August 4th, 2003

Growing up, Carmine Infantino was far and away my favorite DC Comics artist, and due in equal measure to sentiment on my part and indisputable talent on his, he's remained in that lofty position ever since (and checking in at number three all-time, behind Ditko and Kirby, natch...) And yet, it took me until just a few weeks ago to finally read "The Amazing World of Carmine Infantino", a book he wrote with the assistance of J. David Spurlock for Vanguard Productions back in 2000--and then, only at my pal Rocco's urging!?!...

I've never met Carmine Infantino, never even been in the same room with him. But as much as I dearly love his artwork on the Flash, Batman, Adam Strange, and yes, Strange Sports Stories in the early sixties--and I'd venture to say that his eighties material was more satisfying than that produced by my OTHER big two during that particular decade--a persona has grown around the man that's served to, right or wrong, scare me off a bit. In my mind, the ground-breaking sleek design work Infantino is so justly celebrated for has been somehow overshadowed by tales of the no-nonsense gruff executive bigwig, and much as I'd like to say otherwise, this tome doesn't exactly serve to dispel that image.

Still, there is a tenuous balance struck, and if nothing else, I've come to understand Carmine's time in the top spot at DC far better having read his (admittedly biased) side of the story. Not that I don't remain somewhat incredulous at some of his claims, but in the end, who am I to say he's not being entirely truthful? I certainly wasn't there. I just read the comics. I guess it's just that I've always made it a point to go over my funnybooks with an eagle eye, ferreting out credits wherever and however I can spot them, whether they be right there emblazoned across page one, or snuck in as an afterthought in a subsequent issue's letter column. In all my years reading Silver Age DC Comics--and I was pretty much there for the whole ride, gang--I never EVER saw the name of my beloved Carmine anywhere else but in the penciller's slot. However, reading this recounting of the era, Mr. I wants us to understand that he not only wrote Deadman, Bat Lash, and Wonder Woman stories, but he created Hawk and the Dove for Steve Ditko, co-created Kamandi with Jack Kirby, and--the one that originally had my eyebrows jarringly akimbo--co-wrote (saved, actually) the first two Superman movies with the estimable Mario Puzo!?!

(It was these brash assertions that caught friend Rocco's attention. As if in a fever dream, he'd trudge on from one untold tale to the next, emailing me practically every step of the way--"Hey Fred, you'll never believe what Carmine's claiming next!?!" With intriguing messages like that flowing in, how could I NOT investigate for myself?...)

I first read about the former publisher's heretofore unknown participation in the Christopher Reeve blockbusters several years back in an interview conducted by Jon Cooke for his fine publication, COMIC BOOK ARTIST. Initially, I found it immensely hard to swallow, but upon reflection--and hearing it again in this context--I'm far more willing to believe it. After all, the ONLY Superman movie that I've ever really liked was the first one (recall, please, that the second one was taken away from Dick Donner and given to Dick Lester, with only minimal portions of the Donner's footage--thus, Carmine's--used in the released film. Hey, why can't we have a DVD restoring Supes Two to it's original form, huh? Why not?) And the fact that he was given short shift regarding a promised screen credit after the film debuted following his unceremonious canning by DC, well, that sure doesn't strike me as all THAT far fetched, now does it?. Who knows? Maybe Carmine truly WAS the saving grace that launched that series!?! None of the rest of 'em even came close to the initial episode's quality, folks, at least not in my eyes.

The problem I have with all these claims, I suppose, is just WHY didn't he affix his name to these projects at the time of their publication? Oh, Infantino goes on to explain that he felt that part of his job was clearly to fix as much stuff as needed to be fixed and to do it for the company, not for any personal glory. Certainly, there's something to be said for that way of thinking. Unfortunately, when you then mosey on along years and years later, weighing in attempting to set the record straight, the long-time reader can't help but feel a little skeptical at some of the more..., shall we say, unusual assertions? But inasmuch as Carmine seems more than willing to claim busts like 'Jason's Quest" in SHOWCASE and hiring Joe Simon to create the immortal BROTHER POWER,THE GEEK just as readily as he is to latch onto some of DC's higher profile successes, well, maybe that gesture alone speaks volumes, eh?...

