When the call to help comes from Magnon, the emperor of the “central galaxy” of a million planets (!) Mandrake and his pal, Lothar, jump into action. A guy who has a million planets as a kingdom is not a monarch to refuse.

Mandrake, created in the 1930s by Phantom creator Lee Falk, was always pretty fantastic in the plot department. Mandrake could gesture hypnotically and make anyone believe anything. He also walked around in a top hat, cape, and evening attire, even while subduing creatures from outer space. Mandrake is a hero with class.

According to the Mandrake Archive “The Rats of Rodencia” by Lee Falk and Fred Fredericks appeared in the Mandrake daily newspaper continuity from January 15 to May 5, 1973. This reprint, numbered #200 by the Times of India for its Indrajal Comics imprint, was published a year later.


I’ve said before I’ve never seen an actual paper comic book from this company, only online like the one I’m showing here. It’s cheaply printed and has an odd color scheme...faces look jaundiced, and Lothar is so dark brown as to obscure his face in some panels. But it’s still nice to know that someone was publishing Mandrake for the sake of fans. Indrajal Comics, which began publication in 1964, ceased publication in 1990 after 805 issues.





























Here's another Mandrake science fiction story. Click on the picture.


In casting about for ideas for a new comic book character someone at Harvey Comics decided a man wrongfully convicted of murder would be a good candidate to join the costumed hero ranks. In 1941 his origin was presented in Pocket Comics #1, and I’m showing it to you thanks to the folks at Heritage Auctions who scanned it. You can see the Zebra was a prisoner framed for murder who escaped two days short of his execution date, and set about to clear his name.

Huh. Well, if we accept that then we can accept that his costume, derived from his prison garb, gave him his name.

My usual source for credits, the Grand Comics Database, has no information on the artist for this story. Later the Zebra was put in the hands of artist Bob Fujitani. The costume was modified (stripes on shirt only), as shown in an April posting, Pappy's #1354.













If like me you weren't too keen on the Man of Steel movie, Grant Morrison's Superman -- Action Comics Vol. 2: Bulletproof is the tonic for that. The collection actually only a couple of regular Action Comics issues (thickened out with other material), but Morrison still succeeds in presenting what feels like a complete and detailed story, helped handily by a Silver Age aesthetic that's unafraid to gloss over the smaller details when necessary.

Morrison's is a young, plucky Superman, well-meaning though still finding his way, and it's hard not be enamored with what Morrison creates here.

[Review contains spoilers]

The main story here, told in three issues, is two-fold -- Superman resolves to give up his compromised Clark Kent identity, and Earth's "First Superman" returns, warning of greater threats to come. Morrison successfully transitions from the first volume's cliffhanger as "Nimrod the Hunter" comes after Clark, but in a clever twist, Nimrod is foiled because Clark is already "dead," retired after a Metropolis mobster tries to blow Clark up. The second issue introduces Superman's "Johnny Clark" firefighter identity as Superman talks over events with Batman; it all comes to a head when the "First Superman" returns, and Batman and others compel Clark to retake his original identity.

Morrison economizes the three issues perfectly; the Nimrod issue is essentially self-contained but it sets up well the second issue, which carries over into the third. Morrison skips over Clark's death and Superman's new identity with Silver Age aplomb (though Sholly Fisch handles some of the details in the included back-up stories); where other writers might need six issues to show the agony of Clark's decision, how he set up his new identity, and so on, Morrison's story zips right along, still with plenty of characterization and emotion.

The Justice League appears here, unexpectedly, with Justice League: Origin having apparently happened somewhere between Action Vol. 1 and 2. Morrison distinguishes between Superman on the streets of Metropolis and Superman with the League; for the former, Clark's still wearing his Superman T-shirts, and for the latter he suits up in his Superman armor. In this way, and in his interactions with the League, Superman comes off as younger than his compatriots in a way we haven't seen before; he's not the leader, but rather their junior wide-eyed idealist.

When Superman goes to Batman for advice, Batman seems almost paternal (and this would fit with the New 52 continuity where apparently Batman's been operating much longer than the other heroes). Whether other creators, including those on the new Batman/Superman series, will preserve any of this is suspect, but it works well on Morrison's part, demonstrating a Superman in the early days of every part of his career.

Though the "First Superman" is visually new, his backstory hews to that of the classic Captain Comet, giving the story a better resonance than if Morrison had just invented a new character whole cloth; it also makes the reader believe at least some of Comet's claims of good intentions even as he wreaks destruction in downtown Metropolis. (Artist Rags Morales's Comet also at times resembles Morales's Hourman, which is a nice throwback.) Via Comet, Morrison is as Morrison does, offering up psychic bullets and foreshadowing the arrival of the Multitude, evocative of Morrison's JLA-era apocalyptic threat Maggedon and perhaps also setting the stage for Morrison's Multiversity series.

