Harry-Go-Round

Milt Gross is Back

Harry — Thu, 22 Apr 2010 08:56:26 +0000

I have been remiss in not showering praise on The Complete Milt Gross Comic Books and Life Story, an amazing new book from IDW edited, written, and designed by my friend Craig Yoe.

We may live in an era of so many admirable books reprinting classic comics of the past that it’s hard to keep track of them, but most of Gross’s work has remained inexplicably unseen. Despite his excellent reputation, very few of his comics have been reprinted, and even less has been written about the man himself. Craig’s book fixes that, with hundreds of pages of Gross’s forgotten comic-book stories and a long, fascinating, lavishly-illustrated biography. If you love Gross, this is a book you’ve been waiting for; if you don’t know him, you need only to skim it to understand what all the fuss is about.

Gross’s work is a paradox: It has a rich period feel–1930s Jewish New York–but it’s instantly accessible, too. He was a master of nutty drawings, nutty dialog, and nutty situations. His work radiates the obvious pleasure he took in creating it.

I can’t think of any other cartoonist who was funny in more ways. He did some of the best newspaper comics of all time. He was one of the first graphic novelists, and wrote best-selling illustrated prose books. He dabbled in animation (I knew about his MGM cartoons, but was amazed to learn from this book that he also worked on Walt Disney’s Peter Pan). He did movie title cards and billboards and early TV.

And, as this volume proves, he was a wonderful comic-book artist. I’ve long owned one or two ACG comics with Gross’s work, but I had no idea that he was so prolific, or so good. These stories–including Gross newspaper staples such as Count Screwloose, That’s My Pop, and Banana Oil as well as new features such as Moronica–rank with some of his best work. Most of these stories are short–five or six pages are common–and they kind of remind me of John Stanley without the deadpan moments and plot exposition–they’re exuberantly silly from the first panel through the last one. Reading them is an intense experience (I recommend small, frequent doses).

Craig’s introductory biography is a joy; his design is consistently clever and appropriate; I like the approach to the reproduction of the comics (directly from printed comic books, with the original color). There’s a Fold-Introduction by Al Jaffee, and a Foreword by Milt Gross’s son. And I’m honored to say I helped out a little by contributing the Dave’s Delicatessen original I own (it’s on page 18, although Craig used it elsewhere as well, in a way that delights me).

Among the remarkable things about this book is what it doesn’t include: any of Gross’s newspaper work, other than a handful of representative examples such as my original. I hope it’s a hit–once people get their hands on it, I can’t imagine them not clamoring for more Gross books. And there scads of additional examples of his idiosyncratic brilliance that deserve to be rediscovered and enjoyed all over again.

The First New–Sort of–Scrappy Toy in, Oh, 70+ Years

Harry — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 05:59:20 +0000

I own a lot of Scrappy products. A bizarre number of Scrappy products. And until recently, they’ve all had something in common: They were made several decades before I was born. Come to think of it, I think most date from a few years before my parents were born. Scrappy may still be protected by copyright, but his owner, Sony Columbia, has shown absolutely no interest in merchandising the little guy.

I would have wagered that the era of the Scrappy toy was long gone and wasn’t coming back. Until I found and bought a new Scrappy pull toy.

Yes, it’s a replica–of a wonderful 1930s Scrappy pull toy, which I’m pleased to say I own. That’s the two of them in the above photo. Which one’s old and which one’s new? You might guess that the brightly-colored, beautiful one on the left was the replica, and the scruffy, faded one on the right was the oldie. But nope–the replica is the junior-sized version on the right.

It’s a reasonable facsimile, but not perfect: Scrappy’s head is misshapen and they’ve unaccountably flipped Yippy around. The xylophone doesn’t have real bars, and Margy’s skirt–tragically–is printed rather than real.

Oh, and the manufacturer eliminated the Columbia copyright message on Scrappy’s left shoe. Which is probably evidence that this is a bootlegged product, or at least one produced by someone who thinks Scrappy is in the public domain.

The replicator definitely tried to make the toy look aged–note the battered paint on the wheels–but it’s also not as well-made as the original In fact, the paper cutout with Scrappy printed on it is starting to peel away on one side. My old one, on the other hand, has survived in remarkably good shape.

