Showing posts with label Bradley Walker. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bradley Walker. Show all posts

Dell Giant #43: "Mighty Mouse in Outer Space"

DELL GIANT #43
MIGHTY MOUSE IN OUTER SPACE
Published Jan. 1, 1961
Artist: Unknown
Writer: Unknown

I remembered buying this book when it first came out, but other than a couple of panels I couldn't remember anything about the contents. So I decided to revisit it.

Dell Giant, like Dell Four Color, was an umbrella title; it let Dell flood the newsstands with what looked like separate books. This title was unusual, first, in that it featured Mighty Mouse; the big studios like Disney and Warners were more likely to be represented. This book is also missing many of the other features of Dell Giants: no puzzles or games. (It's very unusual to come across a pristine Dell Giant.)

But what's most unusual is, the whole 80 pages are devoted to one story. In some ways this is an early graphic novel. (Although no one's likely to be clamoring for a reprint, on this or any other grounds.)

First chapter: "The Flying Saucer Strikes!" "Suddenly, in the night sky above Mouseville, a strange object hovers…" I like that the first word is "Suddenly". We start out by building momentum, which will dissipate over the next eight pages.

The flying saucer abducts Mighty Mouse's then-current girlfriend, Mitzi Mouse, and the two kids she's babysitting. For good measure they grab her next-door neighbor as well. No reason is given for his abduction, and in fact nothing comes of it. But consider: the saucer has chosen an immature male, an immature female, an adult male and an adult female. Sure looks like someone's getting breeding stock.

Mighty Mouse hears their cries for help, because he always does. Unfortunately he gets zapped by a ray from the saucer and is out for the count. (Like many "un-serious" superheroes, and more than a few serious ones, MM's power levels fluctuated with he needs of the story.)

Seconds later he comes to, and is convincing himself he was seeing things, when a camera bug rushes up with photographic proof. Mighty takes the photo (without saying, "Thank you!" Some role model) and rushes off to his scientist friend, Professor Theorem. The prof has a full beard and a beret — he looks like a beatnik, in other words. (But no jive talk or bongos.) Maybe the idea was to suggest he's an unconventional thinker. If so, it failed; the prof's defining quirk is his absent-mindedness, which is very conventional for funnybook scientists.

Once the prof has found the saucer on his radar, he deduces that they can't follow without a rocketship. Fortunately he's got a one-mouse labor force in front of him. The rest of the chapter is taken up with building a rocket, finding fuel, hiring a crew consisting of hotshot pilot Zoom and handymouse Tinker, and then it's time for the big launch. Unfortunately the rocket starts to tip over, so Mighty Mouse has to get out and push.

I figured out why I didn't retain any of the story from the first time I read it — it's too formulaic. (Terrytoons — formulaic? Oh, say not so!) Mighty and company land on a planet. They meet (and run afoul of) the local population, and extricate themselves using brains and/or superpowers. Then they discover a clue left behind by the saucer, and they're off to the next planet.

Some things are too obvious to complain about. So every alien race speaks English? They could be telepathic, y'know.

Every alien race turns out to be hostile. Well, after all, this is Mighty Mouse, not Casper the Friendly Ghost.

They just happen to be following the saucer's course exactly, finding clues as small as Mitzi's hankie on Jupiter. If this were a Silver DC book, they'd say something like the Professor was picking up the saucer's ion trail.

Talking of DC books, this is very much in the vein of early Jack Schiff stories, where each planet in our system was host to a different race (and never the same race from story to story). It's not just a DC trope, of course, it goes back to at least pulp fiction. You may recall the JSA story from All Star 13, "Shanghaied into Space," where each JSA-er had to bring back a scientific discovery from our planetary neighbors. Later Roy Thomas "improved" the story by saying they were in a parallel universe, where the planets of our system were indeed inhabited.

Mighty Mouse and company run into:

Putty people on the moon, who take on your superficial characteristics when they touch you:

Plant people on Venus, whose humanoid servants are at the mental level of livestock;

Batwinged cats from the underground cities of Mars;

Humungous balloon men on Jupiter (no one thinks to call them, "gas giants," but I suppose that's over the kids' heads);

Crystalline stone faces on Saturn. (They trap Professor, Tinker and Zoom like flies in amber. This was one of the scenes I remembered.)

I skipped over their stop in the asteroid belt to make repairs. They land on a planetoid with a 50-mile diameter, which actually has an atmosphere.

And dinosaurs.

Mighty actually has to expend some effort, fighting a stegosaurus, a diplodocus and the inevitable T-Rex. The art has been just serviceable up to this point, but the artist has put extra effort into these thunderlizards. I'm sure the reasoning was, kids who like space will also like dinosaurs, because it's all science.

It's hard to remember the big push America put behind science in the early sixties, all in an attempt to beat the Russkies to the moon. (Especially when a lot of effort is being put forward by today's corporations to badmouth science that affects their bottom line.) The present story is in no way educational — about the only thing they get right is the names of the planets — and makes no claims as such; it's just making use of what we would call the zeitgeist. Outer space is in the air, so to speak, so let's make a kiddy book that takes advantage of it.

Mighty busts his hostages — uh, crew members — out of the stone heads and they circle Saturn, trying to pick up the saucer's trail. Then Professor Theorem gets the brainwave they're on the only moon in the system with an atmosphere, Saturn's sixth moon, Titan. (LSH fans will recall Saturn Girl's homeworld was retconned to Titan when it became just too clear that Saturn couldn't sustain life.)

And the saucer is on Titan! The inhabitants are giant pussycats. (Nobody uses the word, "Titanic." Another opportunity lost.) All this time they've been testing their captives, trying to determine if invading Earth will be worth their while. No mention of how long the testing's been going on, but then, there's been no mention of specific time units passing in this whole story. It would be just too apparent how impossible this whole mess is.

It takes longer than it should, but Mighty Mouse breaks everyone free and breaks some Titan-tabby faces and hardware. The cats call off the invasion, thinking that all mice on Earth are like MM. (The word "outlier" isn't in this story's vocabulary, either.)

And then it's back to the green, green hills of mother Earth. But before we sign off, Mitzti gets her own two-panel gag:

"Wait, Mighty Mouse! If you're rocketing to the moon, you forgot some vital equipment!"

"What is it, Mitzi?"

"A knife — in case the moon is made of real cheese!" (You just know Bakshi would say something about cutting the — oh, never mind.)

Actually the title of this gag sums up the whole book: "Destination: Cheese."

Mystery Furry Theatre: Sabrina's Christmas Magic


BRAD: Long time, long time. I'm here with my robot pals Raven --

RAVEN: All I want for Christmas is to decide who lives and who dies.

BRAD: And Waldo --

WALDO: How do you giftwrap schadenfreude?

BRAD: And we're about to take on a story from Sabrina's Christmas Magic, "Animal Crackers!"

RAVEN: With Captain Spaulding?

WALDO: Groucho or Sid Haig?

SABRINA: Have you ever wondered how Christmas is celebrated in the Animal Kingdom?

WALDO: Aren't most animals pagans?

RAVEN: Bunnies worship the sun. I read it in Watership Down.

SABRINA: Hold your hats! We're going to visit some special friends!

BRAD: That's nice, visiting the challenged for the holidays.

ARCHIE: What's the matter, Jughead? You look sad.

RAVEN: So the funny-animal Archie is a lion.

BRAD: Less Animal Kingdom, more Magic Kingdom.

JUGHEAD: I've got good reason to be sad, Archie! Look where my POUCH is located!

WALDO: Isn't it female kangaroos who have the pouches?

RAVEN: He's a kangaroo? I thought he was the Purple Snit's kid brother!

BRAD: Jughead points to a pelican…

JUGHEAD: I wish I had a pouch in my mouth where it would do my some good! You know how I like to eat!

WALDO: That pelican is a lot more realistic than the Archie characters.

RAVEN: And where is this, anyway? Lions are from Africa, kangaroos are from Australia, pelicans are mostly North American.

BRAD: So this'll never make Animal Planet.

ARCHIE: Well, the pouch you've got is perfect for carrying our Christmas presents!

JUGHEAD: Aw, Christmas phooey! I don't feel like celebrating!

ARCHIE: I know what you need, Jug!

RAVEN: Three and a half hours of Christmas Specials.

ARCHIE: Two coconut floats, Pop!

POP TATE: Okay, Arch!

BRAD: And Pop Tate is an elephant.

WALDO: Many small businessmen vote Republican.

RAVEN: Bamboo walls is one thing, but giant toadstools for sitting?

POP TATE: Send down two coconuts, Dilton!

BRAD: And Dilton -- an owl with glasses and hair gel -- drops two coconuts.

RAVEN: Right on Pop's head.

WALDO: Some elephant. Knocked senseless by coconuts?

