Voodoo.

 

It’s the current rage, don’t you know. Paperbacks on the subject litter newsstands throughout the world. Voodoo cults are reportedly springing up in major cities throughout the United States. And, figuring on television’s propensity for jumping on a fad with the obliterating properties of an overweight pachyderm, it probably won’t be too long before we see a Voodoo situation comedy laugh-tracking its way across our screens — Loa in the Family.

 

Leave it to the Marvel Comics Group, long renown [sic] for its many innovations in the comics field, to find a new slant on this late-breaking craze. And the result of this new slant promises to outlive the current interest in Voodoo.

— Tony Isabella, “Introducing Brother Voodoo!  The Creation of Marvel’s Most Mysterious Superhero”, in Tales of the Zombie #2 (Oct., 1973). 

Hmm. I’ll have to take your word for it about the early ’70s “craze” for voodoo, Mr. Isabella.  Honestly, outside of comic books and the 1973 James Bond movie Live and Let Die, I really don’t recall a plethora of references to the subject in the popular culture of the time.  But, hey, maybe the “rage” was just slow in getting to Jackson, Mississippi… or maybe my younger self just wasn’t paying close enough attention.  Either could easily be true.

As for Marvel’s “new slant” outliving the alleged cultural moment that supposedly inspired it — well, Brother Voodoo didn’t exactly set the world on fire in the summer of ’73, nor has he ever achieved what most would consider “A”-list status at any time in the decades since.  But he is still around — as of this writing, his most recent appearance was just two months ago, in Strange Academy: Finals #6 (Jun., 2023) — so one can hardly claim he didn’t have staying power.

In any event, regardless of how hot voodoo was or wasn’t in American mass culture circa 1973, there’s no disputing that the supernatural, in general, was big in the subculture of American comic books of that time — and nowhere more so than at Marvel Comics, which ever since the loosening of the Comics Code Authority’s restrictions on depictions of supernatural horror back in early 1971 had been busily cranking out new series like Werewolf by Night, Tomb of Dracula, Frankenstein, and (in Fear) “Man-Thing”.  Most of these comics could be counted as straight-up monster books, but there was at least one — Ghost Rider — that seemed to more-or-less straddle the line between the horror and superhero genres.  Indeed, that feature could be considered as following in the tradition of Doctor Strange, Marvel’s original “supernatural superhero” (although the Master of the Mystic Arts’ adventures had always tended more towards the trippy than the scary) — a conceptual linkage that appears to have helped inspire Marvel publisher Stan Lee not only to develop another genre-bridging hero in the Ghost Rider mold, but to introduce this new character via a revived Strange Tales — that having been the title in which Dr. Strange had debuted in 1963, and in which he’d continued to appear for the next five years before finally being granted his own title.*

The new hero’s association with voodoo seems to have come about as Lee was brainstorming with his editor-in-chief, Roy Thomas.  As related by Tony Isabella in his Tales of the Zombie #2 promotional piece:

Back in the 50’s, when he [Thomas] was knee high to an electric guitar, he had had an idea for a superhero he called Dr. Voodoo.  This hero was essentially a more-inclined-to-physical-violence version of the present-day Dr. Strange.**  Obviously, the original conception could not be used, but the hero’s name — “Voodoo” — seemed a particularly strong one.

 

Stan came up with the name “Brother Voodoo” and decided this name would be quite fitting for a black character…

At around this point, Thomas brought in others to help flesh out the concept, including writer Len Wein and Marvel art director John Romita.  (A pause here to note the recent passing of the latter worthy, just twelve days ago at the time of this writing.  John Romita was one of the foundational creators of the modern Marvel Universe, and his loss is keenly felt.)  Again according to Isabella, Wein designed a costume for Brother Voodoo, as did John Romita, Junior — Romita Sr.’s 16-year-old son, who was occasionally helping his dad out at that time.  J.R. Sr. then combined the two costumes, adding some flourishes of his own, and also incorporating some input from Thomas.  (With such a committee effort, one can only speculate who came up with which visual element — though we should note that Wein took credit for the V-in-a-circle emblem that adorns Brother Voodoo’s forehead in a ’70s-era Strange Tales retrospective published in Back Issue #71 [Apr., 2014].)

With Wein (whom, we might pause here to note, was still actively writing for DC as well as Marvel at this time, with his highest-profile assignments at the rival publisher being Justice League of America and Swamp Thing) on board as the new series’ regular scripter, all that was left was to select an artist.  Gene Colan must have seemed an ideal choice, based on his years of experience delineating conventional costumed heroes (Daredevil, Iron Man), magic-wielding do-gooders (the aforementioned Dr. Strange) and Gothic horror protagonists (the also aforementioned Tomb of Dracula); joining Colan as inker (at least for the first two issues) was Dan Adkins (another veteran artist with a stint on Dr. Strange under his belt).

