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Post by Prince Hal on Dec 17, 2016 16:47:33 GMT -5
I am almost 30 years younger than Prince Hal. Yet somehow I cannot remember my childhood nearly so well. I don't think I really do, either. It's like lloking at an Impressionist painting. BUT... Mikes' Amazing Newsstand (God save it!) www.dcindexes.com/features/newsstand.phphelps to unearth memories, as does browsing through sites and books about those years. It's like an emotional and intellectual archaeological dig.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 17, 2016 21:07:28 GMT -5
Price Hal is only a few years older than me. At this point in my life I'm not sure what is stuff I truly recall from my memory or things my mind fills in based on talking with my parents about my childhood & their memories.
Also pictures, smells & certain songs trigger really strong & specific memories. I think that is why we like the TV shows, movies & music from our youth into old age. It pulls us back to a time when we were without responsibilities.
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Post by Farrar on Dec 19, 2016 15:15:57 GMT -5
I was a comic book fan when I was a kid but stopped at adolescence and hadn't had anything to do with comics for 30+ years since. About 10 years ago I came across the book Baby Boomer Comics by Craig Shutt at Border's and I flipped through it. My god this was a real madeleine--I couldn't believe I recognized and remembered so many panels, like this one below (which I remember reading at my cousins' house), from decades earlier. Great book (Amazon link), sure to bring back memories for baby boomers/Silver Age comic book fans. Of course later on as I slowly ventured back into the comics world, I came upon Shutt's "Ask Mr. Silver Age" column at Comics' Buyer's Guide (I even sent in a few questions/comments ).
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Post by Prince Hal on Dec 19, 2016 15:36:03 GMT -5
Farrar, I found that in a used bookstore I'd never been in before and where I haven't been since. It is a treasure trove worth every penny. I had read the CBG whenever it showed up on the stands back in the early 90s or thereabouts, and even subscribed for a while, in no small part because of Shutt's column. He has an unabashed love for the Silver Age, but is not too fanboyish, either.
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Post by Farrar on Dec 19, 2016 17:28:02 GMT -5
But even if I hadn’t liked the Legion, I’m pretty sure I would have bought any comic adorned with a heroine who looked as good as Nura Nal of Naltor, aka Dream Girl. YOWZAH! Back then I was confused by Dream Girl's haircolor--why was it white? Same for Princess Projectra's hair when she showed up later on. To my kiddie eyes, the white haircolor just made them seem older to me--yuck! I didn't realize until much later on that the "white" haircolor here was supposed to denote platinum blonde (appropriate for ultra-glamorous DG and PP).
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Post by brutalis on Dec 20, 2016 16:54:38 GMT -5
Nura (Dream Girl) Nal was the hottest DC heroine until the debut of the Inferior Five's Dumb Bunny. At least that's what I thought until I learned to appreciate real-life females. That was about 1966/67. Just in time for mini-skirts And the Legion Lass's and Lad's became even more stunning once Dave Cockrum and Mike Grell put pencil to paper.They quickly gained models/actors looks thanks to the artistic talent of these two gentlemen!
