THE DAY I CALLED JACK KIRBY by Cave Carson

There are moments in your life where an idea strikes you that sounds, on it’s face, preposterous, yet somehow you feel that you HAVE to do it. Thus was the day that it dawned on my best friend and I that we could simply telephone Jack Kirby.

Yeah, that’s right. Just pick up the phone and do it.

We were all of 14 years old (give or take) at the time this brainstorm incapacitated our rational thought process – as it were. My auntie worked at the local phone company which gave us access to a prodigous amount of phone books. Jack Kirby lived in Newbury Park so …. hoping against hope …. we dove into that phone book. Sure as shit, there was a listing. We scrawled it down, leaped on the twin schwinn engines of destruction and – after deciding it would incur the least amount of adult wrath – made the journey to my house.

Thus began the planning of the conversation. What do we ask him? What do we tell him? Not once did the thought that an unsolicitated long distance phone call from two hyper-fans in their early teens might be a bit… intrusive. No, that’s the crazy type of thinking that robs you of golden opportunities in this brief slice of entropic eternity we call “lifetimes”. Soldier on, fanboys. It’s time for an audience with the King.

A nerve-wracking dial (yes, dial) later and the phone begins ringing. A very pleasant voice answers. OMG – we’re talking to THE Roz Kirby. My friend asks plaintively trying to muster as much sophistication in his voice as possible… “Is Jack there?” “Just a moment, please” she answers cheerfully AND FREAKIN GOES TO GET HIM.

Terror and excitement grips our young hearts. We were both heavy-duty Marvel Silver Age collectors and – at my prodding – had made the leap into collecting the 4th World stuff like there was no tomorrow (the day, not the publisher). We had single-handedly cornered the area market in ETERNALS and squatted on our multiple copies as if they were gold bars. We sat there wide-eyed on the phone trying not to think about what was about to happen. “He drew the Galactus trilogy. He drew the first 100 issues of Fantastic Four… the first Avengers, X-Men, Captain America, DINGBATS OF DANGER STREET, dammit!” I whispered. “Shut up” my comrade-in-rudeness answered.

Suddenly he stiffened in shock, his eyes grew wide. He began a conversation with Jack Kirby. Barely contained excitement flavored his voice as he ticked off a litany of questions that only a 14 year old could love. “How do you draw women?” springs to mind. ( “Not as well as Cardy” dashed through my DC-centric mind but was quickly banished to the land of the unspoken.

Finally, the phone was handed to me. It weighed at least thirty pounds. “Hello…” I nervously answered. The friendliest voice came over the line. “Hello Mark. I’m Jack Kirby.” oh snap.

I would love to say I had a litany of brilliant questions, but alas mine too were of the 14 year old caliber. “How do you draw machines?” Freakin little moron. (Though his answer was great – incorporate every gadget you can into it. Incorporate objects around the room. Above all, make it look like it works. Sweet. It put the fantastic gadgetry he drew in a new light for me.) We finished up by asking him if we could mail him some of our drawings for him to critique. At the time we were hellbent on becoming comic book artists. We dutifully jotted down the address and said our goodbyes, when a moment of brilliance seized my friend.

“What are you drawing right now?” Genius. We can put a date on this conversation that way. “The Invaders” he answered, blowing our minds completely.

We hung up and quickly assembled a jumble of drawings with some truly horrible home-made characters ( we both decided to do original characters instead of some existing character.) A few weeks later we got a nice envelope from Jack Kirby. Inside were two pre-printed cards with Captain America and Silver Surfer ( must have been give-aways from the San Diego con. ) On each one he had written a personalized message to each of us, assuring us that the drawings we sent were just fine and thanking us. THANKING US.

That was the day I learned that Jack Kirby was not only the king, but was one helluva nice human being. Years later I met him at a store signing. He was exactly what I thought he was. He shook hands with every fan and looked them in the eye, spoke to them the same way regardless of age, demeanor, or hygiene, and assured each one that no matter how great they thought something he did was, “wait’ll you see what’s coming.” That was the day I learned to always look to the future with wonder. Never lose that.

I bought a page of original artwork that day from Roz Kirby. She was standing to the side as Jack held audience, so I took advantage of the situation and talked to her. She was every bit as engaging as he was. I bought a page from the Count Dragorin issue of Jimmy Olsen that day, giving me a page with not only Kirby, but Murphy Anderson as well (the faces) and even some parts that had been erased (no kidding) by inker Vince Colletta – still visible if you look hard enough. I treasured this page for years but eventually parted with it when financial times weighed me down.

