Steamy Stanley--and a bit sloppy, too: "Oswald Rabbit" from New Funnies 121, 1947

Apologies for the long absence, friends. I have been suffering from appendicitis for the last week or so. I spent four days in hospital (how I'm gonna pay for that is the $64,000 Question!), went through a lotta fever and pain, and am currently resting at home. I didn't have surgery. They elected to fill me with antibiotics and run all the bad stuff out of my system.

This seems to have worked. The antibiotics leave me queasy most of the time, and my energy level is much lower than I'd like. Things I took for granted two weeks ago now require enormous will and planning to get done.

That said, I didn't want to leave you kind folks waiting. I happened to have this story scanned and in wait for that rainy day--which is here today.

Lack of energy calls for a brief write-up today. This story is part of a small group of John Stanley post-war domestic traumas, in which the average schmo tries to attain a consumer item (suit of clothes, car, certain foodstuffs) only to find it impossible. He/she has to settle for the lousiest substitution, and attempts a cheerful facade, altho' it's painfully apparent this ersatz item is a complete failure.

Stanley did a couple of stories about the scarcity of new cars in 1947. This is unusually topical for him. As I've noted often, Stanley chose to avoid any current-events references--one reason his stories still read well today.

Stanley also wrote the "Andy Panda" and "Woody Woodpecker" stories in this issue, both of which are inspired efforts. He also wrote and drew a WW one-pager, which appeared, in one color, on the inner front cover.

This "Oswald" story smacks of "uh oh! Deadline's tomorrow!" It reflects Stanley's admitted write-as-you-go policy. No plotting, no planning--just put pencil to paper and go. This approach often gives his work a freshness and immediacy seldom found in Western's stale postwar comics. It also, as in this story, could cause narratives to peter out, despite a few moments of inspiration.

This untitled story falls squarely in that category. Stanley would quickly do a follow-up "Woody Woodpecker" story, in New Funnies #124, with the same basic set-up, but more comedic and stakes-raising oomph.

As Oswald and Toby are bland, goody-two-shoes types, they seldom have enough on the ball to carry a story. Stanley realized that the situations had to run the show. He puts some effort into Happy Mike, the used-car salesman character.

There is one transcendent moment on p.5, where a motorcycle cop stops the Squinch Steamer, formerly driven by Happy Mike, but now with a dazed Toby behind the wheel. Two panels later, Oswald also wonders how his seat got shifted around as well. This moment makes up for the general meandering of the rest of the story.

Well, that's all the commentary I have energy for today. Thanks for checking in, and may yours be good health!

More Early Stanley Cartooning: Two Stories (and cover) from New Funnies 92, 1944

This 1944 issue of New Funnies has eluded me for years. Thanks to a complex series of events, I finally have it.
To my delight, it has two of John Stanley's most flat-out funny 1940s stories.

As well, its cover (seen, in inset version, to your immediate left) and its "Woody Woodpecker" story
are drawn by Stanley. The WW story is, to my best knowledge, the first strip in the series Stanley both wrote and drew. (I'm still missing issues 87, 88 and 89 of New Funnies, and, for all I know, Stanley may have some early artwork in those. Time will tell, as ever.)

Stanley's vivid, spiky pen line and his more streamlined approach to cartoon art make his work a pleasure to look at--and to read.

This post is an extension of my prior entry--it again focuses on the 1940s comic book art of John Stanley. These two stories also showcase his skill as a comics comedian. Stanley's knack, even in 1944, lay in heaping stakes-raising situations atop one another. This house of cards proves shaky shelter for his befuddled protagonists. Their uncertainty and discomfort feed into the growing dilemma, and fan the flames of Stanley's four-color comedy.

Stanley's approach to character is also streamlined. His best characters have less subtle shadings than, say, Carl Barks' ducks. Stanley was never prone to moments of reflection, as in this famous sequence from Barks' 1949 story, "Luck of the North"

Stanley's characters tend to lead such rich inner lives--or are intensely focused on managing the path of those self-centered "Tubby types"--that they have little time or space for such quiet reflection.

