The November that just passed was not a good one for cartoonists. We've lost two, both of whom worked primarily for DC Comics during the Silver Age (1956-1970), so expect to see a lot of superheroes in this post. Now, I know some of you may not like reading about superheroes. I'm cool with that. You can just look at superheroes instead. After all, it's a visual medium we're talking about here. Anyway, each artist drew in what's called a "house style", as opposed to the kind of signature style you'd expect from a Jack Kirby or Todd McFarlane, and thus they were perhaps more craftsmen than artistes. Very good craftsmen, as you shall see.
Nick Cardy 1920-2013
Nick Cardy actually started out as a Golden Age (1938-1950) artist, working at Eisner & Iger, a kind of free-lance studio that provided art and stories for various comic book publishers in the early days of the medium. They're best known for the The SpiritSection, a comic book-like supplement that ran in Sunday newspapers. This supplement concerned itself chiefly with a character called The Spirit, hence the title, but had backup features as well, including one about a crime fighting socialite named Lady Luck. Cardy didn't create the character, but certainly improved it. The thing that stands out most in Cardy's work was his knack for drawing beautiful, sexy women, and he's now seen as a rival of sorts to John Romita Sr., who drew his own memorable females for Marvel Comics in the 1960s. If you're wondering who "Ford Davis" is, that's the house pseudonym, used no matter who was drawing or writing the strip (boy, they had a house-everything back in those days!)
Cardy was drafted during World War Two, where he earned two Purple Hearts for injuries suffered as a tank driver in Europe while with the Third Armoured Division. Before all that, though, and while still serving stateside, he won a competition to draw a logo for the 66th Infantry Division. No word on whether Huey Newton or Bobby Seale also served in this division.
After returning home from the war, Cardy worked in advertising for a while, and then got a job drawing the daily black-and-white Tarzan comic strip for a couple of years in the 1950s, while Burne Hogarth continued with the Sundays. Hogarth was already something of a legend at that point, so for Cardy to have his work appear in conjunction with the more established artist was quite an honor. As far as I know, nobody ever complained about a drop in quality from Monday through Saturday.
Around the same time, Cardy started his long tenure at DC Comics. His first book was Gangbusters, based on a popular radio show. Notice how the program's characters were described as "coast to coast favorites." That everyone in the country could listen to the same show at the same time was still considered quite amazing.
Tomahawk was a frontier spy during the Revolutionary War, Dan Hunter his juvenile sidekick. Don't worry, Dan. I can't find any record of this marriage lasting beyond this particular issue.
The waterlogged superhero Aquaman was Cardy's best known character.
"Ramona Fradon had been drawing the character but was moving on for some reason. I remember being in [editor] Murray's [Boltinoff] office with Ramona during the transition. ... Anyway, they must have liked my work because when the character got his own series, they made me the artist".
Cardy drew the first 39 issues (1962-1963) and all the covers until 1971.
I hope Aquaman knows a thing or two about bankruptcy court.
Yessiree, look at Aquastud sow his wild oats (or seaweed.) And to think there's some online speculation he's gay! (Of course, these covers ARE pre-Stonewall.)
Enough of Aquaman already. Wonder Girl (Diana Prince's kid sister) gets a makeover, much to the amazement of Robin and friends.
"Not now, darling. I'm trying to kill someone."
I've already compared Cardy to John Romita Jr. Like his Marvel counterpart, he was in great demand as a romance artist.
If not for the downcast expression, she could pass for Romita's Mary Jane Watson (Spider-Man's girlfriend.)
Is it any wonder "love" means zero in tennis?
Al Plastino 1921-2013
I said before that Nick Cardy drew in DC's house style, but an argument can be made that his work became more individualistic and recognizable (a well as a bit psychedelic) as time went on. Al Plastino, however, was a true chameleon who could disappear in another artist's style to a startling degree. Just you wait and see.
An early stint with a now-forgotten superhero. Actually, there's two 1940s comic book characters with this name, both androids. So whoever came up with the second version probably hoped everyone would forget the first one, which happened to be Plastino's.
Once settled in at DC, Plastino worked with the most famous superhero of them all. Never as the primary artist, though, but as backup to Wayne Boring and, later, Curt Swan, both of whose styles he successfully mimicked.
Primary artist or not, Plastino did get to create supervillian Brainiac, who shrunk and stole the Kryptonian city of Kandor and all its citizens before the planet exploded, actually saving a lot of lives when you think about it, though he never got credit for that.
