Comics Alternative Re-Post: Steve Leialoha

In 2014, I did a few interviews for the late, much missed podcast and comics news site Comics Alternative. I recently discovered no one took over the site after Derek Royal’s untimely death, but parts of it can still be found on the Internet Archive’s Wayback Machine. I’m reposting them here so they will be easier to find.

Here’s an interview with Steve Leialoha from August 2014.

In June, I had the opportunity to visit with Steve Leialoha, veteran comics artist, about his career and future plans after his twelve-year involvement in Fables, which is wrapping up with issue #150. An all-around excellent artist, but best known as an inker, Steve has been working professionally in comics since the 1960s, starting with fanzines, then moving on to Marvel and DC. A native San Franciscan, he is tall and soft-spoken with an easy smile. His father was Hawaiian, infusing Steve with a love of Hawaiian culture and also an affection for quirky stereotypical interpretation of it (he particularly likes the Tiki Room at Disneyland-Anaheim). He travels to Hawaii frequently to visit his extended family.

We had a nice chat over sandwiches sitting on the back patio at Through Bread in San Francisco’s Market/Church Street neighborhood, and then adjourned across the street to the flat he shares with his partner, comics creator and “herstorian” Trina Robbins.  We talked in their home office surrounded by memorabilia and Trina’s collection of Wonder Woman knickknacks.  In a place of honor over the computer is a stunning splash page drawing of Wonder Woman fighting the Cheetah, by Harry G. Peter, drawn around 1948. Steve had bought this drawing for Trina at a convention about twenty-five years ago and said that it may have been originally intended for Comics Cavalcade, but it may not have been printed until the 1970s.


Kim Munson: Trina tells me this [Wonder Woman] page is the star of her collection.

Steve Leialoha: There’s very little original Wonder Woman art around. As far as I know, that’s the nicest splash page in existence.

KM: So, Steve, how did you start? Were you always drawing as a kid? Did you read comics?

SL: As a kid, I was always drawing.  My dad would always give me comics. I mean, he would like to read all sorts of stuff, and he would pass everything along to me. Harvey comics and that kind of thing, when I was six or seven. As I got older, the Marvel Age, which I think of starting like in 1962, I was ten, which is certainly a good age for reading that stuff.

KM: It’s always interesting how people break into the industry. What’s your story?

SL: Oh my — the humble beginnings…  In high school, during the days of fanzines, back in those pre-digital days when you couldn’t just email somebody and get information, we’d found out about fanzines and whatnot through magazines like Creepy and Eerie and Castle of Frankenstein. I started to get interested in seeing if I could get some of my drawings published. I wrote out a few inquiries here and there and got some early fanzines, and one was a thing put out called…I can’t even remember the title of it, but the editors were Marv Wolfman and Len Wein, two young guys who had not yet turned professional.

So, anyway, the first comic I ever attempted was written by Marv Wolfman and I drew it on ditto masters. That was back in 1967.

At San Diego Comic-Con around 1970, I met Mark Evanier. He encouraged me to draw one of his scripts, so my first published work was in a Dennis Kitchen comic called High Adventure, which came out in 1973. Mark wrote it and I drew it, and John Pound was the inker on it. In hindsight, it wasn’t so bad. I mean, it wasn’t the greatest thing in the world, but it was a nice way to start .I was always grateful to Dennis Kitchen for publishing me.

KM: How did you discover inking? Did you always draw in ink, or was that a new thing? How did you get into that?

SL: By the early ’70s I started going to conventions and was being inspired by getting to meet guys like Jack Kirby, and I remember having a nice chat with Burne Hogarth and all of these well-established icons of the comics world. Back in those days, the common wisdom was that you had to live in New York to work in comics. So I never really considered it, but as the ’70s progressed, they began to loosen up those rules, realizing that you could actually work by mail and it would be just fine.

In the early ’70s, a lot of the guys that worked for Marvel moved to Oakland and Berkeley, and I started showing my work to some of them. People like Mike Friedrich, who was actually from here [San Francisco] originally, Alan Weiss, Frank Brunner, Jim Starlin; they were living in Oakland at that time. Alan Weiss wanted to hire some local inkers to help him on various projects, so I started showing samples to him, and Jim Starlin saw some of them. He wanted to be able to pencil and ink a whole issue of Warlock before sending it in to the office.

