The Golden Age of Comics you’ve never seen

On 3/31/10, I spoke at the Newport Public Library in Newport, Rhode Island.

It wasn’t my talk that merits a post but rather what happened afterward.

A man named Joseph Alaino came up to me and politely showed me superhero drawings he’d made as a kid. That alone was not remarkable. Many kids draw superheroes and some still have them as adults.

What was remarkable with respect to Joseph is that he is 79 years old. That means his drawings—made at least as early as 1943, when he was 12—are from the Golden Age of Comics.

Comics from the Golden Age of Comics are the most valuable comics in history.

Original, professional comic art from the Golden Age of Comics is also highly valuable.

But what about fan art from the Golden Age of Comics?

Though not valuable in the financial sense, it’s probably nearly as rare. And what makes it rarer in this case is not only that Joseph kept it all these decades but bothered to bring it to an event like mine and show it to someone.

Joseph’s art is a vivid window on the superhero culture in its earliest years. Kids these days have more than a half a century’s worth of characters to draw upon when creating new ones. Joseph had about five years’ worth. And granted those were five colorful and crowded years for capes, it’s still interesting to see what character names and designs Joseph used.

Before Joseph, I’d never wondered what kid-made superheroes of the Golden Age might’ve looked like. With his permission, here are but a few of his many drawings:




I suspect this was influenced by the Green Lantern oath, though Joseph didn't remember:











This last one caught my eye because I could instantly tell the cover he swiped the pose from:

Joseph also has a scrapbook of images he cut out from Golden Age comics when he was a kid:


Of course I had to say "You know how much these would've been worth if you'd kept them intact?" And his unsurprising answer was "Don't remind me."

Joseph was more than kind to allow me to post these images. So please show him the respect he deserves by not reposting without asking first.

My first April Fool’s author visit

On 4/1/10, I did my first school visit on April Fool’s Day. I was expecting (and hoping) to be fooled! Especially since it’s a school I had spoken at just two months earlier, so we were all buds already.

The kids didn’t try to get me, but I pulled one over on them.

Since I’d been there so recently, they’d been told I’d be giving a different presentation this time. I explained that I’d spend the hour on my newest book.

About socks.

And how not to wear socks.

And where socks are made.

And April Fool’s!

I then began the real presentation, a look at the “Easter eggs” of Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman. And in the end, I did get a surprise during it.

Save the magazines

Here is a clever public service announcement that appears in the 4/16/10 issue of Entertainment Weekly:

It makes a compelling argument.

Most gutsy thing about it

It's laid out "old school magazine" style—just blocks of text with virtually no design. No callout boxes, no art, barely any color. This sends a message that magazines don't have to look like websites to survive.

Most troubling thing about it

Aren't the people who need to read it not going to see it because they're not reading magazines anymore?

And is it supporting or undermining the cause to post it online?

Rhode Island news and notes (including great ideas for schools #2 and 3)

Happenings during a recent round of speaking engagements in Rhode Island:

For the first time, a school had me sign in as a guest by computer. Prior to that, I’d signed in only by hand, either by writing my name in a log or filling out my own visitor nametag. But this way, the computer generated the label. I know—in the iPad Age, this should not surprise me, but I’m calibrated to record any first.

Speaking of which...

...at another school, I showed the cover of my first published title, The Felix Activity Book, which came out in 1996 and didn’t have a long shelf life. A teacher excitedly raised her hand to say she has it. After my talk, she proved it—and it looked like new. She insisted, however, that she uses it regularly. She just takes good care of her books.

At yet another school, I learned of not one but two inspiring events. The first is Quiet Week, during which all classes compete to see which can be the quietest in the hallways. The winning class (and in our PC climate, I’m always thrilled when I encounter a school that still allows for healthy competitions that yield winners) gets a pizza party. I was told the competition was (silently) fierce—the kids did a great job. I suspect this is an idea other schools will not need to be forced into adopting.

The second is a principal willing to go the distance for his kids and for a good cause. To kick off their “Blast Off Into Reading” campaign, the school’s principal (who I’ve got to name—Steve Ponte at Forest Avenue School in Middletown) went skydiving...while the student body watched.

