One of the commonest ice-breaker questions between comic book fans getting to know each other or merely shooting the breeze between major-event discussions is, “What was your first comic book?” I have faint memories of having a handful of comics before first grade, but none of them survived the innocent ravages that come with being owned by a child, even one who learned to read at preschool age.

My official answer to that question, barring those ancient entrants disqualified due to loss of existence, is the oldest surviving comic from that era remaining in my collection to this day. Pictured at left is my personal copy of Scooby-Doo #9, dated February 1979, purchased for me when I was six years old. I found a mint-condition copy posted online, CGC-rated 9.6, if you want to view the original cover in all its undamaged glory for art appreciation purposes, but the image posted here (click to enlarge!) has one unbeatable advantage: this one is mine.

Scooby-Doo was one of several titles that Marvel Comics licensed from Hanna-Barbera. Somewhere in one of my longboxes is a coverless copy of an issue of their Laff-a-Lympics series as well. Back in the days when kids under thirteen were allowed to read comics — encouraged, even — we had plenty of options from Marvel, DC, Archie, Harvey, and Gold Key/Whitman (on their last legs by this time) all eagerly waiting for our quarters and dimes. We young’uns were allowed access to the mainstream super-hero universes of the time, but books based on Saturday morning cartoons were a gateway drug more likely to catch our eye from the spinner racks. Once we were lured in, then we stuck around and got to know other popular characters of the time, such as the cast of Super-Friends (starring DC’s Big 3, all of whom had made their marks in other media), Spider-Man (star of a crappy live-action series), and the Incredible Hulk (star of a live-action series that was just okay, except he only fought muggers and mobsters, not a single super-villain or monster — what a waste of superhuman strength).

More than just an ordinary showcase for the perpetually popular TV star, this particular issue of Scooby-Doo had a unique quality: it was my very first crossover.

Explanation for younger readers: the angry hairball at right is Captain Caveman, who starred in his own Hanna-Barbera series for a few seasons in the late 1970s. It’s my understanding that he still makes obscure cameos in pop culture today, but I’ve somehow missed all of those occurrences. Along with his sidekicks the Teen Angels, Cap solved crimes, mumbled a lot, ate anything, and used his club to bash whatever the strict Standards & Practices departments would allow him to bash. Through the glory of YouTube you can experience his official intro, his battle-ready catchphrase (i.e., his own name), and the commanding tones of the narrator’s narrator, Gary Owens.

The plot was simple: Fred takes the Scooby gang on vacation to, of all places, a haunted beach. (There’s even a sign posted: “WARNING! THIS BEACH IS HAUNTED!” Back then, nervous landowners were big on warning signs.) An old man warns them of the haunting, since the sign was apparently useless against their willful illiteracy. Thus do they encounter…a surfer ghost! In come Captain Caveman and the Teen Angels, hired to get to the bottom of the mystery. Naturally our Mystery Machine crew can’t resist the urge to offer to team up, even though they’re supposed to be on vacation. The suspects are introduced (local hunky surfers, of course) and the game is afoot!

Valuable lessons learned from this comic, both immediately and over the years:

1. The world of comic books can offer visual stimulation, word/picture synergy, and offbeat concepts unlikely to be encountered in other media, requiring an approach to consumption and comprehension different from the rest, and sometimes more satisfying in ways that are challenging for me to articulate without quoting passages from Scott McCloud’s Understanding Comics.

2. This wouldn’t be the last time that I would enjoy the work of the writer/artist team of Mark Evanier and Dan Spiegle, who would collaborate in later years on creator-owned properties such as Crossfire and Hollywood Superstars, in addition to various work for Marvel and DC.

2a. Evanier has also enjoyed a lengthy Hollywood career, from which he’s amassed zillions of anecdotes and lessons, shared frequently on his own site. With his most famous comics collaboration, with Sergio Aragonés on Groo the Wanderer, he also proved he could wring endless laughs from a single joke, and he taught millions of loyal followers the definition of “mulch”.

3. Comics based on licensed properties are often terrible, but they don’t have to be.

4. Comics aimed at kids can sometimes alienate adults, but the best ones don’t.

5. Comics in general can be a waste of time, just like any other medium, but they don’t have to be.

6. A love of reading can be inspired by the oddest sources.

7. Later this year will mark thirty-five years of comic book collecting in my life. Scooby-Doo is even older than that. According to my calculations, this means I’m old. I’m not complaining — just trying to wrap my head around it.

8. Captain Caveman was much less annoying in print because you didn’t have to listen to his annoying voice. Advantage: comics.