The Hitchcock Project-Richard Matheson Part Two: The Thirty-First of February [8.15] and overview

by Jack Seabrook

First edition

Fans of the popular TV series Mad Men, which portrayed the ups and downs of a New York City advertising agency throughout the turbulent decade of the 1960s, might be surprised to find that life was not all that different in London in 1950, as it is portrayed in Julian Symons's novel, The Thirty-First of February, published in that year.

A brilliant and multi-layered tale of psychological suspense, the story begins at a police inquest following the death on February 4th of Valerie Anderson, the 28-year-old wife of ad executive "Andy" Anderson. The woman fell down the cellar stairs of her home in the dark and her demise is ruled "accidental death" by the coroner.

The bulk of the novel takes place during the four days from February 25th to February 28th, as Anderson returns to work and is slowly driven mad by a series of events. The actions and concerns of his daily life as an ad man are occasionally interrupted by inexplicable oddities, such as his desk calendar that is set to February 4th, the date of his wife's death. Called on to mentor a newly-hired young man named Greatorex, Andy is given the task of developing an ad campaign for a lotion that removes the need for men to shave every day. As the novel unfolds, Andy is portrayed as a man with a "double nature"; he is both a sharp ad man at work and an irresponsible private citizen outside of it. His youth was mundane and he only began to taste success when he found himself working in advertising, where falsehoods and masks are the norm.

Interspersed with the satirical portrait of the advertising industry and Anderson's less than impressive behavior in the evening hours are hints of suspicion about his wife's death. Returning home on the evening of February 25th, Anderson is confronted by his neighbor, Fletchley, who tells him that a police inspector visited that day and asked many questions. Anderson keeps a small notebook hidden in his home, and while he writes that "I can't see why I didn't push her down the stairs long ago," he also notes that, after Valerie's death, he feels an "extraordinary sense of loss." Did Andy kill his wife, or was it merely an unfortunate accident? These questions are of great interest to Inspector Cresse, who pays a call on Andy that night, having received two letters casting suspicion of murder on the widower. Cresse cannot understand why a box of matches was found by the side of Valerie's body and he and Andy banter about the possibility of guilt and the lack of evidence.

1958 paperback edition

On Tuesday the 26th, Anderson awakens after having slept in a room decorated in pink by his late wife. He tests out the lotion for which he is supposed to develop an ad campaign, only to discover that it seems to remove all traces of his beard without the need for shaving. Both the night in the pink room and the removal of his masculine facial hair represent a form of castration for Andy, who goes to work and meets the man who runs the lotion company; there is a suspicion that the lotion is the work of a con artist although, like so much else in the ad industry, exactly what is wrong is hard to pin down. Andy and his colleagues rush around all day keeping busy at meaningless work. Once again, an unexpected and small item throws Andy's day into a tailspin; this time, in his daily office mail, he finds a love letter written by his wife and assumes that it was addressed to another man in the office. That evening, he visits a pub and flirts with Molly, a colleague from the agency, before taking her home where he "coupled with her," his wife's framed photograph falling to the floor and the glass smashing. Early the next morning, Andy awakens to find that he has nearly strangled Molly in bed, having mistaken her for his wife. Andy is fighting both the metaphoric threat of castration and the meaninglessness of his daily life in the world of artifice that is the ad agency.

On his third day back at work, Wednesday the 27th, one of Andy's colleagues decides to call the face lotion "Hey Presto!" Like magic, it is a quick and easy solution to one of the daily annoyances of life, yet is it, like stage magic, merely an illusion? Andy's boss remarks that "there's nobody more easily sold on a simple nostrum for all human ills than a good advertising man . . . because we make such a mess of our own lives." The pressure of the work environment and the small oddities that have made him think someone suspects him of murder begin to wear on Andy, who loses his temper at lunch. He then visits a brothel, where he is a regular customer, and learns that they have assigned to him the code "MM51," which stands for "mild masochism." As he leaves the establishment, he catches a glimpse of Inspector Cresse and realizes that the policeman is keeping an eye on him.

David Wayne as Anderson

That afternoon at the office, he tells one of his colleagues about the letter from Val and then confesses to Molly that he thinks one of the other ad men was his wife's lover. That evening, Anderson's life begins to spin further out of control. He accompanies his boss to the man's home, where he attends a bizarre birthday party for the man's 14-year-old stepdaughter; her mother is chronically ill and her stepfather may be having an illicit relationship with the precocious teenager. Leaving that house, Anderson proceeds to another party, where he gets drunk and ends up punching Fletchley, his neighbor, after the man refers to Valerie's "sudden death." The night only gets worse when Andy returns home to find his house a shambles and Inspector Cresse waiting for him, claiming that the house was burgled by a stranger. Cresse is philosophical, commenting that "the impulse to make disorder out of order" is "the same as the impulse to kill." He appears to facilitate Andy's progression toward breakdown and confession; Andy even associates the rotund policeman with a dominatrix from the brothel, fearing that the man will produce a whip from behind his back.

William Conrad as Cresse

Andy's downfall reaches its conclusion on Thursday, February 28th, when he oversleeps and arrives at work to find that a simple mix-up of two letters has caused the agency to lose an important account. The calendar on his desk now reads February 31st, an impossible date that represents Andy's descent into madness: he is having a mental breakdown in reaction to his work life and his concerns about the investigation into his wife's death. The literal mask of lotion on his face is causing him pain just as the figurative mask he wears at the office each day forces him to behave in ways that cause him harm; by the end of the day, both masks will be removed. His colleagues also wear masks: one frequents the same brothel as Andy yet appears to be happily married, another seems like a kindly older man yet may be having a sexual relationship with his teen aged daughter.

Andy has gone mad

After losing the account, Andy is given a six-month holiday and replaced by a younger man. He escapes into a movie theater, where a mysterious woman who holds his hand in the dark is shown to be drab and ordinary when the lights come up. Outside, he meets Elaine Fletchley, who reveals that Fletchley, Andy's neighbor, was jealous of him and told Inspector Cresse things to make the policeman suspicious; he also sent letters to the police to cast suspicion on Andy as a murderer. She denies that his wife had a lover and Andy goes home to find Molly waiting for him. He rejects her violently before descending into complete madness and being taken away by Inspector Cresse and the police.

The final section of the novel takes place six weeks later, on the 14th of April. Cresse visits a mental hospital with another policeman, and it is revealed that the younger policeman was the young ad man whom Andy was assigned to mentor when he returned to work. The young policeman was responsible for changing Andy's desk calendar and giving him the forged letter from Valerie and he is now uncomfortable about having been made to play a part in driving Anderson to madness. Cresse defends his unorthodox methods but, when he visits Andy and sees that the man's mind is completely gone, he realizes that he must resign from the police force. Andy's guilt remains unproven.

Elizabeth Allen as Molly

The Thirty-First of February is a stunning work of psychological suspense, both a satire of the advertising industry and a portrait of a man being driven mad by suspicion and innuendo. Until the very end, it is not clear whether the events are really happening or whether they are only occurring in Andy's mind, and even when it is revealed that it was all a cruel trick to try to uncover a murderer, the fact remains that the story has brought to light many unsavory aspects of post-war life in London, at least among successful businessmen.

Julian Symons (1912-1994) was one of the most important figures in crime fiction in the twentieth century, both as a prolific novelist and short story writer and as an indefatigable critic. Born in London, he left school at age 14 and founded a poetry magazine in 1937. Though he tried to avoid service in the war as a conscientious objector, he ended up serving in WWII before working as an ad copywriter and eventually turning to fiction. He published dozens of crime novels and short story collections from 1945 to 1994, as well as a considerable amount of non-fiction and criticism. He won two Edgar Awards and was named an MWA Grand Master in 1982. Not much of his fiction was adapted for film or television, and this was his only book to be adapted for the Hitchcock series.

Bob Crane as Lessing

When Alfred Hitchcock Presents expanded to an hour in the fall of 1962 and was renamed The Alfred Hitchcock Hour, the producers made some ambitious choices, trying to adapt great novels of crime and suspense into TV shows of approximately fifty minutes. Like may other episodes in the first season of the hour-long shows, "The Thirty-First of February" demonstrates the problems that can occur when a complex novel is stripped down to its most basic parts to fit a short time slot, with necessary dramatic crescendos every thirteen minutes or so for commercial breaks.

Richard Matheson wrote the teleplay and the show was broadcast on CBS on Friday, January 4, 1963. Matheson later said that he liked the novel but did not "like what they did to the script," so he asked that his name be removed from the credits and replaced with his pseudonym, Logan Swanson. Without a copy of Matheson's original script to compare with the filmed version, it is not possible to tell if wholesale changes were made, but the speed with which these shows were produced makes it unlikely that the director, Alf Kjellin, made significant alterations. Perhaps Matheson was also unhappy with himself for being unable to convey the depth, intensity and humor of the novel within the limited confines of an hour-long television show.

