More Mockery of the Idle Rich [and the Antiques Scene]: "Andy Panda," from New Funnies 126, 1947

Tidbits come and go all over the internet: this posting from April, 2010 in the animation guild blog offers a piece of original New Funnies cover-art from issue #161 (1950; post-Stanley).

While the TAG post has mostly supposition and errors, it does offer one nugget of information. The artist is credited as Dick Hall. He is one of the mystery artists of John Stanley's New Funnies work. If this information can be trusted, then Hall is a vital component of Stanley's NF period.

(UPDATE: Alberto Beccatini wrote on the guild blog that he feels this is Dan Gormley's work. That makes more sense than Dick Hall. I now think that Dick Hall is the artist of the first couple of Woody Woodpecker Four-Color one-shots, which may or may not be Stanley-written. I can't make up my mind about those two comics. If they're not Stanley's writing, they're by another darn good writer, with a comparable sense of the absurd. Jury is still out...)

It was easy to find the published version of this cover, from issue 161 of the Lantz funnybook:

And, while I'm at it, I might as well post another Stanley-written New Funnies story. I promise I'll lay off these for awhile--altho' I'm running out of other new stuff to present here, unless I double-dip into Dark Horse and Drawn + Quarterly's publishing schedules.

This story appears to be by the same artist as the cover piece above. This was done three years earlier, so it's likely that Hall (or whomever) further honed his skills by 1950. Still, it's pretty sharp cartooning, with much invested in the characters' expressions and intentions. This is a big component of what makes Stanley's Lantz material work so well.

The characters, themselves, are ciphers. Stanley invests them with believable neuroses, cognitive biases and other quirks that, like Carl Barks' Donald Duck cast, makes them come alive. This cannot be said, in any way, about the "official" animated counterparts.

This story contains some favorite Stanley themes: the idiocy, greed and brusqueness of the well-to-do; the sheer hooey of antiques, fine art and the deluded souls who lust after such things; status-based anxiety; and, of course, anti-social [but self-justified] behavior. Post-war kids got a lot of subtext for their dime!

Longtime readers may recall this story from the original Stanley Stories site. These smallish scans are the same that appeared five years ago. They're better than other digital scans of this issue I've found, so... there you are.

Stanley is in rare form throughout this story. He devotes the story's first two pages to a display of Charlie Chicken's duplicitous behavior--and Andy's indulgence of same. This is character-enriched comedy on the level of Laurel and Hardy.

And, like the leisurely style of L&H, this scene is allowed to play out as long as is needed. There is no bright action to start this story: just two interior-scene pages of characters talking. (It takes another two pages to get our protagonists out the door!)

One gets the sense that Andy is accustomed to his mail being steamed open, and pre-read, by his domestic partner. Andy does fly off the handle, on occasion--he even threatens to kill Charlie in one 1946 story. By this time, nothing can surprise him. Privacy is not an option in this suburban household!

Once chicken and panda leave the house, an early instance of Stanley's jet-stream sitcomix begins. This story presages the type of frantic, brassy humor plied in Kookie, Dunc 'n' Loo, Nancy and Sluggo and other late Stanley works.

This vein of Stanley comedy pits well-developed protagonists against broad representational "types"--beatniks, fine artists, antique collectors, the wealthy, specialists and obsessives in general. These characters are unfazed by the protagonists. They WANT something, and this need is all they live for. We're encouraged to ridicule their desires, as they're usually Quixotic.

Stanley's Evil Rich are a breed apart. They have confidence and wealth on their side. Nothing can stop them. They resent the (usually middle-class) protagonists' intrusion into their inner circles. Thus, they become arrogant, prickly antagonists.

Sometimes Stanley seems to have a chip on his shoulder via these high-status characters, and their desires. When he relaxes this bias, he can create sterling comedy: witness page 8 of this story, in which an arrogant man of wealth bids on, and wins, an antique chair--just so he can have something to sit on at this SRO auction!

An object of desire, in Stanley's world, becomes contagious, once identified. Page 6, panel 3 is a superb comedic example of this tendency.

The story's narrative stakes hinge on another, unseen scion of the Evil Rich: Andy's Aunt Penelope, who is also absurdly near-sighted. In the end, all the trouble our heroes endure is trivial. The judgmental rich relative is too blind to notice whether the expensive vase is cracked or not.

Without a clear objective, Andy and Charlie might have easily squandered a dozen pages bickering over the letter, and the issue of Andy's invaded privacy. Many days in these characters' lives appear to have been so blissfully wasted.

Tubby in "The West Side Guys Get Skunked," from Tubby #5, 1953--story and artwork by John Stanley

The day will come when I exhaust all the comix written and drawn by John Stanley--that is, those that aren't currently in reprint status by our fine friends at Drawn + Quarterly!