So the distance he went is two miles, but it was two miles up. Rather down. I was majorly impressed with that. Plus, several other teachers signed on to join him. The lucky kids at that school surely got a memorable lesson not only in literacy but bravery.

And finally, at a fourth school, a student told us all that, at his house, he had found the most valuable comic book of all time.

A single comic that can pay for college

Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman includes an illustration of a man looking at Action Comics #1, the first appearance of Superman and therefore the most valuable comic book in history. (Of the 200,000 printed in 1938, only 100 are known to still exist.)

Whenever I speak to students (or any group, really), I show that scene followed by a picture of the actual cover:

Then I suggest that kids get permission to look through their grandparents’ attics and basements. If they find an original copy of it, I urge them to call a lawyer (if they don’t live with one) because that one comic will pay for college.

On 4/1/10, I was honored to speak at Wheeler School in Providence, Rhode Island, for the second time in two months. It was a different presentation but at one point I did (re)show Action #1.

A boy who had seen me present the first time raised his hand.

He said he’d done what I’d suggested. He looked for that rare comic. And, he claimed, he’d found one.

It did not seem to be an April Fool’s joke.

The room itself suddenly felt adrenalized.

In front of the whole group, I asked him questions about it. He said he’d come across a pile of old comics and Action #1 was one of them. I asked if he was sure and he said yes.

After my presentation, I spoke privately with the student and the Head of the Lower School. I asked the Head if I could contact the family to find out just what they’ve got. If it was indeed this Holy Moley Grail of comics, I’d be happy to refer them to a trusted contact at a comics assessment company. The Head graciously put the family and me in touch.

The boy’s family had given the comics to his uncle but his mom kindly e-mailed me a photo of one of the issues, presumably representative of the bunch. I was not surprised to learn the reality. The comic is from 1969 and it’s generally worth between $5 and $20:

(That plot looks like an April’s Fool joke.)

The mother said her son wasn’t clear on just what he’d found. But I understand. And I love that this eager young man really did go on my treasure hunt.

Even though what he turned up didn’t turn out to be newsworthy, it is still a great story. And that, of course, is something I’m always interested in.

Author visit donation makes the local news

WAFF-TV in Huntsville covered my affecting (for me) school visit experience in Alabama. I learned a new way in which the South is more leisurely. They just let me ramble on, not urging me to keep it to 15-second sound bites. (Listening back to what I said, I wish they had! But the segment is still only two minutes total.)

Great ideas for schools #1: One school donated me to another

At first glance, this image above may look like an error message or a botched Red Cross symbol, but it is the Alabama flag.

On 3/24/10, I made my first trip to that state and spoke at two schools. But I'd booked only one. That school booked the other.

That school is Randolph School, in Huntsville. A college friend, Jon, is an administrator there. Randolph paid for three presentations but (as we planned in advance) generously "donated" one of them to Madison Cross Roads Elementary, a nearby Title 1 school; that means it has a large number of students from low-income families. Jon even drove me to and from Madison Cross Roads and took photos for me while I was presenting there.

Back at Randolph, I signed copies of Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman before and between presentations:

Huntsville is nicknamed Rocket City. What guy doesn't like rockets? (Well, I could similarly ask, "What guy doesn't like watching baseball?" and the answer to that would be me.) Anyway, en route to the airport, I stopped at the U.S. Space & Rocket Center. That's where Space Camp is, as well as this actual-size replica rocket:

I'm sure there is precedent for a school donating an author presentation to a less privileged school. But this was the first time it had happened with me in my six years of school visits. I was deeply honored to have a role in Randolph's selfless gesture. I'm hoping other schools will follow their lead.

One small step for one author, one giant leap for author visits?

City Club of Cleveland

I'd argue that Superman is the most influential idea to come out of Cleveland and spread around the world.

Yet another force for freedom from Cleveland not only never leaves town but also draws the world to it.

The City Club of Cleveland, a "citadel of free speech," is "generally considered one of the top three speaking forums in America. It has played host to many sitting Presidents and Vice-Presidents as well as some of the most notable citizens of the United States."

Plus, obviously due to a clerical error, me.

On 3/22/10, the City Club of Cleveland kindly gave me the floor to talk about Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman.

Biggest room on the premises? No. Standing room only? No. But we did manage to fill most seats.

