Bill Mauldin
(Pulitzer Prizes for political cartoon;
Willie and Joe in WW II)
RM
3
Friday, November 30, 2018
Thursday, November 29, 2018
Wednesday, November 28, 2018
Bill Williams – Comic Artist
by John Adcock
Bill Williams was an exceptional cartoonist and ink-slinger. Alfred Owen “Bill” Williams was born on May 22, 1918 in South Bend, Indiana. Bill’s grandfather Jonathan Williams was born into a Quaker family in Hamilton County, Indiana in 1840. His father worked for Clark Equipment and is credited with developing the gasoline powered forklift. Bill enrolled in the school of architecture at the University of Michigan in the late thirties, only to drop out to work for the Walt Disney Studios in Hollywood. He worked on Fantasia, Dumbo and The Reluctant Dragon before enlisting in the Army Air Corps, serving in the Pacific during world War II. He received the Air Medal and Oak Leaf Clusters for distinguished service in air combat. Williams returned for a short time to Disney then moved to New York where he drew a single-panel cartoon called Dolly, syndicated in 187 newspapers. He died November 10, 1986. Services were held in Old Lyme, Connecticut.
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| [1] GI Jane advertisement, Bill Williams, 1955 |
People in
the news.
In an interview, cartoonist Alfred O. Williams of Wilton spoke about
his days working for Walt Disney when he did the penciling part of animation
productions. His subjects were Donald Duck, Pluto, Goofy and others. Among the
animated feature films he worked on were Fantasia and Dumbo. He also did
layouts for MGM for the Tom and Jerry series and Hanna and Barbera.
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| [2] Henry Aldrich No. 22, Sept/Oct 1954 |
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| [3] Farmer's Daughter Feb/Mar 1954 |
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| [4] G.I. Jane, Hal Seeger and Bill Williams, 1954 |
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| [5] First issue of Kookie, Bill Williams |
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| [6] Advertisement. Bill Williams |
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| [7] Pee Wee Harris, Bill Williams, March 1959 |
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| [8] Boy's Life, Bill Williams, March 1959 |
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| [9] Farmer's Daughter Feb/Mar 1954 |
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| [10] Dunc & Loo, Oct/Dec 1961 |
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| [11] PX Pete, Bill Williams, GI Jane 1954 |
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| [12] Boy's Life illustration, July 1957 |
Thanks to Skip Higgins for additional biographical information.
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Tuesday, November 27, 2018
Monday, November 26, 2018
A Crowded Life in Comics – Werner Wejp-Olsen
The Cartoonist Known As WOW
by Rick Marschall
This week we lost a favorite international cartoonist, Werner
Wejp-Olsen. His years were 1938-2018, and his residences were Denmark-United
States-Denmark. I want to pay tribute to a friend and a good cartoonist, and
share how friendships can grow into mutual friendships, and connections, and
networking, and new career paths.
That’s how life is supposed to work. And in cartooning, which I
think has a greater percentage of good people than most professions, it happens
a lot.
Werner (the “Wejp” part of his name is pronounced “Wipe” but with
a soft “v,” unless the Dane is eating herring when making the explanation, and
then all bets are off) started drawing professionally when he was still in high
school, for Ekstra Bladet, around 1955. He signed his humor strips and
cartoons WOW. A dozen years later he drew the continuing series Peter and Perle;
and in 1972 inherited the popular Felix from Swedish cartoonist Jan Lööf.
Ever creative and entrepreneurial, Werner created the flagship of
his several quiz and puzzle type features, Dick Danger; and in 1974 the
strip Fridolin. It was at this stage of his career that Werner
intentionally adopted into his style what he called “the Connecticut School” –
a term that entered the language of Scandinavian cartoon – the “bigfoot,”
rounded, somewhat minimalist humor style of Mort Walker, Dik Browne, and their
fellows.
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| [1] Sketch |
I met Werner when I was Comics Editor of Publishers Newspaper Syndicate
(Field Enterprises) in 1975. The syndicate president Dick Sherry had a penchant
for foreign cartoonists, which he presented as a cosmopolitan reach, but which
we all knew, sub rosa, was his excuse to make one or two overseas trips
a year “on syndicate business.” England, Australia, Italy, Scandinavia…
As an editor who was not consulted on these “finds,” I usually was
less than enthusiastic, and so were American editors, as it turned out. But the
promotion department was kept active, and so were international airlines.