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Post by Prince Hal on Jan 12, 2017 13:30:31 GMT -5
A Comic Lover's Memories Episode 12 I Should Have Known Better
It was Sunday, February 9, 1964. The excitement had been building all week. I didn't want to miss even one minute of what I’d been awaiting for so long, so I did my homework, brushed my teeth and put on my pajamas. I turned on the TV just before the show went on so that I could warm up its vacuum tubes as well as my spot on the floor of our front room. As I nestled between a hassock and a couple of brothers and sisters, I knew that all over America, millions of kids were doing exactly the same thing. Their moms were in the kitchen pouring pretzels into a bowl, their dads were propped in easy chairs looking at the remains of the Sunday papers, and the little brothers or sisters closest to the TV were fiddling with the vertical hold. Suddenly the interminable wait was over! The Britishers had arrived! Check those neat outfits! Listen to that screaming! And that cool song! This was better than I'd dared to hope! I just wished that the old guy introducing the main attraction wouldn't take so long to tell us what we were going to see. Like so many other American kids -- I thought -- I was watching the first appearance of "The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh" on Walt Disney's Wonderful World of Color. I might as well call Guinness. Or Ripley's. Or volunteer this information to the Answer.com, in case someone ever writes in and inquires, "Is there any record of an American between the ages of 8 and 18 who did not watch the Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show on February 9, 1964?" Yep, while I was watching the adventures of three guys dressed like scarecrows terrorizing nasty British soldiers and tax collectors, 73 million other people were watching four guys who were as skinny as scarecrows terrorizing every American grown-up and pop music lover. Imagine you live on the road to Concord the night Paul Revere rides by bellowing about the British. Of course, you're the only Minuteman in town who can't hear him, because you're out back reading Poor Richard's Almanack in the privy. Imagine you're a big Giants fan listening to the Giants-Dodgers playoff in '51. Ninth inning. Dodgers lead, 4-2. The phone rings. Ten minutes later, Russ Hodges is yelling, Bobby Thompson is jumping on home plate, and you're still trying to say no to a guy selling aluminum siding. That was me in the privy. That was me on the phone. A watershed moment for my generation, and where was I? Watching a guy in a scarecrow costume riding a horse. Like every historical event of great pith and moment, my lack of awareness of the Beatles had both proximate and immediate causes. The proximate causes: (1) We were not an Ed Sullivan family. We were a Walt Disney family. Half of each show aired opposite each other -- Disney was on from 7:30-8:30; Sullivan from 8-9 -- and since there was no such thing as a remote, clicker, whatever, you actually watched minute-long commercials, and sang along with theme songs over languorously displayed credits. No one even dreamed of switching back and forth between channels. Those of us of a certain age will remember their parents yelling at them not to turn the channel dial so fast: “You’ll RUIN it!” And many us us did just that by applying way too much torque, essentially stripping the dial as one might strip a stubborn screw. We knew Sullivan-watchers, yes. In fact, some of my best friends came from Sullivan families. We just had certain rules in our house. No plate-spinners, no ventriloquists, no European circus acts. We preferred the adventures of cartoon ducks and real-life animals like Cal, the Co-dependent Cobra and Leon, the Psychotic Leopard. (2) We were not a musical family, and certainly not a rock 'n' roll family. I thought the joint was hoppin' if we cranked up the volume when we watched Mitch Miller and the gang doing "Yellow Rose of Texas." My interests in movies, television shows and books extended only to those that involved men wielding guns or men wielding baseball bats. The Scarecrow was as close as I could get to watching one of my beloved comics characters on a TV screen. (Save of course the beloved George Reeves Superman show.) The only songs I knew were "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" and the theme from "The Bridge on the River Kwai." (3) I was the oldest kid in my family. I knew no one older who would have given me a hint that there even was such a thing as a “Beatles” and that I’d better start taking my first tentative steps into rebellious adolescence, even if was still three months shy of 10. The immediate cause: We were not at my grandmother's house. Had we been, Ed Sullivan would have been on, because my aunt watched his show on the porch TV. We probably would have heard her scream in disgust when Ed introduced the Beatles, run to see what had happened, and then stayed to watch. If I were a special snowflake, I'd be blaming Walt Disney, Mitch Miller, and my grandmother -- who didn't invite us over for dinner that Sunday -- for yet another lowlight of a deprived childhood. After all, because I missed the Beatles that night, I was woefully behind my contemporaries, not just in music, but in fashion, fads and slang as well. I felt left out, big-time. (There was no “bigly” then.) Sure, you've been left off a team or two, but do you know how bad it feels when 73 million people are doing something and you're not? But, hey, no worries. Just because 73 million others, including every with-it kid in the country, were enjoying a shared simultaneous experience and not one of them thought to mention it to me, don't feel bad. Don't even think twice about it. You go right ahead and cue up your Beatles records. I'm going to take my bath, brush my teeth, put on my pj’s and pop "The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh" into the VCR. And see if I invite you.
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Crimebuster
CCF Podcast Guru
Making comics!
Posts: 3,946
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Post by Crimebuster on Jan 12, 2017 14:34:46 GMT -5
I love the theme song from Scarecrow, I have it on my phone.
