when they resort to distortion and misrepresentation in pursuit of their aims.

It is, in equal measure, both hilarious and annoying to see one particular person consider his dismissive comments, sly innuendo, attribution of false motives, thinly-veiled insults, patronising attitude, condescending manner, and supercilious remarks over the course of many months as being a 'restrained and mature' reaction.  This from someone who seems to see me lurking behind every anonymous comment on his blog that disagrees with him on any matter.  Now, there's obsession for you.

Sad thing is, he doesn't seem to realise that, if he didn't indulge in this sort of thing, I wouldn't be boring the pants off everyone by having to address this 'mature and restrained' fantasies. 

So, let's be clear.  On this blog, any thoughts, theories, or observations I opine on comics (any comic) spring from my lifelong love of, interest in, and devotion to them - not from the figment of someone else's imagination or delusion, who, it seems to me, is guilty of pursuing his own personal agenda when it comes to anyone expressing a point of view at odds with his own.

'Nuff said!  (Hopefully.)      

The TERRIFIC ORIGIN Of CAPTAIN AMERICA...

Copyright MARVEL COMICS

At first glance, a strip featuring the adventures of a red, white and blue, star-spangled, shield-slinging U.S. super-soldier of WWII isn't something which would seem to have any great chance of making much of an impression on the more reserved comics-buying tastes of the great British public.  Nevertheless, being the creation of American patriotic fervour back in the dark days of the 1940s didn't seem to deter U.K. readers from taking the wing-helmeted hero to their hearts.

Here we see how STEVE ROGER's alter-ego, CAPTAIN AMERICA, came to exist in the swingin' sixties - a man out of his time, but not out of his depth.  I don't think the POWER COMICS ever revealed Cap's actual origin - how a rejected army volunteer was given a dose of a 'super-soldier' serum and was transformed into the epitome of physical perfection.  He was intended to be the first of many such soldiers, but unfortunately the serum's creator was killed by an enemy agent before any more of the formula could be produced.

We also see how Cap's teeanage sidekick, BUCKY, bit the dust while trying to disarm a booby-trapped drone plane as it took off from an army base somewhere in Europe. Personally, I can't stand teenage sidekicks, so I say "good-riddance" to the little buggah!  (Unfortunately, they've recently brought him back into current continuity by revealing that he survived his apparent death.)

Here, then, is how Captain America joined The AVENGERS.

******

     COMING SOON: The Terrific origin of RICK JONES' TEEN BRIGADE!    

The TERRIFIC ORIGIN Of GIANT-MAN & The WASP...

Copyright MARVEL COMICS

When scientist HENRY (HANK) PYM first appeared in the MARVEL universe, the tale was intended as a one-off adventure without the slightest notion of any superheroic possibilities whatsoever.  However, in the wake of the success of The FANTASTIC FOUR, he was dusted-down and promoted to the position of crime-fighting superhero, and given a natty new colourful costume as befitted his elevated status.  (Well, as elevated as anyone the size of an insect can be, that is.)  Perhaps realising that being ant-sized is hardly liable to strike terror into the hearts of evil-doers everywhere (or even anywhere), ol' Hank soon went the opposite way in the height department, becoming the goliath know as GIANT-MAN.  

Pretty soon he was joined by wealthy socialite JANET VAN DYNE, who adopted the alias of The WASP - aptly named, because she was as irritating as an itchy anus. (Bit of a 'looker' though, so that was some compensation.)  Giant-Man was faced with some pretty lame opponents and would probably have faded into obscurity had he not lucked-out and joined The MIGHTY AVENGERS.  He later changed his name to GOLIATH, then his identity to YELLOW-JACKET, and then came an on-going musical chairs number in which he could never quite make up his mind as to exactly who he wanted to be.  Or maybe I just grew confused and lost interest along the way.  Same difference.

******

COMING SOON: The Terrific origin of CAPTAIN AMERICA!

UPDATE: The DANDY - 'HUGE' RISE In SALES - EXTENDED EDITION...