MOOSE: D-uh -- are you guys going to the Christmas party at school?

ARCHIE: As soon as we finish our sodas, Moose!

BRAD: Hey, I didn't realize this story was that old. Moose is still saying "D-uh."

RAVEN: And why is he an ape? Shouldn't he be a moose?

ARCHIE: Okay, Moose! We'll go now!

MOOSE: I'm glad I can follow you -- D-uh -- I forgot the way to school!

REGGIE: C'mon, you slow pokes! I'll race you to the party!

FX: ZIP!

JUGHEAD: That Reggie is such a show-off!

RAVEN: And tigers come from India or China.

BRAD: So Reggie should talk like Apu? Or Joe Jitsu?

WALDO: Please God no.

REGGIE: Morning, Mr. Weatherbee!

MR. WEATHERBEE: Good morning, boys!

RAVEN: So if Weatherbee's a walrus, does that make Miss Grundy the Carpenter?

WALDO: She's as skinny as Karen.

MR. WEATHERBEE: We'll start the party as soon as Ronnie arrives!

JUGHEAD: Why do we have to wait for Ronnie?

MR. WEATHERBEE: Because her father owns the jungle!

BRAD: Oh, I guess-- HUH?

DILTON: Here's Ronnie now!

BRAD: Ronnie steps out of a tortoise-limousine, with lemurs as chauffeur and footman.

RAVEN: Why is she holding a fandancer's fan behind her?

BRAD: She's supposed to be a peacock.

WALDO: Isn't the girl a peahen?

RAVEN: So Jughead is really a girl and Ronnie is really a boy.

BRAD: That explains a lot about Archie.

MR. WEATHERBEE: All right, students! We can begin! Big Ethel is in charge of the games for our Christmas party!

BRAD: A bucktoothed giraffe.

BIG ETHEL: (Giggle) Our first game (giggle) is called "Mistletoe Madness"!

FX: ZIP!

RAVEN: Well, that cleared the room -- uh, clearing.

RONNIE: I feel sorry for Big Ethel! She has to depend on mistletoe to get a kiss! I just flutter my tail and all the boys become little tigers!

BRAD: And now we're thinking about Veronica's tail. Wholesome kiddie fare.

RAVEN: Look, never mind the gender confusion and the weird geography -- why should a lion and a tiger go nuts over a bird? It's not like anything could happen!

BRAD: Funny animal comics are all about diversity.

BIG ETHEL: Boys, please! Give me a chance to show you how much fun "Mistletow Madness" can be!

RAVEN: Boy, I wish giraffes were really silent.

DILTON: This whole party is madness!

WALDO: This is a party?

DILTON: It's almost Christmas and all we're doing is playing games!

MR. WEATHERBEE: But, Dilton, we ALWAYS play games at Christmas!

RAVEN: Don't look so shocked about it…

BRAD: We have an ad for a "10-Way Hairpiece" (Only $1!) and "20 Almost-Rare Stamps from 12 Lost Nations!" (Save them NOW while they last!) And now the story resumes.

ARCHIE: That's right! Christmas is sort of a make-believe time!

WALDO: Not to most retailers…

DILTON: We've MADE Christmas a make-believe time, but it shouldn't be! Christmas should have real meaning for us!

BRAD: Cue the Harman-Ising production of "Peace On Earth"…

DILTON: Do you remember what it was like before Christmas came into the world? We were living in a jungle! Fighting all the time!

RAVEN: Well, we took it day by day…

REGGIE: It used to be the survival of the fittest!

DILTON: But the miracle of Christmas changed all that!

WALDO: Yeah, everyone knows Christians never fight!

DILTON: Because of Christmas we learned real love and respect for each other!

REGGIE: It doesn't matter if we have spots or stripes!

ARCHIE: And our color doesn't count, either!

WALDO: Aren't most of them colorblind?

DILTON: If Christmas can do so much for us, we should do more for Christmas than just play games with it!

RAVEN: Shouldn't Betty give the closing sermon?

BRAD: She should, but in this story she was a cricket, and owls and crickets, well…

ARCHIE: I get it Dilt! If we don't live by the spirit of Christmas, we'll live by the spirit of the jungle!

BRAD: And now a tableau of all the characters, hearts aloft, with some slightly more realistic versions of the ones Isaiah names:

NARRATOR: As the prophet Isaiah wrote may years ago: "The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid, and the calf with the lion!"

BRAD: Well, Archie always did appreciate a good calf.

RAVEN: It's the Peaceable Kingdom!

WALDO: It's a piece o'bull, all right!

BRAD: So this story was written and drawn by Al Hartley, who did all those Spire comics like "Archie's One Way" and "Barney Bear Wakes Up!"

WALDO: In essence creating the comic-book equivalent of Pilgrim's Progress.

RAVEN: He's like a gateway drug for Jack Chick.

BRAD: Be that as it may. It's time to wish everyone Best Wishes for the Holiday Season.

WALDO: Merry Christmas! And my gift registry is at Urban Outfitters!

RAVEN: Don't send me money, gift cards are more personal!

BRAD: And to all a Good Night.

Classics Illustrated: Food of the Gods

Classics Illustrated #160: FOOD OF THE GODS

First Published January 1961

Digital comics are wonderful in a lot of ways. A few clicks at Comixology, a link to PayPal, and I'm another twenty in arrears. 

Recently I picked up the Classics Illustrated version of H.G. Wells' "Food of the Gods." I would recommend it only to Wells completists. The cover by Gerald McCann, of a gigantic hen picking up a young human by his pants, captures the appeal of the root story instantly. The adaptation by Alfred Sundel does its job without calling attention to itself. The interior art is by Tony Tallarico, and for many of you that's all you needed to hear.

Tony Tallarico has had a long and varied career. He's done comics, art instruction books, greeting cards, trading cards, activity books and I don't know what all. His versatility almost makes up for his lack of inspiration. Give him two ways to illustrate a scene and he will create a third, duller, option. If you're feeling generous, you might call him a journeyman; if not, well, the word starts with "H" and rhymes with "gack!"

The plot in brief: Two British amateur scientists create a new chemical that, when fed to any organism from infancy, makes it grow to kaiju size. (And, of course, the Inverse Square Law need not apply.)

One of the scientists, Bensington, buys a farm in the country and hires a couple named Skinner to run it. He tests the new wonder food on chickens and the baby chicks grow to six or seven times normal.

Which is good. What's not so good is the slovenly conditions where the food is prepared. Wasps are getting in the kitchen and there's more than one rathole. (In a movie the scene with the wasps would call for a musical sting.)

They're not done testing, but somehow they're already marketing the stuff, as "Boomfood." We don't see any packaging. I bet Kevin O'Neill designed some.

Back in London Bensington is conferring with his partner, Redwood. (Wells could be as "on the nose" as anybody.) Redwood admits that he gave some Boomfood to his sickly infant son. And here is where the Tallarico anti-magic comes into play: we get this news in six panels of talking heads. Of course he varies the angles but that's about it. With all this talk of the boy, who'll become quite important later on, it would be nice if we could see him.

Now things start to turn sour. A hunter brings down a wasp as big as a barn owl and soon others are sighted. The stinging nettles around Bensington's farm grow bigger as you watch. No rats have been sighted, but it's only a matter of time. Mrs. Skinner can't take it any more and leaves for her married daughter's place. But before she goes she thoughtfully unlocks the chicken coop so the poor things won't starve. 

What follows is something right out of P.G. Wodehouse, or perhaps Mack Sennett. Giant chickens invade a small English village. The small boy is pecked up, as per the cover, but soon rescued. The vicar, brandishing a croquet mallet, chases the chicken out of the yard. A giant chicken alights next to an invalid in a wheelchair, who jumps up and runs indoors.

Back in London, Bensington and Redwood are commiserating about the hens and wasps.

"By the by, how is your boy?"

"Growing. Weighs nearly fifty pounds. And only six months old. Naturally, rather alarming."

"Healthy?"

"Vigorous. His nurse is leaving because he kicks so forcibly. And everything, of course, is shockingly outgrown."

[snip]

"He'll grow, as far as I can calculate from the hens and wasps, to the height of about five-and-thirty feet."

"Confound it, man! Think of his clothes!"

And, of course, this is once again done by talking head shots. With Tallarico, it's "Tell, Don't Show."

At this point the worst news of all -- giant rats have been sighted. Some of them attacked a doctor and killed his horse.

We're about a third of the way through the story and a new protagonist shows up: Cossar, billed by Wells/Sundel as "a well-known civil engineer," but really he's a man of action, standing in for Allan Quatermain or Professor Challenger. (Sean Connery would play him in the movie. Well, thirty years ago.)

