James Warren: Creepy, Eerie & his "Empire of Monsters"

"Life with Warren was never boring."

The story of James Warren Taubman, who we know as James Warren, is the subject of a great new book by Bill Schelly entitled, “Empire of Monsters.” Bill has written several interesting biographies including those of Joe Kubert, Harvey Kurtzman, John Stanley and Otto Binder. This is no exception, it is a book I did not want to put down.

What makes this book important and compelling is that it is of a publisher, not an artist or a writer. Publishers do not jump out of bed in the morning and say: “What great comic can I produce today?” They say: “How can I make more money?" As a publisher, Warren—like Eisner and Simon & Kirby before him— had to deal with distributors, editors, artists, and retailers in ways creative people don’t. His dealings with these people would determine his success or failure in the selling of his magazines. Warren did have some artistic talent and always felt that creativity was in his blood. So Schelly’s book is about the business of comics as well as the art.  

What made Warren want to publish comics in an era where more than 30 publishers had failed in the last decade? What made him choose genres previously vilified by parents and even Congress?


Roy Thomas: I became a buyer of the Warren mags with FAMOUS MONSTERS OF FILMLAND #1 in 1958, which I bought uptown over my lunch hour and took to my senior English class... to the dismay of my teacher.  I was her top student, and she let it be known that she was disappointed me dragging around this magazine with a picture of a man in a Frankenstein mask and a--well, I don't know how she described the woman on the cover.  I made sure I kept it under my desk through the whole class, so it wouldn't get confiscated.

Bill Schelly writes: “He was more than merely the man who gave Gloria Steinem her first job in publishing, who put early work by Diane Arbus into print and who gave Robert Crumb’s cartoons their first national exposure. He had creative abilities of his own, as an art director, cartoonist and designer, as well as the capacity to understand what fans of comics and cinema wanted to read. He was also a highly controversial figure: a bombastic, self-confessed provocateur loved by some and hated by others.”

Many of the stories of comic book creators start in the same place, as they do here—Jewish immigrants coming to America. Jim Taubman was the only son of Jewish immigrants who settled in Philadelphia.

Jim Warren Taubman attended the University of Pennsylvania, where he joined the ROTC which paid for most of his tuition.  When he returned home from college he faced the tragedy so many comic fans have endured: his mother had thrown away his comic book collection, which included the early issues of Action Comics, Captain America, The Human Torch and others from the World War II era.

“The man who wanted to be Hugh Hefner”

Let’s jump to the publishing side. While Warren published many titles and one shots, let’s begin with his first successful title.

After working for a while in advertising with his uncle, Warren sets up his own advertising company.  A compelling aspect of Warren’s life, as presented here by Schelly, is the influence that Hugh Hefner, creator and publisher of Playboy magazine, had on him.  Warren was inspired by the process in which Playboy was published as well as its content and the talent used to create it.  Hefner’s reputation, celebrity status and lifestyle was something Warren wanted and tried to emulate throughout his own career.  It is a bit weird, but always fascinating.  Playboy, in the mid-1950s, saw its circulation grow to over one million copies a month (making Hefner a millionaire) and Warren wanted to catch that wave. So in 1956, with his friend, Daniel D. Goldberg, he put together “an inexpensive replica of Playboy.” It would be called After Hours.

It didn’t last long, but the importance of that publication was that Warren met Forrest J Ackerman After seeing Frankenstein on Shock TV on WOR-TV (Channel 9) in New York, Warren wanted to do a magazine of Horror. At the same time, children across America discovered and were delighted by the Frankenstein monster, Dracula, and the Wolfman. This fascination came about because of a package deal between Universal Pictures and television stations.  When kids could see movies on the small screen that otherwise hadn't been available to view in their lifetimes, it created a renewed interest in movie monsters.  Like magazine publishers before him, Warren strove to capitalize on it.

Forry had a collection of some 30,000 stills from horror, fantasy and SF films, which he’d been amassing since 1929. Warren pitched the idea of a magazine devoted to monsters and horror. Forry agreed to provide the pictures and write the text for that magazine. Thus begins the saga of Famous Monsters of Filmland.

Back cover to Famous Monsters #20

 

Famous Monsters #20

Schelly explains the business end, that is, what Warren had to do to get the book not just printed but distributed. The nature of distribution and Warren’s relation to the distributor is life and death for any publication of that era. But so is the publisher’s relationship with his editors and contributors. Warren offered Ackerman $400 ($200 to start the job, and $200 upon completion), a new electric typewriter, and one hundred copies of the issue. Famous Monsters of Filmland went on sale February 27, 1958. It is a fascinating tale of how the magazine was published, with many twists and turns I did not know or expect. Famous Monsters originally sold less than half of the 200,000 comics printed. I was not a fan of Famous Monsters, although my brother was. It was too full of puns and prose meant for 12 year olds. While I grew up, the magazine didn’t, it was still for 12 year olds. But it did turn out to be a hit. Other Warren publications that quickly failed.

Forry Ackerman,was an editor for Ace Books at the same time he edited FM and had been a literary agent for dozens of science fiction authors. He knew this was a business, which he made clear in the magazine. “What I never seem to be able to put across to you and any number of readers like you is that the publisher dictates the policy of the magazine and I, as editor, only follow orders. Mr. Warren wants a funny, punny juvenile pair of monster magazines (including Screen Thrills Illustrated) because his experience has convinced him that that is what the majority of his readers want to buy. I, personally, would infinitely prefer to write on a high literary level for readers with college degrees but Spacemen magazine was our experiment in an imagi-movie publication of higher quality and it was a miserable financial flop. Mr. Warren scarcely needs emphasize that [FM] is a publishing success unapproached by a million miles by anyone else in the world.”

Ackerman felt the huge pressure from Warren when the sales began to slip, perhaps, Schelly suggests, leading to Ackerman’s heart attacks. Ackerman wrote, “In August I got a real snide snooty snotty letter from someone signing themselves Secretary to Jeff Rovin [consulting editor of FM of late] informing me that Jim Warren had offered Jeff Rovin editorship of FM and that I was soon to be reduced to Editor Emeritus. I feel abused; hypocritically, disrespectfully and cavalierly treated; so I quit before I was ousted”

There were ups and downs for Famous Monsters, but the run ended in 1983, with Ackerman saying: “For twenty years we shared all kinds of confidences, the lush times and the lean, but in the past five years he’s become remote and an enigma... On my sixtieth birthday [November 24, 1976] he was out in Los Angeles telling a couple hundred people what a great guy the Vice-President of the Warren Publications (me) was, how I was his ‘oldest and most valued employee,’ how he was going to put me in a brand-new Cadillac for my birthday, etc. He couldn’t say enough nice things about me. Five years later—after about four years of silence—I didn’t even get a card for my sixty-fifth. To this day, I don’t hate Jim Warren—I’m baffled by him, I’m hurt, but I’m not mad at him.”

Warren was the first publisher to believe in a black-and-white magazine of comics. A running theme throughout Warren’s publishing career is that he emulated and copied the EC style of comics and genres.  Archie Goodwin thought “the initial reaction to Creepy was good enough that Warren and Russ Jones . . . began looking around immediately for other EC style material that they might do in the same kind of black-and-white comic book format." EC, of course, had horror and monsters and so did Warren. EC had great war comics, and Warren was to publish Blazing Combat, which only last four issues. But Warren got angry when he was copied.  An example of that was Castle of Frankenstein, obviously inspired by Famous Monsters, but with a more adult feel to it. And Ivie included in- depth articles in other areas of popular culture such as comic books. This appealed to an older audience than Famous Monsters.

But that didn’t stop him from trying to copy Mad magazine with Harvey Kurtzman in a humor mag named Help!:  Warren gave Kurtzman 50 percent of the voting stock, which meant, in effect, he had editorial control.”  Another agreement was created to establish Kurtzman’s ownership of anything he wrote or drew for the magazine.

Warren was a creative person himself. Even Kurtzman acknowledged this. (“Warren’s got a good graphic mind. He’s got visual talent.”) And this was unusual, as Warren has said: “I talk with publishers who have never drawn a panel in their life and never written a script in their life. And I think I’m better than they are."

Harvey hired Gloria Steinem as his assistant in 1959, who was then twenty-six years old. The future feminist recalled, “I was Harvey’s first assistant on Help! magazine. I don’t think I had ever read Mad. I was probably the least likely person to be his assistant.” Kurtzman also hired Terry Gilliam, who would later be one sixth of Monty Python’s Flying Circus.Help! continued with contributions by Gilbert Shelton and R. Crumb, who found fame as underground comic artists.  Heck, they had to start somewhere. Help! lasted 26 issues, ending in 1965.

