Tubby and his Clubhouse Pals: A John Stanley Masterwork

The Pacific Northwest suffered a miserable heat wave this past week. On Wednesday, Seattle hit an all-time high temperature of 104 degrees Fahrenheit. I am a certified Sun-Shunner [TM]. I have no use for summer--indeed, no use for any climate above 70 degrees F.

I sought refuge in the air-conditioned rooms of two friends. It is to them that this post is dedicated.

While in fugitive mode, I dug out my musty, crusty copy of the 1956 Dell Giant Tubby and his Clubhouse Pals. Purchased from a scowling, portly merchant at a miserable little comic-con in Tallahassee, Florida, circa 1987, this two-dollar buy has served me well over the years.

A re-reading, in the chilled haven of an AC'd room, re-affirmed my long-held belief that this 100-page book may be John Stanley's anarchic masterpiece.

Rarely was his wit as edgy and sharp as it is here. Story after story, this book resonates with perfect comedic timing, risky subject matter, and potentially traumatizing narratives.

Stanley introduced the troublesome but fascinating Gran'pa Feeb herein. As well, he gave ample berth to the morally questionable doings of the little men from Mars. Problem-making, stakes-raising elements are the rule throughout this book. As well, the male-oriented energy, with all its adversarial, aggressive tendencies, tips the vibe of Tubby and his Clubhouse Pals far, far away from the more balanced canvas of Little Lulu.

Did I mention how funny Stanley's writing is here? This 53 year-old book packs an enormous comedic punch. Even with the unapt Lloyd White providing finished artwork, Stanley's gift for storytelling and visual flair shines through in every moment.

Here are two favorite stories from this epic funnybook.


"Injun Fighters" co-stars Gran'pa Feeb, whose apparent senility masks a table-turning, chaotic sharpness. As well, Tubby is at his Tubbiest--dodging from one neurotic impulse to another, causing trouble while trying to dance his way out of it.












There are so many choice moments in this story: Tub's repeated, haranguing "Hello, Janie;" Tub's friends attempt to keep a smile on his face by repeating the word "vacation;" Tub's color-coded mood-swing gallery on p.7; Feeb's deus ex machina terrorist attack on the West Side boys.

Stanley thoroughly understands and accepts his characters in this story. I hope he had fun writing such stories; a real sense of playful abandon fills these pages.


"Zoodunit" co-stars the little men from Mars. I suppose that they are indeed real to Tubby. The fantasy elements they bring into stories such as this, while wildly at odds with the trampled naturalism of the Lulu universe, offer welcome relief from the inexorable suburbanality (hey, there's a new word!) of the Lulu-Tubbyfranchise.












There is much to savor in this raucous story: the Martians' complete lack of Earthly moral standards, and Tubby's freak-outs over same (a comic duet which boosts the story into sublimity); the mini-zoo keeper's shell-shocked reactions, after Tubby rescues him from the micro-tiger; and the comedic topper of the frog becoming enlarged, and Tubby's wager with his smug father.

"Zoodunit" weaves fantastic elements into a conventional story without ship-wrecking it. The judicious building of unbelievable moments creates a willing suspension of disbelief on the reader's part.

The story's final reward: it ends before the expected climax. We're left with the delicious anticipation of what might happen beyond the story's last panel. As a reader, I feel respected by the author.

I'll return to this Rosetta Stone of four-color comedy in future posts. Keep cool, wherever you are!

The Last of the Kool-Aid: Lulu Summer Camp Experience '58...The Finale!

The thought of summer camp brings to mind very, very weak Kool-Aid. Tinted a faint violet or pink, this stuff tasted more of the waxy cups in which it was served than of any alleged artificial fruit flavor.

Summer camp in the early 1970s was all about nearly-flavorless Kool-Aid. Hence today's title.

These are the final four stories in this magnificent 1958 Little Lulu summer camp giant.

First up today: "Ol' Witch Hazel and the Sneezing Weather-Vane."









This feature, a staple of Stanley's Little Lulu, is regarded as masterful, inventive storytelling in some quarters. Others find fault with the fairy-tale format's extensive narration and lessened use of the comix format.

I consider these fairy-tales often-brilliant, highly creative storytelling. They are a bit text-heavy. I'd imagine modern young readers might be taxed by the lexile challenge Lulu's narration presents.

The ironic understatement of her narration, and the contrast between narrator and scene, as seen by the reader, seems very rich to me. This story, with its decidely manic, agitated cartoonish farce, is quite funny and vivid.

I particularly like the repeated imagery, on the second page, of the townsfolk working hard to earn money to search for the mountain. I also find it humorous that such an obviously visible mountain should prove so difficult to find.

In the feverish, improvised kid-logic that fuels these fairy tales, it makes perfect sense that the patently obvious should remain invisible, and vice-versa. I'm impressed at how consistently Stanley retains the voice of a child storyteller. The temptation to revert to the ironic adult voice would be enormous to most writers.

If you dig these Lulu fairy-tales, you've no doubt had a ball reading this one. If not, at least stop to admire the inspired imagery and the faintly Will Elder-y attention to detail within those cramped panels.

"Wet Cement" is a three-page quickie.





Not much to say here; Stanley is entitled to catch his breath between two fairy-tales.

Tubby is the rare creator of such a story in "The Sea-Monster With the Tired Ears."







Tubby's personality beams through every word of this fairy-tale. This is the only instance I know of in which Tubby regales Alvin with a supposedly pacifying story. Ironically, Lulu provides an unintended punch-line to Tubby's tale.

The self-centered, socially irresponsible male sea monster is a hilarious, albeit unintentional, mirroring of the world-view of its creator. This is, perhaps, Tubby's future as an adult male--to feel beleaguered by the demands of women, and to find solace only in his own intense inner world.