Kathleen O'Malley as Valerie

As usual, the show is divided into four parts to accommodate commercial breaks. Part one opens with the coroner's inquest, where Anderson explains what happened, narrating the events surrounding Valerie's accident as they are shown in mostly silent flashback. The District Attorney asks why she used matches when there was a flashlight handy; Matheson's script features several instances of characters using matchbooks in order to emphasize the importance of this item to Sergeant (not Inspector) Cresse, who participates in the inquest and who gives Anderson a matchbook at the end of the scene.

Part one continues at the office of Vincent Industrial Design, the office that replaces the Vincent Advertising agency of the novel. In a sponsored show such as The Alfred Hitchcock Hour, Hitchcock could get away with verbal jabs at the advertisers but Matheson could not present an ad agency with anything approaching the vicious satire that Symons uses in his novel. Instead of coming up with ad copy, Anderson designs containers; he is assigned to come up with an exciting, modern package for "Whisker Off," the product that was called "Hey Presto" in the book. Matheson has moved the story's setting from London in 1950 to New York City in 1962, and all of the British references are gone.

The first part includes Anderson's discovery of the date of February 4th on his desk calendar and ends as he returns home in the evening to find Cresse waiting at his house. The sergeant brings up matches again, pointing out that no burnt match was found on the cellar floor near Valerie's body. The first part ends as Anderson asks if he is being accused of murder.

Valerie's broken body

Part two follows Andy's second day at work, as he finds the letter from Valerie to a lover, insists that Molly join him for dinner, and admits to her that "I'm not the most stable person in the world. I had an emotional breakdown during the war. Battle fatigue." He brings Molly home and rants about his late wife's bad taste, remarking that "I should have pushed her down the steps a long time ago" and then failing to clarify his meaning, instead telling Molly that "I should've married a girl like you" and kissing her. She puts him to bed fully dressed, at which point he hallucinates and sees Valerie's face replace Molly's. He tries to strangle her and the second part ends.

This part demonstrates how Matheson's script is like a shorthand version of the novel. Anderson's hidden notebook is replaced by a verbal rant to Molly and (of course) they do not spend the night in bed together; she puts him to bed in a chaste, motherly fashion. Unfortunately, the action is so compressed that some of Andy's actions seem to lack motivation; he is quick to think that someone is out to get him, he blurts out confidential information to Molly, he hallucinates and tries to strangle her. In streamlining the narrative of Symons's novel, Matheson is forced to sacrifice much of the depth that makes it work.

The mannequin Andy thinks is his wife

Falling victim to the most cutting is Part Three, which corresponds to Wednesday in the novel. Back at work, Molly forgives Andy for attacking her the night before. He dictates the letter and memo that will get mixed up and result in his discharge, his colleague tells him that his work is slipping, he begins to rub his face in discomfort, and he returns home to find his house a mess and Cresse again waiting for him. Cresse gives him another matchbook and Andy tells him either to charge him with murder or to get out.

Matheson has deleted much of what happens in this section of the novel. There is no visit to the brothel, the uncomfortable birthday party at the boss's home is removed, and the party where Andy gets drunk and punches Fletchley is nowhere to be found. In fact, the character of Fletchley is entirely absent from the TV show; his role as the man who first sets the police investigation in motion is deleted. The short running time of the TV show makes Matheson focus on hitting all of the key plot points but results in removing much of the novel's character development and psychological nuance.

Andy confuses Molly's face with Valerie's

Things speed up in Part Four, as Matheson has to cover Andy's last day at work and the conclusion at the mental hospital. Andy is at the office, rubbing his face often to show discomfort, when he sees the date of February 31st on his desk calendar. He is put on leave and complains that using Whisker Off has made his face exquisitely tender; that night, he arrives home and has his final breakdown. There is no visit to the movie theater or exchange with Elaine Fletchley, nor does he encounter Molly and throw her out. Instead, he goes straight home, where he finds a strange scene. Valerie's favorite record is playing on the phonograph and dinner is cooking on the range, just as it was the night she died. The door to the cellar stairs is ajar, and Anderson picks up a flashlight and ventures down. He sees his wife's body sprawled on the floor and attacks it, at which point Cresse steps out of the shadows along with another policeman who had been posing as the new man at the office. The body that Andy attacks is a mannequin made up to look like his wife. Andy snaps and rushes at the policemen, at which point there is a cut to the scene six weeks later, when Cresse visits the mental hospital.

The conclusion of the show tracks that of the novel, with a matchbook falling through a hole in Cresse's coat pocket onto the floor, leading him to realize that there may have been an innocent explanation for the matchbook found on the cellar floor. A close up of Cresse's face ends the show, as he wonders if he has driven an innocent man to madness.

"The Thirty-First of February" is an attempt to adapt a brilliant novel into a fifty-minute television show and, by necessity, much of the book's richness is gone. The acting is fine, though David Wayne, as Anderson, is asked to make so many swift changes in personality that it sometimes strains believability. The direction by Alf Kjellin is unremarkable, for the most part, though there are a few highlights: the trips down to the cellar at the start and end of the show are atmospheric, the trick shot when Molly's face is replaced by Valerie's works reasonably well, and Anderson's final scene in the mental hospital is effective.

Cresse realizes what he has done

Alf Kjellin (1920-1988) was born in Sweden and started out in the movies in 1937 as an actor. He began acting on TV in 1952 and continued until 1979. He started directing films in 1955 and worked as a director on American television from 1961 to 1985, concurrent with his work as an actor. He directed one episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents and eleven episodes of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour, including "Isabel"; he also appeared in one of the hour-long shows as an actor.

Born Wayne McMeekan in Michigan, David Wayne (1914-1995) served in the Army in WWII, appeared on Broadway, and was a member of the Actor's Studio. His film and television career stretched from 1944 to 1987. He made many appearances on episodic TV, including twice on the Hitchcock show. He was on The Twilight Zone and Night Gallery and he played the Mad Hatter on Batman. He is fondly remembered for his role as Inspector Queen, Ellery's father, in the short-lived Ellery Queen TV series (1975-1976).

William Conrad (1920-1994), who plays Sergeant Cresse, possessed one of the great voices in American radio and television, playing Marshall Dillon on the radio series Gunsmoke from 1952 to 1962 and narrating The Fugitive on TV from 1963 to 1967. He starred in Cannon (1971-1976), Nero Wolfe (1981), and Jake and the Fatman (1987-1992). Born in Kentucky, he may not always have been as corpulent as he was by the time he became a TV star, since he was a fighter pilot in WWII. This was his only appearance on the Hitchcock series.

Receiving third billing in the credits is Elizabeth Allen (1929-2006), who plays Molly. She was born Elizabeth Gillease in New Jersey and her career on screen lasted from 1952 to 1995. This was her only appearance on the Hitchcock show, but she was also seen on The Twilight Zone and in two of the best episodes of Thriller: "The Hungry Glass" and "The Grim Reaper."

Robert Carson as the coroner

Bob Crane (1928-1978) plays Lessing, who has the office next to Anderson. Born in Connecticut, Crane worked as a radio host before his career on screen began in 1961 with an uncredited role as a disc jockey on The Twilight Zone episode, "Static." This was his only appearance on the Hitchcock series, but he was a regular on The Donna Reed Show (1963-65), starred in Hogan's Heroes (1965-71), appeared on Night Gallery, and starred in The Bob Crane Show (1975) before being murdered in 1978.

Other familiar faces in this episode include Robert Carson (1909-1979), who plays the coroner.

"The Thirty-First of February" is not yet available on DVD, nor is it available for viewing online.

Sources:
Bradley, Matthew R. Richard Matheson on Screen: A History of the Filmed Works. Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2010. Print.

Grams, Martin, and Patrik Wikstrom. The Alfred Hitchcock Presents Companion. Churchville, MD: OTR Pub., 2001. Print.

IMDb. IMDb.com. Web. 5 Dec. 2016.

Symons, Julian. The Thirty-First of February. New York: Harper, 1978. Print.

"The Thirty-First of February." The Alfred Hitchcock Hour. CBS. 4 Jan. 1963. Television.

Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation. Web. 5 Dec. 2016.

In two weeks: Our series on writer James Bridges begins with "A Tangled Web," starring Robert Redford and Zohra Lampert!


Richard Matheson on Alfred Hitchcock Presents: An Overview and Episode Guide

Richard Matheson only wrote two episodes of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour and none for Alfred Hitchcock Presents. "Ride the Nightmare" was an adaptation of his own novel and "The Thirty-First of February" was an adaptation of a novel by Julian Symons. Both teleplays suffer from trying to compress novel-length stories into fifty-minute time slots, and neither represents anything more than an average to below-average episode of the hour-long series. It's too bad that Matheson was not tapped to write any of the half-hour shows, because--as he showed with his scripts for The Twilight Zone--he excelled in that format.

