I found another treasure in the papers of my late sister-in-law Ellen Vartanoff — the text of a speech given in 1977 by comic book writer Paul S. Newman. Newman was listed in The Guinness Book of World Records as the most prolific comic book writer of all time, and since in 1977 he lived in the D.C./.Maryland area, she invited him to speak at one of the cartooning shows she curated back then.

Since I can’t find the text of this presentation anywhere else on line, I share it here with you. He called it —

“Recollections of a Comic Book Writer of (almost) 50 Years”

In the summer of 1948, after my fifth rewrite, I finally had my first comic book story accepted by National Comics (now DC).

It was for their Date with Judy teen-age humor book. My second story required only two rewrites. That assured the editor and me that I could write comic book scripts, but neither of us ever guessed I’d eventually write some 4,121 stories and still be writing them.

However, the truly amazing thing is not that I succeeded in selling so many stories, but to get the 4,121 approved, I had to submit an additional 5,000 plot ideas, which were rejected, and that despite all those rejections, I didn’t commit suicide.

Naturally, writing comics for fifty years leaves one with many memories. Here are some very random recollections:

I started writing for Stan Lee about 1950, probably with a story for Patsy Walker, and quickly went on to write for his science-fiction, “horror,” and other books. Stan was a smiling, encouraging editor to work with. I would bring in a plot outline, and Stan would immediately say “yes … no … ” or suggest a way to save it. Once, Stan seemed even more helpful, advising me that he would “give” me a plot, stating, “A man checks into a hotel …” I wrote that down rapidly. Stan continued, “They assign him a room on the 13th floor …” I noted that and there was a pause. I looked up from my pad. “And then, Stan?”

“Make it five pages, Paul.”

A year or so later, romance comics were hot (the sales, not the stories) and Stan said he wanted me to try writing some. I advised Stan that romance wasn’t my style. He shoved half a dozen romance books into my arms and said, “Try.”

The next day, I sent down a six pager, which began with a splash panel showing a girl dancing with one man and looking over his shoulder at another man in the background. “I was dancing with Ted. He pressed me close, but I knew it was the stranger in back, whom I really loved …” I was too much of a coward to subway down to Stan and watch his reaction, as he scanned it. I sent the story down by messenger.

A few hours later the phone rang. Sure it was Stan, I didn’t answer it until my wife forced the receiver into my hand. “It’s great, Paul. Give me three more.” And suddenly in half a dozen Marvel romance titles, I was pouring out my heart.

Although, writing for over six publishers in the early 1950s, I kept wanting to write for the biggest of them all, Western Publishing. The editor liked my published samples, but had no book available. I went back the following month, still nothing available. I went back the following month, and for ten more months, and then there was an opening: I began to write The Lone Ranger for the next 24 years. That was not my longest running comic. Turok, Son of Stone (not the stoned dinosaur hunter one) was. I kept Turok and Andar from escaping from Lost Valley for over 26 years, getting Turok out once, however, in an alien flying suácer in issue #58, July 1967.

Incidentally, except for 3 issues of Beware in the early 1950s, my name did not appear in print on any of the thousands (yes, thousands) of other stories I have written. Even among the five comic strips I wrote, only one, The Lone Ranger, carried my name.

Besides Stan Lee, one other editor was extremely important to me, Matthew H. Murphy, the brilliant editor at Western. While Western specialized in doing books based on licensed characters, and many of which I wrote: I Love Lucy, Gunsmoke, Lassie, Star Trek, and on and on, today, the properties that are still going on are two originals that Matt developed and which I wrote, with some creative input as well: Turok, Son of Stone and Dr. Solar.

In the course of writing so many licensed TV and film properties, I frequently met the “live” heroes of my books. Clayton Moore (The Lone Ranger) turned out to be a charming man, whose eyes (even when seen through the Ranger’s mask’s openings) suggested authentic sincerity, and whose deep, authoritative voice convinced me that was how the old Testament’s prophets must have sounded. There was Clint Walker (Cheyenne) looming over me, a friendly giant, in whose huge extended hand I lost mine. But the most unusual “live” hero I ever met wasn’t even human; he was Smokey the Bear.

