It Rose From The Tomb Preview

IT ROSE FROM THE

An all-new celebration of the 20th Century’s best horror comics

by Peter Normanton

It Rose From The Tomb is published by

TwoMorrows Publishing 10407 Bedfordtown Drive Raleigh, NC, 27614 Phone: (919) 449-0344 www.twomorrows.com email: store@twomorrows.com Editor: Peter Normanton Publisher: John Morrow Proofreading: Kevin Sharp All characters are TM & © their respective companies unless otherwise noted. All editorial matter © the respective authors. Editorial package is © 2024 Peter Normanton and TwoMorrows Publishing. All rights reserved. All illustrations contained herein are copyrighted by their respective copyright holders and are reproduced for historical reference and research purposes. No material from this book may be reproduced in any form, including print and digital, without the express permission of the publisher.

First printing: February 2024 Printed in China ISBN: 978-1-60549-123-3 Amazing Adventures, The Avengers, Captain America, Dracula Lives, Epic, Fantastic Four, Frankenstein Monster, Giant-Size Chillers, Giant-Size Creatures, Giant-Size Dracula, Giant-Size Man-Thing, Giant-Size Spider-Man, Giant-Size Superheroes, Giant-Size Werewolf, Journey into Mystery, Man-Thing, Marvel Mystery Comics, Marvel Preview, SpiderMan, Strange Tales, Tales to Astonish, Tomb of Dracula, Unknown Worlds of Science Fiction, USA Comics, Werewolf by Night, Where Monsters Dwell, Vampire Tales, Venus, X-Men TM & © Marvel Characters, Inc. • All-American Comics, Batman, Blue Ribbon Digest, The Dark Mansion of Forbidden Love, DC Special Edition, Detective Comics, Forbidden Tales of Dark Mansion, Ghosts, House of Mystery, House of Secrets, Mystery in Space, Phantom Stranger, The Sinister House of Secret Love, Strange Adventures, Swamp Thing, Tales of the Unexpected, Witching Hour TM & © DC Comics • Tales from the Crypt, Haunt of Fear, Vault of Horror, Crime Patrol, Crime Suspenstories, Shock Suspenstories, Weird Fantasy, Weird Science & © Wm. M Gaines Agent • Black Magic TM & © Joe Simon and Jack Kirby Estates • Creepy and Eerie TM & © Warren Publications. All other characters and properties TM & © the respective owners.

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A Word From The Tomb............................................................................................................ page 4 In The Beginning......................................................................................................................... page 6 A Step Into The Unknown........................................................................................................ page 16 Chamber Of Chills #18 From Start To Finish......................................................................... page 28 Resurrected: Horror Comics From The Grave...................................................................... page 30 Out Of The Night #10................................................................................................................ page 42 Out Of The Night #10 The Spectral Bride............................................................................... page 43 The Dark Architecture Of Bernie Wrightson......................................................................... page 47 Raised From The Dead: Resurrected Horror From Brazil................................................... page 58 When Horror Comics Ruled The Newsstand June 1953....................................................... page 61 The Skywald Horrormood Behind The Cover....................................................................... page 82 The Many Faces Of Doctor Death........................................................................................... page 94 The Face Of Death.................................................................................................................... page 98 Pablo Marcos UK Dracula Lives #1....................................................................................... page 108 Al Luster.................................................................................................................................. page 110 The Dark Mansion Of Romantic Mystery............................................................................ page 116 Segredo De Morte: The Spectre of Death In Brazil’s Horror Comics............................... page 128 Post Code Chillers................................................................................................................... page 135 Creepy Number #3................................................................................................................... page 144 Giant-Size Terror.................................................................................................................... page 147 This Magazine Is Haunted: A Chilling Post Code Selection................................................ page 158 That Horror Guy Larry Woromay........................................................................................ page 164 The Coffin Creature House Of Mystery #205........................................................................ page 172 Hypodermic Horror................................................................................................................ page 174 The Hitler Of The Lamp........................................................................................................ page 187 The Weird Tales Of The Atlas Seaboard Horrors................................................................ page 188

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It had been a frustrating few hours, spent wading through box upon box of comics, in the hope of finding a story I remembered from my earliest days of comic book reading. Irritatingly, it had once again proved elusive; still the contents in those boxes had rekindled memories of the tales that set me off on this strange course. My story isn’t so unusual, comics have always been there, getting me through the ups and downs life has thrown my way. As a youngster I began with TV21, then came the superheroes, mainly those in the British Marvel reprints Mighty World of Marvel, Spider-Man Comics Weekly and The Avengers Weekly, although occasionally I would chance upon a US Batman or maybe a Flash, courtesy of one of the neighbours. While the best part of my collection was made up of superhero comics, more than any, the short mystery and science fiction stories roused my interest. This could be down to their being self contained; I was hardly the most patient of youngsters. You might recall the scenario - having relished 20 odd pages of breathtaking excitement, you were left with a cliffhanger, with little prospect of getting to see the denouement a month later. When the skies became overcast and the heavens opened, these stories would take on a life of their own, whisking me away from the rain soaked streets of my neighbourhood to a place where I could ponder the inconceivable.

My reverie would conjure visions of time travel, alien contact, the dead shambling forth from the grave, flying saucers shooting across the sky and the one way beyond my imagining, the point where the universe finally reached its end. In those days of adolescence, my imagination would journey on into the infinite, only to diminish with the gradual passage of time. My sense of imagination may no longer be what it once was, but the tales that gave rise to those sojourns would never quite fade, at least not all of them. What follows is no more than a sampling of these stories, each destined to make such a difference to my comic book reading, bearing a poignance that continues to endure.

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We didn’t have too many family holidays when I was a youngster.

Like everyone else in the streets where I grew up, we simply didn’t have the money. For all that, in the early ’70s we were lucky enough to enjoy a few memorable getaways, staying at the same guest house in Morecambe, which I can assure you was never a hardship. Over the next few years, these holidays and day trips to this Lancashire seaside town would become an essential part of my comic book collecting. A walk along the promenade and the adjacent side streets would invariably turn up something of interest. If there was a way of returning to the August of 1971, we would see a youngster in his sandals, t-shirt and short pants gazing in awe at a magazine stall on the auspicious West End Pier. A couple of comics had caught his eye, each placed annoyingly out of reach. The most prominent was an issue of Marvel’s Greatest Comics #27 (June 1970), alongside which was a copy of Fear #3 (March 1971), festooned with a mind-blowing Jack Kirby-Steve Ditko “Zzutack” cover adapted from Strange Tales #88 (September 1961). I’ll leave it to you as to which one induced a state of uncontrollable slavering bordering on the deranged. However, such was the fervour pulsing from these covers, he just had take them both. A wise decision if ever there was one, for upon handing over a portion of his holiday money, his reward was a bounty of untold riches.

Each issue ran to an impressive 68 pages, chock full of reprints from Marvel’s incomparable inventory. The “Zzutack” tale, scribed by Stan Lee and Larry Leiber, then delineated by Messrs Kirby and Ditko, was a breathtaking roller-coaster ride for sure. However, nothing could have prepared him for Ditko’s artwork on “A Monster Waits Outside.” The evidence suggests Stan Lee masterminded this tale of an astronaut’s near calamitous training session on the outer limits of the earth’s orbit.

For years to come this little fellow would return to this story, convinced those closing panels would somehow change, thus ensuring that this, alongside the accompanying tales, remained every bit as exciting as

they had done on their first read.

Ditko’s monstrous creation was just the beginning. A few weeks later, on the Sunday preceding the start of a new school year, I was enjoying an eventful family outing to Howarth, the haven of the Bronte sisters, although their works wouldn’t have meant a jot to my young self.

Minutes ahead of setting back home, I came upon a bric-a-brac shop, of a kind that were so commonplace during my fledgling years. Amidst the interminable clutter was a humongous stack of Alan Class reprints.

Unable to contain my excitement, I fell to my knees, burrowing ever deeper into the seemingly endless pile. This was comic book nirvana, made all the better by my grandma, who kindly offered to pay for a couple of my discoveries. We’ll get to my second purchase a little later, but the first of these was Astounding Stories #77. Who in their right mind could resist Sal Buscema’s pulsating image of Ultron-6, inked by Sam Grainger, previously seen adorning the cover to Avengers #67, in the August of 1969? The Roy Thomas tale, “We Stand at Armageddon,” from Avengers #68 (September 1969), showcasing the artwork of Barry

These were the comics that sparked my interest in these short stories Alan Class’s Astounding Stories #77 and the splash to the Charlton tale from those same pages. I have included the original cover from Avengers #67 to show how the cover was slightly altered due to the size of each magazine. Above, both versions of Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko’s memorable Zzutack cover, from Strange Tales #88 and Fear #3, but it was the latter’s “The Monster Waits Outside” which captured my imagination.

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For Richard Hughes and his team, it was indeed a real life adventure into the unknown as Adventures into the Unknown, Lovelorn and Blazing West prepared to debut in the summer months of 1948. Until now, the American Comics Group had been more associated with funny animal and humor titles, notably Giggle Comics and Ha-Ha Comics, their amusing premieres having come in 1943. In the run-up to these releases, Richard Hughes had been doing his homework; alongside this joviality, he could see romance and western comics were now well established on the newsstand. Adventures into the Unknown however, was something of a curiosity. The decision to devote its entire content to an assemblage of rather creepy tales, months before any of ACG’s competitors had dared set foot in this darkened terrain, carried a certain amount of risk.

The demise of the Golden Age superhero, in the wake of the Allied victory over the Axis powers, had impelled the comic book industry into a period of experimentation, paving the way for an array of highly successful crime, comedy and romance titles, but no one had given the viability of a regular horror comic any serious thought. Hughes wasn’t to be deterred, having high hopes for his latest additions to the company roster, one of which would very quickly transcend his wildest dreams.

