Issuu

Chris Claremont

Neal Adams

George Tuska

Dave Cockrum

P. Craig Russell

Jack Kirby

Frank Brunner

Gil Kane

Mike Ploog

Sal Buscema

Steve Gerber

B Doug Moench

Don McGregor

Jim Starlin

Steve Englehart

Herb Trimpe

Marv Wolfman

Pierre Comtois was born and currently resides in Lowell, Massachusetts. A freelance writer, Comtois has had dozens of articles and short stories appear in magazines as diverse as Nocturn and The Horror Show, Military History, Civil War Magazine, Comic Book Marketplace, and Comics Source and books such as The Ithaqua Cycle, Book of the Dead, Lin Carter’s Anton Zarnak: Supernatural Sleuth, The Way the Future Was, an anthology of science fiction stories, and Our Lives, Our Fortunes, Our Sacred Honor: Capsule Portraits of Figures From the American Revolution. The success of his previous volume Marvel Comics in the 1960s led to this new book on Marvel Comics’ 1970s output. You can visit Pierre on the internet at www.pierrevcomtois.com.

Paul Gulacy

Ross Andru

John Byrne

52995

9 781605 491035

TwoMorrows Publishing Raleigh, North Carolina

ISBN 978-1-60549-103-5 $29.95 in the U.S. Jim Shooter

By Pierre Comtois

ISBN-13: 978-1-60549-103-5 ISBN-10: 1-60549-103-9

y popular demand, TwoMorrows Publishing presents Marvel Comics in the 1970s, the sequel to Pierre Comtois’ heralded first volume on the 1960s! This book covers Marvel’s final historical phase: the twilight years of the 1970s, after the initial ’60s wave of popularity pushed the company to the forefront of the comics industry, and made many of its characters household names. This full decade of pop-culture history saw Stan Lee’s role as writer diminish as he ascended to Publisher, the stunning departure of Jack Kirby to DC (and his later return to Marvel), the rise of Roy Thomas as editor (and eventual Editor In Chief), and the introduction of a new wave of writers and artists who would expand the boundaries of comics beyond super-heroes, while planting the seeds for the company’s eventual self-destruction. Comics such as the Spider-Man “drug” issues, Conan the Barbarian, Tomb of Dracula, Master of Kung Fu, Howard the Duck, the new X-Men, and more are covered in detail—along with the creators who wrote and drew them, including Chris Claremont, Barry Windsor-Smith, Gene Colan, Marv Wolfman, Steve Gerber, John Romita, Gil Kane, Sal Buscema, and many others. So don’t be satisfied with only half the story! Check out Marvel Comics in the 1970s and find out why Marvel was once hailed as The House of Ideas!

An Issue By Issue Field Guide Marvel Comics in the 1970s: Expanded Edition to a Pop Culture Phenomenon

Roy Thomas

ed d n a Exp ion! Edit

Marvel Comics In The 1970s: Expanded Edition

An Issue by Issue Field Guide to a Pop Culture Phenomenon

Written by Pierre Comtois Edited by John Morrow Designed by Richard J. Fowlks Proofreading by Rob Smentek

TwoMorrows Publishing 10407 Bedfordtown Drive Raleigh, North Carolina 27614 www.twomorrows.com • e-mail: twomorrow@aol.com © 2021 Pierre Comtois and TwoMorrows Publishing Second Printing (1st Expanded Edition) • February 2021 • Printed in the USA Softcover ISBN: 978-1-60549-103-5 ALSO AVAILABLE: Marvel Comics in the 1960s by Pierre Comtois (ISBN: 978-1-60549-016-8) Marvel Comics in the 1980s by Pierre Comtois (ISBN: 978-1-60549-059-5)

Dedication

Dedicated to Roy Thomas, Gene Colan, Rich Buckler, Doug Moench, Don McGregor, Paul Gulacy, Gerry Conway, Neal Adams, Barry Smith, Marie and John Severin, Wally Wood, Tom Palmer, Klaus Janson, Gil Kane, Syd Shores, Joe Sinnott, John Romita, John and Sal Buscema, Jim Starlin, Steve Englehart, Frank Brunner, Jim Steranko, Herb Trimpe, Craig Russell, Mike Ploog, Dan Adkins, and everyone else in the bullpen who helped make Marvel in the 1970s such a great time to be a fan! Also, to fans like such fellow Marvelites Maximi as: Henry Vester PMM (letter published in Chamber of Darkness #7); Clint Ard PMM (letter published in Marvel Team-Up #15); Dale Nelson, PMM (letter published in Chamber of Darkness #3 and Sub-Mariner #24 and #27); and George J. Brousseau (letter published in…Kamandi #26?!) who have provided me with years of wonderful discussion about the comics that made growing up so much more fun than it otherwise would have! Visit www.pierrevcomtois.com.

Marvel Comics in the 1970s

Contents Introduction: The Twilight Years. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

PART I: 1968-1970. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

PART II: 1970-1974. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

PART III: 1974-1976. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

171

PART IV: 1976-1979. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

219

Creator Spotlights:

Roy Thomas. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Gene Colan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Neal Adams. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Gil Kane. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Joe Sinnott. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Gerry Conway. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

102

Marv Wolfman. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

155

Jim Starlin. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

162

Jim Shooter. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

213

John Byrne. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

226

Frank Miller. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

234

Key Marvel Moments:

Marvel Con. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

191

Marvel Comics in the 1970s

Roy Thomas, who took over from Lee as Editor-in-Chief at the start of the twilight years, encouraged new talent and new ideas, but with an ever growing line of books, the work eventually overwhelmed him.

