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Whilst immersing myself in all sorts of visual and aural stimulation during my just pre-pubesprout days, it was an unfortunate fact that by the time I became seriously involved in the early days of the Marvel Age of Comics these titles were all but impossible to latch onto. Sad to say, these much desired early-sixties Marvels that I had a hankerin' to read (especially considering the high regards I held for that period in time regarding music/art/television even at that early age) were long out of my reach and sheesh, for the most part even the reprint books that came in their wake couldn't be found in any of the comic book stacks that appeared in many a garage sale or flea market that I patronized. You can betcha bottom buckskin that such a predicament led to a whole load of heavy duty angst and anxiety on my part which I get the feeling has ruined me for the rest of my life...sheesh if I only had read these comics at the time when they were needed to help build me into the Complete Human Being that I so longed to be I just might have turned out a better person, or at least something passable. Who knows? But then again, maybe I might have turned out even more warped that YOU!
At least Marvel were still pumping out their various monster and fantasy reprint books which gave me a taste of what the early superhero entries were like what with that Kirby/Ayers and Steve Ditko artwork (not so much Don Heck although I don't like to pick on him the way many in the world of fandom did) that makes most post-1970s comic art look positively hackneyed. But on that rarer-than-rare occasion when some issue of MARVEL COLLECTORS ITEM CLASSICS or MARVEL TALES would manage to enter into my life well, you can be sure that I was happier than a bulldyke at an all gal high school track meet. Forget all of that OUR TOWN sappy go back in time for one day pablum that was made to appeal to the worst aspects in one's existence...if I hadda relive a day in my life it would be one where I did nothing but immerse myself in a whole stack of vintage 1962-65-era Marvels in my farted-up bedroom with doors bolted shut, and if someone wanted me to go to the store or take out the trash I'd make sure that the radio was on full blast thus to protect me from any extraneous noise! Sheesh but did I need that Kennedy-era fantasy and campy yet ingenious storylines that made these comics so different from the competition who were trying to ham it all up while falling flat on their faces I'll tell ya.
Did I ever tell you about the time when the school was having one of those game of chances and flea-market-y type fairs being held in the gym and there was an old book booth with reading matter that was way up my thirteen-year-old expansive alley? Of COURSE I have but for those of you new to the blog well...while helping to set up for the fair I espied not only an early-sixties NANCY paperback that I wanted oh so badly given how much that gal was a fond companion ever since the haziest of my turdler days but MARVEL COLLECTORS ITEM CLASSICS #1 which was something that I most dearly needed in that very early teenbo tubbo existence of mine. Wanted to pay for 'em right then and there but was told not to because well...these turdburgers always had their own reasons for such strange rules so I decided to just stand RIGHT BY THE ENTRANCE and be the first in line when the fair officially opened and snatch these and other necessary items up before anyone else could, and boy was I ready to pounce upon 'em as soon as the go was given!
However, when the doors were opened and I rushed to that old books 'n mag kiosk these two must-haves were NOWHERE TO BE FOUND!!!!! You can bet I was disappointed and even asked the proprietor of the booth what the fug was goin' on but got one of those weak-kneed responses, something like the donor wanted them back which I gotta say smells fishier than your cyster's underwear. Talk about being burned beyond burned!
I assumed that somebody with clout greater than mine actually swiped these items for his own reading pleasure or (what probably happened) someone with a grotesque hatred of me (and boy were there many!) snatched these titles knowing how much I wanted them and did so just to burn my butt! Yeah, that's most likely what happ'd, though I was able to console myself by finding one of the very last issues of DC's JERRY LEWIS comics to possess for my very own. Yeah, some consolation though I will say that, for some strange reason, that joke on the text page (JERRY LEWIS not-so-surprisingly enough did not have a lettercol given it was a supposedly comedy-oriented title and who cares about those?) where a now strictly verboten mention about an Indian who liked to put cough syrup on his pancakes continues to stick in my cranium.
As you all know, I hold grudges for a real long time and in this case things are NO DIFFERENT! I'm still miffed about this incident even to this day, but I eventually managed to get hold of both the COLLECTORS ITEM CLASSICS and the NANCY book (the first one within the year and the second one a good twenny-five years later). But sheesh, even to this day I am roasting mad that I wasn't able to pick these un's up when they were just within the reach of my grubby pre-adlo paws!
Eventually, I bought up a whole bunch of these late-sixties Marvel superhero reprint titles given that the originals by then were even more far gone than these collections. I dug 'em, especially the earlier ones which used to reproduce the original covers albeit shrunk down considerably, and even to this day I still have quite a few of 'em that I've kept o'er the years rotting away in some corner of the hovel I call my home.
