Birth(s) Of A Living Legend

 

There have been no less than four full-fledged origin tales of the star-spangled Avenger known as Captain America, which in a way is astonishing considering that Cap's origin is among several that could probably be easily repeated by any number of comics aficionados or laymen, even if one doesn't go into detail. Nor did that change (and you'll discover why shortly) when Marvel decided in 2010 to revise the origins of a number of select characters whose pasts were deemed to need a fresh approach or were otherwise too dated to bring forward through the years. And yet, researching this topic yielded a certain level of fascination for me--and I imagine similar feelings must have occurred to writer Roger Stern and artist John Byrne when they put together the definitive (emphasis by Mr. Stern) origin to celebrate the character's fortieth anniversary issue, a story which weaves in elements of those four tales as well as new tidbits of history for Cap as well as Steve Rogers prior to the latter's astounding transformation.

Add to that the curious coincidence that three of those four tales were published in the same month of their respective years, and taking place roughly fifteen years apart each, and you have to figure that their creators might have each been tipping their hats to history.

So in the spirit of both discovery and nostalgia, let's take a look at the ways in which writers in more contemporary times did their part to add to the material which Joe Simon and Kirby first crafted in 1941, introducing their readers to a character who would continue to endure over eighty years later.

The Coming Of... The Avengers!

 

I was just shy of six years old and still a few years off from buying and reading comics on a regular basis when the first issue of The Avengers hit the stands alongside that of The X-Men in the fall of 1963. Eventually I would backtrack and read both stories in reprinted form--but for The Avengers in particular, I've often been curious as to how those comics readers who were becoming more familiar by the month with Marvel's characters reacted to the premiere of this new series. After all, in terms of its burgeoning super-hero line, the company was still in its infancy, with Fantastic Four and Amazing Spider-Man as its only full-fledged title series; Thor, Iron Man, and Ant-Man and the Wasp, on the other hand, were still being handled in the company's "feature" books (respectively, Journey Into Mystery, Tales Of Suspense, and Tales To Astonish), with Thor and Iron Man still being nascent characters fresh out of the gate. With the Sub-Mariner relegated to being an FF foe, that left the Hulk (whose own series bit the dust a few months earlier) as the only remaining recognizable Marvel character of note (thanks to his high-profile appearance in Fantastic Four) available for inclusion in a new team book, which in hindsight seems an absurd choice in light of the character's questionable past and unresolved state of affairs.

A situation glossed over in a deftly worded caption appearing on the issue's splash page:

Which practically begs us to scribble out some of Earth's Greatest Super-Heroes! and replace with new wording: "...The Only Super-Heroes We Have Left To Offer At This Time!" (Which helps to explain why I've never been approached by Marvel to write copy.)

Regardless, the characters who have been selected are the characters we've got--and the result remains nevertheless an intriguing first issue crafted by writer Stan Lee with artists Jack Kirby and Dick Ayers, a story which expertly did its job of making us curious to see more of...

Jack Kirby's Secret City Saga, 1993

 

Though the subject of this post technically falls under the PPC's non-Marvel nods tag, it's hard to miss the telltale Marvel hallmarks on this comic book cover from industry newcomer Topps Comics:

Topps, a company founded in 1938, went on to become immensely profitable as a producer of sports-themed trading cards (primarily MLB) as well as other card collectibles (e.g., Star Wars, celebrities, films, etc.), in addition to chewing gum (Topps created the Bazooka comic-strip-in-the-package bubble gum introduced in 1947), candy, confectionery items, and, beginning in 1993, the Topps comic book division. It was here where the retired Jack Kirby licensed several designs and concepts he'd kept in his files which Topps came to collectively refer to as the "Kirbyverse," a series of eight titles published in April of 1993 which would culminate in Kirby's "Secret City Saga"--NightGlider being one of them.

As we can see, a sales pitch that would be right at home on a Marvel cover is in full swing for this issue, even featuring the familiar pet names of its creative team of Roy Thomas, Gerry Conway, and Don Heck. Also now at Topps is former Marvel editor Jim Salicrup, who joined their comics division after departing Marvel in 1992 to become its Editor-In-Chief. Thomas, who had left Marvel in 1980, returned to the company in 1986 but was no longer exclusive, spreading his talent with work for DC and indie publishers (which included several titles for Topps Comics), while Gerry Conway's first and only work for the company would be the NightGlider title.

