My book the Benefit of Steel is reviewed in this month's issue of the Saskatchewan Anglican, on the occasion of my Aunt Peg and Uncle Steve's recent visit to Prince Albert, Saskatchewan. It's good to see more promotion for the book, it continues to be bought and read by new people every month!
Walter Simonson: creator of Mr. Mobius, a senior executive in the Time Variance Authority; the Time Variance Authority depicted as an immense bureaucracy (Fantastic Four #346, 1990); of the Minutemen, the foot soldiers of the Time Variance Authority (Fantastic Four #352, 1991); of the Time Variance Authority based in null time, outside time itself (Fantastic Four #353, 1991); of Casey, a Time Variance Authority employee (Fantastic Four #354, 1991); co-creator of the Time Variance Authority, (TVA) an organization taxed with policing the timeline and undoing damage caused by alternate timelines; of the Time Variance Authority served by Justices, armed agents sent to correct timeline disruptions; of the Time Variance Authority pursuing Zaniac through time (Thor #372, 1986)
Stan Lee: co-creator of Kang, a time traveler and conqueror garbed in a battlesuit, clad in purple (Avengers #8, 1964); of Ravonna, a time traveler affiliated with Kang who falls in love with him (Avengers #23, 1965); of Thor, Asgardian god of thunder (Journey into Mystery #83, 1962); of Loki, Asgardian trickster god with magical powers, including the ability to cast illusions; Loki as Thor's brother; Loki's helmet with horns and green costume with golden accessories; of Odin, ruler of Asgard; of Asgard, legendary home of the gods; of Balder the Brave, legendary Asgardian warrior (Journey into Mystery #85, 1962); of Thor learning a lesson in humility from time spent on Earth (Thor #159, 1968)
Jack Kirby: co-creator of Kang, a time traveler and conqueror garbed in a battlesuit, clad in purple (Avengers #8, 1964); of Thor, Asgardian god of thunder (Journey into Mystery #83, 1962); of Loki, Asgardian trickster god with magical powers, including the ability to cast illusions; Loki as Thor's brother; Loki's helmet with horns and green costume with golden accessories; of Odin, ruler of Asgard; of Asgard, legendary home of the gods; of Balder the Brave, legendary Asgardian warrior (Journey into Mystery #85, 1962); of Thor learning a lesson in humility from time spent on Earth (Thor #159, 1968)
Mark Gruenwald: co-creator of Renslayer, Ravonna's surname (Avengers Annual #21, 1992); of Alioth, a cloud-like temporal entity who is a foe of the Time Variance Authority, Kang and Ravonna (Avengers: The Terminatrix Objective #1, 1993); of Ravonna assisting Kang in his "Victor Timely" identity (Avengers: The Terminatrix Objective #4, 1993); of Kang having a makeshift alliance with the Time Variance Authority (Fantastic Four Annual #27, 1994); of the Time Keepers, three extraterrestrials who have assumed mastery of time (Thor #282, 1979)
Larry Lieber: co-creator of Thor, Asgardian god of thunder (Journey into Mystery #83, 1962); of Loki, Asgardian trickster god with magical powers, including the ability to cast illusions; Loki as Thor's brother; Loki's helmet with horns and green costume with golden accessories; of Odin, ruler of Asgard; of Asgard, legendary home of the gods; of Balder the Brave, legendary Asgardian warrior (Journey into Mystery #85, 1962)
Mike Gustovich: co-creator of Alioth, a cloud-like temporal entity who is a foe of the Time Variance Authority, Kang and Ravonna (Avengers: The Terminatrix Objective #1, 1993); of Ravonna assisting Kang in his "Victor Timely" identity (Avengers: The Terminatrix Objective #4, 1993); of Kang having a makeshift alliance with the Time Variance Authority (Fantastic Four Annual #27, 1994)
Sal Buscema: co-creator of the Time Variance Authority, (TVA) an organization taxed with policing the timeline and undoing damage caused by alternate timelines; of the Time Variance Authority served by Justices, armed agents sent to correct timeline disruptions; of the Time Variance Authority pursuing Zaniac through time (Thor #372, 1986)
Keith Pollard: co-creator of the Time Keepers, three extraterrestrials who have assumed mastery of time (Thor #282, 1979); of Zaniac, a movie monster with yellow skin and green hair portrayed by actor Brad Wolfe (Thor #319, 1982)
John Buscema: co-creator of the existence of divergent timelines which are accessible by others (Fantastic Four #118, 1972); of He Who Remains, the entity behind the Time Keepers who exists at the end of time itself (Thor #245, 1976)
Peter Sanderson: co-creator of "Victor Timely," an alias adopted by Kang while on Earth in the early 20th century, used to introduce advanced technology at earlier points in the timestream, based out of Wisconsin (Avengers Annual #21, 1992)
Rich Yanizeski: co-creator of "Victor Timely," an alias adopted by Kang while on Earth in the early 20th century, used to introduce advanced technology at earlier points in the timestream, based out of Wisconsin (Avengers Annual #21, 1992)
Roy Thomas: co-creator of the Time Keepers depicted as working with the Time Variance Authority (What If #37, 1992); of He Who Remains connected to the Time Variance Authority (What If #39, 1992)
Jean-Marc Lofficier: co-creator of the Time Keepers depicted as working with the Time Variance Authority (What If #37, 1992); of He Who Remains connected to the Time Variance Authority (What If #39, 1992)
Randy Lofficier: co-creator of the Time Keepers depicted as working with the Time Variance Authority (What If #37, 1992); of He Who Remains connected to the Time Variance Authority (What If #39, 1992)
Len Wein: co-creator of He Who Remains, the entity behind the Time Keepers who exists at the end of time itself (Thor #245, 1976)
Doug Moench: co-creator of Zaniac, a movie monster with yellow skin and green hair portrayed by actor Brad Wolfe (Thor #319, 1982)
Don Heck: co-creator of Ravonna, a time traveler affiliated with Kang who falls in love with him (Avengers #23, 1965)
Archie Goodwin: co-creator of the existence of divergent timelines which are accessible by others (Fantastic Four #118, 1972)
Ralph Macchio: co-creator of the Time Keepers, three extraterrestrials who have assumed mastery of time (Thor #282, 1979)
Mark Pacella: co-creator of the Time Keepers depicted as working with the Time Variance Authority (What If #37, 1992)
Gavin Curtis: co-creator of He Who Remains connected to the Time Variance Authority (What If #39, 1992)
Dan Slott: co-creator of Orobourous, a member of the Time Variance Authority (She-Hulk #3, 2006)
Scott Kolins: co-creator of Orobourous, a member of the Time Variance Authority (She-Hulk #3, 2006)
J. Michael Straczynski: co-creator of Asgardians connected to Broxton, Oklahoma (Fantastic Four #536, 2006)
Mike McKone: co-creator of Asgardians connected to Broxton, Oklahoma (Fantastic Four #536, 2006)
Herb Trimpe: co-creator of Renslayer, Ravonna's surname (Avengers Annual #21, 1992)
I didn't grow up with the Flash Gordon strip - I've never seen a local newspaper who carried it. In fact, the local newspapers seemed to have little interest in the non-humourous comic strips (Rex Morgan M.D. is the only comic strip drama I recall from my youth). Consequently, I think I'm in the majority who know of Flash Gordon as a museum piece, a relic, a forgotten property; indeed, the comic strip went on hiatus in 2003 and spent the last 20 years replaying old strips. Not every property gets a second chance, but the weight of Flash Gordon's influence on science fiction and adventure must surely have helped it.
