Not Just For Children Mexican Comic Books 1960s and 1970s

NOT JUST FOR CHILDREN
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NOT JUST FOR CHILDREN
The Mexican Comic Booh in
the Late 1960s and 1970s
Harold E. Hinds, Jr.
and Charles M. Tatum
Contributions to the Study of Popular Culture. Number 30
Greenwood Press
Westport, Connecticut • London
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Hinds, Harold E.
Not just for children : the Mexican comic book in the late 1960s
and 1970s / Harold E. Hinds, Jr. and Charles M. Tatum.
p. cm.—(Contributions to the study of popular culture,
ISSN 0198-9871 ; no. 30)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 0-313-25467-2 (alk. paper)
1. Comic books, strips, etc.—Mexico—History and criticism.
2. Mexico—Popular culture—Periodicals—History and criticism.
I. Tatum, Charles M. II. Title. III. Series.
PN6790.M48H56 1992
741.5'0972'09046-dc20 91-40319
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data is available.
Copyright © 1992 by Harold B. Hinds, Jr. and Charles M. Tatum
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be
reproduced, by any process or technique, without the
express written consent of the publisher.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 91-40319
ISBN: 0-313-25467-2
ISSN: 0198-9871
First published in 1992
Greenwood Press, 88 Post Road West, Westport, CT 06881
An imprint of Greenwood Publishing Group, Inc.
Printed in the United States of America
The paper used in this book complies with the

Permanent Paper Standard issued by the National
Information Standards Organization (Z39.48-1984).
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Copyright Acknowledgments
The authors and publisher gratefully acknowledge permission to reprint material from the follow-
ing copyrighted sources.
Charles M. Tatum, "Lagrimas, risas y amor: Mexico's Most Popular Comic Book," Journal of
Popular Culture, Vol. 14, No. 3 (Winter 1980). Reprinted by permission of The Popular Press.
Harold E. Hinds, Jr., "Chanoc: Adventure and Slapstick on Mexico's Southeast Coast," Journal of
Popular Culture, Vol. 14, No. 3 (Winter 1980). Reprinted by permission of The Popular Press.
Harold E. Hinds, Jr., "Kaliman: A Mexican Superhero," Journal of Popular Culture, Vol. 13, No. 2
(Fall 1979). Reprinted by permission of The Popular Press.
Harold E. Hinds, Jr., "El Payo: A Man Against the World: A Mexican 'Western' Comic Book,"
North Dakota Quarterly, Vol. 48, No. 2 (Spring 1980). Reprinted by permission of the North
Dakota Quarterly.
For Orvin J. Leis, a former student of ours at
the University of Minnesota-Morris, who first
convinced us of the importance of Mexican comic books

Contents
Preface ix
1. Mexican Comic Books: Their Production and Consumption 1
2. Kalimdn 32 32
3. Lagrimas, risas y amor 53 53
4.Riu's Los supermachos and Los agachados 69
5. Post-Rius Los supermachos 9 90
6. Chanoc 1 111
7. £/Pay<? 1 133
8. Lafamilia Burron 15 159
9. La novela policiaca 1 187

10. Conclusion 2 220
Select Bibliography 2 235
Index 239
Illustrations follow page 132
This page intentionally left blank
Preface
A student's timely, keen observation, combined with our own curiosity, luck,
and the willingness of our home institution to support "unorthodox" research,
largely account for the original conception of this volume. During the summer
of 1975, Orvin Leis, a student who was enrolled in the University of
Minnesota-Morris's Summer Program in Cuernavaca, Mexico, observed that
if the authors really wanted to understand contemporary Mexican culture they
should study comic books, since nearly everyone, even adults, seemed to be
reading them. He commented that the superhero comic book Kalimdn was
particularly popular. A trip into Mexico City to visit the editorial firm that
published Kalimdn paid unexpected and immediate dividends. A Friday
afternoon visit was timed perfectly, as the weekly issue of this comic book had
just been sent to press, and Modesto Vazquez R., business manager of
Promotora "K" and son of one of the orginal creators of the comic book, was
delighted to spend most of the afternoon talking about Kalimdn and Mexican
comic books in general. He even provided copies of many early and
impossible-to-obtain issues. It definitely appeared that if this encounter was
not atypical, a major study of a largely overlooked Mexican mass medium
might be undertaken.
A generous grant from the Academic Dean's office at the University of
Minnesota-Morris and the University of Minnesota's Office of International
Programs allowed a return trip to Mexico in the spring of 1976 to further
assess the feasibility of a larger study. No Mexican library would admit to
owning either current or back issues of Mexican comic books. Later it was
discovered quite by accident that the Hemeroteca Nacional, Mexico's National
Periodical Library, did possess a collection of Mexican comic books, but the
collection was uncatalogued and held in storage, and a researcher was
completely dependent on whatever a helpful librarian might retrieve.
x Preface
Subsequent visits to Mexico and requests have never produced the same
discoveries as the spring 1976 visit. Some publishers of comic books maintain
an archive of back issues, but these generally are not made available to
researchers. An extensive secondhand market for used magazines, however,
did provide a source to collect a representative sample and/or extensive runs
of most of the very popular comic book titles. Street vendors were amenable
to being interviewed and on several occasions provided much valuable
information on the comic book market and on the profiles and buying patterns
of patrons. Readers turned out to be more elusive; the technique of
approaching patrons in the act of purchasing a comic book worked well for
only the most popular titles such as Kalimdn and Ldgrimas, risas y amor
[Tears, Laughter, and Love]. Finally, those involved in the creation of comic
books were approachable and willing to be helpful, even if they were not
always as generous with their time as Modesto Vazquez R.
A larger study, then, was feasible, but which comic books should be
studied? After conducting field observations and discussions with editors,
vendors, and consumers, it was decided that the most popular title in every
major comic book genre, provided that a representative sample of back issues
could be collected on the secondhand market, would receive an in-depth
analysis. The genres and titles selected were: (1) Superhero/Adventure—
Kalimdn; (2) Romznce—Ldgrimas, risas y amor [Tears, Laughter, and Love];
(3) Western—El Payo; (4) Regional Adventure/Humor—Chanoc; (5) Political
Humor—Los supermachos [The Supermachos]; (6) Children's Humor—Mem w
Pinguin; (7) Family Humor—La fam ilia Burron [The Burron Family]; (8
Police/Detective—La novela policiaca [The Mystery Novel].
Regrettably, it was impossible to collect a sufficient sample of Memfn
Pinguin, and it was dropped. The political category was enlarged so as to
include a more representative sample of the works of Mexico's most famous
political comic book creator, Rius (Eduardo del Rio), and to test the thesis that
Los supermachos changed significantly after Rius left it. Thus Rius's Los
agachados [The Stooped Ones] was added. As the study got underway, it
became clear that several of the titles could not be so easily pigeon-holed as
earlier observations and interviews had suggested. Clearly several titles might
be subsumed under the generic heading "Adventure." Chanoc had begun as
a regional adventure comic book, then was radically transformed into a zany
humor comic book. Interviews led the authors to make the Pedro Zapiain
Fernandez period of the humorous Chanoc the principal focus of the study;
moreover, the superhero, police/detective, and western subtypes were clearly
distinct, well-established genres in their own right. Several titles could be
grouped under a "Humor" heading, but the Los agachados, Los supermachos,
La familia Burron, and Chanoc varieties appeared sufficiently different to
warrant separate treatment. Two of the selected titles, El Payo and Los
Preface xi
supermachos, ceased publication while the study was in progress, and if the
study were being initiated today (1991), those would be replaced by El
vaquero [The Cowboy] and Rius's comic book-like books, ABChe, for
example.
A representative sample was collected for each title through the late 1970s.
In every case an attempt was made to garner or to locate and examine a
complete run if possible. When this aim proved difficult, as in the case of La
novela policiaca, a randomly selected sample of at least 10 percent of used
copies available was taken. There were limits, however. Secondhand comic
books frequently are reread and resold until they fall apart. It was generally
possible to find a sample stretching back three to five years, but only scattered
numbers and occasional runs could be located for earlier periods. Complete
or nearly complete three-to-five-year collections were located for Kalimdn, La
familia Burron, El Payo, Los agachados, Los supermachos, and Ldgrimas,
risas y amor. Good runs for the second half of the 1970s, but only scattered
numbers (and occasional runs) for earlier periods, were located for Chanoc and
La novela policiaca. Most of the study's field work was done in the late
1970s, although the authors have continued to be in contact with many of their
informants since that time. The major, but not exclusive, focus for this study
ranges from the late-1960s through the 1970s.
Except for the initial and final chapters, this study is largely devoted to an
in-depth analysis of individual comic books. Studies published to date have
not provided extensive description and analysis of any individual Mexican
comic-book titles, with the exception of Phyllis Ann Wiegand Proctor's 1972
University of Texas dissertation on Los supermachos, and Julia Emilia
Palacios Franco's 1978 Universidad Iberoamericana thesis on Torbellino
[Whirlwind].1 Only Proctor and Palacios Franco devoted more than a few
lines or a few pages to describing a product that ran to thousands of pages
and, in some cases, stretched over decades.
This study devotes an entire chapter to each of the selected titles. Within
each of these chapters, information is provided about who created, produced,
and consumed the comic book; basic characters and themes are described; the
title is compared with similar comic books in the United States; the comic
book is analyzed in terms of how it reflects Mexican culture; and in most
chapters a short commentary is provided. Some attention is given to the
suitability of Mexican comic books to provide a model for social change.
While it is the case that many Mexican comic books present a conservative
vision, at least half our sample, either explicitly or implicitly, provide models
for social change (in particular see the chapters on Los agachados, Los
supermachos, El Payo, and La familia Burron), and thus such an analysis
seems warranted. Regrettably, financial constraints limited the number of
illustrations that accompany these chapters; hopefully, extended descriptions
xii Preface
and analysis of individual titles will somewhat compensate for this deficiency.
These core chapters are framed by: (1) an introductory chapter that describes
and analyzes in general terms the Mexican comic-book industry, its products,
and consumers and (2) a concluding chapter that analyzes many of the findings
in light of what is known as the media imperialism thesis. This thesis is
indirectly commented upon in the introductory, and in the comparisons
between Mexican and American comic books in each of the core chapters;
however, it is more systematically and explicitly discussed in the conclusion.
The authors did not set out to comment upon the media imperialism thesis
itself. The conclusion resulted from our interest in cross-cultural comparisons
and in our fascination with the theme so frequently found in Mexicans'
analysis of their own comic books: that American comic books had colonized
and polluted their culture.2
Any study such as this that has stretched out over more than a decade
depends on the generosity of many individuals. This study is no exception.
Mexicans associated with the comic book industry or foreign scholars residing
in Mexico who assisted with the research include Modesto Vasquez R. of
Promotora "K"; Modesto Vasquez Gonzalez of Radio Cadena Nacional
[National Radio Network] and co-creator of Kalimdn; Victor Fox, scriptwriter
par excellence for Kalimdn; Ingeniero Guillermo Lete, general manager of
Editorial Argumentos; Yolando Vargas Dulche, author of Ldgrimas, risas y
amor; Eduardo del Rio (Rius), creator of Los agachados and Los
supermachos; the late Pedro Zapiain Fernandez who transformed Chanoc into
a humor comic book; Rafael Marquez Torres of Publicaciones Herrerfas
(Novedades Editores); Carlos Vigil of Editorial Senda; Guillermo Vigil,
creator of El Payo; Fausto Buendia Vazquez, who illustrated El Payo; Gabriel
Vargas, creator of La familia Burron; Raul Santibanez, scriptwriter for La
novela policiaca; Vicente Ferrer, also a scriptwriter for La novela policiaca;
Felipe Ehrenberg, Mexican art critic; Carla Stellweg, editor of Artes visuales
[Visual Arts]; Alma Guillermoprieto, reporter for the Washington Post; Alan
Riding, reporter for The New York Times; Guadalupe Jimenez Godinach, who
helped create the Secretarfa de Educacion Publica's [Ministry of Public
Education] educational comic books; Rodolfo Stavenhagen, anthropologist;
Charles Wicke, art historian; Luis Alberto Vargas, anthropologist; and Paul
L. Yates, statistician.
Several colleagues and scholars of the comic book and of popular culture
have provided critical comments on parts of the manuscript. They include Ray
Browne, Julia Emilia Palacios Franco, Jose Luis Silva Ortiz, Irene Herner,
Cornelia B. Flora, Jane H. Hill, David Kunzle, Paula K. Speck, Maurice
Horn, Susan N. Masuoka, David La France, Susan Bryan, J. Leon Helguera,
Roderick A. Camp, Georges A. Parent, and Mariam Frenier and other
Preface xiii
members of the Cultural Studies Seminar at the University of Minnesota-

Morris.
Students have played a significant role in the development of this book.
They have provided straightforward comments and assistance with data
compilation and field interviews. They include Marcus Magnuson, Sherry
Dell, Orvin Leis, Ben Agar, Julee Caspers Agar, Jo Dale Franco, Timothy
Reynolds, Beth Nelson, Kim Frank, Charlotte Marthaler, Pat Burgos, Jeanne
Des Jardins, and Cheryl Riess.
A number of grants supported the authors' research: numerous seed grants
from the University of Minnesota-Morris and minigrants from New Mexico
State University; a 1982 visiting scholar grant from the University of Chicago-
University of Illinois Centers for Latin America; faculty summer research
appointments (1982, 1990); and a single quarter leave grant (1980), sabbatical
leaves (1978-79, 1985-86), and an Office of International Programs' Small
Grant for Research (1978), all from the University of Minnesota.
Very special thanks are owed to the personnel at the Hemeroteca Nacional
in Mexico City; to Barbara McGirmis, Reference Librarian, University of
Minnesota-Morris; and to Elizabeth J. Hinds, who assisted with many of the
interviews and commented upon several drafts, and who edited parts of the
final manuscript; to Marilyn Brownstein, editor at Greenwood Press, who kept
the faith when the completion of the manuscript was seriously delayed by
family illness; to Lynn Taylor at Greenwood Press; and to the anonymous
reviewer who made a number of useful suggestions.
NOTES
1. For an appraisal of Latin American studies of the comics, see Harold

E. Hinds, Jr., "Comics," in Handbook of Latin American Popular Culture,
eds. Harold E. Hinds, Jr. and Charles M. Tatum (Westport, CT: Greenwood
Press, 1985), 81-110. Proctor's dissertation is entitled "Mexico's
Supermachos: Satire and Social Revolution in Comics by Rius"; and Palacios
Franco's dissertation is entitled "Proposiciones para el analisis de un comic
mexicano (El caso de 'Torbellino')."
2. For example, see Irene Herner, Mitos y monitos: Historietas y
fotonovelas en Mexico (Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autonoma de
Mexico, Editorial Nueva Imagen, 1979); and Higilio Alvarez Constantino, "La
magia de los comics coloniza nuestra cultura," Audiovision (Mexico), 2:7
(September-October 1975).
1
Mexican Comic Books:

Their Production
and Consumption
The importance of comic books in recent Mexican life has not escaped the
notice of observers. Paul Theroux, in his 1979 travelogue, The Old
Patagonian Express, notes, "I went into the plaza [in San Luis Potosi] and
bought a Mexican newspaper... .the rest of the [train] passengers bought comic
books."1 Adriana Malvido observes, in one of Mexico's most prestigious
dailies, Uno Mas Uno [One Plus One], that Mexico has the highest per capita
consumption of comic books in the world.2 And on the eve of the opening of
a major exhibit on Mexican comic books in Mexico City in 1987, Libros de
Mexico [Mexican Books] stated: "En Mexico, el c6mic es un articulo de la
primera necesidad" [In Mexico, the comic book is a basic necessity].3
I. A Brief History
An authoritative history of Mexican comic books has yet to be written.

Not even a reliable outline is available. The reasons have been enumerated by
J. M. Aurrecoechea, who cites the obstacles that frustrate efforts to produce
a detailed, accurate history: closed libraries, incomplete archives, creators who
refused to share their recollections or have forgotten their own work and failed
to maintain a file of it because they never thought it was important, and
numerous defunct publishing firms that have left no trace.4 Given these
problems, only a tentative, imperfect historical overview is offered here.
The origin of Mexican comic books is shrouded in myth and obscurity.
The Mexican association of comic-book authors and illustrators, El Circulo de
Tlacuilcos de Mexico, founded in 1970, traces the origin of Mexican comic
books to pre-Columbian codices and mural painting; however, this explanation
is difficult to take seriously and most certainly owes its genesis to post-1910
Mexican nationalism.5 Some suggestions for origins that are perhaps more
2 Not Just for Children
credible, but still not directly traceable, are nineteenth-century, popular

illustrated literature serialized in newspapers; illustrated satirical political
magazines; the single-panel political cartoon; cigarbox premiums in the form
of sequential panels, which told a story in comic-book fashion; and the
illustrated handbills, one-sheet news bulletins, and pamphlets by the celebrated
engraver Jose Guadalupe Posada. These precedents did establish an
appreciation for messages in visual form and for some of the comic books'
basic conventions.6
The comic books have the following basic elements: "(1) a narrative
(humorous or serious) told by a sequence of pictures (called 'panels'); (2) a
continuing character or cast of characters; and (3) text or dialogue included
within the pictures (customarily in the form of 'speech balloons' issuing from
the characters' mouths)."7 The first comic books that fully met these criteria
appeared in Mexico in the opening decade of the twentieth century,8 several
years after the medium had gained considerable popularity in the United
States. The earliest comic books published in Mexico were American strips
purchased from syndicates in the United States. For example, The
Katzenjammer Kids arrived in Mexico in 1903. The strips were published in
conservative newspapers whose editors wanted a visual feature to compete with
the political cartoons in rival newspapers that opposed the government of
Porfirio Diaz.
Mexican strips did not appear in any numbers until the 1920s. Annoyance
with the undependable supply and licensing requirements of United States
strips led Mexican newspapers to sponsor the creation of local products. In
1921 El Heraldo [The Herald] commissioned a daily strip from Salvador
Pruneda. Don Catarifw, considered by some to be the first genuinely Mexican
comic book, is a humorous strip about a Mexican charro [cowboy]. In 1925-
1926, the newspaper El Universal [The Universal] sponsored a competition to
attract additional Mexican talent. Hugo Tilghman and Jesus Acosta's Mamerto
y sus conocencias [Mamerto and His Acquaintances] won. It was based on an
American comic strip called Bringing Up Father and told the continuing saga
of a rural couple who moves to Mexico City. The contest brought to light a
wealth of additional talent, whose creations represented many of the finer
earlier Mexican strips, for example, Jesus Acosta's Chupamirto [Myrtle
Sucker], the cartoon forerunner of the comedian Mario Moreno "Cantinflas";
and Juan Arthenack's Don Prudencia y su familia [Mr. Moderation and his
Family] and his Adelaido el conquistador [Adelaido the Conqueror]. Among
many titles that could be singled out, the 1920s also offered Andres Audiffred
and Hipolito Zendejas' El sefior Pestana [Mr. Eyelash], Carlos Neve's
Rocambole, Alfonso Ontivero's Detective Fisgon [Detective Jester], and
Bismarck Mier's Chivo y Chavo [Kid Goat and Lad]. Most early strips were
team efforts and were humor comic books. As was true of their American
Production and Consumption 3
models, these generally took the form of child, family, or animal strips.
Despite their drawing on genres and examples from the United States, these
Mexican comic books also drew heavily on Mexican themes, language, and
character types, frequently those of lower-class origins.
The first Mexican comic books appeared in the mid-1930s, beginning with
Paquin [Frankie] in 1934, and were followed most notably by Paquito
[Frankie] in 1935, Pepin [Joey] in 1936, and Chamaco [Brat] in 1936. All
were published by large newspaper companies, were initially printed weekly,
and then became dailies (Chamaco was the first daily comic book in the
world). Unlike contemporary comic books, they were anthologies made up
predominantly of reprinted American comic strips in Spanish translation: Felix
the Cat, The Spirit, Terry and the Pirates, and Mickey Mouse, for example.
Although American comic strips predominated, Mexico pioneered this format,
since the first United States comic books, similar anthologies of comic strips,
did not appear until 1937. Adventure stories were especially popular, a
popularity that represented a break from the previous predominance of humor
titles. This trend was paralleled in the United States, where adventure comic
strips and comic books came to dominate the Depression and World War II
years. In anthologies, Mexican comic books sold well. The most popular,
Pepin, sold at least 320,000 daily, and twice that number on Sunday.9 The
best selling anthologies, Pepin and Chamaco, survived into the mid-1950s.
Mexican titles were definitely of secondary importance, but were included
as well. In fact, modern critics have labeled the 1930 to mid-1950s period of
Mexican comics an epoca de oro [Golden Age], because many celebrated
comic books appeared during these years. Some appeared in anthologies, and
others, beginning in the mid-1940s, were published as single-title comic
books, a format that by the close of the Golden Age would dominate the
market. Increased production and demand, fierce competition between
publishing firms, better wages for writers and artists, and a host of creative
and innovative talent, all helped the industry thrive and encouraged the
appearance of more Mexican comic books. Carlos Monsivais believes this
trend was aided by the increase in Mexican content of some comic books,
especially Mexican poverty, lack of development, and failure of technology to
solve Mexico's problems; by the implied, if not explicit, criticism of the
American way of life; by a tendency to poke fun at national customs, and by
a Mexican nationalism, marked by irony, sarcasm, and reticent humor.10
Scores of Golden Age comics could be mentioned, but perhaps a most
notable list would include the following: Jose Guadalupe Cruz's Adelita, a
love story set in the Revolution; Joaquin Cervantes Bassoco's Wama: El hijo
de la luna [Wama: The Moon's Son], a forerunner of jungle and sea comics;
Adolfo Marino Ruiz's El charro negro [The Black Cowboy], a very popular
Western; Jose Guadalupe Cruz's El Santo [The Saint], a cross between a comic
book and photonovel, which starred a masked wrestler; Gaspar Bolafios'

Rolando el rabioso [Roland The Mad], a humorous Prince Valiant, filled with
anachronisms; German Butze's Los supersahios [The Wise Guys], a series of
escapist and juvenile adventures and science fiction; Gabriel Vargas's La
familia Burron [The Burron Family], a humorous chronicle of an urban lower-
middle-class family; and Yolanda Vargas Dulche's Alma de nino [Child's
Soul], modeled on Our Gang.
The comic books of the post mid-1950s era have not fared well with the
critics. Carlos Monsivais and Irene Herner both believe that the quality of
Mexican comic books has declined.11 Monsivais argues that in this period the
cultural influence of the United States overwhelmingly dominated, and that
Mexican comic books either epitomized the worst of the sensational yellow
press or were bad copies of either American comic books or Mexican radio or
television programs. Herner believes that the worst genres—emphasizing terror,
violence, and pornography—flourished. There certainly is some truth in these
characterizations, but by selecting the best of the Golden Age and the worst
of the years thereafter, these critics paint a distorted picture. The post-1950
period, which might be dubbed the Silver Age, was one of great vitality.
Many talented writers and artists left the comic-book divisions of large
newspaper publishing firms to found their own publishing houses: for
example, Jose Guadalupe Cruz established Ediciones Jose G. Cruz; and
Yolanda Vargas Dulche and her husband launched Argumentos. This company
and Novedades would become the most successful and expansive companies
publishing comic books. New forms appeared and prospered: there was the
fotonovela, a cross between movie stills and the comics; the mini, a
pocket-sized comic book; and the novel-length comic book, which featured
individual stories of two hundred or more pages. New, best-selling, Mexican
genres were added, most notably, the political comics by Rius and the
superhero comic book Kalimdn.
The post-1950 comic-book industry flourished. Several of the most
popular titles are examined in depth in this study. Many others could be
highlighted. A brief, representative sample might include the following: La
doctora Corazdn [Doctor Heart], a romance comic book based on true stories;
La novela semanal [The Weekly Novel], a novel-length romance; Tradiciones
y leyendas de la colonia [Traditions and Legends of Colonial Times], a mix
of colonial legends and horrific tales set on Mexico City's streets;12 El libro
rojo [The Red Book], novel-length horror stories; the Blue Demon, the
adventures of a masked wrestler; Diamante negro [Black Diamond], the feats
of a soccer star; Alma grande [Big Soul], a Western set in Yaqui country; El
caballo del diablo [The Devil's Horse], tales of an avenging horse;13
Hermelinda linda [Beautiful Hermelinda], the wacky adventures of a white
witch; Torbellino [Whirlwind], the adventures of a car mechanic and racer
turned avenger with a social conscience;14 and Mejor Vida [Better Life], a
comic book produced and distributed by the government, which advocated
family planning to enhance the quality of life.
II. Popularity
When vendors of comic books are asked who reads them, vendors
frequently respond "everyone," meaning people of all ages and walks of life.
But just how popular are comic books? The estimated monthly production of
comic books varies considerably,15 and frequently the figures for comic books
and photonovels are reported as a unit. The authors' best guess is that twenty-
eight to thirty million comic books were produced monthly in 1970-71, about
fifty-six million in 1976-77, and some eighty million in 1981-82. This figures
indicate that the number of comic books and photonovels produced grew faster
than the rate of population growth: since there were about thirty-one million
Mexicans in 1971, sixty-five million in 1977, and seventy-one million in
1981. In a decade comic-book production had nearly tripled, while population
only increased about forty percent.
To correctly gauge the popularity of comic books, however, it is necessary
to estimate more than firsthand readership, because comic books are literally
read and reread until they fall apart. Typically about 15 percent of new comic
books are not sold, but are returned to the publisher, who sells the returns
either to cardboard factories or to wholesalers of used comic books. Some new
comic books, of course, are read and thrown away. A few, undoubtedly, are
retained as part of collections, although there is no organized comic-book
collectors' market in Mexico. The pass-along readership is estimated to be
immense. Comic books are freely lent to family members, friends, and fellow
employees; are provided for patrons at places of business, for example, barber
shops, juice stalls, and shoe-shine stands; are purchased collectively by
members of a reading circle so the cost is shared, then passed around; are read
aloud to paying groups, especially in small towns with high illiteracy rates; are
rented by firsthand buyers to acquaintances, for example, at work; are rented
by entrepreneurs to be read at the place of rental (in the mid-1970s in
Cuernavaca, for about one-fifth to one-tenth the original cost); are rented for
a flat monthly fee by some newsstand salesmen who will allow the consumer
to read all new titles; and are sold on an extensive secondhand market, often
at about one-third to one-half the original cost, or are traded, two for one. The
secondhand market ranges from wholesalers, who literally sell by the truck
load, to dealers with only a few dozen used comic books for sale.16
Estimates for this pass-along readership vary considerably. The most
frequent estimate, and one shared by those very well acquainted with the
comic-book industry, is that each comic book sold is read four times. Yet the
only figure that is not just a guess—for it appears no firm has ever done a
thorough market analysis—is based on a field study by the anthropologist,
Armando Bartra. His research team concluded that every new comic book
purchased is read five times, and if rentals, secondhand sales, and patron
readership are added, each comic book is read twelve times. Thus it would not
be unreasonable to estimate that each Mexican reads, on average, at least three
or four comic books a month, and every month more than a quarter-billion
comic books are consumed in Mexico.17 The only other culture that apparently
even begins to approach Mexico's level of comic-book consumption is Japan.18
The popularity of comic books relative to other media is difficult to gauge.
In the 1960s and 1970s, comic books were probably Mexico's second leading
mass medium, after the radio.19 Television was still a distant third.20
However, this estimate of radio's popularity is merely a general impression,
since the data for radio is vague at best. Radio stations blanketed Mexico,
except for the Southwestern region, but official figures for radio sets—some
seventeen million in 1976—do not include small transistor radios, which were
widespread by the end of the 1960s. One estimate for 1977, which used the
unit of radio homes rather than radio sets, estimated that 75 percent of the
total population might be reached by radio.21
For certain, comic books dominated the late 1970s print market.
Commercial books remained luxuries for most, and an average book sold just
three thousand copies. Sales of ten thousand were exceptional.22 Magazines
were poor sellers compared to comic books, with a total print run of some
nine million monthly in 1980. A total of 4.2 million newspapers circulated
daily in 1964; and in 1979 8.66 million circulated daily, and 263.41 million
monthly.23 Thus monthly firsthand sales for daily newspapers exceeded that for
comic books by a factor of nearly 3.9 in 1980; but since pass-along readership
for newspapers is estimated at three, but as high as twelve for comic books,
the latter would be the more popular. In fact Aida Rebaredo estimates that
only 13 percent of the population reads a daily newspaper;24 and should any
doubt remain, it is estimated that comic books consumed more than 60 percent
of the paper used in Mexico's print industries.25
Why are comic books so popular in Mexico? It seems there are nearly as
many opinions as commentators, and nearly all of them are based only on
armchair reflections.26 Within the spectrum of comic books, there are titles to
meet the needs and match the skills of nearly every age group and
educational-cultural level. While this is demonstrably true, it is still frequently
argued that comic books are popular because of their readers' low education
and literacy levels. Comic books are labeled simplistic, illustrated stories,
which are widely read because even in 1980 28 percent of adults were
functionally illiterate, and most of those who were literate had low literacy
levels. This explanation certainly has some merit, but it ignores the fact that
considerable education is necessary to read some comic books.
Economic variables mentioned by some commentators also deserve
consideration. Comic books are cheap. There are few alternative recreational
opportunities that are affordable or even available to many Mexicans.
Considerable numbers of people work long hours, six days a week, and comic
books demand scant energy or time to be digested.
Psychological factors may play a role as well. Most comic books offer an
alternative world, an escape that entertains. Some charge that this escapism is
harmful, claiming that it creates capitalist beliefs and needs, and is a sinister
form of North American cultural imperialism. Others view comics as offering
a means of upward social mobility and better self-image, for their limited,
"picture" vocabulary allows readers to become literate.
This list of reasons for the vast popularity of Mexican comic books
certainly has much merit, but it does not offer an adequate explanation. In
fact, it is not yet clear why Mexico and Japan have become the world's only
comic-book cultures. The answer(s) will only be found by undertaking
extensive surveys of readers and historical research, both of which have
scarcely begun, for either Mexico or Japan.
III. The Comic-Book Industry
The Mexican comic-book industry during the 1970s was oligopolistic, in

that four large industrial groups accounted for over half the production, but
these groups were not able to control the whole market, because numerous
small firms did surprisingly well publishing as few as one or two titles. Some
twenty-six firms published comic books with monthly print runs ranging from
a low of 280,000 to a high of 8,400,000. Typical of small firms is Editorial
Senda, headed by Carlos Vigil, who labored as a journeyman in nearly every
aspect of comic-book production, then became head of the comic-book and
photonovel division of one of the largest publishing firms, Publicaciones
Herrerias, before founding Senda in 1966. During the 1970s Senda published
only one comic book, the Western El Payo, which captured less than one
percent of the market, and two photonovels, which together almost accounted
for one percent. During good times, however, the firm flourished, and even
in periods of high costs and inflation-reduced pocketbooks, the firm did
surprisingly well. Not only has Senda remained independent of the industry's
giants, but it has been a significant innovator as well, publishing Mexico's
first full color photonovel, Linda [Beautiful].27
Nearly 60 percent of the 1976-77 market was accounted for by just four
industrial groups: The Editorial Argumentos group, comprised of four firms,
captured about 23 percent of the market with sixteen titles, including the most
popular romance, Ldgrimas, risas y amor [Tears, Laughter, and Love];
Editorial Novaro, which largely published American comic books in Spanish
translation, and probably accounted for about 12.5 percent, with at least
fifty-three titles, none of which was a serious competitor of the leading
Mexican comic books; Publicaciones Herrerias, which controlled nearly 18
percent, publishing four photonovels and six comic books, including the most
popular book-length comic books, such as La novela policiaca [The Mystery
Novel]; and the Promotora "K" Group, comprised of two firms, which
accounted for nearly 17 percent of the market with only four titles, including
the country's most popular comic book, Kalimdn. The big four were not
carbon copies of each other: Argumentos, an independent mom-and-pop firm,
manufactured just comic books, but later invested profits in the Kristal hotel
chain; Promotora "K" also produced only comic books, but it had strong ties
to Radio Cadena Nacional [National Radio Network, RCN], since Kalimdn
had first appeared on the radio; Novaro and Herrerias were both affiliated with
the Televisa Novedades Group, the most powerful mass media organization in
Mexico, which had significant foreign investment. While this last group had
a near monopoly of television, it obviously did not dominate the comic book
market to the same degree: No Novaro superhero comic presented a serious
challenge to Kalimdn, and no Herrenas romance could match the popularity
of Ldgrimas, risas y amor.2*
Regardless of the size of the firm, or its relationship to industrial groups
or even transnationals, the creative teams that produce the product, and the
conditions of their work, are quite similar, at least for Senda and Herrerias
where the authors had ample opportunity to observe production and to
interview members of the team. A one-person "team," such as Rius, is a
rarity, and in order to meet tight schedules even he is assisted by his family.
As elsewhere in the world, nearly all comic books are produced by a team;
however, in Mexico the roles of writer and editor are somewhat greater than
in other countries. The writer generally works alone and is not a salaried
employee of the publisher. Rather, the writer works on a free-lance basis and
is paid individually for each accepted script. The writer prepares a detailed
script from a story line—one he or she conceived, a plot outline initiated by the
writer but approved by the editor, or a story idea suggested by the editor.
Comparatively speaking, Mexican scripts are very detailed, containing not only
a fully fleshed-out story, with all dialogue and narration, but also instructions
for the artistic team. The editor, who has overall supervision of the project and
does final editing on both the script and art work, carefully reads and edits,
at times substantially altering the script.
The finished script most resembles a movie script, complete with shooting
instructions, and its completeness reveals that, after the editor, the most
important creators of comic books in Mexico are scriptwriters, not artists. This
pattern undoubtedly accounts for the fact that narration and dialogue in
Mexican comic books are often decidedly superior to the artwork. The edited
script is farmed out to an artistic team, also generally not employees of the
firm. The principal artist, often also the artistic director of the team, may do
only the rough layout and sketches, leaving the finishing work to specialists
in lettering, penciling, inking, and coloring, if the comic book is in color.
This is a process essentially parallel to that used to create murals in Mexico.
The comic book team works with back issues of the comic book and files
made up of magazine illustrations, photographs, and the like, to insure that the
writer's instructions concerning, for example, a 1930s hairdo or a 1979 Ford,
are rendered accurately, even if exaggerated for comic effect. The editor also
carefully edits the art work, suggesting changes, at times significant ones.
Independent of the art team, a cover artist, generally working alone, does the
comic book's cover.29
Most laborers on comic books are not unionized. They are self-employed
or work for small art firms that compete fiercely for piece work and are not
under contract; therefore compensation is poor and conditions of work are
what would be expected in a cottage industry, or a sweat shop. Writers and
artists only receive about 10 percent of the profits, while 40 percent goes to
the printer, 40 percent to the distributor, and 10 percent to the publisher. The
publisher's profit margin reflects not only sales, but overhead. The larger the
numbers of an issue sold, the greater its income; the fewer the returns
(publishers aim to keep them below 15 percent), the higher its profits. At least
ten issues of a new title must sell well to recoup start-up costs. And for a large
firm with substantial overhead, at least sixty thousand copies of each issue
must be sold to break even. Writers and artists are almost always paid flat
fees, and therefore do not benefit from good sales. Royalties generally are not
paid, nor are percentages of total sales. Royalties, when paid, are only 1 to 2
percent. Rius, who was paid a flat fee plus a percentage of sales profits for
Los supermachos, has commented that this compensation was unusually
generous.30
Data on fees paid to writers and artists is scarce, and frequently
contradictory. Senda, a small firm, paid as high as 15,000 pesos for script and
art work in 1979, and an average of 3,000 to 4,000 thousand for the script,
and 3,000 for the art. Herrerias paid for its popular novel-length comic books,
also in 1979, the following amounts: 12,000 pesos per script, 165 to 300
hundred pesos per page to the principal artist, 10 per page to the letterer, 50
per page to the background artist, and 30 per page to the colorer. Herrerias
paid for Chanoc, which in 1979 ran thirty-two pages, 4,000 to 7,000 pesos for
a script, 500 to 1,000 to the principal artist, 30 to the letterer, and 50 to the
colorer. Compensation in 1979 was considerably higher than in the mid-1970s
because a booming industry allowed writers and artists to demand a higher rate
of compensation. Rafael Marquez Torres at Herrerias commented in 1979 that
people whose skills only qualified them to be an assistant in the mid-1970s had
become chief artists because of the explosion in comic books.31
In part, low-wage compensation also reflects the fact that artists and
writers are treated as wage laborers and not creators. Writers and artists retain
neither ownership of their creations nor their original art work. When work
is purchased, they are forced to forfeit all current and future rights, despite
Mexican law, which grants copyright to creators. A typical pay receipt states
"al firmar doy por enajenada mi produccion a la empresan [upon signing I
transfer the right to my work to the publishing house]. Such alienation can
preclude revenue from royalties, from licensing for commercial use of comic-
book characters, and from sale to collectors of original art work. This revenue
could substantially increase workers' incomes; although licensing of
comic-book characters in Mexico is far less frequent than in the United
States.32
IV. Comic-Book Features
Before turning to the illustrated story, the essential feature created by book
writers and artists, a discussion of other features of the comic book is in order.
Comic books came in a variety of sizes during the 1960s and 1970s. Initially,
three sizes predominated: (1) the standard Golden Age 7-1/2" x 10-1/2", with
six or less panels per page, and a length of thirty-two pages. Unlike its
American counterpart, each Mexican number contained one, not three stories,
or one installment of a serial that often ran for more than a year; (2) the
paperback, or digest-sized comic books, about one-half the 7-1/2" x 10-1/2"
dimensions of the Golden Age standard but twice to five or even six times
longer, with about two panels per page; and (3) the "mini" or "micro,"
literally pocket-sized version, but coming in a great variety of sizes and
lengths (generally multiples of thirty-two pages), and with one or two panels
per page. Since comics are stapled together, not bound, and sixteen pages is
the lower limit for mechanical stapling, mechanization set the lower size
limits. Then about 1973 the increased cost of paper and shrunken consumer
wallets forced the industry either to increase prices or to reduce comic-book
size. Initially the response was to maintain price so as not to lose customers,
and sacrifice some quality by reducing size but not length (as the public
expected at least thirty-two pages). The larger format gradually shrank to
approximately 7" x 4-1/2", and occasionally even smaller, and to four or
fewer panels per page. A reduction in size of book-length and mini formats
was somewhat offset by a modest increase in length. Quality did decline, but
the quality of Mexican comic books has always been lower than that of
American comic books because Mexican consumer disposable income is less
and, more importantly, because the cost of paper and ink is about four or even
six times higher in Mexico. Traditionally, art work has been minimized, at
least in contrast to American and European comic books, to offset these higher
costs. There is a minimum standard of quality, however, and by the end of the
decade the reduction in sizes had caused this minimum to be reached. Sizes
therefore stabilized, lest consumers be lost, and prices had to be increased.33
A second important feature is page layout. In Mexican comic books, page
layout has become rather standardized and conservative, at least when
compared to American and European trends. The typical page is divided into
a number of square or rectangular panels: from two to six on a page, but never
one, for the Golden Age size; two to four panels, occasionally one, for the
post-1973 large format; one to two for both the novel-length and mini formats.
Innovative panel designs are unusual, for example, montage; splash pages
(using one or two entire pages); action that breaks into adjoining panels; and
wavy, billowy, angular, or curvilinear panel edges.
Conservative comic-book art lowers costs, demands less of artists, and
probably reflects the dominance of text over art. Panels without words are
unusual. Action comics are somewhat less wordy than other genres: Modesto
Vazquez Gonzalez of Promotora "K," who has written the best guide to the
construction of successful Mexican comic books, recommends, for action
comic books, an ideal per page of 80 percent art and 20 percent divided
between narration, dialogue, and graphic onomatopoeia; and, for romance
comic books, an average per page of two-thirds art and one-third text. He
cautions that overly wordy panels must be avoided; a necessary warning given
the dominant role of writers in Mexican comic books. Narration is generally
encased in a rectangular box set above the scene portrayed. Balloons and
onomatopoeia amply demonstrate that Mexican writers and artists have
mastered the techniques of the classical comics, but not the more innovative
techniques of the post-1950s era, in particular those of underground and
alternative comic books. Finally, panels generally utilize two planes:
background (with or without action) and foreground (almost always with
action). More complicated techniques are ignored, undoubtedly to hold down
art costs.34
The artistic rendering of Mexican comic books relies on just two
techniques, both of which are comparatively inexpensive. The most
economical, because it can be done very rapidly, is line drawing, and is a
favorite for humor comic books. The half-tone technique is more expensive,
the watercolor (aguada) half-tone being favored for adventure comic books,
and the carbon pencil (carboncillo) half-tone, the most expensive, by
romances. Most Mexican comic books are printed in only one color. The more
expensive South American system of two colors and the North American
system of four colors are used, but infrequently. Full color is used on nearly
all covers, which actually are painted, then photographed and printed. The
most popular comic books examined in depth in this volume, Kalimdn and
Ldgrimas, risas y amor, are both monotone, and printed with the rotogravure
process, as are most Mexican comic books. Those done in color, such as El
Payo and Chanoc (also examined in subsequent chapters) use flat colors of
poor quality that are applied uniformly, as if a paint-by-the-numbers approach
had been used. Different genres use different color schemes, because of
convention and because the public has come to associate genres with specific
colors: coffee-brown (sepia alemdn) for adventure comic books, a warm
reddish brown (sepia frances) for romance comic books, black (negro) for
crime and Western comic books, and multicolor for humorous titles. A few
comic books use fotomontage, a technique invented by Jose G. Cruz in 1943,
which combines photographs and drawings.35
Another feature, ads, appeared far less frequently in Mexican than
American comic books in the 1960s and 1970s. Quite simply, Mexican
advertisers believe that comic books do not usually reach a monied public and
therefore do little advertising even when a weekly comic book sells in the
millions. Moreover, since advertisers are little interested, publishers do not
aggressively court them and have even rationalized that readers do not want
their comic books littered with ads. Despite this position, in 1979 both Carlos
Vigil at Senda and Rafael Marquez at Herrerias, believed that ads were a
potential gold mine that could partially solve the pressures of increased costs.36
Their rates for ads were 3,000 and 20,000 pesos a page respectively.
In 1980 a study was made of all ads placed in comic books that had been
on the market for at least one year, reasoning that less-established comic books
might not be as successful at attracting advertisers. Eighty-eight titles met this
criterion, and a sample for the week of August 2 through 8 contained 242 ads,
or an average of 2.75 ads per issue. Only two titles contained no ads.
Reflecting advertisers' disdain for comic books, 193, or 80 percent of the ads,
were in-house ads for other comic books by the same publisher, for beauty or
writing contests sponsored by the company, and for original stories that might
be bought by that firm. Ten percent, or 25 ads were for self-improvement
products and/or programs. The next largest category, government social
service ads, accounted for 7 percent or fourteen ads. The remaining 3 percent
of ads were for record clubs, wholesale or discount stores, and jewelry.
Clearly, expensive items, durables, and upscale or luxury goods were not
advertised. Besides ads and story text, comic books on occasion contained
other features, most notably letter columns, crossword puzzles, pencil mazes,
connect-the-dot diagrams, information columns, and even notices for missing
children.37
V. Comic-Book Genres and Constraints on Content and Distribution
In August 1980, the authors attempted to determine how many different

comic books (other than those translated from English) were being published
in Mexico, and then to classify this sample by general story type.38 Some 159
different comic-book titles appeared on the stands, as well as forty-one
photonovels. This correlated quite well with a similar collection made in July
1979 by Georges Parent of Laval University. Parent, a member of Laval's
Groupe de recherche en paraliterature mexicaine [Research Group in Mexican
Paraliterature], discovered 151 comic books and forty-four photonovels.39 In
the August 1980 collection, only eighty-eight titles had appeared for at least
a year, and twenty-six had been published for five or fewer issues. Evidently
the failure rate of new titles was very high, for nearly half of the 1979 titles
had disappeared by 1980; but the appearance of new titles was sufficient to
maintain the total number of titles offered at about 150.
Of those which survived for at least one year in 1980, basically seven
different types of stories were offered readers. Twenty-four, the largest group,
were adventure comics. These action-packed comic books often starred manly
characters, or superheroes, and were often violent, with numerous fist fights,
shootouts, and battles. Romance titles numbered seventeen, and would easily
have been the largest group if photonovels, which are largely love stories, had
been included. The fact that the largest number of comic books were either
adventure or romance titles supports Carlos Vigil's 1979 observation that these
categories were the big sellers, and that mystery and horror comics did not sell
as well.40 Humor comic books accounted for sixteen, and included humor of
all types, but especially children's humor and slapstick. If political humor was
included, the total in the humor comic-book category would be seventeen.
Horror comic books numbered thirteen, perhaps fourteen if comic books
devoted to legends were included. Horror comic books featured ghosts and
other supernatural beings, as well as terror and fear. Westerns, feturing
cowboys and sheriffs in western settings, were counted. Mysteries, with their
suspenseful "whodunit" format, murders, and unsolved crimes; and
moralistic/religious comics together made up seven titles. In short, nearly
every imaginable major type of story was included.
There were limits, however, on what could be published in the 1960s and
1970s. Financial constraints, and their effect on quality, have already been
discussed. A more important constraint is Productora e Importadora de Papel,
S. A. [Producer and Importer of Paper, Inc.] (PIPSA), a government
monopoly of the importation and distribution of paper, which also can
warehouse paper stock and supply paper on credit at very favorable terms. The
threat of losing PIPS A paper or credit, although rarely carried through, is
generally an effective deterrent to comic books that the government regards as

morally or politically offensive. In at least one case, PIPSA did not deter
publication; Rius continued to publish his political comic books even after
being refused newsprint.41
La Comision Calificadora de Publicaciones y Revistas Ilustradas [The
Commission for Judging Publications and Illustrated Magazines] can censor
content and can even ban comic books.42 The commission, a branch of the
Secretaria de Education Publica [Secretariat of Public Education] (SEP), was
founded in 1944, and its five members are designated by the president, and
confirmed by SEP. In the 1970s the members, although not necessarily
professionals, represented the attorney general, the Federal District, the
Interior department (Gobernacion), SEP, and publishing firms (the firms'
representatives were also to represent public opinion). Comic books had to be
registered with the commission within a month of their first appearance, and
the commission had broad powers to investigate the content of comic books.
In general those publications that denigrated any of the following could be
censored or banned: the work ethic, enthusiasm for studying, law and order,
the idea that crime does not pay, the Mexican people and culture, democracy,
standard Spanish, and high moral and sexual standards. Editorial houses that
published comics that violated these standards could be fined, their executives
jailed, and/or their guilty comics banned. Penalties increased with repeated
offenses.
The commission did not itself take disciplinary actions, rather it
recommended action to the attorney general's office, which investigated
further, then either rejected the recommendation or brought legal action. In
May 1976 the commission made recommendations against 185 publications,
the attorney general found sufficient cause to investigate sixty-six of these, and
fifty were ultimately banned. From published lists of banned comics, it is clear
that most were at least semipornographic. Fines (or jail sentences for those
who could not pay) were evidently not made public, so it is impossible to
evaluate which comic books received these penalties. In a rare expose of the
commission's work and impact, Guillermo Z. Vigil, creator of Senda's El
Payo, revealed that the commission in 1974 accused his comic book of being
excessively violent, of treating violence as natural, of having scenes that elicit
harmful passions and offend morality, and of using substandard, colloquial
Spanish. The head of Senda, Carlos Vigil, was fined 5,000 pesos or two
weeks in jail, and warned that a second offense would bring a doubling of the
penalty and the banning of El Payo. While it is difficult to see any noticeable
impact of this sentence on El Payo, the warning did somewhat temper
Guillermo Vigil's plans. He did not include several sexual themes he had
wanted to; those of homosexuality, erotic dreams, and masturbation.
How effective was the commission generally? The most pornographic

comic books were banned, but often reappeared within weeks under new titles
or as new, slightly changed, comic books. Given the scope of possible
offenses, obviously most comic books did violate some aspect of the law, but
few were banned, and those generally were the ones that sold poorly; yet the
commission and its charge did lead to some self-censorship, especially
regarding sex and crime. Evidently bribes kept some "banned" publications on
newsstands, as did some vendors' attitudes that they would stock whatever
sold. Finally, perspective is important; television, radio, and newspapers were
and are far more controlled in Mexico than comic books. At least some of the
content of Rius's political comics would not be allowed in these other media.
Comic books, the government evidently believes, were and are less influential,
and thus less dangerous.
Other forms of intimidation are rarely used. Editors and writers have
reported being jailed for short periods while not begin charged with specific
crimes, and then being released with a vague warning to mend their ways. The
most extreme and well known example is that of Rius in 1969. He was
arrested, then told most convincingly he would be executed, only to be
released. In Rius's case, intimidation failed, but the average creator or
publisher of comic books might not have resisted such pressure.43
Another potential constraint on the text is presented by the Union de
Voceadores y Expendedores de Revistas y Periodicos [Union of Street Vendors
and Retailers of Magazines and Newspapers], which, in the 1960s and 1970s,
with rare exceptions, determined what and when comic books would be
distributed in Mexico and abroad. The union was and is very secretive, and
thus there is little reliable information on it.44 The Union has entered into
agreements with distributors (such as the powerful Saylos and Intermex),
shipping centers (despachos), and wholesalers; and into contracts with street
vendors and agents. In the late 1970s in the Federal District, printers sent their
print runs directly to the Union, which distributed comic books to six shipping
centers, which then sent shipments to forty-nine wholesalers, who in turn
delivered the comic books to some seven thousand street vendors. For
distribution to the rest of Mexico, and for comic books sold outside Mexico,
publishers delivered comic books to the wholesalers, who then delivered them
to distributors (Saylos, Intermex, and others). These distributors shipped to
provincial or foreign wholesalers, who in turn placed them with retailers.
Just how powerful was this union in the 1960s and 1970s, with its web of
alliances? Irene Herner described it in 1979 as "un poderoso organismo
hegemonico" [a powerful, hegemonic organization]. Pedro Zapiain Fernandez,
a writer for Chanoc, labeled it a "mafia." And among those in the Mexican
comic-book industry one frequently heard rumors and speculation that the
union did determine, sometimes for a price, what was and was not marketed.
Evidence for this position is mixed, and at least to these observers seems
exaggerated. Comic books published by Herrerias, which in 1976-1977
accounted for about 18 percent of the market, were distributed through its own
distributor. SEP's "educational" comic books were distributed through
government-owned stores, through the mails, and through 150 stores selling
directly to the public. At least one comic book, Los supermachos, was
available both on the street and by subscription. Comic books were not
distributed with mafia-like efficiency. In fact, a 1981 study by a research
group in the Office of the President was surprised to discover that only one
comic book, Kalimdn, was found on all the newsstands visited. Also, the
union did not handle used comic books, a market that dwarfed firsthand sales.
In 1977 the union and its distributor associates above the street- level end of
the distribution network received only 10 percent of the sale price of a comic
book, while street vendors pocketed 30 percent. On the other hand, the union
did market comic books not approved of by SEP. The union only accepted
comic books for sale on commission. All unsold comic books distributed
through the union and its associates were returned. Clearly the publisher, not
the union, bore the risks of the market. Some small distributors, not affiliated
with the union, had to retain unsold comic books.
A final possible limit on a comic book's text is cultural imperialism.
Many, perhaps most, Mexican commentators appear to believe that Mexican
comic books, despite a native veneer, are transparent clones of comic-book
forms in the United States and of American culture and values.45 While there
is some truth in this assertion, Mexican comic books are not really clones, as
will be demonstrated in subsequent chapters. Rather, they are hybrids that
have borrowed the essential formal conventions but have also incorporated
much of Mexican culture and values.
VI. Audience
More than any other aspect of the Mexican comic book industry, the
audience remains elusive and is therefore a subject of considerable
disagreement. Audience surveys are rare. They are simply too expensive for
comic-book publishers to purchase. Mexican survey research is not very
reliable anyway, according to Evelyn Stevens, who has pointed out that too
many subjects either refuse to respond or provide indirect, evasive remarks.46
Editors instead rely on their own direct observations and hunches about
comic-book consumers.
The data that do exist are either too general, fragmentary, poorly
presented, or misinterpreted. Ironically, even the two most informative studies,
those of Alejandro Alarcon and Higilio Alvarez Constantino, exemplify these
tendencies, and reach the conclusion that United States comic books are more
frequently consumed than Mexican ones, an erroneous conclusion widely
shared among Mexican commentators.47
Alarcon, as a part of a study of teenage language in Mexico City in the
mid 1970s, administered a questionnaire to one thousand secondary-level
students, which included one question on reading preferences iQue tipo de
revistas o periodicos lees? [What type of magazines or newspapers do you
read?]).48 Fourteen choices were listed, including four comic books:
Ldgrimas, risas y amor, Walt Disney comic books, Little Lulu, and La familia
Burron. Although the author claims that his sample is representive of social
and economic strata in the Federal District, no proof is offered, and the
makeup of the sample as well as the responses strongly suggest that the sample
is predominantly middle and upper-middle class. First, in the 1970s when the
average number of school years completed was 3.5,49 a sample embracing
only secondary students would contain mainly middle and upper-middle-class
students, and even if some lower-class students were included they would not
be representative of their class. Second, the preferences of the young people
in the sample in comic books certainly reinforce this impression, and suggests
the Americanized middle and upper-middle class. Ldgrimas and La familia
Burron were given the lowest preference rating. In contrast, Disney comic
books were most preferred by boys and Little Lulu was most preferred by
girls.
Alvarez Constantino's study offers greater promise, but on close analysis
also does not provide a convincing or complete portrait of the Mexican
consumers of comic books.50 His mid-1970s sample included 3,300
fourth-to-sixth-grade Mexico City school children. He asserted, but did not
demonstrate, that it was a representative sample.51
Most (59 percent) of the children, mainly aged ten to fourteen, bought
their comic books, 25 percent borrowed them, 12 rented, and 4 percent
abstained from reading comic books. Not only did these kids have money to
buy new comic books, but they did so regularly, since 90 percent read comic
books at least weekly, and often daily.52 Reading comic books peaked at the
age of seven for boys, then declined but did not peak until ten for girls, before
noticeably declining for them as well.53 Their reading preferences were
decidedly for American comic books in Spanish translation, for example,
Archie, Tarzan, Little Lulu, and Tom & Jerry. The evidence of affluence,
preferences for American juvenile comic books, and the loss of interest in
comic books by the early teens all indicate that Alvarez Constantino's sample
was not representative, but one largely composed of the Americanized middle
and upper-middle sectors.54
Published analyses of comic-book consumption by the popular class, urban
or rural, during the 1960s and 1970s are largely either very general,
fragmentary, or of poor quality. Mariclaire Acosta speculated that comic book

readership was very high in rural areas, and that to affirm this one only need
visit town markets or campesino homes. In many cases, she added, comic
books were one of the few points of rural contact with the metropolitan
world.55 This view is confirmed by Oscar Lewis's description of the
possessions of the Martinez family of Tepoztlan, Morelos: they included
virtually no reading material except for ragged school texts, some religious
pamphlets, Bibles, several popular song sheets, three paperback novels, and
several comic books. Lewis commented that "this was more reading than could
be found in most...homes."56 In fact if Jose L. Silva's report in the early
1970s is not an isolated case, most reading in small, rural towns probably took
the form of rentals: large numbers of rural folk of nearly all ages, most
socioeconomic groups, and both sexes gathered at the plaza to read rental
comic books.57
The best set of data is for urban, female textile workers in Mexico City
in the early 1960s. Seventy women were intensively interviewed. Most were
unmarried, although their average age was forty-two. Poorly paid, they still
managed to support several relatives with their textile factory earnings. None
were illiterate, for even those who had never been to school had managed to
learn how to read, and one-third regularly bought women's magazines, family
magazines, photonovels, or comic books. Nearly 40 percent borrowed or
rented these items, at times from fellow workers who wanted to recoup their
investment by renting reading materials at about 20 percent of the original
purchase price.58
The authors' own conclusions are largely based on several years of
summer field experience in the 1970s and early 1980s, mainly in Mexico City
and the cities and villages of the state of Morelos, and on interviews with
editors, publishers, readers, and sellers. An early 1980s study by Roberto
Sanchez Rivera and a group of his college students in Mexico City echoes our
own general findings. The Sanchez Rivera team interviewed readers of
romance comic books and comic-book vendors to discover just who read comic
books. They concluded that men and women alike read romance comic books,
and that these readers came from every conceivable occupation and
background.59 When the authors queried readers or vendors about who most
often read or purchased comic books, the responses were often a variation on
"todos" [everyone], or "el piiblico" [the public], or "cualquier edad" [every
age]. But as one of our student assistants noted in 1979: "I received very
general answers about who buys comics. However, when the vendors say
'todos' they aren't far from the truth. I saw men and women about age seventy
buying comics, as well as middle-aged people, and young boys. Some people
were dressed well, while others seemed to be poorer." If the interviewers
asked about the audience for a specific title, the responses did narrow, (see the
discussion of Kalimdn said Ldgrimas readers in later chapters in this volume)
The authors' most extensive effort to discern who bought and read which
comic books was a July 27 through August 8, 1979 canvas of a representative
sample of vendors in central Morelos: from its capital, Cuernavaca, to its next
largest city, Cuautla, to small towns like Tepoztlan, to hamlets such as
Miacatlan.60 Sixty-eight vendors were interviewed by a team of five trained
students: Forty-two vendors were questioned in Cuernavaca, eleven in Cuautla,
four in Yautepec, three in Tepoztlan, two each in Puente de Ixtla and
Alpuyeca, and one each in Acatlipa, Ahuatepec, Ocotepec, Temixco, and
Miacatlan. Dealers of both firsthand and used comic books were queried.
Stocks of comic books displayed ranged from over one hundred different
issues hot off the press, displayed on permanent wood or metal stands; to a
few ragged, soiled used titles spread on the pavement. Larger, more permanent
stands also sold newspapers and magazines, while those with smaller displays
often sold some mix of comic books and candy, snacks, pop, fruit, or
cigarettes. These places of business were located in neighborhoods whose
resident populations were either impoverished, or middle-class, or a mixture
of the rich and less affluent. The questionnaire, which sought information on
sales and readers, had one major shortcoming: it was far too ambitious. It
requested too much information, and thus vendors often tired of responding
before all questions were answered. In general, vendors at least initially
cooperated, but some were definitely suspicious, believing the interviewers
must work for publishers.
Based on this survey, probably the most comprehensive ever undertaken,
the authors made the following conclusions: (1) In the late 1970s comic books
from the United States in Spanish translation were not best-sellers, and no
American title even remotely challenged such popular titles as Kalimdn or
Ldgrimas. Large stands with numerous titles did stock a few copies each of
American titles, but smaller stands, often in less prosperous areas,tended to
have only Mexican comic books on display. Vendors or used comic books
were somewhat more likely to have comic books from the United States in
stock because on average they had higher resale value, which was a reflection
of their higher initial cost and better binding but the volume of their sales was
far less than that of their Mexican competitors. (2) Rural areas did not have
nearly as high a rate of comic-book consumption as urban areas. Even though
the availability of other printed material was limited, sales and rentals of
comic books were quite modest. For example, the entire stock of used comic
books available in the twice-weekly Tepoztlan market was quite small and was
comparable to that displayed by poorer urban entrepreneurs. The lower
demand in rural areas appeared to reflect lower literacy rates and lower income
levels.61 (3) In general, the same titles that sold well in large urban places
(Cuernavaca) did well in towns and hamlets: for example, Kalimdn and
Ldgrimas were top-ranked sellers, and the Western Aguila solitaria [Lone
Eagle] was a smashing new success, which far outsold the older Western
favorite, El Payo. (4) Readership profiles for individual titles did not vary
much by location, although rural and lower-class children were more likely to
read adult comic books than their more urban and affluent counterparts. And
urban middle and upper-middle-class youngsters were more likely to read
comic books from the United States. (5) In response to the question of which
social classes buy comic books, most either indicated the popular classes, and,
in apparent contradiction, that everyone did; or else they listed groups of
buyers that, when taken together, added up to "todos" [everyone]. (6) The age
of readers ranged from children so young they could not read yet and who just
enjoyed the pictures, to "ancianos" [old folks]; however, most vendors
believed the bulk of buyers were youths and young adults. Regarding the
readers' gender, vendors on balance stated that more women than men read
comic books. (7) Although the survey instrument did not seek information on
the frequency of readers' purchases, a few vendors volunteered that most of
their clientele were regular—generally weekly—buyers.
Virtually nothing is known about the impact of comic books on their
Mexican consumers. As mentioned above, in the discussion of why comic
books are so popular, some commentators believe that comic-book reading
reinforces low education and literacy levels or subversively educates their fans
in the nefarious ways of a capitalist, imperialist world, yet others view comic
books as reading primers and therefore as educational. Only one essay on
Mexican comic books has moved beyond such armchair speculation to explore
the relationship between fandom and creator. One avenue for understanding the
effects of comic books is to listen to why fans like comic books and to their
demands for alternate characterizations, themes, and formats. Elena
Poniatowska, in a 1963 essay on Gabriel Vargas's La familia Burron, notes
that Vargas frequently received fan letters that demanded that Don Regino be
less self-effacing and his wife, Dona Borola, less indecisive, critiques that he
took seriously.62 Unfortunately, few companies or creators have saved fan
letters. Only one of the following chapters exploring one popular comic book
is able to use any fan letters, and even in that case only a few had survived.
Perhaps future researchers will be luckier, for there is little doubt that fan
letters can be even more valuable than researchers' surveys of readers. Fans
raise the issues and discuss the merits and weaknesses that they themselves
believe are important, which are often very different from those that
researchers deem critical for understanding the effects of comic books.
VQ. United States Influence
The Mexican comic-book industry, products, and audience in the 1960s

and 1970s were not clones of their counterparts in the United States.63 While
similarities and parallels did exist, differences were often marked. The
Mexican industry was less concentrated; in the United States only two
companies, Marvel and DC, controlled about two thirds of the market, while
in Mexico small firms often did surprisingly well. Some characteristics were
common to both Mexico and the United States. Among the shared
characteristics were these: about two hundred titles were on the market at any
given moment; the rate of failure for new titles probably exceeded 50 percent;
a few titles dominated their subject niches; comic books were sold on
commission with unsold comic books being returned; and nearly all sales were
from newsstands or stores and not by subscription. Mexican comic books,
however, generally appeared weekly, not monthly as in the United States.
Mexican comic books thrived during this period, while in the United States
comic-book sales rapidly declined, largely due to a failure to compete
effectively with television. In both the United States and Mexico, with rare
exceptions, teams produced the comic books, and editors could, and at times
did, exert considerable control. There tended to be greater equality between
writer and artist in the United States, although as in Mexico the writer
dominated. Both North and south of the Rio Grande/Bravo, work was poorly
compensated, royalties were often not paid, and copyright was retained by the
publisher, although workers in the United States during this period tended to
gain greater rights and financial security.
The Mexican comic book prior to 1960 had adopted nearly all the North
American conventions of the comics, yet a closer examination of Mexican
comic books in the 1960s and 1970s reveals sharp differences. There was a far
greater range of Mexican comic-book formats: book-length, thirty-two pages,
and minis. Because of lower purchasing power in Mexico, the final product,
except for the cover art, was inferior by United States standards. Four-color
comics were rare. Drab monotones predominated, and art work in general was
slighted. Shrinking real incomes for most Mexicans led to a sharp reduction
in the average comic-book size. In the United States, economic pressures,
especially during the inflation-ridden 1970s, produced quite different results.
The percentage of content devoted to advertising increased dramatically, for
example, from 29 to 41 percent between 1965 and 1979 in the Avengers.
Stories shrank to only seventeen pages, leaving insufficient space for subplots
or complex developments. And tie-ins and merchandising were significantly
increased: for example, in 1979 Marvel made more money from licensing the
use of comic-book characters than from the sale of comic books. Neither the
advertising nor the licensing option was, in a practical sense, available to the
Mexican industry.
In Mexico, unlike in the United States, a single issue of a comic book did
not contain several complete stories. Rather each issue contained one story or
part of a serial, which sometimes unfolded for more than a year. Whatever
was lacking in artistic merit in Mexican comic books was more than
compensated for by intricate, complex plots. Action and humor comic books
dominated the American market, and were very popular in Mexico as well;
however, Mexicans had a greater appetite for romance comic books.
The big difference, though, is that the major new developments in
American comic books found virtually no Mexican imitators. Warren's adult,
magazine-length, black and white comic books, Eerie and Vampirella, with
their emphasis on erotic horror and a more sophisticated art form, and
intended to circumvent the 1954 Comic Code, were not copied. Neither were
the vastly popular 1960s Marvel superhero comic books, with their more
human heroes, antiheroes, blurred boundaries between evil and good, guest
heroes and villains who "crossed over" from another book, cliques or alliances
of superheroes, and "Bullpen News," which revealed editorial secrets and
made readers feel like they were insiders. Underground comic books from
1968 and after that emphasized sex and violence, rejected middle-class values
and conventions, provided an uninhibited treatment of social issues, and were
sympathetic toward the drug culture also were not imitated.
Censorship of comic books in the United States by the 1954 Code was
evaded in various ways. The innovations of Warren were partly to avoid
censorship. Marvel was able to get the code somewhat changed. Under even
greater potential pressures from PIPS A, SEP's commission, and the
distribution syndicate, Mexican comic-book companies responded quite
differently. Rather than make major innovations, they continued to refine their
hybrid product, a mix of classic conventions of American comic books and of
Mexican culture.
Audiences north and south of the international border were sharply
different. The typical reader of American comic books was a young teenager,
and because of the successes of Marvel, Warren, and the underground comic
books, now included college-aged kids as well. Readers over twenty-eight
were unusual. Mexican comic books, on the other hand, were not only for
children or for those who continued their education beyond secondary school.
They were mainly for adults, those who had taken a place, no matter how
insecure, in the world of work. The market in the United States was volatile.
A comic-book's readership, it was believed, turned over every six months to
three years. Mexican readers were more loyal, probably because for them
comic-book reading was an adult activity. It must be stressed, however, that
descriptions of audience for both Mexican and the United States must remain
impressionistic, for even Marvel and DC did not conduct sophisticated market
studies until 1979.
The American predilections to found and join interest groups and to give
even nostalgia a market price also offered a sharp contrast with Mexican
practices. Some United States consumers founded fan clubs and published
fanzines. They organized conventions where comic books were minutely
studied, fans dressed as their favorite comic-book characters, and comic books
were traded or bought and sold. Collecting comic books became a leisure
activity, and the books became investment properties. None of this, save the
publication of one fanzine that lasted for one issue, marked the Mexican scene.
The adoption of the 1954 Comics Code and television's domination of
other mass media by the 1960s fundamentally altered the comics culture in the
United States. The comic book largely became a minor and transient element
in a culture that was preadolescent and, to a lesser extent, adolescent.
Newspapers continued to print comic strips that were read by adults and kids,
but newspapers reduced the number of strips printed, reduced the average size
of strips, and eventually carried so few adventure and romance strips that the
comics pages were overwhelmingly dominated by three-panel joke strips. A
comics print culture that once had flourished was largely reduced to
comic-strip jokes and a dwindling stable of comic-book superheroes. In
contrast, in Mexico most large daily newspapers carried a few ancient
American strips on weekdays and a somewhat larger number on Sunday. The
comics culture in Mexico was carried by the flourishing comic book, which
was overwhelmingly Mexican. The spread of television in Mexico in the 1980s
and 1990s might yet have an impact similar to that experienced in the United
States, but even though comic-book sales did fall in the late 1980s, to date
both television and the comic book thrive in Mexico.
NOTES
1. Paul Theroux, The Old Patagonian Express: By Train Through the

Americas (Boston: Cape Cod Scriveners Co., 1979; New York: Washington
Square Press, 1980), 68.
2. Adriana Malvido, "Piden la intervention estatal para mejorar la calidad
dehistorias," Uno Mas Uno, 4:1361 (August 24, 1981), 18.
3. "Proyecto para una exposition sobre la historieta mexicana," Libros
de Mexico, 8 (1987): 59.
4. J.M. Aurrecoechea, "La historieta mexicana, part 1, Snif: Elmitin del
nuevo comic, 1 (August 1980): Insert, 2. See also Jose Carlos Gonzalez,
"Entrevista con Carlos Monsivais," Artes Visuales, 22 (June-August 1979):

25.
5. Carmen Aguilar Zinser, "La historieta surge del codice prehispanico
y origino obras de arte." Excelsior (October 10, 1971), 1-2B; Carmen Aguilar
Zinser, "79 arios de historieta mexicana," Excelsior (October 9, 1971), 1-2B.
6. The antecedents are explored in a series of articles by J.M.
Aurrecoechea that appeared as an unpaginated center section in the short-lived
Snif: El mitin del nuevo comic. Entitled "La historieta mexicana," the articles
appeared in issues 1 (August 1980), 2 (September 1980), 3 (October 1980),
4 (n.d.). Also see Juan Manuel Aurrecoechea and Armando Barata, "La
caricatura politica del siglo XIX, tarsa e historia," Libros de Mexico, 11
(April, May, June 1988): 35-39; and their recent monograph, Puros cuentos:
La historia de la historieta en Mexico 1874-1934 (Mexico City: Museo
Nacional de Culturas Populares, Grijalbo, 1988). A promised sequel to this
monograph has not yet appeared. The most significant antecedents were the
cigar-box premiums and selected examples of Posada's engravings. For
reproductions, see the Aurrecoechea series, "Los verdaderos antecedentes de
la fotonovela actual," in Artes de Mexico, XV Aniversario, Niimero
Extraordinario (n.d.), pp. 18-27; Cesar Macazaga Ordorio, Las calaveras
viventes de Posada (Mexico City: Editorial Innovation, S.A., 1979).
7. Robert C. Harvey, "The aesthetics of the comic strip," Journal of
Popular Culture, 12:4 (Spring 1979): 641. See also Fernando Curiel, Mai
de Ojo: Iniciacion a la literatura iconica (Mexico City: Universidad
Nacional Autonoma de Mexico, 1989); Roman Gubern, El lenguaje de los
comics (Barcelona: Ediciones Peninsula, 1972).
8. This historical sketch of Mexican comic strips and books is based on
the following sources, many of which are not in agreement: Aurrecoechea and
Barata, Puros cuentos; the 1987-88 exhibit on Mexican comics at Mexico
City's Museo Nacional de Culturas Populares; Carlos Monsivais, "Historieta,"
unpublished, undated manuscript; Rosalva de Valdes, "Cronica general de la
historieta," Artes de Mexico, 19:158 (n.d.), 9-13; Gonzalez, "Entrevista con
Carlos Monsivais," 25-29; "Proyecto para una exposition sobre la historieta
mexicana," 60; Stanley Meisler, "Best Sellers in Mexico: Comic Books," The
Los Angeles Times (March 29, 1974), 1A-3A; Remy Bastien, "History of
Mexican Comics Got Off to Smoky Start," The Mexico City News (January 24,
1986), 23, 26; Patricia Trejo, "La historieta mexicana," Hoy, 1639 (October
23, 1971), 32-37; David Siller, "Historia de la historieta," Revista
Communidad CONACYT (August 1977): 23-26; Juan Manuel Aurrecoechea
and Armando Barata, "Heraldos de la historieta moderna," Libros de Mexico,
9 (October, November, December 1987): 33-37; Jose Luis Silva, "Interview:
Carlos Vigil on Mexican Comic Books and Photonovels," Studies in Latin
American Popular Culture, 5 (1986): 196-210; Carlos Monsivais,
"Impresiones sobre la cultura popular urbana en Mexico (segunda parte),"

