Comic Book Artist #17 by TwoMorrows Publishing

THE ART OF ARTHUR ADAMS

No.17 Jan. 2002

$6.95

In The U.S.

GRAY MORROW & GEORGE EVANS TRIBUTES • ROUSSOS • KINSTLER

NUMBER 17

CELEBRATING THE LIVES & WORK OF THE GREAT CARTOONISTS, WRITERS & EDITORS

Editor/Designer JON B. COOKE Publisher

TWOMORROWS JOHN & PAM MORROW Associate Editors CHRIS KNOWLES DAVID A. ROACH CHRISTOPHER IRVING GEORGE KHOURY Contributing Editors ROY THOMAS JOHN MORROW

JANUARY 2002

THE FRONT PAGE: LAST MINUTE BITS ON THE COMMUNITY OF COMIC BOOK ARTISTS, WRITERS & EDITORS Another master goes to heaven, Deadman returns, and the vision of the late Gray Morrow ..............................1 EDITOR’S RANT: A QUESTION OF CHARACTERS Ye Ed goes on a tirade about the dilution of comic-book icons, DK2, and hope for the future............................4 COCHRAN’S CORNER: THEN THERE WERE GIANTS Columnist John Cochran gets the skinny from Greyshirt writer-artist, Rick “Comicon.com” Veitch! ..................5 CBA COMMUNIQUES: THE TORONTO AND FRENCH CONNECTIONS Vortex compatriots Dean Motter and Ken Steacy clarify the X-factor, and other missives & missles....................6 CBA COMMENTARY: LARRY IVIE ON COMIC BOOK ARTIST #14 The artist/writer responds to issues raised in our “Tower Comics: Years of Thunder” issue ..............................10 MICHELLE’S MEANDERINGS: WHY CAPTAIN VIDEO COMICS DIDN’T FLY Our newest columnist looks back at the old George Evan’s comic featuring one of TV’s first sci-fi stars ..........13 CBA COMMENTARY: ALEX TOTH—’BEFORE I FORGET’ The master artist discusses art at face value and how a simple approach is always best ....................................18

COMIC BOOK ARTIST™ is published 10 times a year by TwoMorrows, 1812 Park Drive, Raleigh, NC 27605, USA. 919-833-8092. Jon B. Cooke, Editor. John Morrow, Publisher. Editorial Office: P.O. Box 204, West Kingston, RI 02892-0204 USA • 401-783-1669 • Fax: 401-783-1287. Send subscription funds to TwoMorrows, NOT the editorial office. Single issues: $9 postpaid ($11 Canada, $12 elsewhere). Six-issue subscriptions: $36 US, $66 Canada, $72 elsewhere. All characters © their respective owners. All material © their creators unless otherwise noted. All editorial matter © their respective authors. ©2002 Jon B. Cooke/TwoMorrows. Cover acknowledgements: Jonni Future, Para-Man ©2002 America’s Best Comics, LLC. Monkeyman & O’Brien, Shrewmanoid ©2002 Arthur Adams. Creature from the Black Lagoon ©2002 Univeral City Studios, Inc. The Authority ©2002 Wildstorm Productions, an imprint of DC Comics. Longshot, The Mole Man, The Thing, Wolverine ©2002 Marvel Characters, Inc. Godzilla ©2002 Toho Co., Ltd. Gumby ©2002 Art Clokey. Arthur Adams ©2002 Joyce Chin. Why are you reading this? If you’re not a copyright lawyer, you really should think about getting a real hobby, y’know? First Printing. PRINTED IN CANADA.

FRED HEMBECK’S DATELINE: @!!?* Our Pal Fred looks at the Marvel art of the late artist Johnny Craig....................................................................21 THE ART OF ARTHUR ADAMS ARTHUR ADAMS INTERVIEW: THE ARTIST’S LIFE, FROM LONGSHOT TO JONNI FUTURE A discussion with the artist (and occasional writer) about his background, career and aspirations......................22 HERO INDEX: THE ARTHUR ADAMS COMIC ART CHECKLIST The “Unofficial Arthur Adams Web site” proprietor, Vilmar Vogelaar, contributes a thorough listing ................44 REMEMBERING GRAY MORROW IN MEMORIUM: “THIS WAS A MAN!” Christopher Irving takes a journey to find the humanity and artistry of the master known as Gray Morrow ......48 PROFESSIONAL COURTESIES: FAREWELL TO THE MASTER Testimonials and anecdotes about the artist from many of Gray Morrow’s friends and acquaintances................56 GRAY MORROW INTERVIEW: SORCERER SUPREME A short conversation with the artist on his memorable tenure as artist/writer/editor at Red Circle Comics ........62 HORROR INDEX: RED CIRCLE COMICS CHECKLIST A thorough look at the short yet beautiful comics imprint helmed by Gray Morrow ..........................................64 GEORGE ROUSSOS: AN ARTIST’S LIFE GEORGE ROUSSOS INTERVIEW: ‘INKY’ SPEAKS! The late artist on his over half-century in the biz, from Golden Age Batman to modern-day Marvel ................66 GEORGE EVANS TRIBUTE GEORGE EVANS INTERVIEW: EVANS IN THE HEAVENS A delightful career-spanning talk with the late, lamented comics artist and aviation buff ..................................82 CBA TRIBUTE & PROFESSIONAL COURTESIES: GEORGE EVANS REMEMBERED Artist/writer Michael T. Gilbert and other friends on the life of the wonderful EC artist, George E.....................94 EVERETT RAYMOND KINSTLER: COMICS AND BEYOND EVERETT RAYMOND KINSTLER INTERVIEW: THE ARTIST’S PANACHE (AND PORTRAITS A SPECIALTY!) Paul Wardle interviews the great portrait painter on his origins in comic books and the lessons learned..........104 Opposite page: T-shirt design of Monkeyman & O’Brien by Arthur Adams. Courtesy of John Fanucchi & the artist. ©2002 Arthur Adams. Below: Yep, we’re apesh*t over Monkeyman & O’Brien! Here’s a pin-up of the pair by their creator, Arthur Adams. Courtesy of John Fanucchi and the artist. ©2002 Arthur Adams.

Proofreader ERIC NOLEN-WEATHINGTON Cover Art ART ADAMS Cover Color HOMER REYES, Our Hero! Transcribers JON B. KNUTSON BRIAN K. MORRIS SAM GAFFORD Logo Designer/Title Originator ARLEN SCHUMER Mascot WOODY by J.D. King Issue Theme Song ART FOR ART’S SAKE (Money for God’s Sake)

10CC

Please send all letters of comment, articles and artwork to: Jon B. Cooke, Editor, Comic Book Artist, P.O. Box 204, West Kingston, RI 02892-0204 Phone: (401) 783-1669 • Fax: (401) 783-1287 • E-mail: jonbcooke@aol.com

Visit CBA on our Website at:

www.twomorrows.com Contributors Arthur Adams • Gray Morrow George Evans • George Roussos Everett Raymond Kinstler John Fanucchi • Pocho Morrow Mark Wheatley & Insight Studios Terry Austin • Bob Wiacek Michael T. Gilbert • Chris Irving Carol Petersen • Dick Giordano Marie Steinberg • Ray Cuthbert Roy Thomas • William Cain Dan Reed • Steve Cohen Alan & Pauline Weiss • Alex Toth Alan Kupperberg • Michael Netzer Terry Austin • Sal Amendola Dave Gibbons • John R. Cochran Fred Hembeck • Michelle Nolan Howard Chaykin • Dan Kraar Paul Wardle • Steven A. Ng Vilmar Vogelaar • Andrew Steven Ken Steacy • Dave Stevens Patrice • Neil Polowin • Lance Falk Larry Ivie • MadScienceMedia.com In appreciation of our friend & supporter

Terry Austin and dedicated to the memories of

Dan DeCarlo Seymour V. Reit and Ronn Foss N E X T January 2002

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CBA Commentary

Larry Ivie talks about CBA #14 An in-depth letter from the artist/writer on his Tower days YE ED’S NOTE: For the record, Larry Ivie asked us not to use periods in the title T.H.U.N.D.E.R. Agents, in transcribing his handwritten essay, saying “the clutter weakens the power of the word,” but we have already set the style in CBA #14 and, with a nod to Larry, we will continue to do so, as awkward as it may look. The text is ©2002 Larry Ivie.

