Adventures Into Archives

It’s a golden age for horror reprints. The age in question may be around 50, which is that of the readers, but it is golden nonetheless. Recent years have seen a blessed rise in the republication of ye olde tales of terror, and the stuff that once gave rise to the Comics Code Authority and horrified the parents of a nation for pennies on the dollar is now packaged in deluxe format and sold to a new generation of parents for explosive sums. 1 Two of the longest-running of these initiatives are the EC Artists’ Library from Fantagraphics and The Creepy Archives / Eerie Archives from Dark Horse; these are now joined by The Atlas Comics Library from Fantagraphics, with its recent debut number Adventures into Terror vol. 1.
Between the appearance of The Atlas Comics Library and the reappearance of Creepy and Eerie in $24.99 softcover versions, 2 I now have an excuse as good as any to compare these reprint projects with the ongoing EC Artists’ Library , and see how many terrible puns I cram into a single article [zero]. Though, let’s be honest, what we’re really waiting for are handsome editions of those great classics of American comic book humor, like Plop!
The Good Ol’ Boys
Of the EC line, there is not much left to say. These are amongst the most discussed, analyzed and fawned-over comics in the (American) history of the medium. There are books, scholarly articles, academic papers. It’s weird to think that the comics that once threatened the United States are now celebrated as cultural milestone. Fantagraphics’ EC Comics Library , presently up to 34 volumes, is published in stern black & white, wiping away the terrifying colors (and, for the most part, the contributions of Marie Severin) in a manner meant to focus you on the art. These aren’t silly horror stories for children! These are classics of the medium, and should be treated as such.
Indeed, the books are a marvel of design and care, each dedicated to a particular artist (with a sub-focus on a particular genre if possible, e.g, all horror stories by a certain artist, all science fiction stories by a certain artist), with the linework shining as sharp as possible. You can almost forget that these were meant to be read in color. 3 The series, as a whole, is further proof that Fantagraphics takes its curation duties seriously. It’s just a shame that most of these comics are not good.
"The Micro-Race!" from The Martian Monster and Other Stories . Art by Jack Kamen, writer unknown. Fantagraphics.
Now, there’s a long distance between ‘not good’ and ‘bad,’ and even in the worst of these collections (say, the Jack Kamen-focused The Martian Monster and Other Stories ), there are occasional standout stories and snatches of brilliant artwork: a panel here, a particular figure there. Typically, the text introductions to these collections—for example, Fred von Bernewitz’s foreword to the Joe Orlando-focused The Thing from the Grave and Other Stories —will go through the contents item by item and focus on the minutia of the art, rather than the stories being told. This is not simply due to lack of room, but I think because the stories themselves aren’t that great: it’s odd to talk about the “furious pace” of “Food for Thought” when the opening image, no matter how well Orlando draws it, follows a huge paragraph of text. Likewise, the overstated dramatic irony of the final two panels—having stuffed his lunchbox with stolen money, the protagonist is sure to die of starvation before the rescue party arrives—is undone by the narration telling us things we can plainly see. 4
"Food for Thought" from The Thing from the Grave and Other Stories . Script by Carl Wessler, art by Joe Orlando. Fantagraphics.
No doubt, this is the result of the particularly limiting manner in which EC comics were made at the time, with Al Feldstein supplying pre-lettered pages on which to draw and Harvey Kurtzman providing strict layouts on top of that. Fundamentally, what you see in these collections is story after story of artists trying their best to dance to the tune of others. Occasionally they succeed, but the result is often clumsy.
Looking at an old interview with George Evans, from The Comics Journal Library Vol. 10: The EC Artists Part 2 , though it’s obvious he’s trying hard not to hurt anybody, you can sense how choked he felt by the EC method: 5
John Garcia: “Did [getting pre-lettered pages] cramp you?”
George Evans: “It did, but you couldn’t argue about it, because it was part of the structure. Yes, sometimes because of the heavy copy you would see a potential picture that would’ve been great, and you had to forego it and draw something else that was maybe less moving or less powerful.”
The result is story upon story, drawn by some of the best artists of the period, done with a minimum of personal input when not pushing against the very style of the artists in question - what works for someone like Jack Davis, whose figures complemented the histrionics of these scripts, didn’t always work for George Evans, whose more realistic rendering struggled. Fantagraphics' decision to make the collections artist-based, rather than chronological or thematic, further reveal these limitations. Of course, these comics were also not meant to read in such large chunks, but of the three reprint series I am looking at here, the EC Artists’ Library feels the most like work to get through. True, these were stories that often strived for (and sometimes realized) a social consciousness unusual in U.S. comics of the time, but what they always strived to be was Entertaining Comics - and it’s amazing how often this version of EC seems to miss.
