So What Exactly Are We Talking About When We Talk About the Bronze Age?
3 3

101 posts in this topic

7,880 posts

137597.jpg

 

The Rolling Stone article on Marvel Comics from 1971 has now been transcribed. Sorry for the city-block-of-text! (This was 1971 after all, we had longer attention spans back then :baiting:)

 

Face Front! Clap Your Hands, You're on the Winning Team!

 

Rolling Stone Vol. 1, #91 (Sep 16, 1971)

by Robin Green

 

It was three ago that I went to work at Marvel Comics. I replaced Flo, whose place I really couldn't take. Fabulous Flo Steinberg, as she was known to her public, was as much an institution in Marvel's Second Golden Age as Editor Stan (The Man) Lee himself. She joined Marvel just after Stan had revolutionized the comic industry by giving his characters dimension, character, and personality, and just as Marvel was catching on big.

 

 

Now there's a sign on the door of the office which says SORRY, NO VISITORS to those who manage to find Marvel's hidden location. But in Flo's days the office was located at 625 Madison Avenue, just as it says in the comic books. There was a reception room and Flo would go out to meet the fans.

 

 

She was the only one they ever saw. They called her "Miss Flo" because "Flo" was too personal for them. Most of them were nice, the little ones were really sweet. But sometimes there'd be older ones, 12 and 13, who would try to get past her. She'd put her foot out and trip them, and say, "I'm sorry, are you all right? Poor thing."

 

And sometimes they'd come convinced that Spiderman himself was right there behind the door. She'd say, "Oh, I'm sorry, he's out covering a robbery." Because she didn't feel it was her place to destroy fantasies.

 

Hundreds of letters came in every week from fans, and Flo was the one who opened them. One time there was a letter addressed to Sergeant Fury from a man in Texas, a real right winger, who said, "I notice in Sergeant Fury that you're anti-Nazi. Well, if you're anti-Nazi, that must mean you're pro-Commie, and you're all a bunch of no-good dirty kikey commie pinko people, and I have a gun and I'm going to come to New York and shoot you." It was addressed to Stan Lee and the Marvel Comic Group.

 

Flo passed the letter around the office and everyone got hysterical because this guy was going to come and machine-gun everybody. Flo didn't know what they were hysterical about because she was the one who went out to meet the people. Flo was loyal, but for a hundred bucks a week you don't get shot. So they called the FBI and a man came down. He said, "Wilkins, FBI," and Flo said, "Steinberg, Marvel."

 

But Wilkins was very serious and he handled the letter with a handkerchief. Of course they had already put their hands all over it. He said he'd forward it to the anonymous letters file in Washington, and see what could be done. They gave him a whole bunch of comics (their usual tactic, cover them with comics). And for days everyone avoided the reception room and sneaked out early.

 

I visited Flo at her apartment in New York. She's changed her style. Her hair is long, she looks good. She's thinking of moving to California. She still hangs out with comic book people -- underground comics people. We got stoned and drank some wine, and she talked about the fans and their letters. Flo laughs a high-pitched laugh that sounds like electronic music. And when she smiles her eyes close to crescent shapes. She smiles so hard that she can't keep her eyes open at the same time.

 

"Yeah, the mail. Remember how awful it was? I felt every little creature should get some sort of an answer. I really took it seriously, each little letter. One thing that's awful, when I go to the Comic Convention they have in July at the Hilton all these tall thin fellows come up to me and say [deep voice], 'Hello, how are you?' and I'll say, 'Who are you?' and it'll turn out they're these kids who used to come up and see me in the reception room. That was eight years ago. And now they're young men with girlfriends, who go to school and work. I can't believe it. It's sort of depressing.

 

"When the kids heard I was leaving Marvel, they sent me really nice letters. They felt bad." She showed me some of the letters, and some pictures that they'd sent of themselves and Flo in the reception room, pictures taken by their mothers. They signed everything with their numbers, their Merry Marvel Marching Society membership card number. Like Larry Schwartz, MMMS #18756.

 

The Merry Marvel Marching Society is the club that Stan made up for Marvel fans to join. You send in their money and you get a membership card, with your very own membership number and name on it, and a record with Stan and the rest of the Marvel Group saying lines from a -script Stan wrote. Corny jokes, in jokes. But most important, the voices of the people who make Marvel Comics.

 

"OK, out there in Marvel land--face front. This is Stan Lee speaking. You've probably never heard a record like this before because no one would be nutty enough to make one with a bunch of off-beat artists. So anything is liable to happen."

 

"Hey! Who made you a disc jockey, Lee?"

 

"Well, well--Jolly Jack Kirby! Say a few words to the fans."

 

"A few words."

 

"Look, pal, I'll take care of the humor around here."

 

"You, you've been using the same gags over and over for years."

 

"Well, you can't accuse me of being fickle, can you? By the way, Jack, the readers have been complaining about Sue's hairdo again."

 

"What am I supposed to do. Be a hair-dresser? Next time I'll draw her bald-headed!"

 

"Boy, I'm glad we caught you when you were in a good mood."

 

"Oh, Stan, do you have a few minutes?"

 

"For our fabulous Gal Friday? Sure! Say hello to the fans, Flo Steinberg."

 

"Hello fans. It's very nice to meet you. As Marvel's corresponding secretary, I feel as if I know most of you from your letters."

 

And there was Jolly Solly Brodsky, Adorable Artie Simek, Kid Daredevil Wally Wood, Ayers, and the idol of the Iron Man fans, the Ace of the Avengers, Don Heck.

 

There was also a Merry Marvel Marching Society song:

 

You belong, you belong, you belong,

you belong,

To the Merry Marvel Marching Society!

March along, march along, march along

to the song

Of the Merry Marvel Marching Society!

 

 

Be a little brighter, try to be ambitious!

Eyes a little wider, try to be judicious!

Be a good advisor, never, never vicious!

Then you will belong!

Face Front! Clap your hands. You're on

the winning team!

With Stan!

 

 

 

Hanging on the wall in Flo's bedroom were some cartoons left over from her days at Marvel. Once showed Flo lying down with a huge thumb in her stomach, blood all over the floor, and bloody footprints walking away from the scene. Another was a cartoon of the rut Flo was in--two angry eyes peering out of a crack in the ground, and a sign "rut" next to a pail and shovel. That's how the people in the office at Marvel communicate the best, by drawing pictures. That's how they tell you they love you, or you did a nice thing, and when they're angry with each other they get it out by drawing a cartoon and everybody laughs.

 

The cartoons on Flo's wall were done by Marie Severin, the only woman artist at Marvel, maybe the only one in the professional comic book world. "You can dearly love people," she says, "but they sometimes become awful pests and you cannot verbally assault them because they'll never forgive you. But a picture, they are so flattered that you took the time to do it, they don't realize that you are getting rid of this anger. Comic book artists are always excreting all this stuff all over the place, and thank goodness. We're like Peter Pans. We refuse to grow up but we get paid for it. Which is fortunate. We're channeling all this immaturity into something instead of standing on street corners making obscene gestures."

 

When I walked into the Vision building, where Marvel is located, I said hi to Frank the doorman, and it was as if I'd never left two years ago. There was that new NO VISITORS sign on the office door, but the door was still open. There was a new face at the front desk, not nearly as pretty as Linda Fite's--it belonged to Allan Brodsky, a comic fan who had made the big time. Inside it was still warm, light green and friendly. The superhero-size Spiderman poster was still hanging on the wall at the end of the hallway. Posters of Hulk, Captain America, Daredevil, and the Fantastic Four hung along the sides.

 

When I walked into the bullpen, the men said, "Hey! Legs is back!" and I remembered how it used to feel to be "Legs Diamond." The place looked much the same, except there was a xerox machine where Marie Severin used to be. She had her drawing board in a different room now and the main bullpen had become a kind of men's den, with pictures of naked women, some playboy types and some drawings of comic book characters as they will never appear in Spiderman. Some of them were downright pornographic, and you couldn't talk to Tony Mortellaro without a tit or an staring you in the face.

