FANTASTIC COVER GALLERY PART EIGHT...

Copyright MARVEL COMICS

What's significant about the number forty-one?  That's the total of FANTASTIC covers we have left before we complete our look back at one of the best-loved comics of the '60s - as far as British readers were concerned anyway.  We might be past the halfway mark, but don't despair - we've still got quite a bit of the journey to go, including more BARRY SMITH pin-ups that a lot of you won't have seen before (unless you were around at the time).  So, sit back and enjoy numbers forty-three to forty-eight of "BRITAIN'S SUPER-HERO ACTION COMIC" - it truly was Fantastic!

SPIDER-MAN - MADE IN BRITAIN...

Copyright MARVEL COMICS

In September 1973 the second MIGHTY WORLD Of MARVEL Annual (for 1974) went on sale.  Still just called Marvel Annual (it wouldn't gain the full title of the weekly comic which spawned it until '77), it sported a cover by renowned British artist GEOFF CAMPION, who'd drawn many a strip in a bevy of U.K. weeklies over the years. (The SPELLBINDER in LION being perhaps the one with which he is most associated - certainly in my mind anyway.)

FLEETWAY/IPC published Marvel U.K.'s first couple of annuals on their behalf, so it was entirely natural to use a Fleetway/IPC artist to produce the covers.  As to why Geoff Campion in particular was chosen in the second annual's instance (apart from his obvious skill) is anybody's guess.  Perhaps he was just in the office that morning, but he certainly turned in a colourful piece of art - one which resonates with me to this day.

True, perhaps he didn't quite capture the essential 'spidery' nature of PETER PARKER's alter-ego, (not even JACK KIRBY could do that), but it's still a nice piece.  More a ROMITA Spidey than a DITKO one perhaps, but still an extremely effective illustration.  I recall the day I first saw this annual, as well as the one on which I bought it a few weeks later, but nothing of note happened to justify an account of them in this post.  Apart from the annual itself of course, the cover of which I now freely share with you here.

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Update: (September 29th 2012.)  Believe it or not, some joker in America currently has this 'rare' annual up for sale at £432.87, plus £23.53 for postage and packing. Astoundingly, the postal amount alone is far more than the book is actually worth - or usually sells for in this country.  Some people sure have a brass neck, don't ya think?    

BEHOLD THE FAR HORIZONS - I WOULD IF I COULD...

You're looking at the view that could once be enjoyed from my bedroom window of the home I lived in from the mid-'60s until the early '70s.  The first picture was taken 16 years to the very day after my family had left the house, by arrangement with the then-current tenant with whom we'd exchanged residences so many years before.  Although not evident in the above pic, on a clear day one could see purple hills above the line of trees on the far horizon, but I captured them on film on a subsequent visit a few weeks later.

In the second scene, taken three years on (with the consent of new tenants), amenity housing for the elderly stands on the site of the field where the neighbourhood kids (and myself) once played in previous years.  A sign of the times I suppose, but I can't help lamenting the fact that our horizons are narrowing with every new building crammed into any space that once offered a welcome oasis of greenery amidst the concrete structures of our sprawling towns and cities.

Looks as if the living conditions of places like MEGA-CITY ONE might be a reality sooner than we thought.

Click to enlarge

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And, just in case you're wondering, below is a close up of the view, taken a few weeks after the one at the top of the page.  See them thar hills.

 

The final photo is me three years later, with replacements of some of the toys I owned when I lived in the house.

    

The GREAT THUNDER MYSTERY Of 1972...

The MYSTERY Of TRUNDLE HILL

Regular readers may remember me relating the boring story of how I acquired the first THUNDER Annual (for 1972, released in 1971) in a previous post.  If you haven't read it and have masochistic tendencies, just click on this link - I'll wait for you right here.

However, there's another little tale relating to the book and, as I'm struggling for something interesting to write about (no change there then), I might as well see if I can make a silk purse out of a sow's ear.  Well, an imitation silk purse at the very least.

I can no longer remember the exact year; suffice to say that it was either sometime in 1968 or '69.  My family were visiting relatives who lived about 15 minutes' walk away from where we then lived.  They were aunt and uncle to my brother and myself, and lived across the road from a grandmother and her daughter (another aunt obviously), and just around the corner from yet another aunt and uncle.  So, in case you're confused and although it doesn't have much to do with the story, that's three aunts, two uncles and one grandmother, all on the paternal side.

Not too long before, my elder brother and I had each received a SPIROGRAPH set as a Christmas gift from the aforementioned aunt and uncle.  One of the pens in my set was half-full and displayed a set of teeth marks at one end where someone had obviously being gnawing at it.  I never gave it much thought to be honest, and just got on with wasting reams of paper in the production of pointless patterns that served no purpose in the development and advancement of either mankind or myself.