"Corpse on the Imjin!" from Corpse on the Imjin and Other Stories . Writing and art by Harvey Kurtzman. Fantagraphics.
Still, there are (so far) two collections in the series that I can recommend wholeheartedly, two classics in which the images are not drowned under the drone of words, but rather sing with them in harmony. The first, unsurprisingly, is Corpse on the Imjin! and Other Stories - the one dedicated to Harvey Kurtzman's war comics. Kurtzman drawing Kurtzman sits leagues ahead of the competition because his layouts are designed to match his artistic style; his is a much cartoonier approach, more stylized, and it fits the melodramatic (verging on preachy) tone of his stories. 6
Even when featuring other artists, Corpse on the Imjin! seems more attuned to their personal approach, rather than simply locking them into Kurtzman’s boxes. Take the two Alex Toth-drawn air combat stories (“Thunderjet!” and “F-86 Sabre Jet!”), whose main preoccupation is the beauty of the weapons, rather than the horrors of armed conflict. So many of the other stories in the book take place close to the ground, with troops forced to confront the bloody results of their actions, but Toth is gifted ‘clean’ air stories that work better with his conservative approach to storytelling, highlighting clean-cut heroes rather than Kurtzman’s conflicted figures. These aren't the infamous horror stories inseparable from EC's downfall. In fact, the horror titles tend to be EC's least interesting, because in order to be truly scary you need to go wild, to break the rules, to shock! But editorially, these comics were all about the rules of how a 'proper' comic should read.
"Key Chain" from Master Race and Other Stories . Art by Bernard Krigstein, writer unverified, possibly Jack Oleck. Fantagraphics.
The other collection, truly the standout of the line, is the Bernard Krigstein-focused Master Race and Other Stories . Most of the comics here would probably fall under the heading of 'crime' or 'thriller' rather than 'horror.' Indeed, the least of the bunch is "The Monster from the Fourth Dimension," a story designed for a 3D monster gimmick. In contrast, "Master Race" gets all the credit as the best nowadays, but it truly is a marvel to behold - one beautiful-looking page after another. If the script is mediocre (“Slave Ship”) Krigstein makes it good. If the script is good (“The Catacombs”) he makes it great . Krigstein’s stories work because he visibly struggles against the constraints of the EC style. His ‘subdivision’ of the pre-lettered page—splitting the room for what would be presumed to be one panel into several distinct images—has long been the stuff of legend, finding a way to make even most word-heavy tale into something visually exciting.
Kurtzman succeeded because he worked within a method he devised. Krigstein succeeded because he worked against that method. The stories he draws are soaked in themes of paranoia and imprisonment - almost as if nodding to an artist straining to free himself from a creative straitjacket. One can only imagine a world in which this Orson Welles of comics got to make work as he wanted to. But that's the image of EC versus the reality: there is only enough Krigstein to fill one volume, while I have read three volumes and more than 500 pages of Jack Kamen comics, and sitting here now I cannot recall a single story.
In the same long interview excerpted above, George Evans said of the EC stories that “like in baseball, the law of averages evens it out.” This is a very mild way to say most of the stories fail to stick out in any way. Well-made porridge is still porridge. The heights of EC were high indeed, but the glory of the line rests on relatively few standout tales: your “Master Race,” or Feldstein's and Joe Orlando's “Judgment Day.” The EC Artists’ Library is a truly impressive achievement, but most of it is an achievement in curation.
Your Dear Departed Uncle
The Creepy and Eerie magazines, especially the early ones when writer/editor Archie Goodwin (who succeeded short-lived founding editor Russ Jones) was still at the helm, are a very different thing from the EC comics, although they really shouldn’t be - it's more short horror stories, often featuring the same artists. Early issues had plenty of Joe Orlando, Alex Toth, Reed Crandall, all EC stalwarts.
"Howling Success!" Creepy Archives vol. 1. Story by Archie Goodwin, art by Angelo Torres. Dark Horse.
The big difference: EC often failed at being capital ‘A’ art, while the Warren magazines usually succeeded at being junk food. A typical EC horror story has a very Rod Serling, radio drama approach in which someone suffers because they did something bad, so the universe must balance the karmic scales. In Creepy or Eerie , more often people suffer because the world is full of monsters, and it is very exciting to see a werewolf ripping someone to shreds.
