Uncle Tom’s Cabin-Classics Illustrated version, by Fred Hembeck

And then, the evil Legree stalks off, satisfied that he’d dealt out a sickening sort of justice.

The first blogger I knew personally was my friend Fred Hembeck. One of his posts that most impressed me, and probably got me to start blogging a couple months later, was his February 25, 2005 piece on a particular comic book. Fred has allowed me to reprint his story. After a mention of an accidental(?) coloring error in an issue of Sgt. Fury:

I soon realized Gabe WASN’T the first African-American I’d encountered in the comics. A full three years earlier–maybe four–I read a couple of key issues of CLASSICS ILLUSTRATED.

One was their adaptation of Harriet Beecher Stowe’s historic 1852 novel, “Uncle Tom’s Cabin”…

Before we get to that particular story, first a few words about CLASSICS ILLUSTRATED in general.

They scared me.

Compared to the sunny Harvey and Dell comics I was used to at that point–this was when I was a mere lad of 6 or 7, and not yet fully aware of the DC and Atlas titles out there, bear in mind–the dark and overly delineated artwork looked to be from another century, and the stories themselves, though greatly watered down from their sources, included what ALL the great classics did–DEATH, and lots of it!

(I touched on this topic in pictorial form in an episode of my “Little Freddy” stripCLASSICS ILLUSTRATED website, “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” was originally published in 1943, and was never overhauled. The stiff and archaic appearing linework provided by an artist named Rolland Livingstone nearly two decades before I had a chance to read it was the only pulp paper pictures the Civil War-inciting saga was ever to know. To my younger self — and even still now — the drawings look as if they actually could’ve been done during that era, and at age seven, I found that very notion unsettling.

I also learned that seven full pages had been eliminated from the 1943 version by the time 1960 rolled around, what with ALL comic books reducing their page counts in the interim years. Perhaps that’s why the story seemed a bit disjointed–and the Cabin in the title totally absent from the action — when I sat down to read it for the first time in over forty years last night…

(And no, I’d never actually read the original, but oddly enough, it was one of several books ninth-grader Julie was assigned to read this fall for her English class in the new school she’s going to, along with “The Adventures Of Huckleberry Finn”, “Ragtime”, “The Joy Luck Club”, “The God Of Small Things”, and “My Antonia” –and that was six more books than she was obligated to read during the entirety of her two-year tenure in our local public school junior high, one of several motivating factors for her change of scene, but that’s a topic for ANOTHER time. And no, she didn’t READ the comic book version, though I DID offer to let her peruse it after she’d successfully completed her paperback, mainly as an aid in assisting her prepare for testing. True to past form, Julie pooh-poohed the comics and managed just fine without it. For the record, while she found some of it needlessly repetitive and overly talky, she enjoyed the book for the most part, as there was plenty of engaging melodrama to draw readers in. I’ll say!…)

Let’s see if I can give this to you as succinctly as possible…

Uncle Tom is an older, beloved slave on a plantation in Kentucky. When his owner gets into difficult financial straights, he has no choice but to sell Tom to an auctioneer, with the provision that he be appraised of just who purchases Tom, so that, once his money troubles are behind him, he can go out and buy back Tom. This of course, sounds awful to a modern audience, but in the story, this fellow’s clearly one of the GOOD GUYS!?!

While Tom goes off to the auction, there’s a side plot concerning a less accommodating woman slave, who instead runs off to avoid being put up for sale. In trying to escape her pursuers, she has to cross a raging river, breathlessly stepping from one chunk of ice to another in a desperate effort to make it to the other side–all the while holding her infant child in her arms! This sequence was made famous on stage and silent movie versions of Beecher Stowe’s book, and rightfully so–it’s an unforgettable image.
Too bad the comic devotes a mere four tepidly rendered panels to perhaps the single most visually unique passage in the whole tome.

On the way to auction via steamboat, Tom befriends a beautiful blonde child named Eva — and after he dives overboard to save her from drowning, her grateful father buys Tom, and brings him back to his even more impressive plantation–which is only fitting, because, if anything, he’s an even NICER guy than Tom’s original owner!

One of the chores given to the wise and patient Tom is teaching a little wild child by the name of Topsy to read — AND to have a positive image of herself. Naturally, this is happily accomplished in a matter of panels.
But tragedy soon rears its ugly head, when lovable little Eva collapses, and, despite the prayers of everyone, white and black alike, is soon taken off to a better place by a couple of rather unique travel agents…

Folks, THAT sequence scared the living bejeezus outta me!!

