Showing posts with label adventure strip. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adventure strip. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

George Wunder Terry Sundays 1947--4

Bor No More!

Here's the conclusion of George Wunder's second Terry and the Pirates continuity. We see the surprising end of evil fat man Theodore Bor. Surprising to me, anyway--I mean, Burma never murdered anybody and got away with it!

20 July 1947

27 July 1947

3 August 1947

10 August 1947

17 August 1947

24 August 1947

31 August 1947

7 September 1947

14 September 1947

Saturday, April 27, 2013

George Wunder Terry Sundays 1947--3

Four More from the War on Bor

I'm putting off my glimpse at Alfred Mazure to post a few more George Wunder Terry Sundays. The story continues as fat man--make that vast man--Theodore Bor and sexy viperess Ermine Toy try to take over an oilfield. Terry, Hotshot Charlie, and Pat Ryan don't think so.

22 June 1947

29 June 1947

6 July 1947

13 July 1947

By the way, if you want to see the entire storyline (but not all the art) of this and the previous story, check out The Digital Comics Museum. Charlton Comics (of all people) published three issues of George Wunder's Terry and the Pirates. In typical Charlton fashion they were numbered 26, 27, and 28. Also in typical Charlton fashion, the stories are wretchedly-printed chop-ups of Wunder's first two continuities. However you can get a look at the stuff that happened between the Sundays I'm posting.  This link will take you to the Charlton Terry page.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

George Wunder Terry Sundays 1947--2

Nine Days' Wunder

I have no idea whether anyone is interested in these things, but as long as I have them I'll post a few more before giving it up as a waste of time. Here are nine more Terry Sundays from George Wunder's first year on the strip. In these 1947 halves Wunder begins his second storyline. The femme fatale from the previous story, Ermine Toy(!), returns in the company of Theodore Bor, an amazing fat man of the sort only Wunder could have designed. Chopstick Joe continues his supporting role and Terry's old pal Pat Ryan makes a final appearance. Again--regrettably--some strips are missing.

[UPDATE: I didn't get my facts straight. This is not Pat Ryan's final appearance. He continues into the next story, the one introducing Spray O'Hara.]

Ermine Toy represents something that irked me about Wunder's early stories. Under Milton Caniff Terry's romances had always been a big part of the strip. Wunder continued that tradition. The difference is that we could understand Terry falling in love with Caniff's women. (With the possible exception of Burma, who was plagued by the temporal paradox of having met Terry when he was a schoolboy.) Instead Wunder hooked the guy up with a string of wackos that leaves us wondering what the hell Terry saw in them. Murderous, bitchy, vain, manipulative...the prize of the lot was Baroness Popoffnikoff, who was so self-centered that she secretly dumped a cargo of desperately-needed relief supplies to make room for her fancy wardrobe. All these women had to do was approach within twenty feet of Terry, and he would instantly jettison all common sense and fall madly in love.

After awhile Wunder switched the romances to secondary characters, like Hotshot Charlie and his future wife, Spray O'Hara. This was a wise move, as it saved Terry from seeming a complete idiot. These other women were however cut from cloth similar to that of Terry's ex-paramours.

Visually Ermine is a knockout. As Wunder's angular style of character design evolved, women's faces suffered the most. Ermine combines Wunder and a bit of Caniff with excellent results. In my opinion Ermine was Wunder's hottest hottie.

I also need to mention Chopstick Joe. Wunder's work always contained a streak of humorous exaggeration, and Chopstick Joe was right up his alley. Though Caniff created Joe, it was Wunder who brought him to life. Design, posing, even his dialogue, make Chopstick Joe one of my favorite Wunder characters.

16 March 1947
23 March 1947
6 April 1947
13 April 1947
27 April 1947
11 May 1947
18 May 1947
25 May 1947
8 Jun 1947
Next time: respite from Wunder puns.

Friday, March 8, 2013

IDW Star Trek Strip Reprint

Thomas Warkentin's Star Trek Revisited

IDW have released the first of two books reprinting the Los Angeles Times' early-80s Star Trek newspaper strip. It's a classy production: a 272-page 8.5 x 11 hardback with dust jacket. Sunday pages are reproduced in color. This volume presents all the strips by Thomas Warkentin, the original writer/artist, and about half of the ones I illustrated. The second volume will finish my run and go on to the Shigetani, Myers, Colon, and Kulpa periods.