Images copyright D.C. THOMSON & Co., Ltd

Interesting to see that some of those who disapprove of me mentioning the declining sales of The DANDY (although apparently it sold a whole 41 more copies in the last six months than previously), are doing the very same thing on another forum.  Double standards perhaps?  I note that one commentator took an oblique dig at me, while spectacularly failing to adequately explain why the comic, if it's as instantly popular as he claims amongst any kids who get their hands on a copy, was abandoned by half of its readership in only a few months after its most recent relaunch back in 2010.

 

As for his assertion that the (alleged) appreciation by some children of the more controversially-drawn strips is proof of their 'quality', well - no, it isn't, actually.  It's only proof that those who like the strips like the strips - and sadly there aren't enough of them.  The fact that around half the former readership jettisoned the comic tends to confirm that more people don't like them than do.  By itself, of course, this does not necessarily prove lack of quality - but in my humble opinion, having compared certain strips to the best examples of their kind - it undoubtedly is a major part of the problem.

Also nice to see him propose an idea of mine for distributing free back issues to schools around the country in an attempt to revive and increase the readership.  I made this suggestion on the downthetubes forum last year.  Seems my critics don't disagree with me on everything, eh?

******

I've just learned that, over on another blog, a certain individual continues to trot out the myth that, because some other comics and publications have also recently suffered a varying (and comparatively slight) decline in sales, then this is proof that The Dandy's low figures are down to other factors than the contents being below par.  I have to ask - just what planet is this person on?  Nobody, least of all myself, has ever denied other factors certainly play a part - perhaps even a major one - in the general decline of comics (and other once-popular pursuits) over the years.

However, here is the important difference (and I must've said it at least half-a-dozen times by now) - no other comic (to my knowledge) has suffered such a dramatic decrease in sales in such a short space of time in the history of the medium.  That simply cannot be attributed to general factors - it must surely be as a result of something specific to The Dandy itself.  Only the very hard-of-thinking could fail to reach such an inescapable conclusion.

It lost half its readership in six months, directly following a relaunch that has come in for much negative criticism in the press, from the public, and on other forums.  (And don't forget the seven thousand or so former readers who registered their rejection of the content by ceasing to buy the comic.)  That's more than the "couple of critics" to which he so glibly and inaccurately refers in an attempt to downplay the significance of their opinion.  (A typical manoeuvre of his.)

And to suggest that anyone's critical observations spring from a desire to demoralise the editor, writers and artists, etc., is another of the common misrepresentations to which he frequently resorts.  We're merely trying to get them to acknowledge the situation and do something about it - which will never happen while they continue in their state of denial and refuse to accept their share of responsibility for the comic's current sad state.

He can bury his head in the sand all he wants, or deny the facts and distort the circumstances 'til he's blue in the face and the cows come home, but his lame protestations and impotent attempts to embarrass into silence or dismiss the opinions of those who are only stating the truth will not alter the reality of the situation.  Which is simply this:

He's talking through his @rse. 

The TERRIFIC ORIGIN Of THOR...

Copyright MARVEL COMICS

For any readers who may've thought that certain aspects of the origin of THOR The MIGHTY were a tad too SF orientated, this was rectified by TERRIFIC excising any reference to The STONE MEN From SATURN from its two-page recounting of the tale.  Only the bare essentials were required to bring new readers up to speed on the history of big daddy ODIN's hammer-hurling, blond-haired lad from across the Rainbow Bridge.

"But ours is a drama decreed by the fates to be acted out!  Nothing can stop it!  Nothing can change it!  Watch and see..."  And acted out it was, filling us in on how DON BLAKE's Asgardian alter-ego came to be.  Having satiated our appetite for Norse Thunder-gods with long hair, we were next made acquainted with the size-changing contingent of the team - but that's a titanic tale for another time.  Be sure not to miss it!

******

COMING SOON: The Terrific origin of GIANT-MAN & The WASP!

The TERRIFIC ORIGIN Of IRON MAN...

Copyright MARVEL COMICS

When ODHAMS PRESS realeased the first issue of their new weekly comic, TERRIFIC, back in April 1967, they realised that perhaps not everyone would be familiar with the pantheon of MARVEL superheroes featured in one of the strips contained therein.  Although previous adventures of the group had already been published in other POWER COMICS, there was no guarantee that buyers picking up the new paper would've read them.

