A rare case of clumsiness leaves Kevin in a tough spot.
I don’t have any color versions of these three episodes, but Kreigh Collins’ amazing linework really shines in these black and white velox proofs.
Dramatically rendered in three silent panels, Kevin climbs aboard, despite a bum ankle.
Meanwhile, Pedro is nervous about the gold…
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For more information on the career of Kreigh Collins, visit his page on Facebook.
Hammerhead enlightens Captain Frenchy.
The beautifully-illustrated February 10 episode, and the ones that follow, are brightened by the appearance of Carmine, Pedro’s wife.
Carmine, certainly lovely to gaze upon, is also kind-hearted—but unfortunately, her good nature will lead to trouble.
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For more information on the career of Kreigh Collins, visit his page on Facebook.
The following chapter of Kevin’s adventures originally appeared 61 years ago, in early 1963. It ran for 12 weeks, and most of the episodes consist of black and white velox proofs, supplemented with color versions wherever possible.
The sequence’s introductory panel introduces the villains, Bill Hammerhead and Captain Frenchy.
The unexpected encounter leads to Bill gaining an ally in his audacious plan to steal gold from King Henry.
Fine-tuning their plan at an alehouse, the two quickly insult Molly, a lovely young barmaid. Everyone takes notice when the royal coach arrives, with Molly greeting Kevin with some of her establishment’s malty refreshment. She also gives him the welcome news that leads to a happy reunion.
Bill Hammerhead’s plan, as yet undelineated, seems to involve the old switcheroo.
To be continued…
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For more information on the career of Kreigh Collins, visit his page on Facebook.
Due to their short supply of water and food, Kevin Marlin sets off, without even a fully-formed plan.
The pirates trust Kevin—some more than others!
Those filthy hippies probably needed a bath, anyway!
The story arc ends, but unfortunately, Kevin Marlin and his family haven’t seen the last of the pirate trio.
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For more information on the career of Kreigh Collins, visit his page on Facebook.
While Kreigh Collins never managed to sail Heather to the Bahamas, his Sunday comics counterpart Kevin Marlin did. While heading back to Florida, an unusual boat was spotted.
Many pieces of original artwork for UP ANCHOR! are found in a collection at the Grand Rapids Public Library, including those for two of the episodes in this installment.
In a case of “no good deed goes unpunished,” the Marlin family are ambushed.
The ersatz Manson Family members decide to maroon Heather‘s crew on a desert island, but not before the Marlins lay eyes on the hippies’ prisoner, Pedro.
While the reunion is nice, a plan to save themselves would be nicer!
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For more information on the career of Kreigh Collins, visit his page on Facebook.
Among some recently-acquired UP ANCHOR! half pages were most of the episodes of a story arc with an unusual plot element—murder. The choice of portraying hippies as villains was likely inspired by the tragic and ugly Manson family murders, which had occurred in the summer of 1969. In fact, the Tate-LaBIanca trial was under way when these episodes were published in late 1970.
The Marlin family, whose journey aboard Heather had led to a temporarily relocation in Florida, had just returned from Maine. Kevin Marlin had been hired to sail a cutter from Connecticut Down East. To return “home” and hear such terrible news would be very unsettling.
A couple things from the October 11, 1970 episode that caught me eye were the Manson Family lookalikes in the center panel and the second panel of WATER LORE. Occasionally, Kreigh Collins would directly reference his personal life, but I had never seen him mention his father. He was much closer to his mother.
As Heather is being provisioned, some Easter Eggs are revealed on the labels of the packages being brought aboard. In the first panel, Kevin caries a case of “Jesiek’s Oil.” Back home in Michigan on Lake Macatawa, Heather spent her winters “on the hard” at Jesiek Brothers Shipyard. Based on the box carried by his friend, I’d wager that “Schottenburg’s” was a nearby grocer the Collins family patronized. The second tier’s second panel shows Dave and Erik pestering their mother about dinner—here a box is simply labelled “Boy Food.”
The provisions were needed for an upcoming trip to the Bahamas. While many of the adventured that take place in UP ANCHOR! were based on real events, alas, a trip to the Bahamas was a dream that was never realized for Kreigh’s family. The Marlin family’s adventures in Florida were inspired by the journey the Collinses took in 1959–1960, but the Chicago Tribune’s sudden cancellation of KEVIN THE BOLD in December, 1959 necessitated a reappraisal of the family’s financial situation and resulted in the cancellation of the Bahamas leg of the trip.
