My Prince Valiant
My Prince Valiant
I remember that, at the age of 7 or 8 years old, we were living in a friend’s house in Burbank. I can still recall the nice house on a hill with a park just down the road. Dad, who noticed how easily I got bored would bring me along to visit the spots in the district, in search of a location for the strips he was preparing. We would often stop for breakfast at his friend H’s place, who also had a huge collection of original comics and strips. It was during one of these visits that I met Prince Valiant of Harold Foster. Dad’s friend did not have – strange to say – a fetishistic rapport with his collections. He did keep the originals in transparent envelopes, (acid-free for sure) but allowed me to take a look, leaf through them without manifesting any anxiety. I recall those tables, that were just my height. Sprawled on the carpet of the study and with the pages strewn all over the place, I would practically immerse myself in those gigantic pages.
