If you were to take a deep dive into the credits page for writer Steve Gerber at the Mike’s Amazing World of Comics web site, you’d be forgiven if you ultimately concluded that, in the summer of 1974, he must have been scripting half of Marvel Comics’ entire line. He wasn’t — not quite — but given that he was at that time responsible for six ongoing features, while also continuing to contribute the odd one-off short piece for anthology titles like Vampire Tales and Crazy, he was turning out at least as much verbiage for the House of Ideas as any other one writer, and arguably more.
Granted, most of his work didn’t appear in Marvel’s highest-profile titles, such as Amazing Spider-Man and Fantastic Four; indeed, only two of his books — Daredevil and Marvel Two-in-One — fit comfortably into the superhero genre that still largely defined the publisher’s brand. But he’d successfully staked out a large claim in the “horror hero” field which, as of mid-’74, accounted for a significant percentage of Marvel’s output, scribing the exploits of Man-Thing, Morbius the Living Vampire in Fear, the zombie Simon Garth in Tales of the Zombie — and, of course, Daimon Hellstrom, the Son of Satan, in Marvel Spotlight.
Gerber didn’t actually initiate the “Son of Satan” feature — that had been the work of his fellow writer Gary Friedrich, in Marvel Spotlight #12 (Oct., 1973) — but he’d come on board just two issues later, with issue #14, and had immediately set to work making some substantial alterations to Friedrich’s original character concept. He’d started with the series’ basic setting: Friedrich had set Daimon Hellstrom up with a spooky, secluded New England mansion, complete with its own convenient tunnel to the Bad Place accessible from the cellar — but while that location was as atmospheric as hell (sorry), it was also somewhat limited in range, both for story-generating possibilities and for the introduction of potential regular supporting characters. (The closest thing that the Son of Satan had to a supporting cast in his first two outings was the trio of flying demon-steeds — Hecate, Set, and Amon — that pulled his flaming chariot.) Gerber’s initial outing thus had Daimon summoned to perform an exorcism in St. Louis, MO — an urban location in which he’d presumably find it easier to find some actual human beings to talk to. (For the record, he took a plane, leaving his chariot and its hell-spawned equine accessories behind.) Such indeed turned out to be the case, as our protagonist quickly struck up a friendship with the academic parapsychologist who’d summoned him to St. Lou in the first place, Gateway University’s Dr. Katherine Reynolds. (Why St. Louis, rather than some other American city? Well, the fact that it was Steve Gerber’s hometown likely had at least a little to do with it.)
After ridding Gateway U. of its infestation by ice demons, Daimon Hellstrom didn’t immediately decamp for home; and so it was while sleeping in his St. Louis hotel room that, early in issue #15, he had a very vivid nightmare involving his dad — one which culminated in this dramatic, Michelangelo-referencing tableau by artist Jim Mooney, who’d taken over from Herb Trimpe as the series’ new regular penciller with MS #14 (for context, Daimon is reaching here for a hand he believes belongs to the aforementioned Dr. Reynolds):
Almost immediately after awakening, Daimon made a startling discovery — one he was able to share with a visiting Dr. Reynolds (in the flesh, this time), who’d conveniently come knocking on his door just as he was getting up…
The visual adjustment made to Daimon’s pentagram birthmark was a direct result of the “research into the occult field in general and Satanism in particular” (as an editorial note on the letters page of Marvel Spotlight #14 put it) that Gerber had undertaken upon getting the “Son of Satan” writing gig — research that indicated that a downward-pointing star was more appropriate for the Son of Satan than the upward-pointing version of Herb Trimpe’s original character design. While one could argue that this was a mostly cosmetic modification, the same couldn’t be said for the deeper, underlying change that it signified — that of the integration of Daimon Hellstrom’s “good” daytime and “evil” nighttime selves. As initially conceived by Gary Friedrich, our protagonist only had access to his infernal super-powers (not to mention his red-and-yellow costume) in the latter state — and the Son of Satan we encountered at those times was a nasty, brutish piece of work, who seemed to have few if any redeeming qualities, save that he hated his father more than (or at least as much as) he did anyone else. He was a hard guy for a reader to root for, in other words. By melding Daimon’s two personalities together into one constantly conflicted whole, Gerber simultaneously solved the character’s sympathy problem and made him a more interesting person to read about.
Also in issue #15, Dr. Reynolds invited Daimon to give a guest lecture or two to her parapsychology class before leaving St. Louis; while he mulled that proposition over, he introduced him to a friend of hers, divinity student Byron Hyatt. Still later in the same story, he attempted to break up a Satanic ritual in Babler State Park — an initiative which ultimately led to a battle with Satan himself (albeit manifest in the goatish guise of Baphomet) atop the Gateway Arch.