In general, Stanley's characters are slaves to his narrative whims. Things happen because they're there. Things happen TO Barks' characters--his narrative sense is much more built on coincidence and the random whims of fate.

Stanley's characters almost always WANT something specific. This desire--usually Quixotic, at best--drives them into the narrative. Barks' characters are goal-oriented, and often desire a certain state, or thing. Barks' sense of story and comedy often takes them AWAY from their goal. The comedic tension of his best stories involves their frustration at not attaining their ideals or intended ambitions.

Much more can be said about the Barks vs. Stanley topic. I'm sure that what little I've said here will irk some readers; so be it.

Up first is a very funny "Andy Panda" story. The finished art and lettering are not Stanley's. The finishes look much like some of the Stanley-written work for Animal Comics, at the same time in 1944. The inker sticks very close to Stanley's layouts.

Early in this series, Stanley didn't hesitate to swap the roles of Andy Panda and his domestic partner, Charlie Chicken. Here, Andy is the impulsive chaos-causer, and Charlie the woebegone voice of reason. This welcome trade-off creates some hard-edged screwball comedy. Read 'n' enjoy!

Andy and Charlie leave a trail of destruction in their combined wake. Their obliviousness to the cause-and-effect arc of their actions--and their good-natured attitudes--are worthy of several strong belly-laughs.

Andy's decision to attend the baking contest in drag, while a necessary stakes-raising plot wrinkle, throws another screwball element into an already heady mix. Their destruction of a streetcar (always  a talisman of narrative complexity in Stanley's world) with their anti-cake is among the funniest moments in all Stanley's work. That Andy is dressed in high heels and a Carmen Miranda hat, while all hell breaks loose, and that he retains his momma garb at story's end, adds further shadings of absurd humor.

In the end, these agents of chaos come out winners. No recriminations for their reckless actions--it's cash and acclaim for the cross-dressing bear and his faithful, bemused poultry pal. The absolute lack of morality in Stanley's 1940s work (save for a few moments in his early Little Lulu stories) is refreshing. It gives his work a modernity that makes it still fresh and readable, almost 70 years after its creation.

I've saved the best for last. This beautifully cartooned "Woody Woodpecker" story seizes the comedic potential of the character far better than any of his contemporary animated cartoons. As in the Walter Lantz cartoon shorts, Woody is an agent provocateur, all too ready to grind an ax if someone or something offends him.

In Stanley's hands, this potentially abrasive character earns our sympathy, even as he wreaks havoc in an escalating war of wills with a pragmatic park employee. The urban public park, with its un-comfy benches, forbidden flower beds and fountains, rolling hills, winding paths and fluffy trees, is a familiar stage setting of John Stanley's world. This park turns up time and again in his Little Lulu and Tubby stories. It's an open backdrop for the rollicking chaos of this six-page story.

Again, hard-edged comedy drives this story--Woody's ass-prodding on page one, his anarchic alteration of the sign on page two, and, of course, his desecration of the statue of James J. Twaddle. Woody's a-hole tendencies get the best of him, and he goes too far. His silent, story-closing humiliation seems apt.

Stanley's cartooning seethes with energy here. His characters are constantly in frantic motion, and their poses and body language add a great deal to the story's effect. What could have easily been six pages of knockabout filler brims with comedic life. The more angular, stylized tendencies of Stanley's cartooning are on attractive display here--the Twaddle statue, for example, and the more propulsive running poses of the woodpecker.

Had Stanley focused more on being a cartoonist, we might not have the body of Little Lulu stories--the cornerstone of his reputation as one of comics' finest writers, past, present or future. The literature of comics would be the worse for the lack of Lulu. The published examples of his 1940s cartooning are skillful and expressive, and show a potential that would not be fully realized for another 20 years.

