BEN DAY DOTS Part 9b: 1950s and 60s — the ‘Silver Age’ of comics, part 2

Further homage to Mildred Marsh, Cynthia Blake and their fellow colour separators

UPDATE (April 17th 2021): I have just seen Eliot R. Brown’s amazing post about a visit to the colour separators of Chemical Color Plate back in the mid-1980s. Incredible material! Actual photos! Eliot’s account makes it clear that I got one key detail wrong in my own speculative version given here. Mostly accurate, though… as explained later in the post!
Guy Lawley

Continued from:

  • Part 1 — Roy Lichtensteinthe man who didn’t paint Ben Day dots
  • Part 2 — Halftone dots, Polke dots, more Roy
  • Part 3 — CMYK / Four-colour comic book dots vs. RGB dots on screens
  • Part 4 — Pre-history, originsBen Day in the 19th century
  • Part 5 — Ben Day in lithography
  • Part 5.5 — French comic strips of the 1880s. Coloured by relief aquatint.
  • Part 5.75 — A lithographic protocomic (?) from 1885
  • Part 6 Ben Day meets the Sunday Comics in the 1890s
  • Part 6.1 — Tarzan and the Ben Day Dots—secrets of 1930s comic strip colour
  • Part 6.2 — Fun With (Mis-)Registration—when colour printing plates don’t line up
  • Part 7 — The Birth of the Comic Book, 
  • Part 8 — 1930s to 1950s: the Golden Age of Comics, and Craftint Multicolor
  • Part 9a — 1950s and 60s: the Silver Age of Comics, Part 1

Previously on ‘The History of Ben Day Dots’:

Both sections of Part 9 are about a certain system of colour production which was used by Marvel, DC and many other comic book publishers, but not by all. I have called it ‘the acetate method‘. It was used for the inside pages of the comics, printed on rough newsprint paper. Their covers were generally printed on better, whiter, glossy paper — and produced by a variety of different methods.

Part 9a looked at the colour guides of Marvel, DC and other US mainstream comic books, their YRB / yellow-red-blue coding system, and the type of coloured dots seen on their pages from the mid-1950s onwards. Marvel changed to this type of dot in 1954 and DC in 1956, just in time for the so-called ‘Silver Age’ of comics. If you haven’t seen Part 9a yet, it might be worth looking back at it before reading this part.

The comic book dots were still called ‘Ben Day dots‘ within the printing and publishing industry, although the real Ben Day method had been largely phased out of comic books in the 1930s. When the painter Roy Lichtenstein shot to fame with his Pop Art paintings in the early 1960s, he informed the world that he was copying ‘Ben Day dots’ from the comics. The name has continued to stick ever since.

The dots of the 25% tints, like magenta R2 below, were ‘positive dots’, i.e. spots of actual ink. As seen in R3, the darker 50% tints involved ‘holes’ in a grid of colour, dots created by the absence of ink — or what I call ‘negative dots‘. Printed on a white background, they are white dots.

Magenta 25%, left, is R2 and 50%, right, is R3

Printing ink of this kind was semi-transparent on the comic page. As seen in Hulk Green below, blue dots printed over yellow became dark green dots, and the overall effect was of a yellowish green. In Thing Orange (YR3; R3 over yellow) the negative dots of R3 became yellow, while the magenta grid assumed a scarlet hue.

Hulk Green is coded YB2. Thing Orange is YR3.

This section continues with my attempt to demonstrate how the dots were actually made during the production of the comics. This has not been shown before in detail, with illustrations. I have reconstructed the process from various sources, including material gathered for the Connecticut Historical Society’s 2003 exhibition celebrating the invention of the comic book. The CHS interviewed comics professionals including Dick Giordano and Will Eisner, as well as Mildred Marsh and Cynthia Blake, staffers who made colour separations at the Chemical Color Plate Corporation of Bridgeport, Connecticut in the 1950s and 1970s. Chemical Color created the printing plates for Marvel, DC, Archie, EC and other comic book publishers, and for Sunday newspaper strips.

My rediscovery of the process has not been without error and the need for correction. I hope the following material is accurate. I will let you know where anything is not definitely confirmed, and I welcome feedback, added information and correction.

UPDATE (April 17th 2021): As I said at the top of the post, Eliot R. Brown’s post about a visit to the colour separators of Chemical Color Plate back in the mid-1980s makes it clear that I got one key detail wrong in my own attempt to explain the acetate method. Mostly accurate though. Big thanks to Eliot!

Where 2 tints of the same colour are contiguous, they are continuous 

A final point about these comic book tints before I attempt an explanation of how they were made.

Doctor Strange; Steve Ditko, Strange Tales 110, 1963. Original c. 1cm tall.

