It’s year’s end, and I’ve been thinking about John Graziano, a sweet guy and a crazy-talented artist who the world lost this year, alas before his time. John is best known for illustrating the syndicated comic strip “Ripley’s Believe It or Not” — a dream come true for him. He received the presigious Reuben Award from the National Cartoonists Society in 2021, and died on Aug. 17 at age 62.
My introduction to John — or rather his work, at first — happened in the early 1990s, when I was covering some horror-themed event (maybe Fangoria’s Weekend of Horrors in New York City or the Chiller Theatre Expo in Hackensack). I was accompanied by my wife Kathy Voglesong; we were a writer-photographer team for newspapers and magazines. This was before the Internet, so it was always such a rush to see so much monster media in one place.
We strolled the many dozens of vendors who were selling art, monster toys, models kits, magazines, comic books, VHS tapes (ask your grandparents) and what-not. That’s when I spotted it: A painting of Jonathan Frid as Barnabas Collins. Actually, that’s a simplification. It was an exact replica, in acrylics on canvas, of the cover of Famous Monsters of Filmland #52 (1968), the monster magazine’s first cover story about the “Dark Shadows” phenomenon.
The painting made me stop in my tracks. I studied it for a few minutes. It took a while for it to dawn on me that this was a painting, not a photographic enlargement of the original cover. The typography was painstakingly duplicated, right down to the garish colors.
My first thought was: Cool! My second thought was: Why would someone do this?
That was by John Graziano, who was on hand — an unassuming, approachable guy in glasses with dark curly hair. I spoke with John briefly, raving about his painting. I asked Kathy to take a photo of it.
The painting was deeply significant for me, as it recreated the cover of my very first issue of Famous Monsters. I bought it for 50 cents at the Woodcrest Drug Store in 1968 when I was 10 or 11. I devoured the article on Frid and “Dark Shadows.” I fell madly in love with an accompanying photo of Kathryn Leigh Scott.
Moreover, Famous Monsters #52 introduced me to the wider world of monster movies. There was a long feature about “Son of Frankenstein” (1939) starring Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi, Basil Rathbone and Lionel Atwill. (I’d never seen the film, but boy did I want to.) My monster movie education began in earnest here.
So John’s painting hit me like a ton of bricks.
Over the next few years, we would run into John every now and then at a horror or comic book convention. I learned just how talented this guy was. His paintings were “painterly,” all right, but he also did pen-and-ink cartooning and caricaturing that evoked one of his heroes, founding Mad artist Jack Davis.
For a while, John was the official commercial artist for Dan Curtis Productions, producing the graphics for a 1990s “Dark Shadows” trading card series. He also painted portraits of at least two cast members that were marketed as posters by DCP: one of Frid as Barnabas and one of Lara Parker as Angelique. (John gave me a copy of the Barnabas poster. I really didn’t want to take it — this is how he made his living, after all — but John insisted. It hung, framed, in my living room for years.)
Which brings me to my one funny story about John Graziano.
In 1997, Kathy and I were covering the Dark Shadows Festival in New York City. We ran into John and his future wife, Carolyn. (I always remembered her name because it was the same as one of Nancy Barrett‘s characters in “Dark Shadows.”) This was a crowded affair. In the throng, I spotted a young woman who had just purchased a copy of the Barnabas poster painted by John. (He didn’t sell it to her; a vendor did.) I then did something I don’t believe John ever would have.
I stopped the woman and said to her: “Hey, see that guy right there? He’s John Graziano, the artist who painted that Barnabas poster! If you want, he’ll autograph it for you!”
She actually seemed thrilled to hear this, and requested John’s autograph. Gracious as ever, John unrolled the poster onto a table, bent over it and began to sign.
At that moment, another woman — an older Asian lady — walked over and observed John signing the poster. She then said to him, my hand to God: “You not uh-Barnabas.”
John politely explained that he was the artist, not the subject, while Kathy, Carolyn and myself suppressed chuckles off to the side.
John’s talents didn’t end there. He was also in a rock band, one that I went to see at a bar in Ocean Township, NJ. They did covers of ’60s pop.
After he landed the Ripley’s gig, John relocated to Florida. (He drew the strip from 2004 until 2021.) It was kind of sad not seeing him around any more.
I hadn’t communicated with him for quite a few years. But thanks to a gentleman named Chris Wolfson — another band guy (not to mention a monster guy) — John and I reconnected. Chris had my 2015 book “Monster Mash: The Creepy, Kooky Monster Craze in America 1957-1972” (TwoMorrows Publishing). He got in touch with me and told me that we had a mutual friend. Guess who?
So thanks to Chris, John and I emailed back and forth. He said he’d heard about “Monster Mash” but hadn’t picked it up yet. I said I’d mail him one. He said no, he’d buy it. I said, “Dude, you gave me that Barnabas poster — It’s payback time.” I added: “I’m gonna sign it to you with a cartoon, even though it won’t hold a candle to your sh*t.” Of course, John then said, “I don’t know about that.”
But he did know. We both did.
He later emailed me a nice comment about the book that I put on the “Monster Mash” review page of my website: “Oh, wow, this is so good! Can’t put it down!”
I’m very grateful that John and I communicated a bit in more recent years. I was very sad to learn of his passing. John was a really nice person who happened to be brimming with talent — an old-school artist who paid homage to the pop-culture past while always forging ahead.
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