In Search Of my first Night of the Living Dead

by John Scoleri

Childhood memories can be a tricky thing. And certainly hard to back up in the absence of corroborating evidence. I still know people who swear they saw scenes with Luke and his friend Biggs on Tatooine when they saw Star Wars in the theater, despite the fact that those scenes were never included in release prints of the film. So when I would tell people about my distinct memories of watching Night of the Living Dead for the first time when I was a kid, I was never surprised to be greeted by skepticism.

Growing up in the pre-VCR era, it was standard practice to review the TV Guide each week to look for movies and TV shows we were interested in, so we'd know when we'd need  to be in front of the TV. My introduction to Night of the Living Dead came through my older brother, who promised that the film was scary — even in the daytime! Had he told me about it before the fateful day where it turned up in the TV Guide with a listing indicating that it would be airing at 11:30pm on Channel 2? That I honestly can't remember, but I do know this — seeing Night of the Living Dead was an occasion unlike any other that had come before. In the days leading up to the night it was on, we asked and received permission to set up sleeping bags to watch it in the den on our family's color TV (we had a small black and white set in our shared bedroom).

That night, after we had made all our preparations, I was quite surprised to find when the film started, as the car drove up the road to the cemetery, that it was in black and white. As a result, my brother and I were sent to our bedroom to watch it, since there was no point watching it on the color television. I’m sure I was disappointed, not only that we weren’t able to watch it in our sleeping bags, but also because the film was in black and white; which all but guaranteed that it couldn’t really be that scary. Could it?

The remainder of the film was watched from the safety of my bed, on the small black and white television set in our bedroom. And yet it captivated me from start to finish. Right down to the final, unsettling finale that no prior monster movie I had ever seen had prepared me for. When it was over, I recall looking over to my brother, only to see that he was fast asleep. Though it was now 1:30 in the morning, I was keenly aware that the responsibility lie with me to go to the TV, turn it off, and then try to make it back to the safety of my bed—in the dark. I knew the station would soon go off the air for the broadcast day, filling the room with the hiss and glow of static that a few of you may affectionately remember as ‘snow’. Fortunately, I was aware (from the initial search of that week’s TV Guide) that Planet of the Apes was airing on Channel 36 starting at 1:00am. So I made a mad dash across the room to the TV set, clicked the dial from VHF Channel 2 to UHF Channel 36, and made it back into my bed in time to see our intrepid astronauts' water landing in the Forbidden Zone before falling fast asleep myself.

From that day forward, whenever I talked about Night of the Living Dead, which had instantly become (and has since remained) my favorite horror film of all time, I would tell the story of that first viewing. But I could never pinpoint my age when I first saw it. I always associated the film with Creature Features, our weekly monster movie show hosted by Bob Wilkins, because I had clipped and saved an interview with him from our local newspaper supplement where he stated that Night of the Living Dead was one of the most frequently shown movies on the program. Though the film stuck with me, my recollection of it did not specifically include Bob, which would become a very important detail, 40 years later.

As fate would have it, Monster Kids in the Bay Area of Northern California had a great deal of affection for Bob Wilkins and Creature Features. Much was written about the show and its host through the years. There were frequent convention appearances, and some enterprising fans started the laborious task of documenting every film that aired on the show.

One of the first of these that caught my eye, thanks to a random Google search, was an article on Blog Wilkins specifically focused on how many times Night of the Living Dead had aired on Creature Features. And it included specific dates! Armed with that initial data, I realized I was on my way to identifying the specific date when I saw the film for the first time. According to the blog, Night had aired 10 times on Creature Features:

1. January 1, 1972 @ 9:30
2. November 11, 1972 @ 9:30
3. October 20, 1973 @ 9:00
4. September 28, 1974 @ 9:30
5. May 10, 1975 @ 9:30
6. November 15, 1975 @ 11:00
7. May 22, 1976 @ 11:30
8. November 6, 1976 @ 11:00
9. May 13, 1977 @ 11:30
10. March 4, 1978 @ 11:00

I was able to rule out the first five listed airings, as they were all started earlier than I had distinctly remembered. But I still had a ways to go to determine the date on which I had seen the film for the first time.

Around the same time, in 2011, Michael Monahan published Shock it to Me: Golden Ghouls of the Golden Gate, which focused on Bay Area Horror TV from 1957-2011. Monahan had researched the films that aired not only on Creature Features, but on other shows throughout the Bay Area. His research relied heavily on the listings in the San Francisco Chronicle (via microfiche).

Comparing Monahan’s data to Blog Wilkins, there were a few minor timing discrepancies, as well as a seemingly missing 11th airing:

1. January 1, 1972 @ 9:30
2. November 11, 1972 @ 9:00 (instead of 9:30)
3. October 20, 1973 @ 9:00
4. September 28, 1974 @ 11:30 (instead of 9:30)
5. May 10, 1975 @ 9:30
6. November 15, 1975 @ 11:00
7. May 22, 1976 @ 11:30
8. November 6, 1976 @ 11:00
9. May 13, 1977 @ 11:30
10. March 4, 1978 @ 11:00
11. October 7, 1978 @ 11:00

(Thanks to CF fan, archivist and filmmaker Tom Wyrsch, existing footage allowed me to corroborate the October 7, 1978 airing, as Bob mentions during the September 23rd airing of Creature from the Black Lagoon that Night of the Living Dead was coming up in a few weeks.)

Let me take a  moment to say that despite exhaustive research, the information you uncover is only as reliable as the source. In my own investigations, I discovered that checking multiple sources (physical TV Guides, these published accounts mentioned above, and microfiche of other local papers - such as the San Jose Mercury News) can yield different results. Short of finding someone who kept a log of what actually aired at the time, we must take everything with a grain of salt. I am generally confident with the data I have collected, considering that for the most part there are at least two sources of corroboration - but I know some assume the published scheduling information might have been wrong across the board - which I acknowledge.

