Like its immediate predecessor, the 122nd issue of Amazing Spider-Man leads off with a cover by John Romita, which, if not quite as iconic as that of #121, is still an exceptionally arresting image. Not to mention one which, back in April, 1973, would likely have shocked the hell out of any semi-regular reader of the web-slinger’s series who had somehow managed to miss not only that most monumental of issues, but also any fannish discussion of same over the several weeks since its release on March 13th.
If there were any such readers fifty years ago, and if they hoped for some sort of recap to bring them up to speed on the details of how so something so unthinkable as the murder of Spider-Man’s beloved Gwen Stacy had come to pass, they were pretty much out of luck — because the creative team behind both the previous episode and this one — i.e., scripter Gerry Conway, penciller Gil Kane, foreground inker John Romita (who may have also contributed to the plot) and background inker Tony Mortellaro — weren’t about to break their storyline’s headlong momentum with any more exposition than was minimally required, let alone any flashbacks:
Among the plot details from “The Night Gwen Stacy Died” that a latecomer wouldn’t pick up in these first pages — or anywhere else in this issue, actually — is the debilitating head cold that Spider-Man has been suffering from since before this current battle began. But, to be honest, I’m not sure whether to attribute that exclusion to Conway and co.’s feeling that they just didn’t have the space or time to go into the subject, or whether they simply forgot all about it. As unlikely as it is that the illness would clear up completely mid-fight scene — and, more importantly, as significant as it would seem to be to an after-the-fact consideration of how and why Spidey was unable to save Gwen — could things have gone differently had our hero been at his physical best? — the cold is never mentioned once in “The Goblin’s Last Stand!” To be honest, I’m not sure that it was ever referenced again in the pages of Amazing Spider-Man; if it was, I believe it probably wasn’t until many years, perhaps even decades, later.
Gerry Conway has gone on the record several times regarding his disdain for Gwen Stacy as a character (for an example, in 2014 he told an interviewer that Gwen “was kind of a bland, almost Barbie-esque-type figure, more of a wish-fulfillment object than a person”) — something that’s made him a logical target for the rancor of those fans looking to blame someone for the key event of this storyline. So we should probably give him his due for his effective scripting of the preceding page, which — even it it doesn’t offer much in the way of praising (or even describing) Gwen Stacy as a person — at least honors the depth of the love between her and Peter Parker. (Obviously, Kane and Romita’s artwork contributes mightily to this page’s impact, as well.)
The panel above contains an homage to the conclusion of Stan Lee and Steve Ditko’s “The Claws of the Cat!” (from Amazing Spider-Man #30 [Nov., 1965]), which depicted the end of the romantic relationship between Peter Parker and his only serious girlfriend prior to Gwen Stacy, Betty Brant:
… though I’m afraid the tribute aspect was probably lost on my fifteen-year-old self, who’d only started buying AS-M with issue #59, and hadn’t picked up the story’s only reprinting up to that point, in Marvel Tales #23 (Nov., 1969), either.
Even the sympathetic police sergeant can’t ignore what sounds like an admission of guilt on Spider-Man’s part, and he and his rookie partner move to take our hero into custody. But our hero bolts, swinging off towards the rooftops even as the two cops fire after him (the sergeant, if not the rookie, aiming only to wound). As Spidey flees, he tells himself that he doesn’t have time to explain things to the police — and even if he tried, what could he tell them?
Peter’s spider-sense tells him that Norman Osborn isn’t home, but that’s OK — it’s Pete’s roommate and best friend, Norman’s son Harry, that he’s actually come to see:
I may be wrong about this, but I think this is the first time that the illicit substance Harry abused in the classic “drug issues” (which were actually #96-98, rather than “#97-99” as claimed by the editorial footnote) has been specifically identified as LSD; Stan Lee’s scripts for those stories never named the drugs Harry took.
The lack of feeling that Peter displays here towards his best friend — someone to whom he’s always shown sympathy and compassion, no matter what was going on at any given time with Harry’s crazy-evil dad — is chilling, perhaps even shocking. But this is a Peter Parker we’ve never seen before — a perception that’s underscored by the skillful way Kane and Romita render his facial expressions and body language on these pages.
After leaving the townhouse, Peter changes back to Spider-Man to continue his search for Norman Osborn. His hopes of getting any clue out of Harry having been dashed, he realizes that he’s going to need some assistance; and after cynically noting, “The police aren’t likely to help me hunt down one of Manhattan’s prize tax-payers,” he decides to hit up the city editor of the Daily Bugle, Joe “Robbie” Robertson…
After a call or three, Robbie has the information that Spidey needs; not only does Norman own “a warehouse off 23rd Street and Ninth Avenue”, but “he was seen in that area just forty minutes ago.” After duly thanking the newsman, our hero is about to hop back out the window when a familiar voice calls out: “Hold it, you!”
Having taken care of the chronic nuisance that is J. Jonah Jameson (at least for the moment), Spider-Man heads for the location that’s been identified by Joe Robertson’s tipster. Meanwhile, within that very same “ill-kept warehouse in an area of the city moist with the Hudson River breeze“…
The notion that the Goblin could ascribe more value to “a blasted bargain-basement toy” than to the life of Gwen Stacy drives Spider-Man to even greater fury…
Over the past decade, readers had grown used to a Spider-Man who, even in the midst of a life-and-death struggle, tended to keep up a near-constant barrage of wisecracks. The deadly serious demeanor that the hero displays throughout this issue — and particularly in this scene — is by no means surprising, but it’s still striking in how far it deviates from the norm. It underscores to any reader who has prior familiarity with the character that this is not, in any sense, an “ordinary” Spider-Man story.
And now comes the indelible moment that would, in 2002, become familiar to millions of moviegoers who’d never picked up a Spider-Man comic book…
I don’t know about anyone else… but in April, 1973, there was no doubt in my mind that this was the last we’d ever see of Norman Osborn, the Green Goblin. I mean, the guy was dead. He had to be, for the story’s resolution to be satisfying.*
In my opinion, Mary Jane Watson shows more depth of character in the “Epilogue” that closes Amazing Spider-Man #122 than she has at any other time in the six years she’s been an active part of the series. Knowing as we do now how very much Gerry Conway preferred Mary Jane to Gwen as a character, it seems very likely that the writer wrote this scene as a calculated maneuver, intended to begin to move MJ into position to become Peter’s new great love; but even if that’s true, this is still a very effective scene, scripted with sensitivity and restraint. Its raw emotions feel genuine, at least to this reader; as such, it’s probably the perfect ending to this very emotionally fraught two-chapter storyline.
As regular readers of this blog know, I am not exactly what you would call the world’s biggest Gerry Conway fan. But I have to give him due props for his work in these two issues, which, despite the flaws I’ve noted both in this post and in the one about #121, stacks up well against any comic-book writing of this era for both its immediate impact and its lasting effect on the reader. Even it’s not ultimately as monumental a story in comics history as some (Conway himself included) might claim, it’s still a powerful story in and of itself… or that’s how your humble blogger sees it, anyway.
I referred to AS-M #121 and #122 as a “two-chapter storyline” a couple of paragraphs ago, and I do in fact believe that these issues stand by themselves pretty well as a single, complete work. Still, such events as those that had transpired within their forty pages couldn’t help but have a major impact on successive episodes going forward (indeed, comics creators — and readers — are still dealing with their ramifications here and now, in 2023), beginning, naturally enough, with the very next issue.
We won’t be devoting a full post to Amazing Spider-Man #123 next month, nor am I going to offer a full recap of its plot here. But I feel I’d be remiss not to at least follow up on the promise Conway and co. made to readers in the last panel of #122’s next to last page, regarding Spidey’s “shadowed observer”, and the almost immediate “effect of his presence” at the scene of the Green Goblin’s last stand… an effect which is in fact on display on #123’s opening splash page:
Yes, that’s Norman Osborn’s body being carried away the police — not the Goblin’s. How did this happen? The answer comes on page 3, after most of the people we see here have moved on, save for a single cop and Joe Robertson — and one other.
As we rejoin the scene, the cop is cautioning Robbie in regards to the latter’s boss’ ravings about Spider-Man’s guilt, and the suggestion that he, Jameson, might take matters into his own hands (which he will in fact do just a few pages later, by hiring Luke Cage to bring Spidey in… but we won’t get into that): “Someone moved Osborn’s body before we arrived…”
And that’s that for our mysterious “shadowed observer”, at least for this issue. Our storytellers wouldn’t give up his identity for another four months, at which time AS-M #127 would reveal him to be (…um, you have all read this blog’s all-purpose, all-seasons spoiler warning, right? I sure hope so.) none other than Harry Osborn. That’s right — the very same Harry Osborn who was so strung out when Peter Parker confronted him at Norman’s penthouse in the middle of #122 that he could barely drag himself out of bed. We’re expected, then, to believe that Harry pulled himself together almost immediately so that he could make it to Norman’s secret warehouse hideout (which he knew about…how?) in time to witness the Goblin’s death — then stripped Dad of his costume and moved his body — and then hung around to see what happened next, while silently soliloquizing in the best supervillain-speak.
So… either Harry was doing a great snow job on Pete back in #122, or he’s developed some form of dissociative identity disorder on top of his other drug-related difficulties. Based on later developments in the storyline, the latter seems to be the best explanation… at least “in universe”. Personally, I’m inclined to agree with my fellow blogger, the Crusty Curmudgeon, who opined in his 2014 opus “Sex, Lies, and Comic Books: The Gwen Stacy Murder Case, Reopened” that Gerry Conway may well have introduced the “shadowed observer” at the end of issue #122 with no idea whatsoever of who he was — and only figured out months later that, well, it must have been poor ol’ Harry. Perhaps that’s unfair; but the fact is that by April, 1973, Mr. Conway had sort of set himself up to engender these sorts of suspicions. (Everybody remember Mister Kline?)