I couldn’t have been all that much older than that cute little girl when I first read those panels, and it was all just so–have I used the term “unsettling” already? Well, pardon me for repeating myself, but that’s the word that fits it to a tee. At that age, whatever passing thoughts about death I’d had generally concerned older people–WAY older. Little kids like me didn’t croak. And certainly, none of my comic book friends–Dennis, Lulu, Tubby, Dot, Audrey, and all the rest (let’s just leave Casper out of this discussion for a moment, okay?..)–none of THEM was ever in any danger of taking the nap that never ends! But here, in THIS comic book, that was the last we were ever going to see of the sweet Little Eva! Brrr. And just eyeball that overly symbolic send-off! Geez–all of sudden, I’m afraid of angels!

Well, back during that first read-through, I didn’t quite comprehend how much the plot turned on the youngster’s sad demise, but now I found myself suitably impressed with the twisted plot machinations the author surrounded the event with. Had she been alive today, Miss Harriet would’ve made a fine contemporary writer–of SOAP OPERAS!!

Follow me here: on her deathbed, Eva makes her daddy promise to free Tom if anything should happen to her, and good to his word, shortly after the funeral, the plantation owner informs the grateful slave that he plans to make good on his pledge to his late daughter. He’ll sign the necessary papers tomorrow.

Uh oh…

First, though, it’s off to the local cafe for a whiskey. Been a rough day, after all. It was gonna get rougher. Trying to stop a knife fight between two other bar patrons, Tom’s owner is accidentally stabbed. To death. And his widow–who’d been portrayed as little more than a vain, selfish, self-absorbed woman, has absolutely no intentions of honoring her late husband’s promise to Tom. In fact, she sells the plantation and all the slaves right quick, and for old Tom, the third time is definitely NOT the charm.

Tom’s new owner? A fellow with a name you might recognize: Simon Legree.

Yup, THAT Simon Legree. I’ll confess that, until I read through my copy of CI the other night, I didn’t quite realize that the by-now-generically familiar name had originated within the pages of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin”, but reading on, he certainly managed to live up to all expectations. Beatings, whippings, the “N” word tossed around casually, filthy living conditions–Tom and his fellow put-upon slaves had to endure all this and more as Legree worked them to the bone in the hopes of making as much money as possible from their dawn to dusk toiling.
This is not to say escape attempts weren’t made. Two younger female slaves in fact hatched a plan to hide in the main house’s attic, and then run off disguised as ghosts, knowing full well that Legree possessed an overwhelming fear of the supernatural.

That’s sadistic Simon there, flanked by his favored henchmen, Quimbo and Sambo. Yes, that was their names–don’t blame ME.

(And yup, even though it’s clear that those are only pretend ghosts, that’s ANOTHER panel that indelibly etched itself into poor Little Freddy’s defenseless noggin! Thanks, grandma…)

Well, old Legree isn’t TOTALLY stupid, and eventually figures out that the two women have escaped. He calls in Tom and badgers him relentlessly to give up the whereabouts of the pair, but the proud slave refuses to share any information with his cruel taskmaster.
As you might imagine, that stance didn’t go over so well with the heartless Legree, and the hapless Tom is soon fatally bludgeoned by the irate overseer.

In a rare nod to taste, the panel that precedes the one over to the side merely pictures shadows of Legree’s raised weapon over the head of his cowering victim, bathed symbolically in blood-drenched hues of red.

And then, the evil Legree stalks off, satisfied that he’d dealt out a sickening sort of justice.
Time for the story to take one last soap-like turn. As Tom lies on the ground, only moments away from death, who should show up but the son of Tom’s original owner. Seems as if his dad had passed on, but now that the family is financially flush again, he’s there to buy Tom back.

Simon Legree chuckles nastily at the notion, and then offers to let him have Tom for nothing–after all, even he doesn’t charge for DEAD slaves!…

The stunned man runs over to the fast expiring Tom, cradles him in his arms, and hears his final words.

(The artwork in this panel reminds me of the work of Guy Colwell, who wrote and drew a series of undergrounds in the late sixties called INNER CITY ROMANCE COMICS, as well as DOLL in the late eighties and early nineties–wonder if that’s just a coincidence, or if he was influenced in his depiction of African-American characters by reading this comic around the same time I did?…)
After Tom dies, the outraged son of his former owner punches Simon Legree in the jaw, and then returns home, ultimately deciding to free ALL his slaves–and then delivers an uplifting speech concerning the need to abolish slavery worldwide, just to put the icing on the metaphorical cake.