Unfortunately, while Monahan’s book was a godsend, it couldn’t include every horror/sci-fi/melodrama that aired through the years, so a 1:00am airing of Planet of the Apes wasn't included for me to cross-reference against the Night of the Living Dead airings I was now aware of. The only way I was going to get the missing data I needed was to start tracking down the physical TV Guides in question.

A word of warning to anyone who considers going down such a rabbit hole. Finding TV Guide back issues isn't particularly difficult, particularly if what you’re looking for is the cover story, main articles, or crossword puzzles that are present in all national copies. When you’re looking for local programming, however, bear in mind that there were editions published for locales throughout the country, which meant the only ones of value to me were the San Francisco Metropolitan editions. It makes for a much more challenging quest, since that information isn't often listed. I did decide to go all out and track down all of the local issues that included a Night of the Living Dead airing, but what I really wanted to find was the one issue that would also have the Planet of the Apes listing on Channel 36 the morning after Night aired; pinpointing the exact date I saw the film for the first time.

The aforementioned Tom Wyrsch kindly provided me with a number of the back issues I needed, part of a collection he had assembled in order to publish a book of display ads for Creature Features that ran in the local TV Guide. A few others were acquired from friends with an extensive collection of back issues, though I quickly discovered that most of their inventory had already been exhausted by none other than Tom as he was doing his research.

That meant I had to rely on eBay to find the rest. And it was slow going. One by one, a local edition I needed would turn up. And each time a newly purchased back issue would arrive, I wondered if it would be the issue that would finally provide the answer to my search. Sadly, with each new issue received, I was disappointed to find that it was not.

Once I was down to needing one final issue (May 10, 1975), I was sure that through the process of elimination I had isolated the date (despite the reported air time not aligning; I assumed this must be another inconsistency that the TV Guide would correct). I still wanted to have  the physical copy to confirm my suspicion, but it was months before one turned up on eBay. When my copy finally arrived, I felt like I had just opened the Ark of the Covenant only to find sand. The listing for Planet of the Apes wasn’t there. At this point, my wife and friends who had long been aware of my quest were convinced that I had misremembered the series of events. I had little to offer to suggest otherwise.

As I re-lived that first night over and over in my head, one thing I realized was that I didn’t specifically recall Bob Wilkins introducing the film, or appearing between commercial breaks. I had initially written that off as my memory of the film overshadowing such details, but it sent me back to Monahan’s book to see if I could find anything else that might be enlightening. As I reviewed all of the other shows that aired in the similar timeframe, I came across a listing for Night of the Living Dead on a Saturday afternoon in 1974, on an unhosted show called Chiller Diller. While I knew the Saturday afternoon airing wasn’t the time I saw it, it did dawn on me that it may have been the first time my brother saw it, which would also explain his comment (that I had never thought to question) that the film was scary — even in the daytime. In reviewing the rest of the listings in the Monahan book, I soon discovered there was in fact another Night of the Living Dead airing I had previously overlooked: a Friday Late Night edition of Chiller Diller. After all these years, might I have finally found the date I had been searching for?

Rather than wait to find a physical copy of TV Guide, on November 15, 2017, my wife and I went to the San Jose Public Library to review the Mercury News microfiche for the date in question.

I found the roll corresponding to the date, loaded it up and started scanning. I quickly arrived at 11:30pm, and found the following listing for Night of the Living Dead.

Radiation leak? And only two stars???

I scrolled down to 1:00am and the first thing that caught my eye was that Trilogy of Terror was airing on Channel 7, meaning that I might very well have doubled down on the horror had I switched to that, instead of Planet of the Apes, which was listed below it on Channel 36.

My search was over. After more than a decade, I had finally identified my first Night of the Living Dead: 11:30pm on Friday, July 13, 1979, when I was 9 1/2 years old.

I now have a date that I can celebrate annually, and will surely never forget as it was not only Friday the 13th, but July 13th happens to be the birthday of my good friend David J. Schow (who we've determined was probably in a Hollywood theater watching Dawn of the Dead that very night).

I have since picked up a physical copy of the TV Guide for that airing, and was similarly surprised to see that earlier in the week, The Omega Man had aired on Channel 5. While I don’t know for sure, it’s possible that it might have been the first time I saw that film as well, which would provide an interesting spiritual proximity between the 'official' adaptation of Richard Matheson’s novel I Am Legend and Night of the Living Dead—before I was even aware of the book’s existence.

* * *

Since I went the trouble of tracking them all down, I felt obligated to include a gallery of all of the Bay Area TV Guide listings for Night of the Living Dead. It's also interesting to note the order in which the actors get credited (the total number credited clearly depending on column space available), and whether or not the roles the actors played are noted.

January 1, 1972

November 11, 1972

October 20, 1973

September 28, 1974 

May 10, 1975

November 15, 1975

May 22, 1976

November 6, 1976

May 13, 1977

March 4, 1978

October 7, 1978

-No Listing-

July 13, 1979

* * *

I find myself writing a lot about Night of the Living Dead this year, as we celebrate the film's 50th anniversary. For more of my Night of the Living Dead ramblings, check out my article "Born of I Am Legend" in Fantasm Media's 50th anniversary magazine, 50 Years of Night, where I detail how George Romero became acquainted with Matheson's inspirational novel.