We’ve now reached the 2,000 word mark in this post (or close enough), and we’re not nearly done; so if you need to take a break, now’s a good time… Still here and/or back? Great! Then let’s continue…
At the conclusion of my Amazing Spider-Man #121 post I promised that I would reveal, via this follow-up, how long I continued to read AS-M after the wrap-up of the “Death of Gwen Stacy” in #122. As you’ll recall, my younger self had drifted away from the book just a couple of months previously, but was brought back — at least temporarily — by #121’s tantalizing, soon-to-be-iconic cover. So how long did I stick around?
As it turns out, for almost another twenty issues; however, Amazing Spider-Man #141, published in November, 1974, would be my last issue of Spidey’s home base title for several years to come. And though I’d continue to keep up with the hero through his appearances in Marvel Team-Up (which I kept buying semi-regularly, almost to the end of the decade), not to mention several issues of his second solo title, Spectacular Spider-Man, when it debuted in 1976… and would also dip back into into Amazing from time to time for particular storylines, or to check out the work of favorite creators (I even came back for a whole six years around the turn of the millennium, during J. Michael Straczynski’s run… but let’s not go there right now)… it was never quite the same after that.
As to precisely what caused my disaffection back in the waning months of ’74 — well, I won’t get into specifics at this time, as I imagine I’ll be doing at least another couple of Amazing Spider-Man posts before we get to that point. That said…
I’m pretty sure the Spider-Mobile had at least something to do with it.
The other promise (or threat, if you prefer) that I made at the end of my #121 post was that I’d be offering “some further musings about the legacy of the whole two-part ‘Death of Gwen Stacy’ storyline.” I’d like to begin by considering the question of this milestone’s legacy in the broadest possible terms, before moving to conclude with a look at the more narrow legacy represented by later comics which have revisited the specific events of AS-M #121 and #122, either to retell the original story from a different point of view, or to work variations upon it.
One way of framing the overall legacy of “The Death of Gwen Stacy” in regards not only to Spider-Man, or even to Marvel, but to the whole field of American comic books, is to identify the storyline as representing the line of demarcation between the Silver and Bronze Ages of Comics. As I’ve already written in the #121 post, I personally don’t see things that way; but having said that, let me go on to state as emphatically as I can that I don’t believe that there is a “right” or “wrong” stance one can take on this topic. In my view, terms like “Bronze Age” are almost entirely subjective; they represent mental constructs which can be very useful to us in discussing comics and their history, but shouldn’t be taken as objective descriptors of reality. What I mean when I say “Bronze Age” won’t conform 100% to what anyone else means by the phrase, and that’s just fine, as far as I’m concerned. Still, I think the majority of us fans agree that the tern covers most if not all of the decade of the 1970s, as well as a good hunk of the 1980s; and for that reason, we don’t have to stop and exchange definitions with one another every time the concept comes up.
With that in mind, what is the basis for the claim that “The Death of Gwen Stacy” marks the beginning of the Bronze Age? Perhaps the best — or at least the most thorough — presentation of that proposition that I’ve read is a scholarly article by Arnold T. Blumberg that was originally published in 2003. It’s well worth reading in its entirety (as you can do here), but the gist of it is captured pretty well in the following passage:
The death of Gwen Stacy was the end of innocence for the [Amazing Spider-Man] series and the superhero genre in general — a time when a defeated hero could not save the girl, when fantasy merged uncomfortably with reality, and mortality was finally visited on the world of comics.
Blumberg’s reference here to “the superhero genre” is telling, as it’s the perceived darkening of that particular genre that is, for him, the defining characteristic of the Bronze Age. For those who (like your humble blogger) take a broader view, seeing the birth of the Bronze Age as having at least as much to do with the rise of other genres (e.g., horror and sword-and-sorcery) in the wake of superhero comics’ declining popularity as with any trends specific to that admittedly very significant genre, then a rather earlier date than 1973 for the transition from the Silver Age to the Bronze — say, around 1970 — is likely to make more sense.
But even within the parameters of capes ‘n’ tights comics, I’m not sure that Gwen Stacy’s demise is quite the watershed, paradigm-shifting event that Blumberg believes it is. Let’s take his claim that the climax of AS-M #121 is essentially unprecedented:
Here was the girlfriend of the hero, dead and gone, never to return. Every expected motif in superhero stories was turned on its ear in a few simple panels, irrevocably transforming the world of comics and its readers.
Panels from Sub-Mariner #37 (May, 1971). Text by Roy Thomas; art by Ross Andru and Mike Esposito.
The problem with this statement is that Marvel’s readers — many of them, anyway — had, in fact, been here before. As I noted in my AS-M #121 post, one of Marvel’s oldest characters — Prince Namor, the Sub-Mariner — had lost his fiancé, Lady Dorma, to violent murder at the hands of an enemy just a couple of years prior to this story… and, as I didn’t note in that post, but was quickly reminded by more than one commenter following its publication, Subby wasn’t even the first Marvel superhero to have suffered the tragic loss of a significant other in recent times. Over a year prior to Dorma’s death, Tony Stark’s girlfriend Janice Cord had perished in Iron Man #22 (Feb., 1970), during a three-way free-for-all between the Titanium Man, the Crimson Dynamo, and Tony’s armored alter ego. Even earlier than that, the Kree warrior Mar-Vell had seen his beloved Una succumb to fatal injuries incurred when she was caught in the crossfire between two different alien military units (the Kree and the Aakon) in Captain Marvel #11 (March, 1969). (There was also the 1965 death of Pamela Hawley in Sgt. Fury and the Howling Commandos, of course — but since Sgt. Nick Fury doesn’t quite count as a superhero, we’re going to leave that one out of the present discussion.)
Panels from Iron Man #22 (Feb., 1970). Text by Archie Goodwin; art by George Tuska and Mike Esposito.
Why did the death of Gwen Stacy have so much more impact than those of Una, Janice Cord, or Dorma? To begin with, Spider-Man was Marvel’s most popular character in 1973, outselling all three of his aforementioned comrades in tragedy by considerable margins, and so it follows that the storyline in AS-M #121-122 simply reached a much larger audience than its predecessors. Another factor is that Spidey, more than any of those others, represented the superheroic ideal; he should have been able to save the innocent Gwen, readers might have thought, because that’s what superheroes do. Namor, by contrast, had always been more of an antihero; and in 1969, Mar-Vell was still a spy for a hostile alien race, who’d fallen into the role of superhero more or less by accident. Even Iron Man’s identity as a purely altruistic crusader was somewhat suspect (at least in “in-universe” terms), since the general public then believed him to be Tony Stark’s hired bodyguard.
Panel from Captain Marvel #11 (March, 1969). Text by Arnold Drake; art by Dick Ayers and Vince Colletta.
Then, of course, there was Gwen herself — a character who’d been not only part of Peter Parker’s life, but of his readers’ lives, for more than seven years. Compare that to the little over a year that Una had been around before her sad exit, or the two years of comic-book existence Janice Cord had enjoyed before her untimely end. Sure, Lady Dorma had first been introduced way back in 1939’s Marvel Comics #1 (and reintroduced in 1963’s Fantastic Four Annual #), but she was a blue-skinned Atlantean aristocrat; however lovely or noble, she could never be as approachable in the imaginations of Marvel’s young male readers as the “ordinary” (albeit exceptionally beautiful) college student, Gwen Stacy — a character whom Arnold T. Blumberg is probably correct in identifying as “the first ‘girlfriend’ for many comic book fans who eagerly followed her relationship with Spider-Man’s alter ego as much as they thrilled to his superheroic exploits”. To a lesser extent, that same issue of “approachability” applies to the wealthy business magnate Janice Cord and the alien military medic Una, as well.
So there were very good reasons for Gwen Stacy’s death to resonate much more strongly with comic book readers than had its precedents; nevertheless, there were precedents. To my mind, the storyline of Amazing Spider-Man #121-122 stands as an important signifier of trends in superhero comics that were already well underway in mid-1973, and that would accelerate thereafter. But signifying trends isn’t at all the same thing as instigating them; and for that reason, I feel that the enduring legacy of “The Death of Gwen Stacy” — at least in terms of the overall history of comics — is largely a symbolic, rather than a literal, one. (Though the symbolism is, without question, exceptionally potent.)
Let’s move on now to a consideration of the creative legacy of Amazing Spider-Man #121 and #122 as a direct inspiration for other storytellers over the last half-century. There have of course been any number of narratives, both inside the comics medium and out, that have echoed or obliquely referenced those issues’ dramatic events; some of them haven’t even involved Spider-Man, let alone Gwen Stacy or the Green Goblin. But for the purposes of this discussion, we’re going to limit ourselves just to those stories that have actually retold those events — sometimes with a different ending, sometimes not.
The first full-on “do-over” of “The Death of Gwen Stacy” of which I’m aware appeared in the 24th issue of the original run of What If?, cover-dated December, 1980. “What If Gwen Stacy Had Lived?” was written by Tony Isabella, pencilled by Gil Kane, and inked by Frank Giacoia (with additional artistic assistance credited to Carl Gafford, Pete Poplaski, Ron Zalme, and Joe Abelo).
The story begins with “our” Peter Parker remembering events as they occurred on Earth-616 (a recollection which, we should note, doesn’t fail to mention the illness Pete was suffering at the time, here identified as the flu) — including, of course, this critical moment:
A couple of other things to make note of here: one, there’s no telltale “SNAP!” sound effect in that last panel; two, Peter refers to “the shock of that sudden fall”, a phrase that echoes the Goblin’s taunting remarks to our hero in #121 regarding “the shock of a sudden fall” that, in his words, “would kill anyone — before they struck the ground!” Isabella appears to be dodging the question of whether it was the whiplash effect caused by Spidey’s webline that technically speaking, directly caused her death (which was Marvel’s “official” explanation of what had happened, assuming you take the letters column of AS-M #125 as canonical [as I do]); and indeed, the writer recently admitted as much, in a 2022 interview conducted by our old friend, the Crusty Curmudgeon:
Honestly, since the whole point of the story was that she lived, I didn’t feel I needed to worry overmuch about exactly what killed her in the ongoing continuity. “Shock of the fall” was much easier to skip past than “Spider-Man snapped her neck trying to save her.” I always thought the latter was unnecessarily cruel. One more way comic books were becoming more brutal.
