It Rose From The Tomb

IT ROSE FROM THE

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

by Peter Normanton

© Jack Kirby Estate

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IT ROSE FROM THE

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 All illustrations contained herein are copyrighted by their respective copyright holders and are reproduced for historical reference and research purposes.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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If you have picked up this new collection of From the Tomb, I would sincerely like to thank you, for what you have in your hands is the culmination of five years’ work. Almost all of these pages were intended for the first four issues of what was to be the resurrected version of From the Tomb. The covers to these issues, along with a few more, can be seen on these pages. As you can see, the return of Tomb hasn’t quite worked out the way I had planned.

When I set off on this new venture, just a few months after completing It Crept From the Tomb, I was initially looking to self-publish. The idea was to have four issues ready before going to press, giving me enough time to bring future issues together, thus avoiding getting caught on the back foot as I did when rushing to get the second issue of From the Tomb ready, way back in the spring of 2000. Trust me, that’s an experience I never want to repeat.

Having prepared the first three issues, I thought it wise to drop publisher John Morrow a line. I had been supplying Roy Thomas with occasional articles for Alter Ego, which was working out very well, so I considered it only right to let John know what I had been up to. In the time we have been in touch, he has always been very good to me, but as I know all too well, horror isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. To my surprise, John was really interested in doing something with the material I had assembled. Over the weeks we discussed the possibility of a new horror magazine titled Cryptology, covering horror in film, television, model kits and, of course, horror comics. To say I was excited is an understatement. My mind was spinning as new ideas started to take shape. However, I still had so many layouts and articles, more than

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Cryptology could accommodate, so John kindly offered me the chance to do another From the Tomb collection, this time made up of entirely new material, which has evolved into It Rose From the Tomb.

I would like to thank John for his support. I never for one minute thought my scribing of the last few years would come together in a book of this kind. I would also like to extend my thanks to Roger Hill, whose input drove this project on during the early months of this year, along with Roy Thomas, Pete Crowther, Barry Forshaw, the endless enthusiasm of Frank Motler and my mate of many years Sean Cummiskey, who has had to listen to my rambling and acted as a springboard for so many of my crazy ideas on our weekly walks. A huge thank you to you all; I couldn’t have gotten this far without you. Sadly, due to the timing and workloads, it was impossible to get The Gurch on board for this issue. All being well, his first book should be available in the very near future. Still, this has given me the chance to use one of my all-time favorite covers, Skywald’s Nightmare #11, painted by José Antonio Domingo Bernabéu, better known as JAD. I think it captures the very essence of this new collection.

And don’t forget, all being well, Cryptology should be creeping your way in just a few months.

Peter Normanton 1st August 2023

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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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Smith, got the action under way, then came the cover story “And We Battle for Earth!” again scripted by Roy, with Sal Buscema and Sam Grainger called up from Marvel’s prodigious bullpen to produce the artwork. From their first reading, these stories have remained firm favorites, but in the eyes of this particular youngster, they paled before the next offering, “Past Haunting,” an offbeat tale of time travel where a troubled man confront his boyhood self. The piece was in truth a simple four page trip into the unknown, scripted by Charlton stalwart Joe Gill, accompanied by Rocco Mastroserio’s artwork, from the pages of Strange Suspense Stories #67. Despite its seeming insignificance, it would spawn a plethora of mindbending flights into fantasy for the next few years of my life. Alas on a return visit, not 12 months later, hoping to add to my somewhat diminutive pile of comics, the disarray I had recalled with such great affection was no longer there, now transformed into an establishment purveying fine art.

Time moved on, memories of the bric-a-brac shop soon faded, imparting a bleary pretense of what had been on that late summer’s afternoon. I was now sauntering home from school in the drizzle, looking forward to my tea. Down the street and across the main road from school, I came upon another shop, one I had never seen before. As to whether these premises were a newsagents or a second

Above, Ricardo Villamonte shows off his sensuous artistry in a page from Nightmare #17’s “The Vampire Out of Hell.” “The Inquisition” may appear to be a terror now consigned to the past, but Alan Hewetson had something else in mind; he wanted his teenage readers to question the institutions upon which they might one day rely.

hand bookshop is now a mystery; as with so many of its ilk it wasn’t to last. Nevertheless, its cursory presence obliged me a copy of Where Monsters Dwell #21, cover-dated May 1973. Jack Kirby’s depiction of Fin Fang Foom knocked me senseless, as it probably had done with countless comic mad kids when it had first appeared on the cover of Strange Tales #89, some 12 years before. Although Fin Fang Foom was to make an epochal impression, the hazy memories emanating from that curious shop would never leave me, their evanescence preying upon my waking moments, revealing shelves teeming with a myriad of gems, lamentably never to see publication.

Could any youngster resist the menace of Fin Fang Foom, they couldn’t in 1961 with Strange Tales #89, then twelve years later a new generation was drawn to this mythical beast in Where Monsters Dwell #21. Sebastia Boada’s spicy cover for Nightmare #17 certainly caught my attention, it’s hard to believe this was his first work for the company. Then just 30 years of age, Dick Giordano was already a Charlton veteran when he produced this cover for Strange Suspense Stories #67.

The dream would never last; however every once in a while these unimaginable fancies would take on a semblance of reality. It was the Easter holiday of 1974, when I was introduced EC’s horror comics during an afternoon television show presented by British comedian, Bob Monkhouse. How I turned Bob’s words over in my mind; just to have one of these EC comics would have been enough, or so I thought.

Even though I hadn’t a hope of laying my hands on an American comic published during the 1950s, I wasn’t about to be deterred, holding on to my newfound dream as if my very life depended upon it. Then on a ridiculously hot day in the August came something which, for a short while, would assuage my preoccupation with Bill Gaines’ creations. Whilst on an errand, my eyes were drawn to the window of my local 9

Josep Marti Rivoll, cover artist for Dossier Negro and art director for Joseph Toutain’s SI Artists agency, made a macabre guest appearance on the cover of Vampire Tales #9.

This was a seemly prelude for an issue which included Doug Moench’s disturbing collaboration with Tony DeZuniga, “Shards of a Crystal Rainbow.” If ever there was a story to warn its youthful readers of the dangers of drug abuse, then this was surely it. DeZuniga’s gift for illustration shone in these pages, as he lured the reader with a deathly dream-like series of pages. newsagents, where on display was the intoxicating cover to Nightmare #17. If you’ve been reading From the Tomb from its earliest days, you may be familiar with the moment Sebastia Boada’s breathtaking painting lured me into this chilling domain. The temptation offered by the scantily clad woman may have been there to excite lurid thoughts, but my eyes were fixated by the horned beast looming at her shoulder.

Given the provocative nature of this image, I thought it wise to ask my mum’s permission prior to parting with my pocket money; there’s no way in a million years I could have sneaked this one past her.

Thankfully she agreed, if only to ward off my interminable pestering. Singling out one tale from these pages is almost impossible, but “The Inquisition” insisted I reappraise the makeup of my homely little world. That summer, my perspective was further expanded by the Damon Knight anthologies, Worlds to Come and Beyond Tomorrow. These were my introduction to science fiction at its finest, their vision destined to precipitate changes to my tenderfoot grasp of reality.

Above, the Damon Knight edited anthologies Beyond Tomorrow and Worlds to Come along with the Ray Bradbury collection S is For Space, each of which inspired my love of science fiction and in turn got me to look at the world in such a different way.

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By the early months of 1975, my comic book collection had started to grow, having turned my attention to the UK Marvel reprint titles. In what was an intense phase in my comic book reading, devouring anything Marvel, the Planet of the Apes television series was also attracting extraordinary viewing figures, making the UK edition of Marvel’s Planet of the Apes a matter of absolute necessity.

This title’s staggering 123 issue run is deserving of an article on its own, but for the moment let’s take a look at the tale hidden away at the back end of its 30th issue, “Good Lord!”, a story I wouldn’t have known had only recently seen print in Marvel Preview #1 (February 1975). Nor would I have been aware Marv Wolfman’s collaboration with Dave Cockrum and the Crusty Bunkers was a reverential tip of the hat to those groundbreaking science fiction comics published by EC. Dave’s artwork was indeed the stuff of spacefaring dreams, but the religious tenor of this tale stopped me in my stride, its premise challenging

The UK edition of Planet of the Apes #30 bowed out with Marv Wolfman and Dave Cockrum’s thought provoking homage to EC science fiction “Good Lord!”, a story previously seen in Marvel Preview’s premiere. The cover to this issue was adapted from Amazing Adventures #21 when Killraven, for a short time, became The Apeslayer.

Anomaly #3 presented the first version of John Strnad and Richard Corben’s “A Brief Encounter at War” in 1971. Earle Bergey’s pin-up styled cover for the February 1949 issue of Thrilling Wonder Stories introduced an issue containing Ray Bradbury’s compelling “The Man.”

my views, causing a reconsideration of so much of that which I had come to accept. Curiously, just months before, I had come upon Ray Bradbury’s tale “The Man” in the local library’s copy of S is for Space, this had also elicited decidedly similar feelings. The resonance manifest in Bradbury’s story, first published in the February 1949 edition of Thrilling Wonder Stories, may have prompted many prospective writers to reevaluate their thoughts on religion. Amongst these aspiring creators may have been Messrs Wolfman and Cockrum. As the deathly blow was struck in the closing sequence to “Good Lord!” leaving all we had ever known to be consumed by darkness, I was chilled to my very bones, leaving me staring into the heavens for many nights to come, praying the skies would never become so impenetrably dark.

Weeks later, I popped into a newsagents across from the school bus stop situated in the centre of town.

There, nestled amongst the usual cluster of magazines, was a copy of the third issue of Unknown Worlds of Science Fiction, cover-dated May 1975. All I had in my pocket was my bus fare, which fell a long way short of the 20 pence cover price, so I had to endure a day of lessons followed by a sleepless night praying it would still be there when I returned. Thankfully, the next day my prayers were answered. As with Nightmare #17, deciding upon a single story from this issue has proved almost impossible, although I have to confess it would be a couple of years before I truly grasped Alex Nino’s interpretation of Harlan Ellison’s ‘Repent, Harlequin!

Said The Ticktockman.’ Even so, on that first reading, Bruce Jones’ “Gestation” stood head and shoulders above the rest. It’s hard to believe Jones had such doubt about his ability as an artist when you see these beautiful illustrations. Many years later I would come to realise, in terms of layout, that this was reminiscent of the approach endorsed by EC’s line of science fiction comics. The incredible finale echoed this styling, providing ample more food for thought, just as those Alan Class reprints had done just a few years before.

This would be the only time Mike Ploog combined his incredible talent with that of Alex Nino, to produce a quite extraordinary comic. Weirdworld remains the stuff of dreams, paving the way for my introduction to J.R.R Tolkien.

For the next two years Marvel’s superheroes consumed my comic book reading; not until the spring and summer months of 1977 would these short stories once again garner my attention. This fruitful chapter in my interest was encouraged by a stream of artists who have come to epitomise the creativity of the 1970s, amongst them Frank Brunner, John Bolton, P Craig Russell, Barry Smith, Tom Sutton, Alex Nino, Rich Buckler, Paul Gulacy, Mike Ploog and Jim Starlin. Their creative finesse was to open the doors to the potential lying dormant in this unexplored medium. My Saturday afternoons were now devoted to scouring the book stalls at the market in my hometown, with occasional visits to the huge market in the neighbouring town of Oldham, in the hope of uncovering more of their work. During this golden period, tales such as Doug Moench’s “Shards of a Crystal Rainbow” from Vampire Tales #9 (February 1975), embellished by Tony DeZuniga, carried an enormity of weight. I found this one on one of those typically rainswept days made for reading horror comics. Needless to say, I was swift of foot in returning home to savor its content. Moench had already made quite an impression with his work on Planet of the Apes and Deathlok in Astonishing Tales; these seven pages, reserved for the finale, were an undeniable assertion of his adroit storytelling. Although succinct, it contained a relevance to the world into which I was slowly maturing, warning of the dangers inherent to drug addiction. The horrors lying in wait at the end of this rainbow were inescapably damning.

Not so long after, under the pretext of a school trip to the Natural History Museum in London, I eventually headed off to the legendary Dark They Were and Golden Eyed, then considered the UK’s premier comic shop. Comic shops on this side of the Atlantic may have been

few and far between, but this store was truly the stuff of those waking dreams. Amongst my purchases, on this glorious summer day, was a copy of Unknown Worlds of Science Fiction #4 (July 1975). In another salute to EC’s esteemed science fiction comics, the word heavy narrative being an unmistakable giveaway, Bruce Jones laid “Kick the Can” before an exceedingly appreciative audience. In these eight pages he transcended the brilliance of his artistry using an exemplary narrative display, thus ensuring I remained on tenterhooks until the very last. It didn’t end there, it never did when you had a copy of Unknown Worlds of Science Fiction in your hands. Prior to this tense account, I had been gifted my first glimpse of Richard Corben’s airbrushed genius in the stunning “Encounter at War.” This version, scripted by John Strnad, previously entitled “A Brief Encounter at War,” appeared in Anomaly #4 (November 1972) having been re-worked and extended from its original telling in the contents of Anomaly #3 as the third part of Strnad’s “Survivors of the Suicide World” released during 1971.

His writing carried more than a punch, while Corben’s savoir-faire awakened from deep within my conscious an immeasurable sense of awe. From that moment on, I would be on the lookout for anything bearing the name Richard Corben, although I couldn’t have known uncovering those undergrounds and his work for Warren was going to span many, many years.

If you haven’t already surmised, I have an undying affection for Marvel’s short-lived Unknown Worlds of Science Fiction. While it may have only run to a measly six issues plus one giant-size edition, there was so much to celebrate in each of them, the finale surely being the 13

pick of the bunch. Upon savoring Alex Nino’s exquisite rendition of Michael Moorcock’s controversial “Behold the Man,” it would have been impossible to once again avoid placing my Catholic upbringing under the microscope. While I certainly wasn’t as obsessed with the notion of a Messiah-like figure as Moorcock’s disaffected protagonist Karl Glogauer, the fundament to this tale made it impossible to ignore the gravity of what transpired on that terrible day. My reverie had taken over, yet still I ventured further into this issue unaware I was about to drift into the hallucinogenic spectacle of John Allison’s “Mind Games.”

His narrative dwelt upon the psychotropic experimentation of the day, enhanced by his penchant for the airbrush, making for the most unworldly of stories.

You could be forgiven for thinking I was beginning to stray from horror during these summer months, for this wasn’t a particularly memorable phase in the history of the horror comic. Thankfully, House of Hammer was still on the scene and getting stronger with each passing month. This was clearly evident with the appearance of its tenth issue, when Brian Lewis’s cover roared out “The Curse of the Werewolf.”

This striking image would have been solely worth the price of admission, but House of Hammer’s creative team weren’t about to leave it there. John Bolton duly stepped in to deliver an intense showcase of artwork, retelling this Hammer original from 1961. For those who feared the horror comic was dead and buried, this magazine would have readily put their minds at rest.

Before setting off to comb the local market for more back issues, my Saturday mornings were usually taken up dipping into the BBC’s “Multi-Coloured Swap Shop,” while catching up on homework or tidying the house. One Saturday morning in the September, my homework and jobs around the house were set aside when a slot on the show was given over to a fellow comic book hobbyist showing off his incredible collection. Amongst this impressive display was a copy of something I had somehow missed, a comic emblazoned with the logo Weirdworld. What the hell was it? It looked amazing! Monday morning saw me quizzing one of my mates, but he was just as in the dark as I 14

was. A few weeks later, with morning Mass out of the way, I visited one of the local newsagents to pick up my Marvel monthlies. I couldn’t believe my luck; there in the stack of October’s issues was a copy of that very same comic. It was, of course, Marvel Premiere #38, the issue that played home to the Doug Moench-Mike Ploog-Alex Nino collaboration on Weirdworld. I couldn’t resist including a page of the original art courtesy of the Heritage Auctions site, positively the stuff of dreams. As might be expected, my mind was yet again opened to the endless possibilities yet to be harnessed in this burgeoning medium as Moench’s story drew perfectly upon the fantasy genre, paving the way for my teenage love of Tolkien. However, it was Ploog’s teaming with Nino that inflamed my sense of wonder. In the comic book world, these were two of the leading fantasy artists of the day, yet you would not have automatically paired them on such a project. Nonetheless, there never would be another moment quite like this, as subsequent entries in the Weirdworld saga failed to capture the dreamscape created by this visionary team.

The superhero may have become the mainstay in this four-colored realm, but every once in a while one of these short stories would still come my way. Amongst them were Grady Lyda’s airbrushed pages from his inspirational “Out of Space - Out of Time” first published in Star*Reach #6 (October 1976), a comic I had seen some months before in the Danish Runepress Katalog, in May of 1978. Lyda stood alongside the esteemed figures of Richard Corben and John Allison in his desire to take comic books to a more mature audience. With both this, and his 56 page tale “Tempus Fugit” I think he succeeded. With my discovery of Manchester’s Book Chain, then later on Odyssey 7, comic books were becoming easier to come by, but there were fewer of these short stories. However, Alberto Breccia’s rendition of H.P. Lovecraft’s “The Dunwich Horror” in Heavy Metal Vol. 3 #6, coverdated October 1979, turned up in the racks at Bookchain. A darkened train journey to Bangor, the first of my university interviews, provided the setting for this tale; it couldn’t have been more appropriate.

Elsewhere, I’ve discussed the merits of this Lovecraft edition of Heavy Metal; suffice to say Breccia’s interpretation of this unsettling account

was as ominous as the original.

Following in the success of magazines such as Heavy Metal and Star*Reach, Marvel introduced their own glossy comic styled magazine in the form of Epic. There was a range of intriguing reading material in these pages, exemplified by the tale “Kultz” in its sixth issue, cover-dated June 1981, by Steve Bissette.

Bissette’s story of a bizarre film that produced an uncontrolled effect on its audience certainly struck a chord. By this time I had become a regular cinema goer, but was yet to see many of the films referenced in this outrageous piece of excess. Bissette relished the splatter in a way only ever seen in the underground comics of a few years past and on the Italian horror film circuit. “Talk to Tedi” was at the other end of the spectrum, scripted by Bruce Jones with Tim Conrad invited to supply the artwork for the premiere of Pacific’s Alien Worlds, cover-dated December 1982. There was nothing gratuitous about this piece, which, as with every tale in this debut, had Jones’s characteristic take on EC’s halcyon years of science fiction.

When I began this reminiscence I had been looking for a story which had unfortunately eluded me; it was also in the second of the Alan Class comics I picked up all those years ago in Howarth. The Steve Ditko illustrated “No Way Out” first appeared in Tales to Astonish #9 and was later reprinted in both the Alan Class titles Creepy Worlds #15 and Astounding Stories #26. I am pretty sure the version I had appeared in Creepy Worlds #15, a 68 page issue full of Atlas postCode reprints. This story took us to the edge of our solar system, but that was as far as we were going to get, because the universe didn’t want us journeying any further. Thought provoking stuff.

Frank Brunner’s cover for Unknown Worlds of Science Fiction #6 was the harbinger for Michael Moorcock’s “Behold the Man!” The third and fourth issues of this title contained a similar collection of mind-bending tales. Marv Wolfman’s EC styled “Good Lord!” from Marvel Preview #1 became the stuff of my darkest nightmares, while Bruce Jones’ “Kick the Can” was but one of several compelling tales in UWOSF #4. His teaming with Tim Conrad for Alien Worlds #1’s “Talk to Tedi” made for a truly heart-rending tale. Jack Kirby’s cover for Tales to Astonish #9 hid the secret as to that which lay at the edge of our solar system, as seen in “No Way Out” illustrated by Steve Ditko.

The late 70s and 80s were a lean time for horror, but Steve Bissette’s “Kultz” from Epic #6 provided ample evidence the horror story was not quite dead and buried.

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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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For each of “Tales from the Witches Cauldron”’s appearances in the last three issues of MLJ’s Blue Ribbon Comics #20-22, Jim Phillips provided a quite stunning splash page. He returned, adopting a more primitive style for the disquiet of Zip Comics #26’s “Stories of the Black Witch.” Of all these early horror stories, this series was certainly one of the darkest. Bob Fujitani revealed a hidden talent for these tales of terror when he was asked to illustrate the covers for Harvey’s Front Page Comic Book #1 from 1945 and the first horror anthology Eerie Comics #1 two years later. Jack Kirby and Joe Simon’s goodbye to Captain America Comics came with a horror styled scene for the cover to this title’s tenth issue, dated January 1942.

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declining readership.

When these “Famous Tales of Terror” had premiered in Yellowjacket Comics, Halloween beckoned. In keeping with the seasonal spirit, DC’s Comics Cavalcade #12 enticed potential readers with a pumpkin superhero cover, but this was as far as this publishing giant was prepared to go. Harvey Comics however, gave the comic buying public something they weren’t expecting with the one-off Front Page Comic Book, heralded by an illboding Bob Fujitani cover. Once within, “The Man in Black” was unveiled as the host to a supernatural mystery war hybrid. Verily, there was an intimation of something strange in these proceedings, but this unnerving air was all but forgotten when he returned in All-New Comics #11, at the beginning of 1945. However, when he was resurrected almost two years later for All-New Comics #14, cover-dated January-February 1947, the tone was profoundly darker. If we were to go a little further back in time, the Man in Black was preceded by another promising horror host who guested in Continental’s Suspense Comics, Mr Nobody. His crime styled tales erred on the side of caution, preferring a narration alluding to the uncanny rather than treading further along this ominous path.

However, Suspense Comics #2’s “Vampire Moon” has been a long standing focus of interest amongst many aficionados of horror. While this tale was by no means a masterpiece of comic book terror, the youngsters reading this in 1944 would have been wise to heed its warning and stay well clear of the graveyard.

As early as February 1941, MLJ had found a place for a supernatural styled hero in Blue Ribbon Comics #9. The Charles Biro scripted “Mr. Justice” was submersed in a shadow veiled world, where the hero was confronted by vampires in #11 then fell headlong into the gaze of Satan in #13, before continuing on in his quest in the pages of Jackpot Comics. Over at Timely, Captain America was forced to do battle with a variety of horror spawned creations in both Captain America Comics and its ally USA Comics, with DC’s

Batman just occasionally having such fiendish melees in the pages of his own title and its companion Detective Comics. Each of these thrilling skirmishes would have been duly hair raising, pushing these heroes to new limits, but in essence they were still superhero comics. By and large, horror was used to create an ambience to unnerve the reader, as an antecedent to the action taking over; yet its presence was definitely in evidence during this formative period. In truth, there was enough horror on the battlefields of Europe and the Pacific, making the publishing houses understandably reluctant to the idea of unlocking the doors to these dark proceedings.

By the winter of 1947, Avon were ready to throw open these doors, if only for the briefest of moments, with their release of Eerie Comics. Given the success of his cover on Front Page Comic Book, Bob Fujitani was the ideal choice as cover artist for this new terror, his design abounding with an allure so characteristic of the comics of the period. There is an undeniable simplicity to his composition, yet the impact of this scantily clad beauty lying restrained before a deathly figure bathed in the light of a full moon would have been immediate. Such imagery had been an archetype of the pulps of the period; now it was the turn of the emerging comic book.

The stories contained within these 52 pages were a most suitable assortment, with the sinister “Dead Man’s Tale” being of note along with Joe Kubert’s rendition of “The Man Eating Lizards.” “The Goofy Ghost” two pager carried a teaser for a second issue, but this wouldn’t materialise until early in 1951, when the dread horror phenomenon had taken over the newsstands. By then, there would have been no place for the mirthful antics of “Goofy Ghost.” For the more bloodthirsty, these pages did contain a few grisly moments, principally the hanging scenes in “Mystery of Murder Manor” and the faked accident on the subway tracks so ruefully portrayed in the finale “The Strange Case of Henpecked Harry.” Alas for Avon, they shied away from making comic book history as the first publisher of a regular horror comic, that distinction would come to rest with Richard Hughes.

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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

The Frank Belknap Long scripted “The Werewolf Stalks,” rendered by cover artist Edvard Moritz led the way in the debut issue of Adventures into the Unknown, giving the readers a taste of what was to come. “The Living Ghost” proved unusually extreme for this title, setting a precedent for the terrors of the next few years yet appearing at odds with the editorial presented at the beginning of this issue. Shadow Comics Vol. 8 #6, Venus #2 and Frankenstein #15, appeared on the newsstands as Adventures into the Unknown set sail on this new venture. As the second issue of this new title flowed from the print press, Captain America Comics #70 turned to science fiction in an attempt to boost its flagging sales. At the same time, Carl Burgos cunningly lured the would-be horror reader with his cover for the Timely/Marvel Complete Mystery #3 presentation “Fear in the Night,” while Amazing Mysteries #32 was entirely dedicated to these new horror comics.

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were too often played for laughs.

The stage, so it would appear, was now set. The macabre had grown to become unusually customary fare with much of the general public during the 1940s, making it conceivable for an accomplished comic book publisher to release an on-going horror comic. As to how long it was going to last was a matter of speculation, but the B&I Publishing imprint of the American Comics Group took the step to launch their foray into the genre with Adventures into the Unknown #1. That same month Prize’s humor title Frankenstein #15 also went on sale, along with Marvel’s Venus #2. At the same time, Marvel introduced The Witness to the newsstands, a supernatural character reminiscent of the Phantom Stranger. The only other eerie cover to be seen on the newsstands that month came from the drawing board of Bob Powell for his Will Eisner inspired image adorning Shadow Comics Vol. 8 #6.

