was not lost on Stan, who continued this “Marvel team-up” into the ’60s. The formula of the monster books was fairly simple. A formidable creature would, in the course of 6-8 pages (or a expanded multi-parter, if Jack and Stan really wanted to stretch out!) announce his designs on conquering our hapless world. As the tension and action mounted, a tall, lean, pipe smoking (a pipe smoker was automatically believed to be a ‘wise man’ in the ’50s/early ’60s) scientist/doctor/researcher would discover a way to utterly defeat the diabolical giant and restore order. (David and Goliath were at play here.) The gargantuan hulks usually towered way over the Earth people they encountered and were so sure of their eventual triumphs that they gloated with supreme confidence along the way. And then the Lee and Kirby team defeated their aims through their pipe smoking proxy, and often through simple ruses. Stan was so obviously taken with the EC Comics-style “twist ending” that had served Al Feldstein, Bill Gaines, and Johnny Craig so well in their wildly successful horror, crime, and sci-fi yarns years earlier, that he made it a point to end many of his stories the same way. Diablo, for example (Tales of Suspense #9), was a gigantic smoke-thing, seemingly impervious to harm. Though he sent thousands into panic-mode by blanketing large areas with his dark vapors, one imaginative human made him go far away just blowing out the smoke from his cigarette lighter and announcing he’d do the same to Diablo, unless…. “Spragg, Conqueror of the Human Race!” (Journey Into Mystery #68) mass-hypnotized his human slaves into building his mountainous frame a huge platform from which he could move beyond Transylvania (that’s right, Transylvania) and subjugate all of mankind. The hero, putting his pipe aside, was able to fight off the hypnotic powers of his enemy and instead set the platform’s controls to jettison Spragg far out of Earth’s atmosphere forever. Other creatures were similarly outwitted by “puny humans.” Sometimes these yarns became morality plays. Aliens from beyond weren’t always despotic in nature or would-be rulers of earth dwellers. In “A Martian Walks Among Us” (Strange Tales #78), the sinister Martian invasion scout is thwarted by a benevolent Venusian, who just happens to be our unheralded, unseen aide. Tales to Astonish #30’s “The Thing from The Hidden Swamp” told of a plain but pleasant-tempered spinster who does a good deed for an alien stranded in a bog, spacecraft and all. For helping him, er… it, she’s rewarded with beauty to match her selfless compassion for others. Good things happen to good folks. Robots could be good and bad in Stan and Jack’s worlds. “Mr. Morgan’s Monster” (Strange Tales #99) was a sophisticated humanoid created to convince a skeptical populace that robots could still be beneficial to society. Morgan kept his intimidating (but inwardly heroic) creation hidden until the time to unveil him was right. Unfortunately, some of those pesky outer space power seekers came to our world and tried to seize Morgan’s invention to learn its secrets. The creature fought back. He held out long enough for the sleeping townspeople to rally and investigate the noises of the strange battle. The aliens, thwarted, scurried to their starships, escaping without the “monster.” Sadly, Morgan’s girlfriend tells him that since his creation was found in the streets outside of its safe haven (where it was ordered to remain), it has proved its “unreliability.” The monster’s energy fading, its last actions reveal… a lone tear. In just a few pages, Jack and Stan could pull on your heartstrings as well as any team in the business. Other robots, however, were out for themselves. In “Beware! He Isn’t Human!” (Journey Into Mystery #77), an egotistical movie monster maker creates a robot to destroy a woman who’s jilted him. Twist ending—the woman’s a robot, also, and thanks to the movie man, she’s got her ideal mate. The two humanoids edge toward the special effects man until he falls out of an open window. Lee had a ball with the names of his co-creations. Zzutak, Gor-Kill, Titan, Rorgg, Lo-Karr, Orrgo, Fin Fang Foom, the Creature from Krogarr, Trull, Moomba, Groot, Monstrom, Sporr, Kraa, Bruttu, Goom, Oog, and Googam, Son of Goom (!) were all monikers to give readers reason to pause! (Ditko, Heck, Ayers, and