Scare-CROOOOOOOW, Scare-CROOOOOOOWW!!!!
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Post by Prince Hal on Jan 12, 2017 14:45:29 GMT -5
I love the theme song from Scarecrow, I have it on my phone. Scare-CROOOOOOOW, Scare-CROOOOOOOWW!!!! Always gave me chills. Well, until I was like, 13. But I loved those three Scarecrow episodes.
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Post by Rob Allen on Jan 12, 2017 15:52:59 GMT -5
In February 1964, I was seven years old and I didn't watch either the Beatles or the Scarecrow.
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Post by Prince Hal on Jan 12, 2017 16:28:13 GMT -5
In February 1964, I was seven years old and I didn't watch either the Beatles or the Scarecrow. I will invite you to my party.
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Confessor
CCF Mod Squad
Not Bucky O'Hare!
Posts: 10,069
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Post by Confessor on Jan 13, 2017 0:16:21 GMT -5
I love the theme song from Scarecrow, I have it on my phone. Scare-CROOOOOOOW, Scare-CROOOOOOOWW!!!! Always gave me chills. Well, until I was like, 13. But I loved those three Scarecrow episodes. I would've been about the same age as you, Hal, roughly 10, when I first encountered the scarecrow of Romney Marsh. They used to show episodes of it at my hometown's local cinema before the main feature back in the early '80s. I too was simultaneously frightened and excited by those episodes. Another great write up there, Hal. Loved all the Beatles on Ed Sullivan stuff and the abundant humour in your post. Following this thread is a treat.
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Post by Ish Kabbible on Jan 13, 2017 0:57:44 GMT -5
I think I've mentioned this before on The Beatles thread, but I too somehow missed their premiere performance on the Ed Sullivan show.
My mother was not into Rock N' Roll, she was the Frank Sinatra type. Didn't grow up with a father and was the elder of 2 children. I listened to the radio but didn't associate the songs being played with real people yet. And somehow didn't pay attention to the schoolyard chatter about The Beatles. Have no recollection what I watched instead, probably it was Walt Disney since I watched The Bill (My Name Is Jose Jimenez) Dana show that preceded it
But that Monday morning, after the Sullivan show, you can bet I heard plenty about their performance. Much of it was about their hair, was it real or were they wigs? In fact, that was all anyone talked about, both kids and adults, that whole week. Come hell or high water, I was going to watch their 2nd performance on Sullivan later that month
And boom, my life changed. Nothing I had seen up to that point was as electrifying. No longer did I want to be an astronaut or a baseball player. Playing Rock N' Roll looked to be the greatest thing to do. That show established my rebellious streak against my mother's brand of entertainment. It showed me that kids my own age had their own culture which couldn't be denied
From then on, no matter what I watched on TV on Sunday nights, if Sullivan had a Rock N' Roll music act on the show, I would flip the channel knob to make sure I caught it
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Post by Prince Hal on Jan 13, 2017 16:13:23 GMT -5
A Comic Lover’s Memories Part 13 Why Did I Love The Brave and the Bold? (Part One)Who knows why we like what we like? Digging through your memories as I‘ve been doing is one way to try to figure out what’s at the root of our likes and dislikes, but when it comes down to it, so many of our preferences are ultimately unexplainable, aren’t they? I love caramel, but I can’t stand the ones with the blob of vanilla inside, though. Love peanuts. Hate peanut butter... no matter how many times I try it. Hate it when I spoon out some jelly onto my toast and taste a hint of peanut butter from when someone else made a PB and J and polluted the jelly jar by using her peanut butter knife. I don’t mind the sound of one piece of Styrofoam rubbing up against another. I hate it when the fork I’m putting into the dishwasher interlocks with another fork. (I grit my teeth just thinking of it.) Love raw oysters. Love vodka. Hate green olives. Hate using pens that don’t release enough ink when you dot an “i” or cross a “t.” have to go back to fill in the empty dot or slash. Just have to. Don’t know why. My mishegos, I guess. Actually one of many. And we all have them. Maybe they’re embedded in my genetic code or arise from a traumatic moment I might only remember if I undergo decades of therapy. But no matter how well they map my genomes or how many years I spent with Dr. Jungenfreudenstein, I’m sure there would be still