twomorrows publishing comics - al plastino: last superman standing

AL PLASTINOLAST SUPERMAN STANDING

THE AL PLASTINO STORY

LA

ST

SU

PE

RM

AN

STA

ND

ING

: TH

E A

L PLA

ST

INO

STO

RY

ED

DY

ZE

NO

An illustrated biography

EDDY ZENO

Alfred John Plastino might not be as famous as the creators of Nancy, Joe Palooka, Batman, and other classic daily and Sunday newspaper strips, but he worked on many of them. And of his era, Plastino was the last surviving penciler/inker of Superman comic books. In these pages, the artist remembers both his struggles and triumphs in the world of cartooning and beyond. A near-century of history and insights shared by Al, his family, and contemporaries Allen Bellman, Nick Cardy, Joe Giella, and Carmine Infantino— along with successors Jon Bogdanove, Jerry Ordway, and Mark Waid —paint a layered portrait of Plastino’s life and career.

From the author and designer team of Curt Swan: A Life In Comics. Foreword by Paul Levitz.

Plastino cover.indd 1 8/19/14 2:26 PM

LAST SUPERMAN STANDING THE AL PLASTINO STORY

EDDY ZENO

Plastino.indd 1 9/3/14 1:52 PM

Foreword By Paul Levitz .................................................................................................. 4

Introduction ...................................................................................................................... 6

Globs Of Clay, Flecks Of Paint ...................................................................................... 8

Harry “A” ............................................................................................................................ 16

The War Years ................................................................................................................... 24

Ten Cents For Toilet Paper .............................................................................................. 28

The Big Three .................................................................................................................... 32

The “Most Plastino” Hero ................................................................................................ 44

Man Of Action .................................................................................................................. 50

Painting, Punching, And Pirates…Peanuts, Precision, And Pantomime ................. 54

Special Projects ................................................................................................................. 64

The Artist’s Super Power .................................................................................................. 70

Paint Over The Pump – Draw Around The Balloons .................................................. 72

Legacy ................................................................................................................................ 76

Last Superman Standing .................................................................................................. 84

Appendix ........................................................................................................................... 90

My Pal, Al .......................................................................................................................... 106

Contents


Al Plastino: Last Superman Standing • 5


8 • Al Plastino: Last Superman Standing

Frank

Alfred “Al” Plastino’s father, Francisco (Frank) Plastino,

was born on December 3, 1890. He died in 1985 with a full head of hair. Growing up in Calabria, Italy (in the southern boot), he came to the United States between the ages of 12 and 14 years of age. Frank learned to read and write in English when Al was around 3 years old. The son didn’t grow up speaking Ital-ian, but he could speak in broken English whenever he wished to mimic the family dialect.

Frank was a really nice guy (the same way Al describes his own son today). He was 5’3”, well dressed, meticulously clean, and full of energy. Always scurrying, Alfred had to run to keep up with him. That is how the Super-

man artist developed the habit of racing between United Feature Syndicate and National Periodi-cal Publications (the company today known as DC Comics) to garner assignments. To this day it is impossible for him to walk slowly.

Growing up, father and son went hunting and fishing together. Al continued to enjoy those endeavors as an adult – each brought welcome breaks from the grind of the drawing board. To them he would add the sport of golf, but not until turn-ing nearly 30.

Like many, the elder Plastino went through Ellis Island upon arriving in America. He settled in Danbury, Connecticut before mi-grating to the Bronx. From a stint shining shoes, Frank worked his

way up to a $100-a-week job as the floor manager for Long’s Hat Company. A century note every seven days was a lot of money during the Depression.

Alfred’s dad always had a car. One in particular was the first ’36 Ford with a V-8 engine. When he first drove down the street in it, everyone stopped to cheer—au-tos of any kind were rare in the neighborhood at that time.

Long’s Hat Company even-tually closed due to the Great Depression, but Frank did not hesitate. He immediately began his own small business, F & J, on Alton Avenue near Fordham Road in the Upper Bronx. This was in roughly 1934 or 1935. He bought out his partner a couple of years later and opened a fac-tory in Manhattan. It was then that the elder Plastino mastered the business of making custom hats. Everyone wore one in those days, and he eventually became known as “The Hatter of Manhattan.” From detectives in the NYPD to Mayor Fierello La Guardia, Frank would soon be fashioning hats for the nation’s leaders, beginning with President Harry S. Truman, followed by Dwight D. Eisenhower.

Another U.S. President, however, almost put Al’s dad out of business. In 1960 Frank had the honor of crafting the top hat John F. Kennedy was to wear to his January 20, 1961, inauguration. Preferring no head covering, however, the president-elect kept if off for much of the ceremony.

Al atop “Tony” while on vacation. He was 17 years old, the year was 1938,

and he was already working in the nascent comic book industry.

Alfred wrote: “Here is a [1944] pencil sketch of my father at work in his hat factory in

NYC —I was working for Steinberg Studio on Army field manuals for the Pentagon USG

part time — and working for United Feature Syndicate free lance.”

Globs of Clay, Flecks of Paint



Enter the Comic Book Trade

Besides Al Plastino, Nick Cardy, and Paul Winchell,

many well-known comic book creators and other celebrities attended the School of Industri-al Art. Alumni graduating be-tween 1937 and 1947 included female comic book pioneering artist Violet Barclay, along with Chic Stone; Carmine Infantino; Joe Orlando; Joe Giella; Sy Bar-ry; Alex Toth; John Romita, Sr.; and singer Tony Bennett, who is also a well-known painter.

In 1939, as high school graduation approached, Al was preparing to attend college at Cooper Union on East 8th Street: “Lincoln made a speech there. You’d walk in and smell the paint and hear the pianos. It’s so artistic, it makes you cry.” Five hundred applicants took the entrance exam and young Plastino was one of 50 who passed. Separate tests took one and a half days and includ-ed design, sculpting with clay, drawing from a live model, and

architecture. But there was a decision to make. Though he really wanted to go to Cooper Union for its prestigious art program, Al made the fateful decision not to attend college.

After deciding to stay with his part-time job at Youth Today, Alfred saw a newspaper ad: “Black and White Artist Wanted.” Since he was learning to render without color for the magazine, he traveled to 23rd Street and 7th Avenue where he “saw all of these guys drawing

Al noted that he penciled this self-portrait in pencil when he was “about 20 years old.”

Harry “A”

First two pages from the Rocketman story in Scoop Comics No. 3 (March 1942). Note

how Alfred snuck his art credit onto the splash page by showing the diminutive bad

guy handling stolen bills with “Al” and “Pla” on opposite ends. In addition,

“Harry A. Chesler Features Syndicate N.Y.” is captioned at lower right.



comics.” At first he was less than impressed, but then a large man sporting an unlit cigar in his mouth came out to greet young Al. It was Harry Chesler, owner and head of the Chesler Studio. Scanning Alfred’s port-folio (which mostly showcased his Youth Today magazine work), Chesler said, “Hey kid. Throw that stuff away and come make money with me.” After talking to a few guys in the stu-dio, Plastino decided to work there while simultaneously con-tinuing with the magazine. It was the beginning of a lifelong philosophy: “Always have at least two accounts.” That guar-anteed a fallback plan if laid off at one place. But perhaps most important to Al was his inde-pendence. Having more than one employer meant no one would ever have such control over him that he couldn’t say, “I quit,” if the need arose.

The Shop

In 1933, the first official American comic books were

merely reprints of newspaper comic strips. However, as the format gained in popularity, the relative lack of material available combined with the expense to reproduce them necessitated the emergence of publishing original stories. By February 1935, National/DC’s New Fun Comics No. 1 was the first to devote an entire issue to never-before seen stories. As the medium continued to gain in popularity, comic art production shops emerged to fill the ever-increasing need for original art.

While still in high school Al began visiting the Chesler Studio a few times per week. Eventually he met the art direc-tor, Jack Binder. Learning the business from the ground up

he was given the most basic of tasks, including ruling the pages and erasing pencil marks after they were inked. Alfred was extremely excited to be working in the shop and learn-ing from professionals: “[At first] I didn’t mind how much I was making because I started to get interested in it all.”