If you were not around in 1966 it would take another blog to demonstrate how popular the Beatles, James Bond and Batman were in the media. They were everywhere. Media was more limited then, although we did not think so, but one or the others seemed to be on every magazine cover or variety TV show. Warren was not one to miss the boat.  He released a one shot On The Scene: Superheroes featuring stories about Batman, Superman, The Phantom, Captain Marvel and Captain America. These were stories primarily about the 1940s serials, which were virtually unseen in that era before VHS, cable and DVDS. Everyone I knew interested in comics not only bought this, but still have it to this day!

“Not only did he keep the world at arm’s length, building a wall around his personal life and inner self, but he promoted an image that was more mythmaking than revealing. Barton Banks, his longtime friend, said, “Half of everything Jim Warren says is absolutely true.””

Roy Thomas: When CREEPY #1 came along, I bought it... but said (and I believe wrote, in AE) unkind things about the writing.  The artwork, of course, was in many cases superb.  I bought a few issues of CREEPY, EERIE, and even VAMPIRELLA from time to time, but never became a devotee.  I realized that Archie Goodwin had brought better writing to the magazines for a time, and I recall a few particular stories that impressed me, including one early sword-and-sorcery story drawn by Steve Ditko.  However, by the time I got into the business, they were just barely on my radar at all.

The creation of Creepy magazine demonstrates the lack of straight forwardness for Warren.  He promised the job of editor to Larry Ivie, in writing, and then rudely ignored him when he was wooed by artist Russ Jones. Although Warren even paid Ivie for his work, Warren would deny that Ivie was asked to be editor. In reading the details, it was just a sleazy way to treat someone. Ivie: “There wouldn’t have been a Creepy without what I gave to Warren.”

Schelly provides some wonderful, enjoyable stories of Frank Frazetta, Alex Toth,  Neal Adams, Richard Corben, Jack Davis, Steve Ditko, Will Elder, Carmine Infantino, Gil Kane, Al Williamson, Bernie Wrightson, Maurice Whitman, Angelo Torres, Roy Krenkel, Archie Goodwin, Gene Colan, John Severin, and many others.

Steve Ditko at Warren (Creepy and Eerie)

I have always wondered about how artists drew the black and white comics versus the color ones. Schelly gives great insight on how this was done.  For example, Steve Ditko (after he’d quit Marvel) submitted artwork for a story titled“The Spirit of the Thing!” in Creepy #9. It was the first of his painted stories. when Ditko saw it in print, he adjusted his painting technique and stayed away from the darker tones. His wash tones improved with each story until he had completely mastered the technique. Again, it was the freedom at Warren that allowed Ditko to try something new, and the results were stellar. He didn’t entirely eschew straight pen and ink. “Collector’s Edition!” in Creepy #10 is probably his ultimate effort. It wasn’t just Ditko.  Will Eisner worked with Warren on reprints of The Spirit and seeing his work in black and white, Eisner made adjustments to his original artwork. Below is an example.

Bernie Wrightson

Bernie Wrightson needed $300 to keep his phone service.. He went to Warren and asked for an advance. Warren said "No. I do not pay artists in advance. And here’s why… I give you this money in advance, you could walk out of the office, cross the street and get hit by a truck….I’m out my money...However, I will give you a personal loan." Then, months later, Wrightson needed more money. He asked Warren for a personal loan to cover things. Warren said, "No. I do not give artists personal loans…‘But what I can do, is give you an advance on the job you’re doing for me.”

Warren promised the rates of $35 a page, same as Dell and Gold Key, but less than Marvel and DC for the art and $10 for the writing. He also provided credits, which only Marvel was doing at the time.

Frazetta would say, “He was a fun guy, but also full of crap. He’s a great guy, very amiable, a lot of fun. He’s a cocky little guy and he bullshits you a lot, but if you know him you can handle him, no problem. He was funny. He had this routine: ‘We’re a team, blah blah blah…’ I’d say, ‘Jim, cut the horseshit, will you? I’ll do the work because I love working in a larger format, and because you stay off my back.”

By and large, it seems, the black and white magazines gave artists the freedom to experiment that wouldn't have been allowed or appreciated in the color comic books. He lost Frazetta as his cover artist “Others were paying me $1,000 and $10,000 for commissioned work, so how the hell could I work for Warren? It’s very difficult.”

The ads were very important to Warren. Schelly explains that he set up his own company to sell many of these products. Fabulous Flo Steinberg was enlisted to help fulfill the orders

Warren did not feel he had to appeal to his fans.  At a convention in 1965, he provoked outrage from his own readers by proclaiming: “What good is fandom to publishing?’ . . . At the risk of being attacked, I don’t think fandom means one damn when it comes to publishing…“What kind of influence do you have for the publishers? None! Don’t let any publisher ever tell you [that] you influence him. You don’t. Stop shaking your head.” He admitted that he had let Forrest Ackerman be guided by reader requests for a “personality publication” in 1963, and how sales had dropped as a result. “Most fans have absolutely no conception of the economies of publishing. When it all comes down to it, the help and the contributions that you make to publishing can be put into Mickey Mouse’s watch pocket.” He added, “Fans, I can do without, economically. Readers, I can’t.”

Creepy’s success, in 1965, led to a second horror title, Eerie. It was essentially the same magazine, using the same writers and artists. As if it was a “B” movie Schelly describes the race where Warren beats Myron Fass to copyrighting the name Eerie in 1965. Eerie was originally the name of a famous 1940-50s horror comic published by Avon. Fass loved to recycle discarded titles for his brief foray into comics, even publishing an astonishingly bad series named Captain Marvel in 1966.

An original Eerie cover and splash by Wally Wood from the 1940s

Eerie #60

At the same time, Blazing Combat was introduced and Schelly tells great stories about its creation and the tales it told. Sadly, too, as Schelly explains, it was considered “anti-war” at the time of the Vietnam war and the magazine was sabotaged from the beginning.

It wasn’t all good things. I enjoyed the first 20 issues of Creepy and I now know that it was probably due to Archie Goodwin being a story editor (for the first three magazines) and then editor until issue #16.  Russ Jones was fired after issue #3.  Internally, Schelly explains, people were not getting paid on time or at all. Goodwin resigned with issue #16 and readers noticed the difference in the publication. Readers who habitually picked up the company’s magazines had no idea of the behind-the-scenes problems. All they could see was that Archie Goodwin was gone and the magazines were filled with reprints and substandard art.

Vamprella is launched in 1969.  Schelly tells about the deep publishing history, but the costume, which could never stay on in the real world, has its own origin.

Warren didn’t like Frazetta’s initial costume design. One day, aspiring cartoonist Trina Robbins was showing the publisher her latest work, when she became involved in the process. “I was sitting in Warren’s office. Frazetta called to discuss a sketch of Vampirella that he’d sent to Jim. Warren said it wasn’t right. Frank had drawn her wearing, more or less, a basic bikini, but Jim had something else in mind. It became clear that Frank wasn’t getting the idea as Jim tried to describe it, so Jim turned to me and described the costume, the way the top was open in front and attached to a collar, the boots and so on. I drew it as he was talking. ‘That’s it!’ he said, pointing to my sketch. ‘Now describe it exactly to Frank,’ he said, handing me the phone.”

Let us cut through some of the baloney (that’s the polite word) about publishers and businessmen, something Warren was generally more honest and blunt about.  Good businessmen study and learn the marketplace they are entering.  Warren: “Warren Publishing has a reputation of sorts for hating its competition. That’s true. We do. Does Hertz like Avis? Does Crest like Colgate? Of course not!” He recounted how Stan Lee told him he thought there was room on the newsstands “for all of us.”

“I hate Marvel,” Warren says.

“He despises me,” acknowledged Stan Lee.  “If I had any sense I’d hire a bodyguard.”  “We never pay much attention to the other companies… “We just go ahead and do our thing.”  This is baloney.  Martin Goodman, in the 1940s and 1950s, was never an innovator and Marvel always saw what the competition was doing and then emulated them with a flood of titles.  In 1961, when Goodman discovered that the Justice League of America was a big seller, he told Lee to start a line of super-hero comics, beginning with the Fantastic Four.” Coming up through the ranks I know that most fans think of Lee as just a writer, but as editor and then publisher, Lee was also a hardnosed business man who knew the marketplace and his competition. He could not succeed any other way. His choices were not random, but thought out. “I think (Warren’s) a nut, the way he carries on because we’re putting out these books, but we never pay much attention to the competition.”

