"What the heck is in Crystal City, Texas," you may ask. The answer is the comic strip and cartoon classic, Popeye.

Incorporated in 1910, Crystal City is the county seat of Zavala County, Texas and quickly found spinach-growing to be its dominant industry. The town (which even today is home to fewer than 10,000 people) openly wanted to tout its ability to grow spinach beyond simply citing itself as the "Spinach Capitol [sic] of the World." So in the mid-1930s, they held a contest to design an appropriate statue. A practicing architect originally from Lithuania, Max Sandfield had his design chosen (although it was modified somewhat from his original submission). The statue was given the blessing of Popeye's creator himself, E.C. Segar.

The original statue is safely ensconced in the City Hall to protect it from vandals. A fiberglass reproduction is what sits outside. I can't seem to find reference to what the original is actually made out itself. Sandfield had originally suggested Texas limestone, but that was evidently nixed.

There are also Popeye statues in Chester, IL (Segar's hometown); Alma, AR ("Spinach Capital of the World"); and Springdale, AR (home of the Allen Canning Company which produces "Popeye Spinach"). The statue in Crystal City, however, is the oldest, debuting less than ten years after Popeye's creation. It is also the only one officially endorsed by Segar himself, as he died a year after it had been erected.

In the days before the internet, fans often got their news and communicated with each other via fanzines. It was cost-prohibitive to try to earn any money in any sort of mass market approach, so there were no readily available outlets for learning about Commando Cody serials or Captain Marvel comics, much less anything about personalities like Buster Crabbe or Kirk Alyn. Some enterprising fans took it upon themselves to produce fanzines to share what little they were able to scrounge. Typically, these were printed on a borrowed mimeograph machine and had circulations that rarely got to three digits.

As technologies improved, production capabilities got higher and costs got lower. So by the 1970s, it was possible to produce a professional-looking fan magazine and distribute it to thousands of people. Many of the veteran fanzine producers improved the look of their existing ‘zines, and long-time professional magazine publishers began to see the potential in catering to more niche audiences.

Many of these magazines have since fallen by the wayside. Their value propositions were largely undermined by the internet, as fans could get the same things faster and cheaper online. Why read about convention coverage a month or two after the fact, when you could see unfold in real time online?

But with the increasing attention that fans and fandom have been getting in the past several years, fanzines have also become worthy of more historical study.

In 2011, long-time science fiction fan James L. “Rusty” Hevelin died. Having collected sci-fi materials since the 1930s, he had amassed a collection of roughly 10,000 fanzines that he donated to The University of Iowa Libraries. Given the age of many of the materials, and that archiving them was scarcely a consideration in their original production, many are in less than ideal condition. But the Library took upon the project of scanning the entire collection and transcribing the contents into an online searchable database. Fan historians are able to read the histories of both science fiction and fandom unfold in a way that the typically small print runs of fanzines had made nearly impossible before. (It’s worth noting, somewhat ironically, that many of these fanzine scans, just in their casual perusal online, have significantly larger reading audiences than they ever had when they were first printed.) From what I can tell, they started the process in 2014 and finished transcribing everyting in 2018.

While some may find browsing these old records entertaining for nostalgic value, that’s not why they’re being scanned and made available. The scope of these projects is much larger than what would be necessary for that. These fanzines are now seen as valuable sources of first-hand information about the growth of both the genres they cover as well as the fandoms they catered to. While the study of fans and fandoms is still relatively new, these projects point to the increased sense of significance that it has, and they are willing to put forth some very real efforts to ensure that fanthropologists have as much access to as many materials as possible.

Here are this week's links to what I've had published recently...

Kleefeld on Comics: Hold On to Your Wallets
https://ift.tt/SLPZfa7

Kleefeld on Comics: From Nowhere!
https://ift.tt/CaS1PhW

Kleefeld on Comics: Dive In To Webcomics
https://ift.tt/dpV7U0b

Kleefeld on Comics: Pavelic & LeFlore v. Marvel
https://ift.tt/xGUYF75

Kleefeld on Comics: Revisiting Health Care Comics
https://ift.tt/Yc12yWL

So... kind of a big news week, right? I was talking just Monday how I've been focused on speed running our 2025 projects to avoid any of the batshit insane curveballs that will inevitably be addied to accomplishing them after January 20, and despite that focus, I still heard more than a little of the news. We've got s heath insurance CEO getting killed in broad daylight with people literally celebrating that. We've had the collapse of the French government after Michel Barnier's tenure as Prime Minister that lasted barely longer than Liz Truss's in the UK. We've had South Korea fall under martial law for only a few hours, but it was long enough for An Gwi-ryeong to pull off one of the most bad-ass moves I've ever seen from a politician while looking like she stepped off the set of one of the Matrix movies. We've had so much going on this week alone that a magnitude 7.0 earthquake in California followed by a tsunami warning barely registered as national news.