I'm pleased with what I've read so far - if these strips had been in the newspaper when I was a kid, I would have been a huge fan. Kudos to Mr. Schkade!
The Clock is a bit of a frustrating series to pin down. Even though the mystery anthology program is one of the most popular types of programs among old-time radio collectors, collectors and researchers don't appear to have unearthed very much information about the program. It's also surprising because the series had some major talent behind it - notable performers as well as the peerless craft of producer William Spier. You'd think there would have been numerous articles written about the series while it was being produced but... evidently not.
The Clock used noises such as the ticking of a clock and the chimes of bells to lend colour to their narratives. Each episode was hosted by Father Time himself (portrayed by William Conrad during the William Spier era). But beyond these trappings, the title "the Clock" doesn't tell you much about the show, not in the way a title such as Suspense, Escape, Romance or Intrigue efficiently tell you what to expect.
Most of what we have from the US version dates from William Spier's involvement. Many of the episodes preceding his were apparently written by Lawrence Klee, who would later write for the Chase. Spier was joined by many familiar voices from his work on Suspense, notably the team of Elliott and Cathy Lewis and even writer Lucille Fletcher! At the time, Spier had quit Suspense and I'm sure it was a coup for ABC to bring him aboard the Clock. Yet Spier's time on the Clock (no pun intended) was very short-lived; he definitely produced the final 6 episodes but we don't even know when his tenure as producer began. After the Clock ran down (pun intended) he moved on to the Philip Morris Playhouse before finally returning to Suspense one last time; some of the programs Spier produced for the Clock had been produced on Suspense, including "The Right Man" (heard on Suspense as "Bank Holiday" on July 19, 1945); others would be reprised on Suspense, including "The Search for Isobel" (November 3, 1949).
What we have of the US version is a bit mixed. "Bela Boczniak's Bad Dreams" (also referred to as simply "Bad Dreams") is Lucille Fletcher's contribution as writer but it's not up to quality of Suspense plays such as "The Diary of Sophronia Winters" of "the Thing in the Window." And one of the earliest surviving episodes - "Nicky Kane Lives" - is an odd duck, a quasi-supernatural tale of a gangster seeming to come back from the dead.
Based on what little we have of the US version, it would be hard to say whether we've been deprived of something great by not possessing all of them, but I'm sure simply because of the talent involved it would be nice to have all of Spier's episodes of the Clock.
If it's true that the Australian version was indeed adapted from the US scripts - and episodes do indeed sound like US dramas - then the surviving 50 or so Australian episodes at least gives us some concept of the show's usual plots. The first episodes of the Clock I ever heard were both Australian episodes: "All the Money in the World" (about a young man who receives unlimited money from an eccentric millionaire - it's the same premise that Jack Benny used as satire in his "I Stand Condemned" radio skits) and "The Man with the Strange Trunk" (concerning a woman who is very curious about a hotel guest's large trunk).
The Internet Archive has a collection of the Clock episodes that you can find over here - but be warned that like most attempts to impose order on the Clock it intermixes the US version with the later Australian episodes. Perhaps future researchers will be able to better determine the complete broadcast history of the Clock - we may yet be treated to some rediscovered missing episodes as well!
I Am Stan covers Stan Lee's life from childhood to death and as he lived a good 95 years that's a lot of ground to cover. Early on the book traces events from his life as a fairly linear biography but once Marvel Comics becomes a success in the 1960s the narrative gets a little snarled as Scioli moves events around chronologically for dramatic effect and frequently years pass between pages without notice.
If you're very well-versed in the life of Stan Lee then you should have no problem following Scioli's account of his life -- everything he represents has already been covered by other biographies. If you're not familiar with the other biographies you will probably find yourself at a loss to understand why Scioli dramatizes episodes from Stan's life without context.
For instance, early in Stan's life Scioli puts great effort into contextualizing and explaining what's going on; when Stan becomes editor at Marvel, Scioli takes the time to name check all the artists in the bullpen at the time. You would assume that it will important to know the names of all these men since Scioli took the time to name them, but that would be an incorrect assumption; Syd Shores makes one more brief appearance but knowing who was who in the 1940s bullpen matters not a whit to the rest of the book. Similarly, late in the book there's an episode where the police engage in a wellness check on Stan Lee and there are references to a business partner called "Keya." If you're up on your Stan Lee lore then you know why the police are talking to Stan and who "Keya" is but Scioli doesn't frame this.
