A Crowded Life in Comics – The Great Severins, John and Marie

—sketch by John Severin—

The Great Severins, John and Marie

by Rick Marschall

I was startled and saddened by the news of this morning, as I write this, that Marie Severin has died. Bagpipes and eulogies all day in the background for John McCain’s funeral, but my mind was filled with memories of Marie, 89, who had been sick, a stroke victim in hospice; and of her brother John Severin.

They were each two of the most talented people to work in comics, especially during that sub-category of the Golden Age, the EC years, the shop assembled by Bill Gaines. John’s work at MAD and Cracked, and Marie at Marvel whilst I was editor there – and the other work they did – are superlatives matched by their personalities.

By nature, in a field populated by a few nasty graspers, they were the nicest people imaginable: friendly, generous, modest.

John I met and became friendly in another of my odd Forrest Gump situations. I grew up in suburban Closter NJ, where the woods (actually, I mean New York City and its suburbs) were full o’ cartoonists. Al Smith (Mutt and Jeff) briefly attended our little church; later I delivered the (Bergen County) Record to his house in Demarest. He introduced me to his sometime assistant Joe Dennett (Al was never really happy with Joe’s work, and he moved on to Harvey Comics), and one day Joe asked me if I knew John Severin.

Of course I knew Severin’s work, but nothing else. Joe told me he lived in Norwood, the other end of his own town. I stink at math, but I put two and two together, remembering that some friends had been talking about a storefront in Harrington Park – another neighboring little town – where they suspected that a cartoonist worked! 

—Robin Hood, 1964—

He must have been a grouch, or a hermit, because the curtains were always closed. But they peeked in and saw a studio, and a man at a drawing board. The next day I rode my bike there (I was still too young to have a driver’s license), knocked on the door – recalling the Frank Stockton story “The Lady or the Tiger?” – and knocked again. I could tell someone was inside… and he probably was hesitating to respond to Outsiders.

Well, he did. John Severin opened the door. A large presence. Not unfriendly but not effusive. I introduced myself; said I would like to meet him; and I had some of my sketches… would he mind looking at them?

He invited me in, and the ice was broken very quickly. John was not in any way a hermit, but he was very shy. He was not unfriendly, but he was a private person. He was not impatient… not at all. He was very gracious that first day, and we talked for a couple hours. There was never a short visit thereafter with John. No matter what his deadlines.

Pretty quickly he assessed me as someone who knew, and could talk about, comics old and new. He had a lot of books on his shelves, and I remember he was surprised that I knew Heinrich Kley’s work… but I had never seen the editions John had, two 1920s volumes published in Munich. And so forth. 

He rented that studio – or old strip-mall space cum studio – to work in peace. His house in Norwood was not large… and neither was his family.

I visited John for years, especially when I had a car to drive, and we talked about everything under the sun. He indeed critiqued my drawings. I still have sketches of hands in many configurations – many artists avoid drawing hands; but John loved to. He borrowed a lot of the old material I collected (as did other cartoonists I was getting to know).

One day he gave me a sketch he did of “Sean of Ireland,” intended (?) as a parody of Prince Valiant for MAD. I think it never took shape, but the character is terrific.

—Kull the Conqueror, 1964—

He eventually, or actually in “chapters” of chats, told me why he left the EC crew and MAD. The reasons have never been in histories or interviews with him or others; and never will be. The same with the real reason John, rather abruptly, moved to Colorado. Some humor in the telling… but a lot of sincerely held motivations to leave the East Coast.

We talked politics, a lot, as one of the subjects “under the sun.” John was possibly more right-wing than I was… as was Marie, who we will visit in a moment. He was a devoted Catholic, I think I recall one of the dissidents against Vatican II and the abandonment of the Latin Mass. I can share one aspect of his move to Colorado (which was a state he did not know but struck him as “sane”). His children, of course, all went to Catholic school; and one day he vented to me about the nuns (probably lay teachers) wearing mini-skirts (probably a touch of hyperbole). He would not leave the Church, but he left the East Coast.

I was surprised, almost, that he didn’t move next to a monastery in France or Italy.

When I went off to college he told me about a special “hello” he would send me from afar. John was happily excited that I joined Young Americans for Freedom (YAF), the college youth group founded by William F Buckley. Oh, he wanted to know everything and encourage us all he could. I had a job at the national headquarters in Washington DC, and eventually was State Chairman there and back in New Jersey. John asked me to look out for a coming cover of Cracked Magazine.

—Cracked—

One day I saw it: a bunch of gnat-infested hippies, deliriously playing “music,” the magazine’s iconic Sylvester P Smythe playing a musical saw. There, on a huge bass drum, was the band’s name – Yancey’s Appalachian Flukes… YAF! 

I was likely the only kid on the continent who understood that. And also maybe the only kid to buy up every copy, probably, in Washington DC. John told me to contact Bob Sproul, publisher, and ask for the original painting.

