By John Ryan (Hawk Books -1990)
ISBN: 978-0-94824-822-1 (album TPB)
This book includes Discriminatory Content produced in less enlightened times.
Happy anniversary Eagle!
The son of a diplomat and irrefutably a died-in-wool True Gent, John Ryan was born in 1921, served in Burma and India during WWII and – after attending the Regent Street Polytechnic (1946-48) – took up a teaching post as assistant Art Master at Harrow School from 1948 to 1955. It was during this time that he began contributing strips to comics such as Girl and a newfangled but soon to be legendary weekly comic…
On April 14th 1950, Britain’s grey, post-war gloom was partially lifted with the first issue of a glossy new comic that literally shone with light and colour. Mesmerised children were soon understandably enraptured with the gloss and dazzle of Dan Dare, Pilot of the Future, a charismatic star-turn venerated to this day, as well as a plethora of strips illustrating some of their favourite radio shows.
Eagle was a tabloid sized paper with full photogravure colour inserts alternating with text and a range of other comic features. Tabloid is a big page and you can get a lot of material onto each one. Deep within, on the bottom third of a monochrome folio was an 8-panel strip entitled Captain Pugwash, the story of a Bad Buccaneer and the many sticky ends which nearly befell him. Ryan’s quirky, spiky style also lent itself to the numerous spot illustrations required every week. Pugwash, his harridan of a wife and the useless, lazy crew of the Black Pig ran until issue #19 when the feature disappeared. This was no real hardship as Ryan had already begun writing and illustrating new feature Harris Tweed – Extra Special Agent which began as a full page (tabloid, remember – an average of 20 panels a page, per week) since #16 (cover-dated July 28th 1950).
Tweed ran for three years as a full page. Then in 1953 it dropped to a half-page strip and deftly repositioned as a purely comedic venture. For our purposes and those of the book under review, it’s those first three years we’re thinking of even if the only decent illustration I could find comes from the 1959 Eagle Annual…
Harris Tweed was a bluff and blundering caricature of the military “Big Brass” Ryan had encountered during The War. In gentler times, the bumbler with a young, never-to-be-named assistant known only as “Boy” solved mysteries and captured villains to general popular acclaim. Thrilling – and often eerily macabre – adventure blended seamlessly with sly yet cheerful schoolboy low comedy in these strips, since Tweed was in fact that most British of archetypes: a bit of a twit and a bit of a sham stumbling through a world of Thud & Blunder…
His totally undeserved reputation as detective and crime fighter par excellence, and his good-hearted yet smug arrogance – as demonstrated elsewhere by the likes of Bulldog Drummond, Dick Barton – Special Agent, or Sexton Blake – somehow endeared the arrogant, posturing buffoon to a young and impressionable public which would in later years take to its heart Captain Mainwaring in Dad’s Army and, more pointedly perhaps, Peter Sellers’ numerous film outings as Inspector Clouseau. Maybe most of those enthralled kids had an uncle or dad who buffaloed on about the war in just the same way…
Ryan’s art here is particularly noteworthy. Deep moody blacks and intense, sharp, edgy inking creates a constant mood of fever-dream intensity. There are anachronistic echoes and nuances of underground cartoons of more than a decade later, and much of the inevitable ‘brooding, lurking horror’ atmosphere found in the best works of Basil Wolverton. Ryan knew what kids liked and he delivered it by the cartload.
This too-slim, oversized (324 x 234mm x) paperback compilation is all that’s readily available these days, but surely in the era of electronic publishing, some enterprising fan with a complete Eagle collection can link up with a perspicacious publisher someway, somehow and produce a comprehensive compilation of the nation’s most self-lauded sleuth? I simply KNOW today’s TV crowd and dwindling but still-potent ancient 10-year-olds and their grandchildren would just lap him up….
Harris Tweed © 1990 Fleetway Publications. Compilation © 1990 Hawk Books.