Unfortunately, given the rich subject matter, the book reads far too much like a Cliffs Notes overview of Carmine's long and fascinating career. A few quick words per subject, and boom--on to the next phase in comic's--and Infantino's--history. Sometimes this is all that's necessary, but more often than not, one is left wanting more, LOT'S more. Of Mort Meskin, he states somewhat cryptically, "Mort was a strange man, but very talented, and his work had a nice, delicate flair to it.". Now, maybe it's just plain old human nature, but since I'm familiar with Meskin the artist, I'm more intrigued concerning the observation regarding Meskin the man. Yet, that's the last we hear of the matter. Then why bring it up? If you're not gonna give us at least a hint as just HOW Meskin qualifies as "strange", then why even put the thought in our heads?

Then there's this odd observation mixed in amongst the tale of a teen-aged Carmine being summoned up to L'il Abner cartoonist Al Capp's ritzy apartment. In retelling the events leading up to the veteran cartoonists attempt to enlist the neophyte Infantino to be his assistant (unsuccessfully, as it turned out), we find this curious sentence: "Al called me in; Capp and his gorgeous young Israeli girlfriend had just gotten out of bed."!?! In a book that spares far too many details, we get THIS?!? Forget the nationality angle--when did this book suddenly morph into Penthouse Forum, I ask you?!? I was half expecting to next read about a torrid threesome, instead of Carmine's father urging his son to stay in school in lieu of taking Capp's big money!?!

And while the book's subject shares virtually nothing about his personal life with his readers--aside from some requisite childhood memories--it's one of many sidebar commentaries that provides an...interesting anecdote. Speaking of attending a fancy DC dinner with fellow young turks, Howard Chaykin and Bernie Wrightson, Mike Kaluta relates the story of the trio chatting up a terrific looking woman that they were, frankly, surprised to find in attendance. Soon, our Carmine sidles over, takes her by the arm, and walks off. And to directly quote Kaluta, "Over his shoulder he said, "You boys couldn't afford her." She was his date, of course!" Uh, okay. And just exactly HOW are we to take that? Draw your own conclusions gang--nothing like the air of mystery, right? Ah well, maybe the publisher told Infantino that his book needed at least a hint of sex to sell...

As for violence, well, the only one who gets any sort of brutal workover is Batman creator Bob Kane (though his ghost, Shelly Moldoff, suffers some collateral damage). Now, there's no denying Carmine and Julie Schwartz saved that character in 1964 with their much needed "New Look " makeover, but in this instance, Carmine doesn't come anywhere NEAR to mincing words!?! "...the work just wasn't good" pretty much sums up Carmine--and my--estimation of what directly preceded him on DETECTIVE COMICS' venerable lead feature. And further, in retelling the story of how he and Julie cooked up a Batgirl character at the behest of the producers of the "Batman" TV show, he has this to say about an earlier young lass that went by the same name: "When Julie and I created the Batgirl we all know and love, we weren't even aware of Kane's short-lived embarrassment of a character"!?! Finally, Carmine gleefully explains just how exactly he got Batman's creator out of DC's hair--he promised Kane half what he was then getting to NOT provide DC with Batman art!! Since Bob had to pay his ghosts SOMETHING, this no doubt translated into pretty much the same amount of money as he had been getting before, so everybody won. Kane got his cash, Carmine got to assign "decent talent" on Batman, and Shelly Moldoff--oh, wait. He was out of a job, wasn't he? Guess this deal didn't work out that well for HIM, now did it, huh?...

Sorta like when Carmine went to the Philippines and hired a raft of very talented artists to help stave off a rumored strike against DC by their regular, homegrown, freelancers. DC paid the Filipino artists generously compared to the slave wages they were used to receiving from their own countrymen, but my question has always been, how much were they paid COMPARED to the American artists employed by DC at the time? Less, perhaps? Maybe even a LOT less?...

