ADS YOU THOUGHT YOU'D NEVER SEE...

I cut this from a magazine a few years back.
Those Daleks, eh? They get everywhere.

To The LONGBOATS... The MOST FAMOUS 'VIKING' Of ALL!

Alas, alack, woe is me!  I am cast down and utterly despondent.  Oh, despair!  And what is the reason for my melancholy mood, the more kindly amongst you may wonder.  I'll tell you.  As far as I'm aware, I've only ever been to Largs (in Ayrshire) three times in my life.  At least, that is to say I've holidayed there three times, but perhaps I've passed through or near to it over the years without being aware of the fact while in a friend's car en route to somewhere else.

The years I'm specifically referring to, however, are 1968, '69 & '71, when I was 9, 10 & 12 years old respectively.  On at least two occasions, my family attended The VIKING CINEMA in Largs, once to see Those MAGNIFICENT MEN In Their FLYING MACHINES and also, I think, The MAGNIFICENT SEVEN - though I can't recall which of the two we saw first, not that it matters.  (However, come to think of it, it's strange that both movies had the word 'magnificent' in the title.)

The Viking Cinema was a truly, er... magnificent art-deco establishment, with a sturdy mock-up of the prow of a Viking longship protruding from the front of the building.  I recall standing on it and thinking what it must've been like to sail the seven seas in days of yore, doing a spot of pillaging and... well, I was just a boy, so I was probably ignorant of the other activity for which Vikings were infamous, so we needn't go there.

Over the years, I've often thought back to those holidays, fully intending to revisit Largs again and once more stand on the deck of that prow and relive my boyhood memories.  Imagine my dismay then, when I learned only an hour or so ago, that The Viking Cinema closed on August 4th, 1973 (a mere two years after my last visit to Largs) and was demolished in 1983.  (Apparently it had been turned into a bottling plant in the intervening years between closure and demolition.)

Now, not only is it devastating to learn that a childhood landmark no longer exists, but that it ceased to exist so far back in time as to be separated from my actual experience of the place by only a metaphorical hair.  All the years that I've imagined it still functioning as a cinema (or, if closed, only having done so relatively recently), have all been based on nothing more than the ghost of a memory - a fantasy even.

Alas, alack, I may never again be able to stand on the deck of The Viking in actuality, but, in the coming years, I'll do so - often - in the evergreen and eternal land of memory.

******

And, in case you were wondering why a Scottish town would have a Viking-themed cinema, it's because the long-haired rascals tried to invade us a few centuries back (October 2nd, 1263 to be exact) and we gave them a good gubbing.  (Thor's hammer, in the guise of a stick, must still have been lying in that cave in Norway, which is probably why he couldn't help them out.)  The cinema was in tribute to our well-deserved victory and their defeat - not that we like to rub it in or anything.

******

Apparently, after being removed from the building, the ship's prow was taken to the Isle of Cumbrae and remained there for years. If anyone has any information as to whether it's still there or not, feel free to get in touch.

******

Update: I finally revisited Largs in 2014.  You can read about my return to my three-time holiday haunt here. 

  

TOLD YOU WE SHOULD HAVE GOT A SONY...

I probably shouldn't be posting some of my early work as most of it was a bit rough and it shows.  However, even allowing for the deficiencies, some of it isn't too bad for a teenager and would have been improved with only a bit of 'polish'.  (A bolder, more confident outline for a start.)  The above is one I did for a local business back in the '70s and, yes, I was paid for it.  I did quite a few for this company (all for newspaper publication), but this is the only one I kept a copy of as it was the first.  Which is a shame, now that I think of it, because some of them were quite good.

CALLING FELLOW BLOGGERS...

I've noticed recently that when I try and submit comments to various people's blogs, they disappear into oblivion.  (My comments that is, not the people or their blogs.)  What's more, there seems to be a random factor involved; sometimes I can leave a comment where it had been denied previously, sometimes it's vice versa.

Anyone else had this problem?

******

Update: I think I've got the problem sussed.  Thanks to those who responded.

TRICK OR - SHRIIIIIIIIEEEEEEKKKK!!!

'Tis the merry month of October and Hallow'en will soon be upon us.  Even we oldies who haven't been out guising in many a long year are not immune to its unique charms, and can yet recall the Hallowe'ens of our youth with fond nostalgia.  I remember having a cardboard YOGI BEAR mask, purchased from WOOLWORTHS (actually I had two; one in 1963/'64 and again in '66), and I'd love to be able to get my hands on another one some day.  Unlikely I know, given the inherent fragility of the item.  (Update: Got one 11 years after first publishing this post.)