Yet, in a 1960s Bullpen Bulletin, Lee says he is sick of the competition when they try to emulate Marvel.  He had had enough. But, now, a decade later, it was okay for him to imitate the competition and at the same time denying he was looking at their magazines.  At this time, Warren was successful and Skywald, led by former Marvel production manager, Sol Brodsky was apparently successful in a series of black and white magazines that featured horror, suspense, and even super–heroes.

When the editor of Eerie J. R. Cochran saw a freelancer’s work in Skywald’s Psycho #6 he wrote to him and said, “We do not accept work by writers who work for the competition. We expect our writers to share a common loyalty with us in putting out the best black-and-white comics around! If they choose to work for our competition, we cannot use them.”

Tom Sutton said: “I remember the loyalty oath. I couldn’t stop laughing for two days. I just trashed it. I never paid any attention to it… But it was so crazy that you couldn’t really get angry with him.”

When Warren sent many scripts back to Doug Moench for no other reason that there were too many of them, Doug wrote, “I sent them to Skywald. A lot of times they had stuff that was just as good, or maybe even better than some of that Creepy and Eerie stuff.  And then Jim Warren flipped out. I was supposed to be loyal and, you know, how dare I be a traitor and sell to the competition…Eventually I was writing so many that I was sending some not just to Skywald, but also to House of Mystery and House of Secrets at DC."

Castle of Frankenstein was direct competition for Famous Monsters. But the approach here was much more adult.

Skywald Magazines 

Butterfly was the first female African American Super-Hero

Marvel quickly released a great deal of black and white magazines in the mid 1970s. They were of several genres, horror, suspense, super-hero, action and humor. The ones that strongly competed with Warren, Dracula Lives, Vampire Tales, Tales of the Zombie and several others, quickly failed, not going past 12 issues. The adventure series, Conan, Planet of the Apes, Master of Kung Fu and the humor magazine Crazy lasted much longer and were successful.  Warren publishing did not seem to be hurt by these magazines. Marvel did put Skywald out of business, the competition was too much for a new company to withstand.

Roy Thomas: Over the years, I enjoyed a somewhat tempestuous relationship with Jim Warren, for whom I never worked in any capacity.  I was part of a group he took out to dinner a time or two--I remember one grouping, which also included Steranko, that he took to a high-tone Brazilian restaurant. But things deteriorated a bit when Marvel got into the black-&-white comics field, since I was heard that he believed Stan had promised him years earlier, when Jim had sponsored him for membership in some club (the Friars?), that Marvel would never enter that field.  I've no idea what actually transpired between Stan and Jim--Stan never mentioned that arrangement--but of course Stan was pushing by the late '60s for Marvel to get into that field, as witness the first SPECTACULAR SPIDER-MAN and then SAVAGE TALES #1.  Once Stan became publisher, the gloves were off and suddenly we had several such mags in the works virtually overnight. Jim apparently made it difficult for people to work for both him and Marvel.  In a spirit of mischief, at that time I sent him a note which was a sort of parody of a memo from him cautioning artists not to work for Marvel if they wanted work from Warren... I closed it with the tagline "Don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me."  Jim's reaction, if any, I do not know.

Marvel's Magazines

Sales of the Warren magazines dropped precipitously across the board in the 1980s. The print runs were at an all-time low, and returns increased dramatically. While one can attribute some of the decline to the magazines’ lack of freshness and the tastes of the public moving on, one can’t help but notice that Curtis Publications had discontinued nearly all of the many Marvel black-and-white magazines by 1981. There were forces beyond the quality of the magazines themselves. Clearly, the rapid decline in newsstand distribution was dragging them down.  In December 1982, the last five Warren magazines were published. They were Vampirella #112, Eerie #139, Creepy #145, 1994 #29 and Famous Monsters #191.

Roy Thomas: ...for the most part, I got a kick out of Jim and enjoyed his company, even if he came on a bit strong. I was happy to see  him in the field and surviving as other b&w imitators fell by the wayside, because he had made a major investment of time and money in the field.  FAMOUS MONSTERS was an important magazine... if you don't believe me, ask guys like Lucas and Spielberg, et al.  And CREEPY kept alive the flame, at least, of the kind of thing that EC had been during the 1950s.  We keep in touch nowadays, exchanging Christmas cards and the like.  I wish him well... and if he isn't in the Eisner Hall of Fame, he deserves to be.

The ending comes not with a bang but with a lot of lawsuits about who owns what and who cheated whom.  Schelly explains it clearly and removes much of the confusion.  The crumbling of his operation, ending in the firm’s filing for bankruptcy in 1983, is a saga in itself, capped by Warren’s Houdini-like vanishing act from public view.

Archie Goodwin who, writing in 1981, summs up Warren’s legacy: “Warren was the first new publisher to seriously enter the field since the ’50s and the only one among a number who would follow to succeed. The Warren comics never seriously challenged larger companies such as Marvel and DC in sales, but they very successfully created their own special niche in the market and in comics history, providing an alternative to the mainstream emphasis on superheroes and a showcase for promising new talent as well as some of the greatest names in both the US and Europe.” One way of summarizing the quality of the Warren magazines is that they contained the work of more than thirty writers and artists who have been voted into the Will Eisner Comic Book Hall of Fame, work that in many cases demonstrated that comics could appeal to older readers, and to those not interested in super heroes. Some of them got their start or gained early exposure in the pages of Creepy, Eerie and Vampirella. Some, certain employees and freelancers among them, will always look upon Warren in a negative light. Others, particularly those who got close to him, think of him in the warmest of terms. In the long run, the task he assumed was largely a thankless one, because it involved standing behind the scenes and letting the people who wrote and drew the magazines shine. They were the stars, and he was the man who presented their work. Or, to use his words, “Guys like me create work for guys like them.”

 “Why did you decide to write about James Warren?”  

   After reading this book, that was the question I asked Bill Schelly.  Here is his answer!

I’ve gotten asked that question a lot recently.  The answer goes back to the reasons I decide to write any biography, whether it’s Harvey Kurtzman or John Stanley or Jim Warren.  It has to be about someone who I am interested in, and who is an interesting person.  I was a fan of Famous Monsters of Filmland when I was around 11 or 12, and when I was 13 when I became a fan of Creepy.  I loved those first three years that were edited by Archie Goodwin, of both Creepy and Eerie.  And, while I wasn’t a fan of war comics at that age, I did admire the art in Blazing Combat.  All were published by Warren, and all were intelligent and high quality publications. (Well, maybe I wouldn’t say Famous Monsters was “intelligent”….)  By the time I met Jim Warren in person, at the 1973 New York Comic Art convention, he had acquired the reputation of being an eccentric guy, a confrontational guy – and a provocateur.  But Jim was very, very nice to me.  I told him I was looking for work in New York City, and he gave me his card and said he was looking for someone to work in his production department. “Call my editor Bill DuBay,” he said.  So I did, and while the job never materialized, I came away with a positive impression of Warren.  When I got back into fandom in 1990 after a dozen years away, and began writing biographies of comics people, I thought of Warren because of all that he had achieved, surviving for 25 years in an industry dominated by DC and Marvel – when just about all the other publishers fell away.  I began wondering “How did he do it?” and “What happened to him after his company went out of business?”  I became intensely curious about the guy.  Jon B. Cooke’s interview with him in the Warren Companion is superb, but it left a lot of questions unanswered. Gradually I decided that Jim would be the right subject for a real biography.

I hope this blog will encourage you to read the full story, in Bill Schelly’s Empire of Monsters. Let me know what you think of the book in the blog comments.

The hardcover collection of Creepy, Eerie, Blazing Combat and Vampirella are now available.

A big shout out to Carl Thiel who helped me with this article!!!! It is great to discuss these blogs with someone while you are putting them together.

Stan Lee: 1922-2018: There Are No Words....

Creem of the Crop: Three Marvel articles from the 1970s

A long, long time ago, in a childhood far, far away, it was not at all common to see magazine articles seriously discussing comic books.  The Batman TV show got a great deal of attention, but little of that was about the actual comics.

Here are three articles, the first from Creem Magazine, April 1973, the People Magazine January 1979, and then a TV Guide from Sept 2, 1978

After the images of the Creem and People's articles. to make it easier to read, I typeset the entire article.  In the Creem they made a few mistakes and I corrected some spelling, and put in parentheses some out of place sentences.  

The Marvel Age of Comics has its beginnings with Timely Publications whose Publisher, Martin Goodman, brought out the first Timely comic magazine, Marvel Comics, in 1939. This first issue introduced two of the great heroes of all time, The Human Torch and the Sub-Mariner. The Human Torch was a lousy android, but his tradition lives on in Johnny Storm, member of Marvel's Fantastic-Four, who came by his powers legitimately, in a freak rocket accident. That very same Sub-Mariner is still with us, drawn by his creator, Bill Everett.