KM: How did they usually do it?

SL:  The usual method was to pencil a book, send it into the office, they would check it, send it off to the letterer, then it would be sent off to the inker. Starlin wanted to have the whole thing done out here so that he could send in a complete book. It saved a lot of time. Tom Orzechowski, ace letterer, was also living out here. At that point in time, my drawing wasn’t that good. My inking was better than my penciling. So, why not ink? And working with Starlin was great for me as an inker because it just happened that my favorite book at that time was Warlock, and Jim was doing extremely tight pencils. Al Milgrom used to joke that all you had to do was pour ink into the corner of the page and it would flow into the grooves of the pencil.  I inked issue #9 up through issue #15, which is where Starlin left Marvel for a time to go work in animation.

After I’d inked an issue of Warlock, Frank Brunner wanted to do Howard the Duck out here. So he asked me if I would be interested in inking Howard the Duck, and in those days, both of those books were bi-monthly, and they were on alternating schedules, so I could accommodate inking Warlock and Howard the Duck at the same time. For the first year or so, both of those titles were bi-monthly. So it worked out very nicely for me.

KM: I loved all those cosmic books in the 1970s! I’m glad to see Jim Starlin back in the news with Guardians of the Galaxy. Let’s move on to the book you are on now. You’ve probably told this story a million times, but how did you start on Fables? You’ve had a an amazing twelve-year run on it.

SL: Like many of these things, it was sort of a chance pairing up that worked out really well. I’d done a little bit of work at Vertigo and a little bit of work for Shelly Bond, the editor of Fables. And they had a new book and needed an inker, and she asked me if I’d ink the first story arc, and it just worked out.

We’re at 144 issues at the moment. I didn’t ink every issue, by any means. I think of myself as part of the regular team, but there are many other artists involved. In fact, that’s one of the things that I like about Fables, is that it’s not one “look,” everyone brings their own interpretation to it. Which is the nature of actual fables, everyone does their own take. There are countless variations on these stories and different people telling them. Even though, technically in the series, it’s all Bill Willingham who’s doing the writing, of course. I think I’ve probably inked at least 100 issues.

KM: What do you think about it coming to an end, finally?

SL: Well, I think it’s a good idea in that there’s all these storylines, and now we can actually wrap them up.  I always like it when things can come to a conclusion.

KM: They must be planning something special for the final issue. What can you tell me about it?

SL: I’ve penciled a couple of issues of Fables, and I’m doing something for the final issue. The final issue, #150, is going to be a giant-sized issue: 150 pages. So, there’s going to be a lot of people, different artists contributing final story arcs on all the various characters, and I’m doing one of them.

KM: Which story?

SL: Blue. Boy Blue. Currently in Fables, they’ve already started doing a couple of them. The most recent issue that I’ve seen out has the last Flycatcher story. Well, it’s just a little vignette, you might say; it’s just one page.

The thing about Fables is that, in the past I would generally switch back and forth because I’m a slow penciler, but at the same time I usually have a short attention span, so if I’m inking one book for six months straight, then that’s usually enough. But Fables has actually been a lot of fun, and it changes a lot, and Mark Buckingham is a terrific penciler who likes to change up his styles and approach often. So it keeps it all very fresh, even though it’s been twelve years, it’s still fun to work on.

KM: Trina told me that now that Fables is wrapping up, you might be considering moving into a graphic novel of your own.

SL: Since I haven’t had the opportunity to actually draw anything for ages, I have a lot of ideas I’d like to do. I’ve wanted to do stuff with Polynesian mythological elements. I have a nice concept in mind that I really am looking forward to trying. The idea started with a Robert Louis Stevenson story I illustrated, set in the South Seas. I’m interested in the contrast between tourists and the local culture.

Working on Fables has given me a lot of ideas about how to approach these things. There are so many TV shows and movies that are working off the same premise. But, oddly enough, few of them are any good.

KM: Before we wrap up, tell me about your comic book Rock band.