Cuadernosde comunicacion, 2:22 (April 1977): 12-14; Gonzalez, "Entrevista
con Carlos Monsivais,"; Rius [Eduardo del RTo], Numeros agotados de Los
Agachados (Mexico City: Editorial Posada, 1974), 12-44; Irene Herner,
Mitos y monitos: Historietas y fotonovelas en Mexico (Mexico City:
Universidad Nacional Autonoma de Mexico, Editorial Nueva Imagen, 1979),
21-25.
9. The sales estimates for Pepin range from 80,000 to 320,000 to
700,000. SeeSilva, "Interview: Carlos Vigial," 197; 1987-88 exhibit, Museo
Nacional de Culturas Populares; Herner, Mitos y monitos, 23.
10. Gonzalez, "Entrevista con Carlos Monsivais," 25-26.
11. Herner, Mitos y monitos, 24-25; Gonzalez, "Entrevista," 26-29;
Monsivais, "Impresiones," 14. See also Higilio Alvarez Constantino, "La
magia de los comics coloniza nuestra cultura," Audiovision, 2:7 (September-
October 1975), 54-55.
12. See Harold E. Hinds, Jr., "Tradiciones y leyendas de la colonia:
Mexican Folklore and Colonial History for Popular Consumption," Folklore
Americano, 25 (June 1978): 101-9.
13. See Alma Guillermoprieta, "El caballo del diablo: Un estudio de
caso," paper presented at the Primer Simposio Mexicano Centroamericano de
Investigation sobre La Mujer, Mexico, November 7-9, 1977.
14. See Julia Emilia Palacios, "Torbellino: Towards an Alternative
Comic Book," Studies in Latin American Popular Culture, 5 (1986): 186-95.
15. Rius, Numeros agotados de Los Agachados, 40; Herner, Mitos y
monitos, 112, 114-15; "Comic: Una historieta popular, la paraliteratura en
Mexico," Revista Semana, 113, Sunday supplement to El Universal (July 10,
1977), 3; "Cinco empresas monopolizan la historieta, explotan al trabajador
e impiden sus reivindicaciones," Uno mds uno, 4:1358 (August 21, 1981), 17.
Several sources continued using the seventy million figure for comic books and
photonovels until 1980-81, but more knowledgeable sources reflected the fact
that production had increased to 100 million or more by the 1980s. See Jesus
Pavio Tenorio, "Fotonovelas y comics son la lectura habitual del mexicano,"
Serial, 26: 54: 1829 (November 29, 1980): 24-25; Aida Reboredo, "Sin las
historietas, millones de mexicanos serian analfabetos funcionales: Javier
Barros, de la SEP," Uno mds uno, 4:1317 (July 11, 1981), 19; Gordon D.
Mott, "Where Comic Books Are Kind," San Francisco Examiner & Chronicle
(April 8, 1982), A3; "Proyecto para una exposition sobre la historieta
mexicana," 59.
16. These generalizations on pass-along readership are mainly based on
the authors' numerous field trips in Mexico City, Cuernavaca, and the state of
Morelos in the 1970s and early 1980s. See also Marta Alcocer and Alicia
Molina, "Mexican Comics as Cultural Industry," in Comics and Visual
Culture: Research Studies from Ten Countries, eds. Herausegegeben von

Alphons Silbermann and H.D. Dyroff (Munchen: K.G. Saur, 1986), 196;
Virve Piho, "La obrera textil: Encuesta sobre su trabajo, ingreso y vida
familiar," Acta sociologica, 4 (1974): 35-135; "Dramas lacrimogenos pero
educativos," Proceso, 137 (June 18, 1979): 32. The estimated average rate
of returns of new comic books is based on an interview with Carlos Vigil,
July 27, 1979 in Mexico City; and an interview with Rafael Marquez Torres,
August 1, 1979 in Mexico City.
17. Estimates for pass-along readership are given in Estela Guadalupe
Jimenez Codinach, "Historia e historieta: Episodios mexicanos (Estudio de
caso)," paper presented at the VI Conference of Mexican and United States
Historians, Chicago, September 10, 1981; Pavio Tenorio, "Fotonovelas y
comics," 25; Reboredo, "Sin las historietas," 19; Walter Gaddis, "Zowie!!
Comics are Hot in Mexico," The Mexico City News (January 24, 1986), 17;
Adriana Malvido and Teresa Martinez Arana, "La historieta en Mexico: Un
mundo ancho y ajeno," Casa del tiempo, 4:42 (July 1984): 21; Francisco
Jarque Andres, "La paraliteratura: Production y consumo," Hispamerica,
7:21 (December 1978): 44.
18. On Japanese comics see Frederik L. Schodt, Manga! Manga! The
World of Japanese Comics (Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1986). Several
studies claim that Mexico has the highest per capita production and
consumption of comic books in the world, for example, a Universidad
Nacional Autonoma Mexicana [Mexican National Autonomous University]
study noted in "Venta de historietas supera a libros en Mexico," Chasqui:
Revista latinoamericana de comunicacion, 13 (January-March 1985): 68.
19. Mariclaire Acosta, "La historieta comica en Mexico," Revista de la
Universidad de Mexico, 28:10 (June 1973): 14.
20. Mexico City Chamber of Commerce, Compendium of Mexican Data
and Statistics (Mexico: Mexico City Chamber of Commerce, September
1980): 90.
21. Evelyn P. Stevens, Protest and Response in Mexico (Cambridge:
MIT Press, 1974), 53-54; Mexico City Chamber of Commerce, Compendium,
89. The 1977 data are given in Luis Antonio de Noriega and Frances Leach,
Broadcasting in Mexico (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1979), 38, and
appears to include transitor radios, but if so would be somewhat at odds with
Stevens and Compendium.
22. Hugo Gutierrez Vega, Informacion y sociedad (Mexico City: Fondo
de Cultura Economica, 1974), 111; Jimenez Codinach, "Historia e historieta,"
3-4; Carlos Ramirez, "De la crisis economica a la crisis cultural," Pie de
pdgina, 1:3 (January-February 1983): 21; Pavio Tenorio, "Fotonovelas y
comics," 24; "Comic," Revista semana, 2; Jose Cabrera Parra, "La IP de
Mexico solo imprime 15 millones de libros al ano," Excelsior (July 4, 1981),

4A.
23. Aida Reboredo, "Mas de nueve millones de mexicanos leen
periodicos, segiin estadisticas de SPP," Uno mds uno, 4:1315 (July 9, 1981),
19; Mexico City Chamber of Commerce, Compendium, 93.
24. Alan Riding, "Mexico's Passionate Affair with the Comics," New
York Times (September 5, 1977), 19.
25. Pablo Gonzalez Casanova, Democracy in Mexico (London: Oxford
University Press, 1972), 88; Mexico City Chamber of Commerce,
Compendium, 92; Reboredo, "Mas de nueve millones," 19; Reboredo, "Sin
las historietas," 19.; Malvido and Martinez, "La historieta en Mexico," 19.
26. Guesses as to why Mexican comics are so popular are encountered in
most essays on the subject, for example, Modesto Vazquez Gonzalez, La
historietica: Todo lo relativo al lenguaje lexipictogrdfico (Mexico City:
Promotora "K," S.A., 1981), 10, 12, 19, 139, 618-19; Irene Herner Reiss,
"Las historietas y la cultura nacional," Sdbado: Suplemento de Uno mds uno
(August 18, 1979), 8; Miguel Angel Granados Chapa, Examen de la
comunicacion en Mexico (Mexico City: Ediciones El Caballito, 1981), 107-8,
111; Maria Josefa Erreguerena, "El Payo: Un hombre contra el mundo!"
Revista de la Universidad de Mexico, 33: 2-3 (October-November 1978), 85;
Jean Claude Simard, "La paraliterature mexicaine: Rapport provisoire destine
au Conseil des Arts du Canada," (Quebec: Groupe de Recherche en
Paraliterature Mexicaine, Departement des Litteratures, Universite Laval,
August 1976), 117-20; Bertha Eugenia Sotres Mora, "La cultura de los
comics," Revista mexicana de ciencia politica, 29:1 A (October-December
1973): 15; Adriana Malvido, "Reunidos en Cocoyoc, trece de los mas
importantes historietistas del momento," Uno mds uno, 4:1355 (August 18,
1981), 20; Reboredo, "Sin las historietas," 19; Reboredo, "Mas de nueve
millones," 19; Jarque Andres, "La paraliteratura," 44.
27. Herner, Mitos y monitos, 114-115; Granados Chapa, Examen, 113;
interview with Carlos Vigil, July 27, 1979; and numerous observations of
Editorial Senda's operation in the later 1970s and early 1980s.
28. Herner, Mitos y monitos, 114-118; Alcocer and Molina, "Mexican
Comics," 196; Angelina Camargo Breiia, "De escritor a editor: Entrevista con
Guillermo de la Parra de Editorial Argumentos," Libros de Mexico 5 (1986):
20; Reboredo, "Sin las historietas," 19; Dorita Sewell, "The Comics in
Mexico," paper presented at the Seventh National Convention of the Popular
Culture Association, Baltimore, April 28, 1977; Victor M. Bernal Sahagun,
Anatomia de la publicidad en Mexico: Monopolios, enajenacion y
desperdicio, 2d ed. (Mexico City: Nuestro Tiempo, 1976), 91, 159.
29. Herner, Mitos y monitos, 85-86; Vazquez Gonzalez, La Historietica,
256, 323, 557; Simard, "La paraliteratura mexicana," 109-110; Adriana
Malvido, "La historieta, un elemento de education visual, sostiene el espanol

Luis Garcia" Uno mds uno, 4:1357 (August 20, 1981), 19; Gaddis, "Zowie!"
24; Ricardo Reynoso, "Una mancha en un comic," Motus Liber: Organo
(fanzine) del comic group de estudio-Mexico, 1 (January 1973): 16 (hereafter
cited as Motus Liber); Fred Patten, "Superman South [Part 1]," Alter Ego, 8
(August 1965): 28; interview with Pedro Zapiain Fernandez, July 29, 1979
in Mexico City; authors' observations of Senda and Herrerias operations.
30. Herner, Mitos y monitos, 88; interview with Rafael Marquez Torres,
August 1, 1979; interview with Pedro Zapiain Fernandez; Eduardo Del Rio,
"Rius denuncia a los lectores y amigos de Los supermachos," La Voz de
Mexico, 30:1910 (November 26, 1967), 4.
31. Interview with Carlos Vigil, July 27, 1979; interview with Marquez
Torres, August 1, 1979.
32. Adriana Malvido, "Las historietistas mexicanos enajenan sus derechos
de autor; ningun regalia ha recibido Angel Mora," Uno mds uno, 4:1360
(August 23, 1981), 19; Adriana Malvido, "Gano Angel Mora el primer
Concurso de historietas de Mexico," Uno mds uno, 4:1363 (August 26,
1981): 24. For text of law, see Vazquez Gonzalez, La historieta, 49-53. On
licensing of comic-book characters and tie-ins, see Herner, Mitos y monitos,
134-138; Phyllis Ann Wiegard Proctor, "Mexico's Supermachos: Satire and
Social Revolution in Comics by Rius" (Ph.D. diss., University of Texas,
1972), 16; Malvido and Martinez, "La historieta en Mexico," 20; Trejo, "La
historieta mexicana," 37.
33. Sewell, "The Comics in Mexico," 3; Vazquez Gonzalez, La
historietica, 644-645; Simand, "La paraliteratura mexicana," 8-41, 110;
Proctor, "Mexico's Supeimachos," 147, 152; Jarque Andres , "La
paraliterature," 44; Patricia Holt, "Mexico City's Second Annual International
Book Fair," Publishers Weekly, 219:24 (June 12, 1981): 37; Herner, Mitosy
monitos, 74-75; Fred Patten, "Superman South, Part Two," Alter Ego, 9
(Winter 1965): 6-9.
34. Vazquez Gonzalez, La historietica, pp. 325-374, 385, 391, 395-97,
474, 487; Herner, Mitos y monitos, 33-68; Malvido and Martinez, "La
historieta en Mexico," 21.
35. Vazquez Gonzalez, La historietica, 252-56, 605-606, 645; Patten,
"Superman South, Part Two," 8, 10; Fred Patten, "Superman South, Part
Four," unpublished ms. [1965], 6. (Parts Three and Four of Patten's essay
were to be published in Alter Ego, but never appeared. Jose Luis Silva of
Mexico City provided a copy of these manuscript essays.)
36. Interview with Carlos Vigil, July 27, 1979; interview with Marquez
Torres, August 1, 1979.
37. The sample for the week of August 2 through 8, 1980 was collected
in Mexico City and Cuernavaca. Scores of newspaper, comic book,
photonovel, and magazine stands were scouted by a team of students under the
direction of the authors. Jeannie Des Jardines, then a student at the University
of Minnesota—Morris, conducted the ad study, and also developed a
classification scheme for the collection.
On comic-book filler other than ads, see Patten, "Superman South, Part
I, 26"; Oscar Lewis, The Children of Sanchez: Autobiography of a Mexican
Family (New York: Random House, Vintage Books, 1963), 44, 81-82.
38. See note 37 above, referring to sample taken.
39. Personal communication to authors, August 4, 1979.
Other schemes for classification are offered in the following: Herner,
Mitos y monitos, 119-32; Alvarez Constantino, "La magia de los comics," 79,
112-20; Simard, "La paraliterature mexicaine," 8-41; Antonio Delhumeau,
"Historia de la tragedia (Apuntes acerca de las virtudes del subdesarrollo en
las historietas comicas mexicanas)," Revista mexicana de ciencia politica,
19:74 (October-December 1973): 19-23; Alcocer and Molina, "Mexican
Comic as Cultural Industry," 198-201; Emma Salgado Bravo, Estudio de la
situacion socio-economica del voceador deprensa (Mexico City: Instituto de
Investigaciones Sociales, Universidad Nacional, n.d.), 79-85.
40. Interview with Carlos Vigil, July 27, 1979. That adventure comics
were most popular in the 1970s is also noted in Manuel Gutierrez Oropeza,
"Las revistas en Mexico," Libros de Mexico, 1 (1985): 34-35.
41. Stevens, Protest and Response, 43-46; Camargo Brefia, "De escritor
a editor," 19; Alan Riding, "Humorist Tickles Mexico While Tweaking
Official Noses," New York Times (August 27, 1979), A2.
42. Information on the commission and censorship is quite fragmentary.
See Herner, Mitos y monitos, 139-147, 158-162; Alvarez Constantino, "La
magia de los comics," 114; Guillermo Z. Vigil, El Payo o como escribo mi
historieta (Mexico City: EDAMEX, 1981), 20-22, 53-57, 618-629; Jose L.
Silva O., "Un asunto censurable, La Censura," Motus Liber, 1 (1973):3;
Modesto Vazquez, La historietica, 20-22, 53-57, 618-29; Salvador Ponce de
Leon, "La pornografia al dia," El universal (May 4, 1972), 4,7; Antonio Lara
Barragan, "Prohiben la circulation de 25 publicaciones pornograficas," El
Universal (March 11, 1972), 1; "Publicaciones sin certificado de licitud,"
Novedades (March 11, 1972), 9; Stevens, Protest and Response, 29-46, 558.
43. See Chapter 4 on Rius, this volume.
44. The discussion of the Union de Voceadores is based on the following:
interview with Georges Parent of Laval University, July 25, 1979, in Mexico
City; Herner, Mitos y monitos, 98-105; 154-57; Alcocer and Molina,
"Mexican Comics as Culture Industry," 196, 208-9; interview with Zapiain
Fernandez; Proctor, "Mexico's Supermachos," 16; Reboredo, "Sin las
historietas," 19.
45. For examples of the cultural imperialism thesis see Herner, "Las
historietas y la cultura nacional," 8; Alvarez Constantino, "La magia de los
comics"; Rius, Numeros agotados de Los agachados, 13-44. For a contrary
position (and they are not often encountered in the Mexican literature), see
Delhumeau, "Historia de la tragedia," 19-23.
46. Stevens, Protest and Response, 28-29.
47. For a sample of authors who believe that the majority of comics sold
in Mexico are titles from the United States, see Trejo, "La historieta
mexicana," 36; Proctor, "Mexico's Supermachos," 152; Higilio Alvarez
Constantino, "La magia de los comics coloniza nuestra cultura," 24. For a
dissenting view, see Riding, "Mexico's Passionate Affair with the Comics,"
19; interview with Marquez Torres, August 12, 1979.
48. Alejandro Alarcon, El habla popular de los jovenes en la ciudad de
Mexico (Mexico City: B. Costa-Amic Editor, 1977), 83, 86-87, 99, 103-4.
49. The low number of school years completed by the average Mexican
is at times coupled with the popularity of comic books, for example, Pavio
Tenorio, "Fotonovelas y comics," 24-25; Guillermoprieto, "El caballo del
diablo," 3, 12. On levels of illiteracy and years of schooling completed, see
Judith Adler Hellman, Mexico in Crisis, 2nd ed. (New York: Holmes &
Meier Publishers, 1983), 106-7; Giorgio Perissinotto, "Educational Reform in
Mexico," Current History, 82:488 (December 1983): 428; James H. Street,
"Mexico's Development Dilemma," Current History, 82:488 (December
1983): 488.
50. The analysis offered in Alvarez Constantino's "La magia de los
comics" is not easy to sort out, in part because it is not always clear whether
he is referring to comic strips or comic books or both, or to magazines in
general.
51. The discussion of Alvarez Constantino's "La magia de los comics"
is drawn from 85, 99-100, 121-25, 127.
52. The percentages for lending, buying, renting, and abstaining from
comics are computed from raw data given in "La magia de los comics," 85.
53. The generalization for comic-book consumption by age and sex is
taken from Graph 10, 130, "La magia de los comics," but the Graph is not
entirely clear. The row of figures given above "age groups" is not identified
and is unclear to the authors. Furthermore, the numbers of subjects per age
group given in the text, p. 100, does not appear to coincide with the graph's
data.
54. Further support for the authors' contention that middle and upper-
middle class youngsters are the primary consumers of American comic books
in Spanish translation is provided by BHU, "Historietas preferidas," El gallo
ilustrado: suplemento dominical de El Dia, 33 (February 10, 1963), 3;
Delhumeau, "Historia comica de la tragedia," 19-20.
55. Acosta, "La historieta comica en Mexico," 14.

56. On the Americanization of Latin American women's magazines, such
as Vanidades, see Adriana Santa Cruz and Viviana Erazo, Compropolitan, El
orden trasnacional y su modelo femenino: Un estudio de las revistas
femeninas en America Latina (Mexico City: Instituto Latinoamericano de
Estudios Transnational, Editorial Nueva Imagen, 1980); and Ellen
MacCracken, "In Search of the Female Consumer: Latin American Women's
Magazines and the Transnational Model," Studies in Latin American Popular
Culture, 2 (1983): 226-33. An excellent portrait of the Americanization of the
upwardly mobile, nouveau riche family is the Castro family in Oscar Lewis,
Five Families (New York: Basic Books, 1959).
57. Silva, "Un asunto censurable," 4.
58. Piho, "La obra textil," 35-133.
59. Gutierrez Oropeza, "Las revistas en Mexico," 36.
60. The survey team, trained by the authors in a seminar on Mexican
comic books, was composed of University of Minnesota-Morris students
Sherry Dell, Beth Nelson, Kim Frank, Charlotte Marthaler, and Pat Burgos.
61. Julee Caspers and Ben Agar, former students in the University of
Minnesota—Morris seminar on Mexican comic books, reported in August 1985
that comic books, by Mexico City standards, were considerably less available
in both San Cristobal, Chiapas, and Merida, Yucatan.
62. Elena Poniatowska, "Gabriel Vargas y su Familia Burron," El gallo
ilustrado: suplemento dominical de El dia, 33 (February 10, 1963), 2.
63. The generalizations about the 1960s and 1970s American comic-book
industry, products, and audience given in Section VII of this chapter are based
on monographs and fanzines. The monographs contain only limited relevant
material, for they focus narrowly on comic-book texts. Fanzines are a largely
untapped source. Their interviews with editors and creators, discussion of
business trends, letters to the editor, and audience data provide a broader, if
more fragmentary and contradictory, protrait. The following monographs
were consulted: Arthur Asa Berger, The Comic-Stripped American: What
Dick Tracy, Blondie, Daddy Warbucks, and Charlie Brown Tell Us About
Ourselves (New York: Walker, and Co., 1973); Les Daniels, Comix: A
History of Comic Books in America (New York: Bonanza Books, 1971);
Reinhold Reitberger and Wolfgang Fuchs, Comics: Anatomy of a Mass
Medium (Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1972); Mark James Estren, A
History of Underground Comics (San Francisco: Straight Arrow Books,
1974). The following fanzines were consulted, largely for 1978 and 1979:
The Buyer's Guide for Comic Fandom, Woweekazowie!, Cartonaggio, Strip
Scene, Pittsburgh Fan Forum: The Bulletin of the Pittsburgh Comix Club, The
Comic World, The Comics Journal, The Comic Reader, Collector's Dream.
2
Kalimdn
I. The Comic Book
Kaliman, the Mexican superhero, was introduced to the public on the radio
starting in 1963, and two years later appeared as a weekly comic book,
Kalimdn: El hombre increible [Kaliman: The Incredible Man].1 Kaliman is the
creation of two radio announcers, the Cuban exile Modesto Vasquez Gonzalez
and the Mexican Rafael Cutberto Navarro.
The creators were initially aided in adapting scripts for the comic book by
Jorge Diaz de Leon and Mario de la Torre [Maurice La Tour]. Soon after the
appearance of Kalimdn, Hector Gonzalez Dueiias [Victor Fox] became their
principal collaborator in the scripting and development of both the radio
program and the comic book. After a general plot outline is agreed to, it is
fleshed out and finalized by Victor Fox. Fox has won numerous awards for his
radio, television, and comic book scripts.2
The comic book has been illustrated by a number of artists, most notably
Leopoldo Zea Salas and Cristobal Velasco.3 Although over the years the
artwork in Kalimdn has shown a marked decline, this is probably attributable
less to any change in artists than to the approximately fifty percent reduction
in size of the comic and the poor printing in recent years. Early artwork was
more often imaginative in detail and uncluttered in format. The brown ink
used in printing lent itself to velvety shadows, and this expressive use of
chiaroscuro compensated somewhat for the lack of color. All of this has been
lost in today's cramped frames crammed onto the tiny page. The covers,
however, have become much more expressive, as early flat color areas have
become strongly modeled, dramatic shapes.
Kalimdn rapidly became one of the most widely read comic books in
Mexico. In the 1970s weekly sales fluctuated, depending on the popularity of
particular adventures, between one and one-half million and three and one-half
Kalimdn 33
million copies, with an average of about two million.4 Many American comics
have had circulations exceeding one million, but Captain Marvel, the best
selling comic to date, had a peak circulation of only some two million.5 That
is, some one and one-half percent of the American public bought Captain
Marvel, while between three and seven percent of the Mexican people in the
late 1970s purchased Kalimdn.6 Considering that there is a very brisk market
in second-hand Kalimdns, the actual readership must be several times this
level.7 Kalimdn also has modest sales in the United States and throughout
Latin America, although its popularity varies widely. For example, it sells
very poorly in Argentina, but in 1978 it was the most popular comic in Quito,
Ecuador.8
Data from 1975 and 1976 interviews with sixty-three magazine vendors in
Mexico City and nearby Cuernavaca showed that Kalimdn sold an average of
five times more copies weekly than its nearest superhero competitor, Tamakun.
In fact, when vendors were asked which items sold as well as Kalimdn, only
the very popular romance comic book, Ldgrimas, risas y amor, was frequently
mentioned.9 A 1978 follow-up survey revealed that Kalimdn sold twelve copies
to every sixteen of Ldgrimas, risas y amor; to every two or three of the
popular Chanoc; and to every one of El Payo (the best-selling western comic
book at that time).10
Despite Kalimdn''s popularity, it is clearly not read by everyone. Its
creators believe that their product appeals to a broad spectrum of society
including doctors, lawyers, and university students — but especially to
working- and middle-class youth.11 Interviews with vendors and forty Kalimdn
readers generally confirmed this. In response to an open-ended question on
who read Kalimdn, fifty-four percent of the vendors answered that all
segments of the population read the comic. One vendor in Cuernavaca's central
plaza proudly pointed out that even the lawyers who practiced before the State
courts bought their copies weekly at his stand. Thirty-seven percent of the
vendors more specifically mentioned the middle-class, twenty-two percent the
proletariat, and twenty-five percent the youth, especially boys. To a lesser
degree they also believed that women, provincials, the upper-class, and people
of all ages read the comic. The sample of readers revealed a higher percentage
in the working class (seventy-three) than in the middle-class (twenty-seven),
and no upper-class readers; a gender ratio of nine males to every female; and
an age range from ten to sixty, with the largest percentage (twenty-four)
falling into the ten to fifteen-year-old age group.12 That is, seventy-six percent
of the sample was over fifteen.
In contrast, Marvel Comics, creators of Spiderman, boasted of the
maturity of their audience in the 1960s when they had as many readers fifteen
to twenty-five as six to fifteen.13 The wide age range of Kalimdn fans
undoubtedly reflects not only its popularity, but also lower literacy levels in
Mexico. One does not have to be in Mexico very long to realize that, in
contrast with the United States, it is quite acceptable for adults to read comic
books.
In order to better understand the comic book's popularity, readers were
also asked why they liked Kalimdn. Although individual readers rarely gave
the same response, three general groupings clearly emerged. Some seventy-one
percent emphasized the plot and/or entertainment value of the comic book,
e.g., stories were entertaining, adventures were action-packed, or the comic
book was simply interesting. Approximately twenty-four percent stressed
Kaliman's superhero qualities. The remaining five percent expressed no
particular reason. Thus, action, adventure, and Kalimdn himself attracted
readers.14
The comic book's sales surely must have benefited from the popularity of
the superhero's appearances elsewhere. "Kaliman," broadcast daily by RCN
(Radio Cadena Nacional) throughout Mexico, was the most popular program
on radio in 1971-1972, and continues to be very popular. When the first
Kalimdn movie was released in 1972, it set box office records in Mexico City
and Acapulco. At the capital's Olimpia theater crowds fearful of missing the
film broke down the theater's doors! Both Kalimdn films made to date have
been high budget films by Mexican standards, and only two have been
produced so as not to saturate the market.15 Finally, Kaliman's name has been
applied as a nickname or service mark to small stores, buses, trucks, ships,
gifted athletes, and even ordinary Mexicans.16 For example, the Mexican
soccer star, Javier Guzman, is popularly known as Kaliman.
II. The Superhero's Principal Characteristics
Indeed, it is not difficult to see why this superhero is appealing. Like most
modern comic book superheroes, he is endowed with a unique origin, striking
costume, purposeful mission, and unusual physical and mental attributes.
Kaliman's place of birth is unknown. Orphaned at an early age, he was raised
and educated by Tibetan lamas.17 (According to a late-1970s' issue, the lamas
had in turn received their wisdom from outer space beings.) His philosophy,
skills, knowledge, and one special weapon all stem from this upbringing. At
some later date he dedicated himself to the pursuit of justice as the seventh
man of an order under the protection of the Hindu goddess Kali. Thus the
syllable "Kali" derives from the goddess,18 while the suffix "man" was inspired
by Superman's popularity.19 Kaliman has become a living legend who roves
the world ensuring justice, and who is summoned in the most difficult cases:
e.g., when the earth is threatened by extra-terrestrial beings, only Kaliman can
Kalimdn 35
aid the world's leading scientists. Given a world in constant crisis, he has no
time for an ordinary occupation, yet his source of income is never revealed.
Most certainly it is not from fees or gifts, for he never accepts any
compensation for rooting out injustice.
Kaliman is tall, handsome, and powerfully built. Although his complexion
is described by the publishers as swarthy, when portrayed in color plates it is
often closer to alabaster. Kaliman's white skin and markedly blue eyes, which
are frequently referred to, combine to give him a decidedly Aryan rather than
Mexican or Oriental cast. Kaliman's costume—or rather wardrobe, since he has
no secret identity—is not only appropriate to superheroes, but is also suggestive
of his Oriental origins. A skin-tight Nehru jacket and long tights show off his
Charles Atlas physique. These are complemented by a flowing cape and a
turban. His clothing is white, symbolizing purity, except for the dramatic red
lining of his cape. Kaliman's physical prowess, like that of most superheroes,
is impressive and makes him a formidable foe in hand-to-hand combat, even
when treacherously attacked by super-villains. He is speedier than a bolt of
lightning and quick and agile enough to dodge bullets. He has the vision of an
eagle, supersensitive hearing and smell, and strength greater than that of an
elephant. Kaliman can leap unharmed from heights exceeding sixty feet and
can go thirty-six or more hours before tiring. Having been raised in Tibet, he
can tolerate extreme cold for long periods. Finally, even when his incredible
abilities momentarily fail him and an opponent gains the upper hand, his great
recuperative powers save him. Poisoned, stabbed, or shot, the following
morning his body is cleansed and his wounds cauterized.
Despite Kaliman's great strength, endurance, and skill, he never
intentionally kills a villain. Nor does he routinely use weapons, preferring
hand-to-hand combat or mental feats. Occasionally he will use some part of his
costume to aid him, e.g., he will unravel his turban and use it as a lasso. The
medallion on his turban also can function as a magnifying glass. If the
situation does not permit such tactics, he uses a small blowgun whose darts
contain a soporific substance, learned from his Tibetan masters, which
instantaneously induces a six-hour sleep.
Kaliman's intelligence is also extraordinary. He is a human encyclopedia,
retaining all knowledge of the arts, sciences, metaphysics, and the martial arts.
For example, he speaks fluently all known languages and even can
communicate with animals. And despite the rapid expansion of knowledge in
the space age, Kaliman is capable of learning at an even faster pace. Yet
curiously, despite his genius he neither invents nor uses James Bond-like
technological gadgets in his unending quest for justice. On occasion, however,
he does use commonplace modern conveniences such as cars and speedboats.
Incredible as these attributes are, Kaliman's trademark is his extra-ordinary
mental powers, which were developed by the Tibetan lamas and are sustained
by daily yoga exercises of deep breathing, total muscular relaxation, and
meditation. Kaliman represents the maximum potential of the human mind and
he asserts that his only foolproof weapon in his struggle for justice is his
perfectly developed mind. And what a weapon! Witchcraft and black magic
used by villains pale by comparison. Kaliman disdains magic. He can levitate
himself as well as others. He communicates by telepathy and has limited
powers of clairvoyance. He is a master of mimicry and so skillful a hypnotist
that he can instantaneously hypnotize a whole group. His control over his
muscles and life processes is so complete that he can feign death or assume a
totally different appearance. He is able to separate his "astral sprit" from his
physical body. Released by profound mental concentration, the spiritual
Kaliman can rove freely for brief periods. While Kaliman in his early
adventures employed all of the above mental powers, by the late 1970s he had
acquired the additional powers of ESP (in the comic book, a mixture of
clairvoyance and precognition) and telekinesis. ESP in particular has made him
a far more powerful superhero. Despite these powers, Kaliman often
comments, especially beginning in the late 1970s, that his feats are really due
to God's assistance, which is beyond human understanding.
Yet most superheroes are vulnerable in some way, if for no other reason
than to make the plot interesting. Kaliman's principal weakness is his faithful
boy companion, Solin. Solrn, an orphaned direct descendant of the Pharaohs,
renounces his high station in life at the conclusion of the comic's first
adventure, and thereafter serves Kaliman. He can use his slingshot skillfully,
but does so even more rarely than Kaliman employs his soporific blowgun.
Needless to say, if Solin's slingshot (or any other of the devices he
infrequently uses) were too useful, he might not need Kaliman to extract him
from his frequent boyish blunders.
Solin never abandons Kaliman, whatever the danger. At several points in
most adventures, Solin sensibly advises the superhero that they should flee
their current peril, and he frequently adds asides to the reader that he and
Kaliman are beyond salvation. Kaliman often rejects this advice as he tells his
sidekick that regardless of the consequences they must confront the danger to
solve the mystery. Invariably, Solin actually solves at least part of the
mystery before Kaliman does. He witnesses a key fact, but Kaliman often
persists, despite his brilliance, in believing that it is only Solin's boyish
imagination until he too has a similar experience. Just as invariably, Solin
manages to be captured by the villain and Kaliman must momentarily mortgage
his freedom, and not incidentally heighten the suspense, to save Solin's life.
To save Solin, Kaliman will do anything, even violate his own creed against
killing — but of course he always manages to save Solrn without having to kil
anyone. By the late 1970s, Solin had matured considerably. While still not an
apprentice superhero, he had become wiser, even occasionally extracting
Kaliman from dire predicaments. These changes reflect the increased emphasis
Kalimdn 37
that the comic's writers have placed on Soltn as a role model for Mexican
youth.
Kaliman has a number of other weaknesses, each of which heightens
suspense. Kaliman does not always learn from prior experience. For example,
although he accepted the existence of a formidable human vampire, Bartoc, in
his second adventure, when he encountered another vampire in a subsequent
story, he repeated his initial disbelief in their existence. Kaliman is trusting to
a fault. When he encounters a villain, especially if it is a beautiful woman, he
always assumes the best, even when repeatedly warned, and thus foolishly
entraps himself and Solin. Yet it is also true that he rarely relies on anyone
except Solin for actual help in his quest. He often is so confident that he will
solve the mystery at hand that he fails to respond with caution to rather
obvious cues and predictably puts his life in peril. In fact, he comes perilously
close to the fatal flaw of all his principal villains, hubris. Finally, Kaliman is
vulnerable, despite his great powers, because he has a marked gift for walking
into quicksand, for falling down wells, and for getting knocked out.
Kaliman's physical and mental attributes are complemented by his
distinctive and surprisingly well-developed philosophy. His basic tenet is that
the human mind, when disciplined and properly trained, constitutes an
extraordinary force which can dominate physical needs and perform incredible
feats. There are no insurmountable obstacles for such a mind and no one can
stop it. Yet mental powers alone will not suffice to solve difficult problems in
an efficient and moral manner. One must proceed serenely and patiently.
Solutions will be found if unswervingly pursued regardless of personal cost.
When momentarily in dire straits, one should remember that simply being
alive is a victory. No matter how treacherously and irresponsibly his adversary
acts, Kaliman believes he must never show fear and must never attack with
undue advantage. Nor will he kill, as murder is mankind's foulest crime. Even
when someone attacks his honor or word and consequently deserves the worst
punishment, this code of conduct cannot be violated.
Kaliman also offers frequent advice on a wide range of subjects, and
especially by the late 1970s the advice is repeated so often that there can be
no mistaking its didactic intent. Kaliman especially offers advice on a variety
of topics including: freedom, nature, crime, cowards, and religion. For
example, by the late 1970s, Kaliman commented more frequently on religion,
although he always has been careful not to advocate any particular faith and
when Kaliman says farewell, he is apt to add, "Let the Almighty be with you
in heart, word, and thought. M
Much of Kaliman's advice to Solin, as well as the exhortations which
occasionally appear on the comic book's cover, is directed at school-age
readers, the group Kaliman's authors particularly want to influence. He
admonishes young readers to avoid hallucinogenic drugs, to treasure
friendship, and not to destroy traditional values by the adoption of

newfangled, destructive ideas. Kaliman especially advises youth not to believe
everything they see, to study diligently in order to achieve the highest possible
state of physical and mental being, and to be clean in body and spirit.
HI. Kalimdn's Adventures
Kaliman's adventures always take place in exotic settings. The "mysterious

and exotic" Far and Middle East are favorites, perhaps because his creators
believe that these areas provide excellent backgrounds for Kaliman's powers.
Adventures set in Mexico have not sold well. However, the East figures in
only one of the three most popular stories to date, which were set in England,
where Kaliman outwitted the vampire Bartoc; in Greece, where he battled the
ancient Greek gods; and in the Orient, where he successfully matched his
powers against those of the wizard, Karma.21 Typically, the action begins in
an urban setting, but invariably the villain is finally confronted on his own
turf in some remote rural hideaway.
Kalimdn is synonymous with action. Each thirty-two-page weekly issue
contains a new dramatic incident every few pages. Thus over the seventeen-
month period that a late 1970s' average adventure ran,22 Kaliman and Solin
were involved in more than two hundred crisis situations. Each issue concludes
with a series of suspenseful questions which ask how they can possibly extract
themselves from their multiple predicaments this time.
Generally as an adventure opens, Kaliman has been summoned or
otherwise finds himself confronted with a crime which only he could solve.
The aggrieved party is quickly introduced, and often has a gorgeous daughter
who instantly falls in love with Kaliman and accompanies him and Solin on
their adventure. The major villain generally is encountered only after many
issues filled with a cast of minor villains. They thwart Kaliman's progress
toward solving the mystery, but his physical and mental powers are more than
ample for overcoming them.
When the major villain is finally located and identified, Kaliman must
muster all his abilities, for the villain—occasionally a beautiful woman who is
romantically inclined toward him—is a worthy match and is aided by a host of
less gifted knaves. The villain's flaw of hubris or need to personally pit
himself against Kaliman and to test our hero's powers, as well as Kaliman's
insistence on proceeding regardless of personal cost, invariably allows Kaliman
to penetrate the villain's defenses and to gain sufficient time to discover the
crirninal's weaknesses. At some point, Kaliman is reduced to advising Solin
that simply being alive is itself a victory. Eventually, the villain, despite his
sadistic cruelty and cowardly attacks, may begin to doubt his own powers. He
Kalimdn 39
views Kaliman with awe and may even suspect that the hero is possessed by
the devil. Kaliman triumphs, but does not need to submit the villain and his
lot of scoundrels to justice, since they always perish due to each other's
treachery or some fitting, but ghastly, accidental death. Kaliman often sums
up his venture by noting that in the world of adventure the incredible becomes
reality and at times reality itself is incredible.
There is one important exception the general pattern of villains.23 Kaliman
has an archenemy, the Black Spider, whom he repeatedly has to defeat. The
Black Spider reappears in an adventure about every two or three years, and at
the adventure's conclusion he always escapes. He lives on a small Caribbean
island, from which he freely roams the world. A world-wide network of
contacts/informers occasionally aids him in his criminal pursuits. Yet no one
has ever seen his face. Dressed completely in black, except for a white shirt,
he wears a business suit, tie, broad-brimmed hat, gloves, a mask which
completely covers his head except for his eyes, and a flowing cape bearing his
emblem, a spider. A super-criminal, he is Kaliman's antithesis. He is very
ambitious and unprincipled; attacks by surprise; and if he loses the advantage,
beats a hasty retreat. His motto is always to have a means of escape and a
backup weapon at hand. He uses an array of special devices and arms, each
symbolically associated with a spider, which allows him to escape capture. The
Black Spider, not having Kaliman's powers or philosophy, uses technological
gadgets to allow him to prevail for the moment or, more likely, to escape.
In a typical plot, Kaliman battles a formidable cast of devilish characters
and terrifying animals.24 Lead villains differ from their supporting cast. Major
villains generally are greedy, ruthless fortune seekers; mad scientists bent on
ruling the world; or wronged persons seeking vengeance at any price.
Occasionally, one of their initial goals is the extermination of Kaliman. Minor
nasties tend to reflect fears more than wish-fulfillment fantasies. Our childhood
phobias of rats, spiders, snakes, bats, wasps, leeches and the like are
constantly played upon and magnified. Dangerous foes—often symbolic of
man's darker, more irrational side—are encountered in the form of humanized
animals or plants.
Diabolic forms of evil are represented by beings risen from the dead,
numerous sorcerers, and other practitioners of black magic. For full measure,
Kaliman also struggles with gypsies, freaks, robots and other fiendish
mechanical monsters, masters of the martial arts, and quicksand. The world
is laced with quicksand in his adventures. Most series contain several close
escapes from it and, curiously, no other menace is as frequently encountered.
In a characteristic plot, the frequent themes of romantic interest, control
of violence, and law and order deserve special comment. Since Kaliman's
creators want the comic book to be acceptable to entire families and Kaliman
to be a role model, they do not to exploit sex.25 Indeed, he is neither a Latin-
lover nor a playboy hero like James Bond. But he does encounter a constant
stream of scantily clad, provocatively portrayed women, often in titillating

situations. And, as Modesto Vasquez G. himself observed in 1978, women's
costumes had become increasingly suggestive and reduced to the bare
minimum.26 Apparently the presence of sexy women is acceptable to the comic
book's creators as long as Kaliman himself remains pure. Hence Kaliman is
shown in confusion when suddenly kissed. Even when he acknowledges
romantic stirrings, he either denies that love is for him, or else is too busy
with the chase to act on his feelings. Kaliman's essential attitude towards
women is that they are helpless beings who must be treated with the utmost
chivalry. Kaliman would never slander, strike, or dishonor a woman. Even
when a misguided female stabs him in the chest, he tells Solin to let her
escape, since one should never harm a woman.
Only rarely does Kaliman exhibit any romantic interest. In "The Mysteries
of the Great Wall of China," Princess Sue-Lao, daughter of a mandarin,
unexpectedly proposes marriage in her father's presence. Kaliman accepts since
he is attracted, but more importantly he does not want to dishonor her.
However, she dies before their vows are spoken. Kaliman's creators also say
they do not intend their superhero to emphasize violence in his quest for
justice, for the same pragmatic and idealistic reasons they give for not
exploiting sex.27 According to Modesto Vasquez G., Kaliman employs
"violencia blanca" ["white violence"], in contrast to the intentional use of
deadly, gory violence by villains.28 While gore is not visually associated with
Kaliman, among the frequent "whams" and "pows" in the stories Kaliman's
pacific messages are sometimes lost. But Kaliman never intentionally harms or
kills a villain. And although in his constant struggle with evil he will use
physical force in defeating minor adversaries, he relies on his mental powers
to overcome his principal foe. While this formidable foe could not be
successfully brought to justice in any other manner, it does allow Kaliman to
demonstrate the supremacy of the mind over physical force. By the late 1970s,
Kaliman preferred the use of his mental powers against all types of
antagonists, only employing physical force when caught by surprise. This
trend, of course, further distinguishes him from his adversaries.
Kaliman's primary quest is to obtain justice, but this often is not easily
accomplished. He seeks to turn the culprit over to the local system of justice.
However, he always has to do this alone. Uncooperative local police
frequently accuse him of committing the very crime he is trying to solve. As
a result, he often ignore the police, who are portrayed as well-meaning but
inept. Of course, this device serves to further complicate the plot and add
more uncertainty to the crime's solution. Also, Kaliman extends the arm of the
law into the most remote regions, where he is frequently confronted by a
villain who regards himself as beyond the law or who is so powerful that he
can rule capriciously, and where he confronts local tribes do not abide by
Kalimdn 41
"civilized" law, but by their own judicial system which is frequently based on
bizarre personal trials that equal torture. Curiously, while Kaliman wants to
bring villains to justice, he also frequently allows himself to be tested by the
most absurd tribal law.
IV. Comparison with Other Superheroes
Kaliman's creators have stated that their superhero was in part inspired by
the classic Superman of the 1930s-1960s. Both superheroes are orphans29 who
have dedicated themselves to crime-fighting, but compared with Superman,
Kaliman has rather limited powers. Although both have a critical weakness
(Superman's is Krypton; Kaliman's, Solin), Superman's impenetrable skin, x-
ray vision, ability to fly, and his invulnerability make him far more powerful
and less human than Kaliman. Superman has gradually acquired many of these
superpowers and senses. Kaliman, on the other hand, has undergone a more
modest development over the years. The only superpowers not encountered in
his original adventure are his ability to detach his spirit from his physical
being, ESP, and telekinesis. Kaliman's powers differ further from those of
Superman in that it is his mental powers that are constantly emphasized. While
Superman in fact possesses many of the same powers, his physical powers so
eclipse his mental ones that the former are employed rather infrequently.
Finally, Kaliman's rationale for the use of his powers is considerably more
developed. Superman's world view is expressed in his actions, rather than
articulated in verbal expression.
Over the years, an elaborate plot structure and cast of characters has
evolved about Superman, unlike Kaliman. Superman's double identity creates
constant predicaments which have no parallel in Kaliman. However,
Superman's alter ego, Clark Kent, does have a basic function much like
Solin's. Both humanize the superhero to some degree. Lois Lane represents a
permanent romantic interest, in contrast to the parade of voluptuous women
in Kaliman; although both superheroes are generally very inept at dealing with
women. Both are so virile that women are immediately attracted to them, but
they avoid all attachments. They are chivalrous to women and adept at bailing
them out of the stupid predicaments into which they tend to fall. Superman
and Kaliman alike have acquired archenemies tailored to challenge their
peculiar powers. Both fight super-villains who present a real challenge to
them, and not just with ordinary crooks. A whole host of supporting super-
beings clutters Superman stories, while Kaliman and Solin are still loners and
never team up with other famous superheroes. The traditional urban setting of
Metropolis where Superman endlessly fights crime provides a strikingly
different setting for adventures than the constantly changing rural landscape of
Kaliman's encounters with a somewhat similar host of villains. Finally, both
superheroes fight crime but not its causes. Neither offers solutions, other than
handing the culprits over to justice.30
Since Kaliman's creators intended him to have an element of the magician
[mago],31 Mandrake the Magician offers a particularly interesting comparison.
Neither has a permanent base of operations. They rove the world and even
outer space. More significant, both Kaliman and Mandrake regularly practice
theatrical kinds of magic, especially hypnotic illusion, sleight-of-hand, and
ventriloquism. Each is also a genuine wizard with supernatural powers and
capable of real mental power. Levitation, telepathy, and detachment of an
astral spirit figure in both comics. Yet there are important differences, at least
in emphasis. Kaliman has a more modern cast with his yoga exercises and
emphasis on biofeedback. Mandrake views his magic as just tricks, while
Kaliman glorifies his mental powers which are more than illusions.
Mandrake's red cape, top hat, and gestures all identify him as a theatrical
magician. Neither Kaliman's dress nor his mannerisms would allow us to
classify him as a magician. Mandrake's powers, like Kaliman's and those of
many other superhero's, were acquired in mystical Tibet and India, but they
can fail him. Then he must be saved by Lothar, his African sidekick of
Herculean strength. In contrast, Kaliman, who combines both Lothar's and
Mandrake's powers, often finds his legendary physical powers inadequate.
Then he must rely on his perfectly trained mind, which is the key to his
triumphs. Kaliman has acquired some new superpowers over the years, while
Mandrake has tended to lose powers. The early Mandrake was a real wizard
with supernatural powers, but he has evolved into a more realistic master
magician.
There are other important differences. While both Lothar and Solin are
similar in that each is of royal background and of darker hue than their
master, Lothar differs from Solin in that even from the beginning he was a
vital complement to Mandrake. Despite his servant status, he eventually
becomes Mandrake's genuine partner. Also, Mandrake eventually acquired a
sweetheart, Princess Narda, and an appropriate adversary, Cobra, who
practices black magic. Kaliman to date has acquired only an archadversary.32
V. The Comic Book's Reflection of Mexican Culture
Despite the fact that Kaliman seldom sets foot in Mexico, the comic book
does reflect Mexican society and values. In fact, the exotic settings where
Kaliman does roam themselves reflect a Mexican popular preference. In a
study of Mexican, Colombian, and United States lower- and middle-class
womens' magazines, Cornelia Butler Flora found that American fiction tended
to be less escapist than its Latin American counterpart. Latin American stories
Kalimdn 43
were more often set in imaginary foreign settings and more frequently dealt
with heroes and heroines of higher socio-economic status than the magazine's
readers.33 Kaliman exhibits similar characteristics. Settings are remote and
exotic. The principal villains and the persons Kaliman aids are clearly upper-
class in lifestyle. However, the minor villains who obstruct his path towards
the expected encounter with the master criminal are often lower-class freaks.
Kaliman himself exemplifies a nonsexual aspect of Mexican maleness. He
represents a sanitized machismo. Kaliman, like the ideal macho, is aggressive
and intransigent in male-to-male relationships. He rarely shows emotion.
Kaliman is contemptuous of cowardly behavior, will not retreat from a
dangerous situation, and philosophizes that the enemy must be tackled on his
own turf. Kaliman represents male supremacy in the outer world of work, as
opposed to the inner sanctuary of the home. He often advises women to let
him engage the ambivalent, high-risk, violent outer world on their behalf.
When they ignore his instructions to stay at home, he scolds them for not
realizing the danger they have placed themselves in. Kaliman is the very
model of Mexican honor. No one may question his honor and go unpunished.
In addition, Kaliman will not allow anyone to abuse even the vilest woman.
Here the explicitly sexual component of machismo is absent, except as
implied by his muscular good looks. Kaliman does not practice the double
standard, employ any distinct phallic symbolism, or use sexual aggression in
male-to-female relationships.34
Solin's relationship with Kaliman, although reminiscent of the typical boy
sidekick of United States superheroes, is in many ways an idealized Mexican
father-son relationship. In the typical traditional relationship, the father is
authoritarian, hierarchical, distant, stern, and somewhat arbitrary. Although
Solin at times exhibits considerable maturity and wisdom, and has even
played an important role in the defeat of both minor and major villains,
Kaliman often treats Solin as an inferior, and definitely not as a full team
member or even an apprentice. He repeatedly refers to him as "my little
Solin." In his eyes, Solin is a small boy who can be prone to exaggeration,
may flub difficult situations, and often needs a strong guiding hand. And
Kaliman is the benevolent father figure who repeatedly sacrifices himself to
save his foster son. The relationship is loving and close, not stern and distant,
although maintaining hierarchical roles. Perhaps in the absence of a mother,
Kaliman has combined the close nurturing role of the ideal Mexican mother
with the status relationship implicit in the male hirarchy.35
Law as espoused by villains, natives, and the police must strike a familiar
chord among many middle- and lower-class Mexicans. The police frequently
assume Kaliman is guilty until proven innocent, which of course is proper
under Roman law. However, in these adventures they often charge guilt on
very flimsy evidence. Primitive law is worse yet, for no one could expect to
survive its medieval truth tests of torture and certain death. Villains flatly
state that in their domain they are the law. These legal postures and attitudes
roughly parallel the Mexican legal system, which is notorious for policemen
who do assume they are the law, for confessions extracted by violent
persuasion, and for infamous prisons with their own legal code.36
Mexican society is reflected in yet other ways. Kaliman and Solin are
loners and never team up in American superhero fashion. Quite likely,
viewing the two as a family unit, this reflects the general mistrust in Mexico
of social relationships outside the family. Yet this family unit is atypical.
There is no circle of relatives and ceremonial kin, or compadres, which would
create a typical extended Mexican family. Equally strange is the absence of
mothers in Kalimdn. In Mexico, the symbol of the family is a mother and
child; much less often the family is represented by both parents and a child
or children, never by a father and child without the mother. Most cities have
at least one park devoted to motherhood, with a statue of mother and child;
and the national symbol for the social welfare system is an eagle, symbolizing
the protecting state, arching over a mother and child. Yet that Mexican ideal
of the mother, the woman of home and family, rarely appears in Kalimdn.
Perhaps there just is not enough sex appeal in dear old mom. The older men
whom Kaliman often helps invariably have sensuous, alluring daughters, but
mom seems to have died some years ago. Stories without mothers are,
however, frequently encountered in popular adventure genres. For example,
it has been observed of the Western that "one of the strangest cliches of all
was the fact that the heroine never had a mother. "37
Many of the women in Kalimdn combine elements of the Mexican
stereotypes of the "good woman," or chaste, honorable woman and the "bad
woman," or sexually active, immoral woman. They seem to allow male
readers to have their cake and eat it too in a way they could not in Mexican
society. Their very presence in the outer man's world as they accompany
Kaliman on the adventure, their physical beauty, and their confining but
revealing dress, make for a titillating tension with their upper-class decorum
and status. While not too overtly provocative in luring Kaliman, they do give
the impression that if he wanted to take advantage of the situation he could.
Woman as witch is another common theme, and one often encountered in
Latin American literature.38 Women are seen as mysterious and unfathomable
by nature, and most stories have at least one woman who possesses magic
powers. Such women, if minor obstacles in Kaliman's quest, are generally old
hags who practice black magic. If the witch is a central character, she often
is so voluptuous that Kaliman is initially attracted to her and even
momentarily falls under her magical spells and powers. Ultimately, he rejects
her, in part because she violates conventional role expectations. She is too
Kalimdn 45
"masculine," such as the villainess in the "Triangle of Death" who speaks of

wielding power and force.
In rural Mexico and to a considerable extent among the urban lower-class,
sorcery remains a powerful force in peoples' lives.39 This undoubtedly
accounts for the numerous witches in the comic, and also for the frequently
stated belief that anyone as powerful as Kaliman must be possessed by a
demon. The view that Kaliman himself is a male witch may also derive from
the fact that in Aztec Mexico witches were men (although in Spain witches
were usually lower-class women).40
Another distinctively Latin American complex of ideas which has
arguably influenced Kalimdn is the dichotomy between technology and
materialism, on the one hand, and spirituality and idealism on the other. An
excellent example of this theme is Jose Enrique Rodo's Ariel (1900), one of
the most influential books ever written in Latin America. Kalimdn figures
among its Mexican descendents. Ariel, or at least the popular interpretation of
it,41 pits Ariel against Caliban. Ariel symbolizes the spirit, and Caliban that of
matter. These in turn represent, respectively, Hispanic America's spiritual
idealism and the United States' materialistic, technological society. Kaliman's
views on the mind and technology suggest parallels. Kaliman's belief that
man's mental capacity is the key to victory, rather than the use of physical
force or mechanical devices, strongly echoes Ariel. Kaliman, like Rodo,
distrusts technology. Although the comic book has its share of mad scientific
geniuses, Kaliman himself rarely uses science, and the use of technology is
explicitly rejected. For example, in the "Triangle of Death," when confronted
by a super-robot, Kaliman condemns machines as a panacea for man's needs
and problems and states that machines will never control mankind. Kaliman's
position perhaps reflects the relatively underdeveloped nature of the Mexican
economy, and more importantly the humanistic, non-empirical orientation of
Latin American education, as well as the legacy of Rodo.
VI. Kalimdn and Social Change
Underlying the incessant action, mental feats, exotic locales, and horrific
villains, there are unsettling messages in Kalimdn, which resembles those
implied in the actions of the North American archtype, Superman. In both
comic book worlds, individuals are powerless against life's more dangerous
foes, unless aided by superheroes such as Superman or Kaliman. In addition,
society's basic inequalities and ills are inevitable and will remain unchanged.
Kalimdn does not provide a meaningful model for problem solving or
socioeconomic change. In the comic book only Kaliman can solve important
problems. Ordinary people and the authorities are basically helpless. Since
Kaliman must be summoned in the most difficult cases, the implication is that
in contemporary Mexican society serious problems will remain unresolved.
And since Kaliman battles against the result of evil rather than its basic
underlying causes, the reader can only anticipate a continuous parade of new
foes worthy of Kaliman's powers, rather than the systematic eradication of
their reasons for being. The status quo will never change in Mexico, just as
it will never change in Superman's Metropolis.
Yet Kalimdn seems to offer even less hope for social justice and change
than did its United States counterpart. It is true that no ordinary person can
realistically hope to acquire a superhero's powers, therefore neither Kaliman
nor Superman can provide a model for change. But Kaliman's racial makeup
and relation to Solin must suggest to most Mexicans that they are not suited
to become even pale imitations of him. His Aryan features, especially the
repeated emphasis on his blue eyes, obviously are not typically Mexican.42 In
contrast, Solin, whose features are more Mexican and whom the comic's
creators see as a role model for children,43 is a model of dependency rather
than self-reliance and initiative. Furthermore, Kaliman's repeated advice to
Solin is that simple existence is often the most one can hope for, and that
patience, rather than aggressive attacks on a problem, is the ideal behavior.
Might not the typical reader read "resignation to the status quo" for
"patience"? This interpretation is underscored by Kaliman's predilection for
traditional values and distaste for new-fangled ideas.
Finally, the comic book's settings are even more inappropriate to a
changing world, in partial contrast to the United States genre. Mexico since
World War II has been rapidly urbanizing and modernizing. Yet Kaliman
rejects both trends. Superman at least fights crime in a fairly realistic urban
setting. Kaliman's remote, exotic settings provide an escape from urban
problems. While many United States superheroes, reflecting their society, use
modern, scientific technology,44 Kaliman does not. He does occasionally battle
villains who employ modern gadgetry, but he rejects the modern technological
society that Mexico is rapidly becoming.
Yet this analysis may be too negative. Kalimdn after all is read in the
third world, in a stratified, authoritarian society with a democratic veneer,
rather than in a highly industrialized, technological culture which sees itself
as an egalitarian democracy. From this perspective, Kaliman's counsel of
thorough preparation, then awaiting one's opportunity, followed by patient
striving, may be fairly good advice. Furthermore, Kaliman's creators do not
view him as static. Both Modesto Vasquez G. and Victor Fox stressed in 1978
interviews that, while Kaliman had become more powerful of late, he also had
become more human, for example, situations currently arise in which he is not
able to use one of his powers.45 Kaliman has also acquired new mental
powers. While these powers cannot be replicated by his public, the philosophy
Kalimdn 47
of the strength of mental and spiritual powers that accompanies them is further
stressed, and reinforces the idealistic and personal strain so dear to the Latin
American mind. This in turn may well make Kaliman more human for a Latin
American audience.
NOTES
1. Due to the impossibility of obtaining radio scripts, this article is based

on the comic books. Many of the early and impossible-to-obtain issues were
generously donated by Modesto Vasquez R., who is the co-founder's son and
is business manager of Promotora "K", which publishes Kalimdn.
2. The creators' collaborators are acknowledged in Modesto Vasquez
Gonzalez, La historietica: Todo lo relativo al lenguaje lexipictogrdfico
(Mexico City: Promotora K, S.A., 1981), p. 565. Victor Fox's role is
outlined in Elisa Robledo, "El exito loco de Kalimdn," Contenido 227 (April
1982): 59. Victor Fox's awards include the prestigious AMPRYT award as the
year's outstanding television and radio writer in 1970 and 1972, the AMPRYT
prize for his "Kaliman" radio scripts in 1971, and awards for his work on the
"Kaliman" radio series in 1969, 1970, 1971, and 1972. Interview with Victor
Fox, August 5, 1978 in Mexico City.
3. Jose Suarez Lozano, ed., "La historieta mexicana," Artes de Mexico
(Mexico), 19:158 (n.d.), p. 80.
4. Kalimdn, el hombre increible (Mexico City: Kalifilms, [1975?], p. [6];
Modesto Vazquez Gonzalez, March 26, 1976 memo to author; interview with
Modesto Vazquez R., August 19, 1975, Mexico City; interview with Modesto
Vazquez Gonzalez, August 8, 1978 in Mexico City; interview with Victor
Fox, August 5, 1978; Irene Herner, Mitos y monitos: Historietas y fotonovelas
en Mexico (Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autonoma de Mexico,
Editorial Nueva Imagen, 1979), p. 122.
5. Dick Lupoff and Don Thompson, eds., All in Color for a Dime (New
Rochelle, NY: Arlington House, 1970), pp. 1, 76.
6. The estimated percentage readership for Captain Marvel uses the 1970
United States census and the Kalimdn figures use the 1970 Mexican census.
Based on one magazine vendor's knowledgeable estimate in March 1976 that
twenty thousand copies were sold weekly in Cuernavaca, Kalimdn reached 12
percent of the 1970 census population of this state capital and favorite retreat
for Mexico City's wealthy and upper middle-class.
7. In the August 8, 1978 interview, Modesto Vazquez G. stated that
Promotora "K" estimates that each copy is read by four people.
8. Interviews with Victor Fox and Modesto Vazquez G. The Ecuadorian
data was collected by Ben Agar and Julee Caspers in the summer of 1978.
Since comic books are quite expensive in Quito and nearly everyone has a
radio, far more Ecuadorians have heard "Kaliman" on the radio than have read
the comic book. The Argentine information was provided by Cornelia Flora,
based on her May 16, 1979 interview with Carlos Trogolo of Triston
Ediciones, Buenos Aires. Trogolo stressed that Kalimdn was too simplistic for
the more educated Argentine public.
9. Marcus Magnuson, a student in the authors' Mexican culture class,
conducted three interviews in Cuernavaca in August 1975. The remaining sixty
(fifty-one in Mexico City, nine in Cuernavaca) were obtained in March 1976
by the authors. Mexico City vendors were interviewed in the San Juan,
Lagunilla, and Merced market areas, as well as along San Juan de Letran and
Reforma avenues. The Cuernavaca interviews were conducted in the central
plazas, in the vicinity of the intercity bus station, and along Matamoros and
Morelos streets. The areas surveyed represented a cross-section of
socioeconomic levels. No category of vendor was ignored. Vendors ranged
from those with large permanent metal or wooden stands, advantageous
locations, and brisk sales to those with a minuscule stock spread on the
pavement. Only three of the sixty-three interviewees refused to cooperate. Of
course, the small size of the sample of both vendors and readers (see note 12
below) means that our findings should be viewed as approximate, with the
possibility of a considerable margin of error. However, there was considerable
agreement among our sources (the comic book's creators, vendors, and
readers), which would seem to indicate that our findings are at least of the
correct order of magnitude.
10. Fifty interviews, forty-eight in Mexico City and two in Cuernavaca,
were conducted by students, Julee Caspers and Ben Agar, after completing an
introductory seminar on Mexican comics with the authors. The interviews
were obtained during June and early July, 1978. The Mexico City area
canvassed was identical to that of the 1976 survey. In 1978 only two
Cuernavaca interviews (in the central plaza and the Guerrero market) were
conducted. Despite the small size of the Cuernavaca sample, the vendors'
estimates of the ratio of sales did not appreciably differ from those of the
larger Mexico City sample.
11. Interviews with Modesto Vazquez R., Modesto Vazquez G., and
Victor Fox. Fox estimated that approximately sixty to seventy percent of
Kaliman's readers are from the "publico popular", by which Fox means the
unlettered and poorly educated. Vazquez R. stressed middle-class youth, while
his father mentioned youth in general, but guessed that readership is composed
of one-third youth, one-third women, and one-third men. The obvious
discrepancies between their educated guesses can be accounted for by the fact
that Promotora "K" has never conducted a market survey. Vazquez G. also
noted that they occasionally receive fan letters, but generally only from very
Kalimdn 49
young readers who often want to meet Kaliman. Unfortunately they have not
kept these letters.
12. Ten interviews with readers were conducted by Marcus Magnuson in
Cuernavaca in August, 1975, the remaining thirty by the authors in March,
1976 in the same areas of Mexico City where vendors were interviewed. None
of the readers refused to cooperate. The low percentage of middle- and upper-
class readers in the sample probably reflects the survey method. Only those
visibly carrying recently purchased comic books were approached and
interviewed. While vendors are highly visible, readers are not. More affluent
readers often carry briefcases where comics may be easily placed out of view
to be read at a later time rather than on the street. The classification of readers
by class was based on their stated occupation and style of dress. Those
identifiable as "proletariat" included a shoeshine boy, taxicab driver,
newsstand assistant, elementary school student, farmer, ticket collector on a
trolley, carpenter, bricklayer, lunch stand assistant, gas station attendant, juice
stand assistant, street vendor, candy salesman, and pastry cook. The
identifiable "middle class" included a housewife, secretary, federal employee,
electrician, heavy equipment instructor, office worker, college student, and
newsstand owner.
13. Stan Lee, Son of Origins of Marvel Comics (New York: Simon and
Schuster, 1975), p. 15.
14. The low percentage which expressed a specific affection for Kalimdn
probably in part reflects the difficulty of categorizing responses. For example,
sixteen percent said they liked the comic book because it had many
"emociones," that is, it was exciting or thrilling, and we placed this response
in the plot-entertainment category. However, one of the major sources of
thrills and chills is the perennial question (perhaps modeled on Superman):
"Will Kaliman, even with the help of his superhero powers, avoid certain
death?" Thus Kaliman himself is essential to providing "emociones" within the
context of an action-packed, suspenseful plot.
15. Kaliman, p. [6] and interviews with Modesto Vazquez R., Modesto
Vazquez G., and Victor Fox. Both Kaliman films are listed in the Appendix,
titled "Mexican Film Production, 1896-1980," of Carl Mora's Mexican
Cinema: Reflections of a Society, 1896-1980 (Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1982). Mora provides dates for the beginning of film
production rather than copyright or release dates. The Kaliman films are
Kalimdn (1970) and Kalimdn en el mundo de Humanon (1974).
16. For a study of slogans on trucks, including the use of Kaliman's
name, see James Jaquith, "Cowboy de medianoche: Mexican Highway
Folklore," The New Scholar, 5:1 (1975): 39-72; and James S. Kus, "Popular
Culture Names on Latin American Trucks," paper presented at the national
Popular Culture Association, Detroit, April 17, 1980.
17. Modesto Vazquez G., in our August 8, 1978 interview, related that
an origin story has been written but never published, since they want to leave
Kaliman partially shrouded in mystery. According to him, Kaliman is the son
of an Englishman and a native of the Middle East.
18. Kali is usually associated with death and destruction. Her
identification in Kalimdn with the pursuit of truth and punishment of crime is
not in keeping with this widespread characterization; but in fact Kali is a more
complex goddess. For example, she also embodies those qualities mentioned
in Kalimdn and represents the creative forces of rebirth in the Universe.
Kaliman's creators seem to have become aware of Kali's popular image only
after creating the superhero. In fact Modesto Vazquez G. has recently prepared
a three-page typewritten manuscript which points out all the attributes of Kali
and naturally stresses her more favorable ones.
19. Interview with Modesto Vazquez R. Victor Fox disagrees. He
contends that the name Kaliman is a shortened form of a Balinese name,
Kalimantan. Interview with Victor Fox.
20. "Que el Todo Poderoso quede con Ustedes, de corazon, palabra, y
pensamiento."
21. Interviews with Modesto Vazquez R., Victor Fox, Modesto Vazquez
G.
22. Early adventures tended to run for some fifteen weeks, but by 1976
the number had increased to an average of thirty-six. And by 1979 a story
lasted nearly a year and a half.
23. In January 1983, Kaliman seems to have acquired a new archenemy
whom he only momentarily defeats. Namilak, Kaliman spelled backwards, is
a negative, mirror image of Kaliman. A look-alike, with similar powers but
evil goals, Namilak is defeated, but survives at the adventure's end. He will
presumably reappear, as the Black Spider has, in future stories.
24. For perceptive comments on the function of grotesques in United
States comics, see Arthur Asa Berger, The Comic-Stripped American
(Baltimore: Penguin Books, 1973), pp. 30-31, 121, 126-128, 163, 200-202.
25. Modesto Vazquez G., memo and interview.
26. Interview with Modesto Vazquez G.
27. Modesto Vazquez G., memo and interview.
28. Interview with Modesto Vazquez G.
29. The theme of the abandoned child occurs frequently in the comics.
For a comment on this, see Berger, The Comic-Stripped American, pp. 33, 83,
161.
30. E. Nelson Bridwell (ed.), Superman from the Thirties to the Seventies
(New York: Crown Publishers, Inc., 1972); Lupoff and Thompson, All in
Color For a Dime, pp. 29, 32, 183; Reinhold Reitberger and Wolfgang Fuchs,
Comics: Anatomy of a Mass Medium (Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1972),
Kalimdn 51
p. 118, 123; Jules Feiffer, The Great Comic Book Heroes (New York: The
Dial Press, 1965), p. 21. See also Dennis Dooley and Gary Engle, eds.,
Superman at Fifty!: The Persistence of a Legend (New York: Macmillan
Publishing Company, 1987).
31. Interview with Modesto Vazquez R. Technically Mandrake was a
serialized comic strip, but since Kalimdn is a serialized comic book which also
develops adventures over many weeks, and since the two characters are quite
similar, the comparison seems justified.
32. Maurice Horn, ed., Mandrake the Magician (Franklin Square, New
York: Nostalgia Press, 1970); Reitberger and Fuchs, Comics, pp. 151, 161;
Don Thompson and Dick Lupoff, The Comic-Book Book (New Rochelle, New
York: Arlington House, 1973), pp. 147-154, 358; Pierre Couperie, Maurice
C. Horn et al., A History of the Comic Strip (New York: Crown Publishers,
Inc., 1968), p. 73. Kalimdn could also be compared with Batman and The
Fantastic Four. For example, both Batman and Kalimdn are far more
vulnerable than Superman, neither can rely on athletic powers alone, and both
undertake dangerous assignments only after years of training and study.
Contrasts between them could be made in terms of Batman's double identity,
his perennial villain (The Joker), his additional supporting cast acquired over
time, and Gotham City (the setting for most of his adventures).
33. Cornelia Butler Flora, "The Passive Female and Social Change: A
Cross-Cultural Comparison of Women's Magazine Fiction," in Female and
Male in Latin America: Essays, ed. Ann Pescatello (Pittsburgh: University of
Pittsburgh Press, 1973), pp. 80-83.
34. On machismo see Fernando Penalosa, "Mexican Family Roles,"
Journal of Marriage and the Family, 30 (November 1968): 680-687; Noel F.
McGinn, "Marriage and Family in Middle-Class Mexico," Journal of
Marriage and the Family, 28 (August, 1966): 305-308; R.G. Riviere, "The
Honour of Sanchez," Man, 2 (December, 1967): 369-583; Americo Paredes,
"The United States, Mexico, and Machismo," Journal of the Folklore Institute
(Indiana University), 3 (June 1971): 17-37; Evelyn P. Stevens, "Marianismo:
The Other Face of Machismo in Latin America," in Female and Male in Latin
America: Essays, ed. Pescatello, pp. 89-101.
35. McGinn, "Marriage and Family in Middle Class Mexico," pp. 308-
310; Penalosa, "Mexican Family Roles," pp. 685-687.
36. An excellent perspective on the arbitrary nature of Mexican law and
prisons from a lower-class viewpoint can be gained from Roberto in Oscar
Lewis, The Children of Sanchez: Autobiography of a Mexican Family (New
York: Vintage Books, 1963).
37. George N. Fenin and William K. Everson, The Western: From Silents
to the Seventies, 2nd ed. (New York: Penguin Books, 1973), p. 209.
38. Among the three archetypes of woman as mother, witch, and

wife/concubine that Jane Jaquette has suggested for Latin American literature,
only the witch is frequently employed in Kalimdn. Jane S. Jacquette, "Literary
Archetypes and Female Role Alternatives: The Woman and the Novel in Latin
America," in Pescatello, ed., Female and Male in Latin America: Essays, pp.
16-26.
39. On the role of sorcery in "closed" Mexican villages, see Eric R. Wolf
and Edward C. Hansen, The Human Condition in Latin America (New York:
Oxford University Press, 1972), pp. 71-99.
40. William Madsen and Claudia Madsen, A Guide to Mexican Witchcraft
(Mexico: Minutiae mexicana, 1969), p. 10.
41. Enrique Anderson-Imbert, Spanish-American Literature: A History,
2nd ed. rev., 2 vols. (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1969), 1, p.
411.
42. Light skin tones and blue eyes, while not typically Mexican, do
connotate high status in Mexican culture. For examples of this, see Lewis, The
Children of Sanchez, p. 202; and Lola Romanucci-Ross, Conflict, Violence,
and Morality in a Mexican Village (Palo Alto, California: National Press
Books, 1973), pp. 98-99.
43. Interview with Victor Fox.
44. See Thompson and Lupoff, The Comic-Book Book, pp. 354-355 on
the identification of so many American superheroes with scientific inventions
and gadgets. Arthur Asa Berger in The Comic-Stripped American (Baltimore:
Penguin Books, 1974), pp. 202-203, argues that villains cannot match the
natural powers of superheroes and therefore must resort to technology. But he
goes on to say that superheroes as well use technology, in fact superior
technology, to defeat their adversaries. Berger is correct for the use of
technology by American superheroes, but his case does not extend to Kaliman,
nor perhaps to other Latin American superheroes.
45. Interviews with Modesto Vazquez G. and Victor Fox.
3
Ldgrimas,risasy amo
I. The Comic Book
For more than thirty years, Ldgrimas, risas y amor [Tears, Laughter, and
Love]1 has titillated the hearts of Mexican readers with tales of idealized love.
Weekly, fans have bought the latest issue at their favorite newsstand to lose
themselves, if only for a few moments, in the ongoing amorous adventures of
the beautiful men and women who populate the pages of this comic book. Yet
despite its immense popularity, Ldgrimas has been virtually ignored as a
subject for study by students of Mexican popular culture.2
Next to Kalimdn, Ldgrimas is probably the most popular comic book in
Latin America. Ingeniero Pedro Lete, the general manager for publications for
Editorial Argumentos, simply ignored Kaliman's popularity in order to claim
that Ldgrimas outsold all other comic books in Mexico.3 The first number,
which was published in 1962, consisted of twenty-one thousand copies, the
second was twice that number; and in the late 1970s, this printed soap opera
supposedly sold between 1.3 and 1.5 million copies a week.4 Ingeniero Lete
attributed this astounding success to his cousin, Yolanda Vargas Dulche, the
author of most of the romantic adventures of Ldgrimas',5 he called her the very
axis around which the comic book revolved, singling out her honesty,
humanity, and intrepid exploration of the reality of peoples' lives. Of the
twenty adventures of Ldgrimas that appeared by the late 1970s, she had
written fourteen. Her husband, Guillermo de la Parra, had done the rest.
Antonio Gutierrez Salazar is credited with illustrating every one of the issues
of the comic book.
In the 1970s, Ldgrimas was the crown jewel of Editorial Argumentos,
which published a variety of romance, crime, and adventure comic books, as
well as photonovels. In addition, Editorial Argumentos was then a small part
of a parent enterprise (a virtual conglomerate by Mexican standards) that
owned hotels, real estate, and other lucrative businesses in Mexico.

