Sugary Wish-Fulfillment Proves Overwhelming To Sentient Playthings; Soldier Bravely On Despite Dyspepsia; Are Feted By Living Desserts: from Raggedy Ann and Andy 34, 1949

....and we're back!

Today's story is another of Stanley's "Raggedy Ann and Andy" pieces. For a while, I debated (to myself) whether this was or wasn't Stanley's work. Then I kinda forgot about it.

Cut to this weekend. I'm house-sitting, 23 miles away from my external hard drive, and its cache of John Stanley material. "G-gotta post something... l-losing momentum...ch-choke," I says to myself. Thanks to these still-active cached links to Comicsworld, I scrounged around and met up with this story.

Upon second scrutiny, this piece comes off as a tongue-in-cheek, deadpan skewering of the cuddly-cutesy storybook wish-fulfillment blather that Raggedy Ann and Andy typically delivered--prior to Stanley's short-term takeover.

It's so dryly done that some 1949 readers might have taken it at face value, and quite possibly enjoyed it. But there's just a tad too much intensity to its events. Well, read it and see, and then we'll talk...

Whether this was written as half-hearted fulfillment of duty (which I suspect) or sneaky sabotage, "The Raggedys in Candyland" offers a sublime satirical "salute" to the worst aspects of Western's editorial policies. Scores of similar stories appeared in the pages of this magazine, New Funnies, Our Gang, Animal, Fairy-Tale Parade and other Oskar Lebeck-edited Dell titles of the 1940s.

These stories, written down to a presumed demographic of precocious, wide-eyed toddlers, traffic in banal wish-fulfillment. Most of the non-Stanley "Raggedy" stories are guilty of this condescending tone. The Raggedys often seek sweets, or visit la-de-dah wonderworlds where the trees are made of chocolate, and vast pools of pudding and lemonade await them.

"The Raggedys in Candyland" savages those toddler tropes. By assigning a gravity--and realistic stakes--to the Raggedys' consumption of sweets, the story's events become a grueling marathon for the two talking dolls. Unlike the stake-less fairy tales typical of these pages, this piece shows the cause and effect of the Raggedys' pig-out without--and this is of vital importance--offering any kind of a moral lesson.

The story's comedy builds as the dolls become weary of the endless deserts, and regard them as a chore to be taken care of, in the stoic fashion assigned to them by Stanley. In ordinary kiddie fantasies, the characters would never stop to calculate how many gallons of strawberry syrup they had to drink--or show a sense of overwhelm at the amount of vanilla pudding before them.

The dolls seem beaten down by this sugary overkill. Once in Candyland, they are blasé. Andy is stuffed to the gills, and suffers from hiccups. Ann has already had her fill of sweet treats, many times over, the the prospect of gumdrop trees, chocolate mountains and marshmallow clouds is almost unbearable to her. They are feted with parades, more goodies, and their hosts expect them to act with unbridled glee. 


But the toddler fantasy of eating, eating, eating sweet things and never filling up has already been punctured. The Raggedys endure instead of party.

I'm reminded of some of Justin Green's 1970s stories here: a sense of sorrow polluting what, by ordinary standards, is a happy, harmless fantasy.

The edible animal-like things, which offer themselves up to the dolls for consumption, are typical of the regular "Raggedy Ann" stories. Here, they take on a desperate, masochistic manner. A child might run, in horror, from a pink marzipan pig with a fork and knife stuck in its back--crying cheerfully, "Eat me!  I'm delicious!"

This was, I believe, the first of Stanley's short series of "Raggedy" stories. None of the others share "In Candyland"'s attempt to link with the typical story elements.

Stanley's inventive use of language, for comedic effect, is strong here. He ends the story on one of his typically off-beat grace-notes. Andy's final hiccup is a reminder of the gravity of reality. In Stanley's world, reality always trumps fantasy. It slaps fantasy hard in the face and demands that it step aside. Feet-on-the-ground existence--and how to keep it going, when all goes awry-- is Stanley's currency.

I don't think I've run the "Peterkin Pottle" story in this issue of Raggedy Ann and Andy. If not, I'll do that next time. Depending on what work has in store for me this coming week, that next time is up in the air. I'll keep in touch. Thanks for dropping by.

Henh! Henh! Hoppin' on the Little King Bandwagon: selections from Dell Four-Color 677, 1956

Gabriel's recent post over at Joyville put a bee in my bonnet to take another look at the three Little King one-shots of the mid-1950s. About two years ago, I posted one story from the first LK one-shot, and wondered aloud if this was Stanley's work.

General consensus says "yes," and other bloggers have shared stories from this trio of curious but welcome mid-career John Stanley comix. This short-lived series was quite of a piece with Stanley's ongoing Little Lulu and Tubby material. The stories got funnier and sharper as they continued.

Today's selection is from the last of the Little Kings. These are not good scans (and, like much of the material I post here, not my scans), but they'll do for online reading. "All In The Game" offers a strong preview of things to come in Stanleydom.

