Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Is This Stanley's Work? "Homer Brown," from Henry Aldrich 2, 1950

I haven't done one of these "Is This Stanley's Work" posts in awhile. For the sheer sweet sake of variety, here's a return to that occasional berth on Stanley Stories.
A potential problem with focusing on one subject so intently, as I do here, is that, after awhile, it becomes inevitable that I'm going to repeat myself--in story choices, commentary, et al. I strive to keep this blog fresh for you, the reader, and for me, the writer.
As well, as I continue to explore the back-waters of the Dell Comics output from 1942 to 1962--prime years for John Stanley, who remained alarmingly prolific for these two decades--I find a certain amount of pieces I'm not 100% sure about.
This story is in that category. It has some tell-tale Stanley-ian touches, both in characterization and technique. It feels like it could be a Thirteen Going on Eighteen story in many ways.
And, because of Bill Williams' elegant cartooning, there are obvious ties to Stanley's Dunc 'n' Loo.
Still... I dunno...read this story and tell me what you think.
The puzzler is that, according to "official" comics history, John Stanley only wrote some of the first issue of the Henry Aldrich comic book. The very best story from that first issue (and, quite honestly, the only one I feel is truly Stanley's work) was posted here awhile back. It is burned into my memory, as it was the last story I posted on my dearly departed, much missed Mac Mini, which kicked the bucket mere hours after that post, which you can see HERE.
I remain optimistic that this piece, from the second issue of Aldrich, may be Stanley's work. The stories in this series vary greatly in narrative quality, even within a single issue. This suggests, to me, that a number of writers worked on this series.

Anyway, here 'tis. See you afterwards...

The Loo-like qualities of Homer Brown, nebbishly, unconfident sidekick to all-American boy Henry Aldrich, the coarse, aggressive, single-minded vision of the girl's father, the girl, herself, who is accusatory and threatening, yet understanding and assured, the WAZZ and WHIZZ SFX of Homer's jalopy, and the non-sequitur final line of dialogue that manages to fabulously conclude the story...

These elements all suggest John Stanley to me. And, as Bill Williams was a strong enough visual stylist to enforce his own layout concepts on Stanley's writing, the story's slightly offbeat feel mirrors the later Stanley/Williams collaboration on Dunc 'n' Loo and Kookie.

Stanley hadn't yet gotten into the staccato style of writing that would be common in the later 1950s. His Little Lulu stories of 1950 share a similar laid-back vibe to this story.

Well, durnit, I've just about convinced myself that this is John Stanley's work. All the same, I welcome your feedback. What do you think?

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Stanley Stories on Cartoon Brew

Cartoon Brew did a nice post on D + Q's JOHN STANLEY LIBRARY. Animation/comics historian Jerry Beck kindly plugged this blog therein.

Animation director Yvette Kaplan analyzes Stanley's gifts as a storyteller and a visual communicator in some fascinating commentary. This is some of the best assessment of Stanley's overall skills that I've seen anywhere. Thanks, Yvette!

And thanks again, Jerry!

Friday, February 5, 2010

Thirteen Going on Eighteen: The John Stanley Library: A Review

Drawn + Quarterly's third release in their ongoing John Stanley Library is a great achievement in archival comics presentation.

I've been awaiting this book, which reprints the first nine issues of Stanley's longest-lasting auteur comics series, Thirteen Going On Eighteen.

I somehow missed doing a review of the first volume of Stanley's Nancy comics, so I'll tuck some thoughts on that book into this piece.

Here's the cover of this fat, handsome tome:


This 336-page full color book is a steal at $34.95. (The sticker on the back is mis-printed to say $24.95, BTW.) That its contents are of high quality, beautifully reproduced and rewarding to read is the proverbial icing-on-cake.

It makes sense that D+Q chose this series as a follow-up to the Nancy book. Nancy was a breath of fresh air for John Stanley, after 15 years as writer and de facto cartoonist on the enormously popular Little Lulu series.

Lulu's was a tightly defined, highly formal world for John Stanley. In writing its thousands of pages, Stanley created one of the most beloved and richly delineated comic book series. As Lulu became more popular, and more reliant on strict rules and formulas, it offered Stanley the creator less wiggle room to try out new approaches or ideas.