In 1940, Timely summoned forth Captain America to do battle with the Hun. The Captain was the work of Joe Simon and Jack Kirby; Simon had assisted in the construction of Super­man, and Kirby has left his mark on just about every stage of modern comic activity.

Captain America and his sidekick Bucky battled the Nazis with ferocity and cunning all through the war, but when peace came, they were left a little out to lunch. Rolling with the punches, as was the rest of post-war America, Timely changed its name to Atlas and Goodman hired a writer and editor named Stan Lee.

Many of Lee's science fiction epics for the middle and late fifties show the humanistic traits he was later to apply to the Marvel Age heroes. Artists such as Don Heck and Steve Ditko illustrated Lee's morality plays about cruel inter­galactic governors and their confronta­tions with egalitarian space rebels. The style and tone was there; the wise­cracking hero, the sledge-hammer use of irony, but they had not yet found the perfect characters.

Then, in 1961, Stan Lee brought out two titles using Jack Kirby's art: Amazing Adventures and The Fantastic Four. The Marvel Age was born in a spectacular space accident that left its four passengers, John and Sue Storm, Reed Richards, and Ben Grimm, mutated into super-heroes. Lee's forte has always been establishing strong char­acters through dialogue. On the comic page, no line can seem too outrageous or clichéd. Somehow, the very medium precludes dramatic excess and a sen­tence that would seem offensively melo­dramatic on stage is reduced through the magic of comic art to a forceful, natural statement on the comic book page. So Stan Lee's hopelessly dated dialogue and plot ideas meshed with the Fantastic Four and the formula was finalized.

The thing that Marvel has always had going for it, and the others have not, is this outrageousness of character. Most comic book heroes, until very recently, were pretty bland, one-dimensional people. Along came Ben "The Thing" Grimm bellowing, "It's clobberin' time!" followed by the solicitous, square, stern father figure Reed "Mr. Fantastic" Richards with a word of caution, and both followed by the hot headed Johnny "Torch" Storm . . . who could resist?

Marvel has recently moved into new offices on Madison Avenue. The floor they occupy was not quite finished when I visited, and Marvel had the only office which looked habitable. The waiting room was frigid modern, pastel plush furniture and not a hint of the I comic book source. ,The home ofl Spiderman, Thor and the Fantastic Four might just as well have been the re­ception room of an accounting firm. But once you pass beyond the secre­tary's pillbox and into the offices and halls beyond, the walls come alive with the icons of the new age. There are comics everywhere; pasted to the walls and on the bookshelves. Every room has a commercial magazine stand stuffed with the latest from Marvel, National, Gold Key, Archie and even . . . yech! . . . Charlton. They read undergrounds, too.

In a couple of large drafting rooms, the staff artists, Herb Trimpe (The Hulk), Marie Severin (King Kull), and John Romita (Spiderman) labor away. The rest of Marvel's considerable pro­duction is handled free-lance. Great artists such as Gene Colan (Daredevil), contributors for years, work on a free­lance basis.

(with fine artists taken off important strips so they can fill in elsewhere on a?)

Marvel is in the business of producing 46 titles a month, come blackout or postal breakdown. Mighty Marvel has much in common with the Ford Motors plant for, in Stan Lee's own words, "We are a production line. We are committed to so many titles . . . I think we have a total of 69 now . . . and we have to get those out. Now if someone gets sick, suppose Herb Trimpe gets sick and can't do the Hulk. Then we have to pull someone off something else. We take Bill Everett off Sub-Mariner and have him do Hulk, but then we have to get someone to do Sub-Mariner which means we have to pull him off some­thing else. It's like the domino theory. If someone falls behind, we fall behind all over."

The theory of production line does not sit well with theories of art. The clashes Marvel feels have been many, better-selling, but esthetically less suc­cessful character. A recent, glaring ex­ample of the production line drawbacks has been in the shoddy coloring and inking of certain issues of Conan the Barbarian, Marvel's artistic star of late.

Barry Smith's illustrations for Conan have been without peer and Dan Adkins' inking has been mostly up to the challenge; but in issue No.19, the latter half of the comic wasn't inked at all because of "truly fearsome" deadline problems. Without Adkins' crisp, sensi­tive inking, Smith's pencils are almost indiscernible, resulting in a mushy, ink-splotch scenario. Adkins was needed elsewhere and Conan had to suffer.

Conan, the most detailed comic Marvel (or anyone) has ever produced, winner of SHAZAM and ACBA awards, is indicative of all that is good in contemporary straight comics and much that is bad. In Marvel Editor Roy Thomas, it has a writer who understands and appreciates Robert E. Howard's prose. Thomas' exquisite adaptations and consistently imaginative character­izations represent intelligent literary communication through comics. And 23-year old Smith, easily the most immaculate craftsman presently work­ing for Marvel, is also devoted to the character and has helped to plot most of the episodes. Marvel policy is that the artist decides how best to lay out the story.

When all the penciling is done, the writer supplies the dialogue which is inked in by the letterer. Then the rest of the art is inked in. The complicated lay-outs can prove mighty discouraging to uninitiated readers, so editors tend to discourage tricky lay-out artists. And a remarkable title like Neal Adams' Dead-man withers and dies for lack of sales.

Marvel took many chances with Conan, primarily in the way the ma­terial was adopted. Gone was the Wap! Pow! of the bread and butter comics stuff. Enter Thomas and Smith. When the story could progress without words, it was allowed to do so in the wordless, cinematic sequences which Smith has become famous for.

But then trouble started. Apparently, Lee wanted something easier to follow than Howard adaptations and he rang in a series of plots by modern fantasy writers, such as Michael Moorcock and John Jakes. This did nOt sit well with Smith. He wanted more money and he wanted his original artwork back —that's right, Marvel keeps all original artwork except for unique cases such as Jim Steranko, who is responsible for all aspects of his art, from pencilling to inking and coloring. The upshot of all this is that Conan No.24 might very well be the last complete Smith adventure.

But think about the Marvel Ware­house of Original Art! Since there is some disagreement as to whom finished art truly belongs (the penciller merely pencils, the inker merely inks, the let­terer letters), Marvel prudently settles the question by appropriating all. imagine the fabled Seven Cities of Cibola, discovered by Scrooge McDuck in 1952, paved in gold and dripping with jewels! Imagine the ancient Egyptian super-civilization, Karnopolis, discovered by the X-Men, in 1969!

Stan Lee, wearing a turtle neck and a luxuriant, salty moustache, leans back on the sofa in his office and spreads his hands. "Look at it this way, that original art is much like diamonds and the diamond market. Do you know how many diamonds the big mines have salted away down in South Africa? If they were to release all those diamonds at once, their value would be virtually nothing. It's the same with the original art. This way if a fan gets some piece of original art, he will look upon it as being much more valuable, much more de­sirable, then if the art were everywhere. I think that the art should be hard to get; it should be something of an ad­venture."

The present comic book scene is largely the work of this Stan Lee, Publisher and former Editor of Marvel. It was Lee who personalized the super­hero with his neurotic Spiderman, alias Peter Parker, an adolescent with more problems than a T.B. ward. While National slipped into the doldrums, the fascinating personalities at Marvel ven­tured into the wilds of New York looking for trouble and always finding it. One of Superman's greatest powers, until quite recently, was his astounding ability to bore readers to death. He not only had no sense of humor, but was totally lacking of any semblance of what might be called political conscious­ness. He didn't even know about pollu­tion and ecology.

Meanwhile, Marvel's orange-skinned Thing and his short-tempered partner the Torch were enmeshed in a serio‑comic battle that perpetually threatened to rend the Fantastic Four asunder. Peter Parker was stuck for rent. It took time for the ol' Caped Crusader to catch on, but he eventually did, and National went to town with a string of commit­ted, liberal super-heroes whose sense of collective guilt would make a landlord weep. Their best was Green Lantern and his emerald partner, Green Arrow. To­gether, the intrepid, slightly inept duo confronted slumlords, pollution, and over-population.

"They're much more into relevancy than we are," says Lee. "We're not selling relevancy, we're selling fairy tales for adults. If a little relevance happens to fit into the story, or if we feel we have something to say that will con­tribute to the story, that's fine. But National puts it up front every story. It's like they're saying, 'Hey, look how relevant we are!' "

Smilin' Stan is about six foot three, with pleasant, tired eyes, wavy grey/ brown hair, and that expressive moustache which is all that remains of the famous Stan Lee beard. Stan's own stories have dragged Thor on an inter­galactic odyssey ending in a struggle with Ego, the Living Planet. He has stacked Reed Richards up against the nefarious Doc Doom, a fiend so evil that he once blew up an entire village of "peasants" to test a new bomb. Along with Jack Kirby, Stan created an in­creasingly heavy string of villains that threatened to tear the comic book world apart. Lee had already invented Galactus, an immense, soulless creature who roamed the cosmos in search of supper. Galactus would tuck in his bib and dispassionately proclaim, "I eat to live. I am not good, I am not bad. I eat because I must." Then he would eat a world. Galactus was ever on the verge of scarfing down Earth but somehow Thor or the Silver Surfer always man­aged to dissuade him.