Looking across the cluster of comics on show that month, there was nothing else to compare with the dread emanating from Edvard Moritz’s cover. While it didn’t set out to shock in the same way as its frightful offspring, it did encourage many thrill seeking juveniles to seek out that which awaited beyond this dilapidated door. The only way they were ever going to find out was by digging into their pockets and shelling out a dime. Precious few of them would have been disappointed. Frank Belknap Long, whose book The Hounds of Tindalos had been published by Arkham House scarcely two years before, collecting 21 of his tales from his work in the pulps dated between 1929 and 1945, was brought in as principal writer for the first two issues, with just an occasional story submission thereafter. His craft would ensure these creepy tales engendered an icy cold shudder in those lucky enough to pick up this issue, ably assisted by the artistry of Edvard Moritz, Fred Guardineer, Max Elkan, King Ward and Al Ulmer. For the first two issues the loathsome “Living Ghost” ran amok, an abomination with the potential to

evolve into a continuing series. Sadly this wasn’t to be; the ever busy Frank Belknap Long was about to be moved to other assignments, leaving the “Living Ghost” in limbo. This first appearance of Adventures into the Unknown bore all the hallmarks for success, living up to the example set by Eerie Comics’ solitary appearance, eighteen months before, its contents honoring the tradition of classical horror with a retelling of Horace Walpole’s “The Castle of Otranto.”

It was obvious Hughes was already proving to be a canny editor, made all the more evident in his insisting the readers wait until the finale to enter the “Haunted House” that had drawn them to these pages.

It would of course leave them hungry for more. As the reader turned the last page, it was obvious B&I Publishing Co. had a definite winner on their hands.

With the autumn leaves now falling from the trees, the team returned for a second encounter with these Adventures into the Unknown, cover-dated December 1948-January 1949. Moritz once again delivered a cover urging anyone perusing the newsstand to give it a go. While this image may not have left the bystander atremble, it was nonetheless eye-catching.

Frank Belknap Long’s storytelling was as strong as ever, with an ominous tide enveloping each and every page. That same month, Harvey’s Black Cat 25

Edvard Moritz was again on hand to provide the covers for issues #5 to #8 of Adventures into the Unknown, while supplying the inks to issue #2’s lead story “Kill, Puppets, Kill!” Issue #3’s “The Vampire Prowls” marked the beginning of ACG’s affiliation with the vampire kin, one that would become a mainstay in their horror line. That same issue, Al Feldstein stepped in for the graveyard scenes in his nine page terror “The Creekmore Curse.”

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Comics #14 carried a hint of Halloween, but it wasn’t ready to take on board the terror comic book fans would soon be craving.

The fluctuating fortunes of Captain America turned to science fiction for its 70th issue, bringing the planet Mars ever closer to our orbit, thus enabling an invasion from its warmongering denizens. In just a short span of time, this otherworldly premise would become an acknowledged trademark of the Atlas line of terror related comics. That same month, Timely/Marvel’s Complete Mystery #3 announced “Fear in the Night,” a 25 page supernatural extravaganza crafted by Stan Lee and Carl Burgos.

A struggling company by the name of EC also released the seemingly inauspicious Moon Girl #5 for the fall. It might have gone unnoticed if Richard Kraus hadn’t set himself to scripting “Zombie,” a tale embellished by the aspiring John Craig, now considered by many to be EC’s first horror story. By a strange coincidence, Moon Girl #5’s cover artist Sheldon Moldoff had already expressed his interest in the possibility of producing a horror comic, which he called Tales of the Supernatural, to Bill Gaines in March of 1948. This would have been around the same time Richard Hughes and Belknap Long were exchanging similar ideas on Adventures into the Unknown.

Tales of the Supernatural is another one for the long list of those comics that never left the drawing board. The Christmas holiday period was now on the way and with it the release of Adventures into the Unknown #3, cover-dated February-March 1949. Yet again Moritz was left to use his imaginative skills to create one of his unique covers. His perturbing sarcophagus scene was another high point from this nascent period, one Hughes knew would attract a great deal of attention. With the demands being made elsewhere on Belknap Long, he could only gift these pages a single story, the first of ACG’s sorties with the nosferatu, “The Vampire Prowls,” the showcase for an upper crust blood sucker of which Universal would have been envious.

Horror devotees have long been on the trail of this issue, for this was Al Feldstein’s first descent into terror, “The Creekmore Curse.” Here, his affinity with the good girl was toned down for this ghostly narration. At the same time, EC released their second horror story “The Werewolf’s Curse!” in the pages of Crime Patrol #11, an adult themed encounter exquisitely rendered by Howard Larsen. As 1948 drew to a close, Adventures into the

Unknown was still the only comic of its kind, but its competitors were about to catch on.

The fourth issue of Adventures into the Unknown, cover-dated April-May 1949, opened with “Giants of the Unknown,” the Jon Blummer illustrated tale, which had more in keeping with the previous issue’s cover. Already the polished ACG house style was noticeable, giving the readers an assurance of the standard they should expect when they handed over their pocket money. Soon after the release of Adventures into the Unknown #4, Atlas launched their horror line with Amazing Mysteries #32, cover-dated May 1949. This issue led with “The Thing at Chugamung Cove,” now acknowledged to be an abridged version of Lovecraft’s “Shadow Over Innsmouth.” A month later, EC’s Crime Patrol #12 ran the horror suspense tale “The Hanged Man’s Revenge.” It didn’t stop there; later in the year War Against Crime #10 cover-dated December 1949-January 1950 played host to the Vault Keeper.

Then Marvel Mystery Comics, once home to some of the finest superheroes of the day, became Marvel Tales with issue #93. This proved to be a chilling opening, probably more so than the ghostly fare on show in Adventures into the Unknown. The second entry in this issue “Step into the Mirror” gave every indication as to where this new fad could go. Indeed, comic books were beginning to change; for many this would not be for the better.

The American Comics Group managed to remain distanced from the more heinous aspects of the ascendant horror comic, yet there was no doubt they had a major role to play in this near unstoppable deluge of terror. Throughout his editorial career, Richard Hughes demonstrated an incredible ability for keeping abreast of the market; the release of Adventures into the Unknown may have been a gamble, but when all is said and done it was a well calculated gamble. Adventures into the Unknown and its sister title Forbidden Worlds would go on to work within the auspices of the Comics Code, keeping their readers happy until 1967, inspiring a new generation of writers and artists and securing them a worthy place in comic book history.

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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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approach, was so typical of these covers, hoping to lure the would-be reader into their pages with a sleight of hand using a sprinkling of artistic licence.

After all, the cover was always going to be the main selling point, and for any horror comic published in the summer of 1953 that necessitated going that one step further. The visual impact in this scene was extreme to say the least, but to their immense credit, this pairing succeeded in steering clear of the bloodthirsty excess which their young readers craved, stopping short of that which was going to spill forth in but a few seconds. Even during this grisly epoch, there were those things best left to the imagination.

In his outline, Kremer wanted something foul to permeate this shop, which Elias duly seized upon. Maybe he was a little too forthright, for the effect of this ghastly spectacle may well have scared away some readers from their neighbourhood barber. If you take a close look at his original art, he chooses to ignore the cover’s regular dimensions, giving Kremer’s team the task of having to carefully trim it back before allowing it to leave for the print shop. For the Harvey enthusiast, this would make the acquisition of this particular piece of original art all the more desirable.

From these images it is impossible to determine whether Kremer’s call for an air of repellence on the cover was conveyed to Nostrand when he prepared for his take on this unsettling barbershop. There must have been some discussion, for it is evident from the opening splash panel his artistry was set upon making this a very uncomfortable affair, choosing to heighten the atmosphere by way of a series of distorted close ups, rather than resort to the sanguinary excess evidenced in some of Harvey’s earlier stories. Nostrand’s exemplary artwork for this tale wouldn’t be forgotten, but it was Elias’s cover, courtesy of Kremer’s frenzied scribblings, that would make this one of the pre-Code era’s most sought-after purchases.

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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

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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

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to a tale demanding a most cruel reckoning. Sidney was going to pay for luring those trusting travellers into the lair of his demented brother, and pay he most certainly did when his victims emerged from their clammy bayou grave to mete out their grisly revenge. Months after the appearance of these bayou dead, Myron Fass returned another corpse moulded from the victims of a series of brutal murders in Beware #6’s “The Thing From Beyond the Grave.” It was a tale so completely immersed in the excess of the period, its crude delineation making it all the more odious.

EC continued with their tales of death defying retribution until the last, bowing out with one of their most diabolical offerings in Haunt of Fear #28 released just as the repressive Comics Code was about to come into force. In the lead story “The Prude,” scripted

by Carl Wessler, with “Ghastly” again supplying the artwork, the twist on revenge was taken one step too far, but then in their defence it was by then too late for this band of horror comics; there was no way they were going to get a reprieve, so who could blame them for going out with a bang? While Fawcett may have used that word resurrect, EC shocked the entire comic book world with their glaring intimation of necrophilia at the crux of this tale’s unsavory climax, poking fun at

Every comic book publisher was intent on bringing the dead back to life, although no one was ever sure just what this life entailed.

Above the Iger Shop’s cover for Strange Mysteries #11, one of the precursors to George A . Romero‘s chilling vision . To the right, Bill Everett was again seen to excel for the cover to Strange Tales #15, one of his less amusing pieces.

Alongside them sit the atrophied terrors fronting Dark Mysteries #5 and Suspense #9. Then comes another one of the unusual hybrids of the period Alex Kotzky’s spectral corpse on the cover of Plastic Man #38 and Russ Heath‘s shocker for the cover to Adventures into Weird Worlds #9. Worlds of Fear #4 unsettled its readers with another of Sheldon Moldoff’s macabre splashes for “The Dead Lover Returns!”; enter at your peril.

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a depraved practice never before beheld in the pages of a comic book. In hindsight, it would have been all the more poignant if Messrs Gaines and Feldstein had saved this for the finale, but then Ingels had long since been entrusted with the opener; to have altered this billing somehow wouldn’t have been quite the order of the day.

Speaking of Feldstein, he was never too far behind in his appreciation of the decomposing corpse, relishing its ungodly rejuvenation whenever circumstance allowed. It’s hard to believe these were still early days in his incredible career, yet his macabre cover for Tales from the Crypt #22, dated February-March 1951, surely affirmed his grasp of this burgeoning phenomenon, compounded by his later unearthing of this loathsome scene in the guise of “The Thing From the Grave.” The events in this tale once again honed in on the deceased’s overwhelming compulsion for bloody revenge, observing a predictably nasty outcome to an impossible love triangle. Feldstein’s tale endures as one of EC’s finest, deserving a place on any list of their most celebrated stories. He would continue in this vein for the next issue of Tales from the Crypt, introducing the proceedings with a darkly amusing cover followed by his self created “Reflection of Death.” On this occasion his tale neglected to elaborate on the menace set loose on the cover, and for once refrained from a vengeful redress, yet for all this it was an

uncommonly disturbing reawakening.

Let’s cast our net a little further, for revenge from the grave was not the sole dominion of Bill Gaines and his team.

There were many instances where Atlas revealed themselves to be more than capable in their shrewd manipulation of this scenario as evidenced in “Horror from the Graveyard” when Adventure in Terror #12, cover-dated October 1952, hit the newsstand. EC it most certainly wasn’t, but fans of the line might want to hunt this one down since it contains a story attributed to Bernie Krigstein. In this unfrequented graveyard it really couldn’t have gotten any worse for this poor fellow, who having broken down on his journey home came upon a trio of atrophied zombies. Their craving for human blood would bring about his killing of three of his closest friends in the hope of preserving his own skin. However, true to form, his victims had no intention of just lying down to die.

Curiously in Adventures into Terror #30, dated April 1954, the dead would have gladly chosen to have been left to their eternal somnolence, but some distance from their place of rest an unknown source had foolishly disrupted their repose in the atmospherically Al Eadeh embellished “The Dead Don’t Sleep.”

Given their shift towards imitating EC from the latter months of 1952, Master Comics, the publishers behind one

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It didn’t take long for the dead to mete out their particular brand of havoc once they had climbed from the grave, as Rocco Mastroserio’s cover to Standard’s Adventures into Darkness #8, from the February of 1953, and Russ Heath’s terror for Atlas’s Journey into Mystery #11, dated August 1953, clearly demonstrated. The recently resurrected took on many guises as Warren Kremer’s cover to Black Cat Mystery #37 July 1952; Bob Powell’s chilling illustration for Shadow Comics Vol. 7 #12 March 1948; Sheldon Moldoff’s curtain raiser for This Magazine is Haunted #1, October 1951; possibly Carl Burgos on Adventures into Terror #19, May 1953; Bill Everett’s shocker for Astonishing #4, May 1951; Ross Andru and Mike Esposito’s collaboration on Mister Mystery #1, September 1951; and Ken Bald’s ghostly imagining for Out of the Night #12, December 1953 - January 1954, each reveal.

Hy Fleishman preferred to present his living dead as skeletons, as seen on the cover to Mysterious Adventures #18, from February of 1954.

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of the most notorious titles of the period, Dark Mysteries, just couldn’t resist dabbling with the dead’s execrable desire to dish out their felicitous take on revenge. This was exemplified in “Fingers of Doom” first seen in the pages of Dark Mysteries #14, dated October 1953, a tale rendered by one of the finest horror artists of the period, Hy Fleishman. On this outing Fleishman, born Herman, made able use of a pair of knotted hands emerging from the grave, a sight many of their contemporaries would have readily endorsed. Just a couple of months later in Dark Mysteries #16, Alvin Hollingsworth gave a semblance of life to Austen who had made his way up through the soil to avenge both his and the murder of his loving wife in “The Horror of the Walking Corpse.” In both this series and its companion Mysterious Adventures, published by Story Comics, those who had been unjustly delivered to the grave would duly make a vengeful return, that was until the introduction of the Comics Code. One such story caught the attention of Fredric Wertham in his inflammatory book Seduction of the Innocent; “A Grave Digger’s Terror” from the pages of Mysterious Adventures #11, cover-dated December 1952. Now there were many extreme moments in the comics of this period, but none of them akin to these scenes of torment. It is little wonder this issue came to Wertham’s attention as the innocent victim in this tale climbed free of his internment to put an end to the evil of a Nazi vampire.

With such evil doings abounding in these graveyards, it will come as no surprise to learn those of the grave robbing fraternity habitually fell victim to the recently departed. Atlas were on hand for one such story

“The Locked Door” when Adventures into Weird Worlds #29 appeared in May of 1954. The misguided individual at the centre of this story, thought stealing from the dead was like taking candy from a baby, until the dead inevitably took their revenge. Prior to this in issue #5 of this title, Dick Ayers provided four pages of astonishing artistry for “I Crawl Through Graves,” a tale which would have deterred only the most foolhardy from pilfering the final resting place of the dead. One fellow didn’t learn from this tale; he just had to go even further in Adventures in Terror #25’s “A Very Grave Matter,” stealing the headstones from this darkened cemetery, precipitating an oh so typically gruesome turn of events. A similar idea was used in the brazenly entitled “The Man Who Steals Headstones,” first seen in Adventures into Weird Worlds #14, dated January 1953. Elsewhere in the tome you now have in your hands appears the splash to Al Luster’s creepy rendition of “The Body Snatchers” from Adventures into Weird Worlds #24.

Here an evil doctor, having dispatched his lackeys to loot these funerary grounds, deservedly fell foul of those who had been interred within.

Those carious hands reaching from the sodden earth, depicted by Fleishman for Dark Mysteries #14, weren’t such an unusual sight in the horror comics of the period.

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Before turning the page to continue with the rest of the article, why not take a few moments to savor these chilling pieces of grave bound artistry? Atlas favourite Joe Maneely was on hand to craft this scene of revenge from the grave behind the Iron Curtain for the cover of Marvel Tales #120, dated February 1954, while Bernie Krigstein brought us face to face with the dead in the tale “Horror in the Graveyard” in the pages of Adventures into Terror #12, cover-dated October 1952. Dick Ayers collaborated with inker Ernie Bache for “I Crawl Through Graves” the unnerving finale for Adventures into Weird Worlds #5, April 1952. Bernard Baily’s cover for Weird Mysteries #12, dated September 1954, was imbued with a macabre pathos, rarely seen in these loathsome titles; this sentiment was also evident on the cover of Web of Evil #12, March 1954, shown immediately above. The graveyard at night maybe wasn’t the best place to visit, as disclosed on the covers of Chamber of Chills #24, from July 1954, rendered by Lee Elias; Syd Shores’ alarming delineation for Adventures into Terror #30, April 1954; Bill Everett’s shocker adorning Adventures into Weird Worlds #12, November 1952; and another fear-filled image from that legendary Atlas stalwart, Sol Brodsky, for Suspense #17, cover-dated April 1952.

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This alarming spectacle can be traced as far back as Solomon Grundy’s first appearance on the cover of All-American Comics #61, in October 1944, with the scene being repeated on the introductory splash page. While Street and Smith’s Shadow Comics was essentially a crime busting title, there were random sallies into the domain of horror throughout its run. Long before ACG’s Adventures into the Unknown debuted in the fall of 1948, Bob Powell gave us something to remember on the cover of Vol. 7 #12 from March 1948, suggesting depravity afoot. There was plenty of skulduggery to be had in these cemetery grounds, but alas no supernatural presence clawing from the grave.

Within 12 months of their venture into horror, EC assigned Johnny Craig with the task of following on from Bob Powell’s chilling depiction for the cover Vault of Horror #15, dated October-November 1950. Such was the impact of this shocking image, he later revived it for the cover of Vault of Horror #26 in August-September 1952. The contents of Vault of Horror #15 chose not to expand on this scene, even though the dead were fighting their way back in both “Report from the Grave” and “Buried Alive.” However in #26, the Jack Davis illustrated “Graft in Concrete” certainly did shed more light on Craig’s cover from Vault of Horror #26, and with this being an EC horror comic, the villains of the piece did get their comeuppance. Those clutching hands seemed 40

to be everywhere at this time as evidenced on the covers shown here from Adventures into Weird Worlds #12 coverdated November 1952; Marvel Tales #120 from February 1954; Suspense #17 appearing in April 1952; Harvey’s Chamber of Chills #24 dated July 1954; Quality’s Web of Evil #11 from February 1954 and the Mike Esposito-Ross Andru collaboration for Mister Mystery’s eye-catching premiere in the September of 1951, which they returned to in the very first story of this new launch, “The Hand.”

Every once in a while the horror that so often plagued the resurrected was overwhelmed by a sense of pathos as implied on Bernard Baily’s cover for Weird Mysteries #12, dated September 1954, seen on page 38, a sorrowful portrayal rarely seen during these years of terror. This sentiment was repeated on the cover to Web of Evil #12, dated March 1954, but once within there was little sympathy for “The Uninvited Corpse.” Indeed there was probably precious little sympathy for any of these deathly figures as these pre-Code tales of the resurrected dead made their mark using horror of the most abhorrent kind. It was a formula that month after month would see them fly off the newsstand, their young readers ever so eager to lay their hands on them. It’s such a shame the powers that were never shared their boyish enthusiasm.

Myron Fass’s cover for Trojan’s Beware #6, cover-dated November 1953 features yet another memorable scene of heinous resurrection, inspired by Jack Davis’s splash for “Graft in Concrete” from Vault of Horror #26.

Spellbound #19’s cover from February 1954 wasn’t quite as hideous, owing to Bill Everett’s sardonic wit. The imagery seen throughout this piece can be observed as far back as All-American Comics #61, for the unearthing of Solomon Grundy in October 1944 and would be used to stirring effect when Frank Frazetta and Sid Check teamed up for the cover to Beware #10, in July 1954. Sheldon Moldoff opted for a more eerie approach on his cover to This Magazine is Haunted #6, published in August 1952. At the top of this page a pairing of spectral figures from the grave can be seen in Adventures into Terror #30’s “The Dead Don’t Sleep,” dated April 1954.

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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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The dimly lit rooms seen immediately above, again from House of Mystery #204’s “All In The Family,” abound with the eerie shadows that made Wrightson the most acclaimed horror artist of his generation. “Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater...” from the limited print run Abyss #1, published in 1970, may have had an amusing undercurrent, but the image of that house looming in the background was enough to give anyone goosebumps. The detail evidenced in his cover to House of Secrets #96, dated for the February-March 1972, only exacerbated the terror emanating from this dread abode, ushering the would-be reader into its creepy contents.

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as Wrightson returned to the classic Universal sets of 1930s and 1940s, and I am pretty certain there was also a smattering of Hammer thrown in there for good measure. Needless to say, it was an astonishing piece of work which could have set this short-lived publishing venture on to bigger and even better things.

Such was Wrightson’s affinity for this crepuscular vein, even one of his more conventional residences could be veiled in starless shadow as documented in House of Mystery #191’s “Night Prowler,” a lightly amusing seasonal three pager scripted by his soon to be partner in crime, Len Wein. Once the sun had settled to rest on this winter’s eve, the gloom came down, making the hallway and staircase within these walls appear uncannily spooky. In this short piece, rendered towards the end of 1970, so much of Wrightson’s style was beginning to shine through, not only in his layouts to these scary places, but even more so in both his figure and facial work.

The evolution in his style came to fruition just a few months later in one of the most celebrated comics of the 1970s, House of Secrets #92, dated June-July 1971. Behind Wrightson’s threatening cover came Wein’s tale of pathos, a quality found in so much of the macabre master’s artwork. These eight pages were to seal his arrival as an artist of note, standing head and shoulders above his peers. “The wet old mansion” as described by Wein held sway for this tale’s opening pages,

a haunting manse which would bring only misfortune to those forced to cross its threshold. Strangely, other than the nine covers he went on to render for House of Secrets, this was his only story, the majority of his work assigned to its illustrious companion House of Mystery.

Regrettably, twelve months later, just as the Comics Code was beginning to relax, Wrightson submitted his final tale for House of Mystery published in issue #204, cover-dated for June-July of 1972.

It was a sad moment, but there could have been no better way for him to bow out than with the Mary Skrenes scripted “All In The Family”.

More than anyone up until this point at DC, Skrenes, writing under the pseudonym of Virgil North, afforded him a truly fitting tale, giving him leave to pour his nightmarish imaginings onto the drawing board, revealing him as a horror artist par excellence. This just had to be his finest moment, his cast doomed to their fate in this decaying mansion, one only the most hapless would ever choose to enter, and this couple were of that unfortunate ilk. Such was Wrightson’s caliginous splendor in these pages, I just had to select two of them for this piece, although it could have been more. The first of these from page two of this tale gives you an idea as to the oppressive mood burdening this hallways and corridors, the second highlights Wrightson’s incomparable flair for eliciting the perturbation in a simple stairway. Both this and the ensuing pages evoked a menacing sense of claustrophobia permeating each of these rooms, making the reader increasingly aware there really

0 House of Secrets #92, dated June-July 1971, rates as one of the most desirable collectibles of the Bronze Age of comics, owing to the debut of Len Wein and Wrightson’s creation “Swamp Thing.” The “stately sanctuary” that the blighted creature was shambling toward was another of those Victorian builds for which Wrightson had such an affection. Amidst the shadows of The Unexpected #119’s “Mirror, Mirror On The Wall, Who’s The Deadliest Of All,” released 12 months before, malfeasance was afoot in the confines of an aging castle. In both stories, Wrightson utilised the light and dark to resounding effect.

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was no escape for this ill-fated couple. As the story unfolded, the influence of Graham Ingels from his time at EC was plain to see, but at the end of the day this was pure Wrightson.

The stage was now set. Before the end of the year, Swamp Thing would finally debut in his own title. In the second of this series, cover-dated December 1972-January 1973, Wrightson returned to one of those castles seen in The Unexpected #119 and Web of Horror #3. His cover would place Swamp Thing in a most precarious, situation balancing atop a buttress, the view from the ground further into this tale “The Man Who Wanted Forever” revealing just how high this castle was sat upon that lofty outcrop. The encounter with Anton Arcane, the creator of these Un-Men, would be the first of many. In the splash to Swamp Thing #3’s “The Patchwork Man,” it was the Swamp Thing who now looked down on high from this castle on to the picture postcard village below, Arcane seemingly no more.

As the fog was borne across this moor on the splash page to Swamp Thing #4, dated for April-May 1973, presented at the end of this piece, the Swamp Thing caught sight of another blighted hall, one that would never offer him the shelter he so badly needed. Again, it appeared as if Wrightson was issuing a warning to stay well clear. Not so in issue #6’s “A Clockwork Horror,” a title possibly inspired by Stanley Kubrick’s interpretation of Anthony Burgess’s novel of 1962 “A Clockwork Orange.” The view overlooking this picturesque Swiss styled village insisted the Swamp Thing spend time here; outwardly it appeared perfect, maybe just a little too perfect. There he met Hans Klochmann, not only a skilled clockmaker, but also the mayor and architect of the beautiful little town of Burgess. While Wein’s story would have had the reader perched on the edge of their seat wanting to know what was really hidden away in these seemingly pleasant environs, I am sure many of them would have taken the time to savor Wrightson’s rendition of this clockmaker’s workshop on page six of this issue. Indeed they should have, for Wrightson must have been hard pushed to deliver such an awe inspiring spectacle and still make his deadline, even though this comic was on a bi-monthly schedule. In just a few

The Swiss village from Swamp Thing #6 “A Clockwork Horror” appears to have come directly from the pages of a fairy tale, as does the exquisitely conceived clockmaker’s workshop. This page of original art gives you the opportunity to marvel at the detail in Wrightson’s line prior to the layering of the coloring process.

