Noted Rabbit's Playpal Transformed To Mass of Wild Waterfowl; Comatose Magician Held Responsible For Unwanted Conversion: from New Funnies 124, 1947

Today's offering was kindly scanned and donated by Alan Hutchinson. He, in fact, took the considerable trouble to scan this entire 52-page funnybook, the contents of which have eluded me for years... (read last few words with Peter Lorre-style intensity).

I've posted few of Stanley's "Oswald the Rabbit" stories here. Though it was a secondary series for him, during his five year tenure on New Funnies, he wrote several very good to near-brilliant episodes. This is one of the best in the run.

John Stanley's stories with a magician as its Terrible Thwarter/Obstacle figure summon their creator's most outre leaps and bounds of narrative imagination. Stanley's magicians are often heroes, and sometimes utter dastards. They are the envy and the enemy of Stanley's protagonists--and especially revered figures to his many "Tubby Types."

Here, Stanley's prestidigitator has an unusually ambitious act, which seems to often render him injured and/or conscious. His own tricks quickly exceed his ability to control them. His unfinished feat of illusion leaves an absurd but considerable rift in the Oswald/Toby relationship, as you'll soon see...

Stanley's fantasy-themed stories frequently end on a mind-fudge. The boundaries and "what if"s become blurred and uncertain. This 1947 story offers one of his best "?!?" conclusions.

Oswald is remarkably flexible throughout this crisis. His companion, once a cuddly li'l bear, becomes five separate ducks. He still attempts to carry on the domestic life he's known with this entity. Once converted to a flock of ducks, Toby remains Oswald's friend, but his collectively fowl behavior makes their continued union unfeasible.

Marvo The Great is, apparently, omnipotent. Yet he is highly vulnerable to his own tricks. His entrance as a wild lion earns him a mild concussion. After Toby's transformation, he produces a shotgun and attempts to shoot the ducks--resulting in his comatose condition. (It's chilling to consider that Marvo intends to murder Toby, just for the finale to a grand trick!)

Marvo does deliver the goods. He gives his eager subject, Toby, exactly what he requests. Toby's reply to Marvo's "why a duck" question is hilarious: "I dunno: the freedom of the skys [sic] --flying in "V" formation!"

The story ends on an off-beat--another distinctive "Stanleyism." In this story's case, it's like a piece of music that has one extra measure at the end. (It might continue further, with the duo making an omelet out of the eggs.)

Stanley wrings a great deal of comedy out of the story's events--from the mass-mind of the excited mob awaiting admittance to Marvo's performance, to Marvo paying admission to his own show, to his ill-fated entrance as a wild lion... almost every panel has some kind of pay-off of character-based or situational comedy.

Note the in-joke on the theater's asbestos curtain. "L' Noonan Bleu" is, of course, a tip of the hat to fellow Western staffer Dan Noonan, whose elegant cartooning graced many of the Oskar Lebeck-edited Dell titles of the period.

I'm not certain that Noonan and Stanley ever did a story together. I believe the art, here, is by Dan Gormley. I think Noonan must have written his own material, or only collaborated with Walt Kelly.

My friend and fellow blogologist Paul Tumey recalls seeing a small-press book on the history of Dell Publications many years ago. We've both tried, in vain, to find it. I wonder if said book might have at least some information on Oskar Lebeck's editorial work for Western Publications.

For such an important stable of cartooning talent, Western's story is fuzzy, at best. I wish it were even half as well documented as are the 1940s histories of DC, Marvel, Fawcett, et al. We're fortunate that the stories exist, and that they have, if anything, improved with time.

Mice Encounter Enchanted Top Hat; Torment Aggressive Feline (And Selves): "Tom and Jerry" from Our Gang Comics 50, 1948

I keep digging, and "new" John Stanley stories keep appearing!

I found three 1948 issues of Our Gang Comics with one or two Stanley pieces in each issue. This would seem to confirm that Our Gang offered a temporary way-station for our hero after he quit or lost his five-year berth on Dell's New Funnies title.

By 1948's end, Stanley was locked into writing and de facto-drawing the then bi-monthly, eventually 12-times-a-year-plus-giant-specials Little Lulu book, which would soon become among Dell/Western's best sellers.

The bulk of Stanley's late Our Gang pieces are decidedly so-so. Stanley still kept the series' slant on the two mice, Jerry and diaper-clad Tuffy.

The following story is among the better late OG efforts. It was illustrated by Harvey Eisenberg, a skilled stylist who usually had crap scripts. Its theme of a magician's hats ties it to many a classic Little Lulu and Tubby story--and, as well, to his first major one-shot story for Dell's "Four Color" series, "Andy Panda and the Magic Hat," which you can read HERE.

Stanleyisms galore, one moment of genuine brilliance (page four, first two tiers) and unexpected, curious finale: Stanley did not phone in this 10-page story. It's not as sharp as his contemporary Little Lulu writing, but much of that has to do with the limited returns on the basic T&J concept.

Stanley did write one genuinely brilliant story on this late OG run (read it HITHER.) It's telling that this superb story has not hide nor hair of Tom Cat.

Stanley's interest was in the mice--in exploring their childlike relationship with an oversized adult world and its many random objects, in Tuffy's obsession with wearing and curating his collection of diapers, and in the ground-zero game of survival they play each day of their lives.

Stanley did have some fun with Tom's Tubby-esque, self-deluded character in a series of "Adventures of Tom" stories for OG. I ran one of them several months ago. I've already given you two links to prior posts, so you'll have to find this one on your own (that is, if you're interested.) He never seemed interested in making Tom a more interesting character in the T'n'J stories.

Tom displays some Tubby-esque flashes of self-absorption, self-importance and narcissism in Stanley's hands, but in most of his stories for this series (present one included), Tom is just a stock Terrible Thwarter/Obstacle figure, without much embellishing or refinement.

It brings Stanley's "Tom and Jerry" stories down a notch or two from his best writing for New Funnies or Lulu (or from the two original series he wrote and drew in the late 1940s, "Peterkin Pottle" and "Jigger and Mooch.")

The device of the magician's hat, and its many unpredictable eruptions and stake-raisings, infuses this story with some welcome imaginative humor. The mice's requests for cheese and shower are a flash-forward to Stanley's harder-edged, more sitcom-flavored writing of the late 1950s and early '60s.

This was Stanley's final Tom and Jerry story. Harvey Eisenberg took over the series with the next issue. I wish Eisenberg and Stanley had collaborated more than on these late OG efforts. Eisenberg's gorgeous cartoon art would have bolstered Stanley's work considerably.

(Pity poor Eisenberg the mechanical, crude scripts he had to illustrate for the post-Stanley run of "Tom and Jerry." It's perfect proof that superb artwork can't rescue a poor script.)

This issue hit the stands while Little Lulu #5 was on sale.  That issue contains one of Stanley's early Lulu masterpieces, the "Tubby" story, "The Gourmet."

Lulu went monthly with issue 7, which would indicate the book's sales were strong, But it also meant that Stanley had the responsibility of creating 36 pages of content 12 times a year. Thus, his other comic book work drops off for a few years.

I believe his next non-Lulu project would be the ill-fated Krazy Kat title. But, as said at the start of today's post, I keep digging, and new Stanley Stories keep showing up. I hope this will rewarding formula will continue...

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!