Being a quick study, Plastino soon began drawing directly for Jack’s independent pulp magazine (mostly science fiction) projects. He didn’t actu-ally illustrate for Harry Chesler for a long time: “I was pencil-ing, then watching, watching, watching. Jack Binder gave me $5.00 a week; he was cheap as hell. I penciled and Jack, or others, probably, would ink. Then they gave me an exercise on how to use a brush. There were about 20 guys working there. One of the biggest things I noticed was that they were not using models, props, or pho-tographs as reference. Instead they were using their minds.”

There are two ways to look at the “cheap as hell” comment by the often-humorous artist. First, when fellow comic-book creators Joe Kubert and Carmine Infantino spoke about Chesler generously giving them $1.00 a day or $5.00 a week, they were a few years younger than Plastino. He was think-

ing of making a living; they weren’t. Also, Joe and Carmine were alluding to the boss him-self, who wanted to make sure they had transportation money and was most kind. Alfred was speaking of the art direc-tor, whom he described as a wheeler-dealer. Regardless, the feisty Plastino was better than most, even at a young age, for seeking a fair wage — a trait that would help him in coming years to be a good provider for his family.

Upon graduation from the School of Industrial Art, Plas-tino became a full-time artist at the studio. Though the hours were from 9:00–5:00, Alfred

The next two pages from the Scoop Comics No. 3 Rocketman story. Note its confining panels and horror aspects.



rarely made it there on sched-ule. Since he was running late, he usually ate breakfast down-stairs in the same building before going to the sixth floor to begin his day. Thus, when he finally arrived upstairs, it was also time for his morning con-

stitution. Harry Chesler joked with him about this routine. Ad-libbing a nickname for the young artist, he’d say, “‘Plasty, I don’t mind you eating on my time, but I’ll be damned if I’m paying you to take a s--- on my time.’ Eventually, he made me

art director so I would get in early. That didn’t work, either.”

The building had an eleva-tor operator named Tony. Al laughed when he recalled Chesler absentmindedly walk-ing into the empty lift and loudly exclaiming, “Uh, uh…” while going up and up with no one to run it: “[Another time] about eight of us guys were on it and the elevator went out. We tried to jump when we hit bot-tom. BOOM! We blew out the lights when we hit the spring.”

It was Jack Binder who taught Plastino how to turn his brush to vary the thickness or thinness of a line. Practicing at home, eventually Alfred was permitted to use his new-found techniques at the shop: “Chesler finally gave me stuff to [both] pencil and ink.” By then he was earning $40/week while the top artists at the shop were making $60.

The assignments at the Chesler Studio were usually given verbally rather than as a complete script. Either Harry or Jack gave his idea for a story. The delineators were usually given a description of what should be on the opening page and an idea about where the story should go. The rest was left for them to plot. They were not given strict deadlines for when the stories needed to be completed; however, it was un-derstood that every employee should produce as many pages as possible per week since they were being paid a salary and not by the page.

Some of the artists that Al came to know at the Chesler Studio included Charles Biro, Mac Raboy, Raphael Astarita, and Ruben Moreira. The senior artists were given the window tables while Plastino and his young cohorts were situated in

Signed cover by Plastino for Blue Bolt Vol. 4, No. 1 (June 1943), Novelty Press.



“That Was the Turning Point of My Whole Life”

The notion of a flying sub was not new. Bill Everett’s

comic book machine may have been named after a 1910 British silent film titled, Aerial Subma-rine. Though he liked what he saw from Everett, Alfred went in a different direction. After all, in real life submarines couldn’t soar, but since the early 1920s planes that could take off and land on the surface of water had been in existence.

Amphibious planes were praised for their military usage in air-sea rescues, patrolling for enemy subs, and for being able to touch down on the variable terrain of Alaska and Canada. Unfortunately they were heavier and slower than aircraft meant to land on solid ground only. PT (patrol torpedo) boats were small, fast, well-armed craft that carried two to four torpedoes and were very prominent during World War II. Plastino sought to marry the two by creating a plane that could quickly convert to a speedy gunboat. One way

to accomplish his goal was to design retractable wings. The Army became so intrigued that they gave Alfred eight draft ex-emptions to design a prototype.

He remembered: “I wrote to the President of the United States, FDR [Roosevelt]. That’s how the plane story started.” As noted, by watching his older brothers, especially Angelo, Plastino learned to design and carve wooden model airplanes as a boy. They were hewn from pure balsa wood; pre-formed store models did not yet exist. It was a time to let his creativity, coupled with a sincere desire to help the country’s war efforts, carry him. The artist exclaimed, “That was the turning point of my whole life.”

Continuing: “I got really serious about the plane and thought it might actually work. I studied the power of the engines and used a push motor; most other planes used pull motors. I thought it would act like an Everglade boat. It had turrets

that could shoot between the props. At the time, people said the design wouldn’t work but I was worried about the turrets shooting the tail off. Now it is a common design… These crazy, new, inventive ideas come from people like me who don’t know any better.

“A bunch of guys on the block would run around and were excited, saying, ‘I got mine [their draft notice].’” Al received his when he was 19 years old. Reporting for a physical, he stood next to the tallest, broad-est guy he could find. Al was 5’9” and skinny, weighing ap-proximately 110 lbs. He figured the contrast in body types would get him declared not physically fit. Turns out the big guy failed but Al was declared 1-A (draft eligible). A busted eardrum left from his school days was missed: “The ear was bleed-ing after a teacher slapped me upside the head for talking in line.” It was later caught, how-ever, when he went for a second Army physical after the Battle of the Bulge (Dec. 1944–Jan. 1945).

The Draft Board asked if there was any reason he should not be conscripted. He told them that the President had encouraged him to continue working on his amphibious plane, which led to the first of his eight deferments. Three times he ended up waving good-bye to the guys on the block; on each occasion, the Board intervened. Plastino believes having two brothers already in

Al in Washington, D.C., 1942.

The War Years

Plastino’s 1941 design for his combination attack bomber and PT boat, including

close-up of gun turret.



the military may have played a role, along with the originality, imagination, and artistic talent the young man showed.

When he penned his letter to Roosevelt, it was actually the President’s secretary who sent a beautifully worded reply instructing him to go to the Inventor’s Council, located at 90 Church Street. The Inven-tor’s Council acknowledged the value of his idea but added they could not use it. They suggested going to Grumman (Aircraft Engineering Corporation). The Grumman Company opened its doors in 1929 and was now to-tally given over to the war effort. Plastino’s idea was given some attention but they didn’t have time to help him overcome its inherent problems. He was told, “The wings are short and push back; it would need jet engines to fly.” (Practical jet fighters were still a few years away.) Folding wings tend to be even heavier and need more structural sup-port if they retract. Another obstacle for which he had not accounted: “Water has to be able to come out of the plane.” Thus, Grumman sent Alfred to the Pentagon to see if the flying PT boat’s initial promise could be salvaged.

Young Plastino reported to Washington, D.C. with a shoe-box containing blueprints and his gray-painted model. What most impressed the Pentagon’s engineers was the ingenious sys-tem of gears used to bring out the hidden wings. Yet in the end nothing came of it, the exemp-tions ended, and Al returned home. He explained what hap-pened next: “After the Pentagon, I got a draft notice telling me to report for duty [back in Wash-ington] in three days. I still have the telegram. A Major Shively asked me to stay in Washington

as a civilian: ‘If you become a lieutenant, then I can send you to Timbuktu.’ There were thousands of what we called paper lieutenants in Washington during the war. A regular Army sergeant at the Pentagon had more power than these guys. He said he would like to see me in uniform but suggested I wait a while and look around first. I was a young guy and could always enter later if that’s what I wanted. Major Shively gave me the choice.”

Alfred decided not to enlist, yet working in the Pentagon was its own form of service. He was unsure if he started there in 1942 or the following year, but he still has one of the first things he did for the military, an original poster dated 1943. He was given an SP4 designation and paid $38 a week.

