Cheesebo

I first drew Harvey (named after my grandfather) when I was ten. I ran across these drawings while cleaning out my studio. I was so young, but I still hate to say when I drew these. Let’s just say that it was a shock that year when we found out Darth Vader was Luke Skywalker’s father.

When looking at this I know you’ll be shocked (SHOCKED!) to read that my main influence was Charles Schulz.

I’m not sure what the joke is, here, but I think it’s that he’s too small to reach the sink. When I was a kid, sinks were easier for me than monkey bars.

I bragged on Facebook that my polling place was so close that I could skip to it, so Tom Racine offered me a dollar if I actually did that. Two if I was carrying a basket. I forgot my basket, so I used my wife’s purse.

Hey, money’s tight and it seems like a harmless fetish.

Let’s say that you’re 10 years old, interested in cartooning, and way too impatient for the internet to be invented. Well, let’s say I was.

Somehow my mother found out about this little booklet that you could get. I’m not sure if it cost anything or if you simply had to request one. Either way, I think it was just a non-profit pamphlet that was very well made and generous to kids like me (or like I was…well, maybe like I am).

It was probably an old publication even when I was ten. Note that Mel Lazarus looks like Rudolph Valentino. I know, the pages are a bit yellowed, but it has to say something about the reverence that I held (and hold) for these cartoonists that it’s survived for 30 years without getting demolished.

It’s also worth noting that the advice contained within is still good despite the fact that the game has changed so much.

If I’m doing this right, you can click on an image to make it bigger. If I’m not doing this right, you can squint at the lovely illegibly squeezed images.

My wife was going through old papers and found this. A few years ago, she took some classes at IU. She received one of those letters that congratulate you on your admission (or, in her case, readmission).

I have a vague memory of drawing this while waiting on her in the Registrar’s office. I do what I can to improve self esteem.

I’ve managed to get rid of many, many books over the years. And by many, I mean…many. Bags full. Carloads full.

I still have a lot of books. I’ve whittled them down to what I consider “essentials”. They may not be important books to anyone else, but they have sentimental value to me.

One type of book I always keep is a paperback collection of comic strips. Way back when, there were no great reprint collections of comics. Well, there weren’t any when my mother took us to the grocery store. That’s when I could browse the paperback collection and occasionally find a comic strip collection.

I would buy them no matter what they were. If it was a collection of Hazel, I bought it. (anyone remember Hazel? Anyone?) Some were fantastic, some were mediocre, and some were flat out weird, but I loved them.

This Charlie Brown collection is a sort of miracle. It was published before I was born, which means I must’ve swiped it from my sister’s collection. It’s a nice collection of Sunday strips. It’s a miracle because the cover is made out of what I would describe as “thick newsprint”. It somehow survived my childhood.

Here we go. A Dick Tracy collection by Max Allan Collins. He was (and is) one of my favorite mystery writers, so I was very excited to see that he was writing Dick Tracy. I think that’s why they kicked him off the strip. Somebody at Tribune found out that I was excited. At least that’s how I perceived it back when he was let go.

I bought everything, and I was always disappointed to see that the Beetle collection I was about to buy wasn’t a bunch of newspaper strip reprints, but what appeared to be comic book reprints. They were ok, but by age eight or so I was already a newspaper strip snob. Still, it’s fun to have this kind of book, because it’s proof that it once shared space on a rack with a Dirk Pitt novel. (Dirk Pitt….I still laugh at that name, but what do I know? Those Clive Cussler books sold by the crate.)

This Dennis The Menace book was also published before I was born. Hmm, it’s a lot cheaper than the Charlie Brown book. It’s also in better condition. Keep in mind, I’m posting only the odd ones. This qualifies as another miracle. I have a lot of coverless books from my childhood that look worse than artifacts dug up from 500 years ago.

OK, this isn’t really from my childhood. Tor published it in 1990. This is just the last instance of a mass market paperback comic collection that I can remember. Maybe it’s just the last one I bothered to notice.

Remember these? Once the special aired on TV, you never saw it again until whatever doofus at the network decided to rerun it. So I bought the book.

I have to admit that I have no idea if I actually read this. Marvel used to collect their newspaper comics into paperbacks. I’m sure I bought it with all intentions of reading a subdued version of the Hulk.

Ah, now it truly is a miracle that this survived. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe this is a replacement I bought. It’s still pretty beaten up. Al Jaffee’s Snappy Answers To Stupid Questions remains one of my favorite books of all time.

I never read these. I bought them just to flip the pages. Any book with flippable pages for animation is a must-have. I must’ve been bored with the concept by the time I got this one, because the corner pages aren’t bent beyond recognition.

Both Marvel and DC would collect stories into paperbacks. I have a vague memory of Jim Shooter suggesting that an aspiring colorist track one of these down for practice.