Cossar gets men and weapons and accompanies the scientists back to the countryside. They kill the wasp's nest, which is twice as big as a man, but about as threatening as a soggy piƱata. (At least the way Tallarico draws it.) 

Next come the rats. We never see them ourselves, but witnesses point to a gigantic hole in a gully. Cossar and his best man take rifles and lanterns, head into the hole,   fire a few times, and come back out.

Let's go over that.

Two men, with rifles, against six man-sized rats, in an underground passage lit only by flickering lanterns.

And Tallarico keeps all that OFFSTAGE?

In fairness, that might not be (completely) Tallarico's fault. Classics Illustrated was known to downplay some of the more sensational aspects of the literature they adapted. That's why it was funny when Pete Von Sholly did a mock CI cover for "The Dunwich Horror." CI was no more likely to cover that book than "The Scarlet Letter."

Back to "Food of the Gods." Cossar proposes to get rid of the nettles and the dead rats at one and the same time. "Burn everything. Burn the ground and make a clean sweep of it."

A clean sweep, right. We find out later he saved some of the food and started feeding it to his kids. Who would suspect the British Upper Classes of such utter duplicity?

Boomfood's influence isn't diminishing, oh no. On page 22 of this digital edition we hear the latest rumors:

"There are giant beetles at Keston."

"It's flies and red spiders at Ealing."

"I heard great eels came ashore at Sunbury and killed sheep."

We hear it, because Heaven forfend Tallarico draw it. Which would you rather see, a giant eel attacking a sheep, or NPC's from My Fair Lady?

Now we flashback to Mrs. Skinner, the housekeeper. She took along two tins of Boomfood for her young grandson, because what else. A twelve-foot-tall eight year old proves hard to manage:

"He was troublesome and out of place. He could not go to school or church, although he sometimes sat outside and listened." 

We see him outside a church, listening. This would be oh so easy to do in live action: find a small hill several yards away from the church and take your shot from low down. This is called "forced perspective" and is very popular among cheapo filmmakers. (See Full Moon's Dollman series.)

If you're a cartoonist, and you can't outdo Bert I. Gordon in the FX department, well, there's nothing more to say.

Young Coddles (no other name given) is put to work in the quarry to keep him out of trouble. Dressed in castoffs and patches, he gets to thinking, "If it's good to work, why doesn't everyone work? What's work for? Why should I work in the pit day after day? Why should I be refused all the wonders of the world beyond?" Man, even at this remove, Wells' socialist tendencies come through.

Coddles gets fed up with his life and marches into town. Things get out of hand very quickly and before day's end he goes down in a hail of bullets.

Concurrent with the Coddles continuity we hear from Redwood's kid, among other so-called Children of the Food. They're having as hard a time of it as Coddles. At least young Redwood catches a break when he meets the foreign princess, herself a Boomfood eater, and she's as tall as he is.

Before I wrote this, I re-watched the MST3K episode Village of the Giants, which was based on "Food of the Gods" ("In that they're both in English!" -- Crow) One plot point the stories share: the giant kids have a sense of privilege as big as the rest of them.

Young Redwood, the Cossar boys, the Princess and the others get to talking and decide they should run things to suit them. This does not sit well with the previous generation and by story's end the battlelines are being drawn. I don't know about Wells' original, but here the advantage is presumed to lie with the giants.

But does it, really? We only see one female among more than a dozen males. Plus the authorities have already killed the only one used to manual labor. (Actually they don't say outright if Coddles has been killed, but we never see him again.) Human instinct is to get on the good size of the bigger guy -- that's why Cossar and Mrs. Skinner got Boomfood for their descendants, however much they decry its use by others. 

A text piece at the end says that Tallarico undercuts the story's fantastic aspects with his matter-of-fact art. I'd say Wells' philosophizing undercuts the story plenty as it is; I'd like to see this story with a more exciting artist, myself.

Green Giant #1

Karabear Comics Reprints Green Giant Comics #1

Originally published 1940 by Pelican Publications

Bob's link to this book reminded me I wanted to write about it. I shelled out 99 cents at IndyPlanet for the electronic version, when of course I could've used his link to get it for free! Ah well… At least I didn't get the Print-on-demand version. Unless it's cleaned up, I can't see this book selling to a wider audience than diehard fans. Various articles say that no more than 12 or 15 copies were sold during its original run! It has to have a wider circ in its afterlife.

Let's make one thing clear: this isn't a good book. It's only two years after the debut of Superman, after all, and there are still plenty of growing pains (pun not intended) on display here.

The Green Giant (no connection to the frozen vegetable firm) leads off with a full-color story, credited -- if that's the word -- to George Kapitan and Harry F. Sahle. Mr. Brentwood (no first name given) runs a brokerage firm on "Hall Street." He starts to run across counterfeit stock certificates and decides to root out the perps. I like that, when he touches his special belt to grow several stories tall, the caption says, "The Green Giant Lives Again!" when this is his first appearance. Anything to build credibility.

GG's powers are remarkably fluid: he grows (and shrinks), he flies, he's super-strong and invulnerable, all seemingly at random. Even worse than his power set is his slapdash attitude towards crimefighting: Twice he threatens underlings with being squeezed in his gargantuan fist, and once they squeal, he lets them scamper away with no concern that they'll sound the alarm. The head of the counterfeiting ring proves elusive but no real threat and is tossed summarily into police HQ.

The final caption says, "Another Green Giant story in the next issue of this magazine." But of course there was no next issue. It's hard to imagine there would be many crimes in the financial district that could be solved by a size-changing superhero. Although a hero who's also a broker might do well in this "Wolf of Wall Street" era. (I understand that the character of Greent Giant, which is in the public domain, was brought back in AmeriComics FemForce title, but I've never seen those issues so I can't comment.)

The next story is titled, "Dr. Nerod, Super-Scientist." The splash picture is signed Kiefer, if that means anything to anybody.

"While soldiers march across battlefields," goes the opening caption, "scientists devise new military torments to afflict suffering humanity." And we see planes dropping bombs and poison gas on civilians. Ships blow up, planes are shot down, a destroyer plows into a submarine. 

Against all this carnage, "Doctors patch up the heroes….. FOR WHAT?" (Boy, does that resonate these days!)

Anyway Dr. Nerod is beavering away in his mountain stronghold and is now ready to spring his Big Idea on the generals. The military men are hungry for a new explosive, but Nerod says he has a more humane way: Flies. He exposes an ape to a fly infected with sleeping sickness. "Within an hour he sinks into a coma." "The ape will die in sixty days unless I treat him," says Nerod, "for only I know the cure!" He also has special infra-red rays that not only kill the flies but render them sterile. (Sounds like overkill.)

Nerod lays out his plan: "We will put the enemy to sleep, take them prisoners, and only cure them if they promise never to fight again!" And it's probably not giving anything away to say that the rest of the story follows Nerod's plan exactly, with no hitches. What the story lacks in tension, it tries to make up in scope: we see platoons of soldiers building arrays of infra-red lamps, bunny-suited technicians assembling the sleep bombs, planes and ambulances standing ready.

The enemy soldiers (no nationality given) refuse to believe the democracies have such a wonder-weapon, and as a result, they drop like, well, flies. Ambulances gather up the enemy fallen for treatment. Doc Nimrod, I mean Nerod, says, "anyone who escapes will be dead in sixty days -- all prisoners who sign the Peace Pledge, will be released when cured." Not surprisingly, all the foot soldiers sign. Their leaders -- again, no recognizable faces -- are exiled to an island, with flies waiting to be released in the event of escape.

Nerod is barely a cardboard cutout here, and of course there's no place in this story for someone like Jeff Goldblum's character from Jurassic Park, to point out how chancy relying on biological warfare is. Don't forget, this story was published in 1940, and the war in Europe was very much on people's minds. A story like this would have been wish fulfillment in its purest form.

Now the book goes from full color to two-color, red and black. The next story is "Mundoo of the Northwest," by John E. Pierotti. Mundoo is a wolf-German shepherd mix, clearly aiming at the Rin-Tin-Tin / King of the Frozen North crowd. Every page has a fresh title panel; either these are repurposed Sunday comic strips or are meant to suggest them.

Next is Kar Toon and his Copy Cat, by Martin Filchock. (Anybody ever hear of these people?) An example of the variety of features found in a Golden Age book, Kar is clearly influenced by Fleischer and Warners cartoons. We get four pages of Kar Toon's cartoons jumping off his drawing board. His mean old uncle is at the door! "More next issue!" Odd that the humor feature has the cliffhanger.

"Master Mystic" could have been done by Fletcher Hanks or Basil Wolverton. Both Master Mystic and his opponent Rango have unlimited powers. Rango commits genocide (apparently -- he knocks down skyscrapers and starts fires, but we never see any dead bodies). This story doesn't end so much as stop; Master Mystic gets fed up and melts Rango like a candle.