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SL: Back in the ’80s, I was in a comic book Rock n’ Roll band: Seduction of the Innocent. Max Collins on the keyboards and vocals, Bill Mumy, who was the brains of the outfit on guitar, Miguel Ferrer playing drums. They’re all fabulous musicians. I played bass. Everyone in the band was somehow connected in the comics biz. We also had John “Chris” Christensen on drums and guitar; he’d been involved with The Spirit Picture Disk for Kitchen Sink Press.

The first time I met those guys, it was one of the San Diego parties, with a band… I just ended up in the back of the room with a bunch of guys who were saying, “Oh, I play music.” Somebody said, “Oh, you can play better than that.” And we figured we should either stop saying we could play better than that, or put a band together and actually see whether or not we could play better than that. So we did. It was a bit of a challenge, because Al Collins lived in Muscatine, Iowa, and I live in San Francisco, and Bill and Miguel both live in LA.

KM: That must have really complicated things, how did you guys work that out?

SL: We had to do it all by mail, in those pre-digital days, sending cassettes of tunes we all wanted to learn. We put together a list of songs that we all knew and could probably play without rehearsing as a core group of songs. Then we got together and it actually sounded pretty decent. Bill and Miguel and Al Collins all wrote a lot of original tunes.

Bill wrote a couple of nice tunes in honor of Jack Kirby. We had learned a couple of songs, a couple of older tunes just so that it would give them something to dance to that wasn’t loud Rock n’ Roll music. We learned the Gershwin tune “Our Love is Here to Stay,” which was a challenge, but fun. One of the highlights for me was, one of the times we played, Jack and Roz got up to dance. Every year at San Diego Comic-Con during the Eisner Awards, there’s a moment of remembrance for Jack Kirby and they always show this picture of Jack and Roz dancing. You can see Seduction of the Innocent up there behind them, providing the music for it. We were very honored to do that for Jack.

KM: The Kirby/Roz photo and more photos of the band are included in Jackie Estrada’s new book Comic Book People: Photographs from the 1970s and 1980s.  Thank you Steve, and good luck with Fables and your new graphic novel project.

Comics Alternative Re-Post: Denis Kitchen

In 2014, I did a few interviews for the late, much missed podcast and comics news site Comics Alternative. I recently discovered no one took over the site after Derek Royal’s untimely death, but parts of it can still be found on the Internet Archive’s Wayback Machine. I’m reposting them here so they will be easier to find.

Here’s an interview with Denis Kitchen from October 2014.

Kim Munson: Congrats on the Harvey Awards for Kitchen Sink’s The Best of Comix Book!

Denis Kitchen: Feels good, Kim! Especially after winning the two awards for our debut title. It also felt good to have that material finally be reprinted after literally 40 years. I also have to add how gracious and enthused Stan Lee was about this experimental material. He went way out on a limb back in 1974. I’m astonished what us hippie cartoonists got away with on Marvel’s dime!

KM: How does it feel to be a publisher again?

DK: The nice thing about the new imprint arrangement is that my Kitchen Sink Books partner John Lind and I get to focus completely on the editorial and design side of books, while our publishing partner Dark Horse gets to do the “fun” stuff like dealing with manufacturers, distribution, warehousing, collecting money, and certain other aspects of publishing we’re happy to be peripheral to!

KM: The Best of Comix Book has a great cover by Peter Poplalski, who also did the original 1973 cover for Comix Book #1, and this lovely portrait of you.. You’ve been at one comics convention after another, from San Diego Comic-Con International in July to the New York Comic Con that just wrapped up. What interesting trends have you spotted?

DK: Besides that everyone is getting younger and younger? Or than non-comics elements keep taking over the real estate at big conventions? There seems to finally be an actual gender balance. And I’ve noticed that many of the youngest comics creators are on Tumblr and other sites that bear only a passing resemblance to the printed matter still dearest to me. Hopefully, there’s room — and a market — for all formats. Most people still seem to like physical publications. We’re working the higher-end market, where there’s a certain fetishistic element to owning beautiful books.

KM: I heard that Kitchen Sink’s next book is a premium re-issue of Kurtman’s Jungle Book. Are you adding new material?