At the top of the page we have a couple of panels of original artwork from Creepy #62’s “Black Cat,” May 1974, followed by a forgotten terror from DC’s premiere of Plop!, “The Gourmet” dated for September-October 1973.

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Running across the top of this spread appear a couple of scenes from the second issue of IDW’s Frankenstein Alive Alive, released in November 2012. In these pages Wrightson got to explore the opulence of the interiors that lay at the heart of one of those brooding constructs of his fiendish imagining. They are indeed a joy to behold.

To the left we have another crumbling residence, home to this bickering couple from The Unexpected #128’s “There’s More Than One Way To Get Framed,” first seen in October 1971. Another elderly lady was about to endure torment of the worst kind in the seeming security of her own rather magnificent home on the cover to House of Mystery #207, published 12 months later. The village nestled into the mountainous landscape in Swamp Thing #3’s “The Patchwork Man,” cover-dated February-March 1973, has such an idyllic air, but as in so many of these stories hides a mystery that would have best been kept secret.

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months, following this title’s tenth appearance and the return of Arcane, Wrightson would leave the Swamp Thing bound for pastures new; Jim Warren’s line of horror magazines.

His artwork throughout this series may have been of an impeccable standard, but the deadlines and being tied to a single character were proving difficult.

In his productive time with Jim Warren, there were only a couple of occasions of note when Wrightson’s penchant for the darkest of architectural design came to the fore. The first of these could be observed in his commended adaptation of Edgar Allen Poe’s short story of 1843, “The Black Cat,” as presented in Creepy #62 from May 1974. Whether it was the house or the taverns of Victoriana frequented in this tale, they were all imbued with such an unutterable sense of dread. The improved page rates were now allowing Wrightson to pay so much attention to the detail in his portrayal, ensuring both Creepy and its partner in arms Eerie came high on the list of those seeking out the popular horror titles of the day.

Just a few months later Wrightson was invited to illustrate Bill DuBay’s “Nightfall” for Eerie #60 scheduled for the September of 1974. These beautifully rendered eight pages, the introduction shown to the left, using linework and washes, played upon every young child’s fear of the dark to remarkably chilling effect. On this outing we didn’t get to view the exterior of what appeared to be a

The prologue to Eerie #60’s “Nightfall,” dated September 1974, cast a shadow over this house, meaning there would be no escape from this demonic creature when it stepped over from the other side. “The Secret of the Egyptian Cat” could have been laid bare in the sinister residence Wrightson embellished for the pages of House of Mystery #186, from May-June 1970, but there was so much more to this strange tale. Standing next to this feline carrying on comes a rather solid looking structure from IDW’s Doc Macabre debut from December 2010. At the top of the page appears a similar Gothic looking hall from Swamp Thing #4’s “The Monster on the Moors,” cover-dated April-May 1973. Finally we have a more modest, if not spooky, dwelling from Badtime Stories’ “Ain’t She Sweet,” published

by Graphic Masters during 1972.

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Victorian styled townhouse, but the interiors to this child’s bedroom were suffused in a milieu of sheer terror, one that wasn’t about to simply go away. I am sure if Wrightson hadn’t been around, one of the Spanish School would have had a field day with this one, but “Nightfall” went hand in hand with his appreciation of horror.

If you look back a page, I have included two breathtaking spreads from IDW’s Frankenstein Alive, Alive #2, published in the November of 2012, a series conceived and written by Steve Niles.

The delineation in each of these award winning illustrations contains so much depth, imparting a three dimensional quality infrequently captured in the pages of a comic book. We should be grateful for Wrightson shrewdly gives the reader the impression he is at the side of Frankenstein’s creation as he makes his way through the majesty of the library and artefacts amassed by the venerable Doctor Ingles.

As with the previously mentioned clockmaker’s workshop in Swamp Thing #6, Wrightson must have spent a considerable amount of time building up these images, adding to the detail, to make them veritable masterpieces in their own right.

From his earliest days with the House of Mystery in 1969, Wrightson evinced a clear understanding of the virtues of Gothic styled architecture, as did many of his contemporaries, but none committed it to the canvas quite the way he did. In little over 12 months as a comic book professional he had not only made his mark, but he, alongside several other young hopefuls, had shown comic book art could stand alongside the fine art so admired by the seemingly more eminent in society. His empathy for these ageing structures would intensify the atmosphere in the disquiet essential to these tales, making them some of the most memorable of that era.

Maybe one day an architect will come along with an appreciation for Wrightson’s vision, to make our cities as tenebrously glorious as they once were.

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As we have seen a few pages ago, the pre-Code terrors adorning the newsstands of the United States were perpetually plagued by the mouldering dead pouring forth from the grave.

They weren’t alone, for it was a similar story in Brazil as they too found themselves afflicted by this putrid scourge. Largely unknown beyond the bounds of this vast equatorial expanse, these horror comics are now regarded as being every bit as significant as those published in North America. Sadly, owing to their rarity it is difficult to assess their content, but what we do have is a selection of unusually haunting cover images, each of which would have stood proud alongside anything coming out of New York during the 1950s.

Throughout the 1950s and on into the 1970s, a succession of repressive regimes made life intolerable for those who opposed them. Their manifold humanitarian and democratic failings remain notorious, yet unlike the more liberal United States they refrained from widespread suppression of this frenzied gamut of comic book terror, although censorship under the military dictatorship of the 1970s was quite commonplace. This initial restraint may have come as a result of these comics being produced for an adult audience, thus limiting the chances of their corrupting a potentially delinquent younger readership. This isn’t to say they didn’t attract criticism as well as finding their way into the hands of impressionable children. There is also a school of thought that suggests the country’s deep rooted Catholicism entwined with local superstition had a significant role to play in their longevity. These considerations would enable the Brazilian boom in comic book horror to continue on into the 1960s, and with it the shambling figures of the walking dead marched ever on to wreak havoc long after their atrophied brethren in the United States had been laid to rest.

Given the accomplishment of Brazilian comics, maybe too much of the content found in their earlier horror comics at the beginning of the 1950s was reprint material already published in the United States. However, following the introduction of the Comics Code the demand for horror persisted, so the publishers looked to employing a greater number of their own home grown talent. There had been moves in the past to restrict the voluminous import of foreign titles, but it was the crisis sweeping

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through the North American comic book industry in the wake of the Code that ultimately forged new opportunities for the artists and writers of Brazil and hence created an identity quite specific to this emerging nation. This period would see their comics book publishers and those who worked for them go on from strength to strength.

Amongst this groundbreaking crop came the self taught Jayme Cortez, whose artistry can be seen gracing the backgrounds to these three pages along with the covers to the evocative Contos de Terror #27 first seen around 1956, shown on the previous page; this is presented alongside Historias Macabras #3 dating back to 1959; the premiere of Lendas Sinistras released many years later in 1970 and O Terror Negro #36 published by La Selva in 1953. On this page, three more of Cortez’s unearthly covers are on show, Contos de Terror #110, believed to have been issued in 1963; Historias Macabras #17 published in 1961 and Almanaque de O Terror Negro a collection of reprinted tales circa 1954.

While Cortez certainly had an eye for the more sinister aspects of horror, he could also avail himself to experimenting with a variety of techniques in the formulation of his covers. Some of them were surprisingly stark in their exposition, while others observe a lushness in his brushstrokes rarely seen in comic books at this time. He was an exceptional talent as was Miguel Penteado whose craft can be seen on the preceding page’s cover for Noites de Terror #22, published by Victor Chiodi’s Grafica Novo Mundo towards the end of the 1950s. Such was its impact, this image would once again see the light of day during the early 1960s on the cover of issue #53 of this title. Penteado was the workhorse at Grafica Novo Mundo; in time he and Cortez would go on to set up the Continental publishing house, later renamed Outubro. Their fledgling concern would unleash a series of horror titles, amongst them Historias Macabras and Seleções de Terror, each of which would have lengthy runs.

These pages merely scratch the surface of a fascinating history, one which would see both Cortez and Penteado playing significant roles. The enthusiasm for these horror comics would last beyond the 1960s, but their popularity would begin to wane as the imported costumed heroes of North America began to take hold. Thankfully the genre has survived in Brazil, allowing the dead to once more rise from the grave.

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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Trojan’s Beware #5 was but one of the plethora of comics on sale that month in June 1953. The artist behind this striking cover remains unknown, not so for the second and final appearance of Fiction House’s The Monster, Maurice Whitman, who stands tall for this grisly scene. Bob Powell and Warren Kremer are believed to have combined their artistic talents for the classic skull cover for Witches Tales #20. If anything was going to excite the kiddies that month it had to be the loose adaptation of Dracula for Avon’s Eerie #12. The artwork for this cover appears to resemble Gene Fawcette’s collaboration with Vince Alascia lying within. Above, Howard Nostrand frequently emulated Jack Davis, here he did it with true panache for “Shock” from the pages of Witches Tales #20.

Ray Bradbury stirred up a hornet’s nest when he put the finishing touches to his 1953 novel Fahrenheit 451. The newsstand at this time wouldn’t have been complete without one of Don Heck’s covers; on this occasion it was the fiery image for Weird Terror #7, which I can assure you had nothing to do with Ray Bradbury’s scribing. Crime comics may not have been quite as popular as they had been but All-Famous Police Cases #12 with its L .B. Cole cover wasn’t about to throw in the towel.

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very much in keeping with the mood of the day. Don’t ask me how he managed it, but Bill Everett actually found time to squeeze in five pages of exquisitely illustrated excess in a tale Atlas chose to call “New Tenants,” in between those perennial cover assignments.

He may have only gifted us five pages, but in these pages he went to town in his depiction of the brutal murder of a slum owner whose body was then used to support the beams of his tumbledown house. On the surface it reads like one of EC’s grisly yarns, but this was Atlas at their most extreme. Speaking of extreme, Everett was also called upon to bring his wicked sense of humour to the cover to the 23rd issue of one of the period’s more notorious tiles, Men’s Adventures. A turn of the page had the reader come face to face with man-eating insects conceived by Howard Post, prior to Mort Lawrence following with some truly macabre artistry that would have upset many a well-meaning parent. It was left to Larry Woromay and Matt Fox to draw the curtain on this issue, a disturbing piece relating the tale of a stolen silver coin, one of the 30 once used to pay off Judas Iscariot. Of all the horror comics published by Atlas during this month, this was probably their finest, with Reed Crandall and Myron Fass also making sinister contributions.

The Atlas horror line just seemed to go on and on, overwhelming with Bill Everett’s breathtaking cover for Spellbound #17. While his diabolical sense of humour was absent from this terrifying close up, there was no question it would have insisted the most casual of readers investigate further. They wouldn’t have been too disappointed either, thanks to some very stylish artwork from Atlas regulars Bernie Krigstein, Al Luster, Gene Colan, Vic Dowling and Joe Sinnott.

Finally we come to three of the company’s more odious titles.

First off comes Adventures into Terror #23, the ghostly creation of Carl Burgos spooking the cover as a prelude to Tony DiPreta’s brushstrokes on “The Ghost Walks.” This tale may not have

perturbed in the same way as Burgos’s fearsome display, but who could deny its engaging content? George Roussos and the team of Bill Benulis and Jack Abel along with Al Luster’s dark designs for “If I Had the Wings of… ,” which if we were stretching things might be considered a precursor to the Silver Age Vulture, ensured the readers would be back for more. Its companion of the last two years, Adventures into Weird Worlds, was also on show, having reached its 22nd issue with Bill Everett having conjured a deviant vampire for his enticing cover. This scene had an obviously wry undercurrent, which I am pretty sure the younger readers wouldn’t have picked up on; at least I hope they didn’t. Once within, the pencils of Roussos elucidated on the events on the cover, the denouement running out with a typically nasty twist. It was then left to Russ Heath to make sure a gangster paid the price for his wrongdoings in the confines of a converted elevator. The wind-up for this issue “Keeper of Cats,” illustrated by John Rosenberger, was without doubt the darkest piece, living up to the reputation this title had very swiftly forged.

Last but not least was Menace #7, an issue once again pairing Sol Brodsky with Burgos for one of their diabolical covers. While it was indeed shocking, it had nothing to do with Stan Lee’s story “Fresh out of Flesh,” which saw Syd Shores turn in a top notch job for this tale of an android killer, predating Philip K Dick’s “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?” by a good 15 years. There was more spellbinding artistry from Heath, along with Joe Sinnott whose splash page witnessed a youngster reading a copy of Uncanny Tales, which regrettably never saw publication. Such is life. This piece of jollity was the preface to Stan Lee’s ridiculing of the anti-comic book crusade embodied by a father who hated horror comics, yet thought nothing of introducing his children to Grimms’ Fairy Tales, with Hansel and Gretel served up just for starters.

It has to be said, Bob Forgione’s devil cover for Charlton’s The Thing #10, seen at the very beginning of this piece, was one of the

You may have feared the cemetery, but Blackhawk #68 referenced the other great fear of the day, the bomb. The gritty cover to Crime Does Not Pay #126 showed this title was as strong as ever; alas no one can trace the embellisher. There’s no disguising Ruben Moreira’s artistry for House of Mystery #17, his ghostly apparition for this issue left the reader in no doubt as to the supernatural forces within. However, Russ Heath’s cover for Mystery Tales #15 was pure terror, going straight for the jugular, while Ken Bald’s presentation for Adventures into the Unknown #47 dragged this poor fellow all the way down. There were so many outrageous covers published during this period, but Edmund Ashe’s illustration for Underworld Crime #7 rates as one of the most shocking, suggesting maybe these comics had gone just a little too far. Bob Powell’s kaleidoscopic artistry for the cover to Black Cat Mystery #45 made quite an impact when it first saw publication. There had never been anything like it on the cover of a comic published in the United States.

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crudest on show this month, but it did make a point, warning this was going to be no bed of roses. Curiously, as the campaign to put an end to these horror comics was getting stronger, Charlton brought in Carl Memling, a writer closely associated with children’s books, to script “Flower of Evil,” a dissolute narration depicting a scissor stabbing prior to the female perpetrator being devoured by a plant. Memling then gave us the intensity of “Into the Fire” which delighted in observing the dim-witted antagonist being burned alive, after he had attempted to dispose of the body of his dead boss. If you thought this was bad, well, it got all the worse when a decapitation followed in “Mark of Violence,” the severed head soon after being unceremoniously held up for all to contemplate. And you wonder why Charlton had acquired a reputation of such infamy!

Decapitation was all the rage in Stanley P. Morse’s titles. Sat alongside the cover to The Thing #10 appears Bernard Baily’s take on the severed head for Weird Mysteries #6. This was but the taster for several cleaved heads in this issue’s opener, “Life Sentence.” Alas, for all of their sanguinary exposition they paled before Baily’s cover. As with The Thing, the artwork throughout this issue was for the most part crude. Tony Mortellaro would produce far more accomplished work when in Atlas’s employ, possibly owing to the differentials in page rates. Similarly the writing was little more than a cheap imitation of their rivals. Yet for all of this, Morse’s titles had readers coming back time and time again in search of this pre-Code iniquity. As soon as they had lapped up these contents, they didn’t have to venture too far, for Bernard Baily threw his followers head first into a boiling pot as an antecedent to the obscenities on show in Mister Mystery #13. Mortellaro was in gruesome from for the warm up, bringing matters to a head in a classic decapitation panel. The Gerald Altman illustrated “Vampire” revelled in a memorable scene lingering over the opening of an age old coffin, before seducing its captive audience with a vampire temptress, rounding off with a never to be forgotten display of staking.

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The purists who preferred EC’s take on horror would have considered the likes of Charlton and Morse’s titles to be little more than schlock. They were far more at home with the contents of Vault of Horror #32, which this month really did set out to shock, but not quite in the way John Craig had intended. Just before this issue went to press, Bill Gaines’ attorney insisted the meat cleaver from Craig’s original cover art be removed; this was after all a children’s comic.

This image would not be seen in all its bloodthirsty glory until Russ Cochran collected this series in his four volume hardback collection of Vault of Horror published in 1982. This internal censorship didn’t prevent Craig from conveying the reader headlong into “Whirlpool,” a tale which put this hapless heroine through sheer hell. It should be remembered the 1950s were not especially kind to those with mental health issues. There were no changes made to the darkly comedic artistry of Jack Davis for “Out of his Head,” whose work was no doubt scrutinised by the company’s attorney in the wake of Craig’s outrageous cover. No doubt someone sifted through George Evans’ pages for “An Ample Sample,” as they threatened a distinct lack of restraint from the onset, which Evans in the end duly delivered. It was left to Ingels to bring this issue to a desultory close with “Funereal Disease” a rather dubious pun if ever there was one. As ever, Ingels trod the graveyards, laying the dead to rest before seeing them return in their repellent putrescence.

It was an Ingels cover that again unsettled the readers of Haunt of Fear #20, with the dastardly deed seemingly already having been done, but with this being EC, worse was to follow. In the gripping “Thump Fun!”, so much of the Ingels’ tropes were on show, the ageing manse home of so many darkened corridors and of course one of those winding staircases, varnished with a touch of Edgar Allan Poe. Evans stepped down for this issue to give Reed Crandall his second outing

with EC for “Bloody Sure,” a stunningly executed vampire piece, an archetype of the company’s treatment of these blood suckers. Jack Davis brought this issue to a close with a twist on Jekyll and Hyde, in a way only EC could ever achieve. He returned for cover duties on Tales from the Crypt #38, unleashing an axe-wielding terror that would have had many a gore seeker eager to make its acquaintance.

They weren’t about to be disappointed; it was Davis who illustrated “Tight Grip” crafting a series of brutal panels that could so easily have attracted the wrong kind of attention. Reed Crandall again made it to the pages of one of the company’s terrors for the beguiling “Only Skin Deep.” As you would expect, each page was meticulously rendered in his graceful fine line. Bill Elder stepped in to render the darkly droll “Last Laugh,” prior to Ingels winding up this ghoulish affair with “Mournin’ Mess,” a guarantee, if ever there was one, that every single one of these readers would be back for more.

All these years later it is so very difficult to comprehend, but back then some readers actually mistook Harvey’s horror line for that of Gaines’ at EC. For Harvey this should have been praise indeed, but then when all was said and done, they did have their own way of narrating a hair-raising yarn or two. This month was no exception, with all four of their nasty little terrors vying for a place in the local store. Each would in due course make their mark, but the most bizarre on show just had to be Howard Nostrand’s fascinating cover for Black Cat Mystery #45, its psychedelic spectacle foreshadowing the San Francisco underground comix movement by well over a decade. On this occasion it was Bob Powell who was called upon to illustrate the equally offbeat “Colorama;” one of the more unusual, albeit fulfilling experiments of the period. Unlike EC, Harvey’s stories were never word heavy, preferring to lavish their gang of artists with the space to shine, which they dutifully did. Amongst those who shone in this

Ace’s The Beyond #22 gave its readers a one of a kind were-cat cover by an artist yet to be identified. Every issue of Tom Corbett, Space Cadet was introduced by a stunning Al McWilliams painted cover, this one for issue #7, which was later reprinted over here in Britain as well as Brazil. The Simon and Kirby produced Headline Comics #61 for the Prize Group came with a dramatic house styled Marvin Stein cover. Uncanny Tales #12 returned to the graveyard in a cover believed to have been conceived by Atlas stalwart Carl Burgos. As ever, it was truly dark. Bernard Baily was once again on hand for Mister Mystery #13’s diabolical cover, which in keeping with Stanley Morse’s editorial style had absolutely nothing to do with the internal content. Atlas’s war comics had established quite a reputation; the intensity in Russ Heath’s graphic cover for Combat Casey #12 gives you a good idea as to how this had come about.

These eye-catching close-ups are rounded off by Don Heck’s infamous guillotine scene from Horrific #7. It is sometimes hard to accept this pleasant fellow could produce such shocking images.

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There was a macabre sense of humour at play on Russ Heath’s cover to Mystic #23, but would you really be up for a second helping! Joe Simon and Jack Kirby chose to steer clear of the grisly excess enjoyed by so many of their peers, instead offering a more psychological take on horror as exhibited on Kirby’s cover to Black Magic #26. More Iger Shop skeletons terrorised the prelude to Farrell’s Strange Fantasy #7; there was worse to follow once within. Journey into Mystery #12 gave Carl Burgos the opportunity to thrust a girl in peril before a decapitated corpse. Atlas certainly knew how to push things. For issue #488 of their Four Color series, Dell presented John Carter of Mars. Unfortunately, the identity of the artist who gifted us this scene remains unknown. Crime and Punishment had become an established feature on the newsstand, with issue #63 showing the villains for what they truly were. Again the name of the artist has been lost in the sands of time. It is thought Sol Brodsky created the cover for Strange Tales #22 in what was an atmospheric showing. This was followed within by John Forte’s team up with Matt Fox for the creepy telling of “Too Good to be True.”

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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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More than any other company in the United States during the 1940s and 1950s, Atlas mastered the art of the panelled cover as evidenced on Bill Everett’s amusing scenario from Men’s Adventures #23. “Interlude for Death” from Standard’s The Unseen #11 gave horror fans a chance to see one of the aspiring artists of the period, Jack Katz, a talent in the making.

Questions just had to be asked of Farrell when they pushed the boundaries to the limit in Strange Fantasy #7’s Iger Shop presentation of “Grave Rehearsal.” Jack Katz was on hand for the cover to The Unseen #11, which certainly reflected the title of this comic, as you can see below there was even more to follow within. Baffling Mysteries was always a fascinating title, but there was nothing in the slightest bit baffling about the plight facing this blighted pair, in what some consider to have been a cover created by Ken Rice for issue #17 of this run.

deep. When placed alongside some of the comics already thrown under the spotlight this issue might appear tame, but its consort Forbidden Worlds #21 thrust the science fiction styled “The Ant Master” on its readers a year before their older brethren would get to see the Warner Brother giant ant release “Them.” There was a tendency for this pairing of titles to leave their readers with a happy ending, but the Leo Morey-Edvard Moritz rendered “Letters From the Unknown,” concluded on an unusually shuddersome note.

Throughout this period, Richard Hughes did all he could to ensure the content in Adventures into the Unknown and Forbidden Worlds remained as upbeat as possible, with a leaning towards the supernatural, not exactly easy in an industry plummeting into the ever enveloping gloom. However, Out of the Night did give him an avenue to explore the tenebrous tales so relished during these years. Ken Bald’s skeletal terror fronting issue #10 was a forewarning as to what lay ahead. “Ship of Death” was a truly macabre offering, the deathly figures surrounding the operating table verily the stuff of nightmare. Further on came Art Gates’ brushstrokes for “The Spectral Bride.” His ghastly final panel is still acclaimed as one of ACG horror’s more heinous moments. “When the Spirit Walked” was saved for the last.

Hardly surprising really, for these seven pages, which some attribute to Bill Molno, were at complete odds with ACG’s juvenile reputation, containing several strangulation panels. If anything was going to rival the debased fare on show this month, this was it. Unfortunately, those sampling the terror then on sale wouldn’t have been aware its dark counterpart, Skeleton Hand, was about to be axed as of this sixth appearance. Sheldon Moldoff, an artist more associated with Fawcett’s recently defunct terrors, led the way with a surprisingly minimalist cover design. The interior pages may at first have resembled so much of the company’s toned down approach, but there was a loathsome edge to these tales, which obviously hadn’t come to the notice of those regularly picking up the other horror tiles on show at this time.

In the past Ace have been maligned for their pedestrian horror output,

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however the perplexingly entitled Baffling Mysteries #17 threw serious doubt on this accusation with seven pages of Lou Cameron’s striking artistry for this issue’s launch “Kill My Minions of Death.” Dick Beck followed with a ghostly vampire piece set in Scotland “Duel of the Spectres,” which contained some memorable panels each of them menaced by a vampire bat. The Beyond #22 appeared around the same time, sporting artwork by Beck, Lin Streeter, Jim McLaughlin and Cameron. Cameron’s vampire encounter “Prey for the Vampire Horde” would have left these horror fans slavering, as they would at the climax to “Arise, O Undead Druids,” illustrated by Streeter where the long dead druids made their return as zombies. Hmm, maybe these Ace titles weren’t quite so prosaic after all.

It seemed as if Ace were on a roll this month when Ken Rice’s elegant artistry was selected for Hand of Fate #20’s lead “Death Was the Bridegroom,” a narration plagued by the figure of death. Their leading artist Lou Cameron was again called upon, this time for “The Phantom Gladiator,” but it was Chic Stone’s depiction of a red hot branding poker threatening in “Dynasty of Disaster” that surprised many of their readers. Ace rounded off the month on a high with Web of Mystery #20. Behind Jim McLaughlin’s eerie cover, Lou Cameron lent his imaginings to “Out of the Black Night,” a vampire-inspired story remembered for its horrific outcome. After having put the finishing touches to this issue’s compelling cover, McLaughlin applied his brushstrokes to “What Was It” a science fiction horror story reminiscent of the 1950’s B movie craze. This too culminated in a somewhat unsettling finale, underlining the fact Ace deserved a second look.