Goodwin wrote many of these stories himself, and they were often very formulaic, usually involving the canonical movie monsters (vampire, werewolf, ghoul) in a battle of domination over one small hamlet or another. The twist might involve a gloating vampire standing over his victim, only to realize a werewolf is going to eat him, or vice versa. Goodwin could be, and often was, a much better writer than this, 7 so one must assume he knew he was playing the Monster Mash. Other writers in these early issues would go for the same tone: not exactly ironic, but somewhat knowing . Everybody, readers included, knew they were playing by pre-established rules.
Unlike the overtly-wordy, tightly-constrained EC, Goodwin let his artists run free with their muse; he would write full scripts and sometimes supply thumbnails, but the end result was stories which play to artists’ strengths. The very first Creepy story, “Voodoo!” opens with a silent, nearly full-page spread by Joe Orlando. A campfire in the center lights the figures as they dance in and out of the shadows. It’s a great image, though like many of stories to follow it indulges in the same stereotypes it presumes to critique; 8 still, it works as both a mood setter and a statement on intent. The Warren artists will get to have their silent panels.
"Voodoo!" Creepy Archives vol. 1. Story by Russ Jones & Bill Pearson, art by Joe Orlando. Dark Horse.
Page for page, these are definitely the best-looking horror anthologies of the bunch, all big moments and dramatic panels. There isn’t a lot of subtlety, every dial is turned to 11, but the artists involved can pull it off. And, occasionally, there is something that is more than a well-preformed remix of classic monster hits. Toth did some of his boldest work here; witness the shifting panels, frames and harsh angles of “The Stalkers” ( Creepy #6, Creepy Archives vol. 2) - the type of thing that would never pass muster under Kurtzman's layouts.
"The Stalkers," Creepy Archives vol. 2. Story by Archie Goodwin, art by Alex Toth. Dark Horse.
Or Steve Ditko, already a veteran of horror anthologies of the 1950s, finding new ways of playing well-worn ideas. His first Creepy story, “The Spirit of the Thing!” ( Creepy #9, Creepy Archives vol. 2), has some ideas that will be familiar to any Doctor Strange reader (astral projection is the focus), but with the shadows played-up and a more pronounced atmosphere of tension than his older work. Meanwhile, “Where Sorcery Lives!” ( Creepy #14) and “City of Doom!” ( Creepy #15, both in Creepy Archives vol. 3) are closer in both spirit and form to a Conan story, something outside of Ditko’s usual milieu, yet given the chance to try his hand at fantasy adventure he proves as able as the next man (and considering ‘the next man’ might by Frank Frazetta, that says something).
"The Spirit of the Thing!" Creepy Archives vol. 2. Story by Archie Goodwin, art by Steve Ditko. Dark Horse.
Creepy , under Goodwin, didn’t confine the artists to a singular narrative approach dictated from above, which allowed them not only to express themselves fully but also, occasionally, to find new modes of expression. Even as the stories themselves become repetitive, you can always count on the art to save the day, and for the scripts to be decent enough to get out from under the artists' feet. 9
Now, I am writing this based of the first several Creepy and Eerie softcover reprints, in which the magazines were still in black & white. There is some dread involved in waiting to get to the color portions of the later magazines, as Dark Horse has a spotty history with recoloring old works. In general, the project relieves itself of the curatorial aspect that is so vital to Fantagraphics’ efforts - the issues are reprinted as they were, in chronological order. The work speaks, or rather screams, for itself.
Hungry Youth
The new kid on the block of horror reprints, The Atlas Comics Library , faces an uphill battle. While the much-reprinted EC comics were renowned for their quality long before Fantagraphics got its hands on them, and Warren at least enjoys the lingering reflected glow of its artists, Atlas is seen as strictly B-tier, if that. 10
"The Unknown Partner" Atlas Comics Library No. 1: Adventures into Terror Vol. 1 . Art by Ed Wininarski, writer unknown. Fantagraphics.
As Dr. Michael J. Vassallo writes in his introduction, when the Comics Code Authority chased publishers away from the field of horror, “All [publisher Martin Goodman] did was shrug, dilute the content, and in 1956 expand further[…] Goodman literally filled the vacuum on the newsstands with his own books, replacing his competitors who had fled.” Bill Gaines and Harvey Kurtzman cared about the worth of their line; James Warren and Archie Goodwin cared too. Goodman really didn’t seem to give a fuck about the quality of the comics he published. Almost like a caricature of a management type, as long at the books hit the stand on time, nothing else mattered. Certainly not the content.