Regardless of what you might think about these business decisions, one has to admire the sheer amount of work Carmine was putting in for DC. When DC let him go, Carmine is justly proud in pointing out that it took four men--and one woman!--to handle the workload he had been alone carrying on his own broad shoulders!?! Yup, the man did some heavy lifting for ye olde National Periodical Publications, no doubt about it!

And then there are those intriguing "What ifs?" smattered throughout the manuscript. Stan Lee offers Carmine big bucks to bolt over to Marvel round about 1967--can you imagine the excitement THOSE comics would've generated? Whoa! The grace of Infantino's art in service of Stan's quintessential sixties scripting?? The mind absolutely boggles! Y'know, I had actually stopped buying the FLASH in a snit when Carmine abandoned it, since I certainly didn't find the stories at the time reason enough to hang in there, but when Ditko fled my even more beloved AMAZING SPIDER-MAN, there was a never even a moment's consideration of me bailing out and going elsewhere. The difference was simple: Stan Lee. Just the thought of Lee and Infantino joining forces makes me woozy--what a comic THAT would've been!?!

Alas, twas not to be, nor was Jack Kirby seriously in line to take over the entire Superman Family of titles, as the erstwhile publisher reveals within these pages. THAT would've been plenty interesting , as well, but perhaps, it's safe to say, in a whole 'nother way!?! If nothing else, it sure would've been fun to see how often the incidental details found on the costumes of the many members of the accurately named Legion of Super Heroes would've changed from panel to panel under Jack's enthusiastic if decidedly broad-stroke guidance!?!...

As far as Carmine's art, well, that's sufficiently covered in the book, with but a single exception: there's no mention of Sid Greene. While discussing the inking of Joe Giella, Murphy Anderson and Frank Giacoia at what passes for length in this slim volume, the fellow who embellished all his work during the last year of his sixties pencilling career--and in fact, most all of Schwartz's books at the time--gets nary a nod. Frankly, I always thought he overembellished everything and everybody--he made Anderson look SUBTLE by comparison--and I found it somewhat painful to see what he did to Infantino's pencils. Who knows? Maybe it was just as painful a memory for Carmine, and he wisely blocked it out of his mind? I don't think there's even a single example of the pairing in the entire book, matter of fact! Guess THAT'S my answer regarding Greene's stature in Carmine's estimation, huh?...

And if nothing else, this books solves the biggest question I've always had about it's subject: WHY did his style seem to change so dramatically and almost overnight? I mean, I'm currently reading the "Black Canary Archives", featuring stories Infantino pencilled in the late forties. I like to think I have a pretty good eye for cartoonists, but almost nothing in the heavily Caniff-derived style showcased therein looks at all like the artwork I fell head over heels in love with in 1961!! Heck, even some of the earliest Flash stories lack that certain something. Turns out that that "certain something" was simply going back to school in 1960--the School of Visual Arts, to be precise--and studying design taught by a fella named Jack Potter. Infantino himself says what he learned was monumental, and just by looking at what subsequently wound up down on the page, one is hard pressed to argue with him. His work took a quantum leap, and while most would be satisfied with that, you can see why, from a man with as much drive as Carmine obviously possesses, he wasn't. No, he can't help but wonder where he would've gone next if his editorial duties hadn't interrupted his artistic growth. Oh sure, he went back to the drawing board years later, and while I may've been more than happy with what he produced during that later period, reading this book, I can now fully understand why Carmine might not've been.

Carmine Infantino--master stylist, or gruff (but lovable) businessman? Well, this book presents a good case for both appellations. It COULD'VE done with a little more text, and running art across two page spreads meant a large amount of detail was continuously being lost in the spine area, but inasmuch as this is the only autobiography out there about the man whose art jump started the Silver Age of Comics, I guess it'll just have to do!

(Whatever else he may've claimed, there was no mention of Carmine tagging along with Bob Kane on one of his many dates with the young Marilyn Monroe as related in the Caped Crusader's creator's autobiography, and I guess we can all be thankful for THAT!?!...)

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