Re-reading Warkentin's stories I was reminded how very good they were. Thomas obeyed the Daily Strip Commandments--brisk stories and concise dialogue--yet he always delivered an extra bit of characterization and a clever plot twist.

His artwork was equally enjoyable. His likenesses of Spock, McCoy, Scotty and friends were just right. I especially liked his McCoy. Over time his Kirk evolved from looking like Shatner into a more generic hero, but it didn't harm things. I think the change was driven by limited reference material. Back then about the only source of useful reference was the series of comics-style Trek paperbacks using frame blowups from the TV shows. One quickly realized how often TV directors used identical setups for close-ups of major characters.

Thomas was a meticulous craftsman with a gift for drawing spacecraft and mechanical backgrounds.  This served him well on Star Trek. In a few words, the strip looked great. I heartily recommend this book--with the warning that it costs fifty bucks. The price isn't bad considering you get a quality package But it's still fifty bucks.

By the way, I don't get a piece of the sales, so my recommendation carries no ulterior motive. You get a lot of good reading for your dough. Buy the book if you can afford it.

Thursday, February 28, 2013

Guilty Pleasures: Frisco Bill


Hello, Frisco, Hello!

I have a soft spot for early postwar Italian comics. Like Golden Age American comics, their vigor and naive enthusiasm make up for simplistic stories and so-so artwork. Frisco Bill, which launched in 1948, is historically significant because it was one of the first titles published by Edizioni Audace, the company which evolved into Sergio Bonelli Editore, powerhouse of modern Italian comics.

At the time Audace was run out of the family home by Tea Bonelli, ex-wife of Gian Luigi Bonelli. a major figure in prewar publishing who gained immortality as the creator of western hero Tex Willer. Tea's all-purpose gofer was her son Sergio, who would work his way up to become one of the most important figures in Italian comics history.
Tea Bonelli

Like many comics of the day, Frisco Bill appeared weekly in the striscia ("strip") format. These were saddle-stapled 6.5 x 9.5 inch booklets with color covers and black-and-white interiors. Counting the covers each issue ran 12 pages. Nine pages of story began on the inside front cover. Fan features and a sports article filled the inside back cover and a page of house ads completed the package.

1940s Italian comic readers weren't much interested in costumed heroes or science fiction. The big sellers were period pieces like westerns or pirate stories, and modern "street clothes" adventures in which a valiant two-fisted hero chased bad guys. Frisco Bill fit solidly into the latter category. Bill was an American journalist (Italian comics were full of American heroes) stationed in Rio de Janeiro. Like most comic book reporters he never wrote anything. He was too busy stumbling into mysteries. Though he started his first adventure solo, in issue 5 Bill joined forces with a street urchin named Zazzera and Zazzera's dog Pillacchera. More on them later.

In the first issue Frisco Bill visits a night club with his girlfriend Lupe, daughter of a local millionaire. They watch a performance by an oily dancer named Zapac and his sultry partner Amarilla. Bill is called to the telephone, where (like most heroes called to telephones) he's knocked unconscious. In his absence crooks abduct Lupe. We learn that Zapac and Amarilla are behind the kidnapping. They belong to an ancient cult called the Sect of the Serpent, a cabal of  Indians led by a character named Zanco (lots of Z's in this story). Zanco has determined that if Lupe is married off to the Sun God, the sect will make a comeback and conquer Brazil. Zapac, Zanco, and company hustle Lupe out of town. When Bill wakes up he vows vengeance, and off we go.

The tale's structure, such as it is, resembles old Saturday morning movie serials. After the first-issue setup the story is an endless cycle of chase, capture, escape, chase, and recapture, punctuated by fist fights and gun battles. As in movie serials,  nothing much changes until the final chapter. After more than 200 pages of frantic action, in issue 25 the saga is wrapped in four breathless pages. By the time the "coming next issue" blurb rolls around Frisco Bill is already deep into a new mystery.

