Western Comics Focus: Lobo, a comics first

Troy D. Smith

Are you familiar with the 1960s western comics hero Lobo?

If not, it's probably because the series only lasted two issues -and the reason for that is a story in itself.

Lobo was published by Dell Comics in 1965. The hero was a black cowboy whose true name was unrevealed, but who was known as Lobo. It featured scripts by D. J. Arneson (at that time Dell's editor) and art by Tony Tallarico. (As is often the case in such situations, the two creators disagree on which one actually first came up with the idea.)

Lobo is significant despite its short run because it was the first mainstream comic book in history to have an African American title character. (Starting in 1950, Atlas Comics -later known as Marvel- had "Waku, Prince of the Bantus" as one of their four rotating leads in Jungle Tales, but he was African not African American, and was not the title character.)

A few months after Lobo, the first black superhero debuted in a guest spot in the pages of The Fantastic Four: The Black Panther (actually predating the organization of that name by a few months.) But like Waku, Black Panther -alias T'Challa, King of the fictional African country Wakanda -was African, not African American. The first African American superhero was Sam Wilson, AKA The Falcon, who became Captain America's partner in 1969; the first African American superhero with his own title was Luke Cage, in 1972. DC Comics had their first black headliner with Black Lightning, created by Tony Isabella in 1977.

But Lobo preceded them all.

The first issue begins with a group of black Union soldiers being informed the war is over. The man who will become Lobo exclaims "After four years of being a soldier, I am a free man again! A free man!!" When the squad is attacked by Confederates who had not received word of Lee's surrender, and are forced to kill them, Lobo expresses his disgust with war and decides to head west and start a new life for himself.

He gets a job as a drover on a cattle ranch. Soon he is framed for murder, with no hope of clearing his name as the true killer dies before he can confess. The man known as Lobo wanders the West- "A fugitive on the side of the law" -righting the injustices suffered by others. There is some evidence he is a wealthy man, as he leaves as a calling card gold coins inscribed with a wolf's head and an "L" for Lobo (his exclamation about being free again now that the war was over might suggest he had been a successful free black man before the war.)

The book's creators were both white men who had been in the comics profession for some time- Arneson was from Minnesota and Tallarico was from Brooklyn. They believed that a black cowboy would generate interest and be a good hook. In fact, Lobo's race was never mentioned by himself or any of the other characters; he didn't behave or speak according to any stereotypical or stylized notions of black men. He was a competent, heroic man who just happened to be black.

But his race was going to matter.

By the time the second issue came out, sales were in for issue #1. And they were abysmal, not just for Lobo but for many of Dell's other titles. You see, a company's titles were tied together in a bundle to be delivered to newsstands. And all across the South, when newsstand owners saw Lobo they rejected the entire Dell bundle. The company had no choice but to cancel the title- they were just a little bit too ahead of their time.

Despite Lobo's brief career, he (and his creators) have received their due over the years, with accolades from many civil rights organizations. But even so, you will be hard-pressed to find another black cowboy headlining a western comic -unless I'm forgetting someone, the only character to come close was Marvel's Reno Jones. 1973 saw the debut of Reno Jones and Kid Cassidy: Gunhawks! The white partner, Kid Cassidy, was killed in issue #6, and in issue #7 the title of the book became Reno Jones, Gunhawk! But there was no issue #8, as the book was canceled.

Here's a tip of the sombrero to Lobo, and all the fun stories he could have appeared in.

Finding an actual copy of those two issues might prove to be a Tolkienesque quest, but you can read them in full at this blog.

On the bright side, there is apparently a comic-book crossover between Zorro and Django in the works. Really.

The Adobe--Part 2 Gordon Rottman

Raising an Adobe House

How to make adobe bricks and their properties were discussed in Part 1 on Saturday, July 19.

Now that we know how adobe bricks are made, let’s build a house. As with any style of housing, adobes varied significantly in quality even though the same basic materials were used. It depended on the owner’s affluence, resources, preferences, help, and time.