Colan, who had followed Kirby, Ditko, and Heck to Marvel during the Years of Consolidation, had since progressed beyond their early tutelage under Kirby to become hugely popular for their own distinctive styles. They became the bedrock upon which a new foundation would be raised made up of fans turned professional who joined the company in the 1970s. Younger artists such as Barry Smith and Jim Steranko would progress quickly and prove influential beyond the limited number of pages they produced and move on to other fields. Finally, as the 1970s passed mid-decade, the era of the old time professional writer and artist passed away and the comics industry was given over to the fan creator who had grown up reading, collecting, and enjoying comics and who was fired by a determination to turn what had been a passion into a career. After Lee became publisher, Thomas was at last promoted to Editor-in-Chief at Marvel and began his tenure presiding over a new renaissance of creativity. Begun under Lee’s guidance, greater freedom was made possible after the Comics Code Authority loosened some of its regulations allowing for, among other things, the reintroduction of the horror comic. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Marvel launched new features based on the old Universal Studios monsters and a plethora of tryout titles that hosted different, original characters every month, many of which graduated into their own titles. With the introduction of the horror books, the company’s line of comics suddenly 8

Marvel Comics in the 1970s

became far too much for any single person to supervise. Swamped in work, Thomas was unable to keep up, and writers soon found themselves with a new freedom that resulted in a slew of eclectic features that included Man-Thing, Howard the Duck, Jungle Action, War of the Worlds and a host of black-andwhite magazine titles. But with all the new, exciting features, came a concurrent loss of control over production. Deadlines were missed with increasing regularity, and reprints had to be substituted for work not submitted in time; some titles became half original material and half reprint. Shipping dates were missed, and some work was even printed directly from the artist’s pencils without benefit of an inker’s polish. In response, writers were allowed to become their own editors, further fragmenting editorial control. Under the increasing pressure and frustrated at not having the time to pursue his own writing projects, Thomas resigned as Editor-in-Chief and was replaced by a number of successors including Gerry Conway, but none of them remained on the job for long. The slide into editorial chaos was only stopped in 1978 with the arrival of Jim Shooter, who had begun his career in comics as a teenager writing scripts for DC. Shooter imposed much needed discipline at Marvel and restored order to the company, but his methods alienated a number of employees, including Thomas himself, who eventually quit and moved to DC. Through all these changes, the Twilight Years moved on beyond the 1970s and into the 1980s as a kind of atrophy began to set in on the company’s older, established titles that had once led the Marvel revolution. Although humor became stale, formula trumped originality, and elements such as characterization and realism began to fade from such former trendsetters as Spider-Man and Fantastic Four, the irony was that they continued to outsell the oddball books and new features that often showed the creativity that had originally set Marvel apart from its competitors. And so, as the Twilight era faded out, and memory of the glorious triumphs of the earlier phases dimmed, an air of somnambulism crept into Marvel, only to be jarred into wakefulness when, at intervals, rising creative stars occasionally shook it from its slumber. The years would stretch into decades and reach beyond the scope of this work as flashes of creativity, the last echoes of Marvel’s fabled Silver Age (such as that of John Byrne’s stint on the X-Men and Fantastic Four, Frank Miller’s work on Daredevil and the Roger Stern, John Buscema, Tom Palmer team up on the Avengers), became more and more infrequent until flickering out completely.

1968

Part I:

1968-1970 The Spectacular Spider-Man #2

It was 1968, the year of the Tet Offensive, the Democratic National Convention, and the assassination of Robert Kennedy, and Marvel was experiencing the first major expansion of its line of comic book titles in over a decade. Sales were climbing and its characters sank deeper into the public consciousness. But even as artist Jack Kirby’s tenure at the company was drawing to a close; the philosophically confused Silver Surfer was launched in his own book; Steranko reached a crescendo on Nick Fury, Agent of SHIELD; and new life was born to members of the Fantastic Four. Editor Stan Lee remained eager to escape the comic book spinner rack (“Hey, kids! Comics!”) and reach out to the older readers he was increasingly identifying with at speaking engagements and visits to college campuses. But how to do it while retaining the comics format that seemed to have intrigued the counter-cultural element who were as likely to visit a head shop as they were to drop in at the corner tobacco store? Lee’s solution was to create a comic book that didn’t look like a comic book but a magazine. Capitalizing on Marvel’s growing penetration of the market, he decided the new magazine should spotlight SpiderMan, the company’s most popular character and presumably, the one with the most cache among college students. To further separate it from regular comics, the new magazine would be printed in black-andwhite and due to its greater dimensions, sold on the magazine rack beside Time and The New Yorker instead of with its four-color peers. But first, Lee would have to convince publisher Martin Goodman who wasn’t crazy about doing magazine-sized comics. At the time, black-and-white comic magazines were the province of fly-by-night outfits that exploited blood

“The Spider-Man Saga”; Stan Lee (script), John Romita (pencils & inks) “The Goblin Lives”; Stan Lee (script), John Romita (layouts), Jim Mooney (pencils), Frank Giacoia (inks)

Spectacular Spider-Man #2: Marvel’s first attempt to break out of its four-color straightjacket and capture the notice of a wider adult audience was short lived but yielded two great extra-length tales by Lee and Romita at the height of their powers!