Vargas Dulche, one of the principals in this success story, graciously
received the authors in her home, a large, impressive structure in an upper-
class Mexico City neighborhood. The house's downstairs rooms were filled
with works of art and fine furniture, manifestations of her status as one of
Mexico's most popular comic-book writers.6 Vargas Dulche briefly outlined
her initiation into this genre as a young woman whose first romantic stories
were published in Mexico City newspapers. When she was eighteen, Vargas
Dulche responded to a suggestion from a friend that she try her hand at
writing comic books. She began working for the publication Chamaco Chico
[Little Kid], which was characterized by its simple plot lines and direct
language.7 Within a year her stories were noticed by the editors of other more
prestigious publications, and she was soon hired at a substantial increase in
salary by Pepin [Joey], an important serials magazine of its day where many
of Mexico's successful comic-book writers and artists began their careers.8
Vargas Dulche and her husband, Guillermo de la Parra, joined in a
partnership in 1955 to form Editorial Argumentos. The duo worked together
to produce several publications. Confidencias de un chofer [The Secret Life of
a Chauffeur], which was based on the secret life of a driver for an upper-class
Mexican family, was their first best-seller and gave them the financial security
and readership to experiment with other comic books such as La doctora
corazon [Doctor Heart]. This publication was based on a radio program
narrated by the actress, Gloria Iturbe who gave advice to the lovelorn a la Ann
Landers. The material for the radio show as well as for the publication was
adapted from letters received from listeners. La doctora corazon lasted
approximately five years. After that, Vargas Dulche and de la Parra turned to
other projects such as Memin Pinguin9 and most importantly, Ldgrimas.
De la Parra, who authored or co-authored many of the comic book's 1970s
episodes, is as enthusiastic about Ldgrimas as is his wife, Vargas Dulche. In
a 1986 interview, he candidly remarked that a strong sustaining reason for his
interest in the publication over the years has been his desire npara dejar
nuestra huella en este mundon ["to leave our mark in this world"]10 De la
Parra began his career as a contract writer in his native state of Durango, but
soon moved on to greener pastures in Mexico City, where he met and married
Vargas Dulche. His stated motivation in founding Editorial Argumentos in
1955 was to capture a mass readership, a goal that he admitted has been
elusive over the past thirty-odd years. He felt that in publishing Ldgrimas and
several other Editorial Argumentos publications, he was attempting both to
entertain and to offer readers information on the history, traditions, and
customs of other countries. He acknowledges that while the publishing house
has largely succeeded in reaching a large audience, critics have not been kind
to their publications:
Ldgrimas, risas y amor 55
No podemos aspirar a obtener la candidatura para el Premio

Nobel, pero si tenemos el derecho a considerarnos escritores.
Los clubes de intelectuales no nos comprenden, nos quitan
merito a quienes escribimos literatura popular y los cnticos
tampoco nos reconocen, ni siquiera se toman la molestia de
leer nuestras revistas y hacer una crftica con fundamento.
Por eso digo que el crftico es como un hombre cojo que
quiere ensenar a correr. [We'll never aspire to being
nominated for the Nobel Prize, but we do have the right to
consider ourselves writers. Intellectuals don't understand us;
they deny credit to those of us who write popular literature.
The critics don't recognize us either; they don't even take
the effort to read our magazines and to make a judgment that
has some basis. That's why I say that a critic is like a lame
man trying to show us how to run.]11
Guillermo de la Parra's stated goal in creating Ldgrimas and the other

publications of Editorial Argumentos is to bring to readers a moment of
solace, diversion, and entertainment. To accomplish this end, he deliberately
avoids presenting problems or issues that might cause concern. He denies any
intent to communicate any type of message or moral in the publications he has
authored. Rather, he states: Si su lectura llega a proporcionar un momento
agradable, con eso me conformo. Que el lector disfrute con mis ocurrencias,
hasta alii llega mi ambicion. No quiero enesenar, hay personas mucho mds
inteligentes, instruidas y cultas, a quienes corresponde esa tarea" ["I'm
satisfied if reading them brings a pleasant moment. My only ambition is that
the reader enjoy my jottings. I don't want to teach; there are others more
intelligent, educated, and cultured who can more appropriately carry out that
task.]12 As in the case of most Mexican comic books, information based on
reliable market studies is not available for Ldgrimas', however, it has been
possible to put together a picture of who reads the comic book and why.13
Ingeniero Lete commented to the authors that he believed it was read by a
wide audience, including university students, young and old, men and women
of every sector of society, but primarily by the middle class.14 He related to
the authors instances of doctors, lawyers, and businessmen who had asked him
for complete sets of Ldgrimas and warned the authors not to trust the
perception that only lower-class workers and servants read the comic book.
While Ingeniero Lete admitted that such workers were frequently the
individuals who bought it, he felt sure that Ldgrimas was often circulated
among their middle- and upper-class employers who were too embarrassed to
purchase it themselves. While this assertion would be difficult to document,
it does raise interesting questions regarding the ways in which Mexican comic
books circulate after initially being bought.

The authors' survey of periodical vendors in Mexico City and Cuernavaca
corroborated some of Ingeniero Lete's information, and helped to focus more
clearly on the specific type of reader Ldgrimas attracted.15 Vendors indicated
that women were by far the most avid readers of the comic book, in a ratio of
about ten women to every male reader. Most of the readers of both sexes were
either middle or lower class, with a much smaller percentage from the upper
strata of society. Professionals and businessmen were less reluctant to buy the
comic book than Ingeniero Lete had indicated. In terms of age distribution,
most of the people who read Ldgrimas were between sixteen and thirty-five,
with both younger and older readers represented.
Street interviews with readers tended to reflect the vendors' comments as
well as those of Ingeniero Lete. Most of those interviewed were young women
of either middle- or lower-class origins, but there was also a sprinkling of men
and some upper-class professionals of both sexes. More than two-thirds of
those interviewed indicated that Ldgrimas was their favorite romance comic
book. Most agreed that its romanticized plots, fantasy-like atmospheres, and
idealized characters were appealing traits. A few random comments will
illustrate the popularity of these traits: "los persona]es son tristes, romdnticos
y muy bonitos" ["the characters are sad, romantic, and very beautiful"];
*mucha fantasia" ["a lot of fantasy"]; "podemos ver cosas que muestran las
verdades (de la vida)" ["We can see things that teach us about (life's) truths"];
"Es muy sentimental" ["It is very sentimental"]; "Prepara a los niilos para la
vida" ["It prepares children for life"]; "Distrae" ["It's a distraction"]; "Los
cuentos son dramdticos o romdnticos" ["The plots are either dramatic or
romantic"].
Ldgrimas has not only enjoyed singular success as a print medium, but it
has also been adapted to the cinema and made into a popular television soap
opera. The adventures "Yesenia," "Maria Isabel," and "Ladronzuela" ["She-
Thief"], were produced for Mexican television, and the last one was adapted
as a musical for the stage. Of interest is the fact that "Yesenia" was produced
with great success in the Soviet Union; the Soviety Embassy in Mexico bought
the rights. It also toured other Eastern Bloc socialist countries.
At least part of the success of Ldgrimas itself and its popular adaptations
for television and the cinema must be attributed to Antonio Gutierrez Salazar,
who, prior to joining Editorial Argumentos, had already distinguished himself
as a talented illustrator. Born in San Luis Potosi in 1920, he arrived in Mexico
City in 1935 to begin a series of jobs with different publications, including La
Prensa and the publishing houses Herrerias and Editorial Juventud. He
subsequently was the illustrator for the following comic books: Kombo, El
Capitdn Wings, Tarzdn, El Cosaco [The Cossack], El Caballero Azul [The
Blue Knight], and others. In 1971, he was awarded the grand prize for
Mexican illustrators, the Tlacuilo de Oro. His fellow artists praised him for
the artistic quality of his illustrations, and for his professionalism and
dedication.16
Gutierrez Salazar's comic book art in Ldgrimas is imbued with
cinematographic qualities reminiscent of Citizen Kane, in which the large sets
and camera angles seem to dwarf the individual actors. He handles perspective
adeptly, and his characters are carefully and realistically portrayed. His female
characters such as Ladronzuela and Rarotonga are particularly well drawn, and
he is able to convey movement and grace with great finesse. Given the care
and detail of his drawings, it is admirable that Gutierrez Salazar has been able
to maintain his consistently high quality week after week for more than thirty
years.
II. Ldgrimas\ Adventures, Plots, and Characters
One of the keys to the continued success of Ldgrimas over the years has
been the writers' ability to vary the adventures, imbuing them with a freshness
that has appealed to readers' tastes. Yet, like most forms of popular culture,
Ldgrimas has followed a basic set of formulas that are reflected in plot lines,
character types, settings, and male-female relationships.
Similar to another popular genre, the photonovel,17 the comic book's plot
lines can be reduced to basic narrative structures that, with a few exceptions,
follow two formulas. Formula A is (1) the hero/heroine falls in love with the
beloved; (2) the beloved does not reciprocate, usually because he/she does not
recognize the qualities of the other; (3) the beloved marries or falls in love
with a person other than the hero/heroine; (4) the hero/heroine lives his/her
own life and waits patiently for the beloved to notice him/her, or else the
hero/heroine gives up hope of ever being united with the beloved; (5) the
beloved's spouse or lover dies or is disposed of in another way; (6) the
hero/heroine and the beloved discover each other and live happily ever after.
Formula B is (1) the hero/heroine and the beloved fall in love from the outset,
(2) an insurmountable obstacle is placed between them, and (3) the adventure
ends tragically.
"El atardecer de Ana Luisa" ["Ana Luisa's Middle Years"],
"Ladronzuela," and "Paulina, Orlando y Fabiola" are adventures that follow
Formula A.18 In "El atardecer de Ana Luisa," Ana Luisa, an attractive young
woman, falls in love with Rene, a medical student who is working his way
through school. Although he loves Ana Luisa, soon after finishing his medical
studies he sacrifices their relationship to marry Clarissa, the egocentric and
frivolous daughter of the director of the clinic where Rene practices medicine.
Ana Luisa is bitterly disappointed, but after a few years she resigns herself to
her fate. She becomes a school teacher and channels her frustrated love for
Rene* into caring for her students. Years later, middle-aged but still attractive,
Ana Luisa's deep feeling for him is rekindled when she discovers that Rene*
and Clarissa's young son is one of her students. She also learns that Clarissa,
true to formula, is a neglectful mother and insensitive wife. Ana Luisa
arranges to see Rene\ he confesses his love for her, and Clarissa, the only
obstacle left in the path of their becoming reunited, dies fortuitously in an
automobile accident. Fulfilling their young dream, Ana Luisa and Rene marry,
and as the adventure closes they are living together happily with the young
boy who has found a tender and loving mother in Ana Luisa.
"El pecado de Oyuki" ["Oyuki" s Sin"] and "Triste alborada" ["Sad
Dawn"] are good examples of the Formula B plot structure. Oyuki, a graceful
and delicate young Japanese dancer, and her lover, Irving Pointer, a painter
and the son of a high British diplomat in Japan, overcome several difficulties
to bring their love to fruition. Serious racial barriers are thrown up by both
the Japanese and the British. Irving's mother, the comic book's embodiment
of the racially prejudiced British colonial mentality, tries several devious
schemes to undermine their relationship. Even after their marriage, their
Japanese neighbors and acquaintances ostracize Oyuki for taking a non-
Japanese as her partner. The adventure suddenly takes a more tragic turn after
the reader is led to believe that the young couple, who now have a baby
daughter, will survive the cultural and racial stresses that have so severely
tested their relationship. Irving goes off to London for a time to continue his
painting, returns to Japan prepared to assume an active role in the marriage,
and just as the reader thinks they are going to make it, her brother Ojino kills
Irving. Oyuki is then arrested and imprisoned, accused of killing her brother,
who has been found slain, in revenge; she is innocent. The couple's daughter
is adopted and raised by her British grandparents. The child's fate is a happy
one when compared to that of Oyuki and Irving, which is decidedly tragic.
When the story ends, Oyuki is still in prison, but her daughter is living
happily with her grandparents.
During the 1970s, the writers of Ldgrimas used these two basic plot
structures, with some variations, yet they succeeded in maintaining a high
degree of reader interest during this period by sufficiently changing their
stories and settings. Regarding the latter, while some of the adventures take
place in twentieth-century urban settings, the writers have taken care to add
a cosmopolitan dimension. "Yesenia" and "Paloma" are set in France;
"Geisha" and "El pecado de OyukC in Japan; "Paulina, Orlando y Fabiola
in the fictitious European principality of Lysburgo; "Noche" ["Night"
somewhere in Latin America; "El atardecer de Ana Luisa" and "Triste
alborada" in Mexico. Often, characters are seen flying back and forth between
countries and continents like free-spirited modern travelers, in "Rarotonga"
"Paloma," and "Paulina, Orlando y Fabiola," for example. For the most part,
the adventures that take place in twentieth-century urban settings emphasize
upper-class existences, although in a few adventures the lower strata are
depicted. Several of the Ldgrimas adventures have non-twentieth-century urban
settings, such as "Sangre eslava" ["Slave Blood"] (pre-Civil War United
States) and "El hijo de Yama" ["Yama's Son"] (a nineteenth-century Caribbean
island, probably Haiti). "Rarotonga" and "Rarotonga 2a parte" ["Rarotonga
Part II"] stand in a class by themselves. Rarotonga, a jungle queen, is equally
comfortable on her island and at the corporate headquarters of her
transnational empire as she traverses oceans and continents in her Lear jet.
In addition to having created varied stories and settings, the writers of
Ldgrimas have taken care to maximize variety for readers by running different
adventures concurrently in the same issue. Examples abound: "Geisha," which
is set in twentieth-century Japan, appeared in the same numbers as "El hijo de
Yama," a century and a culture apart; "Vagabundo," with a modern Western,
urban, upper-class setting, ran with "Sangre eslava," a pre-Civil War tale; "El
atardecer de Ana Luisa," about the frustrated love of an attractive Mexican
school teacher, was paired with "Ladronzuela," a story about a saucy, lower-
class maiden who gets her man; "Triste alborada," which featured a
misunderstood and victimized Fabian Roca who grows up during a period of
rampant gangsterism in the United States, was published alongside
"Rarotonga," whose paradisiacal ambience provided readers with a dramatic
contrast.
Virtually without exception the main characters, whether young or old,
male or female, have no traces of native Mexican Indian physical traits and in
only a few instances could characters be identified as mestizo (persons of
mixed European and Indian ancestry). Although the creators of the comic book
politely but firmly declined to comment on their characters' physical traits or
on their motives for creating a largely non-mestizo world, clearly they did not
intend to reproduce the ethnic and racial character of contemporary Mexico.
If this realism had been their intent, the creators of Ldgrimas' would have
populated the pages of the comic book with a more representative mix of
European, mestizo, and Mexican Indian characters.
A related aspect of the characters' physical appearance in Ldgrimas is that
there is little to distinguish heroes from villains, heroines from evil women.
The differences between good and bad individuals are conveyed through other
means, such as language, demeanor, and behavior.
All of the male heroes are tall, powerfully built, and decidedly handsome.
The villains share many of these physical characteristics with the heroes,
except that the villains tend not to be as square-jawed and bright-eyed. Also,
thicker brows contribute to rounding out the depiction of their cunning and
greedy nature. The heroines and evil women follow a similar pattern. For the
most part, the women share the following characteristics: they have beautiful
faces and curvaceous bodies and all are buxom. The evil women have no
physical characteristics that distinguish them from the heroines; like the male
villains, their nature is conveyed by means of behavior: they are flirtatious,
loose, deceitful, and calculating.
Ldgrimas does have minor characters who are more typically mestizo and
Indian in their physical appearance than those described above. In the main,
the characters occupy lower-class working positions in the comic book's social
hierarchy: maids, street vendors, waiters and waitresses, butlers, chauffeurs,
and such. Lower-class criminal types in particular are portrayed as mestizos.
These characters are also decidedly ugly; they are fat or deformed, or simply
do not conform to the model of beauty established by the writers and the artist
to distinguish the main characters visually.
A rigid set of standards for physical beauty in Ldgrimas seems to invite
readers to identify with the main characters. Even if they are evil, their lives
are portrayed as preferable in terms of influence and power to those of the
lower classes. Although Ldgrimas's creators were almost certainly aware of
their readership's diverse ethnic, racial, and class backgrounds, they evidently
were not seeking to reproduce a diverse escapist universe, but rather one
dominated by the fantasy of an upper-class, largely inaccessible existence not
within the reach of most Mexicans in the 1970s.
III. Comparison with Other Romance Comic Books
Some of the same elements of love, sex, marriage, and the family in
Ldgrimas can be found in the love comic book in the United States in titles
such as I Love You, Sweethearts, Love Diary, Time for Love, Just Married,
Secret Romance, Romantic Story, Hollywood Romances, Teenage Love, Teen
Confessions, Career Girl Romances,19 My Love, and Our Love Story. Perhaps
the most obvious parallel is found in the physical traits of the characters who,
in Mexico and the United States alike, are stereotypically well-built, youthful,
and seductive.20 In American comic books, however, the evil protagonists,
especially the females, tend to be dark-haired and hard-featured. In Ldgrimas
there is little to distinguish the evildoers from the heroes and the heroines.
In the 1970s, Comics Code restrictions kept sex out of American romance
comic books. Ldgrimas, during the same period, was also devoid of explicit
sex. The United States Code states that emphasis should be placed on the value
of the home and the sanctity of marriage. American romance comics responded
to this decree by espousing "the mainstays of the contemporary nuclear
family," including "beliefs in the functional necessity of male superiority,
female helplessness and the bartering of sexual favors by the female in
exchange for economic security."21 In the 1970s, the passive females and
aggressive males in Ldgrimas clearly followed this model. Although one can
find isolated examples of expressions of approval for equal rights and women's
liberation in American love comic books, these controversial areas were as rare
as in Ldgrimas. Although in the 1970s women's liberation became a plot
element in numerous stories in American romance comic books and a subject
of discussion in advice columns, the romantic heroine, while more aggressive
and financially independent, was still cast in a dependent relationship with the
male in her life.22
One student of American romance comic books notes that in political
terms this genre has remained remarkably conservative over the years,23 yet
there is evidence to the contrary. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, themes
other than simple romantic conflicts began to appear. For example, in a 1973
issue of Young Romances, the theme of interracial relationships was treated,
and around the same time Young Love depicted the emotional distress of a
former Vietnam veteran seeking the gentle caring of a sensitive young
woman.24 In some American romance comic books during periods of great
turmoil, characters have been allowed to express opposing views, which were
consistently given a conservative slant.25 In Ldgrimas, there were, in the
1970s, virtually no direct or even indirect references to contemporary political
events or social movements. There were, for example, no references to the
tumultuous late 1960s or early-1970s in Mexico, or to homosexuality,
women's liberation, or the student movement. The comic book's characters
were not identified with any ideology or political party. The world they lived
in was extremely conservative, hermetically sealed off from social movements
and political turmoil.
Concerning plot structures in the 1970s, both Ldgrimas and American
romance comic books tended to follow a standard formula or formulas with
some variations. For example, the plot structure of Romantic Story and
Sweetheart could be reduced to the following pattern: the heroine's
simpleminded scheming to achieve true love, the ultimate expression of which
is marriage and absorption by the strong male-oriented ego.26 A student of this
genre in the United States observes that the names of the characters hardly
matter in American romance comic books during the last four decades; the
parts are repetitive and interchangeable.27 In the most common plot structure,
the beautiful heroine is forced to choose between two attractive men: one
aggressive, restless, and rich, and the other sensitive, kind, but reticent. The
heroine inevitably chooses the former first, but after realizing her mistake, she
opts for the more solid of the two men. The story happily ends with the two
united. In a variation on this structure, there is only one man, and the story
conflict is based on the heroine's struggle to overcome the obstacles that are
in the way of a happy life together with him: background and age, the
beloved's relationship with another woman, handicaps, and so on.28

The pattern follows very closely that of Formula A in Ldgrimas;
however, a difference between Ldgrimas and the American romance comic
books is that the Mexican adventures sometimes end tragically. Also, in
Ldgrimas the male plays a more active role in pursuing the female, who
sometimes is not even aware that she is the object of his affection. Another
difference revolves around the social roles of the characters. In American
comic books, the women are usually students or secretaries, whereas in
Ldgrimas their positions are much more varied. The male characters are very
similar however. In American love comic books, they are usually poised and
dedicated architects, doctors, lawyers, professors, and movie producers.29 In
Ldgrimas males are also well-established professionals. Even the antithesis of
the idealized male, the successful criminal element, is described as prosperous.
Successful upper-class criminals are given a sense of professional dignity,
which is very much in keeping with with the creators' intent to create a
fantasy world that does not accurately represent Mexico in the 1970s. As
discussed above earlier in this chapter, the heroes, heroines, and villains alike
lead a comfortable, upper-class existence not shared by the vast majority of the
readership of Ldgrimas or by the Mexican population in general during the
1970s.
IV. The Comic Book's Reflection of Mexican Culture
As discussed earlier in this chapter, few of the Ldgrimas adventures in the

1970s are set in Mexico. In addition, the heavy emphasis on non-mestizo and
non-Indian physical traits, the concomitant stress on beautiful, healthy, and,
above all, sexually attractive bodies, and the preponderance of upper-class
characters and environments present a tantalizing world for the comic book's
predominantly middle- and lower-class readers, a world that on the surface is
far different from their own. When the adventures are examined more closely,
however, they reveal that Ldgrimas reflects the attitudes of a good part of
contemporary Mexico, especially its view of sex, sex roles, the family,
marriage, class, and the role of the individual in society. The comic book
offered no significant alternatives to dominant cultural and social values and
attitudes in these areas during the 1970s; rather, it tended to reinforce them.
In her general study of the psychology of the Mexican woman, Juana
Amanda Alegrfa outlines several stereotypical female behaviors that, in large
measure, are accepted as appropriate by both men and women in Mexico:
(1) self-denial or masochism; (2) servility to men; (3) sexuality as a man's
domain: the idea that the Mexican woman does not enjoy sex and, related to
this belief, the cult of virginity, purity, and chastity for the female;
(4) motherhood: the mother is the source of love and therefore merits respect;
(5) the family; the wife is ultimately responsible for keeping the family
together. While the male is permitted to be unfaithful, the wife is not. Related
to this behavior is the financial dependence of the wife and the entire family
on the husband.30 These stereotypical values, attitudes, and behaviors all
combine to define the male in an active role while the female is trapped within
a woefully passive one. Manifestations of this enforced passivity are her
ineffectuality, humility and virtue, lack of initiative, lack of striving for
independence, lack of independent social mobility, and lack of self-control.
The definition of sex roles in Ldgrimas clearly demonstrates the active-
passive dichotomy in male-female relationships. Males are the "lords and
masters" in the home and most decidedly outside of it. Almost without
exception the important professional positions of influence and power are held
by men.
Ldgrimas is not lacking in assertive women, but they are usually described
as evil villainesses. For example, Irma, the main female character of "Triste
alborada" and a successful businesswoman, is also depicted as ruthless,
greedy, and merciless. In one memorable scene, she is seen witnessing her
husband's death as he is devoured by a bloodthirsty shark. In "El pecado de
Oyuki," Irving's mother tries to interfere with his marriage to the young
Japanese girl. Although the mother is portrayed as a cold and calculating
racist, at the same time she is one of the more aggressive women in Ldgrimas.
The attitude towards premarital and extramarital sex is predictable; males
and villainesses are allowed to engage in such activities, "nice" women are
not. Young women who have had sex or are even suspected of having sex
before marriage are scorned or punished while young males are allowed a
period of exploration. Most of the young men of Ldgrimas frequent cabarets
where they associate with women of dubious respectability. Although
prostitution is not presented directly in the comic book, the association of
upper-class youth with lower-class women in these places is probably meant
to serve as a substitute. On the other hand, lower-class female characters
destined to become the wives of upper-class males are not allowed similar
sexual experiences.
The married women in Ldgrimas make good mothers and wives, investing
their energy in the family and the home. If they do not, they are punished.
The men are primarily concerned with marrying chaste women. They are also
interested in succeeding in their chosen profession, which sometimes gets in
the way of their familial responsibilities.
V. Ldgrimas and Social Change
As can be seen from the above discussion, Ldgrimas tends to reflect and
reinforce Mexican values and attitudes towards male-female relationships, sex,
marriage, and the family. As might be expected, the comic book does not
present viable alternatives to accepted life styles, established institutions, and
the aspirations of the general population of a developing country. As a very
popular title of an important cultural industry in Mexico, Ldgrimas can be
viewed as serving as a vehicle for channeling the fantasy desires of, above all,
its female readership. As Valerie Walkerdine has observed in her study of
selected English girls' comic books, this genre, because it engages the girls'
unconscious and conscious desires, prepares for and proffers "a 'happily ever
after' situation in which the finding of the prince (the knight in shining
armour, 'Mr. Right') comes to seem like a solution to a set of overwhelming
desires and problems. "31 Walkerdine points out that recent work in the field
of cultural practices has stressed the importance of the way in which texts
operate in terms of systems of signification: "Texts do not simply distort or
bias a reality that exists only outside the pages of books—in the 'real world'—
but rather that those practices are real, and in their construction of meanings
create places for identification, construct subject-positions in the text itself. "32
The characters' relationships with each other and with their enviroment
provide a fantasy vehicle that inserts the reader into the text. Just as with the
middle school girls discussed in Walkerdine's study, it can be reasonably
speculated that Ldgrimas's readers are allowed to work out the themes, issues,
problems, and fantasies of escape by reading a comic book whose major
narrative device is designed to remove them from the external, "real" world
to a fantasy-dominated fictitious one.
Ldgrimas's themes of female passivity, women as victims, and selfless
female behavior, which reflect dominant Mexican attitudes, are remarkably
similar to those found in English girls4 comic stories. At least in the stories
that adhere to Formula A, the women protagonists' suffering, sacrifices,
selflessness, and fatalism are depicted as preparing them to receive a richly
deserved reward: the desired male knight in shining armor, the "Mr. Right"
that Walkerdine refers to in her study. In the stories that adhere to Formula
B, the female protagonists fulfill their culturally expected roles as victims:
their fate is to live (or die) tragically. In either case, the dominant fantasy
world of Ldgrimas serves to allow the comic book's readers to work out their
desires as a preparation for or acceptance of the socially-dictated expectations
as "good" Mexican women. Such expectations discourage seeking effective
solutions outside of certain socially acceptable parameters. Feminine readers,
like their fictitious counterparts, are encouraged to remain within certain
bounds, never seeking to end a bad relationship since such a solution would
ultimately threaten male domination. Instead, they also want to be saved by

"Mr. Right."
NOTES
1. Hereafter the abbreviated title Ldgrimas will be used when referring

to the comic book.
2. Only brief references to Ldgrimas can be found in short and
necessarily superficial treatments of the Mexican comic book. Examples are:
Mariclaire Acosta, "La historieta comica en Mexico," Revista de la
Universidad de Mexico, 28:10 (June, 1973), 14; Higilio Alvarez Constantino,
"La magia de los comics coloniza nuestra cultura," Audiovisual, 2a epoca
(Nov.-Dec. 1975), 573; Carlos Monsivais, "La historieta," from a typewritten
paper on file at the Hemeroteca Nacional in Mexico City, 10. A short
interview with Yolanda Vargas Dulche appears in Beth Miller and Alfonso
Gonzalez, 26 autores del Mexico actual (Mexico City: B. Costa-Amic Editor,
1978), 375-84.
3. Alan Riding in his short article, "Mexico's Passionate Affair With the
Comics," New York Times (September 15, 1977), 19, identifies Ldgrimas as
"probably the most successful printed soap opera in Latin America." In an
August 16, 1978 interview with Ingeniero Lete, Riding indicated that
Ldgrimas was by far the most popular Mexican comic book. A comparison of
this statement to sales figures for other Mexican comic books for an earlier
year, 1976, reveals that his assessment of the popularity of Ldgrimas is
somewhat exaggerated. Irene Herner, in her study of the Mexican comic book
and photonovel, cites Kalimdn as the most popular Mexican comic book, with
sales of approximately two million copies per week in 1976. Mitos y monitos,
historietas y fotonovelas en Mexico (Mexico City: UN AM and Editorial Nueva
Imagen, 1979), 114-15.
4. These figures were provided by Ingeniero Lete. They are somewhat
higher than Herner's figure for 1976. Vargas Dulche estimates that Ldgrimas
sold approximately 1.2 million copies per week during this period; however,
it is possible that Ldgrimas increased its sales substantially in the two years
between Herner's estimate and the authors' interview with Ingeniero Lete.
Further, the authors' street interviews with vendors and readers during the
summer of 1978 indicated that Ldgrimas was, at least at that time, the comic
book most preferred by Mexican readers. Julee Caspers and Ben Agar, two
students knowledgeable about Mexican comic books, conducted fifty
interviews, forty-eight in Mexico City and two in Cuernavaca, during June and
early July 1978. The areas surveyed in Mexico City were chosen to represent
a cross section of socioeconomic levels; those in Cuernavaca were the central
plaza and a busy street. Vendors of various kinds were surveyed; the range
covers those with large permanent metal or wooden stands, advantageous
locations, and brisk sales, to those with a narrow selection of comic books
spread on the sidewalk. Over 75 percent of the vendors indicated that they
sold more copies of Ldgrimas than any other comic book. While our sampling
is small, it does corroborate the popularity of Ldgrimas.
5. Personal interview with Ingeniero Lete.
6. Personal interview with Yolanda Vargas Dulche on August 17, 1978.
7. Rosalva de Valdes, "Cronica general de la historieta," in La historieta
mexicana, a special issue of Artes de Mexico, no. 158 (n.d.), 10.
8. Several comic book series such as "Los super locos" were published
in Pepin. For a brief description of the publication, see de Valdes, "Cronica
general," 10.
9. Memin Pinguin was, several years ago, one of Editorial Argumentos'
most important comic book publications. It gets its name from the main
character, a young black boy, whose exaggerated negroid features make him
a stereotype. His adventures and those of his young friends remind us of the
hilarious antics of Our Gang. According to Vargas Dulche, the idea for a
black portagonist came from her many visits to Cuba as a young woman trying
to make it as a singer. The name, in part, is derived from her husband's
nickname. She did not reveal his nickname to the authors.
10. Angelina Camargo Brena, "De escritor a editor. Entrevista con
Guillermo de la Parra de Editorial Argumentos," Libros de Mexico, 5
(1986): 17-20.
11. Ibid., 17.
12. Ibid., 18.
13. When the authors asked to be allowed to see the readers' letters, both
Vargas Dulche and Ingeniero Lete told them that Editorial Argumentos did not
make it a practice of keeping such letters on file.
14. Personal interview with Ingeniero Lete on May 29, 1979.
15. These interviews were carried out by students Julee Caspers and Ben
Agar at the same time and at the same sites as their survey of the relative
popularity of selected Mexican comic books. In addition to vendors in Mexico
City and Cuernavaca, Caspars and Agar also interviewed fifty readers, most
just before or after they had purchased a comic book. While, again, the sample
is small, it is used here to corroborate other information received from the
publisher.
16. For this and other information on Gutierrez Salazar, see, La historieta
mexicana, the Artes de Mexico special issue on the Mexican comic book, no.
158 (n.d.), 56. This special issue contains several articles, some of them
anonymous.
17. In their article, "The Fotonovela as a Tool for Class and Cultural
Domination," Latin American Perspectives, 5:1 (Winter 1978): 134-50,

Cornelia Butler Flora and Jan L. Flora identify and describe major forms of
Latin American fotonovela plot types: Plot I: Individual Love Rewarded, and
Plot II: Mutual Love Rewarded. Most of the seventy-eight fotonovelas
collected in Brazil, Chile, Colombia, and Mexico followed one of these two
formulas, although there were variations.
18. Because, in most cases, the authors were unable to collect complete
runs of these and other adventures referred to in this chapter, it will not be
possible to give the exact dates for the beginning and end of each adventure.
The authors are able, however, to provide approximate dates in the form of the
year(s) during which each adventure was published: "Vagabundo" 1965;
"Sangre eslava" 1965; "El hijo de Yama" 1967; "Geisha" 1967; "Noche"
1970-71; "Umbral" 1970; "El atardecer de Ana Luisa" 1971; "Ladronzuela"
1971-72; "Tengo que partir" 1972-74; "Rarotonga" 1973-75; "Triste
alborada" 1914-11', "El pecado de OyukC 1975-77; "Rarotonga 2a parte"
1977-78; "Paulina, Orlando y Fabiola" 1978-80; "Paloma" 1979-80.
19. All of these titles were published by Charlton Comics Group.
20. Bruce Bailey, "An Inquiry into Love Comic Books: The Token
Evolution of a Popular Genre," Journal of Popular Culture, 10:1 (1976): 245-
48.
21. Ibid., 247.
22. Mark Carlson, "Romance Comics: The Forgotten Genre," The Comic
World, 1:21 (November 1979):33.
23. Bailey, "An Inquiry into Love Comic Books," 248. The same
observation has been made about the American romance magazine. See David
Sonenschein, "Love and Sex in the Romance Magazine," in The Popular
Culture Reader, eds. Jack Nachbar et al. (Bowling Green, Ohio: Bowling
Green University Popular Press, 1978), 318.
24. Carlson, "Romance Comics," 33.
25. Bailey, "An Inquiry into Love Comic Books," 248.
26. Ibid., 245.
27. Carlson, "Romance Comics," 25.
28. Ibid., 27.
29. Reinhold Reitberger and Wolfgang Fuchs, Comics. Anatomy of a
Mass Media (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1971), 80.
30. Juan Amanda Alegria, Psicologia de las mexicanos (Mexico City:
Editorial Samo, 1974), 114-69. The following studies have also been useful
to the author in ascertaining contemporary Mexican attitudes towards the
family, sex roles, and male-female relationships: Fernando Penalosa, "Mexican
Family Roles," Journal of Marriage and the Family, 30 (November 1968):
680-89; Novel F. McGinn, "Marriage and Family in Middle-Class Mexico,"
Journal of Marriage and the Family, 28 (August 1966): 305-13; R.G Riviere,
"The Honour of Sanchez," Man, 2 (December 1967): 569-83; AmeYico

Paredes, "The United States, Mexico, and Machismo," Journal of the Folklore
Institute, 3 (June 1971): 17-37; Evelyn P. Stevens, "Marianismo: The Other
Face of Machismo in Latin America," in Female and Male in Latin America:
Essays, ed. Ann Pescatello (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1973),
89-101.
31. Valerie Walkerdine, "Some Day My Prince Will Come: Young Girls
and the Preparation of Adolescent Sexuality," in Gender and Generation, eds.
Angela McRobbie and Mica Nava (London: MacMillan Publishers, 1984),
163.
32. Ibid., 164.
4
Rius's Los supermacho

and Los agachados
I. Eduardo del Rio and the Saga of Two Comic Books
Eduardo del Rio, more popularly known to millions of his readers by his pen
name Rius, is unusual among comic-book writers in Mexico. Prolific,
versatile, and controversial, he is the creator of the most explicitly political
comic book in his country and perhaps in all of Latin America. Alan Riding,
former Mexico City Bureau Chief for the New York Times, calls him a
maverick who has set himself apart from other cartoonists by using his comic-
book form to carry his political message to a mass audience.1
Born in 1935 in Zamora, Michoacan, Rius completed his grade-school
years in Mexico City and attended a Salesian monastery from age eleven to
fifteen.2 When he left the monastery, he was prevented from continuing his
formal education because his seminary studies were not acceptable.
Discouraged by this experience, Rius did not return to school but began a
series of odd jobs. Although these did not contribute to his artistic
development, they did help to form part of the background for his first comic
book-venture, Los supermachos [The Super Virile Men].
Rius worked in a bar in a poor section of Mexico City, in a bottling plant,
and as a poorly paid helper in a firm that distributed Walt Disney publications
in Mexico. Later, like practically all contemporary Mexican intellectuals and
artists, he took a government job as a bureaucrat, working for a short time
with the Department of the Census. After that experience, he worked for a
time in a funeral home and was about to embark upon a career as a mortician
when, in response to a friend's suggestion, he took his drawings to the humor
magazine Ja-Ja [Ha-Ha]. The director liked his material and hired Rius to
draw for the magazine for a paltry fifty pesos a week. He was also employed
on a part-time basis to draw for other humor magazines such as Damas chinas
[Chinese Women] and La oca [The Goose].
Rius continued working in the funeral parlor during the day while
struggling to establish himself as a cartoonist. His big break came in the early
1960s when Abel Quezada, the foremost cartoonist of his day, left his job with
the large Mexico City newspaper, Ovaciones [Ovations]. Rius, a young
unknown, apprentice, audaciously asked Quezada to recommend him as his
replacement, and the request worked! Due to the controversial nature of many
of Rius's cartoons,3 however, Ovaciones soon dismissed him. During the next
few years, he was alternately unemployed or worked for several Mexico City
publications, including Diario de la tarde [The Afternoon Daily], Mexico en
la cultura [Mexico in Its Culture], Politica [Politics], La prensa [The Press],
iPor Que? [Why?], Novedades [News], and El universal [The Universal].
Most of these magazines and newspapers were controlled by conservative and
moderate political interests, but others like iPor Que? were audaciously leftist
and provided Rius with outlets for his outspoken criticism of social customs
and prominent political figures including the Mexican president himself.
Nineteen sixty-six is an extraordinary year for Rius, for it was then that
he created his first comic book, Los supermachos, for Editorial Meridiano.
With considerable apprehension, Rius made the switch from cartoonist to
comic-book writer, inspired both by the promise of financial stability and by
the desire to provide an alternative to the drivel, as he saw it, that
characterized the most popular comic books.4
Ironically, conservatives dismissed from Excelsior made up Editorial
Meridiano which employed Rius at a healthy 10,000 pesos monthly salary.
Eventually, he ran into difficulties with the managing editors, difficulties that
resembled those he had experienced before with other publications.
Approximately a year after the creation of his Los supermachos,individuals
within the conservative presidential regime of Gustavo Diaz Ordaz (1964-70)
attacked his comic book. Opposition to his biting satire of the policies and
practices of certain politicians led the director of Editorial Meridiano to censor
Rius's comic book. Often the author would not know that the editors had
altered an issue of Los supermachos until after it had been printed and
distributed.5 The conflict between Rius and the director escalated to the point
that other cartoonists were secretly employed to replace him.
Unable to tolerate the censorship of his comic book, Rius left Editorial
Meridiano in 1967. Unhappily, however, he was not able to take the famous
cast of Los supermachos with him, because he had unknowingly ceded all his
rights to the characters in an earlier agreement with the publisher. He initiated
legal proceedings against Editorial Meridiano, but realizing that he could not
win, he soon agreed that his characters could be used until the publishing
house ceased to publish Los supermachos. At that time the rights would revert
to him.
Rius's Los supermachos and Los agachados 71
A fitting tribute to Los supermachos was offered by a young reader in

1968 who had grown fond of the comic book:
I cannot stress too strongly the fact that this was a real
world, crazy and complicated and ugly and beautiful, real as
Tolstoi's Russia or Peake's Gormenghast or Baum's Oz; and
that this world has been killed, by official fiat . . . . the
mentality that cannot comprehend the humanity, the reality
of San Garabato de las Tunas . . . I mourn San Garabato,
destroyed more completely than Hiroshima or Guernica or
Dresden. And I do not forgive us. 6
Los supermachos continued to be published by Editorial Meridiano, but

although the cast of characters remained essentially the same, the focus and
the depth of the criticism did not. Los supermachos, written without Rius, is
discussed in the next chapter, but for now it is significant to note that the
readership dropped dramatically from 200,000 to 50,000 after issue Number
100, that is, after Rius was replaced by other writers and cartoonists.7 When
he was asked about his opinion of the new version, he replied with
considerable feeling:
Well, as the father of these children I obviously don't like

it. Furthermore, after looking at it more objectively now, I
think that the level of humor and political content has
declined. All of the characters are all very blurred. There is
not as much intentionality as when I created Los agachados
[The Stooped Ones] . . . . The drastic change came around
1968.8
The writer's troubles with government censorship and other forms of more
direct harassment did not end when he relinquished control of Los
supermachos. In fact, during and after the tumultuous year of 1968 that ended
with the tragic massacre at Tlatelolco on October 2, the government's
campaign against all of its critics intensified.9 Rius was no exception. In 1969,
after one attempt failed, he was sequestered by the local police and turned over
to the military. He was incarcerated for only a day in a military prison in
Toluca, then taken out to the nearby mountains, where the police told him that
he would be executed for crimes against the government. The police did not
carry out the threat; instead, they wanted only to frighten him so badly that
Rius would not continue to attack the government in his cartoons and comic
books.10 Fortunately for a whole generation of his readers, this and other
threats did not deter Rius. He said: "I continued with the only thing I knew
how to do. And I wasn't about to turn my back on my work that I considered
useful to everybody. Furthermore, it was personally satisfying since the comic
book and cartooning were my life."11
From 1968 until 1977, Rius wrote and illustrated 291 issues of a second
comic book, Los agachados. As had been the case with Los supermachos, this
endeavor was almost entirely a one-person production with some help in minor
production details from his wife and daughter.
Rius discontinued Los agachados mainly because of the substantial time
commitment required to produce an issue. Whereas most other comic books
in Mexico are the result of the team effort of writers, cartoonists, letterers,
and persons who draw in backgrounds, Los supermachos and Los agachados
were a near solo production. In late 1978 Rius reinitiated the production of
Los agachados. Some thirty numbers appeared before he discontinued
producing them in order to devote himself fulltime to a series of illustrated
books for Editorial Grijalbo and to a humor magazine called La Garrapata
[The Tick].
Rius's comic book efforts fell off after 1971, and since then he has
intensified his work in other areas. During this period (and earlier), Rius has
made a number of trips to foreign countries, principally the socialist and
communist countries of the Eastern Bloc. He has been to Cuba numerous times
and has visited China. Since 1966 he has published over thirty-five illustrated
books several of which are commentaries based on his travels.12
Rius has been recognized for his talent and productivity in Mexico as well
as abroad. In 1959, he was awarded the prestigious National Journalism Prize,
and in 1971 he was honored with the Premio Tlacuilos [Tlacuilos Prize] by the
Mexican organization of comic-book writers, the Circulo de Tlacuilos de
Mexico [The Tlacuilos Circle of Mexico]. He was recognized internationally
with the Grand Prize for Caricature in Montreal in 1968. In 1961 Rius was the
only foreign cartoonist to publish in the Soviet daily Izvestia.
Los supermachos has had considerably more media exposure than Los
agachados. It was adapted for the stage by experimental theater groups who
toured Mexico for several years.13 Then a movie, Calzon sin inspector [Calzon
without an Inspector], based on the comic book was produced and enjoyed
moderate success. In addition, Rius received several offers in the 1970s to
serialize Los supermachos on Mexican television. He turned these down
because he was doubtful that, given the level of government control exercised
over the industry at the time of the offers, it would have been successfully
adapted. He feared censorship and a watering down of his message.14
In addition to their content, Rius's Los supermachos and Los agachados
differ from most other Mexican comic books in at least two significant ways:
the reading public to which they are directed and the numbers printed. When
asked about the audience for which he writes his comic books, Rius identified
the "lector medio," that is, the middle-class reader who has a high-school
education and perhaps some university training as well.15 This impression of
Rius's readers was confirmed by a market study conducted well into the
publication of Los agachados. Students were identified as the primary group
of readers. Next came middle- and upper-class professionals such as doctors,
engineers, and teachers. Last were workers and peasants making up one
percent of the total.16 In 1978, however, it was pointed out that used copies
of both Los supermachos and Los agachados were being used by Mexican
worker study groups to give focus to their discussions on communism,
socialism, and related topics.17 Fan mail and observations of those who buy the
comic book at street stands confirm the market study.
In terms of circulation, both Los supermachos and Los agachados do not
compare favorably to other popular Mexican comic books. At the height of
its popularity, approximately 200,000 issues of Los supermachos were printed.
The average print run numbered about 135,000.18 Los agachados began with
a modest 50,000 circulation and then increased to a high of about 150,000.19
Data was not available for the new series of Los agachados.
Rius does not think he draws well, and although he would not be placed
among the better Mexican comic-book and cartoon illustrators—such as
Antonio Gutierrez Salazar of Ldgrimas, risas y amor—the simple, flat style he
adopted from the Romanian cartoonist Saul Steinberg20 is effective. Very early
in his career, Rius saw in Steinberg's stylized and uncomplicated figures the
possibility of creating cartoons without knowing a great deal about the
principles of drawing. His individual cartoons are more carefully drawn and
more detailed than his comic books. This is probably due to the fact that as a
one-man (later a one-family) operation with weekly deadlines, Los
supermachos and Los agachados required that he sacrifice the quality of his
drawing.
Rius's style has changed very little since the late 1960s, but even during
the period of Los supermachos he began borrowing and integrating motifs and
characters from different sources such as the nineteenth-century artist George
Colomb, Chinese movie sequences; tales-within-a-tale, and photographs.21
Continuity and story line are not important to this intensely curious ecclectic
who seems much more interested in content than form.
Although Rius deals almost exclusively with serious themes, satirical
humor is an essential part of both his comic books and other illustrated works.
It is principally through his skillful counterpoint among the narrative, graphic,
and balloon planes that he is able to maintain a consistently high level of
irony and satire.22 On the narrative level, he intentionally avoids overdetailing,
maintaining a bland visual surface and indulging in few experiments. His
standard Spanish has few colloquialisms and his tone is didactic. It is on the
graphic plane, however, that Rius excels, through his ability to characterize
many personalities with a few deft strokes of the pen. Not only does he
succeed in giving us essential information about the figure, but he also
communicates his attitude towards it. Rius illustrates the content of the
narrative, and at the same time he comments in a humorous way, inviting the
reader to participate in the humor.23 As important as the narrative and graphic
planes are to Rius's humorous portrayal of the myriad problems that afflict
contemporary Mexico and mankind in general, it is the balloon that "fixes" the
satirical tone.24 His comic books are structured as dialogues between the
narrative voice and those of the characters speaking in balloons. Although the
characters live within Rius's fictional world, they, in fact, speak for the
reader, demanding clarification and understandable explanations from the
narrator and confronting his pretentiousness. This device serves to break the
monotony—especially in the illustrated books—of the longer and more involved
theoretical presentations as well as to heighten the level of satirical humor.
The reader feels he has an advocate within the fictional framework who will
ask his questions and express his concerns to the narrator while at the same
time providing comic relief.
Another device that enhances Rius's satire is the extensive use of borrowed
graphic material,25 which serves to reinforce the counterpoint among the
narrative, graphic, and balloon planes. Rius integrates material from many
artistic traditions but especially the nineteenth-century print, whose stiff,
outmoded look contrasts sharply with his own fluid style. The juxtaposition
of the two styles allows Rius to milk the humorous possibilities arising from
their contrast and incongruity.
II. The Settings and Principal Characters
In both Los supermachos and Los agachados, Rius creates fictitious towns
populated by characters representative of various Mexican social types,
institutions, and values. While these characters express through words or
through their behaviors a wide range of attitudes and values, they can hardly
be seen as constituting a microcosm of Mexican society. For the most part, the
characters and settings are rural, as Rius seems studiously to avoid direct or
explicit references to the Mexican urban experience.
On page one of the first number of Los supermachos, the author
introduces San Garabato—it has been suggested that the name derives from a
large-sized illegible scrawl or refers to a sharp hook or knife wellknown to the
Mexican peasant26—as a land of "machos, borrachos y compachos"21 ["studs,
drunks, and good old boys"]. Rius continues, tongue in cheek, that it is a
worthless, insignificant town, just like other Mexican towns in terms of the
number of machos and drunks who live there. San Garabato, however,
surpasses others since the machos-machos [second-rank studs], have left to

become braceros [Mexican agricultural workers in the United States] or
mariachis [musicians] due to the scarcity of gainful employment.
San Garabato has nothing to distinguish it from most other Mexican
towns. The architecture, while typical, is not without appeal: tile-roofed
buildings, key-stoned doorways, wrought-iron window grates. While it has a
jail and a cemetery, it is evidently too small to have a school. It has no
telephones, movie houses, newspapers, soccer or baseball stadium, or
restaurants, other than one bar. It is so indistinguishable and so plain a place
that in the first number of the comic book a meeting is called by Don Perpetuo
to rally the townfolk to discuss what can be done to attract outsiders,
especially gringos [a negative designation for Americans], to bring some
money into the community. A unique plan is devised: the town will publicize
in Mexico City newspapers that the head of Pancho Villa, one of Mexico's
revolutionary heroes, has been discovered in the local cemetery.
Rius, in number thirty, reiterates how boring and uneventful life is in his
fictitious town, and this comment serves his purpose well: to represent the
compendium of social, historical, political, and cultural forces that characterize
rural Mexico in the late 1960s.28 The fact that the setting is rural does not
prevent him from introducing problems that plague all Mexicans. The most
important components of the population are amply represented. A summary of
the various social types represented in San Garabato reveals the possibilities
Rius has allowed himself for presenting the myriad problems—some dating
from colonial times, others created by Mexico's rush into industrialization in
the twentieth century—that afflicted Mexican society in the 1960s and the
1970s.
The character of Juan Calzonzin clearly represents Mexico's Indian
population (20 percent of the total).29 Of humble origins and not formally
educated, he is nonetheless very astute and philosophically oriented. Some
think that he speakes for Rius himself.30 Calzonzin is a pure Tepuja Indian.
Through him, Rius introduces us to the problem of Mexico's Indians as a
disenfranchised segment of the country's population that has traditionally been
ignored by the government.31 Calzonzin never plays the role of the subjugated
downtrodden alien but rather that of an independent, assertive individual who
is aware of his rights. Unlike Calzonzin, Chon Prieto, another indigenous
character, is described as a lazy, drunken Indian whose character is more in
keeping with the negative stereotype urban upper- and middle-class Mexicans
have of their country's aboriginal inhabitants. Rius defends his portrayal of
Chon as a reflection of the rampant alcoholism that afflicts Mexico's Indians.
Don Perpetuo is perhaps the most extreme stereotype in Los supermachos.
He is a fat, loud-mouthed cacique [rural political boss] who has little tolerance
for insubordination on the part of any of the townspeople, especially those
who are beneath him socially. He wears boots, an absurdly large Western
cowboy hat, and dark glasses, and sports a large moustache. Don Perpetuo is
generally depicted with his mouth open, shouting orders at the town's
policemen and other municipal officials. Significantly, he is often addressed
Sisfuhrer,32 a title that corresponds with his demeanor and the historical role
that the cacique has played in Mexican history as a rural regional boss with
absolute authority. His office is the bar, his desk, the bar counter. It is there
that he convenes a meeting to discuss attracting more money into San
Garabato. In spite of his awesome power, however, Don Perpetuo is allowed
by Rius to be dominated by his wife, Dona Pomposa.
Froylan Osorio appears only in the first numbers of Los supermachos, but
this is long enough for Rius to ridicule the high airs and pomposity of
Mexican intellectuals, especially those dilettantes who make pronouncements
on every conceivable subject from Aristotle to Zarathustra. Rius takes his
character to task for refusing to work and for his exclusive, "artistic" interest
in selling to the highest bidder.33 Apparently Osorio believes that the essence
of poetry is rhyme, for when we meet, him he blithely utters: "Acd toy y no
me voy"34 ["Here I am, and I'm not leaving"].
Lucas Estoraino, a druggist, is a minor politician. He is not very assertive
about his ideals, seems intent on pleasing Don Perpetuo, and is more
interested in life's comforts than in putting into operation any abstract political
ideas. Arsenio, San Garabato's sheriff, takes orders from Don Perpetuo,
always carries them out, and never takes any initiative. He is thus an ideal
public official who refuses to risk angering his superiors. Lechuzo, his
redheaded helper, is also depicted as a faithful lackey of Don Perpetuo. He
enforces the "law" with his omnipresent billy club.35 Emerenciana is a beata
[a pious woman] who embodies all the worst qualities of the perpetually black-
robed women whose devotion to the Catholic church has no equal. Rius has
softened this character with comic elements, yet she and the other church-
going women of Los supermachos represent the traditionally conservative
character of the Latin American Catholic Church.36
Don Fiacro Franco represents the gachupin [transplanted Spaniard]
population in Mexican society. He wears the typical Spaniard's boina [beret]
and alparagatas [hemp sandals] and speaks with the Castilian "zeta." He is a
carryover from the traditional political cartoon, but more recently most
satirists have replaced him with the American businessman as a representative
of foreign exploitation.37 The Franco of Los supermachos not only represents
this segment of the Mexican population but also obviously refers to the
Spanish dictator Francisco Franco, to whom Rius later devoted a scathing
critical number of Los agachados. ^
The first number of Los agachados was apparently published before it was
known of the outcome of the legal struggle over possession of the Los
supermachos cast of characters.39 Some of the characters made the transition

while others did not. Calzonzin, for example, wanders into the new town of
Cucucharo and encounters its inhabitants, who, although they have different
names, are similar to those of San Garabato with an abusive policeman,
corrupt public officials, and so on. To Calzonzin's delight, he also discovers
his old buddy, Chon Prieto.
In the second number, Rius abruptly announced that he intended to make
drastic changes in the Los agachados, beginning with number three: new
characters, new themes, new environment, new adventures, without the
carryover of the old characters from Los supermachos to the new comic
book.40 The device employed by Rius to make the transition is to have
Calzonzin declare himself on strike. When his buddy Chon asks him if they
are no longer going to work for Rius, he retorts: "\Que se amuele el tal Rius!
Ya nos exploto bastante; que explote a otros"41 ["To hell with Rius! He's
already exploited us enough; let him exploit others"]. Calzonzin then officially
declares the passing of the era of Los supermachos and the beginning of a new
one. To reiterate this transition, on the final page of this same number Rius
warns his readers not to be deceived by the apocryphal version of Los
supermachos that others are creating for Editorial Meridiano; the only comic
book that will be his, Rius announces, is Los agachados.42 Essentially the
same message is repeated on the first page of number three but with more
information on the circumstances under which Rius was forced out of Editorial
Meridiano and not allowed to take his old friends with him.43
In this same number of the new comic book, we are introduced to three
of the characters who will populate the land of Pepetepec: a Stone-Age couple,
Jicaranda and Nopalzin,44 who have journeyed south in search of the mythical
eagle perched atop a cactus devouring a snake; and Topillejo, another Indian,
or "Muheco de Barro" [Mud Figurine]. In subsequent numbers other figures
from Mexico's pre-Columbian past appear as Rius reenacts in humorous
fashion the story of Tenochtitlan.45 For example, in number five, Nopalzin is
taken under the protective arm of the great leader Moctezuma and introduced
to Aztec customs, legends, traditions, and their wars with neighboring tribes.46
By number ten, the faithful reader has been introduced in summary fashion to
the complete history of Indian civilization of the Valley of Mexico up to the
arrival of Hernan Cortes and the Spaniards in 1519. Paralleling this account
is that of the personal trials and tribulations of Nopalzin whose woman
Jicaranda has abandoned him to take up with Topillejo.
In number eleven, Rius seems to return to the format of Los supermachos.
He has created another fictitious town, Chayotitlan, with a complete cast of
characters who, in a rough way, resemble the inhabitants of San Garabato:
Professor Gumaro, a young leftist intellectual whose observations on politics
and society are similar to those of Calzonzin; Don Cefiro, a kind of lower-
class Sancho Panza whose closest parallel in Los supermachos is Chon Prieto;
Dona China who, although not a beata, voices many of the same concerns as
Emerenciana; Yocupicio, a policeman, who functions in Chayotitlan as
Estorino does in San Garabato; Don Galileo, an innocent and bumbling
shopkeeper;47 Espiridion, a peasant; el licenciado [a term indicating one has
received a university education] Trastupijes, a more sophisticated version of
Don Perpetuo; Don Filipino, a conservative industrialist; an older priest; Doiia
Tecla, "una mujer decente" ["an upstanding woman"]; Ruquito, a worldly-wise
and drunken old peasant; Lincoro, a fat buffoon; Micaela, a lady who comes
back to Chayotitlan after marrying; and Sr. Diputado [Mr. Political
Representative], who behaves as arrogantly as Don Perpetuo.
Rius uses this format as the focal point of interaction between the various
representative characters. As in Los supermachos, intellectuals threaten the
status quo and suffer the consequences; various political, social, and cultural
forces clash, citizens' rights are frequently violated, and the lack of education
and literacy programs are revealed. In addition, Professor Gumaro, who is
more educated and knowledgeable than his counterpart, the naturally wise
Calzonzin, uses every pretext to educate his companions through lessons in
history, politics and ideology.
III. Rius's Social and Political Thought
Rius is one of the most remarkable representatives of the Mexican tradition

of political cartooning, which has its roots in the social turmoil of the
nineteenth century. The following summary of this tradition and the analysis
of his cartoons, books, and comic books, will show that he brings together
in his work the two currents of political satire and social criticism. In this
sense, Rius is virtually unique among his Mexican contemporaries.
While the political comic book is the product of the twentieth century in
Mexico, the individual cartoon that is its predecessor became an important
weapon of partisan rivalry soon after Mexican independence in 1823.48 Because
the liberals controlled the press, the vast majority of established cartoonists
shared and expressed these political views, and subjected their conservative
opponents to a steady stream of criticism. As is the case with most successful
political satire, the creation of readily identifiable symbols was indispensable.
Cartoonists soon chose the charro, the peasant on horseback with wide hat and
easily recognized outfit, to represent the common people. Opposed to him
were the symbols of conservative oppression and the enemies of populist
democratic ideas: the dictatorial general, the falsely pious priest, and the
gachupin shopkeeper who later in the nineteenth century was replaced by the
gringo American businessman. By the end of the nineteenth century, the
political cartoon was firmly rooted, and it received a significant boost from the
artist Jose Guadalupe Posada whose caricatured images of death influenced the
style of many cartoonists as well as other artists.
To summarize the few decades prior to the revolution, Mexican cartoons
reflected the political atmosphere, which was based in large measure on
personalities and a few groups who had well-defined programs and ideologies.
While cartoonists concentrated on caricaturing the various institutions, they
virtually ignored the customs and attitudes of their society. Political questions
preoccupied them and the symbols of various political forces filled their
drawings. They generally accepted and defended Mexican society and rarely
criticized social modes and behaviors.49
These trends continued during the revolutionary period, even during its
most violent phase. As newspapers of the day show, cartoonists were still very
much preoccupied with the vicissitudes of political leadership and the rampant
ideological and regional factionalism that dominated the Mexican political
scene well into the thirties and forties. Finally a perceptible change in
political cartoons began to occur in the fifties with the work of, among others,
Abel Quezada, whose emphasis shifted from political to social criticism. While
partisan politics, personalities, and ideological decisions were not ignored by
cartoonists of this era, attacks against middle-class social conventions, taboos,
and prejudices were of far greater importance.
Rius's work represents a confluence of the two major currents in the
Mexican tradition of the political cartoon. Inspired by his discontent with the
Mexican comic book, Rius set out to create an alternative comic book that
would offer something solid in terms of its social content and would be eye-
catching in its format.50 Two comic book titles and the over thirty-five
illustrated books were the happy result. Rius has succeeded in presenting both
political and social themes in a pleasing yet provocative manner. From religion
and sex to communism and revolutionary activity, he has, over the years,
maintained a high artistic standard and retained in his works a sense of
purpose, which was to politicize his Mexican audience.
Rius has consistently declared himself a socialist, an enemy of capitalism,
and a critic of totalitarianism in any form. In his later works, particularly in
his illustrated books, he has elaborated on his political ideology and
philosophy.
Rius has been unequivocal in stating his leftist-socialist orientation.51 His
enthusiasm for Marxist-Leninist political ideology was also manifest in the
number of works he has devoted to the theoretical aspects and the historical
development of communism. Examples include Marx para principiantes [Marx
for Beginners], Lenin para principiantes [Lenin for Beginners], Cuba para
principiantes [Cuba for Beginners], Manifiesto comunista [The Communist
Manifesto], Rius a la China [Rius Goes to China], Joven Alemania [Young
Germany], and Mao. Yet, while he clearly favored Marxism-Leninism as a

political philosophy, Rius was never blind to the transgressions of Communist
governments. In his writings can be found many negative comments on the
politics of some of the socialist countries he has visited. For example, he
presented a balanced view of Soviet successes as well as the disastrous
decisions of Lenin and Stalin.52 And while he admired the contemporary Soviet
Union, he was clearly critical of government censorship and the brutal
invasion of Czechoslovakia. His observations on China, based on a 1978 trip,
were balanced. While he expressed admiration for the agricultural communes
and other aspects of Chinese socialism, Rius disapproved of China's
ambivalent foreign policy toward Cambodia and Vietnam as well as internal
repression.53 Also, he was realistic about his limited view of the country,
based on a quick tour during which he could not communicate with the people
in their native tongue. In Rius's opinion, the socialist experiment was more
authentic in China than in the Soviet Union.54
Rius clearly admired Cuban socialism, based on frequent visits to the
island. In two numbers of Los agachados and in his book Cuba para
principiantes, he praised Castro and the Cuban people for their successes in
implementing socialism while not compromising their historical and cultural
heritage.55 In particular, he praised the Cuban literacy campaign, low-cost
housing, free medical services, and the battle the government waged against
racism and sexism.56
Rius viewed the Cuban version of socialism as a solution to the many
problems that affected other Latin American countries, but the responsibility
for implementing changes clearly rested with each country.57 Referring
specifically to Mexico, he doubted that socialism would "take" in his own
country because the necessary conditions were not yet present. He felt that the
masses lacked confidence in leftist political groups. He was critical of the false
heroics of radical students who prefer dramatic assaults on banks to careful
political organizing.
In his more theoretical treatments of socialism and capitalism, Rius's
hatred of the latter is clear.58 In his view, capitalism has historically brought
unemployment, crime, violence, malnutrition and infant mortality,
prostitution, and illiteracy; socialism has given the exploited masses political
and economic power by returning to them the means of production.
Another basic characteristic of Rius's political philosophy is his admiration
for and confidence in the masses—the proletariat—to exercise successfully their
right to self-determination. This implicit trust is seen in Los supermachos,
particularly in the figure of Calzonzin, the wise but uneducated philosopher
of the downtrodden. Rius's view of the masses is made more explicit in Los
agachados. For example, in number fifty-five, he has a proletarian spokesman
outline a twenty-point program of political and human goals.
The bulk of Rius's illustrated books deal with the theoretical aspects of
Marxism-Leninism and its various contemporary forms in different socialist
countries. His primers on Marx, Lenin, and the Communist Manifesto are
informed and informative, although oversimplified.59 They bring to mind the
work of the nineteenth-century German writer Johann Most, whose book on
Marx served to introduce semi-educated workers to communist thought.60
Rius's books have the added attraction of combining humor with fact, which
contributes greatly to their readability. A companion to these theoretical works
on Marxism-Leninism is Rius's history of the development of capitalism, La
trukulenta historia del kapitalismo [The Truculent History of Kapitalism].
As mentioned above, Rius's travels and his research on socialist countries
produced several books in the 1960s and the 1970s on the Soviet Union,
Cuba, East Germany, and China. In these works he combines history with
personal impressions in what can best be described as well-researched travel
books that would appeal to readers interested in a brief introduction to socialist
countries. Rius a la China is perhaps the most thorough of these works; Rius,
using more text than illustrations, comments on everything from acupuncture
to Shanghai.
In addition to the theoretical works and those on individual countries, Rius
has written and illustrated a biography of Che Guevara, wittily titled ABChe.
In it, he traces Che's transition from an upper-class, Argentine doctor to
theoretician and practitioner of guerrilla warfare. A list of the revolutionary's
principal works as well as a bibliography on Che are included.
IV. Comparison with Other Political Comic Books
Rius is a prolific writer and talented illustrator with a social conscience

and a decided political orientation. While it is difficult to find his counterparts
among comic-book writers in other countries, there are several whose works
can serve as a valuable basis for comparison. Such a comparison gives a
greater appreciation of Rius' uniqueness within the circle of social and
political satirists.
A seemingly obvious (but deceptive) similarity exists between Rius's work
and underground "comix" of the 1960s and the 1970s in the United States.
These works promoted social change by mocking what most Americans held
sacred. They were written for a very select subculture—the "turned-on" hippie
element—whose values were not shared by the vast majority of Americans.
The "comix" were only partially political, emphasizing sex and drugs, themes
that, along with their explicit language, tended to be offensive to the straight
reader.61 Rius rightfully observed in 1978 that underground "comix" very early
in their development turned away from meaningful social criticism and

degenerated into pornography.62
Walt Kelly's Pogo is much closer to Los supermachos and Los agachados
in tone and spirit. In fact, Rius himself, when asked what American comic
book or strip was similar to his own, cited Pogo.63 Originally a series of
animal stories built around a little black boy named Bimbazine, in 1952 Pogo
shifted decidedly toward political allegory.64 Kelly added to his cast of lovable
animals (Pogo the Possum, Albert the Alligator, Chil' Bug, Boll Weevil, and
many others) who inhabited a mythical community in the Okefenokee swamp
of the rural South. He also created some overtly political characters, such as
Simple J. Malarkey, a jowly dog who represented Senator Joseph McCarthy.
In that year Pogo ran for president against Dwight Eisenhower and Adlai
Stevenson, both satirized by Kelly, who was to make the satirization of
political candidates a tradition in his comic strip. For example, in 1964
Richard Nixon, Nelson Rockefeller, and George Romney appeared in the strip
as windup dolls, while President Johnson appeared as a nearsighted Texas
longhorn with a bulbous nose.65 In 1970, Kelly once again attacked certain
illiberal elements in American politics, specifically by characterizing Spiro
Agnew as a hyena and Richard Nixon as a spider. On a more general level,
Kelly has also attacked the fascist political right and other perceived threats to
American democracy through several of his characters: Mushrat Deacon, the
Protestant hypocrite; Molester Mole MacCarony, a John Birch Society type
who wants to protect the swamp from undesirable immigrants; and Willy Cat,
a violent Southerner.66
Rius's communities of San Garabato and Chayotitlan bear some
resemblance to Kelly's Okefenokee. All are inhabited by a large retinue of
over 150 characters who represent different social strata, political figures, and
social types. Like Rius, Kelly mirrors much of contemporary life, particularly
political reality, satirizing what he considers to be a threat to the American
democratic tradition. Pogo, the strip's main character, has a parallel in Rius's
Calzonzin. Both offer a thoughtful perspective on the often baffling
occurrences in their communities. Both stand in contrast to the other
characters, who are depicted as either perpetrators of injustice or unwitting
victims of forces beyond their control. Unlike Rius, Kelly does not express a
clearly delineated ideological stance, nor is he as sweeping in his social
criticism. Nowhere in Pogo do we find Kelly's preference for any ideology;
rather, it is only inferred from the composite of over twenty years of the
comic strip. One astute critic of Pogo has observed that the basic political
theme of the strip "is that the people shall judge and that the people are
competent to judge." The threats to liberty and happiness in Okefenokee are
recognizable in terms of a general American politico-economic mythology.67
This difference notwithstanding, there are some striking similarities between

Pogo and Rius' comic books.
Other more recent American cartoonists with whom Rius might be
compared are Jules Feiffer and Garry Trudeau of the 1970s. Feiffer, like Rius,
deals with social and political issues and Feiffer was one of the first syndicated
cartoonists to attack the Vietnam War and Presidents Johnson and Nixon.
While the Mexican writer's critique is systematic and falls within an
ideological framework, Feiffer, however, tends to create directionless
characters lost within a disorienting contemporary world. One writer has
identified Feiffer's basic themes as anarchy, alienation, and impotence.68 Rius
is combative, presenting an optimistic view of men and women who are able
to take control of their own destinies; Feiffer's characters are tortured beings
with little to hope for.
Garry Trudeau, the creator of Doonesbury, focused on the counterculture
in the 1970s. Like Rius, he deals explicitly with political issues. His satire is
often more biting, his references more explicit than those of Rius. His
commentary also tends to be more current. While Rius is rarely critical of the
political left, Trudeau irreverently satirizes its excesses. For example, jos
character Mark Slackmeyer, chairman of a Students for a Democratic Society
chapter, advocates compulsory euthanasia for anyone over twenty-five; Rufus,
a ghetto black, plans to become an enlightened slumlord; and Calvin, a Black
Panther, spends most of his school terms behind bars.69 Contrary to others
who see Trudeau as a social critic, however, Maurice Horn, who has written
extensively on American and foreign comic books, faults Trudeau for lacking
political conviction, which is, of course, one of Rius' salient characteristics.70
V. The Comic Books' Reflection of Mexican Culture
Like many other political cartoonists of his day, Rius reflects in his works
several aspects of Mexican life and culture of the 1960s and 1970s. To
recapitulate briefly the discussion in the second section, "The Settings and
Principal Characters," of this chapter of his two fictitious towns-San Garabato
of Los supermachos and Chayotitlan of Los agachados-Rius creates a number
of fictitious characters that, although stereotypical, are a composite of the
inhabitants of the thousands of rural villages that dot Mexico. While the towns
themselves have little to distinguish them, his characters represent the different
social strata, institutions, and values that one was likely to find in rural
Mexico in the 1960s and 1970s. A review of the casts of characters from the
two comic books revealed the myriad problems that afflicted Mexican society
during these two decades: local political bossism or caciquismo; rural poverty
and political corruption; the exploitation of Mexico's Indian population; the
reactionary influence of the Mexican Catholic church; and the paucity of

effective educational and literacy programs in rural areas.
In addition to these problems, which Rius views as endemic to rural
Mexico in the 1960s and 1970s, he also reflects some aspects of Mexico's
political and cultural life that are of a more general nature. One ongoing
debate in Mexico is over the 1910 Mexican Revolution. While the official
party, the Partido Revolucionario Institucional ([The Institutional
Revolutionary Party, PRI]), and others have continued to glorify the
revolution's social and economic accomplishments, others have attacked it as,
among other things, an opportunity for the victors to enrich themselves at the
expense of the country's poor. Rius reflects this deep division in public
opinion when he attacks and lays bare the dominant Mexican myths of the
glorious revolution and the reform that supposedly followed it. For example,
in number ninety-four of Los supermachos, he gives a long list of those who
are subverting the stagnated Revolution including:
• municipal presidents who steal money from the people;
• leaders who get reelected with the aid of their gunmen;
• influential people who talk incessantly of the revolution but drive

late-model cars bought in the United States;
• get-rich-quick newspapermen;
• functionaries who work from deluxe cabarets and are unavailable

for consultations with landless Indians;
• military men who denigrate the army;
• mayors who operate on the basis of rake-offs.71
Another public issue that Mexicans of the 1960s and the 1970s debated
hotly was the role of the United States in the internal political and economic
affairs of Mexico as well as of other "Third World" countries. United States
and Mexican relations historically have been tense and often adversarial.
Politicians, intellectuals, and pundits roundly criticized the United States for
its ill-advised policies and intervention in Vietnam and less direct involvement
in Latin America, Africa, and the Far East.
Rius' Los supermachos and Los agachados 85
Rius's decidedly negative characterization of the United States, especially

its dominant political, economic, and cultural influence in Mexico, reflects his
country's generally unfavorable view of the "colossus of the North. "72 For
example, in number forty and one-half of Los supermachos,* Calzonzin and
Chon are talking to one another. One asks: "iYpa que le gustaria hablar en
inglesl" ["Why would you want to speak in English?"]. The other answers:
"iPos enque pais cree que vivimosl" ["Well, what country do you think we
live in?"]. This depressing view that Mexico has sold itself out to the United
States is expressed in other numbers of Los supermachos. For example, on the
cover of number seventy-nine, Calzonzin laments that everything in Mexico
has always been dominated by foreign interests.74 The entire number provides
a catalogue of United States products that forty million middle-class Mexicans
eagerly buy.75 Reflecting on exploitive United States business interests in
Mexico, the wise Calzonzin tells Ticiano how the astute American deceives the
Mexican by hiring him to work for low wages in plants that Americans own.
The manufactured products are then sold to Mexicans at high prices and the
high profits leave the country.
The cover of number fifty-six shows Calzonzin holding a sign "Gringos
si, Yanquis no" [Yes to American Women, No to Yankees], satirically
indicating that while Mexicans might welcome nubile and available American
women, they have strong feelings against American economic interests in
Mexico.76 Within the pages of this same number, American exploitation comes
directly to San Garabato in the form of Meester Rosk-an obvious play on then
Secretary of State Dean Rusk-a gangster-type, who establishes a company in
the town with the willing cooperation of Don Perpetuo and his sidekick
Arsenio. Working together, Don Perpetuo and Arsenio clear the streets of
drunks, communists, and ugly and skinny people so that the foreign visitor
will not be offended.77
Many of Rius's individual cartoons depict the United States, symbolized
by Uncle Sam, as a manipulator of Mexican government officials and business
interests, and this view persists in Los agachados.1* The themes of economic
and cultural imperialism are found throughout the eight-year run of the comic
book and give unity to the many individual issues that refer to the United
States. The cover of number 130 visually depicts this view of the historical
relationship between the two countries: Uncle Sam is shown sitting on a toilet
that is the map of Mexico.79 Rius prefaces this with a catalogue of the three
ways in which the United States abuses Mexico: (1) as a dumping ground for
the disposal of its trash: saline water, industrial waste, war-shattered veterans,
hippies, drug addicts, and decrepit retirees; (2) as a source of abundant cheap
labor; and (3) as a beautiful and inexpensive vacation spot—Rius comments:
"Si Mexico es un jardin, los mexicanos son los jardineros" [MIf Mexico is a
garden, Mexicans are the gardeners."]80
Whether he is dealing with the revolution or with the powerful influence

of the United States on his country's culture and economy, Rius, in his comic
books and illustrated books, focuses heavily on Mexico. He sharply criticizes
Mexican officials who, because of greed and corruption, allow themselves to
be manipulated by foreign interests. The writer also deals with social myths
and behavior that he believes threaten a healthy, dynamic society. While
emphasizing these and other negative aspects of Mexico, Rius nevertheless
believes that change and progress can take place there if models of other
relatively successful socialist experiments around the world are followed.
NOTES
1. "Maverick Cartoonist Struggles Against Censors," New York Times

release that appeared in the Las Cruces (New Mexico) Sun-News, September
3, 1979, B 13.
2. Phyllis Ann Wiegand Proctor, "Mexico's Supermachos: Satire and
Social Revolution in Comics by Rius," (Ph.d. diss., University of Texas,
1972). Much of the biographical information on Rius has been taken from this
excellent study.
3. See Rius, Caricaturas rechazadas (Mexico City: Ediciones de Cultura
Popular, 1967) for examples of his most controversial cartoons.
4. Personal interview conducted with Rius on August 17, 1978, which
will subsequently be referred to as "Personal interview."
5. Ibid.
6. Proctor, "Mexico's Supermachos, 20-21. written in the fall of 1968,
p. 7.
7. Proctor, "Mexico's Supermachos, 20.
8. Personal interview. See Chapter 5 on the new Los supermachos for an
assessment of Rius's characterization of the comic book.
9. See Elena Poniatowska, La noche de Tlatelolco (Mexico City:
Era, 1971), for a collection of oral accounts of the massacre, the events
leading up to it, and its aftermath.
10. Personal interview.
11. Ibid.
12. In 1966: Cuba para principiantes (Ediciones de Cultura Popular).
1967: Rius: Caricaturas rechazadas (Ediciones de Cultura Popular); La j oven
alemania (Ediciones de Cultura Popular). 1971: Pequeiio Rius ilustrado.
Diccionario de humor, violencia, sexo y agruras (Ediciones de Cultura
Popular). 1972: Marx para principiantes (Ediciones de Cultura Popular);
Como suicidarse sin metodo en 30 lecciones (Editorial Posada); La panza es
primero (Editorial Posada); Cristo de carne y hueso (information not
available). 1973: Rius (1955-1958): Primeras porquerias (Editorial