'nuff autobiographical goo in a hideously lame attempt for y'all to feel sorry for me but anyway, I got hold of today's subject in question very recently (and for a relatively good price) because the one I bought well over three decades back at some flea market actually had the Human Torch splash panel ripped out (t'was sealed and boy wasn't I such a trusting fanabla!). This 'un's intact and in pretty good condition, and considering that the tales featured in this one were only three years old when MARVEL TALES #4 came out it just goes to show you just how much in demand these stories for alla them Johnny-cum-latelies who were too poor or stupid (or in my case too turdler) to get these sagas when they first hit the stands.
The Spiderman story reprinted's features the return of Our Hero's old villain the Vulture that originally popped up late 1963, a time when alter ego Peter Parker was still wearing those unrealistic-looking round spectacles that would fortunately get broken in the next ish and left off his face permanently. To be honest about it I gotta say that I like the glasses because they gave Parker a Clark Kent sorta demeanor but otherwise well, this is a hotcha story that thankfully reflects an early/mid-sixties aura that I always liked (and still do) in my media. It's yet another early Marvel-era camp up which satisfies enough even if I continue to wince at the way Parker is pushed around by All Amerigan Turd Flash Thompson who, just like everyone with looks, status and High Stool Cred, deserves the severe thrashing that Parker keeps fantasizing about giving him (let's face it, Parker AIN'T John Morton). Well, Parker don't wanna blow his cover so he just has to suck it up way more'n even Georgina Spelvin could, and what pre-teenbo pudge couldn't relate to that!
For one reason or another the Human Torch had his own series apart from THE FANTASTIC FOUR that ran in STRANGE TALES, and if you ask me it was a durn good one at least until the Thing became part of the act and the entire series flopped worse'n your high-flying goldfish. In this particular series Johnny Storm is living with his big cyster Sue (the Invisible Girl) in some Long Island high-end suburb and supposedly trying to keep his true identity a secret which is weird because well, in THE FANTASTIC FOUR everybody knew who he was so why the big hush hush? Why the sibs are living the suburban slob lifestyle 'stead of in the Baxter Building I do not know but it does make a nice setting for this new series which concentrates on the Torch's teenbo lifestyle away from the rest of the crew. Anyway in this 'un (the second solo Human Torch saga in case yer keeping tabs) the kid's stacked up against a John Carradine-looking badski called the Wizard who not only has the abilities to make Houdini come off Third Grade Amateur Hour but's got a great hankerin' to put the Torch out of business because hey, why not pick on some random superhero to disgrace if you're an evil sort with loads of hoohah to your name?
Thor was also starting up 'round the same time and, other'n the story where Kirby was busy elsewhere so Stan Lee got future Spire Christian Comics mastermind Al Hartley to do the honors, the entire JOURNEY INTO MYSTERY run was what I'd call about as perfect as one could be. Yeah, the soap opera-y subplot dealing with Thor's love for nurse Jane Foster was something that shoulda been shoved into some girly romance comic, but as far as creepy badboys and twisto-changeo plots go these were fab. Here Thor, while helping the US gub'mint test out the new "C" Bomb, meets up with yet another totally bald madman from the future who steals the weapon with Thor following him a good three centuries in order to retrieve it. Lemme tell you, the year 2262 sure looks like a fine place to live...guess that between here and the future all of the detrimental to civilization ideas that we're now living through have been vanquished and the kind of ideal world I'd sure like to exist in actually is going to come to fruition despite the overwhelming odds. Sheesh, not a pink-haired (supposedly) female creature in sight!
I've been an Ant-Man fan ever since that story where he shrunk himself and was injected into the Vision's bloodstream, and I (do tell, do tell!!!) prefer him over the various future Henry Pym variations like Giant Man and Yellowjacket who seemed so one-D compared with the other Marvel heroes that were cluttering up the late-sixties and early-seventies. In this January 1963-dated story from TALES TO ASTONISH the midgie superhero is pitted against the Scarlet Beetle, an insect with the mind of a somewhat intelligent but not quite rational puny human who uses Ant-Man's growth gas to become human-size and turn Earth into an insect-ruled dictatorship (as if it already weren't as any hot summer day will tell you)! Not so surprisingly enough this story resembles those earlier Marvel monster sagas where some overgrown alien/mutant threat to society is unleashed upon us, only this time a superhero 'stead of some everyday fanabla saves the world and as usual gets not a shred of credit for his good deeds.
's all good stuff and a reminder of the days when not only did comic art look like what you would expect to be peddled to a suburban slob pre-pubesprout but the stories celebrated heroism and the problems that sometimes would go along with being one. After reading these I have come to the conclusion that Marvel really was at its peak until it became so conscious of its place in the world of comicdom and Stan Lee's head became even more swelled than previous (if that really was possible). For a guy like me who likes his comics the way they were back when the publishers actually strived for good visuals, interesting and engaging stories and best of all that pre-hippie era sense of morality and hope for a better world (and not the dystopia many people seem to be striving for today) these early Marvel sagas really do live up to their legend even if we all knew what kind of a jerk Lee coulda been at times.