I can certainly understand where Isabella is coming from; on the other hand, this is just the sort of vagueness that’s helped keep the “Death of Gwen Stacy” storyline controversial among fans for five decades (and counting).
Following Peter-616’s reverie, the Watcher takes over to tell us how things went differently in an alternate reality — like so…
Spidey and Gwen aren’t quite out of the woods yet; his webbing misses the bridge, and the two of them go plunging into the river’s cold depths. But our hero perseveres, and ultimately brings his beloved safely ashore. And then… they both lived happily ever after, right?
Well, not exactly. If you’re already familiar with Marvel’s original iteation of the “What If?” concept — or even if you simply perused the breathless blurb copy for the John Romita, Jr.-Bob McLeod cover of What If? #24 that we shared above (“Whatever you do, Spider-Man… don’t save her!“) — you’re probably aware that the publisher frequently favored a “be careful what you wish for” approach to answering the big question at the core of every story, implying that the way things had worked out in the main Marvel continuity really was for the best, when you got right down to it.
And so, in “What If Gwen Stacy Had Lived?”, Spidey’s secret identity gets revealed to the world, Peter Parker becomes a fugitive from the law, and Aunt May collapses from what appears to be a heart attack. Pretty bad, right? On the other hand, Gwen Stacy is, y’know, alive, and not only does she accept Pete for who he is, she marries him. So, on balance, maybe things didn’t turn out so poorly after all. And I strongly suspect that even the quite serious challenges facing Peter at the conclusion of WI? #24 would have been resolved to his (and to his fans’) reasonable satisfaction, had Isabella been able to continue his narrative in a sequel as he’d hoped. In any case, it’s not hard to see why some of the fans who continue to decry the demise of Gwen Stacy are quite fond of this story.
I have a problem with it, however, and it’s not because I have anything against Gwen Stacy, am a Pete-MJ shipper, or anything like that. Rather, it’s that the whole idea that Peter could have saved Gwen, if he’d just taken half a second longer to think about his strategy, contradicts what readers were told back in that AS-M #125 lettercol. To wit: “…it was impossible for Peter to save her. He couldn’t have swung down in time; the action he did take resulted in her death; if he had done nothing, she still would certainly have perished. There was no way out.” This explanation (which I’d lay odds was written by Marvel’s then-editor-in-chief, Roy Thomas) doesn’t completely absolve Peter Parker of a certain degree of indirect responsibility (as opposed to criminal culpability) for Gwen Stacy’s death; after all, the Goblin never would have targeted her if not for her connection to Spider-Man. Thus, the self-recrimination we see our hero deliver in front of the police in issue #122 — “She’s dead — and Spider-Man killed her.” — still makes sense. But the lettercol explanation does allow us to believe that, in the moment of crisis, Peter did everything he could to save Gwen’s life. That, to me, is a good deal more palatable than what What iI? #24 seems to be telling us… which is that our Spider-Man, the Earth-616 guy, just plain effed up.
Our next take on “The Death of Gwen Stacy, Redux” comes from the 1994 four-issue miniseries Marvels, which was written by Kurt Busiek and painted by Alex Ross. I can’t imagine that there’s anyone out there reading this post who isn’t already familiar with this work, but for those in need of a modest memory refresher: Marvels tells the story of the Marvel Universe from the perspective of news photographer Phil Sheldon. It begins in 1939 with the creation of the original, android Human Torch… and ends in 1973 with the death of Gwen Stacy.
In issue #4’s “The Night She Died” (a title which obviously calls back to AS-M #121’s “The Night Gwen Stacy Died”), the aging Sheldon meets Gwen in the course of investigating the death of her father, Capt. George Stacy, and becomes friendly with her. Sheldon subsequently becomes a witness to the tragedy that unfolds at the Brooklyn Bridge, seeing (but not hearing) the whole sequence of events through a telephoto lens:
Later, a disillusioned Sheldon — whose wholegoal in investigating George Stacy’s death in the first place has been to exonerate Spider-Man from being blamed for it — returns to the scene:
In their comments for the annotated edition of Marvels that was released in 2019, both Kurt Busiek and Alex Ross make it quite clear that, as far as they’re concerned, Gwen Stacy’s neck snapped when she was caught by Spider-Man’s web. Both creators also indicate some frustration over the uncertainty that’s lingered over this topic through the years; Ross even goes so far as to say, “Getting to correct this confusing and conflicted point of history was something we sought to do.” It’s somewhat ironic, then, that their presentation of events retains the ambiguity of the tale’s original telling, as Phil Sheldon muses, “it sure looked like — it looked like…” — but, in the end, never completes his thought. Even so, on its own terms the Marvels version of the story of Gwen Stacy’s death is beautifully executed, offering a new perspective on these familiar events, and allowing us to be freshly moved by them.
Our last — well, almost — reworking of Amazing Spider-Man #121-122 is a good deal more recent than Marvels, having come out just six or so years ago. Not having regularly followed any of Marvel’s current Spider-Man titles since 2008, I didn’t even know about this one until last month, when I accidentally stumbled across a reference to it while doing research for my AS-M #121 post.
“The Night I Died” comes to us as the second story in the first issue of The Clone Conspiracy, the core title in a crossover event of the same name that spanned multiple issues of the Spider-books in 2016-17. In the first story of that issue (written, as was the rest of the core miniseries, by Dan Slott), Peter Parker discovers that his old enemy the Jackal has returned, and he’s back to his old cloning ways. Or so it appears, at least. The reality is somewhat more complicated, but all you really need to know at this point is that on the next to last page, this happens (art by Jim Cheung and John Dell):
As most of you reading this will already know, the Jackal has cloned Gwen Stacy before. More than once, in fact. So this is just another “fake” Gwen, right? Well, maybe. But also, maybe not.
Immediately after this first, 21-page story, which ends with the sudden appearance of someone else who’s supposed to be dead (Doctor Octopus, in this instance), comes the following 10-pager. As you’ll note, “The Night I Died” is pencilled by Ron Frenz, whose style evokes a “classic” Marvel look in a way that Jim Cheung’s artwork doesn’t…
Gwen tries to defend herself, hurling a lamp at the Goblin (the same lamp that Spidey will find lying on the floor when he returns to the apartment). But the villain carelessly knocks it away, and then activates one of his pumpkin devices, releasing a gas. Gwen falls unconscious, and when she awakes…
The fellow in the Anubis mask is the new-look Jackal, who proceeds to fill Gwen in on how her old biology professor, Dr. Miles Warren, had cloned her from a blood sample on several previous occasions. But that was how the old Jackal did things — this guy, who actually turns out to be one of Warren’s old clones himself (specifically, Ben Reilly, the Spider-Man clone who also goes by the name the Scarlet Spider — see, I told you it was complicated) isn’t replicating folks, but rather resurrecting them. “Your DNA was harvested from your remains,” Ben tells Gwen. “With memories that span all the way to your death.” He invites her to join his crusade to make the world a better place by bringing everyone’s dead loved ones back to life — and after being introduced to her own resurrected dad, a hale and hearty George Stacy, Gwen says yes.
Cover to Amazing Spider-Man (2015) #23 (Mar., 2017). Art by Alex Ross.
If you want to know how this all plays out over the next four issues of The Clone Conspiracy, not to mention six issues of Amazing Spider-Man, et al, you’ll have to check out the comics for yourself. (Or, if you just want a detailed synopsis, try the wikis.) For the purposes of this discussion, we’ll simply say that things ultimately don’t go at all as the new Jackal had hoped, and virtually all the new clones (or “reanimates”, or whatever you want to call them) — including both Stacys — are literally returned to the dust whence they came. Gwen, it should be noted, goes out heroically, sacrificing herself to help Spidey save the day. Before that happens, however, writer Dan Slott devotes the bulk of a whole issue of the main Amazing Spider-Man title to a conversation between Gwen and Peter.
So do the characters take this opportunity to finally put things right between themselves after all these years? Or, to put it another way, does Slott take this opportunity to resolve the whole Gwen-never-even-got-to-say-goodbye business that has irked some readers for the last fifty years?
Well, no, not really. For the most part, Pete and Gwen spend their precious time arguing about whether Gwen is really Gwen at all, as opposed to merely being a clone-by-any-other-name. As far as your humble blogger is concerned, then, Slott has really blown the chance he had here to bring some closure to “The Death of Gwen Stacy” for those fans who still needed it, and to add another layer of poignancy to the classic story for those who (like me) really didn’t. As it stands, however, the content the writer does bring to the original narrative — the major revelation that Gwen Stacy was not only conscious in the minutes before her end, but was consumed with feelings of terror, resentment, and despair — seems brutally insensitive at best, and at worst, something nearly akin to pornography. While I really don’t believe that this was the intention, “The Night I Died” could almost be taken as a cruel jest on Marvel’s part, directed at those fans who’ve complained vociferously over the last five decades about Gwen’s lack of agency, or even awareness, throughout her own entire death scene: Hey, you all said you thought Gwen should have been conscious for the whole thing, right? Well, how do you like these apples, baby? I hate to say this, because I’ve enjoyed Dan Slott’s writing a great deal on a number of other occasions — indeed, his 2014-15 collaboration with Michael Allred on Silver Surfer is one of my favorite Marvel Comics projects of the past decade — but I really wish he hadn’t followed whatever dark muse led him to come up with this one.
Cover to Amazing Spider-Man (2022) #10 (Nov., 2022). Art by John Romita, Jr., and Scott Hanna.