Initially, there was no super-visor. Searching for something to

do in his assigned basement cor-ner, Plastino seized the opportu-nity to learn how to incorporate silkscreen printing (serigraphy) into poster production. Still a relatively primitive process at the time, he mastered the stencil-ing process in which ink was pressed through a mesh screen to reproduce his drawings. Color was dropped out and an arc light hardened the sensitized emul-sion that was used. One poster’s message conveyed that war plans begin on paper, so don’t waste it. Another showed how sleeping

“Aerial subs” from Marvel Mystery Comics No. 15 (Timely, Jan. 1941), likely during the time when Al was assisting Bill Everett. (Panel detail of the original art to pg. 6, as seen in Fire & Water: Bill Everett, The Sub-Mariner, and the Birth of Marvel Comics by Blake Bell, Fantagraphics, 2010.)

WW II painting of Alfred’s bomber/PT boat with wings retracted into fuselage racing away from a targeted Japanese war ship.



“The Studio Was Another World”

Plastino likely met Jack Sparling at Fawcett

Publications. One day Jack came in the art room for a visit. He was stepping down as the newspaper strip artist on the Hap Hopper, Washington Correspondent feature, and inquired whether his new friend might like to do the dailies.

Al jumped at the chance, and thus began his long

involvement with United Feature Syndicate. Some sources claim that Plastino’s stint on Hap Hopper commenced in 1943 but the artist is certain he did not contribute to the strip while at the Pentagon: “It started after I got back to New York. Sparling was still at Vanderbilt Avenue and we took a liking to each

other. We hadn’t yet started our studio. They might have tried out a few guys for a while before having me take a whack at it.”

Living at home once again and drawing there as well, Alfred was eager to rent a studio with Jack. It got him into Manhattan, which he adored: hot dogs were a nickel and a dollar got a parking spot next to the news building. Plastino owned a ’38 Ford convertible with no heater, and in the winter he had to drain the water out at night and put fresh water in the next morning (no antifreeze). “The city was cleaner then,” he said. “Guys with old-fashioned brooms and pushcarts swept the streets. The Horn and Hardart Automat restaurant at the corner of 42nd and 3rd

contained coin slots [that gave way to] beans and hot dogs for 25 cents or chicken pot pies for two nickels more. The Daily News and the Mirror were each two cents, the Journal America was five, and the Herald Tribune was seven cents, I believe. Those were great days.”

Al described his colleagues: “The cartoonists then were real characters. Many were work-ing half bombed. One night we picked up Gus Edson (he did The Gumps) off the sidewalk in the middle of the night, wearing a tuxedo in the rain. We brought him into the Cavalier Hotel. It was two dollars a night. The next morning, Edson got mad at us for putting him in a dump; he was insulted he was in such a cheap place. I was mad: ‘You son

The artist in studio (at 43rd St. and Lexington Avenue, New York City, 1948).

Ten Cents For Toilet Paper

The Kreml man always has “keen and well-groomed” hair! Unfinished commercial art.



restaurant for him — it didn’t work out — but he was a good soul. For years, Mario helped kids [with disabilities]. He’d take them to a little lake and help them do things like crabbing.”

The Expanding Artist

Though he never kept a ledger of his work, Plastino recalled

several assignments from the late 1940s, extending into the 1950s. “I did everything. Portraits, black and whites, watercolors, a beer ad, and one for Kreml Hair Tonic for the Daily News. I did love story covers for Arrow Publica-tions. Most were accepted; only one was rejected. I did the only pulp watercolor cover. Normally, the red, blue, and yellow colors had to be exaggerated in oils be-cause the printing was so terrible. But the editor liked it and said he’d give it a try.

“We had an agent — a big, tall woman. Dow was in love with her. I still laugh when I picture her sitting on the john with a big hat on, talking to us through the door. She got us some ad work but it didn’t pan out.

“I was young and tried to soak up everything at the studio. Once I tried to sell a strip about a country lawyer, an Abe Lincoln type. It was called Justin Case.

Jack Sparling gave me the idea and tried to help, but it flopped. I worked up some other things, but it is very tough to try and sell a new script idea.

“Also, when I had the studio, I worked for Harry Childs, draw-ing pages to sell US Royal Air Tires for bikes. They appeared in comic books at the time. I did quite a few of them.” In addition to illustrat-ing for Norman Steinberg and Harry Childs, Alfred worked for another advertising studio: “Not in Montclair [New Jersey], but in Upper Montclair,” he said in his most hoity-toity voice.

By 1947 Hap Hopper, Wash-ington Correspondent was no longer doing well and there came a change. The strip was renamed Barry Noble, and a private investigator became the featured character. “A Canadian wrote Barry Noble [Charles Verral],” Al recalled on September 12, 2013.

“He was a nice guy that I met

a couple of times. He spoke with a British-type

accent. In fact, his kid called me for the first time tonight because he didn’t know much about the strip. He’s 68 and said his dad died when he was about 85.” In spite of its alterations, Barry Noble ended two years later. The year was 1949 and Al Plastino was becoming ensconced at DC Comics as one of the premier Superman illustrators.

Reference in addition to the artist’s per-sonal account: Kealy, Jim, and Eddy Zeno. “My Attitude Was, They’re Not Bosses, They’re Editors.” Alter Ego Vol. 3, No. 59, June 2006.

Right: Plastino’s attached note said, “Scratch Board illustration for trade mag.

1947.” Signed “AP.”

“Who’s that keen-looking man?” A finished panel ad for Kreml hair tonic,

signed by Al.



Destiny Waiting

It was the pivotal Norman Steinberg who rescued Alfred

from wartime conscription and later helped get him the job for which he will always be remem-bered. Co-creators Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster were blacklisted from National (DC Comics) after filing an unsuccessful lawsuit in 1947 to try and regain ownership of Superman. Steinberg knew Harry Donenfeld, one of the publishers. Hearing of his need for additional help and know-ing that Plastino had previously drawn for comic books, Steinberg informed the young man: “If you are interested, go up there, talk to

them, and bring a sample of your work.” Al asked with whom he should speak and was told to see Managing Editor Jack Schiff.

Plastino showed up at DC un-announced. When he referenced Mr. Steinberg, he was welcomed into Schiff ’s office and asked to see what he’d brought. Curious himself whether he could do it, Alfred had prepared a Superman sample page: “My brushwork was okay, but kind of corny in a way.”

Schiff apparently liked what he saw, but he didn’t hire Al just yet — there was still payment to negotiate. “Wayne Boring was getting $55 a page,” the artist recalled. “They said he’d been there [almost] ten years and only offered me $35. I said no.” Then there was a lull. When finally given a trial Superman story to illustrate, Plastino was told: “If we like what you do now, we’ll give you $50 a page.” He then received one last instruction: “It has to look like Wayne Boring’s work.” (Given some of Boring’s original art to take with him for reference, those pages, and many other originals, were lost in a basement flood when Alfred later moved to Long Island.)

Plastino doesn’t remember his first solo story for the company, which was likely “Superman, Stunt Man!” in Action Comics No. 120 (May 1948). This coincided with “The Un-Super Superman” in the May–June 1948 issue of World’s Finest (No. 34) and was immediately followed by “The Oracle from Metropolis” in Superman No. 53 (July 1948). Al

was up and flying.After a time, Plastino wanted

to purchase a new car. He threw a question to Jack Schiff: “How secure is this job?” Schiff ’s re-sponse: “I can’t tell you that, kid.” Alfred bought the vehicle any-way: a Nash Rambler, circa 1950. Cost: $2,100. He instructed the automobile dealer to not cash the check until the following week.

“On the following Monday l walked across the street from my studio into Chase Bank,” Alfred noted. “I knew the guys who worked there: ‘Hey Al, what did you buy?’ I said, ‘A car. Why do you ask?’ ‘Because we cashed your check last Friday.’ ‘Friday? I have no money for it.’ ‘We know; we covered the check [amount] for you.’ That’s how it was in those days.”