Nevertheless, Werner was flown over to Chicago for strategy
sessions, promo art, and such. We hit it off immediately – especially when he
learned that I moved to Chicago from Fairfield County, Connecticut; and that
several of his cartooning gods were close friends, some even having attended my
wedding only months previous.
I will mention a couple of strips that have not been cited in any
of the obituary articles around the world. One was a suburban family strip –
not an automatic challenge for a Danish cartoonist; on my several trips to
Denmark I have noticed that the Danish sense of humor, and its lifestyle,
especially in suburban neighborhoods, is closer to the Americans than in other
lands I have visited. The name of the strip was Zip Cody, a pun on ZIP
Code.
It proved a wet match, attracting only 25 newspapers as I recall.
Although this was Dick Sherry’s “baby” I suggested that the aggressive,
no-nonsense grandmother – she invariably chomped on a cigar butt, and was not
the strongest, but the only, standout personality in the cast. Otherwise it was
basically another follower of Blondie, Dotty Dripple, The
Berrys, Priscilla’s Pop, etc. So the strip was rechristened as Granny
and Slowpoke, her sarcastic-thinking dog sharing the billing.
Unfortunately the client-list dropped further. Despite Jud Hurd’s nice
boost in Cartoonist PROfiles magazine, it was not to be.
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| [2] Maestro And Amalita |
Another attempt from Werner’s pen, almost concurrent and at
Publishers too, was a strip whose cast lived in the wings of an operatic
theater. Within the bounds of Werner’s firm pen lines, there was a daffy
quality to the strip. The Maestro and Amalita. It was close to
screwball, with frustrated conductor, the Brunhilde-proportioned diva, and
group of assorted crazy singers, stagehands, and supernumeraries.
This, sadly, was unsuccessful also. At the time – and after I left
the syndicate – I told Werner (diplomatically but sincerely) that the gags were
slightly awkward, and the dialog more so. He assumed I mean that his “ESL” English
was the stumbling-block, and wouldn’t I be surprised to learn that an
English-speaker actually ghost-wrote both strips. No, I wasn’t surprised; I
figured from the start that Dick Sherry, who had no sense of humor and was an
opera-lover, hoped to feather his nest as a silent partner in the strips.
Werner was in his clutches. I happily note that Granny lived on –
funnier and certainly more successful, back in Denmark’s Ekstrabladet as
Momsemore (I think “Mother-in-Law”). He continued with other strips in
his native Denmark; and moved to California in 1989, to start and self-start
(publishing and distribution) other features. Between the two nations he
produced Viggo Vampire, TRENDZ, Tales of Hans Christian
Andersen, Inspector Danger’s Crime Quiz, Professor Yuk-Yuk’s
Cartooning Class, and other books and features including editorial cartoons
and a how-to-draw book. I don’t think there was a time in his career that he
was not busy, and producing several creations simultaneously.
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| [3] Momsemore |
My friendship with Werner continued, including a great visit to
his studio and home in (yes, suburban Copenhagen) Nivå. It is a charming small
town on Denmarks’s largest island, Sjælland; and is a station on the Copenhagen–Helsingør rail line. The tug of
127 varieties of herring, or one of myriad other ancestral attachments, saw
Werneer and his wife Inge move back to Denmark a few years ago.
A happy coincidence was the friendship I made through Werner, that
of Jørgen Sonnergaard, a brilliant (and also constantly active) editor, translator,
author of novels, especially crimes stories, and of comics. He translated many
of the Tintin books into Danish. After working as editor of PIB Service,
he was Chief Editor at Gutenberg Publishing Service in charge of new Disney
releases in Europe, beginning in 1975.
It was there that the coincidence set in, because Dik Browne asked
me to write the script for one of the Hagar the Horrible graphic novels.
I did so – Hagar, King of England was the title – and it was done for
Gutenberghus/Egmont in Denmark, and their subsidiaries throughout Scandinavia,
Germany, and England. And my editor was Werner’s friend, and my earlier
acquaintance Jørgen.
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| [4] Werner Wejp-Olsen |
There was nothing rotten in Denmark. I wrote the Hagar graphic
novel just before starting as Editor with Marvel; and when I left Marvel,
Jørgen offered me the opportunity to write scripts for Disney comic stories –
Gutenberghus had the license for the same lands where they published Hagar books.
This I did, happily, for several years, writing approximately 30 pages a week.
Every month their editors flew to New York City, stay at the Plaza
Hotel, review my finished stories and go through my concepts for the next ones.