As we shall see, having already scripted a zombie tale in Pines’ The Black Terror #6, dated May 1944, his foresight was not without precedent.

If he had been keeping an eye on his fellow publishers, he would have been aware Avon had already set the ball rolling

Edvard Moritz was chosen as the cover artist for the earliest issues of Adventures into the Unknown. As the covers across the page to issues #1-4 attest, he proved an exceptional choice, preferring to unsettle his readers rather than letting the blood flow. His creepy haunted house scene for this title’s premiere worked perfectly, luring the casual observer in to uncover what lay behind the door. They would have to wait until this issue’s finale, “Haunted House,” to discover the ghastly truth.

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with Eerie Comics #1, during the winter of 1947. Avon scheduled this title amongst their earliest one-shots with no intention of releasing a follow up. As disappointing as this may have been for those scouring their neighbourhood stores in search of a second issue, this was the first time a comic book publisher had been disposed to taking a gamble with an all out horror anthology.

Supposing Avon’s seniors had shown the prescience evidenced by Richard Hughes, then maybe they would have reaped the benefits, but the moment was lost. For all this, the release of Eerie Comics #1 was a landmark in comic book publishing, creating a yardstick for the ensuing torrent of terror.

A milestone Eerie Comics #1 may have been, but it was foreshadowed by several equally hair-raising tales in a number of comic books published just a few years previous. These included Gilberton’s adaptation of the Robert Louis Stevenson tale Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in Classic Comics #13, originally released in 1943, with Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley’s Frankenstein having to wait over two years to terrify its readers in Classic Comics #26. The response to these comics was remarkably favorable, encouraging Gilberton in their aim to adapt a wide range of classics for their young readership. It is often forgotten that Frankenstein was stomping through the contents of Prize Comics #7, back in December of 1940, courtesy of Dick Briefer’s creativity. The creature’s ungainly presence would have chilled the bones of so many of those who had been privy to the perturbation in these eight pages, allowing “The New Adventures of Frankenstein” to continue in a similar vein, before he was remodelled as a comedic figure in the fall of 1943, prior to his own humorous comic being launched towards the end of 1945.

Briefer had come so close to creating the first of these terrifying ongoing series, but he was pipped by what is now generally agreed to be the very first of its kind, the first of these unsettling tales

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debuting in Quality’s Hit Comics #1 during the summer of 1940, carrying a cover date for July of that year. The lifespan of the Pierre Winter conceived “Weird Tales,” immediately retitled “The Old Witch” on its next outing, was all too short, cancelled as Hit Comics reached its fourteenth issue in July of 1941. Curiously, these ghostly narrations were preceded by Quality’s own “Zero Ghost Detective” in Feature Comics #32, cover-dated May 1940, a character who would stir an enthusiastic following until his final appearance in issue #72, the last of this title’s 68 page editions published in October 1943. While a supernatural element did indeed weave its way through these tales, the emphasis was primarily on action packed sleuthing. There are those who might argue these debuts were preceded by yet another horror short which ran in the 11 issues of Brookwood’s Speed Comics, leading off in the October of 1939, “Landor Maker of Monsters.” Although these were primarily adventure stories, the diabolical Landor revelled in the spawning of Frankensteinesque creations. His machinations were all too quickly curtailed, for when Alfred Harvey took over this title early on in 1941, Landor was summarily dropped.

Soon after “The Old Witch”’s demise in Hit Comics, the theme of witchery took a hold in the pages of MLJ’s Blue Ribbon Comics as “The Witch’s Cauldron” conjured its distinct brand of treachery for the final three issues of this title’s run, commencing with issue #20 in the January of 1942. Each of these tales was preceded by a dark splash page as a sinister antecedent to a lament on the evil that men do. There must have been a reasonable response to these tales, because MLJ then scheduled “Stories of the Black Witch” for Zip Comics #26-29, May to September 1942 and #34, February 1943.

Using a modern day locale, the preparatory tale drafted for the contents of issue #26 adopted a premise previously seen in Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Black Cat,” setting the tone for the darkest of these early ventures into terror, the last of which would be rendered by Joe Kubert.

In the summer of 1945 the world breathed a sigh of relief as six years of global conflict finally came to an end. The Frank Comunale Publishing Company, later Charlton Comics, saw this as an opportunity to release the first issue of Yellowjacket Comics. Following in the footsteps of Zip Comics, they also went for an interpretation of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Black Cat” as the primer for what would become the semi-regular horror series “Famous Tales of Terror.” “The Pit and the Pendulum” received a similar telling in issue #3, with “The Fall of the House of Usher” coming in #4 and last but not least “The Tell-Tale Heart” in #6. Alan Mandel’s barely remembered “The Avenging Hand!” would bring these spine tingling tales to a close one issue later. This marked the end for this suspenseful ilk, as with its tenth issue Yellowjacket Comics bid a sad farewell to its Classic Comics could lay claim to the first two comics devoted solely to horror, #13’s “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” appearing in 1943, followed by #26’s “Frankenstein” in 1945. Richard Hughes set The Black Terror against a horde of zombies in issue #6 of this series in the May of 1944. Prior to this, Dick Briefer’s brushstrokes gave life to “Frankenstein” in Prize Comics #7, from December 1940. As early as October 1939, Bob Powell was creating a menagerie of foul manifestations in Speed Comics, the page below taken from issue #3 in the December of 1939. Hit Comics #7 played host to the seventh tale of the first horror anthology, “The Old Witch.” Before the horror comics came the pulps; to the right the rare Horror Stories from March 1935.

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Horror was very much in vogue during the 1940s. Arkham House started their limited editions in 1939 with a collection of H. P. Lovecraft’s tales The Outsider and Others, the cover to this edition illustrated

by Virgil Finlay. Isle of the Dead released in 1945 and Universal’s The Wolfman from 1941 made a notable impact with cinemagoers, prior to Eerie Comics #1 picked up on this interest. Fred Kida supplied the artwork for one of the more gratuitous moments in this issue, “The Strange Case of Henpecked Harry.”

Away from the comic book industry, the pulp magazines were now in decline, although there was still plenty of interest in their more ominous aspects. Richard Hughes would have been quite aware of the failing fortunes of these long established magazines, having worked for Ned Pines the publisher of the Thrilling Publications line. Their range of titles included Thrilling Wonder Stories, Startling Stories and Thrilling Mystery. Each of these periodicals, alongside many of their illustrious contemporaries, were now on the downturn, yet certain stories still attracted an invaluable reception from their readers. These could have included their more foreboding tales, prompting Hughes to look even closer at the prospect of bringing out a regular horror comic.

The pulps weren’t the only medium in which horror had been seen to thrive; the creepy radio shows of the day had been attracting ever growing audiences for more than 15 years. Across the length and breadth of the country there was a plethora of these sinister transmissions, commencing with Witch’s Tale, which aired between 1931 and 1938. Barely three years after this initial broadcast, Lights Out started out on a long run during the period 1934-39, returning in 1942 to continue on until 1944, before the curtain dropped when its final season aired between 1945 and 1946. For a few months, Dark Fantasy began terrifying the air waves in 1941 prior to the debut of Inner Sanctum Mysteries, which would go on to chill its listeners until 1952. Dark Destiny then premiered in 1942, only to be taken off the air in the March of 1943. Suspense was first broadcast in 1942 in what would prove one of the most enduring of these spooky 22

series, unnerving its listeners until as late as 1962, interestingly hosted by “The Man in Black,” a name familiar to many of Harvey’s readers. He wasn’t alone; another name that would one day make it to the comics also appeared in 1943, The Mysterious Traveller.

His narration from the carriage of a speeding train would keep his audience on tenterhooks until 1952. Boris Karloff had a similar effect when he hosted Creeps by Night for the 12 episodes relayed in 1944, with the last four shows introduced by the unknown Dr. X. The radio show House of Mystery had already run its course between 1945 and 1949 when DC announced their enduring mystery title of the same name at the end of 1951. The Hall of Fantasy managed two series between 1946-47 and 1949-53; meanwhile Supernaturally Yours debuted in 1947 only to fizzle out all too quickly. This is but a taste as to what was on offer in the years immediately prior to the ascendancy of television, but it does provide a fair idea as to the appeal horror had already acquired.

Under the guidance of August Derleth and Donald Wandrei, Arkham House set out to honor the works of H P Lovecraft. The eventual appearance of The Outsider and Others in 1939 would come to see them lead the way in hardback horror publishing. They may have led the way, but they were wisely cautious in limiting their print runs to as little as 1,054 for Clark Ashton Smith’s Out of Space and Time in 1942, to slightly over 4,000 for an assortment of the company’s releases during 1947. Lovecraft’s The Outsider and the Others could only muster 1,268 copies, making it one of the most prestigious horror collectibles of this or any other period. Other

publishers of the day would look to reprint tales from the horror pulps, but they never caught the imagination in quite the same way as Arkham House.

The 1940s were to observe the rise of the horror movie at the box office. Universal’s Wolfman and Man Made Monster were released in 1941, with Night Monster coming in 1942 and Frankenstein Meets the Wolfman in 1943. The seminal Cat People was first seen in 1942, with I Walked With a Zombie just one year later alongside the menace of The Return of the Vampire. Two years later the influential British portmanteau, Dead of Night, made it to the cinema screen, with The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Body Snatcher and Isle of the Dead accordingly taking their place to unsettle theatregoers that same year. Many of the mystery films of the period used their advertising to make them resemble horror movies, offering much in the way of atmosphere, but were unable to capture the portent so essential to the true horror films of the day. There was plenty of comedic horror on show, but by 1947 the fad for cinematic terror was coming to an end. The Inheritance of that year was a capable gothic thriller, while Fear in the Night was a watchable noir thriller, leaving it to The Creeper of 1948 to chill its audience with a cat-like creature prowling amidst the shadows. The horror threatened by the big screen was only ever intimated as Adventures into the Unknown was preparing for its first appearance; ghostly occurrences were aplenty, but these films 23

As an outsider to the comic book creative process, it is fascinating to see how an exchange of ideas comes together to make it something very special.

