|"Very Vicky" Fan Art (1995)|
by Dave Sim
John Mitchell and Jana Christy are the husband and wife team who self-published eight issues of "Very Vicky" in the 1990s about the fictional character Vicky Ocean, daughter of Danny Ocean aka Frank Sinatra.
(from 'A Cerebus Preview' in Cerebus #187, October 1994)
November 22, 1960.
No, that's not a typo. Tuesday, November 22, 1960, Norman Mailer, Hipster, rising star in the literary firmament, co-founder of The Village Voice, author of The White Negro, was arraigned in a New York City district court for the stabbing of his first wife Adele (after exploring the possibilities of running for mayor at a party that... got out of hand: a mingling of the Best and the Brightest and New York street people, Mailer's own idiosyncratic vision of a Big Apple New Frontier).
The first act of violence.
Adele lived (shit, doesn't anybody know this story anymore?), but already that time period, that sensibility, was mortally wounded. Four years later, The Beatles would permanently lay it to rest.
Vicky's sixteen, see? Dressed to kill, style, panache. Very Vicky isn't about a revival of that hipster age, it's mostly about the surviving sensibility. Vicky dominates the proceedings, gravitating to Chris, Greggo -- people who use phrases like 'never give schmendrick an even break', terms of endearment like 'pally' and 'broad' (as in 'she's a great broad'). 'Babe' has been appropriated. Misappropriated, if you ask me. The sensibility spits on the wound and runs a few laps. Gimme a Manhattan and make it a double, Charlie. God and the Devil are in Very Vicky. They aren't as much a part of the 'scene' as they like to think they are, so nothing much has changed on that score. They don't 'get it', but neither does anyone else. Not 'getting it' is a given, dig? More to the point, the central thing I'm trying to tell you (can I freshen that up for you? Naw, I didn't think so) is that they aren't 'with it'. Dig? There's nothing inside them that's 'with it' or even remembers that there's anything to be 'with'. If you asked Vicky if she 'gets it', she'd probably give you any icy little smile and shake her head. Like most people, you'd take that as a no. Which it isn't. No one would ask if she was 'with it'. If you can't tell by looking, pal, you're in the wrong place. You ever see an answer in your life, just see an answer, that makes the question meaningless?
I met John Mitchell (writer) and Jana Christy (artist) for the first time in Bethesda. Maybe it wasn't the first time. Maybe it should have been. Maybe it shouldn't. I had a sip from Jana's Manhattan in a hotel bar. It all fits, you know? She had to send me the recipe 'cause all the bars that have them file cards, the typing has faded so bad... well, you get the idea.
Their publishing company is called 'Meet Danny Ocean'.