Work-in-progress page excerpt from Pop Culture Super-Sleuth.
Hello friends, I will be at Small Press Expo this upcoming weekend, September 9-10, in North Bethesda, Maryland. As my regular readers are aware, I’ll be promoting my new graphic novel, George’s Run, published by Rutgers University Press.
This is the book for any fan of comics, pop culture, and great stories!
Be sure to get both!
I will also be debuting Issue #0 of my new on-going series, Pop Culture Super-Sleuth, which you can also purchase at SPX. For those of you attending, this will be a chance to chat and get to know what I’ve been up to. I’ve been up to quite a lot over the years. I sincerely believe I’m entering into a new phase of creating comics.
I will do my best to give you my all at this event. I can answer any questions and I’m certainly eager to share with you anything I can. I’ll have original samples of my work. And, yes, there’s some very special SPX deals to be had. So, come on over to Table E3.
The annual Small Press Expo comics and graphic arts festival presents the best and brightest established creators in independent comics.
It’s an honor to be among this top tier group of cartoonists. Small Press Expo is the place to be this weekend!
Three Rocks: The Story of Ernie Bushmiller, the Man Who Created Nancy. By Bill Griffith. New York: Abrams, 2023. 265pp, $24.99.
Drawing from the Archives: Comics Memory in the Contemporary Graphic Novel. Cambrige: Cambridge University Press, 2023. 274pp, $110.
The “three rocks” of the title might be metaphorically translated as the three giant artists of Underground Comix still above the ground. More and more of the major players have passed in recent years, including Griffith’s own wife Diane Noomin, Aline Kominsky Crumb and Justin Green. Robert Crumb, Art Spiegelman and Bill Griffith: these six words thus conjure up a vanished world, with Crumb the pop culture super nova and the latter two editing ARCADE (1975-80), the premier anthology of the genre before each went on to fame in separate ways.
Only one artist coming up from the Underground managed what almost every comic artist wanted, at least until the 1970s: a steady gig in the daily newspapers. Griffith’s “Zippy the Pinhead” emerged as the daily press was drifting into a long last hurrah. The comic strip was picked up for worldwide daily distribution by King Features Syndicate in 1986, and many thousands of readers looked eagerly each day for the latest. These days, Zippy is mostly online.
But Griffith has also produced graphic novels, beginning with Invisible Ink, with a semi-fictional but definitely real biographical story of his mother and the gag artist (but also the savant or Henry Higgins) of her grand adulterous adventure. The next, Nobody’s Fool, offered the reader an adventure through the life of a real-life sideshow mirocephalic actor or non-actor (and a definite non-victim), the source of Zippy. Up ahead, Griffith will produce a comic version of the story of his great-grandfather, the famous photographer of the West, William Henry Jackson.
Not every reader or even lover of comic strips is likely to know that “Nancy” has become the subject of considerable scholarship. The enigmatic nature of the characters (mainly herself and a suspiciously unrelated but also suspiciously erotic Aunt Fritzi, along with Nancy’s street companion, the ruffian Sluggo), how each four panel strip builds a gag toward a climax, has always fascinated would-be cultural commentators and obviously continues to do so.
An entire volume, How To Read Nancy by Mark Newgarden and Paul Karasik, pondered the apparent thinness of the narrative, the flatness of the visual presentation, and the incredible popularity of the strip. What was really going on and why did readers, generation after generation, crave the strip so?
Griffith saves the more or less decisive conclusions to the end of his book, and for good reasons. Nancy is, after all, the projection of artist, whose life we find laid out as only another artist, comic artist, could possibly manage properly.
Ernie Bushmiller was an Irish, second-generation immigrant growing up in the blue collar Bronx of the early decades of the twentieth century. Showing talent from an early age, taking a flunky job at the premier New York World, he landed a strip (as a replacement artist) at 19, an incredible feat. One could suggest that Bushmiller, taking in comic-ness at its peak (even the appearance of network radio in the 1920s would lessen the appeal of the comic page, a bit), did not need to think about anything beyond the examples offered by other humorous strips of the day.
That conclusion would probably be wrong, but how wrong? Even the crucial Aunt Fritzi was borrowed from another daily strip about a would-be film actress. Seen sometimes in her slip or in a two-piece bathing suit, Fritzi could no more avoid being sexy than the rascally Nancy could avoid being a rule-breaking annoyance. By the time we reach p.74 and a comic-character Griffith is lecturing an audience of young people in the non-existent “Bushmiller Museum of Comic Art,” Nancy is not (unlike Peanuts) about childhood but about comic-hood, comic form, with sight-gags predominant.
This conclusion had already been reached in How to Read Nancy, but Griffith elucidates the implications in a dozen ways, while telling the otherwise mundane story of the artist’s life. Other hugely popular artists like Bushmiller’s friend Milt Gross lived in public from their fame, sometimes appearing on the radio, making themselves visible in nightclubs, and inevitably womanizing. By contrast, Bushmiller had an insular life (and wife), chained to his desk, evidently happy to spend his life thinking up gags.
Griffith invents wildly here, bringing Bushmiler’s characters literally to life, placing himself in the story, teasing out why Nancy might attract a cult-like following in the 1970s, as Bushmiller himself shuffled off life’s stage. Could Dagmar, one of those minor characters introduced well along in the history of the strip, really have had affairs with Sluggo and others including the forgotten Irma? Why not?
In fact, the sexiness of Aunt Fritzi inspired fantasies in the minds of generations of readers, who were also perplexed, if they thought about it at all, by the uncertainty of the setting. Mad Magazine ran several satires suggesting what Griffith points out: Nancy is not some cute little kid at all but just the comic strip character that she inhabits. Nor is Nancy “surrealist” in ways that some critics have suggested, except that the strip frequently bent the borders of the comic panel, the form’s own “fourth wall,” and sometimes offered sight gags that surrealist devotees could call their own. No evidence exists, not even in the personal bookshelf that Griffith discovers in Bushmiller’s home, of anything resembling conscious sophistication.
The Epilogue appropriately features Nancy reading How To Read Nancy, and on the following page, p.239, Nancy reading The Best of Nancy, collected by Brian Walker. What non-conclusion could be more appropriate?
And then again, it could easily be said that the emerging scholars of comic art have provided their own curious non-conclusion. Belgian scholar Benoit Crucifix’s Drawing from the Archives: Comics Memory in the Contemporary Graphic Novel (2023) argues that the top notch of comic art today, perhaps some lower notches as well, has become a history machine at large.
The case for comic masters as simultaneous comic historians aka archivists of the apparently obscure pulp past, is a strong one. Art Spiegelman taught comic history at the School for Visual Arts in Manhattan almost out of instinct, the process of recovery being part of the process of ongoing creation (or re-creation), actually recuperation of a low-rated art form. Thus “classics” like Winsor McCay’s Little Nemo, from the early twentieth century, come to life again, and can even be reworked by later artists tinkering with the pulp past.
Art history proper, the recognition of masters and icons for the sake of the art buyer as well as the art appreciator, makes almost no sense here. Except that Robert Crumb originals on napkins in Southern France may sell for thousands of dollars. But even this, or the current placement of comic strips in museum exhibitions, is not the main issue. Griffith himself signals or seeks to signal that point in Three Rocks. Comics, comic art, exist in a space that “art” has never been, up to now at least. For it to be present demands a fresh look at the mundane, a closer look at daily life.
Perhaps we are too late in the day of a collapsing civilization? It’s a good question. Artists who look beyond their own personal interests have always looked for redemption in one way or another. Comic art and the reuse of comic art, would seem to be the least likely place to find a redemption but who can tell?
