Temper Tantrums and Crab-Apple Theft: Two Early Stanleys from New Funnies 89, 1944

Praise be unto the anonymous scanners who post entire issues of old funny-books online. Via their tireless efforts, we can actually read vintage comics, and regard them not as investments, to be sealed in a lucite cube, but as examples of American mass-media.

Here's an early New Funnies issue I've been searching for, free of charge, thanks to the kindness of "Sooth." These early 1944 efforts show us John Stanley still working out how to do comic book stories.  The results are hit or miss, but his hand is quite evident--especially in the first story.

Before that, a moment of time-worn patriotism:

Andy appears eager to obtain one of those war bonds! Does he have $100.00 in that piggy bank? We'll never know...

Stanley's cartooning enlivens this scrappy "Andy Panda" story. It proceeds, as do many of Stanley's early efforts, in a Carl Barks-ian fashion. The narrative stakes, as in Barks' early "Donald Duck" short stories, hang on the protagonist's ability to keep a promise or meet a clearly defined goal.

With his remarkable 1945 "Oswald the Rabbit" one-shot (found HERE and HERE), Stanley made his first foray into higher narrative stakes. Those two stories were a major step forward for John Stanley.

The stakes here are much lower. Again, as with the early Barks, 1944 Stanley stories stick close to the ground, and take place in a recognizable, habitable everyday world.

Stanley uses the time-honored ODTAA (One Damned Thing After Another) formula, in which the hero undergoes a pummeling series of frustrations. These take him from normalcy to anti-social isolation. This schematic was a mainstay of Barks' work, right to his career's end.

Stanley soon moved beyond this scenario, given his interest in richer characterizations and higher stakes. In this story, Andy and Charlie Chicken also swap status roles. Charlie is the anti-social rowdy at story's start. Andy, driven by his attempts to set a good example, despite overwhelming odds, ends up fuming behind bars, while his loose-cannon companion enjoys unfettered freedom.

This status swap would inform many of Stanley's classic "Little Lulu" and "Tubby" stories.  

Stanley's cartooning is over-wrought in this early effort. His style would become one of under-statement and economy. The background details of the first few pages take our attention frequently away from the actions of the protagonist and antagonists. By story's end, Stanley uses simpler, more diagrammatic images. 

The human figures in Stanley's early stories have a distinct look. The cat lady in this story is seen in many iterations, including the female adults in the earliest Little Lulu stories. These highly stylized humans are another reliable Stanley art "tell."

Notice the odd "Walter Lantz" signature on p.7, panel 4. What was up with that? It's worth noting that the signature appears in a panel in which Lantz's character runs in pain and terror. 

Less refined is this issue's "Woody Woodpecker" story. Most certainly not drawn by Stanley, it shows little care or concern. Stanley's next "Woody" story would inaugurate a series of strong, high-stakes narratives in this series that would last through 1947. 

Here, Woody is just an anti-social pest, dropped into a rustic situation where he encounters adversity and humiliation. He never eschews his gadfly status, bless his psychotic li'l heart!

As in Stanley's first Woody story (seen HERE), the world is very much against the woodpecker from panel one. He wants something that's not acceptable, or negotiable, to the world around him. Woody is a true "Tubby Type"-- see his self-justifying babble on p.1, panel 6. In his eyes, anything he thinks or does is A-OK. It's the failing of the world around him that it can't buy in to his desires.

This sounds exactly like Larry David's persona on Curb Your Enthusiasm. As I wrote in this somewhat controversial post, there is a direct link from Stanley's comics work to the recent trend of humiliation comedy on TV.

Even in his least significant stories--of which this is certainly is--Stanley's intelligence and comedic sense are evident. To read John Stanley's 1940s stories, with knowledge of what he would do in the '50s and '60s, is enlightening.

From Our Gang Comics #18: Food and Fear in "Tom and Jerry"

I thought I'd posted all the "Tom and Jerry" stories written (and sometimes drawn) by John Stanley. This one was still waiting rediscovery. It's a relief--I am seriously low on new material to post, after three years and over 200 posts.

This isn't the post I wanted it to be. While I've been recovering from appendicitis, I've viewed the first seasons of writer-director Nat Hiken's two brilliant early TV sitcoms, Sgt. Bilko and Car 54, Where Are You? Dozens of times, I was struck by the similarities of Hiken's and John Stanley's work. They truly seem to come from the same comedic channel.

To do this post idea justice, I'll have to prepare several video excerpts from these two programs. The first seasons of both programs are readily available on legitimate DVDs. Those curious to explore this territory on their own are directed to those DVD releases, which are available from Netflix, I believe.

