Book Review: MILTON CANIFF'S MALE CALL: THE COMPLETE NEWSPAPER STRIPS 1942-46 (2011, Hermes Press)

Don't look back, IDW Publishing... in the realm of comic-strip reprintery, someone is in fact gaining on you (or, at the very least, maintaining a steady pace somewhere astern). Hermes Press has been publishing comic-strip reprint books and other pop culture treatises for some time now. While most of the stuff that Hermes has published has not been of particular interest to me, that state of affairs is quickly changing. Hermes plans to release the interminably delayed Walt Kelly biography sometime later this year, and a SMOKEY STOVER reprint collection was advertised in the latest PREVIEWS. Pride of "money-on-the-counter" place, however, goes to Miss Lace of Milton Caniff's MALE CALL. (I hope that came out sounding right.)

MALE CALL was 4-F cartoonist Caniff's morale- (and etc.-) boosting contribution to the war effort. These strips, printed in camp newspapers, originally starred the character Burma from TERRY AND THE PIRATES, but Caniff was forced to create a new starring siren after publishers of the real TERRY objected to the availability of an "alternative version" of the strip. Encounters with the sexy brunette Miss Lace (whose source of funds, "real" job, and so forth were a perpetual mystery) were the ultimate antidote to the loneliness and frustration experienced by Caniff's everyman GIs. A number of Caniff's gags have curled up and died of old age in the ensuing years, of course, but the panels are still great fun to look at, not least because Caniff had an unusual ability to draw both realistically and humorously at the same time. Miss Lace even quit the stage on occasion to make way for ruminations about adjustments to the postwar world or a series of "blackout-gag" drawings illustrating, say, new developments in ladies' homefront millinery. (I wonder whether Caniff, a well-known movie buff, was influenced in these latter strips by the "one-gag-on-a-theme-after-another" cartoons of "Tex" Avery.)

Despite my enjoyment of R.C. Harvey's biography of Caniff, I have previously had relatively little exposure to Caniff's actual work -- in particular, his way with words. I can see now why such respected critics as Coulton Waugh occasionally jabbed Milt for the heavy doses of "smart-aleck" in his dialogue. The fact that MISS LACE is chock-full of WWII-era military jargon only serves to emphasize Caniff's tendency to "overjazz" his dialogue here. Remember those later seasons of M*A*S*H, when characters refused to say a simple "Good Morning" when they could substitute something like "Salutations, Sleepy Sawbones!" instead? I felt like I got several full doses of that here. I'm not saying the dialogue is bad, mind you; the style simply takes some getting used to. It is also easy to see why the wisecracking approach that sustained Caniff so well during the 1930s and 1940s turned off so many people during the Vietnam era, when Caniff's STEVE CANYON began hemorrhaging readership.

Harvey's introduction cribs quite liberally from MEANWHILE..., but there are a number of choice goodies in the back of the volume: several "rejected" MALE CALL strips, plus a number of drawings of Miss Lace that Caniff did in the postwar years. (These later illos amply illustrate the literal "loosening" of censorial standards; in some of them, Miss L. comes perilously close to wearing bondage gear.) Hermes' production values do not reach the standards of IDW, at least not yet, but the content is quite definitely the thing in this case.

Book Review: TARPE MILLS AND MISS FURY, edited by Trina Robbins (IDW/Library of American Comics, 2011)

I have Ron Goulart's fine history of comics in the 1930s and 1940s, THE ADVENTUROUS DECADE, to thank for motivating me to this purchase. Goulart discussed MISS FURY as one of the "superhero-flavored" newspaper strips that syndicates bought in the wake of the monstrous success of comic-book heroes of the Golden Age. Included in Goulart's book was a Sunday page of a rooftop catfight between two beauteous babes. After then seeing the eye-grabbing cover to the IDW volume, which reprints MISS FURY strips from writer-artist Tarpe Mills' prime period of 1944-1949, this was something I simply had to experience at length, on the order of THE MISADVENTURES OF JANE.