And please head over to Dreams and Visions Press to sign up to receive email updates on my forthcoming coffee table book of photographs from the making of Night of the Living Dead: Latent Images. It will be a 10" x 12" hardcover containing at least 128 pages of black and white and color behind the scenes photos, including many rare and never before published images, under license from Image Ten, Inc. The book is due out early next year.

* * *

Special thanks to Tom Wyrsch, Jim and Melody Rondeau, Blog Wilkins, and Michael Monahan’s book Shock it To Me, all of which were indispensable in my quest to track down the date I first saw Night of the Living Dead. 

Journey Into Strange Tales: Atlas/ Marvel Horror! Issue 19

The Marvel/Atlas 
Horror Comics

Part Four
November-December 1950

 Adventures Into Terror #43 (first issue) (November 1950)
"The Monster Awakes" (a: Russ Heath) ★1/2
"The Unknown Partner" (a: Ed Winiarski) ★★
"The Ant World" (a: Mike Sekowsky) ★ 
"The Man who Looked at Death"(a: George Klein) ★★★ 

Like most of these pre-code titles, Adventures Into Terror began life as something very far removed from a horror title. Joker Comics was yet another of those annoying, yet harmless, comedy-romance books that glutted the stands in the 1940s, spotlighting the adventures of such forgotten jokesters/ career girls as Powerhouse Pepper, Tessie the Typist, Snoopy and Dr. Nutzy, and a certain future super model named Millie. The title stumbled along for eight long years, managing only 42 issues in that time, before holding its hands up in frustration and joining the soon-to-be-equally glutted horror comics side of the spinner racks. Like the other titles that had sprung up, AIT provided readers with a steady diet of Colan, Sekowsky, and Heath, and some dynamic, eye-catching cover graphics. AIT kept Joker Comics's numbering for two issues before shifting to its own numbering with #3. The title lasted 31 issues and was axed in May, 1954.

A pilot crashes in a weird valley and unwittingly awakens a sleeping giant and must watch as the (not so-scary-looking) behemoth goes on a rampage. "The Monster Awakes" has nice Heath art but a supremely silly script. In "The Unknown Partner," Titus Crockett may be the most cold-hearted and ruthless man on Earth (he bankrupted his brother and watched in glee as the man threw himself out a window), but that’s a plus to a man who walks into Titus’ office one day and requests a partnership. That man turns out to be… Satan! A couple of interesting twists keep this one from sinking under its heavy cliches.

In another early preview of what was to come years later when Lee/Kirby/Ditko would redefine the SF comics Atlas was pumping out, "The Ant World" concerns a young couple who buy the old Hoog place despite its reputation. You remember Hoog, the daffy scientist who was convinced he could make small animals gargantuan, the same nut who disappeared without a trace? Well, turns out his experiments were a success and the giant anthill on his property is the proof. Poor Gustav Van Doren loses his lovely wife and half of his body to the crazy gi-ants before he can escape. A tale that pinballs from one lunacy to another and, ultimately, leaves the reader unsatisfied.

The best was saved for last with “The Man who Looked at Death." Oren Van Schoon travels to India to learn her darkest secrets, absorbing the behind-the-scenes of the rope trick, the headless woman, the snake charmer, and other crowd pleasers. But there is a price to pay for one who revels in torture and that bill soon comes due. Reminiscent of "This Trick'll Kill You!" (from Tales from the Crypt #33, published two  years later), "The Man Who Looked..." is nicely done, with a nasty bite in its climax.

 Suspense #5 (November 1950)
"Hangman's House" (a: Bill Everett) ★
"Mark of the Witch" (a: Russ Heath) ★★
"The Eyes That Stared!" (a: Joe Maneely) ★
"Return from the Grave" (a: George Tuska) ★★
"The Painted Scarf" (a: Dick Briefer) ★★
"Even After Death" (a: Bernie Krigstein) ★1/2

Thomas Zane is so insanely jealous of Robert Kinsman's relationship with the gorgeous Mona Vincent that he makes a pact with Satan to off Kinsman. The devil has Zane take his friend to "Hangman's House" where, Beelzebub claims, the good stuff will happen. As usual, the devil has an ace up his sleeve and Zane is the one who swings from a rope in the end. Dreadfully dull, overlong, and marred by below-average Bill Everett art (at least GCD claims it's Everett), "Hangman's House" is indicative of the type of "chiller" left over from the 1940s and really does seem inspired by the radio show. The devil certainly looks natty in his red leggings and yellow belt buckle!

The great Bernie K.

"Mark of the Witch" features some really nice Heath visuals and a decent Salem witch trial plot but "The Eyes That Stared" is about as generic as its title (a trait I actually love about these early horror stories -- "The Monster That Was a Creature,""The Mouth That Talked," The Man Who Thought," etc. etc.). Joe Maneely filled the Atlas titles with several wonders but this was not one of them; this Maneely is ugly and scratchy. The parade of great 1950s artists continues with "Even After Death" a not-terribly-good revenge from beyond the grave yarn featuring the talents of Bernie Krigstein, who would go on to fame with his work a few years later at EC. Krigstein, as we've noted several times on our EC blog, was a man of two pencils: he could be squiggly, sketchy, and downright cartoony, but then (as in "Master Race" and "in the Bag"), on occasion, he could be downright cinematic and gloriously abstract. Here, Mr. K is very much on the cartoony side but enjoyable nonetheless.

