By Denis Gifford (Shire Publications)
ISBN: 0-85263-103-0
One of my most treasured old books is this slim unassuming tome that too briefly recalls the halcyon glories of British contributions to the world of newspaper comic strips. Maybe it’s because it was printed near where I grew up, but I rather suspect it’s the fact that it introduced me to a world of characters I had never seen (some I still haven’t but for their inclusion in these pages).
Cartoonist and historian Denis Gifford was often short on depth and sometimes even got the odd fact wrong, but he was the consummate master of enthusiastic nostalgia. He deeply loved the medium in concept and in all its execution, from slipshod and rushed to actual masterpieces with the same degree of passion and was capable of imparting – infecting almost – the casual reader with some of that wistful fire.
This lost gem from 1971 – a time when the British strip finally entered its full spiral of decline – evokes a more prolific and varied time, dividing the history and development of the cartoon feature into a general overview and more specific themes.
First of these is ‘the Jokers‘; comedy strips such as John Millar Watt’s Pop, Walter Goetz’s Colonel Up and Mr. Down and Dab and Flounder, Rousen’s Boy Meets Girl, licensed strips such as ITMA by Arthur Ferrier, Hylda Baker’s Diary by Dennis Collins and a legion of other leg-pullers, irascible goons and japesters, closely followed and overlapped by ‘the Workers‘ which deals with our national obsession: the little man’s avoidance of the rat-race.
J. F. Horrabin’s white-collar Dot and Carrie, Batchelor’s Office Hours, and Bristow by Frank Dickens, jostle with Reg Smythe’s immortal Andy Capp, Hugh Morren’s Wack and the surreal Northern genius of Bill Tidy’s The Fosdyke Saga, but there are many others I don’t have the space to recount here, and from the copious snippets supplied in this book they were all superb.
‘The Family‘ was another rich vein of cartoon gold. Steve Dowling’s Ruggles and Keeping Up with the Joneses, Barry Appleby’s the Gambols (there’s enough collections out for a full review in future so expect one here soon) Jack Dunkley’s the Larks, Frank Langford’s Jack and Jill, Mel Calman’s Couples and dozens of others are fondly celebrated before we get to ‘the Kids‘ such as Brian White’s The Nipper, Dowling’s Belinda Blue-Eyes and Tich, St. John Cooper’s The Home Page Kids and The Cooper Kids, Charles Holt’s His Nibs, Cyril Jacobs stylish Choochie and Twink and the sublime Perishers by Maurice Dodd and Dennis Collins (also long overdue for a review) among so many others.
Trailing behind the kids are ‘the Animals‘; split into two chapters. In the first are such four-footed luminaries as Come On Steve by Roland Davies, Norman Thelwell’s Penelope, Peter Maddocks’ A Leg at Each Corner and Alex Graham’s Fred Bassett as well as an entire pack of canny cartoon canines, whilst the second part deals with strips for younger readers including both Charles Folkard’s and Arthur Potts’ versions of Teddy Tail, Austin Payne’s Pip, Squeak and Wilfred, Horrabin’s Japhet and Happy and The Arkubs. Harry Smith’s licensed Sooty strip, the amazing Timothy Tar by A.E. Beary and some fascinating early views of Rupert (the Bear if you insist on being formal) by Mary Tortel from 1920.
‘The Heroes‘ come next, with Jack Monk’s Buck Ryan, Francis Durbridge’s Paul Temple as rendered by both Alfred Sindall in the hero’s radio days and latterly John Macnamara when the detective graduated to the small screen in the late 1960’s. As well as the almost forgotten Flint of the Flying Squad (George Davies), Jack Daniel and Davies Kit Conquest, Sindall’s Tug Transom and Hugh McClelland’s Scott Lanyard, there’s a too-brief roundup of key Cowboy features such as Tony Weare’s Matt Marriott, George Stokes’ Wes Slade and Harry Bishop’s Gun Law.
The stars aren’t neglected though as evidenced by the inclusion of Sidney Jordan’s Jeff Hawke, Space Rider, J. M. Burns’ The Seekers, James Bond by both John McCloskey and Horak, Peter O’Donnell and Jim Holdaway’s brilliant Romeo Brown and of course the immortal Garth as illustrated by creator Steve Dowling.
The book concludes with a peek at our racy tradition of unadorned glamour with ‘The Girls‘. Unlike America and many other countries, in Britain trivial nudity and a little sauciness was never considered as the rocky road to damnation, and a number of superb artists have cheered up generations of males readers – and ladies, too – with such treats as Alfred “Maz†Mazure’s run on Carmen and Co and Jane, Daughter of Jane, and there’s also a big display of her legendary mum, as drawn by Norman Pett and Michael Hubbard.
Although Jane is the unvarnished queen of this sub-genre other stars have occasionally challenged her supremacy. Sirens such as Pett’s dynamic Susie, Bob Hamilton’s Patti, Spotlight on Sally and Eve by the astounding Arthur Ferrier, Paula by Eric A. Parker, Judy by Julian Phipps, the tragically forgotten but wonderful Carol Day by Davis Wright and Ernest Ratcliff’s Lindy were all superb looking strips and could easily stand a comprehensive collection of their own, but the true stars really shone once the age of liberation dawned.
Pat Tourret’s fabulous Tiffany Jones, Luis Roca’s sexy sci-fi thriller Scarth and John Kent’s contagiously satirical Varoomshka all feature prominently but O’Donnell and Holdaway’s utterly perfect action-heroine Modesty Blaise is justifiably the biggest star here and thankfully Titan Books are still collecting her entire career for your reading enjoyment and edification.
Books about stuff are rarely as good as the items they’re plugging (and how much less so a blog about them?) but this pocket history needs reviving, expanding and republishing. No matter how knowledgeable or uninformed you are on this subject it has the ability to show you stuff that will intrigue and beguile, making you hungry for more.
Text © 1971 Denis Gifford.