A more arch, brassy tone surfaced in Stanley's writing, by 1956, but there were certain modes that Little Lulu and Tubby could not support. Those series' well-defined settings, characters and its faithful readership demanded a status quo of more laid-back storytelling. That said, Stanley's work on the Lulu titles, from 1955 on, becomes more frantic and kinetic.

That energy is largely held at bay, and reserved for shouting matches between characters, and for the antics of rogue characters such as Gran'pa Feeb and The Little Men From Mars (Stanley inventions that didn't have to conform to the tight rules that governed the Marge Buell-owned cast members).

"All In The Game" anticipates the madcap-yet-dry likes of Stanley's late work--particularly his final effort for comics, the first issue of O. G. Whiz (which can be read, in its entirety, elsewhere on this blog).

"All In The Game" moves with a delightful vigor and acuity. Stanley's writing is fresh and sharp throughout, despite the regrettable, too-obvious-for-words moment of the custard pie on p.9. As with his work on Dell's Krazy Kat series, Stanley had just realized the possibilities of this new cast of characters and settings. One can see him recognizing their potential for formula-humor (a major factor in his Little Lulu writing) and relishing the departures therein from the constraints of Lulu... when the plug was pulled.

Custard pie abuse aside, there's not one wrong move, or wasted moment, in "All In The Game." Every character and story element is used wisely to raise the stakes, keep them high, and then provide a spot-on comedic kicker finale. Tati-like sight gags, executed with sublime comic timing, decorate this piece.

As I and others have noted, Soglow's little king is a noteworthy example of The Tubby Type. LK is narcissistic, tunnel-visioned, and convinced that the world turns all around him. Unlike most of Stanley's Tubby Types, he is in charge. As ruler of an un-named country, LK is attended to, humored by, and otherwise fully enabled by a massive staff of guards, politicians, service workers and toadies. He is free to do as he pleases, and to pursue paths important to only himself.

Only when outside problems directly (and literally) impact his agenda does this monarch recognize a larger world than his own. But he only accepts it as an annoyance that others are paid to correct. Wars, famines, natural disasters--all just buzzing gnats to be swatted away, so the King can continue his important work.

All the while, the King monologues, feeding his own endless loop of self-justification, narcissism, and irked recognition of the real world's constant intrusions of his bubble. As seen in the one-page gag below, the actions and talk of that real world are just so much BLA! BLA! BLA! to our addled emperor:

Stanley offers a gentle meta-wink at his readers when his characters read comic books. Wheels within wheels: Stanley characters reading comics invented by Stanley. One hopes that, in this fictive world, stories inside those comics refer to characters reading comics...

This "Henh! Henh!" business is curious. I don't recall its use by Stanley anywhere else. Stanley was fond of the use of laughter as a character "tell." His laughter is more often borne of cruelty than kindness, and a constant taunt to lower-status characters.

And now, here's "The Search," the closing story from this final Little King:

"The Search" wrings great comedy from a simple premise. The King's single-minded pursuit of Ticket No. 100, in an act of Tubby-worthy tenacity, causes him one status-shift after another. Humiliation is not in this King's English; he bears the downs as a necessary means to the single up he so strongly desires.

Yet, the King has a heart, as shown in this story's charming finale--a wrap-up that allows just enough sentiment in the mix to work right. It doesn't cloy--nor does it stop the story's wry humor. It's not an "awwwww..." moment. It just happens, organically and appropriately.

As well, it's necessary. Much as we may adore the scofflaw Tubby Types, we do need to know that there is a heart beneath their thick layers of self-absorption. An agenda-driven maniac is only appealing for so long (e.g., the screen careers of Woody Woodpecker and Donald Duck). Stanley understood his characters well, and skillfully inserted a few drops of redemption when needed.

We know that his Tubby Types aren't going to stop being themselves. But we are tacitly assured that they're not douche-bags. They become deeply flawed protagonists, and we love them for their quixotic faults and shortcomings. There is a consciousness under all the cognitive biases.

Completely Off-Topic: A New CD Project!

THIS CD, soon out from the super-duper-great UK reissue label, Ace Records, is a project of mine. I conceived and co-programmed this set with the great Mick Patrick. I wrote over 4,000 words of biographical liner notes for the set, based on exclusive interviews I conducted with the disc's subjects, songwriter-performers Phil (P.F.) Sloan and Steve Barri. (Mick and I worked on the song-by-song notes together; he did the lion's share of them.)

This has absolutely nothing to do with John Stanley. Well, kinda-sorta... The '60s efforts of Sloan and Barri are another of my long-time popcult fascinations. This is the first-ever legitimate compilation of the duo's hits and rarities as songwriters. I would have liked there to be a larger percentage of rarities, as the hits are easily obtainable, all over the dang place, and some of Sloan-Barri's best material is also their most obscure. Say lah vee; I'm happy with the project overall.

