The first indication I had that drawing might be something more than a hobby-interest for me was at the age of seventeen when I spent a week at Ocean City, Maryland, many moons ago. Beer jackets (the over-forty group will remember them) were in vogue then. For the uneducated, a beer jacket was a white denim jacket that kids drank beer in. Most people decorated them with sayings like, "Oh you kid", "Take me I’m yours", etc.

I decorated mine with girls and mermaids. Kids on the beach started asking me if I would do theirs. I charged one dollar each and did hundreds, which enabled me to keep myself at that delightful spot for the entire summer season.

The thing about this that impressed me wasn’t that I had been able to support myself in art with absolutely no training (I hadn’t even taken art in high school), but what a fantastic way it had been for me to meet girls. Right then and there I decided to become an artist. Anyway my last name spelled backwards is "draw," so I guess it just had to be.

In those days every soldier had a M.O.S. number, describing his occupation. When a chicken plucker or a plumber was needed, they just checked the M.O.S. numbers and picked him out. I was picked out and sent to Fort Hamilton right on the edge of New York City to do training aids for the War Department. I didn’t complain, after all New York had more lonesome chicks than any other place in the country. Almost immediately a major approached me and suggested I do a similar strip for the Fort Hamilton paper. I sighed and agreed; my fame (tiny as it was) had preceded me. Anyway, anything was better than getting shot at.

So Torchy was born. I dyed Ack-Ack-Amy’s hair blonde, changed her name and voila, there she was. Shortly the strip was appearing in Army papers all over the world. And I was making out with the lonesome dolls in Manhattan like mad. I felt like I was back at Ocean City once again, minus the beer jacket, of course.

- Bill Ward