As for the character, we meet the young woman named (do I have to say it?) Glida as she awakens underneath the city of Chicago, 15,000 years from when she was placed into her slumber (which would have been approximately 13,000 BC).

Time Keeps On Slippin', Slippin', Slippin'...

 

Good grief, I thought in our senior years we became less busy.  Where does the time go? Wherever it's fled to, I'm running low on it this week, so I thought I'd once more raid my cache of graphics that I've stored from here and there and cobble together a little John Buscema goodness for you--mostly prior work that never saw the comics rack, with one or two homage prints thrown in.

Leading us off is someone else who appears to have run out of time--the Silver Surfer, who in an unpublished Buscema cover from his first series falls victim to none other than the heir of Frankenstein!

Symbolic Splash Pages: The Early Years, Part Two

 

A few stragglers to the PPC's previous segment on symbolic splash pages of Marvel's early years now come to light, again focusing on those "double/triple feature" books published from the early 1960s to the mid-1970s but this time taking a look at the work of artists Jack Kirby, Dick Ayers, Don Heck, Chic Stone, and Joe Sinnott, in pages from Journey Into Mystery, Tales To Astonish, and those issues of Strange Tales before Nick Fury and Doctor Strange elbowed out the book's previous headliner, the Human Torch.

Such splash pages in the Mighty Thor series, which picked up where Journey Into Mystery left off, were practically nonexistent, with Kirby veering away from symbolic association and instead using the title page to lead directly into the main story--which makes these pages something of a rarity where the God of Thunder is concerned. One thing that wasn't rare in either title, however, was the presence of Loki, Thor's evil half-brother, who shared Page One with the Thunder God so often that it's no wonder he practically received billing of his own.

The Search for the Silver Surfer!

 

OR: "The Incredible Shrinking Sky-Rider!"

In mid-1968, Galactus would make his return to Earth, intent on re-enlisting the services of his former herald, the Silver Surfer, whom he confined to our world as penance for his betrayal--but also apparently done as a measure for the eventuality that the Surfer might be needed, for Galactus's return comes at a time when his hunger for the life-force of a planetary body rages within him due to his failure to locate a suitable world on his own. In a word: Galactus is starving.

For his part, the Surfer is reluctant to return to a life where he is responsible for choosing a world that must pay the ultimate price for sustaining Galactus--and so the Fantastic Four have decided to side with him, even as he searches for and finally locates a place of concealment where even the eyes of Galactus cannot detect him.

The fact that the Surfer can so casually alter his size (and to such an incredible degree) shouldn't really have come as a surprise to me considering the nature of his power (albeit at a reduced state, at this point in time); but this ability still came across as if it were pulled out of a hat. Given time, the Surfer might have even used the Micro-World (aka Sub-Atomica) to traverse the barrier of Galactus, as he attempted in the company of the Defenders (though as then, the attempt might have proven futile).

In the meantime, under duress, the FF have agreed to locate the Surfer for Galactus after fending off the merest sample of the reprisal that he can deliver to Earth and its population should he be defied. And so, after returning to their Baxter Building headquarters, Reed deduces from the last place the Surfer was seen the sky-rider's probable destination, a trail the FF intend to follow.

And yet the clock is ticking, with the mother of all timetables in effect--and every second the FF spend on their hunt within Sub-Atomica weighs against the self-restraint of a being who will not countenance delay, or, worse, failure.

Earth's Mightiest Floating Heads!

 

"I like to goof off now and then, too, you know." - (Mrs.) Young-Ja Kim

Always one to take the sentiments of the redoubtable Mrs. Kim to heart (if I know what's good for me), I've finally gotten around to a little goofing off of my own by exploring a subject we readers of silver- and bronze-age comics are all too familiar with: Those aghast, worried, concerned, taken aback, consternated, and certainly conspicuous floating heads on issue covers which appeared out of nowhere to draw attention to whatever and whoever they were casting their piercing gaze(s) on.

