"Spider-Man No More!"

 

During those times when Marvel brought special attention to a title's 50th issue, one story which surely stood out in that respect was the fiftieth issue of Amazing Spider-Man--one of the company's flagship characters who, as Peter Parker, reaches a pivotal moment and decides to walk away from his life as the wall-crawler forever, a moment that comes across in the issue's stunning and still memorable cover by artist John Romita Sr.

Following his previous issue, you'd think things would be looking up for Spider-Man.  Having survived a near-death battle at the hands (er, wings) of Blackie Drago, the new Vulture, only to then go on to defeat the team-up of Drago and Kraven the Hunter in a hands-down victory, Spidey was feeling jubilant and riding high. But it seems the next-issue blurb in the story's closing panel, "Spider-Man No More!", was to be taken seriously--yet how could Peter's optimism take such a nose dive so quickly?

A future Avengers story which spelled disaster for the team would have Hawkeye remarking that the team had suffered "an extraordinarily bad day," and that, living the lives they do, "[they] had it coming." We won't go so far as to say that the pile-on which is about to befall Peter amounts to his just deserts--after all, if there's anyone who doesn't deserve the raw hand his life continues to deal him, it's Peter Parker--but not long after page one, Romita and writer Stan Lee do their level best to crush Peter's spirit and morale with a steadily depressing day which has him questioning his life's direction.

The fun starts when Spider-Man foils a bank robbery in progress, an accomplishment which normally would be cause for smiles and thank-yous--but the level of gratitude he receives afterward becomes almost a metaphor for how he's come to be regarded by the general public when he goes into action.

Things Past And Present

It all seemed so simple for Ben Grimm, the Thing: Reed Richards finally comes up with a formula for returning him to human form, but it would only have been successful on the earliest version of the Thing... so why not go back in time to administer it, thereby reverting himself in the process?

Ah, but what if the "patient" doesn't cooperate, and attacks you on sight?

Uh, Ben? What's so interesting in front of you? Your attacker is to your right--I suggest you get with the program before you end up being a stain on the street, big guy. (Heh heh, just having some fun with our cover artist, George Perez. Seriously, sir, what's up with that?)

But let's backpedal a bit and watch how easily writer/artist John Byrne sets up this story:

We have to assume Dr. Doom thought of adding a locale setting on his machine, otherwise it's going to be a long walk to New York for someone of the Thing's build and weight. (No, I don't know why Doom made no effort to reclaim such valuable technology from his enemies--one story at a time, okay?) As it is, Ben materializes in the Baxter Building, on the same spot he departed from--though back then, the top floors of the building are still vacant of the famous tenants who would even now be considering it as their potential headquarters.

Suffice to say that Ben makes a beeline for his old apartment--yet he's neglected to take into account his own surly mood from those days, bitter at Reed and the cruel circumstances in which he finds himself following the aborted space flight which turned him into a freak for what could be the rest of his life. Such a man wants to remain alone with his thoughts, and hidden from the scrutiny and fearful looks of others--and definitely not in any mood to receive visitors.

"To Tame A Titan!"

It wasn't until the early 1970s when a few of Marvel's line of books began to call attention to a title's fiftieth issue with a well-placed cover caption--the implication being that the issue was something which bore notice for the character(s) involved, whether it was an affirmation, a turning point, or simply a well-written "special issue" to mark the occasion. Needless to say, it could also serve as a sales boost, a way to bring aboard new readers as well as any who might have previously passed on the title but might now be tempted to give it another look.

Heralding a book's 50th issue wasn't a practice that Marvel indulged in across the board; in the '60s, to my knowledge, it didn't appear to be a concept that was even conceived, much less considered, even for issues that might have deserved the accolade. Among them: Fantastic Four #50, the issue that concludes the saga of the Silver Surfer and sees Galactus driven off the Earth; and certainly Amazing Spider-Man #50, where Peter Parker, realizing that being Spider-Man has brought him nothing but unhappiness, and with Jameson's scathing denouncement of the wall-crawler ringing in his ears, hangs up his webs and literally trashes his costume, turning his back on his crime-fighting identity--until he saves the life of a man who reminds him of his Uncle Ben, and is reminded of the reason why he swore that day never to stand by and let another innocent come to harm.  Neither cover gave any indication that the issue had reached a pinnacle that we should be aware of (though the Spider-Man story would have done a 50th issue notation proud).