One senses a sigh of relief as Stanley transitions from Lulu to Nancy. While their worlds are similar, Stanley's approach shifts dramatically after Lulu. He begins to take significant risks with the motivations and pre-occupational quirks of his characters. Less intent in its storytelling, Stanley's Nancy becomes an arcade of brassy situational humor, marked by a new, dispassionate attitude towards his characters.

With Nancy, John Stanley develops a quality that, for wont of a better phrase, I'll call "loving contempt" for his comedic figures. Gone is the fatherly, nurturing, protective attitude he had developed towards the Little Lulu cast. Complex character motivations were rendered in broadest, boldest strokes.

Stanley surrenders his characters to tragicomic fate. They run rampant through their own triumphs and failures, humiliate and avenge themselves, and hit higher highs and lower lows than before.

The hands-on approach of Stanley's earlier comics becomes a void--a considerable distancing of creator and creations. He seems to say, to his characters, "Go ahead--do your best and your worst. I'm not going to control you anymore."

This shift infuses Nancy with a bold, grotesque energy. As Ernie Bushmiller's characters are ciphers--means to an end for a quick gag set-up--they were immediately more malleable and experiment-prone than the solidly delineated, deeply felt cast of Little Lulu.

Nancy, good as it is, is merely a dress rehearsal for the most textured and novelistic writing of Stanley's entire comics career--Thirteen Going On EighteenNancy is high-quality, absurd sitcom, on par with the best work of humorist Max Shulman. Thirteen is more akin to the works of Philip Roth, Bruce Jay Friedman or Joseph Heller.

As the first nine issues of TGOE unfold, in this first volume, an intelligent, dispassionate yet deeply invested vision takes focus. Uncertain first moves flower into master-strokes of character motivation. Comedic stake-raising--always a Stanley asset--becomes more down-to-earth, more probable, and of bigger impact upon the lives of his fragile, risible, very real cast of characters.

This book offers insight on John Stanley's creative process. A burst of half-formed new ideas slowly take shape; characters radically shift their appearance and attitude as their creator hones his first flush of inspiration to quiet perfection.

The first two issues of TGOE were not drawn by Stanley. They were illustrated by one of the workhorse staff artists of the 1960s Dell Comics line, Tony Tallarico.

Stanley's scripts inspire Tallarico to the best comic artwork of his checkered career. Tallarico manages to convey Stanley's absurdist humor fairly well, given that Stanley's ideas for this series were clearly still in a larval state.

If the first two issues of the book look peculiar to modern readers, it cannot be denied that they are consistently funny and enjoyable. 

TGOE appeared quarterly. Stanley had the luxury of slowly and steadily developing and refining his ideas for the series. With the book's third issue, Stanley returned to publication as a writer/cartoonist--his first significant published comics work since the short run he did on Tubby in 1952/3.

The concept for TGOE was ingenious and highly commercial. Perhaps the first comic book series to focus on "tweens"--kids neither tots nor teens--it was a clever middle-ground between the likes of Little Lulu and the ultra-popular Archie comics line.

The potential for character-based humor is built into the series' basic concept. As it progresses, and Stanley becomes more sure of his characters--and of their potential for epic failures, humiliations, and the occasional triumph over fate--he makes them increasingly believable.

The characters of Nancy, Kookie, Dunc 'n' Loo and other Stanley comics are born of artifice and exaggeration. One cannot imagine inhabiting the same room with them. In contrast, Judy, Val, Billy, Paul and the other main figures of TGOE achieve a novelistic realness.

They possess a sheer presence not seen in mainstream comic books, and seldom in newspaper comic strips. They are not puppets to be moved about stock situation-comedy scenarios.

They are utterly distinguishable, as well. Val is her own person, as is Judy. Comedic secondary figures such as Charlie, Sticky Stu and Wilbur transcend their one-note gimmicks and become unexpectedly solid, compelling individuals as well.

Stanley's achievement with TGOE is synchronous with the rise of the underground comix movement of the 1960s.

The works of Robert Crumb, Justin Green, Gilbert Shelton and others have much in common with Stanley's final comics work. Despite their freedom to pursue frank, adult situations, language and behavior, the best of the undergrounds share with Stanley a desire to create comic book characters with more presence, probability and personality.

Thus, as TGOE unfolds, and as Stanley develops the quirks and virtues of his characters, he creates a truly novelistic narrative. It is rich in small details, a believable everyday atmosphere, and a sense of the quiet despair of adolescent life.

