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)

The Making Of A Team

 

OR: "From Riches To Rags!"

When Marvel opened the creative floodgates in the late 1970s and began deluging the market with new titles in an apparent effort to see which one(s) would catch on, it was often a wincing experience for the reader, as writers would throw subtlety to the wind and cram the first issue or two of a new book with everything and everyone it would need to hit the ground running--including a handful of supporting characters that would orbit the life of the lead character in one respect or another and, hopefully, convey the impression that the book was well thought out and reflected a solid commitment by the creative team. (Off the top of my head, The Human Fly was a textbook example of such a packed and prepared first issue.)

Such thoughts came to mind when I found myself thumbing through the first ten or so issues of Fantastic Four, which collectively turned out to be a study in more gradual development of characters as well as the book's direction--an approach which probably seemed natural at the time, since Marvel's shift to super-heroes was new ground for the company and the only way to proceed beyond a basic outline was to do so step by step. We learned the origin of the four principal characters in their first issue, even as these individuals gathered to investigate the activities of the Mole Man--yet from that point, their personalities and foibles were doled out in a way that allowed the reader to get to know them, just as we might come to know any new person in our lives. Within that mix, of course, were the complications inherent with people who found themselves forging a path forward as high-profile individuals with super-powers--while one member of this group walked a more lonely, bitter road, as he struggled to come to grips with the anguish of being forced to live the rest of his life as a freak, while the others bore the brunt of his harsh side-comments and even his fits of rage.

Giant-Man In The 25th Century!

 

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Where YOU Weigh In on the Pros and Cons of a Character's New Attire

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FEATURING:

Giant-Man

There are few Avengers--or few costumed characters in general, for that matter--who have been overhauled and refitted more than Henry Pym, whose attire as Ant-Man, Giant-Man, Goliath, Yellowjacket, etc., etc., etc. has changed so often over the years, depending on what breakthrough or what handicap he was dealing with at any given time. And that pattern was beginning even in late 1963, when he decided to spend most of his time in costume as Giant-Man rather than Ant-Man, and almost immediately changed his costume's design accordingly.

In March of 1965, however, when he felt the need to add to his abilities in order to have a (pardon the pun) higher profile as an Avenger, a more extensive costume (and equipment) adjustment was required.

This new power was to cybernetically change the size of other organic forms--something he'd already accomplished with the Wasp, using the circuitry in his old cybernetic hood-mask. As it turned out, readers would rarely if ever see this helmet's power employed during Pym's remaining time with the Avengers.

Nevertheless, the Wasp decided to take this development one step further.

Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

But let's not "buck" tradition--what's your decision on the look of the new Giant-Man?

OR: ?

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.

This Way Toward... Doom!

 

Perhaps eyeing the success of the DC horror/fantasy anthology titles House Of Secrets and House Of Mystery, Marvel launched two similarly themed books in late 1969: Tower Of Shadows and, one month later, Chamber Of Darkness. Like their DC counterparts which were published on a bimonthly basis (off and on), both Tower and Chamber hit the stands every other month--but it seems the similarity ends there in terms of sales, as Marvel's offerings sold poorly and were discontinued after ten and eight issues, respectively. Tower, premiering first, seemed somewhat better received by readers, judging by letters page response, though the ratio of raves to more critical assessments appeared to be about 30/70. There was also the question of sustainability, as both series began pulling in reprinted material from their earlier anthology titles from the '50s-'60s (Strange Tales and Tales Of Suspense) with their sixth issue.

Suffice to say that DC's House titles were in no danger of readers jumping ship for Marvel's offerings--though it wasn't for lack of trying on Marvel's part, at least initially, as some of the company's most notable talent were tapped to contribute stories. Roy Thomas, Jack Kirby, Stan Lee, John Buscema, Gene Colan, Len Wein, Marv Wolfman, Jim Steranko, et al. (including John Romita Sr., who mostly did cover work) were seemingly able to accommodate seven-page assignments (or less) within a two-month window (though I believe Steranko withdrew after only one story, reportedly due to a disagreement with Lee)--with some artists even pulling double duty and contributing scripts as well as art, in addition to inkers providing readers with examples of their own pencils.

After their all-too-brief runs, each title shifted to formats made up of almost entirely reprinted material, in addition to adopting new mastheads. Tower became Creatures On The Loose, which mixed its reprints with sword and sorcery tales as well as a regular feature on Man-Wolf, while Chamber morphed to Monsters On The Prowl--each book having a run of 30 to 37 bimonthly issues (the creatures pulling ahead of the monsters--make of that what you will). But since there's a little more ground to cover with both Tower and Chamber, and having already examined Jack Kirby's stories in the latter, let's turn to a few samples from some of the other names we've mentioned who made their mark in the macabre during the brief time when these two titles were being published.

"...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.

Beware The Heroes Of... The Dream Dome!