Anyway, I was digging through the files recently and, much to my surprise, discovered a photocopy of the original pencil version of my FRANKENSTEIN monster portrait from the early '80s.  Regular readers of this blog will have already seen the inked and cropped incarnation of this drawing, but the pencilled portrait has its own charm and is of sufficient interest to merit an outing here.

So, just imagine... you hear a chapping at your front porch.  Grabbing a few apples and some monkey nuts, you prepare to endure yet another rendition of 'three wee witches on the green' as you open the door and are confronted - not by a gaggle of giggling guisers - but by the image above, looming at you out of the fog.

And if that doesn't cure you of your constipation, then nothing will.  

ARE YOU ONE OF THE 'IN' CROWD?

Here's an alternate version of a newspaper ad I did for a hair & beauty salon back in 1984.  I don't know if the above variant was ever printed, but the second version (below) was - and is scanned from the newspaper it appeared in.  Knowing it would be printed extremely small, I tried to keep it as simple as possible to compensate for the usual murky reproduction to which newspapers were then prone.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK OF IT SO FAR?"

British audiences require no introduction to MORECAMBE & WISE, who, for many years, were probably Britain's best-loved comedy duo, rivalled only by The TWO RONNIES.  Eric and Ern's TV Christmas Specials got record-breaking viewing figures that many a programme today would kill for.  While the pair were still at the peak of their success, publishers WEIDENFELD & NICOLSON released a hardback book, The MORECAMBE & WISE SPECIAL in 1977, with W.H. ALLEN & Co., Ltd releasing the softcover edition (under the imprint of STAR BOOKS) a year later.

I guess there must have been a demand for it recently, because a facsimile edition of the original hardback volume was published in 2009.  If you missed it and can't live without it, you'll no doubt be pleased to learn that the POUNDLAND chain of stores currently have loads of the book in stock for - surprise surprise - £1.  If you were a fan of the twosome back in the '70s, the book is a nice little reminder of a vanished era and can still raise a chuckle or three.

Comics fans in particular will be interested in the four page comic strip featuring Eric & Ernie, drawn by TERRY WAKEFIELD and  written by DENIS GIFFORD.  At a mere pound, how can you lose?

2012 ANNUALS FOR ONLY £1...

Copyright D.C. Thomson & Co., Ltd

The companion book to the BEANO & DANDY Celebration of DENNIS The MENACE, namely The BROONS & OOR WULLIE 75th Anniversary Edition, is currently available in all good bookshops, priced £12.99.

However, WH SMITH's has a special offer on at the moment - buy any one annual, get another for only £1.  That means one can obtain both books for a mere £13.99. (UPDATE: This has now been superseded by a 'buy one, get one free' offer.)

(FURTHER UPDATE: As of Dec 27th, all Annuals are £1.99 while stocks last.)

As well as the first ever appearances of The Broons and Oor Wullie, the book also includes a Broons CD and an Oor Wullie calendar, pictured below.

What are you waiting for? Get down to your nearest WH Smith's today!

However, don't neglect your local SAINSBURY'S, who are selling the 2012 BEANO ANNUAL and DANDY ANNUAL for £5 EACH (R.R.P. £7.99) or a mere £8 for both of them.  This offer also includes other annuals, but I didn't see the Dennis or Broons & Our Wullie books on sale there.

(UPDATE: On Dec 24th, all Annuals were priced £3 each.  It's extremely likely that any remaining stock has been reduced even further since then.)

 

CAPTAIN SCARLET HAS BEEN TRANSFERRED... S.I.G.

When I was a boy in the mid-'60s, there was a set of dab-on DALEK transfers available.  I recall having that super set on at least two separate occasions a few years apart and I'd love to own it again one day.

Another set of terrific transfers I had as a lad was CAPTAIN SCARLET, and a few years ago I was lucky enough to re-acquire a sheet from some source or other.  Because they were dab-ons, they were referred to as 'dabbities' in Scotland, and, I assume, other parts of Britain also.

For all lovers of nostalgia, I thought I'd share my set with you here.  No, don't mention it.

LEGIBLY LETTERED LOGOS LET LOOSE...