This spread gives you an insight as to how Warren Kremer, Harvey’s art editor at that time in 1953, came up with a quintessentially diabolical concept for the cover to Chamber of Chills #18, then left a set of instructions for Lee Elias to complete the job, which true to form he delivered in stirring fashion. I stumbled on these images on the Heritage Auctions site while assembling a set of notes covering Lee’s amazing contribution to the Harvey line of horror comics; it’s fair to say this glimpse into the trusting relationship between art editor and artist captured my imagination.

To keep up with the competition, Kremer’s mind was almost certainly working overtime, constantly coming up with new ways of shocking his readers in the hope they would return for more. While his notes were keen to specify this deathly figure wasn’t necessarily a monster, both his preliminary sketch and Elias’s original artwork reveal a truly frightening individual, one somewhat at odds with the clean cut chap envisaged by Howard Nostrand in the opening page to this issue’s second offering, “Haircut.” As he had done so many times in the past, Nostrand made ample use of both Wally Wood and Jack Davis’s styling to enhance the unease in these five pages, making that final panel all the more horrific. Returning to the cover, Kremer and Elias’s

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Somewhere way beyond the edge of town there lies a path mortal man dare not tread, for along this godforsaken course there are tidings of a rumbling emanating from beneath the earth, the herald for gnarled hands clawing their way through the loam in a bid to escape their eternal slumber. Long since consigned to the grave, they now slowly make their return, gathering to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting world. No, this isn’t a citation from “The Book of Revelations,” this was the carnage terrorising the horror comics on sale across America at the beginning of the 1950s. Time was, those unversed in this devilry would have been understandably perturbed by such an abominable premise, however for that growing band now seasoned in this unholy fare this was the very essence of the comics they so enjoyed, eventuating a craze that would flourish for a heady five years.

With few exceptions the publishers of those vile horror comics fairly revelled in returning the dead to an odious semblance of life as evidenced above in Story’s Mysterious Adventures #3 from August 1951. Across the page Quality Comics threatened with the grim prospect of being buried alive as the introduction to Web of Evil #11, dated February 1954. Similarly, Atlas couldn’t resist with the deathly scene fronting Marvel Tales #121 from March 1954. ACG regular Ogden Whitney raised the departed for the cover to Adventures into the Unknown #20 first seen in June 1951, as weeks before the formulation of the Comics Code, Web of Mystery chanced a comparable encounter for its 27th issue, cover-dated November 1954.

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Along with their being gifted a fine crop of artists paired with an imaginative collective of writers, the success enjoyed by the comic book publishers of the period owes much to their wanton disregard for the precepts of good taste.

Their relish for the abhorrent was unrelenting, as month upon month they conspired with a legion of atrocities in their desire to shock an ever demanding readership. The formula was all so simple: the more extreme the content the greater the sales, so what better way to do this than by inflicting a decaying corpse on their eager followers? The kids of course loved it! However, as vile as so many of these tales were, and believe me they were, there was a reluctance to make any direct reference to the notion of resurrection in the titles of the stories they introduced. Surprisingly, every once in a while the conservatism of these years did have some leverage on these comics, even those hell-bent on achieving a damning kind of notoriety. The comic book archive from the 1950s reveals only one instance of this word being used in the title of one of these stories, the bizarre encounter with “The Resurrected Head” published by Fawcett, a company of remarkably wholesome repute, in the fourth issue of Worlds of Fear, cover-dated May 1952. In this foray there was no exhumation from the grave, rather a severed head was witnessed assuming control of the body that had once been its own with a single purpose in mind, retribution.

It was this heinous crusade for retribution that impelled so many of the recently departed to take leave of their final resting place. Nowhere else was this better portrayed than in EC’s triumvirate of terror, a line long acknowledged for their pre-eminence in this deathly narrative. While their rivals were every bit as willing to bequeath new life to the dead, EC did it with a putrescent panache. Early on in the company’s reign of terror, Johnny Craig braved a ghoulishly conceived mortuary scene for the cover of Crypt of Terror #18, dated June-July 1950. Admittedly, this image was nowhere near as repugnant as so much of that which followed, but the threat contained in that ice cold hand as it prepared to wrap itself around the unmindful

mortician would have chilled even the most casual observer.

Once within, Wally Wood was noted embellishing the accompanying story, “The Living Corpse,” using his indelible line to create a profoundly unsettling yarn. His layouts encompassed a couple of memorable panels where he experimented with the psychedelic surrealism then challenging so many of the accepted conventions of the art world to create nightmares of the foulest kind. Thankfully this wasn’t to be a lesson in contemporary art, as Wally then threw in several gruesome panels for good measure, each of which would pale before that which was now readying in the shadows. As the readers would soon learn, much of this would ooze from the drawing board of one “Ghastly” Graham Ingels, whose proclivity for the dead knew no bounds.

From as early as Haunt of Fear #5, running with a cover date of January-February 1951, it was impossible to hold Ingels back. In this noxious little offering, he set about restoring a long dead corpse to life in the strangest of ways 32

Only Fawcett dared use any derivation of the term “resurrect” in the title of one of these pre-Code terrors. This came in the pages of Worlds of Fear #4 from May 1952. It was an outlandish B Movie styled offering, possibly rendered by Mike Sekowsky and Vince Alascia. Just a few months later, Sol Brodsky chilled the readers of Mystery Tales #5 with a recently buried fiend. Bill Everett was there to ensure Adventures into Weird Worlds #13 continued in a similar way. Dark Mysteries #4 ran with the first of its skeleton from the grave covers, while John Forte on Menace #9’s “The Walking Dead” preferred rotting flesh. The zombie created by Al Fago for The Thing #4 didn’t look to have been so long in the grave.

to bring “A Biting Finish” to a highly unusual finale. This chomping skeletal figure was a far cry from the revulsion soon to shamble from his studio, but if you will pardon the pun, it was a taste of that which lay in store for the readers of these despicable comics. From there on the dead did indeed rise, culminating in a classic of the genre for the cover of Haunt of Fear #17, dated January-February 1953, the portent for the accompanying piece of malfeasance “Horror We? How’s Bayou?” Unknown to the reader, the resurrected cadavers Ingels had disinterred for this cover were the deranged prelude

The American Comics Group may not be especially renowned for their gory content, but their horror titles will be remembered for many a chilling narration. Out of the Night #10 released at the height of the early 1950s’ lust for four-colored horror in June 1953, carrying a cover date of AugustSeptember 1953, was one such title. Behind Ken Bald’s dramatic cover came five encounters with the unworldly, the second of which focussed on a kidnapping, containing within its discourse a shocking display of violence towards a child, a rare occurrence in one of Richard Hughes’ comic books.

Alongside this extreme portrayal came three accounts of the resurrected dead returning from beyond to unsettle the world of the living. Since my first reading of this tale almost 30 years ago, “The Spectral Bride” has been a particular favourite. The opening is similar in some respects to Atlas’s “Horror in the Graveyard” from Adventures into Terror #12 published almost 12 months before. The finale for this four pager, however, is quite different, as Art Gates’ artistry gave this tale a truly unpropitious ending. His closing panel was the inspiration for the “Resurrected” piece you have just read; the story I felt had to be seen in all of its damning glory.

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As they have spread across the once verdant landscape, modern day cities have grown ever colder, overwhelmed by a surfeit of towering glass and steel edifices, each and every one of them devoid of life. They seem to attract the uncaring affluent, lost in their pursuit of material gain, their soulless presence marginalising those of a more easygoing order. Mine has always been a preference for the time worn streets of the city, alleyways imbued with history, old book shops, secondhand stores and the hostelries the en vogue thankfully choose to ignore. Over the course of these next few pages you will catch a glimpse of some of these locales as the architecture and interior design of Bernie Wrightson, much of it conceived over half a century ago,

is laid before your eyes. For the unenlightened, these age old constructs may in some measure appear foreboding, the quarters seen on the covers above to Welcome Back to the House of Mystery #1, dated July 1998, Swamp Thing’s second appearance from December-January 1973 and the second House of Mystery paperback from August 1973 are undeniably abstruse in their design. However, despite their brooding aspect, it is hard to resist their archaic charm, each in turn drawing the reader ever deeper into their shadow laden lair.

The intimidating manse standing tall in the background to this introduction was first presented as the opening page to the 47

acclaimed Batman The Cult series published in September 1988, a period when the horror comic as we know it had fallen by the wayside. In just a single page Wrightson swiftly set the scene for one of the decade’s most memorable tales, just as he had more than ten years before when horror was once more ascendant. Given the assured line manifest in each of these images, we can only wonder if Wrightson had chosen architecture as a career how our towns and cities would have evolved. Surely for the better.

The sombre constructs Wrightson created for his stories were to play an integral role in so many of these sinister narrations. As early as his first published story, the Marv Wolfman scripted “The Man Who Murdered Himself” from House of Mystery #179, March-April 1969, just less than 12 months after Joe Orlando had turned this longstanding title into the realm of mystery and horror, a structure steeped in the Gothic revival of the latter years of the 19th century hosted a ghostly visitation from the distant past.

Already Wrightson’s brushstrokes were injecting an unsettling feel to these pages, in what was by Marv Wolfman’s standards a rather inoffensive ghost story. On this his first showing, Wrightson made able use of the dank atmosphere drifting through the corridors of this magnificently apportioned house; a location faithful to the mood inherent to these recondite tales.

A couple of issues further on Wrightson laid the foundation for another such abode, probably in this instance the resident House of Mystery.