And perhaps there are others at Marvel who’ve been less than happy with the idea that this might be taken as the last word on Gwen Stacy’s death, and on that event’s legacy in the life of Peter Parker. Consider last year’s Amazing Spider-Man (2022) #10, a tie-in to the A.X.E.: Judgment Day crossover event, in which the Celestial called the Progenitor took the form of Gwen Stacy to judge Peter’s worthiness to live. Near the end of that issue, after giving our hero an absolving thumbs-up, the Progenitor allows him to have a few brief seconds with what is supposed to be the real Gwen (text by Zeb Wells, art by Nick Dragotta):
This Gwen doesn’t seem to have any idea that Pete is really Spider-Man. Nor does she seem to have the memories of her recently deceased “reanimate”. The latter of those factors, at least, would seem to imply that whatever and/or whoever the reanimate of The Clone Conspiracy was, she didn’t possess the real Gwen Stacy’s soul, or consciousness, or what-have-you. And so, maybe, the “end-of-life” memories that the reanimate possessed weren’t authentically those of the one and only (and deceased) Gwen Stacy, but rather false ones implanted by the new Jackal to help persuade her to join his cause. Honestly, I have no idea if that’s what Zeb Wells actually had in mind, but it’s the interpretation that my personal headcanon is happiest with.
If I’d wrapped up the writing of this blog post as recently as a week ago, the last couple of paragraphs would have been the end of it. But, thanks to an April 2nd posting by T.C. Curmudgeon (yes, him again), I’ve since learned about a new offering coming from Marvel this June — one without mention of which our present discussion would be less than complete. So, from Marvel’s solicitation info, here’s this upcoming comic’s cover:
And here’s the promotional text accompanying that Greg Land cover:
Spider-Legend Gerry Conway returns to his most famous Spider-Story for this WHAT IF along with co-writer Jody Houser! WHAT IF Gwen Stacy didn’t die on the bridge that day, but Spider-Man DID?! ’Nuff said, I presume!
As you’ll have noted from the cover image, Spider-Gwen (aka Ghost-Spider) — the superheoric, alternate-reality version of Gwen Stacy introduced by Marvel in 2014 — plays a role in this story. I haven’t mentioned Spider-Gwen up to this point simply because, despite her being Marvel’s most prominent current avatar of Gwen Stacy’s legacy as a character, above and beyond the circumstances of her demise, Spider-Gwen hasn’t (to the best of my admittedly limited knowledge) figured into any “death of Gwen” narratives before now. Obviously, that’s about to change.
Will this comic book be any good? I have no idea, but I figure that, if for no other reason than the involvement of Gerry Conway (returning to the scene of the crime, so to speak, after oh so many years), it’s bound to be at least interesting.
It should also serve as further proof, if any is needed, that the chroniclers of Spider-Man’s adventures aren’t yet done spinning variations on this fifty-year-old theme. And probably never will be.
Wraparound cover to Spider-Man (1990) #75 (Dec., 1996). Art by John Romita, Jr., and Al Milgrom.
*Of course, as most of you reading this already know, the OG Green Goblin wasn’t really dead. Or, if you look at it another way, he was dead, and would remain that way for the next twenty-three years — at which point the then editor-in-chief at Marvel, Bob Harras, appears to have decided that the only way to resolve the reputedly over-convoluted and overextended “Clone Saga” (I use the term “reputedly” because I’ve never actually read the storyline in question) was to reveal that it had all been masterminded by Norman Osborn, who’d never actually died in the first place, due to a previously unsuspected healing factor granted him by the same chemical formula that had enhanced his strength and intelligence years before… or so say the wikis, anyway.
Variant cover to Siege #1 (Mar., 2010). Art by Gabriele Dell’Otto.
Your humble blogger must confess that I’m of two minds in regards to the 1996 resurrection of Norman Osborn (and yes, I realize that that may be quite fitting, given the circumstances). On the one hand, I’m unhappy that it more or less negates the grim, but still dramatically satisfying, closure that Norman’s death provided to “The Death of Gwen Stacy” storyline in 1973. On the other hand, I’ve enjoyed any number of comics stories featuring Norman since his revival — most especially the Brian Michael Bendis-orchestrated “Dark Reign” crossover storyline of 2008-09 that saw our favorite psychopathic business magnate become the most powerful man in America, taking on the new faux-heroic identity of the Iron Patriot and leading his own team of Dark Avengers before finally meeting his comeuppance (not a fatal one, of course… been there, done that) in the Siege limited series. At the end of the day, I’d hate not to have read those comics… well, most of them, anyway.
And since it won’t matter to Marvel one way or another — the stories are there, regardless of what I think of them — I guess I’ll continue to be of two minds on the topic of Norman Osborn’s return. Why not?
Attack of the 50 Year Old Comic Books 
Another excellent write up, Alan! ASM #121 & 122 are among the most consequential issues in comics history, IMO. I agree with your assessment that they didn’t really bring on the Bronze Age but they were probably the biggest signifier of the shift in tone in mainstream superhero comics. But then, even during the last years of Stan Lee’s runs on ASM & the FF, from 1970 – ’72, the shift was already ongoing. After Kirby departed the FF, the fabled first family of Marvel began falling apart at the seams, with Crystal written out resulting in Johnny moping and sulking, Reed & Sue routinely bickering, and another round of Ben going bad as a consequence of the latest effort to cure him. And of course, there was George Stacy’s death and the drug issues in ASM. And all those other girlfriends being killed off in other mags.
A couple of days ago, I listened to a collection of songs by the Rascals, and per the liner notes, primary song-writer and lead vocalist Felix Pappalardi was noted to have been deeply psychologically impacted by the assassination of Robert F. Kennedy, and likely by that of Martin Luther King, Jr., shortly before, and his songs took on a darker tone. Then there was the ongoing Vietnam War, civil unrest, the Manson murders, the Kent State massacre and other craziness. Even the Beatles broke up! As a 10 year old in 1973, I wasn’t really paying attention to any of that at the time, but having read up on a lot of it in the decades since, I almost get the feeling a sense of gloom was falling over the U.S. in the late ’60s and early ’70s and many comics, by both Marvel and DC, were reflecting that. Gwen’s death was the comics echo of the murder of Sharon Tate or the students slain at Kent State who hadn’t even been taking part in the protests but just happened to be in the paths of the bullets.
Since the mid-to-late ’80s, I mostly quit collecting Marvel comics, although I’ve gotten a few collections here and there, including one of Spider-Gwen. But on-line, I’ve kept up with some of what I’ve missed, including the resurrection of Norman Osborn and his becoming a big bad in the Marvel universe in a way he never was in the past. Personally, I think he should have remained dead, but, well, it’s all fantasy and no need to get worked up about such things, particularly since I quit collecting them long ago anyhow. And the more recent version of Gwen’s death, with her being conscious during the whole fight, yeah, that does make it all the worse IMO too.
Likewise, even as a kid, I found it ridiculous that Harry could have been at the scene to see the confrontation between his father and Spider-Man. Moreover, that man in the shadows wasn’t drawn to look like Harry at all. Did Kane or Romita create that scene with any idea that it was supposed to be anyone specific or was that a mystery to them too until Conway decided it had to be Harry despite having written Harry as so thoroughly out of it mentally and physically weakened that he would have been in no condition to figure out where to go to find his father, never mind actually get there. Conway screwed up that aspect of the ongoing story.
Overall, though, a very effective and moving story. One of those comics seared in my memory from the first time I read it 50 years ago, give or take a few days.
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An excellent post, Alan! ASM #122 is a superior story to the climactic story before it (IMO) because it doesn’t carry the questions and controversy ASM #121 did. It’s obvious how Norman Osborne/The Green Goblin died and it’s equally obvious that it was Spider-Man’s fault only by the loosest of definitions (as was Gwen’s death, I think). ASM #122 brought most of the details of the Death of Gwen Stacy together and put them to rest with finality and dignity. Of course, the cannibalization of her remains began almost immediately.
First though, to try and take the points in order, in regard to the mysterious stranger watching Spider-Man and the Goblin’s last fight, Gerry Conway may have been unsure of who the guy was, but I think it’s pretty obvious that colorist Dave Hunt thought it was Luke Cage. This may have been only due to the plug that ASM #123 featured the “Hero for Hire,” but Hunt certainly colored the stranger in Cage’s iconic yellow shirt and blue pants, anyway, didn’t he? Is this definitive? No, not in the bright primary four-color world of comics in 1973, but I wouldn’t be surprised.
As to #122 itself, I’m not a Gerry Conway fan either, but I really responded to the line “crucified, not on a cross of gold, but one of humble tin.” That had an effect on me both in 1973 and as I read it again in 2023. Also, that final scene of MJ not leaving Peter alone the way he wanted her to was not only well-written and drawn, but painted the writing right up there on the wall that, as far as Marvel was concerned, Pete and MJ were the only “ship” that mattered.
Oh, and as to this idea that “Peter did all that he could do to save Gwen,” maybe this is just fifty years of hindsight talking, but instead of grabbing her by the leg with his webbing, couldn’t he have just caught her in a net (as he has done in an instant many times) and saved her that way? I don’t recall anyone ever suggesting that possiblity, so I’m just throwing it out there.
Gwen Stacy’s death was a horrible tragedy in the life of Peter Parker/Spider-Man and while the edict from Stan or Roy or whomever, that Gwen never be brought back, robbed us of not only a great legacy character who didn’t deserve to be fridged (or whatever the kids are calling it these days), but also stole the woman I believe was the great love of Spider-Man’s life. I don’t know from Bronze ages or Silver ages or Chocolate ages with the peanut butter nougat, but the death of Gwen, who need I say, I greatly preferred over Mary Jane Watson, hit me hard and I’m pretty sure I stopped reading Spider-Man for a while after that as well.