The Forest Service flew Morris Gollub, the talented artist of the series and the comic strip, and me to Washington for a publicity photo with Smokey. Unfortunately, when we reached his caged-in area, Smokey had retreated into the shadowy depths of his “cave”. The keeper called. Smokey did not come out. The keeper tossed some ursine delicacies in front of the cave. Smokey did not come out. The keeper entered the cave and pushed. Smokey did not come out. The photographer stood waiting with the frustration we all shared, when I offered, “I know Smokey’s psychology better than any of you. I write his dialog. I know what will get him out.” By that time Smokey was popular enough to have a whole line of souvenirs and memorabilia for sale. So I tossed a quarter in front of his cage. CLINK! A moment later, the market-oriented bear emerged, and we got our photo.

As far as artists were concerned, I knew only two of them fairly well: TOM GILL (The Lone Ranger) and Albert Giolitti (Turok). I actually avoided meeting fellow writers and artists, as all I wanted to do was get to my publisher, discuss plots with the editor, go home and write stories.

I wrote comic books to pay the mortgage, the food bill, and for my kids’ new shoes. I certainly enjoyed it and was lucky in that I could write some 2,000 pages a year during several years. I never even complained about my name not being on a comic book page — as long as it was spelled correctly on the check, for I “knew” what would bring me fame and fortune. It wasn’t comics. It was writing plays for Broadway, and screenplays for Hollywood. And while I have had five plays optioned for Broadway, and have sold five screenplays to movie producers, I have never had any of those scripts produced. Thanks to good genes and even better physicians, I am still writing at 73, both for the comics, as well as having two screenplays currently surfing around the West Coast, and just delivered a new novel to a top agent. Maybe next year, one of them will hit. Meanwhile, as we said in the old days — “see you in the funny pages!”

And I hoped you enjoyed some stories I wrote on my way to becoming, King of the Comic Book Writers.

I found another treasure in the collection of my late sister-in-law Ellen Vartanoff — an unused cover design for Iron Man #24 (April 1970).

It’s clearly not done by Marie Severin, as were so many of the other sketches I’ve shared with you. Though it’s unsigned, I believe it was drawn by Johnny Craig, who also drew that issue’s interior. (more…)

Found among late my late sister-in-law Ellen Vartanoff’s papers — two scripts written by Jack Miller for Young Love #82 (October 1970).

Miller wrote comics from the ’40s through the ’60s, including such titles as Deadman, Batman, Aquaman, Blackhawk, Jimmy Olsen, and many others. (more…)

Two more treasures found in my late sister-in-law Ellen Vartanoff’s collection — mid-’60s scripts by the extremely prolific comics writer Otto Binder. Wikipedia claims he wrote 4,400 stories under his own name — and 160 more under the pen-name Eando Binder. But how many survived?

One was published in Mighty Samson #6 (June 1966) …

… the other in Creepy #6 (December 1965).

(more…)

I was horrified to hear that David Anthony Kraft — whom I first met 40+ years ago when my comics career began and last saw at the 2019 Marvel Celebrates Stan Lee afterparty — died on May 19, 2021 of pneumonia induced by COVID-19.

Here he is with Jo Duffy and me at that latter event.

Saying I was shocked and stunned is too tame. Though I can’t be sure, I likely met Dave at Marvel the same day I met my wife. My first day on staff there was June 24, 1974. I was 19. Irene’s first day was April 15, 1974. And Dave began in the Bullpen slightly earlier than either of us, on March 25, 1974.

An additional reason David Anthony Kraft’s death felt and still feels unbelievable — aside from the fact the death of any contemporary seems shocking — is only 24 hours prior to learning of his death, I discovered the apoplectic paperwork sent by the Comics Code Authority censoring one of his stories, and was going to call him.

As those who’ve been following me know, I’ve been sorting through my late sister-in-law Ellen Vartanoff’s collection. She taught comics and art, and over the decades was donated artifacts which showed how the sausage was made. This particular find relates to Giant-Sized Dracula #4 (March 1975). (more…)

Last night, I attended a comic book event I wouldn’t have even known about had it not been for the ukulele.

During each of the past two Augusts, I took part in UkeFest, a ukulele workshop and festival held at Strathmore in Bethesda, Maryland. That got me on the art center’s mailing list, which alerted me to the exhibition “A Shared Universe: The Art of Comic Books,” as well as Thursday’s free opening reception.

The reception attracted a number of comic book locals, including Joel Pollack of Big Planet Comics, Sara Duke, curator at the Library of Congress, and my sister-in-law, artist and teacher Ellen Vartanoff (seen with me above). (more…)