That this work is quite funny, while remaining true to a mature vision, is remarkable. Stanley is still as intent on amusing the reader. Stanleyisms teem on these pages--from the mantra-like appearances of "YOW!" to later developments in style, such as the increase (or decrease) of font size to connote changes in volume, and the assignment of Dickensian, usually satirical descriptive names for characters.

This sequence, from the sixth issue of TGOE, is a perfect demonstration of the rich blend of characterization, absurd humor, and a lifelike collision of tragedy and broad comedy, all within a  believable everyday setting and experience:



(note: these are NOT scans from the D+Q book they're from a digital scan of the original issue.)

A sub-feature in TGOE is the theater-of-cruelty, "Judy Junior." Stanley captures the inherent cruelty of childhood in a few swift strokes. I assume Judy Junior is the younger sister of TGOE's co-star. She is a horrific being, her sole motivation being the "guidance" of neighbor-kid Jimmy Fuzzi. They undergo the worst aspects of adult relationships, enacted in what feels, to me, like a brutal parody of Charles Schulz's Peanuts. (Imagine the Lucy/Linus relationship taken to its darkest extremes.) It is an absolutely caustic world that is equally funny and grim.

"Judy Junior" orbits its own desolate tragicomic universe. Though it may have been created primarily to fulfill postal regulations, so that TGOE could be purchased by subscription, the feature leaves an unsettling taste in the reader's mouth. It is Stanley at his darkest and most unrelenting.

Stanley's comic art strengthens admirably in the seven issues he illustrates in this volume. Tentative work gives way to elegant, simple drawings full of depth and personality.

The cartooning improves once the book switches from more spacious, three-tier pages, to the four-tier set-up Stanley utilized in Lulu, Nancy and most of his post-1945 comics work. Stanley seems to thrive in the tighter, more cramped panels of the four-tier pages. His cartooning is sketchy but evocative, and is consistently impressive and expressive.

The production of this book is a triumph for D + Q. After the murky reproductions of the first Nancy volume, with its distracting, incongruently bright yellows, the scans here are remarkably sharp, well-balanced and clean.

My only complaint, as with the prior volumes in this set, is the absence of Stanley's beautifully designed and rendered cover illustrations. With their logos shorn, they would make apt "chapter stops" for the individual issues

It seems odd to me that, in the books' back-page biography of John Stanley, that it is never once mentioned that he is the cartoonist of this work. Perhaps it appears self-evident to D+Q's powers-that-be, but I feel this needs to be stated. People need to get that John Stanley was a skilled artist AND a great writer.

Both sides of the art of John Stanley are in full display through this essential book. If you've been on the fence about buying previous volumes in the JSL, don't hesitate to purchase and read this one!

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Alvin's Solo Flight--thanks to CARTOON BREW!



Remember my semi-recent post on the second of the two early '60s "Little Lulu" animated shorts?

Here's the first (and better) one, based on an early John Stanley "Lulu" story, "Alvin's Solo Flight."  This story appeared in the last of the "Four Color" try-out issues of Little Lulu (#165) in 1947.

The Paramount cartoon crew scuttled a great deal of Stanley's original story. Admittedly, at 22 pages, it's a bit long for a six minute animated short. What they kept stays surprisingly faithful to Stanley's work.

Of course, being Famous Studios, they just had to make the balloon vendor into a stereotyped-a Italiano-a kinda-a fella-a. As in Stanley's original story, Lulu is topless at the beach. I find it amusing that Seymour Kneitel and staff chose to put a shirt on Tubby. One just shakes one's head in silent wonder at such artistic choices.

Still, this adaptation works a whole lot better than Frog's Legs, which you can see (and compare the original story it's based on) HERE.

I'd "reprint" "Alvin's Solo Flight" in this post, but, as said, it's 22 pages. It can found in the fifth volume of Dark Horse's black and white Lulu collections, Lulu in the Doghouse.

"Alvin's Solo Flight" was also the lead story in the breathlessly titled 100-page 1953 best-of set Little Lulu Tubby Annual. You can download a decent digital scan of this great mega-comic HERE, if you'd like to see it in living color.

Thanks again to Jerry Beck, co-moderator of the internet's leading newsblog on animation, Cartoon Brew. I check CB daily, and I hope you do, too.

