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.

In both Jack Kirby's original depiction as well as Paul Ryan's effort, milling crowds continue to play an important role in witnessing the arrival of a threat unlike any other--a pivotal moment in Earth's history which could be the day their world ends. Inside, the drama doesn't play out at street level--though speaking of which, isn't it curious that no one in the crowd is even paying a glance to the Watcher, an alien in every sense of the word whose appearance and stature would normally elicit an amount of caution and/or wariness on the part of the average citizen. (Ryan also has him succumbing to white eye syndrome in his version.)

You'd also think the Watcher would want to avoid the appearance of interference with a planet's denizens by staying clear of crowds--though we can say that by this point the interference ship has sailed for him, something he appears to recognize when he later materializes without a thought of concern for his sighting by others or, for that matter, his actions when again involving the FF in a planetary crisis.

Given we're dealing with four characters here, as well as whatever threat(s) they're confronting, it's a wonder that the FF end up sharing their cover space with other people in what few times they manage to. And they start quite early, in two instances where the public isn't exactly seeing them as people of interest.

It's Kurrgo of Planet X who's really responsible for the uproar against the FF on Earth as represented on the cover to issue 7--but as to issue 9, despite the surly crowds outside the Baxter Building (with its tower windows boarded up--come on, Mr. Kirby, that would never happen in a high-rise unless the building had been condemned!), it's really only the FF's bill collectors who are up in arms in the story.

In Latveria, there are fewer crowds on the cover for the FF to worry about, but people who stay true to what they are as Doom's subjects--all giving the appearance of happiness and contentment, at the explicit command of their vengeful king.

Later, outside a courthouse, it's an aggressive crowd full of reporters and onlookers, under the subtle influence of the Over-Mind, who are being dispersed by the Human Torch as the group attempts to exit.

(You can rightly assume it's not a reporter sneaking up behind the Thing.)

Not long afterward, it's the appearance of the Air-Walker--whom crowds at first believe to be the biblical harbinger of doom, Gabriel--that allows the writer (Stan Lee) to more directly use crowds to present a picture of doomsday for the human race in a story which once again features the threat of Galactus.

It's more the military than any civilians who are present when the Hulk and the Thing "team up" in St. Louis--but cover artist Jack Kirby manages to deal in some ordinary people looking out of the famous Gateway Arch in the city (now 58 years old), though real-life visitors aren't able to stick their heads out of the sealed, rectangle-shaped viewing windows.

Even so, I'm still reminded of the Honeymooners.

Kirby would again bring crowds into a Galactus scenario, though the street scene appears rather antiquated considering the year is late 1976.

Crowds of people on FF covers are sparse for the next eleven years, at which time the Human Torch seems to have frightened the bejeesus out of his cover crowd--which is strange, considering the fact that he can't seem to ignite. We have to assume these people aren't taking any chances.

Over in the Avengers, who have had their fair share of appearances and conflicts in the streets of New York, there's a dearth of crowd scenes on their issue covers--which is too bad, since those that do exist prove it can be done, and done well. Take the story where they encounter the Squadron Supreme (again, not "Sinister," for crying out...!), as they race to avert what looks to be the end of the world.

Then there are dueling covers from artists John Buscema and Rich Buckler, over who can rile up crowds more--the mysterious Mr. Tallon (i.e., Ares, not an altogether different villain named "Warhawk"), or Buckler himself, though in that story there is no one miffed at or otherwise closing in on the Avengers other than the Squadron.

The incredible Hulk, also, has stormed through his share of crowds in his stories--but you wouldn't know it by his covers except for rare exceptions. In two, artist Herb Trimpe provides crowds as background scenery, though for one of them he's pulled a hapless kid to put in danger (albeit absent from the story, fear not).

It's hard to say what the poor gent on the first cover is thinking with his balled-up fist: furious at the havoc which Banner and the Hulk have wreaked, or rooting for both of them to off each other? (Either way, I wouldn't focus the Hulk's attention on yourself, if I were you, bub.)

For another cover, Buckler once again ropes in (ha ha, get it?) crowds to enhance the tension of this street scene, when the only other person present in the story who's in the line of fire is Jim Wilson.

Over in Mighty Thor (and, by extension, Journey Into Mystery), crowds make a comeback thanks to Kirby and others who recognize how their presence and reactions add to battle situations--even on the rare occasion of one of these "extras" being gifted with a line. (Probably to better balance the page.) The Zarrko story cover, in particular, demonstrates how greatly such images add to a cover's presentation.

It's not clear how businessmen end up on the same field as a group of youngsters in the next depiction involving the Lava Man, so far from the city proper; regardless, both groups are no-shows in the story, while here they appear to be Lilliputians in comparison to what seems to be a mammoth figure emerging. As for the Grey Gargoyle, he has no problem with giving ordinary citizens a more prominent role in his conflict with Thor.

The Absorbing Man, of course, can be genuinely mammoth at times--and the gawking people sharing his cover space can seem a little on the large size themselves, their buildings looking to be too small to contain them.

In Thor's regular series, we can't blame alarmed crowds for showing surprise at a fellow adult being pulled beneath a street--while readers are no doubt equally alarmed at Donald Blake doing a fair impression of Mr. Fantastic. Meanwhile, another mammoth figure, the Growing Man, sends anxious crowds scattering, with the exception of a very brave policeman. (Who has been deprived of the perfect cover caption: "Move along, folks... nothing to see here... move along, please...")

Artist Ron Wilson's Thor cover lines up well with an earlier cover by Kirby, both showing crowd reaction to the majesty of Thor (even in civvies).

Mixed hands were reportedly responsible for the covers to Thor issues 180-181, with artist John Buscema's work only applying to the Thunder God himself in the latter cover with background art by Marie Severin. On the previous issue's cover, "When Gods Go Mad" could easily have been rephrased to "When Readers Go Mad" in attempting to figure out just what artists turned in this work. Various sources attribute the art to Buscema (or Neal Adams) and Severin, with inker Joe Sinnott the only agreed-upon constant as to inks. Whatever the truth of the matter, bystanders seem to be terrified of Thor in any case.

A little later, Buscema demonstrates that he enjoys seeing the Thunder God share cover space with ordinary people--as long as they're all right with playing victims. (They certainly don't look to be okay with it.)

Gil Kane put in his two bits with crisis crowds, involving both a mortal threat as well as Asgardian hordes led by the evil Loki.

What's interesting about Kane's work is his preference for ensuring that both depictions present two people who are not only closer to the action, but also headed in opposite directions. (The gentlemen in issue 208, in particular, appear to be on a collision course if they don't watch where they're going.)

The cover to Thor #280 by Sinnott, an issue which holds the distinction of being on my top 5 list of worst Thor stories ever, is the only part of the issue that doesn't make me want to rip it in two when looking at it. I especially like the driver on his way past the action, as if he's saying, "Aaaa. Here we go again. You pajama-wearing super-dopes are a disgrace to the sidewalk."

And finally, we see that fashions have definitely gotten more casual since Kirby's time when Thor goes up against a frustrated mathematician. Chances are that those in the gawking crowd are just trying to figure out the names of the various geometric shapes which our villain is using against his stymied foe.

COMING UP:
There are enough crowds to go around for the likes of Iron Man, Captain America, and Spider-Man.