It seemed a rare day when we saw such bodyless faces appear in titles featuring a solo character, since both hero and villain(s) were occupied in full-size poses slugging it out on a given issue's cover--but in group books, they were all the rage, carefully placed on valuable cover space to provoke a reaction in the comics browser that what awaited within was momentous enough to merit spending their hard-earned change on. It also goes without saying that they were also useful in a marketing sense when other characters in the group didn't make it on the cover but rated a head shot in order to let the prospective reader know that whoever they might have been most interested in still showed up in the story.

Both Fantastic Four and The Avengers featured a prodigious amount of floating heads in their first volumes, but it's the latter title which offered more variety when it came to its characters given the sheer amount of different Avengers to choose from. As for the approach we'll take with this, it became more interesting for me to present these "floaters" on their own and out of context rather than blending in with whatever else was on the cover. It turns out that, in just over 400 issues, there were only a mere twenty-five instances where these heads appeared before tapering off around 1990. Nevertheless, they made their mark, and are not to be confused with groupings of other, equally familiar floating heads:

And so let's get to it--though it seems that three of the Avengers have already taken a glance at this collection and are less than pleased with the direction we're headed in. You'll have to take up your grievances with Production, gentlemen!

Artwork by Gil Kane and John Romita (Prior framing art by John Buscema and George Klein)

No Rest For The Weary at Greymoor Castle

 

In 1941, Greymoor Castle, located in (at that point in time) the most desolate part of northern Britain, became the site of "one of Captain America and Bucky's greatest battles," as Cap himself would put it forty years later. And though this particular castle doesn't technically meet the definition of having a storied past, it may fit Cap's description given that the 1965 story of that conflict by Stan Lee, Jack Kirby and Dick Ayers offered a plot that a reader of Cap's wartime adventures would find appealing: a German officer who receives his orders directly from the Red Skull... a plot to kill British Prime Minister Winston Churchill... a scientific breakthrough from the castle's lord, himself a German collaborator... Captain America's young partner, Bucky, captured and used to lure Cap into a trap (if I had a nickel...) ... and the likely charge of treason awaiting Steve Rogers, suspected of deserting his unit when it's caught in a Nazi pincer movement on the battlefield.

Yet it's also a story which bears a second look, as Cap decides over fifteen years later (our time), courtesy of writer Bill Mantlo and artist Gene Colan, as a figure from the castle's past roams its ruined halls wary of the ghosts which haunt him--and wary as well of the costumed intruder who arrives to find more than memories awaiting him in this ancient edifice.

These Odds and Ends Approved by Princess Zanda

 

Recently, I had occasion to go through a lot of graphics files that have been collecting dust over the years--looking them over after so long, clearing out the chaff, that sort of thing. Many of them consisted of content for old blog posts long since completed; some were curated as fodder for framework ideas for either home or office; and there were a few curiosities in the mix that evoked my earliest days of collecting comics memorabilia, a sort of digital "scrapbook" I hadn't even realized I was contributing to. By contrast, however, there were also a few such images that had me wondering just what I'd intended for them, but for whatever reason decided not to pursue or preferred to put on the back burner indefinitely.

Yet there were enough of these to share with Peerless Power readers and perhaps convey the same mixture of nostalgia and curiosity that I still have toward them--a sort of "grab bag" of comics tidbits that will hopefully evoke some thoughts on your part, as well.

We can start off with a montage of Alex Ross renderings that never made it to a wall hanging, but were most suitable for throwing together a desktop wallpaper montage:

(And if you're wondering why there's a Batman/Green Hornet graphic among the Marvel scenes, the only explanation I have is that it was too awesome not to have on my desktop! :) )

Big John Meets S.H.I.E.L.D.!

 

While artist John Buscema had done work for Atlas Comics in the late 1950s, it was only after the pivot to super-hero books by its successor, Marvel Comics, that we were treated to his initial work for the company in that genre in November of 1966.  Published that month was his first Incredible Hulk work with inkers John Tartaglione and Mickey Demeo in Tales To Astonish--while over in Strange Tales, he turned in pencils over Jack Kirby's layouts for a Nick Fury, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.! tale which sees signs of the return of Hydra just ten issues after SHIELD supposedly put an end to the organization for good.

