The Peerless Power of Comics!

It took me decades to get on board the Star-Lord train, but I know it happened well before the Guardians of the Galaxy took off in the cinema. My best guess in narrowing down the timeframe is when I took interest in the character during the Annihilation series of stories in 2006; but he really caught fire for me when he became part of the new GOTG group whose series launched in 2008. Written by Dan Abnett and Andy Lanning, with art by Paul Pelletier and Rick Magyar, and with the team assisted by a talkink... er, talking dog named Cosmo, that series was pure (dare I say it) Marvel magic, and it's where Peter Quill unquestionably belonged.

As happy as I was to read the adventures of the Guardians--and of Star-Lord--from that point on, I was still curious about this character's beginnings. "Star-Lord" may be a cool name for a hero, but it doesn't really "fit" Quill in terms of his role in the galaxy. What the heck is a Star-Lord? Why and how did Quill acquire this type of name? For that answer, I needed to go back over thirty years to the character's introduction in the pages of Marvel Preview in early 1976, where Quill seems to be just as confused by this new designation he's given.

We can thank Marv Wolfman for the name itself, though he had no preconceived notion of what kind of character would be attached to it. The task for developing the who and why of Star-Lord would be passed on to writer Steve Englehart, who would use his background in astrology to inject the character with a kind of pre-destined aspect that unfortunately falls short of giving Quill's new status any true meaning, for either himself or the reader. In addition, the Peter Quill that Englehart presents is a far cry from the present-day Quill whose wit and sense of responsibility carry the day as much as his style of shooting from the hip and thinking outside the box. Quill, as originally written, seems like the last person you'd want to have any measure of power, ordained by destiny or otherwise; on the contrary, Quill's road to the stars is littered with the bodies of those he's killed in his rage at being denied what he considered his due. This man should have wound up in court with the book thrown at him, followed by either a heavy prison sentence or an indefinite stay in an insane asylum for observation and treatment.

The introduction of "Star-Lord" doesn't paint a pretty picture of Peter Quill at all--and when reaching its conclusion, it's very difficult to look forward to his adventures, much less sympathize with this borderline psychopath. In Marvel's second look at the character over a year later, editor John Warner seemed to acknowledge as much--reintroducing Star-Lord with a few changes, dumping the astrology angle, and smoothing his path to being the type of character who didn't react to personal setbacks by mowing down anyone who got in his way:

"We also set the story some bit of time after Starlord's first appearance so that we could make some alterations on Peter Quill's chracter. We did so because both Chris [Claremont] and I felt uncomfortable with Quill being quite as twisted as he was in the first story. However, I don't think we have contradicted anything in the first issue. Time and his new awareness have mellowed Quill out just a bit."

In the original story's preface--the ideal place for an author to get you stoked on the new character you're about to see--even Englehart appears to have difficulty finding the words to express what it is about Quill that you'll find interesting and compelling, in spite of a title that reads "The Starlord: Who He Is and How He Came To Be." In a full page with three columns of text, the subject of Quill isn't really broached until the point where the introduction is being wrapped up, and then only in words cautioning that Quill's journey in becoming this character is going to require some effort on our part to understand and accept. You may find that it's Quill himself who should first admit to that.

(You might have noticed that there's a discrepancy in the usage of a hyphen in Star-Lord's name, with the magazine's cover including one while the interior omits it. My best guess as to why is that originally there was some effort made to distinguish between Star-Lord being a title of someone chosen for the role, rather than a single character's name. To make things really confusing, the story takes the approach of the former, even though Englehart prefers to use "Starlord." Since more contemporary stories appear to have settled on "Star-Lord," and since the Marvel Preview title shifts over to using the hyphen in 1978 in mid-story, Star-Lord it is.)

We get some inkling as to the tone of Englehart's story--and his treatment of Quill--as early as the circumstances of Quill's birth, a horrendous event which he barely survives.

We certainly won't shed any tears for the absence of the husband in this family's life from this point on--nor do Quill and his mother, who go on to become a reasonably happy and contented family on their own, though the mother is a bit withdrawn from any interaction with the townspeople and is generally shunned and endures petty gossip as a result, leading to similar treatment of Quill among his friends. Quill comes to prefer his isolation, taking comfort from televised science fiction shows and long walks in the fields near his home. An innocent question regarding a mysterious crater nearby plants the notion in his head that the area might have been visited by aliens--but nothing really comes of it until a tragic event later that will change Quill's life forever.

The incident becomes a turning point that sees Quill become obsessed with reaching outer space and making the aliens pay for what they've done. In itself that's not so unusual a story device, having been repeated often in other tales with variations--but in Quill's case, he loses much of himself in the process, and eventually it becomes hard to root for either the character or his cause anymore.

In retrospect, however, it's rather interesting to see the progression of Quill's life over the years, given that authors of fiction in the '70s were likely to view future decades as being much more scientifically advanced in space travel than what we know to be the case in 2017. In this case, a good example would be Quill's chosen profession. Given what Quill seeks to do, and, more importantly, where he seeks to go, his course seems clear. In the coming years, he trains and excels in the astronaut program, his dedication driving him to become their top candidate; yet the baggage that remains with him from the incident in his youth makes him difficult to get along with, his temperament unpredictable and at times hostile. There's no question that Quill's performance is exemplary; but by the time of his graduation from the program, it seems inevitable that he's viewed as his own worst enemy.

(Note how futuristic the astronaut program is envisioned by Englehart only a little over a decade in the future, which would put it in the late '80s--it's like something out of a space cadet film, even down to the cloak draping the program's director.)

If nothing else, Quill's harsh evaluation serves as a wake-up call that forces him to look back on his wasted life and view his prospects for success realistically. Given what happens next in just a few months' time might lead us to believe that Quill took the incident to heart and rededicated himself to his chosen career--but there are undertones to his sentiments that perhaps provide good reason for his superiors to proceed carefully with him.

Artist Steve Gan provides us with quite a different picture of life on board a space station than the comparatively cramped confines of the present-day ISS. For Quill, though, the spacious surroundings of his new post is still too confining, a mere stepping stone to where he really wants to head to. Yet as the station aligns to view an eclipse event (along with the planets--the astrology angle in play again), Quill would see an opportunity to advance to the next stage of his plans, when planet Earth receives what the authorities believe to be its first extra-terrestrial contact.

Quill is adamant about being the person chosen to be taken by the message's sender--but a more experienced officer is selected instead, marking the second time Quill is passed over and his dreams dashed. His violent reaction proves to one and all that Quill was never suitable for the space program, and never would be--and that would seem to be that as far as what he'd spent most of his life striving for.

But as the time approaches for the chosen officer to be whisked away to an incredible encounter, Quill basically snaps, stealing a ship at gunpoint to return to the station and begin a murderous rampage to force his way into what he sees as his last chance to achieve his ends.

When Quill is finally cornered, the decision is made to open fire on him--but at the last instant, he disappears, beginning his transport to the alien world. What we find on his arrival is another familiar device that's been used to initiate a mortal being into the unknown--the biblical Methuselah figure, who speaks in wise if cryptic words that ease Quill's way into the life and role destined for him. Almost immediately, Quill's host has guessed that Quill wasn't the one selected to come--but where the story is concerned, it really makes little difference at this point.

"Maybe" a murderer. It's going to be difficult for Englehart to backtrack in that respect now, given what we've seen of the carnage that Quill has dispensed from the barrel of his laser-rifle. Quill's regrets, if you can call them that, are too little too late and sound anything but heartfelt--far too inadequate to have us accepting what appears to be a change in his fortunes in the presence of this being.

True to the promise made at the station, Quill is provided with the outfit and equipment that makes him a Star-Lord, though we're mostly shown what that means in terms of his new abilities than his presumed purpose.

We're given little insight to the alien's methods of initiating this new Star-Lord, so we're left to assume that he wishes for Quill to resolve what has up to now been his life's mission before taking up the mantle of a Star-Lord in full. Whether what happens next actually takes place or is experienced only in Quill's mind is something that neither the alien nor Englehart is willing to make clear; but given how the scene plays out, it seems intended for Quill to get it out of his system, so to speak, as well as to clear Quill's path to becoming a new hero in our eyes.

It's a most abrupt and unsatisfying conclusion to this man's story, meant to hold the promise of a better life and a brighter future for the troubled man named Peter Quill but offering no real closure for him, as well as little to no redemption for the choices he made that led him to this point. The Claremont/John Byrne tale which follows up with the character in a year would help to smooth over the feel of unfinished business here by adding further details in regard to Quill's parents as well as the circumstances of his mother's death, which allow Quill to make more of a fresh start than Englehart's closing scene attempts to provide him with. Yet though the character went on to flourish, particularly in the 21st century, this story indelibly makes clear that there was no shortage of innocent people who had to pay the price.

Marvel Preview #4 (Star-Lord segment)

Script: Steve Englehart
Pencils and Inks: Steve Gan and Bob McLeod

With Cate Blanchett stirring up things in Thor: Ragnarok as Hela, Goddess of Death (and with her fanfare being provided by Led Zeppelin, no less), it seemed appropriate to take a closer look (but not TOO close) at this grim harbinger of the inescapable, as well as her fixation on the God of Thunder. The appearances of Hela go as far back as 1964--yet another creation of artist Jack Kirby that has stood the test of time, in this case over fifty years. Then again, half a century is the blink of an eye to the kind of entity we're talking about, isn't it?

As first presented, there doesn't seem much to fear about Hela beyond the obvious aspect of her being and purpose. She's ruthless, to be sure, but not entirely unscrupulous. When Thor meets her, she's bribed a storm giant with the promise of immortality if he delivers the goddess Sif to her; but when Thor offers to take her place, it's almost as if she's displaying a conscience.

You can't help but note that the qualities she admires in Thor that win his freedom--youth, bravery, nobility--are apparently attributes she feels that Sif doesn't possess. And maybe she doesn't yet, until writer Stan Lee gives her a refit in order for her to take Jane Foster's place in Thor's life.

But Sif isn't the only goddess who's recycled into a more visible role. With her actions here, Hela has taken baby steps at stepping outside of her assigned role in the pantheon of Asgardian gods, actually snatching one of the living before "her time," as she would put it--but soon enough, she begins doggedly pursuing Thor with the same intent, whether taking advantage of an opportunity that presents itself to her or by taking the initiative herself. You'd think that an agent of Death would have enough deaths to keep her busy indefinitely--but perhaps the very nature of death is that it can never be sated.

That said, if there was ever a person who has a habit of cheating death, it would be Thor, whose luck never seems to run out when it comes to Hela. But his luck did run out in a clash with the Wrecker, at a time when Thor had been deprived of his Asgardian power and fought a hopeless battle against a foe who had intercepted such power that was meant for Loki--and since the Wrecker is merciless, it seemed that Thor was on his way to meeting the Goddess of Death on her terms, after all.

Unfortunately, in her eagerness at being Johnny-on-the-spot when the time came for Thor to cross over, Hela has jumped the gun--because even though Thor lies at death's door, the dimmest possibility remains that he may have survived the Wrecker's assault. Though frankly, in the condition he finds himself in, no one would blame him if he gave in to despair and surrendered himself to Death's final touch--but we know that's just not how Thor rolls.

Hela would be blindsided by that darn "spark of life" contingency once again when Thor is believed killed by the Destroyer, and a mysterious being named Marnot intercedes for him with the death goddess.

At times, Hela could also be subtle in beckoning Thor to enter her embrace. When the lady Sif was injured by Loki on Earth and confined to a mortal hospital for care, her room received an unannounced visitor who was possibly looking to make it a 2-for-1 deal.

Then there was Hela's most blatant power play, circa 1971--using a portion of Odin's essence to bring death on a massive scale. Inevitably, the time came when she came into conflict with Thor over his father's fate, and apparently saw no reason to move on Thor then and there. And it would have been curtains for Thor, if Hela had vetted the loyalty of her servants more thoroughly.

Having failed with Odin, Hela then seeks to make another attempt on Thor's life as compensation, leading to a final confrontation between Odin and Hela--one that results in the death of Hela herself before things are finally settled between all of them, at least for the time being.

As Thor has made clear to Hela on several occasions, he's not averse to facing Hela on her home ground when necessary. One such instance was the result of Hela capturing several mortal souls, forcing Thor to mount an incursion into her realm with a host of Asgardian warriors. Eventually, it came down to a wrestling match (yes, a wrestling match) between Thor and Hela, winner take all--except when Hela is your opponent, her prize is your life. But with his clothing shielding him from Hela's fatal touch, Thor was soon on the verge of prevailing--yet Hela, backed against a wall, as it were, struck harshly, and the tables were turned.

And turned yet again, when Thor discovers a vulnerability in his opponent that allows him to decide the match in short order.

Unfortunately, not long afterward, Hela takes revenge by striking at Thor with a bolt from the blue that has a very specific purpose where Thor is concerned.

The progressive injuries that Thor suffers in subsequent battles force him to forge a special suit of armor that helps to protect his bones from impact from weapons and/or powerful foes.

Thor's long, ongoing conflict with Hela is finally put to rest in Thor's 382nd issue, in which he invades Hela's realm while within the indestructible form of the Destroyer, forcing her capitulation and seeing him returned to his normal body in what would be her most humiliating defeat, while extracting her promise never to traffic in schemes outside of her designated role as the Goddess of Death--effectively putting to rest Hela's ambitions and power plays.

It's been a long road for Thor, who's finally brought an end to the machinations of the Goddess of Death--which will certainly be helpful, since the Asgardians have enough to worry about with their preoccupation with Ragnarok and the probability of widespread death that event portends. And for Hela, that's a win-win. We've heard her admit that she can easily bide her time--all she's ever had to do is to bide it a little more.

If the group known as the Terrible Trio gives you a strong sense of déjà vu, it may be because you've seen their type of group before in various comics over time, whether in Marvel's books or those of other Distinguished Companies. (Some of these groups even call themselves the same name--if you can list all of these "terrible trios," you win a free comic! Not really!) Sometimes the members are super-powered; sometimes they're normal joes who have out-of-the-ordinary abilities that set them apart from just hired muscle. The Terrible Trio I'm most familiar with hails from 1964, a trio of henchmen employed and enhanced by Dr. Doom to assist in a plan to capture the Fantastic Four: "Handsome" Harry Phillips, Yogi Dakor, and Bull Brogin, each with their own list of priors in small-time criminal endeavors and assaults, and, collectively, not even a blip on anyone's radar if it weren't for the interest of their benefactor. The Trio might remind you of the Enforcers, another threesome with special talents who were employed by the crime lord known as the Big Man; perhaps that familiarity owes to the fact that the Enforcers were presented in comics just one month after the Trio made their own debut.

But while the Enforcers were involved in organized crime and were used to intimidate those who didn't fall in line with the Big Man, the Trio were groomed specifically for a single job: to attack and trap each member of the FF, one at a time. But what do small-timers like Phillips, Dakor, and Brogin bring to the table that would make Doom take the trouble to bail them out of jail and empower them for this mission? Not to call into question the instincts of a man like Doom, but presumably he could have chosen any three men (incarcerated or not) to use as his team. Writer Stan Lee seems to think that these men are best suited to undergo Doom's procedure--but are they really so exceptional that anyone else wouldn't do in their place?

Brogin appears to be the only one in the group who has something for Doom to work with--though tough guys are a dime a dozen, so much so that Doom doesn't have to bother with navigating the judicial system in order to find a candidate. (For example, the roughneck from FF #48, who slugged it out with the Thing for a grand total of five seconds before hitting the pavement.) But Phillips has no "power" to speak of; and Dakor's ability to resist fire is likely only part of a rigged carnival show act.

But Doom has made his choices--and it seems his reputation precedes him, even among three small-time criminals who have now hit the big time.

"Only I would bail three criminals with special talents out of jail... so that they might serve me!" You and the Kingpin, Hammerhead, Doc Ock, the Masked Marauder, and a few others, Doom--but let's agree to disagree. Please? Sir?

With Phillips, Brogin, and Dakor on board, Doom begins his procedure to enhance their natural gifts. Arguably, only Brogin has a "special talent" to be enhanced--maybe even Dakor, since we know nothing of his carnival act. Does he walk on hot coals, or breathe fire? At any rate, it becomes clear just which members of the FF they're being prepared to encounter.

Phillips is the only odd man out here in terms of his enhancement; as a con man, he may have taught himself to be a good listener, but his actual hearing was probably no better than yours or mine. Let's hope that Doom made his new power something that can be controlled--because if the man can now hear a feather drop, imagine the headaches he'll have from walking the streets of New York. Or snoring.

Both the Torch and the Thing are lured away from the Baxter Building by ruses. In the Torch's case, he's invited to test-drive a new model of sports car, but soon discovers that Dakor is attempting to trap him. As yet, the Torch has no reason to believe that there's anything about this man that makes him a threat, or that this is a trap he can't easily escape from--but as we'll see, he's wrong on both counts.

As for the Thing, he's called out by what he thinks are members of the Yancy Street gang, but it's just Brogin lying in wait. As expected, Brogin's attack proves no match for the Thing, who's delighted that the YSG has someone big enough in their ranks for him to spar with. But Brogin has no intention of trying to go the distance with this opponent.

You've probably made the observation that Doom didn't need to perform a procedure on Brogin just to have him pull a trigger--he could have hired anyone to do it, or simply done it himself. But, uh, you can bring that to his attention--I'd be pressing my luck at this point.

That leaves Phillips to deal with the Invisible Girl, by charming his way into an interview with her. But a rigged bouquet of flowers fails to drop her, and he's forced to resort to his new ability to capture her. (Yes, you'd think someone who's a member of the FF would be trying to capture him.)

And so it's mission accomplished for this trio, with Doom bringing up the rear and using a robot facsimile of the Thing to trap Mr. Fantastic.

Once he disintegrates his robot, Doom takes a few moments to complete his business with his hirelings by giving them their payoff and sending them away, while he goes on to complete his master plan with the FF (or try to). Unfortunately for our terrible trio, they discover that being "sent away" by Dr. Doom can mean more than simply being shown the door.

With Doom currently indisposed due to the FF turning the tables on him, the Trio are shifted over to the Strange Tales book where the Torch is featured (to be joined by the Thing in subsequent issues), just a few months after their story with Doom--while also reappearing in another tale the following year.

It stands to reason that being double-crossed by Doom would either make his victim(s) very angry with him or, if they're gluttons for punishment, seek revenge against him. But when the trio show up again following Doom's defeat by the FF, they're not only ready to sign on the dotted line once more, but their loyalty to the man is astonishing considering his treatment of and disdain for them. They even want to tackle the FF again, and in much the same way that they did previously.

In this appearance of the trio, Lee has altered the abilities of Phillips and Dakor slightly, with Phillips' super-hearing a thing of the past and the character instead retooled to become the brains of the outfit. While Dakor, like Montana of the Enforcers, now uses a lasso, but one made of asbestos, as well as other asbestos materials.

When the Torch is captured, it would seem that artist Dick Ayers wants to reintroduce Dakor's ability of being fireproof by having the Torch engulf the area in flame while Dakor is in close proximity--but in the scene where Ayers appears to be demonstrating that ability, Lee's scripting indicates that he wants to go in a different direction with the character. It all comes across very awkwardly as a result.

All in all, the trio do pretty well against the Torch under Phillips' leadership. But the Torch gives a good accounting of himself and uses his head as well as his powers, and eventually he's captured the entire group. In reading this story, you get the feeling that Lee knew what he was doing with Phillips--after all, what would Phillips' super-hearing have accomplished here, or in any battle that didn't involve someone hiding from him? Yet by the same token, of all the times for Lee to dispense with Dakor's ability to be fireproof. With Dakor sidelined and Brogin taken care of, there's little for Phillips to do but to make a break for it.

In their second Strange Tales appearance, the Trio are tweaked once again by Lee. Phillips' hearing power is returned, with the character using it as a sort of early warning system to give himself and his friends a heads-up; while Dakor adds to his bag of tricks with... you knew it was coming... a flying carpet, as well as playing music to control rope as well as a giant snake.

We also see Phillips more demonstrably take the role as the Trio's leader in the field--and he's not half bad at it, directing the attack and getting both Dakor and Brogin to act at a moment's notice. Their chances are also helped by the Torch having overextended his flame while searching for them; so even when Johnny manages to get the upper hand, it's only temporarily, and he's eventually forced to fire off a flare to the Thing, who had joined the Torch's search for the Trio in the area.

The addition of the Thing picks up the pace of this story, since the Thing's strength isn't hampered in the same way as the Torch's flame and, needless to say, isn't as vulnerable to the Trio's efforts to subdue him. And so he's put in peril another way, as an approaching train divides his attention and forces him to divert most of his effort to freeing the Torch who's been trapped at the rail. As time begins to work against both heroes, the Trio withdraws to let the train do their work for them. (Lee, of course, misses a perfect opportunity to have Phillips quote Johnny Cash: "I hear the train a comin'... rollin' round the bend...")

It's game and set for the Terrible Trio, who are put in mothballs for fifteen years before reappearing to take their revenge not on the Torch this time, but on the Thing, who has joined Alicia Masters in the first exhibition of her work. Naturally, at any show featuring Alicia Masters' work, our trio aren't the only villains present, though they happen to be the only ones in the flesh.

The question is just begging to be asked: Since we know that Alicia sculpts through her sense of touch of the model, how did she get all of these villains to come over, stand still and cooperate with her? (Ultron? Really?)

Our living villains have slipped into this event as its caterers, and yet again Dakor's abilities have been adjusted. He also seems to have assumed the position of the group's leader.

The trio's plan is a good one, though it's doubtful they took into account that the Thing would be reluctant to smash the living statues, given that they're now valuable pieces of Alicia's work. But when Alicia gives Ben the green light to do what he must, the gloves come off.

(Yep, that's Mark Gruenwald, Ralph Macchio, and George Perez making cameos at this event. How'd they manage to snag invites?)

With Phillips and Brogin out for the count, that leaves Dakor in the stone body of the Diablo statue, who takes Alicia hostage when the situation goes south. But when Ben's unofficial guest, the Impossible Man, disrupts Dakor's concentration with a well-placed water balloon, the Thing moves in and puts an end to the Trio's latest shenanigans.

Over 25 years pass before the Trio finally turn up again, this time as part of a Latverian cell sent to retrieve nuclear launch codes for missiles illegally targeting that country. The segment is weaved into the excellent Penance: Relentless series which follows the young man formerly known as Speedball as he struggles to find redemption following the role he played in the deaths of hundreds of innocent people caused by Nitro, the event which led to the Superhuman Registration Act. Let's let Moonstone walk us through the specifics:

Obviously, Penance (Speedball), in his obsession to gain access to Nitro (who's currently in Doom's custody), isn't willing to play by the government's rules in the leads that have developed. And while it may look like the Trio and survivors of the attack (but fortunately, not the codes) make it to the waiting sub, it's only because Penance wants a message delivered to Doom that demands Nitro's return or else.

It's quite enjoyable to see the members of the Trio make these unexpected appearances out of the blue, since these nostalgic links to Marvel's past are nice to see being paid attention to. I'd probably make one small correction to the scene, since, unless I'm mistaken, it's Phillips that Dakor is talking to instead of Brogin, while Brogin is facing the two with his back turned to us. Though while we're on the subject, it's awfully peculiar that Brogin wasn't shown tackling Penance when the decision was made to stay and face the attacker--unless Brogin was taken out by the explosion, which would have been equally peculiar if his comrades were still on their feet.

As we've seen over time, opportunities are sparse for these three to play a part in stories, though it seems fitting that they continue to work for Doom in some capacity. This was a nicely handled reintroduction to the Terrible Trio, and here's hoping Phillips heard every word of that compliment and convinces his partners to pop in again from time to time.

And speaking of nostalgia...

BONUS!

Here's our scruffy friend from FF #48, taking a shot at "the big, bad Thing!"

Give it all you've got, tough guy!

It wasn't until the mid-1970s when I began spotting Marvel cranking up its own subscription service. At the time, dedicated comic book stores were still a ways off, and those of us who were getting our feet wet with comics collecting were forced to make the rounds at newsstands or the spinner racks at drug stores or mini-markets to pick up the books we wanted--locally covering as wide a radius as possible, in order to compensate for walk-in traffic that may have hit our spot(s) before us, or a particular vendor possibly not stocking a title or two on our list. Eventually, it made more sense to take advantage of some of the mail-order comics vendors who were popping up in the nested ads pages found tucked into our comics, featuring dealers who stocked in bulk and offered to pull, package and mail your monthly books to you, a method which seemed (you'll excuse the phrase) made to order for those who didn't have the time or perseverance to "hunt" for their comics, while also allowing buyers to get their books in as pristine a condition as possible.

If you went that route, you had to shop around for the most reliable company to meet your needs, and cost was definitely a factor in your decision since you had to consider shipping costs along with the sticker price of your books; there might also have been miscellaneous "handling" fees attached, since these vendors had to make sure their business made a profit. It also stood to reason these private vendors may not have been cut a deal by Marvel for buying in bulk--and like any distributor, they would have had to monitor supply and demand carefully and adjust the cost of their service accordingly. (Usually in the upwards direction.) And they weren't the only ones who had to keep an eye on things. I remember finding a vendor in Canada that provided good service, for awhile at least--and then there were unexplained delays that had me on the phone with them (on my dime, at that) more often than not, finally making it necessary to find another supplier.

When local comics dealers began popping up, a lot of that hassle became a thing of the past, since these shops also offered to maintain "pull lists" of the books you wanted. Each time you came in, your books were waiting for you, practically guaranteed; when the books arrived at the shop, those customers with lists received priority and had their books pulled and stashed immediately, assuring that even a book that was likely to sell out quickly would be in your stack whenever you made it into the store. To encourage a steady customer base, most of these stores also cut the buyer a deal and discounted the cost of your stack (usually around 10%, which wasn't bad and was pretty consistent with other such stores)--and since the stores wanted to remain competitive with each other, there were no other fees to deal with, which eventually became the kiss of death for mail-order vendors who began shifting much of their focus to back-issue sales.

Yet back in the day, when Marvel got their foot in the door and offered their own subscription service, it obviously put them in direct competition with independent mail order suppliers--though Marvel weren't necessarily the best choice simply because you were getting your books straight from the source. Clearly Marvel saw the value of advertising the fact that you were assured of getting each and every copy on your list, as opposed to taking your chances in finding them on your own; but despite the implication that shipments were timely, their mailings tended to lag behind their competitors, sometimes to the tune of weeks. (And since Marvel made no mention of shipping costs, the cause of delay was likely attributed to how efficient their operation was at collecting and packaging the books and getting them to the post office.) In addition, you had to sign up for a 12-month subscription for each book you ordered, a cost which you paid up front--which in turn forced you to keep a careful accounting of receiving the full year's shipment of every book on your list. On the bright side, the cost markup seemed reasonable; depending on the price of the comic at the time you subscribed, Marvel was making a 40-50¢ profit on each subscription, which was probably funneled into postal costs.

If you decided to wait until the '80s to become a Marvel subscriber, you were rewarded for biding your time since Marvel, like many subscription services, eventually found it necessary to offer enticements to its subscribers and forgo its profit in favor of a larger customer base. For instance, at the time that Dr. Doom was drafted into being a common sales hawker, the price of a comic was 50¢, which meant that each 12-issue subscription at $5.00 was saving you $1.00, a cost that Marvel ate (along with postal costs) in order to get your business. The good doctor's terms saved you even more if you subscribed to at least four titles, giving you one subscription at no cost.

In essence, Marvel's subscription service amounted to a method to drum up business. It was no doubt your best deal if you preferred to get your books by having them shipped to you, albeit with certain drawbacks that weren't present with independent suppliers. But with the proliferation of local comics retailers, and with those stores cutting their own deals with customers, mail order subscription services mostly went the way of the dinosaur domestically and in other parts of the world where such shops sprung up and thrived. Yet in their heydey, they certainly did their part to fuel the collecting bug that had bitten many of us, something which may also have waned with changing times.

There have been many occasions where the mighty Thor has met the incredible Hulk in battle, either in their own respective titles or in stories taking place in other mags. The question of which character is stronger is one that's been raging forever, no doubt to the delight of their company's accountants--and it's not likely to be definitively answered, even if we were to take a crack at it here and look for a smoking gun that would put the matter to rest. Instead, it's sometimes equally interesting to look at it from a different perspective, namely: How does a writer approach the subject if devoting an entire issue to it? What new angle can be used to make it a classic battle in its own right? And how can they avoid adding fuel to the fire as far as declaring a winner?

There are a number of such battles which have these characters squaring off, only to have them interrupted by something or someone before a clear-cut winner can be declared; there are also circumstances which lead to the battle being called a draw in one way or another. As such, it's often a frustrating experience to dive into one of these stories knowing that the reset button is going to be pushed when all is said and done, whether or not one of the fighters walks away with their head held a little higher. So it's often more satisfying to see how well-written the story is--how successful it is at grabbing the reader's attention and holding it with an approach that hasn't quite been seen before, and how much the artwork is able to inspire creative dialog and narrative as well as offer a new and dynamic look at this classic matchup. We have here a Norse god steeped in nobility and a time-tested sense of invincibility vs. a savage brute who's driven by off-the-scale anger and convinced that he's more powerful than anyone, with neither one even thinking about losing, much less surrendering--surely there has to be more than enough there for any writer/artist team to craft one hell of a story, even knowing how it must ultimately end.

To get a reasonably balanced picture of the worth of these two opponents without tilting the scale too much in either direction, let's take a look at two such stories, selecting one from each character's title in the interests of fairness, with the stories published six years apart. Each story's writer will take a different approach than the other--and while many elements of both stories will ring familiar to any reader who's seen their share of Hulk vs. Thor battles, there will be one or two new twists that will serve to keep things interesting.

The earlier of the two stories comes from a 1981 issue of Incredible Hulk, written by Bill Mantlo with art by Sal Buscema--a tale that really doesn't seek to shake up the status quo between these two powerful characters, but acts as a decent placeholder until the next time they come to blows. Admittedly, that doesn't provide much motivation for flipping the pages of this issue--but the experience will depend on how Mantlo handles things and how successful he is at doing so. The first step, of course, is getting Thor and the Hulk in the same place at the same time--and in this case, that translates to Dr. Donald Blake and Bruce Banner, respectively, with one providing pro bono medical services to transients at a YMCA located at a freight yard, while the other has climbed aboard one of the freight cars at another yard in the hopes of leaving New York City behind. As you might have guessed, the former is more successful at keeping a lower profile than the latter.

Oh, sure, Thor--tease us with that old carrot on a stick, why don't you.

Whatever you end up taking away from this story, Mantlo proves to be his typical diligent self in providing as much material and characterization as possible, even in a story where a fierce battle will demand the story's focus. Blake, for instance, is a believable figure as a physician donating his time to a facility that houses those who are shunned; while Banner's presence is a result of the Hulk's arrival in New York, during which he was attacked on sight and found himself befriended by a vagrant. (Blake also makes a fair point about what happened in Central City.)

Unfortunately, the Hulk nearly being run down by an oncoming train for no apparent reason has put the brute in a foul mood, and the calming words of the Thunder God are not enough to alter that mood--nor do they make the Hulk forget that he and this costumed figure have a violent history together, one filled with mistrust and betrayal.

Thor is speaking of their earliest one-on-one battle with each other, taking place off-panel during the Avengers' conflict with the Sub-Mariner while Namor had the Hulk at his side. At any rate, the Hulk grabs the nearest freight car and smashes it over Thor's head, and then leaps off, considering the matter settled. As for Thor, he's unhurt, undamaged, and concerned enough about the Hulk causing further damage in the city that he takes off in immediate pursuit.

And that concern is well-founded, though the Hulk does make an attempt to leave the city by stowing away in a truck. (No, I don't know why he wouldn't simply continue his miles-spanning leaps to head out of town--you'd think that would be a no-brainer for even the Hulk.) A traffic jam, along with a lot of loud honking horns, are enough to annoy the Hulk into assuming that all the noise is being directed at him, and so he becomes angry again, with a lone policeman paying the price of being within arm's reach. Yet for the arriving Thor, the scene only serves to reinforce the common belief that the Hulk's rage is out of control, and innocents will suffer needlessly if the brute is allowed to live.

The Hulk's plight remains the same as it's always been: the desire to simply be left alone, even though his appearances provoke both panic and the intervention of the authorities, resulting in massive damage and likely injury. It makes Thor's initial attempt to open a dialog with the Hulk all the more unfortunate. It was the right thing for him to do--but by that point the Hulk was already enraged and unable to rationally distinguish between a hostile environment and good intentions. The Hulk is not a creature who seeks out victims, thanks to Banner's influence in play, but he's nevertheless a creature of rage--and by now, there is little to no hope of Thor gaining the Hulk's trust in order to rein him in.

Their battle eventually carries Thor and the Hulk to lower Manhattan and the Brooklyn tunnel that runs underneath the East River--and when their conflict results in a crisis that endangers innocents, Mantlo seeks to assign blame to both parties by having the Hulk make an astonishing claim.

Taking this fight through the city's streets is something Thor certainly could have made an effort to avoid, simply by luring the Hulk to a more isolated setting. It's already been made clear that this is a battle that Thor is eager to settle--so his willingness to disregard the safety of bystanders is definitely on him. Yet there's an equally interesting question that Mantlo sidesteps: If the Hulk is observant enough to realize that both he and Thor are terrorizing those who are caught in their crossfire, we can reasonably conclude that the Hulk doesn't care that he's doing so; indeed, during his rampages, he routinely frightens and rages against even those who have made no move to attack him. With that being the case, it's difficult to feel any sympathy for him when he rejects the opinions of those who label him a monster. If it's a matter of the Hulk making the conscious decision to "own" that label, it's something that Mantlo should perhaps address--though I tend to think that, for the Hulk, it's the irrational behavior of humans toward him that forces his hand, no matter how innocents who have made no move against him find themselves paying the price.

With Thor now forced to deal with the tunnel's possible collapse, and with the loss of his hammer throwing his efforts into doubt, the tone of this battle shifts, with the Hulk turning his attention to Thor's hammer rather than taking advantage of the Thunder God's state of vulnerability while preoccupied with the tunnel's damage. Lifting Thor's hammer is a test of strength that the Hulk has failed before--yet for whatever reason, it's always interesting to see him try. Here, he draws the wrong conclusion that it's Thor's strength that allows him to lift and carry the hammer, thus making Thor stronger than himself in his mind; but his attention is diverted to Blake, whose appearance inadvertently causes the Hulk to consider Thor defeated by a savvy decision on his part that incorrectly assumes that Thor has been dealt with for good.

With the Hulk losing interest in Blake's walking stick, Blake is able to change back to Thor and complete his task of supporting the tunnel. (Though let's hope the driver of that truck doesn't need his vehicle anytime soon.) Afterward, Thor tries to take away from the conflict a greater understanding of the Hulk's motivations and rationale--something he arguably should have been aware of from his many prior encounters with the Hulk, but appears to have forgotten all too quickly in the heat of battle.

COMING UP:

To heck with lessons learned--

Thor slugs it out with the Hulk, no holds barred! And hang the consequences!

Incredible Hulk #255

Script: Bill Mantlo
Pencils and Inks: Sal Buscema
Letterer: Joe Rosen

Compared to the prior story profiled here at the PPoC from Incredible Hulk #255 which featured the jade giant trading blows once again with Thor, the God of Thunder, its unofficial sequel in the Mighty Thor title is nothing less than a knock-down drag-out slugfest--a blockbuster battle from cover to cover, where both opponents bring their A-game and each intends to leave no doubt as to which of them is the stronger. By the time it's over, we as readers may be prepared to make that call ourselves, which in itself is something of a milestone in a string of titanic battles which has always left that in doubt.

Plotted by Jim Shooter and published in 1987 (the same issue that announced he was stepping down as Editor in Chief), with Stan Lee (at 65 years young) tapped to script, and art by Erik Larsen and Vince Colletta (reportedly Larsen's first work for Marvel, while also contributing to the plot), "Be Thou God, Or Monster!" arguably has the makings of one of the most memorable Thor vs. Hulk clashes to date. The man of the hour, however, is unquestionably Larsen, who turns in impressive work here for a first effort with the company, working out the plot with Shooter two years earlier at the Chicago Comic Con and then drawing and submitting the story, which finally saw publication as a fill-in Thor story in '87.

You might find yourself having the opinion that Larsen's fighting style for Thor is far from ideal, though perhaps that's the point. For the first time, Thor finds himself having to adapt to and counter with the type of ruthless brawling that the Hulk excels at, and at the Hulk's pace--and he comes off as ill-equipped to fight as savagely as his foe. As an Asgardian whose immortal, adult life has been filled with war, and death, and bloody, vicious battle against wave upon wave of deadly enemies and having fought his way through all of them, Thor finds himself on the receiving end for far too much of this battle. That said, Larsen is choreographing this fight with a specific ending in mind; but more on this train of thought when the time comes.

There's also Lee's rather dated scripting style to consider, which in this story resembles his style of writing as it was 15 years in the past while in the closing days of his time on Amazing Spider-Man, Fantastic Four, and Thor--sparse and lacking in any meaningful characterization or dialog beyond the basic actions and reactions expected of his characters. In addition, Thor himself is often too above-it-all here, deciding on his course of action as if he's not really in a battle for his life, as well as often acting like he's a rookie at this. Is this the God of Thunder duking it out with the Hulk, or the God of Uncertainty and Introspection? To be fair, with a mouthful of the Hulk's fist during much of this struggle, acting and reacting are perhaps all that Thor can do; but visually, it's very disconcerting to see Thor unable to seize the initiative and hold it against a foe whose fighting style he knows so well.

To give you an idea of the kind of Thunder God waiting for us as scripted by Lee, let's catch up to him just after he's captured a gang of bank robbers and receives word that there's a much more serious challenge that needs his attention.

It may read like it, but no--this story is not a flashback to 1972.

Once the Hulk is found and engaged, this battle starts with a bang, as the Hulk attacks Thor on sight. The scenes are textbook Thor as scripted by Lee--a prince of Asgard battling a mortal, whatever this brute's power. Normally, there would immediately be cause for concern by the reader that this story will be no different from previous ones where these two have confronted and fought each other, trading bluster and blows that give no clear advantage to either of them and offering little that we haven't seen before. It's only when the Hulk touches on a nerve in implying that Thor relies on his hammer for his might that the tone of this battle shifts slightly.

And that shift reaches shocking proportions when the Hulk resorts to a tactic that to my knowledge he's never attempted before.

I suppose the message being sent here by both Lee and Larsen is that it's naïve to think that a raging creature such as the Hulk will draw the line at using an innocent to force his foe to comply with what he wants. But I suspect this development has hit Team Hulk fans like a bludgeon to the head. For what it's worth, the Hulk that appeared in the World War Hulk series would have had no problem with committing this kind of act, though his reasons would be founded on grief and revenge. Here, however, it's hard to dispute Thor's characterization of the kind of creature he's dealing with. No, strike that--it's impossible to dispute it.

And it only gets worse.

One could argue that, to the Hulk's way of thinking, he's really done nothing wrong--only what's necessary. If that happens to be the case and he indeed regards his actions in that way, more's the pity.

Thor's decision to withdraw from the battle is a sensible one for Thor the Avenger to make--but Thor is of two worlds, one of them far, far more a part of him than his ties to Earth, the part that cries out to punish the aggressor and assert his own might. It's also possible that he's had enough of the Hulk implying that he's unable to match this creature on a strength vs. strength basis (an issue he raised himself, long ago), an assertion that more than a few of us might find ourselves agreeing with. And it's that Thor who rises from the ground and throws himself into this battle without another look back.

It's here that Lee finally steps up and commits to this fight perhaps just as much as Thor does, with his skill at narrative compensating for the forceful words he might have given Thor if this were still the late 1960s, where he once called Thor "the prince of battle" and provided the character with words and will to match his rage. But at the very least, Lee at last establishes the seriousness of this clash with both of these characters, and it's gratifying to see Larsen take off the gloves.

As for the Hulk, there's simply no denying his raw power, or the kind of opponent he is for anyone who dares to face him. He's ruthless and relentless, a threat of the highest order, his anger capable of maintaining both his strength and his stamina while also increasing his power, making him virtually undefeatable in hand-to-hand combat. As we've seen with the Executioner and with Loki, Thor's own power as an Asgardian makes him virtually invincible against mortal foes and allows him to stay in a fight against all odds; but he faces a foe unlike any other, one who resists his power and counters with strength he's convinced is superior to this so-called god he's up against, a foe that Thor feels he should be able to crush without question. Will he continue to try?

Yes, for perhaps the most worthless reason of all: pride.

No doubt an awkward and conspicuous moment for Thor to have such profound thoughts, when he's clearly on the losing end of this fight--while the Hulk remains a tireless juggernaut, prepared and more than willing to continue until Thor either surrenders or the Hulk finally manages to drop him. There's nothing in the Hulk's posture or appearance that even remotely suggests he's in danger of being defeated; the same cannot be said for Thor, bloodied and seemingly unsteady on his feet. But the return of Thor's hammer is a deal-breaker for the Hulk, who now knows what he needed to know to be able to call this fight--though perhaps it's more accurate to say that he's satisfied with how things turned out here.

Once again we see an example of how Lee treats a scene that the artist appears to have interpreted differently. Thor obviously isn't hurling his hammer away again, but directly at the Hulk, who leaps out of its way and departs. Visually, the scene shows the Hulk taking a victory lap: "In all the time you were without your hammer, you did your best to take me out, and you couldn't. Face it: I'm stronger. I proved it without a doubt, and you need that hammer to offset my might." At that point, Thor instinctively hurls his hammer at the Hulk in a mixture of rage and frustration, to which the Hulk replies: "See what I mean? I'm outta here. You know where you stand with me now."

Larsen's final panel of Thor is steeped in resignation, and we can take a fair guess at the words that Larsen would have him admitting... er, saying to himself. But Lee takes the high road with the character, and instead has Thor regarding this battle as a personal failure on his part in fighting without true purpose, and with disregard for those whose lives and property were endangered.

Finally, it may be moot at this point, but the Hulk's reasoning as far as who is the stronger of the two has no real foundation, given that the return of Thor's hammer is of no significance in terms of Thor's ability to continue the fight. Thor remains on his feet, with the battle as yet undecided; the Hulk has simply jumped to a conclusion and used the hammer's return as an excuse to declare victory and leave, so to speak, even though Thor has no problem with discarding it again. Satisfied in his own mind, the Hulk is being honest when he says he "doesn't care" what Thor does with the hammer--the matter's been settled as far as he's concerned.

In any event, the story moves us much closer to witnessing the kind of battle between Thor and the Hulk which has been long awaited; in fact, it may for all intents and purposes indeed settle the issue, as an earlier clash in the pages of The Defenders sought to do when it all but concluded that a stalemate was all these two could hope to achieve.

(But it's sure tempting to call a T.K.O. here in the Hulk's favor, isn't it.)

BONUS!

As mentioned earlier, the formal announcement of the editorial changing of the guard.

Mighty Thor #385

Script: Stan Lee
Pencils: Eric Larsen
Inks: Vince Colletta
Letterer: Rick Parker

When it comes to recycling, it looks like comic books had a head start on environmentalists, though for comics writers it was more a matter of successful concepts that were dusted off and adapted to later stories. Take the opening pages of the Fantastic Four issue which featured the team's first clash with the mad Thinker, in a sequence that can't help but take you back to issue #1 and the introduction of this famous foursome. It's a dramatic opening that still works, over a year after it was introduced.

Here, however, we have the advantage of knowing all about the characters who are responding to the alert and converging to meet--and there's also the familiar presence of the Baxter Building anchoring the scene, the official headquarters of an established team that's now riding high in comics circles and can still generate excitement and interest in being summoned by a flare gun.

There are other elements in this story that are the result of being tweaked to one degree or another and reused--such as the team leaving their headquarters and striking out on their own, as they did when they went bankrupt. This issue would also get the ball rolling on other concepts that would be retooled and used later, such as the invasion of FF headquarters by criminals or villains, or the team having their own devices and weapons used against them.

But in this classic issue, it's the Thinker that the story has us focus on, the calculating planner who makes use of his computers to deduce his next move down to the second and take into account anything or anyone who would seek to stop him. The Thinker's ability to advance his agenda is really dependent on collating the data that his computers gather and mapping out the steps he needs to take, based on certain things taking place at a certain time (or not taking place, as the case may be). Yet the whole point of uncertainty is that you cannot eliminate it or predict it, however careful and meticulous you are in your calculations--but just try telling that to the Thinker.

It's quite a claim the Thinker makes: "Nothing has been left to chance!" That's presuming that he's isolated the uncertainties involved and based his calculations only on the events and incidents that will occur without fail. Credit where credit is due: if he can pull that off, his programming skills are far ahead of his time.

Yet, all things considered, the Thinker comes off as a third-rate villain in this tale, in spite of how far his planning takes him in going up against the FF. We know in hindsight that the Thinker will go on to become a deadly threat to be reckoned with--and while it may not seem like it, his first clash with the Fantastic Four will open many doors for him in that regard.

Speaking of our foursome, we'll see in this story their first exposure to battling organized crime, a theme that Amazing Spider-Man would be more successful at integrating into its plots but which the FF would be bound to encounter in their line of work. We'll also get our first look at the Thinker's talent with androids, which would make him quite formidable against the FF as well as other super-powered beings he would later come into conflict with. But what's his immediate goal here and now? He doesn't exactly mince words with the crime bosses he's gathered to hear his plans.

I can guess what some of you are thinking: It's amazing that the Thinker could find a crown big enough to fit that head of his.

The crime bosses are naturally concerned with interference from the Fantastic Four--but to placate his new associates, the Thinker reveals he has a two-pronged approach for dealing with the team. First he plans to see that each of the FF is offered some personal career enticement that will tempt them into pursuing time away from the team, which breaks down as follows:

Mr. Fantastic: A new position in a New England electronics firm as part of their R&D division.
Invisible Girl: Starring in a Broadway production after being approached by a producer who's been on the lookout for his next star.
Human Torch: Becoming a circus performer, thanks to one of his cousins who's fallen on hard times and asks him as a favor to become the star attraction in his show.
The Thing: A new star in the wrestling ring--his first exposure to the professional wrestling circuit, which we know would later become a fallback career he would turn to in many future stories.

It so happens that all of these decisions are mulled over just as the FF have hit a lull in their activities--and so they all treat their offerings as a vacation of sorts, and off they go.

The second part of the Thinker's plan involves a meteorite that crashes into the New York bay (those are some computers--are they linked into NASA?), causing a tremor that damages the city's power grid and wreaks havoc with repair crews. While the city is in crisis, the Thinker and his men are ready to take advantage of the situation as they penetrate their foes' headquarters.

Meanwhile, checking in on the FF, none of them are exactly thrilled with the choices they've made. (For whatever reason, Sue's choice has been revised to replace Broadway with a trip to Hollywood and have her starring in a sci-fi film.) But, returning home, they're greeted with quite a site, as well as a deadly challenge.

The Thinker is true to his boast, utilizing the FF's own building defenses as well as the many devices found in their labs to halt the FF's approach to the 35th floor--but the team makes its way through, while also dealing with the crime bosses who were armed with weaponry from Reed's armory. That leaves one piece of research which Reed was just getting started on--research notes that have now been realized in a hulking android that will also go on to make future appearances.

So far, it doesn't look like the Thinker's plans are panning out, does it? Things look especially dicey for him when the FF confront him--after all, if you boast that your calculations take into account the smallest detail and leave nothing to chance, why would you need a contingency plan? For all the good it does him. It seems Mr. Fantastic isn't such a slouch in the planning department himself--and all he needs for his calculations to come off without a hitch is a fellow professional whose motto is "Neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow, nor super-villain..."

It's off to the hoosegow for the mad Thinker--who might want to give some thought to all those crime bosses who are going to insist on joining him at his table in the prison cafeteria.

Fantastic Four #15

Script: Stan Lee
Pencils: Jack Kirby
Inks: Dick Ayers
Letterer: Art Simek

Can YOU

Name This Marvel Villain??

For a character who was meant to shake things up a little and who certainly doesn't lack for power, you may find Vibro to be rather disappointing and two-dimensional as a credible (or memorable) villain. It should also tell you something that he rated an entry in the "Iron Man's Lamest Foes" section of the 1996 one-shot Iron Man: The Legend. It's all the more surprising, then, how often Vibro has been dusted off and reused in stories over the years. Mentally unhinged and obviously able to wreak havoc without warning, he's one of the many Marvel villains who can be inserted into a storyline without too much trouble and prove to be just enough of a threat to force the story's hero(es) to deal with him. And given the nature and origin of his power, it stands to reason that his stomping grounds normally wind up being in various parts of California, though not necessarily in the vicinity of the San Andreas fault.

Vibro came into being following an accident that engulfed seismologist Alton Vibereaux, who had the misfortune of crossing paths with surveyor Franklin Fortney while seeking the means to test new equipment designed to prevent earthquakes. Fortney is a self-centered s.o.b. who only cares about his bottom line, so the fact that Vibereaux had concerns about using his equipment in an area prone to dangerous tremors didn't affect Fortney's directive to Vibereaux to finish the job he was being paid to do; on the other hand, one could argue that Vibereaux couldn't have asked for better conditions in which to test his machine. But regardless of whoever would be to blame if something went wrong, there's no denying that this scene is a recipe for disaster.

Vibereaux doesn't turn up again until days later, when Fortney makes the news as a hostage on an off-shore oil rig that's been seized by terrorists--and it becomes clear who the man now calling himself "Vibro" blames for the experience that changed him into something more, or less, than human.

Iron Man, who at this point in time is Jim Rhodes and not Tony Stark, is instrumental in saving the hostages--but also Fortney in particular, once Vibro appears and uses his power to destroy the platform. The fact that Iron Man has rescued Fortney makes Iron Man, in Vibro's mind, complicit in Fortney's continued survival, and the two inevitably clash, with Rhodey only pulling out a win by surprising Vibro with a punch to the jaw. Unfortunately, Rhodey makes the mistake of dropping off this villain with officials in a small-town police department, staffed by deputies who probably never saw a super-villain before--and, enraged by further news reports of Fortney's association with Iron Man, Vibro easily breaks out and attacks another small town about sixty miles outside of Los Angeles, threatening to destroy it if both Fortney and Iron Man fail to surrender themselves to him.

Fortney's response, as you might imagine, is short and not at all sweet:

As for Iron Man, Rhodey finds going up against this villain a little tougher than before.

But thanks to Rhodey's start-up business partners (including Stark), who have researched both Vibereaux and Vibro, it's deduced that the strength of Vibro's power depends on his proximity to the San Andreas fault. And so Iron Man's next tactic is focused on luring Vibro to a more distant location that removes that advantage.

Vibro would go on to menace Iron Man repeatedly (either in his own mag or as part of the West Coast Avengers), as well as other heroes--his vulnerability at being removed from proximity to the fault eventually discarded, presumably to make him a more mobile villain who had to be defeated by other means. But in spite of his other appearances, his status as one of Iron Man's lamest villains remains secure.

One of the more interesting storylines involving the Avenger known as the Vision laid a lot of groundwork before reaching its resolution, stringing the reader along for over twenty issues of The Avengers while dropping clues and subtle developments that had us all wondering: What is going on with the Vision? The short answer is that he was planning take control of the world. But it's the how and the why that would have writer Roger Stern creating an entirely new approach to the character, setting the stage for future developments for not only the Vision but also a deeper focus on his relationship with the Scarlet Witch as well as the possibility of a family life.

But we should start at the beginning--and that point arrives during a dramatic conflict between the Fantastic Four and Annihilus, the despotic spawn of the Negative Zone. In a mad bid to destroy two universes, Annihilus has established an impenetrable barrier near the Baxter Building, one that required the special talents of the Avenger whose powers were best suited to breach it. Unfortunately, no one was aware at the time that this barrier was actually a "null-field," a term which implied that anyone successful at piercing it would suffer the consequences.

Consequences which in the Vision's case meant total deactivation, or possibly even death. But despite appearances, things would get even more complicated for the Vision, though from his perspective he would likely claim that this incident gave him a new lease on life. But eventually that would mean sacrificing that life for the good of the world.

Once the crisis with Annihilus has been averted, an examination by Reed Richards revealed that the Vision is essentially unharmed, though it would take some time for his android body to effect repairs and reactivate him. In the interim, his body is moved to Avengers Mansion, where his comrades take turns standing vigil by his side--and in time, the Vision regains consciousness, though he remains immobile.

Fortunately for the Vision, a new Avenger trainee, Starfox (a/k/a Eros of Titan) is now in residence, and he suggests a link-up with I.S.A.A.C., the super-computer of Titan, in order to expedite the diagnosis of the Vision's condition. The connection would end up providing as-yet unrealized benefits for the android, but one benefit is immediately apparent: Even still immobile, he becomes more of a "vision" than ever, thanks to a side-effect of the treatment that allows him to project himself as a hologram.

In his new state of being merged with the Avengers' computers as well as I.S.A.A.C., the Vision believes he'll be even more of an asset to the Avengers--and indeed that proves to the case, when the team locates and deals with the criminals known as Blackout and Moonstone. But despite his exuberance, his friends remain cautious, and perhaps even a little concerned.

Eventually, the Vision's body completes its repairs and he regains his mobility, right around the time when several of the Avengers disappear in a flash of light caused by a construct in Central Park, which has also engulfed other heroes to take part in a "secret war" off-planet. During their absence, in a very Alexander Haig moment with the press, the Vision takes it upon himself to be the team's spokesman and acting chairman; and even though his mobility has meant the loss of his holographic projection ability, he remains linked to I.S.A.A.C. and appears to have developed, incredibly enough, a personality. And his new initiative is leading him down an interesting, and ambitious, path.

The effects of the Vision's musings are soon realized when the missing Avengers (along with everyone else taken by the construct) return and reconvene back at the mansion. During a break in the debriefing, the Vision holds a private meeting with the still-official chairwoman, the Wasp, as well as Raymond Sikorsky, who replaces Henry Gyrich as the team's new N.S.C. liaison. What follows is a whirlwind of activity which not only sees the Vision attain a more authoritative position on the team, but also marks the beginning of the Avengers' west coast branch.

The shift in leadership comes during the time that the threat of the Dire Wraiths becomes serious. We know that Avengers chairmanship used to rotate members in and out of the post in designated cycles before the procedure became one of formal election, with the Vision being one of those members who previously had his turn holding the gavel--though at the time, there was little to no emphasis on field leadership for either himself or other members who served in the post. But here, the Vision handles the post of Chairman quite well, not only in an administrative capacity but also displaying confidence and capability in the field and making good calls for everyone involved during the conflict with the aliens. Yet there's clearly an agenda in play with the Vision--and even though Captain America finds himself agreeing with the Vision's decisions, he can't shake the feeling that there's something not right here.

As the Vision becomes more comfortable in expanding the Avengers' influence and the team's public profile, he and Wanda fly to Washington, D.C. to meet directly with the President, though even Wanda isn't privy to what was discussed behind closed doors. Yet on the trip back, Wanda can't help but take notice of the out-of-character behavior of her husband. Nothing is really amiss, as far as she can tell--rather, whatever has raised her concern is simply something she can't put her finger on.

But while the rest of the Avengers are involved in a situation with the race known as the Eternals, Wanda reaches her limit with the Vision's secretive and unusual behavior, particularly when she realizes his meeting in Washington was intended to convince the President to make the Avengers' Chairmanship a Cabinet post--and though he manages to ease her mind for the time being, it's disturbingly clear that he's really provided her with no substantive information at all as to his plans or intentions.

More time passes--and with Cap's return to active duty following his dealings with the Red Skull, we see that the Vision's term as Chairman has done little to allay the concerns of his teammates that he may not be handling the responsibilities of the position as adeptly as he lets on.

As for the Vision himself, his plans appear to be reaching fruition, as he takes advantage of everyone being out of the mansion to consult secretly with I.S.A.A.C. on the final phase of his objective, a step that he finds he's not yet ready to take.

And with a new personality, and worrisome concerns, the Vision finds that even he isn't immune to experiencing the uncomfortable and extremely unnerving imagery of nightmares--which in this case take the form of his desire to be held in the high esteem of his teammates, while discarding the unemotional android aspect of himself that has inhibited him for so long.

But the Vision's real wake-up call--not to come to his senses, unfortunately, but to make the firm decision to proceed with his plans--comes in two stages soon after. The first involves an effort by Cap to have the Vision confide in him of any difficulties he might be experiencing; while the second comes when the house in New Jersey owned by the Vision and Wanda is burned to the ground as a result of the anti-mutant hysteria gripping the country. In both instances, it's ironically the words of Cap that give the Vision the fortitude to make the decision to proceed.

(This sequence in its entirety shows Stern at his best--taking the necessary time to give these characters their due, as always.)

But in order to be free of any possible interference for what he must do next, the Vision must have privacy--and to that end, he arranges for the other Avengers to be away from the mansion, all unknowingly victims of deception. Wanda, Cap, Starfox, and Hercules are sent to Arizona to assist the Army in inspecting wreckage from a former alien base, since the West Coast branch is currently occupied with another mission (according to the Vision, that is); Captain Marvel is sent to Pluto to investigate signal emissions from a starship once used by Thanos, with the distance involved keeping even one with her speed of transit sufficiently occupied; and even Jarvis is unexpectedly given the day off.

What the Vision hadn't counted on, however, was the return of Dane Whitman, the Black Knight, to the Avengers' ranks, in what would mark the beginning of his first tour of extended active duty with the team and end his "guest star" status in the book. But he's "welcomed" by the automated defenses of the mansion and taken captive--and by the time he regains consciousness, the Vision has taken his first steps toward his goal, convinced that he can--must--save the world.

Too late, Cap discovers that his team's mission to Arizona was based on a lie--and when he checks in with the Vision, he and Wanda receive an almost chilling message in response that makes it clear to them the extent of the Vision's agenda, and that the Avenger they once knew is likely no longer in his right mind. Literally.

Once again linked to I.S.A.A.C. and the computer network, the Vision once more can move about via holographic imagery. On Cap's arrival, the Vision attempts deception once more, with facsimiles of the other Avengers who seem to back up his initiative. But Cap exposes the ruse--and when the Vision terminates their discussion, Cap marshals his forces to invade and search the mansion room by room in order to locate where the Vision is sequestered.

In response, the Vision visits each Avenger separately in holographic form, adjusting his appearance to fit the tone of the dialog he has with whoever he's facing and offering a full explanation of what's been behind his change in personality and his actions of late. The responses he receives from his fellow Avengers on the subject--well thought out by Stern--has a profound effect on him, offering clarity on the sheer scope of what he's trying to accomplish and the variables he hasn't taken into account. But by the time Wonder Man has reached his true location, the Vision may be too far gone to put a halt to what he's begun.

Fortunately, Eros is well familiar with the equipment from Titan that the Vision has used in his takeover--and with the cooperation of all the Avengers, he's able to reverse the flow of energy and short out the machine's circuits. But the Vision's recovery will not be complete until he deals with the damaged control device that has robbed him of his reason--and his humanity.

It's to Cap's credit that he offers forgiveness to his fellow Avenger, rather than immediately bringing him up on charges or taking other action for which he might feel duty-bound. As Cap says, whatever repercussions come their way as a result of the Vision's actions will be dealt with if and when the time comes.

And those repercussions seem certain, since the military based in the situation room of the North American Air Defense Command in Cheyenne Mountain detected and traced the Vision's incursion into their systems (with no doubt other world powers conducting their own investigations)--and due in part to the sheer scope of what the Vision attempted, to say nothing of the breach in security, officials are hardly as inclined as Cap to let the matter wait.

COMING UP:

You heard the man! Heads will roll!
(If Mr. Stern doesn't do an about-face on his own story, that is.)

(This post covers events from issues 233-254 of The Avengers--worth the read in full!)

Following the shocking attempted takeover of the world's computers by the Vision, whose judgment was impaired by a damaged component in his skull as well as a link-up with an advanced and alien A.I., there was understandable concern about what the repercussions might be when the government began an investigation into the matter. Normally, that investigation would include other governments of the world whose systems were also compromised by the Vision's incursion; but for an incident that would typically be dominating the news cycle for more than a few days if not weeks to come, both the Vision and his wife, the Scarlet Witch, as well as the rest of the Avengers, will find this to be the most fast-tracked and surreptitious investigation of a world event ever (not) recorded, as well as one of the least consequential, thanks to writers Roger Stern and Steve Englehart who are presumably working in tandem to make sure the Vision and Wanda are freed up (in terms of both time and, it seems, federal custody) to return to their own affairs in their upcoming 1985 limited series.

Yet, immediately following the incident, there was a great deal of concern among the Avengers for their teammate, who was taking full responsibility for his actions and pledging his full cooperation to government authorities--particularly the National Security Council, which was responsible for granting the Avengers their priority clearance and was now in the hot seat due to the security breach that was made possible by such clearance. Thus we find Raymond Sikorski, the Avengers' most recent liaison to the N.S.C., meeting with one of the military's brass, who's furious at the fact that the Avengers haven't yet been held accountable for their illegal actions here.

Sikorsky of course is speaking of Henry Gyrich, who more often than not overstepped his authority with the Avengers and tended to make judgment calls for the procedures he felt they should follow. Sikorsky, in contrast, seems to understand how the Avengers' day-to-day operations would be atypical from standard government procedure--their powers and abilities, as well as the selfless character of their members, making them suited to act autonomously during a crisis while fully keeping the government in the loop. This incident would be a serious breach of the Avengers' authority, of course, with cause for a serious response from the feds; but to his credit, Sikorsky sees the need to proceed carefully until all the facts are known, and, even then, to work closely with the Avengers in resolving the situation.

Though you could probably hear a pin drop in the meeting in the Pentagon, once Sikorsky receives a reply to his inquiry to Avengers Mansion regarding the reports he's been given from the Cheyenne Mountain installation implicating the Avengers:

As for the Avengers, they have a few things to sort out in the aftermath of the Vision's scheme. There were mitigating circumstances regarding the Vision's actions, to be sure--and with the Vision insisting on assuming full responsibility and making every attempt to rectify the situation with the government, his comrades are sympathetic and are willing to give him their support. For the most part.

Yet there are those Avengers other than Captain America and Starfox (to say nothing of the Scarlet Witch) who were duped by the Vision's machinations who have yet to be told the truth--one of them being Captain Marvel, who was sent on a bogus mission to the outskirts of Pluto and who with this news might understandably feel betrayed by one she thought was a comrade.

Stern continues to have a genuine feel for the character of Cap, whose priority now is to stitch the Avengers back together and have them join ranks once more in order to put this situation behind them. Even while acknowledging it, how quickly he turns Captain Marvel's indignation to more productive channels, by appealing to her loyalty to the team and emphasizing the importance of the Avengers moving forward. It speaks a lot of C.M. in Cap's eyes, as to how confident he is in her ability to step up and focus on pitching in to maintain the integrity of the Avengers. It honestly doesn't seem that Cap feels she's capable of doing anything less.

There's also the returning Wasp, who was manipulated into stepping down as Chairwoman and nominating the Vision in her place. Her arrival coincides with that of two federal agents who will be escorting the Vision back to Washington to be debriefed.

At least for the moment, the Wasp has little more to say on the subject, as final goodbyes are said in the foyer and Wanda and the Vision prepare to depart. Yet it's at this point that Stern inexplicably seeks to discard all possible consequences of this incident by having the Vision plan to downplay the severity of what he's done, which will be accomplished by having him simply revise the oath of sworn testimony to omit the part that includes "...the whole truth...":

It's the one part of this story that Stern mishandles, even conveniently providing Cap with token dialog that serves to deprive us of hearing what in hell would make him sign off on this course of action. Further, is the Vision foolish enough to assume that the government isn't going to ask pointed questions regarding the scope of his ~~scheme~~"accident"? And does he seriously think that his incursions into computers around the world, happening at the same time, are going to be disregarded or unreported? With this one panel, Stern turns this entire incident into a non-incident, whatever motivation he provides the Vision with to do what's best for all concerned. Wasn't it that kind of thinking that led the Vision down the path he took in the first place?

The panel's last-second twist to this story (a scene which I'm tempted to call "Foyergate") also gives one the impression that Stern wishes to smooth the path for Englehart's new series for the couple, a series where Englehart has other things in mind for their development and probably doesn't want to be hampered by a criminal investigation. Stern nevertheless goes through the motions in the closing scenes of his story, sending the Vision and Wanda off to Washington to face a "debriefing" that now amounts to only a formality.

As for the Wasp, she'll go on to reclaim her gavel; but Stern at least gives some nice closure to her lingering feelings on the Vision's actions, as well as to the Vision himself, a "human being" at last.

As for the Englehart series, it's unclear how closely he and Stern coordinated on the Vision's fate once Stern's story concluded, given the five-month gap between that story and Englehart's series launch. The Vision's computer scheme is hardly addressed at all in the new story, with most of its opening pages devoted to Wanda blowing off steam at how long her husband is undergoing questioning--and there are other details that differ from Stern's version, such as the couple's "debriefing" (if we can even still call it that) taking place at Project Pegasus in upstate New York, rather than in Washington. It's also apparent that the government realizes that the Vision's plans involved a takeover, not an accident limited to transmission lines, and that it encompassed the entire world.

Was the Vision caught in a lie? We don't know. Was the Vision handed over to Henry Gyrich in Washington for further investigation at the Pegasus facility? We don't know. All we're given by Englehart are irrelevant details, such as why the Vision now sounds more human (though no doubt quite relevant to the tone of the rest of the series):

...as well as a scene meant for this series to wash its hands of the Vision's takeover attempt completely, and immediately, helped in no small part by the fact that we've already missed most of the investigation coming in.

For what it's worth, the Vision could indeed have told "the whole truth" and still walked away with a clear conscience, since the damaged control crystal was the source of his problem in either event--and the government more than likely would have let him, as it did here thanks to Sikorsky. It also seems that the Vision's worries about the government pursuing the technology to duplicate the Vision's computer incursions were groundless, unless government agents returned to Avengers Mansion with a search warrant intending to impound the equipment the Vision had used. In that event, we'd have to assume that Starfox had the foresight to dismantle everything and send it back to Titan.

On a more positive note, we did get to see the Vision and especially Wanda stick it to Gyrich, which always has its rewards.

Avengers #74 capped a two-issue story that saw the return of the Sons of the Serpent to the book, the insidious group of zealots whose mission is to purify the nation by purging it of "the unfit... the foreign-born... the inferior," while carving out a power base for itself (or, more to the point, for its leaders). How the Sons of the Serpent ever gained credibility for the supremacist message that they were pushing is one of the all-time head-shakers in comics lore, as violent as their operations are and as transparent as the group seems to be as a hate group. Dressing and accessorizing your group members in the motif of snakes practically screams "ploy," given that the term "serpent" is often associated with someone who gains your trust only to betray it; and openly basing your name and your mission on the biblical story of Adam and Eve being driven from Eden by "the first serpent" (thus making you the sons of the serpent) seems counter-productive, since there probably aren't many of us who are cheering that serpent for driving us all from paradise.

That said, these were the late '60s/early '70s--and with racism still rearing its ugly head, incredibly, nearly fifty years later, you can imagine how rampant it was when this story was published, and how much it remained a hot-button issue for the Sons of the Serpent to exploit.

The Avengers story gets its momentum from two developments. One is in the form of the inflammatory national broadcasts of rival late-night talk show hosts Montague Hale and Dan Dunn--"rival" in the sense that both have strong but opposing views of equality and civil rights. Hale, having recently lost his sponsors and then his show after having called for an investigation of the Sons of the Serpent and subsequently fallen victim to them in a street attack, begins to appear on Dunn's show to debate the issues. Dunn, for his part, is a known bigot--and so the broadcasts are often fiery with no meeting of the minds, rife with innuendo and barely restrained hostilities.

The other development takes its leaf from the prior clash between the Sons of the Serpent, where Captain America was taken captive and a double took his place and appeared to support their cause. In this new story, it's the Black Panther who's captured while trying to infiltrate the group--and his double begins pulling criminal jobs and appears to have turned militant, forcing the Avengers to step in. Eventually, the Sons will unmask their "double" of the Panther on live television--and his well-rehearsed open support of the Sons, as well as being revealed as both black and guilty of his crimes, is designed to inflame the minds of those in the country who are riveted to these broadcasts.

There's one final similarity which this story shares with the Sons' prior appearance. In that earlier story, the so-called Supreme Serpent was revealed to be a foreign enemy named General Chen, whose goal was to turn Americans against each other; while here, the culprits are unmasked and shockingly revealed to be both Dunn and Hale, who shared the identity of the Supreme Serpent and schemed for power together. Both stories clearly offer words of warning on the dangers of being misled by those who appear to have your best interests at heart but who are only using you as a means to an end--a practice which clearly has survived to this day.

It's a fine sequel by writer Roy Thomas, though it would lead to an unusual addendum a few issues later: a single letter, set aside by Thomas and given the entire space of the letters page which would normally feature a selection of letters submitted by readers on the issue in question. The letter contains observations on the Sons of the Serpent story by "black writer" Philip Jones (who identifies himself thus) and which you'll find appearing in this post. But in addition, the next issue's letters page was reserved for Thomas's rebuttal to the points Jones raises. To my knowledge, it's the first and only instance of such an occurrence. (Though do fact-check me on that--I seem to recall a letters column being used for a single letter once or twice, though never continued to the next issue's column, reportedly due to the late arrival of Mr. Jones's letter.)

I interject some very brief comments following the points raised by Jones and preceding those of Thomas, who can certainly address Mr. Jones's points without my 2¢ getting in the way. As for the letter itself, it seemed appropriate here to convey Jones's words in the same format that a reader in August of 1970 was presented with them, only with a little digital help from 2017 that first presents the panel(s) that Jones is referring to, with each panel followed by Jones's comments. It would probably be helpful to read the issue in its entirety first, since you'd be getting the whole story rather than carefully selected excerpts that are given their own context courtesy of Jones--but regardless, hopefully you'll find it an interesting glimpse back at this period of time where such thoughts often found their way into the national conversation.

Dear Mr. Lee and Mr. Thomas:
I am a black writer and a long-time reader of your often very sophisticated magazines. The following is a brief criticism of AVENGERS #74:

"T'CHALLA ONLY HID THE FACT THAT HE WAS BLACK BECAUSE HE WANTED TO BE JUDGED AS A MAN ... NOT A RACIAL TYPE!"
That's very white of you. This implies that this champion of justice etc. could not be considered as a man if it were known that he was black--that in fact, only if there is a chance that he is white can he be judged as a man. This is to say nothing of the aberration of revolutionary nationalist or cultural nationalist (if there is a distinction) doctrine.

"...THE PANTHER'S BEIN' FRAMED ...!"
True. But assumes that the judicial system is legitimate, and that an extra-legal element is pulling a fast one on blind justice--utter garbage. The recent conviction of the Chicago Seven and Bobby Seale, not to mention the national repression of the Black Panther Party and the murders of Hampton and Clark, point a damning finger at the system itself, to say the least.

Animalistic poses reminiscent of a Bigger Thomas figure.

"YOU CAN'T ARREST THEM IF YOU CAN'T FIND THEM ..."
They are invisible, in effect, and could be anywhere or anyone, as the climax establishes. They are assumed to be an identifiable minority, which can be rooted out and purged from the national fabric, returning it to its pure whiteness.

Romantic studies of chained black man in the face of a distant, powerful, and hostile technology. A latter-day noble savage.

"... IS BOTH BLACK AND A MARAUDER?"
Implies blackness is criminal. Then what is not criminal--whiteness? But this is what the Supreme Serpent is allegorically guilty of. The remaining alternative is a colorless state--everyone the same drab grey. That's not the human condition, either physically or metaphysically.

"CAREFULLY-SELECTED PROGRAM ..."
Managed media? Are the controllers of information part of the Serpent Conspiracy? Be careful what you say--Julius Hoffman is still on his witch hunt!

DAN DUNN = WILLIAM F. BUCKLEY?

"AND OTHER LOST CAUSES!"
Heavy, heavy. One of the best lines in the piece.

Assumes that white America is sitting in patient judgement, waiting to be convinced that black is not what they see it as--criminal violence.

Again you traffic on the myth of America Frontier Justice. HALE=UNCLE TOM (because he is engaged in this ridiculous rhetoric of debate)=AMERICA'S MYTHIC NEGRO (clean, speaks grammarian English, thinks like a white man would imagine he would think if he were black).

"...WHY YOU DON'T GO BACK TO AFR..."
Outasight because it is painfully obvious.

"WHATEVER OUR OWN FEELINGS, WE MUST CAPTURE T'CHALLA!"
Avengers=Platonic Justice. Who watches the watchers?

"WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON, BABY?"
A necessary question, but implies that the battle will be black vs. white. A narrow analysis of the situation, which is insidious in that it conforms to the power establishment's program for maintaining its white supremacy regime throughout the world by genocide. (Note the "war in Laos.")

"UNLIKE MOST HUMANS......"
Redundant dialog which only duplicates the image, and adds nothing to it. An obligatory statement.

"I PREFER NOT TO WALK AMONG THEM!"
Better, establishes his alienation (Can you dig it?).

"...FOR TWO OF YOURS, ... ONE OF CAPTAIN AMERICA!"
Cute.

"... MIGHT BE NO MORE PARTIES ... FOR A LONG TIME!"
Some people haven't partied for a long time as it is. And at the rate people are dying, here and overseas, less people have something to party about every day.

White America's projection of its own value system. The Black Panther is bad. Why? Because he violates property.

"... A WOMAN-SIZED WASP ..."
True. Also a cringing black man in the face of white virginity (you have a load of material in this issue and in your heads, I'm sure, that could be presented in a powerful way). The woman's image, as with all Marvel women, shows definite symptoms of Vargas Syndrome rampant among the artists.

Good graphic.

Graphic creates an Eastern effect--Yellow Peril.

"YOU MADE ME DO IT ...!"
Misguided rank and file membership. How many defendants at the Nuremberg trials claimed the same out? How many murderers of Vietnamese and Laosian civilians are saying the same thing?

Good.

"... A CAUSE MAY BE RIGHT ... THOUGH A LEADER OR TWO BE WRONG!"
Neatly done. Gives everybody room for comfortable interpretation.

"... A WORTHIER PURPOSE ...!"
POWER TO THE PEOPLE

For a professed writer, there's little thought given to this letter by Mr. Jones other than to cherry-pick certain scenes and comment on their relevance to current or past events and ideologies while all but neglecting the context they're given in the story. (What did you think of the story, Mr. Jones?) Whether or not Jones has an axe to grind here is something of a matter of opinion; from my own perspective, he appears to simply play the part of both unsolicited educator and enlightener for Thomas's benefit, as his closing paragraph would indicate:

"Gentlemen, I find your magazines graphically excellent and generally insightful into the human condition. I would like to see you (help you) bust out of your Middle American Myth bag. Explore divergent ideologies and life styles from their perspective. You have the vehicle, and if it is done honestly I don't see how it can do anything but make your readership better informed and conscientious citizens of the Republic."

Jones would go on in his life to amass an extensive résumé in academia, focusing on cinema and video design and communications; but in 1970, he was a young man of 23 who, like some of us, was eager to give his take on the world as he saw it and throw a harsh spotlight on anyone and anything that he felt needed one. In his letter, he's perhaps been too quick to evaluate and form snap judgments, while rejecting the tact and deliberation that would have distinguished his points and might have led to a thoughtful exchange of ideas with not only those he'd written to but other letter writers who might have wanted to offer comment.

As for (at the time) 30-year-old Thomas, this seems a great deal of attention to lavish on a letter which, for the most part, amounts to a reader thinking out loud and sending the resulting talking points to the "Avengers Assemble!" letters page. (Mr. Jones doesn't preface his critique, but simply dives right in.) It's possible that Thomas has taken exception to Jones's points because of the way Jones used this Avengers story to expose a good deal of hidden subtext he feels is favorable to white America; or perhaps Thomas felt that Jones was simply drawing knee-jerk conclusions to the scenes he cites. We'll hopefully find out more on Thomas's thoughts next, when we take a look at his (nearly) full-page response to Mr. Jones.

Previously, we took a look at a letter from Avengers reader Philip Jones, who in 1970 critiqued a story from issue #74 of the book which concluded a two-part tale featuring the sinister Sons of the Serpent. Jones's letter was given the entire letters page to make its points, which writer Roy Thomas would respond to personally in the letters page of the following issue. In essence, Jones was taking issue with scenes throughout the story which he felt were given racial subtext by Thomas and artist John Buscema, either in ignorance or otherwise.

To follow up, this post presents Thomas's reply in its entirety. If you haven't yet checked out the earlier post on this subject, which goes into the letter in detail, you may wish to do so before reading what Thomas had to say on the matter, in order to have a balanced picture of the entire exchange and to put Thomas's comments into proper perspective. Though before you make the assumption that you're getting into a hornet's nest here, you'll find the tone in both men to be quite civil, albeit with strong words and very pointed observations. As the preface to Thomas's column intimates, "praise and condemnation" can exist side-by-side in civil discourse; but that said, Thomas is quite blunt in his reply, and he offers a strong defense for the approach he took with the story.

Overall, it's an interesting clash of impressions during what was at the time a growing understanding of race relations emerging from the late 1960s.

Every once in awhile in comics, it's always fun to encounter a new antagonist for our hero(es) who's played for laughs--a list of troublemakers that's included, to name a few who have been profiled in the PPoC, the Impossible Man, Captain Ultra, the Black Fox, and of course Fabian Stankowicz, as well as the hapless Rasputin. And who could forget the utter chaos of the Defenders'membership drive from hell that saw trouble from both hero and villain? We also have writer Peter David to thank for making even more serious villains capable of evoking a chuckle or two from readers--foes who at times exchanged rant for wit, but were no less deadly.

And then... *sigh*... then there's the Scarlet Beetle, one of the most minuscule would-be conquerors ever, who dates all the way back to 1963 and was--is--obsessed with making insects the masters of Earth. Mock the Scarlet Beetle as you will, but his tenacity, arrogance, and sheer presumption have been long-standing trademarks of also-ran villains of the more human variety whose reach, like the Beetle's, exceeded their grasp. The Beetle might remind you a little of Salamar, the Sustainer, the sinister albeit mechanized oversized crab that lurked in the sunken ruins of Atlantis and turned out to be the construct of Namor's fiendish cousin, Byrrah. In the Beetle's case, it's no surprise that he was not only sentient, but intelligent, since such monsters were plentiful in not only Tales To Astonish but other "Tales" mags which were slowly transitioning to featuring super-heroes; and of course the scope of the Beetle's plans was on a far greater scale than Salamar's.

The Beetle was mainly a foe of the Ant-Man--and though he would also encounter Scott Lang in that identity, he began his reign of terror by battling Henry Pym, who was just getting his feet wet as Ant-Man and was still using gas vials on his belt to change his size. In essence, the Beetle's plan to conquer the world isn't a bad one, since the number of insects on the planet could overwhelm the human population if guided by a sinister mind like the Beetle's. And Pym learns as much when, encountering the Beetle in his lair, he inadvertently hands his foe the means to make him even more of a threat.

With Pym out of the way, the Beetle proceeds to begin his invasion, and indeed the city's population seems to have no defense against the Beetle's well-thought-out plan of attack. But Pym eventually escapes captivity and confronts the Beetle, luring him into a toy store and using the "weapons" at hand to pull victory from defeat and end the Beetle's threat, seemingly for good.

But in a 1972 story by Roy Thomas, the Scarlet Beetle returns, as malevolent as ever--and though Pym would face the creature once again, a dejected shop owner turned arsonist named Wilbur would also play a crucial part in how things play out.

It doesn't look as if the Beetle's changed his approach to conquest--nor does he really need to, providing he doesn't allow Pym the chance to upset his plans. And when Pym appears to have foiled him in one aspect of his scheme, the Beetle handily adapts and perhaps becomes even more dangerous.

Pym deserves a little credit for at least making sure that no can take advantage of his size-changing gas anymore, though it's clear he hasn't covered all the bases as far as having his abilities co-opted. His cybernetic helmet would represent a significant advantage for the Beetle, since it was Pym's control over the ants that helped him prevail against the Beetle in their prior battle.

Fortunately for Pym, Wilbur has plans of his own--which not only manage to save Pym's life, but also bring an undignified end to the Scarlet Beetle.

Wilbur's end, as it turned out, was also on the undignified side, though less, er, crushing. As for the Beetle, he went on to make several more appearances in one form or another, always seeming to come close to realizing his dreams of conquest but never quite escaping his fate as comic relief. Or, to put it another way:

The cover to the 1982 Avengers Annual might give you the impression that the Avengers/Defenders war is kicking up all over again, nine years after the fact:

But this time, it's the star-spawned Nebulon and a mystery companion, rather than the dread Dormammu and Loki, who might be the ones manipulating the two teams for their own ends. But let's not get ahead of ourselves--because while there (again) might be some truth to that, there are other factors involved that make the situation more complex than two teams of heroes acting as pawns for those who have deceived them. In fact, as well as writer J.M. DeMatteis structures this story, it may take awhile for you to be certain of any villainous intent on the part of Nebulon and the female who will be introduced as Supernalia. DeMatteis has a habit of playing such a card close to his vest, and often giving the reader much more to think about than simply good vs. evil.

The story is also nicely rendered by penciler Al Milgrom, who often needs a strong inker to refine his work that showcases his otherwise good instincts at how a story plays out and the abilities of the various characters involved. Here, it's Jack Abel who does the lion's share of the inking, though the credit reads "Jack Abel and Crew." It would have been nice, as well as an extra perq for the Annual, if the issue had been supplemented with a listing of the additional inkers involved in the work; I found myself doing a lot of guessing as to who could have been supplying the finishes in some of the panels where Abel's touch was either missing or it appeared he was getting some assistance, and it might have been fun to go down a list of credits and see how well (or how wrong!) my guesswork panned out.

Since the cover renders moot any possibility of Nebulon being the surprise villain here, the story can safely open the curtain with him first thing, as he's being dressed down by a superior following a trial that laid bare his past transgressions on the planet Earth.

As we can see (and which has already been revealed in the prior instances depicted here), Nebulon's guise as the so-called "Celestial Man" hides his true nature as a member of the race of creatures such as the one present with him here. Stripped of half his power, Nebulon is given a choice of either being exiled to Earth in his humanoid body, or being executed--the latter option considered by his superiors to be by far the more honorable choice, yet a choice Nebulon strongly refuses. And so Nebulon's final judgment is decided.

At first, Nebulon reacts with rage, his first instinct being to take revenge against the Defenders for his fate; but almost immediately after embarking on that course of action, Nebulon realizes that he has only himself to blame, and teleports to the Himalayas to contemplate his situation in isolation. It's an important scene in the course of this story, though the reader won't yet realize it as such.

And speaking of the Himalayas, look who else has come to do a little thinking there.

(It's one of Milgrom's most majestic renderings of Thor, and easily one of my favorites.)

With Thor and Nebulon ending up in the same place and time by coincidence, it's easy to get the impression that the Himalayas absurdly cover only a small distance, instead of being a vast expanse of mountains extending roughly 1,500 miles (which Madame Medusa probably knows from experience). Regardless, Thor's curiosity gets the better of him, and he strikes up a conversation with this stranger--and by the time the tale is concluded, we learn how the Avengers are to be folded into this story. The Avengers--and one other.

Supernalia--whoever she is--doesn't look at all pleased, does she?

Care to take a guess as to which group she'll be headed to?

And speaking of the Defenders, they welcome back to their ranks the Valkyrie, who returns finally free of the human Barbara Norriss with whom the Enchantress joined her essence. As the Asgardian counterpart to Thor in this issue, Milgrom gives the Valkyrie equal attention in her own introduction to the story.

From here, we see a different scenario taking place with each super-group. In the case of the Avengers, Nebulon arrives at their H.Q. with Thor as his "sponsor," though presumably not in the sense of becoming a new Avenger (at least not so soon) but more as being offered the guidance of peers who can help to acclimate him to life on this world.

Before we hear Iron Man's reply, let's shift to the Defenders, where Supernalia is painting a different picture of Nebulon, though it becomes clear that only one of these aliens thus far has a hidden agenda.

Given the task that they must undertake, the Valkyrie thinks it wise to bring in the Silver Surfer on their mission, which Supernalia facilitates--and convinced that the fate of the world depends on their actions, the Defenders race to face both the Avengers and Nebulon, the former they now believe are acting under Nebulon's mental control.

That brings us back to the point where Iron Man is about to respond to the Avengers' discussion with Nebulon--only to discover that there are now others who insist on weighing in.

Up to this point, we have no reason to believe that Nebulon hasn't been sincere in his statements to the Avengers, nor does it seem that the Avengers have been subjected to the same deceit that Supernalia has practiced on the Defenders (assuming it is deceit--we aren't sure of that, either). But our doubts lean more toward the Defenders when it becomes clear who decides to start the fight that seems imminent.

You can well imagine the chaos that erupts in Avengers Mansion, with the Avengers themselves incredulous as to the Defenders' unfounded claims as well as their actions. But if we're now inclined to cast Supernalia as the guilty party who's up to no good, what villain would show profound sadness rather than satisfaction at this violent turn of events?

What is going on here?

It's a question neither group is willing to ponder in regard to either Nebulon or Supernalia--only with each other, as the Surfer's strike has only made a bad situation worse. It's to both groups' credit that they still attempt to defuse hostilities--but when Nebulon takes a hand and snarls out a challenge to the Defenders to take their best shot, Iron Man makes his own strike that buries the Defenders in rubble and allows the Avengers time to regroup elsewhere in order to make sense of all this.

"Elsewhere," in this case, being back to the Himalayas, courtesy of Nebulon. Unfortunately, Supernalia, monitoring everything that's taken place, provides the same method of transport for the Defenders, and it appears everyone is back where they started. With one exception: Nebulon learns at last just what--who--is behind the Defenders' actions against him.

As you might expect, tempers have reached the boiling point on both teams--the Avengers indignant at being thus treated by these misguided heroes, while the Defenders feel they're racing against time to stop the explosive devices which they've been told Nebulon has set. Finally, the gauntlet is thrown down with a final, angry warning from Thor to stand down--responded to in kind by the Valkyrie, who, like any Asgardian, bristles at the insinuation that the cause she fights for is any less just than her foe's, matching the challenger's bravado with her own while shouting down even the notion of surrender.

It's become clear in this story how well DeMatteis, who's had a distinguished run on The Defenders, has adapted and added to the style of interplay that the Avengers have come to be known for, and Thor in particular, not only in the scenes pictured here but in others present in this annual. Given the book's masthead, it's no surprise that DeMatteis and Milgrom offer the Avengers slightly more panel exposure than the Defenders--yet the Defenders are no token opposition group in this story, their brand no doubt enjoying the Surfer's presence in their ranks given the might of those they challenge. DeMatteis has also helped matters by keeping the focus off of Nebulon and Supernalia as long as possible--a decision that heightens the battle scenes between the two groups and draws more interest to their exchanges beyond a simple my-abilities-vs.-your-abilities display.

As for our two protagonists, both monitor the battle, but in curiously different ways. Nebulon simply stays on the sidelines, but it's clear something holds his interest; while Supernalia increases the strength of the mind-controlling waves her ship is emitting whenever she sees that her troops are having doubts, always doing so "for honor's sake."

The time is approaching when the full explanation of their dispute can no longer be put off, and that time is reached when the battle takes a turn for both sides. Thor temporarily disables the Valkyrie, but is shot down by the Surfer--who then falls when he and Iron Man exchange fire that takes them both out. At the same time, a mysterious weakness begins affecting everyone, with no discernible cause--until Captain America decides on the only way to bring the Beast to his senses. The scene also marks a turning point for Nebulon's conflict with Supernalia--though ultimately not in his favor, as his secret is revealed at last.

Nebulon has admittedly reverted to type, if reluctantly--while Supernalia has acted in accordance with her own code of honor, the same honor which Nebulon has discarded and which has driven Supernalia to conscript the Defenders. Their race conducts themselves much like the Watchers, in that they are sworn not to interfere with other cultures and species; but their sense of honor and infractions thereof have them treating their honor as a constant balancing act for which they must always be held accountable. It's only when the Beast convinces Supernalia to put a stop to Nebulon's actions that she seeks to strike her balance--one that won't fully be realized, for both herself and Nebulon, until the fateful moment that Cap redirects the strength-draining ennui beam only to discover that its effect will have fatal consequences on the aliens.

We can presume that with their deaths, the accounts of both Nebulon and Supernalia, as well as their family, are squared by their superiors on their homeworld--a scene that would have made for a perfunctory closing note indeed to this tale's woeful resolution.

BONUS!

The annual's cover also promises a look inside the Avengers' membership manual--and while it unfortunately takes only "a look inside," it does present for the first time the Avengers Charter and by-laws, covered elsewhere in the PPoC. (I suppose a charter would be a nonstarter for the Defenders, eh?)

Avengers Annual #11

Script: J.M. DeMatteis
Pencils: Al Milgrom
Inks: Jack Abel and Crew
Letterer: Janice Chiang

In the mid-1970s, writer Steve Gerber began taking an interest in resurrecting the Guardians of the Galaxy from obscurity. Last (and first) seen in their premiere issue in early 1969, the Guardians looked like they had their work cut out for them in what seemed to be shaping up to be a long and difficult struggle to free the human race from the murderous Brotherhood of the Badoon, a race of reptilian aliens who had finally succeeded in conquering the Earth of the 31st century and enslaving its population.

The "Guardians of the Galaxy" were mostly the result of chance meetings between four individuals who crossed paths while trying to survive encounters with their Badoon attackers. Two were products of Earth colonies established on Jupiter and Pluto, where the colonists of each world were obliged to adapt to the extremes of those planets--respectively, Charlie-27, who gained massive bulkness and strength in order to survive the gravity and pressure of Jupiter, and Martinex, part of a genetically engineered crystalline race who possessed heat/cold deploying abilities. Charlie, a member of the space militia and returning from a six-month solo assignment, returned to find Jupiter captured and was forced to teleport to Pluto, where he found Martinex attempting a last act of sabotage before making his own escape.

Fleeing together, the two teleported to Earth and found two others improvising their escape from captivity: Vance Astro, an astronaut of the year 1988 whose thousand-year flight to another world was turned into a cruel joke when he found that humans had beaten him there, thanks to faster-than-light technology perfected just 200 years after he'd launched from Earth... and Yondu, a native of the world that was Astro's destination. Astro can harness psychic energy (a heck of an ability for an astronaut to pick up); while Yondu possesses "yaka" arrows made of sound-sensitive material that allows him to direct their course with a whistle.

The group's brief origin story comes to an end with a promise of hope, though you mostly get the impression that it's hope that the Guardians and their cause catch on with readers:

The story is published just three months following the Badoon's conflict with the Silver Surfer in the 20th century--so if nothing else, the Guardians story at least establishes the potential of the Badoon threat. (To say nothing of the viability of the "if at first you don't succeed..." proverb.)

Unlike Captain Marvel, a character who had used his premiere in Marvel Super-Heroes as a stepping stone to a second appearance in the book and then to his own series, the Guardians remained in limbo; but five years later in 1974, Gerber dusted off the team and dealt them into a story arc in Marvel Two-In-One where they joined 20th century heroes travelling from the past to retake one city (New York) from the Badoon, with Astro, Yondu, and Charlie-27 re-outfitted (and, in Charlie's case, downsized a bit) to give them a more distinctive presence on the team.

It was a promising new beginning for the Guardians that served to jump-start the concept; and a year later, Gerber took it a step further by scripting a plot by several writers (including himself) that brought the Guardians into the 20th century in search of historical records that might indicate how Earth had fought off the Badoon in 1968. Unfortunately, their new friends, the Defenders, can be of no help--in that regard, at least.

Take Dr. Strange at his word, however contemplative it might seem, since that story segues to a four-issue arc in The Defenders that has Strange and his allies returning with the Guardians to the 31st century, resolved to put an end to the Badoon threat--though it's more accurate to say that Strange sets the wheels in motion for the human race to reclaim its own destiny.

(Such scenes offered the opportunity for the PPoC to offer a more humorous take on Dr. Strange's *ahem* modest abilities.)

With the mystic liberation of enslaved humanity, the Defenders story gave the Guardians the momentum that the MSH tale failed to ignite and lead the team to its own series, albeit in the Marvel Presents"feature" book that provides the group with a generous ten-issue run that gives it every chance to establish a decent following.

But what are these resistance fighters to do when their long struggle comes to an end?

The new series'"liner notes" on its debut letters page described an interesting premise for future stories, developments you'd expect on a world which has just thrown off the yoke of its alien invaders and must now begin to repopulate and rebuild.

There's information here that supplements the original story and would have helped to make that tale a good deal more interesting than it was--for instance, the numbers involved in the surviving human population as well as the fatalities on Earth as well as its colonies. Also, the peculiar focus on the Mercury colony, as well as the link to the Martian invasion (published in Amazing Adventures)--and there's the revelation that it was Alpha Centauri that Astro's flight was headed for. Many of these details and more were revealed in Astro's description of that century's advancements and achievements in Defenders #26, and worth a look if you want to bring yourself more up to speed on the Guardians' backstory.

And yet, what's described here isn't really what we saw at all in this new series, as the story of the Guardians soon shifted to their adventures off-planet without a glance back toward Sol III. It was as if Gerber had jotted down these notes for publication in the premiere issue, only to change his mind before he and artist Al Milgrom began plotting for succeeding stories.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves a bit. In essence, this first issue capsulizes the premise of an Earth that begins to rise again to the promise it held before the Badoon all but crushed its future. Though rather than skip ahead, Gerber has the good sense to use the incredible story material that lies waiting where the Defenders story leaves off--the struggle of the human race to reclaim their world. Even so, the method by which Gerber presents this conflict--and our world--in relation to their importance on a universal scale is certainly an eye-opener that puts such a crisis into perspective.

Yet that bit of cold reflection beautifully draws the curtain to a stunning opening scene that puts us directly in harm's way--a feeling every human of that troubled century could definitely relate to.

Appearances aside, Gerber apparently doesn't wish to take too much time dealing with the Badoon, given his almost conspicuous disregard for the power and resources of the Badoon that made them such a threat to begin with. Even released from bondage, the human population is still a fraction of what it was when it originally fell to Badoon forces and weaponry--so it's difficult to imagine that a planetary uprising would triumph now, even with the Guardians in the thick of things. For that to happen, the Badoon would have had to have left only a token troop deployment on Earth following the subjugation of its remaining populace. It makes for high drama to see humanity rise from its ashes and overcome the forces that nearly wiped it from existence--but is it realistic? Perhaps if this series had been dedicated exclusively to that struggle, it might have indeed proven to be; but here, we have only a few well-placed captions to assure us.

But Gerber and Milgrom have done their work well in these opening pages that depict nothing less than all-out war and sweep us up in the tide of resistance and desperation that drive the oppressed people of Earth to overcome their alien captors, with the Guardians sharing in both their determination and playing a part in the body count. Yet as gripping as the action is, this life-or-death struggle seems to be over even as it's settling in to become a real page-turner.

As we see, there is a new Guardian who's informally been added to their ranks--the enigmatic Starhawk, the self-described "one who knows" who appears determined to play a part in this critical juncture in Earth history. Given the brutality and merciless nature of the Badoon and the suffering they've inflicted on those they conquered, it's no surprise to see the surviving humans succumb to their baser instincts and seek no small measure of revenge on the Badoon who yet live. It would be interesting for the story to pursue this fervor and see where it leads--i.e., if the now free men and women of Earth decide to give in to "mob mentality" and become as brutal and horrific as their former captors in their treatment of the prisoners, or even if they simply decide to execute the Badoon without mercy. Obviously the Guardians have no problem with that option, if Charlie and Martinex are any indication.

Regardless, we're deprived of a dramatic moment that Gerber could no doubt do justice to and scenes that could make this issue resonate with the reader, when Starhawk essentially takes the choice out of the hands of the human race and makes their decision for them--a defining moment for humanity that, as a result, will come to have much less meaning for them than it otherwise might have.

It's hard to definitively say at this point whether Gerber means for Starhawk to be humanity's savior here, but his story nevertheless reads as such. In the cold light of day, however, it's difficult not to share Astro's doubts about the character. In one respect, Starhawk acknowledges the importance of the humans overcoming their thirst for revenge on their own, while in the same breath he abruptly shifts his tone and uses words like "not be allowed" and "forced," followed by a decision that makes it clear that Starhawk keeps his own counsel as far as the human race is concerned. Maybe as far as anyone is concerned.

As for his solution, well, see for yourselves. How would you react if, after all the fighting you've done to be free and all the death you've seen, more Badoon ships land--a terrifying sight in itself--and their royalty disembarks to gather their warriors? How is justice served, just because the male and female Badoon loathe one another? (For that matter, why would the humans assume that's even true?) And why would anyone trust Starhawk, who has taken no visible part in the resistance and shows up only now when the enemy is captured?

And so, incredibly, Starhawk uses his power to enforce a decision that the humans have neither reached consensus on nor acceded to--a violent scene that is repeated worldwide and, it must be said, gives no sense of closure (good or bad) to a conflict that has resulted in massive destruction, most of the human race meeting their deaths, and over seven years of enslavement for those who were allowed to remain alive. It's a decision made for humanity's own good, in Gerber's eye--the same human race that Gerber had made clear in the Defenders story had advanced on its own merits to a point of peace and a new golden age, but people which the writer now feels cannot be trusted to rise up again without being properly guided.

The preliminaries over, the story turns to post-war scenarios for not only the humans who are faced with rebuilding their world and their society, but also for the Guardians, who suddenly find themselves rejected in one way or another by the world they fought to save. Given Starhawk's behavior, it stands to reason that would make sense; Starhawk is likely now highly mistrusted and perhaps even detested for actions which appeared to favor the Badoon, making the Guardians guilty by association. But Gerber instead chooses to go in another direction, by treating the Guardians as if they were now out of place on Earth.

There are some interesting angles being explored here by Gerber, if briefly. Martinex's scene is notable in that it brings attention to the fact that he is, indeed, a human, for all intents and purposes; while his fellow scientist's aversion to him could have as easily been due to living so long under alien rule, instead of his unease with the crystalline state of Martinex himself. (The real shocker in this scene, however, lies in something more subtle and altogether different: Tapes? In the 31st century? And as a storage medium?)

For Astro, it's a nice nod to his origin that his modified suit, now metal to offer better protection than his original covering of copper, can never be removed because of his skin's vulnerability to air. That, and the fact that he hails from the 20th century, tends to anchor the Guardians and make them more accessible to the reader, since Astro has an edge to him that the others lack--with perhaps the exception of Charlie, who started out as more "home-grown" than he comes across today. Charlie is the obvious muscle of the group, but his personality appears to be in flux--one moment thoughtful and reasoned, the next reactive and letting his fists do his talking for him.

Yondu, of course, is treated differently, since he has no human heritage to bemoan; but given his spiritual nature, Gerber nicely leaves the options open for him as far as pursuing his journey elsewhere.

Clearly, all of Astro's comrades have room for growth, something the group will need to excel in if it's to survive.

And so the stage is set for the Guardians to live up to their collective name and become more of a galactic group whose potential for adventure perhaps cannot be realized on an Earth focused on reconstruction, purged of its alien enemy. Again, however, it seems that Starhawk knows best in that respect, as well.

Perhaps being led by the nose by Starhawk in their adventures isn't the best way for the Guardians to emerge as a force in their own right. But that's something we'll touch on as we explore this series further.

Marvel Presents #3

Script: Steve Gerber
Pencils: Al Milgrom
Inks: Pablo Marcos
Letterer: Denise Wohl

Sometime around early 1971 I remember walking into a small local bookstore that sold books and magazines, but in used condition--mostly a place where people traded in their old periodicals for some minor compensation. I was just starting to become interested in comic books, and it hadn't taken me long to reach the point where I began looking around for back issues of the books I'd been reading--so this store seemed like it might ideal for that purpose if their stock included comics, which it did. This particular store really didn't get much business, so most of the time there were large stacks of magazines and comic books waiting to be looked through--a virtual treasure trove for a kid who had been recently bitten by the collecting bug. Most of those back issues were in good to very good condition, though I wasn't yet thinking about things like grading or even bagging--it was enough to just find a fresh stack of books that would add to my stash and allow me to read backward and get a little more comics lore under my belt. A good thing, too, since the store owner had a habit of literally marking down his merchandise for resale, taking a marker right to the cover of the book or magazine--and just for good measure, stamping the store's name and address there, as well (free advertising, I suppose). A practice that today would have me wincing in visible mock pain.

One of the books that turned up in this store happened to be Fantastic Four #84, which began a four-issue arc that featured Doctor Doom in what would turn out to be the last Lee/Kirby/Sinnott story we would ever see the character appear in (if you're not counting his android stand-in from FF #100, that is). At this point I was reading the mag regularly, but I was more familiar with the book's then-current artists--John Romita and, following him, John Buscema--and was only still in the beginning stages of being exposed to Jack Kirby's artwork as I worked my way back. Believe it or not, I was finding Kirby's work on the book to be an acquired taste that was taking some getting used to; but then, I'd find myself approaching the work of Ditko, Severin, et al. in much the same way before becoming more appreciative of their styles. (Admittedly, I only warmed slightly to Severin and Don Heck, even though the latter's work seemed to be everywhere in the older stories I would discover.)

In about a year and a half after FF 84 saw publication, Kirby would announce his resignation from Marvel--which in a way sheds new light on this story, given how masterfully Kirby and Lee had transformed Doom over time into one of the FF's... one of Marvel's... most memorable and anticipated nemeses in the company's roster. This story isn't my favorite Doom tale--but it's a fine farewell to the character from his creator, so much so that Doom arguably has the lion's share of scenes while virtually elbowing aside the title characters. And you'll find abundant examples here of Lee's robust dialog for Doom, a sort of final tour de force with one of his most dynamic characters--leaving no doubt that if there's anyone who can chew the scenery, it's Doctor Doom.

This initial issue of the four-part story mostly (if not entirely) consists of build-up, and in that it does its job well, thanks to Kirby packing it with a variety of interesting visuals which demonstrate this artist's proficiency at pacing a story and moving it along while taking into account the events to come. To start things off, that means catching up with the FF as they return from their last adventure in the land of the Inhumans--traveling in yet another incomprehensible vehicle that's seemingly designed with the sole purpose of making us want one of our own.

It naturally doesn't take the Fantastic Four long to run into the unexpected, which in this case takes the form of fighter jets from S.H.I.E.L.D. And the very recognizable pilot and co-pilot in one of those planes appear to be in urgent need to meet with the FF.

Elsewhere, in a small European country, a man on the run frantically attempts to win his freedom. But despite the precautions he's taken--the knowledge he has of his escape route--he cannot evade the one who lies in wait for him. The one who continues to boast of a benevolent nature that doesn't exist.

And so in just a few pages, the key players of this drama have all been assembled (with the exception of one, but that person's role in the story will become apparent much later). We know that the Fantastic Four will in some way be engaged in conflict with Doom again, but why? And aside from his usual stance of holding his kingdom and his subjects in an iron grip, what new plot is Doom involved with that has the likes of SHIELD on edge?

(Maybe he just wants to get his hands on the FF's awesome new airship?)

Doom has kept a relatively low profile (for Doom, that is) since he was defeated in his attempt to usurp the Silver Surfer's cosmic power and use it to take over the world. When he returned, it was in the pages of Daredevil, where he once again enjoyed the privileges of diplomatic immunity--a free pass for the character that seems absolutely absurd in light of his global power play and intentions of conquest. Would any other national president or ruler be able to avoid arrest and imprisonment and allowed to simply return to their affairs if they'd attempted a world takeover by force? Doom appears to enjoy immunity on many levels, some of which appear to have little to do with diplomacy.

Since Doom will keep for now (though let's not let him get wind of that assessment), as he works his will on his new prisoner (in a manner of speaking--we'll learn the true meaning of that statement in time), let's get this story in gear by discovering why Nick Fury needs to consult with Reed Richards, and why he presumably needs the services of the entire FF. Could it have anything to do with the new "invincible robot army" Doom boasts of? We know that Doom would later routinely use robots to engage with his enemies--but in 1969, he appears to have only begun moving in that direction, settling on the design of the model and initiating production of the first units. Though the mission that Fury will send the FF on will end up uncovering much more.

It's odd that Reed will be able to put two and two together and connect the sophistication of the piece of the robotic arm--and the fact that this strange new "army" is hidden somewhere in Europe--with Latveria and Doom, while SHIELD, an international intelligence agency, can't connect those dots. At any rate, with their experience with Doom, the FF make the ideal investigative team for Fury--and so they accept his request for help, and soon they're making their way to the Latverian border with the intent of being taken into custody. It's a story transition that Kirby attends to with his usual impressive attention to detail. As for Lee, his narrative and dialog are on par with prior stories where Kirby has provided him with a good deal of shifting imagery that offers ample opportunity for a writer to add his or her own nice touches. Lee won't always hold up his end of the deal in this story--but in Part 1, his contributions are substantive and he holds his own well enough.

Once the FF cross the border, Doom strikes almost instantly--and the FF receive first-hand exposure to some of the robots that Doom has perfected. At first glance, they don't appear to be a match for the FF; Doom, on the other hand, is quite a different story, conveying instructions to these constructs that include tactics well known to one who has faced the FF often enough and is aware of their vulnerabilities. (It also doesn't hurt to have a love-sick Human Torch kick Reed's plan to the curb and recklessly put the entire team off-balance.)

What happens when the FF regain consciousness is hardly the wake-up call they were expecting. Rather than finding themselves trapped in one of Doom's dungeons or contained in custom-built traps of his devising, they all awaken in plush surroundings and are treated like guests by the attending staff. Yet their rousing is monitored--and when Doom is satisfied that his plan for the FF is progressing, we at last we learn how he has managed to nullify the FF's threat, a fact that they aren't even aware of yet.

In point of fact, Doom hasn't drained the FF of their powers; instead, he's subjected the four to hypnotic treatments that will make them subconsciously hesitant to use them. It's an important distinction that clarifies the doublespeak that Lee has given Doom on the subject, a blurring of words that's crucial to how Lee chooses to handle the remaining installments of the story.

As for the FF, things become almost surreal for them as they move out into the village and find further indications that Doom is toying with them, as the townspeople "spontaneously" decide to honor the FF with their own festivity day and "celebrate" with plenty of smiles and joy--all telltale signs of Doom's strict orders that his subjects are to be happy by royal command. But in a desperate gambit, Reed chooses to make a play to expose Doom's hand in the pretense--though of course it runs the risk of making a bad situation worse. On the bright side, the scenes tie in with Kirby's excellent cover for the issue.

In our nonfictional world, Reed's "dash for the border" would naturally involve more than a sprint across this village's courtyard--rather, he'd have to embark on a steady jog covering roughly 50 kilometers or more. Doom should have let him try going the full distance and had a good laugh when Reed started wheezing at about his ninth steep hill. Regardless, the FF now realize that they're to be confined here like any other villager--and they'll soon realize there isn't anything they can do about it.

NEXT:

Latveria in crisis! The FF, helpless! And a newer, deadlier robot army is unleashed!

BONUS!

A look at that unfortunate marked-up cover. (Say it with me: "ARRGH!")

Fantastic Four #84

Script: Stan Lee
Pencils: Jack Kirby
Inks: Joe Sinnott
Letterer: Sam Rosen

Things didn't look so good for the Fantastic Four, after finding themselves trapped in Latveria by their armored nemesis, Doctor Doom. And things don't look particularly good for Reed Richards, who finds himself looking up from the pavement after trying to force Doom's hand by making a dash to escape only to be stopped in his tracks by a stun blast. On the other hand, things look great for Doom, who finally (and literally) has the FF where he wants them--helpless prisoners in his kingdom for the rest of their lives. Just how helpless, they're soon to find out.

Following Part 1 of this four-issue story by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, we now come to Parts 2 and 3, continuing the steady build-up that has the FF sharing the fate of the people of Latveria--a cowed populace that must always present the appearance of being happy and content with their lives in Doom's storybook kingdom, while offering their monarch their total, blind obedience. As we'll see later, that obedience can come with a deadly price.

As for the FF, they've now learned the reason why Doom feels he holds all the cards--the revelation that he's somehow taken their powers from them. It's a bit of misdirection on Doom's part, since he hasn't given them the full facts; regardless, they put his words to the test, and find that they're helpless in facing his robot sentries.

And so, for the time being, the Fantastic Four must bide their time, though it gives them the opportunity to truly see the plight of the people of Latveria, who must go about their business while always keeping in mind the scrutiny of their monarch. It's interesting to speculate on how they regard the presence of the Fantastic Four in their midst. Earlier, they were directed to welcome the FF with festivities; yet it's probably occurred to them that having the FF as fellow "citizens" means that Doom will be turning his gaze on his people even more closely than before.

(I've said this before--but who wouldn't want their home office console to be modeled after Doom's?)

And speaking of Doom, from this point on we begin seeing quite a lot of him in this story, as he proceeds with testing his invincible new robot army whose design and capabilities are quite a step up from his already formidable constructs that carry out his orders and routinely flank him as well as patrol the streets of the village. One such test involves deceiving a pair of men into attempting escape in one of Doom's armored dreadnoughts--but when the robot is unleashed, even the heavily armed vehicle is unable to withstand the robot's assault.

Observing the test with Doom is Hauptmann, a former operative of the Red Skull, who learns in no uncertain terms where his loyalties should now lie.

His poor choice of words aside, Hauptmann enjoys a position of some autonomy under Doom's employ--a sort of personal assistant who can go where he will in the performance of his duties, and who has come to speak somewhat more freely than others who serve Doom, though at times he's obviously prone to forgetting his limits. The character bears keeping an eye on, as he'll have an important role to play as this story further develops.

For now, one of the dubious advantages to his station is that he's often present to hear Doom's musings on a subject--in this case, a shocking announcement that will involve nothing less than the mass murder of innocents.

The scene is an excellent segue to the townspeople, who continue to walk about in only a semblance of living--future victims that have all been unknowingly sentenced to death. The FF still have a job to do--but Doom has sufficiently checked them before they could become a threat to his plans. And thanks to sedatives that have been added to their complimentary lunch, they continue to undergo a procedure that assures that their powers will be inaccessible to them.

But as ingenious as this plan of Doom's appears to be, this story perhaps takes the character of Doctor Doom a bit too far in terms of his tenuous hold on sanity. There's no question that Doom has been driven mad--madness due to his lust for power, or to the accident that irreparably scarred his face, or to the circumstances of his upbringing, or perhaps even in part to his enmity toward Reed Richards. Perhaps even all of the above. He treats his subjects like cattle, and at times abuses them for his own twisted reasons--but now he's willing to murder them all for the sake of a test? Even though Doom's madness has created a despot, and in spite of his many faults, Doom is also brilliant, and self-serving. Even a madman like Doom would be the first to realize that wiping out an entire village of defenseless people gains him nothing as far as assessing the capabilities of these robots. We have to assume he created this new army to be a force beyond the borders of Latveria, used against those he perceives as threats or enemies that are capable of resistance. How will this slaughter demonstrate that these robots are sufficiently ready to serve as his army?

As for giving the order, Doom doesn't even need to bother, since he knows the robots will all too soon unleash themselves and proceed to destroy all in their path.

It's on that note that we flip open the next issue, to find the Fantastic Four in the same state of alarm as the people of Latveria.

(Well, maybe the townspeople are a little more alarmed.)

Judging by the issue's cover, it looks like the Invisible Girl is ready to rejoin the team and join the action. Her appearance on the cover is probably a nice enticement for any readers browsing the comics racks who are on the fence about picking up the issue, given that her return has no doubt been anticipated--though it might have been a nice surprise to spring it on the reader while they're reading the story.

The only thing the FF have going for them is that Doom's hypnotic procedure on them will eventually wear off, though there's no telling when that will be. Nor are the FF even aware of that procedure, believing instead that Doom has found some way to neutralize their powers. (Which, in effect, he has.) As for Doom, how callously he greets his doomed subjects and spins the release of the robots. Whether he does so in utter villainy, or as a way of coping with the fact that his subjects' blood will be on his hands, is debatable.

With one issue left in the story's arc following this one, it's clear that the time has come for the FF to begin rebuilding their momentum, which means not only somehow regaining the use of their powers but also surviving the deadly assault of the robot army. The crisis is an interesting way to see how the FF fare as fighters who must improvise as a team, as well as inspiration for those who depend on them for their lives; but this comic book is part of a business, and both Lee and Kirby realized that readers are buying it to see the FF in action, and so what we end up seeing is a little of both, thanks to what we've learned of the limits of the hypnotic treatment.

Unfortunately, the story reads somewhat awkwardly, since the FF only see that their powers are slowly returning but have no idea as to why.

There's also the odd and very convenient insertion of a deus ex machina, in the form of a fail-safe device that presumably takes advantage of whatever weakness Doom created in his army that prevents them from turning on him. Yet rather than the device being close at hand, Doom has inexplicably placed it somewhere in the village--and three guesses who's going to end up finding it.

Add to the existence of such a device the FF's powers suddenly returning in full--though artist Jack Kirby doesn't agree, and continues drawing the issue as if everyone's fate depends on Doom's contingency device--and you have a very confusing sequence of events, including the fact that writer Stan Lee can't seem to make up his mind as to exactly what is supposed to neutralize these robots. Would you believe--a lot of things?

(If you're scratching your head wondering how constructing specialized traps throughout the village is going to do Doom any good if his murderous creations decided to turn on him in his castle, join the club.)

And speaking of a peaceful village with deadly devices secretly installed beneath it, we've only apparently scratched the surface (so to speak) in that respect, as what's left of Doom's sanity completely shatters before our eyes.

The presence of the FF in Doom's "target village," as he casually puts it, doesn't come close to explaining his decision to actually install this huge cache of explosive material beneath a populated segment of his own kingdom and rig it for detonation--and presumably the capital, at that. (Can we agree that this village is actually Latveria's capital, given the presence of Doom's castle overlooking it? It's never made clear in the story, though I don't suppose it matters--unless you consider the cold reality that Doom has knowingly obliterated the capital of his kingdom, an act which would raise any number of eyebrows in the international community.) It's fair to say only that the FF's success at once more defeating Doom's plans may have pushed him over the brink in deciding to finally throw the switch.

Fortunately, the FF unknowingly had an invisible ace in the hole, whose force field was made to order for a reckless madman bent on the destruction of his own people.

The odds are against all of the villagers having congregated in that small area when the explosion occurred (for instance, I don't recall spotting any children among those trapped when the robots descended on the village)--but this is well before the point where Marvel stories broached such complications by touching on statistics of injuries or fatalities. Suffice to say that there must have been fatalities, perhaps a good number of them--a fact that would have forced the FF to not only fight to the finish, but to take Doom into custody and hand him over to either SHIELD or NATO. As we'll see in the final installment of this story, that doesn't turn out to be the case, by a longshot.

NEXT:

Why don't we let the Thing clue us in on that?

Fantastic Four #s 85-86

Script: Stan Lee
Pencils: Jack Kirby
Inks: Joe Sinnott
Letterers: Artie Simek and Sam Rosen

Previously, we saw the Fantastic Four turn the corner in their desperate battle with the invincible robot army of Doctor Doom. And now, in Part 4 of this four-part story which would see the final Stan Lee/Jack Kirby collaboration on arguably their most memorable villain (Doom's android stand-in from the book's 100th issue notwithstanding), the FF close ranks along with the newly returned Invisible Girl to take on Doom himself. Doom finds himself out of options, on several levels--his new army neutralized, his plans to imprison the FF defeated, his capital village destroyed by his own hand, all have served to force him to marshal his forces within his castle in order to deal with the assault he expects to come. There's little doubt he feels he can yet prevail on this, his home ground; but the Fantastic Four, their powers no longer inhibited by Doom's hypnotic treatments, are resolute and determined to face their enemy and win their freedom.

And since the FF have been on the receiving end of Doom's cat-and-mouse games and outright aggression for most of this story, they're ready to begin serving up a little aggression of their own--spearheaded by their resident orange-skinned powerhouse who, to no one's surprise, comes on like gangbusters.

"He will have our lives!" No, he'll have your battery packs, pal--as robots, you don't have lives. At any rate, once the Thing gets through with your castle, your master may not have much of anything. Maybe the good doctor should consider waving the white flag while he can!

But despite the momentum that's now with the FF, a man of Doctor Doom's pride and temperament (and certainly ruthlessness) shouldn't, as Reed cautions, be underestimated. But if you're looking forward to Doom facing his attackers face-to-face, just as I was, we're all unfortunately going to be disappointed. Instead, Doom will take an approach that he's used before--divide and conquer, luring the FF members into traps while positioning himself to take advantage of their confusion. That's not to say that there won't be plenty of action in this issue--but Doom will be all but sitting it out, relying on Lee's characterization of him to hold the reader's interest.

Since Doom is at his best while posturing in front of an unfortunate toady, the perfect subordinate for that role is the former Nazi known as Hauptmann, Doom's personal assistant who at times oversteps his bounds with his master but serves as a backboard for Doom's berating dialog and the airing of the details of his plans. And for the Fantastic Four, Doom plans to kill them with culture.

And speaking of divide and conquer, it seems the best way to throw the Fantastic Four off-balance is to deprive them of their women.

Before the rest of the FF can make any progress in following their abducted members, they're hurled to the top of the castle where they're forced to face the other models of Doom's robot army--dangerous in and of themselves, but now directing the castle's formidable weaponry against the team. But Kirby has these three FF members give a good accounting of themselves, and eventually they're able to penetrate the castle and continue their search.

As for Sue and Crystal, they're on the move as well--but the reception they're met with is both potentially deadly and, of all things, gracious.

Pardon me, ladies, for interrupting such a cordial gathering, but--why aren't you attacking your foe? You remember--the one who turned his robot army on innocent, helpless people, held you and your teammates prisoner, and obliterated an entire village? Are you waiting for him to say something along the lines of "My bad..."--or are you going to put this dangerous lunatic out of commission? Would taking the precaution of at least holding him in place in a force field be too much to ask? If you feel he's toying with you, maybe that's because you're letting him.

Meanwhile, your teammates, who are racing to your side and worried ~~they might have missed dinner~~ about your safety because you could well be ~~enjoying a piano concerto~~ battling for your lives, make their way through Doom's impeccable art gallery--only to encounter Hauptmann, who has ferreted out a SHIELD spy and is eager to win further favor with Doom. No, I don't know why Hauptmann is walking around with a flame-thrower, instead of a pistol--but given Doom's preoccupation with fine art, he's definitely picked the wrong place to wave around a weapon which could incinerate it all.

*sigh* Reed. "Big brain," as Ben calls you. No matter how much you stretch, elastic skin burns just as severely as normal skin. Duck, you dunce!

And just like that, the plug is abruptly pulled on this story, as Doom loses interest in his foes and assures them that they're now free to head for the border without fear of reprisal. And the FF are likely willing to call it a draw, since they accomplished their mission while also retrieving Nick Fury's missing agent in the process.

As for Doom, his mood swings are as perplexing as ever.

"There has been no loss!" Your village lies in ruins, and your subjects have fled across the border, Doctor--take a closer look out that window, willya?

Fantastic Four #87

Script: Stan Lee
Pencils: Jack Kirby
Inks: Joe Sinnott
Letterer: Artie Simek

OR: "Define 'Untamed Wrath' ..."