Here’s the oddest thing about this toy other than the fact it exists at all: I bought it at the gift shop at San Francisco’s wonderful new Walt Disney Family Museum. I’m not sure if its proprietors think Scrappy was a Disney character, or are paying respect to Dick Huemer, or what. Maybe they’re just cheerfully oblivious.

I just know it was a little thrill to plunk down my money for this. Let the Scrappy renaissance–complete with DVD box set–begin right now…

Bacharach, Hanna, David, and Barbera

Harry — Sat, 10 Oct 2009 18:27:42 +0000

Mark Evanier has blogged about a mysterious unsold 1967 pilot from Hanna-Barbera with, among other things, a theme song by my favorite songwriters, Burt Bacharach and Hal David. It’s nowhere near as transcendently weird and wonderful as the footage from a Vic Damone special showing Bullwinkle, animated by Benny Washam, dancing to Antonio Carlos Jobim music (I don’t think that’s online anywhere). But it still makes me feel good to know that there are odd intersections of my pop-culture interests left to learn about, and it’s neat to hear a “new” Bacharach and David song. (Even though it sounds like something from the Lost Horizon discard pile.)

I Live!

Harry — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 05:56:37 +0000

Horrifying but true: This is only my third Harry-Go-Round blog post of 2009. I have some excuses, none of which are very good. For one thing, I’ve been blogging like a madman at Technologizer, the site that’s been my day job since July of last year. For another, this site was on an ancient version of WordPress which was A) overridden by crippling spam attacks; B) corrupted; and C) more or less impossible to upgrade. (I’ve moved it to a new WordPress setup with a different theme, which is why our look and feel have changed ever so slightly.

I’m still alive and well, and I swear I’m going to try to blog more often here. Starting very shortly: I was fortunate enough to visit the Walt Disney Family Museum on its opening day earlier this week, and want to tell you all about it.

Meanwhile, the one part of this site that’s been at least sort of active has been our chats. They continue, and continue to be fun–please join us at 6pm PT most every Sunday night.

Gerstein Blogs!

Harry — Sat, 25 Apr 2009 01:10:54 +0000

David Gerstein is one of the smartest, best informed, most engaging writers there is about animation and comics. He was born to blog. But somehow he never has–until now. He’s launched Ramapith, and I hope very much that he’ll post there a heck of a lot more frequently than I’ve managed to write here recently. Go there now.

The Best Vietnamese Restaurant in America

Harry — Sun, 29 Mar 2009 05:26:06 +0000

Remember the Betty Boop Diner I blogged about almost four years ago? It was apparently supposed to be the flagship location of a chain of ‘em. But expansion stalled after two locations that I know of–the one in Union Square which I wrote about, and one in the Serramonte Mall in Daly City, a couple of exits down 280 from my house.

They’re both gone now. (Actually, they’ve been gone for awhile–in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m behind on my blogging here, since Technologizer keeps me pretty darn busy.) I don’t remember what became of the Union Square brand, but the Serramonte one is now a Vietnamese soup joint:

But the cool thing is, they haven’t completely redecorated. One wall is still dominated by an amazing 3D diorama by T. Peterson of a theater full of Betty’s friends–Grampy, Bimbo, Koko, Pudgy, and others. They used to watch Boop cartoons on the TV embedded in the display; I’m not sure what it shows now.

These pictures are fuzzy because my iPhone was the only camera I had with me when I poked my head into the restaurant. I need to remember to take some better shots. But if there’s any justice in this world, the whole thing will be declared some sort of national cartoon landmark so it can’t be removed, no matter what might end up in the space.

My Forry Story

Harry — Fri, 05 Dec 2008 21:32:28 +0000

I’m not a science-fiction fan. My relationship with Famous Monsters of Filmland consisted of flipping through it at the newsstand maybe twice as a kid and deciding not to buy it. But I’m still saddened by the death of Forrest J. Ackerman, one of the first people on the planet ever to think of himself as a fan (starting circa 1926, when he was ten years old)…and a fan until the end.