But between the spotlights on South Korea and the health insurance industry, it's reminded me of a story that Ryan Estrada did a few years ago that involves both. I wrote about it at the time, but I thought it might be poignant to re-run that today...

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I've talked about Ryan Estrada here before. It seems like he's always doing something interesting, even if that occasionally means it puts his life in peril. He's recently noted, though, that his closest brush with death came from sitting on a couch in Florida. Estrada has just posted on his site a 10-page story about how he had to undergo surgery for testicular torsion. Go over there and read about it. (Don't worry -- it's a family-friendly comics and no naughty bits are shown at any point!) Of the ten pages, the first page is basically the set-up, then there's seven pages of the story itself with a resolution on page nine. But then he has something of an epilogue on the last page, and that aspect of the story is what I want to focus on.

Estrada had been living in South Korea at the time, and he was only in Florida on visit. I mention that to explain A) why he didn't have health insurance, and B) why he "hid" in Korea after the events of the story; he simply returned home. The story was originally done for CORPUS: A Comic Anthology of Bodily Ailments, which came out last year. The anthology, and certainly Estrada's story in it, tie in to the growing trend of graphic medicine stories -- comics that are expressly related to medicine or illness. But while the crux of Estrada's story is indeed focused on the torsion incident itself, that last page -- the pseudo-epilogue I mentioned -- is about getting flooded with bills afterwards.

Estrada works as a freelance cartoonist. He doesn't make tons of money -- enough to live comfortably in South Korea, but he's not what you'd call wealthy. Estrada has been very open about his finances over the years. I don't know exactly when this story took place, but I think he was making about $20,000 annually around that time. Technically above the poverty line here in the US, but not by much. He noted to me that the bill for a one day stay in the hospital -- not counting any of the doctor visits, examination fees, etc. Just the hospital stay itself -- was more than that. He says he could have bought a house with the money that got racked up in bills.

And I don't think anyone familiar with the US medical system would question any of that. "Yup, sounds about right!"

The leading cause for bankruptcy in the United States is medical expenses. Roughly 2/3 of all bankruptcies in the US are because of medical bills that people can't afford. And nearly 80% of those people HAD health insurance!!

Go back and read Estrada's comic again. Out of a ten page story, discussion of medical costs/bills occur on literally half the pages. As he's lying there in a fetal position, experiencing the worst pain in his life, he's actively talking about skipping parts of health care because of the cost. His very first line of dialogue is: "Does anyone know how much it costs to go to an emergency room if you don't have insurance?" My point is that the health care system here in the US is so fucked up that there are literally no walls between discussions of actual health care and how life-shatteringly expensive it is. Estrada was asked to write a story about "bodily ailments" and half of his story is about the financial impact of it. The two are so intertwined as to be inseparable.

Estrada is certainly not unique in being in this position. But his story highlights for me two conclusions:

1. Graphic medicine as a genre of comics will continue to expand, but will also increasingly incorporate a great deal of financial issues/concerns as well. This will require two sets of storytelling skills from artists -- the ability to relay medical information and the ability to relay financial information -- and those who are talented at both will be the stand-out artists that are celebrated. This could have the potential effect of talented graphic medicine artists (unfortunately) not getting enough credit and/or accolades because they're not as adept at relaying the fiscal side of the story.
2. As a society, we're going to see more and more people emigrate to other countries specifically to escape medical bills. Estrada, as I said, already had made a home in South Korea, so he wasn't trying to escape the bills specifically, but he did discover something of a loophole that worked to his advantage. It will only be a matter of time before this becomes more widely practiced as an intentional means of fleeing impossible medical debts.

Both of these, for different reason, give me cause for concern. Estrada has more than once proven he's generally ahead of the curve compared to everybody else (he literally invented "normcore") and while I generally like to celebrate that about him, this is one time I hope he doesn't become a trend-setter.

Did you know that a David from Sesame Street fought a legal battle against Marvel that went all the way to the Supreme Court?

Northern Calloway, the actor who played David, had created a character called The Skyrider that he wanted to create an animated movie around. When Marvel began working on it, Calloway sued for copyright infringement. Except that Calloway had sold the rights to a company called LMN Productions who, in turn, transferred them to Marvel. Calloway's lawyers said the documents were forgeries with no evidence to that claim, and Calloway's lawyer ultimately took the brunt of the court ruling, being personally fined $50,000 basically for wasting everybody's time.

Here's how it was written up in the April 1990 issue of Entertainment Law Reporter...

United States Supreme Court upholds sanctions against individual lawyer, but not law firm, for filing meritless claims against Marvel Entertainment

The United States Supreme Court has ruled that the sanctions available under Rule 11 of the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure may be imposed against individual lawyers only, not their firms.