"Mark of the Witch"

Sailor Gorham Munson loves money and he'll do anything to attain a great deal of the stuff. Munson comes up with a foolproof plan: he'll sink the S.S. Merchant and, once it's sunk to the sea bottom, plunder the half-billion in gold bullion hidden in its innards. All goes according to schedule, the planted bomb explodes and boat goes to the bottom. Things go wrong though when Munson hires a big thug to help him bring up the huge treasure chest. Turns out the brawny sea dog is the captain of the Merchant, risen from his watery grave to dole out some good old-fashion revenge. "Return from the Grave" isn't a great story, far from it, but it does have a nasty, violent edge to it that's welcome. George Tuska is not one of my favorite artists, his early 1970s Marvel work is atrocious, but here he's perfectly average. The visuals get the job done without being overly stylish. It's odd that the dead Captain is first seen drowning his sorrows in a bar and seems not to have known beforehand that Munson is the culprit; confessing his actual identity as he cuts Munson's deep-sea air-hose.

"Return from the Grave"

Artist Edward Keller has a whopper of a surprise for his father: he's found his grandfather's last work, a frightening painting of a woman in a red scarf. Ed's dad is none too pleased with the discovery and almost collapses from the strain. When the old man gets his breath back, he explains that Ed's gramps was not playing with a full deck and that after he finished his masterpiece he murdered the model and was hanged for his crime. Pops begs his son to burn the atrocity but Ed is even more fascinated now. Some days later, Ed comes home to his studio to find his father dead on the floor and the woman with "The Painted Scarf" gone from the canvas! The stunned artist flees to the local precinct and begs for asylum from the murdering spirit but the cops later find the painter dead, apparently from strangulation. Ed seems like a good enough guy and his fate is not a fair one but that makes for a better story in my eyes. The artist's reaction to finding his father's corpse is a bit surprising; most people would be a little more upset by such a discovery.  I wouldn't exactly call the painting frightening; the poor gal looks a little deranged. Artist Dick Briefer was in between stints on his classic Frankenstein series for Prize Comics when he pumped out "The Painted Scarf."

Men's Adventures #5 (November 1950)
"The Secret of the Flying Saucer" ★1/2
"Dead End" (a: Bill LaCava & George Klein) ★1/2

Men's Adventures was a "variety" anthology, that rotated stories from the mystery, crime, adventure, science fiction, and horror genres. MA was a true collector's nightmare, birthed as True Western (for two issues), transformed into True Adventures (for one issue), then settled into life as Men's Adventures, which survived until #28 (February 1954). With its 9th issue, the format gave way, predominately, to war comics, and horror/sf was taboo until #21. The Human Torch became the spotlight for MA's final two issues. But, enough for thumbnail history, what about the two offerings this issue? Meh. "The Secret of the Flying Saucer" concerns a pilot who chases and shoots down a UFO (in a Welcome to Earth goodwill gesture), only to discover its occupant is infected with deadly radium. Contaminated, the American pilot becomes a hermit and dies alone in order to save the rest of the world. An interesting concept delivered as innocently and excitement-free as possible. That goes double for the horror tale, "Dead End," wherein a young boy accepts a dare to sleep in a haunted house and wakes to find his brother standing over him. The brother wishes him well and the boy goes home, beaming that he's won two bucks (!), only to discover his brother had been hit by a car and killed the day before. The art on both of these stories is uninspiring but at least I don't have to synopsize and critique the "sports adventure" that falls between these stories, "I Was Called a Weak Sister!"

 Venus #11 (November 1950)
“The Plot” (a: Russ Heath) ★★

In the year 2755, robots have rebelled against their human masters and plot a takeover of the universe. Luckily, we were on to those metallic rascals years before and placed undercover agent, Mark Gentry, in the robot ranks. Gentry quashes the rebellion and brings peace to the universe once again.

While I'm not going to cover the main events in this title, I will say (again) that some of the Venus-starring stories are very readable and feature supernatural and, in the case of this issue's showcase tale, apocalyptic elements. Granted, by story's end, Venus has restored the Universe to its rightful order, written it all up for Beauty Magazine, and is wrapped in the arms of her true love, editor Whit, but there's an edge there regardless.

"The Plot"

Journey Into Unknown Worlds #37 (December 1950)
"No Escape" (a: Gene Colan) ★1/2
"When Worlds Collide!" ★
"The Sleeping Giants!"  ★
"The First Rocket!" (a: Bill Everett) ★★1/2  

Boris Chetspoth helps Professor Polkin search the old Zika castle for that pesky invisibility formula Zika had perfected before he... um, disappeared. When the men find the recipe behind a hidden door, greed wins out and Boris murders the professor and downs the just-cooked serum. Alas, poor Boris never thought about an antidote! "No Escape" has some of the ugliest Gene Colan art I've ever seen; it's almost got an unfinished look to it.

In "When Worlds Collide!" (nice title that), a dictator declares war on the entire galaxy, never listening to his science advisor, who claims all-out atomic war can set planets out of their orbit and spell certain doom. Sure enough, a planet comes hurtling towards the warring world but it all turns out to be specks of dust in a scientist's eye. By coincidence the eggheads are discussing the fact that size is relative and the dust found in one's eyes could be planets filled with microscopic people! Imagine that!

"Eminent anthropologist" Rod Furbush (no, seriously!) has gotten the news he's been waiting for for years: that comet he claimed passed within a few hundred miles of Earth 3,115 years ago actually did pass Earth 3,115 years ago. But what does the date have to do with the sinister old Amazonian burial mound Rod discovered and won't allow passage to? Constant companion and daredevil/sex goddess, Janet Penny, insists they fly out to the jungle despite Rod's silly fears that there may be something sinister and supernatural going on in that mound. Janet gets her way and the two land at the mound, where Janet quickly finds a way into the (hereto impassable) temple. The duo find evidence of a race of giants who lived 3,115 years before but, before they can escape, one of the giants rises from his coffin and attacks. Soon, the temple room is filled with several giants and, for some reason, Janet and Rod are forgotten while the huge beasts make their way out the door and into our world. Suddenly, an earthquake dislodges huge boulders and the creatures are buried once more, this time forever! "The Sleeping Giants" is one of the few Atlas stories so far that I can say contains nothing remotely interesting or noteworthy (other than the fact that Janet Penny seems to be the member of the cast who has the balls rather than Rod who, for some unknown reason, spends the first couple pages whining about how horrified he is of investigating his archaeological miracle. Janet pushes Rod into the trip so much I suspected she might just be behind the eventual terror.