Sunday, January 31, 2010

Devil-May-Care Dolls Consume Poison Mushrooms, Die, Go To Imperfect Heaven: from Raggedy Ann and Andy 36, 1949

Thanks to Kim Scarborough for providing scans of the two Stanley-filled Raggedy Ann and Andy comics I needed. There's plenty to post in these two issues (35 and 36). Today's story struck me as a prime example of the darker edges of John Stanley's worldview.

It appears that Stanley illustrated this story, and the other Raggedy Ann stories he did in 1949. The loopy looseness of the brush-drawn figures and background seem of a piece with his Peterkin Pottle stories.

Stanley puts these mild-mannered dolls through hellish scenarios in these 1949 stories. One might assume he disliked doing this series, and took it out on the cuddly-wuddly characters. Whatever the case, Stanley's Raggedy stories are the creepiest, most compelling comic book versions of this ever-popular licensed property.

If a pair of sentient rag dolls can said to be alive, they can also theoretically die. Stanley explores this deep-dark absurd "what if" in this unforgettable story... well, read it and judge for yourself...




Heaven does not seem very accessible (or pleasant) a place in this story. Droll humor mingles with darkest themes of death and displacement. The Raggedys' innocence as they discover they're dead is both delightful and heart-breaking.

How did John Stanley get away with this story? It's so sophisticated, visually vibrant, and full of such intense themes and imagery that it's likely to have scared the bejeezus out of the average 1949 tot. Scenes of peril and life-threats are common in Stanley's q.v. The outright death and resurrection of star characters is another thing entirely.

I just had the pleasure of reading the first volume of Drawn + Quarterly's superb Thirteen Going on Eighteen reprints (a review of which is forthcoming here). Having read this story while studying that seminal 1960s material, I see many correlations with Stanley's 1940s and '50s work.

This story, as with all of Stanley's "Raggedy" stories, is enough to refute the theory that his 1940s work is entirely tentative and larval. This is as strong, and lasting, a story as any of Stanley's 1960s auteur work.

Stanley had yet to develop his "loving contempt" approach towards his characters (I'll expound more on this concept in the Thirteen book review). Here, he has plenty of room to make light of the dolls' empty-headed innocence, and of their lack of understanding, like a little child, of cause and effect or consequences.

Yet there is nothing namby-pamby or half-formed about this story. It is as sharp and surprising as the '60s material. While cruelty galore is heaped upon the dolls, it's not as harsh as the cruelties of "Peterkin Pottle" (whose main figure never comes within shouting distance of fatality, even in his wildest fantasias--in which he commonly slaughters scores of others).

As with the Tubby masterpiece, "The Guest In The Ghost Hotel" (also drawn by Stanley),  the lines between fantasy and reality (even in a universe where walking, talking dolls are a given) are beautifully blurred. At story's end, it's revealed that the dolls came perilously close to death--and that their misadventures would appear to be a hallucination induced by the mushrooms.

Yet, as with "Ghost Hotel," the dream-events are depicted in such a vivid, present-tense manner that story's end leaves the reader uncertain. Did or didn't it happen? No questions like these can truly be answered. The mystery of these stories gives them a great strength, and leaves them lingering in the reader's thoughts.

I have a pile of work this week--some for my various book projects, some which will eventually result in some hands-on income--so I may not be able to post for the next few days. I have much to share with you, and I'm eager about upcoming posts. Stay tuned!

Monday, January 25, 2010

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...


Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Peterkin Pottle vs. Jungle Tropes: from Raggedy Ann & Andy #37, 1948

Here's another of the seven Peterkin Pottle stories John Stanley wrote and drew in 1948.

The series wasn't successful, although Western Publishing and Dell Comics gave it a fighting chance. It's the first consistent occurrence of The Stanley Darkness in Stanley's work. Darkness creeps around the edges of most of John Stanley's comix.

This original concept, about an alienated, disliked, self-absorbed junior Baron Munchhausen, is strong. Each of the seven stories has at least a moment of brilliance. Yet Peterkin is a rather cold, unlikable character.

In contrast, Tubby Tompkins, who is also a self-absorbed outsider figure, is likable. Tub has self-confidence--in ridiculous excess. He believes in himself as the center of the universe. Because he is so sure of himself, Tubby shrugs off the hostilities of the world around him. In his mind's eye, he is always right, and it's the fault of the less hep world around him that it--and its inhabitants--don't immediately get how great and right he is.