Three Rocks: The Story of Ernie Bushmiller, The Man Who Created Nancy. Bill Griffith. Abrams. New York. 272 pp. $24.99
Bill Griffith Talks About Nancy Comics: THREE ROCKS Help Explain it All
It goes without saying that Ernie Bushmiller’s Nancy is a highly influential comic strip. It is beyond iconic. That is the starting point. Bill Griffith, known for his own legendary comic strip, Zippy the Pinhead, runs with one of comics scholars favorite subjects and reaches great heights with his new graphic novel, Three Rocks: The Story of Ernie Bushmiller, The Man Who Created Nancy (Abrams, available as of 29 August 2023). Mr. Griffith doesn’t have to come out and say he was “influenced” by Nancy. I can see how Nancy makes it way into Zippy in subtle and uncanny ways. One thing to keep in mind about Bill Griffith is that he came into cartooning through the back door of fine art painting and is more ready to speak about artistic influence via painting masters like Reginald Marsh and Edward Hopper. However, at the end of the day, it’s Bill Griffith who is uniquely qualified to talk about the often misunderstood Nancy phenomenon.
The curious case of Aunt Fritzi.
Griffith chatted with me about how his Zippy character is a surreal entity operating in the real world. If Zippy were frolicking in his own surreal world, that would be too much of a good thing. “The two would cancel each other out!” Griffith is quick to point out. But I’ll come back to that. The point is that Bill Griffith knows his stuff and he was compelled to set the record straight on one of the most celebrated, and enigmatic, cartoonists to grace the page.
Bill Griffith and me.
I was in New York and arranged to meet with Bill Griffith to discuss his new book. I took a train to Connecticut, reading an advance copy of Bill’s new book, and then, just as a ferocious summer rain had struck, I was picked up from the station by the master cartoonist himself. Conversation was easy and relaxed. Something led to talk about life in downtown New York. I mentioned the concrete steps to an Airbnb that were more painful to climb that one might expect. Bill readily agreed and it reminded him of concrete steps he had to confront himself. At one point, Bill talked about his wife, the cartoonist Diane Noomin, who passed away about one year ago. Bill created a comic book in her honor, The Buildings Are Barking. I was there to focus on the Bushmiller book. After what seemed like endless winding roads, with torrential rain casting foreboding shadows, we reached the studio which looked to me like a idyllic cottage out of Lord of the Rings.
The paper airplane incident.
From my hotel window back in Manhattan, I had a glorious view of the Empire State Building with the Chrysler Building in the background. I couldn’t help but think of the many vivid scenes in Three Rocks that depict moments in Ernie Bushmiller’s career, like the time he rented office space in the Chrysler Building with some other cartoonists. The guys were throwing paper airplanes out the window and one of them actually managed to hit a police officer, over a thousand feet below, who promptly unfolded the plane to discover the owner of the stationary. What could have been an awkward situation was quickly resolved after the cartoonists created cartoons for the awestruck officer. It is these moments that are the book’s lifeblood: cartoonists as superstars strutting about and giving the public what they want.
“Life is a messy affair. Very little of it is under our control. But not for Ernie Bushmiller. All he needed was a fence, a tree, a sidewalk . . . and three rocks.”
— from the Preface to Three Rocks by Bill Griffith
The origins of THREE ROCKS.
Ernie Bushmiller not only gave the public what they wanted but, like George Herriman and Winsor McCay, elevated the medium, taking it in new directions. Did Bushmiller always know where he was going as he blazed new trails? Maybe and maybe not: at least, it is certain, Bushmiller knew he was onto something. It was during our interview that Bill laid out in one observation much of what is going on in this book. It was during a visit to a Bushmiller comic art show at the Cartoon Art Museum in Rye Brook, New York, in 1990. This was a museum run by Beetle Bailey cartoonist Mort Walker. “It was in Rye Brook that I saw a sculptural display of the Three Rocks, perfectly hemispherical, and made out of fiberglass looking like they just came out of a Nancy strip. They were plopped onto a perfect square of Astro Turf, and all under glass. I lusted after them. The idea that the Three Rocks had this totemic power never left me. Following this visit, I did many Zippy strips in which Zippy encounters and speaks with the Three Rocks. So, I’d say this experience planted the idea of a book devoted to Ernie Bushmiller in my fevered brain, to await further inspiration a few decades later.”
A Zippy the Pinhead comic strip on The Three Rocks.
Griffith goes on to share that, like many kids, he was devoted to comics. “I did read the Sunday newspaper Nancy page as a 5-year-old growing up in Brooklyn, not so much for the characters or the gags, but because the lettering was so easy to read–and didn’t contain any punctuation. You could say Nancy helped me to learn how to read.” And here we go deeper. Nancy was all about “reading.” Once it fully blossomed, it was not just a comic strip. Ultimately, Nancy is a comic strip about comic strips. If that concept seems too contemporary for something dating back to 1922, this graphic novel clears all of that up. The notion that something is “meta” is not exactly new; nor is something being “surreal” a new idea. At the time, what Bushmiller developed with Nancy was revolutionary and, as fans will tell you, at its best, it is timeless and golden. Nancy was, and still is, the gold standard in comics.
Pursuit of perfection, of pure comics.
Griffith takes the reader on a magical mystery tour, beautifully juggling the need to entertain with the need to explain. Essentially, Griffith’s book is a work of comics about another work of comics that is about comics. A seemingly perfect cerebral cul-de-sac worthy of the best rants from Zippy the Pinhead. Ah, but there is plenty of method to this madness–that’s the whole point. This is the story of an exceptionally ambitious cartoonist who kept paring down and refining to the point where he basically reached the essence of comics. In later years, this pursuit of perfection would drive his assistants to the brink. That’s what is going on here. Nancy became the perfect model for what can be done in the comics medium. And all that follows refers back to Nancy.
Nancy collides with the real world.
Nancy comic strip, early 1960s.
Griffith begins with a process to demystify, to reveal the nuts and bolts of the cartoonist’s trade, and the never-ending challenge to connect with the reader. “When someone goes to a museum to see a Picasso and they don’t understand it, they don’t blame the painter. But when they don’t understand a comic strip, they do blame the cartoonist because people feel it’s the job of the cartoonist to make it an easy delivery. Zippy never did that. I always asked my readers to meet me halfway. Bushmiller is a great example of someone whose career follows the whole phenomena of comics in America. When he took over the Fritzi comic strip in 1925, he was 19 years-old. There had been 25 years of comics before that. But the cartoonists that were in the bullpen, acting as Ernie’s mentors at The New York World, they went back to the early 1900s.
Young Ernie learns his trade at the New York World, circa 1919.
There’s a scene in my book with Ernie, circa 1919, who is a copy boy and is eager to learn. One cartoonist befriends him and gives him the task of erasing his pencil marks. It’s a symbolic moment that I depict. He quickly picked up his skills. Very quickly, he began to take on more responsibilities like blacking in areas and even lettering. He learned by doing. Once he got past the gatekeeper at the newspaper, he started to advance. The ideas for the comic strips, that had to come from within him. All I can figure out is that, and I see it in my own students, is that some people speak the language of comics and some don’t. The ones that do speak the language, that’s because they like reading and like looking at comics from an early age. They become fluent in it, even if they can’t quite yet articulate a complex version of it–but they have the vocabulary and the structure because they’ve absorbed it from reading a lot of comics.”
Ernie Bushmiller and Reginald Marsh.
Ultimately, Griffith returns to the process to remystify, such is the power of art and of comics at its best. Imagine three artists lined up for comparison: Reginald Marsh, Edward Hopper, and Ernie Bushmiller. Griffith makes the case for including Bushmiller along with two of America’s greatest painters. The connection is the New York art world, the circles involved with learning how to draw and such things. Bushmiller went to the same art school attended by Hopper and so he absorbed similar sensibilities. In fact, Bushmiller and Marsh shared some time together as they both drew from life at burlesque shows. Griffith points out that the Sunday full pages devoted to Nancy had some extra space at the top, just in case the newspaper needed it, and it was here that Bushmiller would include pure art, little vignettes of Nancy, and it held that same charge of stillness that Griffith enjoyed in Hopper paintings.