I hear tell that they may publish the overlooked and under-rated Tubby series. If this is true, it's cause for joy! I find Dark Horse's scan/reprints of the color Little Lulus to be an eyesore. (Ditto for all their other scan-scourced reprint projects.)

In an attempt to downplay the age of the stories, DH chooses to pump up the brightness/contrast controls. This removes the amber hues of the half-century-old newsprint--at the expense of visual pleasure. The comix look harsh and uninviting. As well, they print 'em on slick paper--another roadblock to full enjoyment.

Yes, I am delighted that the later issues of Lulu are back in print! I'm glad to see them in color. BUT... it could be done much better.

Tubby is an important series in the Stanley canon. Aside from the obvious reasons--the series focuses on Stanley's most significant and fully-realized anti-hero figure--Tubby is a gateway to Stanley's 1960s work. Here, he experimented with the darker themes and character relationships that would come to full fruition in Dunc 'n' Loo, Melvin Monster and Thirteen Going On Eighteen.

These are often achieved in baby steps, but they happen most often in the pages of Tubby. Published quarterly at first, the title became the repository of John Stanley's only published cartooning work of the 1950s. As has been noted here before, Stanley was inspired to draw issues 2 through 9 in their entirety. That's 288 pages of rich, inspired comix art.

The contents of Tubby are little-known to most Lulu fans. You can find a few other posts on this series elsewhere in this blog. Stanley indulged in a series of exotic, unconventional book-length adventure stories, again unique to his 1950s work, in issues 2-4 and 6.

With the fifth Tubby, Stanley broke the pattern. The book's lead story, which I'll feature here soon, is a rather un-PC burlesque of Western adventure tropes. Perhaps it ended sooner than its creator expected. The back-up story, presented here today, is as close to Little Lulu territory as Stanley's Tubby gets.

Its settings are akin to the suburban idyll of Lulu, and it features the fearsome West Side Gang, in one of their only Stanley-drawn appearances. Another Lulu icon, the rich sociopath Wilbur Van Snobbe, figures in the story's stake-raising plot.

The simple beauty of Stanley's cartooning is a joy to behold. Much as I admire Irving Tripp's artwork, Stanley's has more oomph, and consistently achieves more with less.

The John Stanley Theatre Of Cruelty is in full swing here. Galvanized by Wilbur Van Snobbe, the heartless, cruel scion of wealth, both good and bad guys gang up on poor Tubby. Our young anti-hero undergoes psychological-physical torment worthy of an R. Lee Ermey.

When your alleged friends force you to dress in drag (with mohair sofa stuffing for a wig) and enter enemy territory, your day is already not going well.

The mind-fudgery the West Side Guys inflict on Tubby reminds me of a scene from one of the few genuine horror movies I've ever seen: Jack Webb's The D.I. This 1957 chiller contains a similar sequence in which D.I./A-hole Webb forces his platoon to search for the corpse of a sand flea in a vast, tangled field--at night.

This would be MY worst nightmare. Tubby's forced crocheting of a substitute spider-web, while comically absurd, is a similarly wearisome, thankless task. His Pyrrhic victory over the West Siders--via the clever sleight-of-hand with the captured skunk--is a weak triumph, when compared to the mass of $h!t he must endure.

Tub seldom gives more than he gets. Thus, it's easy to like him, and to identify with his comic/horrific plights. Whether pursued by sociopathic, spanking-crazed loners, forced to endure endless violin lessons, or being badgered by Gloria, Wilbur, the West Side Guys and his so-called friends, Tub's life is full of risks and emotional land-mines.

Tubby endures. He'd make a good crisis counselor or hostage negotiator. I'd like to think that he grew up to such a career--one in which his problem solving skills AND his extreme egotism would work for him, and not deliver constant kicks to the shins.

NOTICE: You will note a PayPal donation button now added to Stanley Stories. After a lengthy struggle with both PayPal and Yahoo mail, I've successfully revived my PayPal account. (It's a loooooooooong story, folks...)

If you enjoy this blog, and can spare some $$$, please donate to Stanley Stories! Your kind donations will enable us to better serve you in 2010--and beyond!

The HaLLoween Spirit 2: Magician's Aide Suspected in Cruel Hoax; Large Cardboard Tube Baffles Community; Evil Scion of Wealth Duped By Clever Commoner

Howdy, one and all. These are stressful times for me. I'm moving--to a much better and more affordable place, but moving is always stressful. And, as usual, I'm flat broke. Jobs of any kind are nigh-impossible to find. I'm hanging by a slender thread of faith in the universe that I'll make it through this winter.

Thus, my plans to do a lot of posts in October are somewhat hindered. I'll do my best to do a post a week. Thanks for your patience.