Anyway, on this particular visit, a female cousin (the offspring of the other aunt and uncle 'round the corner) came in and asked if they had seen her Spirograph set which she'd left there a few weeks previously.  He replied in the negative, and when she left the room, turned to me and my brother and whispered "Don't tell her, but I sat on it and broke it!"  I thought of those teeth marks on the half-filled pen and had my suspicions, but wisely kept my own council.

A few years later, in 1972, we were visiting this aunt and uncle again.  I had with me on that occasion my THUNDER Annual and also a LION & THUNDER Holiday Special.  Also present were that selfsame cousin (or perhaps her sister) and a male cousin of yet another aunt who lived in Edinburgh.  (What can I say?  It was a big family.)  The boy asked me if I'd lend him my annual and special to take home and read.  I politely declined.  As he lived in Edinburgh, it might be ages before I saw them again.

The SPECTRE Of ROSEWARNE HALL

A few minutes later, my uncle casually enquired of me whether he could have a look at my prized possessions.  (No, behave!  Not those 'prized possessions' - it isn't that kind of 'uncle' story.)  He took a leisurely look through them and then, referring to a few articles in the annual, said "I love ghost stories.  Can I borrow these to read in bed tonight?  Don't worry, I'll look after them."

I was reluctant of course, but couldn't think of a way of refusing without possibly causing offence so I let him 'borrow' them.  Big mistake.  When I eventually got the Annual back some months later (and then only because my parents, at my insistence, persisted in enquiring when the items might be returned), we were living in a new house.  The book was in a dog-eared condition - and, much to my dismay, I never saw my Holiday Special again.

Cut to approximately twelve years later, which at that time was practically half my life away.  My family were now living in yet another house, but on this particular night everybody was out and only me and the dog were in residence.  The front doorbell rang, and when I opened the door, there was the very aunt and uncle of whom I've just been telling you.  They were all for leaving when informed that my parents were out, but, determined to be hospitable, I invited them in for a cuppa and some biccies.

During the course of the next half hour or so, in my eagerness to make conversation, I asked my uncle whether he still enjoyed reading ghost stories.  I was surprised and puzzled by his response, which was that he'd never had even the slightest interest in reading ghost stories in his life.  I reminded him that he had once borrowed my Thunder Annual for that very purpose, but he evinced no recollection of the night in question and pooh-poohed the likelihood of the very idea.

The HAUNTING Of HARRISON'S CASTLE

Now, obviously (and, sad to say, justifiably) you'll be sitting there thinking that I'm a bit of a thicko.  However, it was only then - twelve years after the actual event - that the penny dropped and I realised that I'd been conned back on that night in 1972.  My uncle had obviously heard my cousin asking to borrow my book and comic, and had feigned an interest in order to acquire them on his behalf.  The B*ST*RD!  It should've come as no surprise I suppose.  If he was willing to steal a Spirograph from one relative to give to another, then clearly he was a criminal mastermind of monumental proportions and nothing was beyond his unscrupulous aspirations.

     

Well, today, I have three copies of that 1972 Annual to replace the original, but I've yet to acquire the Holiday Special to fill the space vacated by my first one from all those years ago.  I must see to it before I become senile and start forgetting my own name.  Should I succeed in locating one*, I'll be lucky to have it for the same time it's been absent - a sobering thought indeed.

(*UPDATE: Shortly after writing this, I managed to acquire a copy.  For details click here.)

Hopefully, you've found something to entertain you in this rambling reminiscence, but if not, console yourself with the wisdom you've just newly acquired, which is simply this: Just because someone is related to you, it doesn't necessarily mean that you can trust them.  You knew that already?  Oh, well - back to the keyboard.  In the meantime, enjoy the pretty pictures.

MEMORIES And IMAGINATION...

One tends to think of memory's magical kingdom as having fixed boundaries.  Only shadows of the past are allowed residence and interlopers are strictly forbidden.  However, the sentries can be fooled and intruders may sometimes sneak in under the cloak of familiarity if they bear a close enough resemblance to a recognised inhabitant.

"Okay, Gordie, you've lost the plot.  What are you blathering on about now?" you may well be thinking.  Simply this.  If you're around the same age as me, you may well remember the CAPTAIN SCARLET merchandise that was available back in the 1960s, particularly the DINKY diecast vehicles like the SPV, MSV, and SPC.  (Though nowadays it's usually referred to as the SSC.  Perhaps it was only Dinky who called it an SPC?)

I had all of them - and still retain the set I acquired many years ago as replacements for my originals.  I've had them for far longer than I ever owned their predecessors, although it doesn't actually feel like it.  It's almost as if there's never been a period in my life when I was without them, and that the ones I have today are the very ones I had as a kid; hidden in a cupboard somewhere for all those years until I rediscovered them after a long period of neglect.  That's not the case of course, it just seems that way.