If there was one cover that really caught the eye this month, it had to be Don Heck’s sensational guillotine shocker for Comic Media’s Horrific #7. As with Al Feldstein’s strangulation close up for Crime Suspenstories #19, Heck pushed the boundaries of that which was

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The Iger team came up with another chilling cover for Farrell’s Haunted Thrills #11, while it was left to Bill Everett to come up with one of his more perturbing covers for Spellbound #17. It is not entirely clear whether Planet Comics #71 was scheduled for a June release, but it was certainly around at this time. One way or another, Maurice Whitman’s beautiful cover is still worth a look. The sixth issue of ACG’s Skeleton Hand would be the last, but Sheldon Moldoff’s cover image made sure it didn’t go out with a whimper. While there were horror comics aplenty at this time the superheroes were just about hanging in there, as evidenced with Batman #78, its cover rendered by Win Mortimer.

Although never as popular as its horror counterpart, there was still space for several science fiction comics on the newsstand, amongst them Strange Adventures #36, this one coming courtesy of an exquisitely executed Murphy Anderson scene. By its 22nd issue Adventures into Weird Worlds had acquired quite a notorious reputation; Russ Heath’s brush strokes did very little to change this view in “The Man Who Lost an Elevator.”

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deemed acceptable at this time. It didn’t stop there; Rudy Palais’s brushes boiled a woman alive in the tale “Shrink,” while the very title “Shrunken Skull” spoke for itself. The inferno on Heck’s cover for Weird Terror #7 would have undoubtedly set the newsstand alight, although it has to be said the interior content was slightly disappointing, reprinting a couple of tales recounted in the second and third issues of this title. However, Heck saved the day with his gritty exhibition on “Concrete Coffin.” And yes, this guy actually did get the concrete coffin treatment in a series of genuinely graphic panels.

The finger could have been firmly pointed in the direction of the shortlived publisher Trojan for their jumping on the bandwagon with Beware, their one and only entry into this abominable deluge. However this month they did give us an impressive werewolf cover, behind which came the tale “When Werewolves Die,” illustrated by Edward Goldfarb, a highly capable horror artist who at this time was finding regular work with a variety of publishers. This issue also boasted six pages from comic book veteran Henry Kiefer, now nearing the end of his career. As we have seen elsewhere, the high point was reserved for the last, on this occasion Gerald Altman’s expressive line chilled the readers of “Music of the Demons” to the very bone. Trojan had an association with Ribage, who in turn had connections with Charlton; it was the Ribage imprint that conceived the horror crime hybrid Crime Mysteries. The pulp styled cover for issue #9 was the lead into the lurid imagery of “Susan and the Devil,” but there was little by way of the horror associated with their rivals.

When Joe Simon and Jack Kirby became involved with this grisly phenomenon, they did their best to avoid the bloodthirsty excess, preferring a psychological element to their narrative, setting them apart from so much of what was going on. Their efforts were presented in the series Black Magic, published by Prize Comics. Issue #26 was on show this month, containing four stories brimming with Jack’s vibrant artwork,

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Bernie Krigstein was soon to make his name at EC, but as “Suppressed Desire” from Spellbound #17 attests, he already had at Atlas. Bill Everett was at it again with a darkly humourous cover for Adventures into Weird Worlds #22, which was unusually suggestive for Atlas. The Iger Studio’s cover for the third issue of Superior’s Mysteries Weird and Strange was rather simplistic, but it made the point. Story Comics’ Fight Against Crime promised a touch of horror, but was essentially an extreme crime comic.

The cover to issue #15 of this title was oh so typical of this series, yet the name of the artist remains unknown. The cover artist to Hand of Fate #20 has never been officially named, but many think it to be the handiwork of Ace regular Jim McLaughlin. Out of the Night was one of ACG’s more horror oriented titles; issue #10 with its Ken Bald skeleton cover was no exception. Sol Brodsky and Carl Burgos are believed to have collaborated on the hypodermic cover for Marvel Tales #118, their technique very much in keeping with the dark current in this title.

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with Al Eadeh brought in for good measure. Prize also published the one time comedy title Frankenstein, now a fully fledged horror comic courtesy of the creativity of Dick Briefer.

As with Prize Comics, Standard had a history dating back to the Golden Age, yet they were now another company that was seen to simply follow an already established trend, not jumping on board until the spring of 1952. This month had The Unseen #11 plying its particular brand of terror, beginning with a hideous Jack Katz cover. John Celardo produced a sumptuous eight pages of artwork for the occasionally suggestive “The Sealed Coffin,” with Jack Katz, during his first stint in comic books, conjuring a frightening splash to introduce “Interlude for Death.” This account indulged its readers with unashamed scenes of violence against women, counteracting it with subtle social commentary referencing the problems in poorly maintained rented housing. The social commentary was no doubt lost on most readers, but the assaults on the women in these stories were alarmingly commonplace, suggesting there was nothing wrong with this kind of behavior.

Jerry Iger’s studio were packaging horror comics, amongst others, for both Ajax-Farrell and Canada’s Superior at this time. Intriguingly, the covers to Farrell’s Fantastic Fears #3 and Voodoo #11 turned to the Indian sub-continent for their inspiration. The “Zombi’s Bride” was also on the loose in this same edition of Fantastic Fears, while Voodoo #11 mortified with a cunningly disguised acid in the face panel, the truth of which wasn’t disclosed until a few pages on. Haunted Thrills #11 just had to go that one step further, opening with several hanging scenes, before moving on to witness a woman being terrorised, as an antecedent to a number of torturous panels. Page upon page of classic Iger Shop beauties adorned the contents of Strange Fantasy #7, either in peril or inflicting punishment as evidenced by the whip wielding woman in “Grave Rehearsal,” a tale surely intended for an older readership.

North of the border in Canada, Jerry Iger’s people had prepared Journey into Fear #15 for Superior Comics, a publisher renowned for their shoddy print quality. However, although they were packaged by the same company, Superior’s stories were always that little more spicy than those preferred by Farrell, as seen in this issue’s provocatively entitled “Her Lips Dripped Blood.” It is highly likely Fredric Wertham read this issue on publication, for this story was later referenced in his damaging Seduction of the Innocent. For the life of me, if he was looking to malign this issue, why did he neglect the acid to the face scene in this same issue’s “Revenge So Evil.” This degree of abhorrence was indeed worthy of a citation. With its insane tales of revenge along with a glaring failure to pay any heed to the wellbeing of its female protagonists, Mysteries Weird and Strange #3 was going to offend the misguided, just as Journey into Fear #15 had. Similarly Strange Mysteries #13 revelled in a myriad of murder and scurrilous mayhem, a felons’ paradise if ever there was one, culminating in “Graveyard Terror,” probably one of the most terrifying of the entire Superior catalogue.

It is a matter of debate as to whether the innocuous sounding Mysterious Adventures #15 was still on the newsstand at this point, but Dick Beck’s bowling cover was not to be missed. The scene was then repeated in the Doug Wildey opener “The Hunter and the Hunted.” Electrocution scenes as well as another acid to the face panel would follow in a title that certainly lived up to its disreputable character. One of its companion titles was also on show at this time, Fight Against Crime #15, a title bordering on horror but in reality with a penchant for the most violent crime.

That month, the newsstand and the shelves in the corner store must have been amazing sights. The demand for the atrocities in these horror comics having now reached its zenith, it was if nothing could stop them; they could go on forever and a day. It shouldn’t be forgotten there was an abundance of humour titles on sale along with more than a couple of dozen romance titles, so everyone seems to have been suitably indulged. Maybe overly indulged, for not far over the horizon there were the rumblings of discontent, and on this occasion they weren’t coming from the repressive gloom of Moscow.

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A wicked pun got the ball rolling, or was it the skull, for Story’s Mysterious Adventures #15, with Dick Beck supplying the cover art. Below, we have Menace #7 a title which could lay claim to the same notoriety as Mysterious Adventures. Carl Burgos was the artist responsible for this gruesome piece, with Stan Goldberg, as ever, supplying his distinct range of colors. A compelling take on witchery took over the cover for Ace’s Web of Mystery #20, another unsettling addition to this month’s roster, which may well have come from the drawing board of Jim McLaughlin.

Farrell continued with their Indian theme to usher in Voodoo #11, the artwork having once again been created in the Iger Studio. Finally a shocker from a title that was so much a part of the horror of these years, Chamber of Chills. This, its 19th appearance came with a cover from Lee Elias, with a possible assist on layouts from art editor Warren Kremer.

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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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This scene of sheer unadulterated terror adorning the cover to Nightmare #18, cover-dated for April of 1974, painted by the Spanish artist JAD (better known as José Antonio Domingo Bernabéu), is one of the most potent from the early 70s’ revival in comic book horror. Serving as the preface to this issue’s “The 7 Tales of the Man-Macabre,” amongst them the two page “The Dead Things” shown below, his composition is evocative of the age-old battle between heaven and the fallen acolytes who stood by Satan, all of whom were cast out to endure a Hell of their own infernal creation. There is every possibility the tragedy in this realisation was inspired by José’s upbringing in what remains a devoutly Catholic country, then under the rule of General Franco. This influence, coupled with the similarly influenced paintings he would have caught sight of during his formative years, would precipitate this masterpiece, indicative of an illustrator destined to one day assume a place in the world of fine art.

For the moment, José was commissioned to create covers such as these while in the employ of Josep Toutain’s agency, Selecciones Ilustradas, having previously contributed covers to Nightmare #11 and #16, before going on to submit a memorable set of cover paintings for Marvel’s Haunt of Horror and Vampire Tales. Here, a strong use of color dominates the foreground, the intensity of

which impels the observer to heed the plight of this forsaken woman as she reaches upward, imploring the heavens, moments before being hauled away to a place where any hope of divine intervention will be forever lost. Against this fervency, the colours of the graveyard appear mute, no longer seeming real, for the reality this unfortunate has always known is about to be consumed by an unholy darkness.

José’s portrayal is one of innocence defiled, placing emphasis on his subject’s virginal gown being savagely torn away as she is taken down to face the grim prospect of something far worse than death; however the lament evoked in this drama bears no relation to the schemer within, who was more deserving of such a fate. In as much as what followed was a modest telling by Alan Hewetson’s standards, these two pages allowed Ricardo Villamonte to explore this deathly scenario using the macabre imagery to which Skywald regulars had become accustomed. He wasn’t about to show any mercy for this complicit couple, as they too were pulled under into the unforgiving bowels of the earth to meet with a Hell of their particular making. Despite Ricardo’s chilling artwork, the content in this story doesn’t quite match the desecration embodied in Jose’s cover, but I’m not sure if it ever could, for it remains one of the most unsettling images of the entire period.

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Foraging for Skywald back issues has always been something of an art on these shores. Since their first appearance in our newsagents they were never the easiest comics to find. It will come as no surprise to learn the later issues published during the company’s twilight period towards the end of 1974 are almost impossible to track down, but for reasons unknown Psycho #7, from July of 1972, is also exceptionally uncommon on this side of the Atlantic. Could it be the violence threatened on this particular cover caused offence? Alongside the cover to Nightmare #7, it would have rated as the most extreme presented on any of the company’s magazines to date. Maybe many of the copies destined for the UK were sent elsewhere, who knows. Suffice to say Psycho #7 has become something of a curiosity.

There was an inordinate degree of brutality to newcomer Vicente Segrelles’ cover painting following his surreal canvas seen just one issue before. It is highly likely he was given a sneak preview of fellow novice Pablo Marcos’s artwork for the accompanying story “The Asylum of Frozen Hell,” considering the layout in his cover looks to have been directly copied from the main panel on page six of this tale, on show to the right. Before we accuse one of the finest horror and science fiction artists of his day of blatant plagiarism, Segrelles did indeed make ample use of rising star Marcos’s terrifying delineation, then in the confines of his studio went on to exacerbate the horror permeating this tale to transform it into something of his own. If he was to be cited with anything, it could only have been the bludgeoning of the innocent bystander into purchasing this issue to lay bare the torment this abomination had inflicted on those unfortunates suffering in the background. Written

by Alan Hewetson on the eve of his assuming overall editorial control for the Skywald horror line, “The Asylum of Frozen Hell” was to live up to the menace brandished on Segrelle’s cover.

Although the influence of Stan Lee was discernible in the discourse observed during the opening sequence, this soon became pure Hewetson, affording the reader a hint of that which will rapidly evolve into the Skywald Horrormood. There were pronounced shreds of H P Lovecraft apparent in this piece, a writer whose legacy would have an unforgettable effect in shaping this macabre phenomenon. Here, the Antarctic’s “Mountains of Madness” were transformed into the derangement locked away beneath the ice of the Arctic circle, as once again an infinitely superior race from an ancient world in the darkest recesses of space summoned a terror set to bring woe upon mankind. Hewetson’s twist at the denouement to this disturbing tale would set this struggling line of magazines on a new course, one that would see them gift ensuing generations of comic readers a legacy of their singular making.

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Fernando Fernandez’ cover for Scream #5, April 1974, is very much in keeping with the resurrected theme so pertinent to this book. Having made his mark as a 16 year old on the cover to the French science fiction comic Cosmos in 1956, he made America wait another 15 years before gifting them his infectious artistry. The imposing cover created for Tales from the Tomb Vol. 5 #3, dated October 1971, wasn’t to disappoint, setting the mood for the reworked pre-Code tales selected to appear in this issue, as they were in each of these magazines published by Eerie Publications. Similarly, his zombie risen from the grave painting, spawned to entice the would be reader into the contents of Scream #5, probably the most chilling of this compelling run, created an atmosphere befitting its already established sinister tone. As ghastly as this scene maybe, I do wonder whether the scantily clad young lady observed in Fernandez’ painting was really necessary. I remain one of those convinced the desecration in this hideous episode would have been enhanced by the decrepitude of another of these long dead specimens, but then I sometimes wonder as to my state of mind.

Surprisingly this image was never reprinted on any of the covers to the celebrated Spanish horror Dossier Negro. Maybe it did need just one more of the resurrected after all.

Alan Hewetson, on this occasion using his nom de plume Howie Anderson, provided the script for what was to be the last of the Darkkos Manse saga, “Get Up And Die Again,” the story which bore the closest resemblance to the horror on show on this issue’s startling cover. Alas, there were to be no zombies crawling forth from their entombment; instead we were granted the pathos of a Frankenstein-styled creation, reminiscent of Boris Karloff’s portrayal whilst at Universal. This was brought to life by Barcelona born Alfonso Font, making his first appearance as an artist for Skywald, in a debut many would have thought to be the beginning of a quite remarkable run for this increasingly popular line of magazines, but the company’s days were now numbered. Nevertheless, these eight pages of darkness would stand proud alongside his fellow creators’ accomplishments, as Font accorded this account from the deep south an ill-boding air, illustrated in this tale’s closing panels on show here. Their guise was truly felicitous with that of the deathly Darkkos Manse. Once again, Alan Hewetson revealed himself as an editor of distinction, wisely choosing to avoid wordy text boxes, thus allowing Font to embellish his tale’s forbidding narrative in a way commensurate with the vaunted Skywald Horrormood.

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Sandwiched between issues #11 and #12 of the regular Nightmare series, The 1973 Nightmare Winter Special made it to the newsstand just as winter was taking an all too familiar icy hold in January of 1973, appearing alongside the insanity shrieking from within the pages of Psycho #11. It wasn’t unusual for such special editions to rehash a sampling of reprints, but surprisingly it didn’t happen here. Behind Ken Kelly’s provocative cover, one of five he embellished for Skywald while in the employ of Jim Warren’s line of weird magazines, came over 60 pages of brand new material, each story contrived to intensify the seasonal chill. Their content was the embodiment of the outlandish Skywald Horrormood, a take on horror quite unique to the vision of Alan Hewetson. As an aside, I should mention Jim Warren was never entirely happy with his collective of creators submitting contributions to their rivals at Skywald, but for a while Kelly managed to get away with this barefaced transgression. A couple of years down the line, Top Sellers, an imprint of Thorpe and Porter, chose to use this cover for the second issue of their regrettably short-lived Nightmare reprint series, such was its emphatic impact.

Kelly’s dark imagining announced the Hewetson scripted “Beware It… Fear It… It Screams,” his monstrous realisation no doubt conjuring a plethora of bizarre images in the minds of this title’s eager young readership, many of whom would have been little more than 13 years of age. They were going to have to be patient, for this tale was reserved for the second half of this issue’s grotesque exposition. Having already fallen prey to three more of Alan Hewetson’s tales, this dedicated band of readers were to learn precisely the events which had drawn this demonic looking siren to this fearful place.

Antonio Borrell Pujol’s rendering may at times have appeared stark, but there was an elegance to the tragic beauty he portrayed in the hapless heroine of this piece. Annabelle Lee had committed no crime, but her insanely jealous husband, facially scarred by his rival cattlemen, refused to heed her pleas. He cast her into a pit where the reptilian creatures of this sun scorched domain readily tore into her body. It was indeed a gruesome scene, its unsavory nature matched only by a graphic injury to the eye panel, the pairing of which would have provoked those seeking to find fault with this new generation of horror comics. Longtime horror fans would have discerned an intimation of the EC from days gone by, when the decaying body of the once beautiful Annabelle Lee returned to lie at her husband’s side in the moments before this tale reached its shattering climax. Typically, Hewetson wouldn’t give everything away, he preferred to leave his readers asking questions, knowing all too well they would be back for more. Rather astutely, in the canvas he created for this issue, Kelly captured the horror of Annabelle’s excruciating demise while alluding to that which was to follow soon after she was resurrected from the savagery of that unforgiving pit. “Beware It… Fear It… It Screams” certainly lived up to the portent in Kelly’s cover; few would have left this nine page plummet into the abyss feeling dissatisfied.

While Skywald titles weren’t the easiest to pick up over here in the UK, mint copies of this particular edition were doing the rounds on the local market stalls over four years after the event. For a while their seemed to be an unusual abundance of this Winter Special, but sadly as with all good things, this soon came to an end.

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Ken Kelly’s striking cover created for Psycho #14, coverdated September 1973, would have worked equally well as the prelude to Jim Warren’s Famous Monsters of Filmland or if it had been presented as the introduction to Dez Skinn’s House of Hammer just a few years hence. However, this eyecatching canvas was another of those picked up by Skywald, the fourth of the five he sent their way between 1971 and 1973.

The accompanying Alan Hewetson tale “The Classic Creeps” typified the Skywald Horrormood, playing upon the madness of a forgotten actor obsessed with the hideous roles he had once called his own. Hewetson’s story flowed at a sprightly pace as his lunatic protagonist slipped in and out of a series of monstrous guises, all the while keeping up with the turn of the projector’s wheel pouring these venerable terrors onto a home cinema screen. Insanity was poised so delicately with pathos throughout, in a way similar to the tales which had inspired each of these creations, to deliver an expertly crafted account contrived to bolster its enthusiastic readership’s clamour for these bygone

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cinematic masterpieces. To those in the know, the boogeymen of the silver screen were very much a part of these titles’ indelible mythos.

The artist of choice for “The Classic Creeps” was Francisco Cueto, another of the famed Spanish School artists of the period, a creator whose work had been seen in Britain during the 1950s courtesy of Mick Anglo’s studio. True to his reputation, Cueto delivered these 13 pages with remarkable panache, the Phantom of the Opera scenes shown below being of particular note. While he had had some experience of this foul genre, having contributed to both Dossier Negro and its rival Terror Grafico just a few months before, it was his work on war, western and action series that brought him to prominence. For all the acclaim he received in these spheres, the pages he produced for Skywald, Ibero Mundial de Ediciones and Ediciones Ursus reveal an artist with a stirring grasp of the macabre.

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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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Double Danger Tales #56 in 2002, this tale appropriately entitled “Doctor Death Returns.”

A little over four years after the demise of Dell’s Doctor Death, a character bearing the same name made his presence known in the pages of Detective Comics #29, dated July 1939, appearing on the cover and the opener for this issue “Batman Meets Doctor Death.” While his demeanour wasn’t imbued with the menace of his pulp predecessor, he was every bit as maniacal. His plan was to dispose of Batman, then disseminate his deathly gaseous pollen extract across the entire city of Gotham, with a view to eliciting money from the privileged of the city. As with Edward P. Norris’s creation, this manifestation of Doctor Death seemingly perished at the climax of this violent encounter, only to return a month later in Detective Comics #30, his face hideously disfigured from the inferno witnessed at the finale of #29. On this telling Doctor Death didn’t die, but it would be another 40 years before he again appeared at DC, in an updated version of the original in Batman #345 and Detective Comics #512 published in 1982, scripted by Gerry Conway. To this day, conjecture remains as to whether it was Bob Kane or Gardner Fox who created this variant of the character.

Of all the horror comics publishers, it was Fawcett who seized upon the opportunity to bring in Doctor Death to host their memorable pre-Code terror This Magazine is Haunted, a debt we owe to Sheldon Moldoff. A deplorable character by the name of Doctor Death had masqueraded in the Mr. Scarlet tale found in the first issue of Fawcett’s America’s Greatest Comics released

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during 1941. He was a truly repellent individual, but this treatment of the character bore not the slightest resemblance to the funereal host frequenting This Magazine is Haunted. Fawcett’s horror title was to run for just 14 issues, its tenure brought to an end as Fawcett closed down its comic book operation in December 1953. As short-lived as this title was, these are 14 issues of incomparable storytelling. When Charlton picked up the rights to this title, Doctor Death stayed on in residence for its remaining seven issues, when the Comics Code put a stop to this gruesome madness. In 1957 This Magazine is Haunted once more crawled from the comic book graveyard, commencing its return with #12, before being axed with issue #16 in May of 1958. Alas, Doctor Death was dismissed as the narrator of these tales, replaced by the equally sinister Doctor Haunt, rendered by Steve Ditko.

One more Doctor Death was destined to make an appearance, this time in the pages of a rather less known horror comic, Scream, published by IPC over here in the UK. In the last two weeks of June 1984, just before this title was cancelled, the innocent victim of an industrial dispute, issues #14 and #15 were eagerly being snapped up in the newsagents and corner shops across the country. The horror host for this series, Ghastly McNasty, was hungry to reveal his account of Doctor Death in what would be the last two instalments of an ongoing series “Tales From The Grave.” These episodes revealed a sordid account of body snatching and Hammer inspired experiments designed to create a living creature from the body parts of the dead, a saga never brought to a satisfactory close. It’s such a shame the politics of the day cast this comic into the mire, for it had a bounty of potential, with this unsettling story so badly needing to be resolved. Doctor Death would continue to make sporadic appearances in the pages of DC’s titles, but no one has yet deigned to bequeath him his own title.

Batman’s fight against crime had not long since started, when he was forced to take on DC’s version of Doctor Death in Detective Comics #29, dated July 1939.

Below, Doctor Death’s first reign of terror comes to an end in just the third issue of his own magazine in April 1935. Rudolph Zirm went out with a shocker for this series using the threat of the hypodermic. Sat alongside this finale come two earlier appearances of the dread doctor in the issues of All Detective Magazine from October 1934 and January 1935. Above, we have Doctor Death revived as the horror host for Fawcett’s This Magazine is Haunted #2, rendered by Sheldon Moldoff in December 1951. Finally, an obscure entry in the strange life of Doctor Death in the penultimate edition of the UK weekly horror comic Scream from June 1984.

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The image of the Grim Reaper, scythe in hand, made it to Ken Bald’s cover for Adventures into the Unknown #27, dated January 1952; with similar appearances at the finale of Astonishing #14’s “Silence,” Mystic #11’s Stan Lee collaboration with John Romita for “Death and Tommy Norton” and the rarely seen February 1931 edition of Detective Story Magazine painted by John A. Coughlin. Across the page, the Iger Shop gave us this rather stark deathly figure for Strange Mysteries #14, dated May 1953; while just over 12 months before, Lee Elias crafted a very disturbing take on the Grim Reaper for the cover of Witches Tales #8.

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.

The artist behind the image of Death for the cover of Web of Evil #8, dated November 1953, is yet to be identified; such a shame for his work was profoundly unsettling. Street and Smith’s Shadow Comics Vol. 8 #4, from July 1948, was but one of their several horror inspired covers from the period, this one created by Bob Powell. Bill Draut’s splash for the Black Magic #7 thriller “Don’t Ride the 5:20!” dated October-November 1951, returned to the cowled scythe bearing Grim Reaper; it remains a classic of its kind. Earlier that year an element of religious imagery was observed in Warren Kremer’s candle lighting cover for Ace’s The Beyond #3, from March 1951.

This was also evident when Bob Powell and Howard Nostrand joined forces to present their interpretation of Death with angel-like wings in the splash to the one-off Ziff-Davis title Eerie Adventures, published in the winter of 1951.

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Following his appearance on the cover of Shadow Comics Vol. 8 #4, Death had to remain patient until the March of 1951 before making a return to the cover of one of these terrors when Ace’s The Beyond #3 hit the newsstand. Warren Kremer, who had been in the employ of Ace from as far back as 1941, created an ill-boding candle lit scenario bearing witness to a pact between this gnarled vision of Death and a man who appeared to have serious doubts about this precarious arrangement, and in truth who could blame him? This was hardly the wisest of agreements, one thereafter detailed in “The Keeper of the Flames,” where Death assumed his cowled skeletal form, harking back to the imaginings of those blighted by the Black Death.