From a more marketing perspective, X-Men's 50th issue surely was in need of and could have benefited from such a cover caption, though its story was nothing to write home about: Mesmero bathes Lorna Dane in the rays of a machine that will help her realize her mutant potential, while Magneto returns to reveal himself to be her father. (It's one of the rare Jim Steranko stories that fell flat for me.) In the '70s, there were other titles that didn't acknowledge their own 50th milestone: Doctor Strange #50, where Strange pursues his lady friend, Morgana Blessing, who is shanghaied into the past by Baron Mordo (Strange's pub encounter with Nick Fury being the amusing highlight of the issue)... and as for Invincible Iron Man, who's 50th issue had him battling Princess Python, I might have instead rescheduled issue #47 for that honor, where Iron Man takes stock of his existence to date and wonders if the harm he's done in his armored identity justifies his continuing in the role.

As for books which were singled out, and perhaps deservedly so:

• Marvel Two-In-One #50: The Thing battles a version of himself from the earliest days of the FF, armed with a serum from Reed Richards which would have cured that time's Ben Grimm of the monstrous transformation he never wanted;
• Sub-Mariner #50: Namor, bereft of memory, is drawn to his ancestral home in the Antarctic where he's forced to confront elements of his past (as well as a new cousin);
• The Defenders #50: The climax of a three-part story involving Scorpio, the new Zodiac, Nick Fury, and Moon Knight; and
• Captain Marvel #50: Mar-vell joins forces with the Avengers to take down a more deadly version of the Super-Adaptoid.

And then, still in a decade void of any such promotion, we had the fiftieth issue of another notable title--a book which by that time had indeed reached its own turning point, culminating in a struggle which threatened to destroy a super-team. Or what was left of it.

All Signs Point To... Death!

While the villain known as Scorpio prepares to unleash a new grouping of Zodiac to the world, the Defenders have moved to invade his New Jersey headquarters in an effort to save two of their own as well as put an end to his plans. But one angry Defender has been carefully (and, to say the least, recklessly) herded to arrive ahead of them--a behemoth who has clashed with Scorpio before, and who wishes to express very specific sentiments on how the score between them will be settled:

It's the bludgeoning, beer-popping conclusion to the classic 1977 tale featuring the Defenders vs. the new Zodiac--and just in time for the group's knockout fiftieth issue!

The Defenders face the power of the Zodiac key, plus 4 to 1 odds against them--or do they?

Mystery! Danger! Suspense! And Yes, Killer Crabs!

A comic's 50th issue wasn't often heralded in Marvel's titles--but with a book which could use every edge in sales, it didn't hurt to caption its cover with such a distinction. That was particularly applicable to Sub-Mariner, which would have only a little over twenty issues left in its run before being cancelled. But with its 50th issue, you could see an honest effort being made to change its course, and revitalize the character of Namor to have a greater appeal for whatever fan base he had remaining.

No easy task. Once Namor abdicated his throne and left Atlantis for good, Sub-Mariner floundered in direction, which stabilized when Namor's creator, Bill Everett, came aboard and set him more or less on track again--and this 50th issue was its bold beginning, from its very first page. In the previous issue, Namor had just concluded his encounter with Dr. Doom and Modok, and his growing relationship with a surface girl named Cindy had solidified into something which looked headed in a forward direction. Yet Everett, in one panel on page one, severs that relationship with a few words consisting of their worlds being incompatible and that Namor belongs in the world of the sea. Any other guy would likely react in a "whu...huh?" way at such an inexplicable and sudden development; but Everett returns Namor to his noble bearing, giving him a sort of Elizabethan thought and speech pattern that smooths the transition and makes it almost seem like he belongs in a solo state. "Nay! There is a ring of conviction in her voice! Comprehension fails my perplexed mind!" I don't know many of us who sort out our thoughts like that.

