Showing posts with label Chamber of Chills. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chamber of Chills. Show all posts

Thursday, February 12, 2015

The Dungeons of Doom!: The Pre-Code Horror Comics Volume Three



Harvey Comics
Part Three

By Jose Cruz
and Peter Enfantino


Peter: Jed Barnes was once a handsome man and had it all. Now, after an industrial accident, he's "The Ugly Duckling (CoC #22), hidden behind a face swathed in bandaging. A living mummy, he wanders through the days, laughed at and shunned, until he can take no more. Standing on a bridge, contemplating suicide, he catches sight of a lovely girl, obviously with the same goal in mind. Jed rescues the young lady and the two fast become friends and before too long, Jed and Ruth are married. After the honeymoon, Ruth begins nagging her husband about the accident that led to his deformity. Reticent to bring up the past, Jed constantly changes the subject until, one day, Ruth tells him that keeping the secret will ruin their marriage. With a sigh and a heavy heart, Jed tells Ruth what happened: He was a "darn good" machinist, working on "precision cutting machines... big ones... with six rotary blades"when an overhead crane knocked him face first onto the conveyor belt. After the story, Ruth comforts the sobbing man but follows up with the ominous "... you mustn't hide behind those bandages the rest of your life! They'll have to come off some day..." As if making it her life's work, Ruth nags and nags Jed about unmasking until, one night she "passes the bounds of all restraint" and attempts to cut the wrappings off herself. Snapping, Jed screams at his wife and rips the bandages from his face, climaxing his act with a "Satisfied?"

Why, yes, I was satisfied, thank you. What a sad and, yet, so demented short story. Jed is an immensely sympathetic character, one who obviously didn't deserve the hell he's been put through, and so I assumed we'd see him on a murderous rampage before the end of the strip. This being a Chamber of Chills story, that is. What we get instead is an even farther descent into hell once Jed saves Ruth from tossing herself into the river. Far from the loving woman she first appears to be, Ruth is a nasty shrew with a killer curiosity. Jed's life goes from a living hell to some further edge of suffering, pushing him finally to unwrap and almost parade his "scars" to the woman he thought he loved ("You're... no different! Want to see what my face is like..? Okay..! Here... look! Look...! Feast your eyes! Drink your full! Slobber it up! Look... Look...!"). And how about those scars? Comic book artists in the pre-code days would whip up some pretty crazy images but what to make of a head that has been cut into six pieces and yet still manages to keep its shape (each layer almost hovering in space)? Silly, you say? Take another look. Manny Stallman and John Giunta contribute some gorgeous neo-noir art to "The Ugly Duckling" (check out that splash!).

(I can't tell you how long I struggled with including this in my Top 5 this week. The story is so expertly written and existentially bleak that you may very well be convinced that this is the script for a genuine noir film translated to the comic book medium. I was completely bowled by how despairing the narrative was, from Jed's initial ostracization to his dread over Ruth's new obsession with his face. The only reason I cut it out was because of that damn final panel. I think I just felt that the rest of the story was so mature and dark that I just didn't expect the climax to be quite so overt and literal. That aside, I'm really glad you included it because this is still without a doubt a story that deserves attention. -Jose)

Jose: Carlo Furelli is past his prime, but you would have a tough time convincing him of that. The aged choir master sees a notice from the employment agency as his ticket back to the bandstand, but upon hearing from the stage manager that he was just looking to fill a janitor position Furelli is furious. He attempts to solicit the favors of his old pupils—singers who have gone on to claim great fame and reward since the time of Furelli’s tutelage—but they all ignore the geezer or pity him as if he were nothing but a common beggar. Getting shoved in the face by a burly drinker when he asks that the channel be changed on the television to an opera station is Furelli’s final degradation. He resolves to gather all of his old pupils to show the world his greatness… even if it means enlisting their aid forcibly! With disappearances and signs of foul play ravaging the news, Furelli manages to sneak into a radio station to fulfill his master plan. When the horrible sound of a mighty organ interrupts the broadcast, the crew finds Furelli pumping the keys on his new instrument, complete with the severed heads of his students mounted on the pipes!

“The Choir Master” (CoC #21) is a symphony of minimalism. It’s a bare-bones revenge story that never looks like it’s trying to call attention to itself, efficiently plotted by Bob Powell that shows the course of one man’s entire failure of a life and his “triumphant” return in five spare pages. What I especially like is that it doesn’t ever to try and pull a bait-and-switch with the reader; Furelli’s guilt in the disappearances is implicitly understood and Powell knows this. The panels showing the victims cringing at the sight of a menacing shadow and the meager puddle of blood left at one scene of the crime brilliantly ratchet up the tension. It’s important that we never see Furelli carry out these crimes and Powell doesn’t give him exposition-heavy dialogue that makes his goal transparent, a detriment that plagued more than a few pre-code horror comic tales. When that final panel comes, it packs a whallop, not unlike Powell’s similar expected-but-impactful stinger to “Happy Anniversary.” And Powell’s art is beau-ti-ful, heavy on the lines and sumptuously realized. Furelli’s glassy-eyed turning point is just as chilling as the socko ending. If you ask me, this can easily stand with the best of E. C.

(And E.C. is exactly what it reminded me of, especially in its gruesome final panel. It's cut from the same cloth as the infamous "Foul Play" (Haunt of Fear #19) and I'm completely in agreement with you on this one, Jose. Powell proves that, after several years of pumping these things out, he's getting the hang of it. Pity it was coming to an end in just a few short months -Peter)

Peter: Three explorers discover an ancient race living in a paradise near the earth's core. When the people of Centralia (get it?) welcome the trio with open arms, the men take advantage of exploring the futuristic utopia and discover one peculiarity: there seems to be no food. The boys are invited to take part in the weekly "Lottery," wherein they are assigned a number and, ostensibly, the chance to win a fabulous prize. Incredibly enough, all three men win the drawing and are ushered onto a moving walk and into a cave. At the end of the journey, the men are a bit surprised to discover why they saw no food supplies in the city: they are the food.

"Lottery" (from CoC #22) is a bit silly indeed (the opening exclaims that "after finding the Tashkenti fissure in Northern Gobi" the men "descended two thousand miles into the bowels of the earth..." -- now that's a long trip on foot!) but its seeming naivete and almost 1950s DC Comics look give way to a chilling climax with a really nasty final panel. Manson's final screech ("Yeow! Get me back! Stop the walk! I know what they eat now!") is very similar to Charlton Heston's  proclamation just before the credits roll in Soylent Green. But, again, that last brutal image, one of the explorers hanging from a meathook, is one that lingers for quite a while.

"Lottery"
(I enjoyed this one enough for what it was and also thought that the exposition in the beginning sounded awfully dubious! I think I totally missed that detail in the final panel. I couldn't quite make out what was going on, but now it does add a further grim note to this little soufflé. -Jose)

Jose: Lawrence Romaine, the brilliant scientist who discovered the means to successfully replace diseased human organs with donors, has been a little broken up since his fiancée Susanne died of a heart attack. After three months of emotional torture, Lawrence swears to bring his beloved back from the grave using his great genius. Going to the cemetery, Lawrence cuts the healthy—but dead—heart out of a recently interred body and steals Susanne away to his laboratory. Lawrence works tirelessly to revive the deceased organ, feeding it oxygen and massaging the circulatory routes. Once the heart is back to its throbbing life, Lawrence places it in Susanne’s chest cavity and waits expectantly. When the body resuscitates and rises from its slab, he is overwhelmed with joy. But the thousand-yard stare the lady has is no longer for Lawrence, for as the scientist watches in horror she walks right past him to a rotting corpse that stands at the door. When they embrace and kiss each other passionately, Lawrence realizes that the other zombie was the original owner of the heart.

