Comics Fans before Comics Fandom

In the midst of celebrating the 50th anniversary of the beginning of what we call "comics fandom," a few folks now and then will announce (as if it were uncharted territory) that some people collected comics (and even published fanzines with comics commentaries) prior to 1961. (Most often cited are the E.C. fanzines of the 1950s.) The reason we're celebrating 50 years is that 1961 marked the start of a fandom that didn't go away; earlier endeavors did not grow and build into a long-term, ongoing community of hobbyists. But, especially among science-fiction fans (with a tradition of amateur self-publication), there were certainly people who shared their fondness for comics. A case in point was The Cricket, and I turned up a copy of the first issue (June 1949) recently.

The Cricket, self-described as "A periodical of culture and reefinement" with the epigraph "You plays cricket, drinks tea, and lifs the pinky when you holds the cup" (a Walt Kelly quote from Animal Comics), was a fanzine published by my mom and dad and edited by Betsy Curtis (aka Mom) "at their editorial offices, mimeograph salon, studio, dishwashing and ironing parlors, nursery and residence." Circulation of the mimeographed newsletter (judging from the published list of recipients) was 36, only 4 copies of which went to relatives. In the midst of book, magazine, and music recommendations is the following essay by Mom. (I shall not italicize it or put it in quotes; suffice to say the rest of this post is by her.):

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So many friends have asked me in grim or pathetic tones, "Do you approve of comic books?" that I feel I must make some public statement which I can hand out to such gals and run for cover while they are reading it. The question, of course, makes about as much sense as "Do you approve of books?" but it is hard to say this without being thought impertinent or irrelevant by the questioners.

Comic books are naturally appealing. Pictures, like stage drama, are more interesting than mere print. The rapid action of most of the plots and the excitement of adventure hold a child's attention in comics as they do in western movies. Passages of slow moving description are not necessary when the action is presented in pictures.

Many objections to comic books have to do with their subject matter. It is certainly not surprising that the children of avid whodunit readers should like detective comics and that children who are offered few fairy tales should satisfy their craving for fantasy with Superman and the Green Lantern (whose doings are in their way more moral than "Big Claus and Little Claus" and most of the contents of the Red, Violet, and Blue Fairy Books. And comics are cheaper than "good" fantasy - the Oz books are still retailing at $2. I wish I could afford to supply Judy [my nickname in 1949] with books which she would enjoy more (and there are plenty) than comics.

Some mothers object that their children bury themselves in comics and no longer spend time in active "fantasy play" with their friends. Cops and robbers are supposed to have given way to afternoons in the corners of the sofa with piles of comics. Comics are also supposed to have replaced "real literature" in the lives of our young. I can see no reason why there should not be a "real literature" in comic form. It is slow in taking shape, but the work of such artists as [Morris] Gollub, [Dan] Noonan, and Kelly give promise that comics can be good reading for children. Certainly these stories have been acted out by children - I've seen and heard it.

Comic art is a young art. When better comics are printed, kids will read them. I have considerable faith in the taste of children - they like good fiction better than bad; but as long as they are offered only mediocre, bad, and worse, in a form that is more appealing and cheaper than good stories, they will continue to read mediocre, etc.

I don't know how to get good comics on the market any more than I know how to encourage the writing and publishing of other good books for children - but I am hopeful that artists and publishers will come across in time for our grandchildren to have lots of fun at a very moderate cost.

...

The largest number of periodicals in our household seems, in spite of culture and reefinement, to be made up of comic books. Most of our collection are really intended to be comic - that is, funny. Most of them are published by the Dell Publishing Company and portray the doings of urban children (Little Lulu, Henry) or urban animal child-substitutes (Walter Lantz, Merrie Melodies, Walt Disney, Tom and Jerry, etc.) The cream of the crop were, in the recent past, Our Gang, Raggedy Ann, and Fairy Tale Parade (still Dell) with the excellent drawing, interesting stories and amusing dialogue of Walt Kelly, Dan Noonan, and Morris Gollub; but these three gentlemen seem to be deserting the comic book business and two of the publications are no longer in existence. The least painful comics still on the market other than the ones I have just mentioned seem to be the Disney ones. I should recommend a recent special, still on the stands in Canton - "Donald Duck in the Treasure of the Andes" [Dell Four Color #223, actually "Lost in the Andes" by Carl Barks] - as the best of the recent dime publications for the four-to-eight year old. We do seem to have accumulated a number of Superboy, Wonder Woman, and Bat Man opera, but these do not hold the attention of our six-year-old for more than five or six readings. Even Raggedy Ann can beat that.

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Oskar Lebeck of Dell's Golden Age

In the course of researching the origins of the term "graphic novel," I came across information I'd internalized long ago, forgetting where it had originated. Bill Spicer edited a groundbreaking fanzine Back In The Day. Born as Fantasy Illustrated, it morphed into Graphic Story Magazine with #8. In #9 (Summer 1968), Spicer and Vince Davis interviewed creator Dan Noonan (whose work I'd admired since seeing it in the 1940s).

I've been rummaging through Internet postings in search of information about the man who owned personal copyrights to the non-licensed comic books he edited for Western Printing & Lithographing Co. (distributed by Dell) - rummaging without success.

But here, in the Noonan interview, was that information about Oskar Lebeck. In fact, it opened the interview:

"At the time I was working for Oskar, he'd been the prime mover for the Western line of comics; before the war, Lebeck, through association with the Disney Studio and Western, started the Mickey Mouse Magazine and several others. And of course, they met with almost instantaneous success. At the conclusion of the war there was a terrific market for comics, and they were doing a million-dollar business in it. Lebeck then became editor-in-chief for the Western comics division; he was responsible for delivering the package - the material that'd be printed - to George Delacorte, the publisher and distributor.

"Lebeck was a wonderful man to work for, and he was really the only comic book impresario that, in my opinion, ever deserved the name. He was a German, who'd come here from Berlin and had worked with Max Reinhardt and with a number of stage people. He had also done a good deal of design work in New York. Lebeck had quite a flair for design; the Bauhaus was still not so distant in people's minds that it wasn't acceptable, and I think that's where his work might have been influenced.

"He had a wide open mind for ideas; he initiated Animal Comics, a fairy story comic book, and these Raggedy Ann comics at the end of the war. And many other titles that were one-shots. Just about everything he did turned out rather well. He insisted on good stories; he'd buy a good story, and then he'd try to pick the best artist he had for it. But if an artist wrote a story himself, and he liked it, you could go right ahead and illustrate it, if he felt you were capable of doing so. With Oskar the story was the thing, and it didn't make too much difference to him who did the writing. Just so it was good."

Asked about the Lebeck copyrights, Noonan responded:

"I'd imagine that it was some understanding they had - Oskar was responsible for bringing up the sales of their comic book division, and I think this might have been part of his reward; he held these copyrights. And if there was any re-use of the material, he'd receive royalties.

"Anyway, that's my interpretation of it. It wasn't talked about too generally; most companies wouldn't discuss finances with you outside of your own, and I can't say they were unusual in that respect."

He said Lebeck had died the previous year "at his home in La Jolla."

The full fascinating interview (copyright 1968 William W. Spicer) ran six pages and is well worth tracking down. I've not found more information on Lebeck anywhere else.

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