HITTING ANOTHER TARGET - AND MISSING... (COMPLETE FIRST ISSUE)

Characters copyright relevant & respective owners

The 'banner' headline atop the front cover gave it away.  Target, published by Polystyle Publications, was really nothing more than a resurrected TV Action, but a much cheaper, slapdash version that was, frankly, uninspiring.  It lasted 19 issues before being merged into TV Comic, and it's a surprise that it even survived for so long.  The title was presumably inspired by Patrick Mower's TV show, but there had been another periodical called Target, published by New English Library, a few years before.

Harry North's black and white art on Hazell was the best thing about the comic, and if the colouring on some of the other strips had been better, and other artists' work tighter, the publication may have stood a greater chance of success.  I can no longer recall whether I stayed with Target for its entire short run or jumped ship after #3, but I do remember giving the first three issues to a pal in the late '70s, possibly the start of the '80s, and I thought that was the last I'd ever see of them.

Around 33-odd years later, though, he gave me them back, along with some other comics I'd given him, which I've now 're-owned' for around 7 years or thereabouts, so I thought I'd share the entire first issue with you here on Crivens.  If you bought Target back in the '70s, what did you think of it?  Or if you're seeing it here for the very first time, does it look like a comic you'd have been interested in?  Share your thoughts in our ever-lovin' comments section if you'd be so good.

(Yeah, I know the post's title is a contradiction-in-terms if taken literally, but I mean it in an ironic, figurative way.)  

And, below, is the earlier NEL title of the same name, but which was a very different type of publication.

HOW TO RECAPTURE YOUR LONG-AGO YOUTH - ESPECIALLY PARTS YOU MAY'VE MISSED AT THE TIME... (Updated)

Copyright relevant owner

 

I recently purchased the complete series of Man In A Suitcase on dvd, and it's amazing how many episodes I'm seeing for the very first time.  There was only one series of 30 episodes ever made, and I'd mistakenly assumed that I must've seen all of them over the years at one point or another.  To think that I'm only just now seeing some episodes that were initially broadcast when I was around 8 or 9 years of age means that I'm sort of going back in time to see something I should've seen then, but didn't.  (Or maybe I did, but just don't remember.  Either way, it amounts to the same thing.)

Man In A Suitcase is an excellent show, and lead actor Richard Bradford is perfect as the disgraced former CIA agent who was set up to take the rap for helping someone defect to the other side.  Bradford died four years ago (2016) at the age of 81 or 82 (depending on which source you read), but there he is on my TV screen, as young as fit as he ever was, when he was a grown-up and I was a mere kid.  I'm now far older than he was then, which is a bit scary, but I temporarily forget that little fact while watching the show, as I'm returned to another house in another neighbourhood in another age, when I still enjoyed the illusion that I had eternity in front of me and Death was a stranger I'd never meet.

Did you watch Man In a Suitcase back in the '60s, readers, and what did you think of the show?  How do you think it compared to other '60s shows like The Saint, The Baron, Department S, The Avengers, The Champions, Adam Adamant, Callan, and Randall & Hopkirk (Deceased)?  Tell all in the comments section.

******

Having now watched all 30 episodes, I'm astounded by the fact that I only seem to remember seeing about two of them back in the '60s.  In fact, I may be remembering them from repeats in the '70s or '80s.  I can only assume that I watched the opening credits for the great title music, then switched off my brain (not the TV) and read a comic or something.  There are a few scenes in a few other episodes that seem vaguely familiar, but overall, my recent viewing of the show was like watching a completely new series starring a familiar character.  Well, that's me caught up with another piece of my past - I wonder what'll be next?!   

AT THE GOING DOWN OF THE SUN...

Taken in my pal's back garden a couple of nights ago

It was sometime in 1969 (if I recall correctly), that a classmate offered to sell me some back issues of Fantastic and Terrific, which I eagerly accepted.  I accompanied him back to his house after school, whereupon his mother told him to give them to me for nothing, presumably because they were only going to be thrown out to clear some space in a cupboard.  Understandably, he wasn't too happy, but reluctantly complied with his mother's instruction.  (I've never forgotten sitting at the top of the stairs, looking through the comics that I was about to acquire.)  I eventually made it up to him around three and a bit years later by giving him (unprompted) just slightly more than the amount originally agreed upon, as I was still feeling a tiny bit guilty about him being deprived of the whopping sum of either one shilling and thruppence or one and ninepence.  (I gave him ten new pence, being two shillings in 'old' money, the extra remuneration being 'interest'.)
  

A replacement, acquired in 1980, for one of the comics I got in 1969

It was to be 18 years before I returned to his house on three more occasions in the late '80s and early '90s, when he was there visiting or staying with his parents after living and working abroad.  Fast forward almost 30 years, and I've now been in his family home at least another dozen times since April this year, as he's been travelling up from England (where he now lives, and has done for a long time) to prepare the house for putting on the market, 55 years after his family first moved in back in 1965.  (Sadly, his elderly mother has dementia and had to go into a care home last December as she can no longer look after herself.)  In fact, he's been staying in the house for almost the last three weeks (with it going up for sale only a few days ago), and he started back down to England this morning, currently being sat on a train in transit as I type.