It's a handsome package, with superb sound quality. Like Germany's Bear Family Records, Ace takes the extra effort to do things right. The liner notes are something I'm proud of--they appear almost 100% as I wrote them. In my oft-Quixotic 30 year career as a freelance writer, it's exceedingly rare for my writing to not get mangled in some way in the final published version. Decidedly NOT the case here... let's hope this is a permanent change for yours truly!

HERE is a link to Amazon's listing for the CD. It makes its official debut on June 8th. If you're among the 35% of Americans who can afford to still buy the occasional CD, consider this one.

End of self-promotion. Thanks for your kind indulgence.

More of Stanley's Krazy Kat: from issue #5, 1952 with a chaser from '55

It's been nearly two years since I posted examples of John Stanley's curious take on the cult classic George Herriman comic strip Krazy Kat.

This series was an apparent challenge to Stanley. The first two issues show him struggling to get a grip on these felicitous characters, and the whimsical settings--both at odds with his prior, mostly urban/suburban material. Of course, just as he was getting into the Kokonino Kounty groove, Dell had to cancel the series.

These are some stories from the last issue of the first KK run. This untitled "Ignatz Mouse" story is very similar to a couple of contemporary Little Lulu stories. "Space Kids," from LL 56 (September, 1953), shows Tubby an' Th' Gang [TM] attempting a similar space-age mind fudge on Lulu and Annie. In "Trip To The Moon" (LL 86, August, 1955), the rascals fake-out Lulu into believing she's gone to--I don't need to finish typing that sentence, do I?

This theme surfaces other times in Stanley's LL and Tubby stories. Free to portray the "Tubby Type" in its apotheosis, Stanley lets Ignatz run rampant in his astro-prank, as you'll see...

Lively cartooning, imbued with that unmistakable "Stanley Spike," sells the antic events of this story swimmingly. My favorite moment: the worthy-of-Samuel Beckett Page Four, Panel Two.

Air travel is a theme in this issue. This longer story takes more time to explore its absurd set-up, and is peppered with sprightly word-play. Stanley let himself romp on the pages of this funnybook...

Ignatz' single-minded pursuit of an exhausting, complex prank again reminds us of Master Tompkins. This story plays as a sort-of Tubby daydream. There is an air of wish-gratification in the careening events: the kind of mid-day fantasia a bored Tub might have, fighting off post-lunch sleepiness in the back of Miss Feeny's class.

As freewheeling theater-of-the-absurd entertainment, these Krazy komix have their undeniable charms. As with the recently posted New Terrytoons material, this isn't first-rate John Stanley. But there is a sense of joy and abandon. While he continues to work within the formulae of Little Lulu, he is able to take greater risks with the characters--which he clearly enjoys. Unlike Lulu, Krazy is a sort of Zen airhead. His/her lack of emotional reaction to Ignatz' mischief is disarming.

There is displayed a certain reverence for the original Geo. Herriman conception of the strip. Stanley, who was usually prone to re-invent the cast, add new characters, and otherwise slant the personas of his adopted, licensed figures, stays fairly true to the vibe of the original. He is, perhaps, more clever than Herriman--one does not sense the intellectual struggles that make Herriman's work fascinating and transcendent.

When I read Herriman's Krazy, I strongly sense the hard effort of thinking. I don't feel that funny stuff came to him as automatically as it did to Stanley. Herriman and Carl Barks have this in common: their work feels ponderous (altho' in a good way). While Stanley's work has obvious smarts to it, I don't think he puzzled over his work. It feels as though he got 'in the zone' and just produced these stories in a burst.

I can't say for sure. This remains the "Rosebud" of John Stanley: I still know almost nothing about the man. I have been in contact with Stanley's son, James, and with a former Dell Comics editor, with whom I hope to do an interview, who worked with Stanley in the 1960s. It is my hope that both these individuals can help me shed some light on who Stanley was as a person, and how he developed his sense of humor, and appreciation of the absurd.

For now, I'm just wondering out loud here. I appreciate your humoring me while I ramble a bit.

For a chaser, here's the title-free Ignatz story from the 1955 "Four-Color" KK #619. While its frantic events are kinda kontrived, Ignatz' poetic monologue, on the opening page, is Tubby-Talk at its most profound.

While the goings-on in this '55 story are more brassy and bold than amusing and clever, Ignatz' anti-social behavior is too gleeful to resist.

In contrast to the 1952 stories, this seems rather dashed-off. Stanley's workload was more regulated in the mid-1950s. Though he was drawing the quarterly Tubby, which may have consumed more time than usual, he wrote some 480-odd pages of Little Lulu material--for the monthly comic and one 100-page giant. Assignments such as this and the Little King one-shots may have been squeezed in to fatten the ol' paycheck.

In closing, I hate to contradict Dell's advertising copy, but, rest assured--no goodness, or entertainment, could be had in either funny-book pictured in that filler ad.