Part I: 1968-1970

Roy Thomas

One of the first comics fans to break into the business and turn professional, Roy Thomas had a rough start in 1965 when he was hired as an assistant to DC comics editor Mort Weisinger. If he had any illusions about the sweet life working in the comics industry however, he was quickly disabused by the tyrannical Weisinger and fled at the first opportunity. That opportunity came in the form of Marvel editor Stan Lee who took him on as an assistant and writer. It was the beginning of a long and influential career that culminated in 1972 when Thomas replaced Lee as Editor-in-Chief. Born in 1940, Thomas fell in love with comics early attracted especially by DC’s roster of super-heroes. Immersing himself in fan circles, he took over publishing Alter Ego, an early amateur magazine that he would revive decades later in a much more professional incarnation. A graduate from Southeast Missouri State University, Thomas taught high school English for a few years before being accepted at George Washington University in New York City. But he never attended, having accepted the assistant’s job from Weisinger. At Marvel, he quickly climbed the ladder, mastering the individual styles of the company’s growing line of titles while assuming editorial duties on the side. When he finally took over as Editor-in-Chief, he was instrumental in expanding Marvel’s line-up outside of traditional super-heroes led by Conan the Barbarian, a strip he had championed and scripted for over 100 issues. After giving up the role of Editor-in-Chief, Thomas continued to write for Marvel in the capacity of writer/editor but after clashing with Editor-in-Chief Jim Shooter, returned to DC where he continued to create new titles including All Star Squadron and Arak, Son of Thunder. Drifting from DC, Thomas tried his hand at film and television script writing and in the 1980s freelanced for Marvel. Some independent projects followed but by then it was clear his time in the comics industry had passed. In 1999, however, he revived Alter Ego and has been instrumental in preserving the history of comics with articles and in-depth interviews with professionals. 10

Marvel Comics in the 1960s

1968 and gore and mild sex to seduce scarce quarters out Man, a set-back that would take a few years to of unwary teenagers. In addition, Goodman already overcome when Marvel once again tested the blackhad a line of men’s magazines, holdovers from the and-white magazine waters with a new concept far glory days of the pulps, that filled that niche nicely removed from the world of costumed heroes. In the enough. But Lee was persuasive and when he finally meantime, Lee would return his attention to the got the green light from Goodman, the first 52-page regular comics but the idea of doing something speissue of The Spectacular Spider-Man duly appeared in cifically for college aged readers was never far from his July of 1968 under the “Non-Pareil Publishing Corp.” mind. In 1974, he would team up with underground label. For who knows what reason, the book was publisher Dennis Kitchen to produce Comix Book produced only “under the auspices of the Marvel (“It’s new, it’s strange, it’s subterranean!”), a shortComics Group.” Goodman, it seemed, was up to his lived title that went belly up with its third issue. old accounting tricks again! Keeping to his plan to gear the new book toward an older audience, Lee Capt. Savage and His Leatherneck teamed with artist John Romita to tell a street-level Raiders #5 story about a political campaign and corruption in high “Mission: Destroy the Invisible Enemy”; Arnold Drake places…a subject frowned upon by the Comics Code (script), Dick Ayers (pencils), Syd Shores (inks) which, as a magazine, Wow! Was this the Spectacular Spider-Man was same Dick Ayers who able to ignore. Although penciled those less than the merciless demands of stellar Human Torch and scheduling didn’t permit Giant-Man stories from time to find out how sales the Formative Years and had been on the first Years of Consolidation? issue of the book before Answer: it sure was, but production began on this time he was partSpectacular Spider-Man #2 nered with inker Syd (Nov. 1968), some inkling Shores (yup! the same of Goodman’s nervousguy who was transness might have been forming Jack Kirby’s penindicated with the introcils on Captain America duction of color to a story into things of beauty). written by Lee and once Although Ayers had alagain penciled by Romita ways been good on deTeamed up on Capt. Savage and his Leatherneck (and inked by Jim Mooney Raiders, penciler Dick Ayers (left) and inker tail work (it was what Syd Shores’ power packed art lent this late and Frank Giacoia). Other made him such a great inning war strip the chops to give Marvel’s evidence of back pedaling inker over Kirby in super-hero titles a run for their money! included the use of a the pre-hero and early typical comic book superyears) and when he villain like the Green had the time to lavish Goblin, who was featured front and center. Be that attention on a particular illustration (take some as it may, beneath a painted cover by Romita, Lee of the covers he did for Sgt. Fury for instance), pulls out all the stops in a 58-page tale filled with the his weakness had always been the human figtightly wound angst that Peter Parker was known for ure itself. He seemed to have a penchant for posiand scenes that shift easily from the university class- tioning them across a panel in unnatural ways, room to Peter’s uptown pad to glam shots of Gwen often seeming as if they were about to fall into and MJ. The action finally winds up with the Goblin a split! But with a sturdy inker, his work could becoming a victim of one of his own “psychedelic rise to more than acceptable, even exciting levels, pumpkins,” a clear drug reference made a full two as it does here in Capt. Savage and His Leatherneck years before Lee would challenge the Code directly Raiders #5 (Aug. 1968). The book was launched a on the subject in the regular Amazing Spider-Man few months earlier when Marvel was suddenly book. Unfortunately, the writing was on the wall for able to expand its line of titles. At a time when Lee’s bold excursion beyond the four-color world of it had not been immediately apparent that Marvel Comics. Finding little encouragement in sales, super-heroes were to be the wave of the future, Goodman chose to discontinue The Spectacular Spider- the sales of Sgt. Fury and His Howling Commandos Part I: 1968-1970

Part II:

1970-1974

he Twilight Years began with Lee and Kirby at the apex of their professional careers and the universe they created still basking in the afterglow of grandiosity. However, new influences and a weakened Comics Code Authority brought into being circumstances that encouraged the exploration of genres other than super-heroes and formats other than comics.