As much as I hate the fact that Gwen never came back, I respect Marvel for keeping the edict in place and intact. However, this only makes the “clone” and the “What If” work arounds so much more difficult to deal with. I realize having various villains and multi-dimensional trickery drag Gwen out to torment Peter with from time to time was and is very much “on-brand” for the character, but every time I saw them do it, I just wished they’d leave the poor girl (and by extention Peter) alone. I enjoyed Marvels when it came out, but it didn’t really answer the question they thought they were doing such a good job of answering, so what was the point? The fact is, Marvel has definitively answered the question of how Gwen died on several occasions (at least, that’s how I read it)…we just don’t want to hear them.
Thanks for a well-written and thoughtful post, Alan. At least we can all sleep easy knowing that Gwen didn’t have a twin sister or Mephisto didn’t have another deal to keep regurgitating this storyline with. Great job. RIP Gwen Stacy…we lost you too soon.
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Even now, revisiting those scenes, even just in my mind, of Peter looking very traumatized and sick with vengeance on his mind (apparently overwhelming the cold he was suffering from earlier in the day), and then the finale, when he’s snapped at MJ and appears ready to convulse in sobs as she closes the door to stay with him despite his vicious putdown of her, makes tears well up in my eyes. Very powerful art & writing.
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Gwen’s biggest legacy is that she died when she and Peter were truly, deeply in love with nothing to mar her memory. No one can ever live up to that, not even MJ.
And Spider-Gwen? My problem is that she is in no way similar to 616’s version except her hair color. Take away the Gwen part and she’s not very interesting. I didn’t like the writing on her first volume or the way they just changed things on her Earth just for the sake of change with little regard for making sense.
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I first saw this story in Marvel Tales around 1980 (if memory serves). Unfortunately, the powerful last page was omitted (Marvel had to make cuts to stay within the 18-page count.) So, I was left scratching my head about a letter in an issue of ASM back in the 130s, talking about “how MJ stayed with Peter even after the terrible things he had said to her on page 28.” Marvel eventually reprinted the story in full a few years later. Peter was so distraught that he told MJ to “get out here.” I’m surprised that no one has fixed this in subsequent reprints.
As far as Gerry Conway “returning to the scene of the crime,” the main story in The Spectacular Spider-man Annual #8 features a Gwen clone. Though Peter knows she’s not Gwen from the start, it does allow Conway (via Pete’s thought balloons) to dredge up and resolve some of the unresolved guilt and anger from this classic storyline.
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There was also the Sins Past arc in Amazing Spiderman 509-514 that revealed that Gwen had an affair with Norman Osborn and gave birth to his twins.
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The real sins there were of the editor and writer. A loathsome story.
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Now it’s universally recognized as one of the worst comic stories ever. Twenty years ago, when it was originally published, there were actually some fans defending it, believe it or not.
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At the risk of losing all credibility with some folks here — I have to admit to having kinda liked “Sins Past” when it first came out. What can I say? I was a fan of the writer, J. Michael Straczynski, and was willing to follow his lead… well, not *anywhere*, necessarily, but maybe to some places I shouldnt’ve. (For the record, I still admire the majority of JMS’s run… the only post-Spider-Mobile run of AS-M that I’ve followed for more than a few issues.) I did come to see the error of my ways in time… so I hope I’ll be forgiven for my temporary lapse in judgment back in ’04.
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Much as I love Babylon 5, none of JMS’ comics work clicks with me. It always feels just off what it should be.
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Blasphemy, Alan! Now that you’ve admitted your sin, say five Mary Janes and perform three acts of gwentrition. Amen.
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I’ll save the debate for when you cover the story here in 2054.
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That was retconned away a few years ago, as I understand. Thank goodness.
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Well, I’m certainly happy I never saw that one. Thanks, Alan, for the news it was retconned into existence. Whoever wrote it should be tossed out the airlock with it.
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Sorry…I meant to say “out of existence.” Why does Word Press not have an edit feature?
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This sounds more like a Not Brand Ecch storyline—hilarious!
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This didn’t have the shock value of Gwen’s death but I think it’s a much stronger issue, far better written.
The brutal way Peter treats Harry is a side of his character that occasionally appeared in the Silver Age. When Dr. Doom captures Flash Thompson by mistake, Peter’s first thought is that he’ll kill Flash and Peter will never have to put up with his bullying again. Of course he immediately realizes that letting Flash die would be wrong, but it’s a startling moment.
Along with Dorma, DC Silver Age fans had seen deaths including Steve Trevor, Ferro Lad, Dan Garrett and Doc Magnus so no, not that revolutionary, but I read Gwen’s death as a tween and it felt like a much bigger deal. Maybe not bigger than Ferro Lad — that one left me shell-shocked — but that was an eternity ago for someone my age.
I disagree with your point about Iron Man: the way he’s seen in-universe hardly influenced reader perception (as far as I know). And even in-universe he’s an Avenger, which is usually a mark of being a good guy. But Janice didn’t have Gwen’s long history and Tony’s never been as unlucky in love as Peter. Though I thought Archie Goodwin did a good job giving Tony his first serious relationship (I don’t count Pepper for various reasons).
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“I disagree with your point about Iron Man: the way he’s seen in-universe hardly influenced reader perception (as far as I know). ”
That’s fair. If I was going to get into in-universe perceptions, then I really should have also included the effects of the Bugle’s demonization of Spider-Man, which I didn’t.
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Reading the older Iron Man’s it’s odd to see how Stan and Don only gradually hit on that angle. First Shellhead’s just “Iron Man, who happens to be fighting some crook at Stark Industries” then he’s “Iron Man, a friend of Tony Stark” and then he’s the bodyguard.
Len Strazewski wrote Prototype for Malibu because as a business writer/comics writer he wanted to do an Iron Man that had some relation to how real corporations worked.
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As for Conway plotting without an end point, I have some sympathy for that, seeing how many writers have their endpoint nixed or leave the book before the resolution. But back then, that was a lot less common.
I hated Norman’s resurrection and didn’t care for anything that sprang out of it (Spider-Girl did a good job bringing him back in her continuity though). As a friend of mine once pointed out, the goblin formula has become much more powerful in hindsight: healing factor, Norman (and Hobgoblin) showing greater physical power than Silver Age Goblin ever did.
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My personal opinion is that the end of the Silver Age was Jack Kirby leaving Marvel to go back to DC. That in itself was an absolutely seismic shift. But when you then factor in WHAT Kirby did at DC in the early 1970s, the continuing multi-book “Fourth World” epic that addressed some genuinely adult political & social themes and which was for the time incredibly dark, it really set the stage for the entire Bronze Age… including, as you observe, stories such as Amazing Spider-Man #121-122.
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Great point about Kirby coming to DC signalling the beginning of the Bronze Age. On this blog I had previously cited O’Neil and Adams on Green Lantern/Green Arrow in 1970 as being a major shift from the Silver to Bronze age with the title’s “relevance” theme being new to U.S. super-hero comics (but already well explored in various E.C. anthology comics almost 20 years earlier). But Kirby and all of the new characters and concepts he had brought to DC…good call!
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GL/GA #76 was cover dated April, 1970, whereas Jimmy Olsen #133 (Kirby’s return to DC) was cover dated October, 1970, so I still tend to lean towards the former as the herald of the Bronze Age…but Kirby certainly consolidated the fact that a new era in comics had begun.
I’m surprised no one has simply used the price increase (from 12 to 15 cents in the U.S.) as the demarcation between “ages.”
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Heavy, heavy, heavy.
I was a pre-teen when ASM 122 was published, but even some of my teen friends were shaken by this story arc.
Great art by Kane, Romita, and company.
Not certain if anyone has mentioned it, but at the Green Goblin’s demise there is a caption referring to “a cross of gold.” This is a nod to what was the most riveting speech of its era, delivered by William Jennings Bryan in 1896:
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cross_of_Gold_speech
As for ASM 123, we see another great storyline where the pain of Peter Parker’s grief is contrasted with the pain of racial disenfranchisement in the form of Luke Cage, and shows in two men literally struggling to cope with their respective burdens.
Below is a link to a page in ASM 124, the last one actually, where Peter would still have that crazed look on his face after losing Gwen. Once he battles the Man-Wolf Spidey seems to snap back into his formerly witty self, and so he would be in the rest of series.
https://2.bp.blogspot.com/kd2B-iktZC_K9ij1HGagdjpcl7RAeLLJKF98jx_P1TNhJoxCYMm5lGrQukezDPbv7XC7MEVYBWFa=s0
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When Cage tosses out “Motherless freaking scum!” as an insult in 123 I assumed it was a real swear word, not having been exposed to the term it’s a euphemism for. Ah, innocence.
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In regard to other Silver/Bronze age shifts, perhaps one early marker I haven’t seen much remarked upon was the murder of the original Doom Patrol in 1968. Of course, eventually they were all brought back to life but it was about 9 years before Robotman resurfaced and much longer for the rest of them. They were only killed off due to being cancelled as a result of relatively low sales and Arnold Drake decided to go out with a bang, but wound up being fired before the comic was completed due to a pay dispute.
From an era wherein most superhero comics were still mostly light-hearted, escapist fare in which the heroes still mostly always won, even if it typically took much longer for Marvel heroes to do so than DC heroes, having all the heroes die in a story that was the last of the series and didn’t turn up to be a dream, or some sort of LIfe-Model-Decoy standins, or some sort of simulation, but the actual heroes actually “dying” (at least as much as comicbook characters can really die), and wasn’t even followed up on for several years must have been shocking for its time. A harbinger of even darker things to come.
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Commander Benson puts 1968 as the end of his personal Silver Age due to the death of the DP, changes to Wonder Woman and the Metal Men, the turnover of staff at DC and Marvel expanding its line. I identify with this choice, though it’s not a hill I’d die on.
Of course it’s possible to pick an end for the Silver Age and still have the Bronze Age start later, much as there’s a gap between Golden Ending and Silver Beginning. The latest start I’ve heard for the Bronze Age is the debut of the new X-Men though that’s too late for my taste.