Larry Ivie Somewhere in California What would happen if a half-dozen people tried to describe the full picture of a puzzle most had only a few pieces from? The result appeared in CBA #14, in which the challenge was to describe the picture of how the T.H.U.N.D.E.R. Agents title began. The surprise to me is how many of those interviewed no longer had pieces I know they once had! Since I was the only one represented in the issue who had been present from the beginning, it’s up to me to fill in what’s missing. To begin with, as absurd as some of the quotes were in the article beginning on page 64 [of Ivie’s Tower Comics essay], they are absolutely word-for-word accurate. At the time the fuller version of that was published in Scary Monsters #23 (1997), I assumed most of those I mentioned were still living, with memories intact, to confirm everything in it. It was unexpected to find those interviewed contradicting one another, and some themselves! Samm Schwartz, editor of Tower, in response to the question of who did the early T.H.U.N.D.E.R. work, credited the writing to Len Brown, and the art to Wally Wood, Mike Sekowsky, and Lou Silverstone. But the answer he gave to the same question for the third issue’s letter page was that the writing was by Larry Ivie, Len Brown, and Wally Wood, and the art by Wood, Reed Crandall, Mike Sekowsky, and Gil Kane. (Actually, at the time of the sixth issue, Wally told me he had done none of the writing. Bill Pearson had been the primary writer after me, then Len Brown and Steve Skeates.) Although the death of Menthor was mentioned during the interview, and elsewhere in the issue, it was without the more interesting note that Harry Shorten, head of Tower, had presided over an earlier major sudden death: The Comet in 1941 [Pep Comics #17]. A new feature, “The Hangman,” took over his spot with a hero whose mission was to avenge The Comet’s death. There was little in the ’60s titles, at all companies, that had not been done before. Len Brown was a very likeable individual I’d known for some time. Although he now recalls being at my apartment only once, he was actually there at least several times during our efforts on cards that I was writing for the Topps Company where he was working. I was writing Superman, Batman, Flash Gordon, and King Kong, and others not produced, including Daniel Boone, The Mummy, and The Green Hornet. I also worked on the art for most of the humorous monster cards assigned to Wood, but those were done at Wally’s studio. (It was because the individual heading the work at Topps was named Woody Gelman that those of us who knew both called Wood Wally, while some of those who later worked on T.H.U.N.D.E.R. called him Woody.) The assumption, stated repeatedly in the issue, that Tower decided to join the super-hero revival was logical if the company had been logical and aware. But, as with editors at most companies, they weren’t. They called me to do a color version of the horror title I’d written for Warren Publishing. When I handed them samples titled T.H.U.N.D.E.R. Agents instead, they didn’t really seem to care what they got, as long as it could fill the needed page count! Len now recalls contributing to T.H.U.N.D.E.R. only after Wally’s call to him. But it had to be earlier because before that call, on the day Wally first saw the samples and immediately after my call to Len had “once suggested” the name Thunderbolt as a character, as though it had been quite a while before. It was due to this that I suggested seeing if Len would like to write the script I had

intended to write for Reed and why I, not Len, named the character Len Brown during the reworking of the script. So, the first contribution that was to eventually effect the title in some way, although he’s apparently forgotten it now, was Len’s! Wally’s first excuse for changing the name to Dynamo was that the word “Thunderbolt” had already been used by DC for Johnny Thunder’s thunderbolt “genie.” This seemed odd, not only because the change harmed the thunder theme, but because there had already been three Dynamos! It wasn’t until my final conversation with Wally, years later, that he admitted the real reason…. Bill Pearson has been one of the most energetic, best, honest, and well-liked people in the business. I’d been counting on him to correct any word I got incorrect in the conversations where he was present (total accuracy being important to me). So I was surprised to see how many of the puzzle pieces he once had that are no longer handy (hopefully just misplaced, not permanently lost). How could he no longer recall he, on that Saturday morning long ago, was the first, following Tim Battersby-Brent, to be given all the details on the T.H.U.N.D.E.R. project, along with an opportunity to contribute— which he did, then—two days before Wally Wood? I don’t know what Wally later phoned for, while Bill was at my apartment, that led to my taking Bill to see him, but that was well after the project was under way, with Bill already having helped on it (as mentioned in the article). Tim Battersby-Brent, at 15, had an enormously rapidly improving talent—doing his first work on a Wood story for Charlton, then getting numerous assignments from other companies on his own, from editors who probably assumed he was much older than he looked. He wrote some stories for T.H.U.N.D.E.R. that were so brilliant they would have been wasted on the title, so I bought them from him to vault away until the day he could use them for a book of his own characters with art that was all his. The personalities of Tim and Wally were as different as could be. Tim was much brighter than Wally (able to keep up with Roy Krenkel’s extensive curiosities in science, which Wally couldn’t), and adverse to nicotine, alcohol, foul language, the copying of work by others, and Wally’s failure to stick to the truth. He several times naively corrected Wally’s “poor memory,” unable to understand it might not be accidental. Those corrections were not appreciated by Wally! To others, however, Tim was a joy. Frazetta included him with us for bowling, Roy Krenkel called him the gem of a new generation (there was no doubt to us that Tim was a true genius—a term I’ve never used frivolously) and Gil Kane agreed with Roy, rescuing Tim from the smoke-filled den of Wood with an offer to switch to the Kane studio. I never visited it myself to know the differences, but Tim later said it was like jumping from hell to heaven, and in phone conversations from Kane on other matters, Kane kept referring to how useful, talented, and bright his new assistant Tim was. Tim’s too-early death (his mother said from a combination of pneumonia and a heart attack) was a loss to the media’s future. Ralph Reese was a basically decent 15-year-old runaway from bad situations with, fortunately, some good friends. He was brought to me by 15-year-old Larry Hama, and I saw enough talent in him to convince me that with enough information on drawing, he could eventually be of use to Wood. But Ralph eventually had too much initiative to wait. When he had some good samples (he was a conscientious worker), he proceeded to see Wood on his own. Wally’s opinion agreed with mine and he became Ralph’s official guardian. I had been hesitant to take him to Wally immediately, in hopes of getting Ralph free of his need to smoke, since Wally was also addicted. (Had that, indirectly, contributed to his death?) But it was useless. I was able to save only Tim from the insidiousness of that often-instant addiction, convincing Tim to never try it. My concern for Ralph, due to that habit, is still strong. I’ve been afraid COMIC BOOK ARTIST 17

January 2002

to ask if he was ever able to overcome it. Wally Wood and I met at the EC office in late 1955. He was impressed enough with my drawings at that time (I was just out of high school) that he wrote down my name. But it wasn’t until our work was beginning to appear in the same publications, and I had moved to an apartment within an easy walk from his, that he began giving me calls for help to meet deadlines. He said he preferred help from me not only because I was near, but I never wasted time with a need to use the tracing machine, and he could trust me to ink even the faces in his style. After I’d finished the Daredevil figure on the cover of issue #10, he hovered his brush over it for at least 15 seconds before simply adding a small dot for the nose. Prior to T.H.U.N.D.E.R., I did writing as well as art for him for a seemingly endless number of “emergency” pages for Marvel, Charlton, Warren, Gold Key. It was an annoyance because, at that time, I could make more on my own, so I was on the lookout for others to replace me who could tolerate Wally’s taste in “music,” smoking, and irritating tendency to invent gossip. Wally had long been known for giving everyone who asked a different version of his past, which is why I tried to let his would-be biographers know that they should check every item with as many who knew him well as possible. Also any art they planned to use as illustrations—even the EC pages—to avoid what’s now happened on the cover of Alter Ego (Vol. 3) #8. I was surprised to see my Daredevil figure from #10 because the story behind it had already been shown in Scary Monsters #23. With so many great figures by Wally available, it’s unfortunate when one is used to represent his work that was instead by me, Ralph, Tim, Dan…. They were all so good I’m not sure myself who did the other figures used on that cover. I soon learned that much of what Wally said was pure put-on. But, he said, he also had some subconscious demons. It wasn’t until my final conversation with him that, at the suggestion of a psychiatrist he’d been seeing twice a week for years, he admitted to me what I’d already known. It was the only thing that made sense. It had already been his resentment of having to work on T.H.U.N.D.E.R. rather than a war title, that led to his “subconscious” sabotaging of the T.H.U.N.D.E.R. theme. But he consciously—a guilt burdening him for years—removed all names from the first issue except his, and gave Reed the script he’d had me tailor for him, to help him feel the title he so resented was at least “his”! He apologized for breaking his promise to change the title to SILVER Agents, so the T.H.U.N.D.E.R. theme I’d first presented could be restored as a follow-up title. “We both know your version would have been much better, and the damage I did to it was inexcusable. All I can say now is, I’m sorry!” “No,” I tried to assure him, “It was Tower’s increase in the page count that made the original concept impossible!” And I steered the conversation onto the subject of the proudest accomplishments of his career. (A subject for a someday article, well-illustrated, including art not yet published.) This changed his mood from the one in which he’d made himself so vulnerable to one much closer to the earliest days of our friendship, that I hadn’t seen for years. It was with a tear in his eye (really!) and a broad smile on his face that I last saw this monumental talent who had so inspired my high school days. Dan Adkins was a likeable personality with great potential as an artist. He had been pre-New York City friends with Bill Pearson and both, at different times, shared an apartment with me—Dan prior to the apartment near Wood which resulted in too many calls from Wally. Wally couldn’t turn down any work offer, no matter how behind he was, counting on others to help him meet deadlines. During the pre-T.H.U.N.D.E.R. era, there was no one else but us in the small, two-desk room, as the work never ended, and Wally’s delight in inventing untrue gossip seemed to increase. Once the T.H.U.N.D.E.R. work was under way and he had help from others, I had an enormous sense of freedom and seldom returned. Making up for the impositions by Wally, I received a call from another artist seeing my work, who was in need of help due to failing eyesight, Joe Shuster. Soon a worthy project was under way, in the form of new Superman pages, to leave the future final thoughts by his creators on how the feature should be done, when “times are better.” I hadn’t realized, until Dan’s interview, he hadn’t been among those of us who had soon caught on to Wally’s put-on games which, from Dan’s interview, included the question to Dan, “Who’s Larry Ivie?” Another was a tall tale (he told similar ones about Dan I knew January 2002 COMIC BOOK ARTIST 17