There aren't many Thor vs. Sub-Mariner bouts on the books--perhaps because the Hulk turned out to be better at selling comics than Namor when it came to challenging other powerful Marvel characters, while Namor proved a better match for Iron Man. There were Namor's skirmishes with Thor in those early Avengers stories; and there was a blink-and-you-missed-it exchange of blows in The Invaders which was disappointing to say the least. And inbetween...

Well, you can avert your eyes if you already know where I'm headed with this.

Namor and Thor, battling it out on the streets of New York--wow! At first glance, it's the clash of titans fight that we've been waiting for--but while it certainly shapes up as a clash between these two characters, there's nothing even closely resembling titanic in this face-off. In other words, the bookies took a bath on this one.

To break it down for you as to how Namor and Thor came to blows (though it's being generous to even put it in those terms):

Tamara, a guest of Atlantis, has been captured by a Russian fishing trawler and mistaken for a mermaid.
The trawler drifts out of international waters, and is boarded by a U.S. naval vessel, whose men discover Tamara being kept in one of the ship's water tanks. It's decided that Tamara is to be turned over to the United Nations in order to determine which country she "belongs" to.
With Tamara's water tank brought to the U.N. building, the Avengers are contacted to provide additional security, and they agree to send one of their members to stand guard over the captive. (Guess who?)
Namor, learning the news of Tamara's captivity from his young cousin, Namorita, is incensed, and flies to New York to gain her freedom. And since Namor doesn't make a habit of observing surface-world protocol, he brushes past the U.N. guards and heads directly to Tamara's holding area. (That info was given to reporters? Really?)

Which brings us to this scene, which doesn't waste a moment's time in cutting to the chase.

Thor's request was reasonable enough--but Namor's bull-headed approach could have been avoided if he'd simply suggested that Tamara be allowed to recognize him. Instead, he decides to remove Thor by force, at least long enough for him to free the captive--yet the God of Thunder isn't about to be dealt with by a fire hose.

As the battle moves outside, we don't get so much as a "THOOOM!" Sub-Mariner punch from Namor; in fact, astonishingly, he throws no punches in this battle. For what it's worth, we do get a "PHTHONG!" from one of his strikes. So far it seems apparent that neither Namor nor Thor will be eager to recount this fight to anyone in Atlantis or Asgard with any sense of pride.

Namor decides to head for the river to renew his strength, which would normally have us expecting Namor to kick it up a few notches and take control of the battle while also taking off the gloves. Instead, both Namor and Thor find they have new distractions to hamper their fight--water pollution and boaters, respectively.

(No, I don't know what makes Asgardian eyes immune to pollutants, either. The fact that it was even brought up seems proof that there's nothing else going on here that we should be interested in.)

How this fight... oh, let's just call it a skirmish now, shall we? ... concludes is beyond humiliating for Namor and far from Thor's finest hour--but it leads to turning the final page to this issue, and that can only be a good thing at this point. As for Tamara, she'll remain a prisoner for the time being, though we're probably all agreed she should count her blessings that she wasn't a witness to... well, to whatever this was.

At a later date, Namor and Thor throw down in the Atlantis Rising crossover event, where they actually slug it out to an extent. Probably because the "Linda" is nowhere in sight.

It often came as a surprise to come across stories in Marvel's line of comics when the "Daily Bugle," the mainstay newspaper created and given life by Stan Lee in the early 1960s, was given more exposure than simply a few panels of comic relief in Amazing Spider-Man or other titles. In those early days, ASM helped to make the Bugle, along with its crack staff of reporters and its cantankerous publisher, J. Jonah Jameson, a vital part of the mag, and not simply because of Jameson's designated role as a thorn in Spider-Man's side. (Heck, in practically everyone's side.) But as Marvel branched out, the Bugle followed--its ability to take New York City's pulse, as well as its extensive coverage of the city's crime scene, often put to good use in Daredevil, ASM, and other titles whose characters confined their activities to the streets.

In some of those stories, we saw another side of Jameson on occasion--the hard-nosed newspaper man who ran the Bugle like a taut ship and whose better judgment at times needed perspective from his editor and friend, Joe Robertson, the perfect foil for Jameson's fly-off-the-handle outbursts and his bent toward persecution. "Robbie" was a needed balance for the character, someone who could keep Jameson from becoming two-dimensional and whose presence at the Bugle gave the paper integrity to Jameson's grit. With these two anchors, the Bugle evolved to become an institution in Marvel's comics over the decades. There were stories to be told by this paper, and the potential was always there to evoke a different kind of drama that didn't necessarily have to depend on costumes and powers for its backbone.

In that respect, the 2004 series The Pulse offered something different for someone like me whose collecting bug was winding down and who was sampling other titles to see if anything grabbed me. At the time, Fantastic Four was numbering in the 500s, while the 1998 Avengers run was about to come to a "disassembled" end; and suddenly, here were Jameson and Robertson, breaking ground with virtually their own comic. For this to work, the writer and artists would have to really map out the kind of bustling newspaper office and staff they wanted to present, in a format that would put us in the city room instead of Peter Parker, Betty Brant, or any of the usual suspects who were mainly passing through or taking up space. It was the Bugle that would be the center of attention, the Bugle that would have to carry the story, the reporters who would essentially drive the stories and set the pace. It was a concept that was finally going to get its day.

As to the format, well, with its cover, you've already seen part of its foundation--"The Pulse," a new supplement of the paper that cleverly pulls double duty as the comic's masthead. A few readers will probably get a sense of bits and pieces of prior Daily Bugle concepts being salvaged and folded into the Pulse; for instance, the Pulse is aimed at appeasing newspaper readers who want to see the Bugle's content feature more informative news on super-heroes, something which was attempted with "Now" Magazine:

There's also the presence of Jessica Jones at the Pulse, a super-being who no longer suits up but is hired by Jameson to offer her unique input on stories that will see print in the supplement, which borrows elements from Carol Danvers' stint as the editor of Jameson's "Woman" Magazine:

For the Pulse, writer Brian Bendis produces a more detailed, 21st century version of the Bugle, where circulation is down because the paper's editorial slant against super-heroes has grown tiresome with readers, and whose publisher must be realistic about the paper's future and bite the bullet in terms of giving readers what they want.

Needless to say, what Jessica needs from Jameson, like Carol Danvers, is a salary and benefits, which this time Jameson readily agrees to.

Bendis, together with artists Mark Bagley and Scott Hanna, appear to be the right men for the right job here, immersing the reader into this world of news and investigative reporting and, most importantly, the Daily Bugle we were seldom privileged to get a look at behind the scenes for any length of time. As this series is starting, all three are still in the middle of their well-received run on Ultimate Spider-Man, while Bendis also chronicled Daredevil as well as introduced Jessica as a P.I. in the Alias series. No doubt some of you have reservations about cracking open any project written by Bendis, whose writing style can often be frustrating to follow. Yet if you can overlook the staggered conversations between characters, the constant interruptions they engage in, the maddening loops of subject ==> irrelevant tangents ==> back to subject, all of which try like hell to typify contemporary "casual-speak"... if you can overlook such distractions, there's some good work here and some excellent character development. Jameson, while still Jameson, is less outrageous and exaggerated--more centered and seasoned. Luke Cage, as characterized by Bendis, is one of the most solid versions of Cage I've ever read (and who fit like a glove in New Avengers). Ben Urich is a roll-up-his-sleeves reporter who's been frustrated by the number the job has done on him, but who pushes on because he's a damn good reporter. And if Jameson is the Bugle's soul, then Robbie is its heart, who keeps his eye on things and doesn't hesitate to step in when needed. It's clear there's no lack of commitment in any of the creative talent involved in these first few issues, with everyone bringing their A-game.

For its debut story, the Pulse tackles no less than Norman Osborn in his role as the Green Goblin--someone the Bugle, and Urich in particular, had attempted once before to expose but were swept up in a legal firestorm for their trouble. The series' first issue only touches on what's to come, when a body is discovered in Central Park's lake, a development that its second issue would pick up on; but this first issue is devoted to establishing the Pulse itself and those who make up its core staff. We've already taken a look at Jessica and the next steps she's decided to take in her life with Cage, yet her story unfolds from the beginning of the issue--pregnant by Cage and deciding to segue to a job with more stability. Of course, with Cage's dealings with Jameson having been on a more rocky road, he has reservations about his girlfriend considering a job offer with the man.

As we've seen, Jameson's commitment to the Pulse is real, so much so that he's made quite an offer to Jessica to bring her on board in what amounts to a position as a consultant. It speaks well of his instincts; and as for Jessica, her transition from P.I. to Bugle staffer no doubt strikes those who only know her character from her Netflix series as a bit odd.

As for Urich, the cagey Jameson has a conversation with him similar to the one he had with Jessica, only this time convincing Urich that it's Jessica who will need Urich to hand-hold and motivate her so that she'll do her best work for the Pulse, whereas Jessica is under the impression that it's Urich who needs the Pulse to jump-start his work as a reporter. But Urich is equally motivated by the fact that Jameson is changing his editorial stance and giving the Bugle a different direction.

With the look and feel of the book established, the story turns to what will truly ignite it--an investigation into the death of the young woman found in Central Park, a person who just the day before was a new Bugle reporter who was desperate to find a story that would appease Jameson's expectations of her. And so Terri Kidder takes a lunch with her friend Sheryl, who works at the Oscorp company--and a casual leading question from Terri has her very nervous and shaken-up friend spilling details that could land Terri her first big scoop for her new boss.

Since Terri was already working on a "100 most powerful people in NYC" story, it made sense to use that angle in order to go straight to the source and hope that Osborn would have a statement and/or reaction when she smoothly changed the subject to these reports of missing persons within his company. Unfortunately for Terri, she receives both.

Terri is subsequently choked to death--and we finally circle back to the realization that it's her body that the Goblin has dropped from the sky into the Central Park reservoir.

What happens following the identification of Terri's body is a somber meeting at the Bugle where the news is delivered of the death of one of their own--a death by mysterious circumstances which suggest foul play, and one which Jameson and Robertson will leave no stone uncovered in order to learn the truth behind. It would have been interesting to see Jameson be the one to brief his reporters on this development and rally them to solving the mystery of Terri's killer--but at the last moment, he asks Robbie to make the briefing, perhaps due to how harshly he dressed Terri down in front of everyone and how he might have felt responsible for what happened to her afterward. Jameson doesn't seem like the kind of man who would be overwhelmed in such a way; on the contrary, the incident would have been more likely to marshal his determination and make him resolute to get to the bottom of it. Regardless, Robbie steps up and handles the matter with aplomb, easily commanding the respect of everyone present.

And so Urich and fellow writer Kat Farrell begin canvassing for information. Kat's contact at the morgue tells her that Terri was strangled at the hands of a powerful male, and that she was dropped into the reservoir from a great height. Later, Urich discovers an unheard message on Terri's answering machine from Sheryl, begging Terri to forget anything Sheryl told her--a message which we can presume arrived after Urich's blunt encounter with a police detective working the case.

With Urich realizing that Sheryl is an employee at Oscorp, and that people have gone missing from a company headed by a powerful man that Urich knows in his gut is the Green Goblin, old ghosts of Urich's prior dealings with Osborn come back to haunt him once more which can't help but remind him of his failure to bring Osborn to justice. That leads him to have a conversation with Peter Parker, whom Urich some time ago discovered is a costumed hero--one who had extensive dealings with Osborn's sinister alter-ego.

Osborn has indeed changed the landscape of his criminal activities, having expanded his profile to include indiscriminate murder--something that neither Spider-Man nor Urich is willing to let stand. To make things a little more interesting in this discussion, Bendis makes a point of Spider-Man bringing up the fact that Osborn suffers from schizophrenia--that in the past, Osborn and the Goblin have been like two separate people. But Urich distills everything down to three words: "He's a killer." And it's that conclusion that makes both Spider-Man and Urich turn the corner and decide to follow through on bringing Osborn to justice.

In Urich's case, his first stop is to interview Sheryl--to inform her of Terri's death, and to obtain the details of their conversation regarding the missing people at Oscorp. From there, it will be up to the police to decide whether to issue an arrest warrant for Osborn, once they examine Urich's evidence; but the real call will be Jameson's, who must decide whether he can back Urich's play to once again confront a man who has already outmaneuvered such an attack against him and who nearly buried the Bugle in the process. It's a dramatic moment that needs no costumed heroes to deliver its impact.

Jessica is no doubt receiving first-hand exposure to newspaper ethics converging in a heated moment where an issue is examined with justified scrutiny before the decision is reached to run the story--where Ben Urich comes back for one last swing at a wily foe who slipped through his investigative fingers once before, while Jameson puts his trust in his reporter's instincts while taking into account the frank, unbiased opinion of his new consultant that perhaps reminds him of the kind of man who built the Bugle into a force to be reckoned with. Jameson is simply at his best when he puts the story ahead of his fears and doubts--and it seems clear that he feels Jessica has earned her pay by pointing out something he likely already knew.

And so it's a formidable and intimidating mixture of police and press that arrive at the executive offices of Oscorp looking to see its C.E.O.--and, needless to say, without an appointment. But to a man like Osborn--who has allegedly been very busy recently, covering his tracks--there is no mistaking their intent, and he reacts accordingly.

It's of course the Green Goblin who emerges over and past the casualties, looking to make a clean sweep of anyone who survived his initial strike. Jessica, hurled through the window by another explosion, is saved by Spider-Man, but fears the incident has killed her unborn child and becomes enraged with thoughts of revenge. Inside, it's a given that the injured Urich is of personal interest to the Goblin--yet while Spider-Man is able to save him as well, he isn't able to prevent the Goblin's escape. That dubious honor falls to Jessica, who is more than willing to again immerse herself in the role of a super-being in order to retaliate against the one she believes has cost her the life of her child. It's a violent chain of events that doesn't end well for anyone--even the Goblin, who escapes but is now a hunted man.

Later, at the hospital, Jessica and Cage are relieved to find that her child is still alive and doing well--but it goes without saying that Cage is headed out to find the Goblin and do who-knows-what to him. In the interim, the Bugle runs its story--while Osborn has decided to surrender himself to the authorities, with his attorney present and chomping at the bit to take on the case. With Osborn leaving the courthouse, we can only assume that the D.A. failed to have bail denied, perhaps due to the fact that Osborn turned himself in and demonstrated he's not a flight risk. But while we get the sense that his lawyer is capable of making a fight of it and possibly even prevailing at trial, even he has no clue as to the mental state of his client at present--something he and everyone assembled will soon become aware of.

With Cage's attack, Osborn drops all pretense and makes a fight of it--elbowing his startled lawyer aside like so much trash and reaching for his cache of Goblin equipment to deploy two bombs that Cage, as well as the arriving Spider-Man, handle before they explode in the crowd. But the distraction serves its purpose, as the Goblin bolts--for all the good it will do him against a fighting-mad Cage.

The entire scene of course has served to not only expose Osborn as the Goblin for all to see, but vindicate the Daily Bugle, where its staff takes a few moments to drink in a well-deserved victory lap before Jameson, like the veteran he is, brings these professionals back down to Earth and coaxes everyone back to business. Urich, no doubt, is especially elated... relieved... gratified... any number of emotions running through his head at this moment, a long road of frustration finally behind him. Jameson knows what he has in Urich, even if he wasn't able to convince the man to reveal the one piece of information that would have been a windfall for the Bugle, a choice that has earned Jameson's grudging admiration regardless.

I'm sorry to say The Pulse, published bi-monthly, would have a run of just fourteen issues, taking us through the birth of Jessica's child before it closed up shop. And though Bagley and Hanna would depart following the Goblin story, Bendis would write the series for its duration--while Cage and Jessica would segue afterward to join Bendis in the pages of New Avengers following the events of Civil War, though not before Jessica would quit her position at the Bugle to return to Alias Investigations. In the late 2000s, such fluctuations in titles and characters seemed to be the new normal at Marvel, as the business transitioned into something much different than what came before--a near-constant practice of shuffling which you get a sense is becoming standard procedure if you read Bendis's notes in the final issue of The Pulse. Bendis felt The Pulse successfully ran its course, and perhaps it did--though by the end, there wasn't much of the Bugle or the Pulse in the book, or Jessica's role therein, aside from appearances by Urich and Farrell. The Pulse, as conceived, is a series that somehow slipped away from its own writer--and IMHO, this post may have contained its best work, as well as the only sign of its potential.

The Pulse #s 1-5

Script: Brian Bendis
Pencils: Mark Bagley
Inks: Scott Hanna
Letterer: Cory Petit

The Stolen Destiny of... Star-Lord!

To Hela And Back!

The Triple Threat of... The Terrible Trio!

Marvel In Your Mailbox

This Battle Unending!

This Rage Unyielding!

Willie Lumpkin: X-Factor!

Revenge Is A Dish Best Served Shaken

The Golden Age Of... The Vision!

Crystal Clear Vision

It's 1970--Can You Dig It?

Roy Thomas Replies...

When Strikes The Scarlet Beetle!

As Honor Demands!

Earth Shall Overcome!

The Name Is--Doom!

The Vengeance And The Victims!

The Power And The Pride!

Sub-Mariner: Dismissed!

Exclusive To The Bugle: The Fall of Norman Osborn!