Like the police wellness check scene, many pages of I Am Stan feel weightless, without narrative. His Jack Kibry was guided by narration told in Kirby's voice but there is no one to guide Lee's life. If you haven't already read a recent biography of Stan Lee (such as my favourite, True Believer by Abraham Riesman) you won't understand the weight of certain scenes; as well, the story is told strictly from Stan Lee's perspective - so when Steve Ditko and Jack Kirby leave Marvel the reader doesn't really understand why they did so, only that Stan didn't understand.
If I understand Scioli's efforts, it seems like he just wanted to put the reader into Stan Lee's shoes and experience moments from his life, but the longer the book went on the less connected I felt to Stan as the narrative wandered from one moment to another on each page. Rather than a long-form narrative, I Am Stan reads like a webcomic that was meant to be enjoyed one page at a time rather than all at once - and as an addendum to a proper biography, not a biography in its own right.
Seeking out I Am Stan led me to Stuf' Said by John Morrow, a publication that was originally an issue of Morrow's Jack Kirby Collector magazine in 2019. A large part of why we comics fans have such complicated misgivings about Stan Lee have to do with the way he treated his collaborators, particularly Jack Kirby. In Stuf' Said, Morrow created a chronology from interviews and statements by Lee, Kirby and others close to them to track the sequence of events that led to Lee and Kirby's collaboration at Marvel and its dissolution.
Stuf' Said is definitely for the serious comics devotee - the one who really wants to know 'who said this and when.' For all that I know about these periods of history, there was a lot I didn't know such as the complete timeline on Kirby's involvement in the creation of Spider-Man; Kirby claiming a hand in creating Spider-Man was divisive to fans (although reading Morrow's book, Kirby's actual quotes are not as dismissive to Ditko as I saw others claim online) so discovering the earliest published mention of Kirby's involvement actually appeared in Marvel's own Foom magazine surprised me.
Riseman's True Believer had earlier made an impression on me with how passive-aggressive Stan seemed towards his collaborators and that not every artist was willing to put up with it (certainly not Steve Ditko or Wally Wood). Stuf' Said is particularly good at piecing all of those slights together; it's particularly instructive to note how many times Stan disparaged Dr. Strange while he was scripting that series - indeed he only seemed to consent that Ditko created Dr. Strange because he didn't want credit for those comics. But decades into his role as Marvel's perennial pitchman, he would repeatedly claim Dr. Strange was a favourite of his.
Stuf' Said is definitely not for the layman, it's for the dedicated comics fan who has a firm grasp on Lee and Kirby's careers. But I found it a fine book with a great deal of interesting discernments on the part of the author (particularly noting Kirby's satire of Stan Lee would have been invented at the same time Romita was satirizing Kirby in Captain America).
Both I Am Stan and Stuf' Said are best enjoyed by the experienced comics fan, but while I Am Stan is all very familiar and loosely-structured, Stuf' Said has excellent research and a very firm layout. It's obvious which I prefer.
"Uh, I'm going to kill my wife tonight. Or maybe tomorrow night. I mean, I'm gonna kill one of my wives. I better, or something's going to happen to me that won't be good. Well, Halloween's almost here. Halloween's the deadline. And Candace has to be dead before Halloween. Only trouble is, I'm not sure I'll recognize her when she shows up."
What better way to celebrate Halloween in Quiet, Please than with an episode all about Halloween? This time our hapless protagonist is the husband of a witch. It's a pretty sweet gig for him as she provides him with a long life. However, in-between Halloweens he proves to be an unfaithful husband and simply never seems to learn his lesson, no matter how many times his wife magically punishes him.
"Don't Tell Me about Halloween" was originally broadcast October 27, 1947. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
This concludes my month-long look at Quiet, Please. I hope you've enjoyed it and perhaps discovered some new favourite episodes!
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"The Hollow Men. Ever read it? Lot of people were very fond o' quoting from it when T. S. Eliot got the Nobel Prize. Especially that part, 'This is how the world ends; Not with a bang but a whimper.' Well, it wasn't so, Mr. Eliot, you were wrong. Me? How do I know? I was there."
Wyllis Cooper was evidently a very religious man as so many episodes involve his Christian beliefs. Here, he marries theology with nuclear armageddon; our protagonist, a pilot, attempts to out-fly the mushroom clouds consuming all life on Earth, but his fuel supply is limited. And then, God himself takes a hand and offers the protagonist and the other survivors a choice.
"Very Unimportant Person" was originally broadcast December 5, 1948. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
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"Once upon a time, when there were more lieutenants than lieutenant colonels in the Air Force and when you could tell a cadet by his blue suit like a mailman's, a thing happened. And if you think the boys from the bright blue yonder got snafued some time in this last war, brother, I'm here to tell you ain't seen nothin' yet. Because this was the largest, the most comprehensive, the doggonedest... Well, I have to tell you. And the thing about it is this snafu isn't over yet. It won't be over for nine years. Listen, I'll tell you."
This time Quiet, Please presents something of a science fiction tale. An Air Force officer is surprised to meet himself - his self from the future! It seems his future self traveled so fast that he landed his aircraft in the past!
"One for the Book" was originally broadcast November 21, 1948. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
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"I never did anything wrong in my life. That's why I was so upset when Schuster murdered me."
In this episode, Ernest Chappell portrays Gus, a real schmoe who - as the opening lines indicate - is dead. Having become a ghost with no direction for his unlife Gus tries to help the man who killed him by assisting him in his romance with Gus' sweetheart. Gus really is a good ghost who intends to perform good deeds, but he has his limits...
"Good Ghost" was originally broadcast October 24, 1948. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org. The Mysterious Old Radio Listening Society podcast also have an episode where they listen to and discuss "Good Ghost"; you'll find the episode on their website.
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"I don't remember when was the first time I seen him, I don't think. Was it the fire at the Havre Hotel last August, wasn't it? When the fella jumped outta the window and lit on the streetcar, got carried three blocks from his nightshirt? Yeah, last August; I guess that was the first time. I seen him a lotta times since then."