Franco Baglioni by Franco Bignotti
Franco Baglioni's rudimentary script seems to have been made up as it went along. One character, Zapac's jealous girlfriend, appears, wanders awkwardly through a couple of scenes, then quietly vanishes. Amarilla's role changes several times during the story. She starts as a secondary character, but by the last chapter she's practically the boss. It is she who frees our heroes and seals forever the entrance to the sect's hidden city. An impressive percentage of Baglioni's dialogue consists of exclamations of surprise and name-calling. Along with "brick face," Frisco Bill likes to call his opponents "Maccabees." Maybe someone out there can tell me why.

Artist Guido Zamperoni was a competent craftsman who went on to do some good work. Here, though, he delivers precisely what he's asked for and not a dot more.
Guido Zamperoni
Generic backgrounds and props rob the story of exoticism. It doesn't help that he uses only a handful of character faces. All the Indians look alike, all the white bad guys look alike, and the women are distinguishable only by their hairdos. In fact, when she is introduced the jealous girlfriend's hairdo is identical to Lupe's. Even Zazzera mistakes her for the kidnapped heiress. I suspect that's why the poor girl was eliminated from the story.

The strangest artistic choice is co-star Zazzera. Frisco Bill isn't the first "realistic" hero to have a cartoony sidekick. However Zazzera's design is so wildly out of synch with the rest of the artwork that he seems like a grotesque visitor from another universe. Zazzera's head is almost as big as Bill's entire torso, and when the boy starts socking baddies his bizarre proportions make for some very strange pictures. Pillacchera the Pooch is also broadly drawn, but somehow it's easier to accept in a dog. Zamperoni was a capable artist and I'm not maligning his drawing ability. Rather I'm suggesting that somewhere along the line someone made some unfortunate artistic decisions.

To wrap up this glance at Frisco Bill I want to give English readers a taste of his adventures. What follows is a translation of episode 7, "Prisoner of the Serpent." Reading it one might wonder what on earth I see in such stuff. But that's what guilty pleasures are all about, right?

(Note: I don't know if it bothers you as much as it does me, but you're supposed to read the captions before reading the dialogue, even though they appear at the bottom of the panels.)
























The photo of Tea Bonelli came from texwiller.forumfree.org
The drawing of Guido Zamperoni was found on wikipf.net
The portrait of Franco Baglioni, drawn by Franco Bignotti, came from: dylandogofili.com

Sunday, February 17, 2013

Brick Bradford Revisited

The Brick of Human Kindness
In an earlier post I ruminated upon my ambivalent relationship with Brick Bradford, the "other" 1930s s-f adventure strip. In brief, it was a strip full of interesting ideas overwhelmed by meandering scripts and indifferent artwork.

While looking for bathtub reading recently I stumbled upon a small press reprint of "The Lord of Doom," a Bradford continuity from 1936. I realized I'd only read the story once before, and that was Club Anni Trenta's Italian translation. So I gave it another look.

Like many of William Ritt's yarns, "The Lord of Doom" is a huge story, running for nearly a year (13 Apr 1936 to 6 Feb 1937). The tale opens with Brick, June, and Dr. Salisbury crash-landing in the arctic wastes of northeastern Canada. They discover a hidden nation populated by descendants of Ghengis Khan's Mongol warriors. The place is technologically advanced and bristles with modern weaponry.



When they're brought before Temuchin, ruler of the hidden land, our friends are surprised to recognize Gola Mongola, a noted Hollywood actor. Mongola, it seems, was sent into the outside world as a youth to study foreign ways and plan for an ivasion. The Mongols are fed up with their hard life in the arctic wilderness. They want to seize territory in Canada and the United States so they can relocate to a friendlier climate. With the aid of brilliant scientist Kalla Kopak, Temuchin has amassed vast army and air forces. The Mongol invasion is about to begin.



The rest of the story describes the war between the raiders and the North American nations. The narrative alternates between a long view of warfronts and troop movements and a close-up view of Brick's adventures. Professor Salisbury helps the allies deploy an "electric wall" across central Canada. The wall is a series of stations transmitting a ray that causes moving metal parts to congeal into a single mass. There is a chilling scene in which Temuchin's planes first encounter the invisible wall. The entire fleet falls from the sky as engines and control surfaces freeze solid. Their modern weapons rendered useless, the warring armies revert to cavalry  and foot soldiers. The Mongols attempt to break through a section of the front not yet protected by the wall. Canadian, American and Mexican troops beat them back.