I knew Ackerman from his San Diego Comic-Con panels, which I made a point of attending and found consistently delightful. Forry repeating himself and not always hearing the question was a better representative of what Comic-Con should be than an infinite number of Kevin Smith panels or fawning previews of movies that deserve nothing but pity. I mean it when I say that the fact he won’t be at the con next year–probably, although I’m not assuming anything, since you never know–is a fairly major argument against making the trip and fighting my way through the crowds.

And here’s my Forry story. It takes place about five years ago at the breakfast buffet in the basement of the Marriott next to the San Diego Convention Center. I’m there with a bunch of Apatoons friends. We notice that Forry has arrived–looking distressingly feeble, in a wheelchair pushed by some sort of caretaker. He looks so incapacitated, in fact, that it’s a surprise he’s out and about.

I begin to say something thoughtful and compassionate about the sad fate of this once vibrant man…

…and then Forry bounds out of his wheelchair, joins the buffet line, and begins serving himself a hearty breakfast.

I never exchanged so much as a few words with the man, but here are two I regret never saying to him in person: “Thank you.”

Emru Townsend

Harry — Wed, 12 Nov 2008 06:35:11 +0000

I don’t have any records on this, but I first encountered Emru Townsend about twenty years ago. Twenty years ago almost exactly–the fall of 1988, I believe. We met each other on the online service BIX, and while we didn’t meet in person until many years later, I count our friendship as beginning when we first met online.

Emru and I lived in different cities in different countries (he was from Montreal) and came from different backgrounds, but we had a heck of a lot in common. We both loved animation and comics. We both loved gadgets (especially Amiga computers, which we both owned back then). We both loved words and pictures–both the consumption and the creation thereof. When BIX launched a section to animation, it was therefore no surprise that we both helped to run it. And we continued to happily collaborate, in one way or another, from then on–he wrote for my fanzine, I wrote for his fanzine, and he ended up doing lots of wonderful work for PC World, the magazine and Web site where I worked.

In those good old BIX days, I was in touch with Emru on more or less a continuous basis, and he was such a vivid personality that I felt like I knew him extremely well even though we’d never laid eyes on each other. He was smart, funny, talented, and, above all, a remarkably calm, sensible person. When we finally did meet, when I visited Montreal on business, it felt sort of like a small family reunion with someone I’d never encountered in person and who wasn’t a relative, along with his wife, Vicky. Emru cooked me steak and walked me around town (including a stop at the comic shop where his sister, Tamu, worked), and we sat around and talked, and talked. He was precisely the same person I loved knowing online.

One of the small highlights of my career to date involved a story idea I came up with for PC World called “The Ten Worst Games of All Time.” Several people on staff politely told me that it was it was a marginal idea for an article. I kind of liked it, and assigned it to Emru. He did a bang-up job, and it was very popular. And then I was listening to one of my favorite radio shows, Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me, and heard it do a segment on the show. I pinged Emru to see if he knew, and he said that he did, and that Wait Wait was a favorite of his, too. Sheer joy.

In recent years, Emru blogged for PC World, and helped us cover the Consumer Electronics Show in Las Vegas each January, so that show turned into another mini-reunion each year. (He often talked about his son, Max.) He was going to attend CES 2008 for us, but shortly before the show, he was feeling poorly and saw a doctor. He soon learned he had leukemia–and that his best chance at beating it would require finding a match for a bone marrow transplant.

He reacted in typical Emru fashion: He and Tamu founded a site called Heal Emru which was in part a platform for trying to find a donor–but it ended up spreading the word about bone marrow donations in general. I know that it will save lives.

Emru got his bone marrow transplant, and blogged about it at Heal Emru, with typical grace and good humor. But it wasn’t enough. He passed away tonight, with his family at his bedside. I’m still trying to process this information, but I feel extremely fortunate to have known him.

More to come…

The Main Difference Between Germany and the U.S.

Harry — Sun, 31 Aug 2008 05:30:47 +0000

I’m not sure where I last saw the Beagle Boys in public in the states, other than in a comic-book store. But I was just in Berlin for the giant IFA consumer electronics show, which had a “Kids’ Playground” pavilion. Which was decorated with a large picture of the guys:

I suspect nobody reading this would disagree with what I’m about to say: Early and frequent exposure to the Beagle Boys should be an essential part of every healthy childhood.

Stinkerbell?

Harry — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 02:06:28 +0000

No comment, just a picture, a link, and a silent tear.