EPISODE GUIDE-RICHARD MATHESON ON ALFRED HITCHCOCK PRESENTS

Episode title-“Ride the Nightmare” [8.11]

Broadcast date-29 Nov. 1962

Teleplay by-Richard Matheson

Based on-Ride the Nightmare by Matheson

First print appearance-1959 novel

Notes

Watch episode-unavailable

Available on DVD?-unavailable

Episode title-“The Thirty-First of February” [8.15]

Broadcast date-4 Jan. 1963

Teleplay by-Matheson (as Logan Swanson)

Based on-The 31st of February by Julian Symons

First print appearance-1950 novel

Notes

Watch episode-unavailable

Available on DVD?-unavailable

Star Spangled DC War Stories Part 94: June/July 1967

The DC War Comics
1959-1976
by Corporals Enfantino and Seabrook

Heath

 Our Army at War 181

"Monday's Coward--Tuesday's Hero!"
Story by Robert Kanigher
Art by Russ Heath

"Paper Bullets!"
Story by Hank Chapman
Art by Jack Abel

Jack: Easy Co. happens upon a fight between a lone U.S. sergeant and three Nazis in a jeep. Rock destroys the jeep and, with his dying breath, the other sergeant asks Rock to take over for him and escort three cowardly soldiers back to base for court martial. The trio tags along with Easy Co. and witnesses first Ice Cream Soldier, then Bulldozer, and finally Little Sure Shot get wounded in battle. The Combat Happy Joes give their rifles to the cowardly soldiers in the hopes that they will use them and, in the end, the trio rise to the occasion, rescuing Sgt. Rock from an enemy tank and demonstrating that each of them is "Monday's Coward--Tuesday's Hero!"

"Monday's Coward--Tuesday's Hero!"

Every time I open an issue of Our Army  at War and see that the Easy Co. story is not drawn by Joe Kubert, I feel a little bit disappointed. Still, Heath does a competent job of bringing Kanigher's story to life, and this one is fun even though we all know that the cowards are likely to become heroes by story's end. The title kind of gives it away, doesn't it?

Peter: Russ Heath's art is a wonder to behold but "Monday's Coward . . ." is like an Abbott and Costello routine, constantly going back to the punchline (in this case, the wounded Easys handing their rifles over to the chickens) and the climax is bogus. Is the moral that if you stick three cowards into action, they'll eventually become heroes? Is Bob telling us that the trio had never seen any battles or bravery prior to being handed over to Rock? The change in personality is just a flip of the switch. Time for some new story lines.

"Paper Bullets!"

Jack: A helicopter pilot in Vietnam is frustrated that other soldiers get to fight while he only gets to use "Paper Bullets!" His job is to drop leaflets among the Viet Cong to convince them to surrender. When his brother's chopper is shot down over an enemy camp, the pilot must use his own copter's rotor blades and the small arms he has on board to fight the North Vietnamese and rescue his brother. In the end, the paper bullets turn out to be useful after all, since Vietnamese farmers attack the camp and help defeat the bad guys.

Most of the time, the bloodless nature of these DC war stories isn't something I notice, but in this story I think enemy combatants are killed by spinning helicopter rotor blades--and not a drop of blood in sight. I saw Dawn of the Dead so I know what really happened here!

Peter: The back-up is more awful Hank Chapman crap wherein real men fight with real bullets, not "Paper Bullets," stocked sky-high with the trademarked Chapman vagaries and silliness (throwing grenades underwater?). It always takes me twice as long to read a Hank Chapman story as I'm constantly doubling back to try to work out just what the character is saying ("We got one Charlie flak-crew but that other Charlie ack-ack's aimin' to pay us off!"). As for Jack Abel's contributions . . . well, let's just say I don't go back to look them over again (in the final panel, the lieutenant looks like his eyes are on his forehead). A rare totally-skippable issue of Our Army.

Heath

 Star Spangled War Stories 133

"You Owe Me a Death!"
Story by Robert Kanigher
Art by Russ Heath

"Thunder in the Desert"
Story Uncredited
Art by Jerry Grandenetti
(reprinted from Our Army at War #44, March 1956)

Peter: When their plane hits the backside of a flying dinosaur monster horror of the stone age, Jim Lucas and Buster March share a parachute down to a mysterious island below. Most G.I.s are blood brothers, but Buster is actually out for Jim's blood; he's convinced that a parachuting accident that left his brother dead is Jim's fault. No amount of reasoning will convince him otherwise and Buster screeches endlessly, "You Owe Me a Death!" The allied enemies fight several prehistoric monsters side-by-side but it's only when Jim tumbles into a giant spider's web (after being accidentally shot by Buster) that Buster sees the error of his ways. The men shake hands but don't have enough time to seal their new-found love since what seems to be an abandoned Landing Ship Tank (LST) is nearing the shore and it might have been hijacked by the enemy. The boys man a handy cannon on the beach but the imagined Nazis don't emerge; rather, it's a veritable Noah's Ark of dinosaurs! Jim and Buster blow the dinos to hell and vow to stand on this island, to fight any enemy that comes their way.

What kind of prehistoric ant spun webs?

Big Bob pays a visit to the "overused plot" well again and draws a bucketful of pap; neither Buster nor Jim contains one iota of believability. How many of these misunderstandings do we have to live through on Dino Island? Luckily, Russ came to the job with his A-game (although that spider looks more like an ant to me), so the sixteen pages aren't a complete waste. The sequence that opens the story, with the plane landing on the back of the pterodactyl, is exciting and well-choreographed, but that's about it. Biggest laugh in a story filled with unintentional guffaws: the LST (which looks to be abandoned) "drifts nearer . . . nearer . . . nearer . . ." and out of the ship pops a bevy of creatures. How the hell did these big guys fit in the hold and how is the boat drifting under the weight of these mega-ton TNT Godzillas?

Jack: Buster is yet another soldier in need of anger management! How did we manage to win the war when so many of our soldiers hated each other? Kanigher's story follows the same pattern of so many others, with an angry soldier showing unreasonable amounts of stubbornness. I don't know how Heath managed to draw such impressive pages in the face of such uninspired writing.

Decent Grandenetti art

Peter: The reprint, "Thunder in the Desert!," is an above-average quickie with decent Jerry Grandenetti art (when was the last time I used that name in the same sentence as the word "decent"?), about a lone G.I. stranded in the desert who can't see because it's too dark, but then is blinded by the piercing light from an enemy tank. Our hero manages to push a box of ammo in the tank's line of travel and then set it off with gunfire. The dawn finds his vision returned and he can, at last, see the awesome wreckage around him. As was his wont around this time, Big Bob gives over the entire letters page to one missive, this time a letter from Harold Boscoble of Boston, who begs Kanigher to bring back Mlle. Marie. What's most interesting about this particular letter, however, is not the content itself but the reaction it evokes from Bob. Boscoble praises the art of the particular story and asks who is responsible, leading to a reply wherein Kanigher allows how he "underestimated (Mort) Drucker, and that although I preferred him to many artists to do Marie, I didn't appreciate him enough at the time. . . My apologies, Mort--I made a mistake in not telling you often enough how good a job you were doing." Amen! Bring back Mort Drucker.

Jack: I recall one story we read that was drawn by Grandenetti in the early 1950s and was quite good. I think it's safe to say that his art declined steadily over the decades.

Attack of the Inflatable Dinos?

Irv Novick

 Our Fighting Forces 107

"Raid of the Hellcats!"
Story by Howard Liss
Art by Jack Abel

"Flying Coffin!"
Story by Howard Liss
Art by Jack Abel

Jack: Two medical missionaries accidentally discover a nerve gas that destroys man's will to fight! It takes a "Raid of the Hellcats!" to track down the doctors on a Japanese prison ship and lead them through the jungle to safety, all the while fighting off Japanese soldiers who want to capture them and pry out their secrets. The Hellcats are pinned in a cave with the doctors and hold off an attacking Japanese force until American planes finally come to the rescue.

After what may be the worst cover of the year, the lead story in this issue is drawn by Jack Abel, who must have been the bottom of the barrel for DC artists in 1967. Still, I enjoyed this story much more than I had enjoyed the prior series in this title, featuring Capt. Hunter and Lu Lin. The Hellcats are an unusual bunch and Liss makes the most of their diverse abilities: Brute is strong and stupid, Light Fingers can pick pockets, Cracker is a dumb southern boy, Zig Zag is an expert driver, Snake Oil can talk circles around anyone, and so on. Silly but fun.

"Raid of the Hellcats!"

Peter: "Hunter's Hellcats" proves to be just as bad a series as the previous Hunter atrocity. What the set-up reminds me of is one of the late 1960s DC superhero titles, specifically the Metal Men. We get a band of G.I.s with nicknames according to each one's most dominant ability or trait. So we get "Swinger," who swings from trees; "Brute," who's ridiculously big (like Hulk big) for a human being; Zig Zag, who can . . . well, zig zag really well in a boat; and on and on. It's just tedious and stupid. And Jack Abel, who's been on his best behavior lately, suddenly turns in the sloppiest panels in a long, long time (could there be an uncredited inker on board)? We're stuck with this cow flop for 15 more installments so, like Gunner and Sarge, we'll just have to bear it (with no grin).

"Flying Coffin!"

Jack: The men who have to take to the air in a patched up old P-40 plane call it the "Flying Coffin!" because they don't have much faith that it will survive a battle and make it home safely. After the plane crashes, a pilot named Stoney repairs it one more time and uses it to complete a dangerous bombing mission before barely making it home.