We jump back to full-color with "The Black Arrow," a shot across Spy Smasher's bow. Then cowboy action with "Lucky Lane" by Grant Evers. This story also ends on a "to be continued."

The next story, by Frank Thomas, features a debonair hero who combines the style of James Bond with the inventions of Q. He defeats a foreign spy with his x-ray flashlight, his paralysis ray and remote-controlled automobile. And the name of this escapee from a pulp novel?

The Researcher.

Really, the Researcher. No other name given. And I thought Jade and Obsidian were dumb hero names…

Walt Kelly's Computer-Commuter

THE COMPUTER-COMMUTER: A Tragedy
Words and Pictures by Walt Kelly
Published in The Pogo Poop Book, 1966
The last piece I did was "Bugs Bunny and the Money Bunnies," from 1954. Now it's a dozen years later and Walt Kelly is trying his hand at much the same storyline. As an introduction he writes:
Being the partial and impartial history of Chester Pott,a humanlike computer,constructed by a fiendish, mad scientist who hoped to enslave his creation but was thwarted by Chester who in turn came to a sad end through falling heir to the ills of the fleshin the big city.
An old-fashioned frontispiece which is true, as far as it goes, but it rather misleads the audience. The story Kelly wants to tell is less creature-feature and more in the genre once popularized as, "Young Man on the Make."
Less Colin Clive, more Cash McCall, in other words.
Notice that Chester is called a computer rather than a robot, like Bugs' Money Bunnies. This is because in the years since 1954 computers became Big Business, as witness Univac and IBM. Also Kelly loved the assonance of "computer" and "commuter." Of course, he couldn't draw an IBM mainframe that took the 8:15 to the city, so he had to create the (self-)portable computer, a little ahead of schedule.
I also want to point out that this story is not in comic form, but heavily illustrated text: one to two pictures a page. In comic form this would probably be twice as long.
Chester's creator is Coleman the Calm, who is mad in the sense that he keeps hitting his thumb with the hammer while constructing Chester. Coleman is a solitary, balding man in his mid-to-late dotage. He doesn't like anybody and they don't like him. That's why he's building a humanlike computer, to take his place in the market.
Coleman is a much less sympathetic figure than Bugs, so we won't feel bad about his foretold failure.
Coleman builds Chester with a coffeepot for a head, an old cash register for a torso, two coffee-grinder-crank arms and a pair of roller skates for feet. Looks more like found sculpture than a working robot. But this is Kelly, so Chester will prove quite flexible in his movements.
Without bothering to test his creation, Coleman gives Chester detailed instructions on how to get to the market and what to do once he gets there. Then he sends him off on his way, a decision he'll regret later. Coleman was just so anxious to get out of the rat race that he left Chester to fend for himself. Kelly doesn't specify where "the market" is, but given that Coleman and now Chester are commuting from the town of Utter Bliss, New Jersey, it's pretty certain to be Manhattan.
"When Chester Pott returned home that evening," writes Kelly, "his little drawer that came out at about belly-button level was stuffed with money. 'There would have been more,' he explained to an astonished Coleman, 'but I got hungry on the way home in the train. Must have eaten a couple thousand dollars' worth.'"
Chester, it transpires, eats just about any kind of paper, not just money. He takes big round bites out of the dictionary, despite having no visible mouth. He also has a heck of a time "digesting" the data – he's prone to toss out odd snippets of info.
Coleman is upset, of course, that so much money is gone, but he has a different concern. The market pays in credits and other negotiable instruments: What's Chester doing with all this cash?
"A fellow in the Exchange saw me clean up a couple hundred thousand in credits, et cetera, and he met me outside," says Chester. "It was a pretty slim bundle of paper that I had, I tell you. He was very kind. Offered me $26,445 for the lot. A MUCH bigger bundle of paper."
At this Coleman the Calm keels over, pitching headfirst into the fireplace. Chester pulls him out, watches his hair smolder for a while and then finishes the rest of his dictionary.
Already we see how Coleman's outsmarted himself. By not accompanying Chester on his first trip to the Big City, he lost out on the lion's share of "his" earnings.
Also, unlike the Money Bunnies, Chester can actually think (and speak) for himself. But just like other sentient machines in pop culture – Red Tornado, The Vision, Data, Sprocket of "Halo and…" – Chester has a hard time figuring out human society. This will have further repercussions.
With Coleman out like a light, Chester is sort of at a loose end. "All he had seen of Utter Bliss, N.J., had been such parts as were visible by day. It's GOT to be better in the dark, thought Chester, and he skated out the door."
Comes now another staple of the "Young Man on the Make" story – The Girl. Chester sees a curvy figure in the fog and attempts conversation, but before any dialogue can ensue,  a wild beast starts to encroach.
Spurred into protective mode, Chester calls up words from the half-digested dictionary: "Avast, you mongolian blackleg! Begone, you pariah cur! To the hills with your sniveling mannerisms!" Then he attempts to kick the beast and falls on his clockwork keister. This actually manages to scare off the dog and earn the gratitude of the lady fair.
Who is a fireplug.
A girl fireplug, named Veronica. She has no arms but wears her toppiece like a crown; she looks like a little-person version of Venus De Milo dressed as the Red Queen from Alice.
Now if this were a CLAMP story, Chester would be falling for a human girl. But Kelly's mind doesn't run that way. In fact, Kelly seems to relish the idea of a cast of inorganic figures, forcing them into humanlike poses.
Kelly often takes advantage of these secondary stories to try new methods of storytelling. Also in "The Pogo Poop Book" is "Mouse into Elephant," which is done in gray wash. Although they were the draw, Kelly restricts the use of the Pogo cast to the first and last stories in the volume (although Pogo "hosts" the KKK story as well) and to several poem illustrations.
Unusually for comic strips, Pogo started out as a comic book. (Even more unusually, for the time, the rights reverted to the creator.) Kelly often drew on this experience, making cuts and additions to his compiled strips to aid the flow of the reading. (Compare his first compilation, "Pogo," to the same strips in Fantagraphics' first "complete" volume.) Kelly also created several books of original material, perhaps because Pogo didn't do much else in the way of merchandising. "The Pogo Poop Book," as far as I know, is the last volume of completely original material.
Now the dramatis personae is in place and the Computer-Commuter is about to reach terminus.
Chester's days are spent in the city and his nights with Veronica. Coleman the Calm subscribes to every newspaper in the country to keep Chester well-fed. He stuffs the cash Chester brings home behind the walls and in the attic. He avoids further discussion about how much money Chester actually makes; he couldn't bear to hear about the losses.
Chester's earnings are even more astonishing when you consider that he's outperforming electronic brains with a mechanical cash register. Clearly the word "computer" is a talisman to Kelly. Just as well he wasn't around for the Steve Jobs era…
The crisis begins when Veronica asks Chester what he actually does, and he describes it in general terms, keeping it vague yet relatable. Then she asks why doesn't he keep the money for himself. This is the first time such an idea had occurred to Chester, but before he can think it through Veronica overplays her hand and criticizes Chester's insatiable appetite for paper, saying he should cut down.
This gets Chester's mechanical dander up. "At least I move around! I don't sit in a little town in one place doing nothing." They part angrily.
The distraught Chester stays in the city the next night. He finishes off the contents of a trash can and gets tipsy. He finds himself in intimate conversation with a lady mailbox and feeds her the day's takings. Too late she reveals herself to be a government agent and promises to sic the IRS on him. In an accomplished five-shot, showing the animation skills Kelly got from his years at Disney, Chester staggers to the train station and home.
"So," says Coleman. "Look at the condition you're in. I can guess what happened. Just for that, your supper goes in the fire."
Over Chester's pleas Coleman throws all the direct mail, catalogues and comic books into the fireplace. He follows up with the evening papers, but that causes a flare-up and the house catches on fire. (The house, don't forget, with Chester's cash earnings as insulation.)
Leaving Coleman to claw at the walls, Chester rushes off to save Veronica. Unfortunately she is surrounded by men in funny hats and raincoats who are doing strange things to her. (This is why your mother told you not to hang around street corners.)
Despite the firefighters' efforts Coleman's place burns down. He escapes with a few smoky thousands, buys lifetime residence in a dog kennel and learns to eat gravel.
Chester accuses Veronica of fooling around, she counters that he's fallen heir to the ills of the flesh in the big city. Trying to recall the line from Verdi meaning that women are fickle, Chester ripostes with, "Funiculi, Funicula!" To which she counters, "The same to you with lumps!"
Now Chester is free – no entanglements with either Veronica or Coleman. He could forge his own destiny, actually take advantage of his agency.
So what does he do?
He crawls to the Utter Bliss train station and collapses in a heap of component parts.
Passers-by ask the stationmaster how do you start a machine like that, and he answers, "It ain't how it starts, it's how things like this wind up."
Or, even a mechanical brain can lose heart.

