Sandy Sleighfoot - How Sonny Learned to Read

The first-born child got a good gig in the book trade today - albeit a short one. Something to do with something called the Book Summit. It's an industry-type thing in Toronto for people in the publishing game. She's her father's daughter. And I couldn't be more proud. We're all proud of you, Harriet.

Of course, I like to take some of the credit myself. After all, I introduced her to books and took her to her first book-store - The Book Brothers, when they had their downstairs shop downtown on Richmond across the street from that other book store then owned by the guy who sells/sold marijuana seeds.

I've always loved books. I remember finishing a biography of Elliot Ness when I was about 10 and dreaming of becoming a writer and living in a big-roomed white mansion with my girlfriend and my best friend. It was all very Great Gatsby, long before I had even met Jay. Shortly after that I read a biography about Houdini and decided to become an escape artist instead.

But what started everything was the love of a good story. An appreciation for fable. I guess that's how it is for most of us. No one grows up sitting on their parent's lap and being read to straight out of the London Free Press. Not these days anyway, when there's CNN. No, our first memories of being told a good story.

I don't read much fiction anymore. Thanks to the Internet. These days, I seem more interested in the stupidity that governs our City Council and the stupidity of the commentators who comment on it. And that strikes me as very sad. So I try to stop caring about the 'news.'

And get back to reading for 'pleasure' again. Not that it's easy. You could count the number of fiction books I've read on one hand. Let's see - there's 'Middlesex' by this Detroit writer about just what the title says. Before that, my hardcover copy of a 'Peanuts Treasury' - Charlie Brown panels circa 1966. And 'It's a Good Life if you don't weaken' by Seth. I read it twice. Because I bought it twice. I gave my original copy to first-born child after coming across a scene set in Book Brothers in the early 1980s - the same era I was taking her down those stairs to the shop.

But shit, that's not even an entire handful. And two of those three books are cartoons. Well, that figures. Even though I no longer get a newspaper delivered to my door, I still check out the 'funnies' on-line. I limit them to a small number but it's still a daily ritual - Doonsebury, Marmaduke, Retail, Peanuts, Funky Winterbean, Crankshaft, Bizarro and Blondie. I used to read Rex Morgan, but one day something actually happened.

That's how I got started reading regularly reading at the age of eight. Through the 'funnies.' It was a daily strip in the Windsor Star about 1963, called 'Sandy,' written and drawn by Jim Unwin. There are samples up at the top of this post. It was about this kid who has really big feet and feels like a misfit. Story of my fuckin' life. Except for the big feet part. Anyway he's a bit of an outcast and lives in this enchanted forest in a tree with his wizard best friend and this wood-nymph babe. And he regularly leaves the forest and has adventures and stuff. It was one of those on-going narrative type cartoons.

Shortly afterwards I went on to comic books. I don't remember if it was a Batman or Superman I bought first. Doesn't matter because the first comic book I ever bought with my own money was 'Rocky and Bullwinkle and Friends.' And I can even tell you why I chose that one. It was springtime, right after Easter. And one of the eggs the Bunny brought me was plastic and filled with Silly Putty. And I wanted to make reproductions of Dudley Do-Right. Well, that was fun for about five minutes and so the next time I was in the corner store, twirling that metal-rack carousel of fun around, I stopped at Superman.

My weekly allowance was 15 cents. That was enough for a 12-cent comic book and three cents for either three Bazooka bubblegums or nine blackball jawbreakers - three for a penny. I was living the high life, baby - and lovin' every minute of it.

But with age comes responsibility and self-discipline. By the time I was 10 I realized that if I could somehow manage to not spend my allowance but to save it for two weeks - I'd have enough for a 25-cent copy of 'Mad' magazine. And enough change for a pack of bubblegum cards.

Not long after that I wizened up to things, figured out all the angles and got my own library card. Got to take out books for free. And then spent all my allowance on Cokes and smokes. Eventually saved up enough money to go to university and learn how to appreciate the right kind of books. But for the most part, they were damn boring. Not half as much fun as Batman's time travels and visits to other planets. Or Houdini. Or Elliot Ness for that matter.

English Lit certainly ain't as much fun or deep as the nostalgically sentimental Seth. He's a guy after my own heart. The same disposition as me, only it seems to have set in on the poor sod about twenty years earlier.

What I appreciate about the man is his high regard for the history of his craft. In 'It's a Good Life ...' the main character (who is really Seth, of course) becomes obsessed with finding everything he can on an obscure cartoonist from the 1940s who only had a small number of cartoons published.

Not unlike me and 'Sandy.' Ever since discovering this Internet thing, I've been on this off and on quest for copies of 'Sandy.' The black and white strips above are all I could find. And that wasn't until two months ago - from a website in the Netherlands. And the lettering is in French.

No one remembers this strip. I was about eight at the time and so my memory is hazy, but it couldn't have even lasted a year or so. Too bad, because it was truly quite charming. It was based on the book, 'Little Sandy Sleighfoot,' which set in Santa's Village at the North Pole. It was a blatant rip-off of Rudolph. With his big feet, Sandy saves the Village from burning down.

But the book - written by cartoonist Jim Unwin's mom, June - is all you will find on the Internet about 'Sandy.'

My personal dream is to someday go down to the Windsor Public Library and spend a week going through all their old microfiche or reels of the Windsor Star circa 1963 and reliving my childhood by reading all the back issues with 'Sandy.' Maybe even photocopy them, if such a thing is possible. Bring them home, cut them out and paste them in a scrap-book. Just as I collected them at the end of every day back then. Needless to say, my mother threw out that scrap-book not long after the strip was cancelled. Which is why to this day, I can never throw away a book. I might pitch the occassional book at the wall across the room if it's sufficiently awful - but I can never throw one out.