Heterodixia); Rius (1959-1961). Elsegundo aire (Editorial Heterodixia); iQue
tal URSS? (Editorial Posada). 1974: Rius en politica (Ediciones de Cultura
Popular). 1975: El yerberito ilustrado (Editorial Posada); No consulte a su
medico (Editorial Posada); Lenin para principiantes (Ediciones de Cultura
Popular); Manifiesto comunista. Marx, Engels, Rius (Editorial Nueva
Sociedad). 1976: La trukulenta historia del kapitalismo (Editorial Posada).
1977: Cuba libre (Editorial Posada); El museo de Rius (Editorial Posada);
Huele a gas (Editorial Posada) 1978: ABChe (Editorial Grijalbo); La
revolucion mexicana (Editorial Posada); Rius a la China (Editorial Posada).
1979: La revolucion feminina de las mujeres (Editorial Grijalbo); Mao
(Editorial Grijalbo). 1981: Manual del perfecto ateo (Editorial Grijalbo).
15. Ibid.
16. Ibid.
17. This data was furnished by the publisher in August 1978.
19. Rius (1955-1958). Primeras porquerias, 9.
20. Proctor, 6.
21. See Paula K. Speck, "Rius for Beginners: A Study in Comicbook
Satire," Studies in Latin American Popular Culture, 1 (1982): 113-35, for an
excellent treatment of Rius's art.
22. Ibid., 115.
23. Ibid., 116.
24. Ibid., 118.
25. Ibid.
26. Proctor, "Mexico's Supermachos, 5.
27. Ibid.
28. Los supermachos, 30 (July 3, 1966).
29. See Howard F. Cline, Mexico: Revolution to Evolution (New York:
Oxford University Press, 1962), especially Chapters 8 and 9, for information
on the Mexican Indian.
30. Proctor, "Mexico's Supermachos," 8.
31. Los supermachos, 32 (August 11, 1966).
32. Rius also refers to him asjefe and patron.
35. See Los supermachos, 30 (July 28, 1966).
36. As Penny Lernoux noted in her book Cry of the People (New York:
Penguin Books, 1982), in recent years the Catholic church has directly
challenged the repressive Latin American governments' violations of human

rights and denials of basic justice to their peoples.
37. See Salvador Pruneda, La caricatura como arma politica (Mexico
City: Instituto Nacional de Estudios Historicos de la Revolucion Mexicana,
1958).
38. See Las agachados, 95 (June 18, 1972).
39. Los agachados, 1 (September 21, 1968).
41. Ibid., 32.
42. Ibid., 33.
43. Los agachados, 3 (October 5, 1968).
44. Nopalzin is integrated into later issues as a contemporary character
along with other characters in the town of Chayotitlan.
45. A similar reenactment is done in the new Los supermachos.
46. Los agachados, 5 (October 19, 1968).
47. See Pruneda, La caricatura como arma politica.
48. Ibid., 128.
49. Ibid., 197.
51. Ibid.
52. Los agachados, 20 (August 1, 1969).
53. Los agachados, 10 (New Series: March 14, 1979).
55. Los agachados, 72 (June 13, 1971), 255 (May 12, 1976).
57. Ibid.
58. See Rius's Marx para principiantes, Lenin para principiantes, and
Manifiesto comunista.
59. Rius's Marx para principiantes, Lenin para principiantes, and
Manifiesto comunista.
60. Johann Most, Kapital und Arbeit: "Das Kapital" in einer handlichen
Zusammenfassung. Von Marx und Engels selbst revidiert und uberarbeitet
(Frankfurt: Suhrkamp, 1972). The first edition was published in 1873.
61. Mark James Estren, A History of Underground Comics (San
Francisco: Straight Arrow Books, 1974), 17.
63. Ibid.
64. Jerry Robinson, The Comics: An Illustrated History of Comic Strip
Art (New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1974), 171-172.
65. Ibid., 173.
Mass Medium (Boston: Little Brown and Company, 1971), 49.
67. Revel Denney, The Astonished Muse (Chicago: University of Chicago

Press, 1957), 178.
68. Robinson, "The Comics," 94.
69. Ibid., 212-13.
70. Maurice Horn, ed., The World Encyclopedia of Comics (New York:
Chelsea House Publishers), 672.
72. Los supermachos, 94 (October 19, 1976), 20-23.
73. Los supermachos, 40 1/2 (October 13, 1966).
75. Proctor relates this tendency on the part of middle-class Mexicans to
"buy American" to malinchismo.
76. Los supermachos, 56 (January 26, 1967).
77. Ibid., 13.
78. See Rius's collected cartoons: Rius (1955-1958): Primeras
porquerias, Rius (1959-1961); El segundo aire; and Rius. Caricaturas
rechazadas.
80. Ibid., 3.
5
Post-Rius
Los supermacho
This chapter on the latter-day Los supermachos will differ substantially in

format from the other chapters due to three major factors. First, for the
reasons discussed in the preceding chapter on Eduardo del Rio (Rius), this
comic book, in its post-Rius period, has never had associated with it the strong
identity of a single author and illustrator; rather, its publisher, Editorial
Meridiano, has marketed Los supermachos since 1967 as a corporate product.
Despite repeated attempts, the authors were not allowed to interview
individuals involved in the production of Los supermachos. Thus, the first
section of this chapter deals with the transition from Rius's Los supermachos
to Editorial Meridiano's version, rather than giving a detailed discussion of
basic facts about the comic book's author, creators, and art. Second, because
the authors have chosen to focus on the comic book's political content towards
the end of testing Rius's claim that Los supermachos became ideologically and
politically conservative after his departure, the second section of this chapter
discusses the comic book's explicitly political content rather than its characters
and plot as in the other chapters. The third section then focuses on the
treatment of the United States in Los supermachos States; in other chapters
individual Mexican comic books are compared with selected American comic
books. In the preceding chapter, Rius's version of Los supermachos was
compared to a few American titles. Because the two versions of Los
supermachos are so similar, it would be repetitive to include a comparative
section in this chapter. Third, since much of the material discussed throughout
this chapter deals either directly or indirectly with Mexico, the authors felt it
would be repetitive to devote a separate section to reflections of Mexican
themes, history, values, customs, and such.
Post-Rius Los supermachos 91
I. The Transition of Los supermachos
Rius left territorial Meridiano in 1967 because, in his words, he was no

longer willing to tolerate the editorial censorship of his comic book Los
supermachos.1 The publishing company, however, retained legal control of Los
supermachos and continued to produce the comic book until the late 1970s.
While its readership dropped dramatically after Rius's departure, it steadily
recouped its losses, selling over 250,000 copies per week in the late 1970s to
become Mexico's most widely read political comic book.2
Most of the characters who inhabited the fictitious Mexican rural
community of San Garabato prior to 1967 continued to appear after Editorial
Meridiano took possession of the comic book: Don Perpetuo; Juan Calzonzin;
Lucas Estornino; Arsenio; Lechuzo; Chon Prieto; Gedeon Prieto, Chon's
brother; Don Plutarco; Doria Emerenciana; Fiacro Franco; and Mister Gordon.
Artistically, the new series of Los supermachos closely resembled the
original one. The illustrators (all anonymous) succeeded in imitating Rius's
simple, flat style. Like their predecessor, they began integrating different
motifs, characters, movie sequences, and photographs into their artistic format
so that by the mid-1970s there was little to distinguish it from Rius' other
comic book, Los agachados.
The two series differed most noticeably in advertising and nonillustrated
materials. Advertising dramatically increased in Los supermachos after Rius's
departure. Emphasis also shifted from ads stressing educational opportunities-
for private trade and art schools and correspondence courses-to those that
focused on sex appeal, including muscle building; breast and buttock
development; weight loss; and alluring jewelry and clothes. In 1976, such ads
became more explicit, often featuring scantily clad and even nude women but
never men.
At approximately the same time, Los supermachos underwent a change in
format, with the addition of a center supplement devoted to letters from
readers, editorials, serialized stories, and other features. The anonymous
correspondence was pedestrian and was dropped after a year. Most of the
letters perfunctorily praised the editors for including certain topics in the
comic book. None were critical or even commented in any significant way on
editorial policy or content. The editorials dealt with as large a range of topics
as the illustrated section of the comic book including high prices and inflation,
socialism and communism, caciquismo, corruption, the abuse of power by the
PRI (Partido Revolucionaria Institucional), and even foreign affairs. In
general, in a single issue the subject matter of an editorial differed from that
of the illustrated section. Typically, the editorial features focused on Mexican
and foreign celebrities and important political figures, while the serializations
contained topics common to Mexican romance comic books such as Ldgrimas,
risas y amor: the value of the home, the sanctity of marriage, the superiority
of the male and the passiveness of the female, the pursuit of the ideal lover,
and so on. Like the romance comic book, but unlike the illustrated section of
Los supermachos, these serialized stories were devoid of social commentary.
II. Los supermachos's Political Content
This chapter will specifically focus on the political content of Los

supermachos and scrutinize Rius's contention that, after 1967, Editorial
Meridiano sold out to government interests and became a dupe of the PRI. 3
What is initially clear is that the comic book did not consistently follow a
party line in its treatment of foreign powers, political figures, or Mexican
issues. For example, Los supermachos portrayed Fidel Castro in a critical light
while praising Che Guevara. Although no single number was devoted to
Castro, all references to the Cuban leader cast him as a villain. His
government was seen as "una dictadura deshonrosa, brutal, criminalmente
egoista e imbecir ["a dishonest, brutal and criminally egotistical and imbecilic
dictatorship"].4Los supermachos described Castro as a cigar-puffing godfather,
a Latin American Hitler.5 In contrast, the characterization of Che Guevara was
much more balanced. While the comic book concluded that he was an
ineffectual leader who was unable to translate his idealism into practice, Los
supermachos extolled his personal qualities, particularly his willingness to
sacrifice his career and ultimately his life for his beliefs.6
Regarding non Latin American governments and leaders, Los supermachos
offered a similarly flexible ideological stance. In a number devoted to Stalin,
the comic book reviewed what it believed to be the negative aspects of his
political policies, such as his decision to annihilate entire regional populations.
Yet, in his defense, the question was posed whether the Soviet Union could
have survived the German offensive early in the Second World War if it had
not been for Stalin's leadership.7 While not exonerating him for his heinous
crimes, Los supermachos did at least urge that consideration be given to his
contributions to the Russian people.
In judging the foreign policy of both communist and noncommunist
countries, Los supermachos focused on their allowing weaker nations the free
choice of charting their own political course, rather than being forced to accept
a particular ideology. For example, while no criticism was made of the
government of the Soviet Union because it was communist, its foreign policy
was roundly condemned as aggressively imperialistic. In a number devoted to
the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia, Los supermachos supported the Czech
Communist Party's attempts to become independent from the Kremlin.8 The
comic book portrayed the invasion as an invitation to more powerful countries
to violate national boundaries and international codes governing the

sovereignty of smaller states.
Unlike the Soviet leaders, Ho Chi Minh and Mao were viewed as
nationalist heroes without imperialistic tendencies. Their communist affiliation
was of little importance to Los supermachos. One issue honored Ho as a brave
and tireless patriot.9 The same number praised Vietnam and Ho for resisting
the Japanese, the French, and finally, the Americans. Mao was described as
"un luchador incansable, un inconforme y un revolucionario genuino y
admirable" ["a tireless fighter, a nonconformist and a genuine and admirable
revolutionary"].10 He was lauded for his prodigious efforts on behalf of the
construction of the new China and for bringing social progress and economic
independence to his country. Although Los supermachos did not ignore his
many errors and his sometimes baffling foreign policy, he was considered, on
balance, to have been a great leader who left a lasting mark on world history.
III. Los supermachos^ Treatment of the United States
Although the comic book criticizes several countries as militarists and

aggressors, the principal culprit was the United States. Several numbers were
devoted to American imperialism, mainly in Latin America and Mexico, but
also in other parts of the world such as South Vietnam. Again, Los
supermachos did not focus on the fact that the United States is a capitalist
country, but rather on the aggressive export of its ideology and economic
interests through military intervention and other more subtle means.
In the same number that refers South Vietnam, the comic book depicts that
country as an innocent victim of centuries of foreign domination. Therein the
United States emerges as a warmongering world power whose intentions date
from 1965, when the United States stepped up the construction of military
bases and increased the number of troops in South Vietnam.11 Los
supermachos held the United States directly accountable for the death of
hundreds of thousands of Vietnamese, both military and civilian, and for the
destruction of large areas of Vietnam through its defoliation campaign. This
accusation, coupled with the comic book's claim that large corporations had
derived economic gain from the sale of arms and herbicides, lead Los
supermachos to draw a parallel between the United States and Germany in
terms of what the Nazi war crimes revealed at the Nuremburg trials after
World War II.12
In Los supermachos, the overall view of American foreign policy
regarding Latin America was decidedly negative. Many examples of the
imperialism of the United States were cited, including the Monroe Doctrine;
the Platt Amendment; the United States embargo against Cuba begun in late
1960; the invasion of the Dominican Republic in 1965; and the support of the
Somoza family dictatorship in Nicaragua.13
In several numbers, Los supermachos addresses the related issues of
malinchismo (the openness to foreign ideas, mores, and products, especially
those of the United States) and foreign economic imperialism in Mexico. Just
as Malinche cooperated with the Spaniards to betray her own people so, too,
have many Mexican leaders through the centuries sold out the territory, natural
resources, and the culture of the Mexican people in exchange for material
gain.14
Los supermachos observed that a whole system of fraud existed that was
akin to entreguismo and that allowed foreign investors to sidestep more recent
Mexican laws restricting the operations of foreign corporations. Los
prestanombres [literally, "namelenders"] were those Mexicans who would
front for foreign companies in order to facilitate their proliferation and
growth. In the comic book, Mr. Gordon the American investor establishes a
network of financial holdings in and around San Garabato. His lands are in
Don Plutarco's name while his mine stock is being held for him by Don
Perpetuo.15 In this way, the fictitious gringo Mr. Gordon is able to control
business decisions while not being in violation of 1970s' Mexican law, which
stipulated that, in selected industries, fifty-one percent of the corporation's
stock had to be in the hands of Mexican nationals.
Los supermachos also attacks cultural imperialism brought on by expatriate
Americans living in Mexico. The comic book depicts Mr. Gordon, the gringo
resident of San Garabato, as a compendium of negative qualities attributed to
foreigners, especially Americans. He is materialistic, culturally insensitive,
naive, and racist. He symbolizes why some Mexicans hate Americans.
Soon after arriving in San Garabato, Mr. Gordon becomes a dominant
figure in the town's economic and social life. He hires Chon Prieto as his
front man, buys a mine, and invests in several other businesses. In preparation
for the arrival of more retired Americans, he remodels a local bar and excludes
the townspeople because of their racial background.16 Even Don Perpetuo will
not be allowed to patronize Mr. Gordon's new business. When the former
protests to the American that he is, after all, the town's mayor, Mr. Gordon
reminds him of the salary he is paying him to be his front man. Further, Mr.
Gordon complains to Don Perpetuo that he is not doing his job because he has
allowed all the Indians, would-be servants for the retired American veterans
Mr. Gordon is expecting, to leave San Garabato to become braceros [legal
Mexican agricultural workers in the United States].17 Don Perpetuo functions
on a local level as Mr. Gordon's entreguista, calling a meeting of the residents
of San Garabato to convince them of the urgency of preparing the town for the
Americans. Although the townspeople protest Mr. Gordon's efforts to convert
San Garabato into a tourist haven, soon more Americans begin to arrive. Like
Mr. Gordon, the townspeoples are also characterized as crass and narrow-
minded. For example, when Calzonzin mentions the word "death," an
American reacts by attacking him with rocks while unwittingly reciting a
litany of American transgressions—Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Korea, Cuba, Santo
Domingo.18 Calzonzin finally brings the American's attack to an end by
simulating an air raid siren, thus taking advantage of his irrational fear of
nuclear attack.
Los supermachos also satirizes American cold war paranoia. In one issue,
San Garabato is visited by a harmless Soviet ethnographer interested in
collecting scientific data.19 Mr. Gordon (along with Don Plutarco) panics,
conjuring up visions of hordes of Russians descending upon the helpless San
Garabatefios like birds of prey.20 He offers to call the Pentagon to request
Army and Navy reinforcements to stop the Russian "invasion."
Los supermachos suggested that the distorted American attitude towards
communism had affected certain sectors of the Mexican political establishment,
which had a vested interest in playing upon fear of communist influence to
rationalize the lack of social progress and in opposing (often in a repressive
way) individuals and groups in Mexican society who pressed for change. Don
Plutarco, the highest political official in San Garabato and the surrounding
region, engages in considerable saber rattling when he learns of the Soviet
visitor. Dressed in full military dress, he cuts a ridiculous figure, waving his
sword and calling San Garabatefios to the barricades to defend the fatherland
against the invaders from the East.21
Los supermachos singled out the Central Intelligence Agency for its
interference in the internal affairs of foreign countries and its promotion of
capitalist business interests. Mr. Gordon is represented as the perpetrator of
CIA plots and the watchdog of American interests in San Garabato. His
exaggerated sense of self-importance in this role and the consequences of his
resulting myopic vision of reality are satirized. One number of the comic book
showed him in radio contact with an unidentified ally; together, they are
tracing a tip that Calzonzin and Don Lucas are hatching a communist plot.22
Mr. Gordon enlists the aid of Don Perpetuo and his secret police—the buffoon
Arsenio and his sidekick—to track down the culprits. Mr. Gordon's crisis
vanishes into thin air when he discovers that Calzonzin and Don Lucas have
been installing a window, not plotting to overthrow the government.
On a more serious note, Los supermachos untangled for its readers the
complex systems, networks, and organizations that purportedly comprised
United States intelligence. The CIA was highlighted as the one organization
that was so feared and hated that even United States congressmen and other
intelligence agencies had called for its dismantling. The CIA's many front
organizations and involvements in the affairs of American organizations and
of foreign governments were listed.23 Among the CIA's many nefarious
activities discussed in Los supermachos were the organizing of coups; the

psychological manipulation of heads of state and others; political action;
intervention against hostile governments through arms, money, and troops; and
the use of science to achieve questionable political ends. In terms of cultural
influence, the CIA was accused of financing mass media campaigns to promote
American values, attitudes, fashions, music, and so on. Reflecting a
monolithic conspiratorial interpretation of contemporary events, Los
supermachos attributed to the CIA the power to mold and control the minds
of impressionable young Americans: " Y lo peor, estdn sembrando en la mente
de sus hijos la idea del superhombre yanqui, los invencibles, los
todopoderosos, los luchadores por la liberatady la democracia"24 ["And the
worst of it is they are planting in their children's minds the idea that the
superhuman Yankee is invincible, all-powerful and the defender of peace and
democracy"].
In his book on CIA activities in the "Third World," Philip Agee discusses
the agency's involvement in the internal affairs of several Latin American
countries between 1956 and 1974. His account tends to corroborate the Los
supermachos characterization of the CIA. Reflecting on its role in foreign
countries, Agee concludes: "What counter-insurgency really comes down to
is the protection of the capitalists back in America, their property and their
privileges. U.S. national security, as preached by U.S. leaders, is the security
of the capitalist class in the U.S., not the security of the rest of the people. H25
Referring to his activities in Mexico, Agee recounts how, in 1967, he was
directed to monitor the Mexican Olympic Committee and other organizations
in order to spot possible recruits for infiltration into revolutionary
organizations, to assess using press officers of the host-country organizing
committee as agents to plant news stories, and to spot possible agents for use
in penetrating the PRI and the Mexican government.
In addition to economic and cultural imperialism, Los supermachos also
deals with the treatment of the bracero, or contract laborer, as well as with the
related problem of the status of Chicanos in the United States. The comic book
portrayed the bracero as an asset to American agribusiness but as a hardship
on the Mexican worker. One cover of Los supermachos made a succinct
statement regarding the latter. Calzonzin remarks to Chon: "'jYo de bracero?
Prefiero consumir la explotacion, los malos tratos y la discriminacion que el
pais produce" ["Me, a bracero? I would rather accept my own country's
exploitation, mistreatment and discrimination"].26 In this number, Calzonzin
describes his plight from the moment he is contracted in Mexico City to his
return after a series of bitter experiences in the United States.
Calzonzin's tale represents that of hundreds of thousands of legal and
illegal workers who, even in the 1990s, come to the United States as an
alternative to unemployment and underemployment at home. As early as 1927,
Manuel Gamfo documented the pattern of racism, humiliation, and indifference

encountered by the temporary immigrant worker or the permanent Mexican
resident.27 More recently, Ernesto Galarza has shown that these conditions
have not substantially changed.28 A dramatic literary treatment of the bracero
can be found in his autobiographical account of his own trek north from
Mexico.29 This experience is also fictionalized in Jose Antonio Villarreal's
novel Pocho.30 The human rights of undocumented workers continued to be
violated in this country even as human rights became a major foreign policy
issue for administrations.
Los supermachos traced how, after losing their land and power to the
Americans after 1848, Mexicans who opted to stay in the United States very
quickly learned that their language, culture, and traditions would not be
protected despite the guarantees of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo. The
treaty marked the beginning a period during which Chicanos were dominated
and treated as racial inferiors. The comic book summarized their contributions
to agriculture, mining, railroads, and cattle raising, that is, to the economic
development of the American Southwest and California.31
Los supermachos tied increasing Chicano militancy to growing anti-
Americanism in Latin America, thus linking the pattern of the imperialism of
the United States in foreign countries to the oppression of this colonized
minority within its own country. In response to a purported call for help from
Chicanos, Los supermachos devoted a number to discussing their trials and
tribulations, the legacy of broken promises, and the determined resistance to
continuing domination. Citing the Mexican Jose Vasconcelos's famous phrase,
"Por mi raza hablard el espiritu" ["The spirit will speak for my race"], this
number opened with a militant call for all Mexicans to support their Chicano
brothers and sisters.32 It continued by listing the abuses of Chicanos at the
hands of an inept and racist American police force and Border Patrol, an
insensitive educational system, municipal governments who regularly
gerrymander voting districts in order to control elections, well-intentioned
liberals who do more harm than good by misrepresenting Chicanos to the
American public, and the mass media, which systematically distort the news
and cast Chicanos in a negative role. In short, Los supermachos offered a brief
catalogue of institutional racism vis-a-vis Chicanos and made a case for
cultural genocide.
The comic book's view is substantially corroborated by Carey
McWilliams, whose 1948 work, North from Mexico, was the first systematic
study of this minority group. Several other more recent studies also document
the observations and accusations made by Los supermachos on the topic of
Chicanos.33
In terms of its treatment of its own minorities and undocumented workers
and its menacing posture toward Mexico and other countries, the United States
was decidedly cast in a villain's role in Los supermachos. To further discredit

this country and its values, several numbers were devoted to other negative
internal aspects of American culture. Crime figured prominently. The comic
book characterized the mafia, or cosa nostra, in the United States as a kind of
second government, a giant octopus whose tentacles extend into many areas of
business and government in addition to illegal activities such as drugs,
gambling, and prostitution. This view of gangsterism in the United States is
confirmed in several recent studies.34 Lawyers, judges, congressmen, the
police, and even the church come under its sphere of influence.
Los supermachos painted a chaotic picture of American society, where
violence, drugs, free love, racial strife, and corruption in all realms of public
and private life was in full swing, and organized crime was tied vaguely to
this general state of demise. Calzonzin's fear that the struggle for power
between legitimate and illegitimate forces from the United States would spill
over into Mexico and other Latin American countries in a way has
materialized, given the drug wars that now plague northwestern Mexico. The
parallel was drawn between the decline of the United States and the decline of
the Roman Empire; Mexico, in comparison, was virtually pure, given the
limited power of its corrupt caciques and police.35 This tendency to exonerate
Mexico of major responsibility for its problems is not as prevalent in Rius's
version of Los supermachos, which focuses somewhat more sharply on internal
domestic causes.
IV. The Comic Book's Reflection of Mexican Society
The bulk of the political content in the 1970s in Los supermachos dealt
with Mexican themes: the Revolution of 1910, agrarian reform, corruption at
all levels, political elections, presidential figures, political violence, political
prisoners, student unrest, caciquismo, and a variety of related areas. The
comic book's content regarding these Mexican political themes fluctuates
erratically, sometimes addressing timely and controversial topics and other
times ignoring events-such as the student riots and systematic police repression
of the late 1960s and early 1970s-that dominated the political life of the
country. It is, therefore, risky to make generalizations about the treatment in
Los supermachos of domestic topics and to characterize it as "sold- out" or
"dominated by the PRI." These descriptions hit wide of the mark and only
serve to obfuscate the contribution of Los supermachos to a general critique
of contemporary Mexican society.
Los supermachos presented the chronology of major events and
characterized the principal actors of the 1910 Mexican revolution with
reasonable accuracy and objectivity. The version offered in the comic book
differed little from many of the official and semiofficial versions of this
period. The villains and the heroes are pretty much the same.36 Porfirio Diaz
was depicted as a greedy and very astute politician who manipulated foreign
investors and Mexican politics in order to remain in power for over thirty-five
years. He was also accused of authorizing American "rangers" to put down the
bloody Cananea mine strike in 1906 and of leading the country into a state of
economic disarray on the eve of the 1910 revolution. Francisco Madero, Pino
Suarez, Francisco Villa, and Emiliano Zapata clearly emerged as heroes, while
Henry Lane Wilson was portrayed as the diabolic American ambassador
responsible for Madero's execution. Felix Diaz was characterized as a traitor
while Aquiles Serdan was praised for his valor.
The interpretation in Los supermachos of the effects of the Revolution and
its impact on the daily lives of millions of Mexicans diverged from the PRI
party line, which was based on the claim that the essential principles of the
1917 constitution continue to guide government policy. Specifically, this
document guarantees the following important rights: the power of the
government to intercede in labor relations in order to promote conditions
favorable to the workers; the right to organize unions and the right to strike;
equal pay for equal work; the restriction of land ownership on the part of the
church and foreigners; the restoration of lands to peasants whose communally
held properties were illegally taken away after 1856; the expropriation and
distribution of the large land holdings of private owners.37
Los supermachos challenged this official view that both labor and the
peasantry continue to reap the rewards of the revolution and the specific
guarantees of the 1917 constitution. For example, several covers of the comic
book clearly communicated the message that the revolution was a myth. On
one cover, Chon and Calzonzin observe a prosperous-looking obese woman
with a horse in the background. Calzonzin remarks: " ...es la revolucion que
se bajo del caballo para subirse a un 'cadillac'" ["...The revolution got
down off a horse to climb into a Cadillac"].38 On another cover, he comments
on the official PRI version of the revolution: "La historia la escriben los
vencedores, Chon ... por eso nunca debe uno perder" ["Chon, history is
written by the conquerors ... that's why you should never lose"].39 In this
issue, fun was poked at the "revolutionary family," that is, the PRI and all
its loyal supporters who supposedly live in harmony.
Among the specific aspects of revolutionary mythology that Los
supermachos attacked was the issue of agrarian reform. While officials
declared that Mexico has set the example worldwide in this area, the comic
book suggested otherwise. Millions of rural peasant families still lived in a
shocking state of misery due to decades of government neglect, corruption,
lack of sincerity, and demagoguery.40 Los supermachos did ignore important
strides in the direction of land reform and redistribution that were made during
the 1930s presidency of Lazaro Cardenas.41
Regarding labor reform, the comic book accurately described the creation
of the giant labor organization, the CTM (Congreso de Trabajadores
Mexicanos [The Congress of Mexican Workers]), which through the leadership
of Fidel Velasquez had successfully discouraged or co-opted significant change
in this area.42 One student of contemporary Mexican history has commented
that the CTM and its companion peasant organization, the CNC
(Confederation Nacional Campesina [National Peasant Confederation]), had
failed in its role of representing the working class and the peasantry, and in
articulating the demands of these classes and pressing effectively for their
interests.43
In basic agreement with this view, Los supermachos tried to debunk what
it considered the myth of the continuing revolution. Thus one comic-book
character, an ex-Villista, has hidden out in the mountains thinking the fighting
is continuing. When the he comes to town he hears contradictory versions
from Don Lucas, who gives him the party line, and from Calzonzin who
caustically remarks: "Yo solo se que los pobres seguimos igual que fregados
... o peor" ["I only know that we the poor continue to get screwed ... or
worse"].44 This statement summarizes the comic book's skeptical view of the
claims that substantial socioeconomic change had taken place since 1910. The
ex-Villista is justifiably confused when Don Perpetuo, whom Calzonzin has
identified as a corrupt politico, identifies himself as a servant of the
revolution. Don Perpetuo mouths a lot of rhetoric about the goals of the
revolution, its glorious heroes, its traitors, and so on. That is, he is depicted
as representative of the cynical revolutionary who knowingly praises its
unfulfilled ideals. On the verge of attacking Don Perpetuo as the traitor that
he is, the ex-Villista is bought off and returns contentedly to the hills. The
comic book's message was clear: 1970s' political leaders, corrupt and greedy
men, hid behind a screen of rhetoric while robbing the people of the very
benefits the Revolution had promised.
In another number, Los supermachos listed the hidden truths about the
Revolution, the "sins" that had not been revealed to the Mexican public. Los
supermachos argued that the revolution was administered by a huge
bureaucracy that had institutionalized and manipulated it in order to feed
itself.45 This bureaucracy was compared to a merchant who would sell his
wares for profit. The PRI was the bureaucracy and every six years, that is,
during each presidential election, it would grow even larger and more
powerful. Carrying out the metaphor of the merchant, the PRI had hidden the
imperfections and had exaggerated the virtues of its product, the Revolution,
so that the buyer, Mexican society, continued to believe in the myth of the
perfect product. Los supermachos set out to reverse this pattern, which was
decades old, in order to foster a more critical attitude towards Mexican politics
in general.
The decidedly negative view in Los supermachos of the lasting effects of
the revolution on contemporary Mexican society has been both confirmed and
refuted by many respected scholars. For example, Jesus Silva Herzog has
declared categorically that the Revolution no longer exists.46 Agreeing with
this pessimistic view is Moises Gonzalez Navarro who believes that the
revolution has lost its initial thrust and has degenerated into an era of the
preeminence of bourgeois over proletarian interests.47 Gilberto Loyo, whose
assessment is more optimistic, observes that while excellent progress has been
made in different areas such as agriculture, cattle raising, forestry, fishing, and
industrial production, much yet remains to be done.48 Frank Tannenbaum
concludes that the revolution succeeded in permanently changing the structure
of Mexico, including the destruction of the archaic hacienda system.49 In his
estimation, the revolution has also given Mexico a uniquely important role in
international relations.
The eminent Mexican social scientist Pablo Gonzalez Casanova has
eloquently stated the position probably held by most knowledgeable observers
of contemporary Mexico: he believes that if the country does not wish to live
for several decades with a structure characteristic of a colonial and
underdeveloped society, it will have to replan, with great profundity, its policy
of economic and social development.50
Regarding Mexican elections, a definite change in attitude can be observed
in Los supermachos since 1967. While some of the early numbers were mildly
critical of the way in which Mexican presidents are chosen, in the 1970s the
comic book escalated its efforts on behalf of electoral reform.
In 1969, Los supermachos examined the question of the selection of the
next president from the PRI's internal ranks. It is generally understood among
students of Mexican politics that the real political battle every six years-
Mexican presidents serve one six-year term-takes place well in advance of the
election when the various forces within the PRI put forth their candidates.51
While the outgoing president as de facto head of his party has traditionally
been granted the privilege of anointing his successor, his announced choice
may in fact not be his preferred choice. Thus the period of greatest
anticipation among Mexicans revolves around this internal process. For
months, magazines and newspapers (and Los supermachos) speculate on who
the next PRI president will be, much as the American media do in weighing
the pros and cons of Republican and Democratic party candidates. Los
supermachos correctly traced the origin of this political practice to Plutarco
Elias Calles who in 1933 handed down the presidency to Lazaro Cardenas.52
One of the comic-book characters weakly protests that this seems to run
counter to the spirit of the Revolution, which guaranteed the principles of
effective suffrage and nonsuccession, but Calzonzin and Don Lucas convince
him that this form of benevolent "democracy" is justified in order to assure a
peaceful transition from one administration to another and in order to keep the
revolution alive. While criticizing some of the individual abuses of this form
of presidential succession, Los supermachos, in 1969, did not question its
validity or appropriateness. The comic book even surveyed the possible PRI
candidates prior to one presidential election and selected Luis Echeverrfa, the
one who was later to become president.53
Seven years later, in 1976, Los supermachos questioned the assumptions
underlying the traditional method of selecting a Mexican president from within
the dominant party. In one number, for example, the entire party system was
examined to determine whether parties such as the PAN (Partido de Action
Nacional [National Action Party]), the PPS (Partido Popular Socialista
[Popular Socialist Party]), the PARM (Partido Autentico de la Revolucion
Mexicana [The Authentic Party of the Mexican Revolution]), and the PCM
(Partido Comunista Mexicano [Mexican Communist Party]) constitute
significant opposition to the PRI or whether they are part of the sham of the
entire electoral process.54 The history and major ideals of each of these parties
was summarized in order to show that they are too weak to offer meaningful
opposition, that their organizing principles differ little from those of PRI, or
that they were, in fact, created by the PRI in order to give the illusion that
Mexico had a vital and viable democracy. For example, the members of the
PARM were ideologically identified with the PRI and only took exception to
the method of selecting a president. Los supermachos saw this as an absurd
caricature of a political party.55 The PPS coincidentally shares the same
building with the secretary of the treasury, and rumor has it that this party, as
well as the PAN are subsidized by the PRI: "En suma, el PPS forma pane
entusiasta del sistema y es utilizado por el PRI para dorse una fachada
democrdtica frente a la izquierda, asi como lo hace frente a la derecha con
el PAN56 ["To conclude, the PPS is an enthusiastic part of the system and it
is used by the PRI to present a facade to the left just as it uses the PAN to
present a facade to the right"]. While studies of the 1960s and the 1970s
Mexican political system corroborate the comic book's view that the
opposition parties were ineffectual, they did not suggest that these parties were
financed by the PRI to serve as a facade for a democratic electoral process.57
One of the most important political aspects of Mexican society that Los
supermachos addressed is caciquismo, which is both a rural and an urban
phenomenon in Mexico. The comic book's description of the institution is
largely accurate for the period it describes, especially in its view of the
relationship between rural dwellers and their cacique.**
Through the years, Los supermachos provided many examples of the
unique relationship that existed between San Garabatefios and the local
caciques-Don Perpetuo and Don Plutarco-and between the local political

structure and the regional and national party system. Calzonzin explains that
to be a cacique in Mexico is to occupy a privileged position at the state or
municipal level.59 The cacique has power to appoint subordinate officials and
functionaries, to distribute or keep for himself the best parcels of land, and to
reward those who protect him with political favors. He normally does not
inherit his power but obtains it through years of astute political decisions and
the cultivation of the right friendships in high places. The cacique is a skilled
horseman and marksman and a macho, all qualities that are designed to
impress his friends and enemies alike that he is a person to be respected and
feared.
Calzonzin gives the example of a legendary cacique, Maximo Avila
Camacho from Puebla, who had forty horses, fifty riding outfits and saddles,
and twenty lovers who lived in their own houses and had their own
bodyguards and bank accounts. His power was so awesome that he once
rounded up and killed some union leaders who were opposing him. Among
his friends were the Duke of Windsor, who often invited him to the Bahamas
when he was governor there; movie stars and magnates; and, of course, his
brother, the President of Mexico, Manuel Avila Camacho. Other examples
were given of caciques who held official positions such as ambassador,
minister, and governor.
Los supermachos provided an example of how, on the local level, a
cacique comes to power and succeeds in entrenching himself as the ultimate
authority.60 Don Perpetuo's father, whose nickname was "el Morzolote"
because he was fat and ugly, used the revolution to his advantage. As a
consummate opportunist, he sold his friends to the enemy troops in exchange
for favors and political appointments. He soon became the mayor of San
Garabato, acquired haciendas and other valuable property, surrounded himself
with the town's most undesirable characters, and eliminated his political
enemies and even his friends who dared oppose him. Although "el Morzolote"
was eventually replaced due to a political change on the national level, Don
Perpetuo incorporated well the lessons his father had taught him. He courted
and married Doiia Pomposa, the daughter of the regional cacique Don
Plutarco. As a wedding gift, Don Plutarco appointed Don Perpetuo mayor of
San Garabato, thus assuring his power base and his political future.
Los supermachos depicted Don Perpetuo as a loud-mouthed, corrupt bully
whose ineptitude and demagoguery often landed him in trouble. But although
the townspeople hate him, they recognize that, as his name implies, he will be
their political leader for a long time. It is through Don Perpetuo that they
obtain municipal services and funds from the state. He is the local PRI leader,
and his ability to function effectively on behalf of his constituency depends on
his good relations with other caciques above him, such as the state governor.
In one number of Los supermachos, Don Perpetuo has worked himself into a
frenzy over the uncertainty of the identity of the PRI gubernatorial candidate,
of the state's next governor.61 He knows that it is essential to declare his
support for the right candidate in order to ^^uarantee his own political future.
Don Perpetuo uses his small police force of Arsenio and Lechuzo to
maintain an atmosphere of fear and intimidation in San Garabato. In this way,
he discourages effective opposition to his authority. While Calzonzin and
others occasionally challenge Don Perpetuo, his power is unshakable.
Rural caciques are not the only leaders and officials Los supermachos
viewed as counterproductive to fulfilling the goals of the revolution and
bringing social justice and economic equality to the Mexican people. The
lumbering bureaucracy that is endemic to government agencies, particularly
in the large urban centers, was seen as a kind of structural caciquismo. At
different levels in the hierarchy, officials are reluctant to surrender control
over their employees and their agencies' spheres of influence. The result is that
this monstrous, anonymous, amorphous and costly mass impedes the forward
progress of the government, boycotts its ideals, blocks its decisions, makes its
mandates inoperable and works contrary to its best intentions.62
In several numbers, Los supermachos also described many forms of
pervasive corruption. For example, influence peddling and bribes [mordidas]
have become a part of a Mexican's daily life.63 He pays off the traffic cop
rather than paying a much larger fine in court. He gets faster service at a
government agency and is able to have his distant relative hired in a lucrative
position because he knows someone with power and influence. A Mexican
with some foresight gets to know the political candidate so that later he can
cash in on this relationship.
Los supermachos focused on corruption in high levels of government.
One cover carried the warning, "La corrupcion nos devora" ["Corruption is
devouring us"]. Within, several examples of corruption were discussed,
involving an official government publishing corporation (Fondo de Cultura
Economica [The Fund for Economic Culture]), The National Coffee Institute,
the Social Security Institute, and the Ministry of Fisheries.64 In each case, Los
supermachos tied the scandal to the PRI, inferring that as long as the party
existed in its present form, corruption would increase. Each president would
denounce the sins of the preceding administration, and then to commit the
same sins, at times on an even larger scale. The conclusion, very accurate for
the 1960s and the 1970s, was that corruption would continue to plague
Mexican government because of the lack of internal checks and balances, the
apathy of the party system, the nonparticipation of the citizenry, and so on.
Bureaucratic ineptitude, government corruption, and caciquismo were the
most common Mexican political themes in the comic book and those which
Los supermachos considered to be the country's most serious problems. There
were, however, other problems that also were seen as threats to the peace,
stability, and growth of Mexican society—the role of the universities, political
repression, and terrorism.
Los supermachos saw the universities as key institutions in Mexican
society and considered the violation of their autonomy to be a threat to the
country's very democratic ideals. The comic book accurately described the role
of the universities in the 1960s and the 1970s in Mexican society. While the
country's largest institution of higher education, the UN AM [Universidad
Nacional Autonoma Mexicana], and the state universities enjoy de jure
autonomy, for many years their campuses had become miniature battlegrounds
on which contending factions within the PRI tested their strength. These
factions used student government disputes to gauge the influence of potential
candidates for the presidency or the strength of attempts to challenge the
existing distribution of power within the party. Student leaders used their
university activities as a way of advancing their own political careers within
the PRI. In addition to supporters of the dominant party factions, the broad
spectrum of Mexican political thought was also represented at the UNAM and
state university campuses.65
In 1971, Los supermachos viewed with alarm the interference of Nuevo
Leon's governor in the internal affairs of the state university. The comic book
vigorously protested his use of the university for his personal gain.66 In the
same year and again in 1977, the comic book condemned the government's use
of halcones [reactionary student goons] to disrupt rallies and other activities
of leftist student groups.67 Although it would be difficult to document the tie
between these gangs and the PRI, the fact that they were well-armed, trained,
and organized at least suggests a link. On June 10, 1971, for examples, twelve
students were killed and dozens of others wounded after a well-armed
contingent of halcones intercepted a student march. Eyewitnesses alleged that
the gangs arrived in municipal buses and that the municipal police did not
intervene for over two hours. One study of these events concludes that if the
government did not support the activities of the halcones, it at least tolerated
them.68
Related to the violence of these rightist student groups is the legalized
brutality of the police. Los supermachos believed that no other institution in
Mexican society was so feared nor garnered less respect than the police force,
who regularly carry out repressive acts against the populace.69 The policeman
was seen as the agent of the party in power, rarely performing a praiseworthy
act for the benefit of the public welfare. The role of the Federal District police
during the student protests of 1968 and after tends to corroborate the negative
assessment of Los supermachos. From late July through early August 1968,
the police repeatedly attacked student gatherings and invaded secondary
schools.70
V. Conclusion
When we compare the political content of the two series of Los

supermachos, we find many of the same themes and topics. Like Rius, the
editors and writers of the post-1967 series provided a leftist critique of United
States foreign policy and the internal problems of Mexico. They, too,
reaffirmed the principles of the Mexican revolution of 1910, indicted
American economic and cultural imperialism, and condemned internal
administrative corruption and political repression.
Missing from the new series of the comic book was the explicitly and
consistently socialist ideological stance that characterized Rius's analysis of
many different issues. In general, Rius seemed to favor a radical form of
change in government structures, while the new Los supermachos tended to be
reformist and content to recommend less dramatic solutions. On politically
sensitive topics, Rius was more clearly focused and stronger in his criticism.
For example, the post-1967 Los supermachos only addressed the explosive and
politically sensitive situation of Tlatelolco years after it happened, while Rius
dealt with it almost immediately after it happened. The same observation is
true of Mexican presidents. The new Los supermachos safely conformed to the
time-honored practice in Mexican political life of not criticizing an incumbent
president or other powerful political figures, while Rius pulled no punches.71
While the degree of directness and the ideological consistency in dealing
with social and political issues differed before and after Rius's association with
Los supermachos, it should be evident that he clearly erred in characterizing
Editorial Meridiano as a dupe of the PRI. This opinion reflected more his
personal agenda than an objective view of the comic book. The post-1967
version of Los supermachos was every bit as adversarial as its pre-1967
counterpart, even though it advocated a more reformist and evolutionary
approach to Mexico's substantial social, political, and economic problems than
during Rius's tenure. When one compares Rius's short-term association with
his beloved San Garabatefios at Editorial Meridiano to the publishing house's
sustained history of sharp criticism, it is reasonable to speculate that the
presence of the new Los supermachos on newsstands over many years
contributed in a small way to raising the political and social consciousnesses
of its readers.
NOTES
1. A summary of the events leading to Rius's demise at Editorial

Meridiano has been presented in Chapter 4. Rius has communicated his
understandable bitterness about losing legal control over San Garabato and its
delightful cast of characters.
2. These figures are based on information provided by Editorial
Meridiano during a visit to their editorial offices on May 17, 1979.
Individuals with whom the authors talked were not eager to discuss the
circumstances surrounding Rius' departure nor the particulars of the comic
book.
3. Personal interview with Rius on August 17, 1978.
4. Los supermachos, 359 (November 16, 1972): 3.
5. Los supermachos, 361 (November 30, 1972): 11.
6. Los supermachos, 101 (December 7, 1967).
7. Los supermachos, 648 (June 1, 1978).
9. Los supermachos, 491 (May 22, 1975): 1.
10. Los supermachos, 565 (October 28, 1976): 1.
11. Los supermachos, 491 (May 22, 1975).
12. Ibid., 32-33.
13. See Los supermachos, 186 (July 24, 1969): 15-24 for examples of
American imperialism from the point of view of Los supermachos.
14. Los supermachos, 399 (August 23, 1973), is devoted to the
phenomenon of entreguismo, that is, the selling out of Mexico to foreign
interests.
15. Los supermachos, 170 (April 3, 1969): 4. The entire number focuses
on the prestanombres.
17. Ibid., 3.
18. Ibid., 4-6.
19. Los supermachos, 144 (October 3, 1968).
20. Ibid.
21. Ibid.
23. Los supermachos, 242 (August 20, 1970): 10.
24. Ibid., 22.
25. Philip Agee, Inside the Company. CIA Diary (New York: Stonehill
Publishing Company, 1975), 562.
27. See Manuel Gamiom, Mexican Immigration to the United States. A
Study of Human Migration and Adjustment (New York: Dover Publications,
1971) and his The Life Story of the Mexican Immigrant (New York: Dover
Publications, 1971). Both volumes were originally published in the 1930s.
28. Ernesto Galarza, Merchants of Labor. The Mexican Bracero Story
(Santa Barbara, California: McNally and Loftin, Publishers, 1964).
29. Ernesto Galarza, Barrio Boy (New York: Ballantine Books, 1972).
30. Jose Antonio Villarreal, Pocho (Garden City, New York: Anchor
Books, 1970).
33. Carey McWilliams, Nonh from Mexico (New York: Greenwood
Press, 1969). See also Rodolfo Acuna, Occupied America. A History of
Chicanos, 3rd ed. (New York: Harper and Row, 1989); David Maciel, ed.,
La otra cara de Mexico: el pueblo chicano (Mexico City: Ediciones El
Caballito, 1977); and David Maciel and Patricia Bueno, comps., Aztldn:
historia contempordnea del pueblo chicano (Mexico City: SepSetentas, 1976).
34. See the following studies of the mafia and organized crime in the
United States: Donald R. Cressey, Theft of the Nation: The Structure and
Operations of Organized Crime in America (New York: Harper & Row,
1969); Michele Pantaleone, The Mafia and Politics (New York: Coward-
McCann, 1966); Francis A.J. Ianni and Elizabeth Reuss-Ianni, eds., The
Crime Society: Organized Crime and Corruption in America (New York: New
American Library, 1976).
35. Los supermachos, 201 (November 5, 1969): 22-24.
36. See, for example, the following histories of the revolution: Miguel
Acessio Robles, Historia politica de la revolucion (Mexico City: Ediciones
Botas, 1946); Robert Blanco Moheno, Cronica de la revolucion mexicana, 3
vols. (Mexico City: Libro Mex Editores, 1961); Gustavo Casasola, Historia
grdfica de la revolucion mexicana, 4 vols. (Mexico City: Editorial F. Trillas,
S.A., 1964); Manuel Gonzalez Ramirez, La revolucion social de Mexico
(Mexico City: Fondo de Cultura Economica, 1960).
37. Judith Adler Hellman, Mexico in Crisis, 2nd ed. (New York: Holmes
and Meier Publishers, 1983), 22-23. See also Robert E. Scott, Mexican
Government in Transition (Urbana, Illinois: University of Illinois Press,
1959), Chapters 5 and 6.
38. Los supermachos, 164 (February 20, 1969).
40. Los supermachos, 653 (July 6, 1978): 1. Hellman confirms this
pessimistic view of land and agrarian reform. Referring to government input
as essential to the success of the program, she concludes that because it was
in large part withdrawn after 1940, "the entire Mexican land reform faltered
and sank into a morass from which it is yet to emerge." Hellman, Mexico in
Crisis, 79.
41. For an excellent overview of land reform during the Cardenas era, see
Albert L. Michaels, "A Summary of the Cardenas Epoch," in Revolution in
Mexico: Years in Upheaval, 1910-1940, James W. Wilkie and Albert L.
Michaels, eds. (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1969), 273-78.
42. Los supermachos, 340 (July 6, 1972); 254 (November 10, 1970); and
642 (April 20, 1978).
43. Hellman, Mexico in Crisis, 51.
44. Los supermachos, 473 (January 23, 1975): 11.
45. Los supermachos, 516 (November 20, 1975).
46. Jesus Silva Herzog, "The Mexican Revolution Is Now a Historical
Fact," in Is the Mexican Revolution Dead?, Stanley R. Ross, ed. (New York:
Alfred A. Knopf, 1966), 100.
47. Moises Gonzalez Navarro, "The Ideology of the Mexican Revolution,"
in Is the Mexican Revolution Dead?, 186.
48. Gilberto Loyo, "The Mexican Revolution Has Not Finished its Task,"
49. Frank Tannenbaum, "Some Reflections on the Mexican Revolution,"
50. Pablo Gonzalez Casanova, "The Mexico Which Has and the Mexico
Which Has Not," in Is the Mexican Revolution Dead?, 221.
51. See Hellman, Mexico in Crisis, Chapter 2; and Scott, Mexican
Government, Chapter 7, for descriptions of presidential nominations and
elections.
52. Los supermachos, 192 (September 4, 1969).
53. Los supermachos, 193 (September 11, 1969).
55. Ibid., 32.
56. Ibid., 29.
57. Hellman, Mexico in Crisis, 98-100.
58. See Scott, Mexican Government, 102-103.
61. Los supermachos, 542 (May 20, 1976).
62. Los supermachos, 375 (March 8, 1973).
63. Los supermachos, 173 (April 24, 1969).
65. Evelyn P. Stevens, Protest and Response in Mexico (Cambridge,
Massachusetts: MIT Press, 1974), 188-89.
66. Los supermachos, 186 (June 24, 1971).
68. Stevens, Protest and Response, 256-257.
69. Los supermachos, 656 (July 27, 1978), and 717 (September 27, 1979).
70. See Hellman, Mexico in Crisis, 131-132 and 166-167; and Stevens,
Protest and Response, Chapters 6 and 7.
71. Henry J. Schmidt comments on this practice:
Negative assessment of a political incumbent can jeopardize

one's career, and this circumstance may be one of the keys
to the country's well-developed tradition in philosophical
history and moralistic sociology. The strictness on attacking
current leadership is so severe that the intellectual often has
to flee into a baroque world of guilt and salvation where his
commentary is dissolved in harmless alienation. At this
point, he can point up the flaws in the Mexican system, but
he may not doubt or even be indifferent to any activity that
has a personalistic source of power.
The Roots ofLo Mexicano (College Station, Texas: Texas A&M Press, 1978),
x.
6
Chanoc
I. The Comic Book
From its first weekly issue in October 1959, Chanoc: Aventuras de mar y
selva1 [Chanoc: Sea and Jungle Adventures] was a commercial success, and
over the years it has enjoyed wide acceptance. The Mexican comic-book critic,
Higilio Alvarez Constantino, has labeled Chanoc "la mds celebre historieta
national" ["the most famous Mexican comic book"]. 2 Eduardo del Rio (Rius),
the creator of Mexico's most widely acclaimed political comic books, believes
that while most Mexican comic books make no cultural contribution, Chanoc
is one of the few that educates a bit, as well as entertains.3
Chanoc, published by Novedades Editores,4 was created by Angel Martin
de Lucenay, a physician. Although the comic book has changed considerably
since 1959, much of Martin's original conception remains. Chanoc was set
in the fictional Mayan fishing village of Ixtac somewhere near Veracruz on the
southeast Mexican coast. The weekly issues centered on the adventures of
Chanoc, a superbly skilled and heroic fisherman partially modeled on Tarzan,
and on the doings of his sagacious godfather, Tsekub. In particular, the heroes
struggled against corrupt foreigners and larger-than-life sea and jungle animals,
especially sharks and octopi. An important feature of the comic book was its
use of local color and coastal lore. The twentieth issue (February 26, 1960)
was Martin's last; he died suddenly from appendicitis.5
Martin's successor, Pedro Zapiain Fernandez,6 wrote Chanoc for the next
eleven years and his elaboration and transformation of Martin's original
conception made the comic a best seller. In order to continue to improve upon
Martin's characterization of Veracruz culture, Zapiain immersed himself in the
coastal environment. He fished, sailed, deep-sea dived, hunted sharks, and was
even shipwrecked in a hurricane. The local fishermen nicknamed him
"Chanot" in the coastal dialect, and he so identified with Chanoc that on one
occasion when a local fisherman sighted a shark, Zapiain impulsively started

to dive into the sea after it. Many of the scenes and characters in the comic
book are modeled on real Veracruz vistas and people.7
Zapiain slowly transformed Chanoc. Chanoc himself became emotionally
more mature. Tsekub ceased to be a wise father figure and became a humorous
character. He also became the comic book's star. Adventure faded in
importance, although many issues still contained at least one adventure
subplot. Comedy centering on Tsekub became Chanoc's trademark, the humor
ranging from wit and repartee to parody and slapstick comedy. Mild political
satire and social criticism were introduced and sports themes became a staple.
Ixtac had a number of famous visitors, for example, Mickey Mantle and Henry
Kissinger.
Zapiain's tenure ended with the six-hundredth issue in early 1971. The
reasons for his firing are disputed. A new editorial chief, Augustin Barcena,
had replaced Carlos Vigil in 1966 when Vigil left to found his own successful
comic book/photonovel company. Vigil and Zapiain had enjoyed an excellent
working relationship. Barcena and Zapiain clashed. In a 1979 interview just
before his death, Zapiain emphatically stated that Barcena had only been
interested in what would sell, and that the editor was a "fascist" who had
labeled Zapiain a "communist" because of his leftist leanings and who had
censored some of his political comments.8
Vigil and Rafael Marquez Torres, who replaced Barcena just before
Zapiain was fired, both stress that falling sales were primarily responsible for
the firing. Vigil feels that Zapiain had fallen into a James Bond rage and
overemphasized spy stories. Marquez Torres says that issues on Buddhists, the
Korean War, and a parody of Dante's Inferno were commercial disasters, as
was Zapiain's increasingly flaky leftism and his continued emphasis on soccer
at a time when soccer's popularity was declining. Even Zapiain believed lower
sales played a role in his firing. In his opinion, Barcena's censorship placed
Chanoc at a disadvantage compared to the more explicit political comic book
Los supermachos that had begun publication in 1966. Marquez Torres also
stresses that falling sales resulted in part from factors beyond Zapiain's
control; the appearance of the vastly popular superhero comic book Kalimdn
in 1965 had reduced Chanoc's sales, and television had stolen the sea and
jungle theme. Whatever the cause for Chanoc's declining fortunes, the change
in writers had no effect on sales. Ironically, sales in the late 1970s had fallen
to such a low point that Novedades is now reprinting many of Zapiain's stories
in a new format.9
Since 1971 Chanoc has had numerous writers, and the quality of the comic
book has deteriorated. Tsekub has degenerated into a mere clown. Moderate
use of the Veracruz dialect mixed with a few modernisms has given way to
"corriente" ["slangy"] language laced with puns, often intelligible only to
Chanoc 113
those who keep abreast of the latest political, social, and cultural fashions in
the capital, even though Chanoc's setting remains the southeast coast. Parody
often seems to be used just to be cute, rather than to make any point. Certainly
Zapiain4s skilled pen is missed, but in fact even he was not successful in
attempting to transfer parts of the Chanoc formula elsewhere. For example,
his Molok: El hijo de los osos [Molok: Son of the Bears] (1972) was unable
to get off the ground.10 Zapiain died in 1979.
It seems that Chanoc's decline is directly related to its having become too
clever, so zany that many readers do not readily understand the dialogue. In
fact this tendency to be ever more comical, to be increasingly ingenious, began
in the final years of Zapiain's tenure, although it has been taken to its
ludicrous conclusion by the writers of the late 1970s. And as Chanoc became
"degenerate," in Carlos Vigil's words, the audience shrank to a cultured elite,
and sales plummeted.11 Whatever the reason for Chanoc's decline, this chapter
will focus primarily on Chanoc at the height of its popularity, during the
Zapiain years.
Chanoc has always been printed in color, and Angel Jose Mora was its
principal artist from the first issue. His drawing is somewhat static, with
variety provided by varying the distance from the subject in closeups, medium
shots, and long, panoramic shots. Mora's style does become more dramatic,
with a cleaner line, in the ocean adventures. Mora quit Chanoc after twenty
years because he wanted freedom to experiment with his artistic style and
because the scripts he was expected to illustrate kept getting worse and further
and further removed from "la intention original de crear personajes populares
dignos y en situaciones reales" ["the original intention to create genuine and
worthwhile characters in real situations"].12
Chanoc's popularity has fluctuated over the years. The comic book was
an instant success, selling more than six hundred thousand copies from the
first issues. Issues numbered in the mid- to high-300s sold nearly two million
copies weekly, reflecting the vast popularity of the sports themes of these
issues.13 This peak figure compares very favorably with other Mexican comic-
book best-sellers. For example, according to publisher's figures, the best-
selling superhero comic book, Kalimdn, sells between one-and-one-half and
three-and-one-half million copies weekly, and the most popular romance comic
book, Ldgrimas, risas y amor, consistently sells about one and one-half
million copies weekly.14 From this high point, Chanoc's sales declined to
about a half-million in 1975 and then to a low of 150,000 weekly in the late
1970s.15 A 1978 survey of Mexico City and Cuernavaca periodical vendors
concluded that Chanoc sells approximately two or three copies to every twelve
of Kalimdn sold, to sixteen of Ldgrimas, risas y amor, and to one of the
western comic book El Payo (the best-seller of its genre at that time).16
Chanoc has sold particularly well on the southern Gulf coast and Zapiain
remembered one occasion when a truck carrying Chanoc was actually robbed
by fishermen overly anxious to learn of Chanoc and Tsekub's lastest
adventurous escapades. It is also sold in modest numbers in the United States,
Central America, the Caribbean, and northern South America. Secondhand
sales are quite good in Mexico City, since Chanoc is somewhat of a favorite
among educated collectors. Sales may have been positively affected by six
Chanoc movies that have been made, although these have been low budget.17
Since contemporary sales are quite modest, it is virtually impossible to
conduct a valid street sample of readers, such as that made by the authors for
Kalimdn.19 There is, though, a large degree of agreement among Vigil,
Marquez Torres, and Zapiain regarding readership during the years in
question. Chanoc had a broad appeal among males, including rural and urban
workers, fishermen, students, and especially professionals and the educated.
It must be stressed that these are only educated guesses, since Novedades has
never conducted a market survey and since fan letters, which in the past
evidently arrived by the hundreds and could have provided some readership
data, have not been retained.19 Street observations and informal discussions
with a very limited sample of readers suggest that there has been a shift from
the broadly based readership suggested above to predominantly educated
middle-class readers.
II. The Comic Book's Principal Characters
As originally conceived, Chanoc was the comic book's central character.

Born in the small Mayan fishing hamlet of Ixtac, somewhere along the
Southeast coast of Mexico, he was orphaned at an early age. His father was
eaten by an alligator while in a drunken stupor, and his mother died from grief
over her loss, leaving Chanoc to be raised by his godfather, Tsekub. Evidently
most of his education took place in the sea and jungle. By the time he appears
in the comic, Chanoc is probably in his twenties and has acquired a seemingly
limitless fund of knowledge about the natural world near Ixtac. This allows
him to survive the perils of his world and to reap a hard-earned living from
sea and jungle.
Although Chanoc is of Mayan descent,20 in both appearance and dress he
does not resemble a Mayan Indian. A light-skinned mestizo of athletic build,
he has a shock of black hair and dark brown eyes. He dresses in a loose-fitting
red T-shirt, blue denim pants, and sandals, with a sheathed hunting knife
attached to his belt and a shark tooth hanging from a chain around his neck.
While neither his dress nor his powers would suggest a superhero in the
mold of Superman, Chanoc does have exceptional skills. He swims like a
porpoise, dives like a seal, and, aided by his knife, fights like a shark. Unlike
Chanoc 115
an ordinary fisherman or hunter, he rarely uses a harpoon or gun, believing

his knife is his best protection. With it, he fights and kills some gigantic,
ferocious animal in nearly every adventure. Gifted with catlike quickness and
uncommon strength, he once broke the neck of a puma with his bare hands.
He can travel through the jungle treetops like Tarzan, swinging from vine to
vine, and split a vine with an ax at twenty meters. These skills, together with
frequent triumphs over every known beast of sea and jungle, have earned
Chanoc the nicknames of "El Tiburonero" ["the shark hunter"], "El Perlero"
["the pearl diver"], and "El Luchador" ["the fighter"] and have brought him
a fame that extends far beyond his native village. Chanoc is also known as the
Protector of Ixtac, based on his frequent defense of Ixtac from all types of
foreign usurpers, on his intervention to save villagers from their own foolish
actions, and on his unselfish charity toward the unfortunate.
Chanoc is a man of impeccable, almost prudish, moral character, of mild
temperament, and of rational outlook. He never attempts to exploit or to
manipulate others, always keeps his word, and fulfills his contracts honestly
and promptly. He refuses monetary gain for help rendered, even though he
repeatedly risks his life. Neither liquor nor sex interest him. He does have an
eye for beautiful women and can be gallant toward them, but he is not
interested in marriage and views married women as untouchable. He tries to
reason with people and does not use excess force; at most he knocks out the
villains, and then, if crime is involved, turns them over to the legal justice
system. He disdains all types of superstition and games of chance, preferring
scientific, rational explanations and investments that bring a guaranteed return.
Tsekub Baloyan, according to Zapiain, who made him Chanoc's star, is
modeled on a Southeast coastal character type: old men who are wise, yet also
believe they are still young, a belief that is encouraged by their
acquaintances.21 Tsekub is a white-haired, skinny old man, of indeterminate
though advanced age; he is at least sixty and perhaps.22 He has sparkling,
mischievous blue eyes, a cowcatcher mustache, and an ever-present corncob
pipe. He was born in Ixtac and like Chanoc is of Mayan descent, but Tsekub
is even more European in appearance than the young hero.23 He has blue eyes,
a profile that is frequently referred to (often proudly by Tsekub himself) as
"perfil griego" ["Greek profile"], and his nickname, "El Gallego" ["The
Galician"]. These characteristics all belie his supposed Mayan ancestry. He
is a retired sea diver, having severely damaged his lungs years ago while
hunting octopi, but he still has plenty of zest. Although the comic's early
issues portrayed Tsekub as a model father figure who must restrain and
frequently save his overly adventurous godson, this characterization was soon
reversed by Zapiain.
Tsekub emerges as the antithesis of Chanoc. He shrinks from dangerous
situations. He will employ any means conceivable to make money, as long as
he can con someone else into doing the real work. He is a notorious flirt and
"skirt chaser." A superb athlete for his age, he nonetheless often cheats in
order to win. He is a prodigious consumer of the local liquor cahabar, a foul-
smelling potent drink. From time to time, he dons comic versions of the latest
foreign fashions, for example, hair and clothing styles associated with the
rock-music youth culture in the United States;24 and increasingly he has laced
his speech with Anglicisms, using items such as "go-go" dances.
Zapiain fully developed Tsekub into a comic character. Tsekub dresses in
anachronistic costumes such as a tank swimsuit, or clothes unsuited to the
occasion. His behavior is moderately antisocial; he bathes once or twice a
year. Language is used in amusing ways. When Tsekub falls in the ocean, he
describes his clothes as "guach an giier" ["wash and wear"]. When his boat
is sinking and a passenger requests a "lifesaver," Tsekub wonders if lemon
would be acceptable. Tsekub is at the center of comic situations when he
assumes another person's identity or vice versa, such as when a monkey took
Tsekub's place in a soccer match, and the crowd was not aware of the
exchange. His jokes or schemes often backfire, producing comedy and giving
Tsekub a bit of his own medicine. A banana-bomb, made by him and intended
for a star soccer player on a team that Tsekub has bet against but that is
winning, is thrown to Tsekub by mistake. He believes it is a real banana and,
predictably, detonates the bomb. He frequently gets knocked about, but never
really hurt, although he may lose part of his clothes, as when a shark rips out
the seat of his pants. Probably Zapiain used every standard comic situation at
some time in Chanoc. Certainly Chanoc must frequently extract Tsekub from
a comic predicament of his own making.
Ixtac and its setting are the other major factors in Chanoc. The sea and the
jungle symbolize the constant struggle for survival, and harbor extreme danger
for even the greatest hunters. In Chanoc's world, death lurks at the turn of
every page. To heighten suspense and fear, the size and ferocity of animals is
frequently exaggerated. Sharks especially are misrepresented. Often drawn the
size of small dinosaurs, they constantly attack people and boats alike. Squid
and octopi normally dwarf Chanoc. Deadly eels and manta rays invariably
attack, as do various species of whale. The jungle is equally treacherous,
teeming with man-eating jaguars and enormous, deadly snakes. No matter how
great the danger or how difficult the struggle, Chanoc's knife wins the day.
In addition to these exaggerations, the comic also contains much interesting
and essentially accurate lore about many species of sea and jungle, producing
epic animal scenes of convincing proportions.
Ixtac appears in most issues, set at the margin of sea and jungle. At first,
it was a small, sleepy, traditional fishing village where people were close to
nature and gathered their subsistence from it. Zapiain in issue 53 described
Ixtac as a "Verdadero paraiso terrenal" ["genuine earthly paradise"]. Later,
Chanoc 111
Ixtac was slowly transformed into a city resembling Veracruz, and at times
even Mexico City.25 World problems and fads are visited upon Ixtac, world-
class competitions are held there, and a number of world dignitaries pass
through briefly. Tsekub tries LSD; Henry Kissinger calls while Secretary of
State; Pele, the Brazilian soccer star, plays against the local Ixtac team; and
Mexican pundits such as Carlos Monsivais and even Zapiain himself have
plied their craft there. The original setting has been retained only in the comic
book's nature scenes, while Ixtac itself has become increasingly cosmopolitan
and international.
Zapiain's vision of Ixtac produced a number of memorable minor
characters. The fishermen of Ixtac share the neighboring jungle with pygmies
and cannibals. The minuscule Indians, who are less than three feet tall, are
generally allies of Chanoc and Tsekub. The pygmies are genuine Mayans,
being Lacandon Indians. They are nevertheless caricatured, as are most of
Chanoc's cast. For example, for the traditional long cotton tunics of the
Lacandon, Zapiain substituted brief loin cloths, and some of his Indians
perpetually wear war paint. Their main function is to provide further comedy.
For example, the local tribe's witch doctors wear brightly colored masks that
are half-again as large as they are. They are an Indian version of Tsekub,
disdaining work and attempting to exploit and con their fellow Lacandon. The
witch doctors provide much comedy; one's nickname, for example is
Chachalacas [chatter-box].
Ixtac's mangrove swamps are inhabited by cannibals, who are a comic
version of cavemen and also Ixtac's heavies. Uncouth, violent, and dressed
only in animal skins, they endlessly scheme to put anyone, but especially
Tsekub, into their cooking pot. They also habitually ally themselves with all
types of foreign, imperialist exploiters and champion a primitive form of
laissez-faire capitalism. According to Zapiain, providing comedy is their only
purpose.26 For example, "Rogaciana la chilera" ["the beseeching chile
saleswoman"], who is ugly and fat, has nevertheless been chasing Tsekub for
years without success.
Zapiain created several other minor characters of some importance. The
peg-legged lighthouse keeper, Pata Larga [humorously, "long leg"], is based
on a real Veracruz character.27 He is Tsekub's boozing buddy and tries to be
his understudy, but since he is not very smart, Pata Larga is less than
successful in this role. He is dominated by his wife, is basically dependent on
Tsekub, and often ends up doing any real work connected with one of
Tsekub's wild ploys. Merecumbre is a streetwise, uneducated, often
unemployed black boy, who is befriended by Chanoc and Tsekub. Although
Zapiain emphatically denied any racial stereotyping in this waif, to most North
American observers his role would most resemble the low comedy of those
called early cinema's "pickaninnies."28 Sobuca is a one-eyed, gigantic,
muscular black man nicknamed "El Terrible" ["the Terrible"] because of his
ability as a fighter. Chanoc bested him in a prize match and then rescued him
from virtual slavery on a Mexican rubber plantation. Sobuca occasionally
works as a sailor for Chanoc and Tsekub and shares some of their adventures.
HI. Chanoc's Adventures
Almost every issue of Chanoc is devoted to a new adventure. Although

there is a wide variety of topics dealt with, in a 1971 interview (shortly after
Novedades fired him), Zapiain summarized the major thesis of the comic book
by saying that "Mis heroes trabajan en contra del explotador bianco y en
contra de un supuesto orden social que lo protege y redime"29 ["My heroes
work against the white exploiter and against the false social order that protects
and saves him"]. Indeed many stories focus on various types of foreign
exploitation and other nationalistic themes, although attention is also given to
politics, cultural parody, Chanoc's aid to the unfortunate, and Tsekub's
numerous comic adventures. Each of these themes will be briefly explored
below.
The policy at Novedades during the period Zapiain worked on Chanoc
forbade political commentary. As Carlos Vigil stressed in an interview,
Novedades had to be very careful, for the Mexican government, which has a
near monopoly on newsprint, was at that time very sensitive to criticism.30
Zapiain's first issue to have any noticeable political content was indeed subtle.
In issue 53, dated October 14, I960,31 Zapiain obliquely criticized United
States business interests in Fulgencio Batista's Cuba. In the original story of
Sobuca, we discover that he has been a virtual slave on an American-owned
sugar plantation in Cuba. He has come to Mexico bound to two former
employees of the plantation. These "baddies" are so despicable that even the
United States has refused to repatriate them. Chanoc, of course, frees Sobuca
and puts an end to his captors' illegal exploitation of rubber near Ixtac.
Neither the United States, Cuba, nor Batista are ever mentioned by name.
As Zapiain gained confidence and a better sense of what would get by
both the editors and the government, a number of issues included at least one
scene with rather explicit political commentary and satire.32 For example,
Tsekub warns that a bomb, which has been substituted for a soccer ball, could
explode like a Sputnik. Tsekub chides some Mafiosi that their intelligence,
which has been completely off the mark, is even worse than that of the CIA.
When a pygmy complains about hard work, the tribe's chief, Sauka, tells him
that instead of working he can always put up posters for PRI (Mexico's
dominant political party). The brave Tsekub declines, saying it would be
preferable to die on his present job. 33
Chanoc 119
From time to time, entire issues were devoted to stories with fairly
obvious nationalistic-political messages. Not only unscrupulous foreign
entrepreneurs,34 but even governments, illegally attempt to exploit Mexico's
resources, and they would succeed but for Chanoc. In issue 347 (June 3,
1966), repesentatives of an unidentified power, easily recognizable as
Mexico's northern neighbor, are secretly exploring the Gulf sea floor off Ixtac
for uranium ore and have plans to mine the ore without compensation. They
are foiled, when Chanoc intervenes and the Mexican Coast guard cooperates
in the arrest of the malefactors. The episode closes with Tsekub taunting them
by asking how things are going in Vietnam and the Dominican Republic
(referring to the 1965 landing of United States marines) and telling them that
even under-developed peoples can at times successfully defend themselves.
With the full approval of the Mexican authorities, the exploiters are put on
display in cages.
Foreign tourists and collectors are not treated quite so roughly, but neither
are their presence or attitudes appreciated. Ixtac would be better off without
the foreigners. In one adventure, Lord Halifax, a lepidopterist, hires Chanoc
as a guide. Halifax wants to be the only person ever to possess a rare
butterfly, found only in Ixtac's backlands, and when he discovers Ixtac's wild
rubber trees, he immediately sees a lucrative resource that he must possess. He
is loud, ignores good advice, consults a foreign authority rather than relying
on a local one, pompously believes he knows more about Ixtac's jungle than
Chanoc, and in general is a bumbling idiot. Halifax fails to catch the butterfly,
which is just fine with Chanoc, although Tsekub, ever ready to make a profit,
would have sold one to the peer.35
Visiting foreign sports heroes are treated with the respect their skills
demand, but they invariably lose to an Ixtac team composed, in varying
combinations, of Chanoc, Tsekub, pygmies, cannibals, and jungle animals.
Tsekub's craftiness and deceptive athletic skills often provide the winning
margin, regardless of the sport. Such a case is the time when our two heroes
and their pygmy allies beat a Yankee farm team composed of cannibals and
visiting Yankee greats, most notably "El Bombardero" ["the slugger"] Mickey
Mango (obviously a thinly disguised alias for Mickey Mantle). Tsekub
engineers a victory through a combination of ploys. He has his team train with
baseballs charged with a mixture of gunpowder and canabar, he feigns a lack
of skill in order to get a fat pitch, and he shows his own skill with some very
aggressive base running. With the final out, Mango acknowledges Tsekub's
abilities, calling him a valiente [a brave, excellent player]. Auto racing's
Jimmy Clarke, basketball's Globetrotters, speedboat racing's Lee Taylor,
soccer's Bobby Charlton and football's "Otawa" Jim, all discover that Mexican
athletes, contrary to popular belief, are superior in every sport.36
By 1967, Zapiain had also begun to poke gentle fun at many aspects of
social, cultural, and commercial life. The Mexican intellectual and pundit
Carlos Monsivais visits Ixtac's mangrove swamps and declares that the
cannibals are the missing link between Tepexpan man, the earliest human
remains found in Mexico, and contemporary Mexicans. In this satire of the
many Mexican men of letters who must publish quickly and in great
abundance to earn a living, Monsivais is portrayed not only as having stated
an opinion as fact, but as having done so on a subject of which he is totally
ignorant. On another occasion, one of the witch doctors proclaims that many
short people have been illustrious, and gives as examples Rius, Vigil,
Monsivais, and Jose Luis Cuevas (a renowned contemporary Mexican painter).
But Tsekub objects, noting that the first two new are comic-book artists and
the others are part of the "mafia," that is, those critics who wield great
influence over the development of the arts.37 Zapiain even spoofed himself. He
showed himself arriving at an Ixtac soccer match, where a watching native
comments that Zapiain should be a comic-book writer rather than a fisherman.
Several issues parody advertisements. One number opens with the making of
a television commercial, starring Tsekub, for a toothpaste whose slogan is
"Ahorcate conpresten" ["Hang yourself with Presten"]. Everything that could
go wrong with the filming does, with the implication that the product is worth
about as much as the ad.38
Many plots, or at least parts of them, of course center on Chanoc's
successful struggle with some fearsome jungle or sea beast. Chanoc also on
occasion, especially in Zapiain's early stories, devotes himself to aiding the
unfortunate. When thieves, posing as religious specters, paralyze Ixtac's
citizens with fear, Chanoc solves the mystery and arrests the thieves. In the
final panel, Tsekub comments that now "el pueblo estdfeliz" ["the town is
happy"]. Even those who, in Chanoc's opinion, are the cause of their own
grief are aided. A tippling, down-on-his-luck fisherman whose family lacks
food is given a small fortune in ambergris. When the father uses part of his
windfall to purchase a lottery ticket and wins the jackpot, only to have his son
kidnapped and the prize money stolen, Chanoc recovers both.39
As befits Tsekub's star status, numerous stories are devoted largely to his
misadventures. The most popular theme to appear in Chanoc, Tsekub as
sportsman, has already been illustrated above. Another favorite theme since
1960 is the use of the get-rich scheme that Tsekub is continually hatching. He
will do almost anything to enrich himself. He will lie, cheat, refuse to play by
the rules, and break the law. He even seriously considers marriage. In an
interview Zapiain stressed that Tsekub is a "gigolo" rather than a macho, that
is, he uses women for profit rather than for sexual conquest.40 Tsekub is an
incurable flirt and craves the attention of younger women, and his only interest
in marriage is financial security. Typical is the story in issue 59 (November
Chanoc 121
25, 1960). Gerbonia, a stocky, homely woman, will shortly inherit the fortune
of her recently deceased uncle. Tsekub, with an eye for Gerbonia's new
wealth, proposes and dreams of retiring to the good life, but begins to lose
interest when he discovers that her brothers will live with them. He is literally
saved by the bell, as the town bell signals a shipwreck and Tsekub dashes
from the altar to freedom. In the final panel, Tsekub declares he would rather
be tied to a "ballenato" ["bloated whale"] than marry, and in the postscript
Zapiain asked rhetorically if anyone could imagine Tsekub married.
IV. Comparisons with Other Adventure Comic Books
Despite Tsekub's enlarged role and character transformation during the