weren’t true) about me, or another, taking home pages of Captain America to change the costume to its ’40s version! I’m told he also said that to, or about, others. That didn’t happen with me, but it did with Wally himself, or Don Heck, on an Avengers story penciled by Heck [The Avengers #20]. When I pointed out the current design included stripes on the back, he said, “But it looks better with them just on the front, doesn’t it? If Stan doesn’t like it, he’ll have Sol [Brodsky, Marvel production manager] change it at the company.” (They didn’t!) But why would Wally try to shift the “blame” to another? More important is Dan’s belief that a convention talk I gave had been critical of his work. That was a hoax by one of Dan’s “friends,” not invented by Wally. When I heard of it, I assumed Dan would know the truth because every talk at that convention had been recorded and published, including mine. It contained no mention of Dan, and couldn’t have, because the subject was old-time pulp artists who later worked in the early comic books. But the mention by Dan of a letter continuing that “joke,” supposedly sent by me to editor Cele Goldsmith, who had been at the convention, is a mystery. If it exists, I’d like to see a copy because it wasn’t by me and was never mentioned to me by Cele. The only letter I wrote about Dan’s work was to a fanzine editor I knew he respected, in hopes he would pass on a suggestion that would help, before the beginning of Dan’s professional career. But the suggestion wasn’t taken seriously and it’s no secret that as soon as he professionally signed his name (as did Wally, but less obviously) to work copied from others, he soon had the reputation—not added to by me—of not possessing the talent to draw on his own. That’s not true. I’ve personally seen him draw—and well—without reference and can only attribute Dan’s straying from that to momentary failings in confidence. But could that excuse apply to Wally? Dan mentions that Wally had him copying old drawings by Reed Crandall for T.H.U.N.D.E.R. (At the same time Reed was doing new ones, for his own pages?) Although Wally had none while I was working with him, I showed him my collection of Reed’s early ’40s super-hero work so he could see why I had selected him to draw Thunderbolt, and Wally asked to borrow it, a bit at a time, for “inspiration.” I was unaware he was projection-tracing the figures for the T.H.U.N.D.E.R. file. Drawing can only be fun if it contains the joy of creation. The lack of that joy for Wally could have contributed to the headaches that so often incapacitated him. I should add that the fanzine editor was [Robert E. Howard fanzine] Amra’s George Scithers. I had George accompany me, in his car, on one of my trips to the home of Roy Krenkel, where he was loaned most of the drawings by Roy that George would use in Amra (an e arlier interview got that wrong). Those, when printed, helped to get Roy work at Ace Books (who initially turned down Frazetta!), but only after I’d already gotten Burroughs work for Roy at Canaveral Press. The interview with Russ [Jones] is a valuable contribution to the field’s history in many

A career-spanning chat with the celebrated artist/writer on his comics

The Art of Arthur Adams

Conducted by Jon B. Cooke Transcribed by Jon B. Knutson Let’s face it: Arthur Adams, since blasting onto the comics scene like a neutron bomb with his limited series Longshot back in the 1980s, is a creator of enormously fun comics. From that refreshing debut to his memorable three-issue run on the Fantastic Four (#347-349) to his creator-owned Monkeyman and O’Brien to his present-day (and some say personal best) work on “Jonni Future” in Tom Strong’s Terrific Tales (not to mention Ye Ed’s fave AA work, The Creature from the Black Lagoon), Arthur’s artistry remains eminently entertaining and pleasing to the eye. But few Arthur Adams interviews seem to exist, so we cover pretty much his entire career in the following three-hour interview, which took place via telephone on November 15, 2001, and was copyedited by the artist. Special thanks to John Fanucchi for his spectacular and herculean assistance in gathering and contributing art for this feature. Special kudos also, to Joyce Chin. Comic Book Artist: Where are you from, Arthur? Arthur Adams: We’re not going to film out of sequence? [laughs] Where am I from? That’s hard to remember; after all, I was very young when I was born. That’s complicated. I was born in Holyoke, Massachusetts, many, many years ago. My dad was in the Air Force, so we actually moved around quite a bit until I was about five years old, when we moved to a little town called Vacaville outside Travis Air Force Base in California. My dad found some way to keep us stationed there was the rest of his 20-year Air Force career. It’s just 50 miles from here where I am right now, in San Francisco, California. CBA: You were born in 1963? Arthur: I was! CBA: You’re probably the youngest guy I’ve ever interviewed for the magazine! [laughter] Younger than me! Arthur: Bruce Timm isn’t that much older than me! I mean, he’s old, but…. CBA: Bruce is one of the few exclusively contemporary guys I’ve interviewed [in Comic Book Artist Special Edition #1]. He was born around 1961, I believe. Arthur: That sounds about right, he’s about 40, right? Man, he’s old. [laughter] CBA: Hey, I’m almost 43, so watch it, dude! [laughs] Did you get into comics at a young age? Arthur: Yeah, I’d always liked comics, I think my interest really started when my dad came back from one of his trips overseas, and he brought with him the first Marvel Treasury Grab-Bag, that had in it a Ross Andru Spider-Man/Human Torch story, a Wally Wood Daredevil/Sub-Mariner story… CBA: Had that holly wreath on the cover? Arthur: Yeah! I think it was a Buscema cover, maybe inked by Romita. But yeah, it’s a bunch of the super-heroes running forward, and then on the back cover, it’s them running away. It also had a real nice Gene Colan/Bill Everett Black Widow story, and my favorite was the two-parter Fantastic Four and the Avengers versus the Hulk! CBA: By Stan Lee & Jack Kirby! Was this your first real exposure to super-heroes? Arthur: The first time I really noticed. I’m sure I must’ve seen them before, but this was the first one I really got jazzed about. I’m sure I’d seen all those old Marvel cartoons… I must’ve seen some comics, because my mom once a month would go to the thrift shop and come back with a hay-bale of comics, a big pile wrapped in twine. About half of them would be romance and war comics, and those would get tossed aside, and the other half would be super-hero and monster comics. CBA: The good stuff! Arthur: Yeah! It was the stuff I liked. I now wish I’d kept some of those war and romance comics, those would’ve been pretty interesting to see now. CBA: Did you see the Marvel reprints of the old Atlas monster stories? Where Monsters Dwell, Creatures on the Loose… Arthur: Oh, yeah, sure! I love that stuff! When I first started Monkeyman and O’Brien, I had the Marvel reprint book they did, Marvel Monsterworks, with Walt Simonson’s cover as inspiration. “Van Doom’s Monster” was my favorite! It was about a big wax monster, and it didn’t really make much sense, but it sure was cool! [laughter] CBA: Did you start drawing at a young age? Arthur: Oh, I’ve always drawn. I don’t remember ever not drawing. My mom has some drawings around the house—don’t ask to see those!—and I drew everything! Mostly I drew dinosaurs, King Kong and monsters. I was crazy for all those monster movies, the Creature Features every Saturday. CBA: Did you draw your own comics as a kid? Arthur: You know, I was not intending to do comics when I was a kid. I wanted to be a paleontologist, because I just thought dinosaurs were the coolest, I was really into dinosaurs, so I Opposite page: Unless otherwise noted, all the art contributions in this section are courtesy of John Fanucchi and Arthur Adams. John gathered these treasures from numerous sources and we profusely thank him, Arthur and all who contributed to this herculean effort. This melange of Adams’ trademark characters appeared as cover for the French mag, Comics Box #34, last summer. All characters ©2002 their respective copyright holders. Right: Whether or not Arthur says he never previously cared for the character before rendering it, when it’s all said and done, perhaps Adams will be best remembered for his spot-on rendition of children’s TV character, Gumby, in two Specials drawn for Comico in the ’80s. Courtesy of Bob Wiacek, here’s the clay-based hero by Arthur. Gumby ©2002 Art Clokey. Art ©2002 Arthur Adams. January 2002

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Above: Collecting some scattered Arthur Adams stories from hither and yon, the Dark Horse compilation, Art Adams’ Creature Features sported this cover art by AA which includes a rare self-portrait of the artist. The trade paperback (still available from DH) includes a reprinting of the hard-to-find Creature from the Black Lagoon comics adaptation from the early 1990s. All characters ©2002 their respective copyright holders. Art ©2002 Arthur Adams.