Later that year, the highly experienced Allen Anderson was called upon to paint a compelling cover for the one and only appearance of Ziff-Davis’s Eerie Adventures, going on sale in November 1951.

Anderson’s cover didn’t wish to do injustice to any of his fellow contributors, but it was the high point of the issue, portending a series of tales, two of which would conjure up the figure of Death in their discourse.

It was the pencils of Al Carreno that were tasked with following the horror disclosed on the cover, in a cleverly scripted tale of a game of chess appropriately entitled “The Grim Reaper.” Anderson’s unnerving 102

game of chess would later inspire Maurice Gutwirth’s foreboding splash for Beware Terror Tales #7’s telling of “The Man Who Cheated Death” when this issue appeared in the early spring of 1953. It is hard to deny the parallel with Anderson’s original concept, the backdrop for an engrossing confrontation, which once again cautioned against man’s attempts to thwart death. This theme was used to dramatic effect by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko by the time the Comics Code had become well established in their tale “The Man Who Captured Death” in the pages of Amazing Adult Fantasy #9, published in February 1962. Ditko represented Death in a way reminiscent of Ingmar Bergman’s interpretation in The Seventh Seal filmed five years before, adorned in a black cape, his face a stark white mask.

The skeletal image of Death was unsurprisingly commonplace in these tales. Spellbound #21’s “The Face of Death,” produced

by Atlas regular John Forte, left the reader in no doubt as to the gravity of the situation, warning them to stay away from summoning the spirits of the dead through the means of a seance.

In this narration it was implied such communication would only

The cover to Fawcett’s Beware Terror Tales #7 was a somewhat eerie affair with Death portrayed as a pallid figure who certainly gave the young lady in the foreground the heebie-jeebies. Alas, the name of the artist has long since been lost to us. At its side sits Maurice Gutwirth’s striking splash for “The Man Who Defeated Death!” the opening story from the same issue. Russ Heath’s sinister splash for Marvel Tales #112’s “The House That Death Built!” was so characteristic of his tenebrous brushstrokes. The likeness of Death created for the obscure British pulp Strange Tales by Alva Rogers in 1946 would have enticed many a would-be reader to hand over their nine pence, while the spooky figure hosting the cover to Tales of Magic and Mystery dates back to the early days of the pulps, December 1927. Farrell’s “My Coffin Must Wait” from the pages of Fantastic Fears #5, dated January 1954, pencilled and inked by another unknown artist, was a chilling reminder the spectre of Death was ever present.

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invoke the wrath of Death, which in this case it most certainly did. It was left to Vernon Henkel to produce a series of spectacular pages for Strange Tales #27’s “The Garden of Death,” where this robed skeleton traversed the globe harvesting the dead as a gardener would with the flowers in a garden. His course was oh so easy, following the war-torn battlefields of this mortal plain, on a path leading to that catastrophic moment over Hiroshima on the 6th of August 1945.

While this withered visage may have worked perfectly well in the pages of a comic book, this semblance didn’t always suit every creator in the field. In the tale “Room For One More” presented in the contents of Black Magic #11, dated April 1952, Death assumed an appreciably different guise, initially at the reins of a horse drawn carriage, then as a lift attendant, his decaying face obscured by an intimidating pair of darkened glasses.

Months later, Alvin Hollingsworth chose to bedeck his version of Death with a top hat perfectly suited for his prowling the streets of London in Witchcraft #4’s “The Man Who Bribed Death,” cover-dated September 1952.

His portrayal shrewdly evoked memories of Jack the Ripper, a cunning ploy to ensure the reader was on edge from the start in this fog bound city, as this fellow learned 104

In the tale “When Cowards Meet” from Atlas’s Adventures into Terror #23, dated September 1953, Larry Woromay presented Death as a spectre, whereas Ace’s Web of Mystery #6, December 1951, had an unknown artist portray this figure as an age old scribe. Two decades later, Neal Adams was inclined to a more vengeful Reaper for his cover to Batman #237, dated December 1971. A familiar skeletal image of Death was in evidence in Spellbound #21’s “The Face of Death” rendered by John Forte, and again on Bill Everett’s terrifying cover for Mystery Tales #11, dated May 1953.

to his cost, a pecuniary inducement wasn’t about to save him from the inevitability of his fate.

The Cal Massey embellished “Death Watch” from Astonishing #13, dated May 1952, revealed Death in a somewhat different light, shrouded in the features of a rather alluring woman. It was an appearance the reader never saw coming, nor did the chap on whom this tale focussed.

This pretense was again observed in This Magazine is Haunted #12’s “The Door” from the August of 1953, in a tale exquisitely rendered by Captain Marvel Jr. artist Bud Thompson. These 11 pages were of such depth, they are deserving of an article on their own; maybe one day, It wasn’t unusual for Death to wander through these tales as a ghostly apparition, as in the deftly illustrated “The Cowards Meet” from Adventures into Weird Worlds #23, cover-dated October 1953. Larry Worromay’s artwork was sumptuous throughout, with possibly a touch of Matt Fox discernable in the profile of one of the characters raging at the bottom of the page outside Henri Duval’s lodgings; I wonder. Bill

Everett had previously used a phantom like image for the Reaper on his cover for Strange Tales #13, dated December 1952, with Eddie Robbins continuing the spectral facade in the accompanying story “Death Makes a Deal.” Some of you might not be immediately familiar with Robbins’ work, but he was the illustrator of John Stanley’s revered tale “The Monster of Dread End,” which frightened its readers out of their skins long after the formalisation of the Comics Code, in the first issue of Dell’s Ghost Stories in 1962.

Every once in a while the more fortunate did mange to escape Death. It may have been they found him on one of his better days, or it just wasn’t their time. An “Appointment With Death” had to be cancelled in Marvel Tales #121, March 1954, when a traumatised fellow came to accept an operation was the only way of removing a brain tumour in the hope of saving his life.

That same month, “When Death Comes A Calling” was to be found in the pages of Journey into Unknown Worlds #25, cover-dated March 1954, a tale that proved one of the more charming tales of its ilk. In a fetching interplay between a child and a considerably frightening image of Death, rendered by Al 105

Allen Anderson’s Grim Reaper cover for the only appearance of Ziff-Davis’s Eerie Adventures #1, from the Winter of 1951, used an unsettling archetype, later seen in Beware Terror Tales #7.

Then comes the cover to The Beyond #14, August 1952, where an unknown artist warned the reader no man can cheat death, not even the most astute.

Across the page, Bill Everett presented Death as a phantom like skeletal presence in his amusing cover for Strange Tales #13, dated December 1952. Dark Mysteries #19 couldn’t resist the characteristic shadow of the Grim Reaper, again carrying his scythe for the tale “Never to Die,” rendered by horror maestro Alvin Hollingsworth.

Russ Heath frightened the living daylights out of the readers of Spellbound, for its 16th appearance in August 1953. That was one door to stay well away from. Finally, George Evans created an almost apocalyptic cover for Fawcett’s Strange Suspense Stories #4, dated December 1952, a quite fitting way to bring this piece to an end.

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Luster, in the cartoon like style he sometimes used, Death would give the boy a reprieve. Of course, this wouldn’t last forever, it was inevitable Death would one day come to harvest his soul, but only after he had enjoyed a truly fulfilling life. Almost two years before, Bernie Krigstein had used a similar likeness for his amusing version of Death in “Going My Way?” in Marvel Tales #107, cover-dated June 1952. It was a simple but effective telling redolent of Lucille Fletcher’s 1941 play for The Orson Welles Show, which was later developed for “The Hitch-hiker” episode shown in the first series of The Twilight Zone in 1960.

Death was never too far away from the pages of the pre-Code horror comic, yet the most celebrated publisher of these ghastly tales, EC, remained distanced from this haggard figure. They preferred to have their horror hosts guide the proceedings, which usually entailed the evil in man dispersing death in a most grisly fashion. Yes, death was in evidence in their tales, but not as the cowled spectre who was given life immortal all those centuries ago. They may have been kids’ comics, but the creators at Atlas, Ace, Avon, Fawcett, and Story Comics were more than happy to call upon this death wielding presence. These would make for some rather perturbing tales, each of which would remain with their readers, forever haunting their waking dreams.

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Maybe it’s because I saw this a good few years before the original cover created by Neal Adams for Tomb of Dracula’s debut, but I have always had a preference for Pablo Marcos’s fearsome display terrorising the premiere of the UK edition of Dracula Lives. The menace in this scene left the casual observer in no doubt as to the horror within, just a hair’s breadth away from the Halloween of 1974. These were different times; youngsters on these shores didn’t do Halloween; we were yet to latch on to that one. This notwithstanding, Marcos’s cover epitomises the mood of Marvel UK’s seminal horror title, yet as you can see, the detail in his preliminary pencil work was profoundly more chilling. The effusion of billowing mist enveloping this confrontation evokes an uncanny air, one that would have been equally at home in any of Hammer’s memorable horror films or the terrors bestowed by Lucio Fulci. To seal the terror once and for all, the venomous Count is the embodiment of pure evil.

This magazine sized British edition ran to 36 pages, its interior contents printed in black and white, a format which did the artwork justice in a way its color counterparts across the Atlantic never could. This wasn’t the only difference, we were given three stories per issue. It may have been the Count’s comic, but he wasn’t about to have it all. His connivance for this first showing was brought to an end with page 13 of Gerry Conway and Gene Colan’s original account from Tomb of Dracula #1. The story was cleverly left on a cliff hanger following Clifton Graves’ discovery of the Count’s skeletal remains. Thanks to this shocking finale, you could be sure the kids savoring these contents would be back a week later for more. This was the beauty of these British reprints; they appeared each and every week, so we weren’t waiting weeks on end to uncover the next installment. Better still, there was still plenty to be had from the issue in hand. The introduction to Werewolf by Night may have been brief, but Roy and Jean Thomas’s script, ably assisted by Gerry Conway, was incredibly fast paced. With Mike Ploog’s artistry on show, the reader certainly didn’t feel short changed, even though this origin, first presented in Marvel Spotlight #2, bowed out four panels into page 8, omitting “The Second Night” panel to ensure the flow of the story in the second issue. It was only fitting that Gary Friedrich and Ploog’s version of Frankenstein should bring the curtain down on this issue. As we had seen with Dracula, the tale was again deftly brought to close on a moment of high tension as Victor Frankenstein’s creation came to life in the final panel of its ninth page. It was a heady start, one that would pave the way for a run of 87 issues. We would get to see a version of Neal Adams’ cover on Dracula Lives #4, this time transposed with the figures slightly enlarged.

During this period, the editing of these British weeklies fell to one Matt Softley. The readers of these titles were never aware Softley was actually a youngster, the son of the true editor Maureen Softley. It was considered a boy’s comic should be edited by a man; to have a woman leading the operation might have had a detrimental effect on sales figures.

As someone who was there at the time, it didn’t matter one jot as Stan Lee was the man in charge. All credit to Mrs Softley, who did a tremendous job in keeping these weekly editions as fresh and entertaining as their erstwhile companions in New York.

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“When Time Stood Still!” certainly looked like a horror story when it first appeared in the Atlas title Suspense #2, in February 1950, during that brief period when it played host to a series of crime stories. If you take a close look at the facial features on show in this splash page, they do bear an uncanny resemblance to the work he produced between 1953 and 1954. Although Harvey Comics were synonymous with the horror craze of the early 1950s, Luster only ever made one appearance in any of their tomes of terror, Witches Tales #2’s “Massacre of the Ghosts,” cover-dated March 1951. While his line is certainly clean, it is nowhere near as interesting as the brooding brushstrokes he used in Journey into Unknown Worlds #16’s “The Devil’s Good Deed” and the more sinister “The Killer!” from the pages of Mystery Tales #10, published in April 1953.

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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.

That same month, he also revealed a particular appetite for the tenebrous in the opening scene to Mystery Tales #10’s “The Killer.”

The opening caption spoke of “a pall of gloom hanging over the city on this dreary night,” but reading between the lines in this world Luster had so devilishly created, did the gloom forever shroud this city? The shadows fell once more across the pages just a few issues on in Mystery Tales #14’s amusingly entitled “Don’t Ever Gyp a Gypsy.” On the surface this may have been a droll affair, but I wonder how many would have dared walk these streets, for I fear this was another of those locales of Luster’s imagining where the sun never shone. Here he showed he wasn’t afraid to turn the familiar mockery of the Atlas narrative into something much darker, etching terror of the most unimaginable kind onto the faces of the assembled cast. The torment endured in these shadowed worlds was reflected in the protagonists’ twisted visages, shadows invariably contorting their features as evidenced in “The Black Crows” when they gathered in their droves in Mystery Tales #17, cover-dated January 1954. Here a little less caricature was observed in his artistry, in what was a decidedly perturbing tale so characteristic of the period. Devotees of the genre should take the time to savor the first couple of pages; at first glance the layout suggests they could have just as easily come from the drawing board of Russ Heath, such was their shadow laden portrayal. As ominous as they were, they were but a prelude to the grisly exposition in the final panel, one the kids of the day would have fairly revelled in, as their parents looked on aghast.

As the darkness effortlessly seeped from Luster’s brushes, beclouding everything they touched, it was still possible to pick out a glimpse of sharp white teeth glinting in the night. These unkempt fangs were to become a trait of his, first coming to prominence

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in Mystic #19’s “They Dive By Night,” dated April 1953. When the readers saw these sets of pearly whites, they were left in no doubt as to who the bad guys of this piece were. Luster followed just one month later with a particular favorite of mine, “Willie Brown is Out to Get Me” from the contents of Journey into Mystery #8. From the intensity of the splash page, which would have worked every bit as well in any of the company’s surviving crime comics, Luster hit you with those teeth in a way none of his illustrious contemporaries ever did. In the late summer months another set of sharpened gnashers were again on show for Spellbound #17’s presentation of “The White Bones” from September 1953, although on this occasion this hapless individual was to be the eventual fall guy. Having made a shocking appearance in one of Atlas’s more notorious titles, Adventures into Terror #23 that same month, he was invited back one issue later to embellish the gruesome telling of “The Body Snatchers.” It suited the mood of this title that an artist of his dark imaging should grace its pages, for Adventures into Terror had carved a dubious reputation as one of the more notorious titles of the period. “The Body Snatchers” was as ghastly as anything else ever shown in this run, with those sharpened teeth there for all to see, along with a pair of eyes that were surely the portals to a mind of utter insanity. This was pre-Code horror at its most macabre. Luster would make one more appearance in this title lending his artistry to “The Man Who Ran Away” for issue #27. Although the premise for this piece was time travel, the first two pages allowed him to turn once more to the shadows to render a quite astonishing preface for a typically compelling tale using a technique I am sure Gene Colan would have happily endorsed.

The previously mentioned cartoon like quality occasionally distinguished in his line was also recognisable in one of his last submissions to Atlas, “Death Comes A Calling” published in Journey into Unknown Worlds #25, cover-dated March 1954. Luster’s

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expressive take on this light hearted story certainly fit the bill, prompting speculation as to whether he would he have gone on to draw funny animal and comedic comics, if he had remained in the business in the wake of the damning Comics Code. Who knows, maybe he would have then ventured into animation. His knack for caricature had already brought him work with Quality’s Plastic Man, having been assigned three stories for issue #43, dated November 1953, following Jack Cole’s decision to seek out pastures new. Sadly this wasn’t to be. His son explained many years later that his father’s time in comics was cut short when his own father asked him to return home to Seattle to take over the family business. Back home in Seattle he was never as happy as he had been when he was sat at his drawing board in the Big Apple, but needs must; he had a family to support.

After developing epilepsy in the 1960s he began to spend more of his time at the easel, creating stunning images of the old west. His daughter, Claire, would learn much from her father, later going on to become an equine sculptress of repute. When life seemed to have once again settled, tragedy struck; Luster suffered a fatal seizure whilst swimming in front of the family home on Mercer Island in Washington. He was just 56. It is hard to imagine just how much this devastated his family, but I don’t want to end this piece on a sad note, rather I will take you back to a happy time in his life when Luster was one of the finest horror artists of his age, an artist who seemed destined to go on to greater things. I feel sure with the combination of his positive attitude and incredible ability he would have been one of the creators to survive the ravages inflicted on the industry by the Comics Code. In as little as twelve months, give or take, he was already emerging to become one of Atlas’s finest stars; the rarest of talents.

As early as April 1953, with Mystic #19’s “They Dive by Night,” Luster revealed a predilection for razor sharp teeth, their jagged appearance more often than not pointing the finger at the bad guy. Featured below is the second page of “The Rivals” from Journey into Unknown Worlds #19, cover-dated June 1953. A month before, “Willie Brown Is Out To Get Me!” had made quite an impression on a number of those lucky enough to find a copy of Journey into Mystery #8. Even at this early stage in his fleeting time with Atlas, he was already demonstrating an unusual affinity for the genre. For the moment these splash pages from “The Man Who Ran Away,” originally presented in Adventures into Terror #27, dated January 1954, and Spellbound #17’s “The White Bones” bring the terror to and end, but if you get the chance, search out more of Luster’s work; you certainly won’t be disappointed.

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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

of the Gothic romance, his narration was an engaging piece surrounding a couple’s inheritance of one those curiously familiar ageing castles, plagued by a murderous presence, supposedly long since laid to rest.

The interest in these tales of caliginous amour in the pages of House of Secrets had now come to the fore, encouraging Neal Adams to take it one step further as evidenced in his depiction for issue #90. It was nigh on impossible to mistake the Gothic influence, yet immersed in this surreal spectacle was so much of the horror this title’s regular readers had come to expect. Unfortunately this unworldly display was never explained, this issue adopting a slant on modern day science fiction. By issue #91, the last in this limited run, Adam’s artistry could only claim a somewhat tenuous link with this vein of storytelling in that the ill-starred female lead was dressed in white. Not so with Nick Cardy’s enticing portrayal for the 52 page issue #95, dated December 1971-January 1972, yet another high point for a House of Secrets at this time. Alas, the accompanying story, “The Bride of Death,” would have been a great disappointment for anyone in search of one of these eerie melodramas.

Having acquired work as a freelance artist with DC in 1966, Joe Orlando was then invited by Infantino to take on an editorial position with the company. Being no stranger to horror, he too made ample use of the Gothic mythos beginning with Phantom Stranger #10, dated December 1970. Once again DC’s loyal readership were presented with a cover by the tireless Adams, this time a beautiful young lady in her elegant white nightgown menaced in the confines of yet another of these forbidding mansions, with no hope of escape. True to form, the story within proved an engrossing read; too bad it steered well clear of anything remotely

The Dark Shadows paperbacks from the late 1960s were to have a notable bearing on the shaping of DC’s Gothic styled mystery comics seen during the early 1970s. They were but a part of a phenomenon dating back to the eighteenth century, popularised from the 1950s until the 1970s by a host of paperbacks adorned with the most striking covers, amongst them this 1969 edition of The House That Fear Built beautifully illustrated by George Ziel and seemingly written by one Cassandra Knye, later revealed as a pseudonym for Thomas Disch and John Sladek. Soon after, Neal Adams created DC’s earliest Gothic influenced cover for Detective Comics #403, dated September 1970, appearing just a month before his atmospheric cover scene bedecking House of Secrets #88. Adams returned to this imagery for the sinister introduction to Phantom Stranger #10 in the December of that year, with Jim Aparo entrusted with the artistry to the accompanying tale.

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resembling the format synonymous with these twisted affairs of the heart.

Every once in a while this recently revived series would dabble with these lovesick abstractions, notably on Adams’ cover to #12 from April of 1971, and Jim Aparo’s atmospheric presentation for #22 appearing just as this intriguing period was about to fade into memory at the close of 1972.

While the covers to House of Secrets revelled in this imagery, surprisingly its companion title House of Mystery edited by Joe Orlando, was seemingly reluctant to follow its example. On one of the few occasions when it did borrow from these fear-filled romances, the artist of choice was Bernie Wrightson, who concocted a bewitching rendering for #194, cover-dated September 1971. The Jack Oleck scripted “Born Loser” frustratingly remained distanced from anything approaching the Gothic, while Alex Toth’s expressive artwork had a greater preference for the dark arts. Wrightson’s studio companion Mike Kaluta would provide the second of these similarly styled covers for House of Mystery #210, scheduled somewhat late in the day for January 1973. His ivory gowned female elicited only the vaguest suggestion of the Gothic, perchance in the hope of luring potential readers, but as with so many of DC’s horror titles there was nothing of its ilk to be found in the interior content.

Unbeknown to the company’s dedicated readership, this succession of comics from the summer of 1970 until the late summer months of 1971 was but a taster for a couple of notable additions to their exciting portfolio. In July 1971, Dark Mansion of Forbidden Love debuted, carrying a cover date of September-October 1971. George Ziel’s atmospheric cover would have stood head and shoulders above the rest when it went on display on the newsstand, there really was nothing else of its ilk to be seen that month. Ziel, or Jerzy Zielenzinski as he was born in 1914, had come face to face with trauma of the worst kind to emerge as one of the most revered paperback cover artists of the boom period in Gothic romance. His paintings would influence a generation of artists hoping to enter the field. However, prior to this he had witnessed the cruellest side of human nature while incarcerated in the hell of Auschwitz and later Dachau. Only his ability as an artist allowed him to survive this merciless regime, moments spent sketching for the guards in the grim

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Neal Adams paid an appropriate tribute to the cover of Detective Comics #31, originally published in September 1939 for Batman #227, dated December 1970, making able use of the continuing interest in Gothic horror. Just months before, Dick Dillin and Frank Giacoia were called upon to illustrate “The Morning Ghost” for House of Secrets #88. Immediately above, Adams cleverly manipulated the Gothic style for the cover of House of Secrets #90 (March 1971), while Nick Cardy made exquisite use of the motif to draw potential readers into House of Secrets #95 (December 1971-January 1972).

There was no escaping the inspiration behind Gray Morrow’s cover for House of Secrets #89, from December 1970-January 1971, as he tipped his hat to the ever popular Dark Shadows paperbacks of the day, no doubt hoping to find a more mature audience. He followed this cover with the highly engaging Victorian tale “Where Dead Men Walk.” Neal Adams’ cover for Phantom Stranger #12 (April 1971) used elements of the Gothic, as did his threatening scenario tormenting the cover of Batman #236, dated November 1971.

Nick Cardy wasn’t averse to playing on this particular trope, as evidenced in his striking cover assigned to introduce The Witching Hour #15 in June-July of 1971.

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hope of receiving better treatment. It would have been a different story if they had ever discovered he was hiding away portrayals of the horror they were inflicting each and every day in these death camps. In the months immediately after the War, these harrowing illustrations would be collected to see publication in a two volume set first presented in 1946.

Only when he moved to a new life in New York City with his wife Elsie would he acquire the success he deserved, using his talent to become a paperback cover artist, principally in the area of Gothic romance.

Ziel’s moody painting for this inaugural issue suggested DC were aiming for a more mature female audience, as did everything else in the presentation on this cover. It was indeed connotative of the Gothic romance paperbacks of the last two decades, and on this occasion rose to expectation. Further to Ziel being brought in to enrich the cover, Dorothy Woolfolk, whose pedigree came from her time as an editor with AllAmerican Comics, along with spells at Timely and EC, was appointed as editor and writer. At her side was the prolific Ethan Mordden, at the beginning of his eminently accomplished career. Until the appearance of Dark Mansion of Forbidden Love, DC had only tempted with their take on the Gothic; finally with Tony DeZuniga illustrating the entire 37 pages of “The Mystery of the Missing Bride,” they had a story that would finally live up to its promise. Woolfolk’s script twisted and turned as her heroine was pushed to the edge; it wasn’t the horror to which many of these readers had become accustomed, but it certainly was a thrilling read, adhering to so many credible characteristics of this time-honored lore.

The first issue of Sinister House of Secret Love then followed just a month later, joining the ranks of DC’s highly collectible 52 page extravaganzas, announced by an impressive cover painted by Victor Kalin, an artist occasionally mistaken for Ziel. His time in World War II was very different from that of his fellow artist, spent illustrating for the war effort in the Azores ahead of moving into painting the covers

Bernie Wrightson was in his element for the Gothic styled cover presented on House of Mystery #194 in September 1971. His fellow studio artist Mike Kaluta followed suit for the cover of House of Mystery #210 in the January of 1973. House of Mystery #229 from the February-March of 1975 was a late yet welcome entry to the genre.

Jim Aparo captured so much of the essence of these tales for his Phantom Stranger #22 cover image dated December 1972. Across the page, the covers to the memorable first two issues of The Dark Mansion of Forbidden Love coupled with their introductory splash pages from the latter months of 1971.

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to so many paperbacks during the 1950s. Once again with Woolfolk and Mordden at the editorial helm, there was no attempt to deceive, for they had acquired the scripting finesse of Mary Skrenes for “The Curse of the MacIntyres.” With Don Heck on art chores, an artist with more than his fair share of experience in both horror and romance, this issue was guaranteed to deliver, which it duly did.

Jeff Jones was the perfect choice for cover artist for Dark Mansion of Forbidden Love’s third appearance in the January-February of 1972.