Copyright REBELLION

When I was a regular contributor to 2000 A.D., lettering such strips as STRONTIUM DOG, ROGUE TROOPER, and a whole host of other strips from time to time, ALAN McKENZIE (the best deputy editor the comic ever had) often asked me to design and letter various special logos for story titles and upcoming new series.

On view are three suggestions for a series featuring Scottish Strontium dog, MIDDENFACE McNULTY.  I forget which of them was eventually chosen, but each one was completely hand-lettered by myself.  Anyone lettering comics using computer fonts today who can't also do it by hand (if required) isn't a real lettering artist in my view - they're only typists.

"YOU'VE HAD YOUR CHIPS, SON..."

1st part of double page spread

One of the other things I produced for the establishment mentioned in the previous post was a rules and regulations poster for their delivery drivers.  Having taken enough money from the 'parent company' on past projects, and because it wasn't for public consumption, I cut them a special deal on this one.  If memory serves, I did this for six months' supply of fish suppers, the cost of which, had I paid for them, would've far exceeded what I could have legitimately charged for the work involved, so I really came out ahead on the deal.

2nd part of double page spread

Here's another piece I did for the same company, but this time for another of their businesses.  This was produced for their leaflets and newspaper advertisements, and everything on it was done by hand, with the exception of the Letraset numbers on the right.

And the illustration below was done for another chip shop owner, for his bags, menus, and fliers.

Hardly international publishing, true (with which I was involved at the same time), but lucrative nonetheless.

(Incidentally, the images are scanned from poor quality photocopies; I've tried to punch them up a bit, but they're still not as sharp as they could be.)

CONFESSIONS OF A CRIMINAL CO-CONSPIRATOR - IN LITTERBUGGING...

A copy of the finished artwork

I readily confess - it was me.  Yes, I'm the one you're looking for.  How can I deny it?  After all, I put my name to it.  I sit here, consumed by guilt in my participation in the worst ever spate of litter-bugging that Scotland has ever seen.  "How can this be?" I hear you ask, and, not wanting to disappoint your eager expectations, I am only too ready and willing to tell you.

In a previous post, I alluded to a company for which I occasionally did a bit of advertising work.  Amongst their diverse interests were various food outlets, including that great Scottish stalwart and home of the deep-fried MARS BAR - the humble chippie.

A copy of the original 'rough'

No, nothing to do with building sites; I of course refer to the traditional fish and chip shop, that bastion of British (well, at least Scottish) civilization as we know it.  (And I'm well-aware that there are some amongst you who will gleefully proclaim that the words 'Scottish' and 'civilization' do not belong together in the same sentence.  Youse are claimed!) 

Here's how it happened.  This particular fish and chip shop needed a cartoon illustration for their bags - I provided it.  (The 'rough' and the finished article can be seen on this very page.)  However, the company which owned the shop also had quite a few other food outlets in various parts of Scotland.  Whenever any of them were short of bags, they were supplied from any excess stock of bags which I had designed.  (This, of course, would sometimes happen in reverse.)

Add to that the fact that one of these shops was right next to a bus terminal to which hordes of hungry travellers called in for fish suppers and the like on their way home, and you can well understand the reasons as to how this humble little paper bag managed to get around.  

The finished, printed result

This resulted in the situation that, no matter where I happened to be, at some stage I was likely to see a bag with my name on it drifting down a high street or across a field, or stuck in a hedge somewhere - not only in the remotest areas of my own home town, but also in Hamilton, Rutherglen, Glasgow - and even as far afield as Edinburgh for goodness' sake!  That bloody bag got everywhere - I'm sure it was haunting me.  I never dropped a bag myself, but I somehow felt responsible.

Anyway, I feel better now.  Whoever it was who said that confession is good for the soul was right, bless 'em.  Hopefully, I'll now be able to sleep at nights, and face myself in the mirror with an untroubled conscience.  Only time will tell.

Right now, however, I'm off down the chippie for a fish supper and a deep-fried Mars Bar.  Braw!

TWO WHATS ARE BETTER THAN ONE?

What was a fella to do?  I'd forgotten her birthday and the shops were closed.  What could a woman want by way of a belated card for her neglected birthday celebrations?  And then it came to me: "A picture of myself of course!".

So I set to work.  I quarter-folded a blank piece of A4 paper and then did a quick pen and acrylic ink coloured pic of myself (as I then looked, with beard and short hair), added a humorous message and popped it in the post.  (That's a black and white photocopy of the original colour illo above.)

