Milton Caniff: Remembering The Rembrandt
Of The Comics
by Neal Romanek & Glenn Romanek
Filmmakers, illustrators, comic authors are part of a long heritage of pictorial storytelling, and knowing where you've come from is at least as important as knowing where you're going. So, to write an observance of the 100th birthday of Milton Caniff, I asked my dad about his hero:
Milton Caniff? My favorite. And the best. Rembrandt of the Comic Strips.
You know that I lived with a lot of relatives - “extended family” they call it - in a coal mining company house in Depression Era West Virginia. Cheap but dirty. Sunday morning became a cat and dog fight about who, after a big pancake and sausage breakfast, would read The Funnies first.
I was twelve when I found Milton Caniff' and his Far East adventure “Terry and the Pirates”.
Talk about hooked! I could hardly wait for the next day’s episode. Always exciting, always suspenseful and satisfying. And excellent writing, superb draftsmanship, never surpassed. Milton Caniff was a brush and ink man: Yes, Rembrandt of the Comic Strips. Dark and light; nearly 3-D. Have you looked at Rembrandt’s lightning-brushed wash drawings?
Caniff said that the strip's suspense helped sell newspapers; and he was amply rewarded. I read, when he started "Steve Canyon", he was making 100,000 bucks or so a year, a pretty good pile sixty years ago - can it be 60 years!
Both Terry and Canyon always came across as people you could meet and know, and with whom you could easily imagine traipsing around the world and outwitting the bad guys - not to mention having Burma and Summer Smith as girl friends. And Dragon Lady. And Copper Calhoon. And Madam Lynx.
You know, no comic strip artist has ever matched the sexiness of Caniff’s female characters. Compare the big boobs and butts of 90% of artists out there to Caniff’s realistic sirens. They’re not paper dolls. They live and breathe. And in sheer variety and number of characters alone, Caniff gets the nod over other comic authors.
I’m still in love with Burma, Copper Calhoun, and a couple of others, and maintain an unwise lust for Cheetah. True, "Prince Valiant's" Aleta of the Misty Isles was beautiful - Botticelli-beautiful - and Dale in "Flash Gordon" was a dish well-served on Mongo or elsewhere, but the intangible touch of self-revealed intimacy of Caniff's women is matchless. A few inches in front of your nose, up close and personal, is better than up on a pedestal - or a spaceship.
Early in his career, when Caniff worked for the Columbus Dispatch, he told an editor that he wanted to be an actor. The guy told him, “Stick to your ink pots, kid. Actors don’t eat regular.” Caniff didn’t become an actor, but he became a marvelous director!
When "Steve Canyon" began in 1947 – the same year the US Air Force was founded - I started to save all of its strips. I discovered that the best Sunday strip was on the front comic page of the New York Mirror. I don’t why, but the color was more intense than any other I knew about, and seemingly was a crisper print.
There was a continuing patriotism in Caniff's work. He had volunteered to join the Army, but because of his physical disabilities, was not accepted. He was a “bleeder”, you know. I read years ago that he said "A knock on my leg could knock me off." Caniff did a lot of art work for the US government - in particular, the Air Force -- gratis. I have no doubt his work helped influence many to join it. And he would write and draw special strips for events such as Armed Forces Day, Veterans Day, etc.
Toward the end of Caniff's life, in appreciation for Steve Canyon's many contributions to the Air Force and his country, the US government officially gave the Canyon character his own personal Service Number. Quite a tribute to Caniff.
Like a slow death, the last few years of Steve Canyon lost its energy and beauty. The size of the panels was reduced. The drawing and inking was tentative, and Steve would dream of being in the American Revolution or some other incongruous historical experience. I think Caniff let others do most of the work, and perhaps guided the story and penciled some of the action, but I don’t know.
Also, he was approaching eighty years of age
All lovers of comics should be forever grateful the kid stuck to his ink pots.
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