Fantastic Four #102

“The Strength of the Sub-Mariner”; Stan Lee (script), Jack Kirby (pencils), Joe Sinnott (inks)

Just as the winds of change were beginning to shift, and the most innovative writing and interesting art was moving from the super-hero features to out of continuity science fiction, horror, and sword and sorcery, it was announced that Jack Kirby was leaving Marvel! Shocking as the news was to readers in 1970, in retrospect, it probably happened at just the right time. In contrast to Lee, who could still turn a tale of super-heroics into something more interesting and immediate by turning a plot around topical events or juggling personality quirks to create threedimensional characters, Kirby’s creative energies seemed to be winding down to a halt. The once mighty engine, primed in partnership with the unerring instincts of Lee that had driven Silver Age Marvel from the obscurity of its pre-hero days of the late 1950s, through three successive phases of development (each more creative, more innovative, more exciting than the last) to its position as the most important comic book company in the industry, now seemed to have run out of steam. Perhaps made up of equal parts frustration and anger, Kirby’s enthusiasm for his work waned, ironically, beginning about the time he perhaps achieved almost complete control over the titles he worked on. Kirby’s resentments may have arisen from a belief that he wasn’t appreciated by the company, hadn’t received 58

Marvel Comics in the 1970s

enough credit for his contributions in helping to create the Marvel Universe, and/or from simple envy over the attention Lee was getting outside comics. That said, the artist didn’t help himself any by not taking advantage of his importance to the company early on, of not being a tougher negotiator, and of not starting up the corporate ladder. Adding to his difficulties was a decision to move from New York to California, 3,000 miles away from the Marvel offices. In the meantime, it had been almost two years since any really new concepts were introduced in Thor or the FF (instead, old characters returned and situations were recycled with obvious adaptations of movie and television plots filling in between), which may have been intentional (Kirby had been designing new characters for years but

Little did anyone suspect at the time that when Kirby decided to move from the east coast to California, it also signaled his impending departure from the House of Ideas he helped to raise.

1970 keeping them to himself; they’d appear only after he left Marvel for rival DC where he created a handful of interconnected titles under the umbrella concept of the “Fourth World”) or it may have simply reflected the exhaustion of a man who’d been in the business since the 1930s. Certainly his efforts at DC over the next five years were less than stellar; his interconnected New Gods titles were intended to have an instant, Marvel-style continuity, while their characters had their counterparts in his previous work for the company. Other features such as Kamandi and the Demon were wholly or in part based on ideas purloined from film and television. The process of decline in the FF book was most painful to watch

Forever People #6: Although Kirby’s last efforts at Marvel were definitely sub-par for the king, his initial work after moving to DC showed a marked enthusiasm (New Gods, Mister Miracle) despite a sub-strata of corniness on display in such titles as Jimmy Olsen and Forever People.

with stories still somewhat interesting around #7679 and #84-87, then growing weaker through #89. The last twelve issues, in effect Kirby’s final year at the company ending with Fantastic Four #102 (Sept. 1970), were, by the standards Kirby himself had helped to set, simply poor. Almost a complete reversal of everything that he and Lee had spent a decade building, they lacked real efforts at character development; continuity; the air of sophistication an expert combination of humor, seriousness, and selfdeprecation created; but worst of all, they lacked the kind of spirit and verve that made Marvel comics must-reading for any fan. In comparison, Lee’s work on Captain America and Spider-Man was still as immediate as it ever was. In fact, Kirby’s last work for Marvel read more like the competition’s product, nicely designed but empty suits servicing mostly silly plots intended for 7-to-11-year-olds (Magneto spends nearly all of #102 underwater with nary a breathing aid in sight; did Kirby forget that Atlantis was beneath the sea or did he figure the kiddies wouldn’t notice?) Although Marvel’s success certainly involved the dynamism, the sheer power-packed beauty of Kirby’s art, in retrospect, its most important ingredient was the one thing the artist failed to learn and take with him to DC: Lee’s humanism and obvious empathy for other people and his ability to infuse his own values in the form of characterization into his heroes. It was the reason why Marvel’s success would continue long after Kirby’s departure even though, at the time, there was speculation that the company wouldn’t be able to survive without him. Instead, it was Kirby’s projects at DC that failed. Without the topicality, the human emotions, the supporting cast of ordinary characters, even such a simple element as romantic interests, they were doomed to failure. The sophistication of the typical comic book reader had grown beyond the simple pleasure of reading the exploits of superheroes, no matter how colorful their costumes. It was a lesson DC itself had to learn fast and adapt itself to or lose the sales race to its rapidly surging competition (a problem it solved by importing en mass, Marvel’s most talented graduates). Kirby’s sojourn at DC didn’t last long, in a few years he’d be back at Marvel. By then, however, his creative fires were hardly more than glowing embers. But as the first and most important of the three artistic musketeers of Marvel (and the last to leave), nothing and no one could ever burn as hotly in the white heat of creation as he did when, together with Lee, he engineered a “big bang” that left in its wake a universe of wonder, imagination, and delight. Part II: 1970-1974

Joe Sinnott

In a stable that featured any number of great inkers over the years, it was Joe Sinnott who perhaps became the most synonymous with Marvel Comics. Following a stint in the Navy, Sinnott learned his craft as a student at the School of Visual Arts before landing his first job as an artist with Dell Comics. In 1951, he found work with Stan Lee at Timely. After being laid off briefly, he attached himself to the company that published Treasure Chest, an association that lasted many years. In the early 1960s, he returned to Marvel where he drew the Thor feature for a number of issues before replacing Chic Stone as Jack Kirby’s inker on the Fantastic Four beginning in 1965. The slick polish he gave to Kirby’s pencils, perfect for a strip that often relied on hard edged science fiction, proved a perfect match. So much so that Sinnott remained on the job long after Kirby left the book.

