From the outset, superhero comic books have attempted
primarily to capture the imaginations of children and part them from their
unearned pocket change. Sometimes a child character is added to the
proceedings, as Robin was with Batman, or Bucky was with Captain America. Other
times children will play front and center in the adventures, as in Jack Kirby’s
Newsboy Legion or the Teen Titans. There’s often a fine line being trod here,
an attempt to create characters meaningful to an eight year-old yet not
ridiculous to a twelve year-old. Then there are comics like Sugar and Spike, which apparently wanted
to court the untapped pre-literate toddler market. Brush up on your baby talk
and read on to learn more about this relic from a Weirder DC Comics!
It would be impossible to overstress Sheldon Mayer’s
importance to the history of comic books. He began his career in 1935 doing
illustrations for National Allied Publications, a precursor company to DC
Comics. Failing to get paid, Mayer jumped ship to M.C. Gaines’ shop where he
pasted comic strips into the brand new comic book format—creating, in other
words, some of the very first comic books ever produced. His first love was
cartooning, and he created a semi-autobiographical character in Scribbly Jibbet
for Dell Comics. His storytelling acumen was more of a commodity in the very
early days of comic bookery, so he found work as Editor-in-Chief for All
American Comics, working on the development of characters such as Hawkman, the
Flash (Jay Garrick version), Green Lantern (Alan Scott version) and the Justice Society of America title that
showcased the entire All American line. In 1948, having slogged through
thirteen demanding, whirlwind years at the birth of comic books, he stepped
down from his position at what had become National/DC Comics in order to pursue
his primary love, and debuted the first issue of Scribbly. It lasted for fifteen.
This issue got them condemned by evangelists |
Truth be told, the books Shelly Mayer worked on were not
normally big sellers. He drew some stuff for DC’s funny animal books, even
creating new characters like Bo Bunny and Doodles Duck. He never starved for
work from DC, and was so respected that in 1955 he was tasked with creating a
comic book that would compete with the Dennis
the Menace craze—I guess that was a thing that happened—and so he
created Sugar Plumm and Cecil Wilson,
aka Sugar and Spike, two babies whose consonant-laden baby talk could only be
understood by each other and, as we come to learn, other babies. Which,
incidentally, is not one thing like Dennis
the Menace.
If you find your children in this situation, you are a bad parent |
Mayer based Sugar and Spike on his own children and their
peculiar behavior as babies. If the stories he wrote are also drawn from his
parenting experience, then he should have been thrown in jail, because the
essential premise of every Sugar and
Spike story is that they put themselves in life-threatening situations
repeatedly until they’re discovered in a pile of flour, or something, and made
to sit in the corner. It’s not just normal baby hijinx, these kids are straight
up flinging around buzzsaw blades and strolling right into lions’ cages and the
only repercussion is that they have to sit in the corner. One:
pay more
attention to your goddamned kids, you sickos. For another thing, if you find
your kid suspended over a wading pool filled with razor blades and rubbing
alcohol, give them a spanking for crying out loud! The parents often act like
their kids are nuisances to be shoved aside whenever possible, and sticking
them in the corner for every infraction evinces that. For the most part, we
never see the face of any adult: we see only their legs and hands and maybe
some arm, but this is no Peanuts-style
comic where adults exist off-panel; the adults in Sugar and Spike routinely interact with them and figure prominently
in their adventures.
A rare extra-Archie sighting of the Jughead hat |
Our parents are back on the boardwalk having a drink |
One thing we learn during Sugar and Spike is that it’s not only human babies that can
understand each other’s baby talk, but all baby animals are clued into this
universal baby language that flies in the face of Biblical contention. We
discover this fact when the tykes try to rescue a baby lobster that is able to
plead for his life when the two are taken to a seafood restaurant—yes, they can
even speak with baby lobsters! Later, they converse with other baby animals,
and the ramifications are frightening: not only can babies unite and thwart
their common foe (adults) through daycare and structured play dates, but they
can also enlist the aid of the baby animal kingdom to do their bidding. Do you
think you could stand down a pack of baby tigers? I’ll bet you’re at least
subdued by the cuteness.
This strange comic and its bizarre premise lasted for
ninety-eight issues, from 1955 to 1971, more a testament to Sheldon’s status as
one of comics’ progenitors than the result of reliable sales. The cartooning is
masterful and lively, carefully-rendered in his simplistic-looking style that
is the hallmark of a practiced artist. But the comic is just weird. Each issue
is split up into a half a dozen or more mini-stories that might have been
perfectly slotted into any child’s anthology comic, yet it always had its own
title. I caught wind of Sugar and Spike
as a kid, when I got my hands on a Blue Ribbon Digest collection of the work,
and it inspired me to create a comic about two kids that looked suspiciously
like Ms. Sugar Plumm and Mr. “Spike” Wilson that hung out with an
anthropomorphic handkerchief. So there’s something that resonates from the
work, which essentially shares the same premise as Muppet Babies. The only difference is that Sugar and Spike were
human babies while the Muppet Babies were baby puppets. Now that is really weird.
This is how 90% of Jim and Eric's conversations end |
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