It's been a while since we had a "talking plane" story, but Howard Liss follows in the footsteps of his predecessors and gives us the thoughts of an old P-40. And a cranky plane it is, too! "The target's right in front--what're you yappin' for?" it thinks at one point. I expected this story to be worse than it was but by the end I was rooting for the old bucket of bolts.

Peter: "Flying Coffin!" proves that Howard Liss can fit in with the below-average war writers like Hank Chapman and . . . well, Hank Chapman. This talking plane romp is just as bad as the last one. Nothing more than a whole bunch of panels filled with dueling dialogue like: Pilot: This is a hunk of junk! Plane: No, I'm not! The September 12, 1966 issue of Newsweek ran a piece on war comics, with DC receiving a good chunk of the coverage (the article included an interview with Bob Kanigher). The letters page in this issue's OFF is given over to congratulations on the nod but, ironically, Newsweek's findings were that war comics were losing their audience. This particular nugget was not discussed by Big Bob with his correspondents.

Heath

 G.I. Combat 124

"Scratch That Tank!"
Story by Robert Kanigher
Art by Russ Heath

"Death of a Boy--Birth of a Man!"
Story by Robert Kanigher
Art by Irv Novick

Peter: Jeb Stuart and his men receive a bright and shiny new tank (after their old one was destroyed last issue--continuity at last!) and all they can think of is that they need to "Scratch That Tank!" No tin can crew wants to be seen in a vehicle that looks as though it's seen no action, so the boys roll out looking for battle. They find quite a bit of fight but, time after time, a friend (including Johnny Cloud in a blink-and-you'll-miss-him cameo) comes to their aid before the Jeb can engage. Finally, after picking up a shell-shocked young G.I. along the road, the boys have a mission: to rescue a group of POWs held in a Nazi tin can. To complete that mission, the new tank must roll through a building and blast the enemy to smithereens. No more pristine M-3! Amiable enough without too much substance, this Haunted Tank installment is a decent page-turner with the requisite three panels of ghostly Jeb Stuart and his cryptic puzzles, without too much hammering of the message. Since we never see his face, I'm not sure that's the real Johnny Cloud zeroing in on the enemy tank. Could be a stand-in.

"Scratch That Tank!"

Jack: This story raises the question of whether it's the tank that's haunted or whether it's the man inside that's haunted. If the old haunted tank is destroyed and the men get a shiny, new one, why isn't the ghost of General Stuart hanging out at the scrap yard with his old tank? I contend it's Jeb Stuart himself who's haunted, not the armored vehicle! The fact that the other members of Jeb's tank crew are almost always inside the tank means that they are indistinguishable from one another and never develop individual identities. Could anyone tell me who is Slim, who is Arch and who is Rick?

"Death of a Boy--Birth of a Man!"

Peter: Years before, when he was still a boy on the reservation, the Smoke-Maker warned Johnny Cloud that he would be responsible for the "death of a boy in the sky." Years later, the shaman's words ring true when Johnny shoots down a young Nazi and learns that it was the brother of the dreaded squadron leader known as . . . The Hammer! The German swears he'll get even for the murder of his little brother and Cloud suspects he's right. Soon after, Captain Cloud is given the task of training a new pilot, a spunky kid named Short. Exercises go well but the young man is antsy and wants action and his first taste of fighting comes at the hands of the dreaded Hammer! The ace shoots the boy down and then heads after Cloud, but the Navajo Ace proves to be a better tactician and the Nazi is soon bailing out of a burning cockpit, swearing to Johnny they'll meet again some day. Back at the base, little Henny Short is recuperating from his wounds and Captain Cloud agrees that there's been a "Death of a Boy--Birth of a Man!"

Infantino pitches in?

As with a Gunner and Sarge adventure, you always know what you're going to get with a story starring Johnny Cloud, Navajo Ace. There's the usual flashback to the Ace's days on the reservation and the warning from the Smoke-Maker (always just as ambiguous as General Jeb Stuart's warnings) and lots of tight aerial battles that Johnny somehow manages to walk away from. I'll be sounding like the proverbial broken record but I can just imagine Cloud in his cockpit, exclaiming at every event, "Hey, that's exactly what the Smoke-Maker told me would happen!" Poor guy can't concentrate on the war at hand while awaiting every prediction unfurled. One aspect of the new Nazi villain, the Hammer!, was not explored: his ESP. Has to be the explanation for how the enemy ace knew Johnny Cloud was an Indian.

Jack: I just figured Johnny had Indian symbols painted on his plane--tee pees and the like. I guess Kanigher's go-to name for German flying Aces is Hammer--like Hans Von Hammer, the Enemy Ace, this Hammer is dangerous! By the way, does anyone else think that Short's face in the panel above looks more like Carmine Infantino's work than Irv Novick's?

Heath

Our Army at War 182

"The Desert Rats of Easy!"
Story by Robert Kanigher
Art by Russ Heath

"It's My Turn to Die"
Story by Howard Liss
Art by Neal Adams

Jack: "The Desert Rats of Easy!" are crossing the desert in North Africa when they find Baker Company, a band of G.I.s lined up in holes in the sand with their guns ready to be fired at Nazi attackers. Sgt. Woods is encouraging them to be ready for the next attack, but there is one problem--the men are all dead! Sgt. Rock and the men of Easy Co. join the corpses of Baker Co. in their foxholes and fight off a Nazi attack. Rock takes three of his men off in a jeep to locate a Nazi ammo dump. When they find it, they blow it up and return to the rest of Easy Co. where they wait with the silent men of Baker Co.

The desert setting and plenty of hand to hand combat bring out the best in Kanigher and Heath, though Big Bob does slip in a Kubert drawing of Sgt. Rock on the splash page to trick the readers into thinking the creator of this strip was back from the newspaper syndicate jungle. Russ makes us forget about Joe for a short while with some very nice man to man fighting.

"The Desert Rats of Easy!"

Peter: "The Desert Rats" marks the 100th appearance of Sgt. Rock in Our Army at War and, for the occasion, Bob Kanigher whips up an exciting yarn. Several spots jump out at me here: the boys of Easy coming upon the Baker squad, with the shell-shocked Sgt. Woods boasting that his men would "hold to the last man"; the jeep adventure, straight out of a Hollywood blockbuster; and the Nazis who man the ammo dump, firing rifles, cannons, maybe even nuclear weapons at the approaching jeep but not even grazing the target!

Neal Adams!!!!!!!!!

Jack: Tired of sending his men out to die at the hands of the Nazis, Capt. Sanders announces that "It's My Turn to Die!" and insists that he has to go out and do some fighting himself. His major sends him back to headquarters, but when he gets there Capt. Sanders finds that the Nazis are attacking and the only men he has to whip into a unit are the cooks and desk jockeys left behind to man the store. Sanders makes them fight like real soldiers and learns that an army not only needs soldiers on the ground, it also needs officers to tell them what to do.

Howard Liss tells an interesting story, on a topic that I don't recall reading before, but the real thrill here is seeing early work from Neal Adams, one of my all-time comic book top three. A few of the panels reminded me of Irv Novick's work, of all things, but the dynamic action shots and especially the faces show the seeds of the Adams magic that would burst forth very soon.

Peter: Neal Adams shows a bit of what will make him comicdom's "big sensation" in "It's My Turn to Die!," which was not only Adams's war debut but also the artist's first work at DC. Liss's script is ho-hum morality, the point hammered home several times, but Neal's choreography is dazzling and energetic; the new blood needed around these premises.

Next Week!
Shocking SuspenStories!
On Sale at your local cyberstand
right next to Men's Dinosaur Tales!

EC Comics! It's An Entertaining Comic! Part 21: April 1952

The EC Reign Month by Month 1950-1956
21: April 1952

Ingels

 The Haunt of Fear #12

"Poetic Justice!" ★★★★
Story by Al Feldstein
Art by Graham Ingels

". . . On a Dead Man's Chest!" ★★★ 1/2
Story by Bill Gaines and Al Feldstein
Art by Johnny Craig

"Till Death Do We Part!" ★★
Story by Al Feldstein
Art by Joe Orlando

"What's Cookin'?" ★★★ 1/2
Story by Al Feldstein
Art by Jack Davis


Abner Elliott has been the town garbage man for decades, but when his wife died two years ago he was lonely, so he began fixing up toys he found in the trash to give the kids at Christmas. Across the street from Abner's house live wealthy Henry Burgundy and his son, Harold, and they envy and hate Abner both for his relationship with the town's children and for his dilapidated house. Step by step they destroy his life, first by forcing him to give up the stray pets he's collected, then by ruining his business with unfair competition, and finally by driving the children away. At Valentine's Day, they encourage the townsfolk to send him cards with cruel sentiments. Abner is so distraught that he hangs himself, but a year later, on Valentine's Day, his corpse rises from the grave and delivers "Poetic Justice!" to the neighbors who tormented him.

"Poetic Justice!"