Ritt describes the war in elaborate detail. As the opposing forces mass for their first combat the story switches to "real time." Each daily strip presents the events of a day in Bradford's universe. The device becomes unwieldy when Brick's personal adventures move to center stage and Ritt wisely abandons it.


Our hero survives numerous clashes on both sides of the front. Several times he enlists the help of a plucky Canadian boy, a short wave radio enthusiast whose home always seems to be nearby when Brick's plane crashes.

This reliance on coincidence spoils a potentially exciting story. The North Americans' final victory arises from two credulity-straining events. To begin with the allies notice that Brick resembles one of Temuchin's lieutenants who died in battle. They disguise Brick as the officer and send him across the enemy lines to penetrate Temuchin's inner circle. Whereupon the warlord notices his lieutenant's resemblance to Brick...and sends him back to spy on the allies "disguised" as Brick Bradford! By the time Temuchin figures things out Brick has communicated all the invaders' plans to the good guys.


Equally unimpressive is the incident that finally ends the war. Ignoring his officers' advice Temuchin flies a solo sortie over allied lines. He is promptly shot down and taken prisoner. In captivity Temuchin realizes his cause is hopeless. He gives up and sends orders to Kalla Kopak to surrender.

It's a disappointing way to end the story, but Ritt saves it with a last-minute surprise. Following the surrender Bradford sympathizes with the Mongols' desire to escape the frozen tundra. He proposes that Temuchin's people be allowed to emigrate to the United States. Brick personally lobbies the League of Nations to permit the former enemy to resettle in the central states and to take a shot at becoming productive citizens of the World's Greatest Country.


It must be remembered that when "The Lord of Doom" was written America was living through one of its many periods of belligerent xenophobia. Popular literature teemed with sinister Orientals leading yellow hordes. For Brick to offer a vanquished enemy--a vanquished Asian enemy--such generosity is astounding.

Brick's faith proves well-founded. The new immigrants thrive. They even carve a commemorative bust of Brick into a mountain overlooking one of their new cities. Kalla Kopak becomes Brick's friend. In subsequent stories he is Brick's Dr. Zarkov, sharing the hero's exploits. Kopak's origin is quickly forgotten as is with the war itself. Forgotten it may be, but in my book Brick's handling of the invasion's aftermath wins him permanent standing as a first-class hero.


 
Postscript: Sorry I was able only to reproduce part of most of these dailies. My regular scanner was unavailable and this damned "all-in-one" monstrosity wouldn't fit an entire page without wrecking the book. All reproductions are from a two-volume "Limited Edition  for Collectors" with no publisher information.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Guilty Pleasures--1


Why the Hell Do You Like That?!
Like every comic strip fan, I have a special regard for some features that, when anyone else sees them, prompts the exclamation, "Why the hell do you like that?" Sometimes, after a long thoughtful pause, I admit (only to myself!) that I haven't the foggiest idea why I like it. For me the prize guilty pleasure, eclipsing even Gim Toro, is Brick Bradford.
I'm going to make some powerful enemies here, among them the estimable M. Hugo Sleestak and half of Italy's Golden Age fans. Brick Bradford is recognized as a seminal strip in American comics history! How can I call it a "guilty pleasure?" Alas, no matter how much I like William Ritt and Clarence Gray's brainchild, I am forced to admit that it was a clunky mess marred by boring scripts and variable, often poor, artwork.

