The DANDY To CLOSE?

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

So, the word on the street, Huggy, is that Dundee publisher D.C. THOMSON is considering The DANDY's future and may well even close the world's longest-running weekly comic.  DCT, however, have a habit of making announcements merely to generate interest and sales, so I wouldn't count out The BEANO's stablemate just yet.

Contrary to what some people are claiming, the last two years in particular have been anything but "an absolute triumph for British comics", and the only "phenomenal" aspect to the whole sad and sorry debacle of the 2010 relaunch was just how quickly circulation plummeted.  Readers voted with their feet, and though it's true to say that something needed to be done to kick-start sales, handing sections of the comic over to would-be cartoonists with little or no experience in the world of sequential storytelling was an experiment too far.

Overnight, the comic took on an amateurish, 'fanzine' appearance (albeit a professionally printed one), with poorly executed logos and diabolical, near-illegible lettering fonts.  Making a comic look like it was produced by children is hardly the way to sell it to children - of whatever age, and the editor responsible should have been sacked before his nightmare vision ever saw the light of day.  (Although, thankfully, there were still some strips by seasoned professionals.)

I haven't looked at The Dandy in some time, so perhaps it may have improved in recent months and my comments are out of date.  The comic is a national institution, so let's hope it's got plenty more years of life in it yet.  Personally, I won't believe it's dead until I see the lid nailed down - and that's not something I particularly want to witness. 

DESERT ISLAND COMICS...

As most British readers will know, DESERT ISLAND DISCS is a long- running BBC RADIO FOUR programme, based on the premise of a weekly guest being stranded on a desert island and having to choose their eight favourite records of all time.  Then they're asked if they could only choose one, which one out of the eight it would be.  Sounds like a good idea to steal, so with that in mind, what eight comics are your all-time favourites, and why?  And, if you could only keep one of them, which one would it be?

Leave your answers in the comments section.  Go on, play along - it'll be fun.

PART ELEVEN Of FANTASTIC COVER GALLERY...

Copyright MARVEL COMICS

And now, returning to an earlier era, we present yet another half-dozen covers from "Britain's Super-Hero Action Comic" - FANTASTIC!  Also included are their back-page pin-ups, though please note that #63 had a back-cover ad which also appeared on #s 64 & 66.  To avoid repetition, it is reproduced here only once.  Note also that BARRY SMITH has only one pin-up this time around, the others being taken from other sources and featuring artwork from JACK KIRBY and DON HECK.

Only another twenty-three covers to go, alas, before our trip back in time comes to an end - but worry ye not.  We'll have something else lined up for you by then.  In the meantime - enjoy!

JOE KUBERT - REST IN PEACE...

Images copyright relevant and respective owners

Legendary artist JOE KUBERT has died at the age of 85. Famous for drawing such comics as TOR, TARZAN, ENEMY ACE, SGT. ROCK, HAWKMAN and dozens more, as well as founding The Kubert School, Joe was right up there alongside KIRBY, EISNER, SWAN, BUSCEMA, and any other comicbook artist of renown you care to mention.

Other blogs will doubtless cover the man's life and career in greater detail. For the moment, here is a selection of covers that made Joe Kubert's name one of the most respected in the industry.

Joe Kubert: September 18th, 1926 - August 12th, 2012.

HUGH And I...

 The afternoon moon.  Photo by Kid Robson

Hugh was a nice big fella - tall, thin, quiet and unassuming.  I'd met him back in 1983 when I was attending night-classes at my old secondary school (now demolished), and he was one of those people with whom it was immediately easy to get along.  I'd left school at 16 before sitting any Highers, and now I was seeking to redress the oversight by studying for Higher English.  (Passed it.)

However, it wasn't until after we'd sat our exams and night-school was over that Hugh and I became friends rather than just mere acquaintances.  Not the sort of friends who palled about regularly, or who made arrangements to meet up or anything like that.  It was just a case of whenever we ran into one another, we'd pass the time by 'shooting the breeze' and perhaps having a coffee together.  Sometimes he preferred a pint, so we'd find a bar and I would partake of a Coke (in a dirty glass - nothing soft about me), and we'd kill an hour or two in conversation.