Though the notorious horror publications of the 50s were targeted by the Senate more for their drippy violence than any latent sexual content, “Heartline” (CoC #23) seems a top contender for being an example of the salacious material that was always just simmering under the surface. There’s some very subversive ground being covered here, none moreso than Lawrence’s rather unhealthy affection for his late girlfriend. Though we see the (living) couple smooching on each other in a flashback, there’s a rather revealing line of dialogue that Lawrence speaks to his lady’s cold corpse: “You’re never more beautiful—nor more desirable!” There’s also a sly focus on Suzanne’s skimpily-bandaged chest. For the purposes of science, of course. The ending could be viewed as another in a long line of gimmicks, but I think it has a twisted psychology to it that speaks to darker depths. The sight of the corpse planting kisses on the resurrected Suzanne is the ultimate form of mental castration: Lawrence has given life to his one true love but she ultimately rejects him for the sterile embrace of a zombie. It’s a reverse on the ending to Bride of Frankenstein (1935), but like in that story, no one ends up happy with the results.

(This one hooked me from the splash [This is the heart... This is the girl... These are my hands] but this is not the finest hour for Giunta and Stallman. Susanne deteriorates from runway model to crack addict to, in that penultimate panel, fanged beast for no reason. Lawrence needs to break out the Visine now and then as well. Still, a good read! -Peter)

Peter: A vampire, tired of living an adversarial existence with humans, comes up with a brilliant solution: buying blood from humans and building up a vast storage of the fluid. Once a reservoir of blood has been "stockpiled," an intricate infrastructure is built, pipes leading to the taps in the house of the vampires. Now that "feeding" is no longer needed, the vampire pleads with us to open up and socialize. Having had success copying EC's horror and science fiction stories, the Harvey writers and artists then turned their attention to EC's incredibly popular Mad (which was about to change its format from comic book to magazine), a title stuffed full of parody and layered laughs.

"I,Vampire" (from CoC #24) is humor in a similar vein (pun intended); our sympathetic undead storyteller seems earnest when he asks, "Did you ever try to improve relations between us? Did you? No! But we are going to! We'll make the first step toward cooperation!" The undead only want to get along with the human race... or do they? Could it all be a ploy to drop our guards against the bloodsuckers? Howard Nostrand's art only intensifies the vibe that we may have picked up the wrong funny book at the newsstand. Savvy 1950s fans who paid attention to such things must have believed Jack Davis was moonlighting over at Harvey for some cigarette money. "I, Vampire" was the last really good story in the last all-new issue of Chamber of Chills. The final issues of CoC would be toned-down (as in censored) versions of previously published stories, fallout from the comic book shake-up of 1954.

(This story was an awful lot of fun. Some tales that try for this type of zany humor can oftentimes come off as just grating, but this one pulls off the morbid cheekiness with quite a bit of panache. I really am surprised at how "good" Nostrand is at mimicking Davis's style. -Jose)

Jose: In pre-Revolution America, a group of rangers are tasked with tackling a tribe of Abenaquis Indians who have led a series of massacres against the colonists. Braving the wild rivers and laying out their plan of attack, the rangers infiltrate the tribe disguised as fellow warriors. The calculated attack quickly escalates into full-on slaughter on both sides. A few surviving Indians seek sanctuary in a nearby church but the vicious rangers are hungry for their blood. The pastor and a few sensible members try to dissuade the mob to no avail. The other rangers try to break in and when that fails decide to set the whole building on fire to smoke them out. The pastor joins his flock and the whole congregation goes up in flames. From the billowing smoke arises the stern figure of an Indian chief who passes his eternal sentence upon them. From that point forward the rangers’ numbers dwindle as they are besieged by Abenaquis allies, ghostly bell ringing, and death by their own hands. With the last few innocents left, the captain returns to home base to make his final report.


What starts out as a rip-roaring cowboys and Indians-type story quickly grows in poignancy and depth as it progresses. “The Forest of Skeletons” (WT #3) prepares you for the usual with its splash page of two looming bone-men in feathers and robes menacing our coon-hatted team, but there is nary a bit of goofiness to be found within the following six pages. The tone becomes exceedingly grim from the moment that the rifles are broken out and the Native American camp is slaughtered. Our expectations of good ol’ boy heroism are immediately dashed when we see the rabid rangers grab their torches and set fire to the church. It has the same bite as one of E.C.’s moralistic Shock Suspenstories, showing the blinding hold that vengeance has on the minds of even the most upright citizens. The warring colonists are determined to snuff their enemies out even if it means destroying one of their most sanctified establishments. And even after the smoky spirit of the chief sentences the defilers to death, the story still does not resort to the requisite spooky shenanigans. The team is destroyed by very real, natural threats, including one *very* frank of suicide by pistol. When the teary-eyed captain speaks to his superior and says the highly ironic line of “Mission completed,” it sinks to the pit of your stomach more than any of the gorier and outlandish endings we’ve seen yet.

(The story's a corker, indeed, but I just couldn't get behind Tom Hickey's scratchy, unattractive art, the kind of art that would populate underground comics a decade later. Hickey was prolific in the 1950s romance comics and I've seen some of his art in those titles. It's not as undefined as the visuals you see in "Forest" - that panel on the bottom of page 4 seems to be showing us a character with a coonskin cap and a bone through his upper lip. -Peter)

Peter: Frank drags his lovely wife, Ruth, into the Amazon to search for a mythical race of frog-men.
Ruth scoffs but plays along, seemingly so she can swim in the beautiful waters of the Amazon (never mind all the snakes, caiman and piranha) in her skimpy bathing suit. During one of these dips, Ruth is attacked by a frog-man and Frank must kill the "repulsive half-man, half-frog." During the tussle, Ruth inadvertently swallows some of the monster's blood but the pair can't stop to contemplate the side-effects as a host of fish-men approach. The couple manage to fight off the monsters but, as the last of the creatures fall, Ruth begins to change. The giant frog-girl (complete with suit and swim cap) murders her husband and heads off into the river, searching for more appropriate mates.

Exiting our overview of Chamber of Chills and entering the realm of Witches Tales, we discover a severe drop in the quality of scripts and art (my favorite Harvey alumni, Howard Nostrand, will ink a handful of upcoming stories but won't show up for a full blown Jack Davis homage until WT #18). Entirely too much space is give over to hidden civilizations and voodoo curses for my tastes so, for my Best of the Volume picks, I have to shift gears and highlight material that made me howl with laughter or at least snicker quite a bit. Both choices derived from WT elicited that reaction. Mind you, I'm okay with that. I don't mind checking my brain at the door now and then. That's exactly what you have to do with "Green Horror" (from WT #6) with its race of giant killer frogs. We have no idea in what capacity Frank is in the Amazon. Is he a professor? A scientist? Cub Scout? Just quenching a personal thirst for knowledge? How did they get all those supplies they'd need plus a tent into those two small backpacks? Does the first frogman who attacks Ruth have something more than food on his mind? Sure looks like it. Ruth isn't the only one who undergoes a radical transformation. Bob Powell does no favors for Frank, who goes from suave and svelte to overweight Richard Nixon by story's end. It's all fabulous four-color fun. This story shares a title with one of my favorite pre-code horror strips of all time from Farrell's Fantastic Fears #8 (August 1954), about a libidinous cactus. Can't wait to revisit that one!