I’m sure I bought this at a school book fair. The schools would only host the book fair. Books placed for sale were usually decided by some company. Teachers always (ALWAYS) scowled at a comic book purchase. I’m sure they would’ve been happier with something a little more realistic, like a Dirk Pitt novel.

Remember seeing Snuffy Smith paperbacks for sale at the grocery store? I don’t either. The inside of the book has my cousin’s name written in it. That means I either stole it from him or he gave it to me. I’m sure he gave it to me because I was a saint of a child who only stole from evil corporations, like the grocery store.

This was published when I was two years old. That definitely means I didn’t buy it and it probably means I didn’t steal it. It’s the little-seen Charles Schulz panel cartoons for his church publication. They starred actual teenagers instead of children. How could I get rid of this?

That’s my little trip down weird paperback lane. I miss seeing them for sale.

We were driving back from Chicago into Indiana. Northern Indiana has proud stretches of Bland. Yes, Bland. It’s Bland for as far as the eye can see. Generations grew up maintaining, enjoying and being comforted by the seemingly endless supplies of Bland. There are miles and miles of fields, respectable farms and an incredible amount of nothing else.

I can say this, because my mother was from the deep South and my father from the cold North, that this is like the Bible Belt with all personality stripped away. Boring is a popular accessory for all the Bland.

So imagine my surprise that along Highway 65 is a zit in the Bland, or a little oasis if you will. Suddenly, you’re besieged by billboards advertising adult bookstores, strip clubs, and even (my favorite) The Rub Club. The Rub Club advertises massages, but (and this is only a gut feeling) there might be more rubbing involved at a higher price.

In the middle of all of these billboards is a lonely small black billboard that reads “Hell Is Real!” I think Stephen King has a setting for his next novel.

What kills me is that it’s supposedly “God’s Country”. It is known for being deeply conservative. The most radical among them worship at the Methodist Church and they’re not trusted. I mean, they might perform Grease in their playhouse. That could lead to less Bland.

This isn’t the first time I’ve seen sex clubs proliferating out in the middle of fuddy-duddy breeding grounds. It always seems like there’s a place for sin in the middle of the Bible Belt.

So after the residents finish complaining about people different than themselves, they’ll make fun of the name Obama by voting for a guy whose name is Mitt. They will assure themselves that they have done everything they could do to preserve what this country is all about: sexual repression.

And this liberal has to wonder what is in a 24 hour adult superstore. I know, I can look it up. I’ve probably seen it all (previous research papers and whatnot). I wonder because maybe, just maybe, the contents of these adult superstores can unite us.

Forget science, forget communicating, forget respect … let people of all beliefs, races and orientations hold town meetings in these stores and come together.

This last weekend I finally went to the Kenosha Festival of Cartooning. I write “finally” because I really wanted to go last year but had too many deadlines. The festival was organized by the wonderful Anne Hambrock, harpist and colorist extraordinaire, and her brilliant husband John who’s the creator of the Brilliant Mind of Edison Lee.

Now, even though I’m in the same age group as many of these comic creators, and I’ve had similar experiences over the years, I’m not making a living off of this. I make a living creating advertising material. I do a comic a day for free because I love it. It’s the most relaxing part of my day. So I look up to the featured cartoonists. I’m a fan of their work and I’m proud of their contributions to the comic art form. It’s very easy to revert to my ten year old self (which, let’s face it, is a pretty standard mental condition for most cartoonists).

My wife Rachel tagged along. She’s my best friend, after all, and has the ability to make me actually like myself. I packed my self esteem, finally arranged for babysitting and after a half a tank of gas and approximately 483 Chicago tollbooths we were in Kenosha.

I was immediately met by Tom Racine, thank god. Tom is the incredible writer/artist behind BookSmarts (see the previous blog entry for my review on that must-have book) who turned into the incredible interviewer/podcaster. He’s also an amazingly nice guy who took the trouble to introduce me to people and forced me not to spend the day crouched in the corner while wearing camouflage.

I was only there Saturday, so I got to see three presentations. Well, three and a half if you count Stephan Pastis’ honorable second presentation due to the sold out original presentation. And here is part of the crowd who was there. In front of all of those people is a backwards-capped Stephan Pastis.

Rachel and I only spoke to Stephan when he signed a book for us, and that wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for Rachel buying a book at the last second and running to the end of the line. I didn’t want to bug him because he is truly the Garth Brooks of the cartooning world. Weird comparison you say? Not so. I’m not really a Garth fan, but I do remember reading that he was so dedicated to his fans that he would sometimes spend six hours or more signing autographs. That’s Stephan Pastis. He added a show, stayed late, and was extremely nice to everyone all while being in the middle of a book tour.