Eventually they almost grew bored of monthly flights to New York. I suggested
that they periodically fly me to Copenhagen, which they commenced. For several
years, life with people named Jørgen, Jens, Lars, Mickey, Scrooge, Donald, Chip
and Dale was my “work.”
Not to mention that dinners at Danish restaurants in New York and
of course Copenhagen were easy to take. For my old friend Werner Wejp-Olsen had
introduced me to the joys of wine herring, creamed herring, kippered herring,
herring and onions, herring in tomato sauce, and (believe me) even more
preparations of herring.
Farewell and skål (the toast pronounced “skol”) to the WOW of
cartooning.
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17
Sunday, November 25, 2018
Saturday, November 24, 2018
Sunday, November 18, 2018
Sunday With Bugs Bunny
Al Stoffell and Ralph Heimdahl
The MEN BEHIND THE COMICS
In my childhood I used to follow the daily comic strip adventures
of Bugs Bunny in my hometown newspaper the Trail (BC) Daily Times. Finding
information about Al Stoffell (writer) and Ralph Heimdahl (cartoonist) has
always been a near futile chore, perhaps they were unjustly ignored because
they were producing a cartoon “property” rather than illuminating original
characters. I did, however, find a short article that shed some light on their
lives. In the creators’ own words:
Al Stoffell – “Away back thar in 1947, after I had been a
freelance writer, hotel publicity man, newpaper reporter and a lieutenant in
the Navy, I turned up as a handy man in the editorial department of Western
Publishing Co., which had an agreement with Warner Brothers and Newspaper
Enterprise Association to produce a Bugs Bunny Sunday page. One day somebody
gave me a pat on the back and told me I was going to write the Bugs Bunny
Sunday page. My Norwegian friend (Ralph Heimdahl) and I have been at it ever
since.”
Ralph Heimdahl – “I had been teaching for seven years in Minnesota,
six years in a school for the deaf, when I read about a national competition
that Walt Disney was holding to find artists to work for him in California. I
drew up some Mickey Mouses and some Donald Ducks and sent them in. I was
accepted along with eleven other guys in 1937 and we went through the Disney
training.
There was a big strike and I wound up on a farm in Vermont.
While on the farm I created a comic strip called Minnie Sue and Little Haha which I finally sold to an outfit in New York after my
return to California. It wasn’t real successful but it was a nice little Indian
story.”
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| [1] November 22, 1958 |
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| [2] September 1, 1959 |
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| [3] May 14, 1960 |
The Men Behind The Comics: Heimdahl, Stoffell:
Batty About Bugs, R. Terrance Roskin,
Desert Sun, July 12 1976
❦
Eminent Victorian Cartoonists
To date the histories of the British Victorian political cartoon have focused rather narrowly on the gentlemen of Punch; a carryover from the class-dominated establishment snobbery that dictated the acceptable in literature, art and theater throughout the nineteenth century. A seat at the Punch Table was an entrée to high society and a distinguished knighthood. The young du Maurier looked forward to the day “when illustrating for the millions (swinish multitude) à la Phiz and à la Gilbert will give place to real art, more expensive to print and engrave and therefore only within the means of more educated classes, who will appreciate more.”
Eminent Victorian Cartoonists widens the scope of study with its emphasis on five of the best of the generally neglected political cartoonists, "The Rivals" of volume II; Matt Morgan, John Proctor, William Henry Boucher, John Gordon Thomson and Fred Barnard. An essential game-changing reference book filled with insightful biography and caricature history.
Eminent Victorian Cartoonists
is available HERE
JKA
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Saturday, November 17, 2018
A Crowded Life in Comics – Stan Lee
❦
“I always thought I’d quit in a couple of years.
But it never seemed to happen…” – Stan Lee
❦
‘Nuff Said: Memories of Stan
Lee
by Rick Marschall
by Rick Marschall
Stan
Lee died this week. As if he were invulnerable like many of his superheroes –
or the usual superheroes, not the Marvel Universe head-cases – many fans likely
thought he would simply live on and on.
He
did, in a way that few others in the comic-book field did. Even Steve Ditko, so
closely linked to Stan and who also died this year, began his career when Stan
was well established. Heck, Stan was a veteran in comics when I was born. Eventual
retrospectives will assess his career as spanning the Adolescent Age (of the
comic-book format, not only readers’ ages) to extravagant SFX Hollywood
exploitation.
There
have been a plethora of tributes and appraisals of Stan this week, starting
within hours of his death. Media canned obits; fans’ fond memories; critics
jumping on his grave before he could even occupy it – carping, criticism,
iconoclasm, deconstruction, revisionism.
