Comic writer and artist Bernie Mireault died this month. He was 63. I was not familiar with him or his work, but my friend and collaborator Nat Gertler, wearing his About Comics publisher’s hat, worked with Mr. Mireault to get his much-lauded comic, The Jam, back into print.
In the remembrances that followed Mireault’s passing, his work was praised and cited as being too little known for how well-regarded it is. He was described as a cartoonist’s cartoonist. About Comics made their reprint available at cost for about a week, so I grabbed a copy to see for myself what everyone was talking about.
The story opens with our would-be hero, a mere mortal, getting the upper hand in a mugging about to go very wrong. That’s something I really loved here — The Jam is about a superhero who is not superhuman. He’s a guy who wants to see some good in the world and has realized he can be part of that good. But, darker forces are gathering. Disillusioned young men are being drawn to a leader with a plan, and soon enough, the Jam has pissed off the Devil himself. So, if you read The Tick and thought, I wish this had a dash of Sandman, well, you’re in the right longbox.
Mireault’s The Jam is great! The writing and art are a lot of fun, and very well done. It’s a grownup comic, but not quite what modern marketing people would call “gritty.” There was also something really charming about the art that reminded me of, well, The Tick or old concert posters of the era. That late-1980s indie comic feel, from the black-and-white explosion. But story also felt rooted in a very real vision of a real city. There’s also a ton of technical know-how and thought going into each panel, each word balloon. I realized I was analyzing the lettering at various points, and thinking about how crazy it is, but still really well done, really fun. Reading The Jam made me think, “Yeah, comics are good.”
But, I should note that comics are rarely kind, or just. If you are having thoughts of suicide, you can reach out for support by texting or calling 988. The helpline is available 24/7 across the US and all of its territories.
Action Comics #1 (DC, 1938) sold recently for $6M, breaking all previous records for a comic book sold at auction.
Action Comics Number 1, sold for $6 million, image courtesy Heritage Auctions
$6M for one comic book? That’s *a lot* of money for a comic book. It is nearly double the previous record set only a few years ago in 2021, which I think has since been regarded as funded through someone moving crypto around.
Granted, this most recent purchase is perhaps *the* comic book. If there is one comic book to own, one of these copies would be it. I’m not begrudging the auction result. $6M is a small number in the world of fine art auctions. Even for rare books, $6M wouldn’t crack the top 10 of record auction results. But for comics, it’s enormous.
But, for $6M, you could buy something absolutely unique—not just one of a handful. Totally. Unique. And if you want to stay with comics, you can buy *a lot* of original comic art for $6M. Not just a piece or two, but an incredible collection. Original comic art is still among the best art bargains in the world, and perhaps if we play a game, I can show what I mean.
Let’s say we’ve hit some kind of Brewster’s Millionsscenario1 where we must spend $6M, and must be spent on original comic art. And not $1M in comic art and $5M on a really nice house and estate for it all. All $6M of it on comic art. I will buy stuff I like, not things as “an investment,” and talk about my selections. Art I want to hang on my walls and live with and enjoy. After spending $6M on original art, conservation funding, gallery space, and state-of-the-art storage will be added as a reward, so I don’t have to worry about it as I’m splashing out for big-ticket items and don’t let my museum curator brain get too distracted about planning and worrying about caring for it all longterm. I’ve worked in museums for over twenty years now, so I can’t help but think about these things.
Some parameters: The budget must be respected — I will only spend $6M and get as close as possible to spending all $6M.
In the interest of transparency, I will only shop publicly. Gotta show those receipts. No bidding up the next cool thing to $6M and be done. No deals with a wink and a nod to pay $6M for something not worth anywhere near that and split the difference on the back end. Let’s keep this as above board as high-end art buying can be. [cough]
And let’s make the prices recent. No buying Jack Kirby art from a fanzine auction in 1972 and owning every piece by Jack Kirby to cross into private hands. So, let’s say anything purchased must be from any 2020 or more recent public sale. Also, no buying a whole comic shop for $6M.
And lastly, as curator of the Schulz Museum, it’d be a conflict of interest for me to buy any Peanuts art, so there will be no Charles M. Schulz art on this list, though it’d be a dream come true to own anything by him.
Did I forget anything? Write me and let me. Ok, let’s go!
This particular Calvin & Hobbes Sunday has so much going for it. We get the stars of the strip doing the classic “ride downhill in a wagon” theme having a fun conversation.
I grew up in the 1980s and ’90s, so Watterson hooked me early on and was the “cannot miss” comic strip each day. Calvin & Hobbes was the strip we talked about on the playground of Ruth Hill Elementary School in Lincoln, Nebraska. I begged for the reprint paperback book collections when they came out, added them to Christmas wishlists, and celebrated the arrival of each one like a long-lost treasure. I wish I would have clipped them out of our newspaper (the Lincoln Journal-Star)! The strip is still hilarious today, even though my perspective has shifted from that of the adventurous, yearning kid to that of the beleaguered and baffled Dad. My 9-year-old has discovered Calvin & Hobbes, too, and I’ve had to do *a lot* of explaining. But it’s been a lot of fun. Still, repeat after me: Calvin sometimes makes *really* bad decisions.
Bill Watterson’s originals are incredibly rare in private hands. He kept most of his originals and has since donated the collection to the Billy Ireland Cartoon Library and Museum at Ohio State University. So, the above strip is the onlyCalvin & Hobbes original Sunday sold since 2020. After working with Charles Schulz’s original artwork for Peanuts for a few years, I finally got to see some of Watterson’s originals for Calvin & Hobbes, and I was shocked to see they were so small! He packed a lot of fine work into that small space. His art is even more impressive now than when I first saw it growing up, though even then, I knew it was something special.