The actual size replica photo, in my friend's house

Anyway, back in 1987, my pal gave me his original copy of a primary school class photograph taken in the playground just outside the annexed huts, as the one I'd owned had been lost, damaged, or thrown out back in the late '70s or early '80s.  The plan was that I'd have it copied and returned to him, but he generously let me keep it and supply him with an enlargement in its place.  The original had been snapped in 1967 by a departing teacher, presumably to remember her pupils by, and she had a number of extra copies developed to give one to each of us.  (I say 'give', but I can no longer recall whether they were free or we had to pay for the privilege.)

  

A scan of the original photo...

I've now had that photo for a whopping 33 years (which is nearly three times as long as I had my own copy of it), but, like with the comics, I've always felt a bit guilty about my pal being deprived of the original print he'd had from his '60s primary school days, even though I'd supplied him with a bigger, newer, professionally produced copy to replace it.  On the back of the original pic was printed 'Gratispool Sep 1967', missing from the new copy as, par for the course, only the front pictorial image had been duplicated, not the back.  However, I felt that the info on the back reflected the time it was first taken as much as the front and was incomplete without it, so I recently decided to remedy the situation.

...and the back.  Unsure if date is when it was taken or developed

Being the proud possessor of an excellent scanner and printer, I decided to scan both sides of the main photo and print out an actual-size copy, then present it to my pal so that it could spend some time in the very same house where the original had resided for 20 years before passing into my hands.  Things had turned full circle, the 'master copy' having come from that house, and its doppelganger having returned to it while still owned by one of the first tenants, the very person who gave me the photo 33 years ago.  It's now on its way to somewhere in England, tucked safely away in my pal's luggage, but the fact it (okay then, if you want to be picky, an exact duplicate) made it back to where it started from - even if only for several days - gives me an immense sense of satisfaction.  It feels like I've finally completed an unfinished task.

My pal's house - now up for sale

It's fairly safe to assume that my pal probably doesn't share my outlook to the same (or even any) extent as I do, but to me, it's a case of 'there and back again' (sort of) and that provides me with a huge measure of pleasure.  Bonkers I know, but it's always good to complete the circle, don't you think?  To my mind, it's the end of an era, as - even should my pal have to return to deal with anything concerning its sale - it's by no means certain he'll get to set foot inside the house again before it changes hands, never mind spend another night in it.  So it just seems immensely fitting to me that, henceforth, whenever he looks at that photo, not only will he associate its image with his old house when he first lived there as a child, but also from when just before, as an adult, he left it for perhaps the final time prior to another family eventually assuming ownership of it.

Oh, go on then - one more of the replica

Well, don't know about you, but I find that touching.  The comment section patiently awaits your thoughts (if any).  Feel free to say how mad you think I am, 'cos I don't think I could dispute it with any measure of confidence.

BABE Of The DAY - SYBIL DANNING...

Being a woman of beauty and

brains, Sybil Danning has referred

to Crivens on a couple of occasions on

her own site, though it doesn't mean she

agrees with every (or even any) particular

point of view expressed here.  However,

one thing she surely does recognise is

that we Crivs simply adore her - so

all hail the goddess Sybil!

HIGHLY INCONVENIENT...

I was in a local cafe the other day and had to visit the gents.  (I don't like using public toilets, but "needs must" as they say.)  I'd only just got settled on the seat when I heard a voice from the next cubicle say: "Hi, how's it going?"  I was taken aback for a second, but replied: "Aye, all right!", hoping that would be the extent of our interchange.  "What you doing at the moment?" the voice said.   "Er, same as you!" I replied.  "Is it all right if I come over?" the voice from next door enquired. "Well, I'm kind of busy at the moment!" I said, glancing up at the top of the dividing partition somewhat alarmed.  Then the voice said: "Look, I'll have to call you back - some idiot in the next cubicle keeps answering my questions!"

Ooer!  I wanted to disappear down the u-bend.

FRIENDS, GLASWEGIANS, CRIVVIES - LEND ME YOUR EYES...

Managed a rare trip into Glasgow today with an old school friend, and embarked on a wee tour around some familiar spots, including the area in the West End where I lived as a toddler back in prehistoric times.  (At least, that's what it feels like.)  Took a few photos, and the above one shows what once used to be The Odeon Cinema in Renfield Street, though before that, it was known as The Paramount Cinema until it changed hands after World War II.  It was built in 1934 and closed in 2006.

The above photo shows part of Kelvingrove Park, as do the following six.  I really should do some research and tell you something about it, but am far too lazy to bother.  Anyway, all you really need to know is that it's a very pleasant-looking spot and the higher level just off Park Circus has some nice views of Glasgow University.  I used to live just around the corner from both the park and university light-years ago, but was far too young to know about the unsavoury reputation of parts of the park at certain times, and in fact, only learned of it as an adult.  (Not as a participant, I hasten to add.)

Below is a nice-looking stairway next to the subway (no, not the eatery) on Great Western Road, running over the River Kelvin.  Next is a couple of pics of the Glasgow Coat Of Arms, followed by a few of Glasgow University and the flowerbed in the grounds.  In times past I used to sit in the quadrangle of the uni, and it was like being in an episode of Inspector Morse (or Lewis).  The Greek/Roman-looking building 11 pics down is further along the street just across the road from the university and ties into (sort of) this post's title.

Okay, I've kept the worst 'til last.  Below is the landing of the flat my family lived in a long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, followed by my good self standing in the entrance to the building.  I really should've hitched up my trousers before the photo was taken, but that apart, the role of James Bond has surely got my name written all over it.  What do you mean, no?  Cheeky Crivvies!  Okay, that's your lot for now.  (Maybe not the best blog post in the world, but hey, it filled a space.)