John Stanley's World, Pt. V: The Search for Stanley's Cartooning

John Stanley had an impressive amount of cartooning and comic book work published in the 1940s, '50s and '60s. With two exceptions that I know of--his New Yorker cartoon of 1947* and the lone issue of Marge's Little Lulu (#49, published in 1952) that credited him and his staff--none of it is signed. Stanley's signature first appears--in comic books--on the cover of Thirteen Going on Eighteen #12, dated August-October 1964:

By using Stanley's known cartooning as a guideline, I have been able to determine his hand as a cartoonist in a great deal of other material. Stanley's linework and lettering are the two most helpful tells for me.

Of the two, his lettering is the most distinctive. Stanley was something of a chameleon as an artist. He mostly did his best to emulate the house style of the various licensed characters he handled. This conformation didn't come easily to him.

In his Little Lulu stories, and in some of the "Woody Woodpecker" pieces he drew for New Funnies, Stanley deadens his line, and surrenders a great deal of his personality as a cartoonist. The end-results are professional, but they lack the energy of his best cartooning.

(There are numerous examples of his cartooning work elsewhere on this blog. Use the SEARCH tool to locate them, if you're interested.)

Stanley absorbed much of Marge Buell's style into his mid-1940s cartooning. He seems to have tried his hardest to make good on Lulu. This effort paid off, at the expense of his expressiveness as a cartoonist. The lumpen human figures and stiff lines of his 1946/7 "Woody Woodpecker" stories are extremely close to his Lulu work. Ditto for the humans and urban settings of his original "Jigger and Mooch" series.

Before the stiffness of Lulu set in, Stanley created some remarkable cartooning in the pages of New Funnies and Our Gang Comics. My study of these early efforts, using his distinctive lettering as a compass, has revealed several stories in these titles as being written and drawn by Stanley.

We also have his Little Lulu and Tubby covers, with their bold, vivid brush lines, as a visual guide. Stanley drew many covers for Western Publications, before, during and after his 15 years on Little Lulu. Here is one example, from issue 98 of New Funnies, cover-dated April 1945:

This is a superb example of his pre-Lulu cartooning. Its sharp, buoyant brush lines, vigorous characters and strong, simple design are striking and highly effective. (Stanley didn't draw the character mug-shots to the left, but that's his lettering on the "Walter Lantz" signature.)

Stanley was a great comics letterer, especially in the 1940s. Here's a sample from the "Tom and Jerry" story he wrote and drew for Our Gang Comics #15, 1944:

Strong lettering skills were de rigeur for cartoonists and illustrators in the 1940s. Other strong letterer/artists who worked for Western at the time included Carl Barks, Walt Kelly and Frank Thomas. These three artists consistently produced work so visually distinctive that their lettering, while a tell, is a moot provenance.

In his cartooning work of the mid-1940s, Stanley seemed to strive to NOT stand out as a stylist. While his artwork has an undeniable character and energy, as seen in the above two examples, it only exists to serve the story.

The one notable exception is his work for the Raggedy Ann and Andy title, in the late 1940s. His original series "Peterkin Pottle," and his stories with the titular characters, are rendered in a loose, vivid brush line that seems much influenced by the postwar UPA/cartoon modern style. These two series are utterly unlike his other comic book stories in their uncontrolled, playful artwork.

I have recently identified several stories in 1944/5 issues of New Funnies and Our Gang Comics as being drawn by Stanley. In those titles, and in Animal Comics, are other stories that Stanley didn't ink, but clearly lettered.

This "Woody Woodpecker" story, from New Funnies #98, is a superb example of his low-profile, highly effective comics art, and is a fine showcase for his expressive lettering skills:

The Walter Lantz cartoon studio, in Hollywood, must have seen and liked this story. They produced an Andy Panda cartoon, The Wacky Weed, directed by Dick Lundy and released on December 16, 1946, that's quite similar to the plot and gags of this piece. The recurring bit with the weed strangling the flower is straight out of this story.

The cipher-like Panda is less effective in the role of harried Voice Of Reason. Stanley's ur-Tubby Woodpecker is a richer choice for this simple, lively humorous narrative. Woody's desperate attempts to cling to the margins of the respectable world make his stakes higher than the contented, dialed-in suburbanite of the Lundy cartoon.