Will they add my portrait to the wall alongside ones of Rosa Parks, Madeline Albright, Jane Fonda, and Archbishop Desmond Tutu? No. But I don't think any audience member nodded off.

Adding to the honor, at least four members of Cleveland's own Siegel and Shuster Society attended. Here I am with three:

Jamie Reigle, only one wearing jeans, Matthew Rizzuto, Brad Ricca

I could see the City Club from my hotel window. That night, a storm blew through.

10:11 p.m.

One second after previous photo. So yes, this is lightning, not fog or dawn.

Heading out, the airport had a dramatic reminder that in Cleveland, you need to be faster than more than a speeding bullet:

More Jerry Siegel from World War II

Recently I posted a previously unpublished photo of Superman co-creator Jerry Siegel; it shows him in uniform during World War II, at work with a partner on a comic strip called Super GI. Tony, the man who owns that photo, is the son of a Stars and Stripes photographer.

He wrote, “My father's only remark about Siegel was that he was not very generous with his son.” This is something we, sadly, already know to be true on some level.

That man has since sent me three other never-published, WWII-era Siegel images, and apparently has at least one or two more.

One was labeled “officer and cartoonist,” though Jerry was actually the former and not the latter (he was a writer).

Another is a sketch of Jerry by a Bill Davis. I don’t know if he is an artist I should already know about.

A third is a sketch of Superman by, possibly, Jerry himself (which would make the label of the first more accurate). It’s inscribed to Tony, who was five years old at the time.

Here is what Tony speculated about this:

Who did the drawing? I don't know. It could have been Siegel; it looks like a rather simple set piece, a visual autograph. The paper is a design based on Hawai'an reed mat— it works almost as graph paper, making the drawing easy to do. How did Joe and Jerry collaborate in WWII when they were at least 2,000 miles apart—by mail? It [now] occurs to me that Joe [could’ve done] a couple of dozen drawings that Jerry just signed when his co-[officers] hit him up for a drawing?

Permission to reprint these images is not mine to give. If you're interested, please ask me and I'll be happy to forward your request to the owner.

5,000 kids go to school over spring break

From March 13-16, I was one of the lucky authors participating in the 42nd annual Children's Literature Festival at the University of Central Missouri. I knew little about this festival when I agreed to go. I figured anything that's been around 42 years must be doing something right.

And 5,000 kids later, I can now confirm that my hunch was sound. The university was on spring break, freeing up the sidewalks and hallways for busloads of younger students coming in from around the state.

Each author to spoke eight groups—four hourlong sessions on Monday and four more on Tuesday. Some (including me) were in classrooms and the biggest names got auditoriums. The orchestration of this event was grand-scale and, from where I stood, smooth. No kids got lost, though some authors (including me) did. (Hey, it was an unfamiliar campus.)

I did not take a photo of my little plot on the book tables until the the third and final day:

Any such photo has no frame of reference (unless you know how many books total were there to begin with, which I don't), but we (meaning me and the other authors I talked with) sure felt like a lot of books sold. I think the title I signed the most copies of was Vanished: True Stories of the Missing.

Inside a glass cabinet, each author's work was represented by a little shoebox-less diorama:

But even cooler were the clever cubic centerpieces used to indicate where each of the 43-or-so authors in attendance were to sit at the kickoff luncheon.

At the end of the luncheon, where Cheryl Klein of Arthur A. Levine gave a heartfelt keynote (in part about her grandfather, who founded this festival), each cube was raffled off to a person sitting at its table. I did not win my own.

Vanishing acts for the classroom

Vanished: True Stories of the Missing is most appropriate for grades 4 and up. It can have a place in curriculum!

(Currently, the title is available exclusively through Scholastic: simply call 800-724-6527, push prompt 3, then prompt 1, and order item #514472 with a credit card.)

Teachers and librarians, here are some easy classroom/library activities related to the book. Your students can...

