'A TOUCH Of CLASS' - PART ONE...

Image copyright MARVEL COMICS

Here's a nice cover that brings back some happy memories for me.  There used to be a hospital shop in my home town from which could be obtained comics and magazines that were extremely difficult or impossible to find in other outlets.  Black and white MARVEL and WARREN horror mags?  This shop had 'em.  ALAN CLASS comics?  This shop had them, too.  The above comic was obtained from the hospital shop some time between 1976 and '78, and I remember sitting on a bench next to a burn (a Scottish word for a watercourse, from a large stream to a small river) and reading it on my way home.  (I should perhaps add that I only visited the shop as a customer and not as a patient, lest you become overwhelmed with sympathy for my seemingly poor constitution.)

It was my custom as a teenage youth to clear space in my ever-expanding collection from time to time, whenever I needed to make room for new comics or simply because certain issues had supplied as much enjoyment as I thought possible and were now no longer essential to requirements.  Consequently, I regularly passed on comics to one of my friends, who was an eager and appreciative recipient of my cast-offs.  Occasionally I'd regret parting with an issue or two and he seemed perfectly happy to relinquish them back into my fickle care.  Amongst the many mags I bestowed upon him were all but one of my AC titles, and I presumed that was the last I'd ever see of them.

Cut to thirty-odd years later, and, as related in an earlier post, the aforementioned pal turns up at my front door one night clutching various carrier bags full of comics: "I thought you might like these back" he explained.  I didn't want to appear greedy so didn't reclaim all of them, but amongst those I did were eleven surviving Alan Class mags I'd last seen more than three decades before.  (Though no sign of the one containing Mr. GREGORY And The GHOST, which I also remember reading on that bench back in the '70s.  It would've been nice to re-acquire that one too, but he never kept every comic I gave him, alas.)  Added to the one I'd kept, I now had an even dozen.

So here, to start things off, is the first of a series of Alan Class covers (derived, of course, from various American titles by different publishers) for you to feast your eyes upon.  Hopefully it may stir pleasant memories of happier, more innocent times in your life, too.  A brand-new hospital with an interior shop now stands close to where the originals were once located, though somehow, whenever I look at those Alan Class covers, it's not too difficult to imagine that things are exactly the same as they were back in my teenage years.

For Part Two click here. 

KIRBY'S "BULLETS For BIG AL!"...

Copyright DC COMICS

I didn't think it was fair to tease you in my previous post with a mention of KIRBY's '70s mag In The DAYS Of The MOB without giving you a little taste of it.  So pin your peepers on these powerful pages, pencilled by JACK ('KING') KIRBY and inked by VINCE ('The PRINCE') COLLETTA.  Start saving those shekels now for the inevitable (we hope) deluxe hardcover edition of the bygone classic from which this tale is extracted.

And below is the double-page spread from above as it was meant to be seen - in all its panoramic splendour.  Click to enlarge, then click again for optimum size.

The SPIRIT WORLD Of JACK KIRBY...



The new book.  Art by Neal Adams (based on Kirby design)

What can one say about JACK KIRBY that hasn't already been said by those far more proficient at bending words to their will than I'll ever be?  I'm a huge fan of the man and his work - but without the tendency to deify him in the way that some fans do.  You know the sort of thing I mean - "Jack's art should have been printed directly from his pencils", "Jack should've been allowed to be his own editor", "No one else should've been allowed to dialogue his stories", etc.  You've heard it all before, I'm sure.

The fact was however, that Jack - although he was a brilliant storyteller when it came to laying out a comicbook - had a tin ear for dialogue, making his scripting somewhat less than the dynamic, pulse-pounding match for his pencilling that it should've been.  Also, Jack's artwork in later years sadly began to suffer from an accumulation of 'shorthand' techniques he'd developed to allow him to draw so many pages on a monthly basis throughout his long career and not miss a deadline.