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Also of note, to my mind, is that after the debut of Captain Mar-Vell in 1967, it wasn’t until 1972, with the debut of Luke Cage, that any significant new superheroes were introduced in their own ongoing series. And even before Marv came along there was a lull since Daredevil was introduced in 1964, although several new characters were introduced by Kirby in the Fantastic Four who would later get their own series. But the lull from 1968 to 1970 was more pronounced. Several characters got their own self-titled series, but other than Mar-Vell, they’d all been around for years already. Not that it’s bad for a company to concentrate on what they already have rather than slinging out new characters every other month, which can lead to overkill and monotony if the newbies aren’t really all that good or interesting.
The argument that best works for me is 1970 for being both the year that Kirby switched to DC and introduced his “4th World” concepts there, as well as Thomas launching Conan at Marvel, a very different type of “hero” in comics, one who would slay his enemies without hesitation or regret. In 1960, no mainstream comics company would have dared to produce a comic like Conan the Barbarian, and likely the CCA would not have approved it, at least not unless the character was seriously watered down to be essentially unrecognizable as being the same character Robert E. Howard created decades earlier. But within just a decade the comics culture had changed just enough that a moderately watered-down Conan was not only possible in a mainstream comic but actually succeeded in the marketplace. Even though Conan was in his own separate, ancient world, rather than part of the regular Marvel universe, aspects of the series gradually permeated within much of the latter, certainly by 1973.
Spider-Man nearly beating the Green Goblin to death may be counted as an example. Of course, Peter stopped himself before going that far and did regret that he’d lost control, but the only previous time he’d gotten even nearly so enraged was in the Master Planner story by Ditko. Norman’s death – and it was meant to be a permanent death – wound up echoing that of Zemo in Avengers #15. Captain America had a serious grudge against Zemo for his having caused what was then believed to have been the actual death of Bucky Barnes. But there really wasn’t much of a fight between Cap & Zemo — no punches thrown or anything like that between them; Zemo aims his death ray at Cap, Cap uses his shield to blind Zemo, who mis-aims and shoots at a conveniently nearby rocky hill, resulting in a landslide that kills Zemo. Likewise, Norman is killed while trying to murder Peter and is instead kiled by his own mechanism. Captain America, Marvel’s most upstanding superhero, couldn’t be seen purposely killing anyone, not even in the midst of battle, but Zemo’s crime had been too enormous to allow him to go into the typical recycle bin of most baddies — recurringly seeming to die but always coming back, sooner or later. He had to die, but it had to be by an accidental means by his own attempt to kill Cap. I don’t know if Conway or Kane took any inspiration from that story, but the same aspects applied — Norman’s crime was too enormous to let him leave this story alive or even hospitalized. He had to pay the ultimate price. By 1973, Spider-Man could be seen nearly beating the Green Goblin to death, but still, this wasn’t Conan the Barbarian or Tomb of Dracula. Unlike them, gbvfb Spidey couldn’t be seen to purposely kill anyone. Hence, like Zemo, Norman had to die essentially by his own hand during his final attempt to kill the hero.
Notably, it was in a much darker age of comics that Norman was brought back to life and not only kept on living but became an even more prominent villain than ever before, now fully immune from ever having to pay any serious price for having committed murder, merely relatively brief inconveniences, like the Joker, Dr. Doom, Red Skull, etc. Heck, if Zemo hadn’t been essentially an ersatz Red Skull and his mantle taken up by his deranged son, he might have been brought back to life also, particularly as his key victim has since turned out to not be so dead after all.
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Phantom Stranger debuted in that interregnum you’re pointing out.
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I was mainly thinking on the Marvel side of things as far as new superheroes, but fair point. There may be other entirely new DC characters introduced and getting their own series during that period that I’m not aware of.
Still if Phantom Stranger was the only entirely new superhero to debut and get his own series at DC prior to Kirby’s launching of the Fourth World saga, that sort of emphasizes the lull during that period, particularly as P.S. was sort of on the fringes as a superhero, not having a typical costume and his stories, from what I’ve seen, not really typical superhero fare either.
Which also rather points to the resurgence of new characters in the early ’70s mostly consisting of characters on the fringes if they could be regarded as “superheroes” at all. The most successful new superheroes from that period (’70 – ’74) were Luke Cage, Shang Chi and Ghost Rider, at least as far as lasting well past three years prior to cancellation, and I doubt Luke, Chi or Johnny Blaze were the sort of superheroes who would have even been considered for publication in their own titles during the Silver Age, due to fear of racist and/or conservative Christian backlash. Phantom Stranger sort of fit in with the new dynamic soon to emerge of new heroes who didn’t fit the old norms, even as reset by Lee, Kirby & Ditko in the early ’60s.
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Good points Fred. Creeper and Hawk and Dove debuted in the late 1960s but neither took off — though I’d say both fit the not-your-typical-hero pattern you’re talking about.
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Phantom Stranger actually debuted in his own series that lasted for six issues in 1952.
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But then he vanished until the Silver Age version appeared. As a kid at the time with zero knowledge of ancient comics, he seemed to be a completely new character.
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Very interesting and insightful post, Alan. While I remember this story well, there a few points I forgot. I did not recall that it was mentioned that Harry used LSD previously in 97-98. I believe you are correct in that Stan just mentioned that Harry was taking “pills”…I don’t believe it was ever clearly referenced what Harry was taking. Regarding Norman’s resurrection, I was not reading Spider-Man then but heard about it and never cared for that. I certainly don’t like the idea that it means there is no real closure for Gwen’s death which is unfortunate. With respect to the subplot about the mystery man (who turned out to be Harry) I agree with the idea that it’s likely that Gerry had no idea who that would be at the time. He did something very similar with a mystery at the end of S-M 115…that Hammerhead found about something that Doc Ock wanted from Aunt May…which was revealed in S-M 131 to be a nuclear reactor! This was one of the most preposterous plot reveals ever (Poverty stricken Aunt May inherits this?! ) It was never addressed or explained in later issues and does seem like the sort of plot development that Gerry just came up with on the spur of the moment. Gerry admitted in later interviews that he sometimes came up with subplots and had no idea at the time how they would be resolved.
Regarding the epilogue of S-M 122, I agree that it was very well handled by Gerry and John. However an interesting thought occurred to me. If you had been a reader at this time who had only been reading this book for about a year, you would have been really confused by how harsh Peter was to MJ, since she had been barely seen in the book for the past year. In addition the previously mentioned reprint of 116-118 (from Spectacular Spider-Man magazine 1) added more confusion than you may have realized. MJ was featured in 116-118 as together with Harry but that was really from 1968…MJ had cruelly dumped Harry back in #97…presumably Gerry decided to imply by these issues that they were back together again (that also seems implied in the beginning of 121)…but that was never really made clear. However, if you had been reading Spider-Man for the past 6 years (as I had), you understood Peter’s comments in the Epilogue for many reasons…that all had to do with Stan Lee. Although Stan had co-created MJ, for some reason it appears that he eventually decided he just did not like her (or at least did not have the best opinion of her). Yes It’s true. After about a year in the book, he had Peter thinking thoughts about MJ like “That gal’s as pretty as a pumpkin seed and just about as shallow.” And we started to see less and less of MJ and much more, of course, of Gwen. Then there was the moment in issue 97 where MJ dumps Harry and makes a play for Peter in front of Harry and does it again in 105 when she knows Peter is back with Gwen. It is hard to see what Gerry saw in MJ when you look at that. It is also clear that for a long time Peter did not have the best opinion of MJ. If there is any reason that I favored Gwen, it’s because of Stan; he just wrote Gwen as a more likable character. I never thought of Gwen as generic or bland, just loving and kind. Of course Gerry worked very hard over the next few years to change MJ and make her a more likable character and he certainly deserves some credit for that, but I’ll always be sad about the death of Gwen.
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Here’s my hypothesis: Conway was twenty years old, not completely mature, and preferred Mary Jane because she was “hotter” than Gwen. MJ’s first appearance in ASM would easily give a young lad such an impression.
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LOL! Thank you for reminding me of the ridiculous “Aunt May inherits a nuclear reactor” storyline! I hope Alan read those issues in real time because I’d really like for him to cover them on this blog.
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Were those pre- or post-Spider-Mobile? If pre-, then I probably read them… though I appear to have blocked them from my mind. 🙂
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The Spider-Mobile first appeared in S-M 126 as a concept; first driven by Spidey in S-M 130. Doc Ock tried to marry Aunt May to get the nuclear reactor (!) in S-M 131. The Spider-Mobile (Ugh) was brought back in S-M 141, which you noted was your last issue for awhile. As I recall, S-M 141 and 142 with a fake Mysterio, were not 2 of the better issues of Spider-Man. And I say that keeping in mind that while I am not the biggest fan of Conway (totally agreed with you comments about the Mr. Kline storyline), generally speaking his first tenure on Spider-Man was pretty good (except of course for Gwen’s death).
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Lee & Thomas essentially forced Conway to incorporate the Spider-Mobile into the comics, part of some sort of deal with a toy company Lee got Marvel into. Which explains why the characters in the story who got Spidey to build the buggy were dopplegangers for Lee & Thomas. Of course, despite being enough of a genius to create his webshooters, Peter Parker knew next-to-nothing about cars and wisely Conway didn’t pretend that he could just whip one out in his spare time, but instead called upon his good ol’ pal Johnny Storm for help. I took it as a whimsical lark that provided some relatively light-hearted aspects to a series that had gotten rather grim of late. Also, it was pretty clear that the buggy would not be a regular feature of the comics as it was plain ridiculous to have Spidey riding around in that buggy looking for crime to bust.