Here's an interesting bit of photography lore; news photographers call out "thirteen and eight" when they spot someone trying to photobomb their pictures. That's how this story begins, with our photographer protagonist calling out "thirteen and eight" to get a man out of his way. But none of the other photographers at the scene saw someone trying to interfere with their shoot. And it keeps happening as the photographer keeps seeing a man getting in the way of his lens, resulting in him shooting a dramatic photograph in a split second. Who is this mystery man whom only the photographer can see?
"Thirteen and Eight" was originally broadcast April 26, 1948. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
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I'm sure it seems passé to other OTR fans to be talking about "War of the Worlds" - or even cliché with Halloween upon us. Still, I'm linking to an article about "War of the Worlds" because it appears at my employer's website, and how often do they post anything about OTR? With quotes from one of my colleagues? That's worth celebrating!
Halloween Broadcast of Notorious War of the Worlds Radio Drama Turns 85
"Yes, ma'am, it does get lonesome down here. What? Oh, sure, being able to talk to people on the phone helps. Well, how'd you like to be stuck all the way down in the basement all by yourself from midnight to five AM? With nothing but a microphone, a turntable and some telephones?"
In this program, Ernest Chappell portrays a lonely disc jockey spinning turntables late at night over the radio. The first third of the episode simply sets up the atmosphere - the environment and conditions of the DJ's occupation. The problems arise when a newsman wanders over and starts sharing news stories for events that haven't happened yet. As with other episodes we've examined involving destiny, fate appears in Quiet, Please as a force that cannot be avoided and becomes more fearsome as time passes.
"Twelve to Five" was originally broadcast April 12, 1948. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
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"You know how it is sometimes when you get in a dream and you don't think you're dreaming and when you wake up you wonder whether it happened or not?"
Much like yesterday's "Three" today's Quiet, Please is a tale of supernatural portent. Our protagonist, radio announcer John H., keeps dreaming of the world following his death, encountering figures in the morgue, the funeral home, the cemetery. But how far away is his death and can he avert it?
"A Night to Forget" was originally broadcast March 22, 1948. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
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"Well, it's, uh, kind of, uh, I suppose you'd say it's an obsession. Oh, uh, on the other hand, I guess you have to have a thing quite a while before you could call it an obsession. This has only been bothering me since day before yesterday. So I suppose maybe we'd better call it, uh, a premonition."
This is a story about a man who finds the number three recurring throughout his life. He hears the number whispered; his telephone rings three times; he finds three pennies. Again and again he encounters the number 3 and becomes increasingly agitated. And then three men introduce themselves to him and indicate that he'll be leaving his home - in 3 days! And still he finds the number three everywhere he turns...
"Three" was originally broadcast November 10, 1947. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
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"Page one... well, that's a start. Let me see. What I need's a character. Character, character, come on, character."
A writer by vocation, Wyllis Cooper wasn't above poking fun at his profession, as we've heard earlier this month in "Rain on New Year's Eve." Today's episode, "Bring Me to Life" concerns an author trying to create a character on his typewriter - and his typewriter's attempts to guide his creative process!
This is a supernatural episode of Quiet, Please but also a whimsical one, especially as the author's characters come to life as little more than broad caricatures because they haven't been fleshed out. It's all in good fun.
"Bring Me to Life" was originally broadcast August 10, 1947. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
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"It was bitter cold up there in the uplands and foothills of the Pyrenees 20,000 years ago. The great sheet of glacial ice had slid down from the polar icecap, only the mountain peaks rose above it."
The titular "Oldest Man in the World" is a reference to prehistoric man, which seemed to be becoming a bigger topics in those days since the 1940 discovery of the Lascaux cave paintings and of Cro-Magnon man in the previous century, also in France. That's where Wyllis Cooper's Quiet, Please story begins, with a tale of three people who went climbing in the mountains and the blackhearted murder schemes they brought with them.
"The Oldest Man in the World" was originally broadcast May 22, 1949. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
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"Well, I bought a book. Yes, I did. 45 cents. You guess. No; no; no, you give up? Magic. No, no, no, not card tricks, magic, real magic, black magic, just like real! Sure!"
As I've indicated before, I'm partial to the whimsical episodes of Quiet, Please, perhaps moreso than the typical series fan. Much like "Prest-o Change-o, I'm Sure," "Dark Grey Magic" concerns a hapless man who comes into magical power. Unlike the previous episode where the hapless practitioner was corrupted by the power at his fingertips, "Dark Grey Magic" has a protagonist so hapless - heck, his name is Meredith Barleycorn! - that he's practically immune to corruption. The drama comes from a demon named Bodge who keeps trying to corrupt Meredith, with little to show for it.
This is an episode where our protagonist reads aloud from a magic book: "How to Ride a Broom; oh, wait, that's for girls." That's my kind of humour, I'm into this episode.
"Dark Grey Magic" was originally broadcast May 1, 1949. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
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"That's always the way it is; they're so surprised when I know the answers. I can't really help it, you see: I know everything."
Now here's a fun premise: our protagonist knows everything but only knows it when he's asked about it. He helpfully answers questions sent in the mail to him and even seems willing to share his knowledge with a bank robber to plot a perfect crime. And yet, there's one fact he's ignorant of; he knows how he will die but not when it will happen. And that's bad news for you - the listener!
"The Man Who Knew Everything" was originally broadcast March 6, 1949. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
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"That door? That's my workshop. I haven't been in there in quite some time. Artificial limbs. Rather unusual ones if I do say so myself. I've invented a few devices, you see, and they've been quite successful. Oh, yes. A great many persons wear hands, arms, legs and so on that I invented. You- didn't know my assistant, of course. Why, I don't know. I don't know where he is. As a matter of fact, it's Dan I wanted to talk to you about. Dan and Joyce. Joyce was his sweetheart. No. No, I didn't murder them."