Given the nature of old-school comic book art, where one tint meets another there is generally a black outline between them — as seen in the detail from Strange Tales 110 above. Occasionally tints meet directly, including different tints of the same colour, as seen in two of these details from Fantastic Four 89 below.

Half-inch squares (c. 1.2 cm) from Fantastic Four 89, cover-dated August 1969.

At these junctures an interesting phenomenon can be seen. When for example B2 meets B3, or R2 meets R3, the positive dots of the light tint are always perfectly positioned to meet the negative dots of the darker tint — in fact the positive dots merge into the grid structure between the negative dots.

Likewise, the spaces between the positive dots merge exactly with the negative dots in the gird. They are not just lined up at the same screen angle, which we would expect, but perfectly positioned as continuous rows of dots and grid lines.

This is shown more clearly below, in two 1960s examples from DC comics.

Dots from DC’s Blackhawk 88, 1963, and Justice League of America 42, 1966

In the previous system, Craftint Multicolor (as seen in Part 9a) the lines and dots were always perfectly lined up like this, because they were printed that way on the Craftint boards. Any credible explanation of exactly how the acetate method created its dots has to explain how this phenomenon continued to occur. It may not seem particularly tricky, but I believe it is. I will return to this point below.

How the ‘Silver Age’ method was done

As in previous posts, I will work through a notional example of colour separation using just one panel. The colour separator would have worked on a whole page at a time, or more than one. This way is unrealistic, but easier for me to create and, I hope, for you to take in from my illustrations.   

Below is an out-of-copyright comic book panel from Magazine Enterprises’ Dream Book of Romance 5, 1953, drawn by Frank Bolle and taken from the original B&W art. I downloaded it from Lars Teglbjaerg’s page at Comic Art Fans and use it with his kind permission. I chose this image as a nod to Roy Lichtenstein’s romance comic paintings. I am going to simulate colour separating it using the acetate method (for the actual comic book it was done with Craftint Multicolor).

As discussed in Part 9a, the first step in the acetate method was a colourist making a sketchy colour guide, with more or less thorough YRB notations. My own version below is completely different from the original colouring of Bolle’s panel, and intended to show a wide range of tints and colour combinations. 

As a further tribute to DC romance books, I’ve adopted a convention sometimes seen on DC covers — Julie has R2 skin with only magenta (red) dots, while her lover is Y2R2 — both magenta and yellow dots. Inside DC comics, every white person was R2 until 1969, when artist Neal Adams got them to start using Y2 and Y3 for the first time in decades. White skin in Atlas and Marvel books was always Y2R2, so my choice here also points up that difference between the two publishers. 

The black-and-white artwork and the colour guide were both sent to the engraving company, e.g. our friends at The Chemical Color Plate Corporation of Connecticut. 

Chemical Color’s camera department made negatives of all the black-and-white artwork for the comic, (as seen below) to use in photoengraving the printing plates. In my attempt to understand the acetate process, I misunderstood this step, and thought that the colour separator had to work on a negative as well. If you saw my original Part 9 between April 2nd and 6th 2021, with the erroneous account, I apologise.  

I now think it is much more likely that they worked on a positive print of the B&W artwork. For the old Craftint method, the camera team made prints of the pages in blue ink on special Craftint board, at comic book size. Now they would have made a same-size print in B&W for the separator to work over.

[UPDATE (April 17th 2021): Eliot R. Brown’s amazing post about a visit to the colour separators of Chemical Color Plate back in the 1980s makes it clear that I got one key detail wrong in this partly speculative account. The separators worked not over a new B&W print but actually over the colour guide itself. See below.]

The separator — let us call her Mildred, in honour of Ms Marsh — did not work directly on this print. She laid a clear acetate sheet down on top of it. Since this sheet was close to invisible, but vital to the technique, I can neither illustrate it nor ignore it. I therefore represent it here with the following red text: 

Mildred’s job was to paint on the acetate sheet where a particular tint was needed, one tint at a time. Let us say that she started with all the areas of magenta 25%, the R2 tint. She had the colour guide next to the artwork, and looked for all those parts labelled with R2. If the colourist did not label every part of the guide image, the separator had to rely partly on her own knowledge of the colours routinely used in that comic or by that publisher. (See for example the page from Thor 163 in Part 9a). Perhaps she might have added her own notations to the colour guide to help her at this stage; Mildred and Cynthia didn’t say. 

R2 includes all the mixed colours of which R2 is a part: R2B2 (the wall), Y2R2 (the man’s skin), the orange YR2 shading on Julie’s hair, and the dark blue jacket, R2B. The YRB notation made finding these areas relatively simple.