The stillness of Hopper.
Griffith’s Zippy the Pinhead, as a surrealist entity, is plenty of wacky fun. However, as Art Spiegelman pointed out to Griffith early in the development of Zippy, the idea of being in an elevator with Zippy was disturbing at best let alone for any longer duration. Zippy‘s zany humor needed a foil, which led to Griffith bringing in a new character, Griffy, an alter ego, who could act as a straight man and corral all the chaos. Zippy and Griffy would become a team, like the comedy act of Abbot and Costello. It is these sort of artistic choices that ultimately led to the world of Zippy just as a similar process of artistic choices ultimately led to the world of Nancy. It is all these choices, involving paring down elements and refining text, that leads to the best work. If for no other reason, Three Rocks is a must-read as a fun textbook on the art of comics. Lucky for readers, it is that and more: a rollicking behind-the-scenes journey into the creative spirit; and a way to get some answers to the meaning of life.
My interview with Bill Griffith is now one of my most cherished experiences coming from my comics journalism. It was delightful and magical. We chatted and then I began to record and finally I did some video. So, this video is brief but brings home a lot of what led to this very special book. In the end, any creative work worth its salt comes back to the creator. Griffith found a way, or discovered a process, that invited him to have Nancy refer back to everything.
Three Rocks: The Story of Ernie Bushmiller, The Man Who Created Nancy. Bill Griffith. Abrams. New York. 272 pp. $24.99
Nancy and Sluggo are such recognizable characters that the two instantly represent the concept of “comics” throughout the world. As the author of this graphic novel has said, “Peanuts tells you what it’s like to be a child. Nancy tells you what it’s like to be a comic strip.” However, as Bill Griffith (creator of Zippy the Pinhead) makes clear, Nancy’s evolution as a comic strip was every bit as bumpy and uncertain as any other comic strip. One of the joys of this graphic novel is following Griffith’s “fly on the wall” method of keeping the reader right on the pulse of the process. You see it all here, from the unlikely start of one aspiring cartoonist to the unlikely start of yet another comic strip; and you see both, Ernie Bushmiller (1905 – 1982) and Nancy, evolve to a transcendent level.
Griffy lectures on comics.
There’s a lot of fun things going on in this book and you definitely don’t need to know a thing about comics or have any strong feelings regarding the subject. That’s because this is as much an American success story as it is a quirky look at how some things work or an exploration of how we humans process information. Take your pick, there’s something for everyone. And that is how it should be when discussing this most iconic of pop culture phenomena. Who hasn’t heard of Nancy and Sluggo, right? Even the youngest and most detached will likely pick up the signal. Nancy has origins going back to 1922 when it began as a whole other comic strip, Fritzi Ritz, the madcap adventures of a flapper young woman, by Larry Whittington. In 1925, 19-year-old Ernie Bushmiller took over the strip and, along the way, introduced mischievous 8-year-old Nancy, who also took over. By 1938, the comic strip was known simply as, Nancy, and it pursued a process of comics perfection up to Bushmiller’s death in 1982. Griffith’s graphic novel goes about chronicling, dissecting, and analyzing Nancy and Bushmiller with glorious results.
Nancy in its prime, early 1960s.
Already a longtime fan of the strip, it didn’t take any more convincing of its greatness for Griffith when, a few years ago, he stumbled upon a home-made scrapbook of Nancy comic strips, circa 1960-63, during an eBay shopping spree. This purchase proved to be a big revelation. As Griffith explains: “Reading through them, I came to a surprising conclusion: These were the strip’s best years. Bushmiller’s diagrammatic drawing style has been honed to perfection, the punchlines work as gags and as a mini-theatre of the absurd, and he allows the world outside of Nancy and Sluggo’s neighborhood to creep in more often. Television, rock ‘n’ roll, and the Cold War are all fodder for satirical gags. But once the outside world enters Nancy’s familiar reality, it becomes Nancy’s. It may be 1962 on the calendar, but–in Bushmillerland, time stands still.” What a gift of insight for Griffith, a master at blending the surreal with everyday reality.
A waterproof ballpoint pen takes the stage.
Time and again, Griffith plucks gem after gem of Nancy insights and Easter eggs. He lets the comic strip speak for itself with numerous examples and, in so many ways, lets his own graphic novel take on a life of its own. Griffith’s numerous re-enactments are so magically loopy that you might remember some later as if you’d daydreamed them yourself. If you enjoy sojourns into now long-gone retro New York, you’ll find plenty of that here. One such example is the depiction of a publicity stunt for a new waterproof ballpoint pen. It takes place at the now defunct Lambs Club on West 44th Street, circa 1950. Bushmiller has been enlisted, along with some of his cartoonist cronies, to take part in an event that showcases a number of swimsuit models posing as the cartoonists draw directly on their bodies to demonstrate the quality of the featured product. The scene is taken in stride by Bushmiller. The photos taken of the event were slotted for a feature in Life magazine but, in the end, the editor pulled the plug on that. It was just another gig for Bushmiller.
Nancy and Sluggo in their later years.
Bushmiller seemed to pay little to no attention to all the accolades to Nancy. Perhaps, in some ways, he was not fully aware of what he had unleashed. It certainly wasn’t because he lacked sophistication. In some respects, Bushmiller simply did it his way. There were some happy accidents along the way that gave Nancy its surreal kick, notably the dynamic of Nancy, an 8-year-old, in the care of Fritzi, a young aspiring actress from a completely different comic strip that the Nancy comic strip had inherited. In interview after interview, Bushmiller downplays any artful qualities to his comic strip. He said he learned long go that most people chewed gum than ate caviar and he sided with the masses. And yet it takes one to know one and it’s easy to imagine that Bushmiller would have approved wholeheartedly of fellow cartoonist Griffith’s tribute to him. He might have shaken his head with an aw-shucks attitude while including a knowing nod. And sure, some things in the book, Bushmiller might have shrugged off as the concerns of a younger generation, like Griffith’s wonderfully loopy epilogue that revisits Nancy and Sluggo in their later years. Nancy, and the study of Nancy, involves the deep recesses of the mind. The ideal guide is someone keenly familiar with the cartoonist’s lot, complete with the repetitive tasks and the never-ending pursuit of perfection. Ernie Bushmiller, the pioneer trailblazer, is an ideal model of the true artist-cartoonist. Bill Griffith, a master himself, proves to be the ideal guide.
In Comics Grinder news, there’s a lot of buzz and excitement over WE BELONG, a new comics anthology focusing on sci-fi and fantasy from a queer Black perspective. Press release follows:
WE BELONG, is an all-Black, all-LGBTQ+ sci-fi and fantasy comics anthology featuring works from over 2 dozen black queer comics creators:
Aimee Campbell * Ajuan Mance * Asia Bey
C.A.P. Ward * E.B. Hutchins * Erika Hardison * Benny Hollman
Gaia WXYZ * Gerald Brandon Bell * Iggy “Eggs” Morris
Jay Hero * Jazmine Joyner and Sam Wade * Jezza Smiles
Joe Philips * Jordan Green * Mihael B. Peralta Myers
Nick Orr * Paul Kellam * Rupert Kinnard * Trevor Adams
Tulani Kiara * Valerie Complex * Victor Hodge
Viktor T. Kerney * William O. Tyler
Edited by Viktor T. Kerney and William O. Tyler
Sample from WE BELONG.