Back in the 1970s, for me New York City was a distant realm that I mostly only knew about from fiction, primarily Marvel comics and a few movies. But having lived in or in the vicinity of a few other big cities, including San Francisco and Los Angeles, I knew that traffic in those cities was horrendous and getting from point A to point B within such cities, even if only a few miles apart, could be time-consuming. In other words, in real life, the Bat-Mobile would spend quite a bit of time stuck in traffic jams rather than going at 120 miles per hour to wherever the Joker was committing his latest crimes, etc. At least during the early morning and late afternoon periods of peak traffic –and in some portions of the biggest metropolitan areas, in my experience, heavy traffic is nearly non-stop most of the day, aside from the wee hours of the morning, and sometimes even then. Daredevil swinging around the city on his magic cable is ridiculous when you consider it rationally, but then so is the thought of him driving around in a Devil-mobile, even leaving out his blindness (but that didn’t stop him from piloting an Avengers Quinjet!). The Spider-Mobile was very silly but I think Conway had a bit of fun with it before ditching it into one of the watery graveyards of cars.
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Another fascinating and insightful piece, Alan; thank you.
John Romita rightly gets plaudits galore for his ASM work but I think Gil Kane’s storytelling in these two issues is outstanding. His pacing and the way that he varies viewpoints throughout the story from panel to panel to extract maximum impact are astonishing.
I’m glad you highlighted the epilogue – that last page, and in particular the bottom tier of panels, is one of the finest and most emotional sequences of the Bronze Age. I’d argue that the “click” sound effect in the last panel has even greater impact than the famous/notorious “snap” in the previous issue.
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Apologies in advance if I’m double posting– WordPress and/or Firefox are behaving very abnormally lately.
Thank you for reviewing “The Night I Died.” I didn’t get into this on my own blog because I felt it didn’t matter much to the larger “Clone Conspiracy” storyline and also (really moreso) because I absolutely hated it. Sometimes the negativity in my blogging gets to me, and in this instance I figured I’d simply skip this one rather than waste time and energy ripping it apart. The fact that you also disliked it is a comfort to me—sometimes I’m unsure exactly how much my Gwen bias colors my perspective, but my own reaction to this was very similar to your own: the page where they show Gwen’s death felt like I was reading some weird kinda torture-porn.
ASM #122 was worlds better than #121; in fact it probably features some of Conway’s best work. “So do the proud men die: crucified, not on a cross of gold—but on a stake of humble tin.” It’s not Shakespeare, but still rather poetic. And Peter’s rage and pain are absolutely palpable throughout the issue. Many kudos to Kane and Romita as well for their portrayal of this.
As far as the Bronze Age goes, I think most of us agree that you can’t pin it down to just one issue, although ASM #121 is still certainly a useful mile marker. Speaking more generally, I think we can all agree that ASM 121-122 is definitely part of the Bronze Age; the Silver Age is well over at this point.
Have modern What Ifs changed all that much? Cuz it feels a bit redundant to call this latest series “Dark”—aren’t all the stories dark?
One great thing about the Spider-Moblie: it saved you from having to suffer through the original clone saga!
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And for that, at least, I will be forever thankful. 🙂
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The What Ifs with happy endings really stood out, like “What If Rick Jones Became the Hulk?” Turns out Bruce gets a happy ending while Rick gets thrown into the Negative Zone, defeats Annihilus and becomes hero a thousand worlds, all the while spouting juvenile delinquent dialog (“Soldiers packing heaters — want to rumble with Hulk!”).
A friend of mine argued that What If Gwen Lives (and What Ifs in general) ignores the ripple effect: if Peter doesn’t wind up in San Francisco to help Jack Russell against the sorcerer Moondark (which he did while going walkabout after Gwen’s death), who saves the city from falling under his spell? It’s a fair point, though Moondark’s such a schmuck I imagine he’d have ended up werewolf kibble if Peter hadn’t come along.
One thing I hated about the year or so ahead was that Peter got so insufferably angsty over Gwen’s death it dragged down all the stories (I was reading my brother’s copies). Now that I’m married I can appreciate the trauma Peter must have gone through much better — eventually I’ll reread those issues and see if youthful inexperience of grief was my real problem.
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I was probably overly sensitive as a kid, but one of the reasons I came to prefer Marvel over DC even by age 8 in 1970 was because the Marvel characters struck me as having more real personalities. Maybe not sufficiently to Alan Moore’s liking, but enough for there to be a noticeable difference to my younger self. In 1973, a favorite cat of mine, Koko, died (my family got her as a kitten in 1968 while we were in Japan), my first experience of loss.
As a child, I didn’t experience the death of any person I was very close to, but over the decades between then and now that I’m 60, I’ve had much more experience with loss, of my mother a little over 9 years ago, as well as of other relatives, friends and co-workers, young and old, as well as of people I didn’t know but knew of and admired for their work, etc. I also know that people grieve in different ways. Some almost seem to waive it off pretty quickly, others become nearly incapacitated by grief. And, as evident by the letters responding to ASM #121 & 122, people can be emotionally impacted even by the “death” of fictional characters.
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Ditto Ferro Lad a few years earlier. Legion fans being passionate, even Star Boy getting kicked out for killing in self-defense produced a furor in the letter columns.
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They really need more balance between happiness and disaster in their What If stories. There was very little suspense about how they would end, at least in the old days.
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For balance there’s Fred Hembeck’s “What If Peter Parker’s Uncle … Were Odin?” Odin busts the burglar, Peter continues his showbiz career as a regular on the Ed Sullivan Show, but when the show gets busted his career tanks. Tragedy and triumph in one panel and some captions.
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As always, I’m going to contain my comments to the issue in question and what happened beforehand. Re-reading ASM #122 this weekend, as well as your blog post Alan, reminded me of the great anticipation and interest with which I read it the first time in 1973. Although I remained absolutely furious about Gwen’s death (still am), I had to read ASM #122 when it came out to see what Spider Man would do.
I was not disappointed. As others have noted, the artwork and the storytelling are gripping. Peter funneling his grief into a thirst for vengeance, his bulging eyes, his angrily dismissive manner towards anything that stands in the way of that vengeance. Re-reading the issue now, I remember being transfixed with it the whole way through. I was very happy to see Norman Osborn die for murdering Gwen and equally happy that Spider Man did not cause his death (if he had been Daredevil and had a specific sense that a lethal weapon was coming maybe I would buy that his ducking in some way was responsible for the death, but even then, I’d say no).
These powerful elements to the story, at least perhaps to me in 1973, overshadowed some ill-advised moments for me. The whole scene where Spider Man shoos the police away from Gwen and hugs her and talks sweetly to her in their presence, I thought extremely unwise. Wouldn’t SOMEONE be able to draw the line between Spider Man and Peter Parker with the most minimal of investigation? Also, Spidey telling the police that he killed her? I don’t care how upset he was, I can’t imagine that he would say that and then web away. Also, I think that it strains the credibility of Joe Robertson’s character that he would help Spider Man given the fact that Robertson has heard about the confession and Spider Man explicitly refuses to address it with him (legalities aside, Robertson is a newsman, right?). And if ever Robertson had a reason to be turned off by Spidey webbing up JJJ’s mouth, that time would be it given that (with the confession), Jameson actually has support for his vendetta.
By the way, in that scene I found it interesting that Robbie finds out about Gwen’s death from a story by Phil Fox, a name I don’t remember hearing before or afterwards. I did remember that in the 1994 series “Marvels”, the Daily Bugle photographer who befriends Gwen and then is distraught by her death and retires was named Phil. I went back and looked, and his name was Phil Sheldon (or Seldon I now forget which again) which is too bad because if it was Phi Fox, I would have been VERY impressed.
Regarding the ending, I remember being furious at seeing Mary Jane coming in until I saw Peter rightfully slam her for her usual personality. I give credit to Gerry Conway for doing this given his preference for Mary Jane, which at least shows that he recognized the MJ that existed at that time. I confess that I was also furious when I re-read the story today.
However, after having perspective clear away instinct, I realize that MJ’s reaction is, indeed, highly realistic. Gwen was MJ’s friend (even if objectively MJ was not a very good one to Gwen) and Gwen and MJ hung out with each other a lot. If one considers that MJ’s attitude and actions in general are ways to cope with general unhappiness with her life (not that this excuses how she treated Harry, Gwen and Peter), having a friend of yours murdered is not something you can run away from and ignore. MJ likely was crushed herself and—while I saw it in 1973 and my initial review today as moving in on Peter—she more likely genuinely wanted to grieve with Peter and talk through what happened to Gwen. Looking at it this way, I appreciate the ending a lot more.
That said, I’ve read in several places how Gerry Conway felt that he had to avoid conventions and that he feels the wrath of Gwen Stacy fans wherever he goes. It’s hard to feel sorry for Conway when he continues to stick his finger in the eye of Gwen Stacy fans by denigrating Gwen (“more a wish fulfillment object than a person”?!? I really want to punch Conway in the mouth for that one) and saying how much better Mary Jane is, particularly in such unvarnished, candid terms as he usually does. Seeing the reaction to Gwen’s death, he would have been smart to try and fade into the background, noting that this was not primarily his idea and that it was a group effort. Instead, his continued comments over the years make him a lightning rod for anger, and, truthfully, I think that he really enjoys angering Gwen fans.
A few notes here and there:
“Cross of Gold”: I was a history prodigy growing up, so even as a 12-year-old I knew that the phrase referenced a famous William Jennings Bryan speech. I don’t remember if I felt this way back then, but this time around I found the reference here curious because Bryan wasn’t talking about life or death, but about using silver currency to pay for items rather than being required to use gold.
Spidey’s suddenly disappeared cold: I can only speak for myself, but I’ve found on many occasions that I’d be feeling terrible with a cold, but then when I am forced to do something that gets the adrenaline going and makes me forget about it (such as performing in a play, making a presentation at work, shoveling snow) it actually goes away for good. Now, this only happens if the cold is on its way out and part of the problem is that you are always thinking of it making you feel worse and, of course, if you don’t have a fever to go with it. In any event, I didn’t see it as unrealistic that after seeing his girlfriend murdered that the cold became a non-issue.