From a 21st-century perspective, of course, the lack of any Black individuals among the Marvel staffers and freelancers who conceived Brother Voodoo and brought him to life is glaring.  Unfortunately, the only Black creator who’d broken in at Marvel as of 1973 (to the best of my knowledge) was Billy Graham — and the company was keeping him busy at this time working on Hero for Hire.

Perhaps things would have worked out more positively for Brother Voodoo back in the ’70s, had his ethnicity been represented somewhere among his creators and early chroniclers — and perhaps they wouldn’t have.  In any event, it’s the origin story we actually got that we’re here today to discuss; and so, without further ado, here’s the debut of Brother Voodoo…

The opening splash page’s narrative caption introduce Brother Voodoo as a mysterious, legendary figure, believed by many to be immortal; if that notion sounds somewhat familiar to you, it may be because Len Wein (per Back Issue #71) “borrowed” it from Lee Falk’s classic newspaper comic strip character, the Phantom.

One of the gunmen has the not-so-bright idea to run Brother Voodoo down with Mr. Willoby’s car, which still has the keys in the ignition.  Our hero manages to throw himself out of the way before the hapless driver crashes the car into the wall, killing himself…

The heavily-accented English spoken by most of the Haitians in this story is likely to become grating to a modern reader pretty quickly, though it was a common enough device for imparting “local flavor”, fifty years ago.

Brother Voodoo’s ability to possess the body of another through an astral emanation — pretty much his signature superpower, as suggested by its use on John Romita’s cover — is reminiscent of that of an earlier “supernatural superhero”, DC’s Deadman — though, as we can see here, Brother Voodoo can also simultaneously function in his own living body, which gives him a decided advantage over Boston Brand.

But as Dr. Jericho Drumm strolls down the street towards his childhood domicile, he’s jumped by two men wearing snake tattoos on their upper arms.  Though at least one has a knife, they seem to have little taste for combat, and both run away after Jericho shows resistance by kicking one in the face.  Still, the episode makes it clear that something is very wrong in the village he once called home…

A couple of pages earlier, Dr. Drumm was introduced as a “noted psychologist”; this scene, however, would seem to indicate that he’s got an M.D., as well as a Ph.D..  (Or, as seems a bit more likely, Wein actually meant to identify our hero as a psychiatrist, rather than a psychologist.)

In the authentic religious traditions of voodoo, Damballah is actually a benevolent deity, associated with creation and peace.  But, of course, in American popular culture, serpent-gods are evil, pretty much by default.

The man who calls himself Damballah declares that Daniel Drumm will perish at the stroke of midnight, and there’s nothing his brother can do to save him.  Jericho scoffs, calling the belief system Daniel has devoted his life to “Dark Age drivel!”  But Daniel, knowing his time is nigh, tells his twin: “When I am dead… you must go into the jungle… Find the old man… Papa Jambo… and beg him to come help you…”

The next morning, Jericho rents a Jeep, and drives it into the jungle as far as he can.  He then proceeds on foot, carrying on his shoulder the shrouded body of Daniel… but before he gets very far, he’s attacked by a huge snake that drops on him from the tree branches above.  Recognizing the reptile as belonging to a species that almost never attacks humans, Jericho guesses that the creature is under the command of Damballah; luckily, he’s able to slit its throat with a knife, killing it, before it can do him any real harm.  He then resumes his journey…

The origin of Brother Voodoo concluded one month later, in Strange Tales #170; and since we’ve got a goodly number of other comics to cover on the blog come July, we’re going to go ahead and handle that one today, as well.

Behind a Gil Kane-pencilled cover, “Baptism of Fire!” is presented by the same team of Wein, Colan, and Adkins.  Their story opens some indeterminate but consierable time after the conclusion of the previous episode (later in the story, we’ll be told it’s been “many weeks” since Daniel’s death), as Jericho Drumm has been training with Papa Jambo long enough for the old houngan to proclaim him the best student he’s ever had — and for Jericho to have mastered virtually all of the powers of which Papa has knowledge to teach him…

In developing our hero’s power set, Wein took for his starting point several volumes on voodoo suggested to him by his editor, Roy Thomas (who had himself recently consulted them in the process of developing Marvel’s new black-and-white Tales of the Zombie title).  But the writer soon ran into difficulty with that approach, as chronicled by Tony Isabella:

Len read a number of the reference books Roy had suggested to him — Voodoo in Haiti by Richard A. Loederer, Voodoo in New Orleans by Robert Tallant, and Voodoo Island by William B. Seabrook — and called up his editor in a fit of discouragement.

