Hey, it’s worth a thought!
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From Girls’ Love Stories #145, August 1969 comes this fabby full-page ad for DC’s Brit teen supreme, Scooter. Okay it’s not quite summer yet, and in the UK we’ve had a lot of rain of late, but why not be optimistic about the months ahead? The issue in question is #20, which was a giant-sized 68-page extravaganza for the Paul McCartney look-alike. A bright, breezy slab of fun for all the family!
Art by Henry Scarpelli, who was doing a lot of this kind of work at the time—so much so that he was recognized with a Shazam award for his inking. He later went on to do much the same thing with the Archie titles.
Image ©2012 DC Comics
Occasionally you may notice some slight similarities in cover design between titles. And then, very rarely, you might get something like this:
The Witching Hour #31, June 1973
The Witching Hour #45, August 1974
Both designed by Carmine Infantino, both drawn by Nick Cardy, printed just over one year apart on the same title! Clearly something was going on here. I wonder if there had been a very positive response sales-wise to the earlier issue and so when it came time to design the latter, Infantino, stuck for fresh ideas, trotted out one of the more successful designs from the previous year. Or, it could be that, as the earlier cover image has very little to do with the actual story inside, that editor Boltinoff commissioned a tale to go along with it and then had Cardy re-stage the original. Or, perhaps the cover was designed first and Boltinoff solicited story ideas from a couple of writers and liked them both, deciding the run the second a year later.
Whatever the cause, just feast your eyes on a master comics craftsman at the height of his powers—twice! Nick Cardy we salute you.
Images ©2012 DC Comics
Haunted Love #9, May 1975
It’s early 1975, Nixon has gone, Gerald Ford is in the White House, and Charlton Comics is still pushing the Gothic Romance! Beneath Don Newton’s eerie painted cover are three spooky tales.
Joe Gill and Sanho Kim assure us that “Death Waits for Moonrise”. You’ll be unsurprised to discover this is a story with a werewolf theme and concerns young lovers Anya and Gregor. Gregor has discovered, and isolated, what he believes to be a werewolf virus. Using this he hopes to develop a vaccine for lycanthropy—not that anyone else actually believes such a thing exists. Later, Gregor is scratched by a wolf, and the need for the vaccine becomes urgent. He works night and day, hoping to have it finished before the full moon arrives. On the fateful day, Anya drugs her overworked boyfriend to force him to rest, and goes off leaving him to sleep the night away. Unfortunately, that night brings the full moon. Anya rushes home, only to find Gregor has indeed transformed into a werewolf. He lunges at her, but she succeeds in injecting him with the vaccine. “My darling… I’m cured…” says the grateful scientist, now far less hirsute.
Pat Boyette draws “Twilight Tears”, a slow-moving story of the widowed Marie, who is surprised when the new stranger in town bears an uncanny resemblance to her dead husband, Philip. The man claims to be Philip’s cousin Raoul, and swiftly goes about wooing Marie. His technique works, and he and Marie soon marry to live happily ever after. The story’s coda reveals that, 50 years later, Philip’s grave was discovered to be empty…
“The Night on Fog Island”, written by Joe Gill and drawn by Enrique Nieto, sees Isabel Talcott escaping to Fog Island following an unhappy love affair. The island is always shrouded in fog, and legends surround it after an incident 100 years ago that saw Isabel’s grandmother lose her husband, Joshua, in the fog after she allowed a beacon to go out. The house on the island is long-deserted and Isabel spends the day cleaning up. That night she hears a sound from the fog and lights the beacon. The ghost of Joshua looms out of the mist and attacks a passing sailor in his attempts to reach the beacon. Half-blinded by the beacon, Isabel puts it out so she can better see what’s happening. The ghost, lost once more, disappears into the fog and Isabel rescues the sailor. The sailor’s name is Sam and he’s quite a dish—Isabel is clearly smitten. Out in the fog, the pair hear the sound of the lost sailor, still trying to find his way home after 100 years…
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One of the duller issues of Haunted Love this, with none of the tales having much to recommend them. I suspect there’s a halfway decent plot struggling to escape the poor execution of “The Night on Fog Island”, and with a rewrite or two it would’ve made for a good episode of Night Gallery—Rod Serling could’ve used Don Newton’s cover to introduce it. Otherwise it’s all pretty much by-the-numbers fare.