The original magazine

Over time, his rendition of musculature and anatomy departed from any semblance of reality as his figures became squat, stocky and far less fluid than had once been the case - while shadows cast on any floor bore absolutely no discernible relation to whatever object was supposedly responsible for them.  Say what you like, but the pinnacle of Jack's career was the work he produced with STAN LEE at MARVEL COMICS, when Stan was responsible for 'punching up' the stories with his scripting, and capable hands like JOE SINNOTT, VINCE COLLETTA and DICK AYERS (to name but three) added their not inconsiderable talents to softening some of the harsher 'eccentricities' of Jack's art while enhancing its strengths.

Which finally brings me to DC's recent release of Jack's SPIRIT WORLD one-shot magazine from 1971.  This was a companion mag to In The DAYS Of The MOB (which I hope DC will also reissue in the same deluxe format), both of which were attempts by Jack to venture beyond the boundaries of mere comics-for-kids with proper, 'legitimate' magazines that grown-ups would buy.  MARK EVANIER reveals the details behind those attempts (and their failures) in his informative introduction to the second portion of the book, so I won't spoil your anticipation of reading it for yourself (if you're going to buy a copy) by repeating them here.

Interior page from magazine.  Inked by Vince Colletta

I'm lucky enough to own both of Jack's DC/HAMPSHIRE mags from the '70s, but the draw for me with the deluxe edition of Spirit World was that it also contains material originally prepared for what would've been the second issue of the mag (which, sadly, was never published).  These tales were later re-sized (on some pages), coloured, and then printed in some of DC's monthly supernatural/mystery themed comicbooks.  It's not recorded whether Jack or MIKE ROYER was responsible for the 'drawing up' (re-sizing) which is evident on various panels, but some of it is rather clumsy.

However, nice as it undoubtedly is to see these other tales, I have to admit that they're somewhat underwhelming in both the artwork and writing departments.  Mike Royer, while himself an accomplished artist and inker, was under instruction to render Jack's pencils just the way they were, with no changes or alterations - so it's hardly his fault that the pages are very far from examples of Jack's art at its best.  The scripting is dull and leaden, and does nothing to lessen the commonly-held perception that Jack's strong points did not include dialogue and exposition.  One can't help but wonder what these stories would've been like had Stan or ROY THOMAS been in charge of the writing duties.

Please, DC - this one next

Having said all that however, the book is a nice little addition to any Kirby fan's library (despite its somewhat distracting inability to maintain the density of tone from page to page - especially on the b&w ones), but sadly it doesn't represent Jack at the top of his game.  It has to be said though, that Jack not at "the top of his game" usually still offered something worth looking at.

One final word - I'm surprised that DC chose to publish Spirit World first, instead of In The Days Of The Mob, which is the more interesting of the two magazines in my opinion.  (Though that could be due to the nostalgia factor associated with me actually owning the latter in the early '70s, whereas I didn't obtain the former 'til many years later when I was an adult.)  Regardless, let's just hope that sales are good enough to warrant DC releasing the companion publication in the very near future. 

The STARTLING SECRET ORIGIN Of The FANTASTIC FOUR...

Image copyright MARVEL COMICS

(Today's post is taken from Roddy Weed's blog and is

published with full permission - take it away, Roddy...)

******  

Hi, fans - I'm RODDY WEED and I'm back yet again with a few fascinating facts (that you already know) and loads of fantastic throwaway theories to amaze and astound you ('cos they're so far-out) on this, the world's greatest blogazine - DIAL 'B' For BULLSH*T!

Think you know the origin of the FANTASTIC FOUR?  Well, I, Roddy Weed, am about to give you the real, honest-to-goodness lowdown on the true origin of the fab foursome created by STAN LEE and JACK KIRBY in 1961.  For instance, did you know that the actual prototypes of the FF were ROBIN HOOD & His MERRY MEN?  Hard to believe?  Well, I, Roddy Weed, writer of the greatest blogazine in the history of the world, am going to prove it to you right now.

ROBIN Of LOXLEY, also known as the outlaw ROBIN HOOD, had four main comrades in his band of SHERWOOD FOREST followers.  Namely, LITTLE JOHN, WILL SCARLET, FRIAR TUCK, and MAID MARION.  Pay attention now, while I exclusively reveal the astounding, irrefutable conclusions of many minutes of painstaking research and several seconds of convoluted contemplation on the pertinent points which prompt my cataclysmic claim.