Stanley conveys Woody's frantic angst in aggressive, highly amusing cartoon poses, each line infused with life. His visual take on the woodpecker is closer-than-average to the contemporary animated cartoons. (He does an even finer job of matching the screen Woody in his story for New Funnies #93, which is here.) Stanley was on a roll before the demands of Little Lulu tamped down his vibrance as a comics artist.

Don't get me wrong--his work on the series is fine. I feel he consciously hemmed himself in, in order to please Marge Buell and cinch his position on the series. This spiky vitality wasn't absent from his other work--particularly in the 18 one-page Woody gag fillers he did for New Funnies in 1947 and '48. (You can peruse these spirited, exciting pieces here...)

Some of that former liveliness returns in his work on the satellite Tubby title, in the early 1950s, and in a scattering of stories he drew for Little Lulu in the same decade. These 1950s stories form a fascinating bridge from his pre-Lulu work to his important 1960s auteur efforts, especially Thirteen Going on Eighteen, which contains his finest mature work as a cartoonist.

I believe I've uncovered all of John Stanley's 1940s work for Western Publications (save for five or six New Funnies issues yet to surface). A more thorough examination of these stories may reveal more pieces Stanley illustrated during his on-the-job training as a comics storyteller AND artist.
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*: I'm not convinced the cartoon of the 3/15/47 issue--viewable here--was his only published work for the magazine. File under "Awaiting Further Research." I hope to be able to do some research in the New Yorker archives, if/when I get a book going on John Stanley's life and work.

For Art-Lovers Everywhere: "The Hooky Team," from Little Lulu Four-Color 139, 1947

I did gigantic scans of this, one of John Stanley's longer Little Lulu stories, for the Jon Haddock art exhibit at the Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art, which opens May 21st. Lucky patrons-of-the-arts in Scottsdale will enjoy seeing these scans adorning gallery walls, alongside other John Stanley stories, and works by Basil Wolverton, Rory Hayes, Fred Guardineer and others.

For those of us who aren't in Arizona (myself included!) I dedicate this post.

These scans are substantially smaller than the ones I provided for SMoCA, but they're still hi-rez, and have that unbeatable blend of pulpy, aged paper and off-center high-speed printing.

Most modern-day Lulu-philes will only have read this story in pallid black-and-white. Enjoy the textural goodness of 1947 newsprint, and savor one of Stanley's funniest early "Little Lulu" stories.

This is high-functioning, character-enriched situation comedy, which benefits from John Stanley's gentler, more thoughtful approach of his later 1940s work. The Stanley of the 1950s seldom did such relaxed, ambling stories. As well, his tendency to give the humor a more brassy, aggressive slant resulted in shorter stories.

Stanley, here, is on the verge of defining the characters of Lulu and Tubby. They're still more kid-like than the final versions, which would emerge by 1950. All the rules and regulations which would soon govern the series aren't yet present. For example, Lulu freely enters Tubby's club house, which is not yet sanctioned a no-girl zone.

Their personalities, rather than the story's narrative events, run the show here. Stanley indulges his enjoyment in the characters of Lulu and Tubby. Thus, "The Hooky Team" is a suite of leisurely set-pieces. My favorite is the Tubby-led sequence on pp. 14-17. As with Stanley's version of Jerry and Tuffy Mouse, from "Tom and Jerry," the adult world is still one of mystery and exploration. His impulse to answer the Moppets' phone, in the guise of a stereotyped English butler, is a keenly achieved moment of character comedy.

The kids' destruction of adult property, usually without a clue of their actions' affect on adults, is an early Lulu device that was dropped as the characters got more distinct--and smarter. Lulu and Tubby's transformation of women's high-heel shoes into viable footwear is among the funnier examples of this soon-discarded Stanley strategy.

Stanley enjoyed the off-beat ending. He didn't employ this device constantly. It's used to great effect at this story's conclusion. In such endings, Stanley assumed that his audience were smart readers, and gave them the benefit of the doubt.

That's all I've got for this story. I wish the SMoCA a successful, well-attended show. If you're in Scottsdale, or nearby, go see it!