If more proof was needed that St. Louis had enough weird stuff going on to keep the Son of Satan occupied for at least a few more issues, Gerber and Mooney (joined by inker Sal Trapani) supplied it in Marvel Spotlight #16’s “4000 Holes in Forest Park!”. In this issue — the first half of the only continued story to appear in the series so far — Gerber went all in on his Beatles-referencing title. as 4000 holes suddenly appeared in St. Louis’ largest public park. In addition to being rather small, these holes were filled with an odd reddish powder, which, unsurprisingly, would prove to be pretty significant.
The phenomenon quickly attracted “wildly costumed cultists” from all over the country…
My favorite folks in this motley throng are the guys that called themselves the “Legion of Nihilists”, who, for reasons known only to Gerber and/or Mooney, had really embraced the “legion” part of their name, dressing up like Roman soldiers and speaking in a formal style right out of a Hollywood historical epic.
Naturally, Daimon Hellstrom also showed up at the park to investigate, accompanied by Katherine Reynolds and Byron Hyatt. Unfortunately, he was immediately recognized by the Nihilists, who blamed him for bringing demons to St. Louis (I’m not really sure why they would have cared all that much, being nihilists and all, but whatever). Daimon was forced to transform into the Son of Satan simply to defend himself from their swords, which weren’t just for show — but, in the stress of battle, he all to quickly succumbed to the darker side of his nature…
As the chaos mounted, Daimon’s human side was able to regain control — but in the meantime, he’d lost track of Katherine and Byron, and so, in hopes of being able to spot them from above, he took flight. His new perspective allowed him to see at once what the combination of his “soulfire” and the strange red powder in the 4000 holes had wrought:
Gerber appears to have derived the name of “the dreaded Kometes of ancient legend” from the Greek word kometes, the source of our English term “comet”. Since comets historically were viewed “as omens of ruin, pestilence, and the overthrow of kingdoms” (per the Online Etymological Dictionary), that fit — especially once ol’ Kometes (who’s even got a fiery tail) situated itself in the night sky…
You have to figure that Daimon has a pretty huge library of “texts” at home in New England; luckily, he’d brought just the right ones along on his trip to St. Louis, and so, before too long, the specific information sought by our hero and his new friends came to the fore…
And so we come at last to the primary topic of today’s post: Marvel Spotlight #17, published fifty years ago this month. Behind a cover pencilled by Ron Wilson and John Romita (which, as it happens, is the fifth of seven consecutive bi-monthly covers to have Daimon’s hair mistakenly colored blonde; it would tke until #20, published in November, 1974, for someone to finally get a memo to the poor anonymous cover colorist that the Son of Satan is a ginger), the same team of Gerber, Mooney, and Trapani continued their eons-spanning tale…
Reporter Dan Crandall had been introduced briefly in issue #16, and seemingly represented a further attempt by Gerber to expand the series’ regular supporting cast — though as it turned out, he’d only make one further appearance, in issue #19. (On the other hand, the other person in this scene — Tracy No-last-name — wouldn’t even get that much, so…)
The version of Atlantis on display here, though it takes some cues from pulp author Robert E. Howard’s stories of King Kull (and, naturally, the Marvel comics based on them) is essentially the one introduced by artist-plotter Howard Chaykin in the first two installments of the short-lived “Tales of Atlantis” back-up feature that had debuted in Sub-Mariner #62 (Jun., 1973) some fifteen months before. Gerber had scripted those stories, and had evidently taken a shine to the place, as well as to its last rulers, Kamuu and Zartra; this was in fact the second time he’d paid a visit outside the pages of Sub-Mariner, the first having come in a flashback sequence in a Man-Thing story published in Fear #15 (Aug., 1973).

And, yeah, the domed city has a distinctly different appearance on the last page of Marvel Spotlight #16 than it does on the page above. That’s almost certainly due to Jim Mooney not having yet been provided with the proper reference material when he drew the earlier page; as you can see by reference to the image shown at left, he followed Chaykin’s design quite closely on his second try, down to replicating the “camera angle” used by the originating artist. (He wasn’t the first to do so, either; Val Mayerik had done pretty much the exact same thing in Fear #15, as shown at right.)
“It remains with me.” Um, no. The Son of Satan first melts the shackles on his wrists, then causes his trident to burst into “brimstone flame” making the Atlantean monarch drop it like your proverbial hot potato. (Or at least that’s what appears to happen; in a thought-bubble, Daimon clues us in that, in reality, “it was Kamuu’s own consciousness, his direct contact with the psycho-sensitive metal, that enabled me to wrest my trident from his hands!” Hey, good to know.)
After melting his friends’ chains, Daimon lays down a little soulfire to cover their escape, and the trio make a break for it. They head back towards the docks, where our hero’s plan is for them to take again to the sea…
Moments later, with the boat now set on a course for “the Thurian mainland” (“Thurian” being one of the concepts borrowed from Howard’s Kull stories). Byron calls b.s. on the whole situation. “Hasn’t this gone far enough, mister?” he asks Daimon. “I’m afraid… I do not understand, Byron,” replies the Son of Satan.