A rocket ship crashes and burns in the New Mexico desert in 1963, but authorities are able to retrieve a diary, written by a member of a research team sent to explore the moon a year before. The diary reveals a frightening and fantastic tale involving the fate of the search team. When the trio had reached the moon, they discover it's already been colonized... by Nazis, who have enslaved the local moon men! Things go from bad to worse when the men find that the colony is overseen by, yep, you guessed it, Adolf himself (in full moon man gear!), who escaped that legendary bunker and hopped the first spaceship to the moon. Now, Hitler owns the moon and he's used all his resources to amass a huge artillery, weapons he intends to use to regain power on Earth. But the good guys get the message son enough to send battleships to the moon and destroy Hitler's Fourth Reich. "The First Rocket!" is a thoroughly enjoyable loon-fest that borrows heavily from Robert Heinlein's juvenile novel, Rocket Ship Galileo (1947), and just about every space opera that had hit screens by 1950. Who cares if the thing's the work of plagiarism (most of EC's stories were stolen from other sources as well), as long as it keeps you turning pages and this one does its job well. Hitler hasn't held up very well in the ensuing decades since being presumed dead; the poor guy resembles a giant mustachioed, moon-suited rodent.

Marvel Tales #98 (December 1950)
“A Man Named Satan” (a: Bernie Krigstein) ★★★
“The Black Cat”  (a: Mike Sekowsky) ★★
“I Saw To-Morrow” (a: Marion Sitton) ★  
“Juggernaut”  (a: Bill Everett) ★★★1/2 

That tired old war horse, the pact with the devil, is given a shot in the arm courtesy of "A Man Named Satan." Starving artist Emilio Bianca has tried for years to sell the fruits of his talent but to no avail; his sculptures sit, gathering dust. Frustrated by her shoddy surroundings, Emilio's wife destroys all her husband's masterpieces and casts him out of the house. At wit's end, Emilio calls out to the gathering storm, asking Satan for peace and to rid him of his nagging wife. A thunderbolt lifts the young man off his feet and when he comes to, a large chunk of black marble greets him, inviting Emilio to ply his trade. Hours later, a grotesque statue of the devil, wings, hooves and horns intact, speaks to Emilio, promising him that all the artist's wishes have come true and that Satan will never leave him. Emilio rushes home to find his wife has been transformed into a goat; he hacks the creature to bits and flees. Satan, true to his word, follows Emilio all around the globe, leaving death and misery behind them. Only trickery releases the poor man from his bondage.

Not only is "A Man Named Satan" a great read but it's also got some very nice visuals from Bernie K. (this is a less-cartoony Bernie than the one on display in "Even After Death") and some genuine pathos. Like some of Atlas' better protagonists, Emilio is a victim of his own  making but there's not a hint of villainy to the man; he just wants to share his talent with the world and keep his shrewish wife's mouth shut. Who could blame him for reaching out to Old Scratch for a helping hand?

On the other end of the quality scale, we find Mike Sekowsky's "The Black Cat," a then-modern variation on the Poe classic, wherein obese billionaire Farnum Brando terrorizes his superstitious manservant one too many times and gets sealed in the basement vault with the titular beast. The story itself is not all that bad, in fact it's got a nicely grim last few panels but, aside from those panels, the art is hard to stomach. "I Saw To-Morrow" is utter nonsense about a con man stumbling on a honest-to-gosh real crystal ball and hoping to make millions but actually coming to a violent end. The stooge sees his inevitable end coming at him but fails to stave it off, almost like the reader who sees the cliched climax coming three pages away and still turns the page. Shame on both.

"Juggernaut" is another story altogether. Sure, the tale of a cosmic armageddon is stock-filled with such bloated terms as "negative gravitation bombardment" and "super infiltrations of positive gravity," but its sense of wonder is off the scale. Doctor Xoldis has come up with a wild theory: he can isolate "physical mass from all sources of energy -- such as gravitation, atmosphere, movement, and life" and, effectively, isolate a planet from any other body in the solar system. Yeah, I know you're asking, "But for what purpose?" and so did I for the first few pages but then when Xoldis' wacky theory becomes reality and he zaps planet Amerus with a beam of cosmic power, the fun begins. His good intentions (again, we have no idea what the endgame is) go awry when Amerus becomes a gigantic magnet and the entire universe is sucked into it. Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, and newly-founded planet Monax (all planets who allied with Xoldis in his experiment) are the first to go up in flames, billions die, and Xoldis sees only one chance of reversing the process: he must fly a ship full of gravity bombs into Amerus and explode it into nothingness. His ultimate sacrifice works and the universe is once more safe. Well, what's left of the universe, that is.

The prize of the issue and perhaps the most fun I've had on this journey so far, "Juggernaut" is a science fiction, melodrama, and disaster flick all rolled into one and Bill Everett's art is the glue that holds the fun parts together. The best bit is when Doctor Xoldis gets a video call from Monax ruler Lunvar, who stands in front of burning wreckage and scolds the professor for "the cataclysm of death unleashed!" This downbeat winner is the very definition of a "Marvel Tale!"

The downbeat climax of "Juggernaut"

In Two Weeks...
Magnificently, we will float into the
Mystic!

