I started reading TEX when I was nine years old. My cousin Ivete, who collected ZAGOR but also had two TEX issues at home (TEX #24, “The Mysterious Mister P,” and TEX #25, “The Sacred Spear”, in the brazilian series) introduced me to the character. ZAGOR didn’t impress me much, but I devoured both TEX issues. At a time when I was starting to get interested in Marvel heroes, TEX stood out for its lack of superpowers, black-and-white art and paperback format, much thicker than regular comics. Once I overcame my prejudices, I became a fan and read TEX voraciously until I was about sixteen.
Right from the start, I realized that Tex, the character, was more violent than the average hero I’d encountered. Tex doesn’t hesitate to extract information and confessions through violent means. However, unlike many comic book antiheroes who seem to derive pleasure from violence and view it as an end in itself, the violence in Tex stems from a sense of outrage at injustices and the powerlessness of the ordinary citizen. When confronted with criminals Tex generally does not hold back regardless of their social status. White-collar or gunman, it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t even need to be attacked first; it’s enough for him to get angry to unleash his fists on whoever, in his view, deserves a beating. In the context of the universe he inhabits—a reality where the will of the strongest always prevails—Tex positions himself as a protector of those who cannot fight back and feels justified in throwing rules to the wind. For him, this is the only option for justice in the face of laws that favor only the powerful.
Part of TEX’s success may be due to this, but the charisma and likability of the main character and his “buddies”—Ranger Kit Carson, the Navajo Jack Tigre, and his son Kit Willer—are also undeniable. The quality of the stories, with their long, well-crafted plots illustrated by outstanding artists, rounds out the mix that allowed TEX to cross Italy’s borders and be published around the world.
Written by G. L. Bonelli, co-creator of Tex, and illustrated by my favorite Tex artist, Giovanni Ticci, “South of Nogales” encapsulates and represents the very best of Tex. In a single story, we have shootouts, Mexicans, Apaches, the U.S. Army, smoke signals, desert scenes, saloon scenes, Tex and Carson teasing each other even while facing death, Jack Tigre and Kit Willer in action, and Tex punching a bad guy just because. It’s all there in nearly 100 pages, with all the characteristic elements of the “western” genre exquisitely illustrated. The plot? Tex and his friends go after whiskey smugglers and are lured into a deadly trap. Simple and straightforward, but executed with great skill and fluidity. Interestingly, the story began production between 1967 and 1971 and, for some reason, wasn’t finished until 1976–1977. In fact, the shift in Ticci’s art style after the first 24 pages is quite noticeable.
After “South of Nogales”, I kept reading TEX for another five years or so. Over time, the storylines began to repeat themselves—which is normal for this type of periodical—and I moved on to other comics. TEX went on without me, of course; other nine-year-olds were introduced to the character, and so the success continues. It’s no surprise: TEX is very well produced, written, and illustrated to appeal to all age groups.
As for my TEX collection, I donated part of it to the Henfil Comics Library in São Paulo and part to the Renato Russo Cultural Center in Brasília. You’re welcome to go there and check them out. Did the Romans entirely occupy the collection? Well, not entirely! One small set of twenty-seven indomitable issues, almost all illustrated by Ticci, still holds out safely tucked away at home! “South of Nogales” is one of them.