Bugs Bunny #39: Bugs Bunny & The Money Bunnies

Once again I delve into the economic underpinnings of a typical funnybook story. This time our opus is from Dell's Bugs Bunny No. 39, Oct-Nov 1954, entitled "Bugs Bunny and the Money Bunnies."
We join Bugs on the showroom floor of his local car dealer. Bugs is admiring the new Bobcat Eight, an open-top roadster with some of the styling of a PT Cruiser. The test drive has Bugs sold.
"Only five thousand dollars, sir!" (This seems low for a premium automobile, even in 1954, but I suspect the figure was chosen to be readily graspable by a kid audience.)
This is a little beyond Bugs' reach, seeing as he only has $1.73 to his name. The salesman shoves him out the car door.
"Take good care of that Bobcat," says Bugs, "Because I STILL aim to buy it! Just wait! You'll see!" (As we know from several cartoons, it's not a good idea to thwart Bugs. At least he didn't say, "Of course you realize, this means war!")
Later, Bugs is shown at his table, figuring. "Why, I'd be an old decrepit bunny before I could ever earn enough money to buy that car!" (Not to mention, it'd be years out of style by then. Not to further mention, in a few years' time inflation will really skew those figures. At least Bugs doesn't need it to commute. In fact, one wonders why a bunny who can tunnel to Antarctica needs a car anyway. Maybe it's so he won't miss that turn at Albuquerque.)
A little further cogitation, and "Say, if I got THREE JOBS and worked day and night, I could get a Bobcat in no time! … Aw, that won't work! I'd burn myself out in no time tryin' to do the work of three bunnies! But if I had three bunnies workin' for ME… Nope! Wouldn't work! What bunnies would give ME all their dough?"
And that's when Bugs gets a eureka moment: robot rabbits! He grabs his compass and T-square and drafts a simple image. (But very sharp. Love those metal printing plates.)
"There! A MONEY BUNNY! Now to get the parts for his 'lectric insides!" And Bugs scrounges through the trash cans behind the local TV repair shop. (Just one of several, I imagine, since Bugs gets enough parts to build three robots and a monitor bank. Bugs doesn't usually do the Gyro Gearloose bit, but whatever the story calls for.)
Next Bugs makes a full-body plaster cast of himself and molds three plastic Money Bunnies. They look like Bugs, except they're dead white, and look vaguely futuristic with their radio antennae and stovepipe joints. Plus they have big friendly numbers on their chests, 1, 2, and 3.
"Now to see if my plastic pals can do their chores!" And Bugs sits down at his monitor array. In a double-size panel we see Number One sweep the hole, Number Two drive a nail into a board, and Number Three open a door. "YIPEE! They can do anything!"
Bugs leaves the bots to recharge while he lines up some "good-payin', hard work!" He accomplishes this by knocking on doors in the neighborhood. He arranges to saw down a tree, paint a house, and work at a construction site. (At that last, he responds to the foreman's warning of the risk by saying, "I'm fearless, Doc! I'll report bright and early tomorrow!" So we see he actually means to misrepresent himself.)
Next day the Money Bunnies head out, properly attired. "Forward, men! An' let's have no tube blowouts or short circuits on the job!"
The Money Bunnies go to work. Bugs starts to discover that overseeing three robots is a full-time job in itself. "Whew! I don't know who's workin' HARDER… those guys or ME? (pant!) But things are sure goin' swell!"
And that's when Number Two paints the customer's face.
And Number One falls out of his tree.
And Number Three falls off the scaffolding.
Bugs assures the reader, "'Course, we can ALL stand a little practice!"
While Bugs dusts off his tele-workers and sends them back on the job, let me take a minute and describe where I would see this story going without the upcoming twist. (Yes, I'm rewriting the story. Any critic who says they don't do this probably lies about other things, too.)
Bugs has already discovered that low-paid is not the same as unskilled. (Barbara Ehrenreich could've told him that.) Plus, soon he'll have to drum up replacement work for the house-painting and tree-felling robots while the third is still working merrily along on the high iron. This should send Bugs to find factory work, the more mindless, the better. And he does, and for a while all goes well. But soon the factories' management discovers that "Bugs" isn't real, but mechanical. (Although anyone who would knowingly hire Bugs Bunny, I would argue, deserves what they get.) There is a possible fraud case here.
And let's not even think about what the unions will say.
But some on the management team have a few brain cells to rub together. They ask Bugs what he wants. He tells them, a Bobcat Eight. They buy him the car in exchange for all rights to his Money Bunnies. He agrees. Management is congratulating themselves on their cleverness when they discover that no one can get the Money Bunnies to function – no one except Bugs, that is, and he's already got his car so is in no mood to work.
Back to the original story. Number Three, the high steel rabbit, has had his fall witnessed by a couple of men, a needlenosed type with slick hair and a pencil mustache, and a burly joe in a cloth cap – stereotypical thugs, in other words.
The robot's resilience has the newcomers amazed: "He's gettin' up like that hundred foot fall was nothin'! … He'd be a natcheral in our line o' business! Let's talk to him!"
Slickster is trying to put forward their proposition when his partner notices something: "See, an aerial! This guy's not for real, Joe!"
"It's a mechanical ROBOT! No wonder he could take a flop like that!" Joe is elated: "This is even better yet! All we do is find out who's runnin' that rabbit…"
"…An' we takes over an' have us a new silent BULLETPROOF pardner!" his friend finishes.
At five o'clock, Bugs calls the Money Bunnies home "to rest their weary little electrons." As it happens, Number Three is the first to return. "Ahh, here's Number Three, with OUR dough in his shiny little fist! Let me have it, boy!" And Joe obliges with a blackjack. ("Kerwhomp!")
Joe and his friend grab robot Number Three and his monitor box and beat it when they hear somebody coming. As it happens, it's Numbers One and Two, so the crooks just missed making the hat trick.
The remaining Money Bunnies nurse Bugs back to health. "I can't figure what anybody would want with my plastic bunny! Ow! Easy with that ice bag, boy!" Bugs shows a limited imagination in the use of his Money Bunnies, but that was apparent  when he sent them out to saw down trees.
And how are the Money Bunnies functioning without Bugs directing them at their monitors? Previously recorded subroutines, of course. (Actually, if this were a cartoon, at some point the robots would turn to the camera and make a snide comment. If Bugs' "Oscar" could, anything's possible.)
Next day Bugs is walking the shopping district when he hears a newsboy (with a Jughead-type beanie, yet) blare about the "Bunny Bandit!" Bugs grabs a copy of the "Morning Blurp" and reads: "BULLETPROOF BUNNY BREAKS BANK! Bullets Bounce Off Rabbit Robber as he robs bank of $500,000!"
Bugs runs off, crying, "Bank Robbery? Why didn't I think of that?"
No, actually, he says, "Why, somebody made honest old Number Three into a robbin' robot! I'd better tell Chief Fudd the whole thing!"
CHIEF Fudd? Yeah, in this story Elmer Fudd is the police chief. Well, anything to shoehorn in another member of the Looney Tunes gang. Plus, it predisposes him to believe Bugs: "Gwacious! No wonder bullets can't stop him! He's not human… er… he's not WABBIT!"
"Hey, Chief!" (How about that, they got a real policeman to play along.) "The Bulletproof Bunny struck again!" (You think we could see one of these bank robberies in action? Or are they limiting the violence to Bugs getting blackjacked?)
"We've got to stop that wascal! But HOW?"
"Hold everything, Doc! I got a HOT IDEA how we can stop him COLD! C'mon!"
Back at Bugs' burrow, he rewires Number One's channel for Number Three, and zeroes in on the crooks counting their ill-gotten gains. "Money," says Chief Fudd, "Gweat oodles of money! And those two guys… They're Joe and Moe, weal bad cwooks!"
Weal bad cwooks.
That's what he says.
"I wecognize their hide-out! It's a wegular fortwess … my men could never get in THERE!" (Elmer's dialogue is driving my spellcheck nuts.)
"Maybe your MEN can't get 'em, but ol' Bugsy sure can!"
First step is to take out the indestructible Number Three. He starts to unscrew Joe and Moe's lightbulb from its hanging socket.
Joe: "What're you havin' him do that for?"
Moe: "I'm not havin' him do anythin'! He's doin' it all by himself!" (Come now, you ought to realize that Bugs controlled him once, he can do it again.)
Joe: "Then he's short-circuited an' runnin' wild! Stop him!"
Moe: "He won't stop!"
And Number Three fits the light socket to his antenna and explodes with a horrific BLOOP! (Bloop?) Well, it knocks Joe and Moe off their feet anyhow.
Moe: "He blew himself into a…"
Joe: "Puddle o' plastic!"
Elmer: "Hooway! That took care of that CWOOKED wobot!"
Bugs: "Easy, Elmer! He was ONCE a pal o' mine!"
Elmer: "What are you going to do about Joe and Moe? They're weally loaded with wevolvers!"
Bugs has the answer. "If bullets can't stop a plastic bank bandit, then bullets can't stop plastic crook catchers, either!" And off go Numbers One and Two.
One panel later, back come Numbers One and Two, arms full of greenbacks, dragging Joe and Moe behind them.
Elmer hasn't really done much beyond identifying Joe and Moe and fobbing off responsibility for their capture onto Bugs. But now he shows his in-story reason by giving Bugs his ten thousand dollar reward immediately. (Police chief or no, Elmer Fudd with ten G's in his kick is an accident waiting to happen.)
Of course, Bugs heads right to the dealership. "You want T-TWO Bobcat Eights?" (Deliberately or not, the salesman is playing this just right, letting Bugs see how much he's rattled him. Most clerks would be too busy adding up their commission.)
For one last time, we see Chief Fudd and Bugs at the monitor bank. "But why did you buy TWO cars, Bugs?"
"Aw, my Money Bunnies earned them, and besides, this way I can have TWICE as much fun drivin' a Bobcat Eight!" And sure enough, Numbers One and Two are shown at the wheels. Bugs has just created the world's most expensive RC Racer set. But of course, for Bugs it was all about proving he could do it. If he had to do it again tomorrow, he create a brand-new scheme to generate five thousand dollars.
I remember reading one of those career advice books that recommended getting your own personal robot to rent out to factories. Of course there are many things wrong with this idea; for one, it would double the number of jobseekers in line! (I see George Jetson and Rosie nervously waiting…)
More seriously, no business is going to allow backdoor capitalization of their process. They're going to want complete control of any mechanization, not least to make sure all robots are compatible with each other.
We've had anxieties about automation for some time; this story is actually an attempt by the "little guy" to take advantage of technology. The story was shortened by introducing a couple of cheap crooks, but the fact still stands that Bugs achieved his financial goals through his own brain power. Let's hope we can call on a little of that ingenuity in our present crisis.