However, there are other ways to fool the mind, and here's what I hope is an interesting example of just such an instance.  Back in the very early '90s, THUNDERBIRDS enjoyed a huge resurgence in popularity when the BBC broadcast all 32 episodes on network TV for the very first time.  Previously, back in the '60s (and with most subsequent repeats), they were shown in various TV regions on different days and times.  Amazingly, the '90s screenings were a huge success, spawning a level of merchandise to rival that which was available during the show's heyday.

The BBC tried again with STINGRAY and CAPTAIN SCARLET, but met with a more muted response from viewers.  However, having anticipated the same kind of enthusiastic reaction that INTERNATIONAL RESCUE had enjoyed, toy manufacturers launched all sorts of items to tie-in with the expected demand for all things GERRY ANDERSON.

Such an item was the SPV 'play set' by VIVID IMAGINATIONS, pictured in this post.  Now, here's the thing: I obviously bought this as a collector's piece, not to play with - and I purchased it while living in my present abode, with where one would naturally assume I would associate it. But no, whenever I cast eyes on it, I seem to see myself, as a kid, sitting on the doorstep in the back garden of my old house, playing with this exact same vehicle - even though this specific toy didn't exist at the time and wasn't made until around a quarter of a century later.

So vivid is the image that it does indeed seem like an actual memory - as opposed to what is obviously merely my imagination (see what I did there?), facilitated by the fact that I associate the familiar design of the vehicle with a particular period from my past.  In short, it's a perfect fit - and seems more at home in my memories of 1968 than of when I actually obtained it.

Funny how the mind can play such tricks, isn't it?  I believe it's called 'false memory syndrome', which is perhaps where 'Deja vu'-type feelings spring from.  Anyone got any similar experiences they'd care to share?  Feel free to let loose in the comments section.

 

The PIPER At The GATES Of DAWN...

Copyright relevant owner

It's no secret to those who know me that The WIND In The WILLOWS, by KENNETH GRAHAME, is my all-time favourite 'kids' book.  I'm especially partial to the E.H. SHEPARD illustrated edition, though I also have quite a few other versions featuring the work of different artists.  Apparently, ARTHUR RACKHAM was the author's first choice to supply the visuals (if it had to have some - I believe he (or Shepard) thought the book would be better without pictures), though the artist didn't actually get around to the task until about 30 years later, eight years after Grahame's death in 1932.  However, nice as Rackham's pictures are, it is Shepard's which remain the definitive ones.

When Ernest Shepard accepted the commission on the book, he was following three previous artists whose illustrations were far from satisfactory.  Shepard drew 'real' animals, whereas his predecessors had drawn anthropomorphic ones.  Grahame was delighted with Shepard's interpretation and, a few years later, the artist was called upon by the publishers, METHUEN, to provide eight colour plates for a special edition of the book, complementing his earlier evocative black and white line art which had preceded them.

As a treat, here are those eight colour pages - plus a copy of a letter from THEODORE ROOSEVELT which, though written 22 years before E.H. Shepard's drawings were commissioned and became such an indispensable part of the text, reveals that even U.S. presidents were not immune to the enchanting charms of Kenneth Grahame's classic work of literature.

The MOORE The MERRIER...?

I've only met ALAN MOORE twice.  The first time was in 1984 at a comic mart in the MOIR HALL in Glasgow's MITCHELL LIBRARY, and the second was in 1985 in the 2000 A.D. offices in KING'S REACH TOWER in London.  On that first occasion STEVE MacMANUS gave me my break into the comics industry and, afterwards, the 2000 A.D. team, Alan Moore, BERNIE JAYE, various other comics people and myself,  invaded the CENTRAL HOTEL for a chat and a little light libation.

On the second occasion, Mr. Moore brought his daughter up to the twentieth floor of KRT to meet THARG THE MIGHTY.  In both instances, the writer was polite, affable and soft-spoken - seemed like a perfectly nice guy in fact.  I very much doubt he'd remember meeting me - or, in fact, even know who I am.  No surprise - there are many millions who qualify in the latter category so you'll understand when I say that it's not something I'll lose any sleep over.

I only mention this so that you don't think I've any cause to hold a grudge against the man.  He wasn't rude to me, he didn't laugh at my accent, nor did he do or say anything to which I could take exception.  As I said - a perfectly nice guy.  When it comes to his writing, I've quite liked some of it and either not liked or been indifferent to what I've seen of the rest.  I'm of the opinion that when Mr. Moore works within 'Comic Code' guidelines, he turns out a nice little tale or two; however, when he's given the freedom to indulge himself, I find that I have little interest in what he has to say.  He can certainly write, but that doesn't mean that everything he writes (I'm talking subject, not prose) is worth reading.  (A charge that can no doubt be levelled at myself when it comes to this blog.)