They say it's the thought that counts; well, I thought about enclosing a tenner with it - but then I thought better of it.  Two thoughts are better than one, right?

Apparently not.

Women!  Never happy, are they?

WEE AL IS GONNA MAKE-A YOU AN OFFER YOU NO CANNA UNNERSTAND...

Front cover

Back when I had a full-time career working in comics, I occasionally found time to involve myself in outside projects.  One such job was for a company run by two local entrepreneurs (brothers), who at that time had a vast 'empire' of diverse business operations in various towns and cities across Scotland; shops, restaurants, cafes, ice rinks, food outlets, etc.

In an attempt to promote one of their restaurants (situated above an ice rink), they asked me if I'd come up with something to highlight the family appeal of their establishment.  They wanted to emphasize that the restaurant wasn't just for adults to come to on a night out, but also somewhere to bring the kids during the day and on special, fun occasions.

Centrespread

Borrowing a leaf from McDONALDS (although this place wasn't a burger bar by any means - it was a proper, fancy, Italian restaurant), I created a mascot and came up with a little activity 'booklet' to occupy the kids once they were in the door and to make them want to come back again.  (The idea was that I'd update it every so often.)

Here's the first and only one ever produced.  (Which was a shame, as the money was good.)  It was done in a hurry, hence my inclusion of a couple of cartoons I'd produced for some camping posters back in the late '70s, early '80s, in order to save time.  The kids loved it, apparently, but unfortunately the management failed to persuade enough people that it wasn't the high-class, expensive restaurant it really was.

Back cover

The moral of the story?  If you want to capture the McDonalds kiddie-contingent, then you have to provide more than bits of paper for them to colour in;  you need to compete at the same price level as well.

The same thing also applies to comics.  One of the reasons for falling circulation nowadays is that they're just far too expensive in relation to everything else.  Publishers take note.

"I YAM WHAT I YAM!"

POPEYE & Co. copyright KING FEATURES SYNDICATE, Inc.

When I was at secondary school in the '70s, my main claim to fame was drawing POPEYE.  My classmates were always pleading with me in earnest tones, "Draw Popeye, Robson, draw Popeye!"  They were entranced by the sailor's image coming to life on the page (in the back of a school jotter usually) with only a few deft scribbles.  The celebrity status accorded me, the adulation bestowed upon my exalted self, the esteem in which I was held - it was almost intoxicating as I strode heroically through the school corridors.

"Look!", cried awestruck lesser pupils as I passed, prostrating themselves in obeisance, "Tis the Mighty Robson, he who is to be regarded as unto a god by we lowly mortals!  All hail the Mighty Robson!"  Even teachers aligned themselves with the 'Cult of Robson' as it came to be known; I often used to hear them refer to me (in hushed tones and from a respectful distance naturally) as "a bit of a cult!"

Well, okay - I might, perhaps, have indulged in just the slightest bit of hyperbole halfway through that little reminiscence, but only a tad.  The reality was pretty close to how I recall.  (Cough!)

Anyway, I've continued to draw Popeye from time to time over the years, and above is a picture I whipped up for someone-or-other in the mid-'90s.  DUNN KWIK is one of many pseudonyms I use on occasion, the afore-mentioned being reserved for stuff produced in a bit of a hurry.  Still - not too shabby, is it?

ONE TITANIC TIN-POT TYRANT And ONE MIGHTY MAN Of MARVELLOUS METAL...

Characters copyright MARVEL COMICS

While I rack my brains in pursuit of anything remotely interesting to write about, here's an old standby.  My own version of the cover of THE INVINCIBLE IRON MAN #150, which I may even get around to inking one day.  (Or, then again, maybe not.)

Not traced, not projected, not graphed; merely drawn using the printed comic as a model - just like real artists do, drawing from observation and study of something in front of them.  The original was too big to scan, so the above pic is actually a photo of the original art.

Incidentally, the original cover was drawn by JOHN ROMITA JR. & BOB LAYTON.

A PRACTICALLY PERFECT PURPLE PICTURE FOR YOUR PERUSAL...

Look at the above photo.  Difficult as it may be for you to believe, this is the result of a bit of computer repair work on the magazine pin-up below.  Someone I know is a massive DEEP PURPLE fan and this picture once adorned his bedroom wall when he was a teenager.  (Whatever takes your fancy I suppose - I had Page 3 girls on mine.)