Here are the next three stories from the 1958 Little Lulu and Tubby Halloween Fun giant. Today's selections are very Tubby-centric. That is always good news in the Luluverse.

I've been asked to write an essay about characters in popular media with heavy cognitive biases. Tubby is, of course, one of the great examples. I think Larry David's character in Curb Your Enthusiasm and Ricky Gervais and Steve Carell's roles in both versions of The Office have much in common with good ol' Tub.

We are drawn to characters who create disaster via their tenacious hold on warped world-views and askew justifications. I think there is something cathartic about seeing such characters make huge gaffes and disrupt the order of the world around them.

This is especially true when said characters sincerely believe that what they're doing is right--perhaps the only way to achieve their goals. It is a huge societal fear that we will be exposed as someone who has made flagrantly wrong choices, and upset the applecart of routine life via our misinformed decisions.

Tubby's wrong choices don't make my sphincter turn inside out, as do Larry David's or Michael Scott's. Horror movies don't scare me; The Office and Curb Your Enthusiasm both do.

Tub's is a kindler, gentler set of cognitive biases. Speaking of which, let's enjoy the Tubster in action...

"The Frog In The Hat" sidesteps the Hallo-theme, although a stage magician's mystique does border on the supernatural for the kids in this story. Tubby's logic system is a runaway train here, with Lulu its bewildered passenger.








As usual, it's just Tub's overactive, unmedicated imagination, and nothing more. But Tub's belief system rescues Mysto the magician from a horde of menopausal female fans, on whom he apparently has a Tom Jones-like effect.

By simply believing in his misinformed thesis, and following it to an illogical conclusion, Tubby (and Lulu) are rewarded by their most grateful idol. It's fascinating to see Lulu--always the voice of reason and logic--so taken in by Tub's flights of fantasy.

That Stanley's characters are malleable and inconsistent makes them all the more real, appealing and compelling. We want to see what will happen to them. Like us, they are uncertain vessels on the sea of life. They do not react robotically to circumstances.

Tubby edges Lulu completely out of the picture for the next two stories. "Missle Fizzle" offers a fascinating and rare glimpse inside the home of Lulu's best friend, Annie. In many stories, Annie is depicted as a poor child. Her home seems no better or worse than the Moppets' or the Tompkins'. Perhaps Annie's family came into some money in the mid-1950s.






"Missle Fizzle" is built around topical references to Space Age weaponry--an unusual move for John Stanley in Little Lulu. The series, as a whole, occurs in a comfortable vacuum. Their timeframe is a vague "now" that could be any year from 1945to 1960.

The stories seem, im particular, to take place in the prosperous, relaxed later 1940s. It's genuinely surprising to see the intrustions of the present-day in "Little Lulu."

Stanley would aggressively embrace pop culture references in his post-Lulu work. "Missle Fizzle" is a fascinating preview of his 1960s writing.

It is also a brilliantly dense dose of character-driven comedy. Annie's brother, Iggy, instigates the mishaps. For once, Tubby (plus the other "fellers") completely buys another person'a sincere-but-misguided concept.

The rich visual-verbal comedy that ensues is top-drawer stuff. Stanley had a great deal invested in these characters. All that thinking and planning had given him a foolproof foundation to write hilarious and delightfully absurd stories such as this.


Tubby emerges triumphant, in "The Bragging Mirror," against his greatest foe, the amoral, wealthy Wilbur van Snobbe. Wilbur is unusually nasty here. Again, this anticipates Stanley's coming tenure on the Nancy comics. Stanley's treatment of the equivalent Rollo Haveall character, in that series, is among his harshest depiction of the heartless, manipulative rich.









The main situation of this story is gimmicky sitcomix. Stanley just barely gets away with its artifice. You know something's up when Tub keeps his scheme to himself. An egomaniac of his caliber would typically obsess over his scheme, savoring each detail in detail.

Of course, if Tub did that, the story would fall apart. It works because we have seen Tubby try to get along with Wilbur so many times in the past--and has had his sincere efforts trampled and his kindness mocked. As well, Wilbur, who needs no extra money, has duped Tub out of "at least twenty dollars" over the years.

We want to see this comeuppance--especially impressive since it is a no-budget affair. All Tubby needs is his vivid imagination and a "ventriloquist gadget." The latter, seen in many 1940s animated cartoons, comic books and '50s TV shows, apparently was a miraculous device.

The tacit moral of the story is that Tubby, lower middle class kid of no great means, can outfox lazy, self-indulgent, wealthy Wilbur with nothing more than a colorful, clever story. Wilbur is not the sharpest knife in the drawer, despite his social and financial pedigree.

Were "The Bragging Mirror" not so rich in detail, and seated in such a high-stakes unsettled score, it would be just like another 100 dumb funny-book stories. It's to Stanley's credit that he transcends the gimmick with convincing characterization and geniune, well-depicted human emotion.