The lack of Black queer characters and stories inspired writer Viktor Kerney (StrangeLore, Prism Comics) to develop a collection of sci-fi and fantasy stories that center the queer Black perspective, all from queer Black creators. Co-editing this project with him is critic and comics creator William O. Tyler (Theater of Terror: Revenge of the Queers). Together they have assembled an array of incredible creators to share their stories, including Jay Hero, C.A.P. Ward, Ajuan Mance, Rupert Kinnard, and many more!
These stories showcase the fact that, despite what the landscape of popular fiction says, Black queer people have existed and do exist everywhere, in every time and space. Whether we’re fighting monsters or becoming superheroes, we belong. From intergalactic adventures to interdimensional exploration, we belong. As wizards, as mermaids, as witches, fully as ourselves, we belong.
WE BELONG is a comics anthology composed of 100+ pages of sci-fi and fantasy stories that center the queer Black perspective, all from queer Black creatives. A campaign on Zoop is running through
The lack of Black queer characters and stories inspired writer Viktor Kerney (StrangeLore) to develop a collection of these phenomenal tales. Co-editing alongside critic and comics creator William O. Tyler (Theater of Terror: Revenge of the Queers), they have assembled an array of incredible creators to share their stories, including Jay Hero, C.A.P. Ward, Ajuan Mance and many more!
These stories showcase the fact that, despite what the landscape of popular fiction says, Black queer people have and do exist everywhere, in every time and space. Whether we’re fighting monsters or becoming superheroes, we belong. From intergalactic adventures to interdimensional exploration, we belong. As wizards, as mermaids, as witches, fully as ourselves, we belong.
This joint venture between award-winning comics publisher Stacked Deck Press and Prism Comics, a nonprofit promoting LGBTQIA+ comics, comics creators, and fandom, is a moment not to be missed.
Go to Zoop for more info and support the campaign!
This quite wonderful comic is a match for Armed with Madness: The Surreal Leonora Carringon (also published this year, by SelfMadeHero). Both books are by British artists/scriptwriters. They belong together for at least one intriguing reason: the young women artists in question find their fate, at least in the first phase of creative effort, by hooking up with famous middle-aged fellows who take them as lovers/mistresses but also urge them to practice their developing craft. In the end, the women need to make their own way.
Armed With Madness is a real-life story, with rich-girl Leonora Carrington both aided and exploited by the famous surrealist painter Max Ernst, during the 1930s. Carrington leaves England for Spain, suffers multiple breakdowns as the Spanish Civil War explodes around her, and ends up in Mexico, an elderly lady re-discovered by new generations. Alison offers us a fictional version two or three generations later. A young woman growing up in Devon takes and then abandons a husband, at the invitation of a visiting, also romantic and famous, middle-aged painter. She goes on, with his sponsorship, to her artist’s life in London.
Lizzy Stewart, a professional illustrator of children’s books, would not have been considered a comic artist a few decades ago. Walls have broken down since then, obviously, and the use of sequential panels to convey a story easily makes the grade as comic art. Actually, the result here looks more than a little like the drawings of Jules Feiffer in various recent works by the veteran artist. But I digress.
The story is drawn and told quite wonderfully, with the occasional, stunning color page or pages set off from the grey wash of most of the book. It is easy to be convinced that this young woman is flattered to be asked to sit for a portrait, first clothed, then other portraits unclothed, as a relationship develops. It is equally easy to be convinced that she is one of a considerable line of young women falling into the waiting arms of an academic painter at the peak of his BBC-level respectability. He had promised to guide her development as an artist, and for all his drawbacks, he remains determined to do so. He also pays her rent.
Throughout, and this is certainly the feminist angle, Alison is seeking—fumbling and stumbling along the way—to realize herself in every sense. That she had been a hopelessly bored (and childless) housewife in Devon, became a frustrated if developing artist in Bloomsbury and a woman making her own way step by step, is all wonderfully conveyed. Born in 1959 and gone to London in the early 1980s, she finds herself in the midst of radical politics, anti-war, anti-nuke and anti-racist movements, not long before Margaret Thatcher comes to power, ruthlessly crushing all opposition. Worse, Thatcher so successfully converts the political system that even future, corrupted Labour Party leaders accept “privatization” and the practical eclipse of the caring social state as a finality. What can art mean here?
The brevity of the young artist’s wider, militant political commitment may offer insight into the artist-in-progress. Or perhaps we see Lizzy Stewart’s own observation of changing radical politics at a certain moment of time. Serious commitments to art, including the teaching of art to younger generations, merge into the critical concerns in the era of AIDS. She watches as disease and death march through her new milieu. A desperate politics of caring emerges as a considerable portion of the London art world literally finds community through the struggle for life.
It should not give away too much about Alison to reveal that she finds her own companion in a same-sex relationship that is also interracial and global in its connections. Perhaps our protagonist was going in that direction all the time, without realizing her own path. All this is conveyed by Lizzy Stewart with such painstaking care that we find ourselves flowing along, discovering and rediscovering the narrative as the artist discovers her talent and herself. Near the end, she is the learner who has become the renowned teacher.
Alison’s return in something like middle age to her own Dorset is wonderfully visualized and narrated here. Temperamentally a million miles from London, she experiences a return to the natural beauty that she now appreciates afresh, within her own sense of art in the world and in her world.
There is a great deal more to be said here about the young artist’s path. We learn at one point that her older lover, for instance, had the upper-class background to have his talent recognized in childhood, to be trained in formal terms all the way along. By contrast, Alison must undertake a crash course and find another path to realize her talents. Perhaps this detail offers us the secret of Lizzy Stewart herself, a children’s book illustrator, using comics for story telling. Like others today, she is struggling to create something fresh through a merger of forms that become recognizable through the work of the new generations of artists and comics.
PaulBuhle’s latest comic is an adaptation of W.E.B. Du Bois’s classic Souls of Black Folk, by artist Paul Peart Smith (Rutgers University Press).
We are nearly a year now since the passing of Diane Newman, who took on the comics moniker “Diane Noomin” as she began to publish her work in the Bay Area-centered world of Underground Comix in the 1970s. This is, then, a tribute booklet, but singular, in the way no one except her husband Bill Griffith could conceive and draw. As far as I can recall, no homage from a comics spouse has ever achieved this conceptual depth or intensity. It is a remarkable miniature, with a surprising depth that will please but fail to surprise the regular readers of Griffith, a master of the self-reflection that is also mass-culture-reflection.
The Buildings Are Barking might be compared, if comparisons are possible, to the many pages of Robert Crumb’s Biblical-adaptation Genesis in which Aline Kominsky Crumb’s physical self appears and reappears as the women of ancient Hebrew lore. Real-life Aline had a couple of decades ahead.
Within the last year or so, the artists of Underground Comix lore have been disappearing in haste: Justin Green, Jay Lynch, and Aline Kominsky-Crumb, to name only the most widely known. Spain Rodriguez and Harvey Pekar (not artist but writer/editor and self-publisher) passed a decade earlier, signalling how easily even the memories of a unique and vital development in comic art might slip away.
Griffith has seized the moment, rather taken his time to seize the moment, perhaps as a yohrtseit (symbolic Jewish commemoration on an anniversary) to Diane and her ambiguously and also unambiguously Jewish identity. Urged on by Ko-Ko the Clown—Max Fleischer’s magical animated creation of the 1920s—Griffith gets around within a few pages to telling us about Diane Newman’s alter-ego, Didi Glitz, the soul of her comix or comics work. A teenage inhabitant of Canarsie of the 1950s, Didi had all the appealing/repellent qualities of adolescence seizing onto popular culture as a means of identity. Bouffant hairdos, garish clothes, garish crushes on boys (sometimes goys), clique-obsessions among girlfriends, above all a need for expression, no matter how embarrassing to the objective viewer.
