Well, that headline ought to cause some Google searcher meltdown. But the fact is, right wing poster child Little Orphan Annie has a lot in common with mega-leftie songleader Pete Seeger.

This dawned on me because of the confluence of recent events. IDW released the first volume of The Complete Little Orphan Annie last week. American Masters ran its documentary about Pete earlier this month and, yes, it’s PBS so it’ll be rerun forever. Which is fine; both are absolutely first rate. Both are American legends.

Little Orphan Annie was created by Harold Gray, a man who fit in nicely with his boss, the contemptible isolationist Col. Robert McCormack, a man so far to the right when he disagreed with the politics coming out of Rhode Island he removed their star from the American flag that was raised right above his office atop Chicago’s Tribune Tower. Until he was told he could go to jail for desecrating the flag, McCormack and his employees – including Gray – worked right under America’s only 47 star flag. Both Gray and McCormick loathed Franklin Delano Roosevelt to the point of histrionics. Gray’s comic strip fully represented those values; Annie’s Daddy Warbucks even did a little jig on FDR’s grave. (more…)

Born on Governors Island, Manhattan, New York in 1941, Neal Adams attended High School Industrial Art in Manhattan and then went to work in the advertising industry. He had actually applied to work at DC Comics but didn’t get a job offer — Adams did do some freelance work drawing Bat Masterson and Archie Comics but was not credited for it. In 1962 he was hired as an assistant at the Newspaper Enterprise Association (NEA), and worked anonymously on several comic strips before being given his own strip, Ben Casey.

In 1968 Adams approached DC Comics again and was immediately hired to draw a Deadman feature in Strange Adventures #207. Adams quickly became well-known for his DC covers. He moved to Marvel to work on X-Men with Roy Thomas, and after the title ended they moved to The Avengers together. In the early 1970s Adams returned to DC, where he and writer Dennis O’Neill teamed up to revamp Green Lantern and Green Arrow, and then Batman. Adams and Dick Giordano formed Continuity Associates to supply storyboards to motion pictures, and around the same time Adams worked on the science fiction stage play Warp, which ran in Chicago, Washington DC and (for one week in 1973) on Broadway.

Adams also helped push the comics industry to more creator-friendly practices, like returning original artwork to the artist. In the early 80s he formed Continuity Comics, an offshoot of Continuity Associates, to produce his own original comics. Adams has won several Alley Awards and was inducted the Alley Award Hall of Fame in 1969. He has also won several Shazam awards, and was inducted into the Harvey Awards’ Jack Kirby Hall of Fame in 1999.

Something of a preamble, here, so sit tight and now dig this: The comics-censorship ruckus of the post-WWII years had begun to peter out, if only just, as the phobic 1950s gave way to the larger struggles – expression vs. repression, in the long wake of the Depression – of the presumably more free-wheeling 1960s. All were rooted in a popular urge to embrace the freedoms that the close of World War II was supposed to have heralded; a contrary urge to confine such freedoms to a privileged few was as intense, if not necessarily as popularly widespread.

Everybody wants freedom, but not everybody wants freedom for everybody: Hence the entrenchment of Oligarchy within Democracy, like that essential flaw in Green Lantern’s otherwise limitless Power Ring.

(Some handy background: Van Jensen’s ComicMix commentary, “Was Frederic Wertham a Villain?”)

The comic-book flap was an element of a larger insurgency-and-putdown cycle that pitted, for example, Cavalier Hollywood against a Roundhead Congress in the purges of the House Committee on UnAmerican Activities. Within the microcosm of Hollywood itself, struggles erupted over whether individual films – such as Dore Schary’s production of a pacifist fable called The Boy with Green Hair (1948) at hawkish Howard Hughes’ RKO-Radio Pictures – should convey instead a war-preparedness message in those days when much of America was still looking for another Axis to whip. (more…)