EC Comics! It's An Entertaining Comic! Issue 68

The EC Reign Month by Month 1950-1956
68: October 1955 Part I

Davis

Impact 4

"The Lonely One" ★★★
Story by Jack Oleck?
Art by Jack Davis

"Fall in Winter" ★★
Story by Carl Wessler
Art by Graham Ingels

"The Bitter End" ★
Story by Al Feldstein?
Art by Reed Crandall

"Country Doctor" ★★1/2
Story by Carl Wessler
Art by George Evans

Benson can't stand Miller and makes his life in a soldier's suit a living hell. What's the beef? Well, Miller is Jewish and Benson is a bigot. He prods Miller at every turn, calls him "yellow" and, at one point, beats the hell out of him. But Miller just keeps doing his job. Things reach a head when Benson finds out that Miller will be getting his corporal stripes; this infuriates the hot-head and he decides he's going to play a nasty prank on his victim. Benson grabs hold of a "dummy grenade" (one that soldiers practice with) and tosses it among Miller and his comrades, screaming "Live grenade!" Benson expects the younger man to turn tail and run but, instead, the kid throws himself on the TNT pineapple, earning the respect of the others in his platoon. Now it's time for Benson to be "The Lonely One."

"The Lonely One"

"The Lonely One"

Well, it took four issues but Al finally decided to throw in a Two-Fisted Tale among the soap opera whatzits and it's not too bad at all; certainly better than most of the war stories that stunk up the last batch of TFTs. It's confusing throughout the story to discern exactly where the prejudice stems from, since Benson's hatred is focused on a kid named Miller, probably one of the most innocuous names around, but thanks to a little research I found an interesting bit about the story in an interview with Bill Gaines that ran in The Comics Journal. Gaines insists that the name was made purposely "bland" so that the story could pass without interference from the Comics Code, an organization that was upholding moral values by eliminating any traces of Jews or Blacks in funny books. This wasn't the first run-in with the numbskulls at the CCA and it wouldn't be the last. Extra star for not ending it with Benson seeing the light and buying Miller a . . . Miller.

"Fall in Winter"

Why is Theodore Hamilton standing on the ledge of a high-rise building, threatening to jump? Through flashbacks, we discover that Theodore has had a rotten day. First, after thirty years of dedicated service, his boss, Mr. Abernathy, lays him off. There's no way his wife, Ruth, will accept the news with anything less than a screaming fit. Then, as Theodore is attempting to board his bus to go home, a woman ahead of him in line drops her purse. Without a second thought, he picks up the purse just as the woman turns and screams "Purse snatcher!" The cops arrive and Theodore panics, racing away with the purse still in hand. The police chase him into the building and onto the ledge where he now stands, but Theodore loses his nerve and begins to inch his way back to the window when he loses his footing and falls. Luckily, the fire department has arrived in time and catches the falling man in their net. The bus driver shows up to dispute the woman's claims and Mr. Abernathy seems to appear in a puff of smoke to deliver the good news: he'll be keeping Theodore on after all. It's a wonderful life! "Fall in Winter" begins as an involving human interest story (something we don't see much of in the New Direction titles); I wanted to know why this old man was up there on the ledge. But then, unfortunately, Carl Wessler decided he was writing a Hollywood B-picture instead and threw in some silly histrionics and outlandish last-second saves. Graham's style is slowly sliding into a post-Crypt tranquility; his characters look a little more human now that he doesn't have to worry about ghouls and swamp witches. Even his women (well, aside from the crazy bus lady) look a little softer.

"The Bitter End"

Nicholas Bullard is an embarrassment to his father, Gerard, who only wants Nicky to follow in the old man's shoes and become a multi-million dollar businessman. Nicky would rather be an artsy-fartsy, sensitive mama's boy (where have we heard this before?), so he rebels every chance he gets. Why, Nicky won't even date fabulous Sheila Cochrane, heir to the Cochrane millions, and instead becomes involved with a simple diner waitress. Pshaw! to that. Gerard pulls strings and has Nicky sent to New Guinea on a one-year business trek but, after all his letters to his son go unanswered, he has a change of heart and has him shipped home. To his surprise, Nicky's diner girl, Iris, shows up at Gerard's door, with baby in tow, to inform him that his son died while in New Guinea. Iris vows that Gerard will never see his grandson again. I kept waiting for "the Psychiatrist" to show up to tell Gerard what he was doing wrong and tell Nick that he's really telling his father, with his actions, that the family tree needs to be pulled down. It's not some of Reed Crandall's best work either; it's a rather hum-drum affair.

"Country Doctor"

On this cold and snowy night, "Country Doctor" Joseph Brown is called out for two emergencies: farmer Eddie has had a run-in with his tractor, and young couple Fred and Alice are expecting their first child. Fred insists that Dr. Brown hurry as his wife is in pain but Brown deems farmer Eddie to be the more serious of the two. Several times while mending Ed's crushed leg, Brown receives pleading calls from Fred but tells the man to calm down, babies are born every day. Eventually Dr. Brown gets to the young couple's house but, unfortunately, it's too late: Alice and the baby are both dead. He sobs as Eddie's son, Chet, takes him home in their sleigh through the snow and Chet feels really guilty that Dr. Brown's daughter, Alice, died while the doc was helping his father. This is a tough one. I liked the little-town atmosphere of "Country Doctor" and, of course, the George Evans illustrations, but the twist is a cheap one, thrown in because there just has to be an O. Henry to wrap up an EC story, right?  I think the story would have had more of an Impact had it left well enough alone. The Doc would have been wracked with guilt regardless and that final panel, where Brown pretty much lays the guilt on Chet's doorstep ("I . . . choke . . . I promised to take a look in at your father, Chet . . .") is an odd turn. -Peter