The last time I saw Hugh, I treated him to a meal in a local eatery and we reminisced about 'old times'.  We'd only known each other for about seven years or so, so our shared recollections didn't reach back too far, but Hugh was a bookworm and always had something interesting to say.  He was also a book rep, which meant he had a car, so when we'd finished our meal and had a gab, he deposited me at my house and said goodbye. "We'll do this again sometime," he said.  "My treat."

A couple of months later (or so it seemed), I was reading the 'In Memoriam' column in my local paper and spied a familiar name.  It was the first 'anniversary' of the death of someone's beloved son, and I was surprised to see that the name of the deceased was the same as Hugh's.  Couldn't be him of course, as I'd last seen him only a couple of months back and the poor guy in the paper had been dead for a year.

However, as the day wore on, something gnawed at the back of my mind, and eventually I 'phoned a Glasgow shop which Hugh used to supply with books from time to time.  A guy called Stevie answered and I asked if he knew the book rep named Hugh, and whether he'd seen him recently.  "He's dead," he said.  "Got hit by a bus around a year ago."  Thanking him, I put down the 'phone and slowly let the confirmation of my nagging suspicion sink in.

That meant I'd last seen Hugh over a year before, despite it seeming far more recent than that.  I could hardly believe it - he'd been resting in his grave (or his urn) for over twelve months while I, in my ignorance, still trotted about permissively, half-expecting to run into him at any time.  Even after I learned of his death, I'd occasionally see someone in my local shopping centre and absent-mindedly think "Is that Hugh?", ready to call out to him before sadly remembering that he was no longer around.

Funny how quickly time passes, isn't it?  It's now over twenty years since I learned Hugh had died, and it still only seems like a few months since we ate and talked and laughed together, and he dropped me off outside my house with the promise of "doing it again sometime".  Sadly, for Hugh, that "sometime" never came - nor, in fact, for me either.  But who knows?  Maybe one day, perhaps - in another place, another time.

And Hugh - if so, you're buying.

BUSTER & THE BIG ONE - PART THREE...

The Sparrows go to War.  Art by Tom Kerr.  Images copyright relevant owner

Presenting the final five pages which complete your issue of BUSTER & The BIG ONE from 1965.  Often, seeing the ads in comics can be as much of a time-travel experience as the strips themselves, carrying us back to childhood faster than the wink of an eye.  I have to admit, I was largely unaware of Buster's existence at this time, being fully captivated by TV CENTURY 21.  To me, the 'definitive' Buster came a couple of years or so later, when FISHBOY started.  Along with CHARLIE PEACE (and Buster himself), that's the comic I remember from my innocent youth.

Hopefully, this three-part series has stirred up warm reminiscences of your days as a schoolboy in the dim and distant days of the 1960s.  Which, paradoxically, seem as fresh and alive as the morning dew and the caress of a gentle breeze on one's skin. 

Ug and Tug.  Art by Angel Nadal

Charlie Drake.  Art by Arthur Martin

For Part Two, click here.  For Part One, click here.

SPOTLIGHT ON FANTASTIC FOUR ANNUAL #33...

Images copyright MARVEL COMICS

Who'da thunk it?  A new comic I actually enjoyed.  FANTASTIC FOUR Annual (#33), written and pencilled by ALAN DAVIS (with inks by MARK FARMER) is a nice, traditional-type story which benefits from being a single issue tale, rather than the first episode of a multi-part 'epic' and the 'slower-than-a-snail's-pace' structure that such adventures usually entail.  (On account of being designed with collected editions in mind, rather than the monthly instalments they first appear in.)

I won't ruin the story for anyone by saying what it's about, but the artwork is more than worthy of a mention.  Clear, at-a-glance, unconvoluted sequential art which glides seamlessly from panel to panel, the reader isn't left scratching his head and wondering what he's looking at.  If I have one minor gripe, it's that the THING's face is perhaps slightly too 'cartoony'-looking on the cover, but that's not something the interior rendition of blue-eyed Benjy is afflicted with.