The end.

The message comes through loud and clear–slavery was bad, really, REALLY bad. Not exactly front-page news in 1960–now, a comic about the evils of the era’s Jim Crow laws, THAT would’ve been ground-breaking. Didn’t happen, of course…

“Uncle Tom’s Cabin” is a tricky book to adapt, even more so now than back in 1943. Obviously, its author was well-meaning in her sincere condemnation of the practice of slavery, but without historical context–this really WAS a bold gesture back in 1852–a lot of the relationships between the black characters and the otherwise well-meaning folks who just happen to OWN them, well, they come off as unavoidably patronizing. And the pairing of the little blond curly-haired cutie with the large noble Negro? Hey, how was Ms. Beecher Stowe to know she was writing the template for just about every other Shirley Temple movie ever filmed?

Anyway, it was fascinating revisiting this comic after so many years (via a coverless copy picked up at a convention about ten years back–there’s no date on it, but I’m betting it’s an even later printing than my original copy, as the printing quality has gone noticeably downhill from the ones Gran bought me off the stands–my apologies for the muddiness of some of the scans.)

Go to Fred’s original article and read about Huck Finn in drag. Subsequently, this piece inspired me to write an article about how the term “Uncle Tom” has been misapplied. Thanks, Fred, for letting me purloin your article.
***
The Tom Caricature

Hemby is 58

There’s a semiannual comic book show I go to in Albany, and one of the primary reasons is to see Fred and his wife Lynn


I always mention the birthday of Fred Hembeck on this blog, not just because he’s my friend, but because he very specifically got me into blogging. When I discovered his blog in October 2004, not only did I read it, I went back and read everything on his site, going back to its inception on New Years Day 2003. Subsequently, I gave him an idea or two for his blog, then I decided, “Hey, maybe I should do my OWN blog.” Whether that’s worked out is for you to judge.

Moreover, he promoted my blog several times in the first several months. Not only that, he had a boatload of links to check out, so I did. I would comment on someone’s blog, that person would check out my blog, and directly or indirectly, most of my blogging buddies are a result of Fred’s roster.

Fred is still blogging regularly, though not daily, as he was in the beginning. He does have a separate section where he talks about films, Hey, Did I Tell You About That MOVIE I Saw Recently? which is my favorite current feature. He also shows some of his cards and his classic cover redos, some of which you could buy on eBay. Or you could commission Fred to do a drawing for you, as Mike Sterling did.

Of course, there’s THE NEARLY COMPLETE ESSENTIAL HEMBECK ARCHIVES OMNIBUS, featuring 912 (!) pages of material written and drawn by Fred.

Some interesting, and in the case of the first one, peculiar Hembeck-related links:
Fred Hembeck interviews Wonder Woman for World Of Strange
Sketch Maven Comic Artist Profiles: Fred Hembeck – fairly short
Anthony Vukojevich covers Fantastic Four Roast 1
Anthony Vukojevich repanels Fantastic Four Roast
Anthony Vukojevich repanels Dateline
Anthony Vukojevich repanels The Hembeck Files

There’s a semiannual comic book show in Albany (actually Colonie) that I attend almost every time, and one of the primary reasons is to see Fred and his wife Lynn Moss. Our family used to visit them in the summer, but due to conflicts, we didn’t in the last couple of years (and won’t in 2011 either). Maybe next year.

Anyway, happy birthday, Fred. tell me how being 58 is; I’ll be there myself soon enough.

December Ramblin’

Hit me with your rhythm stick/Je t’adore, ich liebe dich
Hit me with your rhythm stick/Das ist gut, c’est fantastique