Harry’s LSD use: Alan, I just went back to your review of ASM #96-98 and your reproduction of page 10 from ASM # 97 strongly suggests (as does your comment concerning that page) that Harry’s problems then stemmed from pills that came in bottles, not “acid”. Then again, you would not likely get drugs like that from pushers like the one who shows up in the story, but (once I was old enough to know, but NOT from personal experience) I assumed that the drugs involved in that story were amphetamines or depressants.
Finally, another reason why I was glad to see that Norman Osborn died in ASM #122 (did anything happen with him after that. NANANANANANA! I’m not listening!!), is that it was a fitting ending that did not dilute the importance of the event. One thing that I always found unsatisfying about Llyra in the Sub-Mariner series, is that Llyra killed Lady Dorma AND, a few months later, Namor’s father, yet even though Llyra showed up again and again over the years, that seems to be forgotten by Namor even though, with someone like Namor, you would think that he wouldn’t rest until he killed Llyra.
OK, I know I said finally in the last paragraph, but I have a confession to make. I was so upset about Gwen Stacy’s death and so disliked MJ that I WELCOMED when Gwen appeared to return, even when it turned out to be a clone. In fact, I was disappointed when Peter didn’t wind up with the clone! And I was angry with Gerry Conway all over again when I found out that in a 1980s story, Conway showed that she was not really Gwen’s clone after all.
Sorry to be long winded as always. That’s why it takes me forever to post comments to your blog posts Alan. I know that I can’t be concise.
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I’m hardly the guy to point fingers at someone for long-windedness, Stu. 🙂
Incidentally, Bugle reporter Phil Fox was an ongoing supporting character in Hero for Hire. I’ll leave it at that, just in case you’re reading that series as part of your rolling Marvel 50-year retrospective.
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Not really (I did read them back in the day though and maybe someday will weigh in on your wonderful blog post on issue 1), but I guess that the fact that they wound up using Hero for Hire in ASM #123 made it logical to mention Phil Fox in ASM #122 (as you probably surmised I did not read the ASM #123 part of your blog post yet).
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I think the poetry of “cross of gold” works even though there’s no connection to Bryant’s speech or the silver issue.
2)Conway also gave Peter an ulcer for a while, then forgot about it.
3)Good point about Llyra. Namor did slap around Attuma in a Defenders story for having kept him from saving Llyra, that’s about it.
4)If you’re talking about the story where the High Evolutionary says the Jackal couldn’t really clone anyone, they retconned that retcon out later.
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Remember, Bryan’s “cross of gold” phrase was itself a reference to Christ’s crucifixion. Gerry Conway was using that phrase with great irony in that the Green Goblin was anything but a Messianic figure or martyr in his well-deserved demise.
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Great observations, Stu. Rereading ASM #122, that scene between Spider-Man, Robbie & JJJ also struck me as seriously odd, and that Robbie helped Spidey by itself would have been sufficient cause for JJJ to fire him, not to mention that Norman turning up dead later that afternoon, and not in his Goblin costume, would have really inflamed JJJ’s anti-Spider-Man mania, particularly as he and Norman were friends, at least as much as either of them really had genuine friends. Robbie would have had to do some very quick thinking and talking to convince Jonah that he wasn’t helping Spider-Man, but even Robbie must have felt that Spider-Man had put him in a very bad position. Robbie likely figured out from the evidence that the Green Goblin was tied in with the deaths of both Gwen and Norman, and maybe even suspect that Norman was the Goblin. Typically, Conway didn’t really follow up on the implications of that scene.
Similarly, the scene with the police wherein Spidey “confesses” that he “killed” Gwen, mystified my 10 year old self — even if he felt responsible, why would he say that out loud to the police???? Maybe Conway was trying to convey that Peter was seriously out of it psychologically and not thinking straight at all. Not to mention once again setting Spider-Man up for yet more trouble with the law, now suspecting him of a double homicide as well as reinforcing the idea that he may have purposely caused George Stacy’s death and murdered his daughter as well. I forget if it was Wein or Wolfman who sort of waived all that away even without Spider-Man having to somehow explain the true circumstances of the tragedies or provide documentation that Norman Osborn was the original Green Goblin.
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I still have problems with Llyra not being killed, if not by Namor, then by Atlantis. Surely killing the Queen (or princess) of Atlantis is a crime punishable by death.
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Somewhere around 1979 — which would have made me 14 — a slightly older friend decided to stop collecting comics and handed down a handful to me, including — incredibly — ASM #122 and Avengers #93. The main “get” for me was that extended Adams story, but it was obvious the Spidey tale was an equally fortuitous windfall and arguably the more important of the two.
At the time, Norman’s demise seemed astonishingly brutal, though of course soon enough comics would present material that made it seem tame.
It’s interesting that in the pages you shared from that Slott story, Gwen is awake but immobile, and thinks, “I can’t feel anything. And yet every part of me hurts.” Is the implication that she’s already a sustained an injury that’s paralyzed her? Would that factor at all into the “snap” that finished the job?
Those panels from ASM #10 (2022) show we’ve come a long way in art since 1973, albeit entirely in the wrong direction.
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Nick Dragotta’s style isn’t particularly to my taste — I much prefer that of Jim Cheung (the main artist on Clone Conspiracy, whose art I included a sample of as well) — but I figure “different strokes for different folks”. Not every contemporary comics artist draws the same way.
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Want to thank you , Alan for all your exhaustive research on this whole Gwen Stacy/ Green Goblin thing. As usual you’ve done a splendid job going over so many different aspects of it. I loved the story then for it’s incredible emotional impact. It made the comics seem so much more real, that all this high adventuring had consequences. I’ll thank Conway for that, if nothing else. I know you’re weren’t a Legion of Super Heroes fan but the whole episode reminded me of the death of Ferro Lad in that book and the lasting consequences that event had on the future of the Legion.
Now, I read your blogs because they help me reminisce about all the fun I had in all the hours I was reading the comics back in the day. However I stopped buying and collecting them in about ’85. By then it was mostly just Legion as well, hardly any Marvel. I mention this to preface that I was completely unaware of this Gwen cloning or of bringing back Norman Osborn from the dead! I thought they had made Harry into the new Green Goblin? So I just have to register my utter sadness at that whole turn of events. Why ruin a perfect, dramatic, powerful storyline with all this ridiculous cloning and all the other shenanigans’? I know the answer; because it’s comics and no one is ever really dead. Well, my answer to that is, hey writers how about coming up with some new material? Build pathos and drama with YOUR characters, then you can kill them off, if you’ve a mind to? Just strikes me as lazy story telling.
Okay, having said my piece, I’ll climb down off my soapbox. Again , thanks for all the effort!
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Not only was Norman’s return a bad idea, it’s very out of character for him to be spinning a subtle web to destroy Peter — it’s much more in character for him to get back on his glider and pound the shit out of Peter hand to hand.
Yes, Harry became the Green Goblin for several years, then eventually died redeeming himself. Though the One More Day excrescence brought him back too.
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Here’s a fun topic for debate. Which story is loathed more? The Death of Gwen Stacy or One More Day? You’re welcome…
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For me, definitely One More Day. Joe Quesada succumbing to the sense of “if only Spider-Man were just like when I read him as a kid, he’d be so much more successful.” Plus I hated the premise: disposing of his marriage like that crosses a big line for me.
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Great idea, Don, but why not throw in “Sins Past” to make it a real free-for-all?
Anyway, out of the two (or three?) storylines under consideration, “One More Day” is the only one that actually made me stop buying Spider-Man… so I guess you could say I already voted with my feet.
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It’s funny, isn’t it, how the most contentious Spidey stories ever deal with his love life? The first involves his relationship with Gwen and the second his relationship with MJ. I think there’s a lesson in there, somewhere…
Also, Alan, feel free to throw Sins Past on the hated stories stack for the hat trick. I doubt we’ll all agree, but then, disagreeing about comics seems to be the one thing we all do manage to agree on.
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The Death of Gwen Stacy was shocking and made me sad. I disliked “One More Day” and I rolled my eyes when I read it, but I absolutely loathed “Sins Past” and was just disgusted when I read it.
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I was eleven years old when I read *ASM* #121-22, and at that time, romance in Marvel Comics generally didn’t interest me: the writing of it was generally too mushy, and if I was unhappy over Crystal rejecting the Human Torch for Quicksilver, it was an exception. (Another exception: seeing in *X-Men* #60 that Cyclops and Marvel Girl were basking in being a couple and being delighted. Current wisdom seems to be that this happened in the walk in Central Park in #32, but all I see in that sequence is that Scott Summers senses that she may reciprocate his love…and Jean Grey isn’t sure whether he wants her love or her pity.*)
For that reason, the death of Gwen, ** which infuriated my father, didn’t affect me much. (Nowadays, it does, since if you wanted to get rid of the character, you could have sent her back to Uncle Arthur and Aunt Nancy, where she’d gone in #93-98, after the death of her father. When Mary Jane Watson turned down Peter’s marriage proposal, she wasn’t killed, she just moved into the shadows for a few years.)
In contrast, I was thrilled with the apparent death of the Green Goblin. The character’s story should have ended with #40, but didn’t, and when he returned in 1968 and again in 1971, the same thing happened: Norman Osborn was made to forget that he was the Goblin and that he knew the civilian identity of Spider-Man and that was it…until next time.
Somebody in 1973 recognized that you couldn’t keep doing that, and had him die.
I was sorry that it didn’t stick.
*
Marvel had a lovely bit about the Summers/Grey romance in an issue of *Not Brand Echh.* Marble Girl begins mooning in thought balloons over her unmentioned feelings for Cyclomps, and then stops…because it’s his month to cry thought balloons over her.
Beware the Juggernaut, my son.
**
Ditko’s Gwen, as mentioned elsewhere, is pretty nasty…sort of a Clea who always knew that she was Umar’s daughter and that one day she’d rule the Dark Dimension. (To me, my Sacred Flames…)
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