The group's first story to be presented in the new title was a reprint of the first half of #6 of their U.S. mag, The MIGHTY AVENGERS Meet The "MASTERS Of EVIL!", so condensed origins of the individual members prefaced the actual tale itself.  Culled mainly from the heroes' introductory issues, the mini-recaps more than adequately filled in new readers with the backgrounds of those who comprised Earth's mightiest super-team.  They even threw in the origin of RICK JONES' TEEN BRIGADE for good measure.

So, let's start with THE INVINCIBLE IRON MAN!  "Watch his awesome approach!  Listen to his ponderous footsteps as he lumber closer... closer..." 

******

COMING SOON: The Terrific origin of THOR The MIGHTY!   

KID ROBSON ON SPIDER-MAN...

Images copyright MARVEL COMICS

Okay - so who just said "Well, get off him you dirty buggah!"?  Hah!  I knew that title would grab ya!  Too many years ago than is good for me, I lettered a SPIDER-MAN strip for some promotional purpose or other.  I also did a HULK one, but never received a copy of the finished result.  In fact, I never received a copy of the Spidey one either, and the only reason I'm able to show it to you here is because it was reprinted in The MARVEL BUMPER COMIC Holiday Special.

Incidentally, I have to make one thing crystal clear - it wasn't me who lettered the rather bland "MEETS DOC OCK!" title next to the logo.  I refuse to take the blame for it.  (I'd have done something much more fancy.)

Characters copyright relevant owners

The comic's indicia has a few different copyright dates, ranging from 1983 to '88, but those years represent when the strips were originally published, and - as far as 1988 goes - not necessarily when they were reprinted.  I have the impression the mag came out around 1989-'91, but I couldn't swear to it.

If anyone knows where the two-page Hulk strip appeared or whether it was ever reprinted, feel free to let me know.

Remember - click on image to enlarge, then click again for optimum size. 

RIP-OFF BEANO...?

Images copyright D.C. THOMSON & Co., Ltd

Just watched an episode of RIP OFF BRITAIN, which featured a grandmother's complaint about the price of the comic increasing whenever it includes "gifts".  The grandmother wrote to The BEANO twice and was ignored, before writing to the BBC consumer affairs programme and asking them to investigate the matter.

Rip Off Britain contacted the Dundee fun-factory and was told that, because sales were now in decline, a flexible pricing policy had been instituted to attract new readers.  They also said that they don't describe gifts as "free", which is a bit like someone saying they don't describe torture as being painful.  A gift, by it's very nature, is free - otherwise it isn't a gift.  Did I say Dundee fun-factory?  More like Dunderheid fun-factory.

If (and it's a big "if") the comic sells more issues when it's got toys attached, then those buying it are doing so for the toys, not the comic itself.  That's no way for a comic company to pitch its business, because it's essentially an admission that a comic isn't good enough to attract readers on its own merits.

It also leads to another problem:  Because many of these "gifts" get nicked, some newsagents place them on higher shelves, out of the reach - and sight - of the children they're aimed at.  If they can't see them, they won't buy them - and if the toy is missing (having been stolen), they'll give it a miss for that reason also.

I've said it before and I'll say it again:  It's time DCT made up its mind whether it's in the comic business or the lucky bag business.  The Christmas Beano and Dandy were practically a fiver each - all because they had a few cheap, useless toys attached.  Nearly a fiver for The Beano?  Give me a break!  (The actual price was £3.99 - close enough.)

Having said that, The Beano at its normal price is still fairly good value for money, and is a far more attractive proposition than its sister title, The Dandy.  However, DCT really needs to get its act together and come up with a consistent way of pitching the comic to the public.

For any sales it may gain with "gift" issues in the short term, in the long term it probably disillusions some regular purchasers and gives them a convenient "jumping off" point.  As circulation declines, the price will have to increase, serving only to drive away remaining readers over time.  It's a vicious circle, and one that needs to be broken.

Let's hope they've got something up their sleeve - something that isn't going to lead to yet another price increase that is.

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.

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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.