These three issues would be near perfect, except that series artist Rags Morales steps away at the crucial, climactic battle, and fill-in artist Brad Walker, though capable in his own right, just can't bring the necessary drama to the ending. I might have preferred to see CAFU in these parts; his fill-ins at the beginning of issue #12 and elsewhere are quite good, reminiscent of Carlos Pacheco, and I'd be happy to have seen CAFU stay on this book after Morrison's run.

Other stories in this book include a single-issue focus on the black Superman of another dimension, with plenty of mentions again of Morrison's burgeoning multiverse. As with Action Comics's first volume, DC includes all the back-up stories here, which is great; some of them are more meaningful than others, but all fit in one way or another between the pages of the main story -- only, I might have liked it to be a bit clearer, as it was in the first book, where the main story stops and the back-ups begin.

I was only slightly disappointed to find the Action Comics Annual #1 that finishes this volume written by Sholly Fisch instead of Morrison; I'd wanted more Morrison goodness, but Fisch does a fine job, especially handling Steel John Henry Irons. (Makes me wish DC had bucked celebrity and just put Fisch on Action after Morrison left.) Fisch reintroduces a classic Superman figure and at the same time makes him the new Kryponite Man; some threats from the first book still have their eyes on Superman, and I'm eager to see how it all comes together in the third book.

It's a shame Grant Morrison departs Action Comics after the next volume. I had been skeptical whether Morrison's All-Star Superman beginnings would carry over well to Action Comics, but they do. Superman -- Action Comics Vol. 2: Bulletproof especially offers up some distinctly Silver Age-y storylines and villains that echo All-Star. To some extent the first Action Comics volume, Superman and the Men of Steel had a Golden Age tone; the second volume, the Silver Age; maybe in the third we'll see modern elements, bringing the young Superman fully into the New 52?

[Includes original and variant covers, back-up stories, character designs and sketches including by Morrison, Gene Ha, and Cully Hamner]

Next week, more Before Watchmen and more!
[Kicking off Doug Glassman's "Indie-Pendence Month"; Doug also Tumblrs at Hell Yeah '80s Marvel!]

It’s no surprise that American comics are dominated by a co-monopoly of DC and Marvel; they even have a trademark on the word “superhero.”

One publisher has survived the market’s ups and downs like no other: Dark Horse Comics. Founded over twenty-five years ago, the company has put out beloved original books like Hellboy and The Goon along with key licenses like Buffy the Vampire Slayer and, of course, Aliens vs. Predator. They’ve published hundreds of Star Wars comics after gaining the license in the late eighties, and even if Marvel takes the license now that Disney owns the franchise, Dark Horse has shown an incredible resilience. One of Dark Horse’s earliest titles and hits was The American by Aliens scribe Mark Verheiden.

Actually, that credit should be reversed: The American was Verheiden’s first work in comic books. It’s similar in tone to contemporaries such as The Dark Knight Returns, Daredevil: Born Again and Watchmen. But while many comics of this era imitated the darker tone of those books without the content, The American keeps a strong edge of satire. Verheiden is primarily a screenwriter, and much like his work on Aliens, his writing analyzes the changing state of media, although The American is more concerned with truth than media speed. He echoes what Frank Miller was trying to say about talking heads and media vapidity in The Dark Knight Returns without the confusing story interruptions.

So who is the American? The answer contains major spoilers.

There is no singular American; the superhero protecting America since the 1950s has actually been hundreds of anonymous individuals, trained and surgically modified to look and sound identical. His popularity has been bolstered by extensive media campaigns and stunts like the “Kid America” promotion, giving him a Bucky-style sidekick. We encounter at least three Americans throughout the course of the collected storyline. Chronologically, the first to appear is one in a flashback short story set in Vietnam, where we see just how powerful -- and crazy -- an augmented person can be. A second is defeated during an airport hostage rescue, kicking off coarse reporter Dennis Hough’s investigation into the secrecy behind the superhero. This iteration turns out to be the son of the grown and disgruntled Kid America, who is now a paramilitary operative ready to expose the scam.