In the 1800s a cheap built peon’s casa adobe was extremely simple with few amenities. I’ve spent the night in a couple that are still used as outbuildings on ranches. The ground was merely leveled and construction began—no foundation. Sometimes a several inches deep trench was dug to set the first course of bricks. Some dug a shallow trench and placed thick flagstones as the foundation. These are the ones most likely surviving today.

Bricks are laid one course at a time all the way around the building so there is no weight buildup on any one portion. That might cause an uneven wall as the heavier section settles before the rest. This includes interior walls. The mortar was the same as the brick material, but without straw. It was of course of a different consistency, perhaps a little wetter to make it more workable. The mortar work usually looks sloppy—not like the neat smoothed mortar seams we see in conventional brickwork—if the interior and exterior are to be plastered.

Heavy timber or log lintels crown doors and windows to support the bricks above these openings. Plank door and window frames, the latter often with shutters, are secured to the walls by screwing or nailing the fames into “gringo blocks”—wooden blocks set in the place of bricks.

The wall here is unusual in that it is so thin. Note the lighter colored wooden "gringo blocks" set in the edges of  of the door and window openings to which frames will be attached.

Peons often had only packed dirt floors. Some laid a clay and sand mixture which was smoothed and buffed to make it quite durable. Others laid a layer of sand and paved it with flagstones and adobe mortar grout. Another method was to lay and grout adobe bricks.

An old adobe updated to a office. Behind the open door can be seen an un-plastered adobe wall and the floor is paved with adobe bricks.

Stucco-like plaster, usually with more sand than regular adobe mortar, was plastered 3/4 to almost 2 inches thick on interior and exterior walls, the exterior only if cost was an issue. This protected the bricks from weathering, especially rain which severely erodes adobe over time. Un-plastered interior walls do generate dust so if not initially plastered, may of have been later. Sometimes 1-1/2 to 2 feet high rock-facings protected the bases of exterior walls from rain-splatter. Regardless, there are old un-plastered compound walls well over a hundred years old, and while heavily eroded, are still sound.

Thick walls are needed not only support the heavy walls and roofs, but to insulate the building. Mexico and the Southwest is a land of climate extremes. During the day the sun heats the thick walls insulating the interior. After sunset and the temperature drops, the heat transfers into the house. It will not keep it toasty warm all night, but it helps. By sunrise the interior has cooled as has the exterior wall and the process starts over. A veranda, especially on the south side of the house, shades the walls and keeps the interior cool longer. A veranda supported by adobe or stone arches is especially effective sun protection. High ceilings allowed hot air to rise. Windows were located not so much for the view, but for air circulation.

Roofs were supported by 8-10-inch diameter beams called vigas, usually no longer than 15 feet—the characteristic log ends jutting from adobe roofs. Wider buildings have a central load-bearing wall to support spanning vigas. They were set 2-3 feet apart. Spruce and Ponderosa pine are popular due to their resistance to splitting as they dry. Overlaid perpendicularly to the vigas was a thick layer of 1-2-inch diameter limbs—the latías. This is usually mesquite, but carrizo cane is also used. A layer of adobe mortar was spread over this to seep between the latías bonding them. Adobe bricks are laid on the mortar, often a bit thinner and wider, or square-shaped, compared to wall bricks. They are grouted and another layer of mortar laid followed by a second course of bricks. These too are grouted and a third layer of mortar spread. Most roofs are flat, but some had the slightest rain-draining slope. Modern roofs have cement in the mortar, but more commonly low pitched title roofs are used today. A poor man’s roof was adobe mud with a higher clay content, then a thick layer of packed dampened earth, and then a layer of mortar. This would have to be replaced after several years. Modern adobes have plastered ceilings.

 

To the right of the door is a small entry courtyard. Vigas supporting a bedroom roof are to the left.