 

“Ah, Roy.” squeaked Len in his Lou Costello voice, “I’ve been reading these books of yours and, as far as I can figure, Voodoo seems to consist mostly of flushing chicken-heads down a toilet.”

 

Something neither Roy or Stan had considered in their enthusiasm over Brother Voodoo was the fact that Voodoo is essentially a poor man’s magic and generally about as effective as thinking unkind thoughts about one’s enemies.

 

With the kind of hard-headed determination that has shattered brick walls from here to mythical Metropolis, Len and Roy started overcoming this initial obstacle.  They decided to combine a number of Voodoo concepts — the loa of Voodoo spirits, astral projection, and possession of another’s body — to form the backbone of Brother Voodoo’s mystical arsenal.  They added an immunity to fire and a few other “gimmicks” to make the character unique.  And then, in an obscure volume, Len found the big one.  Twins have a special importance in Voodoo…

And now, we’re finally about to learn just what’s happened to that corpse of his dead twin brother that we watched Jericho lug through the jungle last issue…

Up to this point, Colan has for the most part been laying out his pages in pretty standard grids of rectangular-shaped panels — here, however, reflecting how the magical activity on view has suddenly grown in intensity, the artist uses jagged, unconventional designs reminiscent of his work on Doctor Strange.

Damballah’s guests begin to arrive, and we see that they’re a rather more diverse group than one might imagine, given that they’re the world leaders of a mystical order supposedly based on religious traditions of Africa and the African diaspora.  But, hey, religious beliefs have no skin color, and I suppose fictional magical systems “inspired” by them don’t, either.

Naturally, as always happens in these kinds of scenes, there’s one member of the so-called “Council Supreme” (the East Asian representative, Fong Lee) who scoffs at Damballah’s presumption — and who subsequently pays the ultimate price for doing so (by being burned alive from the inside out by a fire-breathing dragon that exists only in his imagination).  Afterwards, Damballa prepares to continue with the meeting, expecting no further interruptions… but hey, what’s that sound?

I have to say that, as “gimmicks” (to use Isabella’s word) go, being able to soundtrack your own mysterious arrival is a pretty cool one.

Once again, Colan goes a little wild with his page layout — this time, though, it’s apparently meant to convey the frenzy of suddenly erupting physical violence, rather than that of magical forces.

On the metaphorical ropes, Damballah once again summons a big ol’ snake to attack his enemy.  This time, our hero doesn’t even need a knife to conquer the serpentine threat, which he takes out bare-handed.  Still, while Damballah seems to have lost his taste for physical combat, even by proxy (a change reflected in Colan’s return to a more conservative layout), he’s not at all ready to call it quits…

“Wangal” appears to be Wein’s creative spelling of “wanga” (also “ouanga”) a Haitiian Creole word meaning a voodooistic charm or spell.  (Somewhat oddly, he’d already used the correct spelling in the previous issue, to describe the debilitating spell Damballa had placed on Daniel).

So ends the origin of Brother Voodoo — a story which still holds up reasonably well (despite its admittedly dated aspects), if not necessarily a hands-down all-time classic.  If nothing else, it deserves to be remembered as another fine showcase for Gene Colan’s ability to capture both eerie atmospherics and dynamic action in the same graphic narrative.

You might have noticed, however, that not all of the plot threads introduced in the series’ first two installments have been resolved — there’s that attempted kidnapping that our hero foiled in Strange Tales #169’s first few pages, remember?  While we’re not going to offer a full recap of issue #171 in this space, let me at least assure you that readers of that issue did find out why the clinical pathologist Dr. Maitland had been summoned to Haiti, and that it had to do with those soulless walkers of the night called… zuvembies.

Zuvembies?  Don’t I mean zombies?  Well, no; not exactly, anyway.  Although vampires and werewolves had been approved for use in Code-approved color comics for over two years by this point, the same wasn’t yet true for zombies, who didn’t have those other monsters’ literary pedigree (at least not as far as the Comics Code Authority was concerned).  So, someone at Marvel — most likely Roy Thomas — pulled the similar word “zuvembie” from a 1938 horror short story by Robert E. Howard called “Pigeons from Hell”, where it’s used as the female equivalent of “zombie”.  Hey, pretty close, right?

Ironically enough, the zuvembies in Strange Tales #171 turn out not to be “real” voodoo-enspelled ambulatory corpses at all, but “fake” ones engineered by the evil scientists of A.I.M. (Advanced Idea Mechanics).  If Brother Voodoo’s first two-part adventure established his supernatural bona fides, then this follow-up could be seen as doing the same for the superheroic side of the character; after all, there’s hardly anything that says “Marvel superhero” more clearly than having your guy fight A.I.M..  (Unless maybe it’s fighting Hydra.)