I don't know what I did to deserve the right to summarize this story, but Peter did me a big favor by assigning it to me. Both story and art are brilliant and this is the first story I've read that deserves an unconditional grade of A+. How sad that all of the townsfolk turn against Abner so easily; while his revenge is only acted out on his neighbors, one might argue that all of the adults in town deserve to have their hearts torn from their bodies for their participation in the cruel treatment of the kindly old man. I will never forget seeing the movie version of this at a NY Comic Con in the early 1970s and screaming along with the rest of the audience when the final scene played out. If anything, the rhyme on the movie's valentine made it even more effective than the version in the comics.

". . . On a Dead Man's Chest!"

Helen Anderson is a beauty who married Steve for his money and can't stand it when he goes on and on about his tattoos. When Steve's handsome brother Larry comes to town, it doesn't take long before Helen and Larry are plotting to murder Steve for his dough. The deed is done but something is wrong " . . . On a Dead Man's Chest!" Helen shoots Larry but when the cops arrive they find her trying to remove a tattoo from Steve's torso, where the murder scene is clearly displayed.

Oh boy, this is shaping up to be a great issue! Johnny Craig has a knack for illustrating gritty, hard boiled crime stories, and this one is a classic. The GCD says Gaines and Feldstein wrote the script, but it sure fits with Craig's body of work.

"Till Death Do We Part!"

When Tommy and Ernie rob a safe, they are surprised by the night watchman and make a run for it. Ernie is shot by the cops but drags himself to Tommy's apartment, where the man ignores him and heads off to leave town. Ernie makes his way back to the scene of the crime, only to see his own corpse lying in the street.

"Till Death Do We Part!" is an unoriginal crime story with uneven art by Joe Orlando--some panels look like mediocre Golden Age scribblings, while others are well done.

Herman and Charlie's failing roadside restaurant is given new life when tramp Eric Edwards convinces them to let him redo the place for half the profits. Soon, travelers from far and wide are stopping in to ask "What's Cookin'?" and sample the barbecued and fried chicken. Herman and Charlie get greedy and murder Eric so they don't have to split the cash, but when they tie him up and burn his house down, he manages to escape, his body burned beyond recognition, and he gets revenge by cooking them in the restaurant's giant chicken broiler and fryer.

Not quite as classic as "Poetic Justice!" but still memorable, this story shows the direction that Jack Davis's work would go as EC comics continued to develop. Oddly enough, I think the first panel, with the charred body of Eric, is even more effective than the last one, in which we get just a partial glimpse of the cooked crooks. --Jack

The first panel of
"What's Cookin'?"

Peter: If I was to pick one story that epitomizes what I love about EC Comics, it would be “Poetic Justice!” It’s all here: Graham Ingels’s drippy, morbid art, a beautifully told, compact story, and one of the best punchlines ever delivered. Of course, my love for the story might also have something to do with the fact that it was wonderfully adapted by Milton Subotsky for the Amicus Tales from the Crypt movie. Abner (here renamed Arthur Grimsdyke) is sensitively played by horror movie veteran Peter Cushing and the spirit of the story is captured almost frame for frame (one major difference: in the adaptation, Burgundy's father plays a very small role in the harassment of  Abner whereas, in the comic, pop and, indeed, the entire town are co-conspirators). Subotsky (and Amicus co-partner/ producer Max Rosenberg) certainly had a love for and working knowledge of EC Comics; they picked ten of the better stories from several different titles to comprise their two EC films. Just before the release of Vault of Horror, it was rumored there would be a third film, Tales of the Incredible, but the box-office failure of Vault (probably due to its R rating as well as its minuscule budget and shoddy effects) doomed the third installment. Probably for the best, since the film would have been an adaptation of the SF comics and, with Amicus's low budgets, special effects would have been kept to a minimum. ". . . Dead Man's Chest" is a lukewarm triangle drama with a ludicrous finale, but Craig's visuals are a definite plus (dig the gallons of sweat flowing from the murderers' foreheads in the climax!). "Till Death . . ." is 100% predictable and "What's Cookin'" suffers from a plot hook that's been done to death already (the businessman who murders his partner) but soars with its deliciously disgusting wrap.

The last panel of"What's Cookin'?"

Jose: It sounds like we’re all in agreement that both the original comic and cinematic adaptation of “Poetic Justice” are absolute aces. I have to admit to having a shade more preference for the film version, though. There are various factors involved with that: it was my first exposure to the story, it features an incredibly heart-rending portrayal by Peter Cushing, and overall I think the changes that were made to it as adapted by Subotsky and directed by Freddie Francis were handled beautifully and made the (even gorier!) ending feel all the more righteous. I suspect this won’t be the last time we mention that superior Amicus anthology. “… On a Deadman’s Chest” and “Till Death Do Us Part” work pretty well as crime stories to varying degrees before both transition into the supernatural in their final panels. I think Craig’s is done with more style (surprise, surprise) even if the conclusion feels pretty inexplicable. It would’ve been neat if we got some kind of foreshadowing beforehand, like Steve going on about his tattoos are more than just art, they’re alive, Helen, they’re a reaction to the world around me … But then I guess we just would’ve run into another Bradbury swipe there! “What’s Cookin’?” is the third by my count of what is becoming a Jack Davis specialty, “Kill the Business Partner and Dump Him in Something.” First we had dairy products (“Cheese, That’s Horrible,” HOF 6) and then soap (“99 and 44/100% Pure Horror,” VOH 23) and now we have baking oil! To be fair, technically the murdered business partner isn’t given the southern-fried bath himself, but he does enact that vengeance on one of his persecutors, so I’m willing to include it in my half-assed triptych. Though the eye-popping splash panel screams “walking corpse” to the reader, some may be surprised to see that Eric doesn’t become a shambling revenant but rather takes his payback immediately following his attempted-murder-by-burning. That might stretch credulity as far as accounting for how someone in his state could overpower and cook two grown men, but it certainly makes the scenario all the more grimy and horrifying.

Kurtzman

Frontline Combat #5

"442nd Combat Team" ★★ 1/2
Story by Harvey Kurtzman
Art by Harvey Kurtzman, John Severin, and Bill Elder

"Stonewall Jackson!" ★★ 1/2
Story by Harvey Kurtzman
Art by Jack Davis

"War Machines!" ★ 1/2
Story by Harvey Kurtzman
Art by John Severin

"Big 'If'!" ★★★
Story and Art by Harvey Kurtzman

The troops that make up the “442nd Combat Team” are not your average Allied soldiers according to popular conception. Composed of Japanese men who are American citizens proudly fighting for their country, the unit tells a Nazi commander to go take a flying leap when the German offers to treat them well should they surrender as they traverse through a patch of hilly woodland where Axis gunfire surrounds them on all sides. The 442nd decides to stick it out and show those crazy Krauts what’s what. The Germans barrage the Americans’ hidey-hole bunker with everything they’ve got, but upon advancing to confirm their kill, they get a nasty surprise when the Japanese-Americans rain heavenly fire upon their disbelieving heads from a rise above the bunker from which they have sneaked out. The Axis soldiers' fatal flaw? Never question the patriotism of an American!

"442nd Combat Team"

“442nd Combat Team” is a tale in the classic EC war mold: solid art, some tense battle set pieces, and a valuable moral lesson as final accent. There’s a quiet beauty to some of Kurtzman’s artistic layouts, and Severin and Elder stun us with their depictions of grand nature and brutal warfare alike. Some panels, like the 442nd’s descent towards the bunker where German corpses litter the ground, force you to pause and take them in like works of art in a museum. A capable start to a fairly mediocre issue.

A rebel soldier narrates the epic story of “Stonewall Jackson!” to his fellows one night ‘round the campfire. Jackson was a general of infallible bravery and consideration for his men, getting his hands dirty when occasion called for it and holding every last Confederate soldier to the same high standards he maintained for himself. He won the devotion of all who knew him to the point that everyone would raise a joyful holler at his heroic departures upon his steed. But all good things must come to end, especially in war. After earning his nickname for standing unflinchingly at the front line during the Battle of Bull Run, a scare during a nighttime ride leads to the accidental shooting of Jackson, who later dies from his wounds and pneumonia. Back at the campfire, the mournful rebel muses how a rifle with a busted stock ended the life of the man whom all Confederates loved, and it’s only after the soldier leaves the campfire that his companions note the tell-tale condition of his weapon.

The prolonged death of "Stonewall Jackson!"

Having not been familiar with the historical account of Stonewall Jackson, I had no expectations going into this aside from a hope that it would prove entertaining, which it was, moderately speaking. Jack Davis continues to perform at a high level in his war pieces; his horror work has been making leaps and bounds from when he started, and that gritty, three-dimensional quality that has started to surface in those stories is on display here. My only disappointment with this story was that there wasn’t much human interaction going on, seeing as how this is another one of Kurtzman’s classroom lectures on antiquated wars gone by.

An accurate thumbnail of how "War Machines!" reads.

In a sadistic turn of events, the following story, “War Machines!,” provides precisely no emotional insight or even dialogue in its six pages of dull gear-talk. If you thrill at descriptions of the mechanics of war technology then you might find something to enjoy here, but otherwise this too-long-at-six-pages weaponry catalogue doesn’t offer much for anyone else and becomes further mired with a flat, repetitive panel layout and lifeless art by John Severin.