For now, here's another example of Stanley's low-key, high-stakes sitcomics via this obscure, rushed-looking entry in the "Tom and Jerry" series.

This particular issue of Our Gang Comics, with a cover date of July-August 1945, is from the late doldrums of World War II. Like several Dell titles of the era, this one was suddenly conflated to 36 pages from the usual 52. Existing stories were crudely re-formatted to fit on less pages.

This story appears to have been created for the more cramped page-count. Its artwork is particularly slap-dash. Traces of Stanley's layout drawings peep through here and there. The artist's energetic, loose brush-based style brings much energy to the pages. (It looks like it may be Otto Feuer doing these chores--what do you think, Thad K?)

Despite some reckless rendering that betrays the story's hasty production, its five pages of crowded, claustrophobic panels are full of Stanley's trenchant wit. Its theme of hunger and the existential search for food is a common Stanley subject.

There's a lot of chit-chat in this story. Stanley's rapid-fire banter is the saving grace of this minor episode. As is typical of this series, Stanley is more interested in the relationship of Jerry and Tuffy, the mice, and only brings Tom Cat in when it's time to raise the narrative stakes.

The Tubby-like attitude of Tom is particularly noticeable in this story. Tom's self-congratulatory chatter is genuinely amusing. He's not the cardboard villain of the MGM theatrical cartoons. He is a grade-A asshole, but his deluded high state of self-regard redeems him.

The interactions of Jerry and Tuffy, in the story's first three pages, are typically sharp. This verbal tennis would serve Stanley well in his later Little Lulu stories and, particularly, in the masterful writing of Thirteen Going on Eighteen in the 1960s.

The story peters out peculiarly in its last tier. That final panel is an enigma. I have no idea what's going on, or what the import of it is. Perhaps I'm just missing something.

Admirers of Stanley's pet phrases will enjoy the multiple CHOFFs and CHOMPFs that grace page two. The search for food quickly turns dangerous in Stanley's 1940s stories. Those in need of nourishment may become another character's entree or appetizer.

Though the back-and-forth dialogue of the two mice is deft and amusing, a certain grimness lays just beneath its surface. As in Stanley's later 1940s series, "Jigger and Mooch," the outsider characters (the mice) must go through a lot of trouble to keep alive and fed.

Stanley would refine this concept in Little Lulu, via the frequent hunger (and soliloquies on this state) of Tubby Tompkins. Tubby's broad character helps leaven the fear-factor of hunger considerably. We never worry that Tub will starve. In one of Stanley's greatest stories, "The Gourmet," Tubby shows his mastery of hunger, and his ability to manipulate adults.

Stanley's mice lead a much less secure existence. It makes them compelling characters, but the sadness of their plight always hangs in the air around them.

Grindhouse! Tom and Jerry from Our Gang Comics #16, 1945

Thanks to Doug Gray for these scans. Doug has a nice comix-related blog that you can visit at http://greatestape.blogspot.com/

He is, obviously, a fella of good taste. He responded to my plea for missing issues of Our Gang with possible Stanley content.

His offering is an especially gnarly "Tom & Jerry" entry. Stanley did the finishes on this story's artwork. It looks less precise--and more rushed--than usual, but it has his tell-tale artistic tics.

As usual, the mice set themselves up for ODTAA by leaving their safe zone and exploring the big, confusing world about them. A potential sailing mishap leads them to a delicatessen around the corner from their "residence." Here is where much of the food and dry goods they've pilfered were purchased.

Here, Jerry and Tuffy encounter hostile big-city mice. Tom Cat, in an especially cranky mood, eventually shows up, too.

This is a wartime story. I'm fascinated to see how readily available coffee beans were at this imaginary deli. Perhaps this was wishful thinking on Stanley's part. The coffee bean grinder plays a major role in this story. Our rodent pals nearly meet a Herschell Gordon Lewis-style finale inside the deadly bean machine.

Later, it is their deus ex machina that returns them to the world they know, via the arms of stereotyped black maid Mandy.

Note how much more sympathetic and human a character she is here, compared to the equivalent character in the MGM cartoons. Note, as well, the apparently German deli owner. I guess he was one of the "good Germans." Mandy is treated courteously and warmly by the deli guy.

One final note: the inker and/or letterer get the mice mixed-up on the first page. A magically diaperless Tuffy addresses a suddenly diaper-endowed Jerry in the fifth panel. They switch back in the next frame. Editor Oskar Lebeck must have missed that little gaffe when he scrutinized these pages.











