Review by Graham Johnstone
Trashman is Agent of the Sixth International, and super-heroic alter-ego of his creator Spain Rodriguez. The hero of the working classes, his name may be a cheeky reversal of the upper-class bully from Tom Brown’s Schooldays, and the later Flashman novels.
Manuel ‘Spain’ Rodriguez was a pioneer of American Underground Comix. In 1968, Trashman became a regular feature in New York’s counter-cultural tabloid the East Village Other, continuing until 1969, when Spain relocated to, comix’ epicentre, San Francisco. There, he became a mainstay of Robert Crumb’s flagship Zap Comix anthology, and began self-publishing Trashman in his Subvert Comics.
The Underground cartoonists were united more by their independent spirit, than any artistic orthodoxy, and Spain was unusual in drawing on action comics for his stories and art. That’s most obvious with the super-heroic Trashman. Spain’s critical approach to his inspirations, is signalled by the ‘Subvert’ masthead, and Trashman’s back cover (here frontispiece) retort: “Hangdogs of imperialism taste hot lead!” Spain goes beyond the comix staples of sex, drugs, and revolution, into expanded consciousness and environmental awareness, exemplified by his hero’s ability to “read meaning in ordinary objects”, a power neutralised by any fall in airborne pollution..
This collection sensibly opens with ‘The Origin of Trashman’, telling how auto-mechanic Harry Barnes becomes the eponymous hero, against the backdrop of a nuclear-bombed American future. The backstory is the governments of USA and the Soviet Union conspiring to destroy their “..urban conglomerations [of] social ferment…” Beyond the political satire, Spain subverts and spoofs origin stories, notably the murder of Harry’s wife triggering his journey towards his violent alter-ego. This was thirty years before Gail Simone and other women of comics condemned this violence-justifying narrative trope. Readers wondering about Spain’s representation of women can turn to the next story.
‘Trashman Meets the Fighting She-Devils’ upends stereotypes, with a female equivalent of the Road Vultures motorcycle gang (see My True Story). Women with guns bigger than their costumes, is groan-worthy cliché now, but in 1970 was a satiric reversal. It’s in the confrontational tradition of Jonathan Swift’s Modest Proposal: that poor people sell their children as food. When Trashman and his professor pal are road-jacked by the scantily clad amazons, they think they’re in luck. Spain has the professor say the She-Devils, despite their appeal to the male gaze: “reverse the whole sexual dominance [of] our civilisation.” Events do not go as the men wish, or rather they do, but it changes their perspective. Spain weaves smart turns and insights into the high-octane Trashman story. He builds to an ending that’s unexpected, hilarious, humane, and astute. ‘Trash’ on the surface, the Man behind it is evidently subtle, witty, and humane.
Spain’s (unlikely) visual inspiration of Wally Wood, is hinted by the cover’s Ben-Day dots, and Mad comics’ sound effects. It’s evident inside from camera angles and signature Wood devices, like silhouettes. Spain adds the exaggerated perspectives and dynamic energy of Jack Kirby, creating a simple but powerful style, perfectly suited to these stories. This early work demonstrates Spain’s already strong storytelling, with a few unclear panels soon forgotten.
Trashman Begins isn’t quite the beginning of the character, but the original tabloid-sized pages would be microscopic here. However, they, and all Trashman stories, are collected in Street Fighting Men, the first volume of Fantagraphics’ definitive Spain collection. His packed pages are better appreciated in the latter’s larger format, but this little book offers a more affordable entry point.