Back in the day, a superhero was no match for a crooner.
Superboy travels to the future and gets blackballed. Apparently, superpowers are a dime a dozen in the 30th century. Plastino co-created the Legion with legendary comic book writer Otto Binder. Ironically, Binder got his start writing for Captain Marvel, whom DC sued out of existence. So Binder simply brought his whimsical approach over to the legal victors.
Another Binder/Plastino creation. I wonder what the citizens of Metropolis thought when they first saw her fly over their fair city?
"Look! Up in the sky! It's a bird...it's a plane...it's Superma--hmm, he looks like he lost some weight, and is that a skirt he's wearing?"
Remember what I said at the beginning of this post about Jack Kirby having a signature style? In the early 1970s, DC managed to lure him over from Marvel, hoping he'd perk things up some, but when they took one look at penciller Kirby's version of Superman...
...they had inker Plastino redraw his head in a non-signature style as possible.
Probably the most noteworthy bit of art ever to come from Plastino's pen. Originally done in cooperation with the Kennedy White House, it was withheld, redrawn some, and then released after JFK's death. In this story, the President instructs Superman to get those missiles out of Cuba...no, no, actually, the Man of Steel takes part in a physical fitness campaign. Not his physical fitness, of course--who needs exercise when your powers are fueled by a yellow sun?--but the nation's. This story has been the subject of a recent controversy, one having nothing to do with single bullets or grassy knolls. For years it was assumed the original art had been donated to the John F. Kennedy Memorial Library in Boston. Instead, it turned up a couple of months ago at some auction house in, of all places, Dallas. Right before he died, Plastino was taking legal action to get it back, claiming "creators rights". I would normally applaud such an action, and I rather not have this art sold to the highest bidder, but it should be noted that Plastino himself once almost got in the way of another creator's rights, and wait until you see who!
The above, as you might expect, was drawn by Charles M. Schulz. What you might NOT expect is the Al Plastino-drawn Peanuts strips below, which were never published, and remained unseen until the Internet came along. What accounts for their existence? Stories vary. One is that in the early 1980s, after Schulz had suffered a heart attack, his syndicate United Features (now United Media) asked Plastino to draw up a bunch of strips, just in case the recovery wasn't speedy enough. Another, more diabolical explanation is that these strips are from about five years earlier, when an uncharacteristically obstinate and demanding Schulz was renegotiating his contract with the strip's legal owners, United Features, who were now actually considering replacing the cartoonist. The two sides eventually came to an agreement, and seeing as Schulz died a millionaire many times over, I'd say the terms were probably in his favor.
I've gone outside my allotted space because I want you to get a good look at this. See what I mean by true chameleon? Plastino's got Schulz's line work and lettering down pat. Charlie Brown and Lucy look pretty good, too. What gives the charade away (other than Plastino's own signature) is Snoopy. His head is much too big. That might be an apt description of his personality, but it's not the way Schulz drew it. Actually, Snoopy on a whole is a little outsized. He's supposed to be a beagle, not a St. Bernard!
I don't know if Plastino or someone else wrote these strips, but they lack Schulz's nuanced approach. I guess the middle one is the funniest (or least unfunny) of the three, but it's more something you'd expect more from Ernie Bushmiller than Charles Schulz.
And speaking of Ernie Bushmiller...
Plastino worked on Nancy, too, and this time got the heads just right.
Political activist. African National Congress leader. World-Famous Political Prisoner. President of South Africa.
I had the honor to meet Nelson Mandela, and I heard him explain his forgiveness of his captors of 27 years by saying hatred and bitterness is destructive--the power is in love and forgiveness.
--Dick Gephardt, former U.S. congressman.
Humanity has lost a tireless fighter for peace, freedom, and equality.
-- Mexican President Enrique Pena Nieto
One individual can begin a movement that turns the tide of history. Martin Luther King in the civil rights movement, Mohandas [Mahatma] Gandhi in India, Nelson Mandela in South Africa are examples of people standing up with courage and non-violence to bring about needed changes.
--Jack Canfield, best-selling author of Chicken Soup for the Soul.
In the next couple days, you're likely to see a lot of quotes about the late South African freedom fighter with words such as "peace" and "nonviolence" in them. Nelson Mandela, however, was no Gandhi, at least not in the years leading up to his arrest and decades-long imprisonment. At the time he was a co-founder and leading light of a faction within the African National Congress called Umkhonto we Sizwe ("Spear of the Nation") or MK for short, which was dedicated to the violent overthrow of South Africa's white apartheid government.