others got their fair share, as well.) Kirby told Comic Scene Spectacular in ’92, “It was the names of the monsters that struck me funny. It would be names like ‘Bazoo.’ It was that kind of time— the 1950s, when the adventure stories weren’t selling. But horror always sells.” Stan recalled, for Marvel Spotlight: Stan Lee and Jack Kirby (2006), “I think with the monster stories that I did with Kirby, those crazy titles, I think there I would just say, ‘Jack, get a guy who crawled out from under a rock and he’s 20 feet tall and we’ll call him Gazoom and we’ll…’ and then he did the rest of it, and I put in the dialogue.” Time travelers offered all types of possibilities, also. Some journeyed forward into the future for knowledge or power. Others sought to use their knowledge to dominate the past. Lee sent Heck, Ditko, and Kirby out to visually imagine the variations on that H.G. Wells-type theme. Sorcerers and fantasy tales had to border on the fantastic and away from the realm of vampires, werewolves, and zombies that had helped create the Code. Dr. Druid (born “Droom”), in Amazing Adventures, was somewhat of a precursor to the forthcoming Dr. Strange. With Rod Serling’s exemplary TV hit The Twilight Zone garnering critical and audience applause, Jack and Stan’s variations on the “situations monster-ous” were also worthy of accolades in the early ’60s. The creatures the men conceived of could be formulaic or they could have depth, reason, and angst. The time for one-dimensional ho-hum style storytelling in sequential art could be discarded and improved upon, if only it was executed properly. But how? And in what genre? The monster titles were solid sellers for Atlas, but the Kirby-Lee team grew a little tired of them as the ’50s gave way to the ’60s. Their monsters, aliens, futuristic spacemen, and robots could be good and they could be evil, but there was only so much the guys could do with this particular genre. Any other creative prospects would have to present themselves elsewhere. Still, for the moment, Jack had to be somewhat pleased. Five full years had passed since the Comics Code had transformed the industry, but Jack had found work within its restrictive perimeters and made a new niche for himself. Atlas had solid winners in their monster/mystery line-up, and he was a large part of its success.
Western Gunsmoke Shortly after the end of the American Civil War, a battleweary nation turned its eyes to its western frontier. Many citizens packed what they had left after living through four years of the national conflict and left their war-ravaged regions for a fresh start. Once again the west seemed the place to go, farm, and find riches, and the promise of excitement and adventure co-mingled nicely into that prospect. The frontiersman had been a subject of fascination since Daniel Boone and Andrew Jackson captured their young nation’s attention in the early 19th century. Trailblazers like Kit Carson and Davy Crockett followed. But it was Wild Bill Hickok, who was interviewed in Harper’s Magazine a few years after the war, that sealed the deal. Hickok, a former Union scout and Pony Express Rider, came off like a longhaired, buckskin-wearing superman who’d already mastered the sweeping vistas, wild animals, and warrior Indians of the Great Plains and beyond. The fact that Hickok was also a dangerous gunman only added to his reputation. Wild Bill was the template for the legendary gunfighter where myths, lies, and truth converged in plays, pulps, and Wild West shows eagerly consumed by Americans who wanted to feel good about the promises of their country again. After Hickok, stylish gunmen/gamblers like Doc Holliday, Bat Masterson, and Wyatt Earp would emerge. And then there were the ‘kids.’ There was a real Texas Kid, a real Apache Kid (Atlas had non-Kirby stories about these two), the Sundance Kid, and the biggest of them all—Billy the Kid. Stan edited or wrote as many gunslinging kids into his western books for Atlas as possible. For the aforementioned special ish of Marvel Spotlight, the Man later recalled, “It’s funny, my publisher, Martin, he loved the word ‘Kid.’ I mean 63