The Post-Shuster Big Three: Boring, Plastino, and Swan

Plastino was impressed with Wayne Boring’s art: “They

gave me some of his pencils to ink early on. This helped give me a feeling of how Wayne drew Superman.” He occasion-ally saw the older man (born in 1905) in the art room at DC, though not too often since most of the guys worked from home. The two illustrators got along fine, with Al adding: “Wayne had really tight pencils.”

Nevertheless, Alfred had mixed feelings while in the senior illustrator’s shadow. Viewing the tale of “The Three Supermen from Krypton!” (Superman No. 65, July–Aug. 1950) from today’s

The Big Three

The Silver Age Plastino: photo taken circa 1963 in his Wyckoff, NJ home studio/garage.

From the Kennedy Library collection.

About to shoot a love scene with “Miss Heartache:” panel from

“Superman, Stunt Man!”



perspective, Plastino noted: “That is crap because I was still influenced by [him]. But at least you can follow the story. My faces were lousy but they were consistent.“ Asked when he broke from following Boring’s lead, Al reported, “No one said change it. Wayne’s work was really clean-cut and professional, though the characters were a little stiff. It almost hurt me to draw like him. I tried to keep the look consistent but it gradually did change.”

Because Jack Schiff was han-dling Wayne Boring’s work, he was also Alfred’s first boss at DC Comics. The goal was to maintain Superman’s artistic continuity. Al: “Jack was one of the editors for Superman. He was a mild guy, very shy and gentle, nothing like Mort Weisinger. Jack was not a

good idea man, unlike Mort, who was a great idea man. He would just say, ‘Here is the story, Al.’ He wouldn’t give directions, per se. I started working with Mort a little later.” Though he could not remember when the relationship began in earnest, there exists a note for Plastino to call Weisinger regarding his cover preliminary for Superman No. 60. With an indicia dated Sept.–Oct. 1949, this means the artist and editor had dealings no later than spring of that year.

In approximately 1951, fellow illustrator Curt Swan was getting terrible migraine headaches from Weisinger’s frequent demands to correct the art by adding more detail. In addition, Mort commit-ted other forms of verbal bullying when he thought the artists

weren’t giving him his money’s worth. Swan’s headaches began dissipating when he began stand-ing up to the editor.

In the book Superman at Fifty! The Persistence of a Legend! (edited by Dennis Dooley and Gary Engle, Octavia Press, 1987), Curt wrote, “I did speak briefly to Wayne Boring about it when I took over drawing the syndicated Superman strip in the late ‘50s or early ‘60s, a couple of years before they killed it. He knew how dif-ficult Weisinger could be on the subject of Superman’s looks. ‘Just hang in there,’ Wayne told me, ‘and don’t take any s---.’” Alfred had his own perspective when dealing with Mort, but the results were the same: “My attitude was, they’re not bosses, they’re editors.

“Wayne was on the way out; they were feeding him less and less work. He had the newspaper strip. Then Curt Swan took over [the dailies but not the Sundays for a few years]. There wasn’t as much of a difference between Curt Swan’s style and mine as there was between mine and Wayne Boring’s. Curt’s style was more realistic and calm. I added more jazz, where Curt’s was more kind and a little monotonous because he would have no big changes between panels. But he was a good artist.”

Al added that Swan was a nice guy with whom he enjoyed conversing when they hap-pened to be visiting the DC offices at the same time. He felt that Swan doing pencils only — and not inking himself — helped lead to his early demise (Curt passed away in 1996). Al noted that controlling both tasks kept him from working himself to death. One time, when Mort Weisinger asked him to let someone else embel-lish his pages, Al turned in such sketchy work that no one could

Wayne Boring’s powerful Superman pictured above Mr. Boring loading up his drawing board for vacation. Photo from Coronet (magazine, June 1954).



the Kryptonian city that had been miniaturized by the villain Brainiac and thus escaped the destruction of Superman’s native planet. But I had a lot of fun inventing all that tiny futuristic architecture, not to mention the view from inside the bottle — with the ‘giant’ figures peering in. I’ve always regretted that Al Plastino and I never got to play golf together, another passion that we shared.”

Co-Creating a Character: the Artist’s Point of View

In Action Comics No. 252 (May 1959) Alfred drew the lead

tale with a fairly notable villain, Metallo, facing the Man of Steel, with script by Robert Bernstein. It was the second story, however, at less than eight pages (a third of the final page contained an ad), in which Binder and Plastino had another bona fide hit. That’s when Kal-El’s super-powered cousin, Kara Zor-El, found her way to Earth.

Names were never attached to the scripts Al received: “Otto was a different guy, much nicer than Jack [his brother]. Mort talked to me about the idea of Supergirl. I wasn’t aware that Otto Binder was that involved in creating these characters. It was just part of the job. I went home and later brought in a sketch to show Mort. I made her blonde and as attrac-tive as I could, putting a black wig on her for the disguise. I wanted to maintain the same type of costume but gave her a skirt to be more girlish. No need to make her big and muscle-y. She had the power already.” (Al’s children later disclosed that wife Ann Marie was his original model for Supergirl.)

Pasting Over Jack Kirby’s Heads

It was a strange editorial policy: if the freelance artist of choice

on a particular character hap-pened to be in the office, Alfred would sometimes be asked to draw the heads over another pen-ciler/inker team’s covers or inte-riors. For Action Comics No. 252, it appears that Plastino was asked to redraw the faces of Supergirl and Superman on penciler Curt Swan and inker Stan Kaye’s cover. He had likely done the same for Adventure No. 247’s Legion of Super-Heroes front wrap: “A story would come in; the heads weren’t right. But it went both ways. One time, Schaffenberger redrew my heads on Lois Lane. What are you gonna do?”

The practice persisted for a time after Mort Weisinger retired and artist/writer Jack Kirby was recruited by DC. Jack’s initial assignment under Editorial Director Carmine Infantino’s helm was Superman’s Pal, Jimmy Olsen, beginning with No. 133 (Oct. 1970). Carmine upheld the tradition of maintaining a “house look” for Superman, and Plastino remembered going in to do the

work: “They gave me Kirby’s originals. It was a pain in the butt to paste over Kirby’s heads in Jimmy Olsen. The paste-on paper was very thin. I would put the original page on a light box and lay the paste-on paper over the original art so I could see the

Alfred’s published art to the right of the underlying Kirby/Colletta version, revealed in the Jack Kirby Collector Vol. 12, No. 42 (Spring 2005, TwoMorrows Publishing). Panel from Jimmy Olsen No. 135.

Curt Swan and his version of the Man of Steel. Photo from Cartoonist Profiles, Vol. 1, No. 2 (Spring 1969).



Though team logo “AP” on the batter’s sleeve made it from preliminary to finished cover (Superman No. 60, Sept.-Oct. 1949), the baseball stadium background did not.

Al had a handwritten note at the bottom to: “Call Mort [Weisinger] – 10:30.”



body. I would draw out the body, then take it away and draw the head. Then I would cut it out and paste it in.” Murphy Anderson later became the regular artist who redrew the faces on both Superman and Olsen.

The Kryptonite Speaks

One of the oddest and most imaginative series-within-

a-series started with “Tales of Green Kryptonite No. 1” in Superman No. 173 (Nov. 1964), where the kryptonite itself was the narrator. Conceived by Otto Binder, Alfred illustrated that one along with the final installment, “Menace of Gold Kryptonite! Tales of Kryptonite No. 4,” in Su-perman No. 179 (August 1965). Curt Swan and George Klein illustrated the middle two in Superman Nos. 176 and 177, respectively. The K-rock changed from green to red to gold in the course of four stories, fragment-ing from a statuette given to Superman’s father, Jor-El, when Krypton exploded. Meandering its way to Earth to torment Super-boy, the meteorite lay fallow in the arctic for years before endanger-ing the adult Man of Tomorrow. Besides being the stories’ narrator — in another interesting take, it did not want any harm to come to Kal-El. Plastino and Swan drew the stone with the hint of a “face” embedded in its facets.