The man who appears throughout the rest of the book as “The American” is never named; this is on purpose, as he later gains an identity, “Adam,” when he joins a New Age cult in the last story in the book, “Lost in America.” He was actually a friend of Kid America’s son, disillusioned by the cover-up and the emphasis the others in the “American Corps” place on toy rights and distribution deals. His actual superpower levels are debatable; while he clearly has super-strength, his power is emphasized by pre-planted explosives that detonate walls when he throws his enemies through walls. This backfires when the American accidentally kills three boys committing a robbery, not knowing his own strength.

Also debatable is who the hero of the story is. Dennis Hough is certainly the protagonist, but as the story goes on, his friend is murdered, his career is destroyed, and his life is ruined by his investigation. He falls into alcoholism and hits his girlfriend, Candice, before having a full-on psychotic break while discussing selling the rights to the “true story” of the American. To Mark Verheiden’s credit, while the physical abuse is shocking, it’s never gratuitous; Dennis immediately knows that he’s made a huge mistake and it changes the relationship entirely. I was sort of amazed that the entire thing had a happy ending with all three main characters alive -- and moreover, all three had earned said happy ending.

Candice is part of some of the story’s weirder elements: she’s the daughter of Dwight D. Eisenhower, who is actually alive and secretly running the American program. This, along with a climax of the investigation story involving a gorilla, seem to come from Verheiden’s newness to the medium. I think if he were given the chance to redo the story, they would be removed. I also think that Kid America is taken out of the narrative too soon, although his final tale, involving avenging the death of his girlfriend, is one of the strongest in the book. “Lost in America” gets a little preachy and could probably use some subtlety, but it's still fun.

The art in the initial series is split between Chris Warner and Grant Miehm, and as with Dark Horse’s other omnibus-style books, shrinking down the artwork has brought out the detail in the black-and-white artwork. Chris Warner in particular has an excellent sense of panel layout. “Lost in America,” penciled by Chris Marrinan, is equally good, but the backgrounds seem a bit sparse. This may be a function of switching from color to black-and-white.

The short stories from Dark Horse Presents and other anthology series, also collected here and set between the two main series, are by Brandon Peterson and Doug Braithwaite. You can definitely see the roundedness in the faces in Braithwaite’s work, forming a recognizable style despite being so early in his career.

The end of the book features some interesting backstory about the comic-within-the-comic which established The American. Written by comics historian Jim Vadeboncoeur, it establishes that the “original publisher,” Watchfob Comics, was actually Canadian, and it seemed to keep finding the defeat in any success. Three art excerpts show a primitive The American comic from the 1950s; Kid America taking heroin in a parody of Speedy; and a spoof of Alan Moore’s Swamp Thing with overblown narration and painted art.

Just from the perspective of cost, $15 gets you over 350 pages, making The American a no-brainer. Mark Verheiden wrote it before the idea of “Captain America questioning the American Dream” was a cliché. It’s an unheralded classic and evidence of what Dark Horse Comics can do at its best.
Sergeant Barney Barker, a character from Atlas Comics in the fifties, was cashing in on the popularity of The Phil Silvers Show (originally You’ll Never Get Rich), a CBS comedy starring Silvers as conniving Sergeant Ernie Bilko. I was a Bilko fan, and watched the show in its original run and in syndication.

The sponsor was Camel cigarettes. Here’s an ad from a 1956 campaign tieing in with the show, using a fumetti-style comic strip featuring Silvers and Maurice Gosfield as Pvt. Duane Doberman.
DC Comics licensed the characters for a Sergeant Bilko comic, and even a spin-off title, Sgt. Bilko’s Pvt Doberman, both drawn by Bob Oksner. The derivative Barker strip wasn’t long-lived. According to the Atlas Tales website there was the issue these two short-stories came from, G.I. Tales #4 (1956), and three issues of Sergeant Barney Barker (with a cover tagline, “Even with Barker we won the war!”) Nowadays I can appreciate Barney Barker because it was drawn by John Severin. In the fifties I would have turned up my nose at it for being “fake Bilko.” Yes, I was that kind of person; I didn’t like imitation, and yet now I see it as being an interesting sidelight to the popularity of the television show.










Here's yet another Barney Barker story from Four-Color Shadows.
Of them all, Len Wein's Before Watchmen: Ozymandias/Crimson Corsair is the volume I'd most suggest skipping, which officially makes Darwyn Cooke's Minutemen/Silk Spectre the best collection of the bunch and J. Michael Straczynski's Nite Owl (of which I received an advance review copy) the best individual miniseries. Your results may, of course, necessarily vary.