I
think Stan’s contributions were enormous, and I can avoid hagiography to say so.
His personality was enormous, and so were his talents and instincts and ego and
modesty. With great power comes great contradictions.
Instead,
I will offer some aspects and anecdotes that might not be found elsewhere. And
they can be added, perhaps, to the assessments other will make in the future. They
are personal, but not mine alone.
I
met Stan when I was Comics Editor of Publishers Newspaper Syndicate in the
mid-1970s. It was in Chicago, in the Sun-Times Building, across the river from
the virtual cathedral known as Tribune Tower. Stan was in town I think as a
guest of Chicago Con, but also to speak with my syndicate’s president Dick
Sherry. Not about a Spiderman strip; another syndicate, another time,
would do that. No, Stan and Dick had been discussing a European-style magazine,
along the lines of Linus, Eureka, or the original Charlie
– new contents, international material, articles, interviews, news, reviews,
all about comics.
I
don’t remember whose idea it was, originally, but Marvel (or Stan himself?) and
Publishers Syndicate would co-produce. A major investor would have been Johnny
Hart (BC and Wizard of Id), who did not join us for lunch or back
at the office. My familiarity with European comics and cartoonists was a major
reason Sherry hired me, and I would have been the editor. The working title
(appropriately random and only vaguely germane) was to be GROG! after
the strange beast in BC. He would have been the magazine’s “mascot.”
We
made dummy copies and got to second base, but never to third or home, for
various and sundry reasons.
But
Stan and I kept in touch. A couple years later, with Chicago (and the third of
the syndicates where I edited comics) in the rear-view mirror, I wrote to Stan
about working for Marvel. I had never been a particular fan of superheroes, which
I did not, um, stress in our correspondence. It seems that it would not have
made a difference, however, because I was indeed hired, but initially to handle
the magazine line – black and white comics, one-shots, “Super Specials,” movie
adaptations, and such. The Hulk was a hit on network TV then, and the
process-color magazine stories I hatched or edited were supposed to be “more
like the TV Hulk.”
Eventually
I was given the privilege of conceiving (with many Stan conferences),
designing, naming, and charting the course of what became EPIC magazine.
This
brief column will correct some of the conceptions and misconceptions about this
Marvel period, and Stan. The Editor in Chief at the time was Jim Shooter, and
he has written some memoir about my hiring, and the birth (and birth-pangs) of EPIC.
I would like to say that I have read and enjoyed these. I would like to say
that, but I cannot, because they are mostly tripe. He wrote that I was hired “cold”
by him, yet I had known and (almost) worked with Stan previously, as I have
related.
The
same with EPIC: it was to be more like Heavy Metal than GROG!,
of course; and I took the position that, like HM and the European
magazines, we would have to grant creators’ rights and sign royalty agreements.
This
argument was resisted in higher echelons at Marvel, of course. Shooter came on
board but was not father to the idea, despite his revisionist history. And it
did happen: in the Marvel Universe, EPIC was the entry-way to royalty
deals. Stan eventually sent me to Europe, to the Lucca Festival principally, to
scout for artists. (Shooter was steamed, just as he complained about my
invitation to lunches and meetings when European publishers came to New York.
But. I had previous relations with many of them; and as one executive said, “We
don’t want to scare them off.”)
Back
to Stan, and some more pertinent things to share. He was, in the office, just
what people saw in conventions and TV commercials. Dashing about in warp-speed.
Gregarious. Yes, nicknames. There were many meetings, and chats, in his office;
but he often came into the office of me and Ralph Macchio, my assistant.
Sometimes business, of course, but – this was cool – sometimes to talk about
nothing. Not quite like Seinfeld, but… old comics, newspaper strips, “what ever
happened to this-or-that old cartoonist” who I might have known. Once when
Burne Hogarth came up to visit me, I took him down to meet Stan, who acted (and
surely was) blown away to meet the Tarzan artist.
If
memory serves, when Tom Batiuk visited New York once (I had edited Funky
Winkerbean at Publishers) he was awed to be in the Marvel offices, and met
Stan. My Connecticut friend Chad Grothkopf (who was my first landlord after I married
Nancy) requested that I arrange an audience with Stan. They had worked together
decades earlier, and were friends whose wives shared the same first name.