Griffith (let’s call him Griffy here, as Diane did) enjoys his rumination on life in San Francisco of the 1970s-80s, perhaps not really the “idyllic city…before the Dotcom boom,” but idyllic for them and for many artists. Always badly overpriced, losing its architectural beauty decade by decade, their San Francisco was still arguably (with New Orleans) the most beautiful of American urbanscapes. Here, at any rate, Griffith and Newman moved past earlier long-term relationships to grasp each other, marrying in 1980. From there on, and no doubt connected to their mutual grasp of the varied icons of popular culture seen as “history” (her poodle pin collection, his vintage diner photos), they sunk or rose into each other.
Bill Griffith has famously been producing the near-daily strip Zippy the Pinhead since the middle of those San Francisco days, while Diane became part of a subset of women comics artists who ruthlessly delved into their lives and psyches. She aspired to draw a comic about her parents’ secret (and very Jewish) connections with the Communist Party in the McCarthy Era, but she didn’t live long enough. Griffith has found his own way to produce real history-based comic works as Zippy stumbles through time and space. In other words, and laughs aside, they were both serious artists.
The Buildings Are Barking is deeply personal in ways that this reviewer cannot describe adequately, and to which the reader is advised to proceed intuitively, that is, following Griffith’s own shifting moods of consciousness. At the end, we are with Ko-Ko the Clown again. Ko-Ko always expressed a grimness behind the jaunty exterior: there is a bit of a Grim Reaper about him.
What any serious artist (or writer) leaves behind is the effort at expression, brilliant or less than brilliant but a striving with purpose. Griffith has captured Diane Noomin aka Newman, and thereby captured himself as well.
PaulBuhle’s latest comic is an adaptation of W.E.B. Du Bois’s classic Souls of Black Folk, by artist Paul Peart Smith (Rutgers University Press).
Fans of Kevin Smith, and fans of the offbeat and unusual, have been keeping tabs on the Kevin Smith-led Secret Stash Press imprint at Dark Horse Comics. So far, it has offered fans a couple of titles: Quick Stops, an anthology series set in the world of Kevin Smith movies; and Maskerade, a crime noir about a cut-throat vigilante. The latest issue, number 7 (of 8), comes out August 9th and here’s a taste of this wild and woolly thriller.
Writers Kevin Smith and Andy McElfresh came out of the gate with this title like two bats out of hell. This is grim stuff mashed up with dark humor, smashed with even darker stuff. Ah, but if that’s what your horror radar has been looking for, then it must be pinging like crazy. This is high-octane horror more than anything else. There’s humor but it’s not there to lighten the horror load as much as it’s there to set up the next jolt. As long as you, my dear mature reader, know that going in, you should be good to go.
Our main character, Felicia, is a female version of every character that Liam Neeson portrays in movies now, a character bent on revenge and willing to do anything, literally anything, to exact vigilante justice. So, if you haven’t already, be prepared for blood to spurt out all over the place and, well, prepare for blood to flood any nook and cranny. You will see red over and over again. The artwork by Giulia Gualazzi is on point, and compliments all the action and horror, and blood. Colorist Giulia Brusco is quite adept at providing vasts quantities of the color red, which is, as I suggest, the prominent color in this comic book. You like red, well, you’ll see lots of it here.
No vigilante story is complete without the villain, or villains, getting ample amounts of comeuppance. You thought you could get away with that, Mr. Evil? Think again! Here’s a poker through your hand; and how about we saw off your . . . yeah, that should do it! In this issue, one of the Mister Evils in this story somehow escapes the cage he was placed in and, against all odds, has somehow managed to turn the tables on Felicia. There’s a good bit of high tech shape-shifting going on in this comic and it looks like one Mr. Evil managed to outwit Felicia with her own shape-shifting powers. That makes for a very interesting issue leading up to the grand finale. So, if you’re a big fan of Kevin Smith, this is the mother lode. And, if you’re new to Kevin Smith, especially his weird brand of comic books, you’ve been warned. Who knows, you might love it!
One last word, I sincerely do have to tip my hat to everyone involved with this comic. Horror comics have a long history and tradition. It’s not easy to maintain the pace once the scenario is in place and the key players have been set loose. No doubt, our main player, Felicia, is quite a force of nature. And all the baddies have what’s coming to them. This is a well-oiled comic, that really works, and that’s saying a lot.
Rating: 4 out of 5.
Maskerade is published by Dark Horse Comics, available as of 9 August 2023.
George Clayton Johnson: Master Storyteller SDCC panel, 23 July 2023.
In 2012, I had the honor of being in the audience for a memorial tribute to one of Comic-Con’s founders, Richard Alf. And when I heard the introduction for one of the speakers, it immediately got my attention. The next person up to the lectern was this older elfin man with long gray hair and a full length beard. He had on a vest and Panama hat and, when he spoke, he seemed more wizard than elf. He had just been introduced with the longest list of credits I’d ever heard at Comic-Con. George Clayton Johnson had written for many of the leading television shows of the 1950s into the 1970s, including the biggest of pop culture icons, The Twilight Zone and Star Trek. George began his career by co-writing the story that was the basis of the Rat Pack classic, Ocean’s Eleven. And here he was, essentially the last man standing of a certain group of writers who would launch into the world the modern horror and dark fantasy genres we take for granted today. Fast forward a few more years, and here I am at Comic-Con leading a panel discussion of my graphic novel, George’s Run and honoring the man I was so fortunate to get to know and build a book around.
The gang’s all here: David Weiner, Wendy All, Mark Habegger, Henry Chamberlain, Phil Yeh, Martin Olson, and Marc Zicree.
The panelists all came through with flying colors. It felt like the gang was all here. That’s because they were, coming from various locales, all assembled to speak about George and basically help me launch my book.
This is the book for any fan of comics, pop culture, and great stories!
Heck, it’s a little awkward, I suppose, being my own marketing person but I sincerely believe there is nothing quite like this book outside of, say, Tim Scioli’s own unique graphic novel tribute to another legend, Jack Kirby: King of Comics. I’m very pleased with the journey I’m on as I go about promoting the book. It is a labor of love I would have created one way or another, which I did. It was first self-published and then it got published by Rutgers University Press. It’s a process that requires grit and dedication. That’s exactly the fighting spirit that kept George going.
Me and Marc Zicree, the man who gave us The Twilight Zone Companion.
Persistence, my friends, pays off. So, when your time comes, and you’ve put in the work, you’ll be ready. For anyone out there who enjoys a good story, would like to learn from George Clayton Johnson, a true master storyteller, then read on. This is Comic-Con history! This is storytelling history! Here is the transcript to the panel as well as the video at the end.
This panel took place at San Diego Comic-Con, in Room 29CD, 12:30-1:30 pm, on Sunday, 23 July 2023. It was a pleasure to organize and I look forward to the chance to organize more panels in the future. George’s Run: A Writer’s Journey Through The Twilight Zone is published by Rutgers University Press. I am very grateful to Rutgers and to Comic-Con for supporting my vision and helping me spread the word about my book. The panel begins with an introduction where I present some context and images from the book. I then pass it on to our moderator, David Weiner.
Henry Chamberlain: This is a story about ideas and about storytelling. George and I went on an adventure together where he shared with me his secrets to great writing and the meaning of life. I got to know George pretty well and finally worked up the courage to ask for his blessing on a graphic novel about him and the unique group of writers he worked with. George approved and wished me well, encouraged my creative license. Who was George? Well, many of you pop culture fans will instantly recognize some of his best known work, like the iconic episode, “Kick the Can,” from the original Twilight Zone. George was blessed to work with some of the greatest writers of the era who essentially invented the modern horror and dark fantasy genres we take for granted today. Richard Matheson single-handedly invented the zombie genre with his novel, I Am Legend. Robert Bloch set the tone for many a personal horror novel with Psycho. George was drawn to this dark fantasy world and gave it his own more whimsical twist. In public, he always talked about his love for Ray Bradbury–which is true. I private, he also talked about something with a darker tinge. At the end of the day, George held Theodore Sturgeon in the highest esteem. I will stop there and hand over the ceremonies to our moderator, David Weiner.