DK: Yes, definitely. John Lind redesigned the book, so it’s really sharp looking. And there’s considerable new material: I wrote an essay to put this important 1959 work in context. Then Gilbert Shelton, who first broke in with Kurtzman’s Help! magazine wrote an intro. We also have a dialogue between Robert Crumb and Pete Poplaski about Jungle Book. And we recycled Art Spiegelman’s intro from the late ’80s Kitchen Sink edition. So, basically, there are varying texts by five guys who all grew up worshipping Kurtzman. I know older Kurtzman fans will support this, but what we really want is to introduce Kurtzman to a newer generation of fans. Jungle Book is the first of a half dozen or so out-of-print or never-before-collected Kurtzman works on our publishing agenda.

KM: Switching to your artist hat — you just opened an art exhibit of your own work at the University of Wisconsin, called The Oddly Compelling Art of Denis Kitchen, which is the same name as your Eisner Nominated 2010 book. That must have been gratifying since you grew up in that area. Tell me about the show and what that experience was like.

DK: It was especially gratifying to have an exhibit where I could meet old friends and family. The gallery asked me to provide a show predominantly of my own work, but also with examples of a few artists who had an influence on my career. So a little over half the exhibit was my art, with the rest comprised of originals by Will Eisner, Al Capp, and R. Crumb. I received top billing on the poster because I was the hometown boy, but it’ll be the last time I get billing over any of those artists again.

KM: I see you are featured on the cover of the Spring 2014 issue of TwoMorrow’s Comic Book Creator.

DK: Yeah, the cover where I did a self-portrait literally showing all the hats I wear? That’s a phrase I’ve used a lot to describe my career, but it was the first time I tried to actually show the hats. The artist me is of course wearing a fancy general’s hat, then, the CBLDF hat is a Viking helmet, et cetera. The agent hat — clearly my least favorite — looks like a Ku Klux Klan hood. Jon Cooke interviewed me at considerable length and the manuscript turned out so long — 75,000 words, I think — that they couldn’t fit it in the magazine, so the last half is posted online.

KM: Speaking of exhibitions, I see there’s currently an Eisner Show at OSU/Billy Ireland. I’m glad to see these shows of his work. It keeps his work alive and helps new people discover him.

DK: Indeed. The bulk of that exhibit comes from OSU’s own Eisner collection with a few gaps I filled in from the family’s archives I oversee here. Eisner is one of those seminal comics creators whose legacy continues to grow, which is very satisfying to see. Every year there are two or three Eisner exhibits here and abroad. There’s one in Munich next spring tied to The Spirit’s 75th anniversary, and conversations going on about possible others. And for the centennial of Will’s birth in 2017, at least two museums in Europe are planning a major traveling show.

KM:  Masterful Marks is out from Simon & Shuster, and I remember you said that you were nervous about your contribution about Dr. Seuss. Are you ultimately happy with it? The book is beautiful.

DK: Thanks. I thought editor Monte Beauchamp did a masterful editing job on that. I recall being nervous when we spoke because he’s such an icon, but I’m very pleased with how my mini-graphic bio came out. There are always a couple of panels you wince at and want to fix, but I’m happy with it. I think I was chosen because I can easily ape Seuss’s style. The Huffington Post recently did a nice piece on my cartoon. That was an unexpected surprise because I was in such great company.

KM: Did anyone else’s contribution particularly impress or surprise you?

DK: I was particularly impressed with Drew Friedman’s take on Crumb. Drew’s art is always stunning, but I liked the way he worked in his personal relationship with Crumb, while also giving readers a sense of Crumb’s career, not an easy mix. I definitely enjoyed Peter Kuper’s job on Harvey Kurtzman, and I learned a lot about some artists I only knew on a kind of superficial level. The one I’m still scratching my head over is the Jack Kirby chapter by Mark Alan Stamaty, whose style is just so 180 degrees different than Kirby’s that I found myself visually disoriented. That one may yet grow on me. But it’s a great collection. I was thrilled to be a part of that ensemble.