Ralph
thought these visits to my desk were out of the ordinary, by Marvel standards;
usually editors were called to his large office if at all. But these were
social calls. One thing he shared I never forgot. Out of the blue, one day he
talked about his early, and surviving, dreams for Marvel: he always held up
Disneyland, the theme parks; and what they represented. Not so much the
characters except “the way Disneyland, the whole Disney thing, is tattooed on
everyone’s brain... There are other cartoons, but Disney is first. There
are other funny animals, but the Disney ones are what people think of.
Mickey Mouse is the most famous character in the world! Disneyland! A whole
city!” I wondered, years later, after Marvel was swallowed by Disney, how
ironic that was to him – maybe bitter, since Stan was long-gone by then.
More
than that, is something I can share, and it seldom is mentioned about Stan. His
instincts. He loved comics as an art form, but never got artsy about it
(believe me, friends here and in Europe can and do) (so do I). By the end of my
time at Marvel, Stan knew little about the Marvel titles or new characters.
Enough – no; actually, not enough – to answer fans’ questions at
conventions. That was the real reason he gave talks with no questions, or arranged
signings alone, with no presentations.
But
he never lost his technical-editing (if I can use that term) chops. As I said,
I had been a cartoonist, had edited comics, churned ‘em out at Marvel after
all; and studied strips. The “Language and Structure,” as my course would be
called as a teacher at SVA. Stan, however, held “classes” every day.
–
How to construct a page? He would explain how to lead the reader’s eye through
a page.
–
Balloon placement? He was brilliant, seeing designs like parts of jigsaw
puzzle, making the reader look here and notice that, via balloons, sound
effects, visual elements, “camera” angles.
Covers
and colors? This was what Stan held onto longest – approving every single
cover. The drawing, usually roughs AND finishes, and especially the colors.
Contrasts and values, logos and figures. He would never merely reject out of
hand; he would correct and show and discuss. By my time, the assembly-line of
cover roughs had Marie Severin execute the final versions for Stan, and her own
talent as well as years-with-Stan, virtually assured their OKs. But there was
almost always one little tweak, at least, and spot-on irrefutable.
Every
chat was like going to school.
Whatever
is said, or speculated, about Stan Lee’s collaborations, what is seldom said
and less often acknowledged is the undeniable effect that such “lessons” – his
instincts, not just about what would make young readers flip – but how
to do it, in a million subtle ways… could not have been lost on Jack Kirby,
Steve Ditko, and others. Even Drawing the Marvel Way does not give a
full impression of the passionate love affair Stan had with the comic-book
page. And his visceral analyses. I would ask John Buscema if he realized the
same things about Stan. “Oh, sure,” he would wave his hand. He acknowledged
picking up countless tips from Stan.
Memorable
characters? Stan created or wet-nursed them; all with his DNA. Strips? He loved
comics, so launched several newspaper strips. Other genres? He loved
humor, as well as teenage, girls, parody, fumetti, and romance themes.
Merchandising, movies, theme parks… we know them all. Astounding, really.
In
one dynamic man, he was what other publishers needed staffs for. He always
seemed a bit uncomfortable in person, however affable, as if fighting eternally
blocked nasal passages; and – during my time – I used to wonder how painful
those hair plugs were. Yet nothing slowed him down. I even remember hearing
that when he moved to Los Angeles, his place was so big that he skated around
on roller skates, even answering the door with them on. True? Even if not, it
fit the man perfectly. Legends imitate life.
In
that regard, finally, one time he bounded into my office, and related an idea
he had for a Silver Surfer story in the planned EPIC. He was full
of life, gesticulating, doing action poses, loudly building to a crescendo ending.
After he left, Ralph Macchio and I looked at each other, rolling our eyes and
stifling laughs. We had the common impression – the story hung on the sort of
speculation that we both had as kids, young kids, and therefore many readers
probably would too; and therefore the pitch seemed mundane, not special.
Eventually
I realized that the story idea, I won’t recount here, was pure Stan. If it was
juvenile… it touched on ordinary fantasies. A good thing. If it was simple… it
meant it was universal. If it was child-like…
…
well, that was Stan Lee. A brilliant child – maybe several brilliant kids
rolled into one – who never lost the joy of childhood. Everything could be fun,
if you dreamed it right, planned it right, told it right, drew it right, and
sold, or shared it, right. At the root of it all, whatever the genre or
project, Stan Lee asked “What if…?”
Topper: Jack Kirby, Fantastic Four, Marvel Treasury Edition, 1976
Bottom: Stan Lee, 1969
Bottom: Stan Lee, 1969
❦
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