Looming to the rear of the opening panel, its presence would have been sure to usher a chill up and down the spines of its readers, preparing them for that which would soon follow. In a strange turn of events, House of Mystery #181’s “Siren of Satan” brought together the young man destined to become the darkest horror artist of his day with a comic book veteran who had never been entirely enamoured with this abhorrent phenomenon during its reign at the beginning of the 1950s, Bob Kanigher. At this time, Kanigher had good reason to worry about this excess, for he like many others feared it could bring ruination on the entire industry. As history would reveal, his concerns weren’t unfounded, but when he had to, he showed himself to be the true professional he had always been, pouring himself into a candidly eerie tale. His ten page script allowed Wrightson to express himself in a way the DC of just a few years past would have frowned upon. How the times were changing.

A Victorian styled mansion again overlooked the proceedings underlying “The Secret of the Egyptian Cat” in House of Mystery #186, dated May June of 1970, as Wrightson set to embellishing another of Kanigher’s compelling stories, again running to an ever so welcome ten pages. While the attention of this story was trained on the cat, Wrightson couldn’t resist rendering one of his archetypal stairways, inspired by the balusters and balustrade on the staircase in the house his parents called home during his earliest years, scenes which in the years to come would become part and parcel of his tenebrous vision. Just a few weeks later in The Unexpected #119’s “Mirror, Mirror on the Wall, Who’s the Deadliest of All,” an age old castle in Scotland gave Wrightson the opportunity to conjure with the shadows, his sense of design breathing life into a domicile evocative of the darkest of fairy tales, an appropriate backdrop to this encounter with murder most foul. A similar ancient structure was also observed in Web of Horror #3’s “Feed It.” Alas, we just didn’t have the space to show it here,

From the very beginning of his time in comics, Wrightson constructed the darkest of manses, each of which played host to a series of most disturbing occurrences. At the top of the page comes the introduction to House of Mystery #181’s “Siren of Satan” from the July-August of 1969. This was the finest of treats, ten whole pages of Wrightson’s tenebrous artistry. Below an imposing residence makes its presence felt on the second page of House of Mystery #204’s “All In The Family,” dated July 1972. The original artwork to Wrightson’s first professionally published story from House of Mystery #179, cover-dated for the March-April of 1969, can be seen to the right. Each of them was truly a moment to savor.

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June of 1953 was certainly a month to remember, as the world was pushed ever closer to the brink of destruction.

Across East Germany, strike action called by workers in East Berlin escalated into widespread demonstrations, the citizens of the GDR venting their frustration at the Communist regime’s cruel oppression. It didn’t bode well for any of them, the protestors swiftly feeling the wrath of Moscow’s retribution, leaving over 500 dead on the streets, with a further 106 detained awaiting execution. Lamentably for East Germany, the dictates of the Kremlin would remain in place for almost another four decades. Thousands of miles away in the United States, the Civil Rights Movement was now beginning to gain momentum. The Baton Rouge bus boycott was to roll on into six days of unrest, the impact of which would have immense significance for thousands of African Americans in their rightful quest for social justice. Meanwhile in the guarded corridors of the CIA, the head of Technical Services Staff, one Sidney Gottlieb, discreetly sanctioned the use of LSD in one of the service’s MKUltra related experiments. This was also the month of one of the darkest moments in modern American history when Julius and Ethel Rosenberg were executed for their part in passing on atomic secrets to the Soviets during WWII. In the midst of this worrisome tide, the McCarthyist crusade had taken to book burning, just as Ray Bradbury sat at his desk to turn his 1951 novella, The Fireman, into the

award winning Fahrenheit 451, a book that later fell victim to the prejudice of mindless censorship. It was indeed a troubled month, one to which the comic book publishers seemed largely oblivious. Even so, they thought nothing of manipulating the uncertainty of the day to embellish their stories, barely twelve months ahead of the Senate Subcommittee Hearings into Juvenile Delinquency. The comics bedecking the newsstands during that month, some having appeared at the very end of May, were cover-dated for September, with a handful carrying dates for August and October. As you will shortly get to see, an abundance of these publications were a little too eager to scare, but then this was exactly what their young readers were crying out for.

If the comic book publishers were to be assessed in terms of volume, then it was Atlas that led the way. They carried a dozen horror related titles as well as the premier of their latest foray into science fiction, Speed Carter Spaceman, who was set to journey on in the aftermath of the ill-fated Space Squadron’s cancellation over 18 months prior. Carl Burgos’s cover was just the ticket for those with a hankering for spaceborne adventure; over 70 years later its sense of wonder has never faded. Within, the talents of Joe Maneely and John Romita were proudly on display, in a package hoping to emulate the stir EC had created with Weird Science 61

and Weird Fantasy. Regretteably it wasn’t to be. Speed Carter would fold after just six issues, a mere twelve months after this auspicious debut.

Elsewhere, it was a quite different story for what had become an established line of horror comics. Atlas’s long running Marvel Tales was once again enjoying a spell of good fortune, now racking up its 118th appearance, having turned to horror four years before, just as this scourge was preparing to consume the newsstand. Although Sol Brodsky’s insane hypodermic bondage cover was by no means as gratuitous as Dick Ayers’ shocker for ME’s Manhunt #14, showcased later in this book, its chilling portent would have still ruffled the less discerning. It was left to Gene Colan to illustrate the accompanying tale, “When A World Goes Mad!” set in that futuristic world of 1996, annoyingly bereft of Brodsky’s excess. It was a strong issue, with both Russ Heath and Dick Briefer included in these pages, were a science fiction theme was in evidence. The ever ready Brodsky rendered a spine-tingling image for the cover to Strange Tales #22, suggesting a presence most foul having shambled forth from the grave. Horror fledgling John Buscema was given the task of exposing whatever it was that had dragged itself from the earth in the chillingly entitled “The Corpse That Wasn’t.” While these were an eye-catching set of pages, this episode fell a long way short of the horror suggested on Brodsky’s cover. This notwithstanding, the contents to Strange Tales #22 carried a roster of talent, led by an extraordinary opening five pages from Bernie Krigstein, followed by the Planet Comics team of Bill Benulis and Jack Abel, along with Bob McCarthy and the bizarre design from the coupling of John Forte and Matt Fox. With such an admirable array of artists at their behest, these were most definitely heady times for Atlas’s tomes of terror.

Way back in the early summer of 1953, who would have guessed Journey into Mystery would survive, alongside Strange Tales, well on into the next decade? The prolific Carl Burgos set about terrorising the readers with a decapitated figure on his cover for this twelfth outing. This particular scene from “A Night at Dragmoor Castle!” never featured in Al Eadeh’s portrayal, the narration was every bit as unsettling all the same. Further on, Dick Briefer and Tony DiPreta turned in several pages of seemly artistry, in an issue choosing to avoid the depravity inflicted by its counterparts. The same could not be said of Journey into Unknown Worlds #22, where Bill Everett presented a characteristically darkly comedic cover, leading on into a story turning the screw on the vampire myth in a way we may have seen before, but it was hard not to succumb to the simplicity of its charm. Having worked alongside Matt Baker at St. John, Cal Massey was a dab hand when

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it came to the good girl. Unknowingly, the finesse on show in “Davey and his Dame” may well have raised a few eyebrows amongst the disparaging. With this issue, Atlas again had a real winner, drawing upon Russ Heath, Joe Maneely and that deranged pairing of John Forte and Matt Fox to make these pages a worthy purchase for any aficionado of the genre.

Russ Heath had no intention of pulling any punches when he delivered his shocking vampire cover for Mystery Tales #15. If anything was going to stand out on the newsstand that month, surely this had to be it. As ever, Bill Benulis and Jack Abel could be relied upon to produce a polished set of pages, in this instance for the darkly amusing science fiction yarn “The Little Monster.” A word to the wise, you wouldn’t want to get too close to this little fellow. They were subsequently joined by Dick Ayers, Manny Stallman and Everett Raymond Kinstler, whose prowess ensured this appearance found a place in the company’s master class. While the interior content wasn’t especially gratuitous, the quality of the storytelling throughout was outstanding. From the outset, Heath’s intimation of cannibalism on the cover of Mystic #23 was categorically blood curdling. Shrunken heads swiftly followed in the Hy Rosen illustrated “Don’t Shrink Sam’s Head.” If any form of censorship had been prevalent in the industry at this time, the Pete Tumlinson rendered “Hugo” would have certainly come under fire. Here, a play soon came hopelessly off the rails when one of the bullied actors gave just a tad too much of himself.

As you will see further on, this month there was an Indian theme to some of Farrell’s covers, this one coming from the Iger Studio for Fantastic Fears #3. Atlas were at their most macabre at this time, Joe Maneely embracing the mood with his startling grave digging scene for Astonishing #27.

Jack Cole returned the readers of that month to the graveyard for his cover to Web of Evil #5. Crime Mysteries was one of those odd titles that flitted between crime and horror; issue #9 engaged its readers with an element of the supernatural. Ever since Frankenstein’s revival 18 months before, Dick Briefer had explored the more horrific elements of Mary Shelley’s literary creation; the cover to issue #26 of this title was no exception. There was a touch of horror to Charlton’s unusual hybrid Space Western Comics #45, for what would be the last in this bizarre experiment, rendered by Stan Campbell.

On the introductory page we present the covers to Stanley Morse’s darkly comedic Weird Mysteries #6 courtesy of Bernard Baily, Atlas’s Journey into Unknown Worlds #22, crafted by Bill Everett and Bob Forgione’s cover to The Thing! #10.

Close scrutiny of the layouts to the horrifying graveyard scene introducing Uncanny Tales #12, indicates it could well be the work of both Brodsky and Burgos. Strangely, their creation was a fitting prelude to Sam Kweskin’s take on the accompanying tale “Bertha Gets Buried,” even though it had absolutely nothing to do with the story. Each, however, was

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issue were Howard Nostrand, Joe Certa and possibly Al Avison.