After graduation, John was in Denver, and our contact was mainly through Christmas cards, although when I was at Marvel (late 1970s) I tried to lure him to the magazine department. “Been there, done that.” I did give work to other heroes not from the bullpen – Lee Elias; Jack Sparling; Frank Bolle; Tex Blaisdell; Leonard Starr… I think. Chad Grothkopf, of all people, lobbied for assignments (unsuccessfully of course; but he was my first landlord after I married, so I was patient with him). I even had Burne Hogarth in to the office; that might have been interesting! I must rattle my brain better.

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But, segue. Marie Severin was in the bullpen, in her own little office, then specializing in designing (pencil roughs) covers, and their coloring. We became fast friends too – in the Severin DNA evidently: the nicest person; no oversized ego; generous. Funny! Always laughing, and easy to amuse. Conservative? Oh, yes. We also talked for hours, and would go out for lunch. A lot.

One thing that impressed me, and I thought was… unusual, anyway. Brothers and sisters often look alike, naturally, even when not twins. But John and Marie could have traded roles. Different hair or hairpieces; adjusted vocal registers, and they were alike in every detail – little things like the tic of a brief eye-roll after blinking. Or starting laughs silently, then wheezing, then loudly. It was almost uncanny. 

And, of course, their drawing styles, especially the manner of inking, were very close. That is easier to understand or explain, than the rest… I never really stopped noticing.

—Varmint!—

Marie always flattered me by liking, and tacking to her walls, caricatures I did. My assistant Ralph Macchio, too, festooned his side of our own two-desk domain with the foolscap impromptu drawings – Shooter (living dangerously); Mark Gruenwald; Roger Stern; Doug Moench; Roger Slifer; the whole Marvel universe, really. Ralph and I both did impressions – he is a master – so life in the Magazine Department was often like dropping in to Rodney Dangerfield’s.

I once drew Mary deZuniga, the wife and constant companion on office visits of Tony, about one-seventh her size. I must have nailed it, at least in Sev’s eyes, because for months, randomly, she would come to my desk with that portrait in hand, laughing uncontrollably. 

That reception, from a person and a cartoonist like Marie Severin, was better than winning an Oscar or Reuben.

Speaking of Reubens. And drawings. Marie and I often went to lunch; sometimes alone, often with Ralph and others. I have a sketch here she drew back in the office after a long meal at Pronto’s on Third Avenue. Evidently I hogged the water, and she drew me, a young John Romita Jr – “JR Square,” Gruenwald called him – and herself, always with those big eyes. We exchanged many such sketches – love letters – for a long time.

—sketch by Marie Severin—

Another drawing, here, she gave me as a Bon Voyage card. EPIC Magazine was in the works, and Stan Lee deputized me to go to Europe to scout for artists. I attended the Lucca convention, then traveled up through France, Germany, Scandinavia. In 1978 Italy was in political turmoil. Well, it always is. I mean violent political turmoil. In the south, the Mafia was killing prominent politicians, and everyday merchants, at will. In the north, the Red Brigades and other Communist clubs were targeting politicians and businessmen, also frequently at random. You know, terrorism. “Kneecapping” – shooting people in their knees – was their preferred tool of persuasion for a season.

It was all in the news – of course – and inaugurated the policy that still survives here and there in Europe, of soldiers with Uzis at airports and train stations. Knowing all this, and discussing it all, Marie set my mind at ease (and my young wife’s) by depicting me with cartoonist contracts in hand, happily shouting huzzahs on bloody stumps. Grazie bene, Marie! Of course I proudly displayed it on my side of the office… after I returned safely.

—sketch by Marie Severin—

John and Marie were “artists’ artists” – they seemingly could draw anything. At any angle. With crazy instructions. John had reference for those Cracked parodies of movies and TV stars, of course; but always nailed ‘em. Everyone knows he loved Westerns and War comics – Civil War, World War II, whatever. Drama; emotions; yeah, testosterone. When called for. The humor, for MAD and Cracked, oozed from every panel.

—Robin Hood!—

And Marie? Very similar. Whether coloring and bullpen work for EC; and coloring, bullpen work, designing logos and licensing assignments for Marvel… everything. All things. Masterfully. Both Severins were ready with generous advice. Marie brainstormed with me on the title, as well as logo possibilities, when EPIC was initially discussed. (Oddly, the names we came up with – some as silly logo designs, never serious – have made into some histories as actual working titles. I still have our work-sheets.)

Almost half of Gary Groth’s great book on the Artists of EC is an interview with John Severin. Kurtzman, Wood, Elder, et al., occupy the rest. That is appropriate, and there needs to be  due notice taken of John and Marie Severin. John’s modest personality comes through – as does the voice, in the background, of his wife! – but as I suggested above, some of the most interesting aspects of his life will likely never be shared.

—American Eagle—

No matter, that small detail: one great thing about cartooning – all art, really – is that the work speaks for itself. We know that aphorism. But ultimately it speaks for the creators too, as words cannot, fully. Memories are great, but need to be shared.

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