Adobe houses were typically long and comparatively narrow, a series of rooms set end-to-end. There might be a door in each interior wall, but some rooms at least could only be entered from outside doors. There were no hallways. Owing to the massive weight of adobe bricks and the lack of structural supports other than walls, seldom will adobes higher than two stories be seen.

As rugged as they are, adobes were particularly susceptible to earthquake damage. Modern building codes in Mexico and America require structural steel or reinforced concrete support. An 1800s lead rifle bullet or even a modern full-jacketed bullet will not penetrate an adobe wall (I’ve tested it).

Adobes are interesting structures to which scant attention is given. Now that you’re a little familiar with these buildings, it might provide a bit of color in your writings. In The Hardest Ride I briefly describe the adobes on the DeWitt Ranch in south Texas. In the coming sequel, Ride Harder, I provide more description of the old six-room adobe ranch house Bud and Marta take over.

A FEW OF MY FAVORITE WORDS by Vonn McKee

I’m watching my grandson, Noah, build one of his amazing Lego creations. He’s already constructed the 237-piece Star Wars-themed set, per the instruction booklet, in just over thirty minutes. (It would have taken me a week.) 

Lo and behold, he breaks down the finished assembly. Now he’s following his imagination and designing on the fly, using the same 237 parts. He calls the new incarnation an Alliance Night Blade. It has rakish wasp-like lines, a number of hinged and rotating parts, and several weapons of planetary destruction. Theoretically, it’s capable of speeds upwards of Mach 5, hovering indefinitely (with no apparent need for refueling), vertical takeoffs and landings, and possesses enough fire power to take out all the bad guys in all the known galaxies combined.

It occurs to me that, just as Noah fashions interlocking plastic shapes into spacecraft, I spend hours (most of them enjoyable) fitting words together…about the West.

My mother tells me that I began forming sentences in fairly comprehensible English at nine months. I love words, always have. They’ve gotten me into trouble on occasion, and out of trouble more times than I can remember. When you love words, it’s a no-brainer to also love books. I worked in the library through high school and college just to be near them. 
I majored in engineering (long story!) and grew accustomed to having professors return my laboriously-researched technical essays with the suggestion at the top: “Have you thought of becoming a writer?”

If you hang around words long enough, you begin to develop favorites. Yes, I know…every word has its place and what would we do without all the unglamorous workhorse words like invoice, vitamin, refrigerator, dentist and the like. I shouldn’t be biased. But, gosh…some words are just so darn gorgeous. For instance, who wouldn’t rather read about lingerie than underwear?

When it comes to literary genres, I can’t think of a more perfect one for the placement of pretty words than westerns. Take a look at the geography itself. Pronounce these words slowly: Arizona, Wyoming, the Dakotas, California, Montana, Colorado, Nevada, New Mexico.

ridermagazine.com

I was on the fence about Utah until I said it a few times. It does have a pleasing, ancient ring to it. But, Texas? I’m not so sure about that one. Guess it sounds prettier if you’re from there. Just joshing, Texans.

Oh, the places you’ll write! Coeur D’Alene, Santa Fe, the Sierras. Linguistic loveliness.

By the way, we’re talking about words that are euphonious, which sounds awfully nice itself. It means “pleasant of sound; agreeable to the ear.” Euphoooonnnnioussss. Mmmmm.

The Spanish gave us some beautiful western words with high roll-off-the-tongue factor. Consider canyon, vaquero, adobe, lariat, remuda, and adios, amigo. And, of course, we must remember…the Alamo.

Townes Van Zandt’s song, “Pancho and Lefty” would never have been a hit if not for the line, “All the Federales say they could’ve had him any day.” Just my opinion.

Even the French helped out western writers with ravine, cigarette, cheroot, belle and chignon. The dictionary is a writer’s jewel box.

No boring landscape descriptions for us. We can plant picturesque saguaro, sage, piñon or willow wherever we want. On a mesa or a prairie or a few yards from home, arguably the sweetest of all names.