The issue arose, as reported at ELR 10:10:19, in a proceeding brought in 1982 by actor Northern Calloway. Calloway, best known for his role as "David" in the television program "Sesame Street," claimed that Marvel Entertainment Group infringed his copyrighted script for a proposed animated science fiction movie entitled "The Skyrider." Marvel presented contracts indicating that Calloway had sold his rights in "The Skyrider" to LMN Productions, and that LMN had transferred those rights to the Marvel parties.

A Federal District Court dismissed Calloway's complaint (with leave to refile) on the ground that the complaint did not specify the registration number of his copyright and the dates upon which the alleged acts of infringement occurred.

An amended complaint, signed by Calloway's lawyer, Ray L. LeFlore, was filed. The amended complaint remedied the defects cited by the court and also asserted that Calloway's signatures on the option documents were forged.

In 1984, LeFlore joined with Radovan Pavelic to form the law partnership of Pavelic & LeFlore; court papers in the case subsequently were signed "Pavelic & LeFLore By /s/ Ray L. LeFlore (A Member of the Firm) Attorneys for Plaintiff."

The District Court directed a verdict in favor of Marvel on the allegation of forgery. After a six week trial, a jury, notwithstanding Calloway's arguments challenging the validity of the contracts, returned a verdict in favor of Marvel.

The court, stating that the forgery claim had no basis in fact, and was not investigated sufficiently by the lawyers, imposed Rule 11 sanctions in the amount of $50,000 on the law firm of Pavelic & LeFlore, and $50,000 on Ray L. LeFlore.

A Federal Court of Appeals upheld the imposition of sanctions against the law firm and against LeFlore, but, on the court's own motion, reinstated Calloway's appeal of a separate judgment imposing sanctions of $100,000 against the actor.

The United States Supreme Court has reversed the Court of Appeals' decision with respect to the $50,000 in sanctions imposed against the law firm of Pavelic & LeFlore on the ground that Rule 11 provides that when a paper is signed in violation of the Rule, a court may "impose upon the person who signed it ... an appropriate sanction." Justice Antonin Scalia noted that the Rule "strikingly" departs from normal common-law assumptions such as that of delegability - the signing attorney represents that the filed paper is factually and legally responsible, and that "he personally has applied his own judgment. Where the text establishes a duty that cannot be delegated, one may reasonably expect it to authorize punishment only of the party upon whom the duty is placed."

The Court of Appeals judgment therefore was reversed insofar as it allowed Rule 11 sanctions to be imposed against Pavelic & LeFlore, and the case was remanded for further proceedings.

Justice Marshall, in dissent, viewed the court's interpretation of Rule 11 as overly restrictive in reading into the Rule "an absolute immunity for law firms from any sanction for their misconduct." The court's decision would result in an "unnecessary erosion of the discretion of federal judges," stated Justice Marshall, for the Rule could be read as allowing a court to impose sanctions on any juridical person, including the law firm of the individual signer. Justice Marshall concluded by emphasizing that the decision "unwisely ties the hands of trial judges who must deal frequently and immediately with Rule 11 violations and ill serves the goal of administering that Rule justly and efficiently."

I can't find any details about The Skyrider project itself, much less any concept designs or drawings of what the project might have entailed. It doesn't appear that Marvel ultimately did anything with it. I suspect this was due to the fact that it was tied up in litigation for the better part of a decade and, ultimately, everyone at Marvel who might've been interested in back in 1982 when Calloway first filed suit had either gone on to other projects and/or left the company entirely by 1990 when this was finally wrapped up. (Calloway himself passed away in January of that year.) As near as I can tell, though, Marvel still owns the rights to The Skyrider if they wanted to pursue it again in any capacity.

I first started reading webcomics about twenty years ago. I had been enjoying Phil and Kaja Foglio’s Girl Genius in its printed form (I was actually a fan of Phil’s going back to his days working on “What’s New?” in the back of Dragon Magazine) and they dropped the printed version in late 2004 when they realized it was only breaking even and all the money they were earning from the series came the online version. So if I wanted to continue reading the story, I had to switch to the online iteration.

At the time, I felt I was a long-standing holdout to webcomics. By that point, comics like PvP and Penny Arcade were already big hits. Even though I still loved my print comics, I could see that comics as a whole were heading towards the web. My biggest issue at the time was that my favorite characters from Marvel, DC, Dark Horse, etc. weren’t available in digital form yet. But since I had broken the ice with Girl Genius, I figured I might as well start checking the whole webcomics scene out.

Any of the webcomics that were basically just gag strips were easy to pick up. Just like how you can grab a newspaper and follow along with everything, even if there are a bunch of strips you’ve never seen before. There’s no real continuity or on-going story; that day’s strip has all you need to understand and appreciate it.