Co-Op Encounters

Not strictly Silver Age, but what the heck...
Continuing my mining of comics for economic themes, I'm reading an educational comic from Canada called "Co-Op Encounters" – especially relevant, as the U.N. has declared this The Year of the Co-Op.
Interesting premise, too – information on co-ops wrapped up in a sci-fi storyline. Does it work? Welllll…
The good ship CFDP3 (hey, that's catchy) is heading for the planet Xonn when Engineer Trent makes a dire discovery: "We're losing pressure fast, Captain Scott! We can't sustain speed."
"Reducing speed will force the oxygen generator to use more fuel, and the water convertor might cut out. It's dicey," says the Captain, who looks like a Mambo King in a Dave Cockrum outfit.
"Aye," says Trent, "And if our reduction doesn't match warp, we'll lose the vertical flaps and won't be able to land." (Are starships really this fragile, or are they trying to keep it under warranty?)
Anyway, first mate Donna pronounces that Thion is the nearest planet with the parts they need.
"Do we have an option, Donna? Thion is a very troubled planet these days."
Unfortunately, says Trent, there's no choice. In fact he's already logged the repair specs into the system on Thion. (Nice of him to tell the captain about this.)
Cleo-haired Donna announces they'll be reaching Thion in fifteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes later, they dock at Thion Space Port. Fifteen seconds after that, they're in trouble. An unnamed official, Head of Security it seems, insists on putting their ship in quarantine. With his scraggly beard, long face, Egyptian-style eyes and  purple-blue complexion, this functionary looks like nothing so much as Ming the Merciless in Darth Maul-esque makeup. (Although that's probably his natural coloring – Thion is chock-a-block with all kinds of aliens, as we're about to see.)
Even though he's giving Captain Scott grief, "Ming Maul" finds time to make someone else's life miserable. A soldier (or cop) comes up and says,"Sir, the Eqqus expedition requests permission to leave. Captain Chevalier says the Kite-Mites set Dr. Girac and Dr. Jandor adrift in shuttlepods with indeterminate coordinates."
"Compassionate reasons? HA! Negenthropic intervention has no place on Thion. Permission denied!" (Negenthropic? Maybe writer Stefan Haley means negentropic, creating order out of chaos. Or maybe it's just word jazz.)
"You see, Captain Scott, we know how to deal with cranks of Thion," says the wine-stained Jaffar.
Scott and Donna object to this treatment of such prominent scientists, but they soon have their own concerns. The functionary "suggests" they prepare for a long stay, which triggers the captain's requisite hot temper. This is where artist Owen McCarron falls down. He's great on the props, costumes and scenery, but some of his poses are just too stiff. I've seen this "Hold me back" bit Trent and Scott are doing done much more convincingly – by Archie and Jughead.
Oh, and they're being observed by a bearded figure in a brown robe. (He might be their only hope.)
It's not a smart move to threaten the head of a security force when he's backed by several guards, all carrying blasters. Ming the Purple-Puss tells him to enjoy his stay at the hostel and Scott squeaks out a "Thanks."
Next page we join Scott and co. in mid-conversation. Donna is saying,"But we could make repairs and get away from here forever." (Huh? Need another rewrite, Stefan.) This is interrupted by two big purple aliens beating up a skinny turquoise alien. Scott takes this opportunity to salve his macho pride by leaping into the fray. (And his fighting stance is quite good – I hesitate to suggest McCarron had an easier time finding a swipe file, but…)
Scott is a dab hand with the hit and the wit: "This would be a punch in the nose – if you had one!" Then the security guards show up and take control. (I'm surprised they don't arrest Scott for the brawl.)
With no pause for breath, Scott is called to the reception. "The Space Centre has approved the repairs to your ship, Captain, but the edict remains in force. Please note you will be expected to leave, without delay, once the edict is lifted."
"This is crazy," says Donna. "They want us to stay, they want us to go. What's going on?" The group is huddled in what could be a hotel lobby as Trent gives us the potted history of Thion:
"Thion… the name means 'Jewel of the Universe'… was once the greatest of the city-planets. A centre of commerce and culture. Business flourished. Artists and scholars flocked here to work… then everything changed."
Now we get a full page of skiffy art, with the heads of several different types of aliens at the top and scenes of space and ground warfare at the bottom. Trent goes on: "The unbridled competition that made Thion bloom began to destroy it. The races fought among themselves and with other city-planets. Thion has suffered civil strife for over a century… no end in sight and it's getting worse."
Maybe I'm just overly sensitive, but I can't help but wonder if a Canadian comic, talking about a once-mighty centre (note the spelling) of business and art, home to many different races, being torn apart by unchecked competition, isn't a commentary on a certain country to the south. I'm reminded of an issue of Guardians of the Galaxy, written by Steve Gerber, where lunatics from fifty different planets were exiled to an asylum planet and managed to recreate late-20th Century America.
"That's sad," says Donna, "but I've had a long day, and I'm feeling sleepy. Yawn!" (One of the stiffest yawns I've ever seen.)
Trent is going in search of female company. He mentions an engineer known to both him and Scott, saying that she's been stranded by the edict too. Scott tells him to invite her to dinner tomorrow. "We might as well enjoy ourselves."
The next evening, Scott hasn't heard from Trent in nearly 24 hours. He is paged to come to reception and pick up a secret note: "I have news about Trent. Will meet you at hostel tonight." And it's signed by his date from the previous evening.
Later that night we see this woman of mystery in person. She has almond eyes and skin the same hue as Pieface, in his first appearances. [Hey, a Silver Age reference!] Her wavy hair is the color of cotton candy and is held back by a white headband with a red diamond-shaped patch. (On the cover her headband is hammered gold with an actual diamond; McCarron was simplifying things for repetition's sake.) This exotic creature is named…
Betty.
Swear to FSM, Betty.
Now I know why Haley (or perhaps his editor or his client) went this route. This is not so much a science fiction story as an educational comic (with a reeeeeeeeally slow buildup) and as such has to be made friendly to a non-SF reading audience. That's why no attempt is made to translate Earth units of time, among other things. But given that, surely there were more suitable Earth names that could be used – Desiree, perhaps, or Jasmine. (Her full name is Betty Scorpio. I'm not sure if that's better or worse.)
Betty's story: "There was nothing I could do. Trent was waiting for me. Some Gelstin agitators began to demonstrate. It turned violent and Trent was killed by random fire. It was terrible. I'm so sorry."
Good thing Scott knows her from a previous acquaintance. He accepts her story completely and invites her to take Trent's place as their engineer. They decide to defy the edict and claim their ship the next night. (And the mysterious bearded figure is still listening. For visitors to a police state, this bunch is remarkably un-circumspect. Maxwell Smart practiced better security.)
The next night they have a two-minute window before the guards come back. After some notably wooden running they make it. Donna is checking life-support and Betty the scanners when –
"Don't make a sound!"
One of Ming's guards steps out of the shadows. Holding Betty at blasterpoint, he tells Scott, "I mean you no harm, but you must take me with you!"
"I haven't time to argue. You will have to accept my command, and surrender the gun."
"I'll keep the gun till take-off."