Zapiain years, when critics have placed this comic book in comparative
perspective, it is Chanoc whom they have focused on, often comparing him to
Tarzan. Yet there is a sharp difference of opinion as to whether or not Edgar
Rice Burroughs's Tarzan novels41 are imitated by Chanoc. The Mexican
comic-book critic Irene Herner classifies Chanoc as a literary descendant of
Tarzan, and Rafael Marquez Torres views Chanoc as a Mexican Tarzan. On
the other hand, Zapiain was emphatic that Chanoc is the antithesis of Tarzan;*1
that is, Chanoc protects Mexico from imperialist, white exploitation, while
Tarzan, in his view, aided European colonization of Africa. In fact there are
elements of truth in both positions.
There are marked similarities. Chanoc, like Tarzan, represents individual
freedom and pits himself, armed only with a knife, against the forces of
nature. There are fierce battles with dangerous beasts and a relentless struggle
for survival. Violent struggle against man and beast alike leads to the spilling
of countless buckets of blood. For both Tarzan and Chanoc, the knife
symbolizes courage, strength, virility, and the fact that each is a great hunter,
a mighty killer. Neither hero ages or dies during the course of his adventures.
Chanoc and the Tarzan novels both portray their heroes and villains in
unmistakable terms of black and white. Villains, for example, do not have any
redeeming qualities, are never to be trusted, and are almost inhuman; although
Burroughs's villains are often Germans, while those of Zapiain are frequently
North Americans. These embodiments of evil are always identified and
defeated.
Differences are also evident. Tarzan's African jungle, unlike Chanoc's sea
and jungle, is populated with beasts who are almost human and with both
opponents and allies. Chanoc certainly never trains animals to aid him in his
struggles. Tarzan himself differs markedly from Chanoc. Both heroes were
orphans, but Tarzan grew up in a setting similar to that of Robinson Crusoe;
that is, the lone individual surviving apart from society. Moreover, Tarzan
was raised by apes. Tarzan, unlike Chanoc, is not just an especially gifted
athlete and hunter, nor does he have plebeian tastes or live in working-class
style. Tarzan is a natural hunter, an integral part of his animal world. He even
speaks the language of jungle beasts. And despite his feral upbringing, Tarzan
becomes a cultured, articulate nobleman and one of the wealthier members of
the House of Lords. He travels, marries, fathers a child, and settles down
between adventures on a spacious, prosperous plantation somewhere in British
East Africa. Tarzan is the outsider who partakes of both civilization and nature
yet does not belong completely to either, while Chanoc is an integral part of
Mexican culture and society and an outsider in the natural world.
The question of heredity versus environment, a central concern of
Burroughs, is never raised in Chanoc. Tarzan is literally part beast, part man.
Yet in Tarzan heredity is victorious; generations of culture bred into his family
overcome environment. Burroughs believed that the finest tradition of English
aristocracy could not be denied. He is Tarzan of the Apes, not Tarzan the
Ape-Man.
Burroughs, however, did not allow heredity to emerge completely
triumphant, because he detested much of civilization, somewhat like Zapiain,
who rather delighted in poking fun at civilized foibles, although he especially
detested imperialism. Tarzan is endowed with the best qualities of both beast
and man; yet he longs for the companionship of jungle animals because they
are the antithesis of civilized man, who lies, cheats, indiscriminately kills and
inflicts pain, fights for motives unrelated to survival, and treats people and
things only as commodities. In fact, human "progress" has meant only that
people have become more disloyal, vindictive, avaricious, and quarrelsome.
On the other hand, nature is an unspoiled paradise, whose harmony and peace
are interrupted only by the necessities of survival. In one way, Burroughs's
degenerate civilization, so foreign to the Mexican village world of Chanoc, is
mimicked in the comic book, for Chanoc portrays villains, especially North
Americans, as having all of Burroughs's negative characteristics of civilized
man.
Authentic characters, locales, flora, and fauna were very important to
Zapiain. He did not always reach his goal of authenticity, but his total
immersion in Chanoc's setting sharply contrasts with Burroughs's belief that
he could write better about places he had never seen. Burroughs drew
occasionally from real life, but for the most part his novels are composed of
daydreams and wild imaginings. He delighted in creating new civilizations,
races, and geographical settings. Lost civilizations and weird, anachronistic
races in the wilds of Africa, often at war with one another, and living on the
ruins of an ancient civilization more advanced than theirs, were favorite
Burroughs themes, themes that rarely occur in Chanoc.
Chanoc 123
Finally, Chanoc and the Tarzan novels do represent different points of

view vis-a-vis colonialism, although not to the degree envisaged by Zapiain.
Chanoc does successfully defend underdeveloped Mexico from foreign
exploitation, but Chanoc's physiognomy is no more Mayan than Tarzan is
Negroid. Chanoc is as white as Mexico's exploiters, as white as Tarzan (Tar-
zan translates as "white skin" in ape language), but Chanoc symbolizes
Mexico, while Tarzan at least partially symbolizes British aristocracy and
European colonization of Africa. Chanoc is rooted in his village and people
and is superior to them only in natural ability, while Tarzan is an outsider by
heredity and superior by birth to African blacks. Tarzan even becomes chief
of the Saziri tribe who, indebted to him for saving them from a band of Arab
slavers, allow him to plunder their secret treasure trove, the lost city of Opar.
Chanoc undoubtedly could become chief of the pygmies and could claim a
share of their resources, but it never occurs to him to do anything but offer
assistance from time to time. Burroughs did create some noble blacks, but he
far more frequently described blacks with the degrading stereotyped
characterizations associated with the worst white supremacists. While Zapiain
did somewhat racially stereotype blacks and Mayans, he never did so to the
degree that Burroughs did.
Adventure and humor are the obvious components of Zapiain's Chanoc,

but from beneath the comic book's surface there emerge deeper, more subtle
commentaries on Mexico.
Mexico is a mosaic of regional cultures and subcultures, as Lesley Byrd
Simpson observed in his classic, Many Mexicos.43 It is not surprising to find
this regionalism reflected in some Mexican comic books. The western-style life
of the Bajio region of central Mexico is portrayed in El Payo (1966-1980),44
the Yaqui Indian Northwest was pictured in Alma Grande [Big Soul, 1961-
1973?]; and, of course, Chanoc takes place on the Southeast Gulf coast. Of the
three, Chanoc is probably the most accurate portrayal of a region. This
accuracy did not come about by accident. Martin lived in the region; Zapiain
totally immersed himself for some five years in Veracruz coastal life;45 and
Mora was born in the Gulf state of Tabasco.
Despite this considerable degree of authenticity, which especially high for
a humor comic book, there are inaccuracies and distortions. Ixtac4s architecture
is Spanish, not Mayan. Some characters, especially Pata Larga and Tsekub, are
reasonably accurate portrayals of a regional type. In other characters, however,
comic distortion has crossed the line into stereotypes that, from a North
American point of view, seem racist. Zapiain proudly argued that his Indians
and Negroes are not the "malos" ["bad guys"]. And of course this claim is
true as far as it goes; but despite their "good-guy" status, the pygmies and
Merecumbre are characterized in a derogatory manner.
Chanoc's portraits of the region's natural world and animals are superbly
presented at times, yet here too there is considerable distortion. Animal size
is exaggerated, and danger heightened. Sharks in particular take on unreal
dimensions and ferocity. Even then the sea lore is more accurately presented
than that of the jungle, which undoubtedly reflects Zapiain's personal
experience. When he talked to the authors about Chanoc, Zapiain frequently
stressed his experiences as a fisherman, but never once mentioned a personal
jungle adventure.46
Zapiain's disdain of foreign interference in Mexico was certainly not
disguised. He would not, however, have totally agreed with the often-quoted
lament attributed to Porfirio Diaz: "Poor Mexico, so far from God and so
near to the United States! "47 In Zapiain's comic-book world, Mexico need not
fear the consequences of its proximity to the United States. Underdeveloped
nations fend off, even defeat, the best that a superpower has to offer. Against
the historical background of American and French military intervention in
Mexico, the huge and influential sums invested by American business
interests, and Mexico's high consumption of North American goods and
adoption of North American tastes, Zapiain's vision of Mexican nationalism
triumphant expresses a genuine desire, keenly felt by many Mexicans, to be
free from foreign domination and influence.
In Zapiain's plots, however, the ordinary Mexicans of the Southeast do
not defeat unprincipled foreign entrepreneurs and send them packing, or even
symbolically defeat foreigners on the field of play; rather it is a combination
of Chanoc's mythic physical skills and Tsekub's violation of the law that is
responsible. The plots represent wish fulfillment more than real social
criticism.
Actually undermining the cultural independence of Mexico is the
increasing use of Anglicisms in Chanoc, especially by Tsekub. While on one
level Mexican economic and political interests seem to be preserved, on
another level her language and culture are being Americanized. Soccer balls
are "fumbleadas." A character in distress cries "jHelp!" Tsekub makes
television ads for the "Chafofas [not-all-together] Advertising Co., S.A." A
cannibal feeds his child a "pure de tunas yGarbery" ["Gerber's cactus fruit
puree"]. Tsekub asks if a professor's egg collection is really larger than that
of "Life"? And when Tsekub manages to mount and ride a Cape Buffalo,
Chanoc comments that even Ripley would not believe it.48 It is certainly
questionable whether Mexico can really be freed from foreign exploitation if
it is being insidiously, even enthusiastically, colonized from within.
Chanoc 125
Tsekub represents far more than older Veracruz men who believe they are
still young. It can be debated endlessly whether or not national character traits
or types really exist or are mere stereotypes, either negative or positive,
depending on one's point of view. But Tsekub, despite his Greek profile and
blue eyes, appears to characterize one interpretation of the Mexican mestizo.
He is a picaro [schemer] by his own admission. When Chanoc tells him that
he is the "verguenza de la familia" ["the family disgrace"], Tsekub counters
that he is only a "bien trausa" ["a consummate rogue"].49 It is no accident that
this rogue becomes the star of Chanoc. The character may well have deep
roots in Mexican history and culture. Eric Wolf, in an incisive chapter in Sons
of the Shaking Earth, summarized "a growing Middle American literature
striving to define the 'essence' [and historical development] of Mexican
national character. H5° Out of the Spanish conquest there emerged a group of
people, often the illegitimate offspring of Indo-Afro-European unions, who
belonged neither to the ruling Spanish elite nor to traditional Indian cultures.
Forced to occupy the interstices between them, the mestizo developed a
subculture suited to his precarious existence:
His chances of survival lay neither in accumulating cultural

furniture nor in cleaving to cultural norms, but in an ability
to change, to adapt, to improvise. The ever shifting nature
of his social condition forced him to move with guile and
speed through the hidden passageways of society, not to
commit himself to any one position or to any one spot.
Always he would be called upon seem both more or less
than what he was, to be both more or less than what he
seemed.51
Wolf characterized the mestizo as being rootless, a behavioral chameleon,

a master at manipulating people and situations, a macho, a power seeker over
both men and women, and a skilled improviser. The mestizo enjoys the play
of fantasy, escapes from reality via alcohol and gambling, does not commit
himself easily to anything, expects hostility and aggression from others, has
an ability to shift both means and ends, and regards all means as legitimate.52
At one time or another Tsekub exemplifies to a considerable degree all of
Wolfs mestizo traits. One can see these traits as negative cultural
stereotyping, or as an informative view of a largely positive, creative, and
adoptive response to powerful colonial and neocolonial forces in Mexico, but
it is intriguing that Zapiain did not present Tsekub in a very positive light, nor
even as a tragic figure. Rather Tsekub is comic; the readers laugh at his
personality traits. It is almost as if one complex of traits identified with the
Mexican mestizo is too painful to be popular as straight drama. Furthermore,
Zapiain clearly sided with the straight-arrow Chanoc, for it is Chanoc's values
and personality that are normally vindicated. Although in Tsekub he had
created a vastly popular mestizo type that Mexicans can laugh with, Zapiain
was in fact telling his audience that Chanoc, Tsekub's antithesis, represents the
model for legitimate behavior for the national mestizo character.
Both Chanoc and Tsekub manifest aspects of machismo. Tsekub would
embody all aspects of a macho if he could. He is overprotective towards
women, especially good-looking women in their twenties. He can be easily be
provoked into aggression toward other males, and he would like to seduce all
attractive women, if only they would cooperate. Finally, Tsekub exemplifies
a basic disdain toward women implicit in the macho complex. He is delighted
to have a buxom young beauty on his arm, but never considers marriage
except for money, and in fact never marries at all.
Unlike Tsekub, Chanoc for the most part is not a stereotypical macho.
Chanoc is kind and protective toward women, but not sexually attracted to
them. The comic book did have a romantic interest, Maley, in early stories,
but the relationship was very one-sided, for Chanoc regarded her only as a
sister. Yet the most explicit and interesting aspect of machismo in the comic
book may well be Chanoc's knife. Americo Paredes has ably demonstrated that
before the 1930s the knife was the symbol of the macho in Mexico, except
along the northern border where the gun was associated with machismo. The
knife was not associated with the coward, traitor, or renegade, as it was in
American popular culture, but with great valor and risk taking.53 Paredes asks
rhetorically: "In truth, if we imagine a confrontation between two men—one
armed with a rifle or revolver and the other with a knife—which of the two
would we say is taking the greater risk?"54 This is exactly the point that
Zapiain seems to have made, for he pitted Chanoc against great odds armed
only with his knife. Zapiain was aware that no one can really kill sharks with
a knife—rather one uses a lance or harpoon—but undoubtedly he had absorbed
the machismo symbolism traditional in southern Mexico.55
Chanoc offers an interesting case of role reversal, which may reflect the
unsettling effects of rapid urbanization and modernization in the post-World
War II underdeveloped world. In the early issues, Tsekub was a father-figure
who offered sound advice and the wisdom of his years to his godson. Chanoc
occasionally acted irresponsibly, and Tsekub even had to save his life from
time to time. About midway through Zapiain's first year of writing Chanoc,
he began to reverse these roles, at the same time fashioning the comic Tsekub.
By issue 172 (January 25, 1963), when Tsekub claims that Chanoc is often
immature and imprudent when on his own, and that he, Tsekub, must often
get Chanoc out of a scrape, Pata Larga asks Tsekub whether the truth is not
just the opposite. In fact that adventure proves Pata Larga right. Despite this
role reversal, Tsekub persists in calling Chanoc "cachorro" ["puppy"] and
Chanoc 127
"chamacon" ["overgrown kid"]. This reversal of traditional roles, and

Tsekub's persistence in denying it, may reflect the impact of the accelerating
rate of change in post World War II Mexico, which creates a situation wherein
the father can no longer provide his children with much of the information and
guidance necessary for social mobility or even maintenance of the status quo;
rather these are provided by peers and/or the education system. This situation
creates tension between generations still trying to function within the
traditional paradigm of a patriarchal, hierarchical, and authoritarian society.
In Chanoc this tension is released by characterizing an older generation as
comically ineffectual in its attempts to be young again and to adopt the mores,
fashions, and speech of a newer generation.
Chanoc himself is both traditional and modern. If one assumes that the
comic's readers identify with Chanoc, they are presented with something of a
paradox. Chanoc is close to Nature and was taught by the sea and jungle.
Even if one possessed Chanoc's natural abilities, no modern urban reader
could hope to imitate his education. Besides, Chanoc's special knowledge of
sea and jungle would be of little value to the reader in any case. Chanoc
remains static. While Tsekub attempts to adapt to change, Chanoc does not
alter his dress, speech, habits, or mores. Chanoc's thought processes,
however, are modern, rational. He rejects explanations based on belief in
charms, omens, or the supernatural. He also rejects gambling and all other
games of chance as irrational; however, he does not use this rationalism to
grapple directly with modern issues and problems. Tsekub at least makes the
attempt, although he largely fails. Chanoc's rational, ethical philosophy is
useful only to extract Tsekub from his failures before they completely destroy
him. Chanoc rejects all aspect of foreign influence and investment, but does
not offer any indigenous alternatives to the outside forces of change, except
straight-arrow morality rooted in nature. Even the indigenismo of post-
Revolutionary Mexico is rejected. Chanoc, although set in Maya country and
having heroes with Maya names, does not glorify pre-Columbian Mexico as
a means of breaking with the immediate, colonial past and stimulating the
creating of a new Mexico. Rather, the Lacandon Indians are comic caricatures,
as is Tsekub, and Chanoc is Mayan in name only. Is it sufficient to offer
readers this beguiling, if unrealistic, model of a fusion between nature and
modern rationalism? Certainly Chanoc does entertain its readers, and releases
tension in peals of laughter. Perhaps it is enough that Zapiain was so skillful
in getting Mexicans to laugh at themselves.
NOTES
1. The subtitle was dropped from the cover in late 1966 or early 1967,
although it was retained on page one until early 1968. This deletion reflected
the shift in emphasis in Chanoc from pure adventure to adventure and humor.
2. Higilio Alvarez Constantino, "La magia de los comics coloniza nuestra
cultura," Audiovision (Mexico), 2:7 (September-October 1975); 3:9 (January-
February 1976); quote found in 2:8, 574.
3. Rius [Eduardo del Rio], Numeros agotados de Los Agachados (Mexico
City: Editorial Posada, 1974), 2, 42.
4. Until January 1977, Novedades Editores was known as Publicaciones
Herrerias. Chanoc has always been a property of Novedades, which publishes
numerous comic books and photonovels, as well as the popular Mexico City
daily newspaper, Novedades.
5. Interviews with Carlos Vigil, August 1, 1978, and July 27, 1979; and
interview with Rafael Marquez Torres, August 2, 1978, all in Mexico City.
6. Pedro Zapiain Fernandez often signed his Chanoc scripts, "P.Z.
Fernandez." He was also a gifted music critic, and in order to set his music
essays apart from the comic book, he signed the former "Pedro Zapiain."
Interview with Vigil, July 27, 1979. He is referred to throughout the text as
Zapiain simply because he is better known by this name.
7. Interviews with Pedro Zapiain Fernandez, July 29, 1979, in Mexico
City; with Vigil, 1978 and 1979; and with Marquez Torres.
8. Ibid.
9. Ibid.
10. Ibid.
11. Ibid.
12. J.F.T., "Mora por telefono," SNIF: El Mitin del Nuevo Comic 1
(August 1980): 23.
13. Interviews with Vigil, 1978 and with Marquez Torres.
14. See chapters on Kaliman and Ldgrimas, risas y amor.
15. The half-million figure is cited in Alvarez Constantino, "La magia,"
577. The low figure was provided by Marquez Torres in the 1978 interview.
16. Fifty interviews, 48 in Mexico City and 2 in Cuernavaca, were
conducted by students, Julee Caspers and Ben Agar, after having completed
an introductory seminar on Mexican comics with the authors. The interviews
were obtained during June and early July, 1978. The Mexico City interviews
were conducted along San Juan de Letran, Reforma, Belisario Dominguez,
Venezuela, Juarez, Hidalgo, Alarcon, and 5 de Mayo streets. The Mexico City
areas surveyed represent a cross section of socioeconomic levels. No category
of vendor was ignored. Vendors ranged from those with large permanent metal
or wooden stands, advantageous locations, and brisk sales to those with a
Chanoc 129
minuscule stock spread on the pavement. The two Cuernavaca interviews were
conducted in the central plaza and the Guerrero market. Although they
obviously constitute a very limited sample, the vendors' estimate of the ratio
of sales did not appreciably differ from those of the larger Mexico City
sample.
17. Interviews with Vigil, 1978 and 1979; with Marquez Torres; and
with Zapiain Fernandez.
18. For a discussion of the Kalimdn survey, see the chapter on Kaliman.
19. Interviews with Vigil, 1978 and 1979; with Zapiain Fernandez; and
with Marquez Torres.
20. The fact that Chanoc is of Mayan descent is infrequently mentioned
in the comic book. See issue No. 537 (January 23, 1970) where Tsekub says
that both he and Chanoc are proud to be Mayan.
21. Interview with Zapiain Fernandez.
22. Tsekub's exact age is something of a mystery. He lies about his age,
at times claiming to be only thirty. Some estimate that he must be about sixty,
others that he actually might be as old as 104. See issues No. 59 (November
25, 1960) and No. 345 (no date since copy consulted was incomplete).
23. Tsekub's birth is placed in Mayab in issue No. 3 (October 30, 1959),
which relates his story of origin, but later in Chanoc this fact is forgotten, and
his place of birth is given as Ixtac. For example, see issue No. 345 (no date
since copy consulted was incomplete).
24. For an excellent discussion of Mexican rock music, culture, and
fashions in Veracruz, see David K. Stigberg, "Jarocho, Tropical, and 'Pop':
Aspects of Musical Life in Veracruz, 1971-1972." in Eight Urban Musical
Cultures: Tradition and Change, ed. Bruno Nettl (Urbana: University of
Illinois Press, 1978), 280-91.
25. Ixtac's transformation and resemblance to Veracruz was readily
acknowledged by both Vigil and Zapiain. Interviews with Zapiain Fernandez;
and with Vigil, 1979.
26. In his interview, Zapiain stressed that neither the Indians nor the
cannibals have any meaning beyond providing humor.
27. Interview with Vigil, 1979.
28. Zapiain viewed Merecumbre as "un niflo marginado" and "solamente
un poco comico," but Vigil described him as typical of Veracruz and a
"gracioso." Both Zapiain and Vigil believed that the portrayal of Merecumbre
was in no sense racist. Interviews with Zapiain Fernandez; and with Vigil,
1979. This view of liberal, educated Mexicans differs from that of most
liberal, educated North Americans. The most likely explanation lies in the
greater impact of the civil rights movement on the United States. On the
portrayal of blacks as "pickaninnies," see the discussion of "coons" in Donald
Bogle, Toms, Coons, Mulattoes, Mammies & Bucks: An Interpretive History

of Blacks in American Films (New York: Bantam Books, 1974).
29. Carmen Aguilar Zinser, "La historieta como instrumento para
politizar a los lectores," Excelsior (October 16, 1971), 5-B. Zapiain expressed
this same sentiment in his interview. He stated that Chanoc "repulsa la
invasion de clancos y la penetration del imperialismo capitalista en Mexico."
30. Interview with Vigil, 1979.
31. Since we did not have access to a complete run of the early Chanoc,
it is possible that issue No. 53 was not the first issue to have noticeable
political content. It may be that no complete runs exist. The Novedades
archive has disappeared over the years, and the collection of Chanoc at the
Hemeroteca Nacional, the national periodical library, is evidently not
complete.
32. In 1967, Chanoc began to print a notice on the inside of the front
cover that any resemblance of real persons or events to those in the comic was
purely imaginary. This disclaimer was undoubtedly occasioned by the fact that
from time to time Chanoc's references to real people and events had become
quite explicit.
33. These examples are from Nos. 347 (June 3, 1966), 469 (September
27, 1968), 528 (November 21, 1969), and 535 (January 9, 1970).
34. For examples of unscrupulous foreign entrepreneurs, see Nos. 24
(March 25, 1960), 53 (October 14, 1960), 55 (October 28, 1960), 181 (March
21, 1961), 347 (June 3, 1966), and 477 (November 29, 1968).
35. The adventure of Lord Halifax is recounted in No. 438 (March 2,
1968). For other cases of the tourist-collector, see Nos. 172 (January 25,
1963), and 535 (January 9, 1970).
36. For examples of sports issues, see Nos. 417 (October 6, 1967), 431
(January 12, 1968), 461 (August 9, 1968), [the Yankee issue], 469 (September
27, 1968), 470 (October 11, 1968), 473 (November 1, 1968), and 477
(November 29, 1968).
37. Jose Donoso, The Boom in Spanish American Literature: A Personal
History (New York: Columbia University Press, and Center for Inter-
American Relations, 1977), 109, refers to a volume by Luis Guillermo Piazza
entitled La mafia, which describes "a small group of friends surrounding
Carlos Fuentes in Mexico," who were devoted to mutual praise. They were
known as the mafia.
38. The examples of social parody discussed in the text are from Nos.
381 (authors' copy has no date because it is incomplete), 431 (January 12,
1968), 446 (April 26, 1968), 461 (August 9, 1968), and 528 (November 21,
1969).
39. Examples mentioned in the text of Chanoc's aid to the unfortunate are
from Nos. 23 (March 18, 1960), 52 (October 7, 1960), 54 (October 21,
Chanoc 131
1960). In later years Zapiain occasionally returned to this theme. See No. 427
(December 15, 1967) where Chanoc cracks a Miami drug ring and a United
States narcotics agent thanks Chanoc on behalf of his government.
41. The original Tarzan and supporting cast created by Edgar Rice
Burroughs often differ markedly from the characterization presented in the
movies and comic books. Our discussion compares Chanoc only with
Burroughs's Tarzan novels and draws specifically upon the following critical
studies: Irwin Proges, Edgar Rice Burroughs: The Man Who Created Tarzan
(Provo, Utah: Brigham Young University Press, 1975); Richard A. Lupoff,
Edgar Rice Burroughs: Master of Adventure, 2nd ed. (New York: Ace Books,
1968); Irene Herner de Schmelz, Tarzan, El hombre mito, SepSetentas, 139
(Mexico City: Secretarfa de Education Publica, 1974); David Cowart, "The
Tarzan Myth and Jung's Genesis of the Self," Journal of American Culture,
2:2 (Summer 1979): 220-30; Thomas A.Pendleton, "Tarzan of the Papers,"
Journal of Popular Culture, 12:4 (Spring 1979): 691-701; Camille E.
Gazedessus, Jr., "Lords of the Jungle," in The Comic-Book Book, eds. Don
Thompson and Dick Lupoff (New Rochelle, New York: Arlington House,
1973), pp. 256-89; Erling B. Holtsmark, Tarzan and Tradition: Classical
Myth in Popular Literature (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1981).
42. Irene Herner, Mitos y monitos: Historietas y fotonovelas en Mexico
(Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autonoma de Mexico, Editorial Nueva
Imagen, 1979), 122; and interviews with Marquez Torres; and with Zapiain
Fernandez.
43. Lesley Byrd Simpson, Many Mexicos, 4th ed. (Berkeley: University
of California Press, 1969).
44. See the Chapter 7 on El Payo.
46. Ibid.
47. The quotation attributed to Porfirio Diaz can be found in J.M. and
M.J. Cohen, The Penguin Dictionary of Quotations (London: Penguin Books,
1960), 133.
48. These examples are from Nos. 268 (November 27, 1964), 528
(November 21, 1969), 535 (January 9, 1970), and 591 (February 5, 1971).
49. Issue No. 483 (January 10, 1969). In his interview, Zapiain labeled
Tsekub a "picam."
50. Eric Wolf, Sons of the Shaking Earth: The People of Mexico and
Guatemala-Their Land, History, and Culture Chicago: The University of
Chicago Press, 1959), 288. See also 286-88 for the studies on Mexican
national character consulted by Wolf.
51. Ibid., 238.
52. Ibid., 233-41. John K. Chance in "On the Mexican Mestizo," Latin
American Research Review, 14:3 (1979): 153-68, convincingly argues that
Wolfs assumption of a connection between twentieth-century nationalism and
the emergence of the colonial mestizo is not supported by hard evidence.
Chance's comments are primarily based on evidence from Oaxaca, which tends
to show that people were not in fact racially classified in urban centers
between the seventeenth and early nineteenth centuries in the ways that Wolf
describes. Chance, however, does not challenge Wolfs linking of
contemporary Mexican nationalism and the mestizo as a national symbol, nor
Wolfs statements regarding national character. Chance does correctly point
out that the terms "mexicano" and "mestizo" are often used interchangeably
today in Mexico, and that mexicano is a cultural concept, not a racial one.
53. Americo Paredes, "The United States, Mexico, and Machismo,"
Journal of the Folklore Institute, 3 (June 1971): 30-35.
54. Ibid., 32.
55. Interview with Zapi&n Fernandez.
Comic book, magazine, and newspaper stand. Reforma Avenue, Mexico City, in the mid-1970s.
Photo by Ben Agar.
Kalimdn cover. Issue no. 38 (August 20, 1966).
Los supermachos cover. Issue no. 65 (March 30, 1967).
Los agachados cover. Issue no. 170 (September 25, 1974).
Post-Rius Los supermachos cover. Issue no. 653 (July 6, 1978).
Ldgrimas, risas y amor cover. Issue no. 471 (December 13, 1971).
La familia Burron cover. Issue no. 49 (August 17, 1979).
Chanoc cover. Issue no. 461 (August 9, 1968). (Tsekub vs. a
Yankee farm team.)
El Payo cover. Issue no. 144 (July 17, 1969).
La novela policiaca cover. Issue no. 970 (August 26, 1976).
7
El Payo
I. The Comic Book
El Payo: Un hombre contra el mundo [A Man Against the World]1 is an

action-packed Western set in the fictional town of Vilmayo2 in the Bajio region
of central Mexico. According to the comic-book scholar Maurice Horn, El
Payo often rivals the best American westerns in zest and imagination.3 Created
by Guillermo Vigil in October 1966, the comic book appeared weekly until
February 1980. Vigil had had a considerable apprenticeship in the Mexican
comic-book industry. Between 1958 and 1966, when his brother Carlos
founded Editora Senda, which would publish El Payo, Guillermo did cartoons
for German Butze's Los supersahios [The Wise Guys], wrote scripts for the
Western Alma grande [Big Soul], and supervised script production for several
comic books at Publicaciones Herrenas. Vigil is also an amateur artist of note.
He studied at the Escuela Libre de Arte y Publicidad [Free School of Art and
Advertising] and under the painter Robin Bond. His paintings have been
exhibited in Mexico City.4
Vigil wrote El Payo's scripts, which exhibit his careful attention to
authentic characterization, settings, and dialogue, as well as literate language.
To insure the comic book's authenticity, Vigil undertook a study of charros
[cowboys]. In fact, early issues of the comic book have information on charro
competitions and language on the inside cover. When his attempts to interview
charros met with little cooperation, he drew upon stories of the revolution told
to him by his mother, upon contemporary accounts of unscrupulous rural
strongmen, and upon literary works incorporating portraits of revolutionaries
and their impact on rural life, especially stories of Nellie Campobello (1909-
69).5
Vigil was assisted by several skilled artists, although the overall
conception, including the graphic layout, basically follows his directives.6
Angel Mora, better known for his work on the very popular adventure comic
book Chanoc, rendered the early scripts visually in a dark, complicated,
dramatic style that, nevertheless, offered a lush, serene portrayal of
landscapes. Since midway through the comic-book's first year, the art work
was taken over by Fausto Buendia Vasquez, who drew El Payo in a cleaner,
more linear style with greater attention to authentic detail. Buendia's primary
goal was to portray settings and action alike in an uncomplicated, simple
style,7 and almost until the final numbers, he was quite successful in doing
so. Evidently, however, rising production costs resulted in a reduction of
panel size and less care with artistic rendering. The earlier style was replaced
by a busier one, and considerably less care was given to detailed rendition and
coloring.
According to its publishers, El Payo sold best in the provinces and had
weekly sales ranging from 120,000 to 400,000.8 A survey of Mexico City and
Cuernavaca periodical vendors concluded that the comic book sold
approximately one copy for every fifteen of the best-selling romance comic
Ldgrimas, risas y amor, eleven of the immensely popular superhero Kalimdn,
and two of the popular Chanoc.9 Initially, its less complicated plots and
simpler language appealed primarily to the urban and rural working class. In
later issues the author still aimed to be understood by the common people, but
the comic book's complex plots and more literate script were read
predominately by a more educated audience, those with a secondary school or
higher education.10 In the opinion of Guillermo Vigil, sales were largely
restricted to Mexico because the comic book's use of colloquialisms was not
readily understood outside of the country.11 Carlos Vigil believes that the
readership had always been predominantly male12, and this impression is
supported by surveying fan letters, which are overwhelmingly from males.13
Fan letters also suggest that the comic book's appeal was based on the
great diversity and unusual (for a comic book) complexity of its dramatis
personae, the skillful rendering of dramatic Western adventures, and its first-
rate art. One letter simply stated that El Payo represented a world we would
all like to live in. This comment presumably referred to the ideal social and
economic situation of the comic book's heroes and to the resolution of
conflicts in favor of high moral standards and the disadvantaged.14
El Payo's popularity may have been further enhanced by the fact that some
eighty chapters of the comic book have been broadcast over the radio under
the direction of Amparo Garrido; three adventures, including the comic book's
original story, have been made into movies starring Jorge Rivera as El Payo;
and El Payo has been immortalized in a corrido [ballad] by Juan S. Garrido.15
The last issue, No. 694, appeared February 27, 1980. A complicated set
of factors came together to lead to a sharp fall in sales and to cause El Payo's
cancellation: a change in format, which increased the size of each issue but
El Payo 135
at the same time reduced its length from forty-eight to thirty-two pages; and
a rougher, less finished art style by Antonio Cardoso, who had replaced the
masterful Buendia. New competitors entered the market, most noticeably El
libro vaquero [The Cowboy Book] in late 1978. It offered substantial
competition with its more American-style stories and graphics. El libro
vaquero would dominate the Western comic-book niche in the 1980s. Finally,
a financial crisis at Editora Senda forced the reduction of its publication list
to just its fine photonovel Linda.16
II. The Comic Book's Principal Characters
Juan Jose* Panadero, nicknamed El Payo, is the comic book's central

character. The first few covers portrayed him as a dark-skinned Indian, but
within six months his skin color was lightened to that of a mestizo, although
villains contemptuously continued to label him and his fellow campesinos
[peasants] Indians.17 Tall, handsome, and powerfully built, he dresses in a
typical charro costume.18 He does not possess any superhero powers or special
gadgets. For example, he does not have Superman-like X-ray vision nor
equipment like Batman's Batmobile or Spiderman's web-shooter. At times El
Payo does seem to have a sixth sense for danger, and he is strong enough to
bend tempered steel as if it were made of chicle. Basically, though, he is a
normal human being who has refined the qualities one would expect of the
consummate charro, all of which he learned from his father, Alvaro. Certainly
he is not a payo [country bumpkin], as he has been nicknamed by the comic
book's principal villains, the local latifundistas [large landowners]. Juan Jose
is a superb horseman who can ride steeds that no other charro can manage. He
wields his .38 revolver with unusual skill. No rival can draw faster or shoot
more accurately. When someone foolishly pulls a gun on Juan Jose, before the
challenger can pull the trigger El Payo either shoots the gun out of his hand
or shoots him dead, hitting him squarely between the eyes. El Payo's lariat
always finds its target. He is an exceptional guitar player and singer. And all
women of a reasonable age (whether heroines, villainesses, country lasses, or
urbane starlets) find him irresistible.
Even when quite young, Juan Jose was no payo, and from chapter one he
was so skillful a charro and leader of other rancheros that even Vilmayo's
villainous landowner felt compelled to hire him as his chief caporal [foreman].
El Payo also matured as his adventures unfolded. He became less trusting of
villains and physically more skilled. For example, in his first comic-book
fistfight he was nearly beaten by a trained boxer, but, learning quickly, he
bested his adversary. El Payo never again fought unskillfully.
While women constantly scheme to seduce Juan Jose\ and even

occasionally manage to steal a kiss, he is completely faithful to his wife
Guadalupe (Lupe or Lupita) Ramos, who is also his only sweetheart. Lupita,
too, was initially portrayed on the covers as a dark-hued Indian, then later as
a mestiza. She is an illegitimate child of the latifundista who was the principal
villain until his death in the comic book's ninth year. Her father had never
openly recognized her, and until her marriage she struggled to eke out a living
as a washerwoman. Yet her father's occasional stirrings of feeling toward her
allowed either Lupita and/or Juan Jose to evade more than one dire turn of
events.
Lupita is the most beautiful woman in Vilmayo and its environs. Indeed
she is frequently described in lyrical, seductive language. How could any red-
blooded male reader not fall in love with this peach-complexioned, dark-eyed,
raven-haired beauty, whose voluptuous figure, despite four children, is as firm
as that of a seventeen-year-old girl? In addition to these charms, Lupita has an
innocent face; candid, childlike eyes; a small, warm, perhaps even provocative
mouth tasting of honey; and sensuality; all these qualities make her irresistible,
at least to villains, who often feel driven to foolhardy attempts to rape her.
They fail, for not only is Juan Jose relentless in tracking them down and
ruthless in his revenge, but Lupita herself is a resourceful charra—with
excellent horsemanship, superb shooting skill, and accuratefists—whowill die
before anyone stains her honor. We are left with no doubt that this is a woman
worthy of our hero— nuna mujer muy mujer*19 [the ideal woman]; however, the
comic book's earliest issues cast her as decidedly unresourceful. She was
simple, innocent, and vulnerable. Only after her marriage, did she gradually
assume a more self-reliant role. She was killed at the age of twenty, some two
years after her marriage by her archrival from the very first issue, the local
latifundista's daughter.
El Payo, after a protracted struggle, succeeded in gaining freedom for
himself and his fellow rural workers, although he must constantly struggle to
maintain this freedom. Initially the local citizens had lost their lands and were
forced laborers cowering under the local landowner's tyranny. At first El Payo
did not desire to overthrow the landowner and seemed reasonably satisfied as
his caporal. Then a series of misfortunes, injustices, and conniving villains
caused El Payo to turn on his employer. He indeed became a man against his
world and joined in the armed struggle. In fact, the rebellion would have
collapsed without his leadership and skills, for it was widely believed in
Vilmayo that only he had the courage necessary to defeat the local landowner.
He nearly single-handedly regained the villagers' lands and ran the evil
usurper and his hired guns out of town, but not out of the region. He also
succeeded in fulfilling his principal goal: he became a bourgeois capitalist, a
landowner of considerable means with vast lands and numerous stock.
El Payo 137
The rancheros* initial dependency on Juan Jose* continues, for the depos
landowner remains a threat and on at least one occasion his forces regain
control of Vilmayo. Other similarly motivated villains always threaten; and,
more importantly, the local populace seems incapable of true independence.
Thus, El Payo becomes a beneficent cacique. The vision of a better future for
Vilmayo is his. He sees to the planting of summer pastures and improvement
of stock, he insures that legal title to stolen lands is regained, and he provides
a source of fresh water for the village. When the village is threatened by a pair
of rampaging bulls, only El Payo can subdue them. In turn, Vilmayo's
rancheros explicitly recognize his superior status; when his first child was
born, every woman in town brought flowers to celebrate the birth, which was
also celebrated with a town fiesta.
El Payo also provides the villagers with a role model. The openly amorous
relationship between El Payo and his wife—they rarely miss an opportunity to
embrace and kiss publicly—is a model of marital bliss and of a strong nuclear
family. While initially Juan Jose smoked and even occasionally got drunk, he
soon gave up cigarettes, and drank only moderately.20 He aids and shelters
society's rejects. He never harms women, even when they are violently
attacking him—the sole exception being his vengeance killing of Lupita's
murderer. El Payo rarely moralizes, but rather leads by example. He does,
however, sometimes warn his followers that there are only two classes of men:
those who use a gun skillfully, and those who die. Needless to say, he does
not hesitate to use his gun and believes in the Old Testament teaching of "an
eye for an eye." He values individuals on the basis of their honesty, integrity,
friendship, and respect.
Drawing on the comic sidekicks of traditional Mexican westerns, and
perhaps on Cervantes' Sancho Panza as well, Guillermo Vigil created
Inocencia Lopez Chorejo, or "Chencho," to provide a comic contrast to Juan
Jose.21 Chencho is fat, not very talented, clumsy, and a braggart. He wears ill-
fitting clothes and rides a flea-bitten burro. Although married, he is
excessively fond of young women, but always has bad luck in love. He drinks
heavily and has a marked tendency to commit ludicrous faux pas. He also has
a real talent for getting himself into difficult situations from which, of course,
our hero extracts him. Yet Chencho is well-meaning, and El Payo genuinely
likes him, for they have shared many adventures, and he is Chencho's
compadre. On occasion Chencho has even suffered bodily harm in order to
protect Juan Jose. Perhaps to ensure some income for the Lopez family,
Chencho also sometimes serves as the servant of the Panadero family, thus
underscoring his dependency on El Payo. Juan Jose, as well as others, refers
to him, only partly in jest, as both "the tiger of Vilmayo" and "the Devil's
potbelly."
The villainous local land-grabbing family, the Pesqueiras, provide a

completely negative contrast to the Panaderos, for the two families symbolize
the struggle of good and evil. The evil family, headed by Tomas Pesqueira
Vidal,22 does not even show loyalty within the family unit. Both Tomas and
his wife, Lucrecia Rivas de Pesqueira, cheat on each other. Family members
frequently loathe their kin, rarely show any warmth toward one another, and
are even willing to kill close relatives to further their own greedy goals.
Tomas, despite his own lower-class origins, believes that the local Indians
were born to be exploited and should therefore be forced to work from sunrise
to sunset and be fed only tortillas with chile sauce. He built his kingdom,
initially, by usurping the lands of the local peasants, and then maintained it by
hired guns, crooked lawyers, drug trafficking, even a pact with the Devil.
Tomas at first succeeded in his evil schemes, yet in the end he fails. His son,
Tomas Jr., is a pompous ass, a coward, a drug addict, and is alienated from
Mexican culture. His wife despises his lower-class origins, attempts to steal
the family fortune, and eventually becomes insane for years. His daughter,
Lilia, has received her every wish, but disappoints him. She rejects much of
her native culture and from the comic book's initial chapter lusts after his
archenemy, Juan Jose. Only his illegitimate son, Marcial Pesqueira Catano—
who assumes leadership of the Pesqueira estates after Don Tomas is killed by
Juan Jose—fulfills his expectations. He ultimately fails, despite aid from the
Devil and witches, because he badly underestimates the "outlaw" El Payo and
his "stupid" Indians.
El Payo has an immense supporting cast, each member of which is
generally developed into a full-fledged character. For the most part they are
divided into allies of the Panaderos or of the villains. Space precludes even a
listing of this multitude, but a representative sample might include the
following characters. Alvaro Panadero, Juan Jose's father, was killed unfairly
by Tomas Pesqueira in an early chapter. He taught Juan Jose his basic credo
and skills and never kowtowed to the Pesqueiras. It is not clear why Alvaro
did not lead an earlier rebellion against the latifundista, since he also has
"muchos pantalones," except that this situation does allow the author to use
the plot convention often employed in Westerns of the hero hunting for his
father's murderer.23 Dolores, the beautiful fortune-teller, a former Mexico City
nurse and sometime mistress of Don Tomas, became the lover of the local
doctor. Her rescue from Pesqueira's hired thugs was the motivation for the
initial rebellion, but she was eventually killed and appears later in the comic
as a spirit. The aged Crescenciano Valdiviesco24 hid a fortune in gold coins
years ago when he was paymaster of some revolutionary troops. Tortured by
the federal forces to reveal the payroll's whereabouts, he went crazy and
became Vilmayo's village idiot. Thereafter he earned his living by singing and
playing his violin in cantinas in exchange for donations. He eventually was
El Payo 139
foully murdered by Don Tomis. El Payo found the money, which helped
finance the successful revolt against the Pesqueira clan. Colonel Felicitas
Harriero, a former Zapatista revolutionary, married Lupe's mother, Maria
Ramos, and acts as if the Revolution had never ended.25 During the initial
struggle against the Pesqueira clan, the Colonel and his band of armed
followers provided Juan Jose with decisive armed support. Yet the Colonel's
band and the revolution they represent could not have decisively freed
Vilmayo and sustained that freedom; only our hero is ultimately capable of
this.
Especially prominent today among the comic book's supporting cast are
its numerous phantoms. Initially there were no phantoms in the comic book,
but as characters died they entered the spirit world. Their introduction was a
result of Vigil's desire to further increase the comic book's popularity by
amplifying its horrific element, since he believed that fear of spirits is
widespread in Mexico. He was also considerably influenced by Juan Rulfo's
Pedro Pdramo. Reader response was quite favorable to these spine-tingling
spirits, and Vigil greatly expanded their role in the comic book.26 The spirits
frequently interact with the comic book's human characters, but are not
simplistically divided into forces supporting the struggle between good and
bad. They directly help many of those with problems or simply warn them
about impending trouble. They exact vengeance for real or imagined wrongs
committed against them, or warn the living that a planned course of action is
not moral and will result in inescapable bad luck. Some spirits just seem to
populate the landscape for no particular purpose. A few, such as Death and
Death's Carter, delight in practical jokes. These two characters repeatedly trick
Juan Jose into believing someone dear will die, but then they reveal a different
corpse. Near Vilmayo there also exists an entire town, Tetela del Rio,
inhabited only by spirits, perhaps modeled upon the town of Comala in Pedro
Pdramo. El Payo's attitude toward this netherworld seems to set him
somewhat apart, for while he has a special ability to speak with spirits, he
neither fears them nor always takes them seriously. More often than not, the
rancheros believe he is crazy for claiming to speak with spirits.27
The reader never meets the narrator, the comic book's most important
character other than Juan Jose. Initially the narration was quite limited but
soon expanded to the point where Vigil felt it necessary to somewhat limit it
so that the action-oriented reader would not become bored. Even so, the comic
book came to have an unusual amount of explanatory and descriptive
narration. The narrator sets the scene, establishes the time sequence, guides us
through the intricate plots, and provides much of the comic book's limited
moralizing. El Payo is characterized by unusually detailed attention to
geography and time. Every noteworthy feature of the landscape is named and
located relative to other features. Although at times the time sequences are
vague or telescoped, we are told the ages of characters, how many years have
elapsed since an incident, and even the specific date for an event. While the
narrator is not omniscient, he is able to alert readers to impending crises, give
them explanations for behavior, and provide them with suspense-building notes
that inform them that eventually they will understand a particular character or
event. The narrator further comments on the action with short, moralistic
sayings, most of which are drawn from collections of famous quotes.28 For
example, we are told that love is cruel; that one can play games but that fate
will determine the outcome; that fear is the father of cruelty; and that violence
only begets violence. Taken together the sayings suggest a presciption for
socially approved, yet self-reliant, action tempered by an understanding of love
and fate and the mystery of life.
El Payo's plots are unusually intricate, and, like many elements in the
comic book, these became more complex over the years. In addition to the
ceaseless struggle between the Panaderos and Pesqueiras, there are myriad
minor plots, several of which are developed simultaneously in a given issue.
Other villains, with aims and ambitions similar to those of the Pesqueira clan,
are engaged and ultimately defeated. Humans interact with the spirit world,
and a host of characters constantly lust after wealth, Juan Jose, or Lupita.
Much of the action centers around a seemingly endless struggle by the
Panaderos to reunite their nuclear family, as either one of the parents or
children have momentarily fallen into the grasp of some scoundrel. Finally,
many characters are not static but change and develop over time. Juan Jose,
for example, marries and raises a family.
Most of the characteristics of El Payo's plots29 can be illustrated by the
subadventure centered on the cacique Concepci6n Otamendi, which ran for
some forty issues in 1969-70. Juan Jose and Chencho are on their way to
Mexico City to track down two murderers when they make an unscheduled
stop in San Crispin el Alto, Otamendi's pueblo. Otamendi, or "El Sapo" [The
Toad] as he is nicknamed because of his unappealing physical appearance,
epitomizes the ruthless villain. His great wealth has been illegally gained at the
expense of the local rancheros, and his power is sustained by his unscrupulous
hired guns. He has subjected a considerable portion of the local populace to
forced labor in his mine and ruthlessly kills the families of those who escape.
He loves to stalk maidens whom he then rapes. He revels in sadistic torture,
even burning his mistress with his cigar. Despite the outward appearance of
total control, Otamendi is basically a coward, which ultimately is his undoing.
Until El Payo's arrival no one has dared challenge El Sapo's hated tyranny.
Both the local people and Otamendi have heard of Juan Jose and his
Vilmayo exploits, and the rancheros simultaneously believe that he has the
pantalones to right matters and yet that no one can topple El Sapo. Juan Jose
struggles heroically, often unaided and with frequent reversals, to defeat the
El Payo 141
cacique and his lieutenants. The well-meaning Chencho repeatedly bungles his
assignment, but withstands torture without divulging information helpful to the
enemy. Two young damsels, Gloria Huesca, a former mistress of Otamendi,
and Fabiola Colet, a blond, blue-eyed starlet, must be saved from certain rape
and/or death. Juan Jose frees the forced laborers and integrates them into a
fighting force that at times carries on the struggle armed only with stones and
machetes. At one crucial moment, the spirit of Alvaro Panadero distracts his
son just long enough to save him from an ambush. In the end, when Otamendi
and his top officers have met a suitably tragic end, Juan Jose refuses the
7,000,000 pesos recovered from Otamendi's loot. El Payo insists on dividing
the monies among the local populace and enriches each person by 35,000
pesos. El Payo also refuses to become the local cacique, rejects a gift of
extensive lands, and then rides off for Vilmayo, leaving a contented, free
people dreaming of buying longed-for furniture, livestock, cars, and the like.
Interwoven with the struggle to end oppression in San Crispin is a series
of events that, for the most part, take place back in Vilmayo. The Pesqueira
family vacillates between totally disintegrating and regrouping against their
rivals. Lupe gives birth to her first child, Payito, without knowing the
whereabouts of her husband. She is frequently in danger and often escapes
harm only because of the intervention of spirits. Susanita Garcia, a spirit who
resides in the Panadero house, protects Lupe from being axed to death by one
of two shady, ruthless Texan cowboys. They are stalking her, bent on
torturing her to learn the whereabouts of the Panadero fortune. Susanita also
reveals to Lupe who her real father is and that he loves her even though he is
emotionally unable to express his feelings. At about the same time, Alvaro
communicates to his son that Don Tomas has killed him. Through the help of
Maria de Ceniza, an herbalist who will shortly become a wandering spirit who
frequently aids the Panadero family, Lupe learns the whereabouts of El Payo
and sets out to find him—only to be trailed by the desperados. At one point she
is protected by the spirit of Crescenciano. Lupe kills one of the desperados,
who had himself already killed his partner so as not to have to divide the
anticipated loot. The Panadero family is then reunited, and Juan Jose at long
last learns that he is a father.
As will be obvious from a number of the preceding comments, this comic
book definitely had undergone some important changes since it first appeared.
El Payo began as a fairly straightforward Western, with many of its traditional
elements:30 the big rancher and his hired guns, the cowboy hero who becomes
an outsider,31 the hero's special horse whom no one else can ride, the hero's
exceptional skills. El Payo also included some fairly traditional anti-Porfirian32
elements: criticism of the rich who ape foreign ways, and praise for the Indian
and mestizo peasants. Yet by the mid-1970s so many extraneous components
had been added that almost the only Western elements left were the costumes,
horses, and guns. Even the anti-Porfirian aspects seem less pronounced.
More specifically, the relatively "clean" violence of the early issues began
to verge on sadomasochism. For example, in one number, the villain's
daughter was whipped and branded. The romantic element became cheesecake.
Hemlines soared and necklines plunged, and seminudity began to be
encountered in nearly every chapter. Finally, the fatalistic element turned into
witchcraft. One of the most extreme examples is the magical maturing of El
Payo's daughter.33
i n . Comparison with Other Western Comic Books
Until studies are made of the Mexican Western, one must turn elsewhere
to place Guillermo Vigil's Western in a comparative perspective. Because El
Payo does reflect several of the genre's conventions and themes,34 Maurice
Horn has included it in his study of Western comic books. Yet because El
Payo has been created by a Mexican and set in Mexico, there are also many
differences between the archetypal American Western's settings, character
types, or plots and those created by Vigil.
El Payo's settings differ considerably from the conventional American
Western. El Payo is not set in the American West during the second half of
the nineteenth century. Landscape is important in El Payo, but it is not the
primeval earth ready to be tamed by advancing civilization. Vilmayo is not a
post-Civil War-era frontier town, poised between savagery and civilization,
and there are no open spaces symbolizing unbounded opportunities. Vilmayo
and the surrounding region have long ago been settled. The townspeople's
primary objective is not to establish families, homes, farms, and businesses,
but to reestablish what has been usurped.
Many of the character types in El Payo could be transposed to the
conventional American Western, but there are important differences.
Characteristically, the American hero has a special relationship with his horse,
and his steed reflects his own intelligence, cunning and stamina. Like many
TV western stars, he has a Sancho Panza-type sidekick. El Payo, like all
Western heroes, is a man with a gun whose exceptional skills are vital to
resolve violent conflict and restore law and order. On the other hand, Juan
Jose is not a free, roving spirit who rejects domesticity or who makes a
commitment to community and family only when the adventure ends. He is an
integral part of Vilmayo and strongly identifies with his pueblo. He is not
reluctant towards women. His true companion is Lupe, not a group of
masculine comrades. Juan Jose is not the strong, reticent type; rather, he is
quite talkative and enjoys social interaction. He also is atypical in that he is
El Payo 143
an advocate of hard work and enterprise and is actually shown as a working

rancher. He does not dress like a working cowboy, however, but in a festive
charro outfit, not unlike those of Western singing cowboys.
There is a good woman-bad woman duality in El Payo. The good woman
is, of course, Lupe. However, she does not fit the predominant stereotype of
being always submissive, unless her honor is threatened, nor of being
primarily confined to the kitchen. Neither does she function as a plot device
to provide motivation for the hero's exploits. She does partially conform to the
sub-genre Western in which a woman assumes the role of the hero's masculine
companions and becomes the cowboy's true comrade. She also forms part of
the conventional hero-woman-villain triangle, in which the villain's objective
is rape. There are no dance hall girls in El Payo, but bad women, as one
would expect, are primarily characterized by being too forward sexually, and
they are often from urban areas.
Villains in El Payo largely conform to the expected stereotype. Tomas
Pesqueira is a worthy rival of Juan Jose. The contrast between the Pesqueiras
and Panaderos is drawn in black-and-white terms. The Pesqueiras are
unprincipled and will use any means to satiate their greed for power, money,
and land. Many villains' outward bravado masks cowardice. "Baddies" in El
Payo are often deviant in behavior and even in physical appearance, but for
the most part their style of dress does not set them apart.
El Payo's plots differ significantly from those of traditional Western. As
expected, townspeople are victimized and defrauded by the villains, and the
message that crime does not pay is abundantly clear. But many plot
conventions such as the following are missing from El Payo: cattle rustling,
stagecoach holdups, cattle drives, bank robberies, range wars, masked bandits,
rampaging Indian tribes, as well as the ritual of the "draw." These conventions
do not fit either the time or place central to the comic book's main theme of
the struggle between the dispossessed and the rural robber barons. On the
other hand, Ralph and Donna Brauer's assertion that "First and foremost the
Western is definitely anti-technology. ... Where the trappings of technology
are found in the Western they are always portrayed negatively,"35 fits nicely
with the Panaderos' aversion to urban ways and modern technology. And the
plot conventions essential to the Western—the struggle between good and evil,
the villainy that justifies the hero's violent acts—are not missing from El Payo.
The Lone Ranger, created in 1933 as a radio program, is undoubtedly the
most popular of all American Westerns. It had phenomenal success in the
comics, appearing as a comic strip for thirty-three years (1938-71) and as a
comic book from 1939 on. Thus it provides an especially interesting contrast
with El Payo.2*
The Lone Ranger, unlike El Payo, made only the sparsest use of
background landscapes and vegetation, although there is no doubt that it is set,
in terms of place and time, in the legendary West. Important dates and a sense
of the passage of time, which characterize El Payo, are almost entirely missing
from the masked avenger's adventures. The Lone Ranger's action takes place
in plots typically associated with Westerns, and it avoids even parallels to any
controversial contemporary subjects. In contrast, El Payo, while not directly
treating contemporary problems, does employ obvious parallels, especially to
the contemporary struggle between land defrauders and their victims. Despite
these differences, both comic books do share an especially strong emphasis on
action and excitement, as well as stories are more about people in trouble than
the recovery of stolen things. The villains in both comic books conform to the
expected stereotype, being the antithesis of the hero, and some villains in each
are special nemeses who preoccupy the hero for years.
The Lone Ranger provides a sharp contrast to Juan Jose Panadero. The
Lone Ranger is mysterious, hiding his real identity behind a mask or ingenious
disguises. Even those whom he helps never learn much about him, as each
adventure ends with "Who was that Masked Man?" "That's the Lone Ranger."
"Hi-yo Silver, away!" The masked avenger is steeped in symbolism—silver
bullets, a silver stallion with silver shoes, a black mask. He has purposely
forsaken any family and community ties to roam the West and carry out his
vow of vengeance against evil doers and to pursue his goal of furthering
patriotism. This is a man with a definite mission, mentioned repeatedly: the
narrator tells us, "This is the legend of a man who buried his identity to
dedicate his life to the service of humanity and country." The Lone Ranger is
a paragon of virtue. He never drinks, smokes, lies, or swears. He always uses
the best English. He may operate outside the law, but he settles matters with
his fists. In his long career he only killed one man with his gun. Extralegal
violence and personal vengeance are not emphasized, and in the end he turns
the villain over to the justice system. Every single adventure is a moral
parable, a clear-cut example of the triumph of good. In the final anlaysis, the
Lone Ranger and El Payo are similar only in their exceptional skills with
horse, gun, and lariat.
The Lone Ranger is, of course, aided by his faithful companions Tonto,
Silver, and Dan Reid. Tonto stands in stark contrast to Juan Jose's humorous,
bumbling sidekick Chencho. Both the Masked Man and Tonto rarely even
chuckle. Their creators envisioned their mission as far too serious for
laughter. Tonto is taciturn and speaks in clipped phrases like "Me called
Tonto." Chencho is loquacious and though he often chooses an inappropriate
phrase, he does not speak broken Spanish. Unlike Chencho, Tonto is an
important asset, with his extensive knowledge of nature and his honed survival
skills. Chencho often is a coward, while Tonto repeatedly displays bravery and
heroism. Both sidekicks have lower status than their heroes, but Tonto is a
chieftain's son. The sidekicks do share a few similar characteristics. For
El Payo 145
example, both are outsiders, since Tonto is an Indian and Chencho was not
born in Vilmayo. Both are fiercely dedicated to their heroes and will undergo
torture without betraying them.
Silver, not unlike several of Juan Jose's steeds, is a magnificent horse that
is an essential member of the vigilante team. He is anthropomorphized to the
extent that he understands their work and often assists the masked avenger,
although never to the extent that El Payo's favorite horse did when he
trampled to death a villainess who was about to kill Juan Jose. Silver is also
different in that his incomparable speed always gives the Lone Ranger the
means to overtake any villain. And although El Payo can be most affectionate
with his horses, unlike the Lone Ranger he shows more love toward women
than toward his mount. Dan Reid, the Lone Ranger's nephew and only living
relative, is a teenage sidekick. He is an ordinary boy who attends school part
of the year in the East. Even though Dan Reid is supposed to carry on the
Lone Ranger's mission after his death, Dan has no weapon and it is difficult
to believe he would be able to do so effectively. El Payo's son, Payito,
however, is truly a miniature Juan Jose, and will clearly assume his father's
mantle some day.
Like most comic books, El Payo reflects, to varying degrees, the culture
of which it is a product. For the most part the landscape, costumes, people,
villages, and ranches visually remind the reader of mestizo, rural Mexico. In
terms of its physical appearance and institutions, Vilmayo resembles many
towns in the Bajfo region. Yet there are two important exceptions. First,
Vilmayo has no school.37 Second, children learn what is necessary from their
elders. And because the author did not want to offend anyone's personal
religious beliefs, he greatly reduced the role of religion in the life of
Vilmayo.38 There is a Catholic Church and local priest. Villagers are married
and buried by the Church, and the village celebrates its patron saint's day, but
given the important role of spirits and of the fatalistic element in the comic
book, it is genuinely surprising how infrequently the Church and/or its
shepherds are alluded to. It is rare that anyone makes the sign of the cross.
This reduced role stems partially from the historical controversy over the
Church's place in Mexican life. It also implies that the Church and the schools
do not adequately serve rural Mexico. Certainly many Mexicans have only a
brief encounter with formal education, and an undermanned Church cannot
adequately serve many areas of rural Mexico. Furthermore, the absence of a
school and the limited role of the Church creates a more expansive stage for
Juan Jose's heroic exploits.39
Guillermo Vigil also consciously attempted to ignore politics in El Payo.40

In an important sense he did successfully remove politics. There are no
political campaigns in Vilmayo; and although the town does have a sheriff, the
regional and national governments are totally absent. And in what must
certainly be a negative comment on the effectiveness of the Mexican political
process (and perhaps not far off the mark for rural Mexico) progress and social
mobility are not a result of political or government action, but rather of the
emergence of heroes like Juan Jose\ The comic book is political only in the
sense that Juan Jose provides solutions to problems that the Mexican
government has not solved. In fact, the struggle between good and evil in the
comic book is an allegory of the hope and promise implicit in the Mexican
Revolution. El Payo identifies himself with Emiliano Zapata41 when he refers
to "my General Zapata" and fulfills the Zapatista dream by regaining his
people's freedom and their traditional village lands.
It was also primarily the author's intent that the constant struggle between
the Panaderos and decent citizens of Vilmayo and the various wicked
latifundistas and their allies be a representation of the post-Revolution
struggles between robatierras, or robber barons, and Mexico's rural
descamisados [literally, shirtless ones].42 Indeed, Porfirian-like local and
national caciques do push at will around those without power and connections.
This fact is tragically illustrated by the celebrated case of Ruben Jaramillo,
who protested the theft of his village's communal lands by real estate
developers, only to be murdered by state troops. Another example is presented
by the recent despoliation of peasant lands in Mexico's booming oil fields.43
While social scientists hotly debate the extent to which the standard of
living has improved in recent decades for the Mexican masses,44 the comic
book's rancheros believe they have made substantial progress. Furthermore,
they hope to achieve even more for themselves and their children. El Payo,
at one point, dreams of his children becoming not just prosperous ranchers,
but millionaires. Importantly, these successes are won on behalf of the poor
and oppressed and at the expense of the upper class. Villains definitely have
a higher socioeconomic status than Juan Jose's rancheros, who are
characterized as Indians, although mestizo would be more accurate. While
such great gains at the expense of the powerful make good copy for a nonelite
audience, for El Payo's readership they more truly represented an escape than
a concrete reality.
Mexico has a mixed economy.45 It is basically capitalist but also has
significant sectors controlled by the state. In the world of Vilmayo, there are
no government-controlled sectors, nor is there any of the vague village
socialism associated with the ejido46 movement. Rather, the Panaderos and
Pesqueiras represent divergent forms of capitalism. The Pesqueiras family's
capitalism is oppressive and essentially rests on brute force. The Panaderos
El Payo 147
family's capitalism is benevolent and ultimately relies on hard work,

revolutionary struggle, and especially luck. When Juan Jose finds more than
28,000,000 pesos, he acquires the essential means to build his economic base
and to wage war against the Pesqueira clan. Clearly such luck provides no
meaningful model for upward socioeconomic mobility, except in the land of
make-believe.
Juan Jose* does provide a somewhat more realistic example of how the
benevolent and enlightened capitalist ought to spend his money. Unike Don
Tomas, El Payo will not acquire wealth by illegal means, cannot be bought,
and will not use his money to buy other men's loyalties in order to control the
lower classes. Even though Juan Jose will not measure a man's worth by his
wealth, like Don Tomas he does use his money to enhance his nouveau riche
status. Juan Jose builds a large, fancy house, buys the finest livestock, and
lavishes expensive gifts such as a mink coat and diamond earrings on Lupe.
Both the Pesqueiras and the Panaderos enjoy being conspicuous consumers; but
Juan Jose also gives expensive gifts such as new homes to Vilmayo's
rancheros, while Don Tomas greedily robs and enslaves the same villagers.
Despite this difference, El Payo's benevolent gifts never raise the villagers to
his own socioeconomic status. Thus, even though his Vilmayo is filled with
prosperous small capitalists, rather than the forced laborers under his rival, the
end effect of both families' economic actions is identical in one important
aspect: both result in a capitalistic class system, which ultimately does not
offer much hope for socioeconomic mobility to impoverished Mexican masses,
especially since Juan Jose's plutocracy is ultimately based not on skill and hard
work but on wealth acquired through luck. Despite appearances to the
contrary, El Payo sanctions a variant of Mexico's economic status quo.
The comic book also glorifies the family as the single most important
social institution, which, of course, it is in Mexico.47 The family is the only
social institution given considerable attention in the comic book, and it is
clearly idealized. The nuclear unit of Juan Jose, Lupita, and their children is
a picture of marital and familial bliss. Conflict is largely absent, and, when
present, is harmoniously resolved. Juan Jose heads a patriarchal family; but he
is neither authoritarian, stern, nor arbitrary in his decisions and eventually
allows Lupe a democratic voice in the family. El Payo, even though he is a
virile male and is severely tested by sensuous damsels, is always faithful to
his wife, as Lupita is to him.
The Panaderos's generational ties are strong and carefully chronicled. The
Panadero kindred, however, of which Juan Jose's nuclear family seems to be
the central focus, while not ignored, are not prominently mentioned. Juan Jose
and Lupe do have compadres, but they appear quite infrequently and the
relationship is not portrayed as involving significant mutual obligations. In
fact, it might be argued that in El Payo spirits functionally take the place of
compadres, for they watch over the family and actively intervene in time of
need. Clearly, from the comic book's point of view—although probably not
from that of most Mexicans48—real familial strength lies in the nuclear core,
rather than among extended kin.
There is also a negative side to family life in El Payo. It is Guillermo
Vigil's belief that illicit liaisons and illegitimate children are undesirable.49 In
fact, when Juan Jose* discovers an illicit union, he insists on a shotgun
weddings, even though it is clear that the marriage will probably fail. Proper
placement of future children is more important to Juan Jose than romantic
love. Men who maintain mistresses in El Payo are invariably villains, as are
those who feel compelled to physically possess any woman who attracts them.
Mistresses, on the other hand, are often portrayed as victims and capable of
reform. Nor are illegitimate children themselves necessarily negatively
portrayed. Lupe and her brother, Remigio Ramos, are both illegitimate
Pesqueira children. Even the ruthless bastard Marcial Pesqueira has muchos
pantalones and is a worthy successor to Don Tomas, while the patriarch's
legitimate children are not, despite having been given every possible
advantage.
Illegitimacy, for Vigil, also does not produce meaningful family ties. The
marriage of Juan Jose and Lupe destroys, rather than makes possible, any
chance of bringing together the Pesqueira and Panadero clans. Although Lupe
learns who her real father is and that he loves her, the rancor and hatred
inherent in the struggle of robatierras versus descamisados prevents a reunion.
The comic book's portrayal of illegitimacy seems far too negative. In Mexico,
as elsewhere, the fathers of bastards are not all villains. Many fathers of
illegitimate children do recognize and even provide for their offspring, and
illegitimacy does not invariably produce family tragedy. Still, the comic book
underscores the fact that illegitimate children who find themselves without
adequate subsistence and without a secure social place do constitute a serious
problem in Mexico.
Juan Jose and Lupe also provide sexual role models. Juan Jose states, and
his creator clearly agrees * that to have muchos pantalones is desirable but to
be a stereotypical macho is not. Indeed, Juan Jose is a macho51 in every sense
except for sexual aggression. He can be aggressive and intransigent in male-
to-male relationships; he somewhat foolhardily does not shrink from any
danger. He will endure an incredible amount of pain without flinching or even
uttering a sound, yet he thinks that women should not risk the uncertainties of
the world beyond the home, and he believes that even the most treacherous
women should not be treated with the same physical violence as male villains.
Villains not only have pants, but are machos and rarely miss an opportunity
to be sexually aggressive, especially when Lupe is involved.
El Payo 149
Lupe provides an interesting feminine role model that combines aspects of

marianismo and tomboy, or macha, to produce an unusually positive role
model for being "muy mujer." In many ways she represents the traditional
feminine ideal of marianismo. She was chaste before marriage. She personally
sees to her husband's every need. She believes her primary role is to have
babies—she and Juan Jose want a dozen—and to be a nurturing mother. She
resists every challenge to her honor. It is no wonder that this Lupe is
implicitly compared to her namesake, the Virgin of Guadalupe, but she also
provides the reader with a far more positive, assertive image of a good woman
than that encountered in most Mexican comic books.52 Lupita may have
irresistible beauty and be dependent on Juan Jose, but she can also take
resourceful action, even in his presence. She rides, shoots, and fights like a
real tomboy; however, being assertive does not mean she is sexually forward.
Lilia, who also is a macha, having been taught the manly arts by her father,
throws herself at Juan Jose, even stripping in order to entice him. She knows
no shame, although being a millionaire prevents her from selling sex in
exchange for financial security, as is the case with many of the comic book's
bad women. Juan Jose clearly distinguishes between these two types. Even
though he does not believe women should take the initiative, and even referred
to Lupe as a rooster or gallo when she first learned to ride and shoot, he
embraces Lupita when she effectively protects her family. Nevertheless, Juan
Jose sometimes spanks women who do not show proper modesty or restraint.
Lupe, then, represents the ideal modern, Mexican woman who is sexually
attractive and a good mother, but also capable of fending for herself, if
necessary, in a hostile world.
Lupe, though, should not be confused with modern urban women, for
metropolitan men and women alike are depicted in decidedly negative terms.
El Payo's Mexico City youths follow the latest foreign fads and are labeled
"rebels without a cause," and the comic book's urban women dress immodestly
and will go to any length to seduce a man. The Pesqueira children, who
strongly identify with the capital, are greatly influenced in their tastes by
television and the cinema. One Mexico City beauty tells Juan Jose that they
ought to make a movie together so he can learn to kiss properly.
The Panaderos, despite their taste for bourgeois comforts, largely reject
modern urban technology. When Juan Jose is offered the opportunity to round
up cattle with a helicopter, he prefers the traditional horse and lariat. When
gravely wounded, he refuses antibiotics, using instead a salt solution that his
father had shown him. Only the villains are associated with modern
technology. In fact, the comic book gradually eliminated those elements of
modern technological and urban life that appeared in early issues. In this
sense, El Payo supports Cornelia Butler Flora's conclusion that Latin
American fiction tends to be more escapist than its American counterpart.53 El
Payo also undoubtedly reflects the humanistic, nonempirical orientation of