REED RICHARDS is clearly based on Robin Hood because he's the leader of the group in the same way that Robin is chief of his merry men.  Also, his stretching ability mirrors the expanse-spanning reach that Robin's arrows allow him in his quest for justice, enabling him to smite his enemies from a distance.

BEN GRIMM is obviously an amalgam of Little John and Friar Tuck; John is grim-miened (hence Ben's surname) and a man of great strength, while Tuck, despite his ungainly appearance (just like Ben's) has a heart of gold and is possessed of a noble spirit that echoes his modern-day counterpart.  Likewise, Ben's orange-hued epidermis is reminiscent of Tuck's ruddy complexion.

JOHNNY STORM is undoubtedly Will Scarlet - the colour of his fiery alter-ego being the living embodiment of Will's surname.  Just like Will, Johnny is sometimes a bit hot-headed (wilful even), further confirming the uncanny similarities 'twixt the two men.  No doubt Will often used flaming arrows to lay his enemies low just as Johnny has done when tossing fireballs at the bad guys.

SUSAN STORM is inarguably the modern-day equivalent of Maid Marion.  Firstly, she's the only permanent female member of the group (like Marion) and, furthermore, she eventually wed the group's leader, providing persuasive proof that the FF were (perhaps - maybe - probably - oh, what the hell - definitely) inspired by and based upon Robin and his outlaw band.

Unconvinced?  Consider PRINCE JOHN then.  Patently the archetype on whom the FF's arch-foe, DOCTOR DOOM, is based.  Just like John, Doom lives in a castle; just like John, who conceals his true persona under the guise of benign ruler of a country, Doom hides his true visage under a mask.  And in the same way that John hates Robin and his band and tries to kill them, Doom's mission is to wipe Reed and his team from the face of the Earth.

The similarities are simply stunning, and 'tis only I, Roddy Weed, who - despite all these glaring clues staring everyone in the face for years - has recognised their significance and pieced them together using my highly imaginative and creative cranium (and a few reefers) to educate and enlighten your dull and dreary lives and save you from the tedium of your vapid, pointless existence.

This is I, Roddy Weed, creator of the world's greatest blogazine, signing off for the foreseeable future - so that you'll all miss me and pine for my return.  (What will you do without me?)     

The AVENGERS THREE And A HALF - A LITTLE-KNOWN HULK TALE...

HULK copyright MARVEL COMICS.  Art possibly by JOSE GARCIA PIZARRO.
Update: More likely to be by EDUARDO FEITO according to new information

Most British comic readers of a certain age will already be well aware of the following information, but it's really aimed at our American cousins, who may not be familiar with the background to this 1960s HULK tale from the ODHAMS PRESS publication entitled SMASH!

Back between 1966 to '69, Odhams at one stage had five weekly comic periodicals collectively known as POWER COMICS, which included WHAM!, SMASH!, POW!, FANTASTIC, and TERRIFIC.  (There was a brief period when all five titles were published concurrently, but at this early stage only Wham! and Smash! were available.)  All reprinted MARVEL stories, but in the case of the first three, the strips were resized for the larger British format, effectively turning two U.S. pages into one U.K. page.

In Smash! #38 (cover-dated October 22nd 1966), for some curious, unexplained reason, a completely new, original Hulk tale made its debut, which has never (as far as I'm aware) been reprinted anywhere since.  (See comments section for further info.)  Even more curious is that the strip was originally drawn in the U.S. format, requiring it to be resized (by lesser hands, alas) in the same way as other American Marvel stories.

Whence did the tale come?  Was it a British originated strip (using a foreign artist by the look of it) which had mistakenly been drawn in U.S. dimensions, or was it an American Marvel try-out for a foreign artist which had been rejected, then inadvertently sent to U.K. shores amongst a package of other Marvel tales?