I’ve enjoyed seeing composer Steven Sondheim, lyricist for West Side Story, A Funny Thing happened on the Way to the Forum, and many, many other musicals, a couple of times on television recently, promoting his book “Finishing the Hat: Attendant Comments, Principles, Heresies, Grudges, Whines, and Anecdotes.” I’ve ordered the book if only for the lyrics themselves, and what he’ll have to say about them. I enjoyed hearing about the strong tutelage of family friend Oscar Hammerstein. He has appeared on Stephen Colbert‘s program and on The Newshour on PBS. Part of the latter interview is here:
JEFFREY BROWN: And the greatest focus is on words that rhyme…He uses an old rhyming dictionary and a 1946 edition of “Roget’s Thesaurus.”
STEPHEN SONDHEIM: A rhyme draws the ear’s attention to the word. So, you don’t make the least important word in the line the rhyme word. So, you have to — and also a rhyme can take something that is not too strong and make it much stronger…
BROWN: And…he believes words that are spelled differently, but sound alike, such as rougher and suffer, engage the listener more than those spelled similarly, rougher and tougher.
SONDHEIM: I think we see words on — as if they’re on paper, sometimes when you hear them. I don’t mean it’s an absolutely conscious thing, but I’m absolutely convinced that people essentially see what they’re hearing.
BROWN: Yes. So, I’m hearing rougher and suffer rhyme…then I quickly think…
SONDHEIM: And that’s a surprise… I have got a rhyme in “Passion,” colonel, and journal. Now, you look at them on paper, they seem to have no relation to each other at all. So, when you rhyme them, it’s, ooh, you know? It’s — it — I really may be wrong about this. It’s just something that has struck me over the years.

So what lyrics immediately, and I mean IMMEDIATELY, come to mind? Hit Me with your Rhythm stick by Ian Dury and the Blockheads, a staple on my favorite radio station of the late 1970s, Q104.
Specifically:
In the wilds of Borneo And the vineyards of Bordeaux
Eskimo, Arapaho, move their body to and fro

But also the foreign language rhymes:
Hit me with your rhythm stick/Je t’adore, ich liebe dich
Hit me with your rhythm stick/Das ist gut, c’est fantastique
Here are a couple of recordings HERE with some misspellings, and an odd ending and HERE, after an ad.

Jaquandor found this nifty cartoon that explains climate change.

Eddie shares this Go Go’s video. Eddie notes that Belinda Carlisle’s memoir states their repertoire was limited to the songs on the first album in
their early touring days. This confirms my recollection that when I saw them at JB Scott’s in Albany in 1981, or late 1980, around the time of their 1st album, they played every song on the album plus one non-album B-side.

The Playing For Change Foundation’s new Song Around the World – John Lennon’s “Imagine”

The Twilight Zone Marathon is on again. The December 31 lineup has been posted at syfy.com. But the Marathon will be interrupted for two hours that evening by one of those dopey wrestling shows.

How cats lap up milk, in slow motion

Painting Like Jackson Pollock

I’m afraid I cannot condone this abuse of perfectly good coconut creme pies. Well, maybe for a good cause.

STAN LEE is on their side! Spidey an agent of the Illuminati? Say it ain’t so, Stan! Say it ain’t so! Especially now that you’re 88, as Johnny Bacardi notes.

I mourn the loss of Matt Staccone, SBDC advisor, at the age of 55.

A friend of mine came across this eBay sale of ‘Two Decades of Comics’ fanzine booklet from March 1981; “Fantastic Brian Bolland cover art featuring Brother Power The Geek, Nightshade & Indian? looking at book with characters heads flying out: Storm, Man-Thing, Sgt Rock, Cain, The Demon, Howard The Duck, Metamorpho, The Spectre etc.
Very scarce – Book comprehensively views A-Z of comic book titles with fan-art – notably: Dave Hornsby “The Creeper” art 1pg, Nik Neocleous “Deathlok” art 1pg, Kev F Sutherland “Iron Jaw” art 1pg, Steve Whitaker “Red Wolf” art 1pg, Steve Lowther “The Werewolf” art 1pg, Eagle Awards 1976-1979 Results feature 4pg.” And boy, did that cover look familiar. As it turns out, FantaCo published it as an inside cover in our Chronicles Annual. That Annual was based on that same magazine.

Five Sci-Fi Children’s Books, including Kirk and Spock are Friends.

October Ramblin’

Tegan and Johnny Bacardi have been blogging EIGHT years!