wanted to just sit around and draw prehistoric creatures all the time. Then I found out paleontologists actually have to go out into the desert where it’s really cold or really hot! I didn’t think that sounded that good. [laughter] CBA: When did the idea of comics as a vocation come to mind? Arthur: You know, I haven’t thought about that for a while, but the first time I thought about comics as something I wanted to do was when I bought and read the very first issue of Micronauts, by Michael Golden and Joe Rubinstein, written by Bill Mantlo. So when I saw it, I bought lots of copies of that one and was giving them to everyone I knew in high school, and they were looking at me like I was insane, and I’d say, “Look, that’s what I’m going to do!” CBA: [laughs] You immediately clued into Mike Golden’s abilities? Arthur: Somehow, it just leapt off the page at me. I’m not even sure why, because I’ve looked at the first issue since then, and while there’s neat things about it, his drawing style changed so radically around issue #5 or 6 and I liked that stuff much better. It’s really strange to look at #1 and then the last issue he did, because they’re completely different! CBA: Was he the first artist you really admired? Arthur: He’s the first one I really noticed. I don’t know if I’d really

seen too much of Bernie Wrightson at that point. That would’ve been in 1978, ’79. CBA: He was working on Frankenstein, I think. Arthur: Yes, that’s right, portfolios and stuff like that, so I wasn’t really aware of that material, and we didn’t have any comic book shops where I was living. I’d go to the Air Force base commissary and it was tough to find my comics. They had pretty much standard comics. After Golden, then I started looking more at other artists. CBA: As you were getting an interest in comics again, the direct sales market was just starting. Arthur: Right. I knew a guy at the base whose mom would take him to Comics & Comix in Berkeley once a month, so he had a huge collection of comics and lots of the old Mego super-hero action figures. Man, was I jealous! [laughter] CBA: Did you get into the Star Wars stuff? Arthur: A little bit. You know, I was never that crazy about Star Wars. I liked the first movie—that’s the one you’re supposed to like, right? [laughs]—and I had some of the toys, but I don’t think I went nuts on the Star Wars stuff. I was always more interested in model kits. I got all the model kits of the Star Wars and Star Trek I could find, all the Aurora monster models and stuff like that. CBA: Did you start developing an interest in retro, older material at all? Or was it pretty much the contemporary scene? Arthur: It’s hard to imagine now, but I guess I always liked that old stuff, because it wasn’t like they were making Boris Karloff Frankenstein movies in the ’60s, and that’s what I loved, the Frankenstein stuff, Creature from the Black Lagoon… It never even occurred to me that that stuff was old or new or whatever. I just liked it! [laughs] CBA: I try to get my kids to understand what’s so cool about King Kong, and my 12-year-old looks at it, of course, and says, “Dad! It’s in black-&-white!” [laughter] Arthur: “Yeah, that sucks!” [laughter] That was the thing that always bugged me about Mike Mignola: The first King Kong he saw was the Dino Di Laurentis one, and he loved it! It’s so awful! [laughter] CBA: We have to be slightly reverent now, right, because it’s got the World Trade Center twin towers in it. Arthur: That’s not enough, it’s a terrible movie! [laughter] It doesn’t even compare to the original King Kong! CBA: Well… It does have Jessica Lange in it. Arthur: Yeah… but that’s not enough, either! When my wife and I first started going out, she came over to my place, and I sat her down and said, “You’ve got to watch these!” and I had her watch both Frankenstein and Dracula, and she watched them, and when they were done, she went, “Well, that was weird. There’s no music in those!” That had never occurred to me! There’s almost no music in those movies! She said, “They’re dull, and there’s no music!” It was really hard to put music on the talkies in the early days, I guess. CBA: So, you picked up Micronauts, and you said… Arthur: That was it! That got me going, and then I started looking at comics all over the place, and I was keeping an eye out for Golden’s stuff, and right around that time Bill Sienkiewicz started working on “Moon Knight” in the back of The Hulk magazine. I thought that stuff was pretty cool. I also really got into Walt Simonson’s stuff. He had done some Rampaging Hulk stuff I liked. He’d done one fill-in issue of Star Wars that I really loved, then he penciled and inked—and I think maybe wrote—one issue of Battlestar Galactica I thought was the greatest. His X-Men/Teen Titans was like the bible of how to draw comics for me. I wore out I don’t know how many copies looking through that thing! CBA: When you learned more about Walter, were you surprised to find parallels in your respective lives? He studied paleontology. Arthur: [laughs] Walt’s a much smarter guy than I am! [laughter] He’s actually done some stuff! He went to college! I’ve only thought being a scientist, “Hey, that would be cool! Nah, I’d have to go outside!” CBA: Did you become friends? Arthur: Yeah, I like Walt a lot! We don’t talk as often as we should, I’m notorious for not calling anybody, but Walt and I have gone through periods where we were talking every day, then we’d go through periods where we’d talk about every six months, but every COMIC BOOK ARTIST 17

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time, it’s like we talked just the day before. I love Walt and Weezie, they’re great. CBA: Did you see him as your biggest influence for a period? Arthur: Walt and Michael Golden, they were both about equal in their influence. Of course, it was easier to get Walt’s stuff! [laughs] He was doing more of it! Barry Windsor-Smith was a huge influence, as well. It’s hard to say who wasn’t an influence around that time. I really liked Windsor-Smith, Wrightson, Kaluta… CBA: You were buying the old comics? Arthur: When I could, I was finding old stuff as time went by, yeah, I was learning more about things, so I started picking up Swamp Thing reprints, early on. When I was 18 or 20, A Look Back came out, and I picked that up at a convention, and somehow I worked up the nerve to spend as much as $40 on a book! CBA: [laughs] Now probably valued at $250! Arthur: Yeah, I know! I’m not selling my copy! [laughter] Actually, mine’s pretty messed up by now. Before I started going to conventions, I was doing drawings for people at school to get money to buy comics. I had a couple of the Frazetta books, and I’d get Xeroxes of the black-&-white drawings, and I’d paint them… I didn’t know what I was doing with any of the stuff! I wanted it to look like the oil paintings, but I had no idea how to do that, so I was just using watercolor, putting it on as thick as possible! [laughs] If you bent the pages, the paint would just crack off! [laughter] I ended up using it in really odd ways, but I would sell those for a couple of bucks to kids at lunchtime, and I’d take that money to buy comics. Then, I started going to conventions when I was about 17, and I met Bob Shreck at a Creation Convention, and asked if I could set up at a table, too. I had brought my portfolio and showed it to him, and he said, “Sure! Grab a table!” There was this one particular girl out here who just wanted drawings of Harrison Ford as an elf. Fortunately, I don’t think I have any copies of those! [laughter] Somehow, I’d go to the conventions and do things for like five or ten bucks or so. Then I started buying that old stuff! CBA: What was in your portfolio? Arthur: Crap! It was just lots of pin-up stuff. There was nothing! CBA: There was no attempt at continuity? Arthur: By the time I starting going to conventions, there was a little bit of continuity. Early on, I’d done one monster comic for myself, but it was all splash pages—50 pages of splashes!—so I hadn’t really tried much continuity. When I was around 17, I started trying to draw, I did a Wolverine story. Everyone else did, why shouldn’t I? CBA: Were you into X-Men? Arthur: I knew X-Men was popular, but I was not into it that much. Which is actually pretty funny because I became so associated with X-Men for a while. I thought Chris did a great job on it, though I was never that crazy about the John Byrne stuff. CBA: Do people naturally assume he’s an influence on you? Arthur: No, I’m just talking about when the book was really popular, and people were telling me, “You’ve got to check out this X-Men stuff!” I’d look at it, and I really liked the story, the whole Phoenix story towards the end, but I liked it as a writer/artist package! I could recognize it was a good comic book. The writing and the art were balanced. You couldn’t really have one without the other, and I really liked those, but artistically, Byrne was never really an influence. CBA: I’m a little surprised, because there’s that element of whimsy in your work, as well as in his. Arthur: I think what might be the aspect I really liked about X-Men artistically was Terry Austin. He inked Tom Sutton, I think, on some Alice Cooper Marvel Premiere, and Terry had just gone nuts on it! He put Popeye in the background, graffiti on the walls… [laughter] Just really odd things everywhere! I loved that stuff. Somehow, Terry was more of an influence, I think, than John was on my stuff. CBA: What was High Anxiety [misnaming High Energy]? Arthur: [laughs frenzied and nervously] That never happened! There is no High Anxiety! [laughs] It’s an old Mel Brooks movie! [laughter] Honestly, I met some guy—can’t even remember his name now, it’s been so long—at a convention, and he was putting together a comic book magazine, and he saw some of my stuff and asked me to put something together, and I put together something I hope will never, ever see print! Ever! [laughter] It was pretty bad. CBA: What was it? January 2002

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Arthur: I can’t remember it that well, it was just not good. [laughs] CBA: Was it super-heroes, science-fiction…? Arthur: [Sobbing] It was horror, as I recall… please stop. I’ll give you money. CBA: [laughs, after accepting a large sum of cash] Thanks. We’ll move on, now! Was that your first published work? Arthur: That might’ve been the first, but the first piece I was ever definitely paid for, was a pin-up in the back of Captain Carrot and His Amazing Zoo Crew! Those of us of a certain age remember the Farrah Fawcett poster of her in a one-piece swimsuit, very multi-colored background, and I basically copied it for a Zoo Crew character, “Farrah Foxette,” and I sent that to the letters page and got a call from Roy Thomas telling me, “We’d really like to publish this, but we can only pay you $10!” I said, “That’s cool!” [laughter] CBA: Ten whole dollars, your first professional sale! Did you get stuff published in fanzines at all? Arthur: No, I was not even aware of fanzines. They weren’t around much at that time. Amazing Heroes might’ve been being published around then, and I’d occasionally pick up those. CBA: Did you have any art education? Arthur: No, I just sat around drawing all the time! [laughs] I had a couple of good teachers in high school that mostly told me not to draw super-heroes. [laughs] When I was a freshman, there was a teacher who was teaching newspaper strip kind of storytelling, so I did one or two of those, and he just stressed how important it was to be clear in storytelling, and that’s always stuck in me. Mr. Vandenberg, as I recall. CBA: What did your parents think about you drawing? Arthur: [laughs] Well, they thought it was neat that I drew. They were supportive enough that they made sure I always had pencils and paper. They were way more generous than they should’ve

Above: In the process of becoming a professional artist, Arthur Adams would often attend comic cons and sketch for his dinner. ©2002 Arthur Adams. Below: Arthur’s big pro breakthrough was his celebrated art on the Marvel mini-series Longshot. We’re not sure what this pin-up of the character was used for but she’s a beaut! Longshot ©2002 Marvel Characters, Inc. Art ©2002 Arthur Adams.