"That won't do! The only way we can break the force field around this compound is to put ourselves in suspended animation during blast-off. We need Warp 7 at least. Surrender your gun, now."
"Very well, captain." (He bought it!)
By the way, this isn't the same guy who was eavesdropping earlier – he's still lurking in the shadows. This guard is an exile named Steve. (Yeah, sure, why not?) Steve is about to give his backstory when Scott says, "If we don't blast off soon, we never will. Better one guard than the whole Thion army."
Another of McCarron's tour de forces: Scott pushes the button for blastoff and the cast is bathed in a rainbow field. The CFDP3 (which is shaped like an office building) flies through a spin-art painting.
Minutes later the crew is up and about, rechecking the instruments. Scott says as soon as they're done they'll get Steve's story.
"Let's hope we don't find any more Steves on board," says Betty. (I think this is called, "Hanging a lampshade.")
Yes, it's time for our eavesdropping hermit to reveal himself. Incredibly, he is known to the Captain: "Professor Tryst! I haven't seen you since my days at Galaxia University." (You know what they say, get stranded on Thion and you'll eventually meet everyone you know.)
The professor goes on. "I was invited to Thion to lecture. After my arrival I was put under house arrest and forced to work for the Thion secret service. I escaped a few days ago and began watching the compound."
"But how did you sustain Warp 7?"
"I suspended my vital forces by using the ancient techniques of Yoga." (HUH? Well, I guess the techniques are the same as Earth yoga but the Professor's term for it would be something quite different; we just got the translation.)
Scott and co. are anxious to get on with their mission, reaching the Space Foundation on Xonn and delivering the CFDP3. (Haley, there's a reason why so many ships in sci-fi go by their names – Enterprise, Falcon, Firefly, Martian Maggot…)
"Xonn?" says the Prof. "Then you haven't heard? The planet Xonn was destroyed by an invasion of Kite-Mites three days ago." And for once we see the scene described: The Kite-Mites are red kite-shaped ships that could be manned or unmanned.
"This ship," says Professor Assignation – I mean, Tryst – "is now officially salvage."
"It's junk, you mean," says Donna.
"Don't be harsh. This ship was once among the bravest in the universe. It was never armed. It was sent on a voyage of philosophical discovery by some very dedicated people. It was lost many years ago, before my time. But he computer banks contain valuable information. That was what the Xonn Foundation wanted. We can't save Xonn – but we can save ourselves." The professor goes on to say they can produce food using the solar collectors and some simple protein and cellulose chain technologies. "I've been doing it for years."
"If the professor says he can do something," says Scott, "he can do it!"
"I'm glad we can believe someone," says Betty.
"What do you mean by that?" says Steve.
"Betty's being unfair," adds Donna. "The signal generators were damaged during blastoff and Steve fixed them. I trust him." Seems like a pretty important plot point to keep offstage. In fact, I'm going to jump ahead a bit and reveal Steve's story:
"I was kidnapped by pirates and taken to Thion. The pirates got into a fight with some guards and killed one. I made my escape in the guard's uniform."
So that's three members of our cast – Betty, Steve and Professor Tryst – with stories we're asked to take on faith. If this were Star Trek, any of them might be lying; if this were Babylon Five, all three would be. But this isn't that kind of story. We're just about to discover what kind it really is.
Scott welcomes Steve to the crew and then says, "We all have some decisions to make. Professor Tryst says we can use this ship to find a better planet… far from the strife of this part of the universe." (When did he say that?) "This ship was made to search out correlatives. It was programmed with fundamental values, and sent to search for planets where those values were understood and used." (I'd be scared of traveling in a fundamentalist ship.)
Steve pitches a softball. "What values, professor?"
"Equality, Equity, and Mutual Self-Help. These values were treasured by the beings who built this ship. There are tales that the CFDP3 was about to complete her mission near a planet named Earth when she was captured by pirates. I've often dreamed of finding her and completing that mission. It could lead us to a better world. What do you say?"
"It would involve all of us, and it might be dangerous," says Scott. "I think it calls for a democratic vote. Do you agree, Professor?"
"Democracy is part and parcel of the values this ship stands for."
"What are those values, Professor Tryst?" (Weren't you listening, Steve?)
In answer, Professor Tryst calls up the words "Equality," "Equity," and "Mutual Self-Help" on the computer. Each is given its own screenful of definition.
We're on page 17 of a 40-page story and now we're getting into the co-op part. From here on out it's going to be the equivalent of a PowerPoint presentation, with Tryst calling up words and history lessons on the screen and the rest of the crew asking questions in goggle-eyed amazement. If you don't mind, I'm going to skip a straight play-by-play; there are other ways to get this information.
Haley and McCarron try to change things up a bit, first by bringing on a Kite-Mite attack. Steve saves the day with some double-talk, adjusting the fibrillation monitor on the waveform simulator to render the ship invisible to the kites. (Well sure, what else can you do in that situation?)
Now there's ten pages of Canadian co-op history, mostly talk with a few pie charts. The crew makes comment on how Thion is a perfect example of non-cooperation. (I thought it was just straight-on repression.) The CFDP3, in contrast, is supposed to be a veritable model of co-op values because they take votes on important issues, like whether to accept Steve. (Except in emergencies, when Captain Scott's word is law.) Then on page 29 a strange ship starts to close in.
It takes all of pages 32 and 33 to track the ship (actually a shuttlecraft), bring it aboard and await its passenger(s). And what do you know, it's an old friend of the Professor's: Dr. Girac of the Eqqus Expedition. "Not the Equitable Quest for Universal Serenity?" exposits Captain Scott. (Remember Ming refused to help them, back on page 3.)
"So who were you expecting," says Dr. Girac, "Tom Selleck? (Just a little Earth joke.)" Dr. Girac is the most overtly alien of the speaking cast, with his green scales, orange antennae and buck teeth. Yes, he's a "cute" alien, in the tradition of E.T. or Orbitty.
Aside from his opening quip, Dr. Girac is quite sobersided, and mainly serves to spell Professor Tryst at the lectern. He tells the crew about a new flavor of co-op called "direct charge." And then it's time to wrap things up.
Professor Tryst and Dr. Girac will take the CFDP3 and go in search of Dr. G's compatriot, Dr. Jandor. ("Indeterminate coordinates were never his strong point.") In exchange, Scott, Donna, Betty and Steve will take Dr. Girac's shuttle and splash down near present-day Canada. (So this wasn't a long time ago, in a galaxy far far away? Howzabout that?) There they plan to learn about co-ops firsthand. (Good thing they all look like Earth humans, huh?)
This could be a diverting introduction to co-ops if you've never experienced them, but it doesn't really give the feel of the day-to-day operations. It doesn't use the comics medium to best advantage – way too much telling, as against showing. I'm guessing this is because the comic was commissioned by Co-Op Atlantic and it was felt they had to gussy it up with all that sci-fi junk the kids like. A more realistic depiction of present-day co-ops might have been felt too plebeian.
Cover Shot:http://i668.photobucket.com/albums/vv48/bradw8/coopFront.jpg
Various Scenes:http://i668.photobucket.com/albums/vv48/bradw8/CESampler.jpg

Gyro Gearloose in "Monsterville"