At the end of the day, George held Theodore Sturgeon in the highest esteem.
“A Penny For Your Thoughts,” one of George’s landmark works, is explored in GEORGE’S RUN.
David Weiner: That was Henry Chamberlain, the author and artist of George’s Run, this delightful book we’re going to discuss along with speaking about George. I’m David Weiner, former executive editor of Famous Monsters and director of the In Search of Darkness documentaries. Let’s go down the row here and have everyone introduce themselves and how you are connected to George Clayton Johnson.
Wendy All: Hi, I’m Wendy All. I’m an artist. I first met George around 1975. It was for a meeting, at the home of magician Patrick Culliton, to discuss the direction that Comic-Con was heading in. This was still in the very early days of Comic-Con. I didn’t know George. I saw a man with long hair wearing a bright orange vest. George was sitting playing the second movement of Rachmaninoff’s piano concerto on his harmonica. That fascinated me.
Later, at the El Cortez, a bunch of us were going to lunch, and I remember that George stopped to pick up a penny he spotted on the sidewalk. He was jingling it in his pocket. This is something he would do, all the way to the very end. I recall meeting him one last time, before his death, and he was still jingling those pennies in his pocket. It was his way of recalling that very famous episode he wrote for The Twilight Zone, “A Penny For Your Thoughts.”
Marc Zicree: Hi, I’m Marc Zicree, the author of The Twilight Zone Companion, among other things. I met George when I was 16-years-0ld, around 1971-72 at a convention. This was before he had a beard, but he already had long hair. There was a wall-sized poster for the novel for Logan’s Run with his name in big letters. I had written my first book, while in college, Three Interviews on Media and Society, which featured Ron Cobb, Ted Sturgeon, and George Clayton Johnson. George was the impetus for The Twilight Zone Companion. I think back to how we have a changing of the guard. But it seems to me that the older generation is more interesting. I think of Ray Bradbury, and George, and we won’t see their like again.
Original page from George’s Run.
Martin Olson: Hi, I’m Martin Olson. I’m a comedy writer and author. I met Henry going back to an interview he did with me. Later on, we met in person and he had just come from talking with George. When Henry told me that, I nearly fell over. George was an idol of mine. Going back to as a child, I’ve always diligently looked at the credits after a show. George Clayton Johnson had written some of my favorites ever. I was so intrigued by him and read up on him. After Henry told me about George, we never got around to talking about my shows as I was so thrilled to just chat about George, as we’re doing today.
Phil Yeh: Hi, I’m Phil Yeh. I created a magazine, with Mark Eliot, called Uncle Jam, and we have the issue available today which features an interview with did George for anyone who is interested. I was at the first Comic-Con and somewhere along the way, maybe at the El Cortez hotel, I became friends with George. He would speak to anyone. And, when you’re young, it’s nice to have someone older who will listen to you. George told me about a convention he wanted to do featuring him, called Clayton-Con, and I did the graphics for it. Over the years, George would come to our booth. And I always loved his enthusiasm.
Mark Habegger: Hi, I’m Mark Habegger, a writer and filmmaker. I probably have the shortest association with George. I became involved with Comics Fest, beginning with the first one in 2012, which was Mike Towry’s brainchild, a way to bring back the original Comic-Con vibe. George was part of that. Wendy did a recreation of George’s Cafe Frankenstein. The following year, I interviewed George for about an hour in order to help archive memories of the history of Comic-Con. It was just me and George in a white room. Once we started, he completely lit up. He was a storyteller who needed an audience. It didn’t matter if it was an audience of one or a thousand, he was going to tell his stories. You can find my interview at Comic-Con Kids.
David Weiner: Henry, you wrote George’s Run because George had a profound impact upon you. Please speak to the origins of your project and why it is so personal for you.
Henry Chamberlain: I’m a cartoonist and I’m always looking for a project to sink my teeth into, preferably a full-length graphic novel. I used to do comic strips, going back to working on my college paper, but I always wanted to take things further. I had done some graphic novel work in the past. When I went to a memorial tribute to one of Comic-Con’s founders, Richard Alf, in 2012, I was so impressed with the introduction given to this one speaker, George Clayton Johnson. He’d written for all the leading television shows of the era: Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Route 66, Honey West, and then the biggest ones, The Twilight Zone, and Star Trek. He began by writing the story that was the basis for the Rat Pack classic, Ocean’s Eleven; and he capped his career as the co-author of the cult classic novel, Logan’s Run. I instantly imagined this being a graphic novel if handled in just the right way, paying attention to various connections.
I approached George that night and we instantly got to talking. We ended up doing some podcast interviews, chatted on the phone, and got to spend some time at his home. I imagine you could say that I had around 20 interactions with him, some long, some short. Spending time with George in his own home was very much a Forry Ackerman (founder of Famous Monsters) thing to do, inviting people into your home.
I think about George all the time, during the week, perhaps not every day, but he’s a guiding light. I want to honor him. I feel his presence here.
David Weiner: How is a graphic novel the ultimate platform for all the stories you’re telling here?
Henry Chamberlain: I hope that folks will pick up on what I’m doing. It’s like the world you create in a prose novel or a painting. I got into a zone and dug deep and, I believe the reader will sense the dedication. Even my harshest critic can’t say that my work seems to have been rushed. I put a lot of work into it, connecting the dots. The whole experience is at a reader’s pace, the sort of cerebral vibe you can get in a daydream. Which seems fitting considering that George loved calling himself a “professional daydreamer.”
David Weiner: The initial motivation for George’s work as a writer, and he struggled a bit, was to talk a big name. George was with a group of writers who ultimately dubbed themselves, “The Group,” who were spectacular names, on the page and screen. Henry, and we can open this up to the rest of the panel, talk a bit about The Group and their influence on writer’s today.
Henry Chamberlain: George held his own with the other writers because he was a voracious reader. It may be lost to history but I don’t believe that George ever wrote for the pulps while all the other writers in The Group had cut their teeth on pulp fiction. George had to prove himself and he relished that. He’d talk about how everyone in The Group would regularly lay it all out, size each other up, and spill their guts out to each other. I’m not sure about every detail but I do know that, from the start, George was fortunate to become friends with Charles Beaumont since Beaumont was the key to gain entry into the rest of The Group, as well as the smaller core group.
The Core of The Group!
Wendy All: I can share about George and The Group. George hitchhiked across the country and he knew he wanted to end up in L.A. and he knew he wanted to end up with Ray Bradbury. So, he got into that group of writers, centered around Ray Bradbury, which included Charles Beaumont, who happened to live upstairs from the apartment my husband was renting in North Hollywood. Playboy magazine was paying $200 per story and, in those days, that was a lot of money. Bradbury had figured out a formula to sell stories. So, yeah, the writers would gather and critique each others’ work.
Marc Zicree: I just want to jump in and say that science fiction is unique, in a certain way. The fans who go on to become professionals don’t shut the door on the fans attempting to move up. If you want to meet someone in the science fiction and fantasy genres, whether an actor or a writer, they are there for the fans.
Ray Bradbury grew up as a fan of Ray Harryhausen and Forry Ackerman. Later, Bradbury became a mentor to Richard Matheson, Charles Beaumont, and George Clayton Johnson, core writers, under Rod Serling, on The Twilight Zone. So, to have George in that circle, he was in the perfect fertile field for a writing career.
What I learned from George is that you can write one story on one show that is so well-written that it can have an impact on someone’s life that can last forever.
David Weiner: There’s that elusive ingredient you talk about in your book, Henry, that this group of writers strove for, that “touch of strange.” Can you tell us about it?