Amazing Spider-Man #90

“And Death Shall Come!”; Stan Lee (script), Gil Kane (pencils), John Romita (inks)

Romita seemed to ease up on the inks somewhat in Amazing Spider-Man #90 (Nov. 1970) as Kane continued to chronicle our hero’s battle with Dr. Octopus (who seems to have been driven mad by years of accumulated frustration over Spidey’s continued interference with his well laid plans). Having already come close to bringing tragedy into Peter’s life (first by being involved in the death of Betty Brant’s brother in #11 and by almost giving Aunt May a fatal heart attack in #53), Octopus would now be the cause of the first real blow to hit home as the climactic battle between himself and Spider-Man results in the death of Capt. George Stacy, father of Gwen Stacy, Peter’s girlfriend. Stacy, who was introduced to the strip soon after Romita had taken it over from Ditko, gave unsettling hints that he knew more about the connection between Peter Parker and Spider-Man than he let on. Joined later by Daily Bugle City Editor Robby Robertson, the two men gave Peter many sleepless nights as they compared notes about SpiderMan and tried to figure out who he was. But Stacy’s time had run out. As the action begins this issue, we find the retired police officer on the street as he comes across a sickly looking Peter Parker. Taking him home, Stacy makes another innocuous statement that arouses Peter’s suspicions (“I’ve never known anyone with such amazing powers of recuperation!” “The way he said that,” thinks Peter. “As though he suspects a lot more than he’s telling!”) But there’s no time for more 66

Marvel Comics in the 1970s

worrying, as Peter dashes to his private lab to concoct something to put the kibosh on Ock’s arms. Later, as he and Octopus battle on a rooftop, the stuff works only too well, causing the villain to lose control over them. Whipping wildly in every direction, the arms shatter a chimney, sending debris toward the street. “They’ve gone amok!” cries a fearful Dr. Octopus. Meanwhile, at street level, a mob of rubberneckers scatter, all but a small boy. In desperation, Stacy breaks from the crowd and pushes the child to safety. But too late to save himself, the elderly man is crushed beneath the falling masonry! With members of the crowd blaming him for Stacy’s death, Spider-Man pulls the man from the pile of rubble and carries him off, hoping to get him to a hospital. But it’s too late. With his last breath, Stacy confirms Peter’s worst fears when he calls him by his name (as Spider-Man, he was still wearing his mask) and asks him to look after his daughter after he’s gone. With the dead Stacy cradled in his arms, a weeping Peter vows to “love Gwen, and cherish her, as long as I live!” But even in that same moment, the seeds for future tragedy are planted as he wonders how Gwen would react to learning that the man she loves may also be responsible for the death of her father? It wasn’t exactly a new situation for Peter (a similar plot device was used years earlier when Betty Brant blamed Spidey for the death of her brother, but yet loved Peter), but one that was no less dramatically powerful for all that. But what made it more poignant this time around was that it would prove to be only the opening act in a larger tragedy whose full ramifications had yet to be played out.

1970 “Hostage!”; Roy Thomas (script), John Buscema (pencils), Tom Palmer (inks)

Not everything going on in the Twilight era was doom and gloom, however, as the story in Avengers #82 (Nov. 1970) demonstrates (unless you count the island of Manhattan being invaded and held hostage something to get depressed about!) But before a reader could get to the great story inside, he had to get past a cover that gave no hint of the wonderment behind it: either it was whipped up by John Buscema before Thomas had any idea what the story was going to be, or the artist had a particularly bad “off day.” Whatever the explanation, it was one of the most ill conceived come-ons to potential buyers ever put out by Marvel. And to judge by the number of irritating word balloons scattered over it (six!) editor Stan Lee knew it too. Instead, Buscema (inked by the increasingly dazzling work of Tom Palmer) provides one of the most eye-popping splash pages ever drawn (a symbolic shot of the tentacular arms of Zodiac, a villainous international crime cartel, with various Avengers helplessly caught in their grip). Who knows? Maybe it was supposed to have been the cover; if not, it should’ve been. But no matter the explanation, the splash page was only the tip of the iceberg of what proved to be one of the most thoroughly satisfying single-issue stories Marvel ever produced. Here’s the scoop: Aries, one of the 12-member board of Zodiac, has loosed his mercenary army on Manhattan, defeated its police force and the National Guard, and

sealed off the island with an impenetrable force field! And all Zodiac wants in return for it is a billion (1970) dollars! What’s a helpless nation to do? While that question hangs in the air, readers learn that the attack has been timed so that most of the city’s super-heroes are out of town (and on duty Avengers caught napping at their mansion headquarters) leaving only Daredevil and the Black Panther as forlorn hopes. Of course, they eventually manage to free the captive Avengers and the rest, as they say, is a forgone conclusion! But it was a wild, fast-paced, absolutely

Avengers #82

Avengers #82, page 1: Could it get any better than the Avengers (plus Daredevil) vs the international crime cartel Zodiac drawn by John Buscema and inked by Tom Palmer in a single-issue story scripted by Roy Thomas? Sweet!

Part II: 1970-1974

Jim Starlin

Jim Starlin’s work appeared in various fan publications before the artist finally broke in at Marvel in 1972 as an inker/finisher over John Romita on Spider-Man. Recruited by fellow artist Rich Buckler, Starlin soon began doing fill-in work on odd issues of Iron Man and Marvel Two-in-One before getting the go ahead to take over the ailing Captain Marvel book. Taking the strip back to its space faring roots, Starlin proceeded to create his own pocket cosmology centered on the deathworshiping villain Thanos. More often than not working as a writer/artist, Starlin took the cosmic formula he’d developed and built a career on it.

he bounced around doing some inking here, and some finished pencils there until picking up some regular assignments and doing his first, crude work on fill-ins on such titles as Iron Man and Marvel Premiere. But even on these first full-length jobs, although he didn’t script them, he plotted the Iron Man story and probably had input on the Dr. Strange feature in Premiere, elements that he’d take from one assignment to the next until eventually bringing them all together on the troubled Captain Marvel book. Begun in the Grandiose Years, maybe more for copyright purposes than serious storytelling, the Captain Marvel feature never had a permanent focus and went through more changes than any other strip in so short a time. Consequently, publisher Stan Lee and editor Roy Thomas might’ve felt like they had nothing to lose in allowing Starlin full creative control of the title. Coming on as penciler for #25, Starlin was at first teamed with scripter Mike Friedrich (credit for plotting was clearly given to the artist on the splash page), but by the time Captain Marvel #29 (Nov. 1973) arrived, Starlin was credited with scripting, pencils, and even coloring! With all of the reins gathered in his hands, the first thing Starlin did was proceed to remake Captain Marvel to suit himself. He spends his first 19-page story not with slam-bang action, but with a quasipsychological mystery play that ends with Cap becoming “cosmically aware.” In between bouts of our hero battling his own ego, evil self, or whatever, readers were treated with vignettes meant to set up a vast, inter-stellar struggle which would tie up all the loose plot threads Starlin had been littering his fill-in jobs with over the past 162