(I actually think that 90% of the scripts from the early issues of Witches' Tales were of a marked increase in quality over what we had seen in say, the sophomore copies of Chamber of Chills. There's plenty of good material available without having to resort to the "so-bad-it's-hilarious" stuff, but that's just my call. "Green Horror" is probably only notable for that image of frog-lady in the one-piece, which I admit totally slays me. -Jose)

Jose: In Merry Olde France, the king has prosecuted the Guild of Fletchers for treason and all members who refuse to renounce their allegiance are being rounded up for public hangings. One staunch supporter, Jean Baptiste, is marched to the gallows but a last-minute revolt from the Fletchers distracts the royal guard and Jean makes his escape, breaking his neck non-fatally in the process. Making his way into the stinking sewers of the city, Jean’s plight only becomes direr with each moment as the lack of food, light, and drinkable water seems to seal his fate as surely as the hangman’s noose he has just eluded. When he starts finding traces of life in the form of grimy handprints and rags, Jean’s spirit begins to lift but it isn’t for long: these artifacts belong to a race of blind, fungus-riddled mutants who have made this cesspool their home. Though they lack the power of speech, they show Jean a manuscript that documents their existence and the rebel discovers that they are in fact early Guild members who have been eking out a primitive existence in this slimy hell. Jean sees the creatures as an army at his command to rise up and take back the earth and proceeds to do just that. Unfortunately the revolutionary didn’t count on the bright, dry environment on the topside which reduces the creatures to withered husks that are promptly burned by the citizenry. Recaptured, Jean is brought back and given a proper hanging this time.

I can’t say no to a good creature feature, and “The Sewer Monsters” (WT #4) is exactly that. It’s one of those irrepressible stories that piles one grotesquerie on top of another to the point that it overruns with terror like a backed-up septic tank. (Hmm. Sounded better in my head.) Bob Powell is on point here, rendering his underground trolls with delicious detail and cannily making Jean progressively more monstrous as he “descends” to their level. There are a few silly contrivances in the plot (just who wrote this all-knowing manuscript?), but in spite of that this is one macabre romp that doesn’t hold back in depicting the epic mayhem wrought by the creatures. We see them grapple men and women alike, burst into nurseries, and even snarl their sticky maws right out at the reader!

("Sewer Monsters" begins almost like a mash-up of "An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge" and The Phantom of the Opera but then quickly evolves into something completely original. I have no doubt that the creature busting into the nursery was going to eat that defenseless baby and have its way with the screaming mother. The climax, where poor Jean is recaptured and hung the right way, comes straight out of left field. The best kind of horror story. -Peter)

Peter: Dr. Marvelle discovers a "perfectly preserved baby dinosaur" in a glacier and takes it back to his lab, where "in the interest of science" he decides to bring it back to life. Marvelle suddenly discovers a potion for life and bathes the dino in the formula overnight. The next morning, the Doc enters his lab to find it destroyed and baby dino on the loose. Something has gone wrong with the fomula Marvelle used and the creature seems to be doubling its size hourly. The army can't stop it and, very soon, the monster has grown so large that the earth is knocked out of its orbit and collides with the sun. The earth ends just as Marvelle wakes from the nightmare. Shaken, he decides to hurry to his lab and destroy the dinosaur but the wrecked equipment and hole in the wall indicate he may be in for a long day.

Such a fabulously dopey and innocent fable (the dinosaur actually rides the earth right into the sun) with one of those soon-to-be cliched endings, that you can't help but smile... and probably laugh out loud while you're at it. Particularly noteworthy are the panels of Dino almost skating across a USA map as he grows larger and more unwieldy and Marvelle's declaration that he's just found "the secret of life!!" and the best thing to do is give a Brontosaurus a bath with it, to hell with the consequences. I've noted that many of the Harvey stories are obvious rip-offs of EC but "The Thing That Grew" (from WT #6) is an Atlas nod if there ever was one.


(I'm glad somebody mentioned the dinosaur riding the Earth into the sun. Without a doubt the silliest and most awesome sight I've seen so far in our fearful journey. If you don't crack a smile at the sight of those little Brontosaurus bits floating out into space, then you're already dead. -Jose)

Jose: In the shadowed chambers of a mansion of evil, a hard-hearted woman narrates her story to an old witch and a host of demonic figures to explain why she deserves to be inducted into their ranks. In the early part of the century, the woman was the beautiful Dora Mayberry who was engaged to Arnold Cavendish, a dandy in line to gain his dying father’s billion-dollar inheritance. They visit the old codger who smells their greed from a mile away and warns them that his money will only bring them unhappiness right before he kicks the bucket. Dora is eager to start her life with Arnold, but the jerk is more interested in flirting with gold-diggers and obsessing over his fear for growing old. When Arnold slaps her and leaves her on the street, Dora seeks out the assistance of local sorceress Madame Satana. Agreeing to give her soul over to the darkside, Dora is aged by her pact, making for an effective disguise as she poses as Arnold’s new housekeeper. Learning of a contract Arnold made with two scumbags to painlessly kill him in twenty years, Dora uses this information to plague the cad with nightmares and “help” him by arranging the shooting of the criminals by the police. This is only a means to further torture Arnold as she conjures their spirits to haunt him, leading him to jump out his bedroom window and right onto the spiked fence in front. Satisfied with her tale, the group votes to make Dora the next town witch in residence. 

A lot of the features that I enjoyed about “Death by Witchcraft” (WT #4) are ones that were present in the similar “Book of Vengeance” (CoC #4). Both of them deal with women who show the world what’s what with the benefit of that old black magic. “Death” centralizes its focus more by making its vengeance directed at one specific target, a brutish man who’s more reprehensible for his willingness to forget about Dora than do her any harm. That’s why it’s such a treat to see him unknowingly crawl back to her feet, begging for help as she secretly turns the screws further and further into him. Now that’s empowering! What’s especially subversive about this script is that it shows a generally good person selling their soul so they can wreak their unholy vengeance without any kind of punishment or moral backpedalling at all. There’s no immediate cosmic justice in store for Dora at the end barring an allusion to the torments of Hell upon her death, but during the whole story her mind is at peace with her decision and her sadism is of a disturbingly calm and assured variety. When she dons that pointed hat, she’s got a grim smile on her face. Palais could have been overboard with this one if he wanted to, but his muted approach to the art is perfectly in sync with the dark tone.

(A fabulous, fabulous story, one that holds so many subtle delights. The absence of color in a handful of panels [in particular, that highly atmospheric splash with only a hint of red and green] is jarring. Is Madame Mayberry actually the mascot of WT, who appears on the cover of each issue, dropped into the narrative for the fun of it? EC, DC, and Warren often employed the same gimmick now and then. -Peter)


And the "Stinking Zombie Award" goes to... 


Jose: Valerie is upset because her paintings of demons and bogeymen aren’t getting the acclaim and recognition she believes that they deserve so, like anyone else wronged by society, she turns to the forces of darkness. Her black incantations allow the two dimensional horrors on her canvas enter our reality, under the spell of the full moon, the monsters are forced to do her bidding which mostly involves them slaughtering and torturing all of her critics. When the critters try to revolt against their master, the witchy Valerie throws a candelabrum at them. She laughs maniacally as the creatures cower behind their picture frames and the whole studio goes up in smoke.

As I’ve established in my last few “Stinking Zombie” nominations, I treasure above all else a story’s willingness to go the distance even if it trips and fumbles along the way. But the minute it starts to slack up and go through the motions under the pretense of  “This is what the reader must want,” I freeze up immediately. “Revenge by the Full Moon” (WT #3) is not as bad as some others we’ve seen, but the overriding sense of indifference that it possesses ruins a few moments that could have been genuinely effective (take that gnarly corpse discovery from the last panel, for instance). And Manny Stallman, whose work I’ve been enjoying thus far, seems to be asleep at the switch this time. A lot of the compositions in this look noticeably hasty, and I don’t know what he was trying to accomplish with some of the “monsters” but most of them look like extras from a Pixar movie. I think that the other stories in the first issues of Witches’ Tales really raised the bar, but “Revenge by the Full Moon” feels like a few step backs into all the old habits that were left behind.