With all respect to SHIELD and Mr. Kirby, this test amounts to (as Fury would say) some of the most lamebrained science this side of a Grade B sci-fi flick, with half the budget. Why risk the head of SHIELD--or the life of anyone--on this stunt? Unless this "Overkill horn" actually needs a human being to emit the sound it needs to unleash its sonic beam, why wouldn't something as simple as an air horn from any football game (or its SHIELD equivalent) fit the bill? And if a human was needed, couldn't a recording by Fury (or anyone), triggered from a control booth, suffice?

Nevertheless, the test is successful--though the fact that the Overkill horn works as designed is disturbing in itself, since its success all but confirms the existence of the device in someone else's hands.

Attack Of The Nega-Man!

 

Fantastic Four #108 is a story spawned from loose ends--specifically, a number of pages of unfinished art by Jack Kirby meant for issue #102, but shelved for a time due to Kirby's resignation from Marvel Comics in 1970 and Stan Lee reportedly having issues with the story as submitted.

Kirby's story has Reed and Sue hosting an archaeologist who has unearthed a statue of Janus, the Roman god of transitions and dualities--which by coincidence coincides with the appearance of a super-powered threat named Janus, who begins raids on banks for cash and who bullies his physically afflicted twin brother into covering for him with the promise of using his new power to mend his crippled legs.

Fast-forward to March of 1971, where Lee has reshaped Kirby's premise and finally given this story legs with the help of artists John Buscema and John Romita to supplement Kirby's original work, while bringing the character of Janus new depth as a former college classmate of Reed's whose experiments with "nega-power" produced an evil side of himself which sought to bring New York City under his control.

Yet the first we learn of Janus is when the character approaches Reed in present-day--a man who has gone on to use the nega-power to mend his legs but who now seeks the wellspring of negative power to be found in the Negative Zone. That meeting takes a violent turn when Janus sees that Reed has no intention of helping him--and so Reed gathers his team to recount the story of Janus in flashback form (more for our benefit than theirs, since the FF vividly recall those events), with the addendum that Janus has breached the entry to the Negative Zone and is on the brink of achieving ultimate power.

The Human Tantrum

 

Well, there's no sugar-coating this post: I have such mixed feelings about Fantastic Four #99 from mid-1970. It's not one of my favorite issues of the title, by far:  The premise of the story is unbelievable (no, I'll just come out and say it, the premise is unacceptable)... the Human Torch's disappointing, juvenile behavior, charitably spun by Reed Richards as being "sick at heart," virtually throws out 98 issues of growth and maturity for the character (leading to the harsh wording of this post's title)... and there is no way anyone with a shred of rationale can buy into the no one gave anyone the chance to explain justification for things getting out of hand. Yet, with all of that said, I've tried with some difficulty over time to rationalize the events and direction of this story in my head and provide it with some sense of stability overall. (Apparently, I haven't been all that successful.)

The issue also has the dubious distinction of being published shortly before artist Jack Kirby would depart Marvel Comics for reportedly a more conducive work environment--and while you may get a sense that the frayed relationship between Kirby and writer Stan Lee may have played into the story's shaky foundation, it nevertheless reads as business as usual if... if... you can overlook some of its failings. Thanks to the "Marvel method" still being in play, we can take a fair guess as to how the story took shape: Lee provides the bare bones plot (in a nutshell, Johnny Storm is upset at his girlfriend Crystal being ordered back to the Inhumans' Great Refuge and sets out in anger to confront the royal family and retrieve her), and Kirby flushes out and draws the complete story based on his own interpretation, a formula which had worked splendidly for the most part for their nearly 9-year collaboration on the title.

Diving in, then, let's look at the tense meeting that separated Crystal from Johnny which took place four issues earlier, and see how easy it's been made for Johnny to assume the worst.

So much is said... but very little if anything has been disclosed as to why Crystal is agreeing to accompany Medusa back to the Great Refuge, or why she's needed there, though she's obviously aware of what her decision will do to Johnny. Unfortunately, the two of them keeping mum leaves Johnny both upset and anguished because he's under the impression that Crystal is leaving for good. Now wouldn't this be the time for either Crystal or Medusa to elaborate on what's going on, and assuage any worries on Johnny's part as to just why Crystal must leave?