 

It's September of 1976, and here's how things were shaping up in the Marvel Universe:

• The incredible Hulk, once again on the sub-atomic world of Jarella, was finally dishing out some hurt on Psyklop when this agent of the Dark Gods faced the brute mano a... uh, whatever you'd call Psyklop;
  
• The Fantastic Four, along with the High Evolutionary, were compelled to search the galaxy for a world which would willingly give itself over to the hunger of Galactus in place of the devourer's first choice, Counter-Earth (and if you were among those readers anticipating a battle between the Evolutionary and Galactus, well...);
  
• Iron Man is trying to get the Controller under control;
  
• Thor investigates the possibility that the missing Odin is in the dimension of Death;
  
• The Avengers finally settle on their new lineup, only to have the walking-dead Wonder Man crash the public announcement;
  
• The new X-Men, their title still being published bimonthly, are in the midst of battling their way out of Steven Lang's Project Armageddon;
  
• The amazing Spider-Man is running for his life from his more amazing Spider-mobile, which has no driver at the wheel (a fate that probably awaits some of us from today's self-driving cars, folks);
  
• Captain America and the Falcon are trying to solve the mystery of Jack Kirby's Night People; and, last but not least...
  
• Dr. Strange faces a new enemy in Stygyro, while his disciple Clea is seduced by Ben Franklin. (Come on, you may say "ewwww!" and insist you won't click that link, but we both know otherwise.)

Meanwhile, Amazing Adventures, with its "War Of The Worlds" adaptation, is one issue away from cancellation--which is usually the time when Marvel pulls out all the stops in an effort to benefit from a sales spike before the axe falls.

Inhumans! Mandarin! Kirby!

 

In August of 1970, Marvel Comics launched both Amazing Adventures and Astonishing Tales, two bimonthly books with split-story formats that recalled the success of the company's earlier trio of titles from 1964 which eventually adopted the same double-feature presentations--Tales To Astonish, Tales Of Suspense, and Strange Tales, all of which shifted their focus from monster/mystery/macabre tales to super-hero adventures in 1962-63.

In some of his last work for the company before his departure, artist Jack Kirby would be assigned work on each book's premiere issues. Having already seen Kirby's work with writer Stan Lee on the Ka-Zar feature of Astonishing Tales, we turn to his contribution to the first four issues of Amazing Adventures, a title where the uncanny Inhumans would be featured until the beginning of 1972 (on a bimonthly publication schedule). In this assignment, Kirby would not only provide artwork but also write both stories--to my knowledge, the last of only four scripting jobs he would turn in during his nine years with the company (apart from his earlier work with Timely/Atlas comics), a rare opportunity to see a Marvel story executed exactly as Kirby conceived it.

Since the Inhumans (like the issue's other featured star, the Black Widow) would only be allotted one-half of each issue due to the split-feature format, Kirby's work for these four issues would essentially comprise two regular-sized stories. And we have quite a lineup of guest-stars, with the Inhumans coming into conflict with the villainous Mandarin as well as none other than Kirby's signature characters at Marvel, the Fantastic Four.

A Fearsome Forgathering of Frivolous, Far Out Frenzy!

 

Aside from mental institutions and Congressional debates (which may sound redundant), you and I are generally not exposed to much if any sort of frenzy in our lives. Yet on planet Earth as seen through the eyes of comic book creators, incidences of large-scale mania, madness, insanity, or sheer frenzy can be found across the globe--any year, every year, whether due to invasions, or the plans of a super-villain brought to fruition, or world-ending disasters brought on by a malevolent power, or attack-induced panic, or any of a dozen other threats which the human race has proven ill-equipped to deal with. The word can also be applied to the unpredictable and seemingly unstoppable circumstances occurring within a particular story, as the characters involved struggle to deal with the situation.

So, fair warning:  If you're easily affected by such heightened states of hysteria, reach for that mouse or touchpad and click over to a less alarming site! (Like the news.  Ha! Kidding!) Because the PPC is about to do a frenzied roundup of those incidences, and try to figure out just why they're in such a state of:

Come on, shriek it with me...

AAAAAH! Stop it! Can't... STAND IT!

The Past Gives Way To The Future

 

Among the number of other surprises present in the 1998 Fantastic Four Annual, writer Karl Kesel broached a subject which Marvel had always taken care to skirt by in charting the adventures of its many heroes over the decades:  the fact that nearly forty years had passed since the launch of Fantastic Four #1, even as the FF as well as the company's other mortal characters have remained in fighting shape and have persevered through the decades with nary a wrinkle or gray hair present, regardless of prior stories which have rooted them in the past. And as the FF title neared the close of the 20th century, the annual's opening fold-out sported a bio which primed the team to keep themselves viable for the 21st.

Marvel would later apply such revisions across the board for those characters who required a more generic origin that severed them from past events in real life. But as far as a more direct approach in an actual story, the '98 annual appears to fire an opening salvo on the subject where Kesel takes an almost tongue-in-cheek, all-in-good-fun approach toward distancing the FF from their 1960s beginnings while conforming to Marvel's dictum going forward.

Regardless of this cover's dramatic captions, it's fair to tell you that this story does not, in even the slightest, involve the Thing fighting against his three partners, alone or otherwise. He is, however, reckoning with a time, and a place, not his own--a situation which, fortunately, makes allowances for