Rediscovering this reminder of his youth, he was sadly disappointed to note that it had succumbed to the ravages of time and asked me if I could do anything with it - so I did.  The framed improvement now hangs on his living-room wall for all his visitors to see.  (Honest, it's the same picture.)

Isn't technology wonderful?

KARLOFF THE UNCANNY...

Boris Karloff in real life

WILLIAM HENRY PRATT - or BORIS KARLOFF as we know him better - appears to be a vastly under-rated actor nowadays, despite all the fame and acclaim once rightly bestowed on him for his penetrating portrayals of The FRANKENSTEIN MONSTER and IMHOTEP (or ARDETH BEY), to name just a couple of his more celebrated roles.

Art by Kid Robson

Quiet, soft-spoken, and with a hint of a lisp, he was the quintessential English gentleman, who never lost his love for the game of cricket, even in far-off Hollywood, thousands of miles away from his native land.  There has probably never been another actor whose personality was so diametrically opposed to his on-screen persona as that of dear old Bill.  A big, superstitious softie in real life; often a snarling, vicious, psychopathic killer in the movies.  Apparently, just like GEORGE CLOONEY, he also had a pet pig at one time, which he used to rush home to see after filming.  (Wonder if he liked bacon?)  

Test makeup not used in the film

Born on November 23rd, 1887 (the same month that the Baron's creature first opened his yellow, watery eyes), he died on February 2nd, 1969 at his home in Bramshott, Hampshire.  Star of stage, screen, TV, and spoken-word recordings, he had a long and varied career after first finding fame in the 1931 classic, Frankenstein.  However, forget the Monster and the Mummy... Karloff gave entrancing performances in many films over the years, whether horror-themed or not.  Next time you see a Karloff movie in the TV listings, give it a look-see - it'll be well worth your while.  So here's to KARLOFF... The UNCANNY!

WHAT'S IN A NAME? ARE YOU KIDDING? A LIKELY STORY...

"Why are you called 'Kid'?  Is it because you act like one?"

If I had a pound for every time I've been asked that, I'd have - well, I'd have a pound actually, so I don't suppose there's really too much interest in the topic.  However, I have to fill this blog with something, so - assuming you'll bear with me in yet another act of shameless self-indulgence - I shall address the issue in the forlorn hope that anybody even remotely cares.

There was a period during my early teenage years when I called everyone "kid".  It was short, snappy, and it meant never having to worry about remembering people's names.  One day, I ran into a pal of mine in the company of a group of his friends.  Anticipating my familiar, well-worn greeting, he thought he'd get in first in a daring act of mockery at my little peccadillo.  (Feel free to supply your own amusing rejoinder to that last sentence.)  "Hi Kid!" he said with a cheeky grin upon his smug countenance, immensely satisfied with himself for - in his mind - 'beating me to the punch'.

His pals were unaware of his intended 'irony' however, and merely assumed it to be my nickname. But ours is a drama decreed by the fates to be acted out (always loved that line by LARRY LIEBER); I subsequently became friendly with that little group, who - in their innocence - always referred to me by that appellation.  And so the name stuck and I've been known as "Kid" - to them and to others - ever since.

But whence came the habit which led to me effectively naming myself?  Why did I call people "kid" to begin with?  I'm glad I pretended you asked.  You see, back in the early 1970s, there was a brilliant comedy show called WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE LIKELY LADS, starring JAMES BOLAM and RODNEY BEWES.  In fact, as their names had alternating billing from week to week, if you re-read that last sentence, reverse the order of their names so that I don't hear from their agents or solicitors.

Although the programme was a comedy, it also had pathos, poignancy and profundity - otherwise known as the three Ps.  During the course of their frequent nostalgia-laden soliloquies, the characters often addressed each other as "kid" or "kidda".  In my devotion to the programme and my desire to emulate the two main characters, I soon adopted the practice of referring to everyone I knew (and even some I didn't) as "kidda", which resulted in some fairly puzzled looks.  That's because the words "kidda" and "kidder" sound pretty similar when pronounced with a lazy Glaswegian accent, and this made folks think I was accusing them of pulling my leg in some way.

"Kidder?" they'd say in a slightly bewildered manner (likewise mispronouncing it as "kidda") - "Kiddin' about what?"  Well, it didn't take me too long to realize that adopting the shorter option - "kid" - would avoid any unnecessary confusion amongst my sturdy band of companions and free me from having to endlessly explain myself.  It could've been far worse, as I'd once been in the habit of exclaiming "Jings, man!" in response to anything of even a vaguely interesting or surprising nature.