Why use ordinary colors when you can wordpaint with violet, saffron, vermillion, ivory, maroon, and cerulean or azure blue? Personally, I adore the word silver and use it every chance I get. Silver tongues, silver stars, silver nuggets. Love it.

I even love the sound of certain horse terms: withers, muzzle, dappled, sorrel, appaloosa. I am constantly looking for an opportunity to use the word fetlock. So under-utilized in modern literature, don’t you agree?

Some of my personal faves are silhouette, shadowy, velvet, statuesque, lithe, lilting, and realm. Oh, and demure, dalliance, and crystalline. I’m in porcine paradise. (And to think I could have settled for "hog heaven.")

There are many “Most Beautiful English Words” lists out there and they contain a lot of “ous” words such as mellifluous, voluminous, luscious, sumptuous, and tenuous. According to the Alpha Dictionary, their list-topper is ailurophile, meaning “cat lover.” I’ll have to disagree since I’m neither a fan of the word nor of cats.

Then we have those wolves in sheep’s clothing words that sound fetchingly exotic but, believe me, you want no part of: jaundice, influenza, anemia, shingles, seizures, and E. Coli, to name a few.

This compilation of words into a discussion of words themselves could stretch into infinity. However, I have deadlines and must set about arranging lovely words into, hopefully, even lovelier sentences, much the way my grandson digs for just the right Lego pieces to form an x-wing.

For my next western story, I’m determined to work in a silver fetlock reference or two. There must be a way.

Adios, 

Vonn
www.facebook.com/vonnmckee

READ THE LATEST FROM VONN McKEE HERE!

The Adobe--Part 1 Gordon Rottman

The Adobe—Part 1

The adobe building was the most common shelter in the old southwest. They were a great deal more common that the wood-frame and plank ranch houses with wooden shingle roofs depicted in Western movies sitting in the middle of desert. was too far from sources of scare trees and sawmills. Besides the excessive raw materials costs, freight transport was high.

Adobes were common in south and west Texas, northern Mexico, and the southern portions of New Mexico, Arizona, California, and elsewhere. These places are characterized by hot dry climates and so happened to possess an abundance of the raw materials necessary to make adobe mud—dirt.

The word goes back to at least 2000 BC, the ancient Egyptian dbt for mud brick with the modern spelling coming from Old Spanish.

Part 2, Raising an Adobe House, will appear here on July 21, Monday.

Simple adobes under construction. Note the modern tile roofs.

Morelos, Coahuila

I took an interest in adobe construction after examining buildings and compound walls in Morelos, Coahuila in northern Mexico, my wife’s hometown. The town and the other four towns of Los Cinco Manantiales—the Five Springs—are about 30 miles across the border from Eagle Pass, Texas. The communities were established some 170 years ago and some original adobes still in use. We have relatives living in adobe homes build around or even before the turn of the century (the one before this last one). They’re structurally sound and built like forts. They’ve been modernized of course with electrical outlets, lighting, water and sewer lines. Many are now air conditioned. Most have the original exterior plaster, although this occasionally requires patching. In most cases the original interior plaster was removed and a more durable concrete-based plaster applied. The floors in most are a layer of adobe bricks overlaid with attractive title. In a few instances the base bricks broke up and were replaced by poured concrete with iron rebar, sometimes after laying water and sewer lines. In the old days a smooth layer of thick plaster was laid on the floor bricks. Floor tile came with increased prosperity along with indoor plumbing in the 1960s.

The exterior walls are 18 inches, sometimes 24 inches thick making for interesting and utilitarian window sills. Interior walls are 10-14 inches thick. All walls are considered loadbearing. Interior and exterior plaster could be 3/4 to almost 2 inches thick and using the same mud as for the bricks and mortar.

