I've pre-ordered this book from Amazon. I hope you all will want to also.
Ladies Day.
2 days ago
Sorry it took so long to get started, but the new Walt Kelly site is up and, well, walking. Look for it and please follow it at Whirled of Kelly. 
Not that any of you need to worry about it, but I'm still trying to decide some things about the new Kelly 'blog.
Kelly gave a lot of talks over the years, many to college students, nationwide. In 1960 he gave this message to an auditorium of students (as excerpted and compacted from an article):
From this point on I've gotten really confused on dating the strips. I'm missing some dailies, the book jumps around, some of it might be extra art, etc, etc. Sorry, but I'm making best guesses. Soon we will have gone through the book in its entirety, but I've still got my clippings of dailies and Sundays.
Here we begin dailies with the Sundays in chronological, consecutive order. It gets a little complicated here, so let me explain. 
Yes, the story is moving along quickly now, isn't it folks? Kelly didn't dawdle in his storytelling as much as meandered.
All the hub-bub of Seinfeld being a show about nothing was nothing compared to Kelly's nothing. Kelly was the master of nothing, making nothing into something.
Happy 1966 everyone! This is where we begin our expedition to Pandemonia.
1966 was indeed a new year for Kelly, as of course it was for all of us who were up and kicking back then. But Kelly had traveled extensively in the previous year and was currently on a speaking circuit when he confessed to me that he was tired and felt he needed to slow down. What he had been drawing had been drawn quickly with minimal attention to detail. But, he said, this year would be different. He was going to spend more time at the board and regain his spirit. He was overweight and breathing a bit hard (we were at high altitude after all), but the twinkle in his eye was blinding as his enthusiasm was infectious. I probably was jumping in my seat as he was describing the upcoming storyline.
Prehysterical Pogo in Pandemonia was a book curiously lacking in enthusiasm or celebration of some of Kelly's finest moments. Other than the cover, there were no special spot drawings (like so many of his other books had), it was abridged and abbreviated from its first run, and Kelly's Foreword did not allude to the contents of the book, except to use the word "Martian" twice. There were no explanations, no insights for the storyline. And apparently it didn't sell well. It is one of the rarer tomes in Kelly's canon of works.
I can only imagine how wonderful it would be for a publisher to come out with a large album of the entire arc, complete with full page, full color three tier Sundays on the recto and six crisp dailies on the verso, with full insight essays, and a clay-coat beautifully designed cover and binding to boot.
Kelly didn't cry over spilt ink, he would quickly dip his brushes into it and dive into a new drawing, creating something new that otherwise might never have existed, due to procrastination or just plain idle hands. Yet he didn't avoid the devil's workshop. Rather he confronted the old bastard and took him to task for his mephistophelian misdeeds. Kelly faced sulfurous dragons of Hades, ready to wield his brush and pen and sometimes typewriter to remind the world that sense could be found in nonsense. Kelly's messages weren't obscure — we were.
Over the years Kelly had an agenda of sorts for prehistoric hijinx and this beautiful ad that he made for Pan Am (with whom he had a professional relationship), appeared in a National Cartoonists Society April dinner booklet, and helps set the stage for our sojourn to Pandemonia.