If you're not familiar with apartheid, it was a system in which the black majority (as well as others termed "coloureds") was kept separated from the white minority, usually in the more arid and economically underdeveloped parts of the country called "homelands", where they received inferior government services, such as schooling. Blacks were only allowed to enter the pleasantly tropical white areas if they had menial jobs to perform. In a way it was just the usual contrast between the haves and have-nots that you find in most countries, including the U.S., but with one importance difference. This contrast had the force of law behind it. Pulling oneself up by the bootstrap, winning the lottery, or being named in a rich uncle's will were simply not options for the have-nots. The only upward mobility was if the well that you drew your untreated water from happened to be on top of a hill.
As I said, Nelson Mandela and his MK cohorts hoped to change all that with armed force. Unfortunately, the white government had bigger, more powerful guns. So the freedom fighters resorted to asymmetrical warfare. They blew a lot of things up, scaring the hell out of white people. In due time, this did lead to acts of terrorism in which civilians were killed, but Mandela himself was arrested before any blood could be found on his hands. Would they have remained blood-free had he not been caught? We'll never know for sure, but his life sentence did deter him from doing anything that might have compromised his future reputation as a nonviolent peacemaker. Nelson Mandela didn't create and wasn't even the most important person in the anti-apartheid movement before he went to prison in 1964, but he had been a rising star. Now the government wanted to extinguish that star, hoping people would forget about him. That didn't happen. The memory of him grew, and, as he was locked up for 27 years, his place of residence is what he became best known for. Blacks, and maybe even some whites, wondered about him. Had he been beaten? Literally beaten? Was he beaten? Figuratively beaten? Did he know what was going on outside? Did he care what was going on outside? Was he even still alive? They would say if he died, wouldn't they? It was years before any of those questions were answered. A mystique grew up around him. His forced retreat from public life had now ironically put him more in the public eye than ever. He became a legendary, almost mythic figure, and a living symbol of the anti-apartheid movement, which he had not been before his sentencing.
As a living symbol, he did have some competition from time to time. There was Steve Biko, who coined the term "Black is Beautiful". In 1977, he was interrogated to death by the Port Elizabeth police, and became a martyr for the cause. Admirable perhaps, but it also meant he wasn't coming back. Mandela always could. Later there was Desmond Tutu, who won a Nobel. Finally, there was the wife he left behind, Winnie Mandela, who became even more militant as time went on (she once advocated "necklacing", the practice of sticking an inner tube filled with gasoline around an enemy's shoulders and arms, and then striking it with a match; it gave a whole new meaning, if not a NASCAR trophy, to the term "burnin' rubber.")
Still it all came back to Nelson Mandela, who had yet to come back. And it wasn't just South Africans who were kept waiting. You may have thought it was too glib of me when I called Mandela a world-famous political prisoner at the top of this post, but that's exactly what he became. How far did his fame spread? All the way to what at the time was the very heart of American popular culture: The Cosby Show. Cliff and Claire's daughter gave birth to boy and girl twins named Nelson and Winnie. During sweeps yet!
Back in South Africa, the effects of apartheid and the efforts to quell the uprisings against it had contaminated the entire country. Postpone a civil liberty here, abridge a freedom there, censure this, ban that, and, before you knew it, even WHITE PEOPLE were living under martial law. International banks stopped lending money to South Africa, and country after country drew up sanctions against it. One western nation did remain on good terms almost to the very end. I'll give you a hint. The country has in a harbor this giant statue of a woman holding a torch, kind of like what you see at the beginning of a Three Stooges short.
The new president of South Africa, F. W. de Klerk, normally a very conservative fellow, saw the situation as untenable, anddecidedto release Mandela, in the hope that it would calm things down. He also hoped it would demythologize the now 70-year old prisoner, that he would be somewhat diminished once people got a good look at him.
Nelson Mandela walked out of prison on February 11, 1990. He was much thinner, much more frail, then the burly former boxer who went in 27 years earlier. Prison had been hard on him. There had indeed been beatings in the early years, and several illnesses since then, including a recent bout of tuberculous. In other ways, he wasn't diminished at all. His serene manner and beatific smile (both of which belied an intelligent, calculating mind) in time would enhance his mythology, and electrify a world then in the earliest stages of the 24-hour news cycle. Mandel visited America, and, like any celebrity, did the talk show circuit. He left Ted Koeppel speechless. He spoke before both houses of Congress, flanked by Speaker of the House Tom Foley, and Senator pro tempore (and former Klansman) Robert Bryd. He was invited to the Bush White House, which now supported the elimination of apartheid. Back home in South Africa he went from being a symbolic to an actual head of the African National Congress. It was around this time I first read comparisons--made by people who lived outside of South Africa but were mesmerized by the man's charisma--of Mandela to Gandhi, who preached nonviolence.