But webcomics that were more serial in nature, the ones that were telling long-form stories over the course of months and years… those were scary. I didn’t like the prospect of trying to dig through years of updates to sort out what was going on. But I soon struck on an interesting realization: I had already done exactly that.

When I first really got into comics, I started with John Byrne’s run on the Fantastic Four. I was gifted issue #254 and found myself hooked within half a dozen pages. I promptly went out to buy #255, and #256, and so on. But it wasn’t long before it dawned on me that there were over 250 issues that already came before that I had no clue about! I had jumped into the middle of huge story and just figured it out as I went along.

Why not do that with webcomics?

The big reason one could argue is that Byrne was a long-standing professional by the time he was working on the FF, so he knew how to tell a story well, but a webcomicker might not be so talented and figuring out the story from the reader’s perspective might be more difficult without going all the way back to the beginning.

Which is a fair arguement to make. But the flip side to that is that if you, as a reader jumping into the middle of a webcomic, can’t parse what’s going on after a month or two of updates, maybe the creator — and thus, the comic — isn’t very good. There are literally thousands of webcomics out there, and you can use the creator’s long-form storytelling abilities as a gauge to keep your reading list from getting too overwhelming. (Which is easy to do — trust me! I stopped counting when my dedicated webcomics feed reader went north of 300 titles!)

Now there may be any number of other reasons why you might want to keep following a webcomic where you can’t completely follow the broader story, but if you’re trying to determine whether it’s worth starting to follow it, go ahead and dive in! If it turns out you can’t follow along, then you can drop it without having invested anything more than a little of your time. You’ve probably already spent more testing out different pamphlet comics; why not give some webcomics a chance as well?

Jeff Smith first began drawing figures that would eventually become Bone characters when he was five years old. By the time he was nine, he was drawing the characters into his own hand-made comics. When he got to college, he developed them further in his Thorn comic strip which was published in the school newspaper. He finally published the first pamphlet issue of Bone in 1991. He collected those first issues in his first two trade paperbacks in 1995, shortly after portions began to be serialized in Disney Adventures magazine. Smith then essentially had a collected edition of Bone stories come out every year through 2004, at which time Scholastic published a one-volume edition of the entire Bone saga. They then published a color edition of all the original paperbacks every six months through 2009. In 2011, in conjunction with the first issue’s 20th anniversary, Scholastic released a new one-volume edition in full color.

If you look at Smith’s work with Bone, you can see a progression, not only of his art and storytelling ability, but also his audience. Those earliest drawings were probably seen by no more than a handful of people. The Thorn comic strips were collected, but had a print run of only 1,000. I seem to recall his initial print run of Bone #1 was only a couple thousand, but that steadily increased as word got out about the book. Obviously, by the time he was seeing his work published by Disney and Scholastic, his readership was in the hundreds of thousands.

What I’m leading up to with all that is that Smith just didn’t suddenly “appear” on the comics scene. He built up his audience slowly, and odds are many people came to know his work gradually. Maybe they caught reference to it in another comics’ letters page. Maybe they saw a review in Hero Illustrated or Wizard. Maybe they saw it plugged in Diamond Previews. Over time, people’s recognition morphed from “Bone? Yeah, that sounds kinda familiar,” to universities asking him to give commencement addresses.

Smith’s notoriety grew in that way in part because there were very few outlets to discuss comics. If you wanted news about what was going on in the industry, you only had three or four options beyond anything that came directly from the publishers themselves. So nearly all of comics fandom shared the same information, and everybody’s awareness of Smith and Bone came about, not quite simultaneously, but certainly in tandem.

With the internet, however, we no longer have a small number of outlets for comics information. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of news sites, blogs, fan pages, etc. all talking about different aspects of comics. Which means that, while a webcomics’ reach is potentially much farther than traditional print comics, it’s also more challenging to gain widespread name recognition throughout the industry. Fans are able to filter their information circles so that they essentially travel in echo chambers, where everyone always talks about the same things. Which means that as one creator’s circle of fans is slowly growing, another circle might not hear anything about it.

Consequently, with these echo chambers in place, it’s possible for a webcomic creator to develop a significant and devoted following and still fly under the radar of more “mainstream” comics news outlets. And if one of those fans happens to be an editor or a publisher, it’s entirely possible that the first thing you might hear about a creator is when they’ve got a new book being published with a sizeable marketing campaign behind it.

While there have always been comic creators who seemed to spring from nowhere, it’s increasingly common for webcomic creators to take this “surprise” popularity route. Just as we no longer have only three television stations which allow nearly everyone to collectively share the same shows, we no longer have a small handful of outlets trying to act as comics tastemakers. There are so many looking at so many different webcomics, it’s not difficult to find webcomickers who’ve got years of strips behind them already, with a devoted audience, and see them picked up and suddenly given center stage and a spotlight.