Unfortunately, we may never know - but I thought U.S. readers would appreciate seeing a little-known Hulk adventure which takes place between AVENGERS #s 3 & 4.  And, as an extra bonus, the strip is sourced directly from the actual Odhams bound file-copies volume which contained this particular comics curiosity.  Enjoy! 

Click on images to enlarge, then click again for optimum size.

Here's the cover to the actual issue.  Apologies for the shadow down the left side, but the comic is in a bound
Odhams volume which only opens so far.  I daren't risk opening it wider for fear of breaking the book's spine

THIS SURE TAKES SOME LICKIN'...

It was back in the late '60s, in Room 7 of my primary school one day, that I espied the magnifying glass.  It was in the hands of one of my classmates who was using it for the purpose for which it was designed.  (No surprise there, really - what else is a magnifying glass for?)  I was fascinated - it was such a small magnifying glass, and I immediately wanted one for myself.  "Where did you get it?" I enquired of him.  "I got it as part of a free stamp collecting kit I sent away for" was his response.  That was the magic word for me - "free".  I had seen the ad for such stamp kits in the comics I bought, but had never paid them too much attention before.  I decided there and then that I would send away for such a kit the first chance I got.  Nothing would deter me, my mind was made up.  I wanted a mini-magnifying glass of my very own and, by thunder, I'd have one.

Close to 30 odd years later, when I eventually got around to sending for it (quite a few years ago now), it could well have been from the very same stamp dealer as my long-ago classmate had acquired his - D. J. Hanson Ltd., Eastrington, Goole, East Yorks, England, DN14 7QG, who advertised extensively in British comics of the time (and is still going strong today).  Update: He passed away in 2015.

The much-coveted magnifying glass wasn't exactly the same as the one I remembered, but it was good enough for me.  I felt the satisfaction that comes from finally fulfilling some long-held purpose or ambition that should have been accomplished years before.  In fact, I wish I could sit in that classroom now, at my old desk, and employ my magnifying glass in the way I would've done back when I was a kid.  No, not to read tiny print in one of my school books, but to capture an errant sunbeam and direct it towards a patch of skin on someone's bare thigh (short trousers in my day, remember) and wait to see them jump.

Sadistic little bleeder, eh?

I do sort of collect stamps actually, but on an extremely limited scale: Christmas stamps, TV, movie, and comic characters, etc.  I couldn't fill a whole album, but I've got enough to keep me occupied for an hour or so, on cold, rainy nights when the wind is howling outside my window, bearing aloft familiar childhood voices and visions from so very long ago.

  

Typical stamp ad from the 1960s

DIAL 'R' FOR R-SOLE...

Copyright DC COMICS

Looking at my Blog List on the right-hand side of this page recently, it dawned on me that not all blogs of which I'm a member were included.  I assume this is simply due to matters of space, but it's beyond my control unfortunately.  If you follow the directions at the foot of this post however, you'll find the complete list of blogs which I think may be of interest to all you Criv-ites. Have a look - you never know, yours might be there.

With some regret, I had to remove one recently.  It was quite interesting with some nice images, but unfortunately the blogger's inability to countenance comment or critique of even the most mild and inoffensive content compelled me to cancel his continued inclusion on my list.  Though I had no problem with his most recent posts offering nothing fresh on the featured subject (being not much more than an excuse to showcase some computer graphics not much better than the old Grantray Lawrence 'animated' MARVEL cartoons of the '60s), I could not overlook his contemptuous attitude towards anyone not persuaded by his highly imaginative but unconvincing conjectures.

He occasionally has an irritating tendency to indulge in tedious over-analysis of the most trivial and insignificant aspects of his featured subjects, resulting in the most fanciful speculations imaginable stretched far beyond what can reasonably be inferred from the available information. He's perfectly entitled to do that, of course - it's his blog after all, and if he wants to indulge in 'creative' interpretations of minor detail, well - why shouldn't he?  However, what he shouldn't do is get uppity when others don't concur with his rather specious suppositions dressed up as irrefutable fact.