Stanley knew his characters deeply by 1958. It is sad to think that he'd abandon them within a year.

"The Injun Fighters" provides anarchic closure to one of John Stanley's finest hours in comix. At 11 pages, it's the longest story in the book. See you when you're finished reading it!













Abundant with droll humor and high comedy, "The Injun Fighters" captures the chaos of childhood with sharp observational relish. The play's rehearsal, with its many levels of action, is handled with enviable ease by its author.

Real life intrudes upon the cliched play in a manner that rings constantly true. Stanley's cast is so well-defined that humor results from their simply being themselves.

I particularly love the moment in which Tubby gets a little too much into his role, and terrifies Wilbur, who transacts with Alvin in order to save his scalp.

Gran'pa Feeb is mentioned early in the story. As any storyteller knows, if you mention something, you're obliged to bring it on-stage. Feeb's entrance (which is literally on-stage) brings down the curtain on this intended entertainment, and ends another summer camp season in utter calamity and chaos.

I admire Stanley for not repeating the finale of his prior summer camp giant. There is no note of melancholy; no somber farewells to season's end. There's just feathers, water, and a scrambling stage-full of addled kids, trying to escape the clutches of the unmedicated (or, perhaps, hyper-medicated) Gran'pa Feeb.

We close this book with its back cover. I'm impressed that some 1958 kid didn't rip off this back cover and nail it to his or her bedroom wall.



Well, that's enough Little Lulu to hold me for awhile.

I have a request for "Captain Yo-Yo," the first issue of the Lulu spin-off title, Tubby. Among the most controversial stories of Stanley's career, this will be our next post. See you very soon, my friends!

Tubby's Last Hurrah: Three stories from Stanley's final issue, 1959

Has the dust settled? Can we get back to business?



















OK...

The fall of 1959 saw the end of John Stanley's tenure on the Little Lulu family of titles. I don't have any Lulus after #128; Stanley's final issue was #135, published in September, 1959.

I do have his final Tubby. Nowadays, if a comix creator of Stanley's caliber were to leave a long-running series, the publisher would create a media hoo-hah. Covers would be plastered with the sad [but marketable] news. It would be a big deal.

In 1959, it was just the cost of doin' business. Without a whit of ceremony, Stanley exited, stage right, into Dell's highly similar Nancy comix.

Between 1945 and '59, Stanley must have written at least 1,000 Lulu-family stories [probably more]. A certain exhaustion began to set in as the '50s wound to a close.

Yet inspiration never left Stanley, despite his having made more spins on the series formula than a dryer in a Bronx laundromat. Anyone would have been ready for a change by this time.

The three stories selected for today's post show major Stanley themes of the 1950s, in their final manifestations. While not daisy-fresh, these pieces still show a lot of life.

Here's the cover; oh, those reassuring Dell covers!



Our first story, "A Record Performance," trades on Tubby's absolute non-mastery of the violin--and the agony its shrieking sounds inflicts on the world around him. As ever, Tubby is proud of his playing, and convinced that it's the finest gift he could bestow on anyone.

Though his efforts are thwarted, they pay off at story's end. I wish we could see the book that Tubby's so excited to read--and I hope he enjoyed it thoroughly!

This story also features the rivalry of Tubby and Wilbur Van Snobbe--key exponent of Stanley's hatred of the rich. Wilbur's extravagance ends up as an enabler to Tubby's well-intentioned but tunnel-visioned gift to his would-be girl, Gloria.










Less subdued is "Whale Tale," co-starring one of Stanley's more controversial creations--seemingly senile Gran'pa Feeb.

Feeb is an uncomfortable character. As such, he is a harbinger of Stanley's 1960s comix, which teem with incidents and characters that cause unease. Feeb is in his second (or is it third?) childhood, and although his pursuits are childish, he recalls his past adult life enough to be a sort-of mentor for Tubby and his clubhouse pals.

The kids clearly like Gran'pa Feeb, and have a good time hanging out with him. With this character, Stanley pushed into edgy territory. Are we laughing at Feeb, the dotty, senile old coot? Or are we laughing with him--applauding his anarchic lifestyle, and his nose-thumbing of the "thin crust of civilization" [John Buchan's words] that the kids' parents cling to with such quiet desperation?

Tub and his friends see through a lot of Feeb's blandishments and boasts, but they genuinely accept him as a mentor and peer.

Feeb features prominently in the fantastically edgy 100-page special, Tubby and his Clubhouse Pals, which Dell published in 1956. My copy is too fragile to scan; I hope Dark Horse will reprint this unsung gem of black comedy in their promised Tubby reprint series.







Lastly, "Green Thumb" offers the potent combo of a Tubby nightmare and those resourceful allies from outer space, The Little Men From Mars. My friend Paul Tumey will do a guest-post here, soon, on TLMFM, so I won't go into detail on them in this post.

This story is a faint echo of earlier, more harrowing works such as "The Guest In The Ghost Hotel" and prior LMFM stories, which teem with life-or-death imagery and moments of extreme threat to life and limb.

This is a quiet farewell to TLMFM, and to Tubby's hyper-active imagintion and sub-conscious. With its equally faint echoes of "Jack and the Bean-Stalk," this story also touches on Stanley's love of fairy-tales and classic fantasy elements. His ability to weave these influences into the most mundane situations was among his great gifts as a story-teller.

I feel badly for 1959 kids who read this issue. They had no idea who John Stanley was, or that he was leaving the world of Lulu. Having read the post-Stanley issues, I can attest that they are, at best, a disappointment; at worst, they're mere product--something that can not be said about even Stanley's weakest work as a comix creator.