Peter: Pulled kicking and screaming from the same issue of Witches Tales comes "The Puppets That Became Men." Ezra and Liza Krutch are a husband and wife team of puppeteers who travel the world with their unique act and almost uncanny gift for ventriloquism. Of course, there's more to meet the eyes here and we soon learn that the Krutchs have enslaved a sextet of little people and use them for nefarious acts of larceny while enthralling their audiences. Tired of living a life of bad food and poor benefits, the little people rise up and rebel against their captors, stringing them up like puppets and forcing Ezra to commit murder and suicide before a packed house.

The plot, a variation of which had already been done on a big screen in Dr. Cyclops, is not the problem here. It's the sheer weight of captions and word balloons that  populate each page, a gross miscalculation that minimizes the art in several panels. Wait a second... what the hell am I complaining about? John Sink's generic art  doesn't deserve the full showcase that a Palais, Powell, or Nostrand almost commands. One of the little people alludes to the fact that they were kidnapped from "our little land in the mountains." Why wasn't this fascinating aspect of the story explored further? It's ludicrous to think that the wee folk could not only have conjured up the ingredients for the potion that paralyzed the Krutchs but also possess the strength to string them up before show time and hang them from the rafters. An incredibly silly waste of space.


STORY OF THE WEEK

Peter: This week I'll give my space over to "Murder Mansion" from Witches' Tales #6. It's not that "MM" is a great story... no, no, no... it's anything but a great story. But sometimes I'm reminded why I love these goofy little stories in the first place: because they're so "out there." "Murder Mansion" perfectly encapsulates the Ed Wood Factor that so many pre-code horror stories exhibit: a lack of cohesive plotting, realistic dialogue, and twists and turns that defy logic. The story begins with a happy newlywed couple but then turns its focus elsewhere, almost forgetting the couple altogether, and revels in its bloodshed. If you read all eight loony pages, you'll understand how hard it would be to write a proper synopsis for "Murder Mansion." 









Jose: If my pick for "Lay That Pistol Down" from the last post was any indication, I do enjoy a good gimmick tale from time to time. "Dust Unto Dust" (CoC #23) gives the much-loved "reanimated corpse" story a spin when our hapless protagonists finds the various methods of murder no match for the moldy muncher that has come calling for him. I can't resist some great back-from-the-dead purple prose, and this one boasts some great lines and an ending that... well, see for yourself!







NOTABLE QUOTABLES

Odd? Really?
He would go see his pupils of ten—thirteen—of many years ago.
-from “The Choir Master” (CoC #21)

(I just like how it sounds like the omnipotent narrator was trying to recall the facts and then just said “Screw it.” -Jose)

The surge for art was Sid Baker’s surge. 

Sid Baker: "Odd -- there's something strange about it - something horrible about the painting..." ->

As Sid Baker stretched a new canvas, its virgin surface clean and bare… seemingly screaming for the first caressing brush stroke, he felt the well of inspiration bubble.
-from "The Death Mask" (CoC #21)

He clawed at the soft Italian earth surrounding him.
-from “Grave’s End,” (CoC #24)

(I admire that kind of specificity. -Jose)

“With my knowledge of electricity I’ll shock the world… I’ll shock it to death if I have to!”
-from “The Monster of Mad Mountain” (WT #1)

Squint's threat to another character after one of his victims takes a suicidal leap out of a window: “You better run… unless you want to go down the short way!!” 

Squint decided to lay low for a while after the... accidents. But as he waits for his boat to leave, horror would tear his mind to shreds if he could see the three strange men coming aboard...
-from "The Evil Eye!" (WT #2)

A cache of crackling quotes!
There, where the wind is colder than a corpse and moans like the ghosts of murderers...

…the air cold enough to crack a man’s brain… 
-from "Tombstones to Tibet" (WT #3)

As Arnold pushes a biddy down the stairs: “Away, old woman! You, too, make me fear the wrinkled and diseased years!”
-from “Death by Witchcraft” (WT #4)

With great pleasure, Sylvia slid on the gloves, softer than the hair of a ghost, little realizing that she wore the black hands of death!!
-from “The Spell of the Black Gloves” (WT #5)

“There’s our big, brave criminal! Shoots a man in the back and then pleads for mercy! Frisk him, Tom—I can’t stand touching garbage!”
-from “Share My Coffin” (WT #5)
                                                                                                          

NOTES

Jose: Overall, I was quite impressed with how good most of the stories from the last few issues of Chamber of Chills were. Usually the end of an era is marked by a frantic assemblage of what the creators consider the series' "greatest hits" with those sad and lame products nowhere near the high points that came earlier. It was getting to the point that I was starting to worry that I wouldn't be able to elect any stories from this batch of Witches' Tales for my top five! Some notables that weren't picked were "The Inside Man" (CoC #21), which really went out there with its genocidal conclusion and black-hearted twist, and "The Museum" (CoC #23) which flirted with a delightful bit of metafiction that slowly starts to eat itself in a way that invigorated its hoary setting and concept.

And lo and behold, I find that many of the scripts from WT's first issues are also quite the accomplishments themselves. I don't know if there were different scribes penning the stories for WT than whoever started working on CoC in its infancy, but many of the Witches Tales, as familiar as they might have been, startled me with their literate quality. Personally I'm not one who is adverse to caption and dialogue-heavy comics. I know the medium is meant to convey most of its meaning through the illustrations, but seeing stories that are willing to add that much more detail and character interaction just puts a big smile on my face. Needless to say, this was one of the harder posts to narrow my choices down for who would take home the gold.

Some of them, like the tense and terrific "Tombstones to Tibet" (WT #3), just barely missed the mark. Others were classic and classy in both art and script, such as "Voodoo Vengeance" and "Launched in Blood" (WT #1) and just a barrel of fun like Rudy Palais' pulp adventure "Phantom in the Flames" (WT #2). We also saw some great narrative ploys like the character in "The Evil Eye" (WT #2) using the empty socket behind his false peeper to smuggle diamonds and inadvertently using one particular gem that gives him the power to kill with his stare. Only in the funny books, folks!

There was a good share of surprisingly poignant dramas that resonated beyond their genre gimmickry, like the anti-hero of "The Man with Two Faces" (WT #2) losing the memory of his bloody past as a vicious gangster only to start a new life with a new look as an upstanding citizen who becomes a police officer (!) only to lose it all when his old self starts to percolate to the surface. There's also the modest "Massacre of the Ghosts" from the same issue that, like "The Forest of Skeletons," attempts to bring to light some of the white man's savagery towards the native peoples of America under the veneer of a four-color chiller, ending on a note of somber ambiguity that shows us that there are some places which we cannot claim as our own.

Don't you worry, there's been some craziness to spare too. "The Monster of Mad Mountain" is a complete swipe of Man Made Monster (1941), even down to the living dynamo's demise when his rubber suit snags on barbed wire and drains him of his electric juice; the story is just asking for a lawsuit by naming its harmless hulk Lenny, after another Lon Chaney Jr. character! We also get a little bit of uncomfortable romance when the lady from "The Clinging Phantom" (WT #5) falls for her ghoul-faced cousin and passionately kisses him as her husband looks on in horror.

One thing I did want to comment on (too late, your limit is up!) before we leave Chamber of Chills completely was the little page filler feature they did called "Chilly Chamber Music." The idea behind this was to take popular songs of the day and alter them with some fittingly gruesome lyrics. The first run of these were silly and fluffy enough with jokes about vampires cuddling up with their victims and the like, but the "Music" segments from the last few issues were decidedly darker, perhaps in correspondence with the general wave in horror comics at the time right before the Code came into effect that saw many publishers pushing the envelope of good taste further and further.

Ha ha?