Latin American education and society.54 Finally, El Payo's hostility toward
urban modern Mexico represents an understandable nostalgia for a rural past.
This attitude is somewhat anachronistic, given the rapid pace of Mexican
urbanization and modernization.
El Payo also rejects malinchismo, the openness to foreign ideas, mores,
and products, especially those of the United States. While Americans as such
rarely appear in the comic, little doubt is left that their influence is harmful.
Several villains, such as Tomas Jr. and Lilia Pesqueira, flaunt their Aryan
features and believe that they possess natural superiority as a result. Reflecting
the worst of North American capitalism, they assert that Don Dinero [Mr.
Money] alone insures power and success. The aping of American youth
culture, especially the drug subculture, is deplored. Characters who use
English phrases or cultural concepts are never portrayed favorably. Tomas Jr.
prefers to be called "Tom" and wants to be a "Playboy," and Lilia tells Juan
Jose* that he is as timid as Bambi. One villainous character, El Gringo, even
denies that he is a Mexican.
Deploring foreign influences is, of course, not particularly novel in
Mexico,55 but one must wonder whether this attitude does not also represent
an understandable nostalgia for a long-lost past, given contemporary Mexico's
North American fastfood chains and the like. At the same time, El Payo, by
its identification with traditional Mexico and its opposition to malinchismo,
may well represent a dreamed-of escape from dependency, and one response
to Samuel Ramos's theory of Mexico's collective deficiency.56
V. El Payo and Social Change
El Payo is a high-quality comic book with an important, yet flawed, social

and political message. Authentic characterization, settings, and dialogue;
literate script; attention to detail; a vast and varied dramatis personae;
interesting and well-developed stories; intricate plots; and, for much of its life,
fine artistic rendering—all these qualities mark it as an outstanding comic
book. More significantly, El Payo's engaging saga focuses attention on an
important contemporary political problem. The saga of the Pesqueira-Panadero
feud represents, albeit in symbolic form, the hope aroused by Emiliano
Zapata's revolution, which is eroded in fact by the ceaseless and very real
struggle between robatierras and descamisados. El Payo's answer to these
villainous robatierras is the appearance of strong families, men with muchos
pantalones who forego macho sexual aggression, women who combine the best
of tradition and modern feminine roles, a benevolent capitalist class system
that is devoid of class struggle, and a populace that because of its new freedom
El Payo 151
obtains significant upward socioeconomic mobility and experiences bourgeois

success.
Certainly these prescriptions are idealistic and open to serious criticisms,
several of which have been discussed above; however, the most serious
objection to this model of freedom and prosperity is that, without Juan Jose,
Vilmayo would not be a free village. Thus the thousands of villages not lucky
enough to be freed by him—for he is not a super-hero but a man of limited
means and time—must remain under the boot of their local robatierras. Indeed
every village he encounters beyond his own pueblo suffers from a Pesqueira-
like tyranny. Even if our hero did have the necessary powers, fundamental
problems would remain. After being liberated, the rancheros in Vilmayo in
fact remain dependent for without their beneficent cacique, they would still be
peons. When Juan Jose* is called away on business or to free another village,
Vilmayo is again threatened, even reoccupied, by robatierras. Villages not
lucky enough to have him reside there, it would seem, must backslide quickly,
especially since he has no ambition to become a regional cacique. Indeed, if
he did become such a regional boss, his power could be sustained only by
some type of government apparatus, which is what the comic book implicitly
rejects. Admittedly, if Juan Jose did become a regional cacique who constantly
widened his sphere of control, he would eventually cease to encounter
robatierras to subdue, and consequently the adventures of El Payo would end.
Thus in the last analysis, while El Payo provides a more positive image of
Mexico or Latin America than that implied in other Mexican adventure
comics,57 resembles them in that it offers no fundamental solution to many real
social, economic, or political problems. A sanitized Pesqueira, a good leader
who creates a system of benevolent capitalism that ultimately rests on luck and
an escape to an idealized rural past, does not offer a means to solve
contemporary problems and, in fact, may hinder change.
NOTES
1. The comic book's subtitle is literally translated "A Man Against the
World," but El Payo's author believes it ought to be translated as "His World"
since the hero seeks to liberate his own local or regional world and not the
entire world. Interview with Guillermo Vigil, July 27, 1979.
2. The town's name is taken from a pueblo very briefly mentioned in
Juan Rulfo's Pedro Pdramo (Mexico City: Fondo de Cultura Economica,
1955). Interview with Guillermo Vigil, July 28, 1978.
3. Maurice Horn, Comics of the American West (New York: Winchester
Press, 1977), 170.
4. Guillermo Z. Vigil, El Payo: O como escribir una historieta (Mexico

City: EDAMEX, 1981), 7-8. Guillermo Vigil's first one-man show was held
at La Galena del Instituto de Amistad e Intercambio Cultural Mexico-URSS,
August 17-31, 1976); and his "Cromofantasias" were favorably reviewed in
the capital's leading dailies. For example, see Excelsior (August 20, 1976) El
Heraldo (August 24, 1976), and El Universal (August 21, 1976). A selection
of his paintings has been reproduced in Cromofantasias de Guillermo Zubieta
Vigil (Mexico City: Creaciones Luhec, Inc., n.d.).
5. Interview with Guillermo Vigil, 1978. On Campobello, see Dennis
J. Parle, "Narrative Style and Technique in Nellie Campobello's Cartucho,"
Kentucky Romance Quarterly 32 (1985): 201-21.
6. (a) Interviews with Carlos Vigil, July 15, 1977 and August 1, 1978.
Carlos Vigil is Guillermo Vigil's brother and also Director General of Editora
Senda, which publishes El Payo. For more than twenty years Carlos Vigil has
been associated with the production of Mexican paraliterature, and it was at
his suggestion that Guillermo created El Payo; and (b) interviews with
Guillermo Vigil, July 28 and 31, 1978. The extent of Guillermo Vigil's
overall contribution to El Payo can be judged from his scripts. A typical
directive to the artist is contained in the script for Chapter No. 550—Page 1,
frame 2: "Medios cuerpos de Berron y Jacundo; el primero sonrie y senala con
el pulgar hacia el molino." [Torso shots of Berron and Jacundo: the first one
is smiling and is pointing at the windmill with his thumb."]
7. Interview with Fausto Buendia Vazquez, July 28, 1978.
8. Interviews with Carlos Vigil, 1978; and with Guillermo Vigil, 1979.
were conducted by students Julee Caspers and Ben Agar after having
completed an introductory seminar on Mexican comic books with the authors.
The interviews were obtained during June and early July, 1978. The Mexico
City interviews were conducted along San Juan de Letran, Reforma, Belisario
Domfnguez, Venezuela, Juarez, Hidalgo, Alarcon, and 5 de Mayo streets. The
Mexico City areas surveyed represent a cross section of socioeconomic levels.
No category of vendor was ignored. Vendors ranged from those with large
permanent metal or wooden stands, advantageous locations, and brisk sales to
those with a minuscule stock spread on the pavement. The two Cuernavaca
interviews were conducted in the central plaza and the Guerrero market.
Although they obviously constitute a very limited sample, the vendors'
estimate of the ratio of sales did not differ appreciably from those of the larger
Mexico City sample.
The weekly sales figures provided by Carlos Vigil can be indirectly
verified by using statistics from our street survey and a competing comic-book
publisher. Since Promotora "K," which publishes Kalimdn, estimates its
weekly sales at one-and-one-half to three-and-one-half million, and since our
El Payo 153
survey found a sales ratio of one El Payo to every eleven of Kalimdn, we

could project probable weekly sales of El Payo at between 135,000 (9 percent
X 1.5 million) and 315,000 (9 percent X 3.5 million). These estimated sales
figures coincide reasonably well with Vigil's estimates, given the roughness
of our street sample. For the Kalimdn sales figures, see the Chapter 2 on
Kalimdn.
10. Both El Payo's modest sales and its shift in readership may be
accounted for by the conscious artistic license the Vigil brothers allow
themselves. Guillermo had the luxury of not having to aim directly at a certain
market. This freedom had allowed for the creation of an unusually high quality
comic book. Guillermo also has a tendency—which he tries to hold in check—to
write more detailed narrations than even his more literate fans may care to
read. Interviews with Carlos Vigil, 1978 and with Guillermo Vigil, 1978. The
fact that most of Editora Senda's profits probably derive from its line of
fotonovelas may in part account for Guillermo's luxury when creating El Payo
of not having to be overly concerned with the market.
In the 1979 interview with Guillermo Vigil, after reading an earlier draft
of this chapter, stressed that he has always wanted to be understood by "un
publico sencillo." Maria Josefa Erreguerena states that El Payo is aimed at 14
to 25-year-old males, but cites no source for this data. See her short essay,
"El Payo ;un hombre contra el mundo!," Revista de la Universidad de Mexico
(Mexico), 33:2-3 (October-November 1978): 85-86.
11. Interview with Guillermo Vigil, July 28, 1978.
12. Interview with Carlos Vigil, 1978. Since El Payo was not sold by
subscription, since Editora Senda has never conducted a market survey, and
since it had modest sales at any given periodical stand, a more precise analysis
of its readership is probably impossible. Certainly, conducting on-the-street
reader interviews, such as those conducted by the authors for Kalimdn, would
have been extremely difficult given El Payo's modest sales.
13. Personal archive of Guillermo Vigil. Since he did not receive many
fan letters and since he has retained only those letters (approximately a dozen)
containing comments more substantial than "I like it" or "I don't like it," one
cannot be sure that they are representative. Guillermo has retained even very
critical letters; and thus, unless only male fans write substantial letters, they
probably do represent a reliable though quite limited readership sample. The
bulk of letters are from 1974, and all the dated ones fall between 1969 and
14. Fan letters in personal archive of Guillermo Vigil.
15. In the 1979 interview, Guillermo Vigil stated that he did not believe
that the radio programs and films had affected sales of the comic book. The
three films are: El Payo (1971), Elfantasma de mina prieta (1973), and Los
caciques de San Crispin (1973). The corrido as well as the films and radio
programs are mentioned in Vigil, El Payo, 8.
16. Interview with Carlos Vigil, July 19, 1983; A[rmando] B[artra], "De
monitos: Requiem por El Payo," SNIF: El mitin del nuevo comic, 3 (October
1980):25; interview with Rafael Marquez Torres, August 2, 1978.
17. After reading an early draft of this chapter, Guillermo Vigil stated
that the change in several characters' skin color from dark to light brown
resulted from a decision to economize on the cost of printing. Brown hues
were more expensive than white ones to print on the glossy covers. (It should
be noted, however, that this lightening process is also evident in Kalimdn,
where Solin's skin tones were altered over time from that of an Indian to a
very light-skinned mestizo). Interview with Guillermo Vigil, 1979.
18. On the charro, see Jose Ramon Ballesteros, Origen y evolucion del
charro mexicano (Mexico City: Librerfa de Manuel Porrua, 1972); and Carlos
Rincon Gallardo and Romero de Terreros, El libro del charro mexicano, 5th
ed. (Mexico City: Editorial Porrua, 1977). The popular charro costume
consists of a matching outfit of close-fitting pants, jacket, and sombrero, all
elaborately decorated in gold or silver.
19. The expression "muy mujer" has been defined by a Chicano from St.
Paul, Minnesota as "to be forebearing (sic), to be honorable or chaste and to
be an accomplished person"; quoted in Ruth Hammond, "Machismo: Men are
Men, Women Docile," Minneapolis Tribune (March 24, 1979). Lupita fits this
definition quite well, except that although she is forbearing with El Payo, she
can be quite assertive toward others.
20. These changes were made explicitly to provide Juan Jose with a more
positive moral image. Interview with Guillermo Vigil, July 28, 1978.
21. Ibid.
22. Guillermo Vigil was not always consistent regarding characters'
names. For example, early in the comic book, Don Tomas' full name is
Pesqueira Vidal, but later it is given as Pesqueira Cataho.
23. George N. Flenin and William K. Everson, The Western: From
Silents to the Seventies, 2nd ed. (New York: Penguin Books, 1973), 139.
24. Guillermo Vigil was not consistent regarding Crescenciano's last
name. Sometimes it is "Urendis" rather than "Valdiviesco."
25. Colonel Harriero represents that traditional Mexican figure who
continues to fight even though the revolution of Zapata's day is over. See
Phyllis A. Wiegand Proctor, "Mexico's Supermachos: Satire and Social
Revolution in Comics by Rius" (Ph.D. dissertation, University of Texas,
1972), 28. The Colonel also represents the author's belief that the revolution
has never ended. Interview with Guillermo Vigil, 1979.
26. Interviews with Guillermo Vigil, July 28, 1978, and 1979.
El Payo 155
27. The comic book's portrayal of the rural lower class, or rancheros, not
believing in and interacting with a spirit world is not authentic. For pertinent
scholarly studies and for a contrasting and considerably more accurate comic-
book portrayal, see Harold E. Hinds, Jr., "Tradiciones y leyendas de la
colonia: Mexican Folklore and Colonial History for Popular Consumption,"
Folklore americano (Mexico) 25 (June 1978): 101-09. Interestingly, in the
1979 interview, Guillermo Vigil stated that the comic book's supernatural,
magical element has been considerably more popular in southern than in
northern Mexico. On the influence of Rulfo's fictional town, see Vigil, El
Payo, 88.
29. For an analysis of El Payo's plots that uses the narrative discourse
theories of Gerard Genette, see Georges-A. Parent, "Focalization: A
Narratological Approach to Mexican Illustrated Stories," Studies in Latin
American Popular Culture 1 (1982): 202-06.
30. For a discussion of traditional themes in Western comic books, see
Horn, Comics of the American West, \1r6-214.
31. Actually, in American Westerns the cowboy hero either is an outsider
at the beginning of the adventure, or he becomes an outsider. See Will Wright,
Six Guns and Society: A Structural Study of the Western (Berkeley: University
of California Press, 1977), 41-42, 48-50, 65-66, 85, 112.
32. The thirty-four-year period prior to the Mexican Revolution of 1910
was dominated by Porfirio Diaz (1830-1915). Between 1876 and 1910,
Mexico became a stable, economically progressive country. The high price of
this achievement has led to anti-Porfirian criticism, centering on the harsh
oppression of Indian and mestizo masses and on pervasive foreign influences.
On the Diaz period, see Carlos B. Gil, ed., The Age of Porfirio Diaz*
Selected Readings (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1977).
33. The increased nudity and witchcraft disturbed some readers enough
to impel them to write protest letters to Guillermo Vigil. Did he not realize
that children would be exposed to the nudity? wrote several fans. Another
emphatically stated that the comic book's spirits and devils were not real. Fan
letters in personal archive of Guillermo Vigil.
34. The typical or conventional Western is not easily defined, and in fact
has differed depending on the era in which it was created. Thus almost every
statement made in this section could easily be modified to accommodate a
particular period or subgenre. Our high-level generalizations have been drawn
from the following standard studies of Westerns: Horn, Comics of the
American West; John G. Cawelti, The Six-Gun Mystique (Bowling Green,
Ohio: Bowling Green University Popular Press, n.d.); Wright, Six Guns and
Society; Ralph and Donna Brauer, The Horse, the Gun and the Piece of
Property: Changing Images of the TV Western (Bowling Green, Ohio: Bowling
Green University Popular Press, 1975); Fenin and Everson, The Western; Rita
Parks, The Western Hero in Film and Television: Mass Media Mythology
(Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1982).
35. Brauer and Brauer, The Horse, the Gun and the Piece of Property,
19.
36. The Lone Ranger has yet to receive a first-rate scholarly study. Our
discussion is based primarily upon the following: David Rothel, Who Was that
Masked Man? The Story of the Lone Ranger (New York: A.S. Barnes
Company, 1976); Jim Harmon, The Great Radio Heroes (New York: Ace
Books, Inc., 1976), 189-209; Horn, Comics of the American West, 35-38,
81-82, 178, 188, 192, 203, 205-07; Brauer and Brauer, The Horse, the Gun
and the Piece of Property, 17, 36-40, 45, 48, 64, 70-71, 73, 78, 101;
Cawelti, The Six-Gun Mystique, 53, 79, 82-83; Robert Jewett and John
Shelton Lawrence, The American Monomyth (New York: Anchor Press,
1977), 186-90, 196; Ariel Dorfman and Manuel Jofre, Superman y sus amigos
del alma (Buenos Aires: Editorial Galena, 1974), 10-92.
37. One fan letter in Guillermo Vigil's personal archive expressly takes
the author to task for the lack of a school in Vilmayo.
38. Interview with Guillermo Vigil, July 28, 1978. The reduced role of
the church is also negatively commented upon by a few fan letters in Vigil's
personal archive.
39. For a brief description of the state of education in contemporary
Mexico, see Rodrigo A. Medellin E. and Carlos Munoz Izquierdo, "Sistema
escolar y sociedad en Mexico: aportaciones al planteamiento de una reforma
educativa nacional," in Papers of the TV International Congress of Mexican
History, James W. Wilkie et al. (Berkeley: University of California Press,
1976), 601-17; regarding the Church and its lack of personnel, see Rutilio
Ramos, et al., La iglesia en Mexico (Madrid: FERES, 1963), especially
61-63.
41. El Payo is identified with Tjupate. and not Francisco Villa, despite th
fact that the comic book is not set in Morelos. This identification probably
derives from Zapata's generally more positive revolutionary image and in
particular from his identification with the struggle to return village lands to
their rightful owners.
43. For the story of Ruben Jaramillo's struggle to regain his village's
lands, see Raul Mocin, Jaramillo, Un profeta olvidado (Montevideo: Tierra
Nueva, 1970); and Carlos Fuentes, Tiempo mexicano (Mexico City: Editorial
Joaquin Mortiz, 1971), 109-22.
44. For a fairly typical example of this debate, see Oscar Lewis, "Mexico
since Cardenas," in Social Change in Latin America Today, Richard Adams,
El Payo 157
et al. (New York: Random House, Vintage Books, 1960), 321-32; and Martin
C. Needier, Politics and Society in Mexico (Albuquerque: University of New
Mexico Press, 1971), 51-52. Data for the 1960s and 1970s on income
distribution, however, clearly indicates deterioration in the position of the
poor and greater concentration of income. See David Barkin, "Mexico's
Albatross: The United States Economy," Latin American Perspectives, 2
(Summer, 1975): 64-65; and Ifigenia M. de Navarreta, "La distribution del
ingreso en Mexico," in El perfil de Mexico en 1980, 3 vols. (Mexico City:
Siglo XXI Editores, 1970-1972), 1: 15-71.
45. On the Mexican economy, see Clark W. Reynolds, The Mexican
Economy: Twentieth Century Structure and Growth (New Haven: Yale
University Press, 1970).
46. An ejido consists of lands owned collectively by a village. The 1917
constitution provided for the restoration of ejido lands, which villages had lost
through various illegalities after 1856, and for land grants to other
communities through the expropriation of private holdings. These provisions
constitute the basis for Mexico's agrarian reform and were most extensively
employed during the administration of Lazaro Cardenas (1934-40).
47. For brief, succinct summaries of the importance of the family in
Mexico, see Fernando Penalosa, "Mexican Family Roles," Journal of
Marriage and the Family, 30 (November, 1968): 680-89; Noel F. McGinn,
"Marriage and Family in Middle-Class Mexico," Journal of Marriage and the
Family, 28 (August, 1966): 305-13.
48. Even relatively recent migrants to Mexico City have not suffered any
noticeable family disorganization and, in fact, rely heavily on their kinsmen.
See Larissa Lomnitz, "Migration and Network in Latin America," in Current
Perspectives in Latin American Urban Research, Alejandro Portes and Harley
L. Browning, eds. (Austin, Texas: Institute of Latin American Studies, The
University of Texas at Austin, 1976), 133-50.
50. Ibid.
51. On machismo, see Penalosa, "Mexican Family Roles"; McGinn,
"Marriage and Family in Middle-Class Mexico"; R.G. Riviere, "The Honour
of Sanchez," Man, 2 (December, 1967): 569-83; Americo Paredes, "The
United States, Mexico, and Machismo," Journal of the Folklore Institute, 3
(June, 1971): 17-37; Evelyn P. Stevens, "Marianismo: The Other Face of
Machismo in Latin America," in Female and Male in Latin America: Essays,
Ann Pescatello, ed. (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1973),
89-101.
52. For a discussion on the image of women in Kalimdn, see the Kalimdn
chapter.
Male in Latin America, Pescatello, 80-83. For a similar application of Flora's
thesis, see the Kalimdn chapter.
54. See Don Thompson and Dick Lupoff, The Comic-Book Book (New
Rochelle, New York: Arlington House, 1973), 354-55 on the identification of
so many American comic book heroes with scientific inventions and gadgets.
55. See especially the provocative study by Samuel Ramos, El perfil del
hombre y la cultura en Mexico (Mexico City: Imprenta Mundial, 1934).
56. Ibid. The portrayal of several villains as Aryan and Americanized and
of the Panaderos as mestizos who reject American influence reflects a complex
Mexican reality. Some light is thrown on this problem by Adaljiza Sosa
Riddell's finding that women who occupy the top appointive and elective
political offices in Mexico "are not readily distinguishable (in either a
biological or cultural sense) from professional or political women in the
United States," while women who are "mestizo, modestly attired, and
relatively unacquainted with American or European life and dress styles" are
largely excluded from the ranks of female political elites. Even though Lupe
is not involved in formal politics, the fact that she definitely does represent an
explicit role model that rejects the racial-cultural elitist pattern described by
Sosa Riddell is important. See her article, "Female Political Elites in Mexico:
1974," in Women in the World: A Comparative Study, Lynne B. Iglitzin and
Ruth Ross, eds. (Santa Barbara: Clio Books, 1976), 262-63.
57. For a brief dicussion of dependency and Kalimdn, see the chapter on
Kalimdn.
8
La familia Burron
I. The Comic Book and Its Creator
Since 1939, Gabriel Vargas and his associates have faithfully created a weekly
episode revolving around a lower-middle-class urban family, making La
familia Burron [The Burron Family] one of the pillars of the Mexican comic-
book industry. While it has never been competitive with other big sellers, such
as Kalimdn and Ldgrimas, risas y amor, La familia Burron is recognized by
critics, artists, and writers for its consistently high standards of writing and
cartooning, which are due in large part to the talents and persistence of Gabriel
Vargas, the comic book's creator and overseer for more than fifty years.
Vargas was born in 1918 in Tulancingo, Hidalgo. The story of his rise to
success as a writer and illustrator of comic books has a magical quality. He
recalls that as a boy his passion for drawing was actively discouraged by his
mother, a young widow who wanted him to become a lawyer or a doctor.1
Despite her strict admonition to limit the practice of his "useless" activity,
Vargas resorted to deceit to continue his development as an artist. He would
hide under a bed late into the night with a candle for light in order to draw his
characters, but his practice was discovered one night when he fell asleep, the
candle burned a hole through the mattress and very nearly continued through
his brother, who was asleep on the bed. In 1931, this child prodigy won
second place in an international contest for young illustrators and, as a prize,
he was offered a complete free education in France. On the eve of his
departure for Paris, however, Vargas decided that the separation from his
family would be too difficult.
As a kind of consolation prize, the Minister of Public Education, who had
taken a personal interest in the boy, offered him the opportunity to go to work
as an illustrator for Excelsior, which is today one of Mexico's most prestigious
daily newspapers. Vargas accepted and thus launched his brilliant career, at the
tender age of thirteen. One of Vargas's assignments during his early years was
to illustrate the life of Christ in a comic-book format. Vargas took on this task
during a period of official government anticlericalism, and in 1935 he was
called in by the authorities to answer for his violation of the law. The police
found it hard to believe that a young man of seventeen had been illustrating
the successful comic book, but nevertheless warned him not to repeat his
indiscretion. Vargas complied by turning to less controversial pursuits. He
illustrated the lives of Sherlock Holmes and the revolutionary hero Pancho
Villa. It is not known whether the latter was designed to get Vargas, his
superior, and the newspaper back into the good graces of the government, but,
in any case, Vargas was never harassed by the authorities again.
Up to that point, Vargas had done only serious illustrating, but in 1936
a friend encouraged him to enter a contest for cartoonists sponsored by another
of Mexico's publishing empires, Grafica Panamericana. Vargas competed
against such established cartoonists as Andres C. Audiffred and Ernesto Garcia
Cabral, and won. Vargas thus took another giant step on the way to a
successful career, leaving his 80-peso-per week illustrator's position at
Excelsior for a 1200-peso weekly salary with Editorial Panamericana. He
collaborated with other cartoonists and writers to bring out a weekly issue of
Pepin, an immensely popular publication that consisted of several comic strips
that ran concurrently.2 Vargas created the series Los Superlocos [The Super
Crazies]—it appeared in Pepfn—v/ith its famous characters known to all avid
Mexican comic-book readers: Don Jilemon, a kind of Groucho Marx;
Cuateneta, his servant; her brother, el Giien Caperuzo, who solves his
problems with violence; and the upstanding Los Muchachos [The Boys], who
function in the strip as a self-righteous Greek chorus.
In 1939, in response to a challenge from a friend, Vargas created a short
comic book with a female as its central character. Called originally El sefior
Burron o Vida de perro [Mr. Burron or A Dog's Life], this comic book was
to be the basis for La familia Burron. When the director of Editorial
Panamericana returned from his vacation, he was angry at the initiative Vargas
had taken. Nevertheless, he allowed the comic book to be printed within the
pages of Pepin. As Pepin went into a period of decline, Vargas's comic book,
now called La familia Burron, became a success. Vargas claims that it reached
upwards of 100,000 circulation within just a few years.3 The comic book has
appeared weekly for fifty years. In terms of its format, it remained virtually
unchanged until 1977, when Vargas left Editorial Panamericana over a dispute
with the publishing enterprise's administrators. He claims that they were
unwilling to offer him a salary commensurate with the outstanding success of
the comic book and, additionally, that they wanted to eliminate its color
printing.4
In 1978, Vargas returned to his first employer, Excelsior, who gave him
a suite of offices and hired a team of associates to create a daily comic strip
based on La familia Burron for their midday edition. La familia Burron, in
comic book form, reappeared on the newsstands in August 1978, smaller in
La familia Burron 161
size but containing its original cast of characters and the same flavor as before.
The authors were unable to obtain publication figures; Vargas would only say
that the post-197 8 version of La familia Burron was beginning to sell at a
level equal to before. Although, according to his figures, this would indicate
an average run of over 100,000, Irene Herner estimates that in 1976 the comic
book sold only 70,000 copies per issue.5 Thus it is difficult to determine La
familia Burron's late 1970s sales.
La familia Burron celebrated its fiftieth year of publication in 1990.
Vargas still directs the publication of the comic book. Although because of
problems with his vision, he no longer draws his own cartoons. He does,
however, continue to write the script.
Vargas is critical of the Mexican comic-book industry for imitating its
counterpart in the United States by emphasizing American values, settings, and
characters. He believes that La familia Burron offers an alternative to the
Mexican reader because he has created Mexican characters and placed them in
an authentically Mexican environment. Vargas thereby hopes to counteract the
proclivity of the lower-middle class to thoughtlessly ape American fashions,
customs, and life-styles while rejecting their own. He has always intended to
have his characters represent values that he believes to be positive and
therefore worth preserving. Vargas also wanted to put into the comic book "a
little bit of morality, a little bit of hygiene, a little bit of religion, a little bit
of politics, but only a little of each. "6 In large part, he has succeeded in
creating this delicate blend of elements.
When asked if his basic concept ofLa familia Burron had changed, Vargas
replied that although it has remained essentially the same, in the mid-1970s he
placed more emphasis on the economic struggles and everyday concerns of the
lower- middle class in Mexico.7 Thus problems such as the lack of adequate
housing, chronic unemployment, and rampant inflation have appeared more
frequently in the comic book, reflecting Mexico's socioeconomic reality as a
developing country. These and other aspects of Mexican society will be
discussed in detail in a later section of this chapter. Suffice it to say that the
comic book has probably maintained its popularity due, in part, to the
willingness of Gabriel Vargas to continue to mirror the daily struggles of its
readers.
While no reliable data on the comic book's readership was available,
Vargas did say that he has received voluminous correspondence from a wide
variety of readers, most of them lower-middle-class men and women.8 He is
proud of his broad-based following and recounted with obvious enthusiasm
that he occasionally receives requests for complete sets of his comic book from
unexpected sources such as a criminologist, politicians, and university
professors. In addition to this expressed interest from Mexicans, foreign
universities in the United States and Latin America have taken out
subscriptions and have requested back issues.9
Vargas generously shared the few fan letters he had saved over the years,
claiming that many hundreds had been thrown out.10 These generally
corroborated the author's own statements that his readership is diverse;
however, it must be pointed out that it would be risky to draw any conclusions
on readership due to the lack of either formal or informal market studies and
to the very small sampling of fan mail.
EL The Comic Book's Principal Characters
Unlike Kalimdn, El Payo, and Ldgrimas, risas y amor, La familia Burron

is not a serialized adventure but a weekly episode in the lives of the Burron
family. The family, who lives in an apartment house in a lower-middle-class
barrio in a large Mexican city, consists of middle-aged parents, Don Regino
and Borola, and their two teenaged children, Regino and Macuca. The husband
is depicted as a considerate, kind, and generally patient man who supports his
family on his meager barber's salary, rarely drinks, and never womanizes. His
wife, who is characterized as an aggressive, impulsive, and sometimes
inconsiderate woman, divides her time between managing her domestic
responsibilities and initiating schemes to make money to supplement the family
income. The son and daughter are proportionately minor figures who were
probably designed to reflect the trials and tribulations of the urban lower-
middle-class Mexican teenager. Some of the other supporting characters are
Borola's rich Aunt Griseta; her delinquent brother Ruperto; Macuca's two
boyfriends, the bully Tractor and the poet Avilano; and Foforito, a small boy
whom Don Regino has adopted in order to protect him from his alcoholic
father. In addition to the above characters, La familia Burron includes a
panoply of the residents of the lower-middle-class urban neighborhood that is
the comic book's setting; young and old, men, women, and children of all
shapes and sizes have appeared in its pages over the years.
Much of the comic book's humor results from the male-female role
reversal between Don Regino and Borola. The timid husband's conflicts with
his strong-willed wife give rise to numerous hilarious situations with
unexpected outcomes. Readers are always in for a treat as they open up their
latest issue of La familia Burron to see where Borola's latest scheme will lead
and how her husband, children, and neighbors will react. This dynamic forms
the basis for the majority of the episodes.
Borola is the comic book's principal figure and the catalyst for many of
the other characters' actions. Most of the issues revolve around her energetic
personality and often outrageous behavior. Vargas claims that she was modeled
on a woman he knew as a child who was tall and imposing "like an opera
singer" and who completely dominated her shorter and more timid husband.11
Borola is tireless in her quest for new adventures and indomitable in her
relationships with the barrio dwellers. One critic calls her the contemporary
Mexican counterpart of the Spanish picaro.n
The reader learns that Borola was the only child of middle-class parents
who lived in a comfortable home in a pleasant urban neighborhood. Her
father, Don Telesforo Tacuche, was a nattily dressed middle-aged gentleman
who, according to Mexican custom, married after he had already established
himself in a profession. Her mother was an attractive redhead whose main
concerns were to maintain a quiet household and to provide a comfortable
environment for her husband and daughter.13
The roots of much of Borola's later behavior as an adult are revealed to
us in the numbers devoted to her childhood. She is described as bursting with
exploratory energy, running her parents ragged as they try to contain her and
keep up with her escapades. Although she is dressed in the soft, little-girl
fashions of her time, Borola's behavior does not fit that image. She is seen
freely rolling a tire down a busy street; creating havoc in the barbershop
operated by Regino's father, Don Loreto; and hopping on a trolley to lead her
parents on a merry chase. Even locked safely in her room, Borola is unable
to stay out of trouble. She fills balloons full of water and drops them on
pedestrians passing underneath her second-story window. Barola's parents'
comments on her behavior give a clear indication of their inability to manage
her and also foreshadow her incorrigibility as an adult: "Esta nina es el
diablo." ["This little girl is the devil. "] 14 "No se que sera de esta nina cuando
llegue a grande. Le gustan las revoltoras y las peleas. ... Eres la piel de
Judas." ["I don't know what will become of this girl when she's grownup.
She likes uproar and fights. ... You're the spitting image of Judas himself. "] 15
The cover of one issue shows Borolita [little Borola] dressed as a little red
devil prancing about in hell stirring up trouble.16 She torments the other
children in her neighborhood, beating them up when they oppose her and
calling them humiliating names. Cats run when they see her and chickens
scatter squawking to the furthest corners of the neighborhood. When her
young friend Regino (her future husband) moves to another neighborhood,
Borola sets out in search of him. With considerable resourcefulness, she finds
her way across the large city on buses, asking for directions and begging for
fare until she discovers Regino's new home.17 In the throes of despair,
Borola's parents finally send her away to live with her rich Aunt Griseta.18
Borola's aunt, who is portrayed as living a privileged life as a member of the
Mexican upper class, teaches her niece to appreciate and desire fine clothes
and jewelry, elegant surroundings, and aristocratic company.19
The disparity between Borola's middle- and upper-class background and

her husband's solidly lower-middle-class values and modest salary is another
source of the comic book's humor. As a simple barber, Don Regino is unable
to provide Borola with the luxury to which she had become accustomed while
living with her aunt. As will be discussed later, most of La familia Burron's
episodes revolve around the female character's repeated attempts to create a
life of comfort by breaking out of the financial constraints of her lower-
middle-class existence.
Borola is an unusual child for her energy and assertiveness, especially
when one considers the intense socialization process Mexican female children
undergo to prepare them to be good mothers and wives. There is no evidence
that Borola has incorporated the lessons of modesty, manners, and cleanliness
or other important "feminine" qualities, such as submissiveness to the male
and preparation for future motherhood.20 Borola seems to have successfully
resisted her parents' (and especially her mother's) efforts to train her, for she
is described as an openly rebellious youngster and not at all aware of her role
as a "good little Mexican girl." Her Aunt Griseta plays an important role in
subverting the socialization process. She not only tolerates Borola but even
seems to encourage her spirit of independence during her adolescence.
As an adult, Borola continues to act in ways that her Mexican readers are
likely to consider unusual for a female. We can more fully appreciate her
deviation from the norm for Mexican women by contrasting her to this
"ideal." Very specific stereotypes exist within Mexican society and within the
Mexican family which mold women's behavior in a certain prescribed
manner.21 In addition to the qualities mentioned above, the Mexican female,
according to societal norms, should also have the following characteristics:
(1) self-denial: she suppresses her own values and passively resigns herself to
abuses by males and to life's adversities; (2) servitude: the absolute submission
to the wants and needs of others more as a philosophy of life than as an
attitude; (3) sexual inferiority: the cult of virginity and the long-suffering
acceptance of the male's double standard regarding his own sexuality; (4) total
devotion to the wants and needs of her family. The Mexican female measures
her own mental health and stability in terms of that of her husband and
children. Although during the past twenty years the feminist movement in
Mexico has succeeded in encouraging alternative values and behaviours in both
males and females, the traditional model described above still remains strong
and largely intact.
A glimpse at Borola's childhood has already revealed that Gabriel Vargas
did not intend for her to fit this set of traditional qualities and roles. He
clearly meant for her to be different, and he makes this evident in her
relationships with Don Regino, her children Regino and Macuca, and society
at large. For example, during her courtship of her husband-to-be, Borola is not
the shrinking wallflower nor a seductive temptress who uses feminine wiles to
trap her mate. Borola indicates early in their relationship that she wants to
marry Regino and pursues him with a fierce intensity that is uncharacteristic
of young women of her class in Mexico. She openly defies social pressure to
bring the courtship within the bounds of propriety, and she rejects the tactics
used by other women her age to attract a male.22
A number of La familia Burron episodes focusing on the early years of
Don Regino and Borola's marriage reveal more of her nontraditional
character.23 As mentioned before, her unwillingness to accept the prescribed
norms of female behavior, which leads to conflict with her husband, is the
source of much of the comic book's humor. Although Borola seems to accept
the role of the submissive wife who stays at home to tend to the domestic
chores, she soon changes. When it comes time to fulfill this role, she
tenaciously resists. She has a difficult time getting up in the morning to make
Don Regino's breakfast and see him off to work. She is a failure as a cook,
and she demands that her husband allow her to go dancing with her own
friends. The other women in the barrio criticize Borola's behavior as a young
wife, especially her practice of getting up late and buying Don Regino's lunch
rather than preparing it herself.
Borola continues in this vein throughout the marriage. By using different
forms of deceit, she tries to convince her husband that she is only interested
in his welfare and that of her children. In fact, Borola enjoys herself in a
number of ways outside of the home while he is at work at the barbershop: she
goes swimming, plays cards with her friends, and visits old acquaintances.24
When Don Regino finds out and confronts her over what he considers to be
her unacceptable behavior, she lectures him on the changing role of women in
contemporary Mexican society.
Si me gusta andar con mis cuatitas, es porque ya no estamos

en el tiempo de antes, en que las mujeres vivian como
enclaustradas. Todo su mundo eran las cuatro paredes de su
hogar en las que permanecian encerradas como en una
prision. En tiempos pasados la mujer no tenia derecho a
protestor, ni siquiera a pujar cuando el hombre se le iba
encima a los topes y guantones. Pero en esta epoca atomica,
todo ha cambiado. Ahora marido y mujer deben vivir como
cuatitos; gozar cada quien de amplias libertades... Si
quieres que sigamos viviendo juntos, tendrds que darme
muchas mds libertades de las que ahora te ha
escandalizado. ^
[If I like to run around with my pals, it's because we no

longer live in the past when women were shut up as if in a
cloister. Their whole world was the four walls of their
home, in which they were enclosed as if in a prison. Years
ago a woman didn't have the right to protest, nor even to
cry when her man assaulted her with blows. But in this
atomic age everything has changed. Now husband and wife
should live together as pals, each one enjoying many
liberties. If you want us to continue living together, you'll
have to give many me more freedoms than those that have
gotten you so upset.]
Although Vargas has created a strong, assertive female character, he never

allows her to go beyond certain bounds in her relationship with Don Regino.
The author seems to be telling the reader that while he approves of a strong
woman, she must, in the end, recognize that the male is still the ultimate
authority in the Mexican lower-middle-class home. In fact, Vargas has stated
that he did not intend for Borola to represent the feminist point of view.26 The
distinction he makes is that while she does not conform to a traditional role,
she does not reject other, essentially Mexican, values. Borola struggles
tenaciously as a lower-middle-class woman to improve the miserable lot of her
family and community. As long as she stays focused on this struggle, Vargas
allows her to succeed, but when personal motives—motives that he apparently
considers frivolous and unbecoming of both her gender and her class-
influence her, the author makes her pay dearly. Her upper-class pretentions
and greed, for example, are considered undesirable traits.
This point of view is most evident in the numbers of La familia Burron
that deal with Borola's attempts to free herself from the domestic drudgery of
housecleaning and cooking. While the author allows her to experiment with
several activities and jobs outside of the home, he almost always punishes her
for these "indiscretions." Examples of this pattern abound. Among Borola's
many ambitions and talents, acting, singing, and music stand out. On several
occasions she either tries to set up her own theater in her community or to
audition for established theater groups.27 Even granting that the middle-aged
Borola cuts a ridiculous figure in comparison to her more talented younger
competitors, she does enjoy some success. Most importantly, the reader
applauds her efforts to vary her monotonous daily existence with excitement
and a sense of self-renewal. Borola also undertakes other outlandish schemes
to make money, such as pretending to appear nude in a public place, starting
a dance studio, creating a taxi-boat service for flood victims, becoming a
traffic cop, setting up a shoe business, and operating a sidewalk food stand.28
In all of these ventures, Borola ultimately fails: Don Regino returns the money
she has earned or won to its "rightful" owner. Her business is assaulted by
angry customers. She is arrested for illegal business practices. She suffers a
catastrophic accident because of her foolishness, and other such problems.
Vargas expresses his attitude toward Borola in a number of other
instances; for example, Borola organizes the women in her barrio to deal
rapidly and harshly with the problems of husbands who drink to excess and
return home to beat their wives.29 She judiciously decides on a treatment
designed to humiliate rather than to cause bodily harm. She suspends the
offending husband from a rope until he is sober. Her greed, however,
obstructs the effectiveness of the treatment. When she begins charging
admission to see the suspended drunkards, the wives turn on her and demand
a share of the money. In a similar way, when Borola organizes the women to
militantly protest artificially high prices at the supermarket, she ends up in jail
for her deeds.30 Her fate is the same when she hatches a scheme to tunnel
under the local government food store (whose name is humorously changed
from CONASUPO to ROBASUPO-Yofcar" meaning "to rob").31
There are many other examples of Borola's aborted attempts on behalf of
the community to get just prices and quality products and to protect its rights.
Borola discovers that the milk sold at the local dairy is watered down.32 After
overcoming a series of obstacles to discover who is behind the illegal scheme,
she discovers a gang of criminals who have bribed the milk inspectors. Borola
tries to break up the conspirators by herself, but she is scared away by their
threats on her life. On another occasion she convinces the neighborhood to tear
up the city street to plant a garden in order to counteract the high cost of
food.33 She is effective up to a point but jailed for her activities. In all of the
above examples, Vargas recognizes that the problems Borola addresses are real
and desperately in need of solutions; however, he does not allow his
aggressive female character to solve them. Her personality, which he evidently
views as flawed, gets her into trouble before she can be fully effective.
Borola's greed constantly gets in her way, and this flaw provides much of the
comic book's humor. Vargas allows her to be strong, but only to a point.
Beyond that, her assertiveness becomes the source of humor.
Vargas's treatment of his main female character has changed over the
years. Her behavior, which he probably would have considered improper in
the early numbers of the comic book, becomes more acceptable to him in the
late-1970s. The author's change in attitude toward the assertive Borola is
reflected in numbers in which she engages in political activity. In early
numbers, she is seen aggressively organizing the women in the neighborhood
to launch her political candidacy. Her idealism is soon tempered, however,
when she confronts the real world of municipal politics in the form of the
corrupt and powerful diputado [representative] Floripondio Caballete who
customarily uses guns and goons to bring troublemakers like Borola into line.
She makes the mistake of adopting his tactics, which brings catastrophic
consequences; Don Floripondio crushes his opposition with his army of hired
pistoleros [gunmen]. Borola wishes she had returned sooner to the safety of
her family and to the security of being taken care of by Don Regino.34 Vargas
implies that she has strayed too far from even her nontraditional role. In a
1978 number, however, Vargas has allowed Borola to incorporate some
lessons from her real-life feminist counterparts.35 Now she is more
sophisticated and effective as she once again steps into the political arena. The
cover shows Borola parading down the street with her constituents, who are
carrying signs which read: "Borolita. Sera directa con su distrito" ["Borolita.
She will be straight with her district"] and "Borola para diputada" ["Borola
for representative"]. Recognizing her power, the women in the community
urge her to issue a complaint on their behalf protesting the lack of potable
water, inadequate garbage collection, and badly lit streets. She goes directly
to the diputado's house to demand action, and when this proves unsuccessful,
Borola confronts the diputado on the street. While conditions ultimately
remain the same in the barrio, Borola has become the acknowledged leader of
the community and a symbol of potency to which it can turn. Thus Vargas has
allowed her to assume a different role than she had in earlier numbers.
Borola's role as a mother, like that of a wife, reflects nontraditional
attitudes and behaviors. One family study indicates that the Mexican mother
is protective of her children, sometimes pampering them beyond the point that
allows them to develop in a healthy way. The intense closeness between the
mother and the male child during his first year favors certain narcissistic
tendencies later on, such as "the extraordinary need to be nourished, to receive
from others, to depend."36 While numbers of La familia Burron in which
Macuca and Regino are not already teenagers could not be located, there are
examples of Borola's maternal attitudes and her views on the rearing of the
babies and young children. When the Burron family is entrusted with the care
of a newborn, it is Don Regino, not Borola, who assumes the major
responsibility for his care.37
Don Regino thus becomes the surrogate mother. Borola, in contrast, feels
little tenderness toward the child and insists, even at the high risk of social
ostracization, that he be given over to the authorities. She vociferously refuses
to be his mother.
Borola's relationship with her biological children does not conform to the
expectations of the traditional Mexican mother. She is more permissive with
Regino than with Macuca, although not for the reasons given in the literature
on the Mexican family.38 Since she generally rejects any notion of machista
[sexist male] behavior in either her husband or son, it cannot be said that her
permissiveness stems from her view of Regino as another macho in the
making. And, unlike the typical Mexican mother, she tends not to overlook
her son's peccadilloes, but deals harshly with them at this time and employs
corporal punishment.39 Although Borola seems to have a closer relationship
with Macuca—this conforms to the general pattern of mother-daughter
relationships in Mexico40—she by no means instructs her to acquire feminine
qualities, to distrust males, and to submit passively to the wishes of her father.
Rather, Vargas leaves the impression that Borola would like her daughter to
emulate her own nontraditional behavior: for example, Macuca and Regino
accompany her on many of her escapades.
Like the major female figure ofLa familia Burron, Don Regino also defies
categorization within a given set of Mexican male characteristics. While in
some areas he fits the stereotype, in others he is significantly different from
the macho that has become a kind of prototype on which Mexican males model
their values and behavior. Carlos Monsivais describes Don Regino in
decidedly negative terms as the embodiment of the late nineteenth-century
Porfirian values of middle-class uprightness.41 This social critic sees Don
Regino as the compendium of all virtue carried to the extreme and, as a
consequence, as a boring, stiff, moralizing individual who provokes a negative
reaction from the reader. Although it is true that Vargas endows him with
more socially acceptable values than Borola, Don Regino is not as rigid a
character as Monsivais would have us believe. He is a complex and often
contradictory individual who deserves careful scrutiny.
Vargas's picture of Don Regino as a young boy (or Reginito, as he was
then called) in his parents' home provides important information to use in
understanding him. Vargas probably considers him to be an ideal child. He is
obedient, affectionate, studious and always clean.42 Unlike his brothers and
sisters, he prefers to spend his days close to his mother, helping her with the
cooking and cleaning or studying his lessons. Both his mother and father
heavily favor him over the other children for his adaptive qualities. Reginito's
childhood during the last years of the porfiriato [the presidency of Don
Porfirio Diaz] is comfortable and tranquil. His father's barbershop thrives, and
his mother seems content to fulfill her traditional role of caring mother and
compliant wife.
Reginito's behavior as a child contrasts with Borola's. While she is
rebellious and incorrigible, he is adaptive. Where she gets into trouble, he
provides a positive model for staying out of it. Though she is direct in
expressing what she wants for herself, he tends to do as others tell him. As
children, Reginito is often upset by Borola's expressions of her feelings,
particularly her deep affection for him. In short, Reginito resembles a little
adult with a pageboy haircut and sailor suit, whom Vargas probably intended
to represent a positive model. This impression is reinforced by Reginito's
assumption of the major parenting responsibilities for his brothers and sisters
after his father is killed in the street by a stray bullet and his mother dies of
a broken heart.43
Regino is not raised by his parents to become a carbon copy of the
dominant male. Regino's major role model, his father, is described as a
considerate father and husband who transmits to his son his own nineteenth-
century values of decorum, gentility, and propriety. Vargas seems to favor
these values, and consequently he has Regino pass them on to his own son.44
A good sense of Regino's uniqueness as a Mexican male can be
understood when evaluating him in terms of the macho, whose distinguishing
characteristic is the importance he places on sexual prowess. This value is
traditionally manifested in different ways, including the number of children he
can father, his ability to sustain several households simultaneously, and the
number of his sexual conquests, as well as his capacity to consume large
amounts of alcohol while apparently remaining in control of himself.45 This
behavior is designed to terrorize and scandalize his woman/wife and contains
the message that is implicit in all of his machista behavior: to prove in any
form he can that he is free from the woman and that she is absolutely
subservient to him. He consistently does what the woman does not want him
to do whether he is driving, boasting at the office, or lording it over others at
a party.46
Such a description does not fit Don Regino. Unlike many other males in
La familia Burron, who are characterized as heavy drinkers, he takes a dim
view of alcohol. Even when his friends invite him to have a drink with them,
he hesitates, knowing that the money spent in a bar could be better used to
buy gifts for his family or to pay bills. Occasionally Don Regino gives in to
this vice, but when he does, he suffers the consequences of his own guilt as
well as the wrath of Borola and the shame of his children.47
Vargas portrays a clear example of the ill effects of alcohol: Don Susanito
Cantarranas is a good-for-nothing drunk who cannot hold down a steady job
and is unable to provide healthy parenting for his young son, Foforo.48 He is
the embodiment in La familia Burron of the parandero [carouser], the macho
male who blows his hard-earned money on women and alcohol, carouses,
neglects his children, and beats his wife. By contrast, Don Regino is a
moderate drinker and critical of those who are not, including his wife, Borola,
whom he feels is setting a bad example for the children. He blames her for
Macuca's temporary drinking problem.49
Another mode of behavior that differentiates Don Regino from the
generalized view of the Mexican male has to do with his relationship with
other women. While he is characterized as warm and much admired by the
women in his community—one of them comments: "Si don Reginito fuera mi
marido lo tendria en un altar. Es un hombre sin defectos. H5° ["If Don Reginito
were my husband I'd have him on an altar. He's a man without defects."]—he
is entirely faithful to Borola. Although she accuses him of having a segundo

frente [mistress], she is badly mistaken; Don Regino is shown to be devoted
to his wife and conscious of how destructive such a relationship would be to
his marriage. He clearly does not share the attitude many Mexican males have
toward "good" women—those who are virgins and thus marriageable—and
"bad" women—prostitutes and others who are sexually liberated.51 Nor do
readers ever see him carousing or visiting houses of prostitution—a common
and socially acceptable practice of Mexican males.
In fact, Don Regino fails miserably when he tries to behave like the
macho. In one number, Don Regino has been dining in his dancing outfit and
apparently staying out until the early hours of the morning. In the end,
however, we discover that he has created this subterfuge to make Borola
jealous.52 The truth is, he has spent the nights sleeping in the barbershop and
has painted his face with lipstick prior to returning home. Another time Don
Regino dreams he is a great dancer, only to awaken to Borola's waving a gun
under his nose.53 The following description of the Mexican male thus hits wide
of the mark when applied to the gentle and domestic Don Regino: "In social
life a Mexican man's marital status is of little practical importance, as a man
carries on virtually the same sort of social life after marriage as he did before—
and one in which the women have little part."54
Don Regino demands the same behavior from Borola; he does not socialize
with his buddies and engage in frivolous activities outside of the home, and
he expects his wife to conform to the same standard. From the outset of their
marriage, Don Regino insists that Borola break off her relationships with men
and women she knew before. When she expresses the desire to go out dancing
with her cuates [companions], he explodes: "\Esas palabras me ofenden, date
cuenta que estds casadal \A mi ya no me hables de tus amigotesl55 ["These
words offend me. You have to realize that you're married! Don't talk to me
about your good pals!"].
A major motif throughout La familia Burron is the struggle between
husband and wife. As has already been discussed, she wants to break out of
the traditional roles of wife and mother; he pressures her to stay at home,
carry out her responsibilities as a married woman, and, above all, not set a
bad example for the two children. Don Regino opposes most of her business
ventures and her political activity. This domestic struggle, which has been
constant throughout more than three decades of the comic book's publication,
is based on the author's reversal of Borola's and Regino's traditional roles
within the marriage. As mentioned before, this reversal is the primary source
of humor in La familia Burron.
An important part of this internal domestic struggle revolves around
money. Because Borola is rarely successful in her many businesses, she
remains economically dependent on Don Regino. Much of the comic book's
hilarity arises from her ability to get the most out of the little money he gives
her for food and other household expenses. Vargas clearly intends to
characterize Borola as a generally irresponsible woman who has little
knowledge of financial matters, while he describes Don Regino as a
hardworking and little understood husband who periodically must punish his
wife for her follies in this area.56
Many readers would consider Don Regino extreme in his principles
regarding money. On several occasions, the Burr6n family receives a windfall
due to a piece of incredible luck or to Borola's astuteness.57 In each case,
however, Don Regino returns the money to its rightful owner. He also refuses
to receive financial gifts from Borola's rich Aunt Griseta. Vargas keeps him
poor but honest, which perpetuates the structure of economic dependence
between husband and wife. While Vargas perhaps did not intend to come
across as an advocate of the authoritarian rule of the husband/father, this is
precisely what results from the author's insistence on having Don Regino
conform to a strict (even rigid) moral standard.
This authoritarian model extends to Don Regino's role as father, but with
important differences. While he is shown to have the last word as a parent,
and his children respect him, he is neither distant nor inaccessible,
characteristics of many Mexican fathers.58 Don Regino takes a keen and active
interest in both Regino and Macuca. He continues to share his own thoughts,
feelings and activities even as they become young adults. For example, Regino
is often pictured walking, talking, and working with his father, who discusses
a variety of subjects with him, including family problems, Borola's behavior,
and his own work. Don Regino is stern in a caring way with both children
when he feels they are in need of parental discipline, for example, when
Regino brings home failing grades from school and when Macuca develops her
drinking problem. He also exercises his parental prerogative to judge the
suitability of Macuca's boyfriend. Don Regino is often depicted as the more
just of the two parents and he functions to moderate Borola's irrational and
often violent forms of discipline.59 The implication seems clear: when Don
Regino punishes his children, the punishment is well thought out and within
his parental rights, and therefore justified.
Don Regino is a gentle and caring father who is not afraid to carry out his
parental responsibilities, particularly when he decides that Borola is neglecting
hers. He often fills in as cook and housekeeper when she is off on one of her
adventures. The children recognize their father's genuine concern and
investment in their welfare and respond accordingly with tenderness.60
Don Regino's role as a caring parent extends to children other than his
own. For example, it is he who insists on taking an abandoned child into their
home.61 This incident provides an excellent picture of Don Regino's capacity
for tenderness towards children. He, rather than Borola, assumes the major
La familia Burrdn 173
role of caring for the new child. It is also Don Regino who decides that the
Burr6n family will adopt Foforo because his father, an alcoholic, is unable to
carry out his parental obligations. Foforo is always described as being closer
to Don Regino than to Borola, who resents his presence. Don Regino's
qualities as a positive parental figure are also recognized by the community.
Salterio, a young man, asks him to be the padrino [godfather] at his wedding;
Don Regino responds not only out of a sense of social responsibility but
because he is genuinely concerned for Salterio's welfare.62
Don Regino defies the easy stereotypes of the Mexican male in his
multiple roles as father and husband. While Vargas has endowed him with
heavy doses of authoritarianism, he has created an interesting and complex
character who is also able to feel and display deep compassion and tenderness
in response to the suffering and delights of others. Don Regino is a strict
father and demanding husband, but he seems motivated more by a personal
sense of fairness than by conformity to a series of stultifying societal
expectations of how he, a male, should behave.
III. Comparison with Other Family Comics
When the American comic book scene is examined, a parallel to La

familia Burrdn is difficult to find; however, there are a number of comic strips
that focus on the daily life of an American family. A few such strips that have
survived over the decades are George McManus's Bringing Up Father, about
Irish immigrants who become wealthy and successful upper-class Americans;
Frank King's Gasoline Alley, which relates the biography of the orphan
Skeezix and his relatives; and Blondie by Chic Young, the most popular of the
American family comic strips.
Bringing Up Father, which first appeared in American newspapers in
1913, revolves around the relationship of Maggie, an ex-washerwoman, and
her husband, Jiggs, a former mason, who have struck it rich by winning the
Irish sweepstakes. Most of the strip's hilarious events revolve around Maggie's
attempts to forget her lower-class origins and Jiggs' desire to continue meeting
with his buddies at the local tavern. Maggie is portrayed as an unappealing,
ugly, and insensitive woman whose recently acquired wealth has turned her
into a snob and a cruel wife. While Borola of La familia Burrdn is more
sympathetically drawn, she does share with Maggie a desire for life's
materialistic amenities and a disdain for her husband's lack of ambition.
Borola's treatment of Don Regino never reaches Maggie's excesses—she wields
her rolling pin like a lethal weapon—but in both cases, the husband is
portrayed as a victim of an aggressive, unrelenting wife. Role reversal is the
basis of much of the humor in both the American comic strip and the Mexican
comic book.
As Maurice Horn has pointed out, Bringing Up Father is one of the very
few comic strips in which all strata of society are represented.63 The same can
be said of La familia Burrdn, which, while it focuses on the lower-middle-
class life of the Burron family, also gives frequent glimpses of the upper class,
the petit bourgeois, and Mexico's rural poor. Bringing Up Father perhaps
presents an even wider panoply of social classes and types than its Mexican
counterpart, yet this similarity between the two is striking.
Gasoline Alley began appearing as a daily comic strip in 1919. In 1921,
Frank King, its creator, introduced Skeezix, an orphan who was adopted by
the bachelor Walt Wallet, the strip's most important figure up to that point.
The importance of Gasoline Alley to this discussion of La familia Burrdn is
its temporal aspect; King decided that his characters would age just as
naturally in the strip's frames as his readers in real life. We follow Skeezix
through childhood, adolescence, and adulthood; his participation as a soldier
in World War II; his return home and marriage to his childhood sweetheart,
Nina; the birth of their children, and so on. Vargas also allows readers to
share in his characters' aging; we see Borola and Don Regino as young
children, teenagers, young adults, and finally as middle-aged parents. There
is, however, a significant difference between Gasoline Alley and La familia
Burrdn. The former is structured chronologically, the latter is not. The earliest
numbers of La familia Burrdn introduce mature characters, and 1970s numbers
take us back to previous stages in Borola and Don Regino's lives.
Of all the American comic strips, Blondie bears the closest resemblance
to La familia Burrdn. Blondie was started in 1930 and has since then become
an institution of mass communication in this country.64 The strip is found in
virtually every city newspaper in the United States and appears in 1,200
newspapers all over the world. The creator of Blondie explains that the success
of the strip is due to his use of "the greatest, simplest, and most interesting
continuity of all, the continuity of life itself," together with a little humor, the
spice of life.65
The family of Blondie, like the Burrons, consists of a working father, a
housewife, and two teenagers, but the main characters have little in common.
Dagwood Bumstead—the name suggests his bumbling, ineffectual personality-
is characterized by Marshall McLuhan as a "seedy, baggy, bewildered, and
weakly dependent" buffoon, "an apologetic intruder into a hygienic, and save
for himself, well-ordered dormitory.H66 Geoffrey Gorer, who is a little more
generous, describes Dagwood as "kind, dutiful, diligent, well-meaning, but he
has so completely given up any claim to authority that the family would
constantly risk disintegration and disaster if it were not for Blondie. "67 Arthur
Asa Berger sees him as an important contemporary American archetype—the
irrelevant male—who is browbeaten by a domineering and assertive wife, is

abused by his boss, Mr. Dithers, and is generally a failure in anything he
does.68 Don Regino, on the other hand, is a self-employed, competent and
confident businessman. He is viewed as gentle, caring, and respected by his
children, and although Borola tries to control him, he asserts himself in a way
that creates a healthy tension between the two of them. While Dagwood is
held up by Chic Young as an absurdly ineffectual father and husband, Don
Regino is probably designed as a model for the Mexican reader.
Borola and Blondie both get what they want, but in different ways. Borola
is aggressive, even combative, in going after her desired goals while Blondie
uses her feminine wiles. She considers Dagwood a necessary evil, useful as a
breadwinner and an occasional help around the house, while Borola and Don
Regino have a closer, albeit considerably more raucous, relationship. Blondie
is also depicted as brainless: a dumb blond. Borola is unquestionably more
aware of the world around her and how to effectively function in it.
Another significant difference between Blondie and La familia Burrdn is
one of perspective. The comic strip alternates between two poles—Dagwood's
office and the Bumstead home. The reader sees very few other aspects of the
characters' social milieu. The author thus focuses on the interaction among
the members of the family, between the family and their neighbors, and
between Dagwood and Mr. Dithers. The perspective of La familia Burrdn is
much wider. Vargas includes social commentary and a critical view of
different institutions. His intent is more global: the struggles of the lower-
middle-class Mexican family to withstand the pressures of a changing moral
system as well as different socioeconomic and political stresses. In addition,
La familia Burrdn has a richer texture and a fuller and more varied cast of
characters.
Already discussed is the extent to which Don Regino and Borola conform
to Mexican sex roles. La familia Burrdn reflects contemporary Mexico in a
number of other important ways. Of greatest importance are the many
socioeconomic and political issues that can be found in the comic book's pages
over the last thirty years. Poverty, inflation, hunger, malnutrition, corruption,
caciquismo [bossism], inadequate medical care, inadequate housing, and
consumerism are some of the recurring themes that manifest Vargas's concern
for the powerlessness and depressed economic state of the urban lower middle
class and the rural poor. He does not hesitate to point an accusing finger at
government officials and institutions, particularly as their policies affect these
sectors of Mexican society. Despite its defects, however, Vargas seems to
believe that the Mexican system is basically sound and that no radical change
is called for.
The perspective Vargas brings to those problems is that of the lower
middle class to which the Burron family belongs. It is this class on which
many of the burdens of a fluctuating economy, a soaring rate of population
growth, and an unequal distribution of income have fallen. One historian of
modern Mexico observed that pockets of real poverty still existed in 1960 even
after a period of economic prosperity: nearly a million peasants, outside of the
ejido system (lands owned collectively by a village), worked plots of land too
small to give sustenance to a family, and the majority of them lived at a bare
subsistence level and enjoyed few of the advantages accruing from the
burgeoning economy. But even many of those, whether urban or rural, who
earned an income above the subsistence level lived in conditions far from
ideal, reflecting none of the prosperity that the economic data indicate. One-
half of the population lived in housing averaging five persons to the room.
Only one of every three Mexicans had access to running water within the
building in which he lived, and only one of four dwelling places included a
bathroom with running water. Two of every three families depended upon
wood or charcoal for cooking and heating but, curiously enough, one of every
three families owned a radio or television or both. These data give statistical
support to a frequently observed phenomenon—Mexican economic gains have
been funneled into a small segment of the population, with the vast majority
benefiting only slightly from the impressive gains registered after 1950.69
For those who would hail the success of the Mexican Revolution of 1910,
the following figures regarding the distribution of income and enormous
differences in standards of living are disturbingly revealing: 1 percent of the
population gainfully employed received 66 percent of the national income,
while the remaining 99 percent, the workers, received only thirty-four percent.
An average income per family for the whole country of 700 pesos per month
(U.S.-$56) was barely enough to satisfy the minimal requirements for food,
clothing, shelter, and entertainment in 1968, and according to this standard,
33 percent of the families in the Federal District and the Pacific North, 60
percent of the Gulf Coast families and those living in North Central states, and
80 percent of those living in the center of the country and in states along the
southern Pacific coast were lacking in economic means to care for their
minimum needs; approximately two of every three families were lacking in
economic means, in the sense of having a below-average income when the
average itself was already low; these data indicate slightly the reality of the
misery suffered by large segments of the population.70
More recent income distribution data for 1979 shows some improvement
but still tells a depressing story. Surveys show that the top 10 percent of
income earners skim off a hefty 45 percent of Mexico's total income, while
the lower 40 percent must scramble for only 10 percent of the pie. A recent
public opinion poll in Mexico City shows that people are most concerned
about inflation, poverty, hunger, unemployment, and the population
explosion.71
The alarming situation described above has been reflected in La familia
Burrdn since some of the issues in the 1940s and early 1950s. Already in the
comic book's fifth issue Borola complains bitterly about not having enough
money to send the children to school with full stomachs.72 The Burron family
seems to be barely making it. Their small and crowded home is sparsely
furnished with rough furnishings, the plaster is coming off the walls, the beds
consist of a mattress on a bare floor or improvised from crates, and cooking
is done on a rustic woodburning stove. The Burron family is too poor to
afford good winter coats.73
Several years later, in the mid and late 1950s, conditions have improved
only slightly. Although the home has become more comfortable, the family
is still plagued by an inadequate income. Don Regino comments to Borola on
the general situation in Mexico:
Solamente en Mexico los ricos se alimentan bien. Asi que

como nosotros somos muy pobres, no tienes derecho de
echar a perder esos alimentos que compre con tantos
sacrificios.14 [In Mexico only the rich eat well. Because
we're poor you have no right to waste that food that I
sacrificed to buy.]
Times are so difficult that the Burron family and others are forced to pawn
valuable household items such as radios and irons in order to make ends
meet.75 Borola complains bitterly to Don Regino that inflation is eating big
holes in their food budget and she urges him to raise his barber rates to keep
up.76 And in a special Christmas issue in 1956, Vargas pushes the economic
hardship issue to a new level. The Burron family is too poor to buy gifts or
to have a fitting Christmas meal.77
Vargas becomes more outspoken in the 1970s and more explicit in his
descriptions of the dismal economic situation in which the Burrons and other
lower-middle-class families find themselves. Borola and other women make
their daily visit to the market to discover that what their money could buy
yesterday it cannot touch today.78 Perhaps reflecting the period of heightened
social awareness and increased political activity in Mexico during the late
1960s and early 1970s, Vargas allows the women to express their frustration
and anger by actively confronting the vendors.79
In a late-1970s' number, Vargas refers directly to the disastrous effect that
the floating of the peso is having on prices and its impact on the lower middle-
class.80 This is one of the few times the author is critical of a specific policy
or action on the part of the government. Borola and others are now beginning
to complain bitterly about their economic plight in terms of a more generalized
national situation.81 Hunger and malnutrition now afflict them as well as the
very poor.
Esta maldita situacidn revienta a cualquiera. Puro bla bla

bla pero nadie que haga algo efectivo. Por todos lados se
ven caras tristes y angustiadas. Los nihos son los que me
causan pena por no saber por que sus padres solamente les
dan de comer una vez al dia. No se que nos esta pasando a
los mexicanos que no hacemos nadapor defendernos .82 [This
damned situation would do in anybody. Pure bla bla bla, but
nobody does anything effective. You see sad and anguished
faces everywhere. It's the children who upset me most, not
knowing why their parents feed them only once a day. I
don't know what's happening to us Mexicans who don't do
anything to stick up for ourselves.]
Finally, Borola resorts to theft from the local government food store in order
to alleviate the difficult family situation.83
The themes of high prices, hunger, and poverty, which take on a more
serious cast in issues during the 1970s, perhaps reflect the increasing gap
between rich and poor, especially during the unprecedented economic growth
during the oil boom in Mexico.84 Oil revenues do not flow into the lower-
middle-class barrios of La familia Burrdn.
One consequence of the bad economic situation and the scarcity of
adequate employment opportunities in Mexico during the 1950s, which is still
largely true today, was that Mexican workers were forced to seek jobs in the
United States under the green-card system, the Bracero Program, and as illegal
aliens. This situation is accurately reflected in La familia Burrdn. Don Regino
and Borola ask their son to leave home because he is not contributing to the
family income nor is he doing well in school.85 Unable to find work in the
city, he joins his friends who are heading north to make their fortune in the
United States. Instead of the cornucopia of plenty, however, Regino finds
racism, poor working conditions, and loneliness. He soon returns to Mexico,
disillusioned by the experience and penniless after being cheated out of his
savings.
Other issues accurately dealt with in La familia Burrdn that are an
outgrowth of the economic situation and the political disenfranchisement of the
lower middle class are the lack of running water within the home and the
related problem of water shortages, crime and inadequate police protection in
the community, impurities in the milk, absentee landlords, irregular garbage

collection, and roving bands of ferocious dogs. Vargas implies that these are
only the symptoms of a corrupt and ineffective economic system that has built
into it a high rate of unemployment, inflation, amd unequal distribution of
income. Vargas seems to accept that this is the way of life for the lower
middle class. While he effectively contrasts the life of the leisure class-
expensive gifts, parties, theater, large cars, expensive homes—to that of lower
middle class, his solution is based on either individual initiative or passive
acceptance of this difficult situation.86
The Burron family gets up earlier than their neighbors to beat the water
line—in the first numbers of the comic book, several families share one
faucet.87 Lines are endemic to their social class and consume much of their
time and energy: there are lines to pay the bills, lines to get fuel, and lines
to apply for loans, among others. The poor must put up with these
inconveniences, and although Vargas allows them their share of anger, the
problems do not go away, as indeed they have not for Mexico's poor. Even
when the Burron family becomes more comfortable and acquires running
water at home, they must contend with water shortages.88
Already discussed are Borola's attempts to trace the source of the impure
milk. In this adventure, she encounters an entire conspiracy of corruption that
she tries in vain to struggle against.89 The same corruption exists when she
investigates garbage collection.90 Unable to change the system, she organizes
a vigilante committee to police the community. The pattern is repeated in other
instances as well. In each case, self-organization rather than remedial action
by government provide the answer.91
Vargas's view of the politics is a decidedly negative one. The comic book
reflects the prevalence of corruption in the form of influence peddling and
bribes. Corruption is still the rule in post-revolutionary Mexico, both in rural
and urban areas, in the form of caciquismo, the system of influence in the
political and administrative affairs of a town or district.92
Several numbers ofLa familia Burrdn refer to this situation. For example,
in her conversation with a corrupt municipal official, Borola comments on the
economic advantages of his having to take certain risks:
El que llega a tener un hueso como el de usted, es como un

buen torero: se expone mucho; pero en poco tiempo se retira
con mds lana que un borrego.93 [The man who ends up like
you with a good bone is like a good bullfighter; he
frequently exposes himself to danger, but he retires with
more "wool" [money] than a lamb.]
Another number describes Borola's struggle with a local representative when

she competes against him in a political election.94 His bodyguards threaten her
physically and warn her not to participate. One of the characters comments
perfunctorily, "Todos los politicos son muy rastreros"95 ["All politicians are
very corrupt"]. In another number, Don Regino lectures Borola and the readers
on the evils of politics in Mexico. "No todo es goce en politica. Si alguien
abraza un a partido, no aparece que entra en una lucha de ideales sino que
se afilia a una banda deforajidos."96 ["Not everything in politics is fun. If
someone joins a party it's as though he joins a band of thieves rather than
joining a struggle for justice."] Vargas shows some of the methods of election
fraud including the use of the names of the dead on the registration lists and
intimidation of the electorate at polling sites.97 Important aspects of
corruption are the mordida [bribe] and the use of influential officials to obtain
favors, services, and money. Borola takes advantage of her friendship with a
high police administrator to get a job as a traffic cop.98 Vargas thus presents
a clear case of how many government or civil positions are obtained in
Mexico. Qualifications are far less significant than one's relationship of a
person with power and influence.
As prevalent as the system of corruption in cities is the control of a rural
district by a local political party boss through patronage, corruption, and
violence.99 Pistolerismo, or the use of hired guns to carry out the political
bosses' orders, maintains this control. Vargas paints a detailed and largely on-
the-mark picture of rural corruption in several of the later numbers of La
familia Burrdn. Although his cacique is more benevolent than bloodthirsty,
he nonetheless maintains control over his region through intimidation and
violence. Don Juanon shares the fruits of his labors with Don Briagoberto, an
equally corrupt town mayor. Their arrangement is very explicit: in exchange
for his political support, Don Juanon demands and gets half of Don
Briagoberto's graft. The two discuss this arrangement and the problem of
forcing money out of the reluctant townspeople:
Pos ya le digo compadre, ore que es uste presidente

municipal debe agarrar cuanto hayy pasarme la mitd, como
habiamos quedao. [Well, I'll tell ya' pal, now that you're
mayor ya better take all you can get and gimme half like we
said.] Don Briagoberto: Toy gobernando al pueblo con
dificultades. Tengo que cobrar impuestos amenazdndolos de
muerte. A muchos los he tenido que golpiar o arrastrar a
cabeza de silla pa' que suelten la centaviza.100 [It's tough
being mayor of this town. I gotta collect taxes with threats.
I've had to thrash lots of people to make them let loose of
the pennies.]
Don Juanon empathizes with his subordinate, for he, too, has had to deal
harshly with his enemies: he has killed all of them.101
The cacique is a virtual dictator and his political subordinates follow his
orders without hesitation.102 Only when it becomes clear that Don Briagoberto
has gone beyond the bounds of acceptable behavior—breaking up married
couples and kidnapping a rancher's daughter—does his boss insist that he step
down from the mayorship. As Vargas amply demonstrates, caciquismo is still
deeply rooted in rural areas of Mexico, and it is a system that has an
elaborate set of rules of loyalty and behavior.
In addition to the aspects of politics and politicians already discussed,
Vargas also points an accusing finger at other institutions such as the police
and the medical establishment. The police are generally shown to be inept,
corrupt, and arbitrary.103 Conditions in Mexican jails are described as
deplorable, with brutality among prisoners commonplace.
Doctors do not fare any better than the police. Vargas' opinion of them
is very low; they are hucksters whose lack of knowledge of medicine is
criminal. For example, when Don Regino becomes seriously ill, a doctor who
is unable to make a specific diagnosis nonetheless prescribes a drug, saying it
will either cure him or kill him.104 And Vargas indicts the entire medical
establishment, including doctors, nurses, and hospital administrators, in one
number in which they seem unable to cope with Borola's ailment.105 The cover
shows her on an operating table surrounded by surgeons with saws and knives.
Don Regino and the family dog are weeping in anticipation of her certain
death.
V. La familia Burrdn and Social Change
For over fifty years, Gabriel Vargas has almost singlehandedly created a
weekly issue of La familia Burrdn, giving his readers an intimate look at a
lower-middle-class Mexican family. His main characters, Borola and Don
Regino, defy the popular stereotypes of the passive female and the aggressive
male. While Don Regino is depicted as a gentle father and conscientious
husband who rarely drinks and never carouses, Borola is ambitious, assertive,
and frequently greedy. The very humor that results from the endless conflicts
between husband and wife, however, serves to communicate Vargas's most
important message: while it is acceptable for the woman to be strong, she
must, in the end, submit to the man's authority. The writer drives home this
moral by frequently punishing Borola for her attempts to assert her will over
Don Regino.
Related to Vargas's affirmation of the sanctity of traditional husband-wife
roles in the marriage is his view of the woman's relationship to the larger
society. He uses Borola's aggressive personality as the vehicle for examining

a number of Mexican social issues, many of which have an impact directly on
the lower middle class. She confronts corrupt politicians and unscrupulous
shopkeepers, champions neighborhood consumer causes, and attacks police
brutality, yet she is not permitted to succeed fiilly in these endeavors. While
Vargas has given Borola more latitude in the 1970s, he continues to
characterize her as a foolish, headstrong, and self-serving female who, unlike
her husband, is unable to cope with the problems of the "real" world. He
implies that women should not even try to do so.
In addition to reflecting Mexican attitudes towards sex roles, La familia
Burrdn is a compendium of socioeconomic and political issues. Vargas has
aired many important problems that affect Mexican society in general and the
lower middle class in particular, including hunger and malnutrition, poverty
and inflation, caciquismo, and the inadequacy of housing and medical care.
When compared to its counterparts in the United States, La familia Burrdn has
a decidedly more social focus.
Although it has established a solid reputation among Mexican comic-book
critics and is over five decades old, Vargas's comic book has never been one
of the more popular titles in Mexico. The reasons for this are probably to be
found in the writer's ambivalence toward his characters and the comic book's
social commentary. He creates a nontraditional female, yet undercuts her
assertiveness by making her conform to a very traditional authoritarian
relationship to her husband. He raises social issues but provides few
solutions. Radical change is unacceptable to Vargas, and individual efforts
ultimately fail. Perhaps he has never attracted a larger readership due to his
own lack of certainty on what he wants his comic book to be. By including a
"little bit of morality, a little bit of hygiene, a little bit of religion, a little bit
of politics," Vargas has diluted his comic book to the point that it may tend
to confuse readers who seek out other comic books with less cluttered content
and more sharply focused ideas.
NOTES
1. Personal interview with Gabriel Vargas, August 19, 1978.