This is an odd episode that certainly keeps you guessing as the narrator (our friend Ernest Chappell) keeps hinting at a murder that has been committed. He alludes to Mary Shelley's Frankenstein as he describes his own attempts at creating life - and the death that resulted from this experiment.
"Is This Murder?" was originally broadcast January 16, 1949. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
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"I don't know whether you ever heard of a place called Chicago or not but I knew it very well in my youth. I've forgotten how long ago that was even. There was a lake- beautiful, big, wide lake that could be bluer than the sky of a summer morning or gray as- Well, that's odd. I can't think of anything that's gray the way the lake was on a stormy day. Gray like the trees used to be? No, more alive, like the gray of steel. Steel? Oh, that's a metal we used to have. Forget about it."
Following World War II, science fiction began to imagine what a future dystopia might look like, and such a tale is Wyllis Cooper's "Adam and the Darkest Day." The story concerns three people who might be the only survivors on Earth after its near-destruction. Our protagonist is named Adam, which seems like a promising name to rebuild humanity... but Adam isn't certain whether humanity should persist.
"Adam and the Darkest Day" was originally broadcast November 7, 1948. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
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Just over a week ago, comic book writer/artist Keith Giffen passed away.
I was exposed to Giffen's work very early in my comic book hobby but it took me quite some time to really take notice of his name. My first exposure to Giffen's artwork was almost certainly a copy of All-Star Comics #62 that my family picked up at a church bazaar (it took a very long time to pick up All-Star Comics #63). Not too long after I encountered Giffen's writing via Justice League International #11 but I didn't like it very much - the Giffen/DeMatteis Justice League comics really didn't appeal to me as a child.
I became a Giffen fan thanks to his work as artist/co-writer of Ambush Bug (with co-writer Robert Loren Fleming). The original mini-series, 2nd mini-series (Son of Ambush Bug) and Christmas special were all available at low discount prices in comic shops and I took to them immediately. I didn't understand all of the references in the comics - Giffen loved to invoke obscure DC Silver Age stuff - but they made me laugh and I was always happy to return to them. I drifted away from DC in my teens and therefore missed the launch of his 1992 Ambush Bug: Nothing Special but when I did find that comic I was obsessed with it. The only Ambush Bug comic I've ever reviewed on my blog was Secret Origins #48. There was also the 2008 mini-series Ambush Bug: Year None but it had a weird passive-aggressive tone that seemed to be Giffen and Fleming talking down to comics fandom - that was off-putting.
I really came to love Giffen's work when I discovered he wasn't all funny stuff but also a deft hand at space opera. His 2004 Thanos comics with Ron Lim were probably the best Thanos stories not written by Jim Starlin himself. That led to his good Drax the Destroyer mini-series with artist Mitch Breitweiser which in turn led directly to Annihilation, which he wrote the largest part of. Annihilation was Marvel's first big cosmic event series since the 1990s and its follow-up event Annihilation: Conquest led directly to the revival of the Guardians of the Galaxy, which owed a tremendous amount to Giffen's Annihilation: Conquest - Star-Lord mini-series with artist Timothy Green. (I wrote Annihilation-adjacent books back then but never so much as exchanged an email with Giffen, more's the pity)
Giffen's own art style was quirky but he was also a great mimic of Jack Kirby, especially early in his career. His time on Defenders (especially under the inks of Kirby's inker Mike Royer) are possibly the best Kirby comics not drawn by Jack Kirby (and certainly the Zodiac arc written by David Kraft in Defenders #48-50 is a series highlight).
And there's so much more; I found the Heckler almost impenetrable but what I did follow I enjoyed a lot; his March Hare one-shot with Fleming was right in the spirit of Ambush Bug and it's a shame it wasn't an ongoing. I found the character of Lobo uninteresting but his first 1990 Lobo mini-series with co-writer Alan Grant and artist Simon Bisley was good fun; he drew the layouts for DC's 52 weekly series; and he drew a ton of Legion of Super-Heroes comics with writer Paul Levitz that I really ought to read one of these days (I liked the dozen or so that I have read).
Giffen's art and writing were idiosyncratic yet he made a solid career for himself in comics for about 50 years; he was unique and given most of his work appeared at the major publishers - Marvel and DC - his presence in comics was certainly felt by the vast majority of people who read comics. Comics are poorer for want of Giffen. Rest in peace, sir.
"I'm funny about snow, I guess. Yeah, I get sentimental about it, I get- I get silly about it the way some people get about pussywillows and forsythia in the springtime or the way you get about kids or dogs or siamese cats, y'know. I was looking at the Post the other day and there were some pictures about the fighting in the Bulge- when was it, four years ago Christmas time? Soldiers wearing white sheets over 'em, tanks painted white, snow sifting down on them, the little pine trees piled thick with it. I thought, how awful, fellas having to fight and kill each other at Christmas time, in the snow. Blood on the snow. There oughtn't to be blood on the snow. Snow's kinda... sacred. I always thought ever since I was a kid I hope it's snowing when I die. You ever feel that way?"
As the above quote demonstrates, "Meet John Smith, John" is a very melancholy episode. Our protagonist - John Smith - meets an older man also named John Smith whose life has been one of hard luck. The younger John Smith soon finds his own life falling apart and in the same ways the elder Smith's life had done. Somehow the two men's destinies are linked by their names.
What's so unnerving about this episode is that the link between the two John Smiths is inexplicable; they are not the same person, their lives are not identical - and yet the pattern between them only seems to grow stronger as time passes.
"Meet John Smith, John" was originally broadcast October 3, 1948. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
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So: I am now married, to the wonderful Bethany. She's an artist, I'm a writer - I hope we will have collaborations that I can post about to this blog in the future.
"Personally, I believe in the law of the jungle. I believe the fight goes to the strong, the one that's smarter, the one that ought to win. I've made my way in life that way, you can't tell me anything different."