We'll take a temporary break from this Halloween giant, as I've had requests for some of Stanley's whacked-out serious horror stories of the early 1960s. I'll offer up some of those subconscious wonders next time around.

Oswald the Rabbit and The Easter Party; Four-Color #183, 1948

Here's another 32-page Stanley story from 1948--one that is, to my best knowledge, new to the Internet. These are my scans.

Read, enjoy, and then we'll talk...


































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Three persistent second-string Stanley themes merge in this story: the all-powerful, manipulative rich, evil midgets posing as children, and magicians.

All of these themes surface in Little Lulu and Nancy from time to time. It's notable to find all three in one story.

Less plot-driven than most of Stanley's book-length stories, "Easter Party" has an engagingly loose, spontaneous feeling. I don't think Stanley spent much time or effort in writing it.

The anonymous artist was not among Western Publishing's finer craftsmen. His work appears in New Funnies during that title's Stanley period. The boldness and agitation of his figures may stem more from Stanley's layouts. His actual drawing leaves much to be desired. The lack of polish hurts the story overall.

Stanley's protagonists, as here, are usually under-priveliged: in need of money or security. The rich, always a symbolic figure in the Stanley universe (and usually sinister in nature), serve as a temporary open door to a better world.

The Van Doughs are, as Stanley's rich go, benevolent--if self-absorbed and presumptuous. At story's start, Mrs. Van Dough stalks Oswald and his domestic partner, Toby, through a department store. She demands Oswald's presence at her son's party. To her view, he has nothing better to do, being a mere peasant.

Unlike the rich families of Lulu and Nancy, the Van Doughs are seemingly kind people. Stanley's dislike of the rich never lets the reader feel comfortable in such refined surroundings. There is always an element of threat.

In this story, the threat comes in the form of a masquerading midget who impersonates the Van Doughs' wussy son, Algernon. Mrs. Van Dough notices that her formerly benign son is now a grade-A asshole, but assumes it's just a phase he's going through. She has garden parties and croquet matches to think about. She is also (ahem) nearsighted. This is the perfect ailment for a wealthy Stanley character. It's also the lynchpin of the story's wafer-thin plot.

No Mr. Van Dough is seen. Makes one wonder, as Stanley typically has his wealthy married and settled. Perhaps he was a casualty of the Great Funny-Animal world war--erased before his time.

The centerpiece of "The Garden Party" is a lengthy battle-of-wits between Os and Toby and the faux-Algernon. The mean-spirited, larcenous fake Algy does his best to publicly humiliate and confound our heroes as they blunder their way through an improvised magic act.

This section of the story reads like a storyboard for an animated cartoon. It shows Stanley's cleverness and resourcefulness. Such a sequence would be tedious in most funny-animal comix. Like Carl Barks, Stanley had an understanding of formulae, and how to confound them.

The breezy grace of this long sequence is unique in Stanley's work. It's refreshing to see him let go of the narrative, and just let amusing things happen, one after another.

The magic act is a perfect set-up for these seemingly spontaneous events. Poor, bland Oswald is given quite an honor; the magician is a special figure in the Stanley universe. Whether a stage conjurer, or an actual wizard-type (e.g., Uncle Eek in Nancy), the magician enjoys a special status.

It's a kind gesture to Oswald, who had been abandoned as a screen character after the 1930s. Stolen from Walt Disney in the late 1920s, Oswald was continued, after a brief transitional period, by Walter Lantz's animation studio.

The Oswald cartoons of the pre-code talkie era are imaginative, freaky things. A young Fred "Tex" Avery was on the Lantz staff at the time, and certain cartoons from 1930-1934 show his developing sense of humor.

Oswald followed the blanding trend of Mickey Mouse as the '30s staggered on. His newfound wimpiness proved his undoing. A cuter, cuddlier, less dangerous character runs out of things to do. Oswald was quietly dumped at the end of Lantz's 1938 cartoon season.

He was revived for one mediocre musical cartoon in 1943. Though he appeared on Lantz-made TV shows in the 1960s, his career as a screen star was kaput. He was used in merchandising and licensing. Early TV reruns of his Lanta cartoons may have revived his marketability in the late 1950s. His last funnybook appearance was in 1962.

You can see some of Oswald's animated antics on DVD: Disney put out a two-disc set of all the surviving silent cartoons. Selections from the talkie Lantz era are on the two sets of Woody Woodpecker and Friends, also indispensible for the cartoons directed by James Culhane.

Oswald was also among the first licensed characters for the funny-books, via his February, 1935 appearance in the first issue of New Fun Comics. an early effort of the company soon known as DC,

There you go: all the Oswald Rabbit factoids you didn't think you needed to know. Well, now you do. And, now--adieu!