Asking about maintenance is like talking about the passing of great grandparents. The last repairs were always a long time ago. Unlike modern North American homes with weathering, paint peeling, dry rot, termites, deteriorating roofs, etc, it’s just not a concern. I’ve asked about roof leaks and everyone looked at each other like it’s a subject that’s never thought about. Finally someone will say, “We have never had a leak.”

Making adobe bricks

An adobe house can be built almost entirely from locally available materials, de la tierra—from the earth. The soil is tested by filling a large glass jar with 1/3 earth and 2/3 water. Its shaken vigorously and then allowed to sit until the water’s completely clear—one or two days. It will settle in three layers—top to bottom: clay, silt and sand, and course sand and gravel. A good mix for adobe mud is 15% clay, 10-30% silt, and 55-75% sand/gravel. Mixes will vary greatly. Up to 25% or more clay is preferred by many and there should not be too much gravel. Old builders dug the soil from favored quarries, even if it meant transporting it some distance. It was mostly dug from river banks with an abundance of clay, sand, and silt.

Adobe mud is not created by adding specific percentages of clay, sand, silt, and gravel like concrete. It comes “pre-mixed” in the soil that is selected. The mud is mixed on the construction site in a 5-inch pile spread on the ground, lower in the center. Small amounts of water are poured and uniformly mixed with a hoe eliminating lumps to create a stiff mud.

A 3-inch layer of 4-6-inch long chopped straw is spread over the mud—one part straw per five parts soil. Dead weeds, finely chopped twigs, and cow manure can be used. The fibrous material is completely worked into the mud. Once dried, abode bricks made with manure do not smell and it repels insects. The straw does not strengthen the bricks. It allows the bricks to dry evenly and quicker to reduce cracking. After the turn of the century, cement or lime was sometimes added to make them more durable and waterproof. Today liquid emulsified asphalt is used for the same reasons.

The mud is shoveled into wooden forms. Forms are not always single bricks, but multiple bricks, five or eight, for example. Bricks can be 3-5 inches thick, 8-12 inches wide, and 14-18 inches long. There is no standard size. It’s the builder’s preference. They are generally the same size for a specific house. Exterior walls may be 14-36 inches thick, usually toward the thinner. Smaller bricks might be used for interior walls though.

4 x 12 x 14-inch adobe bricks. The crude mortaring will be plastered over.

Bricks are removed from the forms after a day or two and laid on level ground to dry further. They are not stacked as the bottom ones could break. Broken bricks are okay as many half bricks are needed. Bricks are laid in the shade to dry. If sufficient shade trees are not available, leafy branches are laid over them. Drying too fast in sunlight will crack them. After a couple of days they are set on edge with an airspace between them to dry for up to six weeks. Two men can make 200-300 bricks a day. Like Rome, adobes are not built in a day. Nor can it be done in the rainy season. Once completely dry—2-3% moisture content—bricks can be stored for extended periods and stacked, but it is best to store them on edge with air spaces. They can still absorb moisture from humidly, dew, and showers.

YOUR PLACE OR MINE by Marc Cameron

“That’s a good place to dump a body,” I said, forehead pressed against the passenger window of my sister’s pickup. A tangle of oaks, briars and wild grapevines followed a meandering creek in a thick greenbelt along the quiet road north of Dallas.

My sister, who'd had to endure growing up with me, said something about my creepy outlook on the world, then admitted that the police had recently caught a couple of teenage boys as they walked out of that overgrowth—from dumping the body of another youth they’d choked to death.

     My formative years in law enforcement were spent in the South so I tend to think of that area in fairly violent and bloody terms. Apologies to all my relatives and friends who still live there. I have plenty of happy memories too. But I’ve found too many bodies in the woods. Some were in shallow graves or tarps or bed sheets or old carpet. Some were in nothing at all. There’s something about the oppressive humidity, the sweet smell of decaying earth, and the mottled light through the branches that just screams, “There’s a dead body in here!”