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For more information on the career of Kreigh Collins, visit his page on Facebook.
Things look bleak for Kevin, Sir Richard, and Lucia.
The possessive nature of Sultana Safia is good fortune, as Kevin and his friends avoid another close shave.
For more information on the career of Kreigh Collins, visit his page on Facebook.
After experiencing Sir Richard’s foolhardiness first hand, Kevin witnesses it again. This time it seem certain that it will cost Sir Richard his life.
In a shocking turn of events, Sultan Murad releases Richard. And sure enough, the foolish Englishman puts them all in harm’s way again. How many times can Kevin overcome Richard’s ineptitude?
For more information on the career of Kreigh Collins, visit his page on Facebook.
As this new adventure begins, Kevin is aboard a sailboat near Istanbul, a seemingly unusual place to secure intel on Spain’s plans to invade England.
Due to the reference to Sultan Murad (III), the events depicted would be occurring c. 1580, the height of the Ottoman Empire. Kevin and tagalong Sir Richard are set to rescue the fetching English spy, Lucia.
The August 11 episode is a marvel, and Collins’ beautiful line work is fully on display in the NEA Daily. Despite Sir Richard’s timely suggestion to change into less conspicuous clothing, their daring escape is noticed.
For more information on the career of Kreigh Collins, visit his page on Facebook.
Over the course of his 24-year career illustrating comics for NEA, Kreigh Collins received quite a bit of fan mail. No doubt it was flattering for Collins to read, but the real benefit was more tangible. Fan mail indicated engaged readers, and led to better treatment from the newspapers running the comics—more desirable placement in the comics section, and less chance of running in the unflattering one-third page version. When letters arrived at the NEA offices, staffers wrote back, thanking them, but suggesting they send praise directly to their local paper.
During the “Mitzi McCoy” era, Stub Goodman’s dog Tiny was the inspiration for much of the positive reader response. Tiny was an enormous Irish Wolfhound, and became the favorite of many, especially members of the Irish Wolfhound Club of America. Initially, these letters were encouraged—Lynn thought he could mobilize an enthusiastic base in a letter-writing campaign to help boost “Mitzi” ’s profile. Soon, however, it was decided the amount of energy spent catering to the wolfhound aficionados outweighed any benefit they provided.
After the successful debut of “Kevin the Bold,” one letter writer wondered (correctly) if the the comic strip was created by the same Kreigh Collins he had known who did illustration work for Chicago ad agencies in the early 1930s. (After all, my grandfather wasn’t the only one with that unusual name).
What other letters often had in common, besides praise, was a request. Would Mr. Collins please sent an autographed photo? Could he please send a drawing of Tiny/Mitzi/Kevin? Or would he be able to send a piece of original artwork?
Collins was happy to oblige. In his era, original comic art didn’t hold the cachet it does today. By the time his original illustrations were returned to him, those episodes were ancient history, and Collins would be busy refining layouts for upcoming comics and developing scripts for future ones. Besides mailing art to far flung fans, Kreigh also gave them to friends closer to home. Though it isn’t in fantastic condition, my favorite “Kevin the Bold” original is the one my Grandpa Collins gave to my Grandpa Palmer (my mother grew up in Grand Rapids, about ten miles from my father, who hailed from Ada, Michigan).
Personalized by the artist, top left.
Many letters complimenting Collins’ fine illustrations came due to his dogged research efforts, whether of 16th-century Austrian armorer Konrad Seusenhofer (“my family were armorers for generations going back as far as 1250… would you be so kind to give me the source of the information…”), 16th century sailing ships (“Above all I have enjoyed the lavish details that you put into your caravels…”), or period-appropriate clothing (“the thing I am so very fond of are the gorgeous clothes”).
Features Director Ernest Lynn used the fan mail as a sales tool. A letter sent to Miami Herald brass collected several glowing quotes and a referenced the Chicago Tribune’s use of “Kevin the Bold” in an attempt to persuade them to feature the comic.
Letters from hobbyists and art students are one thing, but recognition from peers is something else. Another 1952 letter came from comic book artist Edmond Good. I was unfamiliar with his name, but after seeing his telltale signature, I looked him up.
For more information on the career of Kreigh Collins, visit his page on Facebook.
Kreigh’s Comics 