But Crystal fudges when giving her reasons, full of regret but supplying nothing in the way of information--and Medusa, equally unforthcoming, flatly states that "There is no more that may be said," which from Johnny's point of view must sound preposterous. To add insult to injury, the true reason for Crystal's departure isn't shrouded in secrecy, not in the least; and if we skip ahead and disclose that reason now, this scene could see everything cleared up with just a simple conversation between the three of them, leaving everyone at ease and no consternation whatsoever:

J: "Crystal, why are you leaving? This... this isn't for good, is it??"
C: "Oh Johnny, of course not! You see, Black Bolt was stricken during a radiation experiment, and my family needs me to attend to him by transmitting micro-shock waves to keep his heart beating, until Gorgon can return with a vial of serum that will restore his strength."
M: "That is precisely the situation, Johnny Storm. Crystal's powers are specifically suited to this task."
J: "I understand. I'll let Reed and the others know.  Please give our best to Black Bolt--we're all pulling for him." (gives Crystal a kiss on the cheek, a smile, and a "Hurry back, and let me know if you need me" to send her on her way)

(No idea where Gorgon could possibly be returning from--an intra-Refuge apothecary deep in the caverns of the Alpha Primitives? A pharmacy franchise doing business in the middle of the Himalayas?)

So why keep the situation with Black Bolt under wraps? Why give Johnny the impression that the Inhumans have decided that Crystal should return to the Great Refuge permanently, and "no more may be said"? You know why--so we could all fork over 15¢ for this "epic issue" to see the Torch go after Crystal and lash out at the rest of the Inhumans in his "wild" rage. Flame on!

Black Bolt looks pretty spry here for someone in critical condition, eh?

Beware The Agents of Kiber, The Cruel!

 

Having spent some time recently on Kiber Island, a now-nonexistent locale off the coast of Kenya which became the focal point for a dispute between the Sub-Mariner and the Black Panther involving smugglers from their respective kingdoms, we now look back a bit to learn of its former occupants, as well as its sinister purpose--all coming from the mind and pencils of Jack Kirby, who in the fall of 1978 was unfortunately preparing to leave Marvel Comics once more and who was in the process of wrapping up his work on several titles, one of which was Black Panther. With the series published bimonthly for the entirety of its run, this three-part story would see Kirby depart the book prior to its final installment--probably one of the many times a two-month window between issues proved to be a godsend for writers and artists who had to pick up where others left off.

Kirby's story slows the pace a bit from a prior tale which saw Wakanda in crisis from an ambitious member of T'Challa's ruling family having mutated from overexposure to raw vibranium. In dealing with the situation, T'Challa's own exposure has resulted in him developing a sense of clairvoyance as well as telepathy; yet while he recovers, a new situation rears its head with the mysterious kidnapping of Khanata, another of the ruling family whose talent for Grand Prix racing brings him to the natural barrier of the Wakandan border, which no normal intruder should be able to breach.

The harsh encounter serves as Wakanda's, and our, first exposure to the agents of

Atlantis Attacks!

 

Having begun my reading experience of Fantastic Four in 1970, there are times in thumbing through back issues that I regret missing out on the title's early days in 1963, when those toiling at the typewriters and drawing boards at Marvel Comics must have realized they had a runaway hit on their hands--so much so that the book's first annual, with its presentation reflecting a mixture of spectacle, excitement, and adventure, came across in a way as a celebration of this flagship title that established Marvel's name and new direction with its budding and receptive readership.

I wasn't really enamored with the multi-colored "Christmas tree" aspect of the masthead's lettering, a design which continued in the following year's Fantastic Four and Amazing Spider-Man annuals:

By the time of the first Avengers annual from 1967, the practice appeared to have been discontinued. Otherwise, that annual's cover might have turned out a little too colorfully:

Regardless, if the thought in '63 was to make the FF annual's cover more eye-catching while conveying a "special issue" aspect that would make it stand out on the comics rack, mission accomplished. In addition, writer Stan Lee and artist Jack Kirby were apparently counting on what they might have hoped was the growing appeal of the Sub-Mariner, now making his fifth appearance in this title (tying him with Dr. Doom) and the principal antagonist in a 37-page story. We don't yet know the details or scope of what Namor plans--but with the return at last of his vanished subjects, displaced by an atomic explosion from the surface world (or so he believes), it seems clear that it's the human race he plans to hold accountable.