Gray Morrow: 1934-2001

“This Was a Man!” A journey to discover the artist who was Gray Morrow Below: The photos which illustrate this article are almost all courtesy of Gray Morrow’s very sweet and lovely bride, Pocho, who also graciously shared her memories of her artist husband with Chris Irving in his poignant essay here. Our heart goes out to her in these difficult days and, in appreciation of her spouse’s impact on the field and her boundless generosity, we in turn will donate a portion of the profits from this issue to the Morrow Estate. Gray astride his horse in an undated photo.

“His life was gentle, and the elements So mix’d in him that Nature might stand up And say to all the world ‘This was a man!’” —Shakespeare’s The Tragedy of Julius Caesar Act V, Scene V “He was a man,” Alan Weiss said of Gray Morrow over the phone. “He was a man.” But how does one find the man imbued in the core of each piece of his work? Gray Morrow was an illustrator in the classic vein of Alex Raymond, Mac Raboy, and Lou Fine. Rather than going the route of impossibly-muscled super-heroes punching it out in impossibly revealing costumes, Morrow drew real people in believable clothes. They were movie serial characters imposed on a comics page. No gross exaggeration. In “Recollections”, Morrow’s contribution to Streetwise, he cited his childhood influences, and his move to New York as a young man. He and a friend had met Basil Rathbone in the park one day. Still, “Recollections” was just that: a series of anecdotes and some details about Gray’s life and career. But what does it tell about the man himself? Now, Gray is dead, and the search for the true man behind the artwork begins. It is not an easy search, but one that begins with all his loved ones. Pocho Morrow stands at the door of the cabin she and Morrow shared on their 14 acres of land. She is an attractive woman, tall and with a strong build. Short, curly auburn-red hair frames her face. The A-frame cabin is swarming with artists and friends, some legendary, who cradle drinks and wander through a nicotine haze caused by cigarettes and pipe tobacco. It is noon on a chilly day, and the Morrow home is the result of a six-hour car drive started in Richmond, Virginia and ending in Kunkletown,

Pennsylvania. Their cabin is off the road and back in the woods. The mood in the cabin is festive, despite the reasons for gathering. Pocho had always promised Gray an “Old Scottish Wake,” or (as Pocho put it) an “extravagant party” with all his friends. Here Angelo Torres, Alan Kupperberg, Sal Amendola, Ernie Colón, Mark Wheatley, Alan and Pauline Weiss, and others stand to reminisce about Morrow, exchanging anecdotes and shop talk. Two strangers from Virginia are quickly welcomed. A gallery of character drawings line the upper part of the living room wall, showcasing many of Gray’s influences and childhood heroes, all drawn in a period when an injury had kept Gray out of work. The Face, Spy Smasher, Lone Ranger and Tonto, Green Hornet, the Golden Age Green Lantern, Green Llama, Captain America, Iron Man, Superman, Mandrake, Starman, Sandman… all drawn in Morrow’s realistic style and vibrantly colored, adorn the walls. It’s a wonder less-established and prolific photo-realistic artists like Alex Ross can be successful in today’s comics market, yet Morrow has been absent from comic books for years. It is Alan Kupperberg that shows Gray’s studio. An orange tigerstriped cat sits outside the garage. The studio doorknob has a brass handle in the shape of a naked woman over it. Judging by his garage studio, it is obvious that Morrow was the artist’s artist and, had he been born 20 years earlier, may have been deemed as legendary as an Alex Raymond or Chester Gould. It is chilly in Gray’s studio. Inexpensively framed on the walls is a virtual museum of cartoonist’s original work: a few Toth pieces, a Sekowsky Wonder Woman page, a female portrait drawn by Alex Raymond, as well as a Certa and Belfi Straight Arrow strip, among countless other pieces of art. Bookcases inhabit the room, filled to overflowing with reprint books of Foster’s Prince Valiant, C.C. Beck’s Captain Marvel, Raymond’s Flash Gordon, as well as pulp magazines and various reprint editions. A series of identical black, metal file cabinets feature a painstakingly collected “swipe” file, the yellowing folders neatly labeled by typewriter. All types of costume helmets and props lay throughout Gray’s studio. It is painfully obvious that Gray had the good fortune to grow up in a time where the daily adventure strip was in vogue. In today’s society of instant gratification and short attention spans, one can imagine that his abilities were too great to really be appreciated by today’s limited audience. His drawing table sits, flanked by an army of art supplies as well as another bookshelf, with some blank comic strip pages, the grids pre-drawn, and dialogue scrawled out in pencil. One almost expects Morrow’s dramatic figure to walk in, take a seat back at his table, and continue drawing the next installments of The Body. A letter on Insight Studios letterhead, dated April 2001 and placed near a personal computer, tells of the Gray Morrow: Visionary book. Joe Brozowski leans back on an old green sofa, smoking a cigarette, chatting about the shortcomings of Doc Martin’s colored dyes, and the six-strip Tarzan binge he and Gray went on one day. “I went over to his place to hang out and drink, and he had about five or six weeks of the Sunday strip to do,” he would recall a week later. “I got to his place fairly early in the day. We poured a few Scotches and said ‘We’ll do all six strips before the night is over so that we can go out drinking.’ We made it.” Admiring the great cache of supplies Gray had accrued, examining pens and brushes set up in a series of caddies and homemade racks, there is a slight yet unrealistic hope to find the one magic pen or brush that will channel all of Gray’s innate drawing ability, letting anyone draw like a master. COMIC BOOK ARTIST 17

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Ron Jordan is Gray’s agent. He is selling Gray’s artwork on eBay as a favor to Pocho, refusing to take any payment or percentage of the sales. Gray has drawn everything from the aforementioned Sunday Tarzan strip (for 18 years) to Penthouse Comix (“the smut” as it is jokingly referred to as) to fantasy and science-fiction book covers. Ron pulls out a copy of Gray Morrow: Visionary that he had left for Gray to sign a short time back. He had just found it that morning, with a kind note and sketch from Gray on the inside front cover. It’s obvious the discovery has touched him. Gray stored artwork in two identical, back-to-back cabinets with flat shelves on the inside. Inside are the proofs for Orion (from Edge of Chaos, one of Gray’s pet projects), as well as various movie monster paintings, and a few renditions of The Shadow. Interestingly enough, Gray focuses on the Kent Allard aviator identity of The Shadow, rather than the more popular Lamont Cranston, perhaps a sign of his love of aviation. As the wake progresses, others arrive, including Larry Hama, Jim Steranko, and Frank Cho and his wife. The mood continues to be festive, and food is gradually added to the dining room table. After a while, Pocho brings a glass decanter into the living room, and places it on the mantle, by a striking black and white portrait of Gray with his pipe. A friend explains that they are Gray’s ashes, while Pocho notes the refusal to go for a dull, metal urn. The ashes are, quite fittingly, a light gray. Pocho had placed some of Gray’s favorite pipe tobacco at the bottom. Pippi is a black and gray tiger cat. She climbs from the upper level of the house, onto a beam overlooking the living room. Retreating into the corner where the beam meets the sloped ceiling, she quietly observes the crowd below. Pocho notes that Pippi was Gray’s favorite cat, and she hasn’t been the same since his death. The cat continues to look over the company, perhaps hoping in vain for the return of her favorite person. Pauline Weiss points out a small pot of mums: the only consolation gift sent by United Features Syndicate, for whom Gray did Tarzan for 18 years. Eventually, Pocho calls some of Gray’s best friends into the front bedroom and closes the door. After 20 minutes, they slowly start to file out. Larry Hama quietly migrates to the sofa, next to his young daughter and wife, wearing a leather vest of Gray’s. Alan Weiss walks out with a few of Gray’s cowboy hats. The mood turns more somber. A few minutes later, the Weisses stand in the bedroom, admiring even more of Gray’s framed art, as well as a pair of rapiers mounted on an alcove wall. A water pistol, used as a raygun prop by Gray and still holding some water, reminds Alan of a toy gunfight he and other artists had with Gray’s toy guns one day in the 1970s. “There was one time I remember,” Weiss says three days later. “When a bunch of us were down at Gray’s place in Brooklyn. I don’t remember why we were all there. A whole bunch of us wound up there, and we were looking through Gray’s pistols, some of which were toys, some of which were replicas, and some of which he’d made himself. He would make up science-fiction ray guns out of missile parts and jet model parts. He’d take a fuselage and different rockets, and mix and match to put together these raygun shapes. “I don’t remember whose instigation it was [to have a gunfight], probably mine. This was just complete fun. I don’t remember how many people and who was there, but I’m pretty sure that Steve Mitchell would have been there, and Chaykin was there. We chose up sides, and we were running up the halls shooting at each other, and doing these great dramatic falls, agonizing, and then you’d get up and play another round. It was terrific, and Gray got up and played along with us. We must’ve been all in our early twenties, which would’ve meant Gray was 15 to 20 years older than me. It was a lot of fun.” The mood has picked up once more as dusk starts to settle and the evening becomes chillier, and this writer prepares for a long trek home with his travelling companion. There is a feeling, on the drive back, of loss and grieving for a man never met. It is almost a heavy guilt over not having taken the opportunity in the past to contact Morrow. January 2002