However, Mandela never publicly repudiated the use of violence, though he did say it should be purely defensive. A reasonable enough stance, perhaps, but it knocks him out of Gandhi's league. An aggravating factor in all this was a rival group that had cropped up called the InkathaFreedomParty. Though, or perhaps because, both groups wanted the same thing, they sometimes spent more time inflicting harm to each other than their white opposition. Those were bloody days indeed.
Fortunately, such days passed. Even if he refused to come right out and say it, by most accounts Mandela genuinely wanted South Africa's political transformation to be a peaceful one. Such nonviolent forms of opposition as nationwide strikes--turns out there were quite a lot of menial jobs that needed to be performed--soon got de Klerk and Mandela sitting opposite each other at the negotiation table, earning both men the Nobel Peace Prize. All-race elections were held, and Mandela became South Africa's first black president.
If Mandela was no Gandhi, as President he was no Robespierre, either. Wishing to avoid a post-apartheid Reign of Terror, he established the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, which investigated abuses by both the former white government AND the ANC, relying on individual amnesties in order to do so. One of the persons who didn't fare all that well was Winnie Mandela, accused, and later convicted (with a suspended sentence) of orchestrating the death of a township youth she suspected of being an informer. Nelson and Winnie eventually divorced (shhh--don't tell the Huxtables.)
Though some have suspected, and others have downright accused, Nelson Mandela of being a Bolshevik at heart, there was no confiscation of property. While he did introduce some modest forms of progressive taxation, the rich remained rich, and they repaid that favor by not taking their capital out of the country.
Mandela was president for a single four-year term. While he couldn't solve a lot of the country's many problems, such as crime or AIDS, neither did he run it into the ground. Though plenty of whites fled the country following the end of apartheid, it seems many more have decided to stick it out (statistics vary.) Or, if you will, look at that OTHER African country that used to have apartheid, Zimbabwe, formally called Rhodesia. There but for the grace of Mandela could've gone South Africa.
By putting Nelson Mandela in prison, where he had time to think, reflect, and, I suspect, strategize, the white apartheid government inadvertently turned him into Mahatma Gandhi, or as close to Gandhi as he would ever likely get, thus dooming their whole immoral system.
(Originally posted on February 4, 2009. I've added a few things--KJ)
Sometimes I wake up in the morning and think Oswald acted alone.
Other times I wake up and think that it was either the CIA, the FBI, the Mafia, the military-industrial complex, or some combination thereof.
Then there are the times I wake up in the morning and wonder:
Why the hell am I thinking about the Kennedy assassination? Don't I got enough problems in my life?
The President and the First Lady arrive in "Big D".
Here's a birds-eye view of Dealey Plaza. Maybe someone should have shown this picture to Kennedy before he decided to drive right through it with the top down. He would have taken one look and thought: Snipers Alley.
The Texas School Book Depository Building, where the Dallas police, the FBI, and a committee headed by a Supreme Court Justice best known for taking prayer out of school (which I don't have a problem with; remembering all the words to the Pledge of Allegiance was difficult enough) claim the one and only shooter shot from. A couple of thoughts. Were all the school books in Texas really warehoused in that one building? Doesn't look big enough to me. And what's with the Hertz sign? Is it on the building, or is it poking up behind it? I can imagine immediately after the shots were fired, a bystander pointing up to the building, and another bystander saying, "This is no time to be thinking of renting a car!"
The building these days houses county administrated offices. The sixth floor (where Oswald allegedly fired from) is now a museum. The whole structure has been designated a Recorded Texas Designated Landmark.
More landmarks to come, designated or otherwise.
They've put an X on the exact spot Kennedy's limo was when it was hit. As you can see, it's now a tourist attraction. Just don't have your picture taken during rush hour, or you'll end up at Parkland Hospital.
Lee Harvey Oswald, the man thought by the Dallas police, the FBI, and the committee which had as one of its members a future president best known for pardoning the one that came right before him (thus ending "our long national nightmare"--ya think sitting on this committee he'd have some idea what a national nightmare is actually like) as the one and only gunman. Kind of a blurry picture, huh? If I wasn't for the rifle, I'd say he was posing for his driver's license (then again, this is Texas.)