Henry Chamberlain: Rod Serling, under contract, wrote the majority of the episodes of The Twilight Zone, 80 percent for the first season alone; and around 70 percent of the episodes for the whole run of the series, which made sense considering his caliber of writing. And then there was that 30 percent to which Serling granted access to this select group of writers. Here’s the rub, it wasn’t easy to describe what exactly these writers were pursuing. It wasn’t just science fiction, or horror, or social commentary. When asked, George would describe it as writing with “a touch of strange.”
Now, I like to read and I discovered the origin of this term. This is, if I do say so myself, my original discovery. The term goes back to 1898 and the short story, The Turn of the Screw, by Henry James. You’ll find it there and it basically refers to something not quite right, unnerving and unsettling. And then I come to find that Theodore Sturgeon made note of this term and named one of his own short stories after it. So, this is a very literary thing going on and it takes time to process such things. It seems as if we’ve lost the art of doing this. Of course, we haven’t exactly. It goes on–and it must. We need to celebrate this kind of thinking, and writing, every time we come across it.
David Weiner: We’re going through something that is very profound, the advent of A.I. and how that could affect writers. The nightmare scenario is that clients, who might prefer to not pay writers, could turn to A.I. Let’s talk about the writing process and the human touch. What was it about The Group, working as a group of writers versus writing alone?
Mark Habegger: I think that George was the kind of writer who saw something magical in the audience interaction with the storyteller. He saw himself as a shaman-storyteller. I think that The Group that we’re talking about, and other writing groups, like the writers he went down to Mexico with, even Cafe Frankenstein, were all opportunities to “gather around a campfire” and have an immediate interaction. I think he was a futurist-humanist. He wanted to take his forward-thinking sci-fi ideas and see how we would be affected by them, see how people would rise above it. It’s all a very human story. And I think he would have seen A.I. as a threat to all that. Not that he wouldn’t have embraced new ideas but he would have found very human ways to respond to them. None of us want to see the end of human creativity. It’s those human imperfections that inform the best art.
Wendy All: I have an example of how George would have agreed with the human factor. I asked him once how he came up with the idea for Ocean’s Eleven. He said that they (George and Jack Golden Russell) were sitting watching a grocery store being closed up. And it occurred to them how easy it would be to rob the grocery store safe. And then, George thought, may as well go where the big money is . . . go to Las Vegas. The details that George came up with were enough for the Nevada Gaming Commission to change some of its procedures. So, if you fed an A.I. computer footage of a grocery store, I don’t think it would come up with a heist movie.
Marc Zicree: Getting back to the idea of a circle of writers. I think of the energy that comes from being around other writers, great writers. I would seek out such writers, like J Michael Straczynski, James Michael Reaves, and many others–and I would then pace myself to them. It made me have to strive to do my best and really get proficient. That’s the same thing that happened with George. He came from a very impoverished background, his mother was an alcoholic. He had a very hard scrabble childhood. And he was now with all these big writers for television. A TV show on one of the Big Three networks, per episode on average, would have from 30 to 40 million viewers. Not like today at all. Charles Beaumont was at the core of all that with all of his astonishing energy. Ray Bradbury was on high as the patron saint.
When Beaumont died, at only 38, that whole circle of writers went spinning off into space. George and Bill Nolan were very good friends and went on to write together the novel, Logan’s Run. But when they go together to write a sequel, what had happened in the interim was . . . well, George was a chain smoker, of tobacco; but when the Surgeon General’s report came out, George made the switch from tobacco to weed. So, that brought on a change. George grew his hair long and became a hippie and all that. When they tried getting back to work, George had a fistful of joints that he placed in an ash tray. Bill Nolan took one look, and being so strait-laced, he shook his head and said he couldn’t work with George. That was the breakup of their collaboration with both agreeing to write their own sequels as they shared the property.
This is a case of who you are as a writer, the identity of being George Clayton Johnson, or Ray Bradbury, versus the reality of sitting down and doing the hard work of writing, having that discipline, that clarity of mind. Sometimes, when you lose that circle of colleagues, you lose something. George was extremely good at being George Clayton Johnson but, in terms of the ongoing discipline of writing, well, years ago, I read the outline to his sequel for Logan’s Run but, as far as I know, that never reached fruition. So, I think, there’s always that challenge.
David Weiner: Let’s go down the line and have panelists share with us their favorite moment or story by George Clayton Johnson, one of the great writers of that era.
Martin Olson: Well, everything that Marc, and Henry, have said about The Twilight Zone, and what I’ve come across myself is so interesting and then you add this: George wrote the very first episode of Star Trek! Are you kidding me? Then, when Steven Spielberg, of all people, decided to do a movie of The Twilight Zone, he arranged for different directors to do various classic episodes and, for his episode, Spielberg chose none other than George Clayton Johnson’s “Kick the Can.” That story was about a group of old people who, through fearing death, they discovered the secret to eternal youth. “Immortality is accessible to all of us,” that was what he was saying. “It exists forever in our memories, in our hearts, and in our minds.” That’s the strength of George’s writing.
Marc Zicree: I want to say something about “Kick the Can” in connection to The Twilight Zone movie. I was a consultant on the film. I believe it was Kathleen Kennedy I was talking with and I asked about what episode Spielberg was going to do and she said he was leaning towards doing “The Trade-ins,” about old people trading in their bodies for new ones. He wanted to do something with old people. So, I asked if he’d seen “Kick the Can.” She said she thought he had. And then I asked if he’d seen in recently. When I got a no, I immediately went to get my own copy of the episode to show it to him. It was a VHS that I taped off my TV. And he then chose to direct “Kick the Can.” What’s cool is that the payment George got for using the episode allowed him to make the last payment on his home.
A celebration of individualism!
Mark Habegger: My personal connection with George was through Comic Fest. My favorite part of my interview with George was at the very end. He was telling his stories and his son, Paul, was in the room. There’s a point when Paul ends up sitting in George’s chair, a sort of passing of the baton. Paul was chomping at the bit to get the details right on something. George gives Paul the mic and Paul goes on to talk about the artist group that George traveled with to Mexico. It was a very fortuitous way to end the interview. I think this idea of gathering around like a tribe, being around the kids at Comic-Con, was something that George loved.
George Clayton Johnson
Phil Yeh: When George would come by our booth at Comic-Con, most of time people had no idea who George was. But he would talk, and all these ideas would come out of him. He was very animated. One time, I recall, one of my son’s friends was listening to George, then he went over to buy a book by George, this was like an hour later, and when he came back, George was still talking, still very lively. George was, more than anything, great about encouraging younger generations about the world of ideas.
Henry Chamberlain: I wanted to point out a few things before we wrap up. There’s a collection of the work by George Clayton Johnson, All of Us Are Dying, and it’s the size of an old classic thick phone book so he did do quite a lot of things beyond the well-known work. He was always looking for original ideas. He liked to say that, as human beings, we’re free agents, we could rob a bank if we chose to. He was constantly thinking up plots and scenarios. He was an idea machine. He wrote a story that was the basis for Charlie’s Angels. There’s a musical he wrote about Emile Zola. There’s a satirical play he wrote about Christopher Columbus.
Henry’s book, George’s Run, is a must-read for fans of Alfred Hitchcock Presents, The Twilight Zone, and Star Trek. George was in the thick of all of that. George was such an unusual character. This book is about storytelling and humanism. So, for those of you who appreciate these things, get this book, George’s Run, because it goes to the core of what happened within The Group, this celebrated writing group. It’s just a beautiful surreal brilliant graphic novel.