[UPDATE: AS Eliot tells us, the colour guide wasn’t off to one side, it was right there under the acetate sheet, where my illustration shows a B&W print. Makes sense, doesn’t it? Everything else about the painting on of Opaque Red etc. seems pretty much accurate, I’m glad to say.]

From here on, you will have to imagine the acetate sheet is in place, because the text would only get in the way if I left it there :0). [Please also imagine the colour guide underneath the acetate sheet until I can remake my illustrations!]

Below is the result of this first step in Mildred’s work; the R2 areas have been painted on the acetate with red paint. They have all merged into one painted area. In the final printed panel they will divide up again, as we will see.

Mildred’s interview transcript states: “…you painted solid colors used red paint, developed a paint that would stay on the solid acetate.” Later she mentions a different technique using black paint, with no details. I believe that she probably painted, at least in the earlier years, with a brownish red liquid called Opaque Red. [Eliot R. Brown’s blog confirms that Opaque Red, or something very like it, was still in use in the mid-1980s.] This liquid had long been used in photoengraving for touching up and correcting negatives, i.e. it was formulated for painting on a smooth plastic sheet. I will continue to show this approximation of Opaque Red in my reconstruction.

It was, as we will see, adapted very well to this colour separation technique. Perhaps this technique was in fact developed because Opaque Red was already there, ready to do the job.

Later, starting in the 1960s, a sticky-backed plastic sheet called Rubylith — stuck onto the acetate and cut to shape with a scalpel — began to replace paint. Many published accounts of colour separation in comics mention cutting Rubylith (or the orange Amberlith) because the 1980s generation of production people and colourists have written and posted widely about their work.

Back in the day, let’s take a closer look as (imaginary) Mildred painted areas on her first acetate sheet. The job wasn’t as simple as it might seem — working at comic book size, she was painting on a fairly small scale, and had to work fast.

Her finished R2 sheet, still in place on the artwork, would have looked something like this:

And, taken off the artwork, viewed on a white surface, it would have looked like this:

Like the colour guide, this was not intended to be a fine or precise piece of work. It was a functional object, part of the industrial production line of a cheap and disposable product. (Real) Mildred’s interview states that the acetates were washed clean for re-use after a job had been completed. It would be astonishing if any worked examples have survived; certainly I have never seen one. You are almost certainly seeing one here for the first time — or at least, the best simulation I can give you. PLMK if I’m wrong.

Let’s assume that imaginary Mildred painted the R3 area on her next acetate sheet. In this case it was a faster job, involving only lover-boy’s brown hair (YR3B3) .

In the final magenta phase, imaginary Mildred looked for all the solid red areas, marked R or YR, and painted those on her third acetate sheet. These were only small, but obviously a bit fiddly. Real interviewed Mildred told us she didn’t like intricate details. They slowed her down and lost her money!

Mildred now had three acetate sheets ready for the next stage of the process, looking something like this:

I believe that these three images must have been combined into one negative in a camera set up specifically for this purpose, but I can’t give a full account of this part of the process. Comic book production flies well below the radar of most histories of printing, and has also received little scholarly attention within the specialist comics literature.

The 2003 Connecticut Historical Society interviews don’t clear up the mystery. In an interview reduced to precis form, engraver Dan Jocis told the CHS: “Shooter used to make dot pattern for color percentages” — and nothing more. A ‘shooter’ must have been a camera operator.  Dan himself, unfortunately for us, “Did every part of engraving work except camera work.”

I believe that this extract from Stone and Eckstein’s book Preparing art for printing, 1965, previously cited in Part 9a, while not specifically referring to comics production, holds the key to this procedure:

“This original Benday process is virtually obsolete and is being replaced by an in-the-camera screening method which is more efficient, less costly and easily manipulated by the cameraman. […] Today tinting is accomplished with a screen similar to the halftone screen. It is placed in the camera in front of the film and a white or black surface is photographed. The screen value, 10%, 20% , 30% , etc., is controlled by manipulation of the exposure.” (p.45) [My emphases.]

They illustrated that paragraph with this picture of  ‘line copy’ — i.e. black and white artwork — and its tinted version:

Each Opaque Red-painted acetate was the equivalent of ‘a black surface,’ effectively a piece of ‘line copy’ just like this fishy image. Opaque red filled small ‘holes’ in a negative, for example, just as if it had been black; it could also be photographed in B&W just like black — just as blue pencil or wash work could be photographed as white. The acetate for solid colour could be ‘shot’ unscreened. The same 60 lines-per-inch screen could be used to shoot areas of 25% and 50% tint from the other two acetates, controlling tint value by varying the exposure time of the shots. The same screen, I believe, must have been left in place in the camera between the two shots.