Between them they managed a couple of disturbing sequences, but for once this was hardly a gratuitous read.

By 1953, Chamber of Chills had become recognised as Harvey’s most flagrant title. So, behind a darkly flirtatious collaboration between Lee Elias and Warren Kremer for the cover to issue #19, came “Happy Anniversary” with more of Bob Powell’s fluid brushstrokes. This amusing account bowed out with a finale any horror artist worth their name would have relished, as no doubt did its deranged readers. Howard Nostrand then made ample use of his ability to mimic Wally Wood for “Terror Vision,” a tale echoing the craze for low budget science fiction popularised at this time. Similarly, elements of film noire were also evident in “Black Passion,” when Jack Sparling was allowed to encourage a rather luscious femme fatale in her cavorting through these pages, with appalling consequences. Amidst the vampires and marital strife of Tomb of Terror #11 was Powell’s rendition of “Communist,” a tale exploiting the fear of Soviet infiltration, significantly against the backdrop of those horrifying events in East Germany. “The Closet” sewed up this issue, an unnerving account of child cruelty, which recklessly turned full circle upon reaching its denouement. For the creative team at Harvey this would have been another day at the office, but tales of this ilk would annoy those with a mind to bringing down the industry.

If anything was going to irritate the anti-comics crusaders, the Powell and Kremer “Kiss and Kill” cover to Witches Tales #20 would have made it to the list. Unabashed, Powell then followed with “Kiss and Kill,” indulging a momentary scene of gore along with a femme fatale, who lives on in the memory. Everything considered, Alfred Harvey’s offerings for this month had definitely come up to scratch.

Moving on, Avon, whose approach to horror was rudimentary to say the least, surprised everyone with a 25 page adaptation of Bram Stoker’s “Dracula” in the pages of Eerie #12. It was the turn of former Eisner and Iger shop artist Gene Fawcette to

It is thought Bill Everett and Carl Burgos were responsible for the cover to the debut of Speed Carter Spaceman, a mind-blowing scene, which could have found a place in one of the many science fiction B-movies of these years. The ever reliable Stan Goldberg supplied the colors. Canadian publisher Superior released three of their horror titles at this time, amongst them Journey into Fear #15, with its Iger Studio cover. Alongside it sits one of those memorable covers from DC, Mystery in Space #15, ever so deftly crafted

by Murphy Anderson. Frank Frollo and Vince Alascia made their mark on the newsstand with their cover for the eighth issue of Charlton’s Racket Squad in Action, a crime title that survived the Comics Code.

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adapt this landmark tale, which in all fairness turned out to be an admirable piece of work. While Avon were never afraid to languish in the miscreancy of horror, DC’s efforts had been criticised for being overly conservative, hampered by an in-house ethos which was not exactly conducive to these nefarious tales. This wasn’t so when Howard Sherman embellished his panels with a sprinkling of the surreal for House of Mystery #17’s “The Man With The X-Ray Eyes.” As DC enthusiasts had come to expect, this issue abounded with an entertaining selection of stories. Only one of them would have irked those looking to censor these ghastly terrors, the Bill Ely illustrated “The Ordeal of Roger Black.” He was another artist who dared to challenge the customary house style, most notably in his the execution scenes, an aberration in a DC title at this time.

The pioneers of this boom in horror, the American Comics Group, may not have cherished the darkness quite in the way as those that followed, but they had a pretty good idea as to how to address the needs of their dedicated followers. Adventures into the Unknown #47 arrived bang on time with a Ken Bald cover. The ensuing story, “The Derelict Fleet,” atmospherically rendered by John Blummer, in the familiar ACG house style, recounted a tale of doomed pirates sequent to a girl imperilled by monsters lurking in the

Adventures into Terror had become recognised as one of Atlas’s nastier titles; issue #23, with its Carl Burgos cover, lived up to its reputation. The content in Superior’s Strange Mysteries #13 proved to be every bit the match for its gruesome Iger Shop cover, ensuring this series’ cult following received everything they craved. If you spend time with Lee Elias’ cover for Tomb of Terror #11 you begin to realise how disturbing it is; you certainly wouldn’t want to be locked in this closet.

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It is so easy to be dismissive of Skywald’s initial essay into this unsettling realm under the direction of Sol Brodsky and Israel Waldman. When all was said and done, their efforts were somewhat paltry, offering precious little in the way of anything new. Psycho’s premiere, cover-dated January 1971, included five Avon pre-Code reprints, a reminder of Israel’s time repackaging low budget reprints back in 1958, later returning for one last shot between 1963 and 1964. The cover to this issue as can be seen on this page went a considerable length to make up for this, unashamedly disgorging an assault on the senses on a par with any of its ghastly competition. Yet for all their failings, some of the virtuosity on show in these Warren’s line of black and white terrors had set the standard for early appearances has been sorely overlooked and the stories horror in the magazine format, prompting time served Marveldevised to illustrate the tales behind these ominous covers man Sol Brodsky and his business partner Israel Waldman to would succeed in capturing the reader’s imaginings from the embark upon a new publishing venture. This move came at the very outset. low point in a notoriously uncomfortable few years for Warren Across the page we have the Chuck McNaughton scripted following the departure of their celebrated editor Archie Goodwin “Phantom of the Rock Opera,” crafted by Ralph Reese, a tale in 1967. As Warren struggled on, Major Magazines’ foray into which throughout its eye-catching page designs surpassed the field of magazine styled terror with Web of Horror had made quite an impression on its readers, offering a formidable array of Harry Rosenbaum’s zombie rock star cover created to lure fledgling talent. Sadly, it wasn’t to readers into the contents of Nightmare last; editor Terry Bisson had decided #4, the precursor to so many other rock to hook up with a commune at the styled images set to flood the world of same time as publisher Bob Sproul comic books in the years that followed. was making his way to warmer Eclipsing Boris Vallejo’s Frankenstein climes in Florida. A little over six cover for Psycho #3 bordered on the months later Skywald released the impossible; Brodsky and Waldman must first issues of Nightmare and Psycho, have thought they had hit the jackpot convinced they could give horror when this crossed their desk. Vallejo’s fans a little more of what they had impressive painting was the herald come to expect. Jim Warren had to 12 pages of Tom Sutton’s artwork, shown the black and white horror under his Skywald alias Sean Todd. magazine was a viable format, but As the next few pages will reveal, with with Creepy and Eerie now just a Alan Hewetson at the reins these covers shadow of their former selves, and would provide a glimpse into some of the range of titles offered by Stanley the most unworldly tales yet to be seen P. Morse and Myron Fass resorting in the pages of a comic book. to reprints and gaudy rehashes of second string pre-Code terrors, the time was surely right for something new.

For over half a century, Skywald have generated a wave of dissension amongst fans of the genre. On one side we have a dedicated band who simply can’t get enough of their unique take on the uncanny, immortalised in the Skywald Horrormood.

Then there are those disparaging naysayers who look upon their narrative with utter disdain. Maybe if they had only ever been privy to the earliest issues they could be forgiven, for when compared to their more established rivals both Nightmare and Psycho were very much an embryonic concept, yet to be possessed by the Alan Hewetson-inspired Hoorrormood, which isn’t to say they weren’t entirely without merit.

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The name Doctor Death was just made for those diabolical comics of the 1950s. Surprisingly, not a single publisher of the day coined the name for the title of one of their pre-Code terrors, nor was such a logo ever used on any of the underground comix plying their trade late in the 1960s and on into the 70s. Maybe this was just one step too far, even for these comics, many of which staked their reputation on their notoriety.

This wasn’t the case back in the 1930s. By July of 1934, Dell’s All Detective Magazine had earned a place as an established fixture wherever pulp magazines were placed on sale.

July 1934 was the same month Fred Madan’s dramatic Doctor Death cover first terrorised the readers of this incredibly popular crime magazine.

Brooklyn born Madan, left the reader in no doubt as to the treachery at the heart of this miscreant, yet he produced very little work for the pulps, for the simple reason his time was almost exclusively devoted to the movie posters he so exquisitely crafted, many of them for RKO. Such was the demand for his vivid embellishment that it was a constant struggle to remain on top of these assignments, making this cover a cherished moment for many a pulp enthusiast. The story within, the lead for this issue, was the brain child of former Londoner, Edward P. Norris. As his nail-biting account twisted and turned, the evil Doctor Death found himself 94

pursued by a certain Nibs Holloway, a character who Norris had debuted in the pages of Rapid-Fire Detective Stories just over a year before in May 1933. Just as Norris had intended, Doctor Death met his death as this tale went head on into its electrifying finale, leaving Nibs Holloway free to chase down another reprobate in the pages of the next issue of All Detective Magazine.

For all intents and purposes Doctor Death was no more, but it didn’t quite turn out that way. It is impossible to determine whether the readers insisted Doctor Death be raised from his eternal slumber or the editors at Dell realised they had something special on their hands. Such conjecture was of little concern, for to the horror of Nibs Holloway, Doctor Death made an unexpected return in the September 1934 edition of All Detective Magazine, in Edward P Norris’s “Cargo of Death.” Nibs was swiftly on the case, although on this showing Doctor Death was absent from the cover, and to add insult to injury history repeated itself when he once again went to meet his maker.

Of course by now regular readers of this magazine knew the score; just a month later both the scheming doctor and his nemesis Nibs found themselves careering through the pages of All Detective Magazine in the tale “Death’s I.O.U.” courtesy of the young Edward P. Norris; and again in the January 1935 edition in the opening tale entitled “13 Pearls,” with Nibs again hot on the trail of the heinous Doctor. On each occasion Doctor Death would come to a sticky end with Norris finally calling time on his scurrilous creation as the curtain fell on the “13 Pearls.” While his storytelling was attracting a great deal of favourable attention, the demands of family life forced him to abandon his writing to take up a position with a printer, which soon became awkward as

he was English by birth, a breach of certain stipulations in the Social Security Act of 1935. In time Norris’s life would settle, but never again would he sit at his typewriter to dream up such villainy. However, his nefarious creation Doctor Death wasn’t about to lie down and die.