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“This was a man!” “When I say a man, I mean a mensch,” Alan Weiss elaborates on Gray Morrow. “That’s all the word implies: a gentleman, a man with certain traditional nobility, a sense of historical personality. He had a dignity about him; it was quiet, but always smiling. I never saw him angry. He’d been hurt, he’d been messed up by the biz.” “He did a Captain America job for Marvel, during the early ’70s. It was a back-up job, maybe half a book, 12 to 13 pages. He was a huge fan of the serials, as you know. Like he drew The Vigilante, he drew Captain America as a real guy in a suit. A real muscular guy, but it wasn’t like Kirby and exaggerated. At the time, the house style was really important to Marvel: become like Kirby. “[Marvel] didn’t like that job, they didn’t like Gray, and didn’t think Gray could do super-heroes. They would say things: ‘He can’t do super-heroes, he can only do this.’ They took the job, and we didn’t think it’d ever be seen again. But, it was seen, but by the time we saw it, it wasn’t Gray anymore. Somebody, probably Romita, leaned on it real heavily and put in hard blacks and changed faces and did things to it. “Here was a guy who kept that freshness and that interest in all the elements, visual and storytelling, that had brought him to where he’d ultimately arrived as an artist. He had that love, and he was just the coolest, a cool guy. He didn’t get riled up, and I never heard him attack anybody. He was sharp, he was smart enough to do it, and he could play. But I never saw him manipulate anyone, or insult or tear them down. His criticisms of people in a conversation would be so light and qualified, that they were literally only criticisms, never insults. Even people who deserved them! When there was a qualification, he’d go ‘Well, that’s how he is, and we can accept that.’ Very few would be hard pressed to say that there was anyone Gray came out directly and said ‘He’s an asshole.’ There were one or two, but not many. More deserved it than got it from him.”

Below: CBA thought long and hard about whether to emphasize art or pictures of Gray Morrow in this tribute section and we decided to focus on the image of the man, and to urge readers to explore his artistry by purchasing the recent book Gray Morrow: Visionary. Please see the ad on page 61. Here is a picture of Gray decked out as a pirate for a costume party. Courtesy of Pocho Morrow.

Professional Courtesies

Farewell to the Master His peers & friends discuss Gray Morrow: The man & his artistry EDITOR’S NOTE: It is with profound appreciation that CBA offers its gratitude to Mark Wheatley, Alan Kupperberg, and all who so quickly came to our aid in this quickly-prepared tribute to Gray Morrow. In testament to how well the man was loved by his peers, this section came together so seamlessly yet with an abiding passion. Our hat’s off to these good friends of Gray.—JBC

compiled by Alan Kupperberg & Mark Wheatley

Michael Netzer artist Bearing a gentle soul and armed with a potent measure of grace, you decorated an industry of the creators you touched with your gentlemanly warmth and uncompromising honor for the truths you knew. This essence of the man in you found its expression in every piece of art you produced. With it you touched the chords of harmony and beauty in an industry drunken with the images of brash power and wanton thirst for violence. You were the one who walked softly amongst us and carried a stick too big for us to see. Your quiet manner was no indication of the inner power you showed in fending off the calls to put aside your vision of peace and harmony for the one of drama and chaos that lined the pages of our lives. You were a hopeful light that shined in a dark and fearful world… but you knew no fear. Have peace, our friend, and thank you for the inspiration you leave an industry that mourns not having heard your call. Perhaps, with your passing, we'll remember the better sides of the creative spirit. Perhaps, in your remembrance, we'll seek the better sides of our souls.

Dick Giordano artist/editor (The following was intended to be included in Gray Morrow: Visionary, the coffee table book that celebrated his art and career. In a letter asking me to write “a few kind words about my art, my paintings, my stories and comics,” Gray concluded with a request to send my text to his Tarzan co-writer, because “if I had to read this stuff you’re going to write about me, I’d be much too embarrassed…!” That was Gray. Anyway, I missed the deadline, I guess (although one was not given me) and I felt badly. Still do. But I’ll feel a small bit better if I can belatedly tell the world.) Memory fails! Did I meet Gray Morrow and first see his wonderful, illustrative work when I edited for DC Comics in the late ’60s? I really can’t remember. What I can recall is that Gray drew things as they actually looked but with style and grace, very much like my heroes Alex Raymond and Hal Foster drew… and very much like I wanted to draw. I can’t remember the precise circumstances, but shortly after meeting Gray, I was offered a story to ink that Gray had penciled. The pencils were beautiful and I couldn’t wait to start inking! Alas, I just wasn’t up to it. I absolutely destroyed his work (I felt), and it was my last such experience. While at DC, I was able to get Gray to do some work for me (never enough; he was always busy elsewhere). He beautifully designed and illustrated a number of introduction pages for the romance titles I edited. These intro pages were to create a mood, like a frontispiece, for the material that followed. Gray’s work was often the high point of the issue. Later, he created the montage-like graphics for an illustrated text feature I experimented with, I believe, in one of my romance titles. Again, Gray brought more into the work that I could have anticipated. They were stunningly different, well thought out and beautifully executed. In the years since then, Gray’s and my paths have not crossed very often but I always followed his work… and wished I was half as good!

Alan Weiss artist I met Gray Morrow up in the DC offices, in the small, windowless, practically airless art-o-graph room. It must have been 1970. Neal Adams introduced us. Gray was working on an “El Diablo” page. I babbled something about how I’d admired and studied his work since I’d first seen it years earlier in the Warren magazines. I was particularly impressed with his Westerns. His extraordinary attention to costumes, detail, and firearms demonstrated an obvious love for the genre. I asked him about all this comparatively “above-thecall-of-duty” research. Gray paused, puffed on his pipe, cocked one eyebrow, coolwise, and softly replied, “Well, that’s the fun, isn’t it?” Gray’s art always exhibited that element of fun, and more. His work radiated a quality of lively adventure best described by William S. Hart as “The Thrill of it All!” Through the years, it was my great pleasure to work with Gray on at least a handful of occasions. Though many may have been closer, I think he considered me a friend. We could always talk comics, cowboys, babes and swashbucklers. Calling to invite me to his annual summer bash, he’d always genially add, “Wouldn’t be the same without you.” 56

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January 2002

When asked to write a short piece for the recent collection of his work, Gray Morrow: Visionary, I searched my mind-files for some concise description of his style. How best to express the unique warmth and humanity this fine draftsman bestowed upon even the most fantastic characters? I didn’t have to search long. Two words— romantic realism—dropped into my brain and onto the page. They seemed fitting. This past summer, the last time I saw Gray, I asked him what he thought of this characterization. Just like that first time we met, he paused, took a puff or two on his pipe, raised one eyebrow, and casually said, “I can live with that.” I wish he had—at least a while longer. Long enough to sit with him a few more times, to laugh a little, raise a glass or two, maybe talk some cowboys and swashbucklers. But who am I to question destiny’s timetable? To me, Gray was a swashbuckler. A gentleman illustrator. The coolest. Surely, the world of adventure art has not, and will not, be graced by a finer artist… or a finer man.