Every episode of Quiet, Please opened with a performance of Cesar Franck's Symphony in D Minor. It's no coincidence that today's episode is likewise called "Symphony in D Minor." While the protagonist plots to murder his girlfriend's husband, the husband - a gifted psychologist - has his own scheme to use hypnotism and turn his would-be killer into a murderer whenever he hears Franck's Symphony in D Minor...
"Symphony in D Minor" was originally broadcast September 13, 1948. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
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"What'd you do if you heard a knock on your door some cold winter night, you went to the door and opened it, there was a fella about three feet high standin' on your front porch in the snow? Jump about ten feet in the air and yell? Sure, probably. Only, Hubert didn't jump; he couldn't."
"Three Thousand Words." A title that tells you precious little about what you're in for! What we have here is one of star Ernest Chappell's most interesting performances as he portrays a three-foot tall man with a rough, deep voice. What follows is a familiar tale of phony spiritualism and ventriloquism but with some great twists.
"Three Thousand Words" was originally broadcast August 23, 1948. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
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"How I got there I will never know, one minute I was sitting on the davenport with Verna right in my own living room in High Bridge, New Jersey just for no reason setting my watch 11 hours ahead and then vrong! I'm alongside the railroad station in Camp Dix and it's daylight and the sergeant... well, now... things don't happen like that, there's no such thing as magic. But... how? Tell me, how?"
Joining the army must be a very disconcerting experience for a drafted civilian, to have to surrender so much control and be ordered about. Such is the case of our nervous protagonist in "It's Later Than You Think" (title possibly inspired by the famous intro heard on Wyllis Cooper's earlier radio series Lights Out). His new wristwatch has the unusual power to control time and that causes all kinds of problems as he finds himself reliving moments - and blundering into trouble.
"It's Later Than You Think" was originally broadcast August 2, 1948. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
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"You see, I used to be a baker. Everybody was always askin' for an extra bun, or an extra donut, one more pork roll when they bought a dozen, you see? That's supposed to be some old-time custom or something for bakers."
A man sitting in a jury box listens to witnesses recount the story of a murder. As the case proceeds, the juror becomes more and more aware that the murder being described concerns him directly! It's a bit of a variation on Charles Dickens' story "the Trial for Murder," the variation being the identity of the person telling the tale - and it ends abruptly as the juror's fate is fully revealed!
"Baker's Dozen" was originally broadcast January 19, 1948. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
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"It was an old, black shell of a house. A house that had lived too long. A house where the floors groaned in pain at night, where the windows shuddered at the gentlest touch of the wind. Where door latches suddenly gave up their grip and let the night come sniffing into the house to paw at your eyes and wake you to the other silences that lay around ya."
The story of "Clarissa" is not - as the narrator frequently reminds us - a ghost story. But it's a tale that carries all the earmarks of a ghost story and for that reason, becomes all the more chilling. The mystery of why Clarissa is perpetually hidden from sight comes to a startling resolution in the climax. "Clarissa" features some of the best atmosphere in all of Wyllis Cooper's Quiet, Please.
"Clarissa" was originally broadcast April 19, 1948. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org. There's also a great episode of the Mysterious Old Radio Listening Society podcast where they listen to and discuss "Clarissa" that you can find here.
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"I wouldn't be caught in an alley with a derby hat, or with one of those light snap-brimmed ones, either. Look, you know what this thing is? It's an automatic pistol. It's not a rod, a roscoe or a heater. Do you know where I keep it? In my desk drawer. I can't speak Chinese; I think most policemen are very nice fellows, very efficient, generally courteous, almost always intelligent, I get along with them beautifully. I don't know any stoolpigeons; I have never hit a woman in my life. No one has ever called me a 'private eye' or a 'shamus' or however you pronounce it and I do not indulge in rapid-fire slang."
Quiet, Please was a show of many moods. As the above quote indicates, "Never Send to Know" sets out as a fairly whimsical tale like so many other episodes. The detective's opening monologue about all the genre cliches he does not support is very funny. The episode soon takes a turn as his latest client is a dead man who wants to know the identity of his murderer. This too is presented with a somewhat whimsical tone, but the story ends up in a very nightmarish place!
"Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee." - John Donne
"Never Send to Know" was originally broadcast March 8, 1948. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
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"It's raining again. Pretty near New Year's and it's raining again. Back east, it's probably snowing different places. Or maybe the moon's out, shining on the snow and people are saying, 'Why, it's so bright out you could read a newspaper!' Ya can't read a newspaper by moonlight; only the headlines. Maybe if you take your newspaper out in the yard and stand in the moonlight, you might find a headline with my name in it- it's been there before. Well, anyway, so there's moonlight. Here, there's rain; like it was that other New Year's Eve. That's what the rain makes me think of, as if I ever thought of anything else."
The title of this Quiet, Please is innocuous enough; early on in the drama, we spend some time delving into the misadventures of a Hollywood screenwriter, based on creator Wyllis Cooper's own unsatisfactory time in the motion picture business (including anecdotes about Boris Karloff, whom Cooper worked with). However, the early humour gradually gives way to horror as the writer tries to bring up something truly evil for inspiration.
"Rain on New Year's Eve" was originally broadcast December 29, 1947. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org. There's also a great episode of the Mysterious Old Radio Listening Society podcast where they listen to and discuss "Rain on New Year's Eve." you can listen to it on their website.
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"You ever hear anybody say 'I'd sell my soul for' this, that or the other? Well, not very many people really mean it when they say it. Unfortunately, I did. And I found a buyer. No, nothing very exciting. No crashes of thunder, no red fire. No, the doorbell just rang and when I opened the door there was a worried little looking man standing there."
This episode is about 1/3rd serious and 2/3rd very funny; this is the story of a man who sells his soul to the Devil and, as he proclaims "makes a profit." But like all such tales there are loopholes which the Devil is eager to exploit. There are many depictions of the Devil in popular culture - here he comes off primarily like a meek businessman but he's shrewd and definitely not to be trusted.