Yet Everett maintains at least one thing from Namor's past issues: his state of amnesia, which also helps to motivate him to go in another direction (in this case, the sea) and seek answers to his confusion. And the first step he has to take is to discover whether he "belongs" in the sea in a literal sense, though it would be a rather drastic (not to mention suicidal) step for any of us:

Before Namor can explore his state further, he comes across an unconscious girl floating in the depths, whom he assumes is close to death. It would turn out to be an auspicious meeting between the two, though you wouldn't think so from its abrupt ending:

The girl, in case you haven't recognized her, would turn out to be Namor's cousin--Namorita, whom we'll see more of later in this story. For now, Namor is all too glad to see her depart--as he does himself, but in a direction both distant and nostalgic:

Yes, Namor has returned at last to the Antarctic, and his long-lost roots. But what meaning will they have for one who has no memory of them?

All This, And Galactus, Too

Looking over the differences between the original cover of Fantastic Four #50 and the cover for Marvel's Greatest Comics #37 (which reprinted that issue), it occurred to me just how strange a read that issue's story was. On paper, it must have seemed pretty clear-cut: the resolution of the introduction of Galactus, featuring a battle between the alien and his herald, the Silver Surfer, while the Fantastic Four's Human Torch carries out a behind-the-scenes mission under the direction of the Watcher. You'd think there would be enough happening to easily fill out the entire issue; yet the story was wrapped up in just over half the space, leaving the other half to essentially spin its wheels with plot and character development.

So perhaps it was felt misleading for Jack Kirby's original cover to have suggested an image of an epic conclusion to the story of Galactus, when that story instead ends with an over-before-you-know-it quality. But Gil Kane's rendering of the issue for the reprint gives us an idea of the kind of cover we were expecting for the story:

With all the action crammed into Kane's depiction of the story, it's a little easier to understand why the original cover may have been toned down a bit. After all, the newer version gives us an impression of a different final product than we got, with a wider scope of action than we saw. For one thing, the FF were mostly on the sidelines while the battle between Galactus and the Surfer took place, with the exception being the Torch who was sent on a glorified errand. For whatever reason, Galactus--the main threat in this three-part story--is downplayed on both covers. On Kirby's he's absent altogether--while the Surfer, who at most has had a minor role throughout, is given practically the entire allotment of cover space.

Yet both covers have one thing in common--their perplexing captions. Given that this is the character's first appearance, the Silver Surfer has had no saga, startling or otherwise--nor will he have had one by story's end. In hindsight, he's unquestionably starting a saga--and with a cover appearance that eclipses the Fantastic Four in their own magazine, as well as scoring the issue's title, he's clearly being primed for greater exposure. But he'll need to get some mileage under his board before we can look back on his saga. Maybe he's making more of a startling appearance right now. Also, it probably goes without saying that the caption mentioning him on Kane's cover is shamelessly pulling in fans of the Surfer's subsequent appearances with a "hey, here's more of him" teaser--yet the Surfer is only "back" in a nostalgic sense.

As for the "Doomsday--Plus One!" caption, the reference is somewhat lost on me. The reprinted story is about four years before the Joe Gill/John Byrne Charleton Comics series of the same name--but if I had to take a guess, I suppose the phrase refers to the day after doomsday. If so, the newer cover mimics Kirby's in the sense that the original also makes such a reference, by having a graphic of Johnny Storm's first day at college be an indication that the danger from Galactus will pass, and life will go on.

And boy, does it ever; in fact, you'd think the departure of Galactus by "dimensional displacement" also swept everyone back to their normal lives as if he'd never appeared. After the Surfer departs, off to start his startling saga, writer Stan Lee takes advantage of all the leftover pages to lay some groundwork for future developments. Though it's debatable how much of a substitute Coach Thorne is for Galactus:

But there's still plenty of the FF to shuffle around. Like Sue and Reed, who seem to have a more difficult time being married in the Baxter Building than they did being single in the Baxter Building:

And the Thing, who thinks his girlfriend, Alicia, has dumped him for the Silver Surfer, and sees that his options with other women are limited:

And the Torch, who tries to forget about Crystal (who's trapped behind a barrier around the Great Refuge) by enrolling in college classes:

But even the issue's last panel acknowledges that the story turns out somewhat at loose ends, while doing what it can to make sure readers know things will be back on track in future issues:

Though come to think of it, we probably could have called this issue "The Startling Saga of Wyatt Wingfoot!", put his image in place of the Surfer's on Kirby's cover, and pretty much ended up with no discrepancy in the tone of the story, eh?