I spent most of the past year unemployed, and even now the issue is never far from my thoughts. The whole meltdown-recession-depression-whaddyacallit has many people questioning the once-solid bedrock of capitalism and the American work ethic. Of course, if you want to bring about sweeping change, it helps to have some idea of what will happen. Which is one use of imaginative fiction.
On deck today is a Gyro Gearloose story from May 1961, "Monsterville," written and drawn by Carl Barks. The introductory caption box reads, "This is the tale of a great inventor's greatest feat, and of the low-down comeuppance it got him!" (Barks calls it "Monsterville" because the kids wouldn't get "Hubristown.")
Gyro is enjoying a fully-automated picnic while contemplating the smokestacks of his hometown:
"Oh, Duckburg, you busy beesville! How your citizens needlessly waste energy – all because your work ways and play ways are so hopelessly old hat!"
Saying it's none of his affair, Gyro prepares to leave, but is stopped by a traffic cop who accuse him of speeding – while standing still. Seems he can't see the wheels on Gyro's car. Not surprising as it's a hovercraft.
So the cop tickets him for flying low.
This spurs Gyro to drag Duckburg into the future. He present his top-line inventions to the local brass – the heads of the police, fire department, roads, weather(?), banking, and the Mayor.
"I can't afford to build all these marvelous inventions, myself, but there are the plans – my gift to Duckburg!" (Gyro has always been incredibly bad with money, consistently underpricing his goods. This is to show that his technological skills outweigh his common sense.)
It seems almost unimaginable that a city would be so eager for such a far-ranging renovation, but then again, this was the Sixties. The U.S. was at the height of postwar prosperity and its attendant optimism.
Then, too, the banking sector is run by Scrooge McDuck. Whatever else happens, Gyro's makeover won't lose money.
Under Gyro's watchful eye the old Duckburg is torn down. (It seems a shame to demolish some of the legacy buildings. But Barks seldom referred to earlier stories, so no mention will be made.)
So now we're on the third page for a travelogue of the new Duckburg, similar to "Looking Backward." The new buildings look vaguely Deco-ish, but the main visual is of the swooping, looping transport rails.
Duckburg enjoys a perfect climate because it's sealed under a huge weather sphere. (Say it with me: "D'ohme!") The weather man is feeling his oats, trying out the rain, hail and snow options.
The weather test over, Gyro is taken aback by a strange smell.
"Why, it's fresh air! That's all we have now that the factories have smoke-filters on their stacks!" The smoke-filters look like nothing so much as upside-down wine corks.
The only car on the streets (or over them) is the air-cushion car Gyro was driving at the start of the story. They even have side jets to prevent collisions.
Foot traffic has been replaced by moving sidewalks and slides. Including slides that go uphill. These are not explained, but more for lack of space than failure of imagination.
Gyro needs to go quite a distance, so he takes the high-speed monorail. (I wonder what Barks though about Disneyland, and Tomorrowland in particular?)
The passengers in Gyro's train are rather morose, slump-shouldered and sleepy eyed. This will become a plot point soon enough.
Traveling at 300 mph makes it easy to miss your stop. Gyro gets out and finds himself  close to Donald Duck's house. (Barks has a deep field of characters to draw from, and he makes use of it.)
He finds Donald fast asleep in a parenthetical La-Z-Boy. "Unca Donald will flip if you wake him," say the nephews. "He's just put in his TEN-MINUTE button-pushing shift at the factory!"
Ten minutes?
TEN MINUTES?
Boy, that's a jolt to the system! Barks was old enough to remember the days when the 40-hour week was a new idea. He merely extrapolated and got as close to a no-hour day as he could. (Even George Jetson – by some accounts – worked a three-hour day, three days a week.)
But a ten-minute workday leads to other considerations. As a commuter says later, "If we're even ten minutes late, we've missed our shift!" Then, too, it's incredibly wasteful of energy to travel any distance for just ten minutes. A better way would be to combine a week's shifts: one hour, one day, one week. But the Oil Shock is over a decade in the future and most people aren't thinking in such terms yet.
Back to Donald. He's taken to snoozing 23 hours between shifts – "And boy! That much sleep sure makes him grouchy!" (Seems hardly believable; no time for his family? Or TV?)
The kids don't have to go to school because they take in info via sleep-learning. (This was a very long-lived piece of speculation, seen in dozens of comic stories. The Legion of Super-Heroes finally turned it on its head by touting the results from "wake-learning.")
The kids can't even play; the new toys go by themselves. (Buzz and Woody could hide in plain sight.)
"I'm sure the boys will adjust to such things," thinks Gyro, and he heads off to check in with a fellow Barks creation, Scrooge McDuck.
In direct opposition to Donald's lethargy, Scrooge is hopping mad. "I'm making MORE millions all the time!"
"Great," says Gyro. "That should make you very happy!"
"It doesn't though! This electronic brain makes all of my deals and has all the fun – while I do NOTHING!" (Like many fictional computers from this time, the electronic brain has exposed tubes and is five times as big as Scrooge. But it does have a duck beak.)
Scrooge can't even swim in his money bin, because it's too full! (The last time that happened, in Barks'  "Christmas in Shacktown," the floor of the bin broke and sent Scrooge's money underground. I guess he reinforced it later.)
"Oh well," muses Gyro, "Mr. McDuck will adjust to that, too! Time cures many woes!"
After four panels with the Fire Chief, who goes from Scrooge-like anger to Donald-like torpor, accepting that all he can do is polish the autonomous hydrants, Gyro is distressed to hear gunshots coming from the bank.
But not to worry – his anti-burglary system is working fine.
"How terribly unexciting," says a customer. "As soon as the robber pulled his gun, the automatic "eye" winked open a trapdoor to the jail cell below!"
A teller takes up the narrative: "And there the frantic robber futilely tries to shoot his way out!" (Those had better be some soft walls, Gyro, or the burglar could sue the city for the ricochet.)
A bored cop yawns. "All a policeman amounts to these days is a bored scorekeeper!" I'll just point out that, due to Barks' layout, the customer and the policeman are as short as Donald.
Gyro finally admits to the force of what he – and we – have been seeing. "I'm getting worried! Nobody seems happy with the new Duckburg! I'll go to my lab, where I cn think up a solution to the problem!"
But when he gets there, he finds his helper has anticipated him.
"What the ding dong are you making? A - A robot of some kind! Oh, no!"
"I am an automatic inventor, Gyro. Sit down – and let me take over your problems! I'll do your thinking for you! Relax, man! Relax!"
"(Groan) A machine to make me idle-handed and idle-headed! I can never adjust to such uselessness! And I WON'T! No mechanical monster is going to take over the greatest fun I have – WORK!" And with those words and a monkey wrench he reduces the automatic inventor to its component parts.
Funny how it took staring his own obsolescence in the face to make Gyro see the point; then again, he may have been sensitized by his talks with Donald, Scrooge and the rest.
And how smart is Gyro's helper, if he can create a robot that can in turn out-invent Gyro?
"Sorry, helper! I know you meant well – the same as I did – but Duckburg isn't ready yet for total automation!" (Note the "yet.")
"Here, Duckburgians – grab a tool and start wrecking this – this MONSTERVILLE!" (Title!)
"No use, Gyro! machines are superior to us stupor-fied ducks!"
Gyro can't dismantle everything, but he can disable it – a wire here, a cog there, and future-Duckburg grinds to a halt. "Before long," says the yellow box, "Duckburg is just plain, old Duckburg again." (At least keep the smog filters.) Donald and the boys are out for a walk, all bright eyes and bushy tails.
Gyro is tooling around in a four-wheeled car, in repudiation of the hovercraft at the beginning. "Duckburgians have made me promise not to invent any more advanced inventions!" But – isn't every invention an advanced one? Wouldn't it make more sense to any, any disruptive inventions? (I almost said paradigm-shifting, but that buzzword won't become common until the Nineties.)
"Well, I won't push any more wild stuff on them! I won't even be seen driving around in an air-cushion car! But the inventive urge in me is a very powerful one, so I'll just look normal until nobody's looking!" And with that his two-door sedan becomes a private plane. (Something that has actually been done, even if uneconomical.)
All that in ten pages. Let me catch my breath.
Gyro's speech on page eight – with that "yet" I asked you to note – seems to indicate he thinks total automation is mankind's eventual achievement, even if not feasible at this time. And yet what was the main problem with Monsterville? Boredom. For pity's sake, Duckburgians, take some courses, spend some face time; don't just sleep 23 hours a day. (I'd like to think that was a result of this being so new and Donald not having had time to adjust. But since we're talking about Donald, well….)
The fact that Monsterville is so new – as one stranded rail-commuter says, many of them still have their cars at home – means that one pernicious possibility has no time to take effect: obesity. If Duckburgers had stayed at their levels of inactivity they'd be packing it on.
The effect of near-total automation in Monsterville, is boredom; in Wall-E, it's blob-dom.
Perhaps Duckburg would have been spared that fate. In this same issue of Four-Color, Gyro is threatened by the Beagle Boys and invents a ray to give himself super-strength. I'm sure he could invent a weight-reducing ray. (Then again, the strength ray had its drawbacks – hence the story title, "Mighty But Miserable.")
Let me return once more to Barks' mention of a ten-minute workday. Barks (and others, like the anonymous Jetsons writer) took it for granted that increased automation would increase productivity, which was perfectly correct, and that this would lead to shorter hours and higher pay for the American worker, which was anything but correct. There are many reasons for this, including the loss of union power, the rise of competing economies, massive deregulation and even more massive tax cuts.
It's good that we have imaginative writers such as Carl Barks, who can point out potential pitfalls in our plans. This frees us to find new ones. (Plans, or pitfalls? Both.)