2011 Post-Script: It's clear to me, now, that this story is illustrated by John Stanley. The inking is unusually loose for him, but it's certainly his work as a cartoonist/writer.

Another thing: why is this particular post so darned popular? I'm happy for its success, but I obviously don't see something here that a lot of other people see--and get.

More LLL (Later Little Lulu): three from #95

Here's another trifecta of super Little Lulu stories from 1956.

Just one issue after delivering the devastating "Two Foots Is Feet," John Stanley continued to mine the rich "parents-bewildered-by-children" vein. In our first story today, "The Bawlplayers," we get an 'in' on how Lulu's parents are hip to the manipulations and bargaining that are their child's only currency.

Tubby, of course, is in on the adults' 'in,' and has his own set of fool-proof counter-manipulations. He acts as a crying coach for Lulu. His evaluations and feedback are hilarious: a grand example of the transfer of adult characteristics to kid characters.

The story also makes use of Dell Comics' unique, limited color palette. As noted in prior posts, Dell (Western, rather; see Michael's comment below, with a helpful link] printed their own comics, and hewed to a very austere set of colors. Their very pink red, murky violets and bricks and eye-piercing flat yellows are like no others in funnybook history.

This story's subtle in-jokes about color are a delightful extra touch to a short story already bursting with great ideas. Look at how much Stanley achieves in five pages!











"The Sick Tree" mines another common Lulu theme: the girls' ability to thoroughly outwit the boys. By 1956, Stanley had already done this sort of story, oh, 40 or 50 times. His capacity for getting mileage out of the most overworked comix tropes is a lesson for every writer.

In this story's case, by having the boys' mischief impinge upon Mr. Moppet, Stanley raises the stakes of this-type story. He even inverts the potential threat of Lulu getting a spanking from her pop.

Alvin provides a brilliant offbeat coda to this exceptional Lulu story.















"Big Bite" was the opening story of this issue. I decided to move it to third place--not for any lack of quality. It's such a perverse variant on the Lulu-Tubby-food dynamic that it deserves to be the final course of today's comix snack.

Tubby's dependance upon Lulu for extra foodstuffs is the stuff of comedic legend. Like Sgt. Bilko and a scam, the prospect of ill-gotten food proves irresistible, time and again, for Tubby. He seemingly lets his status plummet while trying to work his manipulative wiles--all for a 10 cent ice-cream cone.

As with "Bawlplayers," we see Stanley expand his arsenal of hilarious vocal excalamations. What happens to the final ice-cream cone causes some wonderful physical contortions as well.

These stories, which are masterful in their economy of plot, characterization and theme, literally speak for themselves. I'll post the remaining two stories from this fine, fine, super-fine issue next time around!

Dog Daze: the last of Jigg and Mooch

A combination of too little sleep, too much snow, and too hectic a schedule has rechristened my cold. I'm feelin' sick as a dog, so it's only fair that I post two Stanley stories about our canine companions, Jigger (now "Jigg") and Mooch.

These are the final stories in the feature's short run, from Animal Comics 29 and 30. I've now posted the full run of this remarkable strip.

Stanley signs these stories as "Biff." Here is his cartooning at its most austere. The clean, mechanical pen lines suggest Herge, or the ink and paint department of a Hollywood animation shop.

Jigg's language is spare. Punctuation is only used when absolutely necessary. Part of the language of comix is the avoidance of periods to end sentences and statements. Periods were avoided because printers mistook them for flaws and removed them, or else they failed to survive to the photostat/engraving stage. (The same thing often happened to Charlie Brown's eyes in the early days of Peanuts.)

! replaced . in the comix vocabulary! Thus, most early comix dialogue seems quite loud! Even the simplest statement is fired off with an aggressive exclamation mark!

Stanley chooses to end his sentences like this This makes for a curious reading experience Thank goodness for the enclosure of the balloon Otherwise, one would never be quite sure where one statement ended, and the next began

In the 1950s, Stanley got heavily into his ellipse period. This...could punctuate a sentence...in a number of ways...creating interesting...rhythms...

But enough of this! I hate to get bogged down in semantics Let's just...move on...shall we...

I feel rather written out on Jigger/Jigg and Mooch. I admire how Stanley kept his storytelling clean and direct. It's so nice to see an author write TO children, not DOWN to children. I think he best achieved this effect with this feature.

"Jigg" has an child's sense of urgency that is at the heart of the Stanley worldview: survive, move forward, stop and take stock of the world around you. A child can relate to this more than an adult, I think. The child in me still relates to it, very strongly...

From Animal Comics 29... a classic "mind-fudge" scenario:








The final story, from Animal Comics 30: