Comic Book Creator #24 by TwoMorrows Publishing

™

A TwoMorrows Publication

No. 24, Fall 2020

Scout Master 1

82658 00418

Cover art by Timothy Truman

F a l l 2 0 2 0 • T h e Ti m o t h y Tr u m a n I s s u e • N u m b e r 2 4

Ye Ed’s Rant: Keepin' nose to the grindstone in this new Covid-19 landscape............... 2 CANDIDATE WOODY CBC mascot by J.D. KING

About Our Cover Art and Colors by TIMOTHY TRUMAN

COMICS CHATTER Up Front: Scott Shaw! Cartoonist. Part one of our entertaining and informative chat with the Captain Carrot co-creator and renowned Flintstones designer............ 3 Funnybook Mutts: Master cartoonist Patrick McDonnell annotates a passel of pastiches featured in his Mutts Sunday strips of iconic comic book covers............ 22 Ten Questions: Darrick Patrick gets smart insight from writer John Ostrander............ 26 Incoming: On the late Joe Sinnott and the great P. Craig Russell, and lots more......... 28

Scout: Marauder TM & © Timothy Truman.

Janice Chiang, Woman of Letters: Michael Aushenker talks to the veteran letterer.... 30 Comics in the Library: Rich Arndt tells us of the Covid-19 chaos in school libraries..... 38 Hembeck’s Dateline: Our Man Fred shows that there's more than one Sandman...... 39 Remembrance: Relevant man Dennis O’Neil is remembered by Bob Brodsky............. 40 THE MAIN EVENT

Above: This issue’s featured creator produced this portrait of Victorio Santana, protagonist of the upcoming Kickstarter-funded series, Scout: Marauder. To keep tabs on this exciting series, search “Scout Marauder” at www.kickstarter.com. EDITOR’S NOTE: Sincere apologies to CBC go-to colorist Glenn Whitmore for omitting his credit on last issue’s Hembeck’s Dateline feature. Bad Ye Ed!

Don’t STEAL our Digital Editions! C’mon citizen, DO THE RIGHT THING! A Mom & Pop publisher like us needs every sale just to survive! DON’T DOWNLOAD OR READ ILLEGAL COPIES ONLINE!

Timothy Truman: Scout Master. Killer artist Tim Truman shares his life-journey from backwater beginnings in West Virginia; training at the Joe Kubert School; early work with role-playing game publishers; breakout with his co-creation Grimjack (soon to be a cable TV series); creator-owned success with Scout; establishing his own imprint, 4Winds; forays into graphic histories; accomplishments as a life-long musician; work on The Grateful Dead Almanac and illustrating Robert Hunter lyrics; collaborations with Joe R. Lansdale; career as Conan writer; and much more. We also learn of his latest, the launch of a new series featuring concepts and characters that long ago helped establish the artist as a fan-favorite, Scout: Marauder ........................ 42 BACK MATTER Creators at the Con: The (Virtual) 2020 Eisner Awards by Kendall Whitehouse............ 78 Coming Attractions: The big one is coming with Barry Windsor-Smith in CBC #25!..... 79 A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words: Trevor Von Eeden gets totally batty!........... 80 Right: A detail of Timothy Truman’s original art for his 1985 Scout retailer promotional poster, featuring Emanuel Santana, better known as Scout! Scout TM & © Timothy Truman.

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COMIC BOOK CREATOR is a proud joint production of Jon B. Cooke/TwoMorrows

Comic Book Artist Vol. 1 & 2 are available as digital downloads from twomorrows.com

Comic Book Creator ™ is published quarterly (more or less) by TwoMorrows Publishing, 10407 Bedfordtown Dr., Raleigh, NC 27614 USA. Phone: (919) 449-0344. Jon B. Cooke, editor. John Morrow, publisher. Comic Book Creator editorial offices: P.O. Box 601, West Kingston, RI 02892 USA. E-mail: jonbcooke@aol.com. Send subscription funds to TwoMorrows, NOT to the editorial offices. Four-issue subscriptions: $45 US, $67 International, $18 Digital. NEW! Two-issues subs: $23 US, $34 International, $9 Digital. All characters are © their respective copyright owners. All material © their creators unless otherwise noted. All editorial matter ©2020 Jon B. Cooke/TwoMorrows. Comic Book Creator is a TM of Jon B. Cooke/TwoMorrows. ISSN 2330-2437. Printed in China. FIRST PRINTING.

This issue is dedicated to the memories of RAYMOND “NORMAN DOG” LARRETT, FRANK BOLLE, DENNIS O’NEIL, and JOE SINNOTT ™

JON B. COOKE Editor & Designer

JOHN MORROW Publisher & Consulting Editor

MICHAEL AUSHENKER Associate Editor

TIMOTHY TRUMAN Cover Artist and Colorist

RICHARD J. ARNDT TOM ZIUKO STEVEN THOMPSON Contributing Editors

STEVEN TICE ROSE RUMMEL-EURY Transcribers

J.D. KING CBC Cartoonist

TOM ZIUKO CBC Colorist Supreme

RONN SUTTON CBC Illustrator

ROB SMENTEK CBC Proofreader

GREG PRESTON CBC Contributing Photographer

KENDALL WHITEHOUSE CBC Convention Photographer

CBC Columnists To contact CBC, please email jonbcooke@aol.com or snail-mail Comic Book Creator c /o Jon B. Cooke, P.O. Box 601 West Kingston, RI 02892

@CBCMagazine

Keeping laser-focused on organizing and the job before me

the book was labor-intensive, but I find the What a truly weird year this is. The “carpet-bombing” approach to be so intimes, they are truly ominous, as a vigorating and gratifying. Y’see, the trick terrifying and lethal pandemic ragis to get the participant’s involvement, es across an America divided and make them invested in the project, and around an increasingly troubled then it becomes smooth sailing. Of world. Our industry continues course, few projects could inspire as to be in flux, hobbled, but still much enthusiasm as Crumb’s mag, so I somehow limping along, despite got really lucky there. (And we may not massive layoffs and cascading have won the Eisner Award, but being ramifications. The only thing we nominated for “Best Comics-Related Book” know for sure is that the future is one and losing the honor to one of alt-comics true big stinking pile of… the unknown. greats, Lynda Barry, makes my publisher, Besides feeling compassion for the sick, Last Gasp, and I more than lucky enough!) grief over the dead, and sympathy regarding TBOW is not the first time I’ve apthose working in the overburdened health-care proached a subject with such a wide system, I have chosen to focus on work, despite net. In fact, I’ve done that from the any trepidations I may have for the indeterminate start, with Comic Book Artist Vol. future. I ask you: what else can I do? 1’s first issue and in any number of As long as the orders keep coming in books—The Warren Companion, The and shops continue to stock Comic Book T.H.U.N.D.E.R. Agents Companion, Kirby Creator, I’ll keep at it, and hope to main-100, etc. And all of this background is tain a steady schedule and emerge from my way of announcing my project for this nightmare crisis. I admit I took next year, (currently titled)The Charlton most of this spring and summer Companion, an insanely comprehento completely re-organize my sive look at the third-tier, notorious studio-office, taking advantage comics publisher (1944–87), the Derby, of the home “lock-down” to file Connecticut-based house renowned away some 15 years worth of nefor sub-standard printing, sometimes glected comics and magazine purchases, Timothy Truman awful comics, and the very occasional as well as correspondence and newspaby Ronn Sutton burst of creative brilliance. per clippings, never mind sorting out audio tapes and Maybe readers will think a deep dive into that digital archives—generally getting my house in order. This exhaustive process—alphabetizing thousands all-in-one publisher is an odd selection to make coming on the heels of a look into the celebrated Weirdo of comics and magazines, sorting by subject many hundreds of books, and backing up an ungodly number magazine. Maybe it is. But I will promise you it will be of electronic files—has led to rediscovering material in eye-opening, informative, exhaustive, entertaining, and definitive. It will surprise you. Of that, I have no doubt. my possession, the existence of which I too often had forgotten entirely. And instantly my mind started racing And I vow it will be much, much more than a mere compilation of my two CBAs on Charlton from 2000–01, as to what future projects might emerge from these but rather a full-on narrative encompassing its 40-plus unearthed treasures. Possible tomes started coming years of existence and its continuing impact. into focus when, in early July, esteemed publisher and Clearly, I’m nuts for taking on that crazy task in the close buddy John Morrow sent me an email with the limited time allotted, as I will also meet my obligations subject header, “It’s book time!” As so many of you have heard ad nauseam, I’ve just to CBC (with upcoming issues on Barry Windsor-Smith, Terry Dodson, and Paul Gulacy); co-authoring a John come off a massive project a dozen-years in the makSeverin biography; designing a Don Newton book; ing, The Book of Weirdo, my exhaustive 2019 survey gathering interviews for my history of Métal Hurlant of R. Crumb’s legendary underground comix anthology and Heavy Metal ’s first decade, and a Last Gasp retmagazine. Overall the book is 288 pages, with my rospective celebrating their first 50 years. I only hope 52-page historical essay being the result of about six month’s worth of work, almost entirely full-time. A good that, at 61, I’ll have energy enough to finish all this stuff! Doing these histories is like having Christmas every chunk of the remainder, 125 pages worth, contains testimonials from 123 contributors, mostly accumulated day, gifted with treasures virtually daily, whether in rethrough email requests (though some cobbled together search, e-mail inbox, post office box, or by phone. I am blessed. Stay safe and good health to you and yours. from phone interviews). Yeah, sure, the remainder of

cbc contributors Roger Ash Michael Aushenker Greg Biga Bob Brodsky

Janice Chiang Tom Foxmarnick Sam J. Glanzman Jason Guidry

Heritage Auctions J.D. King Evans Lee Marvel Comics

— Ye Crusading Editor jonbcooke@aol.com

Greg Preston Ervin Rustemagic Cory Sedlmeier Scott Shaw!

Ronn Sutton Steven Thompson Timothy Truman Rick Welch

#24 • Fall 2020 • COMIC BOOK CREATOR

MICHAEL AUSHENKER FRED HEMBECK STEVEN THOMPSON TOM ZIUKO

A Future Unknown

up front

Cartoonist Scott Shaw! Part one of CBC’s career-spanning chat with the witty co-creator of Captain Carrot Interview conducted by JON B. COOKE

Portrait © Greg Preston. Captain Carrot TM & © DC Comics. The Flintstones TM & © Hanna-Barbera Productions, Inc.

[A ubiquitous guest at just about every Comic-Con International: San Diego since its beginnings, cartoonist Scott Shaw! (always with an exclamation point, don’tcha know!) has, over the last 50 years or so, also maintained an impressive presence in the fields of animated cartoons, licensing art, and comic books from his Southern California environs. Maybe best known in comics for co-creating (with writer Roy Thomas) DC’s funny animal-slash-super-hero series, Captain Carrot and His Amazing Zoo Crew, Scott is also renowned for his hilarious Oddball Comics Live! presentations—soon to be translated as a bona fide book coming from TwoMorrows. He was interviewed by phone, in a world quite unlike our present one, in the Summer of 2019, and it was transcribed by Rose Rummel-Eury.] CBC: Where are you from originally, Scott? Scott: I was born in Queens, New York in the Navy hospital. My dad’s ship was capsized at Pearl Harbor. Obviously, he survived or I wouldn’t be here to speak with you. Since the Navy suddenly really needed officers, Dad was made one very quickly. They referred to guys with that promotion a “Mustang.” We lived on Long Island in the servants’ quarters of a mansion because my father had been assigned to be an aide to an admiral. We moved to San Diego when I was about two-anda-half. Again, it was because my dad was in the Navy, but he had always wanted to live in San Diego because that’s where he went to boot camp before he was shipped out to Hawaii when he was a kid. I consider myself a San Diegan, but my secret origin is in New York City. CBC: Do you have siblings? Scott: Nope, I’m convinced that I became a weirdo due to being an only child. Frankly, I enjoyed it and never yearned to have a sibling. I liked to read and draw and watch television, so I was never bored. When you’re an only child, your parents give you plenty of room. Now kids are practically forced to take piano lessons on Monday, singing lessons on Tuesday, judo lessons on Wednesday, and so on. My parents apparently had been trying to conceive for a while and I was finally the big payoff. They never had another kid; I don’t know if it was a biological problem or not. I was in the first group of kids in California to go be in the San Diego City School System’s GATE program for “Gifted and Talented Education.” I think they were targeting the smartest kids to guide into science and math so we could help President Eisenhower destroy the Commies. [chuckles] This was in the ’50s. I was born in 1951. My teachers told my folks that I could “do anything I COMIC BOOK CREATOR • Fall 2020 • #24

put my mind to,” which was the worst thing they could have told any parent. It set their expectations waaaaay too high. Besides, I had zero interest in being like the other smarties in my class. I was interested in paleontology and cartooning. When a teacher told me that studying paleontology would land me a good job at a big oil company, I decided, “Well, it’s cartooning for sure.” [chuckles] Then, of course, in 1960, HannaBarbera’s The Flintstones came out, and that prime-time show kinda changed my life. CBC: How old, roughly, were your parents? Scott: They were probably in their late 30s, which was about ten years behind most parents. Kinda unusual for their generation. CBC: You had a lot of time to yourself? It was a suburban neighborhood you grew up in? Scott: Yeah. The great thing about living in San Diego was, once we moved there, we never had to move again. There were nine active Navy bases in town

Above: Greg Preston portrait of the cartoonist in question, here surrounded by Simpsons figures he designed. This pic was taken in or around 2016.. Inset left: Detail of Captain Carrot from Who’s Who: The Definitive Directory of the DC Universe #4 [June 1985], with art by Scott Shaw! Below: Besides the wielder of cosmic carrots, Scott Shaw! is well-known for his work as animator of The Flintstones characters, the cartoon show that changed the cartoonist’s life when it debuted in 1960.

Above: Irreverent from the start, Scott Shaw! mugs for the camera while out strolling in his baby stroller in the early 1950s. Below: The future cartoonist’s very first super-hero comic book was the innocuous Superboy #57 [June 1957], with its “Strong Boys of Smallville” cover feature, written by Otto Binder with pencil art by Curt Swan (and, according to The Grand Comics Database, quite possibly Ray Burnley inks).

#24 • Fall 2020 • COMIC BOOK CREATOR

Superboy TM & © DC Comics.

and my dad was like an honest “Sgt. Bilko” because he really knew how to “work the system.” I think growing up in the Depression made him bolder, too. Anyway, if it was time for him to be reassigned, and if he wanted to work on Coronado Island for a while—this was back before San Diego’s Coronado Bay Bridge was built, in 1970, and he had to take a ferry to go to work—he’d make a few calls and probably call in a few favors, and boom, they’d move him to Coronado. He went from one base to another for two decades. The most exciting thing that ever happened for him (and me!) was when he was made the commanding officer of San Nicolas Island, off the coast of Santa Barbara. It was the island in Scott O’Dell’s The Island of the Blue Dolphins, a popular book with Californian fourth-graders. That was a top-secret facility and he had to go to school in Florida to earn top secret clearance. Again, he managed to “get his bearings” (as he’d refer to his routine of getting his way), and wrangled a way to fly me out there on a Navy plane for ten days. I was nine years old an I felt like Jonny Quest, though it was 1960, so this was pre-Jonny Quest, which didn’t air on ABC until 1964! There were live sea elephants on San Nicolas and flocks of cormorants. They had an undersea cave with petroglyphs of whales, sharks, and seal lions on the walls. It was the wildest place I’ve ever been. My dad even found a human skull and some bones from an ancient tribe that the gulls and cormorants unearthed; we donated them to the Museum of Man, in Balboa Park. It was very cool experience for my dad, who was stationed there for a few years. He’d drive back home every other weekend and bring abalone

and lobsters that the sailors on San Nicolas had caught for him. After he finally moved back to San Diego, it wasn’t long before the Cuban Bay of Pigs crisis. Because he had top-secret clearance, I’m pretty sure my father was aware that San Diego would be one of the foreign missiles’ targets if the situation turned bad. Of course, America dodged that nuclear bullet. CBC: Were you tight with your dad? Scott: Yeah. I never knew this until his funeral, but some of my father’s friends from the town where he grew up traveled out to San Diego told me that my dad had wanted to be an artist, too. Apparently, he had hoped to be a commercial artist—a sign painter, that sort of thing. At least that’s what they said. Oddly, my father never said a word about it to me. But looking back, his interest in art was obvious. Dad enjoyed lettering, and when I was a little boy, he taught me how to letter with speedball pens. He brought home those early versions of marker pens that had so much solvent in them you could probably inhale the fumes and the pigment in ’em would color your nose green. He loved to spend time painting those then-popular paint-by-number kits when he was away from home, and he made some very elaborate Christmas displays to decorate our house, which, in the ’50s, was a big deal in California’s suburbs. At the funeral, his buddies asked, “Oh, did you know your dad wanted to be a cartoonist too?” I said, “No, he just showed me how to do stuff.” Looking back, he wasn’t much of a handyman, but he was great with the stuff I was interested in. I kinda took it all for granted, y’know? “Oh, he’s my old man. He knows how to do everything.” I had so many cartoonist heroes at a young age: people like Dr. Seuss, Mort Walker, Jay Ward, Bill Hanna, Joe Barbera, and many others, Dad probably thought, “Oh, I’ll sound like an a-hole if I say that I wanted to be an artist, too.” He was a very humble guy. CBC: What was his name? Scott: Garlin. CBC: And your mom’s maiden name? Scott: Dorothy Lacy. They were both from the same place in a fairly large town in the middle of Illinois—Decatur, known as “the Soybean Capital of the World,” which was on a sign posted on the way into town. My dad lived on a farm, but his father also owned the first beauty shop there. My mom lived in town. Many of Decatur’s residents worked at Staley’s, the corporation that owned the local soybean plant, but my dad wanted to see the rest of the world, so he joined the Navy. He and my mom both attended the same high school and even lived in the same house at different times but never knew each other until after World War II when, at a mutual friend’s urging, they started corresponding with each other. CBC: Interesting. Did she go to college? Scott: No, they were both high school kids. Mom was more or less self-educated; when I was in high school, she was the office manager for an insurance company. They were both smart people but for some reason, they rarely read for pleasure, just the San Diego Evening Tribune for the news. I was always reading, so I was the odd one in the family. My dad’s favorite thing was to lay on the living room floor in his underwear, staring into the flames in the fireplace. I have a feeling that was how he handled his memories of the terrible stuff he experienced in WWII and, later, the evacuation of Vietnam. CBC: Did you have newspapers coming into the house? Scott: Yep, newspapers and comic books. I was born in 1951 and my parents were already buying me comic books when we lived in New York City, so I was under two. Decades later, I asked my mother, in reference to Dr. Fredric Wertham’s Seduction of the Innocent, “Were you trying to turn me into a juvenile delinquent?” Mom rolled her eyes and said, “All I know is you seemed to really need them.” Comic books and comic strips gave me the opportunity to teach myself how to read before kindergarten. The pictures

Tales Calculated to Drive You Bats TM & © Archie Comic Publications, Inc. Orlando Busino photo from Facebook.

and words support each other, so if you’re visually oriented, it’s a very effective way to learn how to read. When I was five, I had my tonsils out in the hospital, an only child, on my own in a place full of strange, ailing kids. The nurses kept saying, “You’ll get all the ice cream you want.” I didn’t care about that, but they also said, “You can read all the comic books you want.” I was very excited about that! I remember my mom and dad showing up and bringing me the tallest stack of new comics I had ever seen in my life. I still remember some of the comics in that stack. It was only two or three inches thick, but still, that was a lot of comics when you had to buy them one at a time and dimes were not plentiful. CBC: Which comics come to mind? Scott: I remember issues of Mighty Mouse, Woody Woodpecker, Uncle Scrooge, Tom Terrific, and the first super-hero comic I’d ever seen, Superboy #57, with the cover-story, “The One-Man Baseball Team!” Then and now, I’ve absolutely no interest in sports, but Superboy—Wow! I wanted to see what that was all about. Those ’50s issues of Superboy are about as mild as comics can get. I bought a copy of Superboy #57 a few years ago and I realized I must have already known how to read then because I instinctively knew what the next sentence was going to be. I thought, “Holy crap, I must have studied this stuff to the point that it’s buried in my self-consciousness!” It was amazing. CBC: [Chuckles] Were your drawn to the anthropomorphic animal characters? Scott: I was trying to draw everything! I remember specifically an issue of New Funnies, which was all Walter Lantz characters and the lead story had Woody Woodpecker in a diner out in the middle of the desert and Buzz Buzzard drives up and orders a piece of pie from Woody. I was drawing all the time by then, too, and I specifically remember looking at that pie and thinking, “Oh, it’s a triangle on the top and another triangle is right underneath,” (I didn’t know what parallel was) “And then you connect ’em.” That was the first time I thought, “Hey, I’m teaching myself to draw.” I’d trace the characters and did it so often that I’d eventually figure out their formula and I’d be able to draw them without any reference. When kids tell me, “I like to draw, but I trace too often,” I say, ‘No, that’s a great way to teach yourself how to draw the basics of the forms.” CBC: Did you show off your drawings to your parents? Scott: I showed them off to everyone. I drew on place mats when we went out to eat, I drew in school—constantly getting in trouble with my teachers for drawing in class—and I’d draw for my friends. In fact, I’d sell them my cartoons. I skipped the fourth grade but I remember in the fifth and sixth grades, I was charging my friends three cents for a headshot and five cents for a full figure—usually of surfers or monsters. I’m not kidding! [laughter] That’s how I’d earn money to buy more comic books, which in turn would provide more examples of good cartooning that would allow me to teach myself how to draw more characters. I’m still operating on that basis; I’m just adding a few extra zeroes! [chuckles] One of the sources that really helped me teach myself how to draw was Archie’s Tales Calculated to Drive You Bats, one of the most influential comics in my life. Its co-creator, Orlando Busino, is an unacknowledged genius-level cartoonist. I’d teach myself how to draw every monster he drew, then I’d draw ’em on my friends’ book covers for cold, hard cash. My parents would say, “Yeah, that’s how to do it.” They had been both Depression-era kids and were pleased that I wasn’t bugging them nearly as often for dimes because I figured out my own way get my hands on those funnybooks myself. CBC: Who was this artist, Orlando? Scott: Orlando Busino. He only drew three issues of one comic book series. It was called Bats, sort of a MAD ripoff… “Sort of”? It was totally a MAD rip-off, its full title was Tales Calculated to Drive You Bats! It was a funnybook that COMIC BOOK CREATOR • Fall 2020 • #24

had a monster-theme. It came out 1960 and was a response to James Warren’s Famous Monsters of Filmland magazine and the whole Shock Theater TV phenomenon. And it was funny. Busino combined the appealingly bouncy style of Mort Walker with the creepy-cool style of Jack Davis… and, to me, that was the best of both worlds. I was already studying MAD and Beetle Bailey, so this Orlando Busino guy really blew my mind. We’ve never met, but we’re now Facebook friends and I love it when I post images of my cartoons and Orlando comments on it. CBC: Oh, so he’s still around? Scott: Oh, yeah! In fact, the third issue of Bats has the greatest flying saucer design I’ve ever seen. It’s a parody of the War of the Worlds tripods and I have put that same flying saucer in TV commercials, in comic books, in educational material, record album covers, whenever I needed a flying saucer, that was the one. I once told Orlando “I owe you a lot of money for ripping you off.” He laughed it off, saying, “No, I’m happy because you’re ripping off Archie, not me!” That’s because Archie Comics’ brass told Orlando and George Gladir, the comic’s other co-creator, that they’d be receiving profit participation based on the sales figures. Of course, being Archie Comics, they never delivered. They got Samm Schwartz to imitate Orlando’s style through the rest of Bats’ run He was pretty good… but not nearly as funny. CBC: What else is he known for? Scott: Orlando is a respected figure in the world of gag cartoons. His panel feature about a lovable and messy dog, Gus, appeared in Boys Life and other periodicals for decades and his gag cartoons have appeared in all of the big-circulation, slick magazines. CBC: Was he out of New York? Did he work for Johnstone and Cushing? Scott: I don’t think so, but he was definitely a

Top: A visibly grateful Scott Shaw! displaying his basket of goodies on a 1950s’ Easter Sunday morning. Above: Recent pic of cartoonist Orlando Busino. Bottom: The first few issues of Archie’s Tales Calculated to Drive You Bats contained Busino’s work, a huge influence on young Scott Shaw! This Busino cover is from #3 [Mar. 1962].

darrick patrick’s ten questions

The Ostrander Method Grimjack’s co-creator and Suicide Squad re-inventor has some words for newbie writers by DARRICK PATRICK [What better writer to showcase in this issue celebrating artist Timothy Truman, than his frequent collaborator John Ostrander? Prior to his start at Chicago-based First Comics in 1983, John was an actor with the legendary Organic Theatre, the group that originally produced the science fiction and comics-centric play, Warp! Early on at First, the writer co-created Grimjack with Truman. (An adaptation of Grimjack is currently in development as a TV series, produced by no less that the Russo Brothers of The Avengers: Endgame fame.) Other notable work includes John’s Suicide Squad reboot, The Spectre (with artist Tom Mandrake), and a number of Star Wars stories at Dark Horse.—Y.E.] Above: Nabbed from his Facebook page, a 2017 photo of writer John Ostrander.

Above: Superb Sandy Plunkett Spectre cover [#3, Feb. 1993], during John’s lauded run. Below: The team’s line-up by Luke McDonnell, from Who’s Who Update ’88 #3 [Oct. 1988].

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Fall 2020 • COMIC BOOK CREATOR

Darrick Patrick: What was the journey that led you to writing professionally within comic books as a career? John Ostrander: I was always a reader, back as far as I could remember. I still am. Anything and everything. My family first learned I could read when I was reading the back of a cereal package (or maybe it was a milk carton) at the table. It’s the one thing I could do really well: read. That especially included comic books, but my mother was influenced by Wertham’s Seduction of the Innocent (I don’t know if she read it or just heard about it), so super-hero comics were forbidden, which meant, of course, that I had to find them and then hide them. It was sort of my childhood porn stash and, every once in a while, my mother would find them and throw them out amidst a great deal of angst on my part. Some of the comics that were thrown out would be worth a great deal later on. (I should mention that, later on, my mom was quite proud of my comic book career, although I’m not sure if she actually read any of them. Take that, Dr. Wertham.) In high school, I discovered the theater and acting and pursued that into college, all the time still reading comics. I also established a friendship with Mike Gold, which would pay off later. After college, I was involved in various theater companies in Chicago (running one—very badly—as well). I also made the acquaintance of Del Close and took improv

classes from him as Second City in Chicago. This would prove very influential on me. Mike was one of those starting up First Comics and, knowing my love of the medium, gave me a shot. And the rest, as they say, is hysteria. Darrick: Who are some of the people that greatly influenced you (in your personal life) while growing up? John: Let’s assume outside of comics. I’ll start with my twin brother, Joe. He’s my fraternal twin and we don’t look, act, or behave alike. To show you how little we are alike, in college Joe came up to me with a Sweet Young Thing he had recently met and said to me, “She doesn’t believe you and I are twins. Get out your driver’s license and show her.” I grimaced and got the license out, but as I did so, I said, “Is he pulling that stunt again? I’m his cousin from California and we just happened to be born on the same day. He pulls this gag all the time.” Sweet Young Thing said, “I knew it!” and flounced off. Joe sputtered, “But… but… but…!” He growled at me and went off pursuing Sweet Young Thing. I never saw her again so I assume it didn’t work out. Joe and I shared a bedroom together all through grade school and most of high school, too, I think. Joe was more of an extrovert; I was a bit of an introvert. He was the alpha of we two, but I found ways to get back at him by being sneaky and subversive—traits I still have. We both do Elmer Fudd impressions and have dueling Elmer Fudds whenever we get together or even just call. We start with a round of “Hewwo?” on the phone. I was the Best Man at his wedding, as he was at mine. He made me the godfather to his first child, Julie. My mom used to say that, as babies, we’d be out for a walk with her. If she sat on a bench, he would turn to me and say something in baby twin gibberish and I would respond and then we would take off in different directions. Mom was bigger and faster and was able to round us up pretty quick, but it was still a near thing. At some family gatherings, we’re not allowed to sit together because we can get up to something pretty fast. He’s my brother, my buddy, my co-conspirator. I love him. There were others: family, of course, and my gang— Jerry Gavin, Pat Devaney, and Rick Rynders. In grade school, I wrote one-page serials for each of them almost every day, which, I believe, they never read and threw away, but I wrote a lot of crap out of my system and could be considered the start of my writing career. I even adapted one as a screenplay and, with the Super 8 movie camera that Jerry’s mom owned, we made our own movie one summer. I intended to sync it up with a tape recorder so we could have sound, but that never worked, so it wound up just a silent. It ended with a pie fight. We were going to put it on in a basement and charge neighborhood kids a quarter to see it, but my mom heard and made us give all the money back. Ghod help me, but the last time I talked with Jerry, he said he had a copy of that film somewhere, so it could yet haunt me on YouTube. A girl I was crushing on in sophomore year went to an all-girl’s Catholic high school, Marywood, in Evanston. They were having auditions for a play and they needed boys for the play. I had never acted, but I figured, if I got in the play, maybe I might sorta kinda

run into her at her school. I talked Rick into auditioning with me. We got to the front door and I got cold feet and almost chickened out. Rick was firm. “Oh no. You got me to come this far, we’re going in.” We both got cast (thank you, Mrs. Crawford). I never did see my crush, but I found a new love—theater. Acting. My family came on opening night and afterwards, Joe blurted out, “Mom told us to tell you did good even if you didn’t, but you really were good!” (Joe was a blurter.) Mom sighed heavily, “Joel!” But it was fine. That was my start in theater and, for the next few years, I did the Marywood school play every year. Pat and Jerry joined us the following year; they were no fools and they did the math—a few boys in a school that was all girls? They liked the odds. I did, too, but I liked the theater even more. That led me into theater as a major in college and then into semi-professional and professional theater in Chicago after college. Theater, in turn, has fed me into my writing career. Much of what I’ve learned about plotting, theme, dialogue, and more in my writing has come from my theater experience. One thing leads to another. Darrick: Do you have any words of advice for other individuals looking to make a career with their abilities in writing? John: My standard reply when asked how to break in to comics was “Through the roof with a pickaxe on a dark moonless night.” I think I can do better than that. 1. What does a writer do? A writer writes. Do the work. Write every day whether you get paid to do it or not. Do it for five or ten minutes a day to start if you have to, but do it every day. You want to get into the habit of writing. You’re either a writer or a wannabe. A writer writes. Do the work. 2. Theodore Sturgeon, the famous science fiction writer, was asked, “What do you say to the accusation that 90% of SF is crap.” Sturgeon shrugged and said, “90% of anything is crap.” Everyone has crap in their system and the only way to get rid of it is to write it out. Ninety percent, at least, of what you write will be crap, especially to start. You learn by doing. Write it out. 3. Write every idea down. You don’t know what you have until you write it down. Don’t tell anyone the idea until after you’ve written it down; if you blab it you’re letting the steam out of the engine and it won’t go anywhere. Write. It. Down. 4. Don’t edit to begin with. Don’t worry about spelling or punctuation. It doesn’t have to be perfect. Actually, here’s a secret – it won’t be. Not on the first draft. That’s what a rewrite is for. You can flush out the crap later. Just get it down. 5. Read. What do you like to read? Why do you like it? Read everything. Read the news from a lot of different sources. What is happening in the world, what is happening to you, and how do you feel about it?

6. There are no monsters. There are just human beings and some of them are pretty f*cked up. Hitler, unfortunately, was not a monster; he was human. All your characters are human and all of them are you. You have it within yourself to understand any of them. I wrote a villain once who was a racist and, to write him honestly, I had to dig down and found out what was racist in me. Not a pleasant journey, but it was there. We are monsters and we are heroes. Every character you write or can write is in you. Find them. 7. Live. Have a life. That’s what you’re drawing on. It’s what my late wife Kim Yale referred to as “restocking the fish pond.” If you want your writing to feel alive you have to live first. 8. Write. Write. Write. Do the job. Darrick: How do you spend your time on a typical workday? John: I get up at some point; when depends on when I fell asleep the previous night. I have breakfast, read the paper, check Facebook and e-mail, anything else I can do to delay actually getting down to work. I’m better if I have an assignment or a deadline, but otherwise I’m really undisciplined. I love writing once I get down to it but sometimes the idea of sitting down to write is beyond me. Darrick: For new readers who may not be familiar with your work, what COMIC BOOK CREATOR • Fall 2020 • #24

are some projects of yours that you would recommend to begin with? John: Grimjack probably would head the list. It’s the cornerstone of my career. The Spectre is high on the list. I did 10 years of work on Star Wars comics for Dark Horse, usually with Jan Duursema. Legacy is probably the top-rated there. (We’ve also done out own Star Wars-ish sorta project called Hexer Dusk which can be found on Kickstarter and Indiegogo.) Wasteland is a… unique… read, and there’s also my long run on Suicide Squad. I did The Kents, a historical Western, over at DC, and a few more Westerns at Marvel. I think I’ve destroyed forests with my output. Darrick: Who are a few of the people in the comics industry that you hold a high deal of respect for (and why)? John: Let’s start with Mike Gold, one of my oldest friends, my first editor, and the one who got me into comics in general and then later, when he went to DC, he brought me with him. One of the best editorial minds in the biz. Tim Truman, my bro, who started Grimjack with me and is one of my best friends ever. Tom Mandrake with whom I did Spectre and Jan Duursema with whom I did Star Wars; we all used to live near each other in New Jersey, and were often in and out of each other’s houses. Most of the artists I’ve collaborated, if only for putting up with me, but also because they were great collaborators. They’ve made me look good. Dennis O’Neil showed me how one could write on serious contemporary topics in comics. I like Gail Simone a lot and we’ve worked together on a few things. Very talented writer. People in the past who I may have met, but didn’t actually know: Will Eisner—I discovered him before I hit my teen years and was always enthralled by his storytelling. Also wrote some damn fine instruction manuals. Stan the Man Lee. Joe Kubert—I taught at his school and met him a lot. Great guy, as well as a great artist. If I try to list all my influences this will be a book and I really need to finish this interview and get it in. Darrick: Outside of creating stories, what are your other interests? John: Reading is probably number one. Cooking, although I haven’t done as much of it lately. Films, TV—almost anything with a narrative. Listening to music. Movie soundtracks are a favorite; they aid my writing. Darrick: What is your oldest memory? John: I’m not sure. I sometimes think that I’d forget my own name if it wasn’t written in my underwear. Right now, I seem to be going by the name of “Hanes.” But seriously, folks. . . I grew up Roman Catholic in Chicago, and we lived across the street from the church, a behemoth-sized place. I lived literally in the shadow of the church, depending on where the sun was. The school I went to was attached to it and I was late nearly every day. I remember one summer a storm rolled down and it was raining on the other side of the street but the sun was shining on our side. That influenced my thinking later on the city of Cynosure [pan-dimensional hub]. Chicago, in fact, was very influential on my thinking of Cynosure; all the different neighborhoods had different cultures and sometimes architectural styles. Thinking of them as different dimensions made Cynosure more real to me. I remember, when I was about 10 years old, I was on my bike just outside our yard. It was summer and the sun was out. A funeral was going down our street past our house, heading for the entrance to the church. As the hearse went by, I got the sense that someday I would be in the hearse and a boy would be watching me go by. We also had several deaths in the family and we seemed to be always going to a wake and a funeral. All of which gave me a sense of mortality at a relatively early age. I have a strong streak of melancholy that runs through me and I think this was a large part of its development. Darrick: Tell us something about you that most people don’t know. John: I sometimes get shy. When I get nervous, I tend to blather. Darrick: When you’re no longer amongst the living, how would you most like to be remembered? John: That’s nothing I have any control over. If people remember me, it will be how they remember me and based on their interaction with me. I’ll be dead and I won’t know, so I don’t care. If, in 20 years, someone reads something I wrote and likes it—that would be great. Inset top: Detail of Tim Truman’s cover art for Grimjack: Killer Instinct #1 [Jan. 2005]. 27

a chat with chiang

A Woman of Letters

Michael Aushenker talks with letterer Janice Chiang about her long career in comics Conducted by MICHAEL AUSHENKER CBC Associate Editor

Above: Among the myriad comics titles Janice Chiang’s lettering has graced, DC’s Impulse [1995–2002] was a particularly charming book. This cover is from #48 [May 1999].

Below: The woman herself, Janice Chiang, in a 2012 photo.

Comic Book Creator: You’ve worked with so many luminaries in the comics industry. And yet, because of the assembly line nature of American comics, you probably have yet to meet many of your collaborators! Janice Chiang: I recently teamed up with Danny Fingeroth on a short story for a collection named Yiddishland, where the theme is about cantors who ventured into vaudeville. I’ve lettered many projects, so I know the majority of freelancers by name only. I thought, ‘Oh, so that’s Mike Vosburg! He sounds like a really nice guy.’ I had met Rich Buckler while waiting on line at the Big Apple Comic Con, in October, 2009. We had teamed on some books back in 1975, when I was working in the Marvel Bullpen. Rich said he remembered me… nice to find a living witness of my first staff job in Marvel. CBC: What are some misconceptions about letterers? Janice: People think we’re just copying words and we can’t think for ourselves. It goes back to how I approach lettering. My background is fine arts. My fonts… it doesn’t look like anyone else’s. I studied at Hunter College. We were a very creative family. My mother could look at a dress and sew that dress. She could see a sweater and knit it. My father could build things. A big promotion by the age of 12 for me was to use a circular saw. My father had so much faith in us that we could do the process. I learned how to do crafts at age five, how to do create something out of nothing. I’m the first generation-born here. My parents #24 • Fall 2020 • COMIC BOOK CREATOR

[A legend among letterers, Janice Chiang is a familiar name to any avid ’80s comics reader. She broke into comics in the mid-’70s, when she began freelancing for Marvel, and she continues to letter to this day. Best known to the Bronze Age generation for her lettering on such books as Transformers, Visionaries, and ROM, Janice also worked long stints on some of comicdom’s most popular series: Conan the Barbarian [1982–90), Alpha Flight [1987–94], Iron Man [1987–90], Ghost Rider [1990–96], What If? [1990–95], and Impulse [1999–2002]. She has also toiled for Dark Horse, Scholastic, Acclaim, and Tokyo Pop. “I simultaneously freelanced for Marvel, DC,and the now-defunct Tundra,” she tells me. “I worked on Disney Adventures—whatever editor Heidi MacDonald gave me. I recently worked on Archie Loves Betty and also an Archie Loves Veronica.” (And contrary to a credit on her Wikipedia profile, she did not do any work as a colorist!) “I lettered Mark Texiera on Ghost Rider, Mark Bright on Iron Man,” Chiang says. “I did Rob Liefeld’s first work for DC, on Hawk and Dove, as well as work by Jim Lee and Kelley Jones.” Janice added, “I continued as freelance letterer for Marvel and DC until 2004, then I took a break from comics. From 2001–04, I worked for the Chamber of Commerce of Greater Harlem on “Harlem Week” campaigns as a freelance graphic designer.” Since the late 1990s, Chiang has not only returned to form, but she has adapted quite smoothly to the digital revolution that changed comic book production forever circa 1993. Her Random House work includes Kagetora [vols. 2–5], Suzuka [1–3], and Air Gear [vol. 1–4]. “It’s great to see the young Japanese characters having the same problems as the kids have here,” she says. “In my youth, there were no positive images of Asian people. It was either the Fu Manchu stereotype, kungfu, or the nerd. These books reinforce sophistication and tolerance.” For Papercutz, she recently worked on Smurfs comics and the Italian translation of Disney’s Fairies. Emma, Vol. 1, was chosen by NewType anime/ manga magazine as book of the month in September, 2006, and by the Young Adult Library Services Association as one of the greatest graphic novels in 2007. In 2009, The Village Voice named Danny Fingeroth’s adaptation of Stud Terkel’s

Working, one of the best graphic novels of the year, in which Janice lettered two short stories. However, she is much more than the sum of her credits and the writers and artists she has teamed up with. She is a thoughtful, philosophical, complex and multi-layered artist with personal tastes that transcend her ostensible métier. One of her favorite movies is Old Yeller, and one book impressed her was George Leonard’s The Art of Mastery. Referring to her son, Janice said,“I gave Calvin this book, when he was ten years old, to help him gain some perspective of what is conditional, subjective, and what he could truly control on his path to whatever he decided to master.” Janice shares, “If we can express our mutual understanding of how passion, diligence, and principle drives our work and other aspects of our lives… Sometimes we get lucky and we are able to pursue what we initially target as our passion. Other times, we find ourselves in situations that we never anticipated. The elements that comprise ‘passion’ may be applied in other arenas. If we’re fortunate, we do get another chance, as I am experiencing now.” For 37 years, Janice has lived in Woodstock, New York, with her husband, Danny Louie. When asked how she’s managed to work so far away from Manhattan early on in her career, she responded that, in the old days, “Federal Express helped me out. I’d overnight it from Woodstock. Basically, we built up the Federal Express business here. It was insane… When I was doing a lot of monthlies, I’d work on 5 to 10 pages at a time… and I never dropped the hot potatoes.” Most of the following interview originally appeared on my Cartoon Flophouse blog in 2011, though Janice shares an update as an addendum. —M.A.]

grew up in China. My mother’s name was Hop Kun. My father’s name was Bay Doc. My father came to New York when he was 13½. In 1892, after Chinese came to build the Transcontinental Railroad, there was an economic crisis. A lot of scapegoating went on with the immigrants. The Manchus were in control of China. The immigrants had to wear a long braid to differentiate them from the Manchus—a lot of Chinese had long braids… My father was sponsored as a paper son [fake relative] with a Chinese laundry or restaurant business. He did hand laundry. My mom and dad ran a business at home. They were really accessible. Basically, where we lived, they did hand laundry at these apartments on East Elmhurst, in Queens. I had two older sisters and a younger brother. One of my sisters is Fay Chiang, a well-known poet. As far as the immigration experience, China was not a friend to this country until an open-door policy in 1962. It was not comfortable being Asian. You would keep a low profile. Look like what they did to the Japanese[-American] people [in California, during World War II]. Basically, all of us connected with the fine arts. The creativity in the family home situation fit into writing and artwork. My sisters, Fay and Jean, were at Hunter College, already studying fine arts. So I was the third Chiang in there. When we went to Hunter, Fay was in the anti-war movement. She was bringing literature in the house from the Black Panthers. It gave me a broad view of what was going on. What really got me angry was when they murdered Fred Hampton. It made me question, “What’s this democracy and who are we helping?” I became active in the anti-war movement. A lot of students were active. They’re killing people who look like us over there. Fay started organizing ethnic studies and we were very active in the Asian-American organization. Like what’s going on right now in Arizona, if you look Latino, you’re going to be stopped. We were all there [at Hunter] at the same time. Basement Workshop, an Asian-American multi-arts organization, was taking up community issues, Civil Rights issues. Larry Hama was part of that organization. He’s an artist and musician. That’s how I got into comics. Larry’s sort of my mentor. His mom is really talented. She had her own dress shop. She made couture clothing and she would copy it. Larry told me, “I love hanging around women! They smell nice and they’re creative.” CBC: So that’s why Larry was off to a red-tag sale when I caught him for a phone interview [in Jan. 2010, for Back Issue]! Janice: When he was 12, he got a subscription to Vogue. I’ve known Larry since I was 13½. They would do these Asian arts festivals that he was a part of. This was back in 1972. The great thing about New York City is that it’s multi-ethnic. Back then, there was a big structure being built and no Asian-American workers on site. We said, “Something’s wrong here.” There were no Chinese policemen and there’s a big language gap, no bilingual teachers. There were a lot of things to be done, and we were inspired by the African-American movement. There was a real flow of creativity. CBC: How did a fine arts major such as yourself start on a path to lettering? Janice: I never finished Hunter College; I just left. Basically, I made a lot of decisions that were unconventional. Struggle is a big part of my life. You see something and you move forward rather than stand there and being scared. COMIC BOOK CREATOR • Fall 2020 • #24

Larry Hama’s partner, Ralph Reese, taught me how to letter. They were working together under the name of Crusty Bunkers [the gang of inkers at Neal Adams’ Continuity Studios]. I’d go there and Ralph would show me a few things, and then I’d go home and work on it. Different kinds of lettering and somehow it evolved. CBC: Which letterers were you studying at the time? Janice: The big-name letterer I really liked was Joe Rosen. The others were a little clumsy. I loved Joe’s hand because he had an interplay of thick and thin lines. I don’t like blocky, one-dimensional strokes. That goes back to my background. My father taught me how to use a calligraphy pen. CBC: Were you already reading comics? Janice: No! [laughs] I read books! I sort of stumbled onto comics. I tell my comics editors: “Just remember that my mother didn’t raise me to letter comics! [laughs] At Neal’s studio, there were some things floating around that were pitched to me. Neal called me over to Marvel Bullpen. He contacted Danny Crespi. He was a letterer, too. His daughter, Susan Crespi, is the production manager now at Marvel. Thanks to Neal, I was in the Bullpen at Marvel, doing lettering corrections. CBC: What was the Bullpen like in 1975 when you came aboard? Janice: The Bullpen was one big open area. Freelancers would come in and drop off their art. I was younger than

Above: Among titles from the 1980s in which Janice Chiang worked as letterer are ROM and The Transformers, both based on toy properties and licensed by Marvel Comics. Janice has some 2,782 citations on the Great Comics Database (at comics.org), and while we’re loathe to determine a precise figure from that total number (which includes reprintings), suffice to say she’s been an incredibly prolific (and excellent), as well as in-demand, comics contributor in her professional career. Below: Participants on the 2017 New York Comic Con panel, “Women in Comics: Celebrating Over 100 Years”: (from left) Dr.Sheena Howard, Janice Chiang, Karen Green, and Amy Chu. One observer shared, “Chiang spoke out not just on behalf of women, but of the power of the medium to impact lives.” Photo by Kendall Whitehouse.

For this interview, it was initially agreed that yours truly would make the six-hour or so drive to creator Timothy Webster Truman's Lancaster home, located deep in Pennsylvania Dutch Country, for an extensive discussion, but the Covid-19 pandemic squashed those plans might quick. So, in this Brave New Age of Zoom, we settled on conducting online chats to complete the career-spanning Q-&-A that follows. The conversation took place in late March, over three sessions, just as the virus was realizing its first-wave spike in the U.S. It was an especially anxious time for both subject and inquisitor (as well as the world!), but it was a welcome diversion to examine the life and work of such a multi-talented straight-shooter.

COMIC BOOK CREATOR • Fall 2020 • #24

Still, the ample time allotted to this interview was simply not enough to delve sufficiently into the sheer magnitude of the 64-year-old West Virginia native's work, whether as role playing game character designer; comic book penciler/inker/writer/editor; graphic historian, book illustrator; painter; publisher; comics packager; teacher; and (of particular pride for him) band-mate, songwriter, and kick-ass guitar player. Winner of the 1991 Haxtur Award for his Hawkworld, Tim is a remarkably humble, unassuming, and regular guy, a “mountain boy” who lives with his wife of 43 years, Beth, and is father to two talented 30-something children, writer/game designer Benjamin and collage artist/instructor Emily. — Jon B. Cooke

Comic Book Creator: This is the strangest time in history to be talking to a guy who is renowned for a dystopian storyline…! Timothy Truman: Oh, man. It’s been weird, for sure. I took a little walk around the block this afternoon and the kids who live up the street were out playing by the street. Adorable little kids… the youngest is no more than threefeet tall, dressed in this country dress, with rubber goulashes on her feet—very “Punky Brewster meets Norman Rockwell.” She came running over to me to say hi, smiling, glad to see me, and held out her hand. I had to tell her “Oh, no, sweetheart, better not touch.” She walked away looking sort of downcast, like she was wondering if she’d done something wrong. The whole thing really depressed me. CBC: That’s sad. It’s just a sad, emotional time. Let’s get some distraction, Tim. I’m very grateful for you participating in CBC. I’ve always loved your artwork. Please tell me the status right now of your latest, Scout: Marauder. Tim: Scout: Marauder is going really well. I’m really having fun with the art and story, working on it every day. It’s taking me a lot longer than I thought it would, though. The Grimjack Amazon TV series held things up a bit. It’s just been a monumental task. Other than the basic color flatting and the lettering, I’m pretty much doing the whole thing solo—writing it, penciling it, inking it and doing the digital Visit Timothy Truman via the painting, too. I put a lot of pressure on myself because I’m internet at (you guessed it!): so used to meeting deadlines. The Kickstarter community www.timothytruman.com and those who’ve pre-ordered the book at my website have This page: Top row, left to right, is Wilmer Truman, Tim's father, in 1942; Wilmer during World War II, when he was in the U.S. military; six-year-old Sandra Truman and her one-year-old little brother, Timothy; and an atmospheric tourism image of scenic Gauley River (directly under the same-name bridge), in the Mountain State and near where Tim spent formative years. Second row is young un' Tim (the littlest here) posing with his sisters and cousins, in Jodie, West Virginia, in 1961; and Tim's mom, Judy Truman, on the occasion of her birthday, in 1964. Inset right is our esteemed interviewee during a 2012 visit to Arizona.

been amazingly patient and supportive. I’m so thankful for them. People seem to be very understanding and eager to see it. CBC: Are you shooting for a date or just doing the best you can? Tim: I’d like to have it done in a few more months, hopefully by September, because that would be the 35th anniversary of the publication of first issue of Eclipse’s Scout #1. That would be pretty cool way to celebrate the occasion, right? Meanwhile, I’m posting monthly updates and letting people know I’m still working on it. It’s a real labor of love. I think it’s the best artwork I’ve ever done. That said, I have to admit that it’s a little tough to work on it the last few weeks. The situation that’s going on has been a little distracting, especially given the fact that, as you pointed out, Scout: Marauder is a dystopian story. For example, a few months before the Covid-19 pandemic hit, I was writing a diary entry for one of the characters, and he’s talking about something called the “Numo-C Virus,” In the story, it’s a deadly respiratory virus they have to watch out for in the various refugee and mission camps in the story. Basically, it breaks down the lungs, turns them to jelly. I was writing about this before I knew anything about the symptoms of Covid-19. So, yeah, it’s gotten a little weird, imagining these fictional worst-case disaster scenarios and then—bam!— here we are. #24 • Fall 2020 • COMIC BOOK CREATOR

CBC: Where are you from, originally? Tim: I’m from a little town in West Virginia, born in Gauley Bridge, which is pretty much in the center of the state, where the New River and Gauley River meet. During my pre-teen years, my dad was an insurance salesman. He was a good salesman, so he was transferred to different towns and cities in West Virginia, where the company wanted to improve sales. We also lived across the river in Proctorville, Ohio, for a year. Dad decided to quit insurance and went back into coal mining, which he’d done after he and my mother were first married. It was a union mine, so he made better money in the mines than as an insurance salesman. So, around the time I entered fifth grade, we moved to more rural areas, closer to Dad’s job. We finally ended up in Dixie, West Virginia, and my folks bought a house. I lived there from eight grade until I graduated from high school. CBC: Coal mining is dangerous work. Tim: Yeah, absolutely. Mining was a big tradition in our family. My mother’s dad had been killed in a big mine explosion in the 1930s. Her stepfather lost his arm in a mining accident. Mining actually ended up killing Dad, too. He developed cancer due to an old spinal injury which had occurred at work several years before. Dad was the head electrician at the mines. He was the only guy down there that they didn’t like to see working because it meant a piece of equipment was down. All the machines were powered by electricity. The main piece of equipment was a thing called the Continuous Miner, which goes in with these big arms and scoops the coal into these cars after the coal had been blasted out of the rock. Dad’s responsibility was making sure that thing was always running. Union Carbide owned the mines. It was a pretty vast operation. I worked for two summers there, outside the mines, doing routine maintenance; cutting brush, painting buildings, things like that. The United Mine Workers of America (UMWA) and Union Carbide Corporation had established a program for high school students, so we could make money for college. The pay was great—three times better than what you would make working at a grocery store or burger joint. CBC: Do you have brothers and sisters? Tim: I have three sisters. I am next to the youngest and the only boy. CBC: [Chuckles] The “baby boy.” Tim: Much to my sisters’ chagrin and amusement, yes. My sisters are all great. Very beautiful, sweet, and talented women. Mom was a housewife, as was usual for the era. She was a very strong, smart lady. Besides working in insurance and the mines, my dad was also a Baptist minister, so we grew up in the church. CBC: What is your first memory of church? Tim: My main memories of church were listening to my dad preach and of mom beside me, singing. She had a beautiful voice for harmonies. I would sometimes draw dad’s sermons while he was preaching. I’m intensely ADHD and was a very fidgety kid, but, as soon as mom put some paper and a pencil in my lap, I’d settle down and start drawing pictures of whatever Dad was preaching about. Whenever Mom wasn’t looking, I’d flip a page and draw racing cars and super-heroes. [Jon laughs] Dad was an American Baptist. American Baptists are real spiritual people, but they weren’t like the Hollywood-stereotyped sort of fundamentalists. CBC: Not Bible-thumpers? Tim: Well, it was Appalachia, so Dad and his fellow ministers could get pretty energetic! We were country folks. There was a lot of testifying going on. Let’s just say I wasn’t expected to draw Bible stories. When Dad was preaching about folks such as Moses, Samson, or Elijah, they were pretty exciting characters to visualize. I only recently realized it, Jon, but that was probably one of the roots of my COMIC BOOK CREATOR • Fall 2020 • #24

becoming interested in interpreting or visualizing stories in illustrated form. Also, when I was in first grade, I had this wonderful teacher who encouraged the arts. She would play these Disney story vinyl records and ask us to imagine pictures about what we were hearing and draw it. She’d also have us copy and illustrate poems, once a book of 16 poems, each with an accompanying illustration at the top, and I’m sure that it helped stimulate my interest in storytelling. I’ve always credited that teacher with kick-starting my drive to interpret stories visually. But, when I think about it, some of it may go back to my attempts to draw the Biblical stories that Dad used for his sermons. There’s a bit of storytelling involved in preaching. So, both of those influences must have had an impact on what I’ve done as a visual storyteller. CBC: Did you go to Sunday school? Tim: Yes, Mom was a Sunday school teacher and youth leader. We did all the church plays. CBC: I remember being impressed as a kid by those epic stories of Noah and the flood, Samson, and these amazing, grand stories. Tim: I would read that stuff. I was fascinated by the Book of Revelations because there were all these descriptions of monsters, angels, apocalyptic warfare. There’s a lot of mysterious, supernatural, blood-curdling stuff going on in there. That said, I’m generally more of a Universalist now in my outlook. As I was growing up, I started seeing things in other religions that I found interesting—Zen Buddhism and all that stuff. My wife is Jewish, so she and her family certainly helped broaden my outlook. I’ve become very openminded about that sort of thing. CBC: Was it a merciful God you grew up with or one of fire and brimstone? Tim: Well, if you didn’t believe in Jesus, you were going to Hell, which started to seem kind of unfair to me, especially after I started meeting people from other persuasions. I tend to think there’s something out there, some force that’s beyond our understanding, and we’re all just trying to bring it into a frame of reference that we can somehow make sense of. CBC: Was it a middle-class upbringing? Tim: Yes. Very middle-class. Smack-dab in the middle class. CBC: You had a TV in the house? Tim: We did. That was a big influence on my drawing and storytelling, too. I would sit down in front of the TV with paper and draw—once again visualizing stories, right? Cisco Kid was one of my favorite shows. Branded, Johnny Yuma, Paladin [Have Gun—Will Travel], The Rifleman… all those 1960s Westerns… I was really attracted to them. I would draw pictures of whatever the week’s episode was or take the characters on entirely new adventures. Usually

Above: Young Tim Truman began to hone his imagination upon hearing vivid descriptions of Biblical stories his preaching father gave during Sunday sermons. The youngster was especially fascinated by apocalyptic visions expressed in the Book of Revelations, including the Four Horsemen (imagined here in this 1887 painting by Viktor Vasnetsov). Below: Growing up, Tim was also captivated by the pervasive Western shows on TV, including Chuck Connors in The Rifleman [1958–63].