In her introduction, Trina Robbins dubs brunette socialite Marla Drake, aka the skin-tight-panther-suited Miss Fury (originally Black Fury for a rather gnarled reason), "the first female superhero created and drawn by a woman cartoonist." Well, Tarpe Mills was definitely female -- indeed, she bore a striking similarity to Marla and even gave Marla's pet cat Peri-Purr the same name as her own cat -- but calling Miss F. a "superhero" is a stretch worthy of McCovey. Marla is more accurately described as a heroine who gets mixed up in adventures and only VERY occasionally puts on her panther suit -- for example, when it is important for her not to be recognized. The "key strip" of 5/31/42, reproduced in this collection, explains why Marla did not use the suit that often; she claims that "nothing but misfortune" has followed her ever since she got the costume from her explorer uncle. Miss F.'s "powers" in said suit are very similar to those of the early Batman: throwing handy objects at villains, kicking the occasional baddie with a claw-tipped foot, swinging on ropes, shimmying up and down walls. The main point, however, is that she only becomes Miss Fury when she has no choice in the matter.

The strip itself is an excessively delirious mish-mash of soap opera, international intrigue, and WWII-era science fantasy (e.g., "dynasonic wave machines" that can shatter cities, anti-aging potions, all-dissolving acids). The protagonists and antagonists appear to be operating within one-sixteenth level of separation of one another. Quasi-evil ex-Nazi adventuress Baroness Erica von Kampf and one-armed German General Bruno have the nasty habit of turning up like bad pfennigs. Marla's love interests, such as the dashing Detective Dan Carey, likewise pop in and out. Mills makes admirable efforts to keep the proceedings contemporary in interesting ways; one postwar plot involves the smuggling of art treasures pilfered by Nazi sympathizers, while the "dynasonic wave machine" story (which is never resolved, alas) and similar far-fetched scenarios suggest that MISS FURY would have taken a decided turn towards sci-fi had it lasted past the early 1950s. (We might also have seen Darron Drake, Marla's adopted son, become a kid sidekick somewhere down the line; unfortunately, Darron never got beyond toddler-hood before the strip was terminated.)

Mills' art can hardly be faulted; it is gorgeous, if a bit stiff, and stuffed to the panel borders with well-delineated backgrounds and accurately depicted clothing styles of the era. Mills' writing -- not her plots, necessarily, but her WRITING -- is rather less successful. MISS FURY ran on Sundays only, so Mills always had to make sure that the late-arriving audience knew what was happening, at least at some level. However, the amount of exposition in the strip is immense, making even the likes of LITTLE ORPHAN ANNIE look like GARFIELD. This was never intended to be a kid-friendly strip, but I can see a lot of adults having trouble keeping up with the downpours of dialogue. Interestingly, on those rare occasions when Miss Fury gets into action, the dialogue becomes much terser and more "comic-book-like." This leads me to believe that MISS FURY would have been more successful had Mills, who started her professional life working in comic books, remained in that medium, as opposed to "graduating" to syndicated strippery. She definitely would have benefited from the aid of an experienced writer who could have helped her to pare her exposition down to only what was absolutely necessary. Drawing a comic book version of MISS FURY would also have forced Mills to put Miss Fury into action more often, which, given the attractiveness of the character, could only have helped the character's popularity. There is something amiss when a strip with a titular heroine can literally run for months at a time with the heroine making only a few token appearances and the villains getting all of the "face time." Of course, given that MISS FURY was one of the racier strips of its era, with plenty of flesh, lingerie, and violence on display, a comic-book version would probably not have survived the effects of the mid-50s Comics Code.