Marvel Comics in the 1970s

few months: first there’s the origin of an off-shoot race of gods descended from those of legendary Olympus based out of Titan, a moon of Saturn; then there’s the ongoing struggle between the evil Thanos (who worships the personification of Death) and his Titan-based family; still on the loose from previous issues is the Destroyer who died and was reborn specifically to hunt down and destroy Thanos; and finally there was the fate of Cap’s friend, Rick Jones. With these elements, Starlin launched a storyline that would be stretched to incredible lengths as he took Captain Marvel through various stages of self-awareness, pseudo-religion, and cosmic conflict, ending up redefining the cosmic epic first popularized in comics by Lee/Kirby/Ditko and then Thomas/ Adams. In tandem with the start of this new kind of story, Starlin’s art this issue suddenly crystallizes, leaves behind its former roughness and takes on the form that was to become familiar to his legion of fans for the remainder of his career. Starlin’s assumption of near complete control of the Captain Marvel book (and any other strip he subsequently worked on) was probably the quickest such rise as any newcomer had experienced since Steranko burst on the scene in the late 1960s. But what differentiated Starlin’s work from Steranko’s was its intensely personal nature. Where Steranko’s approach came from such outside influences as pulp magazines, film, advertising, pop culture, and other legendary creators in the comics industry, Starlin’s came almost purely from within himself and provided readers with a short, but utterly unique ride they’d not soon forget!

1973

Special Marvel Edition #15

“Shang Chi, Master of Kung Fu!”; Steve Englehart (coplot & script); Jim Starlin (co-plot, pencils), Al Milgrom (inks)

Starlin struck again, this time in tandem with writer Steve Englehart, something he’d not do very often after achieving writer/artist status, but not too surprising either. It seems the two men would often meet informally to talk over plots and trade ideas and so it wasn’t too much of a surprise to find Englehart being credited for scripting some of Starlin’s issues of Captain Marvel. The partnership must’ve gone well because their next project together would involve a much more intimate collaboration. According to Englehart, editor Roy Thomas had joined him and Starlin for lunch one time and from that little tetéa-teté would come one of the strangest literary hybrids in comics history. The origin of the “Master of Kung Fu” feature that debuted in (of all places) Special Marvel Edition #15 (Dec. 1973) had its beginnings in a strange confluence of two curious fads divided in time by nearly fifty years: the kung fu craze of the mid-1970s ignited by the television show of the same name and the Yellow Peril phenomenon of the 1920s popularized in a series of novels by Sax Rohmer centered around a Chinese madman named Fu Manchu. Starlin and Englehart had determined to take advantage of the then current interest in the martial arts and

A surprise hit, the Kung-Fu television show starring David Carradine kicked off a martial arts craze that swept the country. Training studios opened on every street corner and comics companies raced to put out copycat books on the subject. Of them all, Marvel’s Master of Kung Fu was the only one that managed not only an original take on the subject, but one that was better than the tv show!

pitched an idea for a strip to Thomas. Always on the lookout for new ideas, Thomas liked what he heard, but decided to add Fu Manchu to the cast as the book’s regular menace (having concluded a deal over the rights to the character with the Rohmer estate some years before). All that was left was to flesh out the book’s theme, which quickly settled around Shang-Chi, the half-breed son of Fu Manchu, trained in all the martial arts as the perfect assassin for his sinister father’s army of dacoits, phansigars, hashishin, and thugs. But while on his first mission to kill one of his father’s old enemies, Shang-Chi discovers the truth about Fu Manchu and rebels against him. From that point on, the strip becomes the tale of Shang’s seeking after truth (“the rising and advancing of a spirit”) through the labyrinth of paradox and contradiction that makes up Western Civilization, while at the same time, fending off continued attempts by his father to have him killed. At the same time, the strip became a patchwork of cultural trends from the unlikely pairing of the Fu Manchu books and eastern philosophizing to the spy mania of the 1960s and the martial arts craze of the 1970s. Although Starlin would stay on the book for only a few issues (Englehart would leave with #19), he managed to set a tone for choreographed action (such as the largely wordless page this issue of Shang tackling a giant sumo wrestler with panel borders decorated in Chinese calligraphy) and pensive, quiet scenes emphasizing the hero’s isolation from his environment, both with Fu Manchu and the outside world. It wouldn’t be until a new writer and a new artist took over the strip that Shang would begin moving in a positive direction, learning to trust others and to deal with and accept the contradictions of society. The changeover of creative talent would be another of those random, serendipitous pairings that seemed to happen with surprising regularity in Marvel’s Twilight Years (or maybe it wasn’t so random, maybe it was all planned by Thomas…?) and that would result in one of the best produced comic series of the decade.