For the last issue of this all too short run, Nick Cardy produced a beautiful piece of work as a prelude to Ernie Chua’s engaging collaboration with Vince Colletta. The cover to Ghosts #4 saw Cardy deliver a Gothic styled nail biter to which he returned for the cover of Ghosts #10, dated December 1972. Renowned artist Victor Kalin gifted the premiere of The Sinister House of Secret Love with an unforgettable cover in October-November 1971. Don Heck followed on within, delivering a tale steeped in this Gothic lore. Cardy was again on hand for the bridal scene on Secrets of Sinister House #5, dated June-July 1972.

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These premieres were the perfect introduction to what could have been a promising line of comics, but it wasn’t to be. Sadly both titles were cancelled in the wake of their fourth appearance, despite a series of beautiful covers created by Adams, Jones, Cardy, Podwil and DeZuniga, each the essence of the Gothic romance. The stories had far more depth than much of the romance and horror fare then on sale, running with strong female leads, red herrings aplenty, unseemly threats treading darkened corridors and the pledge of a love that would never die.

Alas, the world just wasn’t ready for such comics. Their plight may have been avoided if DC had gone through with their proposal to call time on their outdated romance comics, thus paving the way for this new line, but this didn’t come to pass.

The senior echelons at the company wasted no time in changing the emphasis in each of these series, veering them very quickly towards their successful fold of horror

comics, commencing with Dark Mansion of Forbidden Love which became Forbidden Tales of Dark Mansion, for the moment under Dorothy Woolfolk’s expert guidance. This Agatha Christie styled story was the last of these romances to see print, making it to the fifth issue, cover-dated May-June 1972. An eye-catching Nick Cardy cover introduced what was also the last of these 52 page editions, 36 of them given over to the rollercoaster “They All Came to Die” written by Jack Oleck, as Don Heck ably assisted with his deft brushstrokes. Alan Weiss was assigned as the cover artist for the sixth issue, a dramatic scene which promised much more by way of the Gothic than the Mike Friedrich scripted “Diary of Dead Woman,” although it shouldn’t be discounted, for it was an enjoyable read.

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There were similar changes afoot with The Sinister House of Secret Love which turned away from any inclination of romance to embrace the Secrets of Sinister House. Another striking Cardy cover introduced this final entry into the Gothic prior to its transition into becoming fully fledged horror. There was one more story originally scheduled for this run, Bob Kanigher’s “Nightmare Castle,” embellished by Nestor Redondo, but it wouldn’t appear for another 18 months, seeing publication in the 100 page edition of House of Mystery #229, dated FebruaryMarch 1975. As with these extended stories the events in this frightful castle proved well worth the wait. This short-lived publishing phenomenon was brought to a close in the spring of 1978 in the pages of the often overlooked DC Special Edition #12: Secrets of Haunted House Special, which contained the beautifully illustrated “The Castaways” created on the drawing board of Vicente Alcazar. A most suitable end if ever there was one.

The tenure of the Gothic romance at DC was but a fleeting moment in the history of the comic book. In a little over a couple of years since they first started to appear, these remarkable comics were already drifting away, soon to be forgotten. Maybe anything horror related in comic books really was the domain of the adolescent schoolboy, or those with a hankering to remain so.

Jerome Podwil’s painting seen at the beginning of this piece was commissioned for the second issue of The Sinister House of Secret Love, with George Ziel providing an unsettling painting for the third issue of this series in the February-March of 1972. Tony DeZuniga was given the chance to illustrate another of these stories for issue #2, with Alex Toth producing a characteristically stylised set of pages for issue #3.

DeZuniga’s cover brought this series to an untimely end, entwining the Gothic with the more conventional horror of the period. Forbidden Tales of Dark Mansion #5 and #6 continued Dark Mansion of Forbidden Love, but the content would turn to traditional fare. Blue Ribbon Digest: Dark Mansions of Forbidden Love wrapped up this period in April 1982, hosted by a Joe Orlando cover.

According to the Afro-Brazilian religion of Candomble, the secret of death had long since been bequeathed to a gathering of spirits they call the Orixa. These otherworldly beings were the harbingers of death and disease, yet they also carried with them the power of healing, making them feared yet commanding a deep-rooted respect.

Principal amongst these manifestations was the Orixa Omolu. As a child Omolu was stricken with smallpox, mercifully cured, but scarred so badly he took to wearing a hood made from raffia leaves to disguise his misshapen features. The image of this hood bears certain similarities to the cloak of the European incarnation of the Grim Reaper, brought to Brazil by the Portuguese settlers, most of whom would have been Roman Catholic. Their colonisation began

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in the early part of the 16th century, a period blighted by numerous smallpox epidemics. In the years that followed, Candomble would be but one religion to find a much needed place in this uncharted land with the arrival of so many people from Africa forced into slavery. Its teachings would advocate a fearful reverence to the deities whose rule governed death, midnight and the darkened cemeteries, home to those who had already departed this mortal coil.

With such a mystical history, it is little wonder so many ghostly apparitions drifted onto the covers of the macabre comics published in Brazil during their golden age of horror beginning in the 1950s before eventually falling away at the end of the 1960s. However,

Death was never too far away from the horror comics published in Brazil from the 1950s all the way until the 1970s, with the spectre of Death putting in more than an occasional appearance. Across the page, a couple of deathly covers from the legendary Jayme Cortez, Contos de Terror #18, from July 1955, sits alongside the second issue O Terror Negro, dated April 1951. Nico Rosso painted the chilling image of Death for Taika’s Historias Satanicas #5 in 1973.

Mike Kaluta’s wraith like figure from House of Mystery #260 was resurrected two years later for the cover of Ebal’s Histórias de Assombração #18, May 1980.

Below comes Histórias do Além #9 from 1980, which seems to have been devoted to reprints of Charlton mystery and horror stories. Kripta #37 published in July 1979 by RGE, ran with the haunting artistry of Manuel Pérez Clemente, or as we know him Sanjulián, from Eerie #52.

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only a single horror comic referenced these spirits in its title, Mundo dos Espíritos, or Spirit World, published in 1969 by Trieste, which licensed a number of American pre-Code reprints in its seven issue run. Around the same time Os Fantasmas do Doutor Graves, published

by Saber, reprinted the first issue of Charlton’s The Many Ghosts of Doctor Graves; curiously this was the only horror comic from this spine tingling period to use the word ghost. A homegrown uncanny offering from Argentine born Osvaldo Talo, who later went on to work with fellow creator Eugenio Colonesse on Mirza A Mulher Vampiro, would bring this issue to a compelling close.

For all of these eerie displays, the spectre of Death as conceived in Europe in the years after the Black Death, did cast a shadow over several of these covers.

As early as April 1951, with the second issue of O Terror Negro, published by La Selva, the self taught Jayme Cortez embellished a chilling scene to usher horror readers across Brazil into the eerie contents of this groundbreaking title, which would remain in existence until October 1967 when it bowed out after 223 issues. As the next few pages will reveal, Cortez was unbelievably prolific throughout these years, creating an abundance of ghoulish covers, each of which deserve to be gathered together and presented in a coffee table book styled collection. He was veritably the inspiration of his age, influencing artists throughout

Jayme Cortez’s dark imagining was again on show for the cover of Contos de Terror #12, January 1955, when the reader came face to face with the “Empire of Fear.” He also created the advert proclaiming O Terror Negro as the best horror magazine, as seen across the page. Italian born Nico Rosso had been a comic artist for almost 20 years when he produced this grisly encounter with Death for the Album Classicos de Terror #5 in 1967. The covers to Histórias Macabras #23, dated June 1961, and the first of Histórias Macabras which appeared in August 1959 again came from the drawing board of Cortez, as did the cover to the third issue of Continental’s Histórias do Além published in 1961. Vecchi revived this title towards the end of the 1970s, Histórias do Além #10, from the April of 1980, presented a cloaked figure we can only assume to be yet another personification of Death. To the top right, Zezo’s terrifying painting for the cover of Noites de Terror #33 from 1961 warned of “The Scarecrow of Death.”

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Brazil and eventually the entire world. His cover depicting Death attired in an ivory suit for the cover of Contos de Terror #18, from July 1955, again published by La Selva, was every bit as unsettling as the more traditional cowled Grim Reaper, in time emulated by other creators in film, comics and literature. Although the blurb on this cover proclaimed “exciting,” I am sure this would have been more of a nerve wracking experience, as evidenced by Cortez’s atmospheric rendition and that word “cuidado,” or if you prefer “caution.”

As with those who first picked up this title, it’s best to tread carefully when becoming immersed in these pages.

Cortez’s collaboration with Miguel Penteado for the cover of Chiodi’s Medo #61, from 1955, presented on the next page, announced “the secret of death” in a quite vivid exposition.

Just as with the covers on so many pre-Code comics published in the United States, notably from Atlas, the reader was left wondering exactly what was secreted away in that box. With a title like Fear and the presence of the Grim Reaper in the background, it had to be something pretty sinister. Penteado came to prominence during the 1950s, creating covers for La Selva’s line of horror comics. His partnership with Cortez would lead to their moving on from La Selva to establish their own comic book company, Continental, soon after renamed Outubro. Penteado later founded his own company Gráfica e Editora Penteado, better known as GEP. While he would create many horror covers, this appears to have been his only brush with Death while working in comics.

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Miguel Penteado painted the unsettling cover for the issue of Medo shown to the top left. Alas, I have not been able to trace the issue number or the date of publication. Despite this, it is still a truly macabre cover. Below, Zezo’s grisly episode for Gato Preto #29 dated August 1960. This issue contained science fiction reprints from Steve Ditko along with similar stories from Bernie Krigstein and Jack Davis first seen in EC’s Incredible Science Fiction. More Jayme Cortez fronting the 100 page 1962 Almanaque Contos de Terror, a scene to strike fear into the heart of even the most dedicated fan of the genre. A year before, Cortez created a rather chilling portrayal of Death for the debut of Continental’s Histórias do Além. You can only imagine the terrors that lay within. To the right, Penteado teamed up with Cortez for the cover of Medo #61, back in 1955, when such imagery had been censored in the United States. Again, this is an unusually forbidding piece of art. Zezo was on hand to conjure a catastrophic scene at sea for La Selva’s Sobrenatural #90, cover-dated October 1962. When Almanaque de Terror appeared, Cortez’s image of Death would have had horror fans across Brazil and Portugal slavering to get their hands on its fright filled pages.

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There are a few images of Death on show in this piece from another of the giants of the period, one José Rivelli Neto, nicknamed Zezo, a commercial artist who enjoyed a monumentally prolific period in comic books from the mid 1950s on into the 1960s.

The first of them, Noites de Terror #33 appeared early in 1961.

The impact resonating from his “scarecrow of death” cover was immediate, leaving the buyer in no doubt as to the content of this issue. This would have been terrorising for those fortunate enough to have made the purchase in the wake of his gruesome cover for Gato Preto #29 ,from August 1960. Zezo’s portrayal on this particular cover has to be seen to be believed, the severed heads hanging from this death like demon’s pike were the stuff of nightmare. Gato Preto reprinted many stories previously published in the horror and science comics from the United States, but surprisingly given its title does not appear to have used anything from Harvey’s Black Cat Mystery.

Zezo was an artist with a capacity to work at great speed, yet in this flurry of activity he always evidenced a devilish understanding of the supernatural. The last of these portrayals to come from Zezo’s drawing board is the haunting scene from Sobrenatural #90, again published by La Selva, dated October 1962. Here, Death can only look on, powerless, merely ready himself to take the victims of this disaster on into the next life. Of his three covers presented in these pages, this remains a favorite, a truly unforgettable spectacle.

As with the covers to their American counterparts before the introduction of the Comics Code, appearances of the Grim Reaper were somewhat fleeting, but when he deigned to make his presence felt it was genuinely something to behold. However, it was the spirits borne from the religions of Brazil that carried the secret of death, one they were never prepared to reveal.

Death hovers nearby announced Jayme Cortez’s demonic cover to Contos de Terror #3, from April 1954, which may have frightened off the less discerning reader.

Miguel Penteado put the poor fellow on the cover of Histórias de Terror #66, dated April 1966, quite literally under the command of death. The scythe of death came to bear on the gruesome scene fronting O Terror Negro #149, April 1961. Finally, Cortez presented Death carrying his scythe as if he was in a joust for the cover of Outubro’s Histórias Macabras #41, June 1961.

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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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ACG to announce a third of these fanciful anthologies, Unknown Worlds, in August 1960. The terrors of Out of the Night, Skeleton Hand and The Clutching Hand were now definitely a thing of the past.

While Richard Hughes had reluctantly gone along with an element of the debauchery, for which a profusion of these readers of horror comics had a clamouring, DC had remained firmly distanced from this outrage. They advocated a more wholesome line, thus capturing the area of the market enjoyed by younger readers, some of whom may have eventually gone on to take the plunge into the pages of Tales from the Crypt and Menace. For the moment they still had these readers in their fold, so there was no need to make any significant changes to their style of storytelling. However, every once in a while even this upstanding company wasn’t afraid to intimate a minatory presence at play on one of their covers. If you were a regular reader of House of Mystery and later on House of Secrets, you would have been safe in the belief they wouldn’t contain anything too shocking, but then again you could never be entirely certain.

This doubt would have ensured their readers returned with each and every issue, and those who thought they might encounter something ominous within might be tempted to make these titles regular reads. If they were hoping to find a blood-curdling potboiler, then disappointment would ensue. In spite of this, they would have spent a good half hour with a first class set of stories and a house style which, while being appreciably restrained by the standards of those time served horror devotees, was nonetheless easy on the eyes.

Charlton Comics must rate as one of the true survivors of the industry. They may not have enjoyed the immense popularity of their fellow publishers, but they certainly managed to retain a respectable number of readers, whose loyalty was enough to ensure they kept their heads above the water. This in part should be credited to the unflagging writing of Joe Gill, who for over 25 years turned out story after story for his 138

The foremost publishers turning to the mystery influenced comics that became popular from 1955 had a firm grasp on how to keep their fear seeking readers happy as observed on another of Ogden Whitney’s covers for ACG’s Adventures into the Unknown #68, November 1955. Joe Maneely had ascended to become one of Atlas’s main players as evidenced on his creepy cover to Strange Tales #41, dated December 1955. House of Secrets #13 later played host to a rather ominous Bob Brown creation when it appeared, dated October 1958. Above Astonishing #48, from April 1956, looks to have been an unsettling collaboration from Carl Burgos and Bill Everett, which certainly left a cold chill.

Everett was also on hand to deliver the threat of “I, The Pharaoh!” in the hope of luring horror fans into the pages of Journey into Mystery #36, dated July 1956. It was he who then conjured a cover which could have so easily been found on his drawing board in the years prior to the introduction of the Code for Adventure into Mystery #7, May 1957. To the right appears Steve Ditko’s dark entry for Charlton’s Unusual Tales #15, published as late as February 1959, when science fiction was beginning to assume a place on these covers.

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Steve Ditko was again on show on the covers of Charlton’s Mysteries of Unexplored Worlds #4, July 1957 and Tales of the Mysterious Traveler #10, dated November 1958.

Both suggest a darkness waiting within. While the horrendous displays of the early 1950s had been cast aside, there was still plenty of Ditko’s expressive artwork to enjoy in each. Strange Tales of the Unusual #4, from December 1956 had Carl Burgos threaten with “Screams in the Night!”, a tale rendered by former EC artist Joe Orlando. Ogden Whitney came back time and time again with simple, but nonetheless eye-catching, covers for ACG’s Adventures into the Unknown, the disquiet of this episode appearing on the cover to issue #81, dated February 1957. The Atlas bullpen could still call upon an amazing array of talent when the comic book industry was thrown into turmoil at the very end of 1954. Bill Everett was one of the finest as exhibited on the covers to Adventures into Mystery #5, January 1957 and Astonishing #54, cover-dated October 1956. We shouldn’t forget Stan Goldberg’s contribution as colorist. His technique ensured the Atlas line stood out on the newsstand during this difficult period.

A ghostly chill must have rippled along the spines of all who first encountered Ruben Moreira’s cover for House of Mystery #38, dated May 1955, although the tale that followed chose to astound rather than terrify.

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seniors covering a variety of genres. Without Gill’s tireless ingenuity, you do have to wonder if Charlton would have kept on going for as long as they did. Alongside Gill, they also had Steve Ditko at their behest, an artist who with only a few years experience in the business, could create covers that deserved to be exhibited in the nation’s most prestigious art galleries.

His renditions were steeped in a darkness more in keeping with the pre-Code years, urging that dedicated band of horror fans to shell out for the chance of a glimpse inside. Okay, so they may not have been greeted with the blood and guts they had come to expect when these comics had first appeared, but they were treated to page upon page of unbelievable artwork coupled with some compelling stories from the insightful mind of Joe Gill. Charlton may not have been high on everyone’s list of preferred reading, but when you turn through these pages, who can’t deny they ran with some of the most chilling covers of this short-lived era.

While ACG, Charlton and DC were making a worthy attempt to appeal to the longtime fans of the horror comic, Atlas dominated the newsstands in the immediate years after the inception of the Comics Code. Unlike many publishers, they had the good fortune to retain a fair proportion of their staff, allowing business to resume very much in the way as it had before, providing them with a much needed sense of continuity. It wasn’t easy by any stretch of the imagination, but the artists called upon by the senior editors to dream up their covers did so with an unquestionable verve. During the summer months leading to the Code, Atlas had done much to tone down the unsavory content of their covers. Strangely, the compositions created by Bill Everett, Carl Burgos, Sol Brodsky, Joe Maneely and for a while Russ Heath, from the early months of 1955 through until the appearance of Strange Tales #71, dated October 1959, the last of these sinister creations from Atlas, were every bit as unsettling as those terrorising the newsstands during the early 1950s.

The cover to Strange Tales #64, alas not on show here owing to the constraints of space, could have aroused the concern of the CCA, for Maneely took it on himself to present a character who could have so easily been mistaken for Count Dracula, vampires having been well and truly outlawed by

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Only Bernard Baily could make a pencil the object of sheer terror, a scene he saved for House of Secrets #23, cover-dated August of 1959. The dread Bill Everett imbued into his “What Happens When He Presses The Button!” cover for the penultimate issue of Astonishing, numbered #60, August 1959, harked back to the pre-Code years. Alas, the tale within was no match for the imagining of the countless horror fans who snapped up this issue. Carl Burgos’s line, along with the distinctive colors of Stan Goldberg, put more than an element of fear into the cover of Mystery Tales #47, dated November 1956. They returned to frighten the living daylights out of their readers on the cover of Uncanny Tales #47, September 1956.

Stan’s color palette was around to enhance Bill Everett’s dark creation for Strange Tales #54 from January 1957. Again, the story that followed, from Carl Wessler and Gray Morrow, did not live up to this forbidding imagery. A few years before, Bill Molno and Vince Alascia could have thrust a rotting corpse into that chest placed centre stage on the cover of Strange Suspense Stories #30, dated August 1956. Thanks to the precepts laid down by the new Code, that was never going to happen.

Everett’s cover illustration for Marvel Tales #148, July 1956. certainly led the readers down the wrong path. “Where Did They Go” turned out to be a lighthearted jaunt into science fiction.

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this new code of practice. His exposition was assured as it had ever been, no doubt attracting countless young readers in search of the vampire breed. The threat emanating from cowled figures in the dark, people vanishing and ghostly apparitions were ever-present at this time, as were the mysteries behind doors locked with good reason. The mystique surrounding the hour of midnight still remained, for not even the Code could legislate against the hands of time. If you spend enough time with this cover art, you will discern a palpable sense of dread permeating this imagery, yet to the credit of those in the Atlas art set up it managed to avoid the wrath of those overseeing this new Code.

The majority of Bill Everett’s covers preceding the Code evidenced a wry sense of humor; this wasn’t the case once these damning stipulations had come in to force. The dark comedic element tittering through those years had been replaced by a rather perturbing air of apprehension, one from which there appeared no escape. To add to the sense of unease, Stan Goldberg, the man presiding over the Atlas coloring department, developed a palette using the most atmospheric tones specifically for use on the company’s covers. His technique was key to the impression made by these comics when they went on sale on the shelves of stores up and down the land. The intensity in this mood would be later picked up by DC, when in 1968 they turned to mystery and horror in a way in which they had never done before.

Atlas clearly led the way when it came to frightening the wits out of their readers. Each and every month it was their covers that garnered the greatest response from those youngsters who just couldn’t get over their craving for horror. The dictates of the Code would never allow the stories behind these covers to be quite as shocking, but Atlas could give their readers a fine array of artistic talent to assuage any possible disappointment, amongst them the already mentioned illustrators along with Al Williamson, Matt Fox, Bernie Krigstein, Syd Shoes, John Forte, Bernard Baily, Joe Orlando and Angelo Torres to name but a few.

The covers adorning the comics of the competition should not be overlooked, particularly those embellished by Ditko for Charlton, but it was Atlas who shone during these years, providing the catalyst for next generation of comics.

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I came upon my first Warren magazines during an English lesson towards the end of 1974, when I was just 13, a matter of months before comics began to take over my life. The covers to the first half dozen issues of Creepy, along with a few panels of art, had been included in the horror section of a book conceived to stir our youthful imaginations in the writing of our compositions. To say I was beguiled doesn’t even begin to get close; there was no escape, I was hooked. Unfortunately my endeavours to track down one of these magazines proved futile; not a single newsagent in my part of town carried a copy or any issues of its companions, Eerie and Vampirella.

Given the quality of work on show in these pages at this time, to have acquired just one of these titles would have been life changing, for at this receptive age I would have been exposed to the breathtaking artistry of Ken Kelly, the lush brushstrokes of the Spanish School, along with Richard Corben’s outlandish vision and a glimpse of Bernie Wrightson. For the time being, it wasn’t to be; I was going to have to be patient, for it would be another three years before I lucked onto a copy of this elusive tome.

By March of 1978 ‘O’ Level exams, or as they became known GCSE’s, beckoned, and with them the chance to go on into the Sixth Form to study further and maybe even gain a place at university.

More than anything, I wanted to join the Sixth Form. It wasn’t an elitist thing, it was more a case of once you were behind those doors you were locked away from the insanity of the lower school. Even then, I relished the prospect of being far from the madding crowd.

So, if I was going to succeed in my ambition, I was going to have to get my head down and get on with plenty of revision. To ensure I made as much good use of my time as possible, I knew I was going to have to put the comics to one side. My monthlies would still need picking up and an occasional visit to the local market stall was permissible, but my Saturday afternoon and Sunday comic reading was going to have be put on hold until the afternoon of Tuesday, June

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20th when my exams would finally be over. Isn’t it funny how certain dates never quite drift from mind? However, if you were to ask me what I was up to a week ago, I would have to think long and hard.

One Wednesday afternoon, during the first week of April, with my revision going pretty well, I put my books down for a few hours and set off to see my gran, with a visit to the local market en route. While rummaging through the comics and magazines I came upon a sight that sent me reeling, a copy of Warren’s Creepy #3. With its heavily taped spine it may have seen better days, but my heart still missed a beat, for this was an actual copy of Creepy, one dating back to Archie Goodwin’s celebrated tenure as editor, fronted by a Frank Frazetta cover - albeit rather battered.

Surprisingly, I remained true to my word, placing this hallowed addition to my embryonic collection in the pile waiting to be read after my exams. In spite of my resolve, I have to confess to breaking my pledge when I picked up a copy of the second issue of the IPC title Starlord one Sunday morning on my way home from Mass. Trust me, this minor transgression was well worth it.

It was a rainswept afternoon later on in that glorious summer when I at long last sat down to read my treasured copy of Creepy, spending some time with Frazetta’s unsettling cover before turning the page.

As the raindrops splattered against the front window of our back street terrace, I lost myself in these pages, taking in every moment of the line and washes of Angelo Torres, Reed Crandall, Gray Morrow and Joe Orlando. It couldn’t have been better. While Crandall’s eight page adaptation of Edgar Allan Poe’s “Tell Tale Heart,” ably assisted

by Archie Goodwin’s script, certainly stood out, every one of these stories made an impression. Even in the years that followed, Jim Warren’s magazines wouldn’t be the easiest to find in this part of the world, but when they did fall into my hands, they were invariably a joy to behold. Oh, by the way, I went on to pass those exams with flying colors and took my place in the Sixth Form.

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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 covers seen on this page and in the introduction marked the beginning of something new and very exciting for Marvel.

On the previous page Gil Kane and John Romita had Spidey in the clutches of Morbius and the Man-Wolf for the one and only appearance of Giant-Size Superheroes, dated June 1974. So followed the Web-Slinger’s confrontation with Dracula in Giant-Size Spider-Man #1, dated July, this time a solo effort from long time Spider-Man artist Romita.

On this page, Mike Ploog’s fluid brushstrokes on Giant-Size Man-Thing were to play their part in making this one of the essential editions of the entire Giant-Size series.

Newcomer Ron Wilson was teamed up with inker Frank Giacoia to announce the only showing of Giant-Size Creatures, dated July 1974. Romita stepped in for an editorial assist to Larry Lieber’s pencils, before Mike Esposito supplied the inks to Giant-Size Chillers #1, one of the unsung collectors’ items of the period. Romita must have been working around the clock at this time, for here he is on the cover to Giant-Size Chillers Featuring The Curse of Dracula, dated June 1975. To the left, Gene Colan and Frank Chiaramonte set the tone for this new series.

