When Sam Glanzman died earlier this week — at the age of 92, not 93 like I initially said — I hope he knew how many fans he had. Judging by my e-mail and the reaction on the Internet, he sure had a lot of them — an impressive feat for a guy who never, in more than five decades in comics, drew Superman or Batman or Spider-Man or any of the classic super-heroes. I think people liked the power in his work. He drew mostly strips we might think of as "manly" and he never prettied things up. His soldiers looked like they were actually fighting a war.
Of course, he knew what that was like. Been there, done that. His autobiographical combat tales were some of the best "war comics" ever, even the stories that in no way touched on weaponry or killing.
One of Sam's friends and benefactors, Drew Ford, has brought a lot of that work back into print or at least Kindle. I highly recommend U.S.S. Stevens: The Collected Stories and that link will not only get you a copy of the book but you can click on Sam's name and find your way to other books of his work. I favor his wartime experiences over his fantasy heroes but it's all fine, fine work.
You can tell how hard he labored over his pages even when, as was not uncommon, the pay rate was way low compared to the value of what he did. This was true of most of the men of his generation when they worked in comics. Some of today's readers, when they come across a comic they don't like, leap to the unfortunate insult that the work was "knocked out for a paycheck" and that the artist was a hack. ("Hack" is one of those words that is used with so many varying definitions that it's practically worthless as a descriptor. I often am not sure what people are trying to say when they use it.)
It has been my observation upon meeting so many comic creators of that era that it was true of amazingly few of them. There were a number of artists whose work I didn't like who, I came to realize, worked like hell on what they did and cared passionately about what they handed in, regardless of the paycheck. That did not always result in comics that I thought were good but it would have been wrong to dismiss the material as something that some guy just banged out for the money. I learned to respect the effort even if I couldn't always respect the output.
With Sam, it wasn't necessary to separate the two. Every panel showed a lot of thought and a lot of time. It wasn't always pretty…but then when you're drawing stories of life and death and brutality and battle, "not pretty" is utterly appropriate. I never had the pleasure of having one of my scripts illustrated by Sam but he was exactly the kind of artist I liked to have get those assignments. People sometimes speak of great comedians who get every possible laugh out of a script. Sam got every possible moment of emotion and drama and humor.
He was also the kind of creative talent adored by his editors, and not just because the pages arrived on time. The other day, I received this e-mail from Don J. Arneson…
I was the Comic Book Editor at Dell Publishing in the '60s. Sam was arguably the best illustrator I had the privilege to work with. His historical accuracy and personal commitment to his art produced exquisitely detailed illustrations that are the most memorable of all the artists I worked with. I am deeply saddened by his death. I wish to extend my condolences to Mrs. Glanzman. I no longer have any of Sam's art, but their memory remains locked in my own life and mind as simply the best.
Don included his phone number in the e-mail so since I'd never met him, I rang him up and we had a lovely, long conversation, much of it about how terrific Sam Glanzman was. Mr. Arneson worked with some superb illustrators at Dell so his evaluation of Sam as the best he had is no small praise. I thought it was important that I share that with you.