Though between Jae Lee and Steve Rude (drawing and lettering), there's plenty nice to look at in Ozymandias/Crimson Corsair, I felt this book contributed the least to the goal of fleshing out or re-imagining the motiviations of the Watchmen characters. Ozymandias is an over-narrated rehash of what the reader could mostly glean on their own from Watchmen; Corsair falls apart in collected form, these two-page backup stories being too choppy to be read one after another after another. The Dollar Bill one-shot here, too, fleshes out this one-note Watchmen character, but fails to surprise or in any way modify the reader's understanding of the character.

[Review contains spoilers for all the Before Watchmen books]

Wein's Ozymandias has moments when it feels like it's going somewhere, lifted largely by threads carried over from other books. Ozymandias Adrian Veidt, for instance, begins to investigate the death of Hooded Justice, a major aspect of the Minutemen book, but this is forgotten after a fight with Comedian. Equally the Ozymandias story looks at the deaths of John F. Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe, which factor into the Comedian story, but these, too, are forgotten fairly quickly. Finally, Ozymandias arrives at the momentous meeting between Dr. Manhattan and Veidt, also shown in the Manhattan book, where Manhattan is duped into Veidt's conspiracy; there is nothing new revealed from Ozymandias's side, however, and the end pales in comparison to Straczynski's wild, winding Manhattan tale.

Wein certainly understands Ozymandias, or at least his place in Watchmen, emphasizing Ozymandias and Comedian's roles as two sides of the same cultural divide. More than anything to do with Ozymandias, the real power of Wein's story may be in fleshing out a bit how Comedian stumbled upon Ozymandias's doomsday conspiracy; it never quite hit home to me just how terrible Ozymandias's cloned monstrosity had to be to put Comedian off his game, and Wein does a good job in this aspect.

In the beginning I actually liked Wein's Crimson Corsair story more than I thought I would. If we set aside the apocalyptic undertones that made the original Black Freighter story resonate within Watchmen, it serves as an enjoyable horror tale in the fashion of the old EC Comics, and Corsair, in the beginning, lives up to that tradition well. The "Devil in the Deep" story is nicely horrific, between the poor sailor keehauled, the sunken ship and precarious raft (reminiscent of Black Freighter), and ultimately Gordon McClachlan's deal with the devilish Corsair for want of his soul.

But "Devil in the Deep" gives way to "The Evil That Men Do," and from the start it's a different story. There's two, almost three of the Corsair sections that are just philosophical meandering -- even if the writing is lyrical, it fails to move the story forward, and Corsair never quite regains its momentum. There's some confused sequences where McClachlan seems to be the last survivor of a slave ship, then he's captured, then other slavers are still alive, then someone is killed that looks like McClachlan but turns out to be another sailor, McClachlan is spared but then he's going to be killed with boiling gold, and so on.

Ultimately there are so many confusing reversals, with the story restarting every other page, and perhaps too much verbiage for such a small space, that I was just happy when the tale came to an end (with a twist ending that might've been the best part). Wein has talked about some issues with artist and eventual Corsair writer John Higgens and I can't say how those factored, but the story represents neither creator very well.

Again, the Dollar Bill one-shot too adds little to Before Watchmen overall, though Steve Rude imbues the book with some impressive Golden Age silliness. I'm most familiar personally with Rude's art deco Gotham and Metropolis in he and Dave Gibbons's World's Finest, and I enjoyed seeing Rude's looser style here, with purposefully haphazard (Golden Age-eque) word balloons. There's a particularly good sequence where Wein has Dollar Bill visiting a string of increasingly seedy movie producers, and Rude keeps the panel sizes the same while progressively lowering the ceilings such to make it look like the panels are shrinking when they're not. Pretty to look at, if otherwise unremarkable.

Though understandably controversial, the Before Watchmen books have not, for me, been a total loss. Each of the books so far have expanded my perception of the original Watchmen story, Minutemen/Silk Spectre and Nite Owl/Dr. Manhattan especially (reviews of Nite Owl/Dr. Manhattan and Comedian/Rorschach coming in two weeks). Only Before Watchmen: Ozymandias/Crimson Corsair did not; as the supposed finale of the Before Watchmen books, unfortunately this one is not a strong conclusion.
Syd Shores did the artwork for this horror story from Ziff-Davis’ Nightmare #1 (1952). It’s a supernatural revenge tale made special by Shores’ drawing. Check out his renderings of a turbulent sea, his characters’ faces, or the spectral lighthouse keeper, all examples of an exemplary job by an under-appreciated master of comic art.

Ben Oda did the lettering for this story. Going through old comics I see Oda’s lettering in many of them. Because of damage to the lettering in page 5 panel 1, I replaced the doctor’s dialogue by using the free comic book lettering font, Odaballoon.