Like with the Beatles, when Kirby and Lee parted company both of them were left artistically the poorer. Lee's recent scripts for Spiderman tend to be corny and preaching, and Kirby's one-man show at National looks forced and lacks details.

But then, Stan Lee is corny. He loves to think up practical jokes for Marvel's current Monster Madness, a collection of standard horror movie stills with corny captions. He's a real Nice Guy, the kind of fella who ought to lead a Boy Scout troop. Swear words do not issue from his mouth and it is somehow reassuring to hear him add a resounding "By Heck!" to the conversation. He acts like Sgt. Fury of the Howling Comman­dos (protagonist of Marvel's "war comic for people who hate war").

On the wall of Stan's office is a print by Jim Steranko, one of Marvel's premier artists and author of the bril­liant History of Comics. It's a silk screen photo-process depicting Smilin' Stan with a thought balloon over his head enclosing the entire pantheon of Marvel heroes and villains. When Stan Lee talks, and speaks of Marvel's many accom­plishments, he doesn't have to say, "And then I did this . ." because when he gives credit to Marvel, he gives credit to himself.

"Now, as Publisher, I find that I have the opportunity to do all the things I've wanted to do for so long. I like to think we did something new with Conan and King Kull. We have several projects planned, some aren't even comics. New ideas . . . new types of publishing . . . new types of books . . . I think you're going to find in the next year or so that Marvel is going to come out with a lot of things that will take people by surprise. Some will be good, some may even be disappointing, although I hope not . . ."

Exit Sgt. Fury, enter J. Jonah Jameson, Publisher and Editor of the Daily Bugle in Spiderman. Jameson is the arrogant, but basically right- principled publisher for whom Peter "Spidey" Parker works as a free-lance photographer. J. Jonah bears many Lee trademarks: he's gruff, he's tough, he's a real cream-puff. He shoots from the hip and misses a lot.

Stan goes on: "We have no intention of becoming very sexy or becoming very violent. We're not into that, what we hope . ."

Whoops, excuse me Stan, but there does seem to be an awful lot of, uh, violence in certain of your titles, what with the bodies being tossed around, the excessive gunplay, and, in the instance of Conan, scarlet trickles of blood . . .

"I don't even consider what we show violence. I know some people will con­sider them violent, but other people will say, 'My God, you're not going to call a Tom and Jerry cartoon violent,' but it is violent . . . To me, violence is a threat of danger that scares people, or that people relate to and it affects them. I don't consider violence in the average animated cartoon violent; I consider it silly, fantastic action. I think when a reader reads about Thor fighting Ego or something, I don't think the reader considers that violent. You get a story about somebody being mugged in the street and that's violence. I mean some­body is really being killed! It's a flesh and blood person . . . that's the real tragedy of the world today."

One piece of quasi-violence that people could relate to was a fairly recent edition of Spiderman that in­volved Spidey's friend and roommate Harry Osborn being hooked on drugs. The drugs were pills, vaguely defined. They could have been hallucinogens, downs, or speed, but, whichever, they put poor Harry in drug heaven. The Comics Code Authority refused to bestow the Good Housekeeping seal of approval on the cover of the magazine because its subject matter violated sec­tion B of the code. I asked Stan about this particular Spiderman story, a tale that was destined to upset the staid code and contribute greatly towards its liberalization.

"You know, I was against the use of drugs in that story. I wasn't at all sure that this was the proper way to treat the story, but Gerry (Conway) managed to convince me that it should be included. It was just a sub-plot anyway."

Then National ventured forth with their Green Lantern/Green Arrow smack epic, which portrayed Arrow's ward Speedy as a junkie and even showed a few needles and an overdose death in psychedelic black. It is doubt­ful as to whether National could have gotten away with it if it weren't for Marvel's precedent-breaking Spider-man.

So where does Marvel go from here? That's just what Marvel is wondering. They have grown into a giant, but their problems have grown with them. The entire future of the comic magazine is in doubt. Plainly, the Comics Code Authority has outlived its usefulness and comic readers have outlived the code. The publishing world in general is hardly stable, as folded operations from Life to Tower Comics attest, but the future of comics is particularly foggy. Within the past five years, the price of the comic magazine has fluctuated from 15 cents to 20 to 25 and to 20 again and rumors in the wind say that the Feds are forcing them back down to 15.

One thing is certain: there has been a tremendous flowering of above-ground comic talent in recent years, and it has been brought about largely through the efforts of Marvel. Not since the halcyon days of EC Comics have so many talented illustrators thrown themselves into the graphic story-telling arts. Since the early sixties, Marvel has had at least one spectacular showcase, from Steve Ditko's Spiderman to Jim Steranko's Nick Fury to Barry Smith's Conan.

But then again, the art often seems secondary to the commercial aspects, with those vulgar ads breaking up the story more and more frequently every year; the stories themselves have be­come shorter, and numerous Cassandras are predicting the death of comics. It would be a shame to lose them now that they're just beginning to realize their unbounded potential.

Heroes and villains

Spider-Man

He's not just your average radiation-infected geek or castaway alien, for Peter Parker, Spidey's alter ego, is closer to the heart of the average Marvel fan than any other hero going. Peter got his start some years back when, as a scien­tifically talented teen, he was bitten by a spider that had gotten a dose of radiation, and that's when the trouble started ...

The real appeal here is probably not so much Spider-Man as Peter himself, and the impossible situations he gets into. After some years as a social non­entity and tormented super-hero (as a wall-crawler, he can scurry along the sides of tall buildings until alerted by his "spider-sense" that danger is near, at which point he checks his cartridges of sticky, super-powerful "web-fluid"), Peter moved out of his frail old aunt's home and into an apartment. He got a motorcycle — albeit a small one —continued his success as a science whiz in college, and even got himself an old lady. Gwen is the dazzling lady in ques­tion and she knows nothing of Peter's crypto-arachnoid activities, but bears with his habit of disappearing into the woodwork (to change into costume, natch) whenever trouble looms. Pete's most convenient excuse is that he was off taking hot action shots for J. Jonah Jameson, the tyrannical, Spider-Man hating newspaper publisher who also happens to be Peter's boss.

For Peter Parker, all this inevitably leads to anxiety and self-doubt. Lately, it's gotten so bad that the celebrated Spidey has gotten an ulcer, which is in constant danger of flaring up while he battles Doc Ock, the Kingpin, Kraven, Puppet-Master, or his own fear of the existential void.

Like other Marvel heroes, Petey has grown up some, gotten older and wiser, but still moves in the same ambiance as the perpetual teenager with the per­petual face full of zits, facing the perpetual classroom full of snide punks who seem to have limitless cool. Sample: After drinking a weird potion he concocts to cure him of his socially untenable spider-powers, Peter dis­covers that he has sprouted four more arms and become the complete spider. The .telephone rings. The caller is luscious Gwen:

S-M: Huh? Now who the devil's that? Whoa, Mr. P ... that way lies the ever-lovin' paranoid ward. After all, nobody but you knows about your "delicate condition."

Gwen: Peter? I was hoping I'd corner you at home. Now, don't say a word . . . Just settle back and listen. This is your lucky night, man o' mine. In honor of Betty Friedan's birthday, I've decided to play liberated woman and treat you to the r-rated flick of your choice. I should warn you, I've already seen Love Story . . . but I've got enough Kleenex left to sit through it again. Or we could take in "I Am Curious (Yellow)." You could cover my eyes during the spicy parts.

S-M: “Gwendy       I ...”

What else could the poor boy say? Six arms or not, there's lots here for everybody to identify with.

The Fantastic Four

One of the most durable super-hero teams of the Marvel lineup, the Fan­tastic Four always manage to combine their talents to escape from the tightest clutches and schemes of a variety of super-villains. None of the FF tries to hide their identity, and they run an up-front research lab on the top floor of the Baxter Building in New York. Their leader is Reed Richards, Mr. Fantastic, who has the uncanny ability to stretch any part of his body a considerable distance. A handy talent when it comes to tying up baddies without rope, turn­ing into a parachute when thrown from incredible heights and catching high flies. Mr. Fantastic is also the husband of the lone woman in the group, Sue. Besides having the power to make her­self invisible, Mrs. Richards has a certain telekinetic weirdness that lets her move objects without touching them and she can set up powerful mental force fields to resist the aggressions of ungentle­manly heavies. Sue's brother, Johnny, is the junior member of the group. When he cries "Flame On!", his body is covered with a sheet of flame which he can throw as fireballs, propel himself through the air, or in its most devasta­ting form, use to produce a super-nova. Ben Grimm is the fourth member of the group and, though he be blessed with the strength of at least a hundred men, his skin looks like it is made from jagged chunks of orange concrete.