Here to take out some of the bad taste left in our mouths is Kurtzman’s own artistic contribution, “Big 'If'!” A young soldier in an unnamed Korean town sits before a cluster of sinisterly-smiling devil posts pondering a series of events that led to his current situation. The nearby three-foot crater left by an enemy shell seems to hold a particularly grim fascination for him. Working through the last few hours, the soldier wonders if events would have been different if Paul Maynard had stuck to walking on the road instead of riding on the tank, or if Maynard had stayed to man the machine gun as ordered instead of wandering off, or if Maynard had just walked a few feet further before stopping to tie his bootlace upon his return. All these thoughts are, of course, the thoughts of Paul Maynard, our misguided hero, who now sits bleeding from shrapnel wounds before the smiling devil posts, wondering in his last moments if he could have avoided dying today.

A poignant story that addresses universal fears and insecurities that all readers can sympathize with, “Big 'If'!” makes up for a lot in this issue in the storytelling department but suffers at times from some thinly-conceived art. A part of me has wished in the past, as I did here, that Kurtzman could have found another artist to handle his script. Harvey was so busy editing the two war titles and demanding down-to-the-last-detail accuracy from the other draughtsmen that when it came down to him filling in his own panels, his lack of time and focus cropped up in some mighty glaring ways. (The background action in several shots on Pages 2 and 3 looks particularly hasty and almost invisible.) But on the other hand, there are moments here that remind me of the Kurtzman that I like to see, especially the intense close-ups of the despairing Maynard as he contemplates the inevitability of his death. For that alone, I’m happy that Harvey was illustrating his own story, as I can’t imagine anyone getting to the truth and pain of that moment with his signature grace. --Jose

Peter: I'm not sure if it's because I've become spoiled by the stellar quality of Harvey Kurtzman's scripts thus far or if this is just a weak month for war (see my review of this month's Two-Fisted Tales further down). "442nd" is a preachy whose message is possibly truer today than seventy years ago; "Stonewall Jackson!" is, for me, Harvey's weakest "history lesson"; and "War Machines!" seems to be nothing more than a cataloguing of the weapons used to smoke men out of a cave (albeit with a nicely ironic finish). That leaves "Big 'If,'" easily this month's best war story. Kurtzman completely fooled me into thinking the young man had been pondering the Big If because he was the only G.I. left alive in his platoon. The reveal is shocking and grim, elements lacking from the previous stories.

"442nd Combat Team"

Jack: I love when we happen across a story I remember from long ago! I first read "Big 'If'" about 40 years ago in the 1971 Les Daniels book, Comix: A History of Comic Books in America, and it made such an impression that I've never forgotten it. It's the sort of thing I think about when I get in a car accident--what if I'd been delayed at a red light for another minute? What if I'd taken another route? It's a classic story, well-told by Kurtzman and with those looming, Godlike, silent totem poles looking on at the unfolding tragedy like wooden Jehovahs. The other stories don't come close to living up to this one: Kurtzman did the layouts for "442nd Combat Team," then Severin penciled it and Elder inked it, so it looks great, especially the numerous panels without word balloons. "Stonewall Jackson!" is historically accurate but I knew the end from the start, and "War Machines!" is plodding without the human element.

Feldstein

 Weird Fantasy #12

"Project . . . Survival!" ★★★
Story by Bill Gaines and Al Feldstein
Art by Wally Wood

"A Lesson in Anatomy!" ★★ 1/2
Story by Bill Gaines and Al Feldstein
Art by Jack Kamen

"The Die is Cast!" ★★★
Story by Al Feldstein and Bill Gaines
Art by Wally Wood

"A Man's Job!" ★★
Story by Al Feldstein
Art by Joe Orlando

"Project... Survival!"

In a futuristic society, the Amalgamated Rocket Corporation has built a spaceship (labeled the A.R.C.-1) to take man to the moon. Concurrently, the rebels of Asia-Minor have rebelled against the World Republic and the very fabric of society is imperiled. An Electron bomb has been developed to quell the revolution but those pesky rebels concoct one of their own and put it to use. The explosion is devastating but the after-effects are fatal: the earth begins to slowly burn itself out. Doctor Jansen, the scientist who had designed the (ahem) A.R.C.-1 appeals to Luther Morton, President of Amalgamated: they must use the ship to speed away enough plants, animals, and humans into space to repopulate Earth once the Armageddon comes to a close and the planet cools itself. The ship is loaded and launched; the crew hovers above the world for four months and then lands, beginning its arduous task. Jansen holds an impromptu meeting in the new Eden and requests that the others call him by his first name . . . Noah. And if you still don't get it, Bill and Al kindly spell it out (actually, they SCREAM it out) in a helpful last-panel expository. As well-traveled as the story is, there's no denying that the art is stunning, breath-taking, jarring . . . you almost can't find enough adjectives to praise Wally's work here. The detail in the splash alone is mind-boggling. But one question... did Wally really envision a near-future where men wore capes? Oh no, sorry . . . two questions. Perhaps a scientist out there can confirm that the world can melt and then cool and then grow green stuff again in the space of four months. I'm slightly skeptical.

"A Lesson in Anatomy"

Eight year-old Stevie Williams has an insatiable appetite for knowledge: no wonder since his pop is a doctor/coroner and there's been a murder in town. Seeking "A Lesson in Anatomy!," Stevie sneaks up to his dad's office window and spies on the surgeon while he's conducting an autopsy on the corpse. Doctor Williams becomes aware of his audience and hits the roof, telling Stevie to go play on the freeway. Into the woods the little boy runs, chasing butterflies across several farms, until he stumbles on a man lying in the bushes. Thinking the man dead, the little boy pokes at him but, to his surprise, the man awakens and offers Stevie a dime if he'll answer some questions. Later that night, the stranger comes to the boy's room and tells him he wants to see all the inventions Stevie's dad had created, especially the time machine (the boy may exaggerate a bit when it comes to his father's scientific abilities) and rocket-ship designs. Once in the lab, the stranger approaches Doctor Williams's fluoroscope (used to look at one's insides) and asks if this is the time machine. Stevie, thinking the man must be bonkers, nods and watches as the man turns the equipment on. Suddenly, Stevie hears his father's footsteps and warns the stranger he'd best be going. The doctor is naturally angry but his son manages to change the subject by asking if humans have wheels, wires, and sticks in their insides. The doc scratches his head, answers in the negative and orders the precocious lad to bed. The next day, Stevie drags his pop out to where the stranger hides and explains that he conducted an autopsy of his own and when he cut the man open, a "crab-like creature" hopped out. His father stares in awe at the intricate robot that lies before him. Meanwhile, somewhere across space, the invasion of Earth has been called off; Earth is too clever for these aliens. Gotta admit, though the space invasion plot line is getting old really fast (especially this variation), I found the twists to be clever and cute (cuter than the blood-thirsty brat who has the lead role in our drama) and Kamen's art didn't bother me as much as it does usually (although how that alien turtle-thing could be called "crab-like" is anyone's guess).

"The Die is Cast"

The crew of the Pleiades II is on an interstellar space mission when they discover a heretofore unknown solar system (how does that happen?) and are compelled to explore. Within the system lie three planets; two uninhabitable and one with atmosphere just like Earth's. The ship lands and the men investigate the surrounding areas. Suddenly, a huge chunk of rock crushes the ship, killing all but three of the voyagers. The men regroup but, very soon, two more of the gargantuan boulders roll towards them. Dodging the monoliths, the trio manage to salvage enough tech from the ruined ship to build a radio and they contact a nearby rocket, requesting a pick-up. The rescue ship arrives soon after and the men hurry into their salvation, just missing another thundering boulder. As they fly high away from the deadly planet, they see that the rocks have "whitish craters" on each side, arranged numerically. As the ship pulls even higher, it becomes evident that the Pleiades II landed on a gigantic dice-table! Well, the whole enchilada is pretty darn silly when you think about it (how come they never saw the giant aliens while they were landing?), but sometimes I don't think. Besides, I never saw the punchline to "The Die is Cast" coming so, well-played, Al and Bill! Wally's the king of outer space adventure by this time so every panel is a little treasure (in particular, when the first die lands on the Pleiades and Wally subtly renders it as a grey-metal skull being crushed.

"A Man's Job!"

Men see their machismo and identity erased when women become the dominant species in "A Man's Job!," a silly little bit of nonsense that simply takes cliched situations (the sexy woman sitting on the Lothario's lap) and flips the roles. The narrator, laid up in a hospital bed, details the progression of the reversal, from the first female President (that'll never happen!) to the dominance of women in the workplace and men as the homemakers and the reversals of male/female rituals in-between (the woman proposes to the man, etc.) and climaxing with the ultimate switch-over: we discover our narrator is about to whisked into the "Paternity Room" to deliver a baby. Some may see the tale (which might have fit snugly between the covers of Mad Magazine) as prescient but what brilliance there may be here is dulled by a litany of "one-liners" like the woman who stays out all night while her worried husband paces the living room floor or the father-in-law who comes to stay. A one-page joke stretched to seven. --Peter

Jack: In "Project . . . Survival!," outer space once again becomes the place we escape to after we've made  a mess of things on our own planet. The worries about the atomic bomb seem so dated now, as does the naive picture of how swiftly an atomic holocaust would clear up. I must admit I did not see the final twist coming, though I should have. It's rare that a Kamen story is as enjoyable as "A Lesson in Anatomy!!" but, for some reason, this one is fun--and no babes in sight! "The Die is Cast!" is just dumb and the ending made me say, "Oh brother!" "A Man's Job!" is fun but it goes on too long; Orlando's art is fine throughout.