I recorded the lectures on my iPod. My favorite, I have to say, was Norm Feuti. It was great and I only found out later that he was very nervous about the whole public speaking thing. I wouldn’t have guessed that. I gushed about Gil to him. Rachel gushed about Retail. He was selling his book “Pretending To Care”, and even though we left our copy at home he signed another one just for Rachel. When we got home, my mother-in-law asked about Norm right away. What can I say? The women in my family are Norm groupies, probably because they have a lot of retail experience.

Upstairs was original artwork that was going to be auctioned off later. I know, it’s stupid to take pictures of original artwork, because you can find them in reprint collections in all their reproducible glory. But there’s something so intimate about seeing original art that I just had to put my crappy iPod camera back into use.

An original Doonesbury. Seeing this made my year.

I was amazed at how clean all of the comic strips were. They looked like they were made for framing. So I took a picture of this Pearls Before Swine to show that Pastis is the “real deal”. Oh yeah, tons O’ white out. Just like I make ‘em.

This Family Circus, aside from making me stare at its beautiful rendering, made me laugh out loud. Yes, the idea of expectant kids greeting an exhausted parent is a familiar idea. But look at the repetition of the father’s pose and the use of bad weather to emphasize a hard day. This is cartooning at its best.

Once the museum closed, we went down the street to the auction. After guarding Tom Racine’s camera gear while he ran off to change into his Captain America costume, both Rachel and Tom forced me to meet people. All were unbelievable nice (I’m sensing a pattern here).

Finally realizing I could take pictures, I took a picture of all the great talent that was there. Ha! No, I’m an idiot. I took a picture of the bathroom. I thought it was funny that the Womens restroom was easily accessible while you had to trek down two flights of stairs and go around the corner for the Mens. So I took a picture of that.

I got to briefly meet Tom Richmond. Super nice. I told Rachel (with a straight face) that he’s Lou Ferrigno’s brother. She responded “Really?” That might’ve been my happiest moment.

Then I got to meet Michael Jantze, who is a walking, talking TV show. He was so entertaining and full of solid knowledge about the business that I could’ve listened to him all night. Instead I wrote down a couple of things he said that cracked me up: “My wife said to me, ‘Imagine what you could’ve done with your life if you didn’t hate yourself?’” I think a lot of us need to ask ourselves that. He also had a zinger in a story he told that’s so good that I’ll skip the setup, “You go to hell and I’ll go get a lawyer”. I need half of his energy. Just half.

After all of that, the Hambrocks hosted a get-together at their house. I don’t know how they have the energy for all of this, but there must be something in the air drifting off of Lake Michigan.

I met Mike Cope. I’ve always found his artwork to be perfect. Fortunately, he was taking actual pictures with a better (real) camera. I hope to see those. He also showed us that the population of Canada is only a bit above 34 million. See, it’s not all cartoon talk. I wish I had more time to talk with Mike. What he’s doing with educational cartooning seems to be a very underutilized outlet for our skills. Plus, it all sounds like very rewarding work.

Those are the highlights for me, a scared cartoonist who likes to draw a comic featuring a scared dog. I feel less intimidated now. These are real people who happen to be masters in their field.

As far as the festival is concerned, fans and even the mildly curious should come when there is another one. Kenosha is a very accessible city and the perfect setting for this. The Hambrocks did an amazing job and the festival was very exciting for the fans. I know, because I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on their conversations. Perhaps my biggest satisfaction was overhearing two young boys talking excitedly about Pearls Before Swine.

Hey, kids! Comics! The comics still rock.

That farmer had a fun dog. I was over at FoxyBingo and realized that I am an obnoxious bingo player who benefits from playing it online. I benefit because the only one I bother when I win is my cat. True, she can scratch, but she can’t kick me out of the game. She can’t glare at me and distract me from hearing numbers either. Some of those glares come with actual waves that can shake your ink hand.

It’s not enough to win and yell “BINGO!”, either. You have to do the little bingo dance, which includes waving the card in a manner that suggests you’re trying to direct traffic. Then you smugly claim your prize and glow in the effects of having beaten everybody in the room at a game that involves nothing but random chance. I still like to think there’s some sort of skill in random chance games. I credit myself fully when I win. Surly it was the way I moved the mouse, or heard the numbers or … something. Give credit even where it isn’t due. It’s good for self esteem.

And lets face it, we start off playing bingo when we’re kids and, if we’re lucky, we can still play it when we’re ninety years old. It’s one of those games that can last a lifetime and still be cool because prizes are involved. If there were prizes involved in Go Fish, we would still be playing that too.

Of course, I don’t believe in an age limit when it comes to toys. I want a set of Tinker Toys, Lincoln Logs and a a Light Bright. Remember those? I want to be able to build a Tinker Toy car on my desk during a meeting. If it’s not a meeting where I can feel free to build a Tinker Toy car, then it’s not a meeting creatively worth having.