As a top-lofty college brat I soon grew past the superhero franchise and later held it in snooty contempt. I got into the undergrounds, "Slow death Funnies" and "Zap Comics", books that addressed controversial, thought provoking topics - bad acid trips and malevolent midgets who lived in some fat girl's asshole.... You know, the things that matter.
I was a little too young to fully appreciate the original underground era, though I was exposed to that material via the neighborhood teenagers. Once I grew bored with Spider-Man in middle school, the indie publishing wave of the early 80s got me curious about comic books again. Sadly, this wave mostly consisted of the same juvenile junk available on the mainstream spinner racks, only with hooters and gore added to convince hormonal teens that "this ain't yer daddy's costumed crime fighter."
Yes, I was one of those insufferable cartoon obsessives then who insisted that comics would one day be appreciated like real literature and be found on the shelves of all the finest bookstores. I take full responsibility for today's barely-literate culture.
In the context of the time, underground comics were sort of heroically offensive. In 1971 the vice principal ripped a Freak Brothers poster off the wall of our journalism class "Free-wheeling Franklin sez - dope will get through Times of no money better than money will get you through times of no dope".
The Robin death phone poll was not a blow out, but very close, less than a hundred votes difference. However, you're very right about the Robin who was killed. Readers hated Jason Todd.
As a top-lofty college brat I soon grew past the superhero franchise and later held it in snooty contempt. I got into the undergrounds, "Slow death Funnies" and "Zap Comics", books that addressed controversial, thought provoking topics - bad acid trips and malevolent midgets who lived in some fat girl's asshole.... You know, the things that matter.
I was a little too young to fully appreciate the original underground era, though I was exposed to that material via the neighborhood teenagers. Once I grew bored with Spider-Man in middle school, the indie publishing wave of the early 80s got me curious about comic books again. Sadly, this wave mostly consisted of the same juvenile junk available on the mainstream spinner racks, only with hooters and gore added to convince hormonal teens that "this ain't yer daddy's costumed crime fighter."
Yes, I was one of those insufferable cartoon obsessives then who insisted that comics would one day be appreciated like real literature and be found on the shelves of all the finest bookstores. I take full responsibility for today's barely-literate culture.
In the context of the time, underground comics were sort of heroically offensive. In 1971 the vice principal ripped a Freak Brothers poster off the wall of our journalism class "Free-wheeling Franklin sez - dope will get through Times of no money better than money will get you through times of no dope".
We were thrilled. Art was dangerous again.
The Robin death phone poll was not a blow out, but very close, less than a hundred votes difference. However, you're very right about the Robin who was killed. Readers hated Jason Todd.
I love your story, but you have touched my Sal Buscema nerve.
The best inker for Sal Buscema was Sal himself. Sal's a really interesting person; his TwoMorrows interview book was really good.
I worked at a comics shop in 1994, and...yup, that was what it was like. I hope it's better for modern comics workers.
Ray, we are in full agreement on the subject of Sal Buscema.