Ben, or "the ever-lovin' blue-eyed Thing," as he is affectionately known, helps make the FF what may be the best team of super-heroes Marvel has to offer. He's gruff, impetuous, ugly, and always ready for a fight; and if not a fight, at least a spirited squabble with Johnny. Their "squabbles" sometimes result in the near-destruction of the Baxter Building as Reed's totally im­possible inventions get utterly smashed and the landlord runs up to threaten eviction only to be faced down by the untouchable Thing. The Thing, you can be sure, has little patience with threats.

Dr. Doom

In the world of Marvel, villains, almost by definition, are uninteresting people. One may be an ex-gangster disfigured by Gamma radiation but also given strange powers by it. Added to his normal criminal tendencies, one might find a hefty dose of Gamma-induced megalomania and presto! we have a potential universal tyrant for some hero to thwart.

The evil plan might be the con­struction of hydraulic lifts under every city of the world. Sink every city into the earth for a million mindless sub-terraneans to control, or suspend it in the clouds at the mercy of bird-men. Either way, the baddy can proclaim himself world ruler and get down to the heavy work of rapine and pillage. The villain's only singular quality is his plan, and no matter how many times he gets his ass kicked, he'll somehow escape and be back with another plan. The villain is the same single-minded paranoid schiz when he returns, but this time he wants to drain all the oceans in the world and send them flying off into outer space.

Doctor Doom is a villain who escapes the shallowness of many of his cohorts in evil. Doom, from behind his thick body armor, rules the mysterious Euro­pean country of Latveria. There, he plots and plans, governs his army, de­velops dangerous weapons and prepares for world domination. Doom is most often the nemesis of the Fantastic Four and his powers are sometimes their equal, but his vanity or submerged sense of humanity always results in his speedy retreat to Latveria.

Doom is a large villain. He seldom gets stalled by petty animosities and avoids mayhem if it doesn't work toward his ultimate goal. He also is not immune to self-doubt, but rest assured, there's no doubt as to whose side he's on.

Captain America

Captain America is a living anachron­ism, as he continually reminds himself. Cap became a semi-superman back during World War II when American scientists developed a way of producing men who would be perfect soldiers. Cap, however, was the only graduate before the whole thing went bust.

Sometime near the end of the war, Cap's right hand man, Bucky, got total­ed in close fighting with the sneering Nazis, when he rode one of Der Fuehrer's rockets to destruction. Not long after, Cap somehow was frozen in an iceberg, and it was only a few years ago that he was discovered and thawed out. Needless to say, he had to cope with a dose of culture shock. He's still coping, and still tormented by guilt about his faithful sidekick's fiery demise.

Captain America, with his indestruct­ible red, white and blue shield and matching costume (with little white wings above the ears) is indeed from another era; one that smacks of militar­ism and white America right or wrong, even more than our own age. Trusty Marvel, however, has seen to this and made Cap something of a liberal. His ideals are equality and individualism, and the idea of cultural diversity seems to sit well with him. And just to prove it, he pals around with a black social worker from Harlem, who has his own secret identity as the Falcon.

Captain America may be something of a relic and super-hero cum liberal to boot, but he's also a flashy, indispens­able aid when it comes to battling the forces of immoderation.

Important Villains

Captain America is not without fa­vorite villains of his own. The ghastly, scarlet head of the Red Skull is another holdover from the 40's who seems to have survived the ravages of time as well as Cap himself. There was once a sugges­tion that the Red Skull, who got his start as a dedicated, remorseless Nazi, had his identity pirated by a Commie who had the same ideals of world domination as the original Red Skull. Whether this was just a flight of Cold War paranoia or whether Red is just another high technology kraut has yet to be determined.

Hydra is another nefarious organiza­tion to be reckoned with. Hydra has a stupendous technology of its own and Cap is not above teaming with Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D. to deal with the threat of the Head Hydra's numerous minions.

Hulk

The Hulk definitely veers toward the anti-hero side of the Marvel lineup. Originally a rather spindly looking physicist named Bruce Banner, Hulk is often described as "the green-skinned gargoyle." Mr. Banner, after suffering a dose of radiation in his lab, turned into a dim-witted, tousle-headed green mon­ster who wants nothing more than to be left alone and perhaps enjoy himself with a friend or two.

It seems, however, that the Army, under the command of General "Thun­derbolt" Ross is not too happy having a creature as powerful as the Hulk roam­ing around. Consequently, "Project Greenskin" is always trying to nail the poor guy down. Faced with all this antagonism, Hulk, who happens to, be the most powerful creature on earth, is not above a little aggression of his own. And, as Hulk says, nothing can hurt him because the madder they make him, the stronger he gets. He even accommodates . contradictions of the sort that let us see him cast adrift in space without an air supply, and then see him later, com­pletely, if temporarily, subdued by a new tranquilizing gas' that the CBW guys have cooked up.

Hulk is a paradoxical creature with some of the qualities of Frankenstein's monster. He exists in a basically hostile environment, lacks the brains to deal with it, and is given to childish excess. When he is particularly relaxed, the Hulk turns back into Bruce Banner, who puts his head in his hands and wonders just what in hell is going on. The love interest enters here, for Banner is enamored of General Ross's fair daughter and it seems that whenever he gets it together to do something about improving his love life, poof! he turns back into the Hulk and heads out to the desert for some peace and quiet.

Dr. Strange

The venerable Dr. Strange of the East Village moves out of the mainstream of Marvel heroes and villains. Strange is "master of the mystic arts" and is unfailingly guided toward the right in­cantation or insight of the mysterious amulet he wears around his neck — the "all-seeing eye of Agamotto."

Dr. Strange moves in odd circles. His battles against evil are sometimes carried out in uncharted dimensions that give full moon signals his lycanthropic trans­formation, and inbetween full moons he searches out mystic tomes for the cure to his toothy problem. Naturally, he encounters a full share of villains on the way.

The other mags, like Crypt of Sha­dows, are basically mortality plays. The man-hating vamp is lured by her latest love interest to a witch's feast, where­upon the man is revealed as Satan and the woman becomes a tortured, im­mortal witch forever. The blind man, constantly made fun of by the kids in the park, saves the earth from an alien horror who frightens all the earthlings into submission with his awesome visage. The blind man, of course, only has to act like he can see and the frustrated alien leaves the earth in fear of human powers of resistance. Like most titles in Marvel world, the wicked are crushed or damned, and the meek vindicated.

Terry Bynes

From Beyond The Grave:

Spiderman Made Flesh

Spiderman made his first grope to­ward appearance in flesh with the issu­ance of a record album. From Beyond the Grave, the first in a projected series of "Rockomics" (put out by Buddah Records and Marvel) is a perfect intro­duction to both Marvel and the Web-slinger for the semi-, post- and illiterate few who don't know already. It chron­icles Spidey's acquisition of Spidey power (from an insect — er, arachnid bite) the death of his uncle (more precisely, Peter Parker's uncle) and his (Spiderman/Peter Parker, it doesn't make any difference because they're the same by that time) alienation from both overground society and the criminal underbelly.

It's not quite what Jan & Dean had in mind with their ingenious Batman album, since it's mostly played straight (well, almost straight) but From Beyond the Grave is a whole lot like the Batman TV show. (Which we loved, even if you didn't.) The music is updated, but still a little on the cornball side of heavy; the dialogue is straight comic-book stuff and you can almost see the "Screech" and "Thwip!" bursts (full color) on the screen. It's great, like the return of a radio serial. Airplay being the reason, we suppose, that the album is divided into 5 cuts per side. A perfect ten day serial.

Future issuances from Buddah/Marvel Rockomics could be great. Who wouldn't be thrilled to hear the Hulk shout "IT'S CLOBBERIN' TIME!" from a pair of Voice of Theaters at full volume? And there are all kinds of interesting possibilities for Marvel music too. How about Pink Floyd scoring Doctor Strange? Or the Beatles singing on an album by the Fantastic Four? Or even, the remotest of fantasies being fully permissible in the Rockomics world, the Beach Boys and Black Sab­bath having a battle of the bands while The Silver Surfer and Doc Doom fight it out in outer space?