Tomb of Dracula #15

“Fear Is The Name Of The Game!”; Marv Wolfman (script), Gene Colan (pencils), Tom Palmer (inks)

Without a doubt, the flagship of Marvel’s alternative, non-flagship books (since the breakup of the Thomas/Smith team on Conan) was the Dracula feature, most prominent of the titles spawned by the horror boom. Helping enormously in putting it in that position was artist Gene Colan, whose Part II: 1970-1974

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in Dr. Strange #13 (April 1976), humanity wouldn’t be so lucky! How did it happen? In one of his most mindblowing and mind-bending scripts, Englehart has Dr. Strange journey to the dimension of dreams where he discovers that his old foe Nightmare has captured Eternity. Inducing him into a sleep-like state, Nightmare was able to manipulate Eternity’s dreams and as the personification of the universe, whatever Eternity dreams (just as it was when he was awake) becomes the universe’s reality. When Nightmare forced Eternity to dream the end of the world, it happened. And so, Strange finds out to his shock, that not only has everything that’s happened to him over the past few issues been an attack upon himself by Nightmare manipulating Eternity’s dreams, but that he’s also become the last man alive! “I am life beyond limits,

Dr. Strange #13, page 2: Because once is not enough! After destroying the world with artist Frank Brunner in the Sise-Neg story, writer Steve Englehart does it again here with Colan and Palmer!

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beyond death, beyond end,” Eternity explains. “I and my brother, Death, comprise all of your reality, mystic! Neither he nor I am God, for God rules all realities! I am Adam Qadmon, the archetypal man, and in my bosom grew mortals, each on their various worlds!” So what about the question asked at the end of the previous issue? If the world was destroyed, how is it everyone is still around to read these words? Although Eternity refuses to reverse time and set things back the way they were, he decides to recreate the world “starting from its first evolvement from the sun” exactly as it was before. The catch is that all those who died when the world was destroyed are still dead and that everyone now populating this new earth, although the same in every respect, have no suspicion that they’re not actually the same people! Dr. Strange is the only survivor from that previous world with the blessing or curse of that knowledge! After an adventure like this, Englehart’s concluding lines about Strange as he sits brooding in his sanctum sanctorum are an understatement: “He sits there a very long time… coming down.” It was easily the most awesome, mindexpanding story ever presented in a Marvel comic, even more out there than the Galactus trilogy, but at the same time, something that could never have been done without the path being blazed by all those inspired creators who came before: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, Steve Ditko, Roy Thomas, and all the other writers and artists who made each succeeding phase of Marvel’s development possible. And in the same vein, the story would never have worked as well as it did without artists of the caliber of Gene Colan and Tom Palmer (Brunner and Ditko in his prime might also have been able to do it). Although Colan’s penciling had become a bit weaker as the Twilight Years progressed, the artist could still capture the feel of the otherworldly powers loosed in Strange’s adventures like nobody else and, strengthened by Palmer’s finishes that included delicate cross hatching, vibrant black masses, restrained zip-atone effects, atmospheric shadows, and an experienced use of color, perfectly captured the ethereal intent of the crazy script. It was a heckuva ride, but like many of the strips that had filled the Twilight Years with wonder and delight, the Dr. Strange book would soon fall by the wayside. Englehart and Palmer would leave the strip in another few issues and though Colan continued to struggle on without them, the heart had gone out of his work. Just as it seemed to from much of the rest of Marvel’s line-up as the company creeped slowly but surely into creative senescence.

1976

Part IV:

1976-1979

s the Twilight Years drew to a close, Marvel became less a trendsetter than a follower of the latest fad. Income from corporate product and movie tie-ins formed an increasing part of the bottom line, even as the company’s own creative energies began to run dry. Ultimately, even Kirby himself became a casualty of the new reality.

Captain America #193

It had only been six years, but to longtime Marvel fans it felt more like twenty. “King Kirby is back!” screamed the blurb on the cover of Captain America #193 (Jan. 1976) and indeed the legendary Jack Kirby who, in partnership with Stan Lee, had helped lay the foundations of Marvel’s Silver Age triumph, had returned to the company with an immense store of goodwill among its readers. Unfortunately, what he had in mind for his return to Marvel would prove to be a disappointment to fans who expected him to pick up where he’d left off in 1970: perhaps taking over on such classic characters as Thor and the Fantastic Four while working within the continuity he himself had helped to build. It was not to be. The personal factors that had driven Kirby from Marvel six years before were still operable and in agreeing to come back, the artist made clear that he would be his own man as he wanted to be at DC. He would write and draw his own features and outside of Captain America and the Black Panther, would concentrate on new concepts such as the Eternals. In addition, Kirby would eschew collaboration with inkers such as Joe Sinnott and Vince Colletta who had made his art so memorable at the height of his success during the Grandiose Years. His determination to separate his new work from the general run of the Marvel Universe became immediately apparent on the Black Panther, a strip that for the past several years had been written by Don McGregor in a complex, layered style

“The Madbomb Screamer In The Brain!”; Jack Kirby (script & pencils), Frank Giacoia & Mike Esposito (inks)

Captain America #193: The initial excitement over Kirby’s return to Marvel was quickly dampened when it became apparent that not only would the king ignore ongoing continuity in his various books, but that he would also be doing his own scripting.