be much about my likes and dislikes, my pet peeves and fears whose origins I still wouldn’t understand. That’s why it’s been fun for me to look back at my memories of comics. Every so often, because I have the advantage of hindsight and experience, and because of websites like Mike’s Amazing World – Saints be praised! – I can more easily put my life with comics into synch with the rest of my life, and figure out why these Ben-Day-dotted pulpy pamphlets were such an important part of my growing-up and beyond. I don’t think I’ll ever know all the reasons, but I like that. A little mystery is good for us. All of this is a verbose way of explaining why I have no real idea why I always have had an irrational love for The Brave and the Bold. Not the comic. Well, yes, but it’s more than that. I love the title, I love the logo (There’s only one!), I love the team-up concept, I love the proto-sword and sorcery concept, the tryouts, Murray Boltinoff’s editing, really everything about it. I’m not sure when exactly it was that I first heard of this comic called The Brave and the Bold, but I know it made an indelible impression on me. In fact, there were a bunch of DC Comics that had a similar effect: Challengers of the Unknown, Tomahawk, Doom Patrol, Sea Devils, Metal Men, and Rip Hunter… Time Master, for example. To me, a neophyte comics reader, titles like these were like exotic treasures. But those are stories for another day. At the risk of sounding even older than I am, I have to remind you that things were different when Prince Hal was still Kid Hal. If you don’t remember buying comics before the changes in distribution, you may not understand the feeling of fascination and mystery that would develop around these titles you only knew about by catching a glimpse of them in DC’s subscription ads or the occasional house ad. You may remember that I wrote of my trips to my cousins’ houses in the city. One of them in particular always seemed to have comics I’d never seen in my neck of the woods, from Stumbo to Sad Sack to Bob Hope. (That would have been my rat-faced bastard cousin, for those of you keeping score.) Well, even his stash never contained any of the ones I mentioned before. I think my first acquaintance with The Brave and the Bold, or at least the earliest inkling I had of its existence may have been because I picked up Justice League of America 32 in the fall of 1964, the third issue of JLA I had ever bought. There at the bottom of page 9 was an ad for Metamorpho’s debut, in a comic I’d never heard of, The Brave and the Bold. Maybe there had been other issues of B and B on the newsstands in town before, but if they had, they’d never registered with me. And I don’t think I’d ever even seen an ad for it in any of the other DC books I’d been buying. What did, though, was the name and the logo. Now, obviously, I knew Jack D. Squat about anything more about comic books than that they showed up in candy stores every month and that I really liked them. So I would not have known about the expertise of DC’s great logo designer, Ira Schnapp as I took in the simple but stirring logo for the comic, with the heroic letters spelling out The Brave and the Bold proudly emblazoned on a banner snapping stiffly in the breeze. And that little chip, that seemingly missing piece on the right edge, next to the “D,” gave the subtlest hint of having been through the wars. And it made me a fan of a book I’d never even heard of until I turned to page 9 of JLA 32. Next time: Whence The Brave and the Bold? NB: (You owe it to yourself to read the entire series on Schnapp at Dial B for Blog. www.dialbforblog.com/archives/372/ Incomparable research and excellent production on this particular series, which is the norm for this delightful site, run by the inimitable “Robby Reed.”)
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Post by Prince Hal on Jan 13, 2017 16:23:39 GMT -5
Always gave me chills. Well, until I was like, 13. But I loved those three Scarecrow episodes. I would've been about the same age as you, Hal, roughly 10, when I first encountered the scarecrow of Romney Marsh. They used to show episodes of it at my hometown's local cinema before the main feature back in the early '80s. I too was simultaneously frightened and excited by those episodes. Another great write up there, Hal. Loved all the Beatles on Ed Sullivan stuff and the abundant humour in your post. Following this thread is a treat. Thank you, Confessor. Fun to look back. It all seems like yesterday. I can still sing that song and enjoy the show again vicariously. It really was good. Maybe not quite so good as the Beatles, but it was good!.
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