I complimented him on his blog, saying how much I enjoyed it - but remarked that I didn't always agree with some of his conclusions.  Apparently he can't seem to accept anything other than simpering, sycophantic flattery telling him just how wonderful he is, which would account for his unnecessarily rude and utterly obnoxious reply.  That's usually the way with those who make extravagant claims for themselves and their work - egos of an insecure and fragile nature to a degree commensurate with their size - and his is vastly over-inflated.

Going by his smug, self-satisfied summing-up to comments on his latest post, it would seem that he has 'comprehension' issues, so I suppose his (admittedly) inventive postulations on some of the subjects he tackles should come as no surprise. His petulance has consigned his blog to oblivion however - at least on my site.

So, looking for a blog?  Who ya gonna call?  Try one in my list, why don'tcha?  Click on the 'profile' line in Kid's Complete Blog List' (somewhere on the right) for full details.

******

(Alas, I've now retired the feature as discontinued blogs I had removed were still present on the list for some odd reason.)       

A WOLFE IN PAST'S CLOTHING...?

"You can't go home again" said THOMAS WOLFE - and in one sense he was correct, but in another sense, he wasn't.  I've done it, you see.  Allow me to explain.

The house in which I now reside, I've lived in before.  My family moved here in 1972 and we were here for 11 years until we relocated to another house in a different area in 1983.  Four years later, we moved back - I'll spare you all the boring details as to why.  At first, it was as if we'd never moved, but - ah, "but" - I'll get to the "but" shortly.

Being able to "go home again" depends on several diverse sets of circumstances; what age you are at the time, how long you've been away, to what extent (if any) things have changed since you left and (if not) whether they'll stay the same for the foreseeable future, etc.

The memories and associations of all my previous abodes are anchored in specific periods of time, fixed and immutable, from which they can never be sundered.  For instance, when I remember one particular house, it's resolutely set within the years 1965 to '72, or when I call to mind another, it's locked between the period of 1983 and '87.

Sometimes, when strolling through one former neighbourhood, I think to myself how nice it would be to stay in my old house again.  On one side are the same neighbours as when we moved into the area in the mid-1960s - still there after all these years.  That sense of continuity is an important aspect in considering whether it's possible (or even desirable) to recapture the feeling and flavour of bygone days by such means.

When we're young, our life seems to unfold before us like an unravelling ball of string; however, when looking back in later years, we don't see the string as the continuous, uninterrupted strand it seemed to be at the time, but as separate, severed segments, each in its own little compartment of the mind.  Or perhaps a chain would be a far more accurate comparison, with links missing at various intervals which would otherwise connect every individual recollection (or set of them) with the ones before and after, rather than leaving them in apparent isolation to one another.  (I'm overstating the case, perhaps, but I'm sure you get the idea.)

Consider the following hypothetical scenario: You're 8 or 9 years old and move to another house in another area.  Six months later, your parents realise it was a mistake.  The house is a dump, the area is a slum, the school is a disgrace and the neighbours are cold and unfriendly.  By a fortuitous stroke of good fortune, you're able to return to your previous house in your old neighbourhood - and do.  All of your former friends and neighbours are still there, living their lives as before. Under those happy conditions, you would merely be resuming your old life after a brief hiccup in continuity.  Truly, you would have gone home again.

If, on the other hand, you didn't return until many years later, most of the factors which made living there so memorable for you would likely no longer exist, chief amongst them being your youth and all its attendant properties.  (A sense of wonder, optimism, enthusiasm, and a whole host of other qualities.)

The surrounding neighbourhood would no longer be your very own adventure playground, merely the street where you live.  The friends with whom you played in bygone days would by now have grown up and moved on, once-familiar local faces flitted or expired.  True, you'd have your memories of happy times past, but these would still be yours wherever you happened to live.  No doubt you'd derive some satisfaction from once again inhabiting your childhood home, but unfortunately that might not be enough of a comfort when the realisation finally dawns of all the inevitable, irreversible changes that have occurred in your absence.

(I dare say it's the same even if you've lived in only one place all your life.  Changing circumstances over the years can conspire to make the experience of living in a long-term home entirely different to what you once knew.  If new people move in next door and are an absolute nightmare to live beside, then you may suddenly find yourself consumed with a desire to quit the place of your unforeseen and seemingly never-ending torment - despite it being the only house you've ever known and in which you were previously blissfully content.)