Dave Marsh

People Magazine, 1979

At two minutes past midnight, the plot thickens. In his dark bedroom, Stan Lee —publisher and creative director of Marvel Comics—clicks on the minia­ture tape recorder beneath his pillow. Dictating in mumbled phrases, he spins a web of adventures. He has hit on the idea of having "the Incredible Hulk meet Spider-Man in the greatest power trip in the history of comic books!" Lee switches off the tape. "Why is it that I always come up with the most brilliant plots just when I'm about to fall asleep?"

The next morning at 6:30 he bounds out of bed in a single leap, plugs in for a shave and then brushes his teeth. "Half the time I brush without Crest," he claims. "I will not be the prisoner of American advertising!" Ten minutes later he is dressed. "I do not believe in bathrobes," Lee says firmly. "It's the kind of in-between garment that gets you nowhere. You can't go outside in it. You can't go to sleep in it. I'm the kind of guy who likes to always feel ready to go!" On his wrist hangs a heavy link silver bracelet. His feet are con­tained in thoroughbred Guccis. Pierc­ing green-gray eyes are hidden behind prescription shades, but their hip im­age is offset by a conservative Paul Stuart herringbone jacket and tan slacks.

He struts through the lobby of his New York condominium with an arm­load of dirty laundry and proceeds along boutique-lined Third Avenue. His virile features are tawny and relatively unlined at age 56. His stomach is fiat, "like iron," he brags. His legs are mus­cular "from walking to and from the office. You know, after 31 years my wife still thinks I have a perfect body."

He drops off his laundry and picks up the New York Times and the Daily News. "I do not believe in deliveries," he declares. "They inhibit perfectly natural activities."

Back in his 14th-floor apartment, decorated in exotic pieces grouped like a furniture showroom, wife Joan is still asleep. "Why should I get up to make him breakfast?" she asks, not un­pleasantly. "He doesn't bother to make it for me."

As a husband liberated by the inde­pendence of his wife, Stan Lee has reduced breakfast to a domestic sci­ence. "For hundreds of years" he has thrust one Pepperidge Farm apple turnover into a 400 oven and set the timer to go off before "the neighbors holler 'fire.' "

While waiting, he carries his tape re­corder into the study, ready to decode, when the phone rings. Lee throws down his Bic, cringing. "There is noth­ing I hate more than the telephone!" On the line is John Romita, who draws Spider-Man. A crisis is at hand. "Stan," he cries, "either you come up with a plot for the Sunday page by tomorrow or the syndicate will kill Spider-Man!"

"Don't worry, John," Lee reassures him and promises to call back in five minutes. An alarm sounds in the dis­tance. "I've got to save an apple turnover from burning!" In the swash­buckling tradition of one of his own comic book heroes, Lee first rescues breakfast and then, with a flick of his Bic, Spider-Man.

An era in comic book history dates from 1961. That was the year Stan Lee began to create the family of cartoon characters that eventually included Spider-Man, the Fantastic Four, the In­credible Hulk and Dr. Strange. They had a profound impact on many youngsters that was hardly as negative as

parents feared and educators preached. Gene Simmons of Kiss, who grew up with Marvel comics, says, "His stories taught me that even superhe­roes like Spider-Man and the Incredible Hulk have ego deficiencies and girl problems and do not live in their ma­cho fantasies 24 hours a day. Through the honesty of guys like Spider-Man, I learned about the shades of gray in hu­man nature."

Lee's arch rival, Jenette Kahn, pub­lisher of Superman comics, adds, "Stan Lee created characters who re­lated to the experience of the alienated youth of the 1960s." As publisher, cre­ative director, active writer and even spokesman for the comic book business on the college lecture circuit, Lee is, according to the gracious Kahn, "the living superhero for the American comic industry."

Cary Grant has phoned Lee to ex­press his appreciation of Marvel comics, introduced to him by his daugh­ter, Jennifer. Federico Fellini, the Italian film director, showed up in Lee's office with an admiring entourage. French director Alain Resnais wanted Lee to write a script for a film. "But most of the phone calls," says Martha Conway, Lee's 24-year-old secretary, "are from 12-year-old boys inviting him to their bar mitzvahs or 13-year-old girls who want to know how to attract a superhero."

Marvel sells about six million comic books a month in 15 languages. With upwards of $25 million a year in sales, it is the largest and most successful business of its kind in the world—"if not the universe." For the past few years Lee has written the narra­tive for only two of the strips—Spider-Man, which appears in about 500 newspapers, and the Hulk, in 200 pa­pers. He devotes the rest of his time to supervising the transition of his char­acters into other media. The Hulk was a prime-time sensation last season and continues among the top 20 shows. Spi­der-Man made five specials last season, and CBS has scheduled more this year. Dr. Strange and another hero, Captain America, also have starred in specials from Universal.

With so many pop groups fascinated by comic heroes these days, Stan has become the Werner Erhard of the rock world. Paul McCartney asked him to come up with vivid characters to give personality to his second band. One of Meat Loaf's songwriters wants Lee to do a script for a Broadway musical for the singer, and Lee has already sub­mitted an outline.

In turn, Stan has made some rock su­perstars into comic book heroes themselves. The Kiss edition was a huge seller. The Beatles flopped be­cause the company misjudged their popularity. But Mick Jagger and the Stones, soon to be published, should do well, and Alice Cooper was recently signed up.

In recognition of Lee's unique role in American mythmaking, Harper and Row has paid out a "sizable" advance for his autobiography. "But I asked them to give me five years to write it," he says, "because I haven't done an eighth of the things I want to do. You know," he adds wistfully, "I still feel as if I'm waiting to be discovered."

Stanley Martin Lieber was born De­cember 28, 1922 in Manhattan. In his family's cramped three-room apart­ment, "I slept in the living room until I was old enough to need my pri­vacy." Then he switched rooms with his parents. Nine years after he was born, his brother, Larry, who now draws the Hulk, arrived. Lee says, "I have no idea where he slept. I always considered him only a guest." By the time he was 10, Stan's mother, Celia, already thought of her little boy as some kind of superior human being. "Whenever I walked in the door, she'd ask me why some talent scout hadn't whisked me off the street and taken me straight to Hollywood." Stan saw every Errol Flynn movie "a hundred times" and loved adventure books.

During the Depression, his father, Jack, found it hard to get work as a dress cutter. The frustration turned his older son into a workaholic. "School was just something to get past."

After graduation from DeWitt Clinton High, Lee was offered an $11-a-week job as a gofer at the firm that would be­come Marvel Comics—"I was probably the only one who applied." A few months later both editor and art direc­tor walked out over a disagreement with the publisher, leaving Lee in charge. He was 17. "I knew the posi­tion was only temporary. I figured I would last maybe two or three weeks." That was in 1939.

While the company grew, Stan achieved a reputation as a formidable ladies' man. Then in November 1947 he strolled up Fifth Avenue from his of­fices in the Empire State Building to have a look at a "gorgeous redhead" recommended as a date by his cousin Morty. When Lee opened the door to her office, he took one long look at "that face and hair" and surrendered. "I love you!" he cried. Joan Clayton Boocock, a hat model, was flattered. She was also married.

He insists that her first marriage "wasn't so great." Joan corrects him without hesitation. "I had only known my first husband 24 hours when we de­cided to get married," she explains. "It really was a great marriage in many respects. But after living with him a year, I was finding him sort of boring ..." Lee was nothing if not interesting. Joan recalls, "He wore a marvelous floppy hat and a scarf and spouted Omar Khayyam when he took me for a ham­burger at Prexy's. He reminded me of that beautiful man, Leslie Howard." They dated for a passionate two weeks, and then he proposed. "But first I had to send her to Reno for a divorce."

So Joan took off for Nevada and met another—and richer—man, a cowboy who also wanted to marry her. "I thought for a moment, maybe this is better ..." But when Stan got a letter mistakenly addressed to "Jack," the Reno rival, he grabbed his scarf and flew to Joan's side. The judge who granted her divorce married them.

For the next 19 years they lived on Long Island, where Joan Lee raised their daughter, Joanie (a younger daughter, Jan, died in infancy). Wife and daughter became accustomed to hearing the cries and whispers of cre­ativity as Lee acted out his heroes' tales of adventure. "Don't worry," Joa-nie would assure her friends at the strange noises coming from the study. "That's just my father at work." In 1969 the couple moved to New York City, where Joanie was in acting school.

One reason for Lee's 40-year loyalty to Marvel may be that, unlike other cre­ators of comics such as Garry Trudeau or Charles Schulz, Lee does not own the rights to any of his heroes. The company does. To leave would mean walking out on his creations. "I'm not a man to turn his baq,k on his children," he says. His job is not without its re­wards, however. His salary is upwards of $100,000 a year, plus fees and roy­alties from TV scripts and books.