Crapped out what?
("The Die is Cast")

Jose: I didn’t see the twist coming in “Project … Survival!” but as Peter said, Bill and Al made sure that I knew what it was when it did come. The drama preceding it is nothing we haven’t seen before, but feel free to get lost in the labyrinthine detail and stateliness of Wood’s art. “A Lesson in Anatomy!” was enjoyable overall—shades of Bradbury’s “The Man Upstairs” there—but is it just me or does it strike anyone else as perverse that a story with that title and narrative thrust should withhold any kind of visual representation of said anatomy? We don’t even get to see the cogs and wheels that make up the man-bot. There’s no flesh and blood involved here, and yet Kamen still dances around the notion of depicting “viscera.” Seems a touch too sweet and nice to me, even by his standards. I don’t know how you couldn’t have guessed the ending to “The Die is Cast!,” Peter. It’s in the title! Which isn’t to say that the story makes any more sense if you did guess it beforehand. Still, I chuckled at that last panel. I was also doing quite a bit of chuckling during “A Man’s Job!” It’s interesting and innovative in its own fashion on the one hand for being a story from the SF titles that doesn’t play too heavily on the trappings of the genre; it’s simply a projection of a possible future with nary a space cab or ray gun to be seen. That being said, the story’s tone is one of absolute ridiculousness. It’s tempting to read “A Man’s Job!” as casual 1950s misogyny, but even though the recast men are shown displaying “feminine” behavior that includes whining, fawning, and nagging, the playing field is completely even in the story because the recast women are seen displaying equally negative "masculine" behaviors that include lechery, savagery, and inattentiveness. So the moral here is that everybody has their bad qualities!

Kurtzman

Two-Fisted Tales #26

"The Trap!"  ★★★
Story by Harvey Kurtzman
Art by John Severin

"Hagaru-Ri!" ★★
Story by Harvey Kurtzman
Art by Jack Davis

"Link-Up!" ★★ 1/2
Story by Harvey Kurtzman
Art by John Severin and Bill Elder

"Hungnam!" ★★
Story by Harvey Kurtzman
Art by Wally Wood

The Chungjin Reservoir, 1950. U.N. troops head into the northeastern part of North Korea after China enters the Korean War.

"The Trap!"

"The Trap!" introduces us to the U. N. grunts who are vainly attempting to get the upper hand on an enemy mortar squad stationed atop a hill. One marine thinks he knows better than his sergeant how to win this war but, in the end, he's in a state of shock when the men get the word that they're surrounded by 100,000 Chinese soldiers. The sergeant orders his squad to retreat. The U.N. soldiers fall back to the city of "Hagaru-Ri!" in an effort to regroup but find themselves being picked off by the enemy ringing Hagaru-Ri. Harvey and Jack perfectly illustrate in a series of panels how these Chinese soldiers are so much more prepared to fight in the freezing weather. Only a series of bombings from American jets dents the oncoming horde. After the slaughter, the soldiers are able to fight their way back out of Hagaru-Ri and slog towards the coast, hoping to "Link-Up!" with relief forces further inland. "Link-Up!" shows just how vicious and unstoppable the Chinese forces could be, marching through aerial strafings and bombings and sub-zero weather, to achieve their goal. Finally, "Hungnam!" chronicles the last days of the conflict and the huge evacuation effort. On Christmas Eve, 1950, the evacuation complete, the entire waterfront of Hungnam was destroyed by the U.N. to prevent future use.

"Hagaru-Ri!"

Unlike other issues of Two-Fisted Tales, #26 defies individual synopses since the four parts are to be taken as a whole. As I've stated before, Harvey's "classroom lectures" don't float my boat as much as his "straight fiction" might and this twenty-eight page history lesson (two of the chapters contain not one line of dialogue) about the Battle of Changjin (Chosin) Reservoir is no exception. Don't get me wrong; I admire Harvey's knowledge of the Korean War and his usual shocks, tense battle action, and punctuated (yet deep) dialogue are all on display here but, unfortunately, to me, Kurtzman spends so much time with the minute details of the event that the overall effect, in the end, is close to tedium. In a nutshell then, I appreciate that Harvey Kurtzman opened my eyes to a decisive conflict I'd known nothing about (in fact, as you guessed, most of my historical information is derived from Wikipedia) but, as a reader, I wanted more than a tutorial punctuated with acts of violence. The art, however, is glorious, with several panels pushing the boundaries of what funny books could get away with in the day. Severin's brave, confident G.I. marching up the hill is, one panel later, reduced to something akin to swiss cheese by gun fire. --Peter

"Link-Up!"

Jack: As I read this issue, I found myself thinking it was more admirable and impressive than entertaining. I enjoy learning about military history and know next to nothing about the Korean War. The art is fabulous, though I prefer Severin with Elder to Severin alone, and there's a full-page map of Korea on the inside cover to help explain things; each story ends with a section of the map as the final panel. I think my wife's uncle died at Chosin and I know my daughter interviewed a survivor, so this is close to home, yet this is a case where fact is not as powerful as fiction. This is probably the only EC comic we'll ever see that is comprised of one long story.

"Hungnam!"

Jose: Like my esteemed colleagues, I found this issue of TFT to be more interesting as a one-time experiment than engaging and affecting drama. Harvey’s goal in this issue seems to be to shake the reader out of their blinders and their comfort zone by exposing them to the inconceivable and insensible horrors of war, a goal that was implicit in previous installments of the war titles but one that is made explicit in Harvey’s confrontational openings to two of the stories here. (“While you were rushing to get your Christmas shopping done, the Chinese were rushing somewhere too!”) However, his righteous tone gets sunk under the weight of a lot of dryly-delivered information that emotionally distances us from the action that our fine stable of artists has wrought. Seeing Severin working solo reveals the rough, raw intensity of his compositions, but Jack is correct in remarking that the artist’s collaborations with Will Elder just look nicer. There’s a really effective use of color in “Link-Up!” that perfectly captures a battle under flare-light with precise applications of red, blue, and yellow. Kudos to the underappreciated Marie Severin! My favorite story of the pack is definitely “Hungnam!” Classic Wood art and Harvey writing at his tear-jerking best to deliver a horrible frozen moment from history seen through the eyes of a trusting street dog. Yer killing me, Kurtzman!

Wood

Weird Science #12

"A Gobl is a Knog's Best Friend" ★★
Story by Al Feldstein and Bill Gaines
Art by Wally Wood

"The Last Man!" ★
Story by Bill Gaines and Al Feldstein
Art by Jack Kamen

"The Android!" ★★★
Story by Al Feldstein and Bill Gaines
Art by Wally Wood

"Chewed Out!" ★★★
Story by Al Feldstein
Art by Joe Orlando

Stern Captain Dexter has just finished admonishing crew member Donaldson for keeping his rambunctious young pup on too short a leash aboard their spaceship when the exploratory vessel touches down on the ubiquitous Alien Planet Equipped with a Habitable Atmosphere. The cadets have barely taken in the new scenery when suddenly the Batmobile a strange space-cab pulls up and from out of the driver’s seat exits an orange, 10-foot-tall reptilian creature that fails to understand English, for all its apparent technological advancement. The humans are invited into the creature’s ride and then driven to the ultra-cool alien city. Odder than the aliens’ silent but friendly demeanor is the presence of strange humanoid figures who attempt to speak to the humans in a garbled tongue. Just then the aliens surround the cadets and place them in a cell adjoining another containing more of the humanoid-race. When the language expert from the human crew confers with them, he discovers that the aliens are called “knogs” and that they refer to both the humans and the humanoids as “gobls.” Three points for guessing the right answer. Just as the sentimental Donaldson had doted on his scrappy pup, the knogs have taken to keeping the humans as their new pets.

Ever get that feeling you're being watched?
("A Gobl is a Knog's Best Friend")

“A Gobl is a Knog’s Best Friend” strikes me as the type of SF tale from the EC line that Bill and Al probably held in high regard, seeing as how it’s the lead-off for this issue and was handed to no less than the venerable Wally Wood to furnish with his richly textured visuals. And the concept, as it is, is not inherently poor so much as one that falls victim to the company’s locked-in template of polishing each story off with one of their patented SHOCK endings. This kind of delivery weakens a story like “A Gobl …” because any discerning reader can see the payoff coming from a mile away. There can be a level of charm to that approach, to be sure, but here it feels like the six pages in between start and conclusion are merely passing the time. If the “revelation” of the knogs’ adoption of the humans had been made earlier, the story potentially could have explored more fascinating territory like the psychological impact such an existence would have on the crew over time, to name one example. But there I go rewriting other people’s stuff again. I’ll just shut my trap and say that Wood’s art—and my friend Peter’s assessment of same—are right on the mark here.