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that addressed many of the social issues of the day. To have Kirby take over the book and without a single reference to what McGregor had been doing only weeks before, throw the Panther into a simplistic, even goofy tale of straight super-hero action was jarring to say the least. Similarly, when Kirby took over the Cap strip this issue, what resulted had nothing to do with the evolution the character had undergone under the hand of writer Steve Englehart. In a single swoop, Kirby returned Cap to an era reminiscent of the Silver Age with a Madbomb plot resembling that of Inferno 42 in Tales of Suspense #76 or the seismo bomb in Cap #105. And as if the events that shook our hero’s faith in the establishment had never happened, he allows himself to be recruited by “big wig” Henry Kissinger: “If that’s who I think it is, we should get some straight answers!” declares Cap. “Hah!” replies the secretary. “You dreamer you! The test isn’t over yet: we’ll have our chat…if you survive this final hurdle!” The combination of Kirby’s decision to ignore continuity and the wider Marvel Universe, as well as scripting his own work, soon disappointed fans who had wanted so much to have his return to Marvel be a triumphant one. Instead, Kirby appeared to be a stranger displaying few signs of knowing what it was that made the company’s books tick. In fact, in this issue’s letters page, the rumblings had already begun with one fan openly expressing “regret” to see that Kirby would be scripting his own stories. Plainly, some fans had learned their lesson after following Kirby to DC hoping to enjoy the kind of stories that they had become used to when the artist was at Marvel. There, inker Vince Colletta succeeded in making the first issues of New Gods and other “Fourth World” titles look as sharp as Kirby’s later Marvel work, but he was soon forced off the books (for cutting corners and not inking everything the artist drew). Some fans who had given Kirby the benefit of the doubt, left with him. Then there was Kirby’s scripting with its quirky eccentricities and meandering, undisciplined plotting that succeeded in driving away the rest. So when the artist returned to Marvel, it was with a mix of hope and reservations on the part of fans but as the months passed, and Kirby stubbornly refused to bring his stories into the 1970s or to allow anyone else to script them, resistance began to mount against him both among older fans and in Marvel’s editorial offices. The problem was that, like Captain America, his own creation, Kirby had become an anachronism. The revolution in comics he helped to launch in 1961 had moved on without him. When Kirby had left Marvel in 1970 it was as if he’d taken himself out of the time stream or put himself into suspended animation. In his own pocket universe, 220

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away from New York, he was cut off from the latest developments in comics, especially Marvel comics and as a result, he’d failed to keep up. Slowly, while acknowledging his greatness and the debt the comics industry owed to him, fans nevertheless grew to disdain his work. As happened at DC, Kirby’s major new concept, the Eternals, would lose focus, founder, and be cancelled. After that, Kirby seemed to lose interest, letting go of such mainstream titles as Captain America and Black Panther and instead doing covers and picking up the oddball assignment like Machine Man and the frankly head scratching Devil Dinosaur. A last fling with former partner Stan Lee on a Silver Surfer graphic novel was equally disappointing, paving the way for Kirby’s final departure from Marvel. But by then, hardly anyone noticed.

New Gods #3: Inked by Vince Colletta, Kirby’s first few issues of such Fourth World books as New Gods at least had the sheen of a Marvel product, but the artist’s eccentric scripting and meandering plots would not be enough to hold most readers after Colletta was forced off the books.

1976

Astonishing Tales #33

“Reflections In a Crimson Eye!”; Bill Mantlo (script), Rich Buckler (co-plot & pencils), Klaus Janson (inks)

Wow! If only every installment of the “Deathlok” strip could’ve looked like this! It was late in the Twilight Years and the leadership at Marvel had become uncertain if not stormy. Editors came and went, deadlines were missed, and reprints and fill-ins peppered the line-up. Momentum at the company that had begun in earlier phases was slowing down and soon, many of the artists and writers that had managed to keep things going so far would begin to jump ship for rival DC. But there was still some life left at Marvel, still features that held promise, still creators with good intentions even if they sometimes failed to completely realize them. One of those features that still had promise and still managed to deliver on them at least on an uneven basis, was Deathlok (the Demolisher). Begun in Astonishing #25, the feature had suffered many ups and downs as creator Rich Buckler was able to put more or less time into it. Some issues had great art and moved the diverse elements of the ongoing plot forward while others suffered from pressing deadlines, too many hands trying to help finish late artwork, or revolving writers. But the weird thing about the strip is that every few issues, it would deliver a great installment where art and script came together. Astonishing Tales #33 (Jan. 1976) was that kind of issue. Sure, it had Buckler on full pencils and firing on all burners layout-wise, scripter Bill Mantlo doing the first person/computer interior dialogue bit in top notch form, and a book-length story without a reprint or hastily produced short subject to fill out unfinished pages, but the standout element that really puts this issue in the spotlight is the inking by newcomer Klaus Janson. Destined to become Marvel’s most impressive and innovative inker since Tom Palmer, Janson hit the reader where he lived with a relatively sedate opening splash page of Deathlok in New York’s subways before ratcheting things up a bit on page 2 where he impresses with a near full-page shot of Deathlok as he walks into a puddle with his blood red image reflected in the purplish water. As if having set up the reader for a visual one/two punch, Janson knocks ‘em dead on page 3 with a killer full-page portrait of the cyborg in all his scarred, decomposing glory! The rest of the issue was only slightly less impressive as Janson enhances Buckler’s unconventional layouts turning ordinary scenes into things of striking beauty. The

final panels on pages 7 and 30 for instance, the first showing the legs of a simple radio tower against a distant cityscape and a sky colored in sunset hues and the second another close up of Deathlok, are just plain eye candy! Where did this guy come from? From Connecticut actually, by way of Germany. Janson broke into comics as an assistant to artist and sometime DC editor Dick Giordano before moving quickly over to Marvel. There, he bounced around on different strips, enhancing the art of anyone he worked over. Unlike most other inkers, Janson, like Tom Palmer, was never afraid to put a lot of himself into his work. Thus, books inked by him usually looked darker than they otherwise would have under someone else. But where Palmer’s work was smooth and flowing, Janson’s was harder edged, giving his human figures a blockier feel. Extensive use of crosshatching on close ups and fine line detailing on backgrounds created a 3-D effect and an overall darker atmosphere to whatever strip he worked on. In the years beyond those of the Twilight Years, this quality would enhance the work of such artists as Gil Kane and Frank Miller when they drew the Daredevil strip. Unfortunately, Janson was only assigned to the “Deathlok” strip late in its run, but the couple examples that remain to us are choice; working over an artist at the top of his form, they have to be some of the best, if not the best, work the inker has ever done!

Klaus Janson’s inks put a dark, threedimensional edge to Rich Buckler’s art on Deathlok but it would not be until late in the decade when his work over Frank Miller’s pencils on Daredevil that his would become a household name.

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