Randall, the cowboy, lifted Martine's cold, lifeless body and, stumbling a few clumsy steps, carried her to the only place worthy of her. It was unthinkable, and yet it was true — a painful, undeniable truth: Martine, his beloved, was gone forever. She would never again return his passionate kisses. Nothing else mattered now. He didn’t even register that he, too, was wounded. Exhausted, he finally found the strength to finish what he had to do. He laid Martine’s body to rest inside the grave he had dug and adorned it with flowers he had picked nearby. His strength was failing fast. With a final effort, he covered the grave with soil. Only then did he realize that his own end was near. His reopened wounds bled freely, the red sap of life mixing with the fresh, muddy earth. He collapsed face-down over the grave. His vision blurred. A strange numbness spread through his body, and Randall saw nothing more. He would go with Martine...
Thus ended the career of Randall the cowboy — the favorite hero, for several months, of thousands of Argentines who had followed his electrifying adventures week after week. Or rather, that was how the life of the character was meant to end. But soon the letters began to arrive. One after another, every day, in large numbers. Randall, the readers insisted, could not die. In one letter, a young woman, barely twenty years old, wrote to the author: “I have fallen in love with Randall, and I can’t live without him. I adore his exemplary behavior and courage. I would give anything to be his beloved, his Martine — even if it meant dying for him.”
Héctor Germán Oesterheld, the author of the story, reconsidered. He called the illustrator, Arturo del Castillo, and they negotiated a new deal. Castillo had given up his career as illustrator for personal reasons but agreed to resume drawing Randall. Oesterheld could have looked for another artist, but it would not have been the same. No one could portray the harsh features of that sentimental cowboy like Castillo.
Randall, however, was but one of the many characterd mas real by Héctor Germán Oesterheld's prodigious imagination. At thirty years old, of German descent, Héctor, despite never having left Argentina, was able to offer his readers all kinds of adventures set all over the world.
It had all started a few years before. Héctor was studying geology in college, but he was also passionate about writing stories. One day, a friend asked to read one of them. It was the story of two elves: Truila and Miltar. The friend promised to show it to someone he knew.
Imagine Oesterheld's surprise when, the following Sunday, he saw his story published in the newspaper La Prensa. In his own words: “My mother was busy cooking noodles. I went over and showed her the newspaper without saying a thing. She was so focused on her task that she didn’t even glance at it. I insisted, telling her that if she took a closer look at the newspaper, she would find a surprise. As soon as she saw my name in print beneath the story, she wasn’t able to keep on reading. The tears prevented her. I had to read it aloud to her. It was one of the most emotional moments of my life.”
The story was very well received by readers, and he was soon asked to write more. Before long, Oesterheld became a prolific author of children's books, writing stories featuring the kind of small, charming animals found in fables. Success came quickly. At that time, Héctor Oesterheld was working for a large company as a geologist and writing children's books in his spare time — until one day, the publishers asked him to write the script for a new comic strip.
It was the beginning of a new chapter in Oesterheld’s life. He obliged, writing a story set in Africa, centered on the theme of slavery. The plot was powerful and unsettling: at the very beginning, a terrible murder took place. The editors were deeply impressed. “Oesterheld,” they told him, “you really know this stuff.” And that was how Héctor put geology aside and became a full-time comic book scriptwriter. He soon came up with his first heroes: Bull Rockett, a man of science, and Sergeant Kirk, a peculiar kind of cowboy involved in various adventures in the Wild West.
Soon, new heroes emerged: Ticonderoga, the story of a young, fearless orphan who becomes a guide and fighter in the wilderness of North America during the colonial wars between Britain and France; Tip Kenya, a hunter deeply familiar with the ways of wild animals; and Ernie Pike, a war correspondent whose stories reveal the human side of conflict, showing that acts of decency and heroism arise from the human spirit itself, irrespective of nationality — be it American, German, or Japanese. “There are good guys and bad guys everywhere.” - Oesterheld explains.
Oesterheld usually writes (always by hand) one story per day. His magazines circulate throughout Latin America. Around twenty illustrators work for him, the best known being Hugo Pratt, Solano López, Arturo del Castillo, Haupt, and Roume. An Italian publisher has bought the rights to all his stories, while his French counterparts have secured those for the adventures of Randall and Ticonderoga. Spanish houses publish those of Ernie Pike and Ticonderoga. For the first time, a South American country is exporting comic strips to Europe.
"I work about eight hours a day," says Oesterheld, "without a fixed schedule (preferably in the morning). I read a lot, especially the great adventure writers and short story authors. The only stimulus I use when I’m short on ideas is a few long-playing records: Beethoven, Mozart, Debussy, and even some folk music. My daughters (I have four, all very young) are another great source of encouragement. They come in and out of my study whenever they feel like it (naturally, for them, a pencil that broke in half, a doll whose dress doesn’t fit, or a toy that has fallen apart are all very serious and urgent matters). I have a very poor memory for what I write: in two or three days, I completely forget entire episodes of my stories. I think it's a psychological defense mechanism; if I didn’t have this ability to forget them, the accumulation of so many characters and stories in my mind would pile up and drive me crazy. As far as my preference for scenery goes, I prefer stories set at sea, in the desert, or outdoors. I’ve spent quite a bit of time in Patagonia, and it’s easy for me to experience the American Far West desert in my imagination, even though I’ve never been there. I always try to ensure that my stories combine action, intensity, and emotion, with a focus on the human experience. The ideal story is one that grabs the reader at the beginning, keeps them engaged as it unfolds, and moves them at the end. If you can add tenderness to that, you’ve achieved perfection."
All of which sounds like a very good plan for a scriptwriter.