"Kill Me Again" was originally broadcast November 17, 1947. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
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"You drive a cab twelve, fifteen years like I done, you get some funny ones. Drunks that wanna take you home with 'em, guys that tell ya to take 'em to the Whosit Hotel when you're parked practically in front of it, dames that want you... Well, ya get some funny ones, but this is the first time I run into this kinda character. Well, so I'm drivin' a cab to make a buck, not to argue with people about where they wanna go. So I think: Lakeside Cemetery. That's the farthest."
A taxi driver keeps picking up fares who direct him towards a graveyard. Not any graveyard in particular - just to a graveyard. He complies, but grows increasingly unnerved by these passengers he's taking on. Has he become a ferryman to departed souls? Are the passengers already dead before they enter his cab?
"Take Me Out to the Graveyard" was originally broadcast November 3, 1947. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
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"Would you tell me the time, please? Oh, thank you. Thank you very much. I just wanted to see how much more time I have before a certain thing happens. I wanted to see if I have time enough to tell you what's going to happen."
Several of creator Wyllis Cooper's Quiet, Please stories involve time travel; in this case, our protagonist is an alcoholic scientist who is hired by criminals to unlock the secret of time travel. The scientist succeeds and then learns how he's going to die - but he mostly accepts his fate, as he's clearly a man already on a path to self-destruction. Like many time travel adventures there's a suggestion that time cannot be changed, but the scientist does make an effort to obtain justice by recruiting assistance from you, the listener!
"I Remember Tomorrow" was originally broadcast July 27, 1947. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
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"All I said to him was 'Where do you get your ideas?' and look what he did to me. I came in this bar, and I sat down quiet by myself, and I said to the bartender Charlie, make me a dry Manhattan and put two olives in it. So I had my dry Manhattan, and then I had another, and I began to look around. There wasn't anybody else in the bar but this skinny little guy in a corduroy shirt sitting down at the other end of the bar drinking ginger ale, and talking, kind of, to Charlie."
This story places creator Wyllis Cooper himself as one of the characters (although I believe he's impersonated by an actor). Cooper heads to a bar for a drink and is repeatedly bothered by a drunken man who is fascinated by Cooper's work and has ideas for stories he could tell about men from Mars; it seems these stories are based on the drunkard's own life! This is another light-hearted story and one of many episodes of Quiet, Please in which Cooper breaks down the fourth wall to comment upon his little spook show.
"Where Do You Get Your Ideas?" was originally broadcast February 20, 1949. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
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"Lemme see... yesterday, that's one day; the day before, that's two; the day before that, that's three - three days. Three days, all right. Doc was right. That fixes me. You think it don't? Well, listen..."
Two men with little money to their names find a dead man. One of the men takes the dead man's coat and puts it on, then discovers he's become invisible to those around him. "Wear the dead man's coat, no one takes note!" At first it seems like a great gift with powerful potential for abuse, but the coat comes with an awful hidden price. This is an excellent horror story whose tension builds as the protagonist gradually realizes the horrible fate he's subjected himself to.
"Wear the Dead Man's Coat" was originally broadcast February 23, 1948. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org. There's also a great episode of the Mysterious Old Radio Listening Society podcast where they listen to and discuss "Wear the Dead Man's Coat," you'll find it right here.
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"Oh, uh, excuse me. Uh, you really must excuse me. It's an old joke I haven't thought of in years. A joke that Johnny Martins and I used to kill ourselves over- and, to me, it's still funny. Ah, probably you won't crack a smile even but I must tell ya, I really must. You say to me, 'Sarsfield, can you make an elephant disappear?' And I say, 'Sure. Where's the elephant?' Uh, that's all. Really. Oh, I told you it wouldn't sound funny to you but, to me, it brings back memories. I wonder where poor Johnny Martins is. All those years, ah, Johnny and I used to have fits just fits laughin' at our bum joke. Er, that is, we did till I made an elephant disappear."
I think I break a little from the majority of Quiet, Please fans where the humourous episodes are concerned - I rather like them! "Prest-o Change-o, I'm Sure" is played primarily for laughs as the protagonist obtains great magical power but gets a bit muddled as to how to apply it, frequently resulting in a muffed spell and a request for someone to "disappear." But where do people go after he's made them disappear?
"Prest-o Change-o, I'm Sure" was originally broadcast August 16, 1948. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org.
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"This is a story about the temporal displacement of mass. It is also a story about teleportation. Do you know what those terms mean? No, I didn't think you did, but you stay right where you are, my charming friend, and you're quite likely to find out. You just stay right there and listen- I'll tell you everything you want to know. And maybe- well, maybe a couple of things you're not terribly anxious to know."
Not every episode of Quiet, Please could be classified as horror (generally the series is perhaps best dubbed 'dark fantasy') but "Northern Lights" is a potent example of how terrifying the program could be. And this is despite what sounds like a ridiculous premise - fuzzy caterpillers who ride in on the Aurora Borealis and learn to sing in English. This should be high camp, but it isn't. It's not just horror, it's cosmic horror - it's the type of horror television's the Outer Limits would later tap into. "Northern Lights" is extremely effective!
"Northern Lights" was originally broadcast January 30, 1949. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org. There is also a great discussion of "Northern Lights" on the Mysterious Old Radio Listening Society podcast that you can hear on their website, here.
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"We... consider the lilies and some of us love them. Do you suppose the lilies consider us and... sometimes return our love?"
Here we have an episode of Quiet, Please that feels like a forgotten Algernon Blackwood tale. As in Blackwood's fiction, nature has an overwhelming presence, a fascination that overcomes and subsumes humanity. In this case, it's about a man who loves his flowers (especially lilies) and his wife who does not. Under interrogation by the police over his wife's disappearance, the man goes into how the flowers came between them and the weird outcome of this conflict.
"Let the Lilies Consider" was originally broadcast June 28, 1948. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org. For another view on this episode, I recommend the Mysterious Old Radio Listening Society podcast, who listened to and discussed this episode in an early installment that you can listen to on their website.