— Martin Olson
Marc Zicree: Well, George talked to me about his famous episode, “A Penny For Your Thoughts,” starring Dick York, about a bank teller who flips a coin and it lands on its edge. As long as that coin stays on its edge, the character has telepathic powers. He comes to listen in on the thoughts of people and finds they don’t always do what they think or vice versa. So, George actually wanted to turn that episode into a full-fledged series. Each week would follow a new person on a coin adventure. Finally, there’s one episode that features a high stakes poker game and the main character with telepatyhic powers thinks he’s going to win big. Except, in turns out, the greatest poker player in the world is Chinese, thinks in Chinese, and our hero can’t understand a word!
George was great about paying it forward. As Bradbury did. Beaumont did. And as Matheson did. As I do. The Twilight Zone Companion was my first book out of college. It was what led to my writing for television. I was 21 when I first got the idea to write the book and George encouraged me to pursue it. He introduced me to everyone he could involved with the show. Finally, I approached Rod’s widow, Carol Serling, who had turned down many professional journalists. This was only two years after Rod’s death. The book went on to great success. Years later, we were at a American Cinematheque tribute for The Twilight Zone, and I asked George why he was willing to take a chance on me, some 22-year-old kid. And he said that I seemed very intelligent and that I looked like I could pull it. If it hadn’t been for George, I wouldn’t have had a career.
George Clayton Johnson’s Cafe Frankenstein
Wendy All: I was so grateful to get a chance to honor George in 2012 at Comic Fest with my recreating George’s Cafe Frankenstein. Among George’s work, I loved “All of Us Are Dying” or “The Four of Us Are Dying.” I loved the idea of transformation. All the character had to do was concentrate and he’d change into someone else. It was interesting to read it and then seeing it on the screen.
Marc Zicree: The idea that someone could change their face, to be a shapeshifter, you see that go from “The Four of Us Are Dying” in The Twilight Zone to George’s “The Man Trap” in Star Trek. Interesting to see the shapeshifter motif cross over like that.
Martin Olson: In fact, the Star Trek story, “The Man,” was the first transgender alien story. And the whole idea of that salt vampire is a great example of George’s wild imagination.
George keeps on running!
Martin Olson: Marc, I want to say something to you. I didn’t know about the origin of your book, The Twilight Zone Companion, with George standing up for you. As a comedy writer, going back to 1980, I can tell you that every writer in a writer’s room had your book. We would read your book because it was a catalyst for great stories.
Marc Zicree: My big interest in writing The Twilight Zone Companion was the writers: how they did what they did. At the time, Bantam, my publisher wanted me to take out all the information on the writers. I told them that they could do whatever they wanted with the photographs, and I had all of them, but they’d have to leave the content on the writers alone.
Henry Chamberlain: Speaking about paying it forward, I want to thank Rutgers University Press for believing in me and my vision and publishing George’s Run. I am forever grateful to them.
Martin Olson: Henry, I want to say something about your book. I imagine that the first comic strip cartoonists were influenced by maybe three or four things, like motion pictures. Then you think about, Alfred Hitchcock Presents, The Twilight Zone, and Star Trek make up the major influences on cartoonists of more recent generations. You know, without George Clayton Johnson, and people like him, there would be no Comic-Con.
Henry’s book, George’s Run, is a must-read for fans of Alfred Hitchcock Presents, The Twilight Zone, and Star Trek. George was in the thick of all of that. George was such an unusual character. This book is about storytelling and humanism. So, for those of you who appreciate these things, get this book, George’s Run, because it goes to the core of what happened within The Group, this celebrated writing group. It’s just a beautiful surreal brilliant graphic novel.
Ray Bradbury lit the fuse and a smaller core group, led by Charles Beaumont, took hold.
David Weiner: As we close out, Henry, give us some final thoughts on what George Clayton Johnson’s impact on pop culture is today. George was part of the foundation of so much of the pop culture that we love today.
Henry Chamberlain: I was asked on a radio show what I thought were the hot new science fiction writers today and I sort of drew a blank for a moment since it was such a big question. I keep coming back to the concept of “a touch of strange” and some writers have picked up on that. I think of Charles Yu, as just one example. It’s not hard science fiction we’re talking about. It’s more literary. That’s a big influence. And then there’s the love of storytelling in general. And love for the written word. The Twilight Zone was syndicated beyond belief. The local affiliate in L.A. broadcast it twice a day, at noon and at midnight. So, yeah, it ran, and still runs, very deep for people on many levels.
David Weiner: Thank you, Henry.
Henry Chamberlain: Thank you, David.
The Core of The Group!
And here is the video . . .
George’s Run: A Writer’s Journey Through The Twilight Zone is published by Rutgers University Press.
San Diego Comic-Con is alive and well as this year’s gathering of hundreds of thousands of fans can attest. It did not fall short because of the writer/actor strikes. I’ve enjoyed Comic-Con over years as much for the core reasons as for the Hollywood component. Ideally, everyone, from the casual observers to the various insiders and power brokers, gain something from the experience. You can pontificate over the decline of civilization all you want but, at the end of the day, the people, actual flesh-and-blood real people, not abstractions, have spoken and voted with their time and pocketbook.
Some folks are at the con just to buy that prized rarity they’ve been eyeing for years at previous cons. Some folks are more like innocent bystanders who have simply come along for the ride. Not everyone is a regular reader or a fan of anything in particular. But, then again, there are more people and stories packed within the convention floor than any intrepid reporter will ever know. Most, it seems, can’t see the forest for the trees. The best one can hope for is that San Diego Comic-Con continues to do the good work it is doing–and that you can count on. You may not be aware of this but San Diego Comic-Con is a nonprofit with a long history of its own with impeccable standards and codes of ethics. The notion that “Hollywood” can make or break it is, well, a bit of a distraction.
Arsenic Lullaby at San Diego Comic-Con 2023.
Lego Brickbuster Video display.
Marvel Comics at SDCC 2023.
Viz Manga at SDCC 2023.
Really, at the end of it all, the fact remains that some folks are at the con to buy something they’ve been coveting; while other folks, maybe the vast majority, simply thought it would be fun to go, whether they got to see a celebrity or not. If you stop and think about it, there’s so much more going on. I let the whole thing wash over me, the free-spirited interactions, the genuine acts of goodwill, the whole Gaslamp Quarter party. There’s something primal and transcendent happening. It’s not just about comics, and that’s totally fine. People are in costume for more reasons than you’ll ever know. It’s a carnival, and I love it.
George Clayton Johnson: Master Storyteller SDCC panel, 23 July 2023.
Well, of course, so much more can be said on the specific subject of San Diego Comic-Con, along with other topics closely linked to it. A pretty tall pile of books have been written on it, whole careers have been cultivated in the name of “comics journalism” and the like. From my experience, you have to choose your own battles, decide what’s worth concentrating on, what’s worth fight for. Specifically, for me, it came down to carving my way out of doing just one thing, which I’ve always done anyway. I’ve always respected me! I made the time for my own art, my own comics. And that ultimately led to my graphic novel, George’s Run, published by Rutgers University Press. And my having a panel at SDCC. Yes, panels are alive and well. For journalists, as well as anyone, panels are part of the core of Comic-Con and a place to learn about what makes it tick. I’m sorry if you missed my panel because it was great. I’ll feature it in an upcoming post. I will be forever grateful to those who pay it forward, who share the vision and goodwill, like Rutgers and Comic-Con.
Jennifer Daydreamer in the heart of retail happiness at SDCC.
You can’t control people, even if some marketing firms would beg to differ. What you can do is try to inspire people: entertain them; guide them and educate them. But, first, you need to get their attention. And here’s the thing, the real kick-in-the-pants epiphany: you really can’t pontificate and ultimately it does come down to the grass-roots approach: speaking to people one-on-one, in-person, the real deal. And that is what you’ll see on the ground floor, the convention floor. That is what is ultimately real and that’s never going to go away.
Bill Griffith Talks About Nancy Comics: THREE ROCKS Help Explain it All
