Harvey Kurtzman was one of the most talented creative talents who ever worked in comics. Sadly, since he did his best work before about 1980, that means he was not compensated at a level commensurate with the financial impact of that work. He didn't make that much more money than someone whose work did not make its publisher a multi-millionaire. He also had trouble attaining and maintaining a work situation where he could do his best work with some measure of control over how it appeared.
He created MAD, of course, and served as editor-writer (and occasional artist) of its classic early issues in comic book format and the first few when it became a not-very-slick "slick magazine." Before that, he'd done the same duties on a couple of highly-regarded war comics for the same publisher, EC Comics. Neither job paid that well, given the time and care Kurtzman put into his work.
He was a slow 'n' steady creator who was known to spend hours on one panel, doing it over and over just to get it right. Some of Kurtzman's associates felt that this was not a function of perfectionism so much as anxiety; that all the extra time and care did not substantially improve the work and may even have done a bit of damage. That's probably an unprovable premise and even if true, it doesn't change the fact that this great talent never quite found the right gig…never quite found a place where he could both do the work as he wanted to do and be paid the way he wanted to be paid. It always seemed to be one or the other.
He left MAD because he wanted a piece of the gold mine he'd located and more control over the product. He then did a magazine called Trump for Hugh Hefner. It was too expensive at a time when Hef couldn't afford it so it lasted two issues. He then did a magazine called Humbug that he and his associates more or less published themselves. There were problems with the package, the printing, the distribution and maybe to some extent the content. It failed. He then did a magazine called Help! and it was seriously underfunded, its best material lost in a chintzy package that never caught on.
Though he did other things — you might be surprised how many Schelly names — Kurtzman largely paid the bills after Help! crashed producing the Little Annie Fanny strip for Playboy. It was a body of work (or maybe a work of body) that sometimes showed flashes of the Kurtzman brilliance between more frequent flashes of the title character's physique. It may also have been the most micro-managed comic strip ever done. Though the pay was there, it could not have been a particularly joyous experience for someone who in his previous ventures had enjoyed so much creative freedom. It was certainly a lot less than Harvey had to offer the world.
I have always found Kurtzman's story fascinating and frustrating, and wished I'd had more than our few encounters to learn more about this extraordinary talent. Well, I learned a lot more reading the new, most enjoyable biography by my friend, Bill Schelly. I highly endorse and recommend Harvey Kurtzman: The Man Who Created Mad and Revolutionized Humor in America, which you can order from Amazon via this link.
Though 644 pages long, it reads like a breeze and I was sorry it was over when it was. It is scrupulously researched and filled with grand insights into its subject without forcing you into one particular interpretation. I find many of Kurtzman's decisions, both creative and financial, highly arguable. That he was a better writer-artist than career manager seems incontestable but it's often hard to see what he should have done instead and I came away from the book feeling, "Gee, what a shame that the industry never had the proper place for a guy as talented as Harvey Kurtzman." You may or may not arrive where I did.
If you're interested in comic book history and especially the comics Kurtzman did, you've probably already ordered this fine book. It should also be of note to those intrigued by the problems of being a creative talent — then and even now — balancing the twin needs of making a living and doing work of which you can be proud. Those brief times I had with Harvey (and long talks with some of his associates) led me to believe that many of his problems flowed from his disquietude about declaring a given piece of work finished and ready for public inspection.
Jack Kirby — a man misused by his industry in mostly-different ways — could finish five pages a day and without a moment of hesitation, send them instantly off into the assembly line for publication. Kurtzman could not. He shared Jack's inability to get paid what he was worth but he had other complications, toiling in a field that expected work to be produced at a Kirby (and not a Kurtzman) pace. Schelly also captures well the human side of his subject — a very nice man who loved the form of comics and did so much to advance it despite his struggles. Do yourself a favor and read all about him.