Jack- This is a very strong issue for a New Direction comic. Davis is very good at drawing war stories and, though the Korean War was over and had stopped appearing as a location for EC tales some time ago, "The Lonely One" is not a bad little offering. It took me a minute to figure out that Miller was Jewish, which shows that Gaines was wise to pick such a bland name, but the cover telegraphed what should have been a more unexpected ending. I liked the Woolrichian sense of dread at the start of "Fall in Winter" and was surprised that attempted suicide paid off so handsomely; I also liked Ingels's smoother artwork. I was stunned to read your criticism of Crandall's work in "The Bitter End," since I was marveling at the magazine-quality illustrations on every page. I think it's some of Crandall's best EC work. Of course, George Evans is no slouch, either, and rivals Crandall for my favorite EC artist of 1955. I did not see the end of "Country Doctor" coming in advance but I sure liked the visuals.

Davis

Incredible Science Fiction 31

"You, Rocket"★★1/2
Story by Jack Oleck
Art by Wally Wood

"Fulfillment"★★1/2
Story by Jack Oleck
Art by Bernie Krigstein

"Time to Leave"★★★
Story by Jack Oleck
Art by Roy Krenkel and Al Williamson

"Has-Been"★★★
Story by Jack Oleck
Art by Wally Wood

Peter suggests another
new blog to Jack
("You, Rocket")

After rocket engineer Allan Crane is killed in a rocket car accident, nearby scientists harvest his brain to use for an audacious project--they will link it to a spaceship and thus avoid the necessity of putting a man in space, something that has so far failed due to the fact that the astronauts went insane when confronted with the vast reaches of space. Allan's brain is trained to pilot a ship and he becomes convinced of his own power and importance. Launch day comes and the ship takes off, but when he sees the vast void Allan's brain turns the ship around, crying "Mama" like an infant and heading back to Earth.

Wally Wood was my favorite EC artist when it came to science fiction stories, but Jack Oleck is not my favorite writer of these tales. "You, Rocket" plods along as if it's going somewhere and seems vaguely like a Bradbury ripoff until the final panel which, oddly enough, does not clue the reader in that it's "the end." I turned the page thinking there was more only to find that that was it. Not a sign of a great finish.

Carter's pose recalls the early EC
work of Al Feldstein in this panel
from "Time to Leave"

Ancient Egyptians worship the image of the god Ra. Many years before, a disabled space ship landed on an unfamiliar planet. The skipper of the ship was a meek man and his wife a shrew; he enjoyed the primitive planet but she couldn't wait to leave. She nagged him until he used the ship's blasters illegally to destroy the jungle around it so that a rescue ship could find them easily. Soon, the rescue ship arrived and repaired the disabled ship; as it took off, a primitive man on the planet observed  the skipper in his oxygen ask. Back to ancient Egypt and now we see that the image of Ra resembles the space ship captain in his oxygen mask.

The good news is that Bernie Krigstein can drew a pretty sweet gal, even if she is a nagging beast. The bad news is that Jack Oleck falls back on one of the oldest tropes of bad science fiction, that being the idea that ancient astronauts visited our planet long ago and the reality of their existence became legend over time. "Fulfillment" is a poor excuse for a science fiction story but Krigstein's work is better than what I've seen from him in quite awhile.

In the year 2954, a man named Garvin calmly welcomes another "Prim," or time traveler; this time, it's Dr. Arnold Carter from North America in 1955. Garvin tells Carter that he'll show him around the city but he's sure that Carter will want to rush back home. Carter argues but, as he witnesses the emotionless perfection of the future city, he is repelled and when it's "Time to Leave" he is surprised that Garvin wants to join him.

A nice wordless panel by Wood
("Has-Been")

Better than the first two stories but still seeming long at six pages, "Time to Leave" seems like an anti-Communist screed with gorgeous art by Krenkel and Williamson. The future city has men and women who all dress alike and everyone has the same amount of money. Dance shows are performed by robots. It really doesn't seem as bad as all that, but Carter can't wait to get back to sloppy, emotional 1955.

A space ship captain worries that he's a "Has-Been," too old to fight in outer space battles due to a slowing of his reflexes. This appears to be borne out when he misses a shot during a confrontation with another ship, and he thinks back to his own father's lament that he was too old to fight in space. Working his way onto the force, the young man made the cut for space flight and worked his way up to captain. Now he's past his prime and his second-in-command must intervene to save their ship. Back home and decommissioned, his father welcomes home the captain--who has reached the ripe old age of fifteen.

Huh? I guess Oleck's point here is that things happen so fast in the space race that only the very young have the reflexes to keep up and by their mid-teens they are too slow. The story is pedestrian and, as in all of Oleck's stories this issue, the surprise ending doesn't quite work. At least Wood is on his game, as usual.-Jack

Krigstein delivers "Fulfillment"

Peter: For the most part, this is a pretty good issue of Incredible Science-Fiction, fairly well-written and gorgeously illustrated (how can you find fault in a funny book that serves you up two Woods?), and yet all the stories smack of retread. All four seem very similar to plots we've enjoyed in the past (especially "You, Rocket!" and "Time to Leave"), with tiny tweaks. The best of the bunch, to me, is "Fulfillment," which takes one of the aforementioned EC cliches (the brow-beaten, spineless husband and his shrewish wife) and actually does something interesting with it. The twist in the tail is very effective! Was it just me or did Jack Oleck try to sneak something by the CCA in "Time to Leave," something that would have had Wertham writing another chapter in his infamous diatribe? When Dr. Carter asks why you can't tell the men from the women, the Control replies, "Is there some reason why you should?" Oh, my, subtle homosexuality forced into the suggestive brain of little Tommy! Oh, and why does the Control, after meeting and touring with dozens of other time travelers, suddenly decide that Carter is right, this future is not too great after all? Which begs another question from me: why did EC give up on horror comics after the CCA axe fell? Why not at least try out a few issues of a CCA-approved Tales from the Crypt ("Crypt" was not an outlawed word, after all) and see what happened? Yeah, I know, it probably would have run into trouble eventually (like this title will) and been shut down but the experiment (from a Monday-morning quarterback point of view) would have been fascinating.