2. Rosalva de Valdes refers to Pepin in the following way: "...sin lugar
a dudas, ha sido la (revista) de mas arraigo en el gusto del publico y con el
mis alto tiraje diario jamas logrado en este tipo de publicaciones, dandose el
caso de sacar doble edicion para cubrir a del domingo." [".. .without a doubt,
it has been the most popular magazine and the one with the highest daily
circulation of any publication of its kind. It has required a double run on
Sunday in order to meet demand"], "Cronica general de la historieta," Artes

de Mexico, 158 (n.d.): 10.
3. According to Vargas, it has fluctuated between 48,000 and 110,000.
4. Vargas interview, 1978.
5. Irene Herner, Mitos y monitos: Historietas y fotonovelas en Mexico
(Mexico: Universidad Nacional Autonoma de Mexico, Editorial Nueva
Imagen, 1979), p. 136.
6. Elena Poniatowska, "Gabriel Vargas y Familia Burron," El Gallo
Illustrado (Sunday supplement of El Did), 33 (February 10, 1963), 2.
8. Ibid.
9. The Universities of Texas and Illinois in the United States; universities
in Argentina and Chile.
10. Personal interview with Gabriel Vargas, April 5, 1980.
12. Carlos Monsivais, "Picaresca y moraleja de la historieta mexicana,"
El Gallo Illustrado (Sunday supplement of El Did), 33 (February 10, 1963),
2.
13. La familia Burrdn, No. 17335 (March 8, 1977). It is important to
note that Vargas reveals pieces of Borola and Don Regino's childhood and
young adulthood throughout the comic book's fifty-year history. It is not
unusual to find references to younger versions of these characters in both very
early and very recent numbers. For example, some of the first numbers deal
with Don Regino and Borola as adults. The reader should be aware that there
is no relationship between the age of the comic book and the age of the
characters.
14. Ibid., 9.
15. Ibid., 9.
16 La familia Burrdn, No. 16065 (October 10, 1953).
17. La familia Burrdn, No. 16891 (August 18, 1968).
18. La familia Burrdn, No. 16979 (April 25, 1970).
19. La familia Burrdn, No. 16070 (November 5, 1953).
20. Fernando Penalosa, "Mexican Family Roles," Journal of Marriage
and the Family, 30 (November 1968): 687. The following studies have also
been useful to the authors in ascertaining contemporary Mexican attitudes
toward the family, sex roles, male-female relationships, machismo
marianismo, and so on: Juana Armanda Alegrfa, Psicologia de las mexicanos
(Mexico City: Editorial Samo, S.A., 1974); Noel F. McGinn, "Marriage and
Family in Middle-Class Mexico," Journal of Marriage and the Family, 28
(August 1966): 305-13; R.G. Riviere, "The Honour of Sanchez," Man, 2
(December 1967): 569-83; Americo Paredes, "The United States, Mexico, and
Machismo," Journal of the Folklore Institute, 3 (June 1971): 17-37; Evelyn
P. Stevens, "Marianismo: The Other Face of Machismo in Latin America,"

Female and Male in Latin America: Essays, Ann Pescatello, ed. (Pittsburgh:
University of Pittsburgh Press, 1973), pp. 89-101; Michele Mattelart, La
cultura de la opresidn femenina (Mexico City: Era, 1977); Gabriel Careaga,
Mitos y fantasias de la clase media en Mexico (Mexico City: Editorial Joaqum
Mortiz, 1975).
21. Alegria, Psicologia, 144.
22. See the following numbers of La familia Burrdn: No. 16070
(November 5, 1953), No. 16075 (November 19, 1953), No. 16887 (July 21,
1968), and No. 16924 (April 6, 1969).
23. La familia Burrdn, No. 16085 (January 7, 1954).
24. La familia Burrdn, No. 16018 (February 19, 1953).
25. Ibid., 34-35.
27. See the following numbers of La familia Burrdn: No. 16140 (August
25, 1954), No. 16145 (September 13, 1954), and No. 16485 (May 19, 1959).
28. La familia Burrdn, No. 17005 (October 25, 1970), No. 17012
(December 13, 1970), No. 17012 (December 13, 1970), No. 17160 (October
14, 1973), No. 17311 (September 12, 1976), No. 17354 (July 17, 1977), and
No. 28 (Second Series published after September 1978-March 23, 1979).
29. La familia Burrdn, No. 17350 (June 19, 1977).
30. La familia Burrdn, No. 17364 (September 25, 1977).
31. La familia Burrdn, No. 49 (Second Series—August 17, 1979).
32. La familia Burrdn, No. 16774 (n.d.).
34. La familia Burrdn, No. 16460 (February 21, 1958), p. 22.
35. La familia Burrdn, No. 1 (Second Series—September 15, 1978).
36. Penalosa, "Mexican Family Roles, 686.
38. Penalosa, "Mexican Family Roles," 687.
39. See La familia Burrdn, No. 16013 (n.d.).
41. Monsivais, "Picaresca y moraleja," 3.
44. Ibid.
45. Salvador Reyes Nevares, "El machismo en Mexico," Mundo nuevo
(April 1970), 70.
46. See Gabriel Careaga, "Mitos y fantasias," 99-116.
48. La familia Burrdn, No. 16990 (July 12, 1970).
50. La familia Burrdn, No. 16009 (n.d.), 4.

52. La familia Burrdn, No. 16019 (March 5, 1953).
53. La familia Burrdn, No. 16021 (March 12 1953).
54. Penalosa, "Mitos y fantasias," 683.
56. La familia Burrdn, No. 16006 (n.d.) is an excellent example.
57. For example, see La familia Burrdn, No, 16977 (April 12, 1970).
58. Penalosa, "Mitos y fantasias," 686.
59. La familia Burrdn, No. 16105 (March 18, 1958), No. 16106 (March
22, 1954).
63. Maurice Horn, ed., The World Encyclopedia of Comics (New York:
Chelsea House Publishers, 1976).
Mass Medium (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1971), 39.
65. Ibid.
66. Marshall McLuhan, The Mechanical Bride (New York: The Vanguard
Press, 1951), 68-69.
67. Geoffrey Gorer, The American People (New York: W.W. Norton,
1964), 135.
68. Arthur Asa Berger, The Comic-Stripped American (New York:
Walker and Company, 1973), 102-11.
69. Charles C. Cumberland, Mexico, The Struggle for Modernity (New
York: Oxford University Press, 1968), 322.
70. Pablo Gonzalez Casanova, "Mexico: The Dynamics of an Agrarian
and 'Semicapitalist' Revolution," in Latin America. Reform or Revolution?,
eds. James Petras and Maurice Zeitlin (New York: Fawcett Publications,
1968), 469.
71. Special Supplement on Mexico to The Los Angeles Times (July 15,
1979), 11.
74. La familia Burrdn, No. 16110 (April 5, 1954), 12-13.
76. La familia Burrdn, No. 16300 (April 12, 1956), 6.
77. La familia Burrdn, No. 16445 (December 23, 1957).

82. Ibid., 3-4.
83. La familia Burrdn, No. 49 (Second Series-August 17, 1979).
84. Evelyn P. Stevens, Protest and Response in Mexico (Cambridge, MA:
MIT Press, 1974), 266.
87. Ibid.
92. L. Vincent Padgett discusses the role of caciques in the Mexican rural
scene in The Mexican Political System (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company,
1976), 159-161. He believes that the system of local caciques has become
entrenched in the Mexican political structure and that local populations seem
accepting of the corruption that characterizes this institution.
93. La familia Burrdn (September 7, 1953), 17.
94. La familia Burrdn. No. 16450 (January 17, 1958).
95. Ibid., 32.
96. La familia Burrdn, No. 16465 (March 14, 1958), 3.
97. La familia Burrdn, No. 16459 (February 17, 1958).
99. Lesley Byrd Simpson, Many Mexicos (Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1962), 305.
100. La familia Burrdn, No. 16899 (October 13, 1968).
101. Ibid., 5.
102. See also La familia Burrdn, No. 16917 (February 16, 1969), No.
16934 (June 15, 1969), No. 17319 (November 7, 1976), No. 17351 (June 20,
1977), and No. 17371 (November 13, 1977).
103. La familia Burrdn, No. 16324 (July 5, 1958), No. 16102 (March
8, 1954), and No. 16245 (August 29, 1955).
105. La familia Burrdn, No. 16152 (October 7, 1954).
9
La novela policiaca
I. Introduction to the La novela policiaca
La novela policiaca [The Mystery Novel], a novel-length comic book (as

opposed to the traditional 32-page comic book), first appeared in 1956
published biweekly, later weekly, by Novedades.1 Initially it was published
under the general editorship of Laura Bolanos, and its 258-page classic
mystery stories were largely written by the same women who wrote lovelorn
tales in a similar format for El libro semanal [Novel of the Week].2 Its early
numbers did not sell well, and when Carlos Vigil became editor of
publications in 1958, he aimed the comic book more specifically at men,
hiring male writers and introducing a greater variety of mystery and detective
themes and story-telling devices. Sales improved; in fact, La novela policiaca
became the best-selling police comic-book title in Mexico. Agustin Barcena
and Rafael Marquez Torres, editors after Vigil, retained his general approach,
but switched the locale of most stories from Mexico to the United States,
placed increased emphasis on action, sex, and violence, and reduced each
issue's length to about 220 pages.3
From the beginning, each issue has contained one, on occasion two,
stories written by any one of a large stable of authors. In a random sample of
thirty-seven volumes, drawn from approximately 10 percent of the issues4
published between No. 832 (January 3, 1974) and No. 1176 (August 7, 1980),
twelve different writers are represented, and their contributions range from one
to seven titles.5 The most frequently represented writers are Raul Santibanez,
Vicente Ferrer, and the now deceased Maurice La Tour.
Ferrer arrived in Mexico at the age of twenty-five, a refugee from the
Spanish Civil War, and since 1968 has written for La novela policiaca,
averaging eighteen or twenty stories a year. An avid cinema fan, Ferrer gets
many of his ideas for stories from Hollywood movies shown on Mexican
television. For example, a movie he saw concerning an improbable excape

from Alcatraz suggested the theme for a story in which a mafioso drove a
warden crazy by twice escaping from a maximum security prison.6 Santibanez,
a native of Mexico and a descendant of an old aristocratic family, has written
La novela policiaca stories almost since the inception of the comic book, and
in the 1970s produced an incredible twenty-four to thirty-eight stories a year,
taking only two or three days to write each one (fifty to seventy typewritten
pages). His travels, studies, and occupation, in the 1970s, as principal of a
Mexico City high school all contributed background material and themes. He
studied in England and Germany, receiving an advanced degree in veterinary
medicine. At the time Carlos Vigil hired him as a writer, Santibanez was a
Mexican tourist guide. His travels have taken him to Europe, Africa, Canada,
and the United States, where he lived in Chicago for five years following
World War II. His administration of a secondary school and his teaching
brought him in contact with part of the age group at which he primarily aims
his manuscripts, sixteen- to twenty-one-year-olds. In addition to tapping the
beliefs and fantasy lives of his students as sources, he carefully researches the
settings for his stories. Current events also have provided a rich source for
themes: a priceless Egyptian mummy that was sent to England for study and
repair provided a point of departure for a story in which a mummy is
damaged, precipitating an international crisis.7
Both Ferrer and Santibanez believe that their manuscripts are not
substantially altered by Novedades editors. Peninsular Spanish expressions, in
the case of Ferrer, and the prolix prose of both are altered or pruned, they
believe, without changing the intended meaning; however, a detailed
comparison of one of Ferrer's manuscripts with the published text8 reveals in
some cases far more alteration than the substitution of synonyms or removal
of superfluous material. The original manuscript of "La Have de cuatro patasn
["The Four-Pronged Key"] was considerably changed when the text was
shortened by deleting an antecedent clause in which the warden of a new
maximum security prison states he is not "tan duro" ["so mean"] as many
believe, and only the warden's invitation to a fiesta, which he offers as proof
of this assertion, was retained. The editors also tended to spice up Ferrer's
original text: it orginally had no obvious sexual innuendos when the lead
mafioso fell in love, but the printed text has him seduced by ninquietantes
formas" ["disturbing curves"]. Finally, several of Ferrer's instructions to the
artist were ignored.
Both writers acknowledge that their current editor, Marquez Torres, more
often than not suggests thematic points of departure based on current events
and does enforce certain general guidelines. In 1980 Marquez Torres requested
stories prominantly incorporating the death of the Iranian Shah, the Concorde's
maiden flight, a new Dracula movie, and the World Cup victory of the
La novela policiaca 189
Argentine national soccer team. Marquez Torres also makes certain that stories
do not deal with Mexican politics, and that the fundamental message, "crime
does not pay," is incorporated. Marquez Torres continues to follow the dictate
of his predecessor, Barcena, that stories should take place outside Mexico.
With rare exception, stories also must avoid crimes by children, children as
victims, suicide, abortion, homosexuality, explicit sex, and pornography.9
Santibanez gives precise instructions to the artist for each frame. Ferrer
provides fewer directions, but both are convinced that the quality of
illustration is fundamental to the commercial success of their scripts.10 Since
no fewer than fourteen different artists illustrated the issues studied in this
chapter, only two of whom illustrated four or more of the stories,11 having a
good artist illustrate the story is to some extent a matter of luck.
The drawings are printed in brown ink in a very small format, a
combination that can lead to crowded, line-filled scenes on one page, and
large, velvety, dark areas giving a more uncluttered look on the next page.
The large number of artists leads to even less continuity of style, but some
individuality is observable. For instance, Antonio Melgar is capable of
balancing large areas of pure brown with only a few well-placed lines. Alberto
Cabrera has a very different talent in that he superbly characterizes faces,
especially men's faces.
Most of the characters in the stories are supposed to be North Americans,
but some of them have the look of Mexican character types. Likewise, some
of the background objects seem to have been drawn by someone not too
familiar with the United States; for example, an ancient coal-burning
locomotive chugs through a story set in the 1960s.
As in most Mexican comics, the covers are done by yet a different artist.
The cover artist has the luxury of working in color and is expected to produce
something truly eye-catching, which usually means adding a scantily-clad
woman who may have little relation to the story.
La novela policiaca has respectable sales compared to other comics and is
the leading policiaca title. Early sales were poor, but after Carlos Vigil
became editor, it regularly sold 40,000 copies weekly. Moreover, as Raul
Santibanez has observed, as Mexico City's population zoomed, La novela
policiaca's weekly sales grew even faster until they reached a 1980s peak of
350,000.12 Compared to other best-selling titles in the authors' 1978 survey of
Mexico City and Cuernavaca comic-book vendors, La novela policiaca sold
seven or eight copies weekly to the western El Payo's one; the romantic El
libro semanaVs eleven or twelve; the romantic Ldgrimas, risas y amor's
nineteen or twenty; the superhero Kaliman's fourteen or fifteen; and the
adventure-humor Chanoc's three.13 There is also a very brisk, high-volume,
secondhand market. Secondhand shops often have huge mounds of La novela
policiaca mixed in with El libro semanal. Santibanez believes that at least four
people read each individual copy, and Marquez Torres observes that it is a
favorite with families, some of whom have collected the entire series. Marquez
Torres feels its popularity in part reflects the fact that for its size, quality, and
price, it is a much better bargain than either fotonovelas [photonovels] or
English language mysteries translated into Spanish.14
La novela policiaca's sales in the late 1970s were bullish because, besides
offering over two hundred pages of thrilling entertainment at a comparatively
low cost, it titillated, perhaps even outraged, more than it had previously,
according to both Santibanez and Marquez Torres. The editor of Novedades
quite candidly states that since he became editor in 1978 he increasingly
emphasized the inclusion of as many sexy women as possible in each story,
because there was a strong correlation between sales and the number of scenes
per issue with provocative women. Santibanez adds that higher sales resulted
from an increased emphasis on sex, action, and violence, but he also stresses
that fine illustration can boost sales twenty or twenty-five percent.15
Of course, not everyone reads La novela policiaca. A general impression
of the comic book's readership profile emerges from interviews with editors,
writers, and vendors. There is general agreement that young, proletarian males
are its mainstay. Marquez Torres believes that 80 percent of La novela
policiaca's readers are men. He reasons that they like its combination of sex
and violence. Ferrer basically agrees, although he stresses that he has also seen
women reading it. Men, he believes, are the more dynamic sex in Mexico and
they like direct, uncomplicated action spiced with sex. The bulk of these
readers, Marquez Torres, Santibanez, and Ferrer argue, are the employed
lower class such as servants, manual laborers, chauffeurs, construction
workers, and plumbers. All are quick to add that white-collar workers and the
middle class, even a few high-status professionals, also consume these
policiaca stories, but do not like to admit it openly. All three further stress
that the lumpen proletariat do not read this title. These frequently unemployed
or marginally employed Mexicans lack the necessary literacy skills and
purchasing power to consume La novela policiaca. Seven pesos, the mid-1980
cost for a new issue, or the four or five pesos for a secondhand copy, is an
expensive investment for many in the lower class. And even though the
language is relatively uncomplicated, it is still considerably more difficult than
that of many comic books, such as Kalimdn.
There is also general agreement that most of these male readers are
between the ages of sixteen and twenty-one. In fact, Santibanez aims his
stories at precisely this age group, believing that romantic entanglements in
particular, together with sex and action, appeal to them.16 The authors' 1979
survey of seventy vendors, in Cuernavaca and neighboring towns and villages,
generally confirms these estimates of readership patterns. Of the vendors, 51
percent believed La novela policiaca was read primarily by men; 17 percent
stated that women were its primary consumers; and 28 percent refused to
categorize readers on the basis of sex, stating that the comic book was read by
both men and women. Vendors were more vague in their estimates of readers'
ages, simply stating that readers ranged in age from those in their mid-teens
to the elderly. On the few occasions when a more specific response was
given, an age span of late-teens through twenties was most frequently
mentioned. And vendors were so vague about readers' socioeconomic
characteristics that they gave no reliable impression.n
n. The Comic Book's Characters and Settings
The cast of players in La novela policiaca is basically what one would

expect to encounter in police dramas aimed at a male audience: investigators,
villains, victims, and women. Nevertheless, there is considerable variety
among this predictable cast, since each week's story contains a new group of
characters.18
All investigators are portrayed as good-looking and loaded with sex
appeal. Among these problem-solvers, police detectives are most frequently
encountered in our sample (sixteen out of thirty-seven stories); followed by
amateur sleuths (ten cases); federal agents (four); local small-town sheriffs
(two); priests (one); and military officers (one). In three stories no investigator
appears. Curiously, although most stories are set in the United States, there is
no example of a private eye; however, in one story a secondary investigator
is privately employed. Santibanez accounts for this oddity by noting that, since
there are very few private detectives in Mexico, their inclusion would not be
believable to the comic's readers.19
La novela policiaca's investigators are reasonably efficient, solving
twenty-two of the cases on their own; however, in ten of these solutions there
is an element of luck. Perhaps reflective of nonfictional police work, where
informants rather than clues often solve cases,20 the key piece of evidence does
not result from the investigation but is gratuitously provided by an informant.
In those cases (fifteen) not solved by the investigator, either the accused clears
himself, a priest exorcises a Devil, a criminal turns himself in, the guilty party
is arrested on an unrelated charge and confesses, a ghastly fate befalls the
criminal, or we simply learn why a certain character acts as he does or that
he is guilty.
Professional, publicly employed detectives are on the whole very
positively portrayed. They are honest, diligent, hardworking, methodical, and
rational. They are also somewhat old-fashioned, and certainly not cut from the
mold of James Bond, hardly ever using modern science or technology other
than guns and cars. Ratiocination, as in Sherlock Holmes stories, is a very
important method used to solve crimes, but so is the modern police procedure
of methodically examining every potential bit of evidence. Fairly typical is
Detective Lieutenant Doroteo Bulmer in the case of "Crimenes de otono"
["Autumn Crimes"].21 A finance company's cashier is murdered, and the firm
robbed of a half-million dollars in bonds. Bulmer systematically investigates
each member of the company who had any knowledge about the bonds. After
carefully examining a series of leads and quickly disposing of red herrings,
the detective fingers and arrests the firm's fiftyish manager, who had
committed the crime so he could court the cashier's beautiful young wife.
While conducting the investigation, Bulmer's mind is never at rest. He
constantly probes, reviews leads and evidence, and constructs alternate
scenarios and hypotheses, until the puzzle is solved.
While the overwhelming image of the police, and especially that of the
detecive hero, is very positive, a number of the police officers who appear in
La novela policiaca fail—in varying degrees—to do their job honestly or
efficiently. Santibanez believes that a portrayal of the police as faultless, even
if they are foreigners, would simply not sell because of the widespread belief
in Mexico that most Mexican police are corrupt.22 Some police in the comic
book engage in blatant illegalities. On occasion, bribes are accepted, and in
one case a federal treasury agent, instead of arresting a master counterfeiter,
uses the man's talents to organize a new counterfeiting ring. In another story,
the police chief commands a local mafia drug operation. In each of these cases,
the corrupt policeman, in keeping with the comic book's central moral
message that crime does not pay, is either arrested or murdered.
Some types of police misconduct seem to go unpunished. In several
stories, police use physical abuse, including torture, to extract information or
a confession, but they suffer no negative repercussions. In one story, a suspect
is encouraged by the police to break and enter illegally in order to obtain vital
evidence. Again, there is no penalty for the police involved.
The police can also be ineffectual, either because of fear or class bias.
From time to time, professional crooks, most often mafiosi, are just ignored.
A gangland murder is not investigated. When a detective team discover they
have strayed onto mob turf, they discontinue their investigation. The police
have a tendency to be more interested in solving middle-class crime and to
have a class bias when administering justice. The murder of a lower-class
mafioso is ignored, while the police vigorously pursue the murder of a
middle-class cashier and the theft of a firm's assets. Upper-middle-class
students who steal a dog are released with a warning, while a pair of lower-
class dognappers spend a night in jail.
From time to time, the police reveal further prejudices against those
accused or convicted of crimes. The police frequently ignore proper arrest
procedures. They obtain search warrants to gather evidence, or inform detained
suspects of their rights, including the right to contact and retain a lawyer. A
suspect is told he will be jailed unless he answers certain questions; however,
when his lawyer points out that this practice is illegal, the police desist. In
another story, the police see all suspects as guilty until proven innocent,
although they are aware that this is contrary to United States law. And a
warden who is obsessed with preventing prisoner escapes argues that physical
intimidation and rough treatment are necessary because criminals are beyond
reform. Incidentally, this sadistic warden is not only unfavorably portrayed
but also pays for his obsession by going insane.
Finally, on occasion, police inefficiency is due to somewhat more benign
reasons. Intragency and interagency conflicts occur in a few stories and, while
not precluding eventual justice, do impede a solution. In two stories, lab
technicians express contempt for officers who want immediate results and who
do not understand their scientific methods. And in one case, a police chief,
under political and community pressure to solve a series of heinous crimes,
threatens to fire the investigating officer unless he solves the case forthwith,
but these threats only render the detective somewhat less effective in
conducting the investigation.
Amateur sleuths appear frequently in La novela policiaca because,
according to Santibanez, Mexicans distrust the police and it is thus more
plausible and interesting if crimes are solved by amateurs. In the same vein,
amateurs have always been popular in detective fiction, precisely because they
are portrayed as being able to solve crimes that baffle professionals.23 Ferrer
adds that readers are tired of routine detective stories and that besides, if a
young adult amateur solves a crime, the story is of greater interest to the
comic book's patrons because they can more easily identify with an amateur.24
In line with these thoughts, it is not surprising that amateurs are more
positively portrayed than professionals. They share all of the professionals'
good qualities, although there is somewhat less emphasis on ratiocination in
stories featuring amateurs. More important, they are rarely guilty of even
minor abuses, despite the fact that several of the "amateurs" have an expertise
in police work: they are reporters whose beat covers the police and crime,
they are police fired by misguided superiors, or they are vacationing
detectives. Otto Penzler has commented that amateur detectives "come in ages,
sizes, professions, and social standings varied enough to satisfy George
Gallup. M25 And indeed, this comic book's amateurs include a wide assortment.
In addition to those already mentioned, one can read about the hippie son of
a priest, an advertising agency executive, a millionaire's secretary, an actor
falsely accused of a crime, and a "good" thrifty son who has prospered
through honest work.
Somewhat typical is the story in "El ultimo trago" ["The Final Drink"]26
of a small-town boy, Sandro Hearn, who went off to the big city, San
Francisco, to seek his fortune. Upon returning six years later as a successful
journalist, he becomes involved in solving a series of drug-related murders,
because the local sheriff lacks the skills that Hearn has honed as a police
reporter. Through two murders and one narrow escape from an attempt on his
own life, Hearn doggedly follows up clues, but in a town in which nearly
everyone has a motive—in part because the sheriff has not seriously
investigated many past crimes—progress is slow, and only a few suspects have
been eliminated, when a federal narcotics agent's body is discovered stuffed
into a car trunk. Then Hearn fears a federal investigation that would open up
endless inquiries into past offenses in the town if the murders are not solved
immediately. Thus he decides to spread a clever false rumor that will smoke
out the criminal, but before he can carry out his plan, a lucky break solves the
case.
Major villains are a varied lot in La novela policiaca. In fact, their ranks
are almost evenly split between lower-, middle-, and upper-class knaves.27 The
unemployed, poor blacks, working-class musicians, mistresses, mafiosi,
manual laborers, and the like represent the lower class; the middle class
contributes small-town, white-collar workers, small and middling businessmen,
government employees, professors, movie directors and actors, and lawyers.
Criminals with high status and wealth include doctors, millionaires, powerful
politicians, ambassadors, and judges. The authors are left with the impression
that no combination of occupation, status, wealth, and sex has been
overlooked. Even within a single story, when both major and minor villains
are considered, there are often at least two class levels and several occupations
represented. For example, in "Lindo pero asesino" ["Beautiful but Deadly"],28
the major villain is an Arab ambassador, while lesser "baddies" are lower-class
dognappers and upper-middle-class college students.
While almost always the reader is given sufficient information to
characterize the main villain by class, economic, or social terms, the villain
is predominantly described in terms of personality and actions. Villains are
ruthless, sadistic, violent, callous, and unreliable, even double-crossing their
accomplices; they will use any means necessary, including murder, to achieve
their goals. At times they maim and murder just for sadistic, wanton pleasure.
Mario de la Torre could have been speaking for any of La novela policiaca's
writers when he characterized villains as "hombres sin escrupulos"
["unscrupulous people"] and only "meritospara elpatibulo* ["deserving of the
gallows"].29 For example, in "KKK. La organization tenebrosa" ["KKK: The
Shadowy Organization"],30 the Ku Klux Klan wizard brutally murders even
fearing that his wife might discover his secret identity and hoping to inherit
the funds necessary to further his political ambitions. In "El delito es bianco"
["Crime is White"],31 two doctors who operate a bogus health clinic not only
bilk their rich clients, but allow a mad scientist to conduct sadistic experiments
that progressively destroy the patients' bodies and minds.
On rare occasions, a villain's actions are explained not only in terms of
his being a "bad" person, but in terms of cultural and socioeconomic
background, or psychological factors. In "La discotec: Motivation criminal"
["The Discoteque: Criminal Motivation"],32 the reader is informed in some
detail by a psychiatrist that the murderers are psychopaths. Two of the villains
in "Asalto a la luna" ["Assault on the Moon"]33 join a gang formed to steal
lunar stones because, in one person's case, unemployment has reduced him to
desperate economic straits and, in the other, she cannot pay the medical bills
of her deathly ill mother. And in "La Have de cuatro patas," the author states
that mafiosi, because of their Sicilian culture, are born to a life of crime. Such
explanations are rare because any explanation—other than that it is only a few
"bad apples" who are responsible for crime—would place the burden of guilt
on society rather than on the individual, and would undermine the notion that
imprisoning or executing criminals is just and will preserve the life, liberty,
and property of the vast majority.
Villains commit crimes for a wide variety of specific reasons, although as
Nancy Y. Hoffman has observed: "Money and sex remain the two major
motives for murder in fact and fiction of any age."34 The most frequent
motivation, encountered in nearly half the stories, is, in fact, money. Villains,
even when millionaires, are not satisfied with their income or assets. Greed
drives them to commit heinous crimes. For example, a professor murders a
famous oceanographer in order to obtain the key clue to a shipwrecked
treasure in "Crimen a ritmo de rock" ["Crime Set to a Rock Beat"].35
In the other half of the stories, motivation varies widely. Some villains are
simply professional crooks, often mafiosi. Others seek revenge for a real or
imaginary wrong. A few want to control the world. There are mad souls who
believe their crimes will advance science or a particular political or ideological
goal. A couple of villains are motivated by racial hatred, and quite a few
believe that violence will solve their romantic problems. An example is
"Derriben al Concord" ["Shoot Down the Concorde"],36 in which a Brazilian
underworld figure destroys the Concorde on its maiden flight to Rio in order
to murder his lover's husband, because he believes that since many unlucky
celebrities are on the plane, no one will suspect that the wealthy industrialist
husband is the intended victim of the crime. Whatever their motive, villains
do not succeed. Even though on occasion a crime peripheral to the central plot
is ignored by the authorities, in only three stories is the fate of the principal
criminal ambiguous; in nearly half the cases, he or she is arrested. Perhaps
reflecting the convention in detective fiction that the emphasis is placed on
general innocence and whodunit, rather than on punishing specific guilt,37 we
rarely learn in La novela policiaca what penalty is imposed for the crime. If
not arrested, the villain is either murdered by an accomplice or by someone

seeking revenge, is killed while attempting to escape, is killed accidentally,
or, in one case, commits suicide. In any case, there is no doubt left in the
reader's mind that crime does not pay and that the criminal will always be
punished.38
La novela policiaca tales frequently have several victims, but generally (in
all but three of our stories) there is a main victim. This discussion will focus
on the central victim. Unlike villains, victims are infrequently from the lower
class. Only four of the dramas have proletarian victims, probably because petty
theft is not a very glamorous or exciting subject. Also, romantic triangles
involving lower-class lovers evidently do not evoke much interest. Fifteen
victims are middle-class and include businessmen, scientists, priests,
detectives, reporters, farmers, actors, and public employees. Upper-class
victims include those from high-status occupations, such as doctor or
nationally renowned politician, and also include a wide assortment of the very
wealthy. Only a very minor part of the story focuses on the victim, reflecting
the detective story convention that if too much attention is given to the victim,
the reader might sympathize and identify with him rather than with the puzzle-
solving detective.39 When the victim is center stage, the story concentrates on
the victim's personal life and dire fate, rather than on his or her wealth or
possessions, even though these are frequently the object of the crime.
Depersonalized crime is of little interest to readers. In fact, only two stories
have as a theme crime against corporate or institutional property.
Because crime writers traditionally have been allowed more freedom in
dealing with violence than with sex,40 it is not very surprising that the comic
book's victims generally suffer some ghastly fate. Most (seventeen) are victims
of a successfully executed premeditated murder, although one victim narrowly
escapes this fate. Four others are framed for various crimes. Two of them lose
their lives, being hung or burned at the stake. Another victim is driven to
suicide, fearing retribution for a crime. Murder, generally violent, is evidently
the one crime that captures readers' attention. And some sort of violence
figures in about half the remaining victims' fates: being kidnapped, maimed
for life, driven insane, enslaved through mind control, or made an involuntary
guinea pig in a quack's cancer cure experiments. The remaining victims are in
some way the butt of a fraud or theft scheme.
Women round out the cast of La novela policiaca. Every story contains
at least one female character, and most include several, some of whom are
obviously included only with an eye to boosting sales. The comic book's
females definitely are not representative of a cross-section of women in terms
of age, marital status, sexual activity, or physical attributes. Following
Marquez Torres's instructions, most are single, young, beautiful, and
voluptuous, and although well-endowed and curvaceous, are not so
exaggerated as to be pornographic.41 The drawings of women on the front

covers and in the story panels range from pretty faces to seminudes, while the
photos of pin-up girls on the back covers range from the tradition of
cheesecake to a burlesque or striptease tradition. There is more to many of the
women in these comic books, however, than the sexual titillation induced by
plunging necklines and glimpses of panties. The demand for the inclusion of
numerous females has meant that their role has not been limited to sex object
or romantic interest. They have also been villains and have even been
instrumental in cracking a mysterious case.
As Santibanez observes, romance in La novela policiaca becomes sex. In
part this is true because the comic book is aimed at young males and because,
as Vicente Ferrer remarks, sex is everywhere today, but also because most of
the women are North Americans. Mexicans are frequent consumers of
American movies and television programs, and Marquez Torres, Ferrer, and
Santibanez all believe that if these women are not portrayed as independent
and liberated, although not necessarily loose, Mexicans would view them as
fakes.42 Thus six stories contain mistresses, and ten involve premarital sex.
Mistresses do not fare well. Three die violently and two are abandoned.
Premarital sex, on the other hand, only involves one incident of violence, and
that only because of a love triangle. The other nine cases are generally
harmonious, occasionally idyllic, even when nuptial vows are not planned, and
premarital sex strongly implies marriage in slightly more than half of these
liaisons. A more benign treatment of premarital sex and the fate of the
mistresses probably dates from the 1970s in Mexican popular culture,
especially in fotonovelas, and is partially reflected in La novela policiaca. In
general, now even nice girls have sex, and women's extramarital affairs do not
invariably end tragically, provided that sex serves to establish a loving
relationship prior to a cruel husband's death.43
Women in nine stories are accomplices to the crime and often
instrumental to its execution, and in four dramas are solely responsible for the
criminal plan or act. These bad women are for the most part strong, self-
reliant, and decisive. Moral scruples and emotional entanglements do not mar
their deadly calculations and actions. In "Cognac Napoleon 1801,n44 two
spinster sisters systematically and cleverly murder their fellow graduates of a
posh girls school, after having defrauded them of their considerable fortunes.
This money allows the sisters to live in the aristocratic fashion to which they
feel entitled by their upper-class births. Their deadly confidence game works
without a hitch until their nephew—a rich young man-about-town who will
shortly receive a large inheritance—falls wildly in love with a voluptuous,
lower-class prostitute. When she discovers that his maiden aunts plan to
murder him so they will inherit the family fortune, she constantly prods him,
threatening to withhold her love and sexual favors, until he reluctantly

murders them.
In "La clihica maldita" ["The Evil Clinic"],45 a female-male doctor team
heads a fake rejuvenation clinic that bilks elderly millionaires. While both
doctors are dedicated to their scam, there is no doubt that the brilliant, cold,
ruthless, and cleverly calculating woman is in charge. She says, and her
partner does not challenge her, that "el plan necesita una sola director y ese
sere yo" ["this operation needs just one leader, and that will be me"]. At a
story's conclusion, villaines are either dead or on their way to jail. The lesson
is clear. Women who are too self-reliant and independent—that is, too much
like men—will be subject to certain punishment.
Good women who assist an investigation—none act completely on their
own—are generally subservient to and dependent upon their male cohorts, who
are portrayed as problem solvers, although on occasion a woman will make a
key discovery that is significant in solving the mystery. In "Un policia de
vacaciones" ["A Policeman on Vacation"],46 a strikingly beautiful woman,
probably in her twenties, has just been appointed second in command of a
regional newspaper office. She decides to investigate the threats on her boss's
life, but despite the fact that she is a very competent investigative reporter, in
this case she feels incompetent and requests the aid of an old flame, a
vacationing detective. He takes charge, delegates the least important, least
dangerous tasks to her, and at times patiently explains the significance of
obvious clues to her. In "Meritos para el patibulo," an international drug ring,
headed by a woman, is being investigated by a Scottish detective and an
American federal narcotics agent, a female. The two investigators are initially
romantically attracted, but at first each is unaware that their respective
governments have assigned them to the same case. Both are highly competent
professionals, yet he is the more so. She blows her cover, but he never does.
He uses deduction more frequently; she relies more on intuition. She becomes
dependent on him and tells us that she is not afraid when with him. At one
particularly dangerous moment, he instructs her to leave the area. At the
decisive moment she does provide the key discovery that breaks the case, but
it is his martial arts skills that are mainly responsible for the climactic victory
in which the gang is subdued.
While the dramatis personae are essentially what one would expect to
encounter in police melodramas, the stories' settings are not so predictable.
Written for a Mexican audience, one might expect them to take place in
Mexico, or at least somewhere in the Latin American world. Yet out of thirty-
seven stories, only two are definitely set in Latin America, and one more story
might take place there. Marquez Torres estimates that about 80 percent of La
novela policiaca's adventures are set in the United States, and in fact some 76
percent in our sample take place there.47 In nineteen stories there is no doubt
about location, since the author explicitly locates the action north of the Rio
Grande, and most often in any of several large United States cities. An
additional eight dramas can be located there through such indirect evidence as
American-sounding place names, Valley town and Tonsville; all characters
having Anglo last names, Whitting and Robbins; or the main subject being an
American institution, the Ku Klux Klan. Seven other stories are scattered
around the world, although most of those are set in Europe.
As has already been mentioned, the basic reason for this unexpected
emphasis is that the editor and principal writers all believe detective fiction set
in Mexico would not be credible. All of them agree that Mexican police lack
the sophisticated technology—all specifically mention helicopters as an
example—that makes rapid action plots believable. And in general, American
police are more professional, better trained, and less inclined to use force;
mystery /detective stories must be solved by deduction, not physical force.48
Santibanez adds that Mexicans are more familiar with the United States than
with any other country, and he believes that the master criminals are
Americans and Europeans. Ferrer stresses that the penetration of American
cinema and television into Mexico has created a stereotype of efficient,
dynamic crime solvers suited to action thrillers, but foreign to the Mexican
police.49 Curiously, none of the authors' informants mentioned the idea that
a legal system that presumes the accused guilty unless proven innocent "creates
a situation which does little to promote sympathy for the detective. H5°
The general view presented of the United States, though, will strike most
North Americans as highly critical, perhaps even biased.51 Marquez Torres and
Santibanez would take sharp exception to this position, although both Marquez
Torres and Ferrer are of the opinion that whether the United States is
portrayed favorably or not depends on the genre's need for "bad" characters
and criminal situations. While this fact cannot be denied, the predominant
impression is negative. For example, Santibanez believes that ethnic groups in
the United States are very interesting and conflict between them is a popular
("good") theme.52
Indeed, race relations are rarely portrayed favorably in our sample,
although blacks in general are characterized positively. In "Asesinos
diabolicos" ["Diabolic Assassins"],53 a mad surgeon mutilates many of his
patients, but especially blacks, for whom he harbors deep racial hatred. The
story's blacks in turn refer to whites as "pigs" and execute a wholesale
slaughter in their quest to right a wrong. And in "Cnmenes y patinetas"
["Crimes and Skateboards"],54 a white woman marries a black man, primarily
for his money. He in turn hires her brother, a lawyer, to represent his
skateboard rink, only to have his brother-in-law, who hates blacks, murder
him. She, meanwhile, is having an affair with his white skateboard star. A
contest, which pits rival black and white skateboard teams, erupts into
violence. Partisan fans clash, encouraged by armed local Ku Klux Klaners and
blacks in Afro hairdos. Many fans are injured, a few killed. Finally, the story
contrasts, unfavorably, the star white and black couples. The white male star,
an egotistical, whining, irresponsible stud, is unfaithful to his employer and
his girlfriend, who is also his skating partner. More often than not he is
drunk. The black couple offers a very positive role model. Hardworking,
patient, realistic about their talent, and sober; they are sexually faithful to each
other.
The scenes, actions, and characterizations in these two stories might have
appeared in any large metropolitan United States newspaper or in
contemporary North American crime dramas; yet positive stories would have
appeared, too, illustrating the painful, halting course toward racial equality.
Indications of hope rarely appear in La novela policiaca's characterization of
American race relations. In defense of the comic book's position, however,
perhaps this interpretation reflects a justifiable fear among Mexicans, a darker-
skinned people, that they too might be violently discriminated against in the
United States.
Numerous other subjects could have been chosen to illustrate the comic
book's critical or distorted portrait of the United States. Americans are
unbelievably rich. A girl's parents who are described as not "muy ricos"
["very rich"]—her father is an office clerk—live in a house that would be the
envy of most middle-class Americans; and one of her suitors, a high school
student and son of a small town merchant, has $15,000 in the bank (in 1974
dollars).55 American women are beautiful, independent, and frequently
available and willing to engage in premarital sex.
The United States government is at times cast quite negatively. For
example, in "Tratado infecto" ["Corrupt Treaty"],56 it employs diplomatic
attaches with commando experience from Vietnam and the Dominican Republic
to destabilize the Egyptian government. The goal is to force Egypt to request
additional foreign aid, thereby becoming more dependent on the United States.
A French diplomat comments that nothing can be done about this dependency.
After all, adults are old enough not to believe in "los Santos Reyes" ["the
Three Wise Men," equivalent to Santa Claus]. But a woman, an ordinary
French citizen, remarks, "Esto es increible! Podria decirse que aun vivimos
en las epocas de las intrigas medievales" ["This is unbelievable! It seems that
we still live in the age of medieval intrigues"]. Several stories simply convey
a general sense of American malaise and corruption. In "Coctel de delitos"
["Cocktail of Crimes"],57 even though in one panel the reader is told that most
teenagers are involved in the normal activities of their age group—school work,
dating and harmless pranks—the overwhelming impression given by the other
two hundred-plus pages is of decadence and criminal behavior. American
youth are addicted to drugs, premarital sex, big-time theft, and racketeering.
La novela policiaca's view of the United States is also curiously

anachronistic, almost a time capsule of American life in the late 1950s and the
1960s regardless of when the story was written. The miniskirt is universally
popular among the comic book's females. Most certainly the first United States
maxiskirt fad passed unnoticed in the comic book, and the later freedom of
hemlines from Parisian dictates likewise made no impact on the women in this
comic book. So-called hippies figure in several stories,58 but there are no
gentle "flower people," no "spaced-out acid freaks," no one turned on to Far
Eastern mystic philosophies, and few who have joined a commune. Rather,
hippies are low-class, dirty kids with shaggy hair and leather jackets festooned
with symbols of peace, Nazism, and happy face. Into drugs and "booze," they
also enjoy easy sex. This largely negative portrait of hippies would seem to
reflect the fear of bohemianism prevalent in American society from the
publication of Jack Kerouac's On the Road (1957) onwards, or perhaps to the
fear engendered by Hell's Angels motorcycle groups. Numerous other details
harken back to an earlier period, e.g., black servants, endemic black-white
violent confrontations, idyllic small town life, and a general lack of
contemporary razzle-dazzle gadgets and high technology.
IE. The Comic Book's Stories
Both editors and writers of La novela policiaca have in mind a basic plot
structure or formula and a limited number of story themes. But the authors'
sample reveals more variety than editors and writers perceive or than one
might expect to encounter in popular literature. Santibanez and Ferrer are in
basic agreement that the comic book's stories unfold in a predictable manner.
The reader is hooked by some dramatic event, frequently a death, in the first
few pages. About halfway through the novel, following the initial investigation
of the foul deed, a second abominable crime intensifies the mystery, suspense,
and search for a solution. In the final forty or so pages, the action becomes
frenetic, often with some unexpected twists, until the crime is solved in the
last few pages. Curiously, the authors' sample does not conform to this
formula, except for the fast-paced action and bizarre twists towards the end.
Santibanez states that the initial hook occurs in the first three pages, and
Ferrer claims in the opening thirty.59 In only nineteen stories is even Ferrer's
criterion honored, and in nine cases the hook comes after page 50. The second
hook, both agreed, is introduced approximately 100 to 200 pages into the
drama, yet this is the exception. Rather, additional dramatic action introduced
to heighten interest can occur at almost any point. Clearly writers frequently
violate the formula, depending on the nature of the story and in the interst of
creating unpredictable crime scenarios.
When queried about La novela policiaca's main themes or types of stories,

several authoritative sources60 agreed that it is a "crime" comic book, but
provided varying responses concerning the types of crime stories that the
comic book stresses. Indeed, without exception, there is at least one crime in
every title examined. But Santibanez, Ferrer, Marquez Torres, and Guillermo
Vigil (Carlos Vigil's brother, who filled various roles when Carlos was
director of publications at Novedades, including that of reducing repetition of
story types) could not agree on more than one crime category drugs that is
frequently the main focus of a story. Only three other crimes were mentioned
by more than one informant: kidnapping, robbery, and assassination. Other
crime categories mentioned were fraud, sabotage, prostitution, feuds between
families, arms trafficking, crimes of passion, blackmail, prison escape, crimes
by a crazy person, and simply "crimes." Given this scant agreement—although
certain categories could easily overlap—it is clear that there are almost no
limits on the type of crime that an author can write about.
The authors' sample confirms this view. Of course, each story of La
novela policiaca may contain several crimes, but this analysis will focus on the
central crime. Drug-related crimes are popular (six out of thirty-seven
stories), but cases involving fraud—which no one mentioned—are equally
popular. Kidnapping and assassination are not encountered at all, while
categories not cited: political crimes, counterfeiting, extortion, racially
motivated crimes, and revenge for a real or imagined past wrong, account for
thirteen stories. And some crimes simply are not easily categorized: a member
of a local morals society murders a woman who leads a double life; a man
kills his overly possessive wife; and an illegitimate son is framed for two
murders by his father.
Drugs, fraud, political crimes, and revenge are the central crimes that
figure most often in the sample studies, and together account for twenty-one
out of thirty-seven principal crimes. Marquez Torres, according to Santibanez,
frequently suggests drug-related crimes as a topic. Santibanez adds that when
Vigil was editor, robbery was the most popular crime in La novela policiaca,
and now it is drugs.61 All drug stories involve some aspect of drug trafficking:
a chemistry professor manufactures morphine in his high-school laboratory and
distributes it through the mail disguised as face powder; a night club owner
uses his business as a front for his drug operation, selling directly to his
youthful clientele; and the mafia uses several businesses to disguise the
refining, shipment, and sale of heroin. Drug stories are violent. All involve
at least one murder. For example, in "Podredumbre" ["Corruption"],62 a drug
ring, operating out of a cabaret and headed by the local chief of police,
murders a minor drug trafficker who had revealed too much when brutally
beaten during a police interrogation. The chief himself tries to murder an
honest cop's fiancee after she has learned about the local drug operation, but
he is thwarted at the last second when he is killed by the cop. The ringleader's
ruthlessness is highlighted by a particularly nasty detail: he intended to frame
the honest detective by using his gun to kill his fiancee.
Fraud is a popular theme in La novela policiaca. For example, fraudulent
health clinics trick clients into bequeathing all their worldy goods to the clime,
spinsters swindle former classmates, and a disgruntled husband strips his
unfaithful wife's company of its assets. In a particularly skillfully told story,
"El regreso de los muertos" ["The Return of the Dead"],63 a morgue employee
and his family defraud insurance companies. After taking out an insurance
policy on a member of his family, the employee cleverly alters the
identification papers on a corpse. The company presumes it was the relative
who has died and pays off the policy, when in fact the relative has altered his
appearance through plastic surgery or has left the country, in either case to
spend the rest of his days in leisure. Eventually, greed exposes the scam. The
family attempts to collect on a double indemnity clause, but makes the mistake
of overly complicating their scheme and using the same insurance agent twice.
The agent attempts to horn in on the racket, only to be murdered, but not
before he has obtained the help of an unsuspecting policeman, who then solves
his friend's disappearance and exposes the fraud.
Political goals also motivate the comic book's criminals. Stories involving
the Ku Klux Klan and an American attempt to destabilize the Egyptian
government have already been mentioned. In "Lindo pero asesino," an Arab
ambassador from an unidentified country is responsible for a series of terrorist
murders and bombings, most recently in an unnamed South American nation
where a bomb levels the embassy of "Calenda." Unlike the stories involving
the Ku Klux Klan and the United State government, the political motives
remain murky, while the action focuses on discovering the means by which the
ambassador carries out his foul deeds—it turns out to be through a trained dog.
Perhaps it is easier to be explicit in political matters when a North American
villain is involved.
Several stories focus on revenge. A woman retaliates for her husband's
wrongful death. Victims of a quack surgeon strike back, wantonly murdering
his family first, then the quack. In one case a woman tries to implicate her
fiance" in a series of robberies and murders, since she mistakenly believes h
was responsible for her brother's death. An interesting story, "El misterio del
pasado" ["Mystery from the Past"],64 combines the revenge motif with that
of the horror story. At least two stories in the authors' sample are a mixture
of police and horror drama. It almost seems as if the editor was short on
scripts for La novela policiaca and borrowed some stories involving crimes,
but not written for the Novedades horror series, El libro rojo [The Red Book].
This similarity would certainly be facilitated by the fact that most of La novela
policiaca's writers also write for the horror series.65 In any case, "El misterio
del pasado" is initially set in Puritan New England at the time of the Salem
witch trials. A woman is falsely accused of fornication with the devil. She is
burned at the stake, but just before dying forms a pact with the devil and
places a curse of death on the prosecuting judge and all his descendants. The
story, after a long flashback, focuses on the death of several descendants who
have returned to the original scene of the burning, and on the final destruction
of the woman. A priest exorcises the devil from her mummy, and she
disintegrates, bringing the murders to an end. In this story, crimes are
committed. There is a clear motive, revenge, and the crimes are partially
resolved through detection, but the story's basic elements and the crime's
solution through supernatural means are more related to the horror category
than to the police-detective genre.
Marquez Torres believes that stories linked to current events and media
successes are popular with readers, and he estimates that such linkage occurs
in 30 percent of La novela policiaca's dramas; however, in the authors'
sample, there is a sharp break between issues dated before 1977, in which
there are no examples of stories based on contemporary events, and those
dated 1977 and after, in which about half of the sample issues have such
stories. This descrepancy may be explained by the fact that the more dated the
issue, the more difficult it is to discern the tie to real world events. This is
true both because most newsworthy events are soon forgottenby the general
populace, and because contemporary events are used only as a point of
departure for a La novela policiaca story. Often the link is never made explicit
and may be no more than suggested by an image on the cover or a reference
in the issue's title. For example, in "Sangre en la pista de baile" ["Blood on
the Dance Floor"],66 the story itself has virtually no relation to the movie
"Saturday Night Fever" nor to its star, John Travolta, but a character looking
remarkably like Travolta graces the cover. When Santibanez was asked about
the use of contemporary events, he agreed that the link was frequently very
weak and provided the example of "Tratado infecto." News stories about the
transport of a priceless Egyptian mummy to England for treatment against
bacterial infection and decay became the point of departure for Santibanez's
imagination. The story was then transformed into one about American bacterial
sabotage of a mummy that never leaves Egypt. In the published tale, there is
no reference at all to the actual event. If a lower- or middle-class Mexican
were to read this issue today, the chance that they would make the connection
is negligible. One must wonder in this particular case if the average Mexican
or North American reader, even in August 1977, would have linked the story
with the news event.
As has already been noted, the central theme of La novela policiaca is that
crime does not pay. Criminals do not fare well, for at the story's conclusion
they are either on their way to jail or they are dead. This is their inevitable
fate. In "Sangre en la pista de baile," about halfway through the story some
gamblers are just about to discover that one of their $20 bills is counterfeit,
a fact that eventually will lead to the arrest of a masterful counterfeiting ring.
At this point the narator informs us: "El destino inexorable, que tiene sus
jugarretas, empezd a trabajar... . " ["Relentless destiny, that has its nasty
tricks, began to work... . " ] .
Many stories have ancillary morals. It is expected that villains will suffer
some dire fate in retribution for their foul behavior, but surprisingly, in nearly
half (sixteen) of the crime dramas, victims are also deserving of their fate, and
thus the implied or explicit moral message is especially strong. For example,
in "Venganza en las sombras" ["Vengeance in the Shadows"],67 an overly
possessive, jealous wife is murdered by her husband. In "Sombra y misterio"
["Shadow and Mystery"],68 a wealthy businessman's mistress aggressively uses
her beauty and sex to fulfill her desires, and continues to have sexual relations
with her lower-class boyfriend, who then murders her because she is
unfaithful. In "Safari salvaje" ["Savage Safari"],69 a callous, egocentric
employer who enjoys belittling people and slaughtering animals is the target
for murder by half a dozen characters, each with a reasonable, though selfish,
motive. Before he can be murdered, he is accidentally killed by a safari porter.
Several stories have secondary characters who attempt to cut themselves in on
the profits of a criminal operation. A member of a drug gang in "El hippie de
oro" ["The Golden Hippie"]70 systematically tries to skim off a fraction of each
heroin shipment to form a nest egg, only to be discovered by the gang leader
and murdered for her infraction. In each of these cases—extreme
possessiveness, sexual promiscuity, despicable actions, and greed—the victim's
behavior causes someone to plan a murder. Might not the reader conclude that
such behavior is not worth the risks? These cases undoubtedly also reflect the
convention in detective fiction that the object of violence is someone whom the
reader does not learn much about and/or is not a sympathetic character, so that
the reader will not identify with the victim.71
IV. La novela policiaca and the Classic Detective Story
Editors and writers alike acknowledge that La novela policiaca has bee
partially modeled on the classic American and British detective story.72 The
detective story today, of course, encompasses a considerable variety of story
types. For example, there is the hard-boiled private-eye, the cute young
couple, the blood and sex, the police procedural, the defeated investigator, the
international intrigue/spy, the sex and sadism, and the had-I-but-known
schools of mystery. Comparison of La novela policiaca with this rich variet
would necessitate a far more extensive analysis than can be undertaken here.
Rather, this analysis will focus on the "classic" detective story that flourished
between the World Wars, during the "Golden Age" of detective-story writing
whose conventions make up the genre's popular stereotypes.73
The classic detective is almost always an eccentric gentleman-amateur and
seldom is a member of the official police force, which is portrayed as inept but
not corrupt. Unmarried, the sleuth has no emotional attachments or love
interest and is curiously detached from the concerns of everyday life, but is
humanized by being a connoisseur or collector of exotic or rare tobaccos,
orchids, butterflies, or the like. Sleuths operate virtually free of police or legal
restraint, and either work alone or with a clumsy, slow-witted assistant who
functions to highlight the detective's brilliance. He or she possesses just the
right esoteric bit of knowledge—of rare South American poisons— to solve the
crime. This gifted amateur views the case more as an intellectual puzzle than
as a crime, has little personal interest in the crime, and solves it through the
process of ratiocination. Finally, the investigator always solves the case. This
classic detective does not figure in La novela policiaca's tales, except for the
detachment from home, family, and other daily concerns. The comic book's
hero, in contrast, enjoys women and sex; is not an eccentric or a gentleman;
is frequently a police detective; never works with a Watson-like sidekick;
never solves a crime by possessing some rare bit of knowledge, but does
benefit from lucky tips that break a case; and frequently operates within the
bounds of the legal police system, even if that system has significant corrupt
elements.
The classic setting has been succinctly described by Eames.
Several people have gathered for a weekend in an isolated

country home. The group is small, elite, homogeneous, a
microcosm of posh society. There are a representative of
hereditary wealth, a distinguished professional man, a husky
Christian vicar, a retired colonial official, a sporting man,
and a soldier who is most often a colonel or brigadier
general—these and their bloodless ladies.74
None of the stories examined uses any aspect of this timeworn, cliche-ridden
setting. Rather, settings tend to be urban and the cast drawn from a cross-
section of society.
Traditionally, this cast contains both victim and suspects. The victim,
whom the reader has scarcely come to know, is murdered. Money and sex are
the two commonest motives. The crime is committed for personal reasons, and
not for reasons of state or on behalf of an ideology or because of insanity.
Although the criminal is introduced early, as are all suspects, the murderer
frequently turns out to be the least likely suspect. La novela policiaca usually
follows these conventions closely, except that suspects, and especially the
central villain, are as likely to hail from the lower and middle class as the
upper class. Also, the comic does not always play fair with the reader, since
on occasion the culprit is introduced quite late in the story.
In the classic story, after the gifted gentleman-amateur assembles the
necessary data, the solution—which is an example of brilliant analytical,
scientific reasoning—is presented in great detail to the gathered elite.
Supernatural solutions are forbidden, as are those based on chance or accident.
Lucky breaks are solely the province of the villain. Typically both the reader
and the assembled cast have been seeing the case in the wrong way, and thus
the revealed truth represents a reversal. The criminal may or may not be led
off in handcuffs, but his punishment at the hands of the criminal-justice system
is at least implicitly assured. With the resolution of this contest of wits
between reader and author concerning "whodunit," not only is the puzzle
satisfactorily solved, but the stable, conventional order is reestablished.
Unpleasant social, economic, and political realities are ignored. Linkages to
actual events are rare; that is, the crime is only a temporary aberration and the
resolution reveals a clear pro-establishment bias.
The solutions in La novela policiaca may turn on a single clue, and they
are revealed at a story's conclusion, but in the comic book they also are
occasionally supernatural, are not presented to the gathered suspects, and are
rarely articulated in much analytic detail. In fact, contrary to the classic
model, the crime and the criminal may be revealed in the opening pages and
the mystery then becomes how the detective will catch the culprit. Or the story
may emphasize the procedural details of a police officer's inquiry, with the
reader learning all the clues and the officer's main deductions, but with the
story still retaining the traditionally expected surprise ending with an
unexpected twist. The message that crime does not pay is never ignored.
Likewise the status quo is reaffirmed, although the comic book's world is
more violent and less socially and politically tidy than that of the classic story.
And the comic book's content, in contrast to the classic model, is at least
superficially linked to real world events.
In the final analysis, La novela policiaca's stories have used the classic
form only as a point of departure. Indeed, the comic book's writers and
editors have departed farther from the model than they themselves believe. Yet
it also must be stressed that the few rationales (cited elsewhere in this chapter)
that they offer for why elements of the traditional detective story are left out,
altered, or included vary considerably. Sometimes it is supposedly because
Mexican readers will only believe things consonant with Mexican experience;
there are no private eyes in Mexico and the Mexican police are corrupt. While
at other times, it is because those same readers will only believe things
consonant with the images in the American media and products exported to
Mexico, e.g., sexually liberated women in the United States.
Ferrer believes that La novela policiaca's stories, since they are rarely set
in Mexico, do not in any way reflect Mexican reality.75 Yet as demonstrated
before, while these stories are inspired by foreign models, they are not slavish
copies of them. In subtle ways they do reflect the culture that produced them.
Indeed, as has already been seen, police in the United States are occasionally
pictured as corrupt precisely to make them more believable to a Mexican
audience that expects police corruption. The convention in American popular
fiction of the private eye rarely graces the comic book's pages because private
investigators are rare in Mexico. And most American women in La novela
policiaca are independent and sexually liberated because any other behavior
would not seem real to Mexican men.
All of the authors' informants argue that stories are predominantly set in
the United States at least partly because the Mexican police lack the modern
technology essential to the detective-police genre, and all single out the
helicopter as a case in point. Yet in only one story, "Derriben al Concord,"
is sophisticated technology used to solve a crime, and this story is set in
Brazil, although the technology, the reader is told, was purchased from the
United States Central Intelligence Agency. Helicopters, believed by the editors
and writers to be an integral part of rapid-action plots, not only do not appear
in the Concord story, but are portrayed in only one of the stories, and in that
case it is the villain who uses a helicopter. The gun and the automobile are the
only modern technology frequently used by crime solvers. Neither the razzle-
dazzle, futuristic, technological gimmicks of a James Bond thriller, nor the
modern scientific methods of the more up-to-date American police departments
are used in the comic. In contrast to the popular image of the American
police,76 little use is made of forensic science to solve a case. Despite the high
incidence of very serious crimes in La novela policiaca, scientific procedure
such as ballistic and blood-type tests, dusting for fingerprints, photographing
crime scenes, matching samples of paint or other types of materials, and other
such procedures are almost never used. Thus the comic book's police methods
and technology are more representative of a labor-intensive, humanistically-
oriented society like Mexico than of a capital-intensive, science-oriented
country such as the United States.
On the other hand, the typical villain's choice of murder weapon is more
American than Mexican. The preferred means of murder in La novela
policiaca is the handgun, as is true in the United States. In Mexico, however,
more murders, as well as assaults, at least in the 1950s, were committed with
knives than with guns.77 Knives are cheaper and in much of Mexico are more
associated with male virility than are guns.78
Scantily-clad, voluptuous women are an important feature of La novela
policiaca, but they are more in the Mexican tradition than the United States
tradition of sexy, feminine beauty. The typical American pinup is beautiful,
shapely, but above all buxom. The comic book's women have these qualities,
as well as what Alma Guillermoprieto has labeled the Mexican "obsesidn
nacional" ["national obsession"],79 i.e., exaggerated hips, thighs, and buttocks.
Not only are these emphasized by disproportionate size, but by frequently
occupying the foreground of the comic book's panels.80
Occasionally other details of the comic book's women are somewhat more
suggestive of Mexico than of the United States. For example, the cure for an
overly possessive wife, the reader is informed in " Venganza en las sombras,"
is to have a child. And in "Un policia de vacaciones," a woman's lover says
he cannot marry her, despite the fact that he is madly in love with her,
because she is a professional woman. Her job as assistant director of a regional
newspaper office means, for him, that he cannot be her sole possessor and that
her job will place her in the company of other men. His solution is for her to
quit her job, but at the story's conclusion their conflict is unresolved.
The American legal system is also Mexicanized on occasion. For example,
when a company safe is sealed during a police investigation, a triple seal is
placed on the safe's door, which is of course reminiscent of the Latin
American colonial custom of triple locks for strongboxes. In one instance, the
police, even though they know better, take a Mexican legal point of view by
assuming that a suspect is guilty until proven innocent. A woman in this same
story also takes a decidedly Latin position. She asserts that if she murders her
husband's mistress, she will be exonerated, since she will have killed in
defense of her honor.
In American popular culture,81 and especially in the classic detective
story, most crimes are committed by an upper-class person killing another
well-to-do person. Villains in La novela policiaca, however, are as likely to
be lower or middle class as upper class. Americans are fascinated with the
morality tale of the rich who obtained their wealth by immoral, illegal means
and suffer some deserved, terrible fate for their sin in the land of opportunity.
The more equalitarian distribution of villains in this comic book might reflect
a Mexican fascination with crime within and between all classes precisely
because Mexico has a more rigid class sytem. A perception of less opportunity
for social mobility may create fear not only of "bad apples" within a class but
also of lower-class crimes against those better off.
Violence is endemic in La novela policiaca. Since violent crime such as
rape, robbery, kidnapping, and especially murder are the crimes of American
poular culture, the comic book's level and type of violence may not seem
unusual. Yet, there appears to be a significant difference, since the Mexican
novel's conclusion is often violent. Nearly one-half of the villains are
murdered, either intentionally or accidentally, in the closing scenes, and in
these cases the violent ending is equated with justice. In contrast, in American
popular culture, the villain is more likely to be on his way to jail, or at least
this end is implied, at the adventure's conclusion. Might not this greater
propensity toward violence, and the equation of violence with justice, reflect
higher levels of violence in Mexican society? Perhaps it also reflects Octavio
Paz's dialectic of solitude and communion/fiesta, whose synthesis is violent
death.82
Other aspects of American life are related with a Mexican audience in
mind. When a middle-class white male looks for work in Louisville, in "La
guerra de las estrellas" ["The Stars' War"],83 readers are told that even during
this economic depression following the end of the Vietnam War, some jobs are
too menial for the man; and further, that not even Mexicans would load trucks
at a slaughterhouse. Such an interpretation is, of course, wishful thinking, but
evidently the author felt it would find a receptive audience among the Mexican
proletariat. Even more interesting is the position of the Ku Klux Klan related
in "KKK. La organization tenebrosa." The Klan, the reader is told, not only
harasses and murders blacks and Catholics, but Chicanos and Mexicans as
well. While this claim is technically accurate, the comic book, by lumping all
four target groups together, does convey a somewhat false impression, since
only in the lower Rio Grande Valley and in southern California has the Klan
successfully persecuted Mexicans or Mexican Americans. Elsewhere, these
groups either form an insignificant portion of the population and thus escape
Klan notice, or are a large and powerful enough block, as in New Mexico, to
thwart the Klan more successfully.84 The placing of these groups on an equal
level of persecution with blacks and Irish Catholics, however, is undoubtedly
convincing for an audience already persuaded that it would be discriminated
against in a WASP society.85
Finally, as a number of examples already mentioned will have suggested,
Mexicanization is often implied by small or background details. These may not
be noticed at all by the typical Mexican reader, but will strike the American
reader as odd. For example, the map on the wall in a small town American
police station is of Mexico. An underworld figure makes love with his dark
glasses on. Police investigators with Anglo names on occasion have Latino-
like, razor-thin mustaches and hair slicked back with brilliantine. And many
characters with Anglo last names have Mexican first names, e.g., Doroteo or
Imelda.
VI. Conclusion
Every culture probably produces some sort of escapist folk or mass

literature, and Mexico is no exception. In fact, Cornelia Butler Flora's
comparative analysis of popular fiction concluded that Latin American fiction
is inclined to be even more escapist than its American counterpart.86 That La
novela policiaca's stories are predominantly set in the United States, whil
American and British mystery stories are mainly set in their own respective
cultures, not only adds further evidence to Flora's finding, but also suggests
some disturbing implications.
La novela policiaca's editors have made a conscious decision to portray
crimes solved once a week in the United States, but not in Mexico. They
believe that the comic book would be a financial disaster if set in Mexico. The
Mexican police and legal justice system are simply too corrupt, inefficient, and
behind the times, in their opinion, to be credible models for detective-police
fiction. The result is, of course, for La novela policiaca to reinforce weekly
this set of beliefs, since by implication only Americans are capable of solving
the very sort of crimes that one reads about frequently in Mexico City's
leading daily newspapers. Furthermore, not only has La novela policiaca
adopted many of the conventions of a foreign genre—in itself not necessarily
indicative of a colonial state of mind—but by not creating a hybrid form more
fully adapted to Mexico and set in Mexico, it has an implied message of
cultural inferiority. Only the complete adoption of the foreign model will solve
indigenous, "Third World" crime problems.
La novela policiaca also reflects both a widespread interest in crime in
Mexico and, apparently, the notion that crime and criminals do not deserve
serious study. La novela policiaca is but one example of a flourishing Mexican
popular culture devoted to stories, fictional and real, about crime. At least one
page of Mexico's most prestigious newspaper, Excelsior, is devoted to
sensational crime news. Entire tabloids are dedicated to melodramatic crime
reporting, and La novela policiaca is only the most popular of many policiaca
comic books sold in Mexico. Despite an apparently insatiable appetite for this
type of literature and news, scholarly crime studies are rare,87 at least in
comparison with the United States. La novela policiaca, with its foreign
settings, may therefore be only one more symptom of a fundamental problem,
a disinclination to grapple with crime in Mexico except in an escapist or
sensational manner.
Finally, one might speculate as to what La novela policiaca's stories
would be like if the comic book opted for a hybrid cultural form, borrowing
the detective-police story traditions, but adding a Mexican cast of characters
and a Mexican setting. Stories collected in Latin Blood,** edited by Donald A
Yates, and in Los mejores cuentos policiacos mexicanos [The Best Mexican
Detective Stories],89 collected by Maria Elvira Bermudez, provide hints for

such a hybrid. The detective would be on a large metropolitan police force,
probably that of Mexico City, but he would have a very low opinion of his
fellow officers' skills. He himself would be flawed from an Anglo-Saxon point
of view, however, and indeed would take pride in his attraction to death and
in his reckless pursuit of the villain. He would disdain precision, promptness,
routine, and attention to detail, and rather than using cold ratiocination to
solve the crime, flashes of intuition and artistic penetration would be his
hallmarks. He would be married, but also a ladies' man, and would value his
individual freedom of expression more than abstract justice. Finally, he might
even be suspect himself, as is Maximo Roldan, the creation of Antonio Helu,
the "dean of Mexican detective fiction writers."90 Roldan's last name is an
anagram of "ladrdn" ["thief"], and his full name literally translates as "the
consummate thief."
NOTES
1. Until January 1977, Novedades Editores was known as Publicaciones