In May 1964 the art team of Curt Swan and George Klein was moved to other Weisinger-edited books such as World’s Finest Comics and, with the death of artist John Forte, to Adventure Comics less than two years later. In addition, writer Edmond Hamilton retired from DC in 1966. Otto Binder and Al Plastino filled the vacuum by assuming script and art chores on the full-length Superman “novels.” But there was a problem. While Ham-

ilton was adept at conveying a sense of the epic, Binder excelled at imagining new heroes and vil-lains in shorter-written tales. This was combined with Weisinger losing the pulse of comic book readers. The editor’s plot sugges-tions became repetitious by the mid to latter 1960s. Kal-El losing his powers (“The Demon Under the Red Sun!”); Superman robots/androids heroically sacrificing themselves to save their master (“The School for Superman As-sassins!”); and bringing Phantom Zone villains out of purgatory to temporarily do good (“The Man Who Destroyed Krypton!”) were rehashed ideas seen, respec-tively, in Superman Nos. 184 (Feb. 1966), 188 (July 1966), and 205 (Apr. 1968).

Superman: A Triumphant 20 Years

The full-length novels not-withstanding, there were

additional triumphs between Plastino and Otto Binder, along with writers Bill Finger, Edmond Hamilton, Jerry Coleman, Jerry Siegel, and a young Jim Shooter. For example, Superman No. 61 (Feb.–March 1950) was revelato-ry to Kal-El when he uncovered his Kryptonian origins. Nineteen issues later, for a short time an amnesiac with inferior powers was thought to be Superman’s older brother (Superman No. 80, Jan.–Feb. 1953). Adventure Com-ics No. 271 (April 1960) detailed events that led to a young Lex Luthor losing his hair and blam-ing Superboy for his own experi-ment gone awry. Al was asked to pencil and ink Lois Lane and Lana Lang’s initial meeting in Showcase No. 9 (Jul.–Aug. 1957). He drew Bizarro’s first adult ap-pearance in comic books, a two-parter that culminated with him falling for an imperfect duplicate of Lois (Action Comics Nos. 254–255, July and August 1959,

respectively). Beyond distorted Bizarro affection, Al illustrated a grand romance turned tragic in Superman No. 165 (Nov. 1963). Divergently, he portrayed the earliest showdowns between Supes and the villainous energy-draining Parasite (Action Comics No. 340, Aug. 1966, and No. 361, March 1968). Despite these and many other artistic opportunities to shine, Alfred and most of his contemporaries held the belief that the stories were nothing special. To him they were simply part of the job.

Presidential Link: From Father to Son

In addition to canonical intro-ductions of new characters and

story elements, Alfred illustrated

Alfred loved creating this background-rich, sequestered view of the Fortress of Solitude for a 2008 commission.



Closure on the World’s Finest Team

Redrawing Jack Kirby’s (with inker Vince Colletta’s)

heads in Superman’s Pal, Jimmy Olsen was not what kept Alfred involved with DC Comics from 1968 to 1972. Rather, it was his four-year run on the Batman daily and Sunday syndicated strip, another career high mark.

How did Al end up working on the Dark Knight detective half of the “World’s Finest” team? He explained: “I was drawing Superboy when Mort Weisinger was the editor. Mort had a lot of other things going on and was passing the editorial work over to Murray Boltinoff. I liked his brother [Henry], but not him. He was a little bit of a guy but stout; his expression reminded me of Edward G. Robinson —

that smug look. Boltinoff wanted to tell me that I was going to work for him now. He wanted to discuss Superboy. When you go into the office, you go into a big room with other artists, doing corrections, waiting for editors to look at the story, etc. I was talking with the guys when Bolt-inoff opened his door and called, ‘Hey you.’ When I didn’t look up, he said it again: ‘Hey, you. You over there, what the hell’s your name?’ He talked down to every-body. Who did he think he was? He was just an editor, not God. Most were scared of him, but what was there to be afraid of? I went in his office, shut the door, and had it out with him. Whit Ellsworth heard the commotion and came in; he thought I was

going to kill Boltinoff. Murray didn’t say a word to me. His eyes were coming out of his head. I said I wouldn’t work for him if I had to sell pencils. When I told him I quit, Whit said, ‘How would you like to work with me on Batman?’”

(Alfred did part of the featured tale in Superboy #149 [July 1968] before resigning in the middle of the story, ac-cording to the Grand Comics Database. The year prior, he had guest-illustrated World’s Finest Comics #165, and two issues later a reader’s letter of praise appeared: “Dear Editor: Who’s the new artist who did

The “Most Plastino” Hero

Tugging at fun – 1993 signed rendering of the World’s Finest duo.

Drawing in his Shirley, Long Island studio: from the Nov. 21, 2008 Arts & Living section of The Press of Manorville and the Moriches.

The photo accompanied an article by Jennett Meriden Russell.



the March WF? I must congrat-ulate him for capturing the true Batman. Let’s see more of his work in the future.” Perhaps fan reaction to Al’s foray in World’s Finest played a part in his being assigned the Gotham Detec-tive’s strip for the papers.)

Whitney “Whit” Ellsworth was the editorial director of DC prior to producing the Adven-tures of Superman television series from 1953 to 1957. Serv-ing as the company’s liaison on other Hollywood projects before and after the TV show, Ellsworth was a special con-sultant to the Batman televi-sion series in 1965–1966 and wrote the Batman newspaper strip from 1966 until July 1970. Distributed by the Ledger Syndicate, the strip’s storylines

were handled by DC Comics’ creative people.

When Joe Giella decided to return to inking comic books in 1968, Al took over as the strip’s primary artist. His first Sunday was dated March 17, 1968; the following Monday was his debut daily. The Sunday strip ended July 13, 1969, but the dailies continued to be illustrated by Plastino through January 1, 1972. E. Nelson Bridwell took over writing chores from Ellsworth, and Nick Cardy assisted Al toward the end. A new creative team took over the strip on Janu-ary 3, 1972. It was completely revamped with Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson appearing sans se-cret identities (along with a new superhero named Galexo). That version closed in 1974.

Al remembered his time on what was formally titled Batman with Robin the Boy Wonder: “Whit was transferred to the west coast. From there, he would send me scripts in the mail. He would also call me on the phone and send letters saying what a great job I was doing. He was a good guy, easy to work with. Whit understood artists because he ran the DC show for a long time. I never had any problems with him.

“Don’t forget I had two ac-counts — except when I did Batman. Batman was a crazy setup. I would pencil and ink two weeks of dailies [12 total] the first week and two Sundays the second week. That’s the way we kept it up. The newspaper scripts weren’t as precise as the

The “most Plastino” hero in visage and pose: 1969 Batman dailies



Parallel Careers

While working in the studio he shared with

Dow Walling and Jack Sparling, Plastino continued illustrating newspaper strips after Barry Noble ended in 1949. In addition to his sporadic jobs with United Feature Syndicate, Al recalled advertising gigs and other en-deavors: “I did a lot of stuff for A & P Stores [a supermarket chain that, at the time, was the nation’s largest] and stuff like that. Then I did commercial comics. I had

portraits going; I was painting a portrait of Mr. Singer, who was the head of General Comics.”

Assignments for General Comics, Inc. included promo-tional 8- and 16-page stories. Alfred’s artwork also appeared in a magazine called Young Catholic. One of the oddest commissions of the industri-ous man’s career was done for a couple whose son was coming home from the Navy. Plastino: “She had the money; he [the husband] said, ‘Can you do

something in a week for me?’ The inside of his cellar was like the inside of a yacht. It had two giant portholes. You look at the bar window and you see the back of the ocean with the curtains.” Alfred went back to the studio, tacked up four large canvases, and painted “sky here, sky over here, sky over here…I put the dryer on and some guy helped me out, to put them on the wall.”

Continuing with his life’s philosophy of maintaining two

Arnold Palmer’s superhero caddies: donated drawing for charity auction held at Rock Hill

Golf and Country Club (on Long Island).

Man Of Action

Accompanying note from Al: “About Golf! Age 57—”



Newspaper Highlights

After Hap Hopper, which evolved into Barry Noble,

Alfred pinch-hit on the Casey Ruggles strip for United Feature Syndicate from 1949-1950 (and for one additional month in 1952). Ruggles’ creator, War-ren Tufts, was a purist and demanded so much of himself that he had a hard time meet-ing deadlines. He needed other assistants, too, including Al’s comic book cohort Alex Toth, along with buddies Ruben Moreira and Nick Cardy. Though it was a Western strip, Alfred noted that it was done in the tradition of Flash Gor-don. He was not particularly impressed.