The moral of this story? Sometimes the people you idolize not only live up to expectations but surpass them. I wish I had thought to thank him for that, even more than the tremendous body of work he created.

The Tempest In The Teabag.

That’s as good a way as any to describe it. Today, Barack Obama is going to address the schoolchildren of the country he’s presently presidentin’ with a speech on the importance of … get this …. staying in school. Can you believe it? What a horrible ideal to foist on our unsuspecting future single parents.

That was sarcasm, son. A hallmark of every incarnation of the LAKE OF FIRE that shows no sign of abatement.

In the past, president’s have addressed the nation’s schoolchildren on the importance of different issues that dealt with their lives directly, aka serving as a role model. Ronald Reagan once did the same and included bits about the importance of tax cuts and trickle-down economics. Yes, that is what’s known as “indoctrination” the five dollar word being thrown about by two-bit pundits. JFK had the Peace Corps, there’s the President’s Physical Fitness program. Just Say No…. it goes on and on. Until President Obama attempts a motivational speech. Countdown to when some cuntrag throws out the phrase “Hitler Youth”. *sigh*

There has to come a time when the crazy fog lifts. There must come a day when the best and brightest ascend to the big boy chairs and play nice long enough to accomplish something beneficial to mankind instead of lowering the evolutionary bar YET AGAIN.

By: Mister Blisterfists

I’ve reported at great length on my great silver age finds. So, last week I was on a back-issue hunt. Didn’t do too well with what I was actually hunting for, but there’s always other haunts to check.

anyway, on my way through my regular circuit of comic stores in the Pittsburgh Area, I stopped into the McMurray branch of New Dimension comics.

they’re going through some remodeling at the moment, but amidst the chaos, they’ve brough several backissue longboxes out. One happened to be full of what appeared to be mostly Bronze Age Horror titles (House of Mystery, some Weird War Tales, Tales of the Unexpected, etc.)

all for fifty cents. Now, At some point I plan on rebuilding that part of my collection, I’m sure many of you are aware of the fact that my first, great Comic Collection (Which included all of my Kamandis, MADs, and even more heartbreaking, my Golden Age Captain Marvels) was ruined in a basement flood in the early 90s.

well, a vast majority of that collection was Bronze Age Horror books. But that’s beside the point. I collect mostly hero books now, but any time I see a big box full of Bronze Age, I give it a quick flip, because you never know what you might find. So scanning titles for Kamandi, I managed to pull three hero books from the box. Which was marked as a fifty cent bin.

A random issue of Showcase featuring the Doom Patrol. A random issue of Mister Miracle.

and Detective Comics 474.

the first appearance of Deadshot in his now Iconic costume.

see those spots near the spine, above Deadshot’s arm. That’s why it was bargain binned. But those spots are actually pretty much superficial, since the interior is PERFECT. And, to get one of “The Greatest Batman Stories Ever Told” for only fifty cents?

it was truly a good day, and proof that I’m Unlucky in love, but lucky in my love for comics.

Well, as you can tell, if you’re a regular visitor to this site, that there has been a bunch of changes here in D*O*O*S*Hville, and this page is but the latest of them.

This blog is going to feature commentaries, reviews, and narrative by some of our most prolific and talented writers, including, but certainly not limited to D*O*O*S*H founder “Pootboy”, musicologist “Professor Palinore”, pop culture guru “Mister Blisterfists”, screenwriter and critic “ScotEric”,  editorial columnist and ex-lothario “Coffee Joe”, political commentator “Cave Carson” and every once in a while, even me.

we have no intention of censoring ourselves, just so you can read our exploits at work.  If you are reading the internet on company time, you’re already taking your employment into your own hands.

Please note: we will still fly our “fanboy frathouse” flag proudly. The commentary and the forums still may be NSFW… We’ll try to give you heads up when that happens.  But we have no intention of censoring ourselves, just so you can read our exploits at work.  If you are reading the internet on company time, you’re already taking your employment into your own hands.  You might as well make it worth it.

So welcome.  We hope you stick around!

Mirthquake—
Acting Baron Administrator of D*O*O*S*H City