This inevitably led to all my friends and acquaintances calling me "Jings-Man" every time I appeared on the horizon.  Fortunately, I soon dropped the use of this 'oath' (doubtless acquired from reading too many BROONS and OOR WULLIE strips in The SUNDAY POST) and thus escaped any longterm association with the name which could've resulted in lasting damage to my delicate sensibilities.  I much prefer being called "Kid" - or "Sir", even.  (In fact, now that I come to think about it, "Master" is good as well.)

And there you have it!  The hitherto secret origin of how I gained my teenage nickname which has remained with me to this day.  And you also have an object lesson in the art of writing something about nothing - but you should only ever do so if your very life depends on it, so I have absolutely no excuse.

A HINT OF A GLINT THROUGH THE WINDOW...

Images copyright respective owners

I love this time of year.  Autumn has its own scents and hues, and, as it starts to give way to Winter, assumes a magical, hybrid quality of the two seasons peculiar unto itself.  When any last faint remnants of lingering Summer have finally disappeared and been replaced with the preliminary signs of Jack Frost's rapidly oncoming kingdom, I can't help but think back to what an enchanted time it seemed to be when I was a kid.

Arising on dark mornings, streetlights a-twinkle; the first spidery glints of frost on the windows and pavements outside; warm milk on cornflakes to fortify me for my trek to school; sitting before the electric fire, hypnotized by shadows of dancing, flickering simulated flames; the fresh, biting chill of the air - all those memories - or any combination of them - embody that particular period of my personal history.  Even today, the alluring nature of the season is as much to do with the warm glow of memory as enjoying it for its own sake.

The walk to school, the chatter of friends, the sheer exuberance of childhood - how it all comes rushing back to me in torrents.  A large part of those memories is shaped by whatever comics I was buying at the time: TV CENTURY 21, WHAM!, SMASH!, FANTASTIC, WHIZZER & CHIPS, The MIGHTY WORLD Of MARVEL, SPIDER-MAN COMICS WEEKLY and many more - all those publications seem to blend into one big memory (regardless of whether they were actually available or I was buying them concurrently or not), and span a goodly number of years from primary to secondary school.  (I often smuggled a newly purchased comic into the classroom in my schoolbag and then had to suffer an agony of waiting 'til I could peruse it during the interval.)

And just think what we had to look forward to at that time of the year; Hallowe'en, Guy Fawkes' Night, Christmas - and I had the added bonus of having my birthday fall at around the same time.  No wonder I tend to look back on those events with such fondness - I was just the right age to appreciate them in all their spectacular, multi-coloured, atmospheric glory.  I'm sure it's the same for most people.   

So, in an unseemly fit of sentimentality and nostalgia, I've dug through my files and unearthed some comic covers which would've been on sale towards the end of the year back in the 1960s & 1970s, in an attempt to crystalize not only my happy recollections of days gone by, but - if you're around the same age as myself - perhaps also your own.  Hope you enjoy them.

See?  You can go home again - even if it's only for a short visit.   

SPOT The DIFFERENCE...

Copyright MARVEL COMICS

Above is the cover from the second THOR KING-SIZE SPECIAL from 1966, below is a reprint from 1994 - which still carries the original indicia, but with the words 'second printing' appended to it.  Sharp-eyed readers will notice that ol' Goldilocks' right arm is different on the two versions, the first having been amended before printing, the second presumably featuring the cover as KING KIRBY originally drew it.  (Though there's a hint of JOHN ROMITA about it.)

The reason for this is pretty obvious: Marvel's file copies of artwork were usually photocopied before any alterations were made, hence many reprints down through the years sported pages as they'd originally been drawn, not published.  Thankfully, in recent years, Marvel has addressed this issue and striven to ensure that reprints are as close to archival quality as possible.

Thought you might enjoy seeing Kirby's original version.

But hold!  There's even more to the story!  Take a good look at this third version of the cover, below.

While thumbing through my hardbacked volume of THOR MASTERWORKS Vol 5 recently, I espied this amazing oversight.  Either the patch covering Thor's original arm has fallen off (which would mean that Marvel had access to the original art), or an art restorer re-created the new arm on a file photostat, but then simply forgot to delete the original Kirby limb it was intended to replace.  Who knows the truth behind this Marvel mystery?  Answers in the comments section if it happens to be you.