Which brings me to the point of this post.  I recently watched Mr. Moore's HARDtalk interview, in which, affable as ever, he came across as - it pains me to say it - a bit of a tit.  A charming, eccentric tit, true - but still a tit.  (I say that in the full knowledge that if ever someone stuck a camera in my face and asked me a few questions, I'd more than likely make a tit of myself too.) Surely he must have friends - good friends - whose opinion he trusts - who can be relied upon to stop him making a public spectacle of himself whenever a microphone is waved in front of his heavily-bearded gob?  You know, the sort of friends who'll watch 'his' movies for him and then tell him how bad they are, to spare him the ordeal of doing the groundwork when it comes to forming an opinion for himself.

Have none of those friends got the spuds to tell him that he's severely damaged his credibility as a 'principled' individual by claiming, on air, that he accepted dosh for movie options on his works only because he believed they would never be produced?  Prepared to take money for nothing in other words, and seemingly without a shred of embarrassment about publicly admitting it.  (One would think he'd have realised that, after the first movie was made, the chances of the others similarly seeing fruition were distinct possibilities.)   

And what about his self-indulgent whinging about DC COMICS using his WATCHMEN characters in new stories?  It may have escaped his notice, but he's made a fairly good living from doing exactly the same thing for years, with the likes of SUPERMAN, SWAMP THING, MARVELMAN, CAPTAIN BRITAIN, and a whole host of other heroes he didn't create. There's absolutely no difference between him writing tales for these characters and other writers crafting new stories for his creations.  In fact, as the Watchmen heroes were thinly-disguised reworkings of former CHARLTON properties, he can't even lay a firm claim to them to begin with.  And don't get me started on what he's done to the iconic literary creations of famous, long-dead authors who'd doubtless be incensed by what he's done with them.

As I said, Alan Moore appears to be a likeable-enough bloke. (Although, by all accounts, that LOST GIRLS stuff is decidedly dodgy.  Isn't it a crime to possess or make such pictures of minors?  I'm surprised that him and his missus haven't had their collars felt by the local constabulary yet.)  I'm sure you'd all hate to see 'Affable Al' opening his mouth and putting his foot in it yet again as much as I would, so - if you're a pal of his, do him a favour.  Next time you hear he's about to make a pronouncement on some subject or other - tell him to stick a sock in it. Or better yet, stick one in for him.  You know it's for his own good.

(And in case any nasty spells are going to be coming my way, I should warn any angry wizards who may be reading that I'm protected by the Mystic Mirror of Moogamoto - it reflects spells and curses right back at where they came from.  So there!)

The (SECOND) COMING Of CONAN!

Copyright MARVEL COMICS and CPI

Most people will be aware that, when MARVEL decided to launch their CONAN The BARBARIAN four-colour comicbook back in 1970, Big JOHN BUSCEMA was first choice as artist to illustrate the swarthy Cimmerian's action-packed adventures.  Only one problem with that however - too expensive.  There was a severely limited budget for the comic and writer ROY THOMAS was already paying more than Marvel's publisher MARTIN GOODMAN had authorised for the rights to use ROBERT E. HOWARD's sword and sorcery swashbuckler.

Well, the rest is history.  The less-expensive BARRY SMITH (later WINDSOR-Smith) was assigned the task of bringing Conan's comicbook career to life, which he did with verve and vitality as befitting the bold barbarian's bombastic and bloodthirsty battles.  As we're well aware, John Buscema eventually did become the series' regular artist (drawing more issues than anyone else), but what might that first adventure have looked like had he pencilled the premiere issue as originally planned?

Fortunately, such a possibility isn't merely confined to the realms of speculation as, in 1994 - nearly half a century after Conan's debut issue - Big John finally brought his artistic magic to that '70s tale from Conan The Barbarian #1.  Personally speaking, I'd have preferred to see the story drawn with a more traditional grid-layout without the page-bleeds, and in colour as opposed to black and white.  The last panel in particular cries out for colour - or even some kind of shading to indicate the moon against the night sky, as described in one of the captions.  As it is, it's short on some sorely-needed atmosphere and lacks the impact of Smith's earlier version.

However, despite being robbed of the opportunity to compare 'like-with-like' in the strictest sense, it's fascinating to see Big J's take on Thomas's titanic tale, although it would have been even better had JOE SINNOTT or TOM PALMER performed the inking chores.  Perhaps one day they'll reprint it in colour and give readers a better idea of what could have been had "the Michelangelo of comics" (as Smilin' STAN 'The Man' LEE dubbed him) drawn the Hyborian hero's dynamic debut all those years ago.

Anyway, enjoy "The COMING Of CONAN!" from the June '94 issue of The Savage Sword of Conan the Barbarian #222.  Take a look at Conan's first appearance here - then come back and say which visual version of the tale you prefer - and why.

(The two pages below should be read as a double-page spread.)

(Like below.  Click to enlarge, then click again for optimum size.)