In truth Brick Bradford's appeal is what the strip should have been, not what it really was. Looking at William Ritt's tenure as writer (1933-1948), one finds a bounty of great ideas. Many were original at the time, or at least not yet done to death: a giant robot terrorizing a city, a lost civilization in the Arctic ice, a journey into subatomic worlds. Ritt, a voracious researcher who liked to pack his stories with arcane knowledge, also cooked up some truly offbeat story hooks I still find irresistible. Among these is "The Lord of Doom," in which a Hollywood leading man reveals himself as the descendant of Temujin the Conqueror and invades Canada and the United States from his hidden Arctic fortress; and "Queen of the Night," in which Brick's lunar expedition discovers a colony of earth people who fled the first World War by building a spaceship and relocating on the Moon!
Ritt's trouble was that he took these great ideas and wrote interminable stories that droned on and on. His characters were of cardboard extra-sturdy even for 1930s comic strips. Their dialogue was of finest lead.Adventure strips of the 1930s could indulge in much longer storylines than today's holdouts. But Ritt's continuities weren't long, they were nearly eternal. All the stories from 1933 to 1940 lasted more than six months. Then Ritt really went to town. 1940's "The Throne of Titania" ran 765 days...well over two years! The next two stories, "Beyond the Crystal Door" and "Queen of the Night" ran over a year apiece (462 and 468 days respectively). Two short (168 day) stories followed as Ritt lost interest in the strip. After that he departed. Clarence Gray wrote short continuities for several years until health problems forced him to relinquish the dailies to Paul Norris. Gray continued to write and draw the Sunday Brick until his death in 1957.

I guarantee you Ritt's stories didn't need all that room. Even "shorter" stories like "Adrift in an Atom" were laden with digressions and dead ends. Worse, Ritt often pointlessly spread minor scenes over several days. The following example comes from "The Metal Monster:"







I can't find my reprint to scan, but there's another sequence earlier in "The Metal Monster" in which the bad guy shoots at Brick through his laboratory window. The shooter retreats along a balcony, Brick follows him, then the villain doubles back and winds up behind Brick. This goes on for almost a week. Maybe hot artwork would have made the tedium worthwhile, but that brings us to Brick Bradford's other problem: artist Clarence Gray.
Above: From the strip's first year (1933).
At his best Gray was a competent cartoonist. His work in the first year of the strip was solid if unexciting. From the beginning his figures were stiff, a tendency that worsened as the strip progressed. But Gray had a knack for 30s-style s-f machinery and a flair for exotic landscapes and architecture. However during most of Brick Bradford's heyday Gray wasn't at his best . Some dailies showed real effort:But far too many were hasty and poorly-composed. Dailies like this looked as if they were knocked out before breakfast.In fact, that may have been the case! In a King Features publicity piece Gray bragged of once having drawn "six strips in five hours." Bradford dailies from the thirties suggest he did it more than once.Gray put much more effort into the Sunday pages. Though his compositions were frequently awkward and his figures never lost their stiffness, Gray filled his Sunday panels with action, crowds, and detailed vistas.


The "Middle of the Earth" Sunday is from 1935, not long after the "Brocco the Buccaneer" daily.

After Ritt left and Paul Norris took over the dailies, Gray concentrated his efforts on his beloved Sunday page. His stiff figures developed thick, rather ugly outlines, but everything else demonstrated the extra care. Take a look at the last two panels of the 1950s Sunday below. Gray's stories were as quirky as Ritt's. I remember one set in an alternate future where Native Americans were America's dominant culture. New York's skyscrapers were shaped like wigwams! But Gray didn't have the space to develop his ideas, and all too soon cancer ended his career at age 56. Paul Norris took over the Sundays as well...and for me that was the end of Brick Bradford. The character Norris wrote and drew for the next thirty years wasn't the same naive wide-eyed adventurer. Brick, like Flash Gordon, joined the Space Age, though at least he kept the Time Top around.

Naive, wide-eyed adventure. That's why Brick Bradford appeals to me, despite the meandering stories and bad art. It's the romance of lost worlds, nut-and-bolt spaceships, hulking humanoid robots, and hidden civilizations that inspired comics creators and fiction writers alike during the 1920s and 1930s. Ritt and Gray just didn't have the "stuff" to make Brick a truly great strip. But their naive, wide-eyed enthusiasm was transmitted through their efforts into the hearts of readers like me.

To read a Brick adventure, you must check out brickbradford.blogspot.com, hosted by my newly-minted enemy Hugo Sleestak. It is from him I lifted the first two dailies. Most of the remaining artwork in this article came from the fantastic galleries at comicartfans.com, particularly the collections of Francisco Lopez, Maurizio Scudiero, and Massimo E. I'll bet there are more Clarence Gray originals in Italy than anywhere else...they love their "Guido (Giorgio) Ventura"!