Mills' work, far more so than that of the typical superhero artist, is very much a product of its time. After MISS FURY, Mills did one romance-comic story in the early 70s, and her strained effort to make characters look vaguely contemporary resulted in protagonists that resembled hippie vampires. She also started work on a graphic novel that was never finished, part of which is reproduced here, and it, too, looks badly out-of-date, though at least Mills can finally "get away" with showing nudity. It's unfortunate that Mills couldn't or wouldn't try to learn new tricks, but, if you read with a sense of history -- and a stomach sound enough to digest reams of exposition -- her magnum opus MISS FURY remains very enjoyable, albeit not quite the "barrier-breaker" that the cover blurb presents it as being.

Book Review: DAN DeCARLO'S JETTA (IDW Publishing/Yoe Books, 2010)

The first offering in IDW/Yoe's "Good Girl Art Library" takes the form of a handsomely mounted reprinting of all three issues -- officially tagged issues #5-7, but that's due to a little publishing chicanery from an era that, amazing as it may seem to us, shied away from making a big deal of "risky" first issues -- of Standard Comics' JETTA, an early product of the luscious pen of the young and ambitious Dan DeCarlo. DeCarlo had already established himself at Timely/Marvel with such "good girl" titles as JEANNIE and MY FRIEND IRMA when Standard asked him to develop its new epic of teenage hijinks in a then-far-distant 21st century. JETTA apparently failed to click with audiences despite DeCarlo's best efforts, but the title definitely presages the creation of The Jetsons a decade later... that is, if you can imagine The Jetsons projecting cultural cliches forward from the early 1950s, rather than the early 1960s, and tagging Judy Jetson as its focal character.

DeCarlo's most distinctive and viscerally appealing work is probably the pin-up art he did for 1950s men's magazines, but the best of that material lay some years beyond JETTA's debut. He had also just begun working for Archie on the original BETTY AND VERONICA title, and what little I've seen of that work indicates that DeCarlo was sticking fairly closely to the then-regnant Archie house style (which he would ultimately uproot and smarten up considerably). JETTA is basically a contemporary ARCHIE comic with a lot of in-panel clutter added, a lot of space-related jargon inserted as "hep" patter, some extremely short skirts on most women... and, I'm sorry to say, far less distinctive characters on the stage. Jetta, her boyfriend Arky (no coincidence, there!), her rival-of-sorts Hilaria, menacing teacher Miss Gorgon, teenage gizmo-whiz... uh, Gizmo... and the rest don't really spark to life at any time, even when the unusual setting is new and interesting, as in issue #1/#5. Sometimes, the uncredited writers don't even try to disguise character swipes; Jetta's well-meaning but slightly bumbling father is a fairly brazen copy of Archie Andrews' Dad. The "dead hand of the present" seems to lie on JETTA's futuristic setting a bit more firmly than it later would on The Jetsons, as reflected in the graffiti-scrawl on characters' "Jetmobiles" -- that particular craze was already old in the 1950's, having peaked during the "Swing Era" and the WWII years. Even DeCarlo's fine artwork is undercut in several places by the use of lesser inkers. Jetta is certainly a treat for the eyes, though, and the good cheer exuded by DeCarlo's art lifts even these predictable situations a bit above the level of the mundane.

The book makes "weight" thanks to an enjoyable Introduction by Craig Yoe and a series of Jetta portraits by a variety of contemporary "good girl" artists, which run the glamour gamut from excellent to hideous (the latter of which, by contemporary standards, might actually be preferred by some). All in all, it's an interesting portrait of a talented young artist turning a less-than-stellar concept into something greater than the sum of its parts.