2001: A Jack Kirby Odyssey

 

   "Less than half the film has dialogue. It attempts to communicate more to the subconscious and to the feelings than it does to the intellect. I think clearly that there's a basic problem with people who are not paying attention with their eyes. They're listening. And they don't get much from listening to this film. Those who won't believe their eyes won't be able to appreciate this film.
   "I tried to work things out so that nothing important was said in the dialogue, and that anything important in the film be translated in terms of action."

    -- Stanley Kubrick

I was just ten years old when I went to see "2001: A Space Odyssey" in the movie theater. By the time it was over, it's probably no surprise to hear that I didn't really know what to make of it. (From what writer David Kraft conveys in an essay on the subject, the same held true for a number of film critics--I imagine their expressions by the end of the film resembled the stills of the stupefied Dave Bowman, shaken to his core, interspersed with the "photographic effects" of the alien monolith.) Containing elements of various short stories by author Arthur C. Clarke (among them "The Sentinel," née "The Sentinel of Eternity"), the 1968 film received its novelization by Clarke that same year, and, in 1976, its comic book adaptation by artist/writer Jack Kirby during his brief return to Marvel Comics.

Yet it took me until this year to sit down with that Marvel Treasury Special (an exclusive banner which Kirby's Captain America's Bicentennial Battles also carried) which, unlike Kubrick's vehicle, was obliged to use an ample amount of dialogue and narrative to tell its story. Without having read the novel, my guess is that Kirby might have turned to it for most of his characterizations for that very reason--for instance, the "dawn of man" character named Moon-Watcher, our man-ape which discerns how to wield a skeletal bone as a club, is not named as such in the film (nor is the actor, Daniel Richter, listed in the film's credits), yet Kirby attaches Clarke's name for the simian (sans hyphen), and it wouldn't surprise me if Clarke, like Kirby, provided Moon-Watcher with some of the backstory that Kirby used for the character (the presence of his dead father, for instance). In addition, the HAL-9000 A.I. computer which so calmly interacts with Bowman and his shipmate, Frank Poole, even when asking Bowman to reconsider deconstructing his memory at the end, becomes panic-stricken and reacts helplessly in Kirby's version when the moment arrives.

Crowd Control

 

Comics stories derive a good deal of their drama from groups or crowds of ordinary people being present while heroes go about their business in major cities or other populated locales, whether interacting with those on the street or in offices or being mindful of those caught up in battles with foes which tend to endanger innocents who are unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Yet on issue covers, which having the opportunity to convey a powerful image with large crowds who find themselves in the midst of a situation involving the title character(s), crowds are often elbowed out of the picture in order to present the story's main characters, including of course whatever individuals are responsible for selling the book.

But while rare, those cover images are noteworthy, and in some cases memorable depending on the circumstances of the story and the creative talent of the cover artist--and today you'll see a collection of such covers from the first volume of various titles where ordinary people do their part to help establish whatever crisis our heroes must face in the pages of the issue's story. As for a starting point, there's only one cover which stands above the rest in capturing this post's theme perfectly--pictured here with its homage cover rendered nearly twenty-eight years later.

This Way for Action! Action! Action!

 

For those of us who enjoyed the work of Jack Kirby during Marvel's Silver Age, it was certainly perplexing to see him return to Marvel in 1976 only to disavow most of the heroes in the Marvel "universe" and instead strike a deal to create, write, and pencil his own projects--though something we can hardly blame the man for, considering the circumstances of his earlier departure. Yet he would make an exception for two of Marvel's mainstream characters, Captain America and the Black Panther, each of which he apparently had his own ideas on how their worlds and their personalities would be structured.

