I was just getting around to Being at the time, but looking back at the early and mid-70s, I have a question that applies to movies, books- even my starting point, comic books, which took on a moody, melancholy aspect, particularly with Marvel Comics, which had just begun its publishing period of the roster of characters that we see in abundance across media and toys, today. What are the causes of the increase in violence and death and overall downbeat tone that defines 1970s storytelling? Do you think the new permissiveness post-60s was at the root of the violence and death portrayed? My first thought was, word was getting back about Viet Nam, and young people were disillusioned with institutions they'd been inculcated culturally to trust. I often think the idealism emerging within the counter-culture was just not manifesting quickly enough, for the impatience of the youth. I'm clear, too, that the rise of counter-culturalism 1) certainly does not match the rural values...

Along with its pop culture phenomenon theme song, the original ABC run of Spider-Man , and its many reincarnations in syndication around the world (but especially in native-content-loving Canada!), gave the superhero a platform which I think launched his popularity ever skyward! Already a surprise smash hit for Marvel Comics from his 1962 inception by writer/editor Stan Lee and designer/plotter Steve Ditko, the wallcrawler's exposure through the Grantray/ Lawence animated series took him into homes for Saturday mornings- and then, afternoons ever after- to fascinated children of all ages everywhere. The series debuted on September 9th, 1967, which prompted me to share a bit of my re-discovery of the hero's famous, jazzy, funky and sometimes hilarious adventures. The second regular series writer on Amazing Spider-Man in 1972, a teen named Gerry Conway, told me he was eager to consume any iteration of his favorite Marvel characters. He watched Spider-Man every week, followi...

CAP #110 “Alone No More!” From the first panels, we get the essence of noir, and a very cinematic approach: the figure, against a repeating background, advances to the fore. The deft caption tells us it’s Steve Rogers- the man who is Captain America. The star literally walks up from the anonymous streets, towards a concert appearance poster of his star-spangled public identity, hanging on a wall. If you happened to be a lonely young person yourself, this moody opening is a sure-fire grabber. Steve lights a pipe- maybe he was depicted smoking occasionally back then still, it’s so out-of-character for the interpretation with which I grew up, but maybe that one was too lilly-white anyway. The dark overcast on his countenance is the beginning of a recurrent visual, where Cap will be presented in silhouette in key moments where our fearless hero feels angst. I love how literally he becomes ‘alone no more’- but we’ll get to the Hulk’s hands bursting through the wall momentarily. ...

We’ll center our look on Tales Of Suspense #92-94 in 1967, where Stan humanizes the nation caught in the middle of our Cold War, with some industrious storytelling for its time. We’ll also induce a greater-than-usual dose of real world contemporary events thanks a series published in the New York Times. Military-organized and affiliated heroes will come into fashion in the 90’s, but independent operator Iron Man’s very clearly trusted by American soldiers scripted with loyalty and support by their New York-born writer. We’ll also branch out to plots in the couple of years before and afterwards, and touch upon how that era of Iron Man reflects opinions of the American Military-Industrial Complex, and its confederate intelligence agents, refracted more strongly- and strangely- than that time’s contemporary comics, in great controversies of today, when the Russo-American rivalry seems revived in a manner that finally connects with widespread conversation again, as it did in the 1960’s...

The End of Spider-Man Two degrees and a lifetime living away from my hometown later, I still find Amazing Spider-Man, by Stan Lee, Steve Ditko, and John Romita, eminently readable. Even when I want to strangle Peter for behaving anti-socially, there’s something in either alter ego that draws me cozily back up to those original issues. I read much of the last year of Ditko’s run and the first year of Romita’s- reprinted from 1965 and 1966- when I faithfully collected Marvel Tales. I’ve never owned it, myself, but my absolute favorite was a 1964 issue where Spider-Man becomes the first costumed adventurer to try, out of his sense of responsibility, to hang up his super-hero career. What an inversion of formulaic comics! I was maybe eleven when I read that one; I borrowed it multiple times, a worn back issue with a rolled spine. That battered 1983 reprint left one of my strongest adolescent memories. I can still smell the near-century-old elementary school building on whose ...

The image of Spider-Man most seen in toys and other 1960s, ‘70’s and 1980s merchandise was not usually derived from his rather creepy, gangly, unique look from his visual creator, Ditko, but rather, the more formulaic interpretation by Marvel’s art director, his second regular artist, John Romita. (And yes, his first-ever appearance in the throwaway Amazing Fantasy #15 was on a cover drawn by the other Marvel legend, Jack Kirby. By that count, it was the third time that was the charm, commercially.) I’ve been, in absence of sleep between part-time job shifts, flipping through Ditko’s last issues of Amazing Spider-Man, anticipating something to say for this essay, which tells the story of the passing of the torch (or web shooters) to Marvel’s new hire, John Romita, better known at this point for drawing the kinds of popular romance comics that, until recent years, not one in a hundred collectors sought anymore. The newest issue of Amazing Spider-Man, as #27, under the current num...