From a friend of a friend:

Today I don’t have to think about those who hear “terrorist” when I speak my faith.
Today I don’t have to think about men who don’t believe no means no.
Today I don’t have to think about how the world is made for people who move differently than I do.
Today I don’t have to think about whether I’m married, depending on what state I’m in.
Today I don’t have to think about how I’m going to hail a cab past midnight.
Today I don’t have to think about whether store security is tailing me.
Today I don’t have to think about the look on the face of the person about to sit next to me on a plane.
Today I don’t have to think about eyes going to my chest first.
Today I don’t have to think about what people might think if they knew the medicines I took.
Today I don’t have to think about getting kicked out of a mall when I kiss my beloved hello.
Today I don’t have to think about if it’s safe to hold my beloved’s hand.
Today I don’t have to think about whether I’m being pulled over for anything other than speeding.
Today I don’t have to think about being classified as one of “those people.”
Today I don’t have to think about making less than someone else for the same job at the same place.
Today I don’t have to think about the people who stare, or the people who pretend I don’t exist.
Today I don’t have to think about managing pain that never goes away.
Today I don’t have to think about whether a stranger’s opinion of me would change if I showed them a picture of who I love.
Today I don’t have to think about the chance a store salesmen will ignore me to help someone else.
Today I don’t have to think about the people who’d consider torching my house of prayer a patriotic act.
Today I don’t have to think about a pharmacist telling me his conscience keeps him from filling my prescription.
Today I don’t have to think about being asked if I’m bleeding when I’m just having a bad day.
Today I don’t have to think about whether the one drug that lets me live my life will be taken off the market.
Today I don’t have to think about the odds of getting jumped at the bar I like to go to.
Today I don’t have to think about “vote fraud” theater showing up at my poll station.
Today I don’t have to think about turning on the news to see people planning to burn my holy book.
Today I don’t have to think about others demanding I apologize for hateful people who have nothing to do with me.
Today I don’t have to think about my child being seen as a detriment to my career.
Today I don’t have to think about the irony of people thinking I’m lucky because I can park close to the door.
Today I don’t have to think about memories of being bullied in high school.
Today I don’t have to think about being told to relax, it was just a joke.
Today I don’t have to think about whether someone thinks I’m in this country illegally.
Today I don’t have to think about those who believe that freedom of religion ends with mine.
Today I don’t have to think about how a half-starved 23-year-old being a cultural ideal affects my life.
Today I don’t have to think about how much my life is circumscribed by my body.
Today I don’t have to think about people wanting me cured of loving who I love.
Today I don’t have to think about those who view me an unfit parent because of who I love.
Today I don’t have to think about being told my kind don’t assimilate.
Today I don’t have to think about people blind to the intolerance of their belief lecturing me about my own.
Today I don’t have to think about my body as a political football.
Today I don’t have to think about how much my own needs wear on those I love.
Today I don’t have to think about explaining to others “what happened to me.”
Today I don’t have to think about politicians saying bigoted things about me to win votes.
Today I don’t have to think about those worried that one day people like me will be the majority.
Today I don’t have to think about someone using the name of my religion as a slur.
Today I don’t have to think about so many of the words for me controlling my own life being negatives.
Today I don’t have to think about still not being equal.
Today I don’t have to think about what it takes to keep going.
Today I don’t have to think about how much I still have to hide.
Today I don’t have to think about how much prejudice keeps hold.
Today I don’t have to think about how I’m meant to be grateful that people tolerate my kind.
Today I don’t have to think about all the things I don’t have to think about.
But today I will.

What happens when you point the Hubble Space Telescope to a seemingly blank patch of sky? A view that takes you to the edge of the universe!

Salon writes about The viral genius of “Sesame Street”; With its clever riffs on popular culture, the 41-year-old children’s show has become hipper than ever. And in that vein, Renaissance Geek did five Muppet-related posts the week of October 11-15, including not one, but THREE versions of “Manha, Manha”. Curse you, Eddie!

And I love how the Sesame Street video I Love My Hair has gone viral. ABC News even did a story about Sesame Street head writer Joey Mazzarino, (pictured) who adopted a little girl from Ethiopia named Segi, who hated her hair. “She was going through this phase where she really wanted like the long, blonde hair. … She would look at Barbies and really want the hair.”

Felix culpa, which translated means “happy fault.”

Ken Levine is an Emmy-winning writer who has written/directed and or produced for shows such as MASH, CHEERS, FRASIER, THE SIMPSONS, WINGS, EVERYBODY LOVES RAYMOND, BECKER, and DHARMA & GREG. He wrote a review of the new movie The Social Network, and someone asked in the comments whether he thought the movie was sexist. The writer of The Social Network, Aaron Sorkin, answered the question in Levine’s blog. Why has the great Sorkin deigned to respond to a query on someone’s Blogspot blog, the less informed in the blogosphere wondered? Levine notes the fallout.

Speakings of The Simpsons, here’s the Banksy opening. Am I the only person who has NO idea who Banksy is?