One thing that does bug me though, is this - take a look at the above page.  When I open a comic, I want to see a traditional splash page - something dramatic that'll whet my appetite for what's to come, not a page of dreary text which just about snuffs my interest and leaves me disinclined to read any further.  And take a look at all those names along the bottom.  What the hell are assistant editors, associate editors, editor-in-chiefs, chief creative officers, publishers, and executive producers doing there?  Who the hell cares?  FECK OFF!

It's the same on the first single-illo page (page two, not counting the text page) of the story.  As far as I'm concerned, the only names I'm interested in seeing are of those who wrote, drew, lettered, coloured, and - at a push - edited it.  The rest of them should be buried in the indicia, not obscuring the art - after all, who gives a monkey's burp?  It'll be office receptionists and tea ladies next.  Kindly feck off, the lot of you, and leave the credits for those who actually crafted the tale.

Okay, rant over.  If you're looking for an undemanding, entertaining way of killing half an hour, Fantastic Four Annual is for you.  Pick it up at your local comic shop today. 

MARVEL TALES SPIDEY COVER GALLERY - PART FIVE...

Images copyright MARVEL COMICS

Say what you like about STAN LEE, but one thing he was good at was coming up with catchy titles.  For instance, just look at the first offering in this new instalment of MARVEL TALES SPIDEY covers: "The GOBLIN And The GANGSTERS!"  And let's not forget "BRING BACK My GOBLIN To ME!" in ish #165.  Superb stuff indeed, and it's this sense of fun that '60s writers and artists were clearly having with the comics they created that's sadly lacking in many of today's lacklustre and disappointing offerings.

However, I'm not here to preach to you, merely to present this latest batch of Sturdy STEVE DITKO masterpieces for your consideration and enjoyment.  Take a look at the cover of MT #167, which originally adorned Spidey's second annual - in which he met that ol' Master of the Mystic Arts, Dr. STRANGE.  I'm lucky enough to have that particular publication in my collection (as well as the first), and there's just something about it which reaches out and grabs you.  Thankfully, none of its magic has been lost in the Marvel Tales reprint, despite a little juggling to accommodate the bar-code box.  And ANDY YANCHUS (who once worked for the famous AURORA model kits) has done a superb job of colouring the interiors.

Anyway, that's enough needless chat from me - on to the goodies.

  

PART TWO OF BUSTER & THE BIG ONE - 1965 ISSUE...

Johnny Samson, previously Thunderbolt Jaxon.  Art possibly by Hugh McNeill?

And now, the second instalment in this three-part series of a complete issue of BUSTER & The BIG ONE from 1965.  Just think - the year in which this comic went on sale, THUNDERBALL was the then-latest BOND movie, The BEATLES were still together, The SAINT was still on television, CHARLTON HESTON's body double from BEN HUR - CHRISTOPHER TRACE - was still presenting BLUE PETER, I was still a young lad with the future in front of me, and everything seemed right with the world.  (At least from my perspective.)  And, perhaps even more importantly (as far as U.K. kids were concerned), there was still a thriving comics industry in this country and we were spoilt for choice as to which weekly pictorial publication we wished to purchase.  (How different to the way things are today.)

So, if you're of a certain age and were a Buster reader back when the comic was a mere five years old, enjoy this look back at not only a vanished periodical, but a vanished era;  when there were no such things as mobile 'phones, personal computers, ipads, DVD players, TVs in every room, and seemingly unlimited pocket-money - and life seemed no worse for the lack of them.

Art by various artists

Sinbad Simms.  Art by Eric Roberts

Jon of the Jungle.  Art possibly by Jordi Bernet?

For Part Three, click here.  For Part One, click here.

LITTLE LOST BEAR ON A BEACH...