What disturbs especially about these segments is their apparent intent of offering a humorous segue to the next story, but these cheery songs are paired up with disturbing images of smiling murderers and dopey-eyed crooks hanging from nooses that give the whole thing a fairly nasty touch. Maybe I'm getting soft, but some of these unsettled me more than most of the stories!


The Comics
Chamber of Chills #21-24



#21 (January 1954)
Cover by Lee Elias

"The Choirmaster"
Art by Bob Powell

"Nose for News"
Art by Manny Stallman and John Giunta

"The Death Mask"
Art by Joe Certa

"The Inside Man"
Art by Howard Nostrand









#22 (March 1954)
Cover by Lee Elias

"The Ugly Duckling"
Art by Manny Stallman and John Giunta

"Reincarnation"
Art by Jack Sparling

"Lottery"
Art by John Giunta and Manny Stallman

"The Skeptic!"
Art by Joe Certa










#23 (May 1954)
Cover by Lee Elias

"Heartline"
Art by Manny Stallman and John Giunta

"Invasion"
Art by Jack Sparling

"The Museum"
Art by Bob Powell

"Dust Unto Dust"
Art by Howard Nostrand








#24 (July 1954)
Cover by Lee Elias

"Grave's End"
Art by Bob Powell

"I, Vampire"
Art by Howard Nostrand

"Credit and Loss"
Art by Mort Meskin and George Roussos

"Grim Years"
Art by Manny Stallman









#25 (October 1954)
Cover by Lee Elias

A complete reprinting of CoC #5)
















#26 (December 1954)
Cover by Al Avison

(a complete reprinting of CoC #9)

















Witches Tales 1-6



#1 (January 1951)
Cover by Al Avison

"The Monster of Mad Mountain"
Art by Al Avison

"Voodoo Vengeance"
Art by Rudy Palais

"Launched in Blood"
Art by John Sink

"The Dead Won't Die"
Art by Tom Gill









#2 (March 1951)
Cover by Al Avison

"The Evil Eye"
Art Uncredited

"Phantom in the Flames"
Art by Rudy Palais

"Massacre of the Ghosts"
Art by Al Luster

"The Man with Two Faces"
Art by Manny Stallman










#3 (May 1951)
Cover by Al Avison

"Tombstones to Tibet"
Art by Bob Powell

"The Puppets That Became Men"
Art by John Sink

"The Forest of Skeletons"
Art by Tom Hickey

"Revenge by the Full Moon"
Art by Manny Stallman









#4 (July 1951)
Cover Uncredited

"The Sewer Monsters"
Art by Bob Powell

"The Yellow Menace"
Art by Rudy Palais

"Death by Witchcraft"
Art by Rudy Palais

"Bells of Doom"
Art by Rudy Palais









#5 (September 1951)
Cover Uncredited

"The Spell of the Black Gloves"
Art by Bob Powell

"Share My Coffin"
Art by Rudy Palais

"The Clinging Phantom"
Art by Vic Donohue

"Curse of the Caterpillar"
Art by Rudy Palais






#6 (November 1951)
Cover Uncredited

"Murder Mansion"
Art by Lee Elias

"Green Horror"
Art by Bob Powell

"Servants of the Tomb!"
Art by Bob Powell and Howard Nostrand

"The Thing That Grew!"
Art by Manny Stallman






Coming in Two Weeks! 
Harvey Part Four: Witches Tales #7-16






Thursday, January 29, 2015

The Dungeons of Doom!: The Pre-Code Horror Comics Volume Two



Harvey Comics
Part Two

By Jose Cruz
and Peter Enfantino



Peter: As he lay on his deathbed, Old Man Donder reveals to his son, Donald, that every Donder for the last three centuries has disappeared from his deathbed and, he expects, he will be no different. Donald promises his father that, no matter what the family curse, no one will be taking any corpse from Donder mansion as long as he’s breathing. Donald sits outside his father’s room, armed with a shotgun, all night but, in the end, to no avail. His father is gone from the mansion the next morning and the only clues are the footprints of strange creatures and traces of seaweed. Determined to find his father, the young man follows the tracks into the cellar, where he finds a secret passageway. He gets to the opening just in time to see strange crab creatures carrying his father out to sea and his attempts to save the old man are thwarted. Though traumatized, Donald gets on with his life and, two years later, he meets the beautiful Mona and asks her to marry him. The gorgeous dame accepts with one proviso: she’s going to need a hubby with lots of greenbacks. Donald ‘fesses that there’s a huge treasure below his mansion but he’s a little leery of investigating thanks to the big guys with claws. Mona can be persuasive though and, before long, the pair are investigating the subterranean passageways. Sure enough, there’s a fortune in gems and diamonds piled up down below and, predictably enough, Mona is adverse to sharing the payday with her “weak-witted, spineless fool” of a man. Ideally, Donald slips and cracks his head open and Mona abandons him, arms full of riches. Left to die, Donald curses his bad luck until the crab creatures make a reappearance and explain to the bloodied buffoon the real story behind the Donders. Centuries before, one of Donald’s great-great-great-whatevers stumbled onto a serum which contained “the secret of immortal life” and, since then, whenever a Donder is about to die, the crustacean critters show up to administer an injection of said formula. The only drawback, of course, is that the recipient then becomes a giant crab (a dexterous talking crab, mind you, but still a crab) and has to live beneath the sea. Not one to live the good life alone, Donald shows up to bring Mona back to his new paradise. Unfortunately, the gorgeous gal is lacking gills and she’s doomed to drown.

Like “Crawling Death” (from CoC #7), “The Bride of the Crab” (from #12) isn’t so much great literature as a great indicator of what these gems were all about in the 1950s. Surprisingly enough, for the most part, CoC avoided the “classic monsters” (the vampire, werewolf, etc.) but reveled in “natural horror” like giant crabs and killer trees. There’s just no way to describe the goofiness of Moe Marcus’ depictions of humanoid crabs, beings who have huge pincers but can skillfully manipulate a syringe full of eternal youth. You gotta love that climax as well: Mona, now on a cruise in the middle of the ocean watches in horror as Donald, still in love with the woman who betrayed him and left him to rot, enters her cabin and explains his new look to her. Will he be able to make a respectable crab girl out of Mona or will she drown on her way down to Bikini Bottom? Stay tuned for The Bride of the Crab Walks Among Us!

(You ain't just whistlin' Dixie about this not being great literature. Despite my affection for "Crawling Death," I was not feeling this crabby-horror at all and I think Marcus' sloppy art goes a long way in sinking any sense of fun I was going to have with this one. - Jose)

Jose: “Far out in the whirling cosmos” there exists a sordid planet known as Varsuvia, a gaseous hell full of burning flame and searing sulpher. One of the miserable denizens, Eric (!) Valborg, is bemoaning the fate of his people when a hideous hag tells him that through her magic she can transport him to another planet in order to find their salvation. And faster than you can say “trubdon zurdit bareno” Valborg is on planet Earth! Peeping in the window of couple David and Jean, Valborg decides to steal the woman away so that he might enjoy a little peace at her beautiful side before his imminent immolation. A scuffle breaks out as the alien tries to make away with his prize and soon all three of them are back on Varsuvia. When the humans show ingratitude for their latest vacation, Valborg tries throwing them into one of the sulpher pits. The hag, upset that her powers have been used to such wicked ends, gives Valborg the heave-ho herself and sends the lovers back to their home.

Were it not for Rudy Palais’ distinct artwork in “The Horror from the Shade” (CoC #11), this oddball scifi excursion might have only been notable as a one-off experiment and nothing more. And though the panels tend to be over-busy and stuffed with detail, as was one of Palais’ trademarks, his depiction of the aliens and their terrible planet are worth the cover price alone. The Varsuvians are skull-faced, morbidly thin creatures who perspire just as copiously as the Homo sapiens (profuse sweating being another of Palais’ stock images). You can almost see the aliens move in slinky motions and hear the creak of their nasty bones. And lord have mercy, if ever a comic book story was drawn to look like it literally stank to high heaven, this one would be it. Not even Galactus would dare devour this bilious little appetizer.

(Palais' art is fabulous but this script belongs in Varsuvia. Highlight is when Jean tells hubby David that Eric Valborg, who's been salivating over her sleeping form, is "insane!! He talks of burning pits -- of another world--!" Not sure about you, dedicated blog reader, but if a giant blue pointy-eared shorts-wearing caped monster was threatening me, I'd be worried about more than his sanity. -Peter)

Peter: Farmer Rafe and wife Sara live on a small bit of acreage, the soil too poor to properly grow edibles. Only one patch of land, in fact, has soil suitable for planting but on that plot stands a huge fruit tree. Though the couple fight over anything and everything, the tree is the one piece of dirty business that continually chews away at Sara. Rafe, however, is not to be swayed as he’s convinced that someday this husk will bear delicious fruit. After a blight ruins their entire crop, Sara takes a hatchet to the tree until Rafe discovers his wife mid-swing and strangles her, burying her beside his beloved tree. A year later, the tree does indeed begin bearing fruit but not any that Rafe has ever seen before. The blossoms resemble Sara’s hands and, as he’s inspecting them, the “hands” wrap themselves around Rafe, killing him and burying him beside his wife’s body. The next spring, the tree bears even stranger fruit.

A tale oft told but, this time out, told with supreme nastiness and stunning visuals. Rudy Palais (who is known to comic fans for his trademark, flying beads of sweat)  absolutely loved to mess with the constrictions of the panelled page (something that wasn’t done much over at EC) and his layouts for “The Fruit of Death” (CoC #12) are very evocative of Will Eisner’s The Spirit (especially Sara’s corpse “bleeding” into the panels all around it). The final panel, of the miniature “fruit heads” of Sara and Rafe, is truly horrifying, another perfect example of just how nasty the pre-code horror could get.

(Good ol' Palais! This was not the strongest of narratives, but it gave the artist the opportunity to draw rotting fruit with screaming human faces, and in my book that's something not to be easily dismissed. - Jose)


Jose: Blood runs red in the streets of France during the Revolution, with the insidious Madame Guillotine doling out horrendous, gory death to members of the bourgeois who refuse to renounce the king. Our eponymous fiend is the one responsible for manning the blade, and he finds only the utmost joy in his work and rousing the rabbles that come to watch the executions. One aristocrat remains relatively calm on the eve of his sentence. He says that the guillotine claimed his revolutionist father as well. Once the lad’s head is lopped off, the executioner recognizes a locket that fell from the man’s neck that puts him in a funk. His somber reverie is interrupted by the headless spirits of his victims who hold out their wailing gourds to him as he tries to flee. Confronted by the young aristocrat’s ghost, the executioner reveals that he is the man’s father… and finally removes his hood to reveal that he is also headless! The spirit is left alone to ponder the nature of man’s evil ways.

Ludicrous. Silly. Perhaps even half-assed. And yet something that defies logic calls to me from “Man in the Hood” (CoC #13) I’m a sucker for some good old fashioned beheading, and Powell seems to be having fun with his blood-bedewed baskets and blades and muscle-bound punishers. There’s just enough story here to give “Man in the Hood” a narrative foothold, but most of the finer details are disposed of completely. At times it almost seems to be a mere filler piece made for the purpose of giving us copious panels of powdered-wig types screaming from sliced throats and buxom madams getting knifed in the back. But there’s something endearing about our nameless man. Perhaps it is his very lack of identity engendered by his masked status. Maybe it’s because we all wear hoods, ones that keep the world blind to our dark secrets and desires. Only when our backs are pressed up against the wall and our old skeletons come rattling from the closets do we reveal our true selves.

(After the two headless men verbally spar at the climax, one falls to the ground dead. The survivor, with his head in his hands asks, metaphysically, "I killed him and he killed me! Will man ever know peace?" Not if Harvey has anything to do with it. -Peter)

Peter: Life for big game hunter, Thaddeus Stevens has become boring since he’s bagged, stuffed and mounted every rare species known to man but salvation arrives in the form of the Upper Ubangi, a largely unexplored area of Africa. There, it is said, several wild new animal specimens have been spotted. Quickly, Stevens sets off for Africa but his efforts are for naught until he stumbles across a large pool of water that almost seems to churn and pulse as though alive. Thaddeus watches in amazement as a bird falls into the pool and emerges as a different animal altogether. Hypothesizing that the pool contains “the essence of life,” the hunter captures a gazelle and pushes it into the pol. Moments later, the animal rises from the water as an almost otherworldly creature. Stevens captures more animals and continues his offbeat safari. While tossing a lion cub in, Thaddeus has a mishap and falls into the water himself. When he crawls from the water, he notices an evil twin of himself emerging as well and attempts to flee. The twin catches up to him and we find that this Thaddeus Stevens likes to mount the heads of his kills as well.

A really whacky tale with a climax that might actually carry a moral… I think. I’d ask why Thaddeus is the only creature to merit a double but then most of these stories have the same vague qualities to them. Best to just enjoy “The Collector” (from CoC #17) and savor that final panel of evil Thad, enjoying a beverage while admiring his new trophy head (evil Thad looks quite a bit like one of EC’s horror hosts!). Artist Joe Certa contributed to 41 of the Harvey pre-code strips in both penciller and inker positions. He’s probably best known as co-creator of DC’s Martian Manhunter but also worked on western and horror titles for Marvel in the 1950s and would later work extensively on the Gold Key horror titles in the 1960s and 70s. As a side note, the identically-titled and similarly-themed “The Collector,” (from the second issue of the Dell version of  The Twilight Zone, August-October, 1962) features pencils by George Evans and inking by Frank Frazetta.

(Stories like this are always fun to discover because they show you how far the writers were willing to push their ideas in order to get the biggest shock. Sometimes it didn't work, but I think it does here and the ending is quite clever and sardonic. - Jose)

Jose: Karl Dresden wants his beautiful new home built over a stretch of land, and he isn’t going to let a dilapidated old cemetery get in his way either. The workers are mighty scared and sickened by the job, but soon construction of the palatial mansion is completed. But now that the work is done, why does Karl still hear the clank and scrape of tools in the dead of night? Peering from his bedroom window, Karl spots a group of chalky zombies slapping some brick and mortar together for some unknown purpose. But not only do the weird creatures disappear without a trace, but their mysterious building is impenetrable even to the blows of a sledgehammer. Seeking to get to the bottom of this, Karl sneaks up on the creatures as they finish their project but quickly wishes he didn’t: they have just finished making his very own personal tomb.

If the Harvey titles are ever charged with unoriginal premises, let it be known that the simplistically-titled “It!” (CoC #14) was published a full two issues prior to The Vault of Horror #29 from E.C. in Feb/March of 1953, a tale that also focused on a selfish landowner who met his doom at the hands of a ghoulish band of construction workers that supplied him with his final resting place. Vic Donahue’s art is lively as always and though the script never takes any unexpected turns you can’t help but grin in knowing where it will go next. The irony that the zombies should build Karl another home when it was this reason that provoked their vengeance in the first place is palatable. Will these fools ever learn that it isn’t nice to mess with the dead?

(This one was on my short list as well. Whereas a lot of these stories shine because of their art rather than script, this one is just the opposite. I think Donahue's art is rather bland and shows not a lick of the imagination found in the work of Palais and Powell. In addition to "The Mausoleum," the Johnny Craig story you cited, Jose, "It!" reminds me most of "Blind Alleys," with its band of unseeing workers exacting revenge on a selfish penny-pinching bastard. -Peter)

Peter: With champagne chilling and husband waiting in the dining room, Charlotte strides merrily
down memory lane, recounting both the good and the bad. Seems it took quite an effort to land Fred but Charlotte's inevitable inheritance was enough to get the guy to the altar. Unfortunately, Fred has a straying eye but Charlotte is a woman in love and love will conquer all indiscretions, it seems. As she pours the champagne into Fred's glass, we see just how far Charlotte will go to obtain her dream life.

For the veteran horror fan, there's no surprise what waits us in the final panel of "Happy Anniversary" (from CoC #19); we know what's going on right from the get-go despite Charlotte's bubbly dialogue. If this was True Romance Comics, we might be fooled but, since we never actually see nor hear from Fred until the denouement, we've got a pretty good idea what's up. What pushes this over into Recommended territory are the queasy little nuances: Charlotte's smile (which, on a re-read, borders on crazed), her dialogue in the final panels (the deliberately vague "I knew you wouldn't lose your taste for flashy women! That's why, the night we were married... but that's enough of the unhappy, sordid past!"), and Fred's degenerated state ("ten years we've dined together... listened to our favorite songs together... just the two of us blissfully alone...") all combine for a tale guaranteed to make you ponder. How has Charlotte managed to hide her decomposing hubby from public scrutiny? How did she kill him? Are those tears in her eyes in that fantastic final image? Why is Fred's shirt torn but he's still got a lovely full head of hair? Much more than just a five-page throwaway, "Happy Anniversary" is a chilling descent into madness, one that only gets better the more times you experience it.

(Harvey hits a real nerve with this one. The climax won't be surprising anyone, but what is startling is how emotionally touching the story is, probably due to the rare amount of restraint that's at work here. We see absolutely no signs of violence, only the terrible aftermath. And those tears. Those tears really sell that moment. - Jose)

Jose: After mugging an elderly well-to-do gent and leaving him to bleed out in the street, Greg Vantucci and “Fingers” Watson hurry back to their grimy hovel to slobber over their spoils. But, as is common in the criminal element, greed over who-gets-how-much quickly sets in, leading Watson to shoot off a round at Greg just as the other stabs Watson in the heart. Merely grazed by the bullet, Greg gloats over his victory as he leaves his ex-partner’s disrobed corpse for the hungry rats to get their fill. Retiring to another tenement, Greg is more than a little disturbed to see Watson’s nibbled corpse waiting for him in the bed. Greg thinks he somehow came back to the scene of the crime in his confusion and hurries out to another hotel. But when he enters his new room, he’s greeted by the horrible sight yet again. Finally resolving to go the ritziest hotel in town to avoid any possibility of vermin and cadavers, Greg’s sent over the edge when he sees the rats and those gnawed little piggies staring right back at him in not just one but two separate rooms. The munched-on corpse of Watson shambles forth to give Greg the bad news: that bullet he shot earlier was more accurate than Greg realized and he has now taken up a permanent residency in Hell.

With the beats of a good psychological noir and the squishy gruesomeness of the comic book medium, “Cycle of Horror” (CoC #16) scores high marks for its strength as a narrative. The art by Chamber of Chills newcomer Al Eadeh (he did pencilwork for two scripts from Black Cat and another in Tomb of Terror)  is a perfect match for the material. It looks just as scratchy and seedy as the characters who inhabit the story, and the choice to leave the corpse’s messy remains restricted to a pair of gnawed feet is actually very effective. The shots of Watson in his full glory can’t quite match up with the disquieting sight of the gaping hole in his ankle!

(Despite a cliched climax [well, wait, if Greg is dead, how come he's not being munched on as well? Oh, never mind], I found this to be one heck of a gruesome and effective shocker. And thank goodness when we do see Watson "in his full glory" that the rats were kind enough to leave his boxers relatively untouched. I've heard that rats do tend to go for the soft bits first... -Peter)

Peter: George and Clara hop on the underground, en route to see Clara’s old friend, Emily. They haven’t seen Emily in years and there’s so much to catch up on, as well as meeting Emily’s new husband for the first time. As they take their seats, a roguish scamp across the car from Emily winks at her. Taking umbrage, George leaps up to defend his wife’s honor and the two men engage in a skirmish. As the train comes to a halt, the shoving match stumbles out of the car and onto the platform. George delivers a left upper cut that sends the man sailing into the path of an oncoming train. Luckily, for George, there’s a policeman nearby who witnesses the entire melee and George is free to go (yes, we can all wonder why this cop stood by as a fist fight unfolded before his eyes) provided he shows up at the precinct the following morning to fill out a report. The couple arrive at Emily’s house where George comforts a visibly shaken Clara and Emily puts on a pot of coffee, telling Clara that her husband will be home soon but there’s a picture of him on the mantle if she’s interested. The phone rings as the horrified couple realize Emily’s husband is….

I have to be completely honest and confess that I never saw the twist of “End of the Line” (from CoC #20) coming. I’ve read thousands of comic book horror stories and I can usually tell a mile away what’s going to happen. My initial suspicion was that the guy on the subway train was Emily’s lover and that the plan was to do away with George. After that never unfolded, I was pleasantly blindsided by the revelation that George had killed Emily’s husband! The masochist in me wanted to see at least a few more panels as the whole truth unfurled in that living room and Emily threw scalding hot coffee in George’s face, evening up the score. Bob Powell’s visuals are so unusual here, almost evoking a 1930s feel rather than the 50s and, unlike Rudy Palais’ work, Powell’s images play out within the confines of the panel, no spilling at all, and (with the exception of the large image on the splash) all pages are laid out in two or three panel lines. I usually like my art to be a little less confined but in “End of the Line,” this format only seems to amp up the claustrophobia.


(From "Saw it coming" with your last pick to "Holy Christmas!" with this one. Like you, I was totally in the dark as to how this tale was going to pan out. Its simple structure allowed for a lot of potential paths to open up, but it was only in getting to the final destination that the implication of all that had come before socked me right in the gut just like the characters. - Jose)

Jose: You’re walking down a dark road to a local cemetery, pondering, when suddenly from the rumbling heavens descends a white-hot bolt of lightning that knocks you into this side of next Tuesday. Thankfully the freak accident has proved non-fatal, but upon awaking in the hospital later you can’t seem to remember your name or what you were doing in the cemetery. The doctor’s diagnosis is definite: you have amnesia! So what else do poor, forgetful saps do but flee into the night in search of answers? That’s just what you do, retracing your steps at the cemetery and finding an old-fashioned key in the dirt where you fell. When you see the rickety old mansion in the distance, you rightfully figure that they key will grant you access. You haven’t poked around too long before a moldering old corpse decides to pester you. You flee in terror, even though the nameless horror seems to recognize you. Solace is not to be found in the next room, where two robed wraiths eagerly await your arrival. Though you stammer in terror they assure you that you’re in the right place. After all… you are the Devil!


I know this makes two similarly Satanic stingers in a row, but to deny “Amnesia” (CoC #17) a top spot in this week’s exemplary cluster would be the most egregious form of forgetfulness. Like “Cycle of Horror” before it, this story drips with the shadows of a noir film. The theme of lost identity and the detective work the second-person narrator performs would be right at home in such a production. But even if the story and its left-field dénouement leave you a little cold (they tickle me pink personally), then “Amnesia” is still noteworthy for the A-plus artwork by Howard Nostrand. Reminiscent of Jack Davis’ work for E. C., Nostrand’s characters are expertly drawn but have that one note of unreality to them that pushes them over into the wonderfully outlandish. It’s a compliment that Nostrand manages to make his lead look both surly and dangerous in one panel and impishly cartoony in the next.