For Captain America in particular, who under Stan Lee and other writers had become ingrained in stories in both Tales Of Suspense and The Avengers since the '60s, the transition to Kirby's handling of the character took some getting used to, assuming there were any readers who managed to do so. That would hold true for other characters, as well, in certain respects.  Kirby had decided to retain Sam Wilson, the Falcon, though inexplicably choosing to sever any ties the Falcon had to his own falcon, Redwing--and Leila Taylor was kept on as well, yet a shadow of her former radical leanings and forthrightness whose time with Sam had apparently tempered her. The only other mainstay Marvel figures to be featured in the book (aside from villains such as Magneto, the Red Skull, et al.) were agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., though with no mention of Nick Fury, the helicarrier, or any other recognizable facets of the organization aside from special weaponry.

As an example of the dichotomy here, let's take a pair of issues from both The Avengers and Captain America which were published in December of 1976 to January of 1977. Captain America continues to thrive in the Avengers, who at this point in time are not only dealing with the return of Wonder Man from the dead, but also fighting with Attuma and Tyrak--allies involved in a two-pronged attack to conscript the Avengers into battling the Sub-Mariner, which forces the team to mount an assault on Hydrobase but instead brings them into conflict with Dr. Doom. Both issues feature cover art by Jack Kirby (who, curiously enough, provided a number of covers for Marvel characters across the board) and indicate a familiarity with the plots and the characters involved.

But over in the Captain America title, where Cap's status as an Avenger has never to my knowledge been alluded to, Cap and the Falcon are isolated in their own world of the bizarre and the monstrous, and any heavy lifting is handled by either SHIELD or the military--with Steve Rogers still acting much like a man from the 1940s, having apparently experienced no personal growth in character which would have resulted from the many adventures he's been through since being revived by the Avengers. The story's threat? Why, a cadaver infused with an energy form which has travelled back from the distant future, of course.

The Earth's Final Hour!

 

Now what does this 1963 cover from artist Vic Prezio remind you of?

Reportedly, it provided the inspiration for a cover from Fantastic Four published three years later and rendered by artist Jack Kirby. The renditions of both artists were a bit before my time as a regular FF reader; having been a fairly new reader of the book in the early 1970s with only a little over twenty issues under my belt, I was still catching up on prior stories courtesy of Marvel's Greatest Comics, the successor to Marvel Collectors' Item Classics which had begun reprinting Silver Age FF stories in 1965 as part of its "grab bag" format but shifted in late 1969 to MGC which focused exclusively on FF reprints. Consequently, it wasn't until six years after the fact when I first read the story of Galactus, whose battle with the FF, for me, took place in MGC and was heralded in this case by artist Sal Buscema.

Obviously Mr. Buscema has a different take than Kirby on this story's cover presentation, preferring to show the FF in battle with Galactus rather than fleeing for their lives--but there are other interesting distinctions that bear mentioning. "If This Be Doomsday!", the title from which the original's caption takes its wording, is perhaps more at home above an image that has the FF appearing helpless against the threat, since the word "doomsday" implies a final hour that no one can avert or escape--whereas on the MGC cover, doomsday seems less likely with Galactus, in full view, being less of a lofty figure from on high and laser-focused on dealing with the FF. Kirby's image is also helped by a more apocalyptic background rather than a more serene setting of a clear day that suggests this battle is an isolated one and not a danger to the city, or the world.)

In addition, Buscema's cover is forcing us to assume that the Torch has lapsed on the ledge of a building other than the FF's headquarters, since Galactus's conversion device was constructed on the Baxter Building. We're also left to assume that the Invisible Girl, whom Buscema doesn't appear to have room for, is either looking distraught from below, or is rushing from off-panel to help the Torch--that is, after she's:

• Taken the FF's elevator to the lobby;
  
• Hurried across the street while dodging traffic (where none of the drivers seem to know an FF uniform from a bike messenger);
  
• Darted inside the other building, nearly tripping over a manhole cover;
  
• Frantically pushed the elevator's Up button until one finally arrives;
  
• Gritted her teeth at all the stops the car must make for the other people riding up with her; and
  
• Nearly gone mad at not only the catty comments remarking on her disheveled appearance but also the incessant Muzak selections on repeat before reaching the roof.

The expressions on the faces of the rest of the FF seem to indicate their impatience as to what the heck has kept their distaff member--as opposed to Galactus, who for an instant can't help but wonder if all Earth females look so disheveled. In all seriousness, though, Sue is not present during this part of the fight (until the Punisher shows up, that is) due to being ordered to stay behind with Johnny, as a secondary force in the event Reed and the Thing fail in their attack. (You'd think a team's strength lies in fighting as a team, but what do I know.)