Which means the work you see in the first collection in the series, Adventures into Terror Vol. 1 (collecting the first eight published issues of the selfsame series, November 1950 through February 1952 11 ), is the most uneven of the lot. If EC had the highest highs, soaring above their own mediocre drivel, than Atlas have the lowest of lows, with stories that often fail to make sense even within their own convoluted premises, or squander the potential of their main ideas.
Take the very first story, “The Monster Awakes,” drawn by a rather stilted Russ Heath, which sees a man recalling his encounter with a giant monster in China (for reasons best left unprobed, the monster is drawn somewhat similar to a Native American, though thankfully not falling to pure racial caricature). The main plot hinges on the monster seeking to release its brethren, having been forced into magical sleep for centuries - but as they dive into the giant’s underground kingdom, both human and monster discover everyone below is long dead. It’s a pretty decent twist ending—even giant monsters are touched by the ravages of time—but it is undermined by having the story continue for two more pages, seeking to give its human protagonist some sense of victory.
Another example from the first issue is “The Ant World,” what might be seen as a precursor to Jack Kirby's later “The Man in the Ant Hill,” but misses that story’s straightforward simplicity, replacing it with a convoluted backstory, starting as a riff on Lovecraft’s “The Rats in the Walls” before swaying into mad science territory.
On it goes, a parade of oddities whose main inspiration appear to be the fear of a deadline: “House of Horror” (issue #3) sees Gene Colan wasted on a werewolf tale even Goodwin would scoff at; “The Brain!” (issue #4) is a tale of mad Nazi science in which either writer or artist seems to confuse the human brain with a talking disembodied head; “The Thing that Grew” (issue #7) finds a scientist self-destructing in a manner meant to be tragic leaving you instead scratching your head at the technobabble involved.
"The Torture Room" Atlas Comics Library No. 1: Adventures into Terror Vol. 1 . Story and art by Don Rico. Fantagraphics.
Yet, occasionally on this mountain of crap, a beautiful flower blooms. At times the lack of quality control, the lack of care , translates to stories you probably wouldn’t see elsewhere. “The Torture Room” (written & drawn by Don Rico) has a Nazi prison commandant captured by vengeful prisoners who promise to pay him back for years of abuse in their self-made... torture room. At a compact three pages, the story allows the reader sadistic delight in the pain of someone who deserves it; the final page is dedicated to a montage of the commandant imagining all the horrors he inflicted reflected back at him before dying of shock. There was no need for a torture room, only a tortured mind.
"Find Me!" Atlas Comics Library No. 1: Adventures into Terror Vol. 1 . Story and art by Don Rico. Fantagraphics.
Another exulted example by Don Rico is “Find Me!” - a story that seems more productively powered by the fear of deadline. Its subject is an artist pushed into madness by his creative director, forcing the man to draw so hard he becomes part of his own artwork. The impact is not so much in the basic story—though the idea has an obvious appeal to anybody pushed to the edge by a demanding boss—but in the way Rico illustrates it, going for full Ditko-like flair, figures twisting and turning as the colors go haywire. You get the sense this artist is taking full advantage of the ‘nobody cares’ management style to basically pass a piece of surrealism beneath Martin Goodman’s nose.
Likewise bizarre is “Where Monsters Dwell” (issue #7). The story is as convoluted as any other piece in the collection (involving mad science, alternate reality, captured humans twisted by physics and beam-projected monsters), but thanks to the artwork by Basil Wolverton (and possibly Carl Burgos 12 ) it becomes almost delightful to go through. Whatever new twist the script throws the artists’ way, they respond by twisting it even further.
"Where Monsters Dwell" Atlas Comics Library No. 1: Adventures into Terror Vol. 1 . Art by Basil Wolverton (and maybe Carl Burgos, but not on this page), writer unknown. Fantagraphics.
The decision to keep things in color as God and Goodman intended—restoration is credited to Allan Harvey and C. Hwang—is smart; trying to present these comics in a prestigious manner is a venture doomed to fail. If anything, they are their best when they defy both good taste and common sense, going simply wherever the artists’ personal muses take them. There have already been four more volumes announced in the Atlas reprint series, with Fantagraphics promising both chronological compendiums of individual titles as well as larger volumes dedicated to particular artists.
Obviously, if you go by pure math, by the George Evans standard, Adventures into Terror is the worst of lot, the lows constant and extremely low, and yet… there’s a touch of beautiful madness here, the kind that can only come out when no one is really in control and a bunch of talented weirdos band together and just do whatever they can. These are comics as pure trash culture; something like “Torture Room,” powered by sheer sadistic glee, could only emerge from the understanding that no grownups will be reading. We need these works just as much as we need the carefully constructed “Master Race,” two sides of the same coin. Let comics be comics.  
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