It was a couple of years later that Al began to make enough as a freelance artist to think of supporting a family. The syndicate portion of his income was more consistent and, in addition, he had negotiated better pay. The timeline com-menced with Abbie an’ Slats from 1955–1959, though he

continued to lend a hand with the strip on and off until 1967. He assisted on Joe Palooka in 1959. Batman’s already covered tenure lasted from 1968 till 1972. It has been rumored that Alfred assisted George Wunder on Terry and the Pirates, circa 1972–1973. That would have been for the Tribune-News Syndicate and not United Feature.

Ferd’nand extended from 1970 until Al’s retirement in 1989. Nancy ran concurrently for part of that sequence, from 1982–1984. There was even an odd stint ghosting top feature Peanuts, about which creator Charles Schulz didn’t know at the time (explored later in this chapter). But these opportuni-ties didn’t just fall from the sky. In a profession where many often missed deadlines, Plastino never procrastinated. He would be the first to submit mock-ups, even when other newspaper artists claimed they were more established and had greater right to the work

than he did. For instance, John Dirks, son of Rudolph Dirks, had taken over The Captain and the Kids strip from his famous dad years earlier. When he found out golfing buddy Al-fred had gotten the job drawing Peanuts: “John Dirks got angry: ‘Why didn’t they call me to do it?’ I said, ‘John, they didn’t call me. When I heard them talking, I came in the next day with a sample.’ I made things happen.”

Painting

Alfred said that Raeburn Van Buren “…painted with

ink…” on Abbie an’ Slats.Rae Van Buren started as

a sketch artist at the Kansas City Star but moved to New York City in 1913. His first Big Apple roommates were actor William Powell, artist Thomas Hart Benton, and caricatur-ist Ralph Barton, all Missouri transplants. Van became a highly successful magazine illustrator before accepting the Abbie an’ Slats drawing chores

Painting, Punching, And Pirates…Peanuts, Precision, And Pantomime

Another fragmented Hap Hopper daily strip from Alfred’s archives (dated Feb. 24, 1947).

Panel from the Casey Ruggles strip dated Sunday, May 7, 1950. Ruggles reminded Al

of a Western version of Flash Gordon.



people started to ask, ‘Do you have an assistant? Who is drawing your women, Al?’ No-body helped me.” For a short time Plastino brought some-thing unique to comic books, not only to Showcase but also to Superman and Action Com-ics. He offered remnants of a top magazine illustrator’s style from an earlier age.

Punching

From Moe Leff on Joe Palooka, Alfred was remind-

ed about the dangers of a life out of balance.

Joe Palooka’s originator, Ham Fisher, took his own life in 1955.

It was former assistant, Moe Leff, who took over the artistic chores and with whom Alfred worked. “Moe had a studio in a hotel; he had two rooms,” said Al. “He and his brothers would come in to discuss storylines while I listened. So they would call me in to help them with Sunday pages because his broth-er worked at United Feature. [Joe Palooka was a McNaught Syndicate feature.]

“The brothers put in long hours. Moe was a strong man but he would work all the time. I would hear him moaning in the next room and told him to get out of the business. I said, ‘You

can’t work every day.’ He said, ‘You can make more money.’ I said, ‘I got enough money. Why don’t you play golf?’ ‘No, I’m too busy.’ He wouldn’t listen. Moe died too young. He was only 57.

“Ham Fisher did noth-ing – Moe Leff did everything. When Ham Fisher committed suicide, no one got paid for a year because the estate was up for grabs. Moe was getting $4,000 a week. Joe Palooka was the biggest thing… the biggest strip in the Daily Mirror! Movies were made of him. Now he’s forgotten. Nobody knows who he is anymore.” Joe Palooka was a reluctant heavy weight box-

What if Lois Lane and Lana Lang had appeared in Abbie an’ Slats as “Van Buren

women?” Al experimenting at DC Comics (Showcase No. 9, June/July 1957).

Joe Palooka DVD with a daily beneath featuring the heavyweight champ. Though credited to creator Ham Fisher, the art was

produced by assistant Moe Leff.



the other guys don’t like it.’ So I looked at it, and I said, ‘Yeah I think it’s pretty cute. It’s fresh. It’s different.’ He said, ‘What do you think?’ and I said, ‘Yeah, I think it’s [good].’ Boy, was that a decision they made!…. They made a fortune on that. They’re still making a fortune on the reruns.” Though his line grew increasingly shaky after open-heart surgery, Charles Schulz lived until February 12, 2000. The final new strip (a Sunday) of this American institution ap-peared the following day.

Precision

Alfred was immensely chal-lenged by the precision

of Ernie Bushmiller, whom he likened to a “German mechanic” on Nancy with his deceptively simple line.

“I’m not bragging,” said Al. “I dare anybody to try it. I

used to hold my breath when I would do the chin. If you didn’t get the line exactly right, it’s like her jaw was broken. Sometimes I’d turn the paper upside-down to draw the jaw line. Even the spikes of Nancy’s hair, Ernie counted them. They had to stick out at just the right angle — like a sunburst.

“When I sent him a [try-out] sample it was done on thin, single-ply paper. Bush-miller said [in the raspiest, huskiest voice Plastino could muster to imitate his old boss], ‘It’s good but next time don’t use toilet paper.’ [laughs] But I enjoyed it. Aunt Fritzi was gor-geous, and I had fun with that.” Illustrating mostly Sundays while another artist (Mark Lasky) drew the dailies, Al remembered the fellow using a lot of whiteout and having dif-ficulty mastering the sweep and smoothness of the line.

“When I was writing Nancy, I came up with the gag first and worked backward. Ernie’d send a daily for an idea: ‘Can you make a Sunday out of that?’ I said, ‘Sure.’”

Ernie Bushmiller died on Au-gust 15, 1982. A young woman had just been put in charge of the syndicated strips at United Feature. By the next year, she decided to replace Alfred with

cartoonist Jerry Scott. Al re-called, “I was only in my sixties but they said they were going to go in a different direction and give the whole thing to a younger guy. It’s the only time I was sort of let go. There was a lot of writing. I said, ‘What the hell? Are you going to write a book?’ I hated to see it. It was doing fine. I didn’t mind being retired from Nancy, but didn’t agree with the way she was being drawn. The new artist only drew three-quar-ter shots of Nancy and Sluggo. I can’t explain it. He gave her a broken jaw.”

Upper left: Linus by Plastino, not Schulz. Above: from one assistant to the other, Nancy and Sluggo gifted by Alfred to Mort Walker’s longtime helper on Beetle Bailey, cartoonist Bill Janocha.

Stating it was the most difficult thing he ever had to draw, Plastino got Nancy’s chin just right in the Sunday panel below (August 5, 1984).



Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

The first project discussed had Plastino as its subject

but was produced by another artist. Raymond Perry (1876–1960) was an old-time illustra-tor and colorist at DC Comics. Working for the company since the early days, he was also known for producing oil or watercolor portraits of some of the staff and freelancers at the company. Alfred posed for him not long after he began illustrat-ing Superman (circa late 1940s). Ray gifted the young artist with the painting, consisting of full face and profile images placed

side by side. “Raymond won a prize with this painting,” said Al. “He also played the cello. To repay him for the painting, my father made a beautiful felt hat for him. The painting is big. It’s a life-size head, done in oils. Ray-mond did some side stories and coloring. I would sometimes just sit at his desk and watch him paint. He painted other people in the office, using really crisp brush strokes. He was a member of some well-known artist club [Perry belonged to both the Salmagundi Club and American Watercolor Society]. As great a painter as Raymond was, he had a harder time in comics. [Like]

Mac Raboy, he was a fantastic artist, but his figures were stiff.”