A small breeze blew in off the sea as I strolled along Portsmouth beach on a mid-evening in March, back in 1981.  Gulls circled overhead, keen eyes peeled for edible tit-bits dropped by careless passers-by, out for an idle wander (like myself) or a bracing 'constitutional' before returning home for a relaxing 'nightcap' prior to bedtime.

Turning my gaze from Neptune's watery domain, I was momentarily startled by what appeared to be a small body lying face down on the pebbles a little ahead of me.  As I got nearer I could see it was a sopping wet Teddy bear which had been washed up by the tide, presumably having fallen overboard from some ship or ferry.

I stopped to observe his drenched and pitiful form and, I blush to confess, found myself (much to my surprise) feeling somewhat sorry for the little chap.  I picked him up, noticing how heavy he was due to his immersion, and squeezed his purloined portion of ocean onto the beach.  Then I sat him in a more comfortable position and studied his bedraggled face thoughtfully.

Was some heartbroken and inconsolable child at that very moment lamenting his loss and praying for his safe return?  Or had poor ol' Ted been cast into the briny deep on the perverse whim of some capricious brat curious to see if he would float or sink?  Who could say?  There was no mistaking, however, that here was a fellow in need of a helping hand if ever there was one.

At some stage in his life Teddy had lost his eyes, whether as a result of his seafaring adventure or some previous misfortune I am unable to say.  As he sat there, I could swear he was aware of my presence, too proud to beg, but listening intently, head slightly cocked, silently hoping that I would not forsake him.  If I ignored this noble bear's unspoken plea, his likely destiny seemed either to be gathered unto the sea once more and consigned to its depths, or to end his span on a refuse tip when those responsible for maintenance of the beach spotted his unauthorised occupation.

A sense of shame fills my soul as I now recall my response to this poor creature's plight.  I hardened my heart and turned my step in the direction of home, telling myself that he was too wet to carry, that my landlady wouldn't allow him on the premises, that I would be unable to find him a new owner on account of his blind and wretched condition.  As I departed with crunching footsteps, I seemed to hear what sounded like a faint, sad sigh behind me.

Just for a moment my resolve weakened, but I managed to hold fast.  However, something told me that this poor bear's existence should not go unrecorded; that there should be some kind of reminder of his short sojourn on Earth when, hopefully, he had once been loved and cherished and validated by the affections of a child whose life revolved solely around him.  So I turned, beat down the nagging voice in my heart, and snapped a photo before abandoning this soggy, sorry, uncomplaining little bear to the encroaching gloom of evening.

Even today, over thirty years later, I sometimes find my thoughts returning to that little lost bear and hoping that a kinder person than myself gave him the good and loving home he deserved, and which I in my selfishness had denied him.  Ashamed of my heartlessness, I seek a small measure of consolation in the hope that, regardless of his eventual fate, he would have understood and forgiven me for not being the good Samaritan that I should have been.

He just looked to be that sort of a bear.

******

(And, by the magic of technology, Ted has now been given a bit of a 'wash' and had his sight restored.  Ahhh.)

SUPERMAN'S AMAZING NEW ADVENTURES - COVER GALLERY...

Copyright DC COMICS

In a previous post (here), we looked at the very first story in DENNY O'NEIL's ground-breaking SUPERMAN run which lasted nine issues, with another two unconnected tales following soon after.  (Issue #233, above, which kicked things off, was dated January 1971, but probably went on sale around October 1970 in the United States.  Though exactly when it hit newsstands in Britain is anyone's guess.)

Anyway, I thought all you Crivvies would probably appreciate seeing the rest of the covers in O'Neil's KRYPTONITE NEVERMORE series, though #239 was a giant reprint issue which had nothing to do with the storyline so I haven't included it here.  However, I have included #s 244 & 253, which ended O'Neil's involvement with The MAN Of STEEL.  (As far as I'm aware, that is.  If anyone knows otherwise, don't keep it to yourself.)

So - sit back and enjoy the accompanying eleven covers, from a time when publishers knew how to grab a potential purchaser's attention with dynamic layouts and intriguing illustrations!