Yes, I’ll have this one, too. Watterson’s dinosaurs and monsters have always been so much fun, but after I saw somewhere that Schulz admired how Watterson drew furniture, I look at that too, and admire it.
This daily, originally published on 12/30/1987, was sold at Heritage Auctions, and even in the photos they posted, the condition looks a little concerning. It’s heavily toned, and I have seen them sweeten the photos before, so I don’t quite trust it 100%, which gives me pause. However, with the promise of conservation funding at the end, I feel good diving in.
$6M – $852.000 = $5,148,000 remains to spend.
About the Author: Benjamin L. Clark writes and works as a museum curator.
I made a free mini-zine for the Santa Rosa Zine Fest this past weekend at the Northwest branch in Santa Rosa, California. This post basically includes all the contents of the zine for you. I gave them away when anyone asked about swaps, or if we just visited, or I bought a zine from them. The selection of comic panels are what I used for interior pages, and if you unfolded the whole thing, you’d see the full-color Sunday strip, like a mini poster. I had a blast seeing everyone, enjoying a little sunshine, and swapping with everyone, too.
A few favorite panels from F. Opper’s Maud the Mirthful Mule, from 1907. Frederick Burr Opper created an entire Opper-verse on newspaper comics pages in the early 20th Century. Different strips with characters as popular then as any pop culture favorite today, like Happy Hooligan, Alphonse and Gaston, Maud, and more. The dynamic drawing found in his comic strips inspires artists today.
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See below for the full strip for this panel.
About the Author: Benjamin L. Clark writes and works as a museum curator.
Trina Robbins speaking at the 2023 WonderCon in Anaheim, California. Photo by Gage Skidmore via Wikimedia
I did not know Trina Robbins very well, but she has impacted my thinking and my work. She was the kind of person that, after hearing her stories and reading her work, I have a deep appreciation for what she accomplished, and I wish I could have gotten to know her more and talked with her about something we share — a passion for the work of comics history.
I had the pleasure of meeting her a couple of times in the past few years. The first time I met Trina was when I joined her on a panel at FanExpo in San Francisco in November 2022. I remember it as the Sunday after Thanksgiving, and our panel topic was the centennial of the birth of Peanuts cartoonist Charles M. Schulz. Cartoonist and maze master Joe Wos, who organized the panel, invited Lex Fajardo, the editorial director for Schulz Creative Associates, and me (as curator of the Schulz Museum) to join him and Trina in a wide-ranging discussion of Schulz and his impact on cartooning. Trina was the only one of us to have really known Charles Schulz, bringing not only her stories of meeting Sparky (as he was known to those who knew him) but also her perspective as a Bay Area cartoonist and younger contemporary to him. It was fascinating and, of course, a lot of fun. Few people can tell the story about getting Charles Schulz to contribute a piece to a collection of cartoonists’ nude portraits.
Trina was in high demand that weekend, rushing from panel to table, signings, and other events that day. She joined us a few minutes late and had to leave the panel early for her next commitment, so I didn’t really get a chance to visit with her in that first meeting, though I got to basically sit next to her and hear her tell stories for an hour or so.
I’m so glad I remembered to bring my tape recorder with me, so I at least got audio of the panel—most of it, at least. The brand-new batteries I installed died, and I had to switch to my phone, but something went wrong—don’t try to talk on a panel and record yourself simultaneously if you can help it. At least I got a good chunk of our talk, which is now in the Schulz Museum’s archives.
The next time I saw her was at San Diego Comic-Con in July 2023, when we both had books nominated for an Eisner Award in the same category: Best Comics-Related Book. Attending the Eisner Awards is another story, but there’s a little time as people arrive and get settled in to say a few hellos. I saw her and said hello, and wished her good luck. I’m not confident she remembered me or even knew I was one of the other authors in her category, but she was very gracious. I was so overwhelmed just being in the room, so I don’t remember any other details, especially after Nat Gertler and I were announced as winning the category.
Though she was not awarded an Eisner that night (I thought she would win), her book about Gladys Parker is fabulous. Just as all of her historical work is not only well done but groundbreaking and essential reading. Comics is a rich field for study and enjoyment, enriching our lives as readers, thinkers, artists, and whole people. Trina brought that home, especially preserving, sharing, valuing, promoting, and shouting about women in comics from the rooftops.
After meeting Trina, hearing about her work, and finding her books, I looked at my own writing, my own thinking, and my own historical work and asked myself, “Where are the women?” In one project in particular that I’ve been slowly working on for a couple of years, a collection of short historical essays about the working methods of cartoonists, there were very few women initially. Now, it’s better, but there’s always room to improve. Thank you, Trina, for your work, for being wholly you.
The book I wrote with Peanuts fan extraordinaire Nat Gertler has been nominated for a Will Eisner Award by the people who bring you Comic-Con International in San Diego each year! Voting has closed for the comics publishing industry award, but it’s been a thrill just to be nominated. I’ve never won an award and tended to roll my eyes at the idea of being grateful for a nomination, but I get it now. This is a recognition of the hard work of *so many* people. I’m so proud and grateful to my team at the Charles M. Schulz Museum and Research Center, our publishers Weldon-Owen, and all the fans of Charles M. Schulz, who have supported the museum and all do a part in preserving and sharing the legacy of Charles Schulz and Peanuts.
Of course, the book is still available everywhere that good books are sold, and proceeds support the Schulz Museum. You can also buy the book directly from the Schulz Museum, which is a way to support the museum doubly. You can even leave a note when you purchase to request that I sign it, and I’m happy to do that.
About the Author: Benjamin L. Clark writes and works as a museum curator.