Dick van Dyke sings the theme to the Dick van Dyke Show, as well as telling us what he knows about Dicks, vans, and dikes.

The Brooklyn Superhero Supply Company. All proceeds from the sale of the products go directly to support the free writing and tutoring programs at 826NYC, a nonprofit organization dedicated to supporting students ages 6-18 with their creative and expository writing skills, and to helping teachers inspire their students to write.

Stan Lee Discusses SPIDER-MAN: TURN OFF THE DARK
When Captain America Throws His Mighty Shield, he’ll be played by Chris Evans, formerly The Human Torch in The Fantastic Four. That’s two Marvel superheroes and two Jack Kirby characters for one career. (Thx to JF for the comics-related stuff.)

ADD reviews Sex at Dawn: The Prehistoric Origins of Human Sexuality. Incidentally, I found this amazingly sensual.

BTW, ADD is having a Trouble with Comics’ Emergency Rent Sale.

10 Unluckiest Musicians In Rock History.

Stayin’ Alive In The Wall (Pink Floyd vs Bee Gees Mashup)

Singer Janice Whaley is covering every Smiths song by the end of the year, using just her voice and some digital trickery.

NASA is in the process of selecting a “wake-up” song for space exploration. The Star Trek theme has fallen to #2! Guess what’s #1.

Tegan has been blogging EIGHT years, as has Johnny Bacardi, which I find incredible.

RepubliCorp™, Buying Democracy, one race at a time.

When Eisenhower took office in 1953, a group of conservative Republicans claimed that the outgoing Democrats had been stealing gold deposits from Fort Knox. Bowing to pressure from the DAR, Ike had the gold counted. Sure enough, it came up ten bucks short: The depository contained only $30,442,415,581.70.

I’m trying to drink more water, so I really needed to know why ice cubes fuse together in water.

A palindrome reads the same backward as forward. This video reads the exact opposite backward as forward. Not only does it read the opposite, but the meaning is also the exact opposite. Make sure you read as well as listen…forward and backward. This video, less than two minutes long, was submitted in a contest by a 20-year old. The contest was titled “u @ 50” by AARP.

Another Comic Book Show

I REALLY need to talk to Fred Hembeck, who I met in 1980. He met my friend Judy, who I’ve known since 1977, recently for the first time, and apparently, I was the subject of conversation.

It’s peculiar; I haven’t sold a comic book in 15 years, and haven’t had to order them as a retailer in over two decades. But I’m still fascinated by the market. Well, maybe it’s not fascination as much as horror. In my day, there were actually competitors in direct market comic distribution. Now, evidently, it’s either Diamond or nothing. I mean, there are other ways of getting comics, the way bookstores and newsstands get them, e.g., but these, I gather, may not be comparable for a variety of reasons, which someone who actually knows can address.

I do know that I’m glad I am not a retailer anymore. I read things such as this from ADD, and I get flashbacks:

“Diamond offers its clients (comic book stores) the option to receive their comics for Wednesday sale on Tuesday [for an extra fee, if I understand correctly], actually giving beleaguered owners and staff a chance to stock the shelves each week on Tuesday night, after the store is closed, so as to avoid dodging slavering fanboys desperate for their Wednesday fix. Seriously, there’s nothing that points out the embarrassing nature of the direct market than retailers being forced to stock the shelves while the store is open and customers are (im-)patiently waiting for what they just gotta have.”

And I don’t buy a lot of products; what I do buy tends to be compilations of old stuff that I used to own.

Yet I’m planning to go to the next Albany Comic Con on Sunday, October 24th at the Holiday Inn on Wolf Rd. in Albany, NY. The thing runs from 10 am to 4 pm, but I probably won’t get there until 1. And I go only because there are people I just love to see. Joe Sinnott is a sweetheart of a guy. Joe Staton who signed some Archie booklet for my daughter is terrific. But mostly it’s to see my buds Fred Hembeck, John Hebert, and Bill Anderson. Also, friend Rocco and perhaps the aforementioned ADD will be there.

I REALLY need to talk to Fred, who I met in 1980. He met my friend Judy, who I’ve known since 1977, recently for the first time, and apparently, I was the subject of conversation. What WERE they saying about me? Two odd things about this: Judy used to live on State Street in Albany, just a couple blocks from FantaCo, where Fred was known to hang out, and 2) Judy has known Fred’s wife Lynn Moss for a number of years.

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