Kamen

Psychoanalysis 4

"Freddy Carter: Case No. 101 - Male (Session 4)" ★★
Story by Dan Keyes
Art by Jack Kamen

"Mark Stone: Case No. 103 - Male (Session 4)"  ★
"Mark Stone: Case No. 103 - Male (Final Sessions)"  1/2★
Story by Robert Bernstein
Art by Jack Kamen

Young Freddy Carter shows up for his final session of psychoanalysis with his therapist and unloads on the doc. Seems Freddy's parents have been acting up again. Pop tells Freddy if he doesn't pass his math and engineering finals, he's an embarrassing failure as a son and should seriously think about giving up on life. Mom keeps right on coddling her baby, thinking it's so cute when Freddy tricks his dad into thinking he's studying his geometry workbook when he's really hiding his collection of Emily Dickinson inside. What's a kid to do? More importantly, what's a head-shrinker to do?

If I gotta read this crap, then so do you!

Well, it's been a long time coming but "the Psychiatrist" ushers Mr. and Mrs. Carter into his office and rips them both new ones, scolding them for their behavior and for screwing up this wonderful boy's life. Magically, the veil is lifted and both parents not only agree to go easy on their only child but also to seek professional help themselves! Therapy completed! I'm not sure why but I was able to make it through this particular chapter in the Freddy Carter saga much easier than the previous three. Maybe it's because it's so darned ridiculous and dated. Mr. Carter is so mean-spirited and vicious to his son, I was wondering why editor Feldstein didn't steal Graham Ingels away from Piracy for an afternoon's work. A much better ending (and one that would have fit very well into Ghastly's oeuvre) would have been Freddy burying his therapist's letter opener in the back of Pop's skull.

Is this Freddy or Mark?

My first reaction to the splash page for the latest entry in the "Mark Stone" whining epic is that Freddy Carter got home, changed his suit, and realized he forgot the murder weapon in the doc's office and had to go back but, no, it's a slimmer, more svelte Mark Stone (chalk it up to my not being able to tell the difference between one Kamen character and another) arriving for his fourth session. And a doozy of a session it is, my friends. Mark is suddenly aggressive towards his mental savior but the reasoning is a bit skewed. Seems Mark has been having horrible dreams about his mother running off to Bermuda and leaving him fish in a pan but that's only a metaphor for what's really bothering him: "the Psychiatrist" has told Mark that he's taking a week off and going fishing in Cuba (hmmm . . . fish . . . Cuba . . . Bermuda . . . yeah, this psych stuff is pretty easy) and that terrifies the previously-obese TV writer. According to his therapist, Mark has been transferring all his hates and fears about authority, abandonment, and emotion to his therapist and that's not a good thing. Oh, whoops, our session is over.

No, that's not Mark!

A month later (after a session not illustrated), Mark Stone returns for his final session and he seems to be loaded with anxiety again, but this time it's about the impending cessation of his therapy. He can't get on an airplane without thinking it's going down, he badgers his new girlfriend to marry him, he won't get into the elevator because it's going to crash . . . okay, maybe this head-shrinking stuff isn't that easy. But thank goodness, we have writer Robert Bernstein to sort out the muck. Mark was pressuring Laura to wed him because, without therapy, he saw no future and she provided something stable. Oops, the session is over but his therapist smiles and assures Mark that, yep, maybe he's screwed up enough to come back for three more sessions.

Perhaps my favorite panel
ever published in an EC Comic!

And let's all give a standing ovation to Bill Gaines for pulling the plug on this turkey before we had to endure any more of those meetings. I would assume by the quick wrap-up at the finale of both "Freddy Carter" and "Mark Stone" (I say quick wrap-up but I had to slog through 18 pages of "Stone") that Feldstein knew the jig was up for this New Direction title after only four issues (despite the fact that there must have been at least thirteen loyal readers left). Criticizing Jack Kamen's art after all this time is like shooting the proverbial fish in a barrel but, seriously, can anyone tell me that anything Kamen has done in this series shows any bit of excitement or style? Look at the panels and the only way you can tell the difference between Kamen's characters is that some of them wear dresses and some not. Well, this is the first EC book that I've waved good riddance to but, sadly, it won't be the last. -Peter. 

Jack- It quickly became apparent to me that the real reason Freddy's parents were ending his sessions with the shrink was that the comic was being canceled. The first story is a hoot, from Freddy's Dad calling him a "novel-reading sissy" to a hilarious scene where the shrink dresses down the parents. Mark Stone demonstrates the usefulness of psychoanalysis as a tool for rapid weight loss, but the shrink's insistence on having a question and answer session with his patient seems laughable. By the end of this issue, I felt sorry for Jack Kamen for having to figure out how to draw panels to go along with the endless blather. It was the exciting three-panel sequence where the Psychiatrist cleans his glasses that made me realize it could not have been easy to illustrate this mess. Still, the bizarre idea of doing this comic at all kind of held my interest.

Next Week . . .
Can they really call these cool cats . . .
the Losers?