All Detective Magazine was suddenly transformed, regenerated as Doctor Death in February 1935. As this issue left the print press the editorial team at Dell must have thought they had yet another success on their hands, but it wasn’t to be. With both Edward P. Norris and Nibs Holloway now sidelined, Harold Ward, ghosting as Zorro, was invited to step in to continue these breathtaking adventures. Cover duties were then handed to Rudolph Zirm, an artist of quite amazing talent, yet curiously overlooked by his contemporaries in the pulp industry. Doctor Death would last just three issues. Harold’s stories “12 Must Die,” “The Gray Creatures” and “The Shriveling Murders” failed to capture the imagination of the pulp buying public, despite the impact made by Zirm’s covers. The script for a fourth tale, “Murder Music,” scheduled for the May 1935 of Doctor Death, was already completed, an issue which sadly never saw print. This incarnation of Doctor Death wasn’t entirely forgotten; he would make one last appearance, in the pages of

Across the page, Rudolph Zirm’s cover to the first of Doctor Death’s short-lived series dating back to February 1935. It was a hideously observed piece showing Zirm at his finest and Doctor Death as the evil miscreant he truly was. The July 1934 edition of All Detective Magazine played host to the first of Doctor Death’s foul schemes. The world would have to wait until September of that year for his next appearance in the pages of All Detective Magazine. To the right, Zirm’s cover for the second issue of Doctor Death, cover-dated March 1935, which was by no means as lurid as so many of its counterparts.

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Regular readers of the horror comics flourishing during the early 1950s would have felt a little short changed if death in some shape or form wasn’t in evidence in their pages, a prospect awaiting countless of the unfortunates caught up in these sinister tales. For most of these younger readers the true concept of death was of little concern, but every once in a while, amid the grisly carnage, the shadowy figure of the Grim Reaper deigned to put in an appearance. His presence only augmented the chill in these narratives, for even these youthful readers knew very well, no man could ever

escape the clutch of his icy grasp.

The cowled, scythe bearing image of the Grim Reaper was first observed during the 14th century, when Europe along with parts of Asia and North Africa, began to fall to the ravages of the Black Death. This bubonic plague would kill millions in the years between 1347 and 1351, with several further outbreaks taking the lives of many more for the duration of the century. Such was its virulence, around a third of Europe’s population is believed to have succumbed to its deathly embrace.

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Death, so it seemed, was forever at the door, epitomised in the years that followed as a darkened figure, garbed in a black robe, shielding a skeletal face, scythe in hand. It was never his place to judge; his role was to remain eternally impartial while reaping the souls of those whose lives had been taken by this voracious pestilence, just as those who tended the fields lopped the heads from the swaying corn.

The robe cloaking this atrophied figure was very much like the garment worn by the clergy of the day. Throughout these terrifying years, they were committed to allaying those afflicted with this scourge, counselling them in preparation for the next life. For the mournful watching in the distance, the darkened robe would come to symbolise Death, a source of fascination for various artists of the Renaissance. Similarly, the death and decay experienced by so many at this time were personified in the stark visage captured by these artists in their paintings, the atrophied features of the dying a reflection of his pallid countenance.

Intriguingly, while the comic books of the pre-Code era delighted in this imagery, they ignored this historical perspective in their portrayal of Death. There doesn’t appear to be a story from these years depicting the spectre of Death reaping the souls of the dead in the towns and countryside consumed by this devastating contagion, the writers of these comics instead choosing to send the Reaper elsewhere in his grim quest. Prior to the avalanche of comic books that came

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during the war years, it was the strange fantasy in the pulps that caught the eye of those seeking an escape from the humdrum of their everyday lives. The cover to the second issue of Street and Smith’s Detective Story Magazine, from February 1931, was somewhat unique in its presentation of the cloaked figure of Death. It was a moment to savor, for such a personification was rarely encountered in these pulp magazines, their content preferring to confer death with the gangster’s gun. This would change when the horror comics arrived on the scene two decades later, there within Death finally found a home.

As early as Shadow Comics Vol. 8 #4, dated July 1948, again published by Street and Smith, the emaciated effigy of Death was in evidence, courtesy of the artistry of Bob Powell. In this spellbinding chapter in the life of this title, several of its covers turned to the macabre, presaging the comic book terror of just a few years hence. For the moment we’ll stay closer to home with the fourth issue of Atlas’s Suspense, cover-dated August 1950, which gave Gene Colan the opportunity to render his take on Death, in a shocking scene he saved until the last in “The Man in Black.” With the increasing popularity of these comics, it wasn’t unusual to find Death delaying his entrance until the climactic finale, as evidenced in the page shown at the beginning of this piece from Astonishing #14’s “Silence,” rendered by Dick Ayers and Don Rico. Such an introduction was staged to shock the reader, carrying a reminder, just as in the 14th century, Death was never too far away.

There may not be a great amount of artwork accredited to the brushstrokes of Al Luster, but the pages he created for Atlas during the twelve months he was in their employ remain some of the darkest from this period of comic book infamy. His contribution to these years would make him one of the true greats in horror comic publishing.

For all of the magnificent artwork on show in these next few pages, Al Luster, the man responsible for these terrors, will never be included amongst the giants of the industry, his time in comics being all too short, spanning the period from the beginning of 1949 through to the early months of 1954. In fact, during the first three of these years Luster was engrossed in his studies at art college after having served his country as a Naval fighter pilot, so given this period of schooling it is hardly surprising his work in comic books wasn’t especially prolific.

The assignments he did pick up while in the course of his studies came from Lev Gleason and Orbit’s western titles, stories that allowed him to build his confidence and in turn develop a quite unique style. The continuing refinement in his style would pave the way for him being accepted by Atlas for their line of horror comics, his baptism of fire coming in the latter months of 1952 with four pages of macabre wit for Journey into Unknown Worlds #16, cover-dated March 1953. In the twelve months that followed, Luster’s fervour for his craft would

leave an impression on many of the readers of these already immensely popular titles, inspiring a handful to follow in his footsteps.

Luster’s entry into comic books came in Lev Gleason’s Desperado #8, dated February 1949. There is also a suggestion his brushstrokes were at work on the crime story “When Time Stood Still,” the nail biting finale to the second issue of Atlas’s Suspense, cover-dated February 1950. The expressive styling to the faces of the protagonists on the splash page is certainly redolent of his work of a few years hence. If these pages were of his creation, they certainly exhibited a visible affinity for this gun-toting genre. Alas, by the time he was waving a fond farewell to his art classes, the crime comic was on the decline. Thankfully for this aspiring young fellow, all was not lost; the horror comic had now cast its dark spell over the newsstand and it is fair to say the comic book industry was never going to be quite the same again.

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In the splash to “The Iron Lady,” first seen in Marvel Tales #113, Al gave the fairground barker a decidedly fiendish appearance to create an apt sense of unease. Yet just a month before, in March of 1953, when Lucifer had stepped into the pages of Journey into Unknown Worlds #16’s “The Devil’s Good Deed,” he chose to caricature this denizen from the underworld, no doubt in a bid to reflect the light-hearted nature of this tale. Across the page we can see a more sinister aspect to his approach. “The Body Snatchers” was a fitting entry to the 24th issue of one of Atlas’s more infamous titles, Adventures into Terror, this issue cover-dated October 1953. Mystery Tales #17 later played host to “The Black Crows,” another diabolical narration from the company at a time when their horror line was at its peak. The introduction to Mystery Tales #10’s “Don’t Ever Gyp a Gypsy” was a dark prelude to the dread that followed.

These were truly exceptional stories, surpassing so much of what was on offer elsewhere during the early 1950s.

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Whilst still eliciting all he could from his tutelage, Luster made his one and only appearance for Harvey Comics, rendering the tale “Massacre of the Ghosts” for Witches Tales #2, dated March 1951. This relatively primitive narration was very much in contrast to the shadow laden pages he would one day produce for Atlas. Despite his inexperience, his line evinced an appreciation for this chilling phenomenon, combining the supernatural with the westerns that were now coming his way. As with so many of his contemporaries, Luster had a fascination for the old west, to which in time he would return when he moved into fine art. For the moment, he wisely drew upon this period in American history, using a simplistic yet effective illustrative style somewhat at odds with the darkened terrors beginning to shape certain comics of the day.

Two years later, with college now behind him, Luster found himself meeting with Stan Lee in the hope of securing steady employment. Lee had an amazing eye for singling out talent, there before him was an eager young man of exemplary talent. From his debut on “The Devil’s Good Deed” in the pages of Journey into Unknown Worlds #16, he poured himself into each and every panel with a passion rarely seen in comic books. This was a truly happy chapter in his life, his days devoted to the creativity he so enjoyed, and as you can see in the artwork festooned across these pages his enthusiasm veritably shined.

In the 17 horror stories he embellished for Atlas, Luster clearly embraced the company’s inclination for comedic horror along with the more sinister aspects associated with their line. Upon settling into the Atlas bullpen, he moulded the darkness into his brushes, thereupon sweeping with ease through these pages, caricaturing Old Nick in such a way as if to make him palatable to the funny animal books. Just a month later in Marvel Tales #113’s “The Iron Lady,” he extended the fairground barker Mr. Brewster a similar yet more fiendish appearance, a warning things were not as they appeared. In all but two appearances Luster had definitely made his mark.

Jerome Podwil’s brooding canvas would form the cover of the second issue of Sinister House of Secret Love. While it doesn’t adhere to the trope of the true Gothic romance cover, it is nonetheless an atmospheric piece, the impact of which was sadly diminished on the actual comic. Neal Adams’ cover for House of Secrets #88 remained true to the idea of Gothic romance and introduced a generation of young readers to this increasingly popular genre.