• ...write a possible "next chapter" for any of the people in the book who weren't heard from again. Solve the mystery!
• ...research another missing person (besides Amelia Earhart). You may want to research this yourself first and offer students a pre-screened choice of individuals; otherwise they may stumble across a case that involves aspects of human behavior you don't want to expose them to (and which I didn't include in Vanished).
• ...create a handbook on how to search for missing people. They can each write one or the class can create one together with each student writing or illustrating a separate section. Students can interview a police officer or detective!
• ...build a missing persons web site (real or on paper) to disseminate information and receive tips. The established site missingkids.com already does this and does it well, but perhaps your students will have new ideas!
• ...create a "Have you seen...?" poster for any of the people in the book, including vital info taken from the story.

Chime in with more ideas!

12/15/11 update: Scholastic produced a Reading Group Guide with some great ideas and questions.

Up, up, and a word

On 2/2/10, I had the pleasure of speaking to the enthusiastic third through fifth grade students at Mark Twain Elementary in Centennial, CO (they of the carpeted gymnasium, which I regretfully did not photograph).

I was a few weeks too early for their spring fundraiser for literacy, for which they transformed their cafeteria into a number of book-themed areas. But while I couldn't participate in person, I was honored that Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman was one of the books chosen, even more so given the esteemed company (Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs; American Girl).

My kind host said the following photo of the Boys of Steel section could have been clearer, but it seems plenty clear that this was a great event for a perpetually important cause:

photo courtesy of Jennifer Arzberger

Superman through my ages

We're far from Halloween but Purim just passed, so it is an apt time to post all the photos I have of me dressed as Superman. Yes, the author photo on the back flap of Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman was not an isolated embarrassment.

In truth, I'm actually not embarrassed. We all can't be held accountable for haircuts before the age of 18. (The 1970s and 1980s are on trial here, too.)

1979
This was not an "official" costume but rather me in Superman pajamas
(and my sister in civilian pajamas).

1979
This was my first time dressing as Superman for Halloween though, of course, being forced to wear a winter coat over a costume makes it null and void, so...

1984
...I needed a do-over. This was a homemade costume. And yes, I was 12 here, not 8. In fact, I wore this to a 7th grade party (speaking of bravery). Another photo from this photo shoot is the one in Boys of Steel.

1989
Senior year in high school is no time to wear your underwear over your pants, so I went as Clark Kent instead. I thought this was staggeringly original, unaware that thousands of other people did it first.

However, these were not all of my superhero getups. See also: a Robin Retrospective.

Nevada Reading Week Conference, revisited

On 2/26-27/10, I was one of the authors lucky to attend the Nevada Reading Week Conference. It was my second time; the first, two years ago, was also the first time I flew anywhere for an author appearance. (It was also the first time I learned the proper pronunciation of the state: ne-VAA-duh, not ne-VAH-duh. I have not, however, learned the proper way to spell out pronunciations.)

I gave three presentations. This is one of those conferences that schedules well. All of my talks, and the other two I attended, were well attended. The conference books enough presenters to offer a good choice, but not so many (with overlapping time slots) that presenters present to small audiences. The energy was high all around.

I am good with faces and good with names. But I am not always good at matching them. I remembered the faces of all the people in this photo...

...but only one of the names. I've got to work on synchronizing these two processes.

Predictably, I greatly enjoyed meeting other authors who came in for the conference, all of whom had shorter flights than I did. (The next-farthest I met was from Illinois.) They were all warm, generous people.

I had the pleasure of having a meal with Jenni and Matt Holm (sister and brother; lunch) and Roland and Marie Smith (husband and wife; dinner). In 2002, I'd read and liked Roland's novel Sasquatch, so it was especially fun to connect the person to the prose. (This is not the same as connecting a face with a name.) Roland's kindness manifested in multiple ways, including mentioning me on his blog.

I also spent time (including breakfast on the go) with an author/editor I knew beforehand, the talented Michael Dahl. I found his presentation on the value of graphic novels polished, witty, and enlightening, and the crowded room felt the same.

The only downside to the trip was a preventable mishap in trying to get home—preventable on the part of the airline. I don't usually vent about personal issues here, but given the nature of what happened, I consider this a public service announcement.

To quote the longest Facebook status update I've ever posted: "US Airways: If you delay my flight (not due to weather), AND the kiosks don't work, AND the line is inert because you're understaffed, AND no agent prioritizes people on the soonest flight (despite polite requests), AND I don't reach the counter till 23 minutes after departure time, AND you tell me the plane is still there but the door is closed, then what you're telling me is that you owe me one free flight."