As it happens, the Torch isn't even part of this fight from this point on. By the time the Thing is wrecking crucial parts of the converter, the Watcher has sent the Torch to the world-ship of Galactus in order to obtain a device which would dissuade him from his plans for consuming Earth--which can be made to fall within the symbolic nature of Kirby's cover. (The Surfer is also occupied elsewhere, with Alicia Masters, as Buscema takes into account.)

A peculiarity in Kirby's cover, however, is that to the eye it seems as if the characters have all been nudged to the left, making things look a bit off-center--perhaps to make room for the doomsday caption, but also apparently to keep the masthead from being occluded by the helmet of Galactus (something that is evidently not a concern on the MGC cover). As with our friend the Frankenstein monster, Kirby's Galactus would evoke a more looming and menacing image if he had been placed center stage, as the overseer of the disaster to come. (Artist José Ladrönn does an excellent job of providing a workable solution with his variant cover to Vol. 2 of the Fantastic Four Omnibus, while also managing to bring the FF to the fore.)

BONUS!
A few of the covers featuring artists paying homage to this issue. (In order, l-r: Jim Valentino, Paul Ryan, José Ladrönn, and Arthur Suydam)

Exit: The Masters Of Evil! Exit: The Avengers!

 

If you were an Avengers reader in April of 1965, you might not have thought that anything was amiss with the team, judging by the optimism and normalcy exuded in their fifteenth issue. The Wasp had recovered following a near-fatal injury; Thor, during the time when the team was rotating its Avengers chairmanship on a monthly basis, was wrapping up an Avengers meeting that from all appearances had proceeded routinely and smoothly with nothing pressing; and afterward, everyone went back to resuming their normal lives, their only reason for getting together in those days being those times when they had such business to conduct or cause to assemble.

(Well, Jan, that coat would be coming off once you two were seated at your restaurant--but who am I to spoil your mood?)

Yet we wouldn't know until the cryptic final panel of this issue that what we were seeing were the last hours of the (remaining) original Avengers on active duty, the preparations for their exit already in the works by the time the issue went to press--with their "high note" being a final all-out battle with the Masters of Evil, the group of super-villains gathered by a wartime enemy of Captain America's, Baron Zemo. From the beginning, Zemo's super-powered associates knew that they were only a means to an end for their leader, who craved revenge against Cap--the same motivation which preoccupied Zemo's son, the erstwhile Phoenix, who would form his own band of Masters against the Avengers. But in what would be the final appearance as well for the group that had added the Executioner and the Enchantress to its ranks, the original Zemo would at last meet his fate at the hands of his mortal enemy--in the shadow of a banner which appeared to be watered down slightly* to perhaps appease the Comics Code Authority.

"...And Fear Shall Follow!"

 

I would have to credit artist Berni Wrightson for selling me on Marvel's 1969 horror-fantasy anthology title, Chamber Of Darkness, which ran bimonthly with (mostly) new material from the likes of Wrightson, Tom Palmer, John and Sal Buscema, Barry Smith, Don Heck, and even Jack Kirby, whose departure from the company was imminent by the time his Chamber stories were published. I didn't happen upon the series until its penultimate issue in 1970 featuring Wrightson's cover, at which point I took advantage of older issues still being available (if slightly buried) in store "spinner" racks to work my way backward.

A full look at the Chamber series will be forthcoming in the PPC (and high time, too)--but for now, the mention serves to bring to light the rare instances where Kirby was given scripting assignments for Marvel stories. Having already covered his 1970 work on Amazing Adventures where he wrote and pencilled tales featuring the uncanny Inhumans, we turn back the clock a bit to as early as 1966 where Kirby fills in for the vacationing Stan Lee (who still manages a credit on the story as Editor), and see how Kirby's writing would suit the hard-nosed Nick Fury, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. Though with Dr. Strange monopolizing that issue's cover, we'd have to turn to the previous issue's cover to get an idea of the circumstances which Fury faces, an image which isn't far off the mark.