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As one decade slipped away into the dreamscape of memories lost, it was the beginning of the next and maybe something new. It had been a decade in which Julius Schwartz had come to the fore in his role as editor for DC. Amongst his many admirable qualities was an eye for distinguishing some of the publishing world’s most popular trends, latterly the fervour for Gothic romance. From the 1950s on into the 1970s, it was almost impossible to walk into a bookshop without being overwhelmed by an array of such paperbacks, each adorned with an exquisitely painted cover portraying a hapless girl in her flowing white robes fleeing the threat of a sinister manse. Gothic styled romance was nothing new, dating back to 1764 when Horace Walpole’s Castle of Otranto was first circulated, a tale referenced earlier in this book. The imaginative pen of Ann Ratcliffe would soon develop the concept, principally in her tale A Sicillian Romance, published in 1790. As the years passed Gothic romance was to blossom into a much cherished genre, one to which Schwartz was only too keen to avail himself.

Schwartz had previously taken on the editorial reins of Batman in 1964, charged with reviving a character whose sales had been in decline since the advent of Marvel’s rollicking roster of Silver Age superheroes. He very quickly succeeded, turning to the darker facets of Batman’s perplexing character. This return to the Dark Knight’s brooding persona was reflected in the covers of both Batman and Detective Comics from the end of 1969 through until the mid 1970s. Although Neal Adams’ sombre cover for Detective Comics #403, cover-dated

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September 1970, would only earn him a paltry $50, it was nonetheless groundbreaking in being DC’s earliest dalliance with the Gothic, followed on the turn of the page by a haunting Carmine Infantino splash. Frank Robbins’ tale was hardly in accord with the trope of this manner of storytelling, but its dramatic use of this foreboding imagery, supplied by Bob Brown and Frank Giacoia, would ensure the reader stayed on for the duration. Batman would follow suit with Adams’ celebrated tribute to Detective Comics #31 for the cover of issue #227, dated December 1970, with an intimation of the Gothic permeating the cover to issue #236 less than 12 months later.

Soon after his initial flirtation with this ominously impassioned caprice, Adams was once again at his drawing board creating a similarly styled cover destined to see publication as the lead for House of Secrets #88, dated October-November 1970. This would be the herald for the DC mystery horror line’s affiliation with the genre, a move of sorts to promote the idea the horror comic wasn’t the sole domain of adolescent boys.

The cover was a triumph, but as adept an editor as Dick Giordano was, on this particular occasion he wasn’t to insist his creative team elaborate on this scene, although the opening account did remain faithful to certain traits attributed to these fanciful sojourns.

The girl presented in the tale “The Morning Ghost,” scripted by Marv Wolfman with art

by Dick Dillin and Frank Giacoia, was strong in character and in considerable distress, the tale proving a shrewd variation on an enduring theme.

This strange infatuation which had taken hold of House of Secrets would continue for the next few months. Of all the covers seen at this time, the most evocative was Gray Morrow’s stunning embellishment for #89, carrying a cover date of December 1970-January 1971. An artist of immeasurable talent, he captured the very essence of Marilyn Ross’s exceptionally popular Dark Shadows paperbacks, introduced in 1966.

It was Morrow who both scripted and rendered “Where Dead Men Walk!” in a style befitting the resonant intensity of his cover concept. While not entirely true to the ideals 118

The look of fear on the fellow in the foreground on Bill Everett’s cover for Uncanny Tales #43, from May 1956, was probably shared by many young readers picking up this issue. Ogden Whitney was also reluctant to part company with the terrors of the last few years as evidenced on his cover to Adventures into the Unknown #66, dated September 1955.

DC may have preferred to stay clear of the grisly excess of the early 1950s but John Prentice’s cover for House of Mystery #52, July 1956, oozed more than just mystery. Those overseeing this new Code had much on their hands.

They thought it could never happen, but in the latter months of 1954 the Comics Code Authority brought an end to the four coloured terrors that had caused such a furore across the length and breadth of North America. Trying to explain this to the average youngster hoping to score his next bloodthirsty hit on the revolving racks of the neighbourhood store wasn’t going to be easy. To his way of thinking, the government and their carrying on was for grown-ups, not kids and their horror comics. What did a dumb politician know about zombies climbing from the

grave, or a vampire sticking its fangs into your neck? No, they should stick to the adult stuff and leave the comics to the kids.

Let’s face it, these kids knew just what they wanted; you’ve already guessed, comic books crammed full of dread best read by flashlight in the middle of the night. Certain publishers recognised there was still a need to suffuse an element of terror into their respective lines, but with the CCA scrutinising their every move, how on earth were they going to put a chill along the spines of their horror crazed readership?

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As has been observed on a multitude of occasions, this band of comic book creators were both talented and incredibly resourceful. There were still a number of them who had continued to prosper since the earliest days of the industry when comics had first become publications of interest during the mid 1930s. Many of those who entered the field later on experienced the downfall of the superhero in the months after the War, yet remained in gainful employment in this dog eat dog world of comic book publishing. A portion of the success of these comic book publishers could be attributed to their capacity to change and evolve, enduring periods of great uncertainty.

Undoubtedly, the Code presented a challenge, but there was still a demand for comics of all kinds, even the now outlawed horror comic. Several publishers, most notably Atlas, ACG, Charlton and DC continued to explore the possibilities inherent in these strange stories, their narration generally lasting little more than a handful of pages, while the remainder either moved on to new things or, as lots of them did, simply folded.

So much had happened in such a short space of time; it was a mere six years since ACG’s Adventures into the Unknown had first sowed the seeds that gave birth to this gruesome phenomenon. When the Code came in, Richard Hughes and his team chose to carry on. Their editorial modus operandi encouraged their artists to toy with the idea of something nasty on their covers, rather than actually becoming satiated in the grisly pageant of the past few years. If they got it right, they could circumvent the Code and potentially boost their readership. After the hideous excess of this period, many readers who had first seen Edvard Moritz’s dramatic cover for the debut of this title, cover-dated for Fall of 1948, would have forgotten that it was designed to spook its readers, leaving the rest to their overwrought imagination. These six years past had borne testament to the viability of this subtle approach, making Adventures into the Unknown one of the most successful publications of the period.

It was no secret Richard Hughes was never at ease with the extremes favored by his peers, so for him the introduction of the Code was a new beginning, providing him with the chance to return to a more satisfactory form of storytelling. His belief in this approach would see Adventures into the Unknown and Forbidden Worlds prosper well into the next decade, paving the way for Atlas certainly led the way in the world of the postCode chillers. By and large, Journey into Mystery had never been an especially gruesome title, but the cover to #28, dated November 1955, posing the question “What Was In Store For The Survivor?” would have put the casual observer on edge. Below, Mystery Tales #49, January 1957, rendered by Bill Everett, was as sinister as anything from the early 1950s. Steve Ditko had been carefully building himself a quite formidable reputation at Charlton, as evidenced on his cover to Strange Suspense Stories #32, May 1957. Similarly, the covers to Astonishing #39, June 1955, from Carl Burgos; Ogden Whitney’s terrifying dilemma from Forbidden Worlds #41, February 1956; and Everett’s haunting scene from Marvel Tales #143, also dated February 1956, unsettled the reader as an antecedent to coming face to face with the mysteries lying within.

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Annuals, Specials, King-Size editions... call them what you will, each have been around for a long, long time. Way back in 1942 the 128 page bumper edition of the Captain America Comics Annual was published in Canada under the Timely imprint, followed just a year later by Marvel Mystery Comics, a similar package to its Canadian predecessor, although on this occasion Timely chose to reserve it solely for the residents of New York. A decade later Lev Gleason got in on the act with the

Crime Does Not Pay Annual of 1953, paving the way for a series of giants from Charlton during the late 50s as an antecedent to a plethora of oversized editions rolling from the presses during the 1960s from those great rivals at Marvel and DC, beginning with a Superman Annual in 1960. They may have been more expensive than the regular monthly editions, but they were to generate an inestimable wave of excitement when placed on display at the corner store.

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With the success of their Superman Annual there followed a series of annuals along with the affectionately remembered 80 Page Giants, prior to DC shrewdly managing to incorporate a variety of page counts into their long running monthly titles, culminating in a run of 100 page editions commencing in 1971 with the DC 100 Page Super Spectacular.

When the decision was taken to call time on this venture subsequent to the release of The Flash in November 1973, the “DC 100 Pages for 60 Cents” editions began to appear on the shelves, initially with Detective Comics #438, cover-dated for December 1973-January 1974, along with Shazam #8 and Young Love #107. Witching Hour #38 marked the first of DC’s horror mystery titles to take up this format, albeit for just a single issue dated January 1974, with House of Mystery following as of issue #224, dated April-May 1974 and Unexpected #157, cover-dated AprilMay 1974 bringing up the rear. For the next 12 months they would retain this impressive page count before factors beyond the control of the publishers insisted these comics return to a more familiar format.

In the battle to maintain their market position, Marvel Comics responded in the best way they knew, calling on their big guns of old, offering their readers something new, then drawing upon the enormity of their back catalogue. Marvel began as they had in 1961, with the Fantastic Four as the lead to the 52 page Giant-Size Superstars #1, dated May 1974, retailing at 35 cents, when DC’s 100 page editions were already commanding space on the newsstand. A month later a touch of horror was evidenced in the pages of Giant-Size Superheroes, where Spider-Man took centre stage, shadowed by Morbius and Man-Wolf.

Former Tomb of Dracula script writer Gerry Conway was brought in for this superhero caper, with just enough of the supernatural to interest horror fans. Both Morbius and Man-Wolf were no strangers to the pages of Amazing Spider-Man, where the super-heroics were always at the fore. Action packed this issue most certainly was, but there can be no doubt this entry in the giant-size range was also a good seller due to the company’s cadre of horror influenced characters.