     Man-trackers know people tend to follow natural lines of drift, moving generally over the same path as those who have gone before them. Oddly, it's not unheard of for one crime scene to overlap with another. I heard someone say recently that if all the bodies buried in the desert outside San Bernardino stood up, the place would look like a forest.

     Just like dense woods can evoke a sense of foreboding, other places dredge up different feelings and thoughts. If done correctly, setting is not just a backdrop in which characters move around. It’s a character in its own right.

     I’m writing this at 30,000 feet, between DC and Los Angeles. Washington, with its Heroic statues, less than heroic politicians, granite monuments, spies, spies in training, and herds of unruly youth on summer trips, provides a perfect backdrop for intrigue—the same way a sunset over a wide West Texas street says gunfight.

     I often set scenes in areas where I’ve worked, including DC. In an early Jericho Quinn novel, I wrote a key chase scene set in and around Arlington, Virginia, basing it on my memories and Google Earth. I ended up back there for several weeks on assignment while working on that same book—and realized that, though I had the geography correct, I’d neglected to mention the thrumming buzz of cicadas that filled the trees at that time of year. It was a small detail, but a word or two about these insects certainly fleshed out the setting.

My first Western was set in Western Montana in 1910. I had about a third of it written before I had sense enough to research what was going on in that part of the country in that particular year. Turns out they had a humongous forest fire—belching out enough smoke that streetlights on the East Coast had to be lit during the day. That fire became a major character in a story that would have fizzled without it.  

Over the last few days I’ve walked through chases and fight scenes in Manhattan’s Chinatown and the warren of tunnels that make up the DC Metro system—both places that, at least in my mind, make for great settings/characters. It’s a delicate balance between being too sparse or too wordy in your descriptions.

There’s an old story among lawdogs about a Texas Ranger who, after a gunfight with a fugitive, sent a telegram with the following report to his superiors.

“Ranger attempted to arrest outlaw, outlaw drew weapon, Ranger shot outlaw, outlaw expired.”

Of course the Ranger’s Captain sent word that he needed a more detailed report. The next day he received the following amended report:

“Ranger attempted to arrest outlaw, outlaw drew weapon, Ranger shot outlaw, outlaw expired. Weather: cloudy.”

Each place has its own unique details. Ambient sound—the slap of a halyard against a sailboat’s mast, the creak of saddle leather, or the buzzing of blowflies; smell—the odor of fish and desperation in the teeming backstreets of Chinatown; and weather—oppressive heat that pushes a person to strip to the skin or bitter cold that makes holding a firearm painful if not impossible. They can all add interesting layers to setting and place.

I admit that I enjoy writing descriptions—probably a little more than I should. I slash a good many of them on my own, then again, when my wife reads the manuscript…and again when my editor gets his/her hands on it. We overnight tonight in LA. Tomorrow we head to Japan for a few weeks, visiting our grandchildren and scouting other locations for fights, foot pursuits and new settings where Jericho and friends can have their adventures. A place like that overwhelms my senses, leaving me feeling like Scrooge McDuck in his counting house, except, instead of money, I roll around in a great pile of words and ideas.

Our flight arrives in LA in the early afternoon. I really should go for a run when we get to the hotel. Google Earth shows a nice greenbelt just a couple of blocks away—but I’ll stick to the treadmill. I’m just not in the mood for what I might find out there in the leaves.

Marc Cameron is a retired Chief Deputy US Marshal and 29-year law enforcement veteran. His short stories have appeared in BOYS’ LIFE Magazine and the Saturday Evening Post. He's published eleven novels, six of them Westerns.   

TIME OF ATTACK fourth in his USA Today Bestselling Jericho Quinn Thriller series, is the newest release from Kensington February of 2014. DAY ZERO will hit the shelves February 2015.

Marc lives in Alaska with his beautiful bride and BMW motorcycle.

Visit him at:

www.marccameronbooks.com 

http://www.facebook.com/MarcCameronAuthor