At 9:30 Lee enters the tacky offices of Marvel Comics on Madison Avenue. He is singing the Alka-Seltzer jingle. The phones are ringing. Before any­thing else, he has a heavy problem to resolve. Spider-Man's Aunt May has been pressuring him to get married. Un­fortunately, Lee killed off the hero's girlfriend, Gwendolyn, in an earlier ep­isode. Ignoring the phones, Lee reaches for a pen and begins to scrib­ble. He bites his thumb. He pulls out a tissue and blows his nose. "I always have a cold," he cries. "Even when I don't have a cold, I sound like I do."

Pacing the floor, he wanders into the hallway and puts a quarter in the ma­chine for a cup of chicken soup. "I will not drink coffee after 7 a.m." A parade of employees, eager and young, marches in and out his door. They represent the "20,000 different projects" going on at the moment. Lee concentrates on each visitor but re­mains offhand and cool. Things get tense only when John Romita pops in. "Is Spider-Man getting married next week or isn't he?"

Lee tenses and asks his secretary to hold the calls. He shuts the door and puts a hand on Romita's shoulder. "John," he says thoughtfully, "I'd like to have a wedding, but do you really think Spider-Man is mature enough?

 TV Guide, 1978

What Stan Lee do after Steve Ditko and Jack Kirby left Marvel?

Let’s start with one important fact: The decade of the 1960s was Marvel’s most creative especially during the first five years. No company since has ever created so much great material in such a short time, especially with so few people.

I am often puzzled by people who try to diminish the accomplishments of Stan Lee by asking, “What did he do after Steve Ditko and Jack Kirby left?”  That is an ambiguous statement and it shows that they may not understand Stan’s job at Marvel in those days. Stan was not just a writer; he was the editor and art director for much of the decade. The question is ambiguous because Steve Ditko left in 1965, five years before Kirby did, in 1970, and we need to count those years, although many detractors don’t. 

Of course, an equally valid question may be: “What did Kirby and Ditko do after they left Marvel?”

No matter what fans want to think, producing comics is a business, the art and story come second. Stan’s job was to make money for Marvel, produce comics on time, and increase sales. He did that very well. Even Jack Kirby would say that his job was “to sell magazines.” Not create good ones, but to sell them. In 1960, Marvel was selling 16,000,000 copies a year. By 1966, Steve Ditko leaves and we no longer have his version of Spider-Man.  Marvel then was selling 35,000,000 comics a year. Without missing a beat, Stan assigns John Romita to Spider-Man and adds many aspects to the character Ditko had rejected.  Aunt May becomes younger, Peter becomes better looking and he gets a girlfriend or two that he can actually keep. The new team not only produces great stories (I loved Spider-Man #39-40, Romita’s first issues) but soon, a great villain, the Kingpin. This version of Spider-Man draws in new readers and becomes a college sensation, drawing in the older readers that had abandoned comics a decade earlier.  Spider-Man becomes Marvel’s biggest seller.  By 1970, annual circulation at Marvel had increased to 60,000,000. Five years after Ditko left circulation doubles. That was Stan’s job. If you’re going to give him blame later you have to give him the credit now. With circulation up, and more money coming in, publisher and owner Martin Goodman enables Stan to recruit not just Romita, but Gene Colan and John Buscema at higher page rates than Marvel had offered before.  Iron Man and Daredevil are further developed and sell more comics with the team of Lee and Colan. Buscema adds to Spider-Man too, but does well with everything he touches.

Different from DC’s Earth I and II, the concept of a singular Marvel Universe was Stan’s vision. While artists, including Steve Ditko, did not appreciate putting in guest stars, Stan loved the idea and did it often.  With circulation increasing it would have been hard to quibble with that idea. Stan’s vision though, has been incorporated into the last ten years of Marvel movies with incredible success. Those movies have taken in over 17 billion dollars.

From the beginning of the Marvel Age, Stan injected many adult themes, including the cold war, unemployment, handicapped people and ageing into his stories.  This was something his main competitors did not do. He even retitled Amazing Adventures to Amazing Adult Fantasy, and advertised it as "The Magazine that Respects Your Intelligence."

Lee wanted to push the limits of creating comics and he and Romita produced the black and white Spectacular Spider-Man, aimed at older readers.  Marvel also published the first Savage Tales, another magazine for adults that was also outstanding. Sadly, Goodman cancels them both. He was fearful that he would run into trouble with the Comics Code. It took courage, then, in 1971, for Stan to publish a three part anti-drug story in Amazing Spider-Man #96-98. It was published without the Comics Code approval. No other publisher or editor had done that before and there was a risk that no dealer would put in on the stands without a Comics Code seal.

Stan was the editor of at least sixteen comics a month during the 1960s and writer for about half the stories.   At DC, several editors produced only five or so comics a month and of them, only Robert Kanigher wrote.  So, beginning in 1965, Stan hired Roy Thomas. Roy worked his way up to the Avengers, partnered with Buscema, Sgt. Fury with Dick Ayers, and the X-Men with Neal Adams. Roy and his partner produced great stories that sold well.

Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D. was created by Jack Kirby, but assigning it to Steranko was inspired. Nick Fury’s circulation was not the highest, but his readers were very loyal. In other words, they kept buying the book. While at DC reprints were often from a generation earlier, Lee started (in 1965) reprint titles of fairly current stories. This catered to new readers and brought them up to date.  Oh, and I loved Not Brand Echh, which was a funny, satirical look at Marvel comics at first and the entire industry as time went by. By the end of the 1960s, circulation had reached 60,000,000.

In 1968 Marvel is bought by Perfect Film and Chemical, Goodman is no longer the owner. Jack Kirby leaves in 1970. His last year at Marvel was not inspired, but it was still Kirby.  According to Mark Evanier’s Kirby bio, the new owners don’t really negotiate or try hard to keep Kirby.  This is foolish on their part, of course. Soon Kirby leaves and Stan takes an extended vacation and doesn’t write.

The new owners had a new direction for the company:

1. Initially, no more continued stories disrupting what had been established over the last decade.

2. They wanted, instantly, a huge amount of new titles, to compete, one on one with DC.

3. Whereas comics initially had 24 pages of art, then 20,  by the mid 1970s it was down to 17.      In 1970 Marvel comics were to have two half-pages, which DC’s had done but Marvel’s never did.

4. The prices on comics triple, from 12 cents to 35 cents in just a few years.

5. The black and white line was started.

6. And they wanted to go after the international market.

7.   

       

      Under Stan, characters (except for Captain America and Nick Fury) appeared in only one comic, enabling their authors to control their continuity. Now, most title characters must appear in at least two books, with different authors, complicating continuity. (Spider-Man was in three titles.)

Stan Lee had to adapt to those changes. So what did Stan do with this burden?  Stan worked with Roy Thomas and creates a big hit with Conan the Barbarian and later Kull; Marvel returns to horror with great talent in Chamber of Darkness and Tower of Shadows; and takes the Silver Surfer to new heights with John Buscema.

But here is the big thing:  In 1973 Stan Lee becomes publisher. This fact is ignored by the dissenters.  This was a big step up in his career; it meant more money and more prestige and no writing or deadline pressure. He increases circulation at Marvel to 70,000,000. This is what a businessman is paid to do.

By the early 1970s the industry was not drawing in many new readers and total sales were declining. This meant that Marvel’s new readers came at the expense of DCs readers. Under Stan Lee, Marvel sales exceed DC for the first time and have remained that way ever since.

There were successes in the mid-1970s, Stan introduced many successful new comics. In 1972’s America it took courage to produce Luke Cage, the first African America hero to have his own national title. By having to produce so many new titles, in so many genres, and there were also many failures. Unlike publisher Goodman, Stan was not an owner and had to follow instructions. With so many new titles there was no time to develop new talent and the bookkeepers often decided what titles were to be cancelled. Often within a failure there is a success. The magazines of the mid 1970s mostly failed, but Conan, Deadly Hands of Kung Fu and a few others were successful.  Marvel did, lose most of its female readers.  

Roy Thomas (Comic Book Artist #2 1998): There was a great drop off in female readers in the early ‘70s. We came up with three strips for which you made up the names and concepts: Shanna the She-Devil, Night Nurse and the Claws of the Cat. (We were) trying to woo the female readers back” Stan Lee said, “The failure of the Cat was my biggest disappointment.”

But Stan did give it the old college try.

There is no question that Lee, Kirby and Ditko did outstanding work and nothing like that has happened since at any company. While Ditko and Kirby continued drawing and writing, Stan’s career took a successful turn up the company ladder. Stan’s later trajectory does not parallel the other two, it was more perpendicular!