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Somewhere near this issue of Giant-Size Spider-Man sat the first and what turned out to be the only issue of GiantSize Creatures. Ron Wilson’s cover collaboration with Frank Giacoia was probably directed by the powers that be; sadly it did not reflect the supernatural nature of either Tigra or the Werewolf, especially with the raging legions of Hydra bearing arms. Tony Isabella’s story, rendered by Don Perlin and Vince Colletta, carried on in this fashion, leaving the reader perplexed as to the direction this latest addition to the line was going to take.

A werewolf tale reprinted from 1971’s Creatures on the Loose #13 “Where Walks the Werewolf,” rendered by Reed Crandall, rounded off what had been an ambivalent debut.

Three months later, on its next appearance, this title had morphed into the second issue of Giant-Size Werewolf, dated October 1974. The page count had now been increased to 68 to accommodate the longer stories, with the price rising to 50 cents. Gil Kane and Tom Palmer were assigned to cover duties, as they would be for so many of these giant-size editions, although on this occasion John Romita had to step in to alter the facial expression on this issue’s guest star the Frankenstein Monster. It was only fitting one of Marvel’s earliest horror protagonists should find a place in at least one of these new quarterly titles, although his failing popularity would deny him any hope of one of these squarebound tomes carrying his name. Doug Moench was tasked with writing the script to “The Frankenstein Monster Meets Werewolf by Night,” with Don Perlin and Vince Colletta entrusted with the artwork. Unlike the “Curse of Dracula,” these stories would continue to reference the cast of characters already established in the regular editions of Werewolf by Night. The Giant-Size Werewolf run would include several pre-Code horror stories, but only one, “The Werewolf of Wilmach,” rendered

by Tony DiPreta from Astonishing #17, September 1952, would feature one of the lycanthropic breed. Given their acclaimed array of werewolf stories, Marvel would appear to have missed a trick with this one.

Of all the Giant-Size Werewolf releases, it was the fourth issue, dated April 1975, that stimulated the most discussion. Behind Kane’s cover came two of Moench’s stories, the

When Alfredo Alcala distinguished Giant-Size Chillers’ debut with his dark artistry, he made “The Gravesend Gorgon” a masterpiece. Gil Kane and once again John Romita found time to give the cover to the second issue of this chilling series the mood it deserved. Pablo Marcos proved the perfect choice of artist when he graced the cover to Giant-Size Dracula #2, dated September 1974, just weeks before his memorable cover to the premiere of the UK edition of Dracula Lives.

Giant-Size Man-Thing’s second appearance led with a cover from John Buscema, a name who was by now synonymous with the Marvel ethos. Although The Monster of Frankenstein was never granted his own Giant-Size comic, he still managed to lumber into the pages of Giant-Size Werewolf #2 opening with a Kane-Tom Palmer cover collaboration. Above, the splash rendered by Mike Ploog and Frank Chiaramonte oozed with apprehension as Giant-Size Man-Thing #1 set to make its indelible mark.

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first illustrated by Virgil Redondo “A Meeting of Blood” featuring Morbius, with the second offering “When the Moon Dripped Blood” rendered by an artist who demonstrated an uncanny understanding of comic book terror, Yong Montaño. The arcane combined with the action requisite to these stories, consequently ensuring the reader was accorded a riveting read. At last there seemed to be a sense of direction, but issue #5, dated July 1975, would bring this series to an end. As to whether Moench and Montaño were aware of this unfortunate turn of events isn’t clear, but they delivered “The Plunder of Paingloss” with due finesse, concluding the series with three tales cherry-picked from the 1950s.

If we are being honest, even the most dedicated fan would have found the title Giant-Size Chillers Featuring Curse of Dracula to have been something of a mouthful. So, the change to Giant-Size Dracula for its second appearance, dated September 1974, was probably greeted with a huge sigh of relief. Having mollified their readers, Pablo Marcos was then given the chance to embellish the cover, marking the beginning of his affiliation with the dread Count. Rising star Chris Claremont was asked to provide the script, with the ever reliable Don Heck and Frank McLaughlin nominated for the art chores, not the easiest of assignments given the lofty standards set by Colan and Palmer. The continuity freaks would have been delighted to see the proceedings follow the existing continuum, betwixt the events in Giant-Size Spider-Man #1 and Tomb of Dracula #25. There was an intriguing selection of pre-Code material on show, but only one of these offerings would be true to the vampire theme, the Stan Lee-Hy Rosen collaboration “Vampire at the Window” from Astonishing #18, dated October 1952.

The last two issues of Giant-Size Dracula would see the “Curse of Dracula” storyline making the move away from the Tomb of Dracula series, choosing a narrative set in the 1930s. As with Giant-Size Werewolf #4, issue

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Former Werewolf by Night artist Gil Kane did a first rate job on his cover layouts for Giant-Size Werewolf #3. It was left to Tom Palmer to seal the drama in this scene with a polished piece of embellishing. Kane was back for the sword and sorcery styled cover to Giant-Size Man-Thing #3; on this occasion Klaus Janson provided a typically beautiful set of inks. Sitting next to this cover comes a rare moment at Marvel, a piece bearing the name Bernie Wrightson, who was brought in to ink Ed Hannigan’s pencils as the introduction to the final issue of Giant-Size Chillers.

Tomb of Dracula combo Kane and Palmer were on show for the third issue of Giant-Size Dracula, with a cover that would have attracted a considerable amount of interest. Below, The Frankenstein Monsters gets his moment in the opener to Giant-Size Werewolf #2, courtesy of pre-Code veterans Don Perlin and Vince Colletta. Alfredo Alcala had the enviable ability to blend horror with fantasy as he demonstrated in the tale “The Blood of Kings!” from the contents of Giant-Size Man-Thing #3, February 1975.

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#5 of this run showed clearly how Giant-Size Dracula could move forward, with “Curse of Dracula” selected for the opener, followed by “Dark Asylum,” a vampire tale presenting the artistry of fan favorite John Byrne, along with the beautiful inks of Rudy Nebres. There were also a couple of pre-Code vampire tales included later on in this issue, “The Hidden Vampire” from Journey into Mystery #21, January 1955, and “They Fly By Night” first published in Adventures into Terror #30, April 1954. It was indeed a compelling package, one of the finest of these giant-size terrors. It should also be noted Giant-Size Dracula #3, dated December 1974, reprinted the Matt Fox illustrated “I Was A Vampire” from Uncanny Tales #6, all the way back in March 1953.

The three issues of Giant-Size Chillers, the first of them debuting in February 1975, have long since been overlooked, but they were the closest Marvel came to emulating DC’s 100 page House of Mystery and its companion Unexpected, in their choice of running short stories rather The shelves of the stores may have been crammed with an abundance of comics during 1975, but Giant-Size Man-Thing #4 would have stood out thanks to Frank Brunner’s superlative artistry. Gil Kane and Tom Palmer returned to threaten with their cover for Giant-Size Dracula #4, with Kane again on cover duties, this time on Giant-Size Werewolf #4. Giant-Size Man-Thing #4 has long been celebrated for this being the first solo appearance of the anarchic Howard the Duck, as presented in this page of original art from Frank Brunner.

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than the ongoing sagas to which Marvel readers had become accustomed. The first issue was the strongest, and while issue #3 reprinted a fairly recent set of stories from Tower of Shadows, Chamber of Darkness and Monsters on the Prowl, it is still something of a collector’s item as it showcased future The Studio artists Barry Windsor-Smith and Bernie Wrightson in the same issue. This would be its finale; the fourth, which was to have featured Tigra, was never to see publication.

I have saved the most fascinating of this assemblage for the last, GiantSize Man-Thing. Ploog embellished the cover to this premiere, dated August 1974. He was also asked to pencil Steve Gerber’s 25 page tale “How Will We Keep Warm When The Last Flame Dies?” inked by Frank Chiaramonte.

The three ensuing post-Code monster reprints would make this one of the most sought after of all this giant-size endeavours. For countless readers, the way this issue was packaged was how they expected these bumper issues to appear. Issues #2 and #3 were consistent throughout; although devoid of Mike Ploog, John Buscema and Alfredo Alcala proved worthy replacements.

Of all the comics included in this giant-size series, Frank Brunner’s cover for Giant-Size Man-Thing #4, dated May 1975 was without parallel.

Following on from Steve Gerber’s “The Kid’s Night Out,” rendered by Ed Hannigan, Ron Wilson and Frank Springer, came Howard the Duck’s first solo appearance. The tale “Frog Death,” again written by Gerber, allowed Brunner to lavish his readership with his sumptuous brushstrokes. Now little more than a footnote in comic book history, this story would make this issue of Giant-Size Man-Thing one of the most sought-after comics of the 1970s. The Man-Thing would make another appearance in #5, cover-dated July 1975, but the end was nigh. Alas, as with its fellow titles, time was called with its fifth issue, cover-dated August 1975. There were breathtaking contributions aplenty from the likes of Gerber, Marv Wolfman Tom Sutton and John Buscema for a pairing of Man-Thing stories, but they couldn’t save the day. Howard the Duck, courtesy of Gerber, Brunner and Palmer, was 156

also there to say goodbye in an issue featuring a letter of comment from a fellow by the name of Fred Hembeck. I wonder if he still remembers?

As 1975 moved on, rising paper costs would throw the industry into turmoil, resulting in the cancellation of many comics and magazines. Both Marvel’s giant-size comics and DC’s 100 page editions would be cut, never again to see the light of day. As sad as this may have been, for the collector, this series very soon became worth tracking down. In these oversized issues they would discover an abundance of horror, bearing testament to just how healthy the genre had been during this period.

Giant-Size Dracula’s fifth and final appearance would become another collector’s item of the period, for behind Gil Kane and Tom Palmer’s striking cover came an early set of pencils from John Byrne, seen to the top left of these pages, inked by Rudy Nebres. From this same issue, “The Art of Dying” revealed Virgil Redondo and Dan Adkins at their finest.

The Marvel Team-Up theme continued in Giant-Size Spider-Man #5 with Man-Thing guest starring behind yet another Kane partnership with Palmer. They came together again for the cover of Giant-Size Werewolf #5, with Kane creating the cover for the last issue of Giant-Size Man-Thing, this time assisted by the brushstrokes of Dan Adkins.

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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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bringing in a raft of new readers. To ensure they didn’t ruffle the feathers of the Code’s scrutineers, the debased Dr. Death of the original imprint was laid to rest, now replaced by the mysterial figure of Dr. Haunt. While the sardonic humor of his predecessor no longer cackled through these pages, Dr. Haunt was nonetheless a forbidding presence.

Issue #13 returned with a cover date of October 1957, indicating a quarterly publishing schedule. This might have been a little tough on the kids eagerly awaiting the next issue, but it was well worth the wait, although Ditko’s cover wasn’t possessed with the same eerie foreboding encountered in the previous issue. Still, the manifestation of Dr. Haunt ushered this new band of readers into a tale of revenge, where Ditko defied the conventions of comic book art to create a series of utterly compelling pages. Again it isn’t clear if Joe Gill scribed all of these tales, but they certainly contain elements of his narrative approach. The house Ditko rendered in the “Menace of the Invisibles” looked very much like that ominous abode observed on his preceding cover. Charlton regulars Bill Molno and Rocce Mastroserio stepped in for the last couple of stories, making for a genuinely entertaining read.

Dr. Haunt’s second set of tales were gathered for issue #13 of This Magazine is Haunted, with Steve again at the helm on art chores throughout. A veritable collector’s item in the making. His opening page for “The Menace of the Invisibles” had that creepy air seen in many a pre-Code terror.

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“The Green Man” from issue #14 certainly threatened from the outset, delivering a tale of mystery enhanced

by Ditko’s imaginative line. “The Man Who Disappeared” opened with an ominous tone, one that would have had the reader eager to turn the page.

Charlton wasted no time in building on the interest aroused in these two issues, releasing issue #14 with a cover date of December 1957. It is so easy to understand why they were keen to get this issue to press, as Ditko’s cover for “The Green Man” would have carried an astonishing impact when it was slotted into the spinning racks. This continued in the opening story “From Out of the Depths” rendered by Steve, with a suggestion Gill had a hand in scribing this tale of a creature that resembled the Symbiote first seen in Secret Wars #8 and Amazing Spider-Man #252. I don’t think we should be considering this creature a prototype for that alien being, but it is one of those fascinating yarns the post-Code period so enjoyed. Strangely, “The Green Man,” again pencilled and inked by Ditko, could have introduced another prototype presaging the cast in The Incredible Hulk, but that would be pushing it. The inspiration behind “The Man Who Disappeared” definitely came the film from that same year, The Incredible Shrinking Man, based on Richard Matheson’s recent novel The Shrinking Man. To their credit, Gill and Ditko embellished their tale with a touch of their own brilliance. The ever reliable Bill Molno was called in for the five page story “The Old Man of the Sea” as Ditko raced against deadlines galore.

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Regrettably, Ditko had moved on from cover duties when issue #15, dated February 1958, appeared. The acclaimed Maurice Whitman, who had worked with nearly all of the largest publishers in the business, was asked to fill in for this cover. To his immense credit, his depiction of Dr. Haunt was truly uncanny, the gateway to an entire issue of fantasy styled stories pencilled by Molno. They may not have charmed in the way Ditko’s renditions had in the past, but they were an enthralling read.

It was left to Rocce Mastroserio to embellish the last of these covers for this series, numbered #16, dated May of 1958. As he had so many times before, Mastroserio produced a first class job, eliciting the strangeness endemic to Dr. Haunt, but he wasn’t to be his savior. At the last, Ditko returned to gift these pages with four more of his stories. As he had throughout this period, Ditko continued to toy with his layouts, an assurance his readers would savor something special when they sat down for a good read. The science fiction blended perfectly with the suspense and mystery to make this a finale to remember. Maybe it was the popularity of these science fiction tales that forced this title to morph into Outer Space with #17, a title showcasing several of Ditko’s tales along with a cover for #21.

In the blink of an eye it was all over, as it was with so many of these Charlton comics. When this series was revived in the summer of 1957, Steve’s atmospheric cover really did make it look as if horror had at last returned to comics, such was its creepy milieu. Of course those administering the Code would never again allow the terrors of the past to insinuate themselves, but for all of this Joe Gill’s script writing would make his readers sit up and think, much the way Stan Lee was doing at Atlas.

“From Out of the Depths” saw print in This Magazine is Haunted #14, dated December 1957, using imagery that would serve Ditko well when he moved to Marvel Comics. “The Man From Time” would be but one of the tales that wished Dr. Haunt a fond farewell. For the last two issues, pressure of work from elsewhere forced Ditko to step down, leaving Maurice Whitman to chill on #15 and Rocco Mastroserio to render a sinister cover for #16, the epitome of this short-lived series.

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It was back in 2020 when I discovered I didn’t have a copy of From the Tomb #24, so I ended up ordering a copy from a seller on ebay. The day before my order arrived I found almost a dozen copies of this very same issue tucked away in another box of horror comics. If you know me well enough, you will be all too aware this is so typical of me, but I wasn’t about to cancel; this just wouldn’t have been fair. It is perhaps as well I didn’t because the seller was none other than The Gurch, whose chilling artistry adorns the covers to From the Tomb #28, The Best of From the Tomb and It Crept From the Tomb. He was convinced I was on a wind up until I told my bit of the story. Along with this issue came a copy of the Fantaco published Screaming Horror #1, from March 2020. Some of these tales were first seen back in 1991, but this new showing has allowed The Gurch to re-master his art, to quite grisly effect. It is, as you would expect from The Gurch, unbelievable. He is a creator with an incredible grasp for the more gruesome aspects of horror. This is a collection you will want to track down.

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“The Spider” from Marvel Tales #101 marked Larry Woromay’s entry into the Atlas domain of terror in June 1951. In this page, traces of his style can be seen during a period when the company endorsed a house style which invariably detracted from the artist’s real potential. The splash page from “Jack and Jill Went Up The Hill” published two years later in Journey into Mystery #10 revealed why Atlas were so keen to have him on their books. Here, his illustrative, style so reminiscent of the pulps, shines through. The opening page to “The Planet Eaters” from the contents of Stanley Morse’s Weird Mysteries #1 contains the initials L W, and when you spend time with the figures in this page there is every suggestion this has come from Woromay’s hand. The science fiction theme continued in “The Bugs!” from Strange Tales #13, cover-dated December 1952.

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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

these showings all seemed to bode well.

In the pages he produced for Mystic #14’s “Guillotine,” from November 1952, Woromay’s penchant for lampoonery was again in evidence. His splash for the opener, however, was as shocking a spectacle as you were likely to see on the newsstand that month, a snapshot taken seconds before the blade came plummeting down.

The chicanery in these pages wasn’t to detract from the horror at hand, revealing an artist now at home in this tenebrous dominion. He soon followed with the anti-Communist “He Kept Him in Stitches” presented in Adventures into Terror #15, January 1953, where his craft observed a departure of a dark ilk, the shadows now taking hold of his brushstrokes. In all of three pages he produced a captivating flow of panels, inviting comparisons with the cinematic approach used to such intriguing effect later in the next decade and on into the next. In a very short space of time, the impact Woromay made had been completely resounding.

His brushstrokes came to the assistance of Al Williamson on Weird Science #17’s “The Island Monster,” dated January-February 1953.

With Williamson behind on his deadlines, Woromay offered a hand for what would be his one and only appearance in an EC publication.

The linework endorsed by Williamson to accentuate his shading was promptly brought to play in Woromay’s pages, initially in Adventures into Weird Worlds #14, January 1953, for the tale “Forever is a Long Time.” As you can see here, it made his finishes look all the more impressive, as did his experimentation, moving away from the familiar

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grid format to allow his artwork to flow across the page.

It was around this time he started to show up at Bernie Krigstein’s gatherings, a fellow artist eager to establish an association for these young aspirants. Krigstein was way ahead of his time, firmly believing in the validity of comic book art, wanting it to be taken seriously to achieve acceptance in the art world. He was quite forthright in his view that there should be a professional standard to the artwork submitted across the industry, which in return should be rewarded with a minimum rate of pay. Woromay was one of the attendees at the first meeting in the autumn of 1952, where he found himself elected as treasurer. Sat alongside him were Harry Harrison, Ross Andru, Edd Ashe, Ernie Bache, John Celardo, George Evans, Mo Marcus, Arthur Peddy and Bernard Sachs. For all of the stirring exchange of ideas, this newly formed Society of Comic Book Illustrators would last but a matter of months. There are those who think the presence of the conservative DC editor Bob Kanigher at the meeting held in March of 1953 did much to undermine their hopes for unionisation. The change in the mood across the United States towards the humble comic book would have also been an unassailable factor in the thwarting of this fledgling society. By June, time was called on these forward thinking parleys. Certain members left with the promise of regular work, while Woromay remained in the gainful

The detail Woromay gifted Adventures into Weird Worlds #14’s “Forever is a Long Time!”, dated January 1953, was quite remarkable, but must have been so time consuming. A couple of months later his inking appeared bold and very self-assured for “The Third Ghost” from the pages of Marvel Tales #112, although his meticulous line work was still in evidence.

“The Witch of Landor,” rendered around the same time for Uncanny Tales #7, pulsated with the kind of energy the superhero comics of the Silver Age would soon be crying out for. Just before the Comics Code came into force, Woromay ushered his readers into a “Haunted House” in Journey into Mystery #22, from January 1955. Again his brushstrokes revealed a man at ease in his work. The horror of his splash for Mystic #14’s “Guillotine!” dated November 1952, was tempered by his cartoon like depiction of the characters central to this tale, a surprising turn for the “horror guy,” but his graphic display would have delighted his band of followers.

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As these pages reveal, Woromay relished creating a splash which made the reader sit up and pay close attention. His skull splash for Marvel Tales #119’s “They Gave Him A Grave,” dated December 1953, bears testimony to this, as does the shadow laden “The Last Word” from Strange Tales #15, February 1953. “Dugan and the Dummy” from Journey into Unknown Worlds #18, May 1953, was one of three of Woromay’s tales to be inked by Matt Fox; the pair of them working in collaboration was the rarest of treats for the readers of these Atlas tales of terror. At the top right comes a page from “The Last of the Glanmores,” one of Fiction House’s tales from Ghost Comics #8, dated for an undisclosed month in 1953. There has been debate as to whether these are Larry’s brushstrokes, but this page does look like his work. “When Cowards Meet” published in Adventures into Terror #23, dated September 1953, once again demonstrated his knack for detail.

employ of Atlas for the next four years, although he didn’t produce quite as many pages of art.

“The Last Word” from Strange Tales #15, dated February 1953, again highlighted his fine line, each stroke adding to the depth in his panels. Here, he used a technique favoured by Bernie Krigstein, running together a series of tightly knit panels, thus hastening the pace of the story, again drawing parallels with the focus of the camera’s lens. A month later his layouts for Marvel Tales #112’s “The Third Ghost” chose to stay firmly within the panels, as they would for the remainder of his time with Atlas. These pieces had no place for the experimentation discussed at his society meetings, yet his brushstrokes were layered with such confidence, preferring solid blacks to the time consuming line work of his recent assignments.

He took these solid blacks that one step further for the “Witch of Landor,” his only appearance in Uncanny Tales, this for its 7th issue dated April 1953. Curiously, amidst these shadowed panels 168

his meticulous linework could still be seen, his attention to detail affording each of these pages a substance only occasionally observed in the comics of the period. It had been, only months, but his artistry was becoming so very refined.

As Atlas’s new man to go to for horror, he may have taken on a little more than he could chew, for of his four published stories dated May and June 1953, three of them were inked by Matt Fox. The first of them, “Dugan and the Dummy” from Journey into Unknown Worlds #18, can only be described as bizarre, possibly a portent for what was to come. Full credit to the seniors at Atlas overseeing the artwork, they couldn’t have chosen a better pairing for this descent into madness. Fox’s eye for detail evidenced elsewhere in his time in the pulps and comic books came to the fore in these pages as he picked up Woromay’s intricate pencil work to deliver something quite extraordinary. Rarely had anything like this been seen in the pages of a four-colored comic book.

That same month Strange Tales #18 dared to include the second of their arcane collaborations, this time on “Witch-Hunt.” Following the directions in Paul S. Newman’s script, he created a splash awash with such demonic imagery, designed to arouse his juvenile readership, while no doubt alarming the less discerning. This triumvirate of terror was rounded off with “The Thief” in Men’s Adventures #23, a title which on its recent turn to horror had swiftly acquired a standing of abominable repute. Someone had stolen the coin given to the betrayer Judas Iscariot, the consequences of which would have dreadful repercussions for the people of Europe. Woromay’s close attention to detail coupled with Fox’s insanely brilliant inking would make this a story to remember, but was it all too much for the senior echelons at Atlas, for this outlandish partnership would never again join forces.

For the next three years Woromay would remain in the Atlas fold, but his output was by no means as profuse, maybe owing to his connection with Bernie Krigstein, or more likely his illustrations for the pulps. He would render one story for Ace Periodicals, in the strangely numbered Hand of Fate #25b, “The Witch’s Wicked Words,” cover-dated December 1954. His style during this period, particularly on his one

outing for Ace, contained elements of Jack Davis from his time with EC, an artist for whom Woromay had a considerable amount of admiration. While Ace were not renowned for their extreme content, Woromay did get the chance to render a suicide panel, an unusual moment for this publisher.

After working on his own for so long, Woromay sought work with Harry Harrison’s studio during the early 1960s, when Harrison was dividing his time between illustrating and writing.

The work Woromay eventually produced for Charlton was devoid of the imagination evidenced in his stories for Atlas. They looked as if they had been quickly put together as part of a production line process. However, his brief association with Jim Warren’s Eerie, under the name Bill Woromay, was a delight, revealing he had lost none of his old touch. Similarly, the pages he embellished for Eerie Publications’ Weird, Witches Tales, Horror Tales, Terror Tales and Tales of Voodoo were suited to their style of storytelling, but by then he had other callings, ones harking back to his time as a youngster in Greenwich Village. As his time in comics came to an end, he emerged as a prolific oil painter, before taking on the director’s post at the Nassau County Puppet Theatre. In his time with the theatre he would create a number of puppets, while continuing to paint up until his death in 2007.

Woromay had a rewarding life, his contribution to the horror comics of the 1950s placing him amongst the unsung greats of the period. In his time in comics he inspired other budding artists to develop their skills, just as Burne Hogarth and his staff had done all those years ago. If ever a collection of Atlas’s finest horror stories was to be compiled, then surely Woromay should be bestowed with a special place in those pages.

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“Witch-Hunt!” from Strange Tales #18, May 1953 and “The Thief!”, which appeared in the notorious Men’s Adventures #23, dated September 1953, saw Woromay and Matt Fox combining their dark artistry to deliver two of Atlas’s most chilling narrations. While Mystery Tales #20’s “The Snake!” wasn’t signed, this splash page oozes with his ominous touch. His bold line and relish for the powerful splash page were there for his fans to enjoy in Strange Tales #19’s “The Extra Coffin,” dated June 1953. It is such a shame we never got to see more of his work at Warren; “Big Change!” from Eerie #11, dated September 1967, affirmed his ability as a first class illustrator. To make their magazines look all the more unsettling, Eerie Publications insisted their artists apply a wash technique, which Woromay readily endorsed for Tales of Voodoo Vol. 5 #6’s “Creature of Evil,” October 1972.