Women in Comics on Comixplex 5/12

Wide-ranging discussion of (mostly) Golden Age women. Discussion of Lily Renee with Trina and David includes clip from new Lily Renee documentary. Colleen enlightened us all about the art of Rose O’Neill, who had a lot more going on than the Kewpies she was famous for. Trina talks about Tarpe Mills and Miss Fury. I talk about the first comprehensive art historical exhibit of comic art and comic books in 1942, curated by the illustrator Jessie Gillispie Willing, and Marinaimi talks about the influence of Mary Fleener’s work on her own art. Ends with a short video of Lily Renee blowing out birthday candles.

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Comic Art in Museums reviewed in German Journal

Keywords: comic art; museum; exhibition criticism; exhibition analysis

Kim A. Munson: Comic Art in Museums. Jackson: Mississippi UP 2020, 390 p., ISBN 9781496828071, USD 30,-.

(Translated from German) When comics scholar Kim A. Munson wanted to write her master's thesis on comics and museums at San Francisco State University's Department of History in 2008, she found herself under pressure to justify her work: in addition to theoretical literature and the International Journal of Comic Art, it was also the (scholarly) catalogs accompanying comics exhibitions such as Masters of American Comics (2005) that acted as the Holy Helpers in convincing her examining committee of the academic seriousness of her project. With this anthology, published twelve years later, Munson now intends to present the kind of introduction to the subject matter that she missed at the time: "an introduction to the history and controversies that have shaped comics exhibitions, who the pioneers were, different ideas about comic art exhibits around the world, how the best practices for displaying comics have developed and why, and how artists and curators have found ways to display comics that break away from the 'framed pages on the wall' format" (p.3). This statement of intent already indicates one strength of the nearly 400-page anthology: Perspective pluralism. In addition to Munson, 34 other people have contributed to the publication: they belong to different academic disciplines, write journalistically about comics, are comics creators themselves, and/or curate comics exhibitions. Trina Robbins combines all these facets in one person. She is one of six women who contributed to the anthology and is thus woefully underrepresented here. In 36 texts - a combination of essays, interviews, and exhibition reviews - the contributors approach different aspects of the genesis of the museum-worthiness of the medium of comics, a development that began in the USA as early as the 1930s. A total of 20 contributions are reprints of texts from the years 1942 to 2018. Unlike the German research literature on the related literary exhibition, which (ignoring comics) has come across as distinctly theory-based and -oriented, especially in the last ten years (e.g. Sandra Potsch: Literatur sehen. Bielefeld: transcript 2019), Munson's "curated selection" (p.5) sets other accents. She is interested in the history of comics exhibitions with particular attention to the history of reception and exhibition criticism.

Munson curates her material by organizing it into six thematic sections. Each section is preceded by an introductory passage. Irritatingly, these - although sometimes as long as seven pages and accompanied by illustrations - do not seem to appear in the table of contents. The first chapter, which is generally devoted to the phenomenon of comic art in museums and deals not least with the question of originality, is followed by an overview of the pioneering phase of comic exhibitions from 1930-1967 and the post-pop art phase from 1970 onward. Another section brings together texts under the title "Expanding Views of Comic Art: Topics and Display," which focus, among other things, on new presentation concepts and once-taboo topics. "Masters of High and Low: Exhibitions in Dialogue" highlights the controversial discussion of the survey exhibitions "High and Low: Modern Art and Popular Culture" (MOMA, New York, 1990) and "Masters of American Comics" (Hammer Museum/Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles, 2005), especially with regard to the latter's critically questionable canonization, which was characterized as "all-male, all-white" with the exception of African American comic artist George Herriman (see p.8). The texts in the final section take a look at a number of contemporary exhibitions on individual comic artists, with a focus here on Art Spiegelman and Jack Kirby. Although the geographic focus of the publication is on exhibitions in the U.S., there are a few contributions on comic exhibitions outside North America, namely "I Exposicao Internacional de Historias em Quadrinhos" (Sao Paulo, 1951), "Bande dessinée et figuration narrative" (Paris, 1967), and on current exhibition trends in Japan and the Middle East. The compilation of comic museums and exhibition houses with a comic focus is also internationally conceived and encourages further research - which corresponds to the intention of the editor expressed in the introduction. Munson's intention to address students with this anthology is reflected not only in its overview character but also in its extremely affordable price.

Barbara Margarethe Eggert (Linz)

MEDIENwissenschaft, 38.1 (2021), pp. 51-52