Moving house when young is a bit like breaking up with a wife or girlfriend when older.  You may eventually meet someone else and just get on with things, but should that lost love resurface in your life and want you back, you recall only the good times you had and may be tempted to pick up where you left off.  It's happened - I've read of people leaving their partners for former lovers or people they once knew (with whom they've become re-acquainted through Friends Reunited), only to discover that, once the first flush of reconnecting with a cherished part of their past has passed, they really have nothing else in common.

It can be the same with houses - or anything, in fact.  Human nature being what it is, we always miss what we don't have.  When we get it, we then start to miss whatever we gave up to acquire it. (Or something else in which we imagine our happiness resides.)

Case in point: In 1987, when the opportunity arose of returning to the house we had left over four years before, I did so without even a backward glance as I'd never wanted to move from it to begin with.  25 years later however, I increasingly find myself, unbidden, recalling happy times associated with the place we so heartlessly abandoned in favour of our once previous and now current abode.  Don't misunderstand me - I'm still glad to be back here, but, as I say, I also now think fondly of the house we left behind.  (As I do the other former homes my family have inhabited down through the decades.)

The fact may be, however, that it's not actually childhood houses (and other places) which we miss per se, but childhood itself - that time of awe and enchantment and epic sense of eternity that seemed to rest within our grasp.  The houses are merely symbols of those times and experiences - the places with which we associate our feelings of wonder and joy, plus long sunny summers and frosty snow-bound winters in a magical kingdom where time held no sway and we thought we had forever.

When we visit the grave of someone deceased, we do so with the full realisation that the person we knew is not actually there - only their shell, not their spirit, or essence, or whatever you may care to call it - but we still feel the need to go to that specific spot to 'reconnect' with them. Recently, I've begun to ponder whether revisiting an old house or neighbourhood is like visiting the grave of my childhood - there it lies, dead and buried, and I'm merely looking at a monument to its former existence.

Hopefully I'm wrong.  Hopefully, the spirit of childhood yet resides in me as a living, breathing reality and will never forsake me.  Perhaps the simple truth is not so much that childhood forsakes us, but that we forsake childhood.

So, can one go home again?  They say that home is where the heart is - but the heart is sometimes a fickle and indecisive organ, and not always to be trusted.

What would your answer be?

******

If you enjoyed this post, you may also enjoy this one.

FAB FRANKIE'S FREAKY FIZZOG...

For fans of the FRANKENSTEIN MONSTER who may have wondered what the actual colour of his skin was supposed to be in those old black and white films, you may be surprised to learn that the model kits and toys down through the years had it right from day one.  As you can see from this rare, unretouched colour photo of BORIS KARLOFF from the movie, SON Of FRANKENSTEIN, his epidermis was a pale and putrid green.

Pea soup, anyone?  (If so, better get it looked at.) 

MADE TO MAKE YOUR MOUTH WATER...

Anyone remember when STARBURST (no, not the sci-fi magazine - the sweets) were called OPAL FRUITS?  When I was a lad, there was an advert on telly for ESSO BLUE which I would deliberately confuse with the one for Opal Fruits.  "Esso Blue - made to make your mouth water", I would trill merrily, replacing the combustible fuel for the delicious sweets.  I can only suppose that both tunes were similar, which led to my youthful act of 'creative manipulation'.

Anyway, for all those who mourn the loss of a familiar name from childhood, above is a wrapper to remind you of how things used to be.

A LITTLE BIT THOR - COVER GALLERY...

Copyright MARVEL COMICS

Here's a special treat for all you Crivvie THOR fans - a super selection of seven KING-SIZE covers from the early days of his career before he became a massive, mega-hit movie star.  The first five are drawn by JACK KIRBY (with a panel by JOE SINNOTT in #s 1 & 2), and the sixth and seventh are by MARIE SEVERIN and SAL BUSCEMA respectively (unless I'm very much mistaken).  Enjoy passing your peepers over such awesome art.