Image ©2012 the copyright holder
Fruitman Special #1, December 1969
You want strange? There’s not much stranger than Fruitman, believe me. Originally appearing as a backup strip in Harvey’s Bunny title, Fruitman told the adventures of one Percival Pineapple, a mild mannered fruit seller who was in reality the super-powered Fruitman. Whenever danger threatened—although we’re using “danger” in its broadest possible sense—Percy could transform himself into any type of fruit. Moreover, when in his fruit form, he could squirt any evil-doer in the eye with fruit juice! Verily, he was the fruit world’s answer to Manimal…
This one-shot special contains five stories reprinting the “best” of Fruitman, alongside a couple of other tales with such no hopers top characters as Sooper Hippie and Captain Flower. Needless to say this is all very silly indeed, and carried out, sadly, with little of the style and competence contained in most other Harvey Comics. Richie Rich or Casper, this is not. The primary aim of its (unknown) writer seems to have been to pack in as many fruit-themed puns per page as humany possible.
The world’s peachiest, berry grapest superhero? Y’know what?—he just might’ve been…
Image ©2009 Harvey Features Syndicate/the respective copyright holder
Nukla #2, March 1966
“Nukla Meets the Man in the Moon”
Jim Clarke informs Matthew Gibbs of a certain maniac called Baron Von Zee, who plans to take over the world by means of his nuclear arsenal. Matt overflies Von Zee’s base, and the madman has three rockets fired at his plane. Matt takes evasive manoeuvres, but the third missile explodes upon impact. Von Zee gloats.
Unbeknownst to those below Matt has transformed into Nukla, and, invisible, our hero zooms down to investigate. There, he finds more missiles ready for take-off, as well as several manned rockets. As they blast off, Nukla follows the rockets into space.
Orbiting the Earth is a space station large enough to house a crew. Unfortunately, having lost concentration, Nukla rematerialises as Matt. Von Zee picks him up on radar and fires a missile at him: “Just a small nuclear charge…” Hit by the atomic blast, Matt once again becomes Nukla—but he’s shaken and needs rest.
The US government fires a phalanx of missiles at Von Zee’s space station—nicknamed “Moon”—but its defenses prove impenetrable. Scared, the nations of the world negotiate with Von Zee, offering to scrap all their nuclear weapons, pay reparations of $10 billion each, and obey all future orders from Von Zee.
Still a bit sore from having been obliterated by nuclear blasts twice in one day, Matt goes to Von Zee’s base and hides in a mail sack. The sack is duly delivered to the “Moon” space station, where Matt is quickly discovered—not too difficult, they just, like, open the sack. Von Zee shoots Matt in the chest with a laser-ray-gun, gamely reveals his plan to take over the planet, shoots Matt again, and then throws him out an airlock!
Never fear, Nukla is made of sterner stuff and he dematerialises. This apparently means that he’s no longer suffering from his fatal wounds. Lucky that. Nukla uses his atomic power to shake the “Moon” and powers it out of Earth orbit. Von Zee attempts to escape, but is foiled when his fed up henchmen turn on him. Nukla wraps them all up in mail sacks and returns them to Earth—right into the arms of government troops.
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There are good comics, bad comics, and mediocre comics. The first two of those are normally hugely entertaining. Nukla, unfortunately, is one of the latter: mediocre. Despite all the action and incident on display, it still manages to be nothing but dull, dull, dull. Nukla himself is a kind of cut price Captain Atom, but his powers are inconsistent, and his relationships with his boss, Jim Clarke is ludicrous: “I always forget that you can become Nukla, Matt,” explains Jim after Matt has flown a few thousand miles in a couple of minutes. Would be girlfriend Linda is a wet lettuce.
You want stupid? Check out the scene where Matt is transported through the cold vacuum of space in a sack… Yes, a sack. Tied at the top with string. He returns the favour at the end. And then there’s the deus ex machina of the disappearing fatal chest wound: it disappears just because Matt becomes Nukla.
There is one saving grace: the art is nice. Dick Giordano and his brother-in-law Sal Trapani do a solid, if unspectacular, job, though it lacks the spark, the heightened reality that made Marvel’s super-heroes so successful. Even so, this is probably Dell’s best super-hero book—however, that’s faint praise given the competition!!
If you’re a Dick Giordano fan this might be worth a glance if you find a cheap copy. Otherwise avoid.
Image ©2012 the copyright holder
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