Don Kraar writer There are some things that you never want to write, some things that you never want to think at all. It is impossible to sum up Gray Morrow. To many people, he will be remembered as an eminent fantasy and comics artist. To Edgar Rice Burroughs fans, he was the artist who drew the Tarzan Sunday newspaper strip for 18 years. It was my good fortune to be his collaborator for 12 of those years. Yet, Gray was much more than an artist whom I worked with over the years. Most of all, he was a close friend. If my thoughts seem personal then I must ask you to indulge me. There is simply no way that I could ever be entirely objective about Gray. Gray Morrow came into my life in the Fall of 1971, when I was still a student. We met at the old offices of National Periodicals (before the name was officially changed to “DC”). He was the image of the gentleman artist. Smartly dressed, wearing a neatly trimmed Van Dyke, and equipped with an ever-present pipe, he was a casting director’s dream. Quietly confident, he had no need for egotism. To my delight, I learned that he scoffed at it. As time went by, I came to realize that his straightforward manner was absolutely genuine. Gray had no guile, pretense, hypocrisy, or malice, and little use for those who did. His openness and easy going good humor completely won me over, just as it had won over most people. Although he was a generation older than my contemporaries, he never condescended and never played games. Unless you have been directly involved in the comics business, you have no idea how rare that seemed to be the case. As our friend Cary Bates put it, “In an industry known for back-biting, petty people, I never heard a negative word about Gray from anyone. Quite the contrary.” Yet, Gray was no pushover. He was very much a man’s man, but mercifully free of macho swagger. Over the years, I got to know him well. Gray was very much his own man. You always knew where you stood with Gray, and you could let your guard down with him. He was always good company and we had a lot of laughs. Our relationship was always marked by mutual respect and growing candor. After he moved out to New Jersey, I visited him often. Gray let me ride his horse, Autumn. We got in some target practice with handguns. We shared a love of movies, comics, fantasy fiction, as well as a disdain for professional sports, sentimental television shows, and posturing politicians. In 1983, the editor at United Features called and told me that Gray had recommended me to write the Tarzan Sunday newspaper strip. To say that I jumped at the chance would be a colossal understatement. Doing Tarzan with Gray was a dream come true. His supportive and instructive attitude helped me adjust my expansive instincts to the restrictions of the newspaper strip form. It became a very smooth working relationship, which only served to deepen our personal relationship. Over time, it became the happiest collaboration January 2002

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that I have ever known in any creative field. Gray’s wife, Pocho—real name: Patricia—further enriched our relationship. Pocho and I hit it off from the beginning. She shared Gray’s down-to-earth charm and Rabelaisian humor. When they moved out to the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania, I was frequently their guest. Summer pool parties and sumptuous dinners replete with Pocho’s cooking were some of the high points. Those will always be wonderful memories for me. Gray, Pocho, and I were very grateful for the warm reception we received from the Burroughs Bibliophiles at the Pittsburgh Dum Dum in 1993. The generous support of George McWhorter, Bob Hyde, Ken Webber, Mike Conran, and Bill Morse, to name but a few, will always be deeply appreciated. The fact that Gray and I found an appreciative audience for our work on the Tarzan strip was something that we never took for granted. Gray never questioned my decision to leave the Tarzan strip. After the strain of my parents’ final illnesses, I needed time to write on speculation. The fact that I could not get a cost of living rate increase from the syndicate became the deciding factor. Gray understood and remained supportive of my efforts. As Gray’s health began to fail, Pocho’s care made the vital difference. She kept him alive. Gray’s many friends owe her their profound gratitude and respect. In 1998, Gray was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. At least he could give a name to the problems that he had been experiencing for a few years. The work that he had accomplished with such relative ease in the past became increasingly difficult. By the 1990s, Gray found himself part of a group of veteran artists who found themselves underemployed. The newspaper story strip seemed like an anachronism. Meanwhile, the comic book industry seemed to be entering its death throes. Nothing could seem to make a difference in this case. When United Features dropped Gray from the Tarzan strip this past August, he told me that he had felt it coming for some time.

Above: Happy trails to an old hand. Longtime Gray Morrow compadre Alan Weiss contributes this heartfelt drawing of the late artist taking one last ride on his trusty steed. Alan and his wife, Pauline, have remained strident and devoted friends to Gray’s wife, Pocho, and we salute their sincere and loving efforts on behalf of the Morrows. ©2002 Alan Weiss.

CBA Interview

The Great “Inky” Roussos The late artist’s final interview on his 50 years in comics Conducted by Jon B. Cooke Transcribed by Jon B. Knutson George Roussos—nicknamed in the ’40s “Inky” for his expert use of the brush—was a very dear and sweet man whom I befriended a few years ago. I called him for an interview for The Jack Kirby Collector and ended up phoning him on a semi-regular basis just to shoot the breeze, because underneath what many viewed as a gruff, no-nonsense exterior, was a thoughtful, considerate man with no illusions about his life and work. I had the honor of visiting George and his wife Florence in their Long Island home, and we shared a wonderful dinner together at a local steak house in the Spring of 1998. George passed away in 2000 and I miss him terribly. This interview was conducted in two sessions by phone, on May 11 and Nov. 26, 1997.—JBC

Above: George Roussos’ first job in the comics field was as a background man in Bob Kane’s New York studio, where “Inky” worked side-by-side with Jerry Robinson (whose chore was to ink figures). Courtesy of Roy Thomas, here’s the team’s effort for the cover of Detective Comics #45 (Nov. 1940). ©2002 DC Comics.

Comic Book Artist: When did you start working in comics? George Roussos: In 1940. I worked prior to that, when I was in school, but that was my first job. I worked in the Spanish department, and I did corrections, putting the panels… sometimes the drawing was off, so I had to correct the lettering. Then, in 1940, I got in with DC Comics. CBA: Working for Bob Kane? George: At first, I worked directly for Bob, but since we [the art assistants] produced the stuff fast enough—and he was very slow—they decided to have us go into the office several months later. CBA: You went to work on staff at National [DC Comics], right? George: I think it was called National, right. CBA: At Bob Kane’s, you worked alongside Jerry Robinson? George: Yeah, Jerry and I worked together in the Times building, the old building. CBA: So you were both quite young. George: Yeah. CBA: Did Jerry have a lot of input on the stories? George: Not on the stories, no. Just with the inking of the figures. Bill Finger was the author, the one that really shaped the strip. Bob had rough ideas, but Bill was the man behind Batman. CBA: When you went over to National, who were you working for? George: When we went there, there was only one editor, and he was Whit Ellsworth. Murray Boltinoff was the assistant editor. CBA: What were your duties? George: Doing the same thing as I did before: Backgrounds and

lettering on Batman, and Jerry was doing the figures, and Bob would send the pages in. This way, by having us work in the office, he kept tabs on us and what was going on. CBA: Did you go to school for art? George: No, I just practiced on my own. I got the job because I knew so much about comics. I used to practice at home, and I would write letters to syndicated newspaper strip artists. I really wanted to go into syndication, though I never did. So, I got replies to my letters, but I didn’t have enough experience to fill any job they might have, so I lost out. I did receive several good scripts I could work off of. What was the question, primarily? CBA: Why comics? Why did you want to get into comics? George: [laughs] That’s a three-pronged question. [laughter] Well, I knew there were three forms of art in my time which don’t exist today. One was comics, which needed less education in drawing and so forth, and I liked telling stories, developing characters and the satire that’s involved with it, stuff like that. Then you have illustration, and I knew the work wasn’t as productive as comics. With comics you’d finish one job, and there’s always another one. With illustration, you have to wait for another story to be written, and the editor would call you in, and so on, and you had to be pretty well-polished and know how to paint. The third, of course, is fine art, which requires that you sleep out in the cold and eat once a month. [laughter] Being an orphan—I had lost my parents at a very young age—I took the practical solution, the obvious one, which was comics. CBA: Did you grow up in New York? George: Originally I was born in Washington, D.C. I was raised properly in Greece, went to school there, came back, and lived in New York pretty much the rest of my life, except when I worked on comics in England for a while. Being an orphan was the reason I went to work in comics. But I found out I’m more naturally adapted to fine art. Most artists try to be fine artists, to me it’s natural, but I could never allow it to take over, because of the economics involved, and I didn’t have the backbone to be… it requires quite a bit of character to be a fine artist. CBA: Did you admire comics when you were a kid? George: Yes, in a way. Mostly it was from the practical point of view. I wasn’t as crazy as most of the people are toward it. CBA: When you got in the business, what did you think of it when you were there? George: When I was a kid, I suppose I thought it was okay. You did the crazy things that most kids do, you were interested in this artist and all that, and you want to meet people, and blah, blah, blah… and all that, but didn’t realize my potential, which I never developed anyhow. [laughs] So, I could do a reasonably good job. In fact, I proved my point very easily… I might’ve told you we worked with a [real-life] character known as Bob Wood, on “The Targeteers.” I could dramatize with my art, I suppose, because of my background. In other words, what makes certain things is the background that you have, and that reflects on your work, and mine was rather dramatic, so drama has been almost the thing that pulled me through throughout the career. CBA: In those early years, did you like working on Batman? Did you like the character? George: I liked it, but it’s hard for me to explain… at this moment, I see it in such an odd way, you know? I would imagine that the reason I worked in comics was mostly economic. I needed a job, and that was the emphasis, primarily, on whatever I did. That’s COMIC BOOK ARTIST 17