But regardless of the care Marvel seemed to be taking in making sure Jericho Drumm would appeal to as many kinds of comics fans as possible — not to mention the apparent faith in the character suggested by the decision to launch his starring vehicle, the revived Strange Tales, as a monthly (at a time when bi-monthly launches were definitely the norm) — the publisher only gave the series five issues before pulling the plug, replacing Brother Voodoo in Strange Tales with yet another “horror hero” (the Golem, who was definitely more on the “monster” end of the spectrum).

At least part of the problem may have been that Wein and company were slow to explore what, in retrospect, was probably the most unique thing about the character — the fact that he carried his own twin brother’s soul around inside him.  Did Daniel Drumm still possess consciousness and will?  Could he communicate with his brother?  Did he even want to be part of Brother Voodoo?  These questions would seem to be as obvious as they are intriguing, and perhaps Marvel’s storytellers would have eventually gotten around to them, if the axe hadn’t fallen quite so quickly.  Brother Voodoo’s last solo outing, in ST #173, actually ended on a cliffhanger — one that would be resolved, naturally enough, in Marvel’s other voodoo-themed book, Tales of the Zombie.  That outing, which appeared in the 6th issue of that title, was followed by one more, in issue #10 — and then, Brother Voodoo was off to join the ranks of Marvel characters who might turn up from time to time as guest stars in other heroes’ books.

That said, as a guest star, Brother Voodoo has had a fairly respectable run over the decades.  He’s rarely been out of sight for more than a couple of years at a time, figuring into a number of intriguing storylines (some of which, we should note, have managed to give a voice and some agency to Jericho Drumm”s “silent partner”, Daniel).  A 2009 New Avengers story arc written by Brian Michael Bendis arguably gave the hero his largest stage to date, as he rose to succeed Dr. Strange in the role of Earth’s Sorcerer Supreme, changing his name to “Doctor Voodoo” in the process (and thereby justifying Roy Thomas’ instincts from back in the 1950s).  That led in turn to his first-ever series under his own name, Doctor Voodoo: Avenger of the Supernatural, in which writer Rick Remender put him up against such heavy hitters as Dormammu, Nightmare, and Doctor Doom.  Alas, five issues seems to be the magic (as in “accursed”) number for Jericho Drumm to do his solo thing, as the fledgling title was cancelled in 2010 with #5.  (The cover to the trade collection, with art by Marko Djurdjević, is shown to this paragraph’s right.)

Still, even after this second series failure, Doctor Voodoo didn’t fall off the map.  While he eventually (and unsurprisingly) had to give the mantle of Sorcerer Supreme back to its previous bearer, Stephen Strange, Jericho Drumm has continued to be a player on the sorcerous side of the Marvel Universe, for a time joining the loose assemblage of adventurers centered around Conan the Barbarian (!) whose exploits were told in the first volume of Savage Avengers; more recently, he’s been serving as the headmaster of the aforementioned Strange Academy (aka Jericho Drumm’s School of the Mystic Arts), helping to train a new generation of magic-workers courtesy of co-creators Skottie Young (writer) and Humberto Ramos (artist).

All in all, it’s not a bad showing for fifty years in the comic-book character game — especially when compared to the track records of some of the other Marvel “horror heroes” who made their debuts around the same time.  (Yes, I’m looking at you, Golem.  You too, Living Mummy.  And don’t think I’ve forgotten you, It, the Living Colossus.  And also…)

 

*Of course, the first issue of the revived Strange Tales really should have been Vol. 2, #1, and not #169, because there already had been a Strange Tales #169 — although it was called Doctor Strange #169.  Or, to put it another way, when Marvel decided to spin off ST‘s two features, Doc Strange and Nick Fury, into their own titles back in early 1968, it opted for creating only one brand new title (Nick Fury, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.), while changing the name of the existing title, Strange Tales, to Dr. Strange.  Back in 1973, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why Marvel had “duplicated” the numbers they’d already used up, rather than having simply started over with a new volume (as they’d done about a year before with Journey into Mystery, whose original numbering had similarly been carried over when that title changed its name to Thor).  And what can I say?  I still find it irksome.

**Considering that the young Roy Thomas is unlikely to have time-traveled from the 1950s into the future to catch a glimpse of Dr. Strange, and considering as well his well-known love for DC Comics’ Golden Age superheroes, it seems probable that his two-fisted supernatural-themed crusader was inspired at least in part by DC’s Doctor Fate.