That same month, Marvel went that one step further, introducing Dracula and his daughter Lilith in Giant-Size Chillers Featuring Curse of Dracula. For this series the alternative title “Curse of Dracula” was adopted, which over the forthcoming months would allow the respective creative teams to distance these tales from the cast featured in the highly successful Tomb of Dracula. However, just for now, the introductory splash page with its late night view of Westminster set the scene for a tale transpiring between issues #22 and 23 of the aforementioned Tomb of Dracula. The page count remained at 52, with the reasonably affordable 35 cent price tag still in place. To ensure the storyline flowed across these issues, Marv Wolfman was quite rightfully kept on as writer. Gene Colan as ever assumed the role as penciller, with Francisco Chiaramonte, a former employee of Will Eisner, completing these pages with a masterful set of brushstrokes. In the annals of comic book history this issue would be celebrated for this being the first appearance of Lilith, thus garnering the interest of countless new readers, making it one one most desirable acquisitions from this new line, some way behind, of course, the premiere of Giant-Size X-Men. Cover-dated for the July of 1974 Giant-Size Spider-Man #1 made its stamp on the newsstand, owing to a powerful John Romita cover, presenting both Spider-Man and the loathsome visage of Dracula. The cover layout gave the impression this could so easily have been a giant size edition of Marvel-Team Up, a theme destined to continue for the duration of this title’s run. The Len Wein scripted “Ship of Fiends,” rendered by Ross Andru and Don Heck, was smoothly entwined into the Marvel Universe, as strands of the storyline found their way into Marvel Team-Up #23, dated that same month. Morbius, the Werewolf, the Frankenstein Monster, Ghost Rider, Son of Satan and Brother Voodoo had each guest starred in Marvel Team-Up as this new wave of comic book horror had taken a hold, with Satana and the Man-Thing making it to these pages at a somewhat later date, but Dracula was surprisingly conspicuous by his absence, saved for such appearances as this spinetingling debut.

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The Comics Code may have been in operation for nigh on three years when This Magazine is Haunted #12 went on sale, dated July 1957, but Steve Ditko wasn’t afraid to threaten in a way synonymous with the horror comics of the past. For the first of this new incarnation, following on from Zaza the Mystic, rather than the original Fawcett then Charlton version of this series, which had ceased publication with issue #21 in November of 1954, he imbued his cover art with an unsettling sense of dread.

You have to wonder, why with such a cover, Charlton hadn’t thought to hold off this return until the October.

The mood permeating this scene would make it one of the most chilling images of the period, intimating a malfeasance lurking somewhere in that rickety old house, just as Edvard Moritz had on the cover he created for the first issue of ACG’s Adventures into the Unknown more appropriately released in the fall of 1948. His composition was quite perfect, insisting the need for any like-minded horror fan come face to face with that which lay beyond this door. It’s fair to say, given the watering down these comics had endured in the wake of the Code, the little fellow wasn’t going to be too disappointed.

Behind this atmospheric, rainswept portrayal came 24 pages of Ditko’s artistry. It is highly likely Joe Gill had come up with some of these five tales, a worthy selection of imaginative mysteries, made all the more exciting

by Ditko’s desire to experiment with his interpretation of the scripts he was handed. Their very titles, “The Faceless Ones” and “The Thing on the Beach,” would have driven Ditko on in attempting something new, thus

Even in the warmth of early summer Steve Ditko’s cover for Charlton’s This Magazine is Haunted #12, dated July 1957, would have given anyone picking it up goosebumps.

His artistry continued the mood, as seen in two of his pages from “The Faceless Ones” at the top of the next page. Dr. Haunt was observed amidst the shadows of “The Thing On the Beach,” scenes Ditko seemed to relish. Finally, from this issue, “The Last One.”

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For over two decades Larry Woromay twisted and distorted the visages of his characters, sending them forth to ply their trade in the darkened passageways of our world, earning him the reputation as...

Lawrence Edward Woromay, or Larry Woromay as he was known, was one of the many artists who benefited from Atlas/Marvel’s decision to move away from the constraints of their house style, to one favouring a more individual approach. In his short tenure with the company, beginning in 1951 until 1956, Woromay learned how to express himself at the drawing board, acquiring a reputation as one of the company’s most reliable artists. During this period when Atlas’s line of horror comics was at its peak, he received more than a couple of dozen assignments, all but a handful of them destined for these ghastly titles, making him in the eyes of his peers “that horror guy.”

unsavory accounts, cleverly twisting and contorting the figures caught up in this web of terror, yet demonstrating an understanding of the human form redolent of his mentor Burne Hogarth.

If we go back to his early work, seen in Magazine Enterprises’ Jet Powers #1, January 1951, then inking King Ward in ACG’s Forbidden Worlds #6, dated May-June 1952 with a possible appearance in the premiere of Stanley P Morse’s Weird Mysteries, dated October 1952, on the science fiction terror “The Planet Eaters,” these pages reveal a fairly competent illustrator who had plainly paid attention in class. His submissions to some of the foremost science fiction pulps of the day, amongst them Planet Stories, Born in 1927, Woromay would Fantastic Adventures and Galaxy spend his formative years in Greenwich Science Fiction, were to prove another avenue for his nascent talent.

Village, a neighbourhood of New York City characterised by its When he was taken on by Atlas, initially for a story in Crime Cases affiliation with a more bohemian take on life, particularly in the Comics #27, dated March 1951, followed by Young Men #9, and spheres of contemporary art and changing social values. After a house styled horror yarn “The Spider!” for Marvel Tales #101, serving in the navy during World War II, he took the opportunity to attend classes at Burne Hogarth’s Cartoonists and Illustrators School. both cover-dated June 1951, his promise began to show. However, when assessing his body of work at Atlas, his pencil work on “The It is likely growing up in the village had already been of significant Spider!” was completely lost when the inks were applied, owing influence; this, coupled with his time in the classroom, would lay largely to the company’s innocuous house style. Certain panels the foundations for a career whose evolution would be undeniably appeared cartoon like, as they would in the stories that immediately unique. The gusto with which he poured himself into each of these followed, yet despite this, these comedic caricatures were imbued stories would make him an artist people were soon talking about. with a dark edge, making Woromay an artist to whom his editors In the five years he worked on the Atlas horror line, he succeeded would constantly turn. While early days for the Atlas horror line, on in capturing the lifeblood coursing through the narrative of these 165

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I can recall a time in the not too distant past, when the subject of the weather was the simplest way of opening a conversation. Not surprisingly, we were never happy with these seasonal fluctuations; it was invariably too hot, too cold, too blustery or, typically up here in the north of England, too wet. Okay, so unhappy with the weather we may have been, but it did at least pass a few minutes while waiting for the bus in the company of a complete stranger. However, this changed with the outbreak of Covid-19. When all seemed lost, news came of a life-saving vaccine, then the conversation breaker turned to the jab. At first those around you needed to be absolutely sure you had been in for your jab, then in time it became how many jabs had you had, and all along there was that nagging doubt as to the adverse effects of this jab. It was the fear surrounding these unknown side effects the comic book publishers of the 1940s and 50s seized upon, distorting the miracle of the hypodermic, turning it into an instrument of unadulterated terror. It was if the men behind these publications were in a frenzy to demonstrate the malfeasance in this appliance, slavering uncontrollably as it drained the blood from a live victim or pumped something so foul into their system they would wake to find themselves transformed into a beast of the worst kind. Against this menacing backdrop, it is little wonder the conspiracy theorists went wild when the governments around the world rallied in rolling out a series of vaccines they assured us would safeguard the whole of mankind; but given their consistent failings and the content in these lunatic tales could we really be so sure?

The use of the syringe is nothing new, dating back to the ancient civilizations located around the Mediterranean in the years prior to the birth of Christ, but we would have to wait until 1853 for the Scottish physician Alexander Wood

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IT ROSE FROM THE TOMB An all-new book written by PETER NORMANTON

Rising from the depths of history comes an ALL-NEW examination of the 20th Century’s best horror comics, written by PETER NORMANTON (editor of From The Tomb, the UK’s preeminent magazine on the genre). From the pulps and seminal horror comics of the 1940s, through ones they tried to ban in the 1950s, this tome explores how the genre survived the introduction of the Comics Code, before making its terrifying return during the 1960s and 1970s. Come face-to-face with the early days of ACG’s alarming line, every horror comic from June 1953, hypodermic horrors, DC’s Gothic romance comics, Marvel’s Giant-Size terrors, Skywald and Warren’s chillers, and Atlas Seaboard’s shocking magazines. The 192-page full-color opus exhumes BERNIE WRIGHTSON’s darkest constructs, plus artwork by FRANK FRAZETTA, NEAL ADAMS, MIKE KALUTA, STEVE DITKO, MATT FOX, WARREN KREMER, LEE ELIAS, BILL EVERETT, RUSS HEATH, THE GURCH, and many more. Don’t turn your back on this once-in-a-lifetime spine-chiller—it’s so good, it’s frightening!

John Walter Scott’s painting for the cover to the second issue of Detective Short Stories, dated November 1937, injects this piece with a nasty shot as a precursor to a succession of damsels in serious distress being subjected to the most foul chemical cocktails imaginable. Above, Norman Saunders’ raunchy cover for Spicy Mystery Stories from October 1935. At the top of the page, more lurid imagery, this time for Black Mask November 1947; the diabolical mummification cover to (192-page SOFTCOVER) $31.95 • (Digital Edition) $15.99 • ISBN: 978-1-60549-123-3 Terror Tales, March April 1939; and Dime Mystery https://twomorrows.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=95_137&products_id=1780 Magazine’s shocker going back to November 1935.

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