Comics Review: THE MISADVENTURES OF JANE by Norman Pett and J.H.G. "Don" Freeman (Titan Books, 2009)

What Milton Caniff's alluring Miss Lace was for war-weary, sex-starved American GIs during World War II, THE DAILY MIRROR's Jane was for hard-pressed British "Tommies" -- and both more and less besides. "More," because Jane was not created specifically to boost wartime morale, but had instead been appearing in THE MIRROR since 1932. "Less," because Jane, rather than being an alluring, iconic totem like Miss Lace, (1) actively got involved in the war effort as an intelligence officer and (2) took her endearing habit of frequently being accidentally disrobed to a higher plateau, often appearing fully or partially nude. Jane's raiment-relinquished doings were so racy for the time that even a "cleaned-up" version of the strip failed to catch on in the more prurient U.S. Titan Books, which has previously reprinted such British comic strips as DAN DARE and MODESTY BLAISE, has now given us an eyeful of what we've been missing by reprinting several continuities from Jane's memorable wartime career.

Jane started as a "flapper" character of sorts. Perpetually accompanied by a dachshund named Fritz (amateur Freudians, the time is now yours), she was a gag-a-day character until "Don" Freeman assumed the writing chores in 1938 and introduced continuity into the mix -- not to mention plenty of puns, wordplay, and high-toned literary allusions. Artist Norman Pett delineated the "misadventures" of the leggy blonde beauty -- many of which involved pratfalls that divested Jane of at least the top layer of her clothes -- in a style hovering somewhere in the vicinity of Caniff territory, though with somewhat cruder figure drawing (especially noticeable in backgrounds and angled facial profiles, where Pett had a tendency to give everyone, including Jane, overly large noses). World War II was the best thing ever to happen to the strip, giving Jane a less frivolous purpose in life and providing Pett with the perfect excuse to make the comic a literal "strip." Following the war, Pett left for other projects and the strip slowly foundered, finally expiring in the late 1950s. Several later attempts to revive JANE all tanked. However, Chrystabel Leighton-Porter, the primary model for Jane -- she also appeared in movies and stage shows -- remained popular with aging veterans until her death in 2000.

In this collection of strips from 1944-1945, Jane goes "undercover" (that seems to be an inappropriate word, somehow) as a member of NAAFI (a service organization that provided refreshments and such to British troops) and ENSA (the British version of the USO) and encounters appropriately nasty Nazi agents and guerrilla fighters. The depictions of Jane's foes aren't exactly subtle; the "lingerie salesman" who's actually a spy scoping out an RAF airfield is so transparently a bad guy that he should be wearing a SPY VS. SPY-style trenchcoat and dark glasses. Far more interesting are the interactions between Jane and her there-and-back-again beau, Lieutenant Georgie Porgie -- Freeman wasn't that great with character names, either -- and a shy NAAFI worker named Dinah, whom Jane convinces to shake loose of that metaphorical corset and ultimately snare a fiancee. As one might imagine, Jane picks up a few would-be suitors along the way, a French secret agent and a Russian officer among them, but stays loyal to Georgie (whom she would eventually marry at the end of the strip's run). What makes Jane interesting to me is the fact that she is often used as the butt of physical humor -- of the clothes-shedding variety and otherwise -- yet Pett and Freeman obviously respect her as a clever, courageous woman who may be somewhat naive but is aware of her naivete on some level. Jane could very easily have been turned into a buffoonish bimbo a la Little Annie Fanny, but her creators refused to let that happen. Probably Jane's closest American relative is Sally the Sleuth from SPICY DETECTIVE STORIES, but Jane is a far more interesting (and better-drawn) character.

Titan includes a few tantalizing extras in the form of a vintage newspaper article from the Canadian armed forces newspaper THE MAPLE LEAF and some beautiful full-color reproductions from JANE'S JOURNAL, a postwar collection of pin-ups and poems. I am, however, disappointed that the modern perspective on the character was not given more attention. We get a one-page glorified blurb, "Introducing Jane," but that's about it. For the American release of the book, some explanatory footnotes on terms and acronyms used by the characters would also have been helpful. For all of Freeman's clever wordsmithing, though, the "madame" is the message here. If you like classic "good girl" art by the likes of Caniff, Bill Ward, and Dan DeCarlo, you'll certainly enjoy this collection.