 

It felt good to be back in the bullpen again with Ring-A-Ding John Romita, artist for Spiderman, Happy Herbie Trimpe who had just switched from Hulk to Sergeant Fury, Merry Marie Severin, Stu Schwartzberg, Morie and Allan. It was a fine reunion until I mentioned that I'd come to write an article about them and then--whoosh--they all disappeared back to their drawing board. I was no longer Stan's former leggy secretary, but an emissary, but an emissary from the "real" world, which is a different world from the one inside the office door.

 

The people at Marvel are paid to be professional children and the atmosphere around the office is correspondingly chaotic, moody, riotously emotional. Unlike most Madison Avenue offices, Marvel makes no attempt at decorum. I was always very grateful for that. You could dress the way you wanted to, say anything you wanted to (the key to the bathroom was called the house pass), and you even worked because you wanted to because there was very little supervision.

 

All the bullpen people have an interest in telling stories by pictures. That's the thing about comics. Most of them are really hooked on that kind of work and over the years they compromise themselves because of their desire to do it. It's one of the few businesses where individuals will take a cut and still stay in the business. The artists just had a cut at Marvel. Instead of 20 pages in a book there's really only 19 pages of artwork and that means they do less work and get less money. And management doesn't tell the artists what the sales figures are because "they're afraid you'll ask for a raise or something."

 

For most of them the work is an emotional outlet. They can set loose fantasies most of us repress as we grow older! Herb Trimpe put it this way: "If a story works out well, I have the same feeling of satisfaction as if I'd worked out all day long, or gone on a eight-mile hike. It's a release. Plus there's a feeling of creation, of controlling a situation. In a comic book story, unlike life, you know what the plot is and you control every aspect of that story. It makes you sort of a miniature god."

 

I had lunch with Herb and it was good to talk to him. He'd been my favorite bullpen artist, not just because I dug the way he drew the Hulk, but because he was so nice to look at. He's incredibly handsome, tall and wiry with deep-set eyes and black hair. He looks like a superhero, like the Phantom Eagle, or a good-looking Hulk. Or maybe the Hulk looks like an angry, ugly him. He's been through a lot of changes in the last two years, including a divorce. His old lady now is Linda Fite, who used to work at Marvel. She was my partner in letter opening and general office disrupting, a beautiful hip southern belle with a fine sense of humor, and a fine sense of life.

 

Herb's still going through a lot of changes and confusion. Reality is making some heavy demands on him. Gil Kane said, "It's hard to keep the boy in the cartoonist because if you do, it means that you are talking about an individual that never outgrows his needs for fantasy." And that's the question. How to remain a child and cope with a world that imposes problems and responsibilities?

 

Tired of the hour-long commutes to work, Herb moved from his home in Peekskill, New York, where he was born, to a room in the city. He painted the floors battleship grey, the trim and his drawing table he painted black. Linda had given him three wooden chairs painted in primary colors. His collection of toy soldiers, tanks, trucks and model airplanes were arranges in near rows on his shelves. He's always had an interest in flying -- he was in the air force for a while -- and some day, he says, he would like to go to Mars.

 

Herb would make a successful criminal, because he's the last person anybody would suspect. People always put him in the role of being a good guy. When he was in high school he won the good guy medal for the senior class. "It really stuck in my craw. Anybody that gets the good guy medal, there has to be something wrong with them. We had an awards assembly and they had this medal. A real medal, it's a goddam medal with a ribbon on it, a pin, it came in a plastic case with a felt backing and all that . It was named for a student who had done very well and was killed in a traffic accident and they made this award in his memory.

 

"It's not an athletic award, it's not a scholastic award. It's just for being cooperative. If a teacher needed a project done, you'd help do it. I didn't realize what it was I felt at the time, but now I realize that I felt like a traitor. Like in Bridge over the River Kwai, when the Japanese give the English commander a medal for building that bridge for them, that would be the last thing he'd want to get, even though he wanted to do a good job on the bridge, and he wanted to show those people that the British army does a job right.

 

"So at the senior assembly they said, "For helping his fellow student and faculty,' and all that mess, and they said, 'Herb Trimpe.' I was dumbfounded and embarrassed. And ten years later I said to myself I'm going to get even with those bastards if it's the last thing I do. Anybody who gets a good-guy medal, they must be doing something wrong.

 

"So now I'm real bad. I react in the opposite direction, trying to be bad. If you keep being a good guy, people will take advantage of you, they'll take you for granted. Because I'm not a threat to people they don't listen to me. Herb Trimpe, they say, that's one guy you don't have to worry about. Hah." He scowled at the coca cola he was drinking.

 

I went to the Marvel office Christmas party. Stan wasn't there; just the slaves. They had already downed two bottles of champagne by the time I came, and were working on the second bottle of scotch. There was a lot of laughter, more than usual, and the atmosphere is always pretty high there. There were peanuts, and powdered sugar cookies, the kind that spell asphyxiation if you inhale at the wrong moment, and salamis that Holly the secretary's father manufactured.

 

I drank more than my share of the scotch and wandered into my old room. I sat down at my old desk. On the wall in front of me were pinned up the recent covers from the 30 Marvel titles published. My old friends Daredevil, the blind superhero in the red suit, Thor, the Asgardian thweetheart with the magic hammer, Sub Mariner, Captain America, Iron Man, Sergeant Fury, Invisible Girl, the Human Torch, the Thing, the Avengers, Spiderman, the Black Panther, the Falcon, Nick Fury, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., and a newcomer, Conan the Barbarian, whom Marie calls Conan the Masochist.

 

I thought about Dorma, the Sub Mariner's blue-skinned love. She and Subby had been planning to get married ever since I could remember. And Roy Thomas, who writes Sub Mariner, had just told me of poor Dorma's fate. Roy had let them get married because they'd been planning the wedding for so long, but they didn't even get as far as their wedding night. Roy arranged for a green-skinned girl who was in love with the Sub Mariner to kill Dorma, and he said he was never going to bring her back again. He said he felt that Sub Mariner should be a lone wolf and he didn't like the idea of his having such a stable home, a Lois Lane situation. Now the broken-hearted Sub Mariner would be even more hostile, and roam the seas alone. I felt very sad that the blue-skinned Dorma was gone.

 

And I thought about the Silver Surfer, who used to have a book of his own. He was the sexiest superhero, a sleek silver-plated sports trophy of a guy who sped through the galaxies on a surfboard made of silver. A philosopher as well, who flew around unhappy about pollution and man's inhumanity to man, and went nowhere. He was a hit with older audiences, but didn't sell enough to survive, so the book was killed. But the Silver Surfer still makes guest appearance in other comic books, and I could see him gliding from cover to cover before me.

 

Most of the characters aren't drawn in the Marvel office. They're done by freelance artists and sent in through the mail. But Spiderman and Hulk were set loose in the Vision building and had their home there. I could almost feel them there, more with every sip of scotch.

 

The colors on the covers seemed to jump and move around, the characters seemed to come alive in front of me. They were having a Christmas party, too. Kid Colt brought in a huge tree he had chopped down, and Spidey decorated it with his web-shooter. The webbing came out sparkling silver. The Silver Surfer glided down and topped the tree with a star he'd picked from the galaxies. Everyone had brought presents for Reed and Sue's baby. And then in came Santa Claus, all dressed in red with a big phoney beard and moustache. It was a beautiful party. But all at once I realized that Santa was the sinister Red Skull. Couldn't everybody see that? And what was in the huge sack he was carrying?

 

In leaped Daredevil, the blind superhero. To him disguises meant nothing, because he couldn't see anyway. His radar-sharp senses detected the evil Red Skull's presence and he signaled the danger to Ben Grimm who was standing in back of Santa. Ben turned into the Thing and lunged at the villain yellow, "It's clobberin' time!" But too late! Santa Claus/Red Skull was too fast for him and managed to detonate the negative energy machine in his sack. Everything disappeared, the colors of all shapes and sizes receded and everything turned white before me. The whiteness floated down to my desk. I picked it up. It was a piece of paper with an original drawing of Spiderman on it and it was signed Merry Christmas to Robin from Johnny Romita.

 

* * *

Jim Steranko was at Marvel when I worked there. Even though Jim had only done about 25 books, there wasn't a fan who didn't know of him and dig his work. He used to do the Nick Fury Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. books, and was always getting into hassles with the Comic Book Code people.

 

The Code had come into existence during the juvenile delinquent scare of the Fifties. At the time EC (Entertaining Comics) was coming out with a crime and horror series that was pretty gory and horrifying. People killing their wives and stuffing them into garbage disposals which would backfire and blood would gush all over the place. And Marvel was doing its share of gore, too.

 

The Code completely banned all horror and terror comics and all material which might be immoral or in poor taste, anything which could stimulate "the lower and baser emotions." It fosters respect for parents, for police, judges and other government officials. It forbids profanity, obscenity, vulgarity; it requires that females be drawn realistically "without exaggeration of any physical qualities." Each of its 41 provisions is a bulwark against the inclusion in comic books of any material which "may be undesirable for exposure to youthful readers." In short, the Code is a drag.

 

Steranko's female characters were always too sexy, and they'd come back from the code, where all material was sent for approval, with modified bosoms and asses. There was one beautiful page which was perhaps the first realistic love scene in comics. It was a silent page, no words, because "there is a time for talking a time for silence, and this was a time for silence." So one panel had the stereo in Fury's apartment to show there was music playing, cigarettes in the ash tray in one, there was a sequence of intercut shots where she moved closer to him, much more intimately, there was a kiss, there was a rose, and then there was one panel with the telephone off the hook, which the comic book code made him put back on.

 

The telephone off the hook must have appealed to the prurient interest of someone at the dusty little Code office, maybe Lee Darwin himself, or maybe Tania Fredricks, his assistant in rooting out the dirty. Jim Steranko said after that he got horny every time he saw a telephone off the hook. Anyway, the last panel on that page had Nick and his old lady kneeling, with their arms around each other, and that was entirely too much for the Code, so the panel was replace with a picture of a gun its holster.

 

I used to dig it when Steranko came to town. He didn't work at the office, but like many artists freelanced the work at home. One day he took me for a ride in the big convertible Cadillac he was driving in those days. We got to talking and he told me about himself.

 

"Maybe because I grew up reading comics, I was always less realistic than most people. I'm kind of a dreamer, I'm still a dreamer. I live in my own world. When I get up in the morning, go to bed at night, even while I'm sleeping, I'm thinking of fantastic things. I don't want to live the life that those people live out there. It's a dull life.

 

"My dad did many things and one of them was magic. I grew up seeing him work, do tricks and things. Whenever I could I'd dig out those books and read them and eventually began to do magic and that led into escapes. Escapes meaning that when I wa 15, 16, and 17, I was breaking out of jails, out of strait jackets, and handcuffs, out of safes, and the bottom of a river. I did TV shows and Elks and the American Legion.

 

"And I was into locks. I have no mechanical ability whatsoever except when it comes to locks. In school a week never went by when I wasn't called over the loud speaker to unlock a car when some teacher had locked his keys inside it. They'd say, 'Steranko, bring your tools.'

 

"I was fourteen at the time, new in the lock business, and I didn't know much about locks, so I could say crazy things. I had an idea that combination locks could have many combinations. And I told this locksmith, who really didn't want to be bothered, 'cause it's like secretive stuff, these machines around us to protect us. I told him that I had my idea and he said, 'Get out of here, kid, don't bother me.' I came back a week later and I said, 'Give me any lock that you have' and I showed him various combinations that could open it, which knocked him out. I had a device I made up that could give me multiple combinations, a device about as big as my thumbnail. I invented many devices for my escapes and I wrote a book all that material in it.

 

"My first jail break I did for publicity purposes so I could book my act. I had to create a demand for this act, because who wants a 15-year-old kid cluttering up their stage? So when I was ready, I went to the police department and I talked to a guy named Captain Feldman who was very amenable, a hell of a nice guy, an Edward G. Robinson-looking guy, and he said OK, we'll try it. I told him I'd be by the next day after school. From there I went to the newspaper office, and said I'd be at the jail at 3:30, so they should send a photographer and a reporter and I'd bust out of jail. The police department didn't know there was going to be publicity, and Captain Feldman was a little pissed off that the reporters were there, but of course they had to be. This time wasn't really a jailbreak. They handcuffed me spreadeagle to the outside of the cell, hands and feet. They had given me half an hour to do it. It took me 27 minutes. They had searched me head to toe, but I had these minuscule devices."

 

The transition from escapes to crime was easy, and at 17 Jim became a very ingenious juvenile delinquent. He believe anything that could be locked by one man, could be opened by another: him. "I was familiar with safes from the inside, so I know things, like there's a particular kind of safe, if it fell on you you'd be crushed, it's a big heavy monster. But all you have to do is hit the right corner with a sledge hammer. That's all it takes to open it up. You have to hit it at the right spot, but that will knock the bolt that holds the thing. It completely bypasses the tumblers. And the door will fly open.

 

"One of my stratagems in my career of crime was to change cars frequently. If I'd steal a car in Reading, I might replace it with another one in Easton. If you use one car for a whole night's work, you'd stand a pretty good chance of being nabbed. And of course cars were no problem for me to steal. Eventually I became so particular, if a car didn't have a radio, I'd stop after a block and steal another one. Or if it didn't have a full tank of gas. 'Cause how's an honest thief going to make out if he has to spend five bucks to fill up the gas tank? So it had to be a nice car, radio and all the conveniences.

 

"I remember once, me and another guy committed our only armed robbery. There's a difference between armed robbery and burglary, around 15 to 25 years. Armed robbery is a heavy rap. What I was was a burglar. I hit places like gas stations, or wherever there were cash registers.

 

"Most of our burglaries were committed without a word. We'd just pull up to a likely-looking place and there was my getaway man and me. He'd sit in the car and I'd get through the doors or windows, and go through the place. But this one time we were going to do one armed robbery.

 

"We were driving around, not in Reading, because none of the things we did were done in Reading, maybe one or two. I stole a submachine gun in Reading, but that was all. Anyway it was a spur of the moment thing. We saw this man coming out of a building. He was locking up, very well dressed, he had like a homburg, an old man about 60. Got in this brand new Lincoln Continental.

 

"I said, 'Follow that guy, I've got an idea,' So he drove across the city with us following him, and finally he pulled up in this very nice section of town, parked the car, and I said to my partner, 'Pull up in front of him and you get out and cover one side of the car,' and I pulled out one of my pearl-handled .38s and stuck this gun in the man's face. And I said, 'Your money or your life, , let's go. Get it out, whatever you got.' And the other guy was on the other side with a gun. And the man laughed. He laughed! This was a nervous laugh, you know, like when you have an embarrassing moment, like in church when you start laughing and you can't stop.

 

"Well, here were two guys, you know, with guns, and I don't know if you've ever been on the other end of a gun barrel, but it's an uncomfortable feeling. I didn't know what to do. Like, I never saw in all the movies that I have seen with Cagney, Bogart and Robinson, nobody ever laughed. This was a situation not covered in the books.

 

"So we like stood there looking at each other, and I realized that sooner or later somebody was going to walk by or drive by. This called for the right decision. And I finally wound up saying, 'Ah, 'scuse me, mister, we thought you were someone else,' and got back in the car, and drove out of that district. That was it for armed robbery. I couldn't take another laugh.

 

"I don't know where your head's at, but I wouldn't shoot anybody for any amount of money. I don't mind stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, which was myself, but I certainly would never shoot anybody, that's just too far out.

 

"Eventually they caught me and I had to give up my guns. I had many guns. A complete arsenal. My two pearl-handled .38s, 30 pistols, and countless rifles, we had .45s and a submachine gun that shot nine millimeter parabellum shells. I carried that gun home, walking along the streets of Reading with it over my shoulders, across my back, like you carry a baseball bat when you're a kid. And nobody noticed me, I guess, 'cause they didn't stop me. I was only in jail until my trial, about a month, and they had me in solitary with a 24-hour guard because of my history as an escape artist. They knew all it would take me was three minutes and I'd be out. I was placed on probation--I was still a juvenile delinquent at the time. But I had to pay back what I had stolen, make restitution for whatever stuff I had done. It took me a couple of years to do that.

 

I drove down to Pennsylvania to visit Jim. He still lives in Reading, which turned out to be a funky old railroad town. I walked through an iron gate, through an old heavy door and into a dark hallway with pink faded flowered wallpaper, and the smell of somebody's grandmother's cabbage soup. Up three flights to a dark wood door, which Steranko opened, dressed in white from turtleneck to ankles, with pointed black Italian boots. Jim is a fantasy character who really exists. "After all," he once said, "the mask is the man." The color TV was on, an Edward G. Robinson movie, but no audio. Jim is a good looking guy--he looks a lot like Nick Fury except for the eye patch, compact and strong looking, with a lively gleam in his eyes. He hasn't been working for Marvel for a while.

 

Jim Steranko would like to be the Michelangelo of comic book art. But as he said, who's going to pay any attention if you have Michelangelo working and it costs only a dime? People don't see all the work that goes into comic book art. They don't realize there's a writer and an artist and an inker and a letterer and a colorist. Even so, Jim thinks most of what's done is trash. There are a few creative people and the rest are imitators and the work that's done is repetition.

 

"Comic books are trash. But that TV set is trash, and so much of music trash. And books like Peyton Place and Gone with the Wind and The Power of Positive Thinking and The Love Machine. It's all trash." I asked if he considered the stuff he did to be trash. "Of course," he said. "So you like trash?" "Well, yeah, of course I like trash. Of course, human flesh is trash, too.

 

"Comic books are throwaway art, they're just temporary. But the whole form has a chance to endure. I believe that ideas are more important than human life. I think that in every person there is maybe one idea, one grand idea. I know that I will be immortal because I have turned out words and pictures and as long as one of these lasts, I will truly endure. At least until the end of this planet. I haven't done that one thing yet that I can call really redeeming. That will be in the future.

 

"I don't believe in peace either. I used to think, 'Love and Peace.' But now I have changed my mind about that. I have a new philosophy. It's this: I believe that I am an agent put here to maintain the aspect of equipoise in the universe, the balance of nature. That means warmth and cold, night and day, light and darkness, order and chaos, good and evil, there's a reason for those things being, and I do whatever I can to maintain that.

 

"For example, before you came, I ripped up that Life magazine. it came in the mail today, and I destroyed it by ripped out things that I wanted. Now tomorrow I might destroy an idea and the day after I might destroy a person. I believe that in order for life to endure there has to be movement and change. Static is death. Motion is life. So every day I create something, a drawing, some writing, something new. And in order to maintain that balance, I'll destroy something. After you've done it for a while, you begin to see signs that something will be to be destroyed."

 

There are no bound to Steranko's imagination. He said that when aliens land here, or when we land on another planet, we are going to communicate with pictures, illustrated stories, comic books. I asked him if he really believed there was someone out there. "Oh, sure," he said, "there's someone out there. It's staggering no matter how you think about it. Either there's no one out there and you're alone, or there is someone. Either way it's overwhelming."

 

Steranko works in the back room of his apartment. His walls are covered with posters of very sexy girls dressed in leather, original comic artwork, paintings he's done for paperback book covers, and a huge library of pulps and comics. He has an antique colt .45 gun, and on the floor in a cage is a giant hare ("what's a magician without a rabbit?"). He showed me a book he'd written about escaping when he was a teenager. It was a special Houdini Memorial issue of the magazine, and it had pictures of Steranko handcuffed to the cell of a jail, Steranko in a strait jacket, Steranko hanging from the face of a huge clock by his ankles, and all kinds of pictures of the devices he had invented for escapes. He told me about one stunt he did where he was buried alive three feet under for 15 minutes. He had made an air pocket in front of his mouth with just enough air to survive if he timed his breathing right. He is a man who likes to escape.

 

"I have led the loneliest life of all the people I have ever known. All the things that I do, like writing and painting, are solitary proceedings. You cannot write with someone else, unless you're collaborating, which I don't do. That means you spend hours alone. I spent an entire childhood writing and drawing by myself, studying and practicing magic. To this very day, I work alone in this black room.

 

"But I believe that happiness is nothing. Like most things, it is temporary. I don't think people were put here to be happy. I think if you decide to be an artist or a writer, you automatically accept the responsibility of being alone. However, after your 50 or 60 years are up you'll be able to look back and see this output that you've done that will endure long after you're gone, and will continue to fill the minds of millions of people."

 

* * *

He was my boss and sometimes I liked him and sometimes I hated him, but I always did what he told me to, sometimes grudgingly, like when he'd have me run the errands his wife didn't feel like doing, but I always did them. Because he worked so hard, tried so hard, was so enthusiastic, you'd want to make it easier for him. He's got a one-man show going, he won't delegate, which is why he works so hard. In the world of the Marvel Comics Group, God doesn't look like Charlton Heston. He looks like Stan Lee.

 

Sometimes God used to remind of Errol Flynn. I remember once going into Stan's office to give him some letters and finding him eight feet tall standing on a chair. A balloon with "I'll show you who walks away from here!" in it flew out of his mouth as he leapt from the chair and started faking punches at an artist.

 

Stan has been editor of Marvel Comics since he was 17 and Marvel was called Timely, over 30 years ago. He used to have a collection of all the comics he had ever put out, a collection that would be worth quite a lot of money now. He had it stashed in the cellar of the house he used to have in Hewlitt, Long Island. But one day he went down to look through some old issues and found that the whole collection was ruined. It had gotten wet from a leak through the walls, and the books were all mildewed, and crumbled in his hands at the touch.

 

Stan (The Man) Lee revolutionized the comic book industry ten years ago by deciding to let his superheroes live in the real world: his real world. He made Spiderman a neurotic, guilt-ridden, insecure superhero with romantic problems, financial problems, sinus attacks and fits of insecurity, embarrassed about appearing in public in a costume. Lately Spiderman's life has become almost unbearable. Peter Parker is committed to his role of Spiderman, fighter for justice and good, and yet it is this role which has alienated him from the world he seeks to help. His girl Gwen hates Spiderman for killing her father, and he's so busy playing "Web-Spinner" he hasn't time for anyone who really matters, like his Aunt May who smothers him with motherly attention and can't be told about his secret identity because she would die of a heart attack. The public thinks he is a thief and murderer. He can't win. If he should forsake his super-powers and try to be just Peter Parker, he feels guilty for not fighting crime and doing the good he knows he can do. Stan told me he thinks of his Superheroes as copies of himself.

 

When I asked him for an interview, he asked me if I would be nice. He said the world was a hostile place. I guess that's just the mood he's in lately. Things have been tough around Marvel. His best artist Jack Kirby went over to National not so long ago and Kirby had been with Marvel since the beginning. Gil Kane said in an interview in Alter Ego that Jack and Stan had painted themselves into a corner by converting everything at Marvel into the same model, and now everybody's losing interest in that model. Well, Stan's alone in the corner, still Facing Front and smiling, but a little down sometimes.

 

The day of the interview, Stand was in a good mood though, speaking with exclamation points at the end of every sentence even though he had a cold and his sinus trouble was acting up. I asked him where he'd like to sit and he said, "You do what's best for you! Have a sourball! You're my guest!"

 

We talked for a while, then played back the tape recorder to see if we were picking everything up, and Stan said, "You know, that sounds so icky, I wouldn't like me if I met me and I sounded like that. I've gotta try to sound more rugged."

 

I asked Stan if his personal life was a lot different from his life as a comic book editor, like if his wife and daughter were into comic books.

 

"I don't think my daughter has ever read a comic book in her life, and I doubt that my wife has. They get very bored if I even discuss the subject. All they want is the paycheck every week. Sometimes I think that' all I want. Actually, I don't know where one life ends and the other begins, 'cause I really work seven days a week. I come to the office two days a week, to do my editing and talk to people, and at home I do my writing and talk to people on the phone. Sunday, Sunday night, Saturday, Monday, everything. That's one thing I don't like about my job. There isn't enough time to spend with people. Being a writer is the loneliest. . .

 

"But anyway, I think this is what has held my marriage together. I've got the greatest wife in the world. I'm absolutely crazy about her and every time I see her or have a date with her, it's like a treat, it's like I'm staling time away from work and nobody knows it. 'Cause I got a story to write, but I say, 'Come on, let's go out to dinner, I'll finish it when I get back.' So it's a few precious stolen hours, and maybe if I had a regular job, I'd get tired of going out every night."

 

Stan is devoting his life to convincing people they shouldn't condemn the comic book field. He thinks he can do a lot of good with those books. "You know I'm very square and preachy sometimes, but the more I realize that people are to some degree affected by what we write, the more I'm aware of the influence we have, the more I worry about what I write. I don't want to be misunderstood, I don't want to send one kid off on the wrong road. I never try to say to the reader, this is the way it should be, 'cause I fell who am I to say it?

 

"I think the only message I have ever tried to get across is for Christsake, don't be bigoted. Don't be intolerant. If you're a radical, don't think that all of the conservatives have horns. Just like if you're a John Bircher, don't think that every radical wants to blow up the nation and rape your daughter.

 

"Maybe I sound like a Pollyanna, but I think most people want to same thing. They want to live a happy family life, they want to be at peace, they want no physical violence, nobody to hurt them, and they want the good things that life has to offer. But I think everybody sees us reaching that nirvana by a different path.

 

"And I think one of the terrible things in the world is that we are so inclined to think in black and white, hero and villain, good and bad, if you don't agree with me I've got to destroy you. If we could only learn that the world is big enough for all of us. For a guy who wants to wear his hair long, and a guy who wants to be a skinhead. Neither of 'em has to be bad.

 

"I try not to make my villains all bad. Like Dr. Doom is a lovable villain. He thinks of himself as a guy who wants to rule the world 'cause he thinks he can do a better job than anyone else. And he is amazed that people try to stop him. There's no law against wanting to take over the world. You can be arrested for being a litterbug, but you're not breaking the law if you try to take over mankind.

 

"I think I've done pretty well, 'cause we've gotten so many letters from parents and kids. I got one letter last year, a Christmas card that said, 'You don't know me but my son has been so influenced by your books over the years. He's a wonderful boy, the class valedictorian last year, and I just want to tell you that I think his father and I and you have done a good job of rearing him.' And I get so much mail like that. Very often I get letters from, of all things, ministers, preachers saying, 'I used a few pages from your Silver Surfer, Avengers, Captain America as the basis for a sermon'!"

 

Stan is under contrast to Magazine Management and his job is to produce comic books that will make them money. Readers think of Stan as such an idealist, they are shocked to learn that money is a consideration. He had just gotten a letter that morning that said, "I'll never read another comic book, and screw you Stan. We always thought that money didn't mean that much to you, and if you drop the Silver Surfer because of money, it means you've been fooling us just like everybody else has, and up yours." Stan said he wanted to sit down and write the guy, but there was no return address. He wanted to tell the kid that if they didn't make money, the comic book department would be closed down, and then they wouldn't be able to do any good at all.

 

"The other day the station manager of a radio station, a long-haired kid, but a nice kid, told me, 'You know it's a funny thing, Stan. Most of the kids I know my age (he was in his early 20s), we don't believe anything we read in Time or Newsweek, or any of that junk, but we believe what we read in Marvel Comics.' Maybe what the world needs is truth, even more than love.

 

"I have a theory about love. I started thinking about it the other day, and the more I think about it, the more I think about it. I wonder if we are wrong in stressing love because we've tried love for about 2000 years and it seems not to have worked. And it's just possible that hate is just as strong an emotion within the human condition. Why not learn how to live with hate? Let us not try to drive hate out of existence, maybe it's impossible. Maybe we should be saying, look to be truthful, we all have hate. But once we accept the fact that hate is as strong an influence as love, let us learn how to live with it, to direct it into useful channels."

 

Stan thinks of himself as the world's most anonymous celebrity, even though his books sell around 60 million copies a year. The people who read the comics know of him, and the people where he's lectured, but most people have never heard of Stan Lee. He is always surprised to find that the disc jockeys and radio personalities who interview him are fans of his. One fan of his is Federico Fellini. He told me of the time Fellini had come to see him. The switchboard operator had told him, "Federico Fellini is here to see you," and he said, "Yeah, and tell him Santa Claus is in here." Stan thought it was a gag.

 

"But in he walked with an entourage. He had a translator, and his manager, and a friend of his, the guy who makes Strega Liqueurs, and I was so thrilled, and I figured I didn't know what he was doing here, but it will give me a chance to talk to him and ask him a million questions. I didn't have a chance to ask him one thing. he spent two hours interviewing me! Through his translator, asking me where do you get your ideas, how long have you been doing it. And I said about a dozen times, 'This is insane. I'm with the most famous director in the world. Don't talk about me. I wanna talk about you!' It was intensely flattering, but I was embarrassed. It was like a scene from one of his movies. Nutty. He was interested in these books. It turned out that he started out doing comics in Italy. He recognizes the similarity of techniques between comics and motion pictures."

 

Now Stan is working on a screen play with Alain Resnais. "He's one of my very best friends, through the comics. He's a fan of Marvel's. He came up here once, same thing: 'I want to meet you.' With a tape recorder and a camera. We got to talking and he told me he learned to read and write English mainly through Marvel comic books. He's been reading them for years and he knows these stories better than I do. He's one of those fans that spot my mistakes. He'll say, 'Stan, don't you remember, Red Skull can't do what you said, because three years ago you had him say he couldn't do that.' He's one of the sweetest guys, we double dated together."

 

What does Stan think of himself?

 

"Well, I think I'm pretty dull--no, I don't think that. I think of myself as a communicator. It seems to me the most important thing in the world is communication. Take the President of the United States. I often think that what we should elect is not a politician but a communicator. I think what the world needs is somebody who can talk to other people. And can explain things so they'll understand, and sort of give people faith in themselves and in their fellow man. I think that what we're suffering from today is that nobody believes anybody else. What happens is we have become so divisive, we only believe ourselves and people exactly like us.

 

"I'm not a hippie, I'm not a conservative, I don't know what the hell I am but I don't think labels are that important because, boy, I'll tell you, I've been with guys whose hair is down to their ankles and would scare anybody, they just looked so weird, and they were the greatest guys in the world. And some of my friends are real establishment people. One of my best friends is the chairman of the board of one of the most respectable companies in the world and he's the greatest guy living. And I just don't think it matters what kind of philosophy you have as long as you're a good guy within that philosophy. I belong to all worlds, am comfortable in all worlds."

 

When it came time to take some pictures, Stan went over to the mirror to spiff up a bit. "My hair isn't even on straight!" he said. Stan Lee used to be Stanley Lieber, and Stanley Lieber is bald. But Stanley Lieber hardly exists any more. Stan said he doesn't even recognize him in the mirror. He said his daughter doesn't allow him to go out unless he looks like Stan Lee.

 

"You know how I got this beard? I went to a Christmas party about three years ago, and when I left I was feeling no pain. I jumped up in the air to click my heels and I feel down and broke my ankle. I was in bed for two weeks, so I didn't shave, and when I got out of bed and went to get a razor, my wife grabbed one arm and my daughter got the other arm and they said if you shave that off we're through with you! You're suddenly glamorous!"

 

Stanley Lieber turned 48 last December. Stan Lee spent the day writing Spiderman.

 

© 1971, Rolling Stone

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
19,984 posts
In my opinion (which is strictly personal taste), Kirby, in the '70s and '80s, was hard to look at. His art is instantly recognizable and for me not pleasing. All of his people have fat fingers, fat forearms and the faces are similiar. Please look at the splash page that is posted earlier in the thread and check out the hands. Sure he has clean lines and the perspectives are solid (my art lingo lacks), but the overall effect is not good for me.

 

Why everyones keeps forgetting (or ignoring) that Kirby’s style of the very late 1970s and early 1980s was also burdened by his eye illness, which increasingly required the finishers and inkers to help adjusting the perspective (which he saw distorted)?

This is not fair, and makes no sense, not to consider this.

 

Also the criticism towards Infantino’s 1970s work – although tastes vary and of course one can not like it – has no solid motivations. Infantino went more and more stylized, and I read his work precisely in that moment and found it fascinating, although different from the "classic Marvel style" so much embodied by John Buscema’s work.

Edited by vaillant

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
2,199 posts
In my opinion (which is strictly personal taste), Kirby, in the '70s and '80s, was hard to look at. His art is instantly recognizable and for me not pleasing. All of his people have fat fingers, fat forearms and the faces are similiar. Please look at the splash page that is posted earlier in the thread and check out the hands. Sure he has clean lines and the perspectives are solid (my art lingo lacks), but the overall effect is not good for me.

 

Why everyones keeps forgetting (or ignoring) that Kirby’s style of the very late 1970s and early 1980s was also burdened by his eye illness, which increasingly required the finishers and inkers to help adjusting the perspective (which he saw distorted)?

This is not fair, and makes no sense, not to consider this.

 

Also the criticism towards Infantino’s 1970s work – although tastes vary and of course one can not like it – has no solid motivations. Infantino went more and more stylized, and I read his work precisely in that moment and found it fascinating, although different from the "classic Marvel style" so much embodied by John Buscema’s work.

 

Thanks for that information and it's commendable for him to continue working in spite of the illness. Not sure I will like his work more for those years, but nice to know anyway.

(thumbs u

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Great thread and some interesting points but can I put the cat amongs the pidgeons by suggesting that the first title of the BA was Zap Comix 1 released in 1968. It was a game changer because it introduced two new things to comics:

 

1. Artistic freedom of expression. It changed comics from a purely commercial product into a vehicle for the artist.It turned artists into visionaries who could offer different worlds for people to enjoy. I don't think it's a coincidence that the BA happens at the same time that graffiti started to become more expressive. You see all the things you mentioned are true (more "adult" themes, etc) but they are only the symptoms not the cause. The BA came about because artists suddenly had freedom of opportunity. If they didn't like the way Marvel and DC were doing things, they could go elsewhere or even set up their own comic - and in those other comics, they could depict drugs and sex and political hypocrisy and most importantly, death. I liken it to the collapse of the studio system in Hollywood where filmmakers and actors were suddenly free to choose what projects they did and what genres they pursued rather than being typecast and processed by the big studios. What happened with Marvel and DC is that they were actually play catch-up with what the writers and artists were already doing without them

 

2. Honesty. I remember the first time I came across an underground comic. It was my one and only major convention in London and it was a horrible little thing. The main character had died, become a zombie and no one noticed as he went about his "life" slowly rotting. I vividly remember a section where a prostitute picks him up, mistakes his intestine for his and "pleasures" herself with it while he got bored and left, trailing his guts behind him. But I got a buzz out holding this thing. It was like I was holding an electric eel. This vile thing had something that most of Marvel and DC lacked - honesty. It was a "Warts An' All" expression of one's person's honest opinion. It was like a Francis Bacon painting - ugly and beautiful at the same time. It's a buzz I still get when I see someone pursuing their vision in comics although it happens a lot less nowadays.

 

As for the end of the BA, that happened when comics became formulaic or rather when the two big companies thought they understood this new "Honesty" thing and just incorporated it into their existing formula. Again, when that actually happened is hard to say but I know it was all over by Watchmen. The old fashion boy scouts had been deposed in preference to more modern "real" heroes who were every bit as stereotyped and 2 dimensional as the heroes they "replaced"

 

Of course, I do understand that it's a bit like trying to decide who the first punk rock band was.

 

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
7,880 posts

These are great insights. (thumbs u For years, I've suspected the only possible explanation for those bizarre Joe Simon projects like Brother Power the Geek, Prez and the Outsiders was that they were trying for a tamed-down, CCA-approved version of the underground comix.

 

And while they weren't nearly as individualistic as the undergrounds, the B&W Warren magazines preserved the EC Comics style outside the influence of the CCA-- and served both as a direct influence on the DC Bronze Age Horror revival, and as a training ground for Bronze Age talents, most notably Archie Goodwin.

 

The Silver Age revival of the super-heroes fitted the constraints of the newly-imposed Comics Code: morality plays where good (mostly) overcomes evil. In contrast the Bronze Age creators were pushing back or subverting the restrictions of the Code, using the undergrounds, the Warrens, and memories of Pre-Code comics as templates.

 

And the Bronze Age was certainly the beginning of the star talent auteur comics creator, with a fan base independent of the characters or publisher brand identity. Neal Adams was perhaps the first creator to openly work back and forth between the Big Two, and fans followed him from publisher to publisher. Certainly DC expected Jack Kirby to bring with him all the Marvellites.

 

But perhaps the nadir of the Bronze Age free expression / "honesty" thing in mainstream comics was that Mike Friedrich panel I reprinted earlier in the thread...

 

88826.jpg

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

You're quite right, Zonker. I was remiss not mentioning Warren. That was very silly of me, really, because their series "Dracula" is a treasure of my collection. It never occured to me until you just pointed it out that it must have been so galling to work for Warren and then go to somewhere as tame and restrained as Marvel or DC.

 

A good point, well made

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
11,145 posts

 

:applause: This remains one of my all-time favorite threads. And many thanks to Zonker for posting that Rolling Stone article...very, very cool...

 

 

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
17,726 posts

 

But perhaps the nadir of the Bronze Age free expression / "honesty" thing in mainstream comics was that Mike Friedrich panel I reprinted earlier in the thread...

 

88826.jpg

 

:facepalm:

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
7,880 posts

Found another example of early 1970s media coverage of what was going on in comics at the time. This was apparently syndicated, as I've found references to this article published in papers in Massachusetts and Florida.

 

Zap, Pow, Crunch, Sock Comic Books Taking On Relevant Social Issues By JACK WEBB Copley News Service

 

Nelson E. Bridwell is a 35* year-old New Yorker with a black beard, glasses and a crew cut. He likes comic books and thinks other people his age should too. He likes comic books so well, in fact, that he has devoted his life to them. He is a professional comic book writer and the editor of such popular masterpieces as “Lois Lane” comic books. He is also one of the men responsible for the big change in comic books this year. Bigots dislike the change. Racists decry it. But it is there, and it can be found at your local drugstore. You can look at the last issue of Lois Lane comic books to get an idea of what the change is about. This is the one where Superman puts Lois in a big complicated-looking machine and she comes out black You know, Negro. Tlie reason Superman put her in the machine is because she asked him to. The reason she asked him to is she wanted to do a story on the black ghetto and all the blacks distrusted her because she was white. The day before she turned black, for example, she was walking down a city street. Young black kids avoided her. Mothers snatched their babies from her. A man who looked suspiciously like Huey Newton stood on a soapbox and shouted at a crowd not to trust Lois Lane. She might look sweet, but she was white and therefore one of the oppressors. So, Lois Lane thinks to herself that he's right, a lot of whites are bigoted and oppressors, but the pseudo-Huey Newton is wrong about her. So she turns black to prove it. And then she asks Superman to marry her.

 

This is one of the things that have angered some people, Bridwell said. “One letter criticized Lois Lane asking Superman to marry her," Bridwell said. “The woman said that she didn’t believe in interracial marriages.’’ That issue of the Lois Lane comic books has, however, been praised by most of the comic-book-reading public, Bridwell said. •'In fact, just the other day we received our first really racist letter on that issue. Oddly enough, it was not from the South but from Jamaica, N. Y “It was plain racist. He (the letter writer) didn’t want n***** spelled with one ‘g’ in magazines. The letter was written either by a young kid or by an adult who couldn't write,’’ Bridwell said.

 

The big change in comic books, Bridwell said, is they are beginning to tackle social issues in a serious way. They are also beginning to become more progressive. Comic book publishers are hiring young artists “who are in tune with young people.’’ Bridwell writes the Batman comic strip that appears in newspapers, but the author of the Batman comic books is Mike Friedrich, a college student in California. “We’re slanting at least some of our stuff in a progressive way for the young people,” Bridwell said. “If we can get a moral across then we’ll try to do that, too. "Putting across an idea is a good thing."

 

Bridwell said the new emphasis in comic books was begun by the senior editor of the firm he works for, Julie Schwartz. His new socially oriented comic books have caught on throughout the comic book publishing field, Brldwell sail. The new comic books are not aimed at youngsters. They are aimed at adolescents, Bridwell said, and adolescents are the biggest customers of the new comic books. National Periodical Publications is the firm that has Julie Schwartz, and Nelson E. Bridwell working for it. National Periodical is one of lite biggest publishers in the field, selling millions of comic books each month.

 

It’s easy to see that the comic book publishers have not decided to go easy on the new fad. If you pick up the latest issue of “House of Secrets” comic books vou will be treated to a discussion of three major modern social issues — the place of religion in the world today, pollution and man versus the machine. These new comic books are a radical departure from the comics adults read as kids. During the 1950s and 1960s, for example, Superman spent most of his time fighting gangsters. Now he fights bigotry and pollution. But if you ask Bridwell, he will tell you the new comics are not that much of a change. He will tell you about the history' of comic books and such things as the propaganda comic books of World War II. In the comics of the 1940s Superman spent all his time fighting the Nazis. Superman spends all his time in the 1970s fighting for or against “relevant social issues.” It isn’t Superman that's changed. It’s us

 

*****************************************

 

Wonder what issue of HoS they're talking about? hm

Edited by Zonker

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
2,493 posts

Interesting article.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
2,638 posts
I think most folks will agree on the book or books that started the Golden Age and Silver Age, respectively, but to be honest I think people need to categorize and label things for the mere sake of ensuring a certain book 'fits' somewhere under an all-encompassing umbrella term.

 

Bronze Age, Copper Age, Modern Age? All are labels to fit a sqaure peg in a round hole, create additional Top 10 keys books lists and for who's benefit? (shrug)

 

I'm glad someone found this thread again and I found a post I submitted back in '09 which still holds true for me today.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
37,595 posts

Well, then other than the Golden Age, there really are no "Ages", as comics were chugging along just fine in the 50's and 60's and even if you crazily used a superhero-centric view, DC hardly stopped producing superhero comics during this era.

 

If you look at comics as a whole, then there was only the Golden Age that started it all, and that's it. Trends changes, but comics never stopped being produced and the only reason we have the SA is because superhero fanboys looked back with 20-20 hindsight.

 

What about all the Westerns that ruled the plains during the 40's and 50's? Where's their "Age"? The funny animal books? The humor books like Archie? Cartoon books from Harvey? Romance? Horror? Crime? Don't they matter?

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
11,145 posts

 

Yeah, that's a good point: the fans who grew up in the '30s and '40s borrowed a phrase from Greek mythology, and retroactively applied it to the heroic "myths" of their youth, which have since been retooled and refurbished over and over again in an endless procession of (more-or-less) interchangeable superhero comics.

 

So in general these "Ages" we love to quibble over only make a rough kind of sense if we're talking about one specific genre of comics (superheroes). The Archie line is an excellent example: excepting the clothes and a few other sops to contemporary fads and trends, it's pretty much the same as it ever was...

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
37,595 posts

The biggest omission in this whole "Ages" are the Western, Crime, Horror and Monster/Sci-Fi genre that absolutely ruled the late-40's, 50's and into the 60's.

 

That's the reason Marvel dropped their superheroes, to make money on the most popular genres, but because these didn't translate into marketable characters owned by DC and Marvel, they are hastily swept under the carpet.

 

And even by a superhero-centric view, it doesn't make sense, as DC was pumping out a pile of Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, etc.-based books (more than any other genre) and it was really only Timely (which would switch gears and fire everyone at the drop of a hat) that jumped ship to Monster-Land and killed their superhero line.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
2,638 posts
The biggest omission in this whole "Ages" are the Western, Crime, Horror and Monster/Sci-Fi genre that absolutely ruled the late-40's, 50's and into the 60's.

 

That's the reason Marvel dropped their superheroes, to make money on the most popular genres, but because these didn't translate into marketable characters owned by DC and Marvel, they are hastily swept under the carpet.

 

And even by a superhero-centric view, it doesn't make sense, as DC was pumping out a pile of Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, etc.-based books (more than any other genre) and it was really only Timely (which would switch gears and fire everyone at the drop of a hat) that jumped ship to Monster-Land and killed their superhero line.

 

I think we can also add the Romance books to the omission. Lots and lots of Romance books in the 1950s.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
37,595 posts
The biggest omission in this whole "Ages" are the Western, Crime, Horror and Monster/Sci-Fi genre that absolutely ruled the late-40's, 50's and into the 60's.

 

That's the reason Marvel dropped their superheroes, to make money on the most popular genres, but because these didn't translate into marketable characters owned by DC and Marvel, they are hastily swept under the carpet.

 

And even by a superhero-centric view, it doesn't make sense, as DC was pumping out a pile of Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, etc.-based books (more than any other genre) and it was really only Timely (which would switch gears and fire everyone at the drop of a hat) that jumped ship to Monster-Land and killed their superhero line.

 

I think we can also add the Romance books to the omission. Lots and lots of Romance books in the 1950s.

 

Yep, see my previous commnet:

 

What about all the Westerns that ruled the plains during the 40's and 50's? Where's their "Age"? The funny animal books? The humor books like Archie? Cartoon books from Harvey? Romance? Horror? Crime? Don't they matter?

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
7,880 posts

I recently came across this transcript of a 1972 panel discussion involving Stan & Jack. Since jools&jim was nice enough to plug this old thread recently (Thanks Mikey!), I thought I'd bump it for a newer audience.

 

The below transcript is interesting for a number of reasons. First, just as a glimpse at the Lee/Kirby relationship during the time when Jack was working at DC (reads kind of frosty to me!). Second, for the fact that Stan & Jack are talking about the then-contemporary Green Lantern / Green Arrow series. And finally it shows these two creators grappling with what is possible or advisable in the medium-- can it treat serious subjects? Is it the 32-page monthly format, or commercial contraints, or the graphic story medium itself, or only the talent of the creators that limits the possibilities to tackle a big important subject? All very Bronze-Age-ish questions, in my opinion.

 

Vanderbilt University Panel from 1972

 

Question: Mr. Lee, who is your best-selling character at Marvel, and who is your favorite character?