(I think CoC #17 was the best issue out of the first twenty we've perused. Three of the four stories -- yes, I know "The Bridge" is a big stinker -- get high marks from me. "Amnesia" has one of the biggest WTF? endings we've seen so far, one that's pulled right out of the uncredited writer's hat, and leaves you either scratching your head or laughing out loud. -Peter)

And the "Stinking Zombie Award" goes to... 

Peter: "Vengeful Corpse!" (from #15), like last Volume's "Stinking Zombie", was carefully chosen for this honor because of the boredom which creeps upon the reader very quickly after the initial set-up is presented. Rich Peter Rich is dying and his vulture-like children have come to hover over his deathbed. All three are hoping for endless wealth and all the old man is asking is that the trio preserve him in a really nice tomb. Rich shuffles off and his lawyer cautions the children: "Take my warning and build his magnificent tomb! If you disobey him, he swore to return from his grave for vengeance..." If the children had listened, we'd be all the better as that would be the end of this nonsense but, no, they take the easy route and stuff the corpse in a stingy old tomb. "Ah, they'll die in horror for this..." swears the lawyer and die they do. Each meets death in a ghastlier fashion: cable car, fall from a great height and, finally, asphyxiation in dad's crypt. At least the old man grows a smile. Not only does this five-pager seem to move as slow as that plumber you hired by the hour but Moe Marcus' art is the pits, lacking any of the dynamics of his colleagues' work and laid out and choreographed with no energy whatsoever. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you this Volume's "Stinking Zombie"...

Moe Marcus? No, Less Marcus... Please?

Jose: This must be the week of the literal stinking zombies, because my pick for the dog of the pack, "Bridge" from CoC #17, is another tale that deals with those pesky revenants from beyond the grave. Criminal Rand is pitched over the side of the London Bridge by his cohorts after a successful hit, but the revived robber goes forth to mete out justice, mostly by calmly walking through the streets and letting everyone scare themselves silly and/or to death.  I have much more respect for stories whose reach far exceed their grasp (even the WTF-ery of bedfellow "Big Fight" is commendable for at least trying to be different), but I have zero patience when it comes to stories that are so inanely routine that it becomes a chore just to get through it. "Bridge" has absolutely nothing about it that distinguishes it from others of its type, and the script and dialogue sound like they were written by a somnambulist. And Moe Marcus' art isn't doing anything for me either. Sorry, Moe!

Sadly for our friend, only the script was on autopilot.


STORY OF THE WEEK


Peter: My pick, this time out, for reprinted story is Howard Nostrand's "Haircut" for a couple of reasons. One, it's got great Jack Davis-ish art (Nostrand is notorious for his aping) and it's the lone story we could find (in color) from the only issue we had no access to. Here, from issue #18, is "Haircut":






Jose: For my choice this week, I’ve selected another story, like “Formula of Death” from the last go-round, that isn’t here because I rate it as one of the very best. “Lay That Pistol Down” (CoC #20) is a grabber based on that title alone, but if you make any presumptions of its content based on its name then whoo-boy are you in for a shock. I have no idea what they were going for here; is this supposed to be a dopey gimmick tale torn from the pages of a MAD Magazine ripoff? Nostrand’s art sure makes it look like that! Things get very silly very quickly here, but damn if it hasn’t stuck in my mental craw this whole time. Now it’s your turn!







NOTES

Peter: As noted above, we didn't have access to CoC #18 and we're really too cheap to plunk down big bucks for either the original or the UK reprints. The pages of "Haircut" above were found on a site auctioning the original artwork for the story. I was able to find original pages for one other story from #18, Bob Powell's "Friend," but the pages were in black and white and I didn't think we'd get the full effect sans color. When we get hold of a digital copy of #18, we'll give a full rundown of our findings.

Quote from "Curse of the Black Panther" (#16): "But now a strange restlessness ate at her vitals." Almost winks at those in the know: the story is very reminiscent of Lewton's Cat People and the final panel has the hero uttering over his dead lover's body: "No, don't die! Come back to me, Lenore! Oh, my darling-- Nevermore!" "The Things" (from #13) has some of my favorite goofball writing:

Eyes bulge with horror which was before suppressed... but which was now unleashed in a wild fury!

In a dirty cafe on the Gold Coast, a tired candle gashes out deep scowls of thought on the faces of three men...

The perspiration of fear and fatigue popped out as huge globules on the foreheads of the men...

Harvey takes a break from ripping off EC Horror and gives EC Science Fiction an homage with "TerrorVision (from #19), a pretty on-the-money aping of the sort of story that filled the pages of Weirds Science and Fantasy.

Jose: The snappy twists of "Black Passion" (#19) and "End of the Line (#20) also recall the narrative mold of another E.C. title, Shock Suspenstories. Though you won't find a grinning skull or salivating vampire anywhere within the pages of this duo, they have a biting impact in their depiction of the human heart of darkness.

With this block of issues, Harvey has solidified its patented scream of terror: "AGRAAA!!!!" Sounds more like the name of allergy medicine to me, though.

There are some days when I've really wished I had something like the magical flying knife from "The Curse of Morgan Kilgane" (#11) at my disposal. Probably better that I don't. They have a habit of stabbing you in the back.


THE COMICS
Chamber of Chills #11-21



#11 (August 1952)
Cover by Lee Elias

“The Girl in the Moonpool”
Art by Bob Powell

“The Horror from the Shade”
Art by Rudy Palais

“Return from Bedlam”
Art by Al Avison

“The Curse of Morgan Kilgane”
Art by Manny Stallman








#12 (September 1952)
Cover by Al Avison

“Murder at Moro Castle”
Art by Warren Kremer

“The Swamp Monster”
Art by Abe Simon

“The Bride of the Crab”
Art by Moe Marcus

“The Fruit of Death”
Art by Rudy Palais








#13 (October 1952)
Cover by Al Avison

“Man in the Hood”
Art by Bob Powell

“The Lost Race”
Art by Abe Simon

“The Man Germ”
Art by Howard Nostrand

“The Things”
Art by Moe Marcus







#14 (November 1952)
Cover by Lee Elias

“It!”
Art by Vic Donahue

“Down to Death”
Art by Moe Marcus

“The Spider Man”
Art by Abe Simon

“The Devil’s Necklace”
Art by Rudy Palais








#15 (January 1953)
Cover by Lee Elias

“Nightmare of Doom”
Art by Al Avison

“Vengeful Corpse”
Art by Moe Marcus

“The Living Mummies”
Art by Don Perlin (?)

“Mind Over Matter”
Art by Bob Powell









#16 (March 1953)
Cover by Lee Elias

“Cycle of Horror”
Art by Al Eadeh

“Curse of the Black Panther”
Art by Howard Nostrand

“The Wax Man”
Art by Moe Marcus

“The Creeping Death”
Art by Rudy Palais








#17 (May 1953)
Cover by Lee Elias

“Amnesia!”
Art by Warren Kremer

“Big Fight!”
Art by Howard Nostrand

“Bridge!”
Art by Moe Marcus

“The Collector”
Art by Joe Certa







#18 (July 1953) **MISSING**
Cover by Lee Elias

“Haircut!”
Art by Howard Nostrand

“Atom”
Art by Joe Certa

“Friend!”
Art by Bob Powell

“The House!”
Art by John Giunta








#19 (September 1953)
Cover by Lee Elias or Warren Kremer

“Happy Anniversary”
Art by Bob Powell

“Terrorvision”
Art by Howard Nostrand

“Garzan the Magnificent”
Art by Joe Certa

“Black Passion”
Art by Jack Sparling







#20 (November 1953)
Cover by Howard Nostrand

“The Clock”
Art by Joe Certa

“Murder”
Art by Manny Stallman

“Lay That Pistol Down”
Art by Howard Nostrand

“End of the Line”
Art by Bob Powell











In two weeks, the conclusion of our coverage of Chamber of Chills and the first look at Witches Tales!