My Precioussssss

Comic book matchups that had you scratching your head--
but still made you curious about how the fight would turn out.

Welcome to another installment in a series of posts we could only call:

I haven't yet read Sean Howe's book, Marvel Comics: The Untold Story, so I'm not really clear on the mechanics of how a story at Marvel gets pitched or by whom, or if one is simply assigned to a book's resident writer. But let's say for the sake of argument that it's the writer who charts the book's direction (or at least contributes to it), and the editor then signs off on the story idea which the writer then works out with the artist. I'm sure that's way over-simplifying it, but let's stick with that for now.

So this is how I would imagine this story's concept being proposed by the writer of Invincible Iron Man at the time, Mike Friedrich, to editor Roy Thomas:

MF: I'd like to have Iron Man battle Princess Python.
RT: ...
MF: Roy?
RT: The snake charmer?
MF: Yeah!
RT: But--she doesn't have any powers. She just has her pet python.
MF: Um hmm, I know.
RT: So it'll basically be Iron Man vs. a python.
MF: And Princess Python, yeah.
RT: Iron Man. Pitting his armored might against a python.
MF: I can make it work, seriously! Think of it--Princess Python, going up against Iron Man!

I have to assume that Thomas had to take an important call at that moment and put this meeting on the back burner, because somehow this premise made it into production and appeared in Iron Man #50. Fifty issues of Iron Man, and we find him going up against foes like Princess Python. Whether you can count Iron Man to be a successful title at this point is a matter of perspective, I guess.

At any rate, let's do a fast-forward and show you the only climax we can expect from a threat to Iron Man by the Princess's python:

Except that the python is doing its best to crush Iron Man's armor--but unless that armor is crinkling, or bending, or weakening in any way (and it isn't), the man inside that armor isn't being crushed one bit. Not even tickled. And since it wouldn't do Iron Man's rep any good in villain circles if word got around that a python had the strength to damage his armor, we can assume that his armor weathered this "attack" with flying colors.

So that takes care of the python. What about any threat Princess Python brings to the table? Well, since she's usually operated with the Ringmaster's Circus of Crime, and since that was just a group of thieves, she's not about to change her stripes now. And since a ransom demand for the safe return of Tony Stark would represent a lot of money for her, she snatches him during an interview:

However, while Iron Man may have a problem with breaking a python's grip, it seems to be a snap for Tony Stark:

And after Stark ducks into some bushes and changes to Iron Man, the battle we've all been waiting for is finally joined. At least Princess Python has an idea of who is outmatched in this fight:

Give the Princess her props--she was putting "my precious" into circulation long before Gollum made it to the screen. And speaking of circulation, Iron Man is still afraid of losing his because he thinks his armor isn't strong enough to withstand a python's attack:

Tell me I didn't just hear Iron Man conclude that he'd need to use "all his strength" to free himself from this python's grip. At least we know that if Iron Man ever turns bad, all the military would have to do is send two or three trained pythons against him. I could even name the perfect Princess to head the task force.

After a brief accidental bath in some rocket fuel compounds, the python is rendered immune to Iron Man's repulsor blasts. And so the Princess sics it on him again, while Iron Man is hovering over a vat of acid--which brings us back to our beginning scene above. Now, as far as I can tell, there's no part of this snake that's affecting Iron Man's boot jets, so his life isn't in danger. But you'd never know it by how Iron Man makes an ultimate effort to triumph over this python, as if time were of the essence:

Wow, Iron Man has "conquered" a python.  I can see the ticker tape parades already.  Anyway, the python isn't equipped with boot jets, and we do have a vat of acid waiting below, so:

But Iron Man manages to save the Princess, and promises to get her some psychiatric care. Gosh, where will those doctors start? Her criminal history? Her fixation on large deadly snakes? But I know the big question that has to be on everyone's mind: hasn't Princess Python more than proven her ability to take the place of the Mandarin as Iron Man's arch enemy? Assuming she can lay her hands on another python.  Iron Man's other enemies may want one of their very own.