This seems to be a credible explanation for the consistent precisely continuous positioning of the adjacent tint patterns which I noted above; the screen doesn’t move between shooting the 25 and 50% tints.

Printing experts have suggested to me that two different screens would be necessary, and obviously would have to be very precisely lined up every time a shot was taken. I believe (a) that this would not have happened in the world of fast cheap comics production, and (b) even if it could be done, slight errors in positioning would surely have crept in — errors which we just don’t see on the printed page. Only the double use of a single fixed screen fits the bill.

It also implies that slight variations in exposure time or other photographic factors (e.g. quality of the negative film, exact type of screen used) might create tints of variable dot size (value) or appearance at this stage of production — not only at the printing stage as previously mentioned. 

Whether or not I am entirely right about the method, the end result must have been a negative which looked something like this (but with much better continuity across tint edges than my effort, of course!) — reversed both in B&W and right-left terms:

When this imaginary negative was etched (photoengraved) onto a printing plate, it would, if used to print a magenta image, create something like this (which in reality would never be printed on its own, but only as part of a four-colour print job):

If this looks like a hot mess — did imaginary Mildred screw up? Surely not! — here is another notional image, with the black artwork added in, representing ‘printed on top of the magenta’:

Compared to tint-making in modern software on a PC or Mac, this acetate method may seem like madness. Perhaps now the method behind the madness is starting to come into focus…? 

Back at the imaginary separator’s work-bench, Mildred now had to do the same work twice more —  making the blue and yellow images. Let’s say she next painted the three acetates for the cyan printing plate, one each for B2, B3 and B:

The resulting image, if ever printed on its own, would look like this:

Finally for my simulated panel — which, unlike DC comics before 1969, contained a yellow tint — Mildred only had to make two acetates for Y2 and Y. For a real old-school DC book she would only have needed one, for the solid Y. For a Marvel book, generally one for Y2 as well, if only for the flesh tint — Y3 came and went at Marvel over the years. 

The resulting image for my panel which by chance lacks Y3, like many a Marvel book, would look like this:

I didn’t put an outline around this yellow image because I’m now imagining it not as a standalone notional image, but as the first image ‘actually’ to be printed as my panel goes through the hypothetical printing press. After yellow the magenta image is printed, and the result is this:

Last of the YRB colour plates is the cyan/blue, giving us this image, now with clearly visible rosettes as blue tints overlie the red ones:

Still something of a mess, you might think, until the black ‘key’ plate is printed over the rest to pull it all together:

To add a touch of realism, here is my final result as you probably would have seen it in a Silver Age comic… with the colours slightly misaligned or ‘off register’ :0)

The colours seen here are obviously far too bright and uniform to represent an old-school comic book panel accurately. My image-making skills are rudimentary. I am therefore very grateful to artist Nicholas Burns, who has donated this newsprint-ised version… kudos and a zillion thanks!

Bolle newsprint by Nicholas Burns

As I said at the end of Part 9a: please send comments and corrections. I’m trying to break new ground with this attempt at a thorough history of the topic. I may have got some things wrong, or made some things less than clear. I know some material got left out to keep the post brief… or briefer than it could have been, anyway!

And as I said, I’m not committing myself to a Part 10 at this point. Coming full circle to the 1960s seems enough for now. 

Once again, thanks are due to Mildred MarshCynthia Blake and all their colleagues at the Chemical Color Plate Corporation, and to Andrea Rapacz at the Connecticut Historical Society for sending me the the texts from their exhibition, to Lars Teglbjaerg for the Frank Bolle romance panel, to Dewey Cassell for the Batman page, to Craig Yoe for explaining how widespread the ‘grey paint’ method probably was (more research needed!), to Nicholas Burns for many things, and to Pascal Lise for a stimulating discussion about 50% tints. Also to Todd Klein, Anthony Tollin and Bob Rozakis for writing about comics colouring online.

UPDATE April 17th 2021: Also to Jeff Robertson, who alerted me to Eliot R. Brown‘s amazing account of his visit to Chemical Color in the mid-1980s, when the acetate method was still going strong.

I believe I am also indebted to Khouri Giordano, who I think authored a web page some years ago which I now can’t find. IIRC he gave some details about the acetate system which I found hard to believe (9 acetates for every page?!?) but which set me on the trail to confirm the facts. Fiona McIntosh provided research assistance, tech advice, and incalculable, invaluable support besides.

And thanks to my readers for their patience!  This post has been a long time coming.

Main content © Guy Lawley 2021

The Hulk, the Fantastic Four (including the Thing) and Dr Strange are copyright © Marvel Characters, Inc..

Artwork from Blackhawk and Justice League of America is copyright © DC Comics.

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