Peterkin is unconfident, diffident and isolated--the sad-sack kid everyone recalls from their grade-school experience. He's the one who sat by himself on the school bus, who ate his lunch alone, whose interactions with fellow children were usually negative and harmful.

Young Pottle's salvation is his retreat into tragicomic fantasies that reflect a distorted burlesque version of the cliched movies, adventure fiction, newspaper funnies, radio shows and, yes, comic books that were the entertainment currency of postwar American kids.

His daydreams are often disturbing: full of violence, threat, and a reflection of the indifference others show him in his waking life. Peterkin shrugs off holocausts as they occur around him.

He comes to each time, and too soon realizes he's still the same sad schlumpf, a punching-bag for his bored social superiors...a kid trapped in a life that thoroughly sucks.

The early Pottle stories are almost unbearably painful. This ties them to Stanley's later Thirteen Going On Eighteen and Melvin Monster stories. By the 1960s, Stanley had let The Darkness become his primary compass as a creator. This curious mixture of brassy, razor-sharp situation comedy and the dangerous worlds in which his figures reside can be a similarly discomfiting experience.

This dance of dark and light is the primary fascination of John Stanley's work. His strengths as a storyteller seem hard-wired into this eternal contrast of misery and joy. At his best, Stanley mingles these opposites with seeming effortlessness.

This is the next-to-last Pottle story. By this time, it would appear that Stanley realized he'd painted his creation into too dark a corner. Thus, the world around Peterkin seems somewhat softer and kinder here.

Though Peterkin is still a sitting duck for his fellow young males, the girl, Pam, is affectionate, sincere and engaging towards him. It gives us, the readers, a feeling that there may be hope for this poor inward kid after all...

Stanley's covers for the "Pottle" issues of Raggedy Ann and Andy are among his sharpest cartooning of all. Bold, decisive brush-strokes give his figures a Walt Kelly/Dan Noonan-esque quality.

As well, we get to see Peterkin colored with standard Caucasian flesh tone, rather than the fishbelly-white stylization of the inner pages. I'm not saying the color choices of the stories are wrong. They seem to be calculated to give this series an air of otherness.

This scan comes from a tattered, world-worn copy of the comic. It would appear this particular issue was much enjoyed by its readers of over half a century ago...





Here's a clearer (tho' much more high-contrast) version of the cover, from the Grand Comic-book Database's website.

And now, the story...











Although Pam's kindness to Peterkin somewhat softens this story, there is still a great deal of cruelty in this story. It's two-way cruelty. First is the torment inflicted upon Pottle by the "reg'lar fellers" with the slingshot-fired rock-to-the-tush. Pottle loses his coke-bottle specs, and interprets the blurred shapes around him as jungle animals and landscapes.

These, alas, include a late occurrence of the big-lipped stereotyped native African. While the characters are intended as parodies of jungle-movie cliches, and not informed with bias or cruelty, they are jarring.

Ditto for the festival of violence to wild animals: meant as a satire of the excesses of pop culture, but delivered with a sharper edge than expected.

Stanley's rendering of animals is among the joys of his cartooning. The hybrid of 1940s Hollywood animation style and his crabbed Thurber-esque body construction is beautiful.

This story also has an occurrence of quicksand--a favorite nightmarish stakes-raiser in John Stanley's fictive universe. Pottle's clever escape from the goo is Tubby-like in its self-assured success. Peterkin is more active and aggressive than usual in this story's fantasy sequence. 

Stanley's cartooning style of the later 1940s was in flux. I like the quality of his cartoon art, from its earliest examples to the final works of the 1960s. That said, some of his 1940s work suffers from Stanley's use of the awkward, poorly designed character styles of Marge Buell. If Stanley's early Little Lulu and Woody Woodpecker art looks ugly to some, consider the style this work was filtered through.


Peterkin Pottle and Jigg and Mooch are laudable attempts to break free of this confining cartoon style. The looseness and vibrancy of Stanley's Pottle artwork is striking. The landscapes of this story are beautifully realized, with economy of line and an impressive understanding of contour lines. This piece is among my favorite of all his comic art.

In this issue is another of Stanley's "Raggedy Ann and Andy" stories. While not as pluperfect freaky as the one I posted awhile back, it's certainly worthy of inclusion here, and will appear on this blog in good time.