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The artwork of Neal Adams, Bernie Wrightson, Nick Cardy and Mike Kaluta held sway over House of Mystery’s covers when this title once again looked to the darkened realm of horror upon reaching issue #174 in May-June of 1968. Their dark craft was indeed a sight to behold, yet Jack Sparling’s sinister canvas gracing the cover to this title’s 205th appearance, cover-dated August 1972, remains one of the most chilling of the entire run. All these years later it is so satisfying to observe how DC’s horror infused covers of the period avoided depreciating these nightmare visions with a profusion of intrusive word balloons. The cover design for Sparling’s foreboding portrayal was no exception, allowing the casual onlooker to be readily drawn into the eerie silence permeating this secluded region, thus in turn heightening the mounting sense of unease.

Without so much as a sound this wraith-like figure glided through the night astride its floating coffin, a spectral premonition for that which lay within.

Sparling was no stranger to the horror comic, having illustrated several of these abominable tales for Harvey and Toby in the years preceding the Comics Code. A time served comic book artist, his career dating back to 1942, it was no surprise when Joe Orlando invited him on board for the second of this series’ forays into terror, to render the artwork for the Jack Oleck penned tale “The House of Gargoyles,” one of whose panels would provide the inspiration for yet another stunning Adams cover. Similar work would regularly come Sparling’s way from each of the company’s mystery horror titles throughout this period, but in issue #205’s “The Coffin Maker” we were given the rare chance to see this seasoned professional take on the writing chores for one of these creepy tales. In these ten pages he retraced the memories of his youth, returning to a time when he could have only dreamed of becoming a comic book or syndicated comic strip artist, back to the swamplands of New Orleans, a quagmire oozing with an abundance of age-old folklore handed down from generation to generation.

Here he told of a curse dating to a time more than a hundred years past, a bane set to unleash its scourge one more time and in so doing bring about the return of the dread Coffin Maker on this rainswept eve. Sparling demonstrated an ability to tell a gripping story, matched perfectly by his art for which many a horror comic would have clamoured. This proved to be one occasion when the interior content lived up to the premise presaged in the image laid bare on the cover.

While Sparling revealed himself to be a worthy writer, Michael Fleisher was brought in to script the dialogue, in what was only his third appearance as a professional comics writer. Here there was no indication as to what would soon follow, for very shortly Fleisher would make quite an impact on the world of comic books, one which would endear him to this new generation of horror devotees. For the moment they would have to content themselves with his knack for free-flowing dialogue.

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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

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 Terror Tales, March April 1939; and Dime Mystery Magazine’s shocker going back to November 1935.

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The October 1933 edition of Dell’s All Detective Magazine set one of Norman Saunders’ villainous creations loose with a hypodermic syringe, then Tom Lovell ushered us into the mortuary for his cover to Dime Mystery Magazine, February 1937. So they followed, with Modest Stein‘s insanity for Street & Smith’s Detective Story Magazine, July 1939, and the shrunken women tormented on the covers of Uncanny Tales for May 1940 and Thrilling Mystery, March 1940. If the hypodermic scene in Dr. Occult from More Fun Comics #13, dated September 1936, wasn’t the first of its kind, it was certainly one of the earliest. Lou Fine gave the debut of Science Comics the boost it needed in February 1940, and it comes as no surprise to see the dread hypodermic adorning the cover to one Brazil’s celebrated horror titles, Contos de Terror #116, the final issue dated May 1964. Below these images, we have the covers to Dime Mystery Magazine from March 1934 and March 1940, and The Shadow in sinister pose for Graves Gladney’s cover to his 15th September 1940 appearance.

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When comics began to appear alongside the pulp titles, they too were drawn to the menace contained in the hypodermic. In 1940, Detective Comics was very often inclined to the extreme as shown on the cover to its 35th issue. Marvel Mystery Comics #7, dated May 1940, carried on the horrors from the pulps in its depiction of a girl in peril, as did the cover to Pep Comics #34 from December 1942. Victor Fox’s premiere for Weird Comics, dated April 1940, endorsed a similar motif, with an insane piece of artistry from George Tuska.

Once again Fox was encouraging his team to conjure the diabolical for the cover to Mystery Men #16, dated November 1940. The Axis were shown for the villains they truly were on the covers to Fighting Yank #10 from December 1944 and USA Comics #9, July 1943. Fox’s Green Mask #8 from December 1941 again thrust an unfortunate girl before the machinations of an evil scientist. In what was still an early period in his career, Reed Crandall displayed his finesse on the splash to the Doll Man tale which was the lead to Feature Comics #58, cover-dated July 1942.

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to bequeath humanity the hypodermic syringe. Alexander’s genius was a life saver, although it is a blessing he was never privy to the devious designs the pulp magazines had in mind for his remarkable achievement. As early as 1933, the October edition of Dell’s All Detective Magazine sported a Norman Saunders cover depicting a scantily clad young lady lying prostrate before a ne’er-do-well, syringe in hand. Norman had only been in the business for a short period, recruited

by Fawcett in 1928, the prelude to his embarking on a career as a freelance artist in 1934. A novice he may have been, but he very quickly mastered the lurid trope favored by the pulp magazines of the day, laying bare a helpless beauty to the depravity of a merciless cur with ease. This he affirmed on the cover of the October 1935 edition of the highly suggestive Spicy Mystery Stories, a scene observed on the second page of this piece. Here, the unknown perpetrator’s intent was all too obvious, his intrusive needle aimed directly at the arm of his ever so delicate victim.

It has to be said the story within wouldn’t have been quite as salacious as Norman’s provocative imaginings, but it would have no doubt engrossed the reader for many an hour.

Popular Publications’ Dime Mystery Magazine certainly wasn’t averse to revelling in this chemically infused imagery. The sumptuous artistry conceived by one of the giants of the period, Brooklyn born Walter M. Baumhofer, can also be admired on the same page. The slightest glance would have determined his cover for Dime Mystery Magazine’s appearance in November 1935 was nothing short of diabolical, any hope this poor girl may have had, had now come to nothing. We can only hope the story within honored her with a little more dignity. Just a month earlier, Baumhofer was also called upon to conjure a demonic entity brandishing an extremely sharp needle, this one with its sights on a somewhat unsuspecting damsel.

How this innocent had managed to fall into such an awful circumstance is anyone’s guess, having unwittingly become ensnared in this world of pulp crime and horror, where such occurrences were frankly par for the course.

Let’s turn to another well respected figure of the period, Tom Lovell, who long before his consideration for induction into the Society of Illustrators’ Hall of Fame, was diligently building a reputation with these increasingly popular pulp magazines.

His beautifully painted cover for the February 1937 edition of Dime Mystery Magazine was a fait accompli for this hapless heroine, lured into the mortuary where a syringe, presumably brimming with a lethal embalming fluid, was poised ready

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to be thrust her way. Only by dipping his hand into his pocket would the casual bystander ever discover the outcome. It didn’t stop there.

In March 1939 this same title forced a rather elegant looking lady to succumb to the schemes of a demented surgeon; again how she ended up there we will never know, but this blackguard was now hell-bent on pumping a life threatening serum deep into her veins. It really couldn’t have gotten any worse or could it? Exactly twelve months later, in the March 1940 edition, this journal’s readers were shocked to see a bound heroine stripped to her undies, braced to watch her blood being slowly drained away. The sinister expression on her captor’s face was proof enough this procedure hadn’t been conceived for her benefit. Alarmingly, she had suffered the same trauma when John A. Coughlin’s cover first appeared on the July-August 1937 edition of Terror Tales. Such was the mania for these hypodermic styled covers at Dime Mystery Magazine that its September 1940 issue also ran with a reprint, in this instance the same mummification episode which had mortified the readers of Terror Tales back in November 1935. There were hypodermics aplenty during the boom years of the pulps, but it would be unfair to say they dominated these covers, for the artists behind these images had countless other means at their disposal to subjugate these vulnerable girls.

In their defence, the pulps were marketed at a more mature readership, not so the comic book. Their readers were largely made up of particularly young children and youth entering their early teens.

As early as DC’s More Fun Comics #13, cover-dated September 1936, the hypodermic was manifest in the third part of the Jerry Siegel-Joe Shuster Dr. Occult werewolf saga. More Fun Comics, along with its

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predecessor More Fun, was very much a juvenile affair, yet the two men destined to create the legendary Superman were seeking to put more than a chill along the spines of their young readers. In this fairly brief affair, made up of a trio of two page episodes, they introduced another trope relished by the pulps, the allure of the femme fatale, on this telling the ruthless Mrs. Daniels. Her lust for experimentation would hurl Dr. Occult into the most dire peril, as she sought to inject him with a serum concocted to change him into a werewolf, in what given their day were a series of graphically explicit panels. The notion of transforming a man into something he could have never dreamed came to the fore at the dawn of the Golden Age, when Centaur released the debut of Amazing Man Comics, numbered issue #5, cover-dated September 1939. These were still early days for Bill Everett, yet here he was depicting the injection of an unearthly invisibility serum, paving the way for Amazing Man to stand proud amongst the first surge of comic book superheroes. It was indeed stirring stuff, by no means as outrageous as its pulp counterparts, but this state of affairs wasn’t to last.

That same summer, Victor Fox, the self proclaimed king of comics, had also arrived on the scene. As the year drew to a close he released the first issue of Science Comics, dated January 1940. Fox was always set upon making an impact, and in this premiere he most certainly did, setting the ball rolling with a diabolical hypodermic bondage cover, ever so exquisitely rendered by one of the period’s greats, Lou Fine. Let’s just hope Fox

Dick Ayers’ collaboration with Ernie Bache for the cover to Magazine Enterprises’ Manhunt #14 rates as one of the most notorious of the entire period. The accompanying tale, “The Little Man Who Wasn’t There,” was originally featured in Manhunt #10, dated July 1948, before being reprinted in this issue. A page from Paul Parker’s equally infamous artistry for this tale is shown at the top left of this spread. The Frankenstein creation was about to find himself on the receiving end of a jab on Dick Briefer’s cover for his second issue, dated 1945. Around the same time yet another girl in peril was strapped down waiting to be subjected to a deathly concoction, this time on the cover of Red Seal Comics #14, dated October 1945. To the right, a page from the good-girl classic Blue Beetle, this one appearing in Blue Beetle #47, from August 1947, at the height of its run.

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That revered Atlas stalwart Sol Brodsky was handed the task of illustrating the bizarre cover to Marvel Tales #118, dated September 1953. It was left to Gene Colan to provide the brushstrokes to the ensuing story “When A World Went Mad!”, a tale which bowed out with a typical Atlas twist. The alien serum plunged into the arm of the hapless fellow in Adventure into Terror #5’s “The Man Who Was Death,” rendered by Russ Heath, shown at the top of the page, was going to keep the reader on the edge of their seat until the very last. Across the page, Lou Cameron’s stylish artwork insisted the reader lasted the course for Baffling Mysteries #17’s “Kill, My Minions of Death!” from September 1953. The obscure Farrell title Fantastic Fears shocked those who were fortunate enough to find it with the hideous “And Death Makes Three!” This debut, numbered #7 was cover-dated May 1953, running with a grisly helping of Iger Shop art.

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remembered to pay him, because it was Fine’s incredible cover that drew people’s eyes when it appeared on the newsstand. The bondage hypodermic motif made a return when Weird Comics debuted just a few months later, cover-dated April 1940. For this launch Fox turned to one of the bright stars of the future, George Tuska, whose deranged cover said so much about this new title. The miscreant toying with the syringe in the foreground was just too much, and you could only feel for the gorilla, for none of this was his doing. On this showing, Tuska’s artistry fairly pulsed with an energy we would soon associate with the mastery of Jack Kirby and Alex Schomburg.

This Golden Age of comics had been well versed in the terror of the hypodermic by its pulp predecessors; now it was their turn to exploit its capacity for the pernicious in every way possible. With each passing month, competition at the newsstand grew stronger and stronger, which didn’t phase Timely Comics in the slightest as they had already made their mark. This in part owed to their unusual affinity for these preposterous displays, much of it coming from the drawing board of that man Alex Schomburg, who seemed to derive an inordinate amount of pleasure from subjecting both his heroes and heroines to the most horrendous torment imaginable. His cover for Marvel Mystery Comics #7, dated May 1940, pictured a few pages back, alongside the first appearance of Weird Comics, was charged with an intensity reminiscent of the action packed matinee sagas then packing cinemas across the free world. Of course, Schomburg wasn’t the only artist assigned to these sensationalistic covers; Al Avison and Syd Shores are thought to have been on hand for Captain America’s daring rescue on the cover of USA Comics #9, dated July 1943. Their grasp for this insanity was every bit as extreme as that of Schomburg, thus ensuring the kiddies were always willing to hand over their coveted pocket money.

Only once during this period did DC Comics make use of the hypodermic syringe on one of their covers, in a scene created by a certain Bob Kane for Detective Comics #35, dated January 1940. The second issue of All-Star Comics, from the Fall of 1940, also witnessed a similar spectacle in its Green Lantern and Hawkman stories.

However, such encounters were a rarity at DC, following criticism of the levels of violence in their comics. From here on, their editorial policy would put measures in place to gain the approval of the parents of their impressionable young readers. This would make them something of an anomaly when compared to so many of their fellow publishers, for as can be discerned from the covers on show from these years, the hypodermic played a notable part in exacerbating the excitement in these fledgling titles.

While hardly commonplace, its presence would become all the more sinister in the years immediately after the War. Between 1941 and 1945, thousands of moral boosting comic books had been sent to the troops on the front line across Europe and the Pacific.

On their return a considerable amount of these men would retain an interest in these comics, some even going on to become comic book professionals themselves. This was at a time when the comic publishers were moving away from the failing superhero fare into the more lucrative genres of crime and romance. It became obvious that an element of their content, particularly in the crime comics, was now aimed at an older audience. Curiously, from the latter months of 1945 hypodermics were rarely ever seen on these covers, yet when they did appear they were every bit as shocking as they had been during the celebrated Golden Age years. Paul Gattuso’s pulp influenced madness for the cover of Red Seal Comics #14, dated October 1945, was indeed an inspired method of rousing attention for this new title.

Those with a craving for these sadistic covers may have wondered if this gratuitous depiction of a girl strapped to a makeshift operating table would continue this despicable trend; they had no reason to fear, for Rudy Palais was quick to follow with more derangement, this time on the cover of Four Favorites #21, dated January 1946. Schomburg 183

was again terrorising one of his hapless heroines a couple of months later for the cover of Pines’ Startling Comics #38, dated March 1946, although it has to be said this rendition didn’t quite match the verve of his work at Timely. Surprisingly, Young King Cole #4, a title specifically aimed at younger readers, ran with a hypodermic cover for its appearance in the summer of 1946, although it was by no means as brazen as its counterparts. In the wake of this unsettling flurry of activity in the post war period, the hypodermic then surprisingly disappeared from the covers of these comics, despite being infrequently flaunted in the interior content.

Within a few years, the boom in crime comics gave way to the next fad at the newsstand, the horror comic. Now, you would have expected these gruesome publications to have had a voracity for such disreputable behavior, but this wasn’t exactly the case. There were many stories which did revel in the menace bubbling away in the hypodermic, with Atlas very much ahead of their rivals in their fervor to present this abhorrence, continuing on from the breathtaking thrills of the Timely years. Ace were not far behind in shooting up on this fascination as was that notorious title from this dark epoch, Dark Mysteries. Strangely, EC only occasionally dabbled with this contrivance, their penchant for horror as we know lay elsewhere. Comic book terror had indeed consumed the newsstands, and with it their covers followed with a inundation of dread the like of which had never before been seen, amongst them came the vampire breed, baying werewolves, ageing cemeteries, haunted houses, ghostly apparitions and let’s not forget the walking

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dead. The fear held in the odious needle no longer had quite the same effect. This is substantiated by the fact only a handful of covers flirted with the hypodermic during the early 1950s, yet one of them in particular acquired a notoriety to rival the pulps of the previous two decades. ME’s Manhunt #14 was published in 1953; it was to be the last of this title’s sporadic run. When it first appeared, this mind-boggling cover, created by Dick Ayers and his accomplice Ernie Bache, would have stood out in the stores across America, enthralling those caught in its hypnotising gaze, yet understandably enraging the campaigners who were utterly appalled by the excesses in these comics. The display of bondage, hypodermic and headlights. coupled with a miniature man set to plunge his hypodermic needle into this helpless girl’s throat, went further than anything else on sale at this time, granting it an infamy to match that of Bernard Baily’s white hot poker to the eye cover for Mister Mystery #12, published that same year, and John Craig’s decapitation cover seen on Crime Suspenstories #22, dated April-May 1954. The story within, “The Little Man Who Wasn’t There,” had almost gone unnoticed when it was first seen in issue #10 of this title, back in July 1948.

It now attracted a lot more attention, but for Manhunt it came just a little too late in the day.

The pages in this piece showcasing the horror comics

The horror contained in the hypodermic was just perfect for the deranged imagining of Basil Wolverton, as evidenced in the tale “They Crawl By Night” from the pages of Journey into Unknown Worlds #15, dated February 1953. Below this image comes the luscious line of Bob Powell for Chamber of Chills #6’s “Jelly Death,” released for the March of 1952.

These strange concoctions also made it into the pages of Atlas’s Suspense #14 for the Russ Heath illustrated “Death and Doctor Parker,” with shattering consequences. Heath was also called upon to supply the sinister cover for this issue, dated February 1952, one that surely made an indelible impression on the newsstand. Above the fear filled cover to the third issue of the rarely seen P.L. Publishing title Weird Adventures, cover-dated October 1951, an abomination attributed by some to Mike Esposito.

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of the early 1950s reveal a worrying tendency for the foolhardy to inject themselves with these life changing serums. These stories would introduce us to those seeking immortality or those desiring the super strength only ever experienced by a select band of superheroes during the early 1940s. None of them in the horror comics would come to any good. As naive as they may appear, in their own way these stories were an attempt to get a message across to their readers, warning them to stay away from these vile concoctions. This threat had been highlighted a few years before in True Comics #2’s “Murder, Morphine and Me” published in May of 1947, and then five years later with the publication of Harvey Comics Library #1 Teen-Age Dope Slaves. These narrations weren’t the tales of supernatural horror for which we have such affection; for the reckless, this horror was going to become very much real. While they thrived on sensationalism, each of these stories cautioned the reader, warning them of the true dangers coursing through the hypodermic. Unbeknown to so many of those reading these tales, this needle contained a monster no man would ever control. Those who had been exposed to this horror in the pulps and the comics of the period no doubt took note, but there was a generation to come who were neglect in heeding this warning, many of them damning themselves to the true terror underlying the pages of True Comics and the Harvey Comics Library.

Bill Savage’s take on the hypodermic needle chose the darkest of horror for Astonishing #31’s “The Dummy.” Although the cover to Adventures into Weird Worlds #24, which may well have been created by Carl Burgos and Bill Everett, was even more horrifying, marrying the genres of horror and science fiction to give us a scene to live on in our minds. Finally, Charlton’s The Thing #8 ran with a typically nasty twist for the Bob Forgione rendered “Vein of Irony.”

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There is every chance the summer 1944 edition of Prize’s Headline Comics, numbered #8, has been overlooked by many horror fans. At this point in its history Headlines Comics was an adventure comic, its content aimed at a very young audience. As chilling as this image of Hitler may have been, the name of the artist has been long since been lost in the mists of time, with no one prepared to hazard a guess as to who should be lauded for this early entry into the genre of comic book horror. Unfortunately, if you are lucky enough to come upon this issue, you will not find a similar entry within to match the terrors destined to swamp the newsstand at the end of the decade. Despite this, it must have been a frightening sight when it first appeared, even as the tide of war in Europe was finally beginning to turn savagely against the evil Führer.

This snapshot from the earliest days of comics has been rounded out with a few more images of the Nazi leader. Charles Quinlan Jr.’s deservedly violent assault on his person from Cat-Man Comics #20, dated October 1943, has been celebrated for many a year, as has the mania in Alex Schomburg’s cover from Marvel Tales #46, from August of 1943. For many, the alien looking Führer may have resembled Hitler on one of his better days. Alas the artist responsible for the sweating visage of Hitler on the cover of Prize Comics #37, December 1943, also remains unknown. As with its companion from Headline Comics #8, it is a memorable image, one which just might have perturbed elements of the Nazi high command.

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Copies of the Atlas Seaboard horror magazines Devilina and Weird Tales of the Macabre seemed to be ten a penny up here in the north of England duing the late 1970s. I can only think they had been imported in vast quantities only to be returned to the wholesalers when they didn’t sell, before eventually finding their way onto market stalls and secondhand book shops. Sadly, it was never going to work. Atlas Seaboard Comics may have exploded onto the scene in the summer of 1974, but they all too quickly fizzled out, doomed from the very outset.

The debate continues as to whether Martin Goodman established Atlas Comics to take revenge on Marvel Comics when they dismissed his son Charles “Chip” Goodman following his departure in 1972, having sold the company four years before. Others who knew Goodman very well were of the opinion he was too astute a businessman to embark on a campaign of revenge, foreseeing considerable financial gain from this new enterprise. In terms of corporate strategy, their expansion was just a little too swift at a time of mounting uncertainty in the industry. Marvel and DC had a firm stranglehold on the market, Charlton were bobbing along as they always had, while Warren had only recently picked themselves up from an uneasy period a few years before. Each of these publishers were in need of stability as they were facing ever rising prices for the paper upon which they relied. There had already been casualties, with Marvel and DC being forced to axe several of their titles. Martin Goodman turned a blind eye to the situation, looking to overcome this little hitch by announcing premium rates for his freelance writers and artists, amongst them Rich Buckler, Howard Chaykin, Neal Adams, Steve Ditko and Russ Heath. In the short period Atlas were trading, they successfully put together a creative team of remarkable brilliance.

At the same time, Goodman made another series of costly mistakes, recruiting the experienced Jeff Rovin to manage his color comics.

Rovin’s background had been with Jim Warren’s black and white magazines. Longtime associate Larry Lieber was brought in to take control of some of the Atlas color line with an emphasis on their black and white magazines. As Goodman was quite aware, Lieber’s entire involvement with Marvel Comics had been on their color comics. To compound these problems, he also appointed his son to a senior position within this newly established company. Unfortunately, Charles Goodman had neither the experience nor the backing he needed at that point to make this new venture work. Goodman certainly didn’t make things easy for himself, or for those around him. By the end of 1975 it was all over; Atlas Comics proved to be nothing more than a flash in the pan.

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This eventuality was such a shame, because if Goodman had not raced at such a ridiculous pace, Atlas may have settled to assume a viable standing in the marketplace. Both Devilina and Weird Tales of the Macabre, while lasting just a couple of issues, had enrolled enough talent to allow them to evolve into a suitably heinous pairing. When they reared their heads on the newsstand, the still fledgling Skywald had only recently ascended to become a horror publisher of ghoulish repute, deservedly rivalling Jim Warren’s magazines. However, as their senior editor Alan Hewetson would have told you, this didn’t happen overnight.

Weird Tales of the Macabre got off to an unbelievable start, its debut dated January 1975, carrying an eerie Jeff Jones cover.

Contributions would come from Skywald regular Augustine Funnel, Argentina’s Leo Duranona, his sumptuous splash for “Time Lapse” shown to the right,.Warren and Charlton regular Pat Boyette was also on board, as were Ramón Torrents, whose beautiful introduction for “A Second Life” can be seen below. Former Harvey Comics artist Ernie Colón. Devilina’s premiere opened with a mouth watering cover from Spanish artist Albert Pujolar, later adapted for use by Warren on Vampirella #111, dated January 1983. The connections between the two characters were there for all to see, as the long serving Ric Estrada willingly embraced both the writing and art chores for this first appearance. Pablo Marcos and Jack Sparling were also drafted in, but it was the two pages of Ralph Reese artwork on Michael Cahlin’s “Midnight Muse,” featured at the bottom of the next page, that really captured my eye. Reese very quickly became a firm favorite.

Devilina’s second issue carried a cover date of May 1975, although it actually appeared in the January. A canvas from the studio of George Torjussen, an artist better known for his

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contributions to the world of fine art, adorned the cover for this title’s final appearance. Again it was a stirring affair, but for all of its vibrance it was not going to stem the tide. Nor would the collective talents of Ric Estrada, whose artistry on Devilina can be marvelled at on the previous page, Frank Thorne, Jack Sparling, Suso and Leo Summers, names comic readers of these years held in such high regard. Just two weeks before, Weird Tales of the Macabre had appeared for the last time, dated March 1975. For this finale, Atlas Seaboard had managed to acquire the services of the much lauded Boris Vallejo for a cover that continues to astonish even the most casual observer. Amongst the regular team of artists appeared the name John Severin, who had forged his reputation at both EC and Marvel. A page of his original art from George Kashdan’s tale “Who Toys With Terror” has found a welcome spot below. As accomplished as his fellow contributors were, Severin’s seven pages made this issue a must have for fans of the genre, although it has to be said Enrique Badio Romero’s delineation to the left certainly wasn’t to be sniffed at.

It had been a resounding start, maybe not quite up there with Creepy ten years before, but Larry Lieber’s team had made a commendable impression. Lamentably it wasn’t to be. There was a place on the newsstand for a few more horror magazines, but they wouldn’t come from Martin Goodman. Before we go, I have included the cover to the one and only appearance of the company’s Gothic Romances, one of the toughest publications to lay your hands on from these years. This was an issue that included spot illustrations from Neal Adams and Howard Chaykin. As with its comic magazine cousins, we can only wonder how far it could have gone.

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