Here's an even blurrier picture of Oswald from his days in the Marine Corp. That's him in the back, possibly in the kitchen, as he was on mess duty that day. That big dude sitting at the table is none other than screen legend John Wayne. He was filming The Barbarian and the Geisha in Japan and decided to make a quick visit to the Philippines, where Oswald was stationed. I know it's weird seeing the two of them in the same picture, but they had something in common. Like Wayne, Oswald was a main character in a violent Western, though his was for real, and for keeps.
Of course, not everyone agrees that Oswald acted alone. Some feel that he either had an accomplice, or was completely innocent. They also think that some of the shots, maybe all of them, came not from the School Book Depository Building, but from an area across the street known as the "grassy knoll". A policeman is seen running in that direction, proof positive to some of a conspiracy. Too bad that cop, and several others who checked the knoll out, came up empty-handed.
These days, the Grassy Knoll is NOT a Recorded Texas Designated Landmark. Nor is it a museum. However, there seems to be a concerted effort under way to change that.
Why exactly is it called a Grassy Knoll, anyway? Sure, there's grass, but what about all those big ass trees? Why not call it the Shady Knoll?
Texas Governor John Connally almost literally had a front row seat to history. He probably wished he hadn't.
Abraham Zapruder. I always thought that name sounded like something out of a 1930s Universal horror film. Instead, he shot his own 1960s Dallas horror film, albeit unintentionally. I also find it amazing that of the 500 or so cameras--both still and moving--directed at the President's motorcade that day, he and only he recorded the actual murder. As valuble as this was to history, it proved to be a bit of a pain in the ass to the Warren Commission. It all should have been so simple. Oswald fired three shots. Three bullets went whizzing through the air. Kennedy gets hit first, then John Connally, and, finally, Kennedy again. 1-2-3. Like I said, simple. Until you view the Zapruder film. Here's the problem: the rifle left behind at the Book Depository Building (talk about leaving incriminating evidence) required 2.3 seconds between shots, about 1.3 seconds too many, and about 18 frames of film too few. Thus, the Single-Bullet Theory was born. What went through JFK ended up in Connally. It's also called by skeptics the Magic Bullet theory, due to the zigzagging trajectory the bullet would have traveled. Don't look to me for answers. I don't even understand the trajectory of Windex spray when it gets toward the bottom of the bottle. As for the shot that tore off part of Kennedy's head, everyone agrees that was a whole 'nother bullet. They just disagree whether it was the second shot, the third shot, the fourth shot, the fifth shot, the sixth shot, the seventh shot...
Outside Parkland Hospital.
Officer J. D. Tippit, the other man shot and killed by Oswald that day. Unless you believe it's a conspiracy. In which case, I must ask: What in the world did the CIA, the FBI, the Mafia, the military-industrial complex, or some combination thereof have against Tippit? Did he once give J. Edgar Hoover a ticket for loitering?
Tippit's family. Though he may seem to be just an unlucky footnote to the day's events, he did have his own life, his own concerns
That's Lady Bird Johnson peeking out from behind the raised hand. See her?
Strip club owner Jack Ruby, with one of his employees.
A seemingly balder Jack Ruby (it's just the light, folks) wanders around a busy Dallas police station the night of the assassination. Ruby cultivated friendship with cops, so nobody was surprised to see him there.
Two days later, they were very surprised to see him there. Ruby reportedly felt sorry for Kennedy's widow.
Sometimes widows beget widows.
Johnny, we hardly knew ye, either.
Had John Fitzgerald Kennedy lived, he would have been 96 today. Really, though, he probably wouldn't be alive today under any circumstance. He was a sickly child, suffered crippling back pain due to an injury suffered during World War II, and had Addison's disease, all of which was carefully hidden from the cameras, ensuring a now eternal image of youth and vigor.
I was born in the final month of 1961. Though the assassination occurred during my lifetime, I was hardly aware of it at the time. I doubt if I was aware of The Flintstones at the time. Yet it was talked about quite a bit when I was growing up, both by people on TV, and by ordinary folks, my parents or whoever. So much so, I sometimes forget I have no direct memory of the event. I've always been fascinated by it. Hence, this post.
What about all the people born since 1963? There's a lot of them, and some could even be called middle-aged. They have no direct memory of the assassination, either. What was a shocking and tragic day for one generation, is merely a bit of history to another. Yet it all evens out in the end.
Some of those born after 1963 had a shocking and tragic day all their own.