One of the uncertainties that's proven to be problematic in establishing a comics series which features a new super-group is whether or not the chemistry among the members of that group--and certainly the chemistry between the group and the book's readers--will catch on in time to garner regular interest in the series. It's a small window that doesn't remain open too long, and, looking back, there are a number of examples to point to where the concept being launched fell short of whatever expectations Marvel may have had going in. The original core membership of the Avengers, for instance, didn't really work in terms of a lineup that could sustain the book on their own, with the original lineup of the Defenders making their exit in even less time. The X-Men also struggled to find their niche, whether as "the most unusual teen-agers of all time," "the most mysterious fighting team of all time," "the most unusual fighting team of all time," or "the strangest teens of all"--while later adjusting their costumes and even their masthead to better catch the eye.
During the mid-1970s, then, when admittedly
many new concepts were being conceived and launched without a great deal of forethought except to see which would catch fire with readers, and with
The Defenders having settled into a relatively comfortable status with both Dr. Strange and the Hulk serving to anchor present and future lineup shifts,
The Champions was arguably the most high-profile new book to come down the pipe, grouping together two original X-Men, two Avengers--and the Ghost Rider, a character who at first glance seemed incompatible with the format but whose solo series was doing fairly well and thus was perhaps seen as a draw.
And there's no denying he's an attention-getter, visually.
But despite a decent run of seventeen issues, the book folded in early 1978, with most of that run spent in bi-monthly publication. In the end, even its members were divided on their viability, with the group's leader at one point clearly feeling it was her responsibility to shore up team morale (in a flashback taking place thirty-two years after
the book's cancellation):
Strangely enough, rather than any stories in the series, I tend to recall the book's plethora of writing and artistic troupers who pitched in to keep the book going. And since someone in charge must have surmised that the quality of the stories would have been the key to that, the switchover of writers was kept to a minimum, allowing for a measure of consistency between issues. That worked out to Tony Isabella and Bill Mantlo each taking several issues in sequence, switching off on occasion (with only Chris Claremont pinch-hitting for one issue).
Yet while both Isabella and Mantlo turned in good work, I would have to say that neither was willing to take a deep breath and slowly establish some sort of foundation for this group and its members in the minds of readers once the initial opening-with-a-bang crisis had passed. Instead, because of Warren Worthington coming into his family fortune, *poof* in no time we had a brand new state-of-the-art headquarters for the Champions (an entire building, no less); *poof* we had the "Champs-craft," a convertible sky-car, complete with the team logo on its hood; *poof* we had a butler in residence, and ... ::ahem::
sorry, I got carried away there, but you get the idea.
* And seemingly for the sake of expediency, we also got a team leader in the Black Widow before you could say "this is only the second issue," during a lull in a crisis that allowed her to make a few sensible suggestions regarding their next step--even though leadership didn't appear to be a problem which needed to be addressed on the spur of the moment, with four of these five people being no strangers to working as part of a team and who had conferred fine with each other up to this point. Someone wanted this team established
yesterday.
*Apparently in an effort to avoid the appearance of an instant team with "the works," the Champions eventually discovered they'd bought themselves a basket of lemons, with their building and all of its technology and craft having been constructed with defective materials--which would seem to validate a writer taking a more step-by-step approach and giving these people some breathing room. The Champions were already chaotic enough, getting a handle on their foes as well as doubting their purpose--it doesn't exactly help the situation by arranging for their HQ and gear to become all-too-symbolically unstable.
Artwise, we had several talents on pencils: Don Heck, George Tuska, Bob Hall, and John Byrne, with Byrne perhaps getting the lion's share of the limelight given that his work appeared in the series' last seven issues. On inks, however, it was quite a mix, with Mike Esposito, John Tartaglione, Vince Colletta, Bruce Patterson, Bob Layton, Frank Giacoia, and Byrne (inking Tuska!). But it's Hall we're singling out today, a former student of John Buscema's class on comics art who would develop quite a presence at Marvel and other comics companies in addition to becoming active in
projects for the theater. Hall would later score a gig as regular artist of
The Avengers; but in his first assignment for the company, a
Champions tale that delves into the history of the Black Widow, he delivers impressive work while helping to bring the group to the national stage as a bona fide super-group.
Unfortunately for said group, their debut doesn't go as smoothly as planned.