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"I looked at Marlena; Marlena looked at me when we heard this old guy talkin' about Beezer's cellar. 'Get a load of this Marlena,' I said, and she picked up a french fry and ate it very quiet while we listened to the old guy. He was sounding off to another old guy and the other old guy couldn't get a word in edgeways."
Three criminals overhear a discussion of "Beezer's Cellar" and the legend of the unusual six-fingered man who built it, then committed suicide. The cellar is deserted and shunned; the criminals think that renders it an ideal spot to hide their stolen money.
Although morality fables are a well-known feature of Arch Oboler's Lights Out series, Wyllis Cooper had a similar determination to depict in his radio scripts a strong moral code and sense of justice. At it's heart, that's what the criminals find in "Beezer's Cellar" - justice. And at the very end... a little mercy.
"Beezer's Cellar" was originally broadcast October 10, 1948. You can listen to the episode at Quiet, Please.org. This episode was listened to and discussed on the Mysterious Old Radio Listening Society podcast and you can hear it for yourself on their website if you're so inclined!
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Meanwhile... a Biography of Milton Caniff is a 2007 book published by Fantagraphics and written by R. C. Harvey (who is now deceased). In his life, Harvey was a major fan and promoter of the work of Milton Caniff and had a lot of access to Caniff during the latter years of his life. Meanwhile clocks in at almost 1000 pages yet apparently Harvey's 1st draft was almost twice that length and had to be pared down.
In the early chapters you might well wonder what exactly was pared down - I did. The space spent covering Caniff's early life prior to his professional career as a cartoonist are extremely padded. For instance, to explain something about U.S. culture in the 1920s, Harvey spent two paragraphs recapping the plot and substance of Sinclair Lewis' novel Babbitt. An entire chapter was spent discussing the history of newspaper comics. At times Harvey scripted imaginary conversations he assumed Caniff must have held with other cartoonists. But digressions and rabbit trails (Babbitt trails?) such as this became fairly rare once Caniff's career took off.
Indeed, as Caniff was (and is) best-known for his comic strip Terry and the Pirates (1934-1946), Harvey devoted more time and energy to those years of Caniff's life to the point that most of the storyarcs from the strip were recounted in the text by Harvey. That stands in stark contrast to Caniff's long-running Steve Canyon (1947-1988) strip for which Harvey noted certain highlights in the strip's history but comparatively glanced over much of the content.
I own a set of the complete Terry and the Pirates strips by Caniff that was published by IDW some years ago. I love the strip and I have a lot of respect for Caniff's storytelling and art. I'm less enthusiastic about Steve Canyon - I have vestigal memories of that strip from my childhood and my impression then was that the strip was about as boring as Rex Morgan M.D. or Mark Trail. Of course, as I learned in Harvey's tome, Caniff didn't really draw the strip for very long, turning the penciling duties over to Dick Rockwell and only supplying inks for the majority of the strip's run.
Although I'm overwhelmingly for Milt Caniff, I wasn't prepared for the tone of Harvey's book. Harvey approaches Caniff as though he were beyond criticism. One snippet I found revealing was this, where Harvey engaged with some criticism written by Canadian Arn Saba (today Katherine Collins); Collins (Saba) wrote:
"[When Steve reenlisted in the Air Force], the strip became a vehicle for right-wing political views in that completely transparent and guileless way that Americans have of not even realizing that there might be any other point of view..."
Harvey immediately pushed back against this:
"I don’t wholly agree with Saba. Caniff was a mainstream moderate not a right-wing conservative: he scarcely approached Harold Gray’s end of the political spectrum."
As a fellow Canadian, I understand Collins (Saba)'s perspective as an outsider viewing American culture. Harvey seems unable to consider how American views appear to the world at large, how very right-wing his nation's culture is. One needn't be as far-right as Gray to espouse a right-wing viewpoint. Many of what I see Americans calling centrist views, I would call right-wing if they were uttered by a Canadian. Harvey's own right-wing views were evident when he discussed the protests against Vietnam, where he repeatedly cast shade on the protestor's motivations, at one point calling them "self-indulgent" and generally engaging in bad faith representations of why the war protests broke out.
But for me the most troubling part of Harvey's defensiveness (defensive of the USA and defensive of Caniff) is when he discussed racism in Terry and the Pirates. Despite Harvey's verbose writing style and indulgent 1000 page count, he spent less than 2 pages on this topic. Here's a snippet of the praise he lavished on Caniff:
Almost from the start, Caniff’s treatment of the Chinese in his strip had been respectful—even within the permissive conventions of the medium in a relatively racist society. Caniff’s Chinese villains had been villainous, but they hadn't been racial caricatures: they had been realistically rendered. Some of the early heavies had leaned a little too far in the direction of the Oriental villains of melodrama, but before the strip was six months old, Caniff had scuttled stereotypes like these. And all the other Chinese who crossed Caniff’s stage performed their functions as appropriate to their assigned roles (whether large or small) without any particular attention (or slight) to their race. Not all Chinese were pirates; not all pirates were venal. Not all Caucasians were good guys; and even the good guys had faults.
It really is fair game to talk about racism in Terry and the Pirates. I love that strip, but I also won't hesitate to call it racist. There absolutely are mitigating factors such as Harvey notes above, but any contemporary reader who sees a Caniff drawing of the character Connie will not hesitate in calling him a racist caricature. There's definitely a debate to have on that subject, probably an especially good one to hear from a critic of Asian descent (to say nothing of the Dragon Lady, who I myself saw targeted for criticism in a female Asian student's comics presentation at my university). I don't think Harvey's attempts to cast Caniff as going against the tide of his culture will really resonate with today's audiences; I think they'll simply see Caniff as (at best) a product of his times - and because of his great influence on comics, a fair target for criticism.
So Meanwhile is a hard book to recommend. If you are really enthralled by Caniff's work, I think it's indispensable. Otherwise, no one would want to engage with the book - it's too big, too overwritten, too hagiographic for the casual reader.