Do you?
("A Gobl ...")

What does a guy who abandoned his family as a tender youth to join the circus do when he grows up? Al Feldstein is sure glad you asked. Larry is a fearless explorer and adventurer, and for his next trick he deigns to break an aviation record by floating twenty miles up into Earth’s atmosphere in his handy-dandy, souped-up, steel-reinforced hot air balloon. Lucky timing for Larry, seeing as how the Earth essentially becomes immolated through a chain reaction of fierce explosions after he’s taken off. After suffering a scare that he’ll be pressure-cooked in his little pie tin in the sky, Larry returns to the home planet mildly burnt but none the worse for wear. The same can’t be said of home, or anyone who lived there for that matter. Charred skeletons dot the endless expanse of empty, empty orange desert that Mother Earth has been reduced to like grim breadcrumbs leading up to a gingerbread house called Armageddon. Larry is just about to burst from the isolation-induced madness—not to mention pent-up physical needs—when he spots a track of dainty human footprints that he surmises belong to a woman. Lucky Larry looks like he’s hit the jackpot again when he stumbles upon a buxom, completely un-mutated blonde babe lounging against a backdrop of apocalyptic debris. Larry’s coy fascination and excitement are reciprocated by the blushing lady, but their hopeful prospects of repopulating the planet as the newly-christened Adam and Eve take a turn for the skeevy when the two survivors compare family photographs of when they were children.

To think of all those years I missed ogling her at home!
("The Last Man!")

Okay, look. I’m not sure just how long the SF titles plan on riding this train of uncomfortable sexual scenarios, but I thought that we had just about reached the apex (nadir?) of this bizarre trend with the unadulterated mommy-cuddling from last month’s story, “Why Papa Left Home” (WS 11). Before that, we had implied incest in a more subdued form with “Space Warp” (WF 6) before visiting the notion of accidental pedophilia in “The Connection” (WF 9). What’s next on the menu? Bestiality? I don’t mean to sound flip—well, too flip, anyway—but it comes as a genuine surprise to me that a significant number of the science fictional concepts that have cropped up in both titles have been used to explore, or at least lead to, some awkward pre- and post-coital notions. If only time travel didn’t make me bed my mother, or force me to realize that I fell in love with the toddler I babysat as an old man, or lead me to hook up with the daughter of my now-elderly best friend and dead ex-fiancée. In “The Last Man!,” the SF concept is nuclear Armageddon rather than time travel, so I guess that amounts to progress.

"It has to be seen!"
Well thanks for nothing, Kamen.
("The Last Man!")

Ronald Corwin has just hired a dazzling new secretary for his 65th floor office and he can’t seem to get her off his mind. In addition to her stunning beauty, Ellen is lively and vivacious, everything that Ronald’s wife Lita is not. Lita for her part can’t stand how her husband refuses to take her out and show her a good time after being cooped up in their apartment on the 208th floor all day long. Ronald’s misery over his marital life and desperation for Ellen are only exacerbated when Ellen gently turns him down, but a spot of respite seems to arrive when Ron is suddenly reunited with old pal and co-pilot Cal Tennis during a stroll through the promenade. Cal is sympathetic to Ron’s situation, so much so that the former is willing to share a secret with the latter about how to get a hold of an exact android copy of Ron that can be programmed with all his memories and thus alleviate himself of life with Lita. Ron happily acquiesces under the condition that he is to tell no one of the legally-precarious arrangement, but the vital part of the plan goes to hell when Ron confesses this all to Ellen only to discover that she is herself a secretary android made to order. Ron attempts to run back to Lita to let her know of the situation when Cal arrives on the scene with a well-timed shot from his paralyzing ray gun. Stunned into silence, the real Ron listens in horror as Cal explains to Lita that he is a renegade android who will be promptly taken back to the factory to join the scrap heap.

"The Android!"

While “The Android!” might seem like middle-of-the-issue hash with its bland title and familiar premise, there’s a lot to admire here under the unassuming surface. For starters, the futuristic world of the story is presented to the reader by Feldstein with a surprising amount of subtlety and entirely free of the cinderblock exposition that weighed down other tales. We’re expected to connect the dots and do the heavy lifting here; from the evidence on hand, it would appear that our cast of characters inhabit an incredibly overpopulated world where citizens are relegated into eking out their entire existences in gargantuan skyscrapers that hold everything from apartments to strip malls. (Think the super blocks from the Judge Dredd comics.) It’s also a world where androids are the rule rather than the exception. Ron doesn’t display gibbering disbelief at Ellen’s confession; this could possibly be due to the story’s limited space of six pages—if “The Android!” suffers from any one flaw, it’s the unfortunate smushing of its final three panels that leave Wood’s art with hardly any space to breathe—but I’m willing to take it on face value that Feldstein wanted Ron’s reaction to be in keeping with the rest of the piece. If “A Gobl …” found Wood’s art opulent and spacious but at the sake of a weak script, the modest but steadfast storyline of “The Android!” sees the artist making do with his limitations and  working small wonders. The little details are what grab you here. The décor and “art direction” of the scenery—note the prominence of statuesque faces—show a craftsman with the imagination to give even his minor assignments the Midas touch.

It’s a regular hootenanny of a hoedown out on the lonesome Arkansas property of Harold Setiker. After establishing contact with voyaging aliens after piecing together a ham radio on a whim, Harold has become a regular cause célèbre that draws the attention of the U.S. government, hundreds of curious gawkers, his science fiction nerd brother, and two New York editors by the names of Bill and Al. It seems these aliens have been attempting to reach our planet for going on two years now (our time) and through Harold’s radio connection hope to have the way paved for a peaceful meeting of the species. Military brass isn’t so hot on playing nice, especially the tough-as-nails General who bosses the young farmer around without mercy. When the crowd readies for the creatures’ imminent arrival and radio transmissions from their ship report back with fabulous and impossible stories of crashing into a lake teeming with monsters, the General accuses Harold of playing a stupid prank that’ll earn him thirty years in the slammer. Disgusted with the ordeal, the General orders a hot dog with the works from a nearby vendor, ignoring the last transmission which reports that the ship is now being crushed. Smarting at a sudden pain in his mouth, the General fishes the scrap out to discover that the only wiener around here is him.

Yum!

Not since the early contributions of Harvey Kurtzman have we seen the SF series delve into out-and-out humor, and “Chewed Out!” certainly does not disappoint. Its depiction of hillbillies and military types might be broad and simplistic, but I count myself a fan of comedy drawn broad and simplistic, if done right. And this one does it right. Joe Orlando, clearly exerting the sizable influence his mentor Wally Wood had on him, matches the madcap plot tit for tat with an exaggerated aesthetic populated with rubber-faced characters that seem like they stepped whole and breathing from the pages of the underground comics of the 60s. The story’s build up and refutation of popular expectations (naturally looking up into the sky to spot the incoming flying dinner plate, for instance) are sly and rather clever, and the ending has the feel of a punchline you see coming yet can’t help but delight in its inevitable delivery anyway. Here’s hoping we’ll see more like this in the near future. I know that I, for one, will surely relish the experience. --Jose

General Enfantino scarfs down his sci fi sauerkraut.
("Chewed Out!")

Peter: "Chewed Out" was my favorite tale this issue, a hilarious little parody of everything Weird Science (even including cameos by Bill and Al), with dynamite Wood-ian art by Joe Orlando. This is the type of story rampant in DC's Plop, a horror/humor funny book edited by, you guessed it, Joe Orlando (it's all one big circle, isn't it?). If you look close enough at the first panel on the final page, you'll see the spaceship sinking in the General's sauerkraut! "A Gobl . . ." is highlighted, of course, by Wally's wondrous art but it's got a funny and very effective twist in its tail as well. I used to marvel at the detail of Wood's aliens but now my eyes have opened up to the detail on just about everything else . . . weathered old faces, pockmarked landscapes, even uniforms. "The Last Man!" begins his trek searching for any kind of companionship but about halfway through the journey, I get the sense the old testosterone kicked in and nothing but a gorgeous blonde would do. And, hey, about that twist; any old port in a storm when you're the last man on earth, right? Even though I knew what the hook of "The Android!" would be right from the beginning (and so did you), I never saw the second whammy coming. That's always a bonus.

Captain Seabrook remains skeptical of more than just dogs.
("A Gobl ...")

Jack: EC's well-known theft of stories from Ray Bradbury has me seeing parallels everywhere. "A Gobl is a Knog's Best Friend" reminded me of "People Are Alike All Over" from The Twilight Zone, which was based on a short story first published in a magazine that came out a month before this one. "The Last Man!" has a yuck factor at the end that reminds me of "Why Papa Left Home" from the previous issue of Weird Science. "The Android!" is not too far off from Bradbury's story, "Marionettes, Inc." The only story that seems original is "Chewed Out!" but the ending is given away in the first panel and I think Harvey Kurtzman would have done a better job with the art.

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