Tempests In Time!

 

In 1974, Marvel's House of Ideas was brimming with them. The company's fan magazine, FOOM, remained a hit, reaching 25,000 members; the first issue of Spidey Super-Stories went on sale; Stan Lee would announce the publication of The Origin of Marvel Comics (a working title which would be tightened up to Origins of Marvel Comics), as well as the release of the first Marvel Superhero Calendar (another working title, becoming The Mighty Marvel Calendar); and perhaps most notably, its ambitious Giant-Size line of books launched, which supplemented a number of regular monthly titles on the stands but with a higher page count and, it goes without saying, a higher price tag.

The Giant-Size books have already received their due in a separate PPC post; but in thumbing through my copy of Giant-Size Fantastic Four #2 recently, I was reminded of how the company's handling of these books see-sawed throughout their production, with ideas being tossed into the air like confetti but lacking in execution, as typified by a full-page notice/advertisement by Editor Roy Thomas:

Unless they saw a very limited release that never hit my town, the SUPER-GIANT 100-page books never saw print (that I know of). Neither did the title which Thomas previewed following his announcement:

Personally I thought a book named Giant-Size Super-Teams had "winner" written all over it, since it would have at least four teams to rotate in addition to having the option to preview a new team idea should anyone come up with one. (Though the ad appears to imply that the new book would exclusively feature the Defenders, instead.)  But all of these fruits died on the vine, as did, eventually, the entire line, engulfed by reprinted material when fresh new stories could no longer be supplied.

The second issue of Giant-Size Fantastic Four was already signalling the title's future fate--its "68 Big Pages" amounting to less than half that amount with original material, while ads and a reprint FF story were used to fill the page count. Still, there is the Fantastic Four (with Medusa instead of the Invisible Girl); and there's writer Gerry Conway with artists John Buscema and Chic Stone; and there's the Watcher; and there's time travel; and there's Willie Lumpkin; and there's a brand new foe to contend with.

Though we're not talking about just gangsters giving the FF a hard time.

Testing a new sub-orbital shuttle craft from N.A.S.A., the Fantastic Four* end up in crisis and out of control when a blinding flash erupts and reduces them to literally flying blind, with everyone aboard unable to see the craft's controls. (Our team might have taken a tip from F-18 pilots, who like motorcyclists "dress for the slide, not the ride.") Odds are it was a sense of déjà vu that three of these four people must have experienced following the incident--an aborted flight followed by their ship crashing back to Earth, only to encounter circumstances on their return that were, once again, shocking and unexpected.

*The entire FF, in fact. Unlike the Avengers, the FF feel no need to leave anyone at the Baxter Building in case of an emergency (their robot receptionist didn't appear until 1982), which meant if trouble arose we can only assume a recording plays to tender the team's regrets at being unavailable. We can see why Reed and Ben are needed on a test flight--but maybe it would have been prudent for Johnny and/or Medusa to stay behind and mind the store?

Fortunately for the FF, the Watcher makes a timely appearance to interfere assist, whereupon the team learns that a stealthy, shadowed figure at their own headquarters is responsible for the planetary changes they've witnessed--changes which only the FF, being in orbit (well, sub-orbit if we're being technical) at the time, have any hope of altering.

(No, I don't know how four people, indigenous to Earth, have escaped changes in their planet's timeline simply because they were flying above it. Who's up for a no-prize with an explanation?)

There have been any number of instances where the FF have had to split into teams of two in order to accomplish their objective, whether by accident or by choice--the earliest of course being their very first issue, when Reed and Johnny were separated from Ben and Sue on Monster Isle and subsequently faced the Mole Man on their own. Thanks to the Watcher, who must be the sentimental type, we have the same pairings here (with Medusa in Sue's place), with each pair being sent to repair the damage caused by our Baxter Building intruder's encroachment into the past:  Reed and the Torch appear during the time of the American Revolution, where they save Gen. George Washington from execution, and Medusa and the Thing travel back to the 1920s (where Ben finds he's become human), intercepting the intruder as he's divulging information on the stock market.

I'm as surprised as perhaps you are to find that Willie not only seems to have a set of keys to the entire tower of the Baxter Building but also restricted areas which house equipment such as the gateway to the Negative Zone or, in this case, Dr. Doom's time machine. We can only assume at this point that it's his befuddlement that's allowed him to take in such confusing surroundings and people in stride. Fortunately, both FF teams are in and out of their destinations fairly quickly and have managed to mitigate any harm that Willie might have inadvertently done.

Yet instead of returning to their own time, the team is drawn to an altogether different destination and forced to face the instigator of this plan--a being who spends his existence in a lifeless world without change, and has no qualms about what has to be destroyed to bring that existence to an end.

Some of you may remember Tempus from a later issue of Thor, for instance, where he was in the service of Immortus--not exactly a step up for someone who craves change and growth but ends up in Limbo, a place which has been many things to many denizens but by definition exists outside of time. To the FF, however, Tempus is a clear and present danger not only to themselves, but to their world--and where time is concerned, its effects on the team as wielded by Tempus reduce them to near-helplessness**.

**As opposed to Thor, whose immortality allows him to shrug off Tempus's eye beams--nor did Tempus himself fare well against one who has felled more than his share of storm giants.

And yet, the FF are able to rally thanks to the handy paths to victory which Buscema and Conway provide for them and which they're quick to exploit.

Since it's doubtful that George Washington's capture or Willie's "insider trading" disclosures to gangsters would cause such upheavals in time to the extent which Tempus desired, we're left to assume that the time machine would have continued to transport Willie to different points in time where, either by happenstance or interaction, he would further interfere with crucial parts of history--all the while never questioning what was happening to him or why, it seems.

Still, we're shown that for Willie, this was all thought to be a dream, until the Watcher (Motto: "Oath? What oath? Oh that oath...") returns one and all to the Baxter Building and ties up the loose end remaining from this affair--i.e., the aforementioned Willie. (Who we can all agree gets off considerably easier than Leonard Tippit.)

BONUS!
A few memorable scenes from this issue's backup story, featuring the Red Ghost.