January 2002

why I’ve never succeeded like the others did, because they threw themselves totally into it. I never did that. CBA: Didn’t you work in comics for the last 56 years? George: Yes. Comics and comics and comics. [laughter] Then I worked for 20 years at the same time I freelanced, I worked for General Electric. I did educational comics for them. CBA: When was this? George: 1945, if I’m not mistaken. There was a newspaper double-spread emphasizing how comics were so effective with young people, and General Electric decided this was the best way to get their message across, so we did 20 different booklets, which they gave away for free to the various schools. The publication went as far as Ceylon, they had to be done in different languages according to the country. CBA: So what were you doing on those books? George: On those, I did the complete job. A fair job, nothing to write home about. CBA: Do any of those still exist? Do you have them? George: I have some of those, yes. They’re ordinary. I wouldn’t worry about them too much. [laughs] The reason I apologize, in a way, is that I never ducked into it like the other fellas did, and therefore, I felt my work was always not quite as adequate as it should’ve been. CBA: Was there any art form you were particularly interested in—not necessarily one you worked at? George: Actually, I drifted. I did a painting many years ago which gave me the clue to my fate if I had the backbone. The painting included an artist’s drawing, and it was similar to Vermeer’s work. I was looking outside the window, trying to draw… do you know the Vermeer painting, where an artist is painting at a canvas, and there’s a woman posing with a trombone or something like that? The figure of the artist has no paints, used as a symbol, more or less, to create the dimension and so forth… a lot of things go into it. Anyway, there’s a window in front of my drawing table, and it’s all in blue, and the high buildings represented success in the future, and everything was blue, there was nothing that was realistic. On the extreme right of the painting, there’s a shadow cast from my drawing board leading to a very weird door that’s off-shape, unique, not totally square, just weird and angled. In other words, I was showing you that’s the uncertainty, trying to go consciously to the future— which was comics, syndication, etc.—my unknown character has been pulling me into this other direction. This is the interpretation I give, and I was very happy with that. That was the clue to the whole thing. It’s a rough little painting. Anyway, that gives you an idea what my feelings were. CBA: Have you continued to paint? George: I’ve done some things, but not too many, no, because of the time element. I have a particular one that I like very much, that I January 2002

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did on the cheapest paper you could possibly find. The art paper we drew comics on was protected by two sheets of the cheapest possible paper, about 20” x 40”, some weird size. I said to myself, “If I’m a decent artist, I can make that cheap paper come alive.” So I took the paper, and worked on it… [laughs] and the painting turned out to be one of the finest I ever did. I framed it and everything. Well, I did this scene of a ship that’s sailing, with the gray clouds up there—always the uncertainty and always brooding, the every day occurrence—and a ship is going, fighting the elements of the water, but the water was done in deep green, because the landscape, which reflects the registration below, and it’s very deep. When you look at my water, the way I interpret it, I give it volume and weight. Most people do a very beautiful shape, things with the whitecaps on things, but I don’t do that. I don’t go into that. I try to express the drama of the water and try to get this tremendous dimension. So, when I saw that later on, I said, “My God, there’s a possibility I may be good one day.” [laughter] That gives you an idea of my peculiarities, okay? CBA: Your considerations were always economic? George: Always. Being an orphan, I was raised in an orphanage. CBA: How old were you when you lost your parents? George: Quite young. I was in the orphanage for four years, and

Above: Wonderful 1941 photo of young George Roussos at his drawing table. Note the Batman cover proofs and Prince Valiant strip behind the artist. Courtesy of Marie Steinberg, George’s beloved daughter.

CBA Interview

Evans in the Heavens A final, glorious interview with the great EC aviation artist Conducted by Jon B. Cooke Transcribed by Jon B. Knutson

George Evans was one of the sweetest, dearest men I have ever had the pleasure to spend time talking to. I only met him—through the Internet—a year ago January, but I was immediately charmed by his friendly demeanor and just plain niceness. We spoke on Jan. 16, 20 01, and though I had originally intended just to discuss his Warren contributions (for The Warren Companion, in which small portions of the following initially appeared), he proved such a captivating personality that we covered his entire glorious career. He copyedited the final transcript. A generous, loving, and vastly talented man, George’s spirit soars in heaven, having passed away on June 22, ’01.

Comic Book Artist: George, where are you from? George Evans: I was brought up in Pennsylvania, about 65 to 70 miles north of where I live now in Mount Joy, in a place called Coldmont. But I was actually born in a little mining town about 30 miles above that. There I spent the first nine years of my life, around coal mines, coal miners, and that was about all! CBA: And you’re about to have a birthday, right? George: I am, indeed… 81. CBA: Congratulations! George: [laughs] Thank you, I was in World War II, and who expected the way things were, that I’d get to this point? CBA: Did you draw as a child? George: Yes, I did. A lot. I remember things I could do by the time I was four. When I had an ear infection—it was chronic until an operation at about age 12—and every winter, it would flare up and I’d be house-bound. We didn’t have all those computers [laughter] and record players and DVDs and things like that, so they bought me watercolors, crayons and a lot of paper! The reading material at the time was newspapers, and the best part of them—then and now—were the comic strips. CBA: What comic strips were you drawn to? George: Wash Tubbs, Boots and Her Buddies, Freckles and His Friends… it was mostly NEA stuff, because they serviced the small-town papers. CBA: You enjoyed Roy Crane’s work? George: Oh, I loved Crane then! I bought a whole set of the books that reprinted his stuff, enjoyed them all over again, and took another trip back to childhood! CBA: That’s truly wonderful stuff. George: It is! CBA: And early on, you were how old when Charles Lindbergh made his historic transatlantic flight? George: Seven. CBA: Do you remember it? George: Oh, that made me the aviation nut I’ve stayed all my life! Oh yes, he was my hero, really. They had a song about him, and all the rest, and yes, he became my hero. CBA: Possibly today’s generation might not understand how a seemingly simple flight can make the pilot an international hero. Why was Lindbergh considered the important figure that he was in the 1920s? George: Like King Arthur, Robin Hood and all the rest of them, he was just a simple guy. While everybody else was trying, with big money financing them and all the rest, here comes this simple kind of fellow who makes a deal with an aircraft company to build him a special airplane, according to his specs, and he made it! He was the Big Hero, took the chance, put his life on the line, gambled and won! Radio was pretty primitive at the time, but if you’d read about it, they followed it, and I remember hearing people around this little town—only a couple of them had the old battery radios—and the word got out, “Hey! Lindy made it! Lindy made it!” and for a seven-year-old kid, that was marvelous stuff to hear that a guy had that kind of guts! CBA: Your interest in that flight led to a lifelong interest in aviation? George: Yes, it did, and I have it to this day. I still love COMIC BOOK ARTIST 17

January 2002

aviation of all kinds, but that period—the barnstorming era and World War I—is what I love best. CBA: Did you have an airport near you as a child? George: Actually, no. About the biggest thing we actually saw in real life was the mail plane that went overhead. They didn’t really have passenger planes then, and every day, the mail plane had a couple of scheduled flights, and you could hear the droning way up, and then a plane would fly over. It was the two o’clock mail plane which I would see, then there’d be others night flying, and that made even more heroes for me, you know? Somebody had the guts to go up at night and fly across the country to deliver mail! CBA: Were those romantic times that you grew up in? An age of heroes? George: Oh, yeah. After all, it was 1927, just before the big crash, but in a small mining town, where there was no library, nothing, just the newspapers and what you heard people who had radios talk about, as I mentioned, and anything heroic, it made a big impact. [laughs] About the only thing there was to do for kids growing up were the age-old games they played and games they invented. Some of them were pretty nutty and dangerous when I was a kid! CBA: [laughs] Like what? George: Oh, God! The teenagers who had the money to buy baseballs, gloves and all the rest, had a weird game where they’d take this stiff clothesline wire, and put a spike in the top of a pole in the ground, and get some kind of an object they could hit, and put it on the end of this wire, and stand around in a circle, spaced out with axe-handles, swinging at this thing as it went by them! [laughter] Many an individual got a rap in the skull with the axe handle! It was a hard way to learn how to play baseball! [laughter] CBA: There’s pressure for you! Did you copy the comic strips? George: I did, yes, particularly Roy Crane’s stuff, especially when he turned it into an adventure strip, rather than the gag-a-day. January 2002

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CBA: So you were drawn toward Captain Easy in the Sunday pages? George: Oh, I loved Captain Easy. He remains the big hero of all the comic strips that ever were! Even more than Terry and the Pirates, you know? Pat Ryan and Terry were more lifelike, but still, Wash Tubbs had been the runt, with tough old Captain Easy, and Pat Ryan was Captain Easy, and Terry was a kid instead of a runt [Wash Tubbs]. CBA: Were you determined to do art as a career at a young age? George: Yes, by the time I reached high school. The other choice would’ve been aviation, but I have a bad left eye which still is just functional, it gives me balance and perspective and the like, but I attempted to get into the Air Force when I was in my teens and was told, “With bad eyes, you’re not gonna make it!” Of course, when World War II came along, they grabbed me just the same! [laughter] But they wouldn’t put me in for flight training, again because of my eyesight. CBA: At the time you initially tried to enlist, it was called the U.S. Air Corps? George: Yes, and it was even then a branch of the Signal Corps, as they called it. That would’ve been when I was about 17 or 18. You also needed a college education, and [laughs] the Depression had set in then, so there was not much chance I was going to get a college education. Although, later I did go to trade schools, after the war. CBA: By the time you were about 16 years old, comic books really started coming out. Did you see them? George: Yes. They were reprints, for the most part, of the newspaper strips. CBA: Did you buy and enjoy them? George: With what? [laughs] Money was short! Around the kids my own age in town, I would buy this or that one, somebody else would by the other one, and among us, we got to see most of them! CBA: [laughs] Right. When the super-heroes came along, did you

Above: Night, day, rain, clear, snowy, hot, whatever the time or temperature George Evans loved to walk his dog Boomer all over his Pennsylvanian town. Courtesy of the Evans family.