Flying Hero

As an offshoot of his love for designing airplanes, Plas-

tino devised a flying Superman toy in 1954 — and the Kellogg cereal company showed inter-

est. Though he was told to use one kind of paper, it required two different thicknesses to adequately stay aloft. Shot into the air with a rubber band, the cape unfurled from Superman’s back, and it spun down like a helicopter. The original remains in a postmarked, wax-sealed en-velope Alfred mailed to himself to retain copyright. In spite of his foresight, the following year a flying Superman was available from Kellogg’s as a 10-cent mail-in premium (plus one boxtop). Theirs was plastic, though the cape/wings were an extremely thin and fragile type. They took Alfred’s basic idea and he got nothing for it. The artist called it a hard lesson learned. (Inci-dentally, the Transogram toy company in 1954 offered a flying Superman made of hollow, lightweight plastic that looked quite different than the Plastino/Kellogg’s figure.)

Special Projects

Photo detail of Al Plastino from a 34th Street Armory cartoonists’ demonstration

(NYC, 1949).

Portrait of the young artist – oil painting by Raymond Perry done in the

DC offices, circa late 1940s.



Pulp Covers

“Arrow Publications was [located] right there next

to DC,” Al recalled. “I did around four pulp covers, love story covers.” When Plastino met his future wife at a diner in 1956 and asked her to model for him, Ann Marie said she’d have to ask her mother (see Chapter 7). With mom’s permission, she became the young woman being kissed by a lieutenant on a Leading Love pulp magazine cover. Al modeled the officer after himself: wish fulfillment that helped lead to their falling in love and marrying the following year.

Perhaps those special cir-cumstances are what led artist Alfred to try something daring commercially: “Pulp maga-zines had to exaggerate their colors because the printing was cheaply done. Everything had to be vivid, so the originals looked off. The regular covers were done in oil. They had to be big and gaudy. The covers were all done on speculation, with no direction given. If they liked it, they bought it.” Composing his “lieutenant kissing the beautiful girl” scene, the artist thought the beauty of it demanded some-thing softer — an out-of-the box solution. Thus, “I did the only pulp cover done in watercolors that was ever used.”

Topps Gum Cards

Plastino got his friend and longtime Tarzan artist John

Celardo a job at Topps illustrat-ing Land of the Giants but John didn’t return the favor when Al needed help finding work later: “I hated asking anybody to help me, anyway. I found my own jobs. One of them was Doctor Dolittle. I used color photos from the movie for reference. Rex Har-rison was the star. Each card was

Above: Leading Love pulp magazine cover, June issue (circa 1949 or 1950), oils by Al.

Left: Alfred’s “lieutenant kissing the beautiful girl… the only pulp cover done in watercolors that was ever used.” The models were he and future wife Ann Marie Perkins. A couple of years later the by-then Mrs. Plastino would be his model for Supergirl too.



Art Lesson No. 1: A Professional’s Formula

Alfred gave an art lesson by phone on November 18,

2010. He began with musical composition: “It’s not just the notes. That’s only one of three things that are important.” Singing part of Beethoven’s 5th Symphony: “Duh-duh-de-duh, duh-duh-de-duh”, he added, “The tone and the cadence are the other ingredients that make

great music.” Asked if he had composed songs, Al replied, “Not really,” but he espoused that he can identify good music based on this formula.

Actors practice their tech-nique in front of a mirror. They decide how to emote while learning their lines. Similarly, “Artists make faces to their reflections” as they learn to craft expression.

Plastino can look at a draw-

ing and tell immediately if it has been copied from a photograph: “Folds look crazy.” An artist learns to simplify and takes out the folds in clothing that look wild. The same with an ear: “The way shadows play upon an ear can make it look crazy, too.

“Go from light to dark as the layers of a watercolor are placed. Go from dark to light in an oil painting. Black is never an end to itself in portraying shadow. It is in addition to reds and browns. Sepia is the under-pinning to many an oil painting.

“In Shirley [New York] they call big houses manors. Tony Bennett and the owner of one were first cousins. The singer used to entertain there. I did a watercolor of an old water pump in the back of the manor. How the hell can you work around the pump? First I had to paint the pump with a certain paint that acts like rubber ce-ment. Then I put in the back-ground. It’s the only way the background would look right — to paint over the pump like it’s not even there. When you’d rub off the rubber cement, it leaves a white area to be painted back in. The tip came from an art magazine. A plumber looked at it and told me the pump was broken on top. I purposely like it that way, even if it wouldn’t work. The left background is cattails. I added the pail because it needed something. The white flecks were to break it up.”

Alfred mused about ama-teurs having no set path while

“I did a watercolor of an old water pump in the back of the manor.”

Paint Over The Pump – Draw Around The Balloons

Looking a bit like fellow School of Industrial Art alumnus Tony Bennett, Alfred captioned

of his photo, “Age, I think about 68 – .”



people handled the pages; there was also grease on the hands. Then I rubbed down the entire page with a piece of cotton. That way, the ink would take better.”

Al feathered with a brush when a soft effect was desired, as with watercolors: “You’re trying to wipe out most of the ink by flattening out the hairs of the brush. Rub it over an area. You can feather with a pen, too. [But] everything needed to be sharp and crisp in comics – this is not where I feathered. ”

Plastino was asked if the cover for a DC comic book was prepared before the story, or whether the story was complet-ed prior to creating the cover: “No one ever gave me a cover to do first. They were done after finishing the inside art. I’d pick out a scene or something and make a concept cover sketch in Mort’s office or in the art room. He would okay it. Then I’d go home and draw it. Mort didn’t give me too much hassle with the art. He never said to change an angle or something, but he might say to play up a character more.” Alfred’s last covers at DC were drawn in September 1957. It was likely after that when Weisinger began soliciting cover images before the matching interior story was written.

Discussing the fact that artist Vince Colletta (who embel-lished Jack Kirby’s pencils) sometimes erased entire characters from panels, Plastino said, “Sure. He had lots of tricks. Everyone had tricks. The script might call for many things to happen, which sounds nice but is too complex to draw. I might simplify things and just draw the main points in a panel. Mort would sometimes tell me they had a rush job. He’d say, ‘We need something quick.’ I’d tell him to calm down and to

tell me when they needed it by. Those deadlines didn’t bother me.

“Once in a while the editors wanted a panel changed. I told them I wasn’t going to change any panels. ‘They’re fine. This is what you wanted and this is what you got.’ If you didn’t hold your ground like this, they would have eaten you alive….Sometimes I might cut down the dialogue to make a better picture.” Did the writers mind their scripts being changed? Al responded, “The writers were treated like dirt. Mort was the boss. He could change anything.”

Alfred never talked to the

story guys. He simply did what was given to him, even if he thought it was silly. “I was too keyed up on doing the work and getting it done.” The only exception was when he told editor Weisinger that he thought putting capes on the super-powered animals (Krypto, Streaky, and Comet, to name three) was stupid. “But Mort knew what he was doing because he brought back sales on the Superman titles and made them popular again.”

Referenced from the artist’s personal account.

Culmination of the work in progress (see photo, previous page): Al’s cover recreation of Action Comics No. 146 (July 1950). Image courtesy of collector Dan Makara, who wrote, “I think I chose the Action 146 cover because it was a great shot of Superman in action and the great expressions of the three being rescued. It’s my favorite period of Al’s work; the cover says 1950 all over it.”



Pro-Speak

Plastino’s longevity precludes many of his peers from

writing or speaking about him because they are no longer with us: however, we are lucky enough to have a handful of them. In addition, a few comic book successors share their impressions of his legacy.

Nick Cardy (1920-2013)

Following are extended com-ments from an interview

cited earlier in the book. The conversation took place by phone on February 1, 2010, between Mr. Cardy and Mel Higgins and

was transcribed by Eddy Zeno.

Mel Higgins: I know what he’s like

now but what was

Al like then? What was he like in high school?