Herrerias. La novela policiaca has always been a property of Novedades,
which publishes numerous comic books and fotonovelas, as well as the
popular Mexico City daily newspaper, Novedades.
2. El libro semanal, published by Novedades, is also a novel-length
comic book.
3. Data on the early history of La novela policiaca was provided by
Carlos Vigil in an August 13, 1980 interview in Mexico City. Thanks to his
generosity, it was possible to sample two early issues (Numbers 85 and 319),
which corroborated his broad-scale historical generalizations. Unfortunately,
issues numbered below the 800s could not be located in Mexico City's used
comic book shops and stalls.
4. Specifically, the random sample is composed of eight titles from the
800s, eight from the 900s, eleven from the 1000s, and ten from the 1100s.
Since only eight issues from the 800s were collected, all were used. Samples
larger than 10 percent were initially collected for issues Number 900 or above,
the only criterion for selection being that a volume was physically complete.
Random number tables were then employed to obtain the final sample.
Supportive of the sample's representativeness is the fact that the two
contemporary writers who are most popular with readers (according to the
Novedades editor of publications), and who have been most frequently
published, are precisely two of the three who are most frequently represented
in the sample. The third, Maurice La Tour, had died prior to Marquez
Torres's comment. Interview with Rafael Marquez Torres, August 1, 1979 in

Mexico City.
5. According to Raul Santibanez, Marquez Torres frequently assigns
pseudonyms to stories. Thus the actual number of authors represented in our
sample is quite likely fewer than twelve. In addition, it seems that the use of
pseudonyms is becoming more frequent; for instance, the names Ron Sangay,
Piero Diechi, William Gong, and Glock Waiser have appeared in late 1970s
and in 1980s issues. The increased use of obvious foreign pseudonyms is also
typical of other titles published by Novedades such as El libro vaquero.
Interview with Raul Santibanez, August 12, 1980 in Mexico City.
6. Vicente Ferrer, "La Have de cuatro patas," La novela policiaca, No.
1176 (August 7, 1980), contains the prison escape story.
7. Interviews with Vicente Ferrer, August 13, 1980, and Santibanez,
1980, both in Mexico City.
8. The printed version appeared in Ferrer, "La Have de cuatro patas."
9. Interviews with Vicente Ferrer, August 13 and 14, 1980; Santibanez,
1980; and Marquez Torres, 1979, all in Mexico City.
10. Interviews with Ferrer, August 13 and 14, 1980; and Santibanez,
1980.
11. As with the writers' names, some of the artists' names too are
probably pseudonyms such as Zanedrak.
12. Interviews with Vigil, 1980; Santibanez, 1980; and Marquez Torres,
1979. The 350,000 figure is also given in Irene Herner, Mitos y monitos:
Historietas y fotonovelas en Mexico (Mexico City: Universidad Nacional
Autonoma de Mexico, Editorial Nueva Imagen, 1970), 126.
were conducted by students Julee Caspers and Ben Agar, after completing an
introductory seminar on Mexican comics with the authors. The interviews
were obtained during June and early July, 1978. The Mexico City interviews
were conducted along the following streets: San Juan de Letran, Reforma,
Belisario Domfnguez, Venezuela, Juarez, Hidalgo, Alarcon, and 5 de Mayo.
The Mexico City areas surveyed represent a cross-section of socioeconomic
levels. No category of vendor was ignored. The two Cuernavaca interviews
were conducted in the central plaza and the Guerrero market. Although they
obviously constitute a very limited sample, the vendors' estimates of the ratio
of sales did not appreciably differ from those of the larger Mexico City
sample.
14. Interviews with Santibanez, 1980, and Marquez Torres, 1979.
15. Ibid.
16. Interviews with Marquez Torres, 1979; Vigil, 1980; Ferrer, 1980;
and Santibanez, 1980.
17. Seventy interviews, forty-two in Cuernavaca and twenty-eight in

neighboring towns and villages, were conducted by students Beth Nelson, Kim
Frank, Charlotte Marthaler, Pat Burgos, and Sherry Dell, after having
completed an introductory seminar on Mexican comic books with the authors.
The interviews were obtained from July 22 to August 8, 1979. The
Cuernavaca interviews were conducted along Matamoros, Juarez, Zapata,
Morelos, and Plan de Ayala streets, as well as in the central plazas, the
Guerrero market, streets immediately adjacent to the central plazas, and
Colonia Carolinia. The Cuernavaca areas surveyed represent a cross-section of
socioeconomic levels. Interviews in neighboring towns were distributed as
follows: Acatlipa (one), Ahuatepec (one), Alpuyeca (one), Cuautla (eleven),
Miacatlan (one), Ocotepec (one), Puente de Ixtla (two), Temixco (one),
Tepoztlan (three), and Yautepec (four). As in the Mexico City sample, all
categories of vendor were represented. See note 13, above.
Unfortunately, this group of provincial vendors was less cooperative than
those encountered in Mexico City and Cuernavaca during previous surveys.
Their reluctance to answer questions was due in part to a questionnaire that
was overly long and requested too much data. Vendors frequently became
bored, were repeatedly interrupted by business, or were suspicious about the
interviewers' "real" intent. Consequently, only 51 percent responded with data
on sales for La novela policiaca, 30 percent with age data, and 6 percent with
socioeconomic or class data. Of eleven comic books for which sales data were
sought, unfortunately La novela policiaca was listed last. Sales figures for all
titles were requested first, followed by estimates of readers' ages for each, and
then by class data. So by the time vendors got to the final and thirty-third
request for information relating to specific titles (class data for La novela
policiaca), their participation often was nonexistent or of negligible value.
18. In the 1980 interview with Santibanez, he noted that at one time he
had written a series of stories for La novela policiaca with a continuing
detective hero, but had become bored with his creation and now only writes
stories that each have a unique cast.
It would be difficult for any writer-artist team to produce an illustrated,
novel-length story every week, unless Novedades employed the assembly-line
techniques of Disney Studios. Since work at Novedades is purchased or
commissioned on more of a cottage industry basis than an assembly-line, the
wise solution has been to discourage the creation of a single detective whose
portrayal would undoubtedly suffer from a hodgepodge of different talents.
For a quite different approach to La novela policiaca's cast and especially
its plots, see Georges-A. Parent, "Focalization: A Narratological Approach to
Mexican Illustrated Stories," Studies in Latin American Popular Culture, 1
(1982): 206-08. Parent uses the analytical approach of Gerard Genette.
19. Interview with Santibanez, 1980.
20. Harry Waugh, "The Police Procedural," in The Mystery Story, ed.
John Ball (Middlesex, England: Penguin Books, 1978), 174.
21. Mario de la Torre, "Crimenes de otono," La novela policiaca, No.
833 (January 10, 1974).
23. Otto Penzler, "The Amateur Detectives," in The Mystery Story, ed.
Ball, 85.
24. Interviews with Vicente Ferrer, August 13, 1980; and Santibanez,
1980. Ferrer's point regarding the reader's empathy is also made by Symons.
See Julian Symons, Mortal Consequences: A History from the Detective Story
to the Crime Novel (New York: Schocken Books, 1973), 11.
25. Penzler, "The Amateur Detectives," 109.
26. Maurice La Tour, "El ultimo trago," La novela policiaca, No. 103
(December 1, 1977). This story's portrait of small towns as wicked, dangerous
places is one that is frequently encountered on American television soap
operas. See Ben Stein, The View from Sunset Boulevard. America as Brought
to You by the People Who Make Television (Garden City, New York: Anchor
Books, 1980), 51-59.
27. In the authors' sample of thirty-seven stories, eleven major villains
are lower-class, fourteen are middle-class, ten are upper-class, and two are
insufficiently described to categorize in terms of class.
28. Raul Santibanez, "Lindo pero asesino," La novela policiaca, No. 958
(June 3, 1976).
29. Mario de la Torre, "Meritos para el patibulo," La novela policiaca,
No. 895 (March 20, 1975).
30. Vicente Ferrer, "KKK: La organization tenebrosa," La novela
policiaca, No. 1058 (May 4, 1978).
31. Vicente Ferrer, "El delito es bianco," La novela policiaca, No. 1171
(July 5, 1980).
32. Raul Santibanez, "La discotec: Motivation criminal," La novela
policiaca, No. 921 (September 18, 1975).
33. Piero Diechi, "Asalto a la luna," La novela policiaca, No. 1133
(October 11, 1979).
34. Nancy Y. Hoffman, "Mistress of Malfeasance," in Dimensions of
Detective Fiction, ed. Larry N. Landrum, Pat Browne, and Ray B. Browne
(Bowling Green, Ohio: Popular Press, 1976), 99.
35. Piero Diechi, "Crimen a ritmo de rock," La novela policiaca, No.
1121 (July 19, 1979).
36. Ron Sangay, "Derriben al Concord," La novela policiaca, No. 1095
(January 18, 1979).
37. George Grella, "Murder and Manners: The Formal Detective
Novel," in Dimensions of Detective Fiction, ed. Landrum, Browne, and
Browne, 53. See also Nancy Wingate, "Getting Away with Murder: An
Analysis," Journal of Popular Culture, 12:4 (Spring 1979): 581-603.
38. Interview with Marquez Torres, 1979.
39. William O. Aydelotte, "The Detective Story as a Historical Source,"
in Dimensions of Detective Fiction, ed. Landrum, Browne, and Browne, 72.
40. Symons, Mortal Consequences, 164.
42. Interviews with Santibanez, 1980; Marquez Torres, 1979; and
interview with Vicente Ferrer, August 17, 1980.
43. Cornelia Butler Flora, "Women in Latin American Fotonovelas: From
Cinderella to Mata Hari," Women's Studies International Quarterly, 3 (1980):
102-3.
44. Raul Santibanez, "Cognac Napoleon 1801," La novela policiaca, No.
970 (August 26, 1976).
45. Vicente Ferrer, "La clinica maldita," La novela policiaca, No. 1003
(April 14, 1977).
46. L. Pimentel, "Un policia de vacaciones," La novela policiaca, No.
864 (August 15, 1974).
48. See Aaron Marc Stein, "The Mystery Story in Cultural Perspective,"
in The Mystery Story, ed. Ball, 36-37. Stein offers additional support for this
idea by noting that "as long as the officially practiced, universally accepted
means of crime detection was torture, the detective story was impossible."
49. Interviews with Santibanez, 1980; Marquez Torres, 1979; and Ferrer,
1980.
50. Erica M. Eisinger, "Maigret and Women: La maman and La putain,"
Journal of Popular Culture, 12:1 (Summer 1978): 52. The same point is made
by Stein in "The Mystery Story in Cultural Perspective," 56. See also
Aydelotte, "The Detective Story as a Historical Source," 79-81, where
Ay delotte argues that it is "nonsense" that the detective story can flourish only
in a democracy and that in fact the dependence on extralegal aggression by the
detective basically resembles totalitarianism more than democracy. While there
is some merit in these assertions, the very fact that detective fiction has not
flourished in Latin America and that La novela policiaca's editors and authors
have rarely chosen to set its stories in Mexico does suggest some correlation,
even if weak, between democracy and detective fiction.
51. When a collection of La novela policiaca stories was assigned to
third- and fourth-year Spanish students at the University of Minnesota-Morris,
nearly all found the portrayal of the United States to be very critical and
negative.
52. Interviews with Santibanez, 1980; Marquez Torres, 1979; and Ferrer,
1980.
53. Yolanda Rovirosa, "Asesinos diabolicos," La novela policiaca, No.

954 (May 6, 1976).
54. Vicente Ferrer, "Crimenes y patinetas," La novela policiaca, No.
1155 (March 13, 1980).
55. E. Montero, "Ella nunca mas hablara," La novela policiaca, No. 832
(January 3, 1974).
56. Raul Santibanez, "Tratado infecto," La novela policiaca, No. 1020
(August 11, 1977).
57. Ron Sangay, "Coctel de delitos," La novela policiaca, No. 1112
(May 17, 1979).
58. For portraits of hippies, see Luis Aguilar, "Sombra y misterio," La
novela policiaca, No. 846 (April 11, 1974); M. de la Torre, "La marca del
maligno," La novela policiaca, No. 900 (April 24, 1975); Santibanez,
"Tratado infecto"; and Piero Diechi, "Vuelo hacia la muerte," La novela
policiaca, No. 1149 (January 31, 1980).
59. Interviews with Santibanez, 1980, and Ferrer, 1980.
60. Interviews with Ferrer, 1980; Marquez Torres, 1979; Santibanez,
1980; Vigil, 1980; and Guillermo Vigil, July 27, 1979.
62. Raul Santibanez, "Podredumbre," La novela policiaca, No. 1052
(March 23, 1978).
63. L. Pimentel, "El regreso de los muertos," La novela policiaca, No.
876 (November 7, 1974).
64. M. de la Torre, "El misterio del pasado," La novela policiaca, No.
964 (July 15, 1976).
65. Interviews with Santibanez, 1980, and Ferrer, 1980.
66. Vicente Ferrer, "Sangre en la pista de baile," La novela policiaca,
No. 1097 (February 1, 1979).
67. Mario de la Torre, "Venganza en las sombras," La novela policiaca,
No. 1065 (June 22, 1978).
68. Aguilar, "Sombra y misterio."
69. Raul Santibanez, "Safari salvaje," La novela policiaca, No. 996
(February 24, 1977).
70. Yolanda Rovirosa, "El hippie de oro," La novela policiaca, No. 939
(January 22, 1976).
71. Aydelotte, "The Detective Story as a Historical Source," 72.
72. Interviews with Vigil, 1980; Marquez Torres, 1979; Ferrer, 1980;
and Santibanez, 1980.
73. Generalizations about the classic detective story are drawn from the
following studies of the genre: Symons, Mortal Consequences; Ball, ed., The
Mystery Story; Landrum, Browne, and Browne, eds., Dimensions of Detective
Fiction; John G. Cawelti, Adventure, Mystery, and Romance: Formula Stories
as Art and Popular Culture (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press,

1976); Hugh Eames, Sleuths, Inc. Studies of Problem Solvers: Doyle,
Simenon, Hammett, Ambler, Chandler (Philadelphia: J.B. Lippincott Co.,
1978); William Kittredge and Steven M. Krauzer, eds., The Great American
Detective (New York: Mentor, 1978); LeRoy Lad Panek, An Introduction to
the Detective Story (Bowling Green, Ohio: Bowling Green State University
Popular Press, 1987).
74. Eames, Sleuths, Inc., 112.
75. Interview with Ferrer, 1980.
76. For example, see the discussion of the police on American television
in Stein, The View from Sunset Boulevard, 23-31.
77. Alfonso Quiroz Cuaron, La criminalidad en la republica mexicana
(Mexico City: Instituto de Investigaciones Sociales, Universidad Nacional,
1958), 41, 44.
78. Americo Paredes, "The United States, Mexico, and Machismo,"
Journal of the Folklore Institute, 3 (June 1971): 30-35.
79. Alma Guillermoprieto, "El caballo del diablo: Un estudio de caso,"
paper presented at Primer Simposio Mexicano, Centroamericano de
Investigation sobre la Mujer, Mexico City, November 7-9, 1977.
80. An excellent example of exaggerated hips, thighs, and buttocks is the
Japanese-American woman in "Asalto a la luna."
81. Stein, The View from Sunset Boulevard, 23.
82. Octavio Paz, The Labyrinth of Solitude: Life and Thought in Mexico
(New York: Grove Press, Inc., 1961), 47-64.
83. Ron Sangay, "La guerra de las estrellas," La novela policiaca, No.
1063 (June 8, 1978).
84. On the Ku Klux Klan's persecution of Mexicans and
Mexican-Americans, see Charles C. Alexander, The Ku Klux Klan in the
Southwest (Lexington, Kentucky: University of Kentucky Press, 1965), 24;
David M. Chalmers, Hooded Americanism: The First Century of the Ku Klux
Klan (1865-1965) (New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1965), 218,
223-24; Rodolfo Acuna, Occupied America: History of Chicanos, 2nd ed.
(New York: Harper & Row, Publishers, 1981), 181, 225-26; and Albert
Camarillo, Chicanos in a Changing Society: From Mexican Pueblos to
American Barrios in Santa Barbara and Southern California, 1848-1930
(Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1979), 193-96.
85. For example, see "El Ku-Klux-Klan contra braceros," Los
Supermachos, No. 626 (December 29, 1977), where an October 1977 threat
of Klan harassment against braceros is loosely linked to a long history of
discrimination against Mexican-Americans.
Male in Latin America: Essays, ed. Ann Pescatello (Pittsburgh: University of

Pittsburgh Press, 1973), 80-83.
87. A computer search of a half dozen standard abstracts and an
examination of the University of Texas N.L. Benson Latin American Library's
Mexican Collection unfortunately turned up very few recent studies of
Mexican crime, aside from theoretical criminology tracts.
88. Donald A. Yates, ed., Latin Blood: The Best Crime and Detective
Stories of South America (New York: Herder and Herder, 1972). "South
America" is somewhat misleading, since the volume also contains several
Mexican stories.
89. Maria Elvira Bermudez, ed., Los mejores cuentos policiacos
mexicanos, Biblioteca Minima Mexicana, vol. 15 (Mexico: Libro-Mex
Editores, 1955).
90. Yates, Latin Blood, 82.
10
Conclusion
A 1983 Newsweek special report, "How the World Sees America," indicated
that while the United States was viewed as a country whose military,
economic, and diplomatic prestige was declining, its cultural influence was at
a peak. This country's mark on television, movies, music, fashion, and on
other cultural industries was readily acknowledged by foreign pole takers as
well as those in the United States and borne out in Newsweek's own poll,
which showed that people interviewed in Asia, Europe, and Latin America
strongly believed that the influence of the United States was increasing at the
beginning of the 1980s.1 The rise of Japan and Germany in the past decade
as global economic powers has probably accelerated a decline in American
economic prestige, but, at the same time, the recent breakup of the former
Soviet Union and other world events have almost certainly brought about a
positive perception of the United States in terms of its military and diplomatic
prestige. It is thus probably safe to say that pole takers in the early 1990s
would find that the influence of American cultural industries in foreign
countries has continued to grow.
This general perception of the impact of American culture abroad is
closely related to a view held by social scientists and others since the early
1960s: this country has succeeded in exporting and imposing its cultural values
on many underdeveloped countries, particularly those in Latin America. This
view, often referred to as the "cultural imperialism" thesis, focuses on the role
that various cultural industries and mass media—radio, television, photonovels,
comic books, music, newspapers, advertising, and so on—play within the
underdeveloped economies and societies of what 1960s's social scientists
identified as the "Third World" nations. The thesis has enjoyed much
popularity among cultural critics over the last thirty years. Given the
frequency with which different versions of this approach are used in even some
of the most recent socioeconomic and cultural analyses of Latin America, the
authors believe it important to consider the Mexican comic book within the
cultural imperialism framework in order to determine to what extent this
Conclusion 221
specific cultural industry functioned as an agent of imperialism in Mexican

society in the 1970s.
The growth in popularity of the cultural imperialism approach reflects the
rejection of Western models of modernization and development by many
"Third World" countries. These models have been challenged by a different
view of the development process commonly designated as the "dependency
model." An understanding of some of the tenets of this model will be useful
in discussing the basic theoretical notions of the cultural imperialism
approach.2
While the dependency model has its practitioners in many "Third World"
countries, it originated in the extensive Latin American debate on the problems
of underdevelopment. It emerged from the convergence of two intellectual
trends: one can be roughly identified as neo-Marxist; the other is rooted in
an earlier Latin American discussion of development favored by economists
of the United Nations Economic Commission for Latin America, also known
as ECLA.3
The neo-Marxist view became popular in the 1960s largely through the
writings of Che Guevara and others who challenged the assertions of the long-
established Communist parties in Latin America. These continued to use a
rigid and somewhat mechanistic Marxist class analysis that was not always
applicable to the wide variety of socioeconomic situations throughout the
continent. The fossilized Latin American Communist movement considered
Guevara's radical departure from orthodox Marxist thought as a great
theoretical and ideological challenge. Guevara's attractiveness as a hero of
national liberation coincided with the popularization in Latin America of Paul
Baran's neo-Marxist The Political Economy of Growth (1957), which, like
Guevara himself, advocated socialist revolution.
The second intellectual trend has its roots in earlier (1930s) Latin
American discussions of specific economic and intellectual experiences. The
Depression and its aftermath demanded more systematic economic analysis and
rigorous research. The early works of the Argentinian economist Raul
Prebisch contributed to a more systematic approach that was eventuality
reflected in the formulation of ECLA.
The idea, central to the dependency model, of a center-periphery structure
in the world economy was implicit in Prebisch's early writings. He then
presented this concept with greater cohesion and force when he published in
1950, as head of ECLA, Economic Development of Latin America and Its
Principal Problems.
The confluence of neo-Marxism within a Latin American context and the
dissemination of ECLA's theories of development and underdevelopment thus
form the theoretical underpinnings of the dependency model. Several excellent
treatments of the evolution of dependency theories exist,4 but it would not be
particularly useful, here, to give more than the broadest overview of these
theories and their various colorations.
In addition to Raul Prebisch and some of the economists and social
scientists associated with ECLA, other key proponents of the dependency
model were the Mexican sociologist Rodolfo Stavenhagen, the Brazilian
sociologists Fernando Enrique Cardoso and Theotonio dos Santos, the Chilean
economist Osvaldo Sunkel, and the sociologist Andre Gunder Frank. In his
1966 essay, "The Seven Erroneous Theses on Latin America," Stavenhagen
observed that the seemingly different traditional agrarian society and the
modern, urbanized society in Latin America are in reality the result of the
same historical process. He further asserted that the generally accepted leftist
belief that true change and progress in Latin America would only come about
by means of an alliance between workers and peasants was naive and
misleading. He believed that a political alliance was not likely, particularly
in societies in which acute differences separated the metropolis and its
domestic colonies.5 Stavenhagen's essay contributed to a refinement of the
dependency model that would include the notion of center-periphery within a
country with divided rural and metropolitan sectors.
Cardoso critiqued the theory of modernization dominant within the social
sciences disciplines in the 1960s, focusing his attack on the assumption that
various stages of economic development are linked to different types of
structures characterized as either "traditional" or "modern."6 Dos Santos's
contributed to the evolution of the dependency model by showing how, in the
formulation of the general laws of development of societies, development
theory must take into account the international contradictions of the process.7
According to Sunkel, "a realistic analysis of Latin American development
should...be based on the assumption that a socioeconomic system has been
shaped by two types of structural elements: external and internal."8 Frank
stressed that the world capitalist system was characterized by a metropolis-
satellite structure in which the former exploited the latter.9 He believed that
a comprehensive view of world capitalism and that a recognition that this
system embraces the entire economy of each country were essential to
understanding the dependency relationship.
The modernization paradigm, in vogue among social scientists and
economic and social planners in the United States during the heyday of the
Alliance for Progress—the late 1950s and early 1960s—focused primarily on
internal processes of development and the role of social values. Dependency
theory, on the other hand, is based on an analysis of the relationship between
developed and underdeveloped countries. The developmental process and
problems of the "Third World" are examined within the context of these
relationships. Dependency theorists believe that that "Third World" countries
occupy a subordinate position in their relations with developed countries in the
Conclusion 223
international economic and political systems. The latter strive to maintain

their dominant position and their own development at the expense of the
developmental needs of the former.10
Several important aspects of the dependency phenomenon need to be
emphasized: the penetration of multinational corporations into the economies
of "Third World" countries; the political objectives and foreign aid policies of
developed countries; and the subordinate position of "Third World" countries
in the international market system. These all focus on the relationship between
developed countries (the center) and underdeveloped countries (the periphery),
but just as important to an understanding of the dependency model is the view
that these country-to-country relationships are paralleled by structures of
internal relationships within each underdeveloped country. One such
relationship is that of large urban concentrations of economic and political
power (whose interests are often allied and coincide with those of the
developed countries and multinationals) to the less powerful smaller urban and
rural sectors. In this internal relationship within a given country, the powerful
urban interests are seen by dependency model-theorists as constituting a
"center" and the economically dependent urban and rural sectors as the
"periphery," thus mirroring the center-periphery relationship between
developed and underdeveloped countries or between multinational
conglomerates and national interests. In this power relationship, the "center"
would dominate and dictate practices to economically and politically less
influential "peripheries," who presumably would be forced to adopt capitalist,
consumption-oriented, production priorities that would disadvantage a
country's lower economic sectors.
As discussed above, the dependency model has undergone numerous
refinements since the 1960s, and although a number of other development
theories have surged to the forefront of social scientific and economic analysis,
it still continues to appeal to many Latin Americanists. An example of one
such refinement is James L. Dietz and Dilmus D. James's 1990 book,
Progress Toward Development in Latin America: From Prebisch to
Technological Autonomy, in which the authors critique certain fallacies of
earlier dependency studies and highlight the strengths of more recent
refinements of the model.11
The cultural imperialism approach is a corollary of the dependency model.
Armand Mattelart, one of its chief formulators, draws a parallel between the
two. He views the process of ideological transference—of attitudes, behavior,
and life models—that accompanies developed countries' economic penetration
and imperial foreign policies as essential to cultural imperialism:
I understand ideology and culture as power practices, and,

in this sense, * cultural imperialism' can be considered a
model of organization of power. This power seeks a

homogenization, a demobilization and disorganization, a
consensus. A people deprived of its culture, its customs, its
own style of life, is just as defenseless as if it had been
robbed of its raw materials.12
Mattelart believes that an integral aspect of cultural imperialism is a

"correlation of forces, a combination of national and international forces,"
whereby Creole bourgeoisies direct programs of "cultural nationalism" that
facilitate the penetration of foreign interests of monopoly capital. These
programs may vary from "Third World" country to country, but their
relationship to external forces is always the same: large national cultural
industries, such as electronic and print media, depend financially on foreign
counterparts for both their sources of technology and of news. Mattelart warns
against considering cultural imperialism as a kind of deus ex machina, a
conspiratorial external force that manipulates domestic cultural industries.
Rather, he believes that each underdeveloped society has its own state
apparatus that is very well adapted to its particular culture and class structure
and that generates cultural messages not perceived as foreign.13 These state
apparatuses work closely with transnational or multinational corporations and
interests to generate cultural messages for domestic consumption.
Herbert I. Schiller, one of the most articulate and prolific proponents of
the cultural imperialism approach, has discussed at length the objectives and
operations of multinational corporations in the specific area of
communications. He contends that "the basic economic organizational unit in
the modern-world capitalist economy is the multinational corporation. A few
hundred of these giant agglomerations of capital, largely American-owned,
dominate the global market in the production and distribution of goods and
services. "14 A primary concern of Schiller and other theorists revolves around
the destructive cultural consequences that multinational corporations have on
"Third World" societies, especially on the behavior and world view of their
audiences.
An early and somewhat crude application of the cultural imperialism model
was Ariel Dorfman and Armand Mattelart's 1972 book, Para leer el Pato
Donald: Comunicacion de masa y colonialismo [How to Read Donald Duck.
Imperialist Ideology in the Disney Comic].15 It is a study of the capitalist
values and behaviors imbedded in Disney comic books, highly popular in
Chile before and during the presidency of Salvador Allende (1970-73). From
an analysis of comic-book content, these writers extrapolate to the dangers that
these seemingly inoffensive stories might pose to Chilean children during their
formative years. Dorfman and Mattelart view these values as reflective of the
Conclusion 225
"American Dream" that the United States imposes upon "Third World"
countries in order to guarantee its own economic and political values.
As discussed above, Mattelart later refined his model to eliminate the deus
ex machina element. Greater sophistication also characterized other studies
that the Dorfman/Mattelart essay gave rise to. For example, Cornelia Butler
Flora and Jan Flora's 1978 study focuses on the photonovel in Latin America
as one of the mechanisms that capitalism has developed for social control of
the population of underdeveloped countries: "The multinational character of
the photonovel enterprise introduces elements that influence the nature of the
stories."16 While cultural imperialism is muted in order to make photonovels
acceptable and thus to sell them, the authors believe that what is not presented
is as important as what is:
Class consiousness [sic], international politics, and economic

structures are all absent. The narrative structure supports an
absence of political issues. Vital plot devices must resolve
the individual crises of lovers, not the structural conditions
surrounding the couple. The narrative structure, combined
with the norm of passivity, helps create a false consciousness
and adaptability that does more than sell magazines.17
David Kunzle and Allen Woll have each tried to show how a cultural
industry—in this case the comic book—is used to combat rather than to
propagate what they consider to be destructive capitalist values and
behaviors.18 Kunzle, especially, asks several provocative questions relating to
the transformation of a cultural industry under a socialist government. His
analysis of selected issues of La firme [The Steady Woman], which was
produced by the Salvador Allende government, provides ambiguous answers
at best. Kunzle shows, for example, how two issues of La firme that focus on
the threat to Chile of the International Telephone and Telegraph (ITT)
multinational corporation unmask political-economic imperialism yet seem to
condone cultural imperialism in the sexual sphere. He concludes that political
and cultural revolutions can never be segregated. Presumably, imported
attitudes of sexual machismo reinforced indigenous Chilean attitudes, thus
providing a strong case for cultural imperialism.
Mexican cultural critics such as Higilio Alvarez Constantino, Miguel
Angel Gallo, Irene Herner, and Carlos Monsivais generally support the thesis
that comic books in Mexico are reflective of insidious foreign influences that
corrupt Mexican youth by replacing healthy values with those of a capitalist,
consumption-oriented mentality. To Alvarez Constantino, comic books and
other mass cultural forms such as television represent an ideological threat to
a people who are just emerging from economic, political, and cultural
underdevelopment. He challenges Mexican readers to protect their national

heritage and cultural sovereignty through the creation of a massive educational
and legislative resistance to the continued incursion of foreign values.19 Gallo
also sees the comic book as a foreign invention designed to aid and abet
economic imperialism by perpetrating the worst capitalist attitudes and mores
upon an unsuspecting and innocent reading public. He claims that readers in
Mexico and other Latin American countries become contaminated by certain
ideological stances—on matters such as racism, collective action, the
subjugation of women, violence, and historical immobility—that have been
exported by the United States.20
As was pointed out in the introduction, both Monsivais and Herner
generally support the thesis that the Mexican comic-book industry in the post-
19508 period reflects some of the worst traits of the cultural influence of the
United States. Herner believes that comic books, along with photonovels,
disseminate bourgeois moral, intellectual, and religious values on a global
basis. These values are designed to perpetuate, in underdeveloped countries
like Mexico, a consumer economy dominated by nefarious external forces.21
Not unlike the dependency model from which it is derived, the cultural
imperialism approach also has been modified and refined during the past
twenty years. For example, the International Communication and Youth
Culture Consortium (IC YCC) has found that a variety of cultural responses are
possible to a flood of externally-originated cultural products. Based on its
research of the music industry, the ICYCC has concluded that "What is termed
the 'cultural imperialism hypothesis' ignores how diverse socio-economic and
political conditions promote differing modes of cultural change."22 The
ICYCC believes that cultural "synchronization" frequently results from the
structure and economics of the underlying system, not just from the influence
of external cultural forms on internal ones. Likewise, Chin-Chuan Lee and F.
Gerald Kline find in their study of the exportation of television programs that
"it is increasingly difficult to neatly distinguish the indigenous origin of
popular culture from its foreign import, or from a synthesis of both.w23
Jeremy Tunstall, in his book The Media Are American: Anglo-American
Media in the World, briefly introduces a variation on cultural
"synchronization" with his concept of "hybrid forms," which constitutes
another useful way to look at the Mexican comic book. Tunstall points out
that in Asian and African countries he studied, it is the highly educated elite
who are the most active consumers of imported media, while rural dwellers are
the main consumers of traditional and "authentic" culture. Most consumers,
however, fall between the two extremes and are mainly influenced by neither
pure imported media nor unadulterated traditional culture, but by a hybrid
variety characterized by the modification of older cultural forms of Western
influences. Tunstall thus detects three general media levels persisting in the
Conclusion 227
vast majority of developed and underdeveloped countries: (1) an expansion of

international media primarily Anglo-American in "flavor"; (2) a bigger
expansion of small, local, ethnic, and traditional media; and (3) a middle level
in between that he identifies as "national" and that will almost certainly be
hybrid. These hybrid media will enjoy the biggest growth and will continue
to reflect authentic local elements as well as international media elements.24
When the comic book titles discussed in the preceding chapters are
reviewed in the light of the cultural imperialism model, a convincing case
cannot be made that they generally are dominated in any systematic way by
foreign economic interests willfully wielding control over Mexican producers,
writers, and illustrators to produce plots that promote capitalist values and
behaviors. The overview of the Mexican comic-book industry in the 1970s that
was presented in the introduction clearly demonstrates that no such link exists.
While it can be demonstrated that this industry was oligarchiistic, in that four
large industrial groups accounted for over half the comic-book production, the
cultural imperialist model is still not applicable in Mexico in the 1970s. The
industrial groups were able to control only part of the entire comic-book
market. Numerous small enterprises remained very competitive, even when
limited to one or two titles.
When a more refined and less mechanistic deus ex machina version of
cultural imperialism—that reflected in Mattelart's 1980 comments—is applied,
some of the comic book titles do yield examples, either through commission
or omission, of cultural imperialist attitudes of the kind discovered by Flora
and Flora, Kunzle, and Woll in their studies of photonovels and Chilean comic
books. These studies tend to focus on content from which extrapolations are
made to the implied existence of dependency situations involving "centers" and
"peripheries," foreign and native exploiters and exploited masses. Such
extrapolations can be problematical—they assume rather than demonstrate a
dependency situation and do not take into account audience response to
cultural forms—and thereby weaken the overall strength of a cultural
imperialist argument. Yet such studies have contributed many interesting and
valuable insights and can be helpful in examining the Mexican comic-book
titles featured in this study.
A strict application of the cultural imperialism model to the comic books
discussed in this study necessarily involves a comparison with their
counterparts in developed countries like the United States. If these Mexican
comic books are products of a United States-controlled economic and cultural
penetration in Mexico, it stands to reason that they would bear a strong
resemblance to American comic books, the dominant society's cultural
products. This would not be at all unusual because, as discussed in detail in
the introduction, the original models for Mexican comic books were North
American. Yet when some of the most popular titles published in Mexico
during the 1970s were examined, it was discoverd that they diverged
considerably from like categories of comic books published earlier and
concurrently in the United States, from Western, political, adventure,
romance, detective, family, and superhero comic books.
Kalimdn, for example, shares some of Superman's characteristics but
differs in important ways. El Payo's settings and plots differ considerably
from the conventions of the American Western. The plot conventions
associated with our Westerns—cattle rustling, stagecoach holdups, cattle drives,
and so on—are not applicable to the Mexican comic book largely because they
are not appropriate to its main theme of the struggle between the dispossessed
and the rural robber barons. The character Chanoc in the comic book by the
same name can be seen as the antithesis of the American comic-book character
Tarzan because Chanoc acts as a protector of Mexicans from imperialist, white
exploitation. While there are marked similarities between the two comic
books, the thematic focus clearly separates them. La familia Burrdn
superficially resembles Blondie, but their social perspectives are widely
divergent; Gabriel Vargas's focus on the struggles of a lower middle-class
family is anything but a copy of Chic Young's cast of mindless characters.
Nowhere in the Blondie's long history is there any convincing evidence that
Young was interested in social commentary. Eduardo del Rios's Los
supermachos and Los agachados, as well as the post-Rius Los supermachos,
assume an anti-establishment, left-of-center stance. These titles are thus poor
candidates for a cultural imperialist approach.
La novela policiaca and Ldgrimas, risas y amor are the comic books that
most closely resemble some modern American titles. The authors of the La
novela policiaca have used the classic British and American detective novel
form, but only as a point of departure and with important differences. It is
Mexico's most popular romance comic book, Ldgrimas, that follows its
American model more closely than any other title with these similarities: the
same elements of love, sex, marriage, the family, and so on. handled in
basically the same way to reinforce traditional values and sex roles; the same
formulaic plot structures; the same systematic avoidance of social themes—
although some American romance comic books deviate from this norm; the
same squeaky clean plots and drawings as each title adheres strictly to its
respective code.
It can also be argued that Ldgrimas is the most obvious example of the
comic books in this study that responds to a cultural imperialist analysis. Like
the photonovels discussed by Flora and Flora, Ldgrimas can be seen to
reinforce a static, nondynamic sociopolitical condition by omitting all vestiges
of class consciousness and references to international and national politics,
social structures, collective action, and so on. On the contrary, it would seem
to promote individual solutions, idealistic and romanticized goals, the
Conclusion 229
subjugation of women, the continuation of traditional sex roles, and other such
things. Its plots inevitably end melodramatically in either blissful happiness for
the hero and heroine or in tragedy as unrequited love takes its natural course.
Other titles reinforce, to a lesser degree than Ldgrimas, traditional values
and promote nonconflictive and conservative solutions to social problems such
as crime, corruption, and government abuse. La novela policiaca is devoid
of references to Mexican politics and, with the exception of drugs, avoids a
wide range of potentially controversial social themes. Crime, which never pays
in this comic book, is the result of individual greed, not economic disparity
and hardship caused by sociopolitical inequities and other structural
deficiencies of traditional capitalism. Kalimdn and El Payo also tend to
reinforce traditional values and solutions. In both cases, individuals with
extraordinary mental or physical powers save society from evil. Solutions are
not sought in social change brought about by reform or revolution. Rather,
these comic books advocate an acceptance of the status quo in which collective
action is rejected in favor of individual effort. Neither Kalimdn nor El Payo
offer a meaningful model for problem solving or socioeconomic change. The
heroes are both depicted as beneficent, paternalistic figures who treat women
deferentially. Only Lupita of El payo is a self-reliant, strong woman. All the
other female characters are depicted as members of the weaker sex whom
strong male characters protect.
At the other end of the ideological continuum from Ldgrimas, La novela
policiaca, Kalimdn, and El Payo are Eduardo del Rio and his successors at
Editorial Meridiano. Together they provide the strongest argument against the
existence of cultural imperialism in the comic books studied. These comic-
book creators are highly and explicitly critical of United States imperialism,
capitalism, consumerism, materialism, the exploitation of "Third World"
countries, the betrayal of the most laudable social reformist ideals of the
Mexican Revolution, and the corruption and other abuses of Mexican
government. In short, they form a veritable litany of ideas that present a most
convincing case against the socioeconomic and cultural attitudes, values, and
behaviors associated with cultural imperialism. Eduardo del Rio goes so far
as to praise socialism and armed resistance against "First World" militarism,
domination, and hegemony. The post-Rius Los supermachos roundly
condemns United States imperialism, rabid anticommunism, and foreign
multinational control of the Mexican economy.
While considerably less strident than the writers of these comic books,
Gabriel Vargas also depicts the exploitative conditions in which the Mexican
lower classes live victimized by government corruption and incompetence. In
opposing foreign values and mores and upholding what he considers to be
positive Mexican traditions, he emerges as a strong supporter of nationalism,
a position clearly contrary to cultural imperialism. The creators of El payo
also reject malinchismo in favor of Mexican values, and Kalimdn can be seen
as a Mexican representative of Arielismo, which early in the twentieth century
posited the Latin American spirit of humaneness against what social thinkers
saw as nefarious United States ultilitarianism and materialism.
The comic books in this study thus run the gamut from outright rejection
of foreign economic and cultural influence to more attenuated critiques of
perceived anti-Mexican values to implicit acceptance through omission of the
cultural imperialist thesis. None, not even the most blatant title, Ldgrimas, can
be compared to the Disney comic book analyzed by Dorfman and Mattelart,
which explicity advocated capitalist values and consumerism.
As suggested earlier in this chapter, Tunstall's concept of "hybrid forms"
yields a more productive framework than the cultural imperialist model in
assessing some of Mexico's most popular late-1960s and 1970s' comic books
in terms of foreign cultural influence. There is much evidence presented in the
preceding chapters that most of these titles are adaptations rather than
wholesale copies of American comic book models or, to the other extreme,
pure native forms.
Kaliman's creators have stated that their superhero was in part inspired by
the classic Superman of the 1930s through the 1960s. Both are orphans who
have dedicated themselves to fighting crime. Yet while the American model
has influenced the original concept of the Mexican comic book superhero,
Kalimdn strongly reflects some native elements, including the superhero's
exemplification of a nonsexual interpretation of Mexican maleness; an
idealized Mexican father-son relationship in Solin's relationship with Kaliman;
the middle- and lower-class Mexican's view of law as arbitrary and of police
as corrupt; the combination in the comic book's female characters of the
Mexican stereotypes of the chaste woman and the sexually active woman; the
presence in rural regions of a strong belief in sorcery and witchcraft; and the
dichotomy between technology and materialism.
Ldgrimas, risas y amor shares much in common with American love
comics such as the obvious parallel in the characters' physical traits, the
sanctity of the home, and the belief in the nuclear family as a mainstay. Yet
at the same time, Ldgrimas reflects contemporary Mexican attitudes toward
sex, sex roles, the family, marriage, class, and the role of the individual in
society.
Several students of the Mexican comic book have compared Chanoc to
Tarzan, even calling the Mexican comic book character a literary descendant
of the foreign jungle hero. Although there are marked similarities between the
two, Chanoc has many native elements including portraits of Mexico's Mayan
peoples, flora, and fauna. El Payo reflects several of the American Western
genre's conventions and themes, but at the same time, there are many
differences between the former and the latter, not the least of which are El
Conclusion 231
Payo's Mexican settings and character types. The landscape, costumes, people,
villages, and ranches visually remind the reader of mestizo, rural Mexico. As
in other comic books included in this study, the good woman-bad woman
duality is prevalent in this Mexican Western.
La familia Burrdn resembles the American comics Bringing Up Father,
Gasoline Alley, and Blondie, yet it is strongly rooted in a lower middle-class
Mexican urban setting. Moreover, over the years, the comic book has dealt
with several socioeconomic and political issues related to lower class concerns:
poverty, inflation, hunger, malnutrition, corruption, caciquismo, inadequate
medical care and housing, and consumerism.
Although to a lesser degree than the above Mexican comic book titles,
even La novela policiaca can be viewed as a hybridization of imported and
national forms. It is partially modeled on a foreign model, the classic
American and British detective story. And while its authors prefer American
settings and tend to avoid those that are explicitly Mexican, they do
occasionally Mexicanize the comic book's content, particularly when they
imbue situations with cultural values and assumptions that are clearly more
native than foreign. Rius's Los agachados and Los supermachos and the post-
Rius Los supermachos, the overtly political comic books included in this
study, represent a stark contrast to La novela policiaca in that they seem to
deal exclusively with Mexican themes or with international themes from a
Mexican perspective; however, even these comic books are hybrid forms given
their descendancy from American media models such as Walt Kelly's Pogo and
Garry Trudeau's Doonesbury. Thus, all of the comic book titles considered
here lend themselves in varying degrees to Tunstall's concept of hybrid forms.
Based on the viability of Tunstall's concept as applied to Mexican comic
books, cultural critics would be well advised to shift the focus of the debate
away from the outright transfer of culture from developed to underdeveloped
countries, from "centers" to "peripheries," and towards adaptation and
hybridization, that is, to how host cultures preserve indigenous cultures and
values in the face of transnational cultural penetration. Such a refocusing is
likely to yield more productive results.
NOTES
1. "How the World Sees America," Newsweek (July 11, 1983), 8-14.
2. Fred Fejes, "Media Imperialism: An Assessment," in Mass
Communication Review Yearbook, ed. D. Charles Whitney and Ellen Wartella
(Beverly Hills: Sage Publications, 1982), 347.
3. Magnus Blomstrom and Bjorn Hettne, Development Theory in
Transition. The Dependency Debate and Beyond: Third World Responses
(London: Zed Books, 1984). See Chapter 2 for an excellent overview of the
evolution of the dependency model.
4. In addition to the Blomstrom and Hettne work cited above, see the
following: Richard C. Bath and Dilmus D. James, "Dependency Analysis of
Latin America," Latin American Research Review, 11:3 (1976): 3-54;
Fernando Enrique Cardoso, "The Consumption of Dependency Theory in the
United States," Latin American Research Review, 12:3 (1977): 7-24; Evelina
Dagnino, "Cultural and Ideological Dependence: Building a Theoretical
Perspective," in Struggle of Dependency, ed. F. Bonilla and Robert Girling
(East Palo Alto, CA: Nairobi Bookstore, 1973): 29-41; Richard R. Fagen,
"Studying Latin American Politics: Some Implications of a Dependencia
Approach," Latin American Research Review 12:2 (1977): 3-26; Steven
Jackson, Bruce Russett, Duncan Snidal, and David Sylvan, "An Assessment
of Empirical Research on Dependencia," Latin American Research Review,
14:3 (1979): 7-28; Chin-Chuan Lee, Media Imperialism Reconsidered: The
Homogenizing of Television Culture (Beverly Hills: Sage Publications, 1980).
5. Rodolfo Stavenhagen, "The Seven Erroneous Theses on Latin
America," in Latin America: Reform or Revolution, ed. James Petras and
Maurice Zeitlin (Greenwich, CT: Fawcett Publications, 1966).
6. Fernando Enrique Cardoso and E. Falleto, Dependencia y desarrollo
en America Latina (Mexico City: Siglo XXI, 1969).
7. Theotonio dos Santos, "Dependencia economica y alternativas de
cambio en America Latina," Revista Mexicana de Sociologia, 32:2 (1970):
416-63.
8. Blomstrom and Hettne, Development Theory in Transition, 65.
9. Andre Gunder Frank, Capitalism and Underdevelopment in Latin
America: Historical Studies of Chile and Brazil (New York: Monthly Review
Press, 1967).
10. Fejes, "Media Imperialism," 347.
11. James L. Dietz and Dilmus D. James, eds., Progress Toward
Development in Latin America: From Prebisch to Technological Autonomy
(Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1990).
12. Arturo Torrecilla, "Cultural Imperialism, Mass Media and Class
Struggle: An Interview with Armand Mattelart," The Insurgent Sociologist,
9:4 (Spring 1980): 69.
13. Ibid., 73.
14. Herbert I. Schiller, Communication and Cultural Domination (White
Plains, NY: International Arts and Sciences Press, Inc., 1976).
15. Ariel Dorfman and Armand Mattelart, Para leer el Pato Donald:
Comunicacidn de masa y colonialismo (Mexico City: Siglo XXI, 1972). This
very important work later appeared in translation as How to Read Donald
Conclusion 233
Duck: Imperialist Ideology in the Disney Comic, trans. David Kunzle (New
York: International General, 1975).
16. Cornelia Butler Flora and Jan Flora, "The Fotonovela as a Tool for
Class and Cultural Domination," Latin American Perspectives, 5:1 (1978):
134-50.
17. Ibid., 149.
18. David Kunzle, "Art of the New Chile: Mural Poster and Comic Book
in the Revolutionary Process," in Art in the Service of Politics, ed. Linda
Mochlin and Henry Millon (Cambridge, MA: M.I.T. Press, 1978); Allen
Woll, "The Comic Book in a Socialist Society: Allende's Chile 1970-1973,"
Journal of Popular Culture, 9:4 (Spring 1976): 1039-45.
19. Higilio Alvarez Constantino, La magia de los comics coloniza nuestra
cultura (Mexico City: By the author, 1978), 106-9.
20. Miguel Angel Gallo, Los comics: un enfoque sociologico (Mexico
City: Ediciones Quinto Sol, n.d.), 284-85.
21. Carlos Monsivais, "Impresiones sobre la cultura popular urbana en
Mexico (segunda parte), Cuadernos de comunicacion 2:22 (April 1977): 12-
14; Irene Herner, Mitos y monitos. Historietas y fotonovelas en Mexico
(Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autonoma de Mexico y Editorial Nueva
Imagen, 1979), ix.
22. Deanna Campbell Robinson, "Local Popular Music Production: A
Study in Preservation of Cultural Diversity," a paper submitted for publication
to Media Perspektiven (1984).
23. Chin-Chuan Lee and F. Gerald Kline, "Media Imperialism Defined:
Levels of Generality," a paper presented at Television in the Developing
World Conference, Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, March 29, 1980.
24. Jeremy Tunstall, The Media Are American: Anglo-American Media
in the World (London: Constable, 1977), 59, 274-75.
Select Bibliography
Only those scholarly works that would be essential for any study of the
Mexican comic book are listed below. A more complete bibliography of basic
works on Mexican and Latin American comics books may be found in Harold
E. Hinds, Jr., "Comics," in Handbook of Latin American Popular Culture, ed.
Harold E. Hinds, Jr. and Charles M. Tatum (Westport, CT: Greenwood
Press, 1985), 102-10. Numerous brief journalistic essays on Mexican comics
books, published in Mexican newspapers and journals and used for this study,
are cited in the notes and will not be recited here. Also not cited here are our
own previous essays on the subject, noted in the Handbook and in the chapter
notes, as well as the numerous interviews conducted for this study and
frequently cited in the notes.
Alvarez Constantino, Higilio. "La magia de los comics coloniza nuestra

cultura." Audiovision 2:7 (September-October 1975).
Alcocer, Marta, and Molina, Alicia. "Mexican Comics as cultural Industry."
Comics and Visual Culture: Research Studies from Ten Countries.
Edited by Herausegegeben von Alphons Silbermass and H. D.
Dyroff. Munchen: K.G. Saur, 1986. 196-212.
Artes de Mexico (Mexico) 158 (n.d.) Issue titled "La historieta mexicana."
Entire issue devoted to the Mexican comic book.
Artes Visuales (Mexico) 22 (June-August 1979). Special issue devoted to the
comics.
Aurrecoechea, Juan Manuel, and Barata, Armando. Puros cuentos: La historia
de la historieta en Mexico 1874-1934. Mexico: Museo Nacional de
Culturas Populares, Grijalbo, 1988.
El comic es algo serio. Mexico: Ediciones Eufesa, 1982.
Comic Grupo de Estudio—Mexico. Motus Liber: Organo (fanzine) (Mexico)
1 (January 1973).
236 Select Bibliography
Curiel, Fernando. Mai de ojo: Iniciacion a la literatura iconica. Mexico:

Universidad Nacional Autonoma de Mexico, 1989.
del Rio, Eduardo [Rius]. "Las historietas." Los agachados (Mexico) 66 (April
4, 1971).
—. Numeros agotados de "Los agachados." Mexico: Editorial Posada, 197
2:12-44.
Flora, Cornelia Butler. "Roasting Donald Duck: Alternative Comics and
Photonovels in Latin America." Journal of Popular Culture 18:1
(Summer 1984): 163-83.
Guillermoprieto, Alma. "El caballo del diablo: Un estudio de caso." Pape
presented at Primer Simposio Mexicano Centroamericano de
Investigaci6n sobre La Mujer, Mexico, November 7-9, 1977.
Herner, Irene. Mitos y monitos: Historietas y fotonovelas en Mexico. Mexico:
Universidad Nacional Autonoma de Mexico, Editorial Nueva Imagen,
1979.
Horn, Maurice. "Recent Mexican Scholarship on Comics [A Review Essay]."
Studies in Latin American Popular Culture 2 (1983): 208-12.
Hunt, Nancy L., and LaFrance, David G. "'El Cuarto Reich': Economic
Disaster, Torture and Other Laughs." Studies in Latin American
Popular Culture 2 (1983): 36-43.
Jarque Andres, Francisco. "La paraliteratura: Production y consumo."
Hispamerica (Buenos Aires) 21 (December 1978):37-52.
Jimenez Codinach, Estela Guadalupe. "Historia e historieta: Episodios
mexicanos (Estudio de caso)." Paper presented at the VI Conference
of Mexican and United States Historians, Chicago, Illinois,
September 10, 1981.
Monsivais, Carlos. "Impresiones sobre la cultura popular urbana en Mexico,
Segunda Parte." Cuadernos Comunicacion (Mexico) 22 (April 1977
6-15.
Palacios Franco, Julia Emilia. "Proposiciones para el analisis de un comic
mexicano: El caso de Torbellino.n M.A. Thesis, Sociology,
Iberoamerican University, 1978.
—. "Torbellino: Towards an Alternative Comic Book," Studies in Latin
American Popular Culture 5 (1986): 186-95.
Parent, Georges-A. "Focalization: A Narratological Approach to Mexican
Illustrated Stories." Studies in Latin American Popular Culture 1
(1982): 201-15.
Patten, Fred. "Superman South." Alter Ego, Nos. 8 and 9 (August 1965;
Winter 1965): 24-28; 4-12. Parts III and IV are available only in ms.
form. They were to appear in nos. 10 and 11, but Alter Ego ceased
publication for several years after the appearance of No. 9.
Select Bibliography 237
Proctor, Phyllis Ann Wiegand. "Mexico's Supermachos: Satire and Social

Revolution in Comics by Rius." Ph.D. dissertation, University of
Texas, 1972.
Sewell, Dorita. "The Comics in Mexico." Paper presented at the Seventh
National Convention of the Popular Culture Association, Baltimore,
Maryland, April 28, 1977.
Silva, Jose Luis. "Interview: Carlos Vigil on Mexican Comic Books and
Photonovels." Studies in Latin American Popular Culture 5 (1986):
196-210.
Simard, Jean Claude, and Jarque Andres, Francisco. "La paraliteratura
mexicana." Rapport provisoire destine au Conseil des Arts du
Canada, Groupe de Recherche en Paraliterature Mexicane [sic],
Departement des Litteratures, Universite Laval, August 1976.
SNIF: El mitin del nuevo comic. 4 Vols. (Mexico: SEP/Editorial Penelope,
August 1980).
Speck, Paula K. "Rius for Beginners: A Study in Comicbook Satire." Studies
in Latin American Popular Culture 1 (1982): 113-24.
Steele, Cynthia. "Ideology and Mexican Mass Culture: The Case of Sangre
India: Chamula." Studies in Latin American Popular Culture 2
(1983): 14-23.
Vazquez Gonzalez, Modesto. La historietica: Todo lo relativo al lenguaje
lexipictogrdfico (Mexico: Promotora "K." S.A., 1981).
Vigil, Guillermo Z. El Payo: O como escribo mi historieta. Mexico: Edamex,
1981.
Wicke, Charles R. "The Bunron Family: Class Warfare and the Culture of
Poverty." Studies in Latin American Popular Culture 2 (1983): 59-
70.
Index
Acosta, Jesus, 2 Bolanos, Gaspar, 4

Adelaido el Bracero program, 96-97, 178
conquistador, 2 Bribery, 104, 180
Adelita, 3 Bringing Up Father, 2, 113-14
Agee, Philip, 95 Buendia Vasquez, Fausto, 134
Agrarian reform, 99-100 Burron, Borola, 162-65;
Aguila solitaria, 20 activities outside the home,
Alarcon, Alejandro, 16, 17 166-67; adulthood, 164;
Alegria, Juana Amanda, 62-63 changing roles, 180-81;
Allende, Salvador, 224 childhood, 163-64;
Alma de nino, 4 community activism, 166-68;
Alma grande, 4 courtship, 164- 65; marriage,
Alvarez Constantino, 165-66;
Higilio, 12, 16, 17, 111, Burron, Don Regino, 162;
225-26 alcoholism, 170; childhood,
American foreign policy, 85, 93 169-70; marriage to Borola,
American western comic book, 165-66; as a Mexican male,
228 169-70, 173; relationship to
Archie, 17 women, 170-71; role as father,
Ariel, 45 172-73; as a surrogate mother,
Arielismo, 230 168
Arthenack, Juan, 2 Burron, Macuca, 162, 168-69,
Audiffred, Andres, 2, 160 172
Aunt Griseta, 162, 163, 164, 172 Burron, Regino, 162, 168-69,
Avila Camacho, Maximo, 103 172
Burroughs, Edgar Rice, 121, 122
Bartra, Armando, 6 Butz, German, 4
Bassoco, Joaqum Cervantes, 3
Berger, Asa, 174-75 Caballete, Don Floripondio,
Blue Demon, 4 167-68
240 Index
Cacique, 76, 103-104, 137, 181 223-24; deus ex machina, 224-

Caciquismo, 91, 98, 103-104, 25; in El Payo, 228; hybrid
179 media, 227, 230-31; in
Calzon sin inspector, 72 Kalimdn, 228-29; in La familia
Calzonzin, Juan, 75, 77, 80, Burron, 228, 231; in Ldgrimas,
82, 85, 91, 100 risas y amor, 228-28, 230; in
Cantarranas, Don Susanito, La novela policiaca, 228, 231;
170 in Las agachados, 228, 231; in
Cardenas, Lazaro, 101 Los supermachos, 228, 231; and
Cardoso, Fernando E., 222 the Mexican comic book, 227-
Castro, Fidel, 92 28; and multi-national
Central Intelligence corporations, 224; photonovels
Agency, 95-96 as a form, 225; popularity, 220-
Chamaco chico, 3, 54 21; in post-Rius Los
Chanoc: Aventuras de mar y supermachos, 231; refinement
selva, 9, 12, 15; adventures and of, 226; synchronization, 226
plots, 118-21, 124; comparison cultural industry, 225
with other adventure comic
books, 121-23; history, 111-13; DC Comics, 21, 23
machismo, 126; minor Detective Fisgon, 2
characters, 117-18; popularity, Diamante negro, 4
112-14; principal characters, Diaz Ordaz, Gustavo, 70
114-16; readership, 114; Dietz, James L. and Dilmus D.
reflection of Mexican culture, James: Progress Toward
123-27 Development in Latin America:
Chanoc: characteristics, 114-15; From Prebisch to Technological
comparison to Tarzan, 121-23; Autonomy, 223
as a macho, 126; traditional Don Briagoberto, 180-81
and modern man, 127 Don Catarino, 2
Chayotitlan, 77, 82, 83 Don Cefiro, 77-78
Chicano movement, 97 Don Juanon, 180-81
Chivo y chavo, 2 Don Loreto, 163, 170
Chupamirto, 2 Don Perpetuo, 75-76, 78, 85,
Confidencias de un chofer, 54 91, 100, 103-104
Corruption in Mexican society, Don Prudencia y su familia, 2
104, 179-80 Dona China, 78
Cruz, Jose Guadalupe, 3, 4, 12 Doonesbuiy, 83
Cultural imperialism Dorfman, Ariel and Armand
thesis: in Chanoc, 228; comic Mattelart: Para leer el Pato
books as an oppositional Donald: Comunicacion de masa
cultural industry, 225; y colonialismo, 224-25
corollary of dependency model, Dos Santos, Theotonio, 222
Index 241
Economic Commission for Latin El santo, 3

America (ECLA), 221 El sefior Burrdn o Vida de perro,
Ediciones Jose G. Cruz, 4 160
Editorial Argumentos, 4, 7, 53, El sefior pestana, 2
54 El Universal, 2
Editorial Meridiano, 70, 77, Emerenciana, 76, 78, 91
90, 91, 92, 106 Entreguismo, 94
Editorial Novaro, 8 Estornino, Lucas, 76, 78, 91
Editorial Senda, 7, 9, 12, 14, Excelsior, 70, 159, 160
133, 135
Eerie, 22 Feiffer, Jules, 83
El atardecer de Ana Luisa, 57 Felix the Cat, 3
El caballo del diablo, 4 Ferrer, Vicente, 187-88, 193
El charro negro, 3 Flora, Cornelia Butler, 42,
El heraldo, 2 149-50, 211, 225, 227
El hijo de Yama, 59 Foforo, 162, 170, 173
Elias Calles, Plutarco, 101 fotonovela, 4
El libro rojo, 4 Fox, Victor, 32, 46
El Payo: Un hombre contra el Franco, Fiacro, 76, 91
mundo, 1, 12, 14, 20; Frank, Andre Gunder, 222
comparison with other
Western comic books, 142-45; Galarza, Ernesto, 97
family, 147-50; history, 133- Gallo, Angel, 226
34, 141-42; minor characters, Garcia Cabral, 160
138-39; plots, 140-41, 143; Gasoline Alley, 173, 174
popularity, 134-35; Gonzalez Casanova, Pablo, 101
principal characters, 135-38; Gonzalez Navarro, Moises, 100
readership, 134; reflection Gorer, Geoffrey, 174
of Mexican culture, 145-50; Grafica Panamericana, 160
setting, 139-40, 145-47; Groupe de recherche en para-
social change, 150-51; women literature mexicanine, 13
in, 143 Guevara, Che, 81, 92, 221
El Payo (Juan Jose Panadero): Gumaro, 77, 78
characteristics, 135-37; Gutierrez Salazar, Antonio, 53,
Chencho (Inocencia Lopez 56-57, 73
Chorejo), sidekick of, 138-
39; compared with the Lone Hermelinda linda, 4
Ranger, 144; Lupita Herner, Irene, 4, 15, 121, 161,
(Guadalupe Ramos), wife of, 226
136, 149; Pesquera family, Horn, Maurice, 83, 133, 142,
138, 147-48; struggles, 136-37 174
El pecado de Oyuki, 58, 63
242 Index
Intermex, 15 focus, 161; history, 160;

International Communication and humor, 162; lower middle-class
Youth Culture Consortium socioeconomic conditions,
(ICYCC), 226 175-79; minor characters, 162;
International Telephone and politics, 179-81; principal
Telegraph, 225 characters, 162-73; readership,
Iturbe, Gloria, 54 161-62; reflection of Mexican
culture, 175-81; sales, 161;
Japanese comic books, 7 social change, 81-82
La firme, 225
Kalimdn: El hombre increible, Ldgrimas, risas y amor, 8, 12,
4, 8, 12, 16, 19, 20; films 17, 19, 20; adventures, plots,
about, 34; history, 32-34; and characters, 57-60;
plot, 38-41; principal comparison with other romance
characters, 34-38; reader- comic books, 60-62; history,
ship, 33-34; reflection of 53-54; readership, 55-56;
Mexican culture, 42-45; reflection of Mexican culture,
secondary characters, 36- 62-63; sex roles, 63; social
38; social change, 45-47 change, 64-65
Kaliman: adventures of, 38- La Malinche, 94
41; and the Black Spider, La novela policiaca, 8;
39; comparison with other characters, 191-93; and the
superheroes, 41-42; racial classic detective story, 205-208;
makeup, 46; and Solin, 36- history, 188-89; image of the
38, 43; and women, 40-41, police, 192-93; plots, 193-94,
43-45 201-204; popularity, 190;
The Katzenjammer Kids, 2 readership, 189-91; reflection
Kelly, Walt, 82 of Mexican culture, 208-210;
King, Frank, 173, 174 settings, 191, 198-99; victims,
Kline, F. Gerald, 226 196; view of the U.S., 199;
Kunzle, David, 225, 227 villains, 194-96, 209; women,
196-98
Labor reform, 100 La novela semanal, 4
La Comision Calificadora de Latifundista, 135, 136, 138, 146
Publicaciones y Revistas La Tour, Maurice, 188, 197
Ilustradas, 14, 15 Lee, Chun-Chuan, 226
La doctora corazon, 4, 54 Lete, Pedro, 53, 55
Ladronzuela, 57, 59 Linda, 1
La familia Burrdn, 4, 17, 20, Little Lulu, 17
159, 160; comparison with Lone Ranger, 143-45
other family comic books, Los agachados, 72-73;
173-75; contemporary thematic comparison with other Mexican
Index 243
comic books, 82; readership, production of, 7-10; United

72-73; reflection of Mexican States influence on, 21-23
culture, 83-86; setting and Mexican comics: epoca de oro,
characters, 76-78 3, 10, 11; history of, 1-5
Los superlocos, 160 Mexican culture, reflected in:
Los supermachos, 9, 16, 69, 70- Chanoc, 123-27; El Payo, 145-
72; comparison with other 50; Kalimdn, 42-45; La familia
Mexican comic books, 82; Burrdn, 175-81; Ldgrimas, risas
comparison with the post-Rius y amor, 62-63; La novela
Los supermachos, 91-92; policiaca, 208-210; Los
readership, 72-73; reflection agachados, 83-86; Los
of Mexican culture, 83-86; supermachos, 83-86;
setting and principal Mexican political parties, 102
characters, 74-76 Mexican political satire, 78-79
Los supersahios, 4 Mexican revolution, 84, 98-101
Loyo, Gilberto, 101 Mexican university system, 105
Lucenay, Angel Martin de, 111 Mickey Mouse, 3
Mier, Bismark, 2
Mini comic books, 4, 10
Machismo, 43, 126 Mister Gordon, 91, 94
Malinchismo, 94, 150, 230 Monsivais, Carlos, 3, 4, 120,
Mamerto y sus conocencias, 2 169, 226
Mandrake the Magician, 42 Mora, Angel Jose, 113, 134
Marianismo, 149 Moreno, Mario "Cantinflas," 2
Marino Ruiz, Adolfo, 3 Most, Johann, 81
Marquez Torres, Rafael, 10, 12,
112, 114, 121, 187, 188-89, Navarro, Rafael Cutberto, 32
190, 196-97, 199 Neve, Carlos, 2
Marvel Comics, 21, 22, 23 1954 United States Comic Code,
Mattelart, Armand, 223-25, 227 22, 23, 60
McLuhan, MarshaU, 174 Nopalzin, 77
McManus, George, 173-74 Novedades Edi tores, 4, 111, 118
McWilliams, Carey, 97
Mejor vida, 5 Okefenokee Swamp, 82
Memin Pinguin, 54 Ontivero, Alfonso, 2
Mexican comic books: audience, Osorio, Froylan, 76, 91
16-20; constraints on, 13-16; Our Gang, 4
history of, 3-5; a 1980 Ovaciones, 70
sample classified by story
type, 13; physical and Paquin, 3
artistic features of, 10-12; Paquito, 3
popularity of, 5-7, 25 n.15; Parent, Georges, 13
244 Index
Parra, Guillermo de la, 53, 54 Rarotonga, 58

Partido Revolutionary Institu- Rarotonga, 2a parte, 58
tional (PRI), 100-102 Readership surveys, 17-20,
Paulina, Orlando yfabiola, 57, 33, 56, 73, 113-14, 134,
58 189, 190-91
Pepin, 3, 25 n.9, 160 Riding, Alan, 69
Pistolerismo, 180-81 Rio, Eduardo del. See Rius
Pogo, 82-83 Rius, 4, 8, 9, 15; anti-
Police brutality, 105 cultural imperialism, 229;
Porfiriato, 169 comparison with other comic-
Posada, Jose Guadalupe, 2, 79 book writers, 81-83; creation
Post-Rius Los supermachos: of Los agachados, 76-78;
anti-cultural imperialism, creation of Los supermachos,
229; bribery, 104; caciquismo, 74-76; illustrated books, 79-
103-104; change in format, 91; 80; opinion of the post-Rius
characters, 91; comparison with Los supermachos, 92, 106;
Rius's Los supermachos, 106; Mexican revolution, views on,
electoral politics, 101-102; 84; social and political
Mexican revolution, treatment thought, 78-81; travels, 80,
of, 98-101; police brutality, 81; United States, views on,
105; political content, 91-93, 84-86
101-102; reflection of Mexican Robatierras, 148, 151
culture, 98-105; setting, 91; Rocambole, 2
university system, 105 Rodo, Jose Enrique, 45
Prebisch, Raul: Economic Rolando el rabioso, 4
Development of Latin America Romantic Story, 61-62
and Its Principal Problems,
221
Prestanombres, 94 San Garabato, 74-75, 77, 78,
Prieto, Chon, 75, 77, 78, 85, 82, 83, 91
91 Sanchez Rivera, Roberto, 18
Prince Valiant, 4 Santibanez, Raul, 188, 189,
Productora e Importadora de 191, 193, 197
Papel, S.A., 13, 14, Saylos, 15
Promotora "K" Group, 8, 11 Schiller, Herbert I., 224
Pruneda, Salvador, 2 Silva Herzog, Jesus, 101
Publicaciones Herrerias, 7, Simpson, Leslie Byrd: Many
8, 9, 10, 12, 16, 133 Mexicos, 123
Solin, 36-38
Quezada, Abel, 70, 79 The Spirit, 3
Stavenhagen, Rodolfo, 222
Radio Cadena Nacional, 8 Steinberg, Saul, 73
Index 245
Sunkel, Osvaldo, 222 Vasquez Gonzalez, Modesto, 11,

Superman, 41, 45-46 32, 40, 46
Sweetheart, 61-62 Velasco, Cristobal, 32
Velasquez, Fidel, 100
Tacuche, Don Telesforo, 163 Vietnam, 93
Tannenbaum, Frank, 101 Vigil, Carlos, 7, 12, 13, 14,
Tarzan, 17, 121-23 112, 114, 118, 133, 188
Televisa Novedades Group, 8 Vigil, Guillermo, 14, 133, 136,
Terry and the Pirates, 3 146, 148
Tilghman, Hugo, 2 Villarreal, Jose Antonio, 97
Tlacuilo de Oro, 1, 57, 72
Tom and Jerry, 17 Wama: El hijo de la luna, 3
Torbellino, 4 Warren, 22
Tradiciones y leyendas de Wolf, Eric: Sons of the Shaking
la colonia, 4 Earth, 125
Trastupijes, 78 Woll, Allen, 225, 227
Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, 97 Women, 40-41, 43-45, 62-63,
Triste alborada, 59, 63 136, 143, 149, 162-68, 180-81,
Trudeau, Garry, 83 196-98
Tsekub Baloyan, 115-16, 120-
21, 125,27 Yocupicio, 78
Tunstall, Jeremy: The Media Are Young, Chic, 173, 174-75, 228
American: Anglo-American Young Love, 61
Media in the World, 226-27, Young Romances, 61
230-31
Zapiain Fernandez, Pedro, 15
Union de Voceadores y 111-12, 114, 115, 116, 117,
Expendedores de Revistas y 118, 120, 122-24
Periodicos, 15, 16 Zea Salas, Leopoldo, 32
Zendejas, Hipolito, 2
Vampirella, 21
Vargas, Gabriel, 4, 20; Borola,
changing treatment of, 167-
68, 181-82; concern for
socioeconomic issues, 175-
78, 181, 228-29; criticism
of Mexican comic-book
industry, 161; life and
work, 159-61; Mexican
politics, view of, 179-81
Vargas Dulche, Yolanda, 4, 53,
54

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NOT JUST FOR CHILDREN

Devouring Whirlwind: Terror and Transcendence in the Cinema of Cruelty

Contributions to the Study of Popular Culture. Number 30

The paper used in this book complies with the

the University of Minnesota-Morris, who first

convinced us of the importance of Mexican comic books

1. Mexican Comic Books: Their Production and Consumption 1

8. Lafamilia Burron 15 159

9. La novela policiaca 1 187

Select Bibliography 2 235

members of the Cultural Studies Seminar at the University of Minnesota-

1. For an appraisal of Latin American studies of the comics, see Harold

Mexican Comic Books:

An authoritative history of Mexican comic books has yet to be written.

credible, but still not directly traceable, are nineteenth-century, popular

book and photonovel, which starred a masked wrestler; Gaspar Bolafios'

III. The Comic-Book Industry

The Mexican comic-book industry during the 1970s was oligopolistic, in

IV. Comic-Book Features

V. Comic-Book Genres and Constraints on Content and Distribution

In August 1980, the authors attempted to determine how many different

generally an effective deterrent to comic books that the government regards as

How effective was the commission generally? The most pornographic

fragmentary, or of poor quality. Mariclaire Acosta speculated that comic book

VQ. United States Influence

The Mexican comic-book industry, products, and audience in the 1960s

1. Paul Theroux, The Old Patagonian Express: By Train Through the

"Entrevista con Carlos Monsivais," Artes Visuales, 22 (June-August 1979):

"Impresiones sobre la cultura popular urbana en Mexico (segunda parte),"

Culture: Research Studies from Ten Countries, eds. Herausegegeben von

Mexico solo imprime 15 millones de libros al ano," Excelsior (July 4, 1981),

Malvido, "La historieta, un elemento de education visual, sostiene el espanol

55. Acosta, "La historieta comica en Mexico," 14.

I. The Comic Book

II. The Superhero's Principal Characteristics

friendship, and not to destroy traditional values by the adoption of

HI. Kalimdn's Adventures

Kaliman's adventures always take place in exotic settings. The "mysterious

stream of scantily clad, provocatively portrayed women, often in titillating

IV. Comparison with Other Superheroes

V. The Comic Book's Reflection of Mexican Culture

"masculine," such as the villainess in the "Triangle of Death" who speaks of

VI. Kalimdn and Social Change

1. Due to the impossibility of obtaining radio scripts, this article is based

38. Among the three archetypes of woman as mother, witch, and

I. The Comic Book

owned hotels, real estate, and other lucrative businesses in Mexico.

No podemos aspirar a obtener la candidatura para el Premio

Guillermo de la Parra's stated goal in creating Ldgrimas and the other

books circulate after initially being bought.

II. Ldgrimas\ Adventures, Plots, and Characters

III. Comparison with Other Romance Comic Books

beloved's relationship with another woman, handicaps, and so on.28

IV. The Comic Book's Reflection of Mexican Culture

As discussed earlier in this chapter, few of the Ldgrimas adventures in the

V. Ldgrimas and Social Change

ultimately threaten male domination. Instead, they also want to be saved by

1. Hereafter the abbreviated title Ldgrimas will be used when referring