Stan Lee: Well, the best-selling one is Spider-Man. Spider-Man is absolutely amazing. It’s been the best-selling one ever since it started. That’s been over ten years, and it’s never not been the best-selling comic. And I really don’t have a favorite. It’s like asking a parent who’s his favorite child. Whichever one I write at the moment is my favorite at that moment. But I like them all, really.

 

Question: Mr. Lee, approximately what age audience do you try to pattern your comics for?

Lee: We try the impossible. We try to gather everybody together as our audience. But what happened is: in the beginning comics were read by kids from four years old up to about twelve or thirteen, and maybe an occasional serviceman in World War II, and that was about all. But little by-little, and I’d like to think since the advent of Marvel, we have been upgrading the audience, too the point now where just about every college and university has a core of Marvel fans. There are adults who read them, so it’s certainly not unusual to see seventeen, eighteen, or nineteen year-olds reading Marvel. To answer your Question more specifically, what I try to do in writing the stories is to get enough human interest, drama, good characterization, dialogue—as much as we can within the confines of the comic strip format to interest the older reader, and we try to get enough color and action and excitement not to lose the younger reader, and it’s very difficult. We’re always straddling the fence. If we get too good we lose a lot of the younger readers and we really can’t afford to do that; we need those sales. If we cater to the younger readers, we’ll lose the older readers, and we certainly don’t want to do that. So it’s a real ulcer situation.

 

Question: What restraints do you feel you’re working under? Are they political, or social or .. .

Lee: (facetiously): Economic. If something can make money for Marvel Comics, it is good. What’s good for Marvel Comics is good for . . . Stan Lee’s country . . . but I don’t know. As far as what’s right and what’s wrong, I don’t think those things ever really change. I think everybody has a different conception. It seems to me that anything you can do that doesn’t hurt anybody else and pleases you—that would seem pretty right to you. My only taboo is something that might be injurious in some way to other people, and if it isn’t, I don’t care what anybody says, we’ll go ahead and do it . . . unless we lose money.

 

Audience member: Would anybody care to comment on the connection between writing as an art and the art itself?

Lee: I’ll make this short. The art of writing is to write the story, and the art of drawing is to draw the pictures. Now some people just write the stories, some people just draw the pictures, and some guys do both. And if anybody can add anything to that .. .

Jack Kirby: I’ll grab hold of this. I’ve worked with writers and artists. I know that the writing helps the art, and the art is supposed to help the writing. Combined, they’re supposed to have an impact upon the reader. Some cartoons don’t have writing at all, and I suppose you can call that graphic manual art. That’s what makes them work. Sometimes the writing will make an adventure strip work. Sometimes, if you get the right man to write the strip, you can get a strip with a lot of impact. So the writer is necessary to the strip because that’s been the format all along. Someone has to write the balloons. If you’re an extremely talented artist you can write the -script yourself; that’s been done too. Writing and drawing are both arts, and the combination of both fields can make a very fine product. They’re separate arts, but not inseparable. They help each other in the best way possible.

 

Audience Member: What do you think of comic books like Green Lantern/Green Arrow which use relevance as a theme?

Lee: Is that for me?

Audience Member: That is for you and Mr. Kirby.

Lee: Well, let Jack go first.

Kirby: I feel that doing any story on a very serious situation in a comic book is wrong. Because of the restrictive nature of its own format, a comic book cannot do a definitive analysis of a given issue. It can do it in a general way, it can probably gloss over it or mention it or maybe devote a segment of the story to it, but it cannot give a definitive opinion of the issue. If I thought Green Lantern had done anything constructive in that direction, it would be fine. But I thought they couldn’t have given the whole story and possibly left out an important part of the issue. So I felt they were right by doing it, but they missed the point by not doing it in a different format. They should have done a bigger Green Lantern, a book of say 200-250 pages. That would tell a really good story on any given issue, and it would have meant something. Because those issues are not entertainment; they’re really problems. And I feel a problem should be extremely well-defined. A comic book, as it is now, really labors to put it across. Certainly, those books did a good job, as far as they went. But I feel they should have been given more of a chance to really tell the story. Because that’s what you want, if you have a serious issue, you should get the story, every detail. And that’s my opinion on the Green Lantern book.

 

Lee: Well, since Green Lantern is a competitive magazine of ours, I think the book is already too big. I must disagree; I don’t agree with Jack about comic books not being a medium for serious messages. I’ve always felt that comics are a legitimate art form, really no different from movies, radio, television, novels, plays, what have you. I think that anything you can say in any other medium, you can say in a comic. Years ago, when I was in the army, one of the things I did was write comic books on very serious subjects for training. I taught people how to operate Sherman tanks and how to avoid venereal disease. Very important subjects, but they used the comics format. We were able to get a message across clearly, succinctly, and briefly and very effectively we found through the use of comics. As far as Green Lantern is concerned, basically, I think the editors of National Comics and we at Marvel have basic, have a total disagreement in editorial policy on the way these things should be handled. I do agree when Jack said comics are entertainment; of course they are. Our purpose is to entertain our readers as best we can. I love trying to get messages into the stories. I love trying to moralize, sermonize, but it has to be done in a subtle way, in almost a subliminal way. On the other hand, at National they love the idea of their books being “relevant” now. And my own feeling is a personal feeling—they try to hit the reader over the head with their “relevance.” Their covers say, “Hey gang, this is a relevant issue. Look at the guy with the needle in his arm.” and they may be right, but it is totally in opposition to the way I feel about these things.

 

Kirby: May I add just one point? I think that’s one thing they did right. And I think that’s one thing the other books did right, is the fact that they do show that. I felt that, as long as they did do it, showing the problem as it is, the needle in the arm is the only way to portray the drug, the only way to portray the issue. Because that’s essentially what it is. There’s no other way to do it. Green Lantern from that point of view I think was good. They didn’t take any other way around the issue. I felt that they didn’t say enough. I wanted to see a bigger Green Lantern in a more definitive way to tell the real story of drugs. When the real story is told and people can take a good look at it and see what it’s really like, then I think the people who are inclined to slip into that sort of thing will hesitate to do so. So the needle in the arm, I think, is a symbol of what the problem really is, and if it’s ugly, let’s face it, it’s ugly, and we have to show it. And I think they were very honest to do that, and very right to do that.

 

 

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
3,475 posts

Great article-thanks for sharing Zonker (thumbs u You can see where Kirby was at this time in terms of how he saw the medium. Kirby was focused on his magnum opus which was up until that time, the biggest long term comic book project in history (and unfortunately never completed by him). It's understandable why he had this perspective toward the "realism" of the Green Lantern series. Kirby was attempting to take the comic book medium in a different direction and on a much grander scale when it came to storytelling. And such realism had no place in the Kirby mythos.

 

We know what Lee did with the "non-code" Spidey books so it's easy to see why he liked the stuff Adams and O'neil were doing.

 

Would love to know if Kirby had any opinion about what Lee did when the Spidey books were published?

 

The contrasting views of Kirby and Lee in terms of how they viewed the first Bronze Age superhero series provides interesting insight into the beginning of this great period in the history of the American Comic Book - a time when the comic book moved beyond the "limited framework" of the traditional Silver Age format.

 

It's noteworthy that these two giants who together took the medium beyond the earlier Silver Age contributions of DC Comics would differ on their views toward the "Real-Comic book" at the beginnings of the Bronze Age. Perhaps this difference of opinion on the revolutionary change that was taking place in the superhero genre in early 1970 is further evidence that a new age of the American Comic Book had begun and who better to witness and comment on this than Stan Lee and Jack Kirby - the team that was responsible for the preceding comic book revolution.

 

 

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
7,473 posts

Well, to answer the OP’s question; the Bronze Age is the 1970s. 

You can try to come up with an different answer, one that might actually bear scrutiny, but you’ll just be spinning your tires. I used to try to change people’s minds to a pet theory, but I’ve let that go. 

The Bronze Age of Comics is the 1970s.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
3 3