Nick Cardy: The School of Industrial Art was in an old, old building, between 8th and 9th Avenue right near Times Square on 40th Street, an antique. I don’t think they had too much money. They had narrow stair-ways that two alongside each other could barely get by. Four or five classrooms would be together. Each class had sliding doors. At each section of the sliding doors was a room. So when you wanted to combine them into an auditorium, you just opened a door. We were a bunch of rowdy… well, not rowdy, but the way kids were in those days. A lot of the guys were from the East Side. They were just rough kids who liked to play. If you played hooky, you could go to the Paramount Theater. [laughs] In the class, the teacher had us start draw-ing and stuff like that. I don’t know how it came about but the school wanted us to do a mural. If we did a project, Al was one of the fellows in the project. I don’t think we ever finished it. Even so, they had a big medal and I won the award when I was graduating.

In about the ‘30s, around 1933 because I was born in 1920 and must have been about 13 – in the springtime men started wearing straw hats. On opposite sides of a block they had lampposts. They’d get a group of about three or four boys who took a clothesline

and ran it from one side of the street to the other. They hooked it up near the light and the man would walk down the street. Someone would snatch his hat off his head and run off. The guy would chase him; he’d give it to another fellow, and another, and another. In the long run, you saw a big batch of hats hanging on these lines. [laughter]

I think Al’s parents lived uptown in the Bronx. I met his father once when I went with him. His mother died when he was very young, so his father had a woman living there who was a foster mother. She was very heavy. She never spoke to anyone. She just did her job. I lived on Third Street between Avenue A and 1st Avenue. We did a lot of walking. We walked way down to the end of the Bowery where they had the fish-erman’s wharf. Years later, when Al got a car, with one or two of his friends, we would drive up near Woodstock or somewhere up there. There was a farm that we went by. The guy gave per-mission for them to do shoot-ing. I never did that; I just did a watercolor or something.

Al was very conservative. He wasn’t playful. Things that I remember were that some guys would always joke around. I don’t remember Al joking around. I may be wrong because this goes back to the way I feel, but I think he had this disposi-tion that wasn’t explosive at all, like with some kids that try to play games, are confrontational,

Legacy

Fabulous Nick Cardy art. Cover detail, Aquaman No. 37(Jan.-Feb. 1968).

Al Plastino – photo from the same session as page 74.



and try to push you around. He just did his job. With me, Al’s always been very good, very kind. I liked him. But some-times the way he does things isn’t my way.

Mel: Did you like the teach-ers that you and Al had in high school?

Nick: The teachers were good. I had [one] that was close to 5 feet tall, narrow in build, and his name was Mayotte. He was a professional puppe-teer. We put on theater puppet shows. He’d take some students from the class. Some girls would design clothes. I modeled the heads in clay and then I had them made in pressed wood. They would put a T-screw – you know the one with the holes – and you’d put it at the bottom of the plastic wood; it would attach to the head. And they had eyelets over each ear; from up above, they would use these airplanes to manipulate the things. [Mayotte] could make the head turn to the side, to the left, or whatever. He was also good in composition.

Mel: When Plastino was young, he was very sickly and spent a lot of time in bed. That’s when he really started to draw.

Nick: Another thing that Al and I did, now that I think about it, we used to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Al did a painting of a woman sitting by the beach; it’s a copy of a Renoir. But he made it smaller because in those days, whenever you made a copy of a painting, you never did it the same size as the painting. I used to go in there and I used to look at a lot of the other artists. But I never put up an easel. I would go in there and, say, there’s a William Turner painting – I like his stuff. To me he was the precursor of the Impressionists. His watercolors or his oil paint-ings are very loose. I would look at the painting and where the painting was the weakest, where sometimes they don’t paint up to the edge of the paper, I would look underneath the lay-ers of the paint. I’d get about 3 inches away… I didn’t have any eyesight. But I was looking to

see what the first color of paint was, the undercoat, and what was the pencil. And in the weak spots you could see that. And I did some of that in the paint-ings, only my way. I would do it with acrylics and then put oil or glazes over that. I don’t know if Al does any of that. He does mainly watercolors.

Will Eisner had a studio. He interviewed me and then he broke me in with [Jerry] Iger. While I was doing Lady Luck [one of the tabloid-sized features that often appeared along with Eisner’s The Spirit in newspapers], Plastino, I believe, was working with Chesler.

I did go up to Chesler’s and remember a stack of tables. Al wasn’t my only friend; I remem-ber seeing George Tuska [who also drew for Eisner and Iger]. I stayed and talked to a lot of the guys working there. The thing about artwork: people knew of me. I didn’t know who the hell they were. Because everybody lived so far away, I’d see them once in a blue moon. There was a nice guy, a macho guy, who

Revisiting his buddies from the Legion of Super-Heroes: pencil drawing by Al at the age of 91.


84

Ben Hogan, Byron Nelson, and Superman?

The year 2013 began with a commission for the mostly

retired artist. Requested by Al’s good friend, Texas golf pro Tom Ward, its purpose was to commemorate two legends of the sport who hailed from Fort Worth. Forty-nine years a�er the fact, a 91-year-old Plastino revised his famous 1964 splash page of Superman waving at President Kennedy for a di�er-ent sort of tribute.

“Tom sent photos of [Byron] Nelson and [Ben] Hogan and asked, ‘Could you do a draw-ing of Hogan and Nelson with

Superman in a golf group?’ I couldn’t see drawing the two of them alive with Superman. It’s stupid. I got the idea from Superman waving at Kennedy; this at least makes a little sense. So I put them in the clouds and it turned out pretty good.” Al was further quoted regarding his motivation in a golf column that Ward writes: “I drew it because I’m a great admirer of truly talented people and when we were in Texas last year visiting, you took the time to show me and my son the great courses and told us about the deep, rich roots golf had in the area.” �e artist added, “I really drew it be-

cause you inspired me with your friendship and showed us how great the history of the game is in Texas. I’m very pleased with the drawing because it seemed �tting to pay homage to those two great golfers!”

�ough Superman’s �y-ing pose is the same in both the original illustration and its descendant, there is a subtle dif-ference in the hero’s expression. When Plastino drew the Man of Steel acknowledging Kennedy, the pain was too recent, the events surrounding the Presi-dent’s assassination too raw. In the golfers’ accolade, enough time had passed and their lives

Golfers Ben Hogan and Byron Nelson in the clouds – a Superman salute. Color

rendering by Al Plastino (2013), image courtesy of Tom Ward.

Last Superman Standing

The artist, speaking at the dedication of John S. Hobart Elementary School in 1981.

AL PLASTINO:LAST SUPERMAN

STANDINGWith a comics career dating back to 1941, including

inking early issues of Captain America, AL PLASTINOwas one of the last surviving penciler/inkers of his era.Laboring uncredited on SUPERMAN for two decades(1948-1968), he co-created SUPERGIRL, BRAINIAC, andthe LEGION OF SUPER-HEROES, drawing those charac-ters’ first appearances, and illustrating the initial comicsstory to feature KRYPTONITE. He was called upon tohelp maintain the DC Comics house-style by redrawingother artists’ Superman heads, most notoriously on JACKKIRBY’S JIMMY OLSEN series, much to his chagrin. Hiscareer even included working on classic daily and Sun-day newspaper strips like NANCY, JOE PALOOKA, BAT-MAN, and others.

With a Foreword by PAUL LEVITZ, this book (byEDDY ZENO, author of CURT SWAN: A LIFE INCOMICS) was completed just weeks before Al’s recentpassing. In these pages, the artist remembers both his struggles and triumphs in the world of comics, cartooningand beyond. A near-century of insights shared by Al, his family, and contemporaries ALLEN BELLMAN, NICK CARDY, JOE GIELLA, AND CARMINE INFANTINO—along with successors JON BOGDANOVE, JERRYORDWAY, AND MARK WAID—paint a layered portrait of Plastino’s life and career. And a wealth of illustrationsshow just how influential a figure he is in the history of comics.

(112-page trade paperback) $17.95 (Digital Edition) $5.95ISBN: 978-1-60549-066-3

http://twomorrows.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=95_93&products_id=1237

IF YOU ENJOYED THIS PREVIEW, CLICK THE LINKBELOW TO ORDER THIS BOOK!



twomorrows publishing comics - al plastino: last superman standing

Documents