Steve Gerber had first dropped the name of Zhered-Na in Fear #13, in association with an ancient magical text called the Tome of Zhered-Na… and also with that book’s Cult, whose modern-day adherents operated out of Citrusville, Florida, near the Man-Thing’s swampy stomping grounds. Readers who had followed the storyline involving the Cult from #13 on into its culmination in the aforementioned #15 had learned her backstory, including her ultimate tragic fate following her exile from Atlantis.
Presumably, it’s the planet Earth itself, rebelling against humanity’s violent “psychic emanations”, that in the present day has somehow spawned Forest Park’s 4000 powder-filled holes and manipulated the Son of Satan into igniting them, thus summoning Kometes… although Gerber’s script never really spells that out.
Jim Mooney’s visualization of the Primal Matrix is pretty clearly derived from familiar graphic representations of the structure of an atom, but I wonder if we’re also supposed to be reminded (at least superficially) of the Kabbalistic Tree of Life, and/or other such imagery from various esoteric traditions. (I freely admit that I may be talking through my hat here.)
“Valka” is another name out of the Kull stories, where it refers to a deity; here, obviously, Gerber is using it as a name for the Deity.
Back in June, 1974, my sixteen-year-old, earnestly Christian self knew full well that this treatment of Adam’s ultimate fate wasn’t “Biblically sound” (see Genesis 5:5), but I found it fascinating, all the same. Ever since then, I’ve wondered where Steve Gerber “got” this material from; and while I can’t claim to have done an exhaustive search of all possible resources, as far as I’ve been able to determine as of June, 2024, he made it all up. That said, the story of Spyros feels like an authentic religious legend, at least to me; and it has real mythic resonance, even for a nonbeliever like I am today.
So how do Daimon’s actions at the Primal Matrix, which he’s accessed tens of thousands of years in the past, cause the fall of Kometes in the present? I think we’ll do best just to assume that we’re in the realm of myth, here, where time flows differently, and let it go at that…
We Marvel Comics reader of the day had already witnessed the murder of Zhered-Na, courtesy of Fear #15; though in that version, there’d been no indication given that the sorceress had already foreseen her demise.
And so ends the Son of Satan’s Atlantean adventure — his wildest exploit yet, and the one which, for my younger self in 1974, indicated just how good this series could be — at least for so long as Steve Gerber remained at its helm. And, indeed, while the feature would arguably never again quite reach the trippy metaphysical heights of “In the Shadow of the Serpent!”, there were still a number of entertaining and provocative stories yet to come… one or two of which I may be sharing with you in a future post.
Additional art credits, per the Grand Comics Database and Mike’s Amazing World:
- Marvel Spotlight #14 (Mar., 1974): cover by Ron Wilson and John Romita.
- Marvel Spotlight #15 (May, 1974): cover by Gil Kane and John Romita.
- Marvel Spotlight #16 (Jul., 1974): cover by John Romita.
- Sub-Mariner #62 (Jun., 1973): panel by Howard Chaykin and Joe Sinnott.
- Fear #15 (Aug., 1973): panels by Val Mayerik and Frank McLaughlin.






























I came on board with the previous issue, finding the super-hero aspect enough to hold me where Man-Thing didn’t. I gave up after Gerber left.
Much as I liked his work, though, the Nihilists were a failure. As I wrote at Atomic Junk Shop, the idea of Nihilists vs. Hellstrom is great: they believe the mess is meaningless, he’s proof the Devil and the Christian God exist which means we live in a moral universe. Instead they run around shrieking “he communes with evil!” like generic Bible-thumpers.
I knew from later letter columns that Gerber was drawing on some established Atlantean characters, but I had no idea who or what at the time.
It’s interesting how many characters have started out with day/night transformations and then dropped them: Hulk, Ghost Rider, Son of Satan. More flexibility if the rules aren’t that restrictive.
And come to think of it, Morbius’ first appearance implied his mind switches from ruthless killer at night to tormented human by day but everyone just forgot that in his later stories.
As the good little Bible Thumper I was in my youth, I was as highly offended by the Son of Satan comic as I was by Neal Adams’ Son O’ God comic that appeared in National Lampoon. Now, fifty years later, after a lifetime of watching my ideas about faith and spirituality shift and change into something very different from it’s humble beginnings in 1974, I’m merely offended by it’s weaknesses as a story and nothing more. I have no doubt Son of Satan was a difficult book to write, straddling as it did the world of comics and the world of religion (sort of), but on close inspection, so much of this story disappears under Gerber’s narrative hand-waving and poor characterizations. Neither Dr. Reynolds or Bryon have any real agency in this story and are merely there as set dressing to witness the power of Hellstrom and give him someone to talk to. We’re told Dr. Reynolds is a parapsychology expert, but get no proof of that and our seminary student, Bryon is full of sound and fury, but that doesn’t go anywhere either. Do they hang around? Do they get better? Someone will have to tell me, because I never read this book in ’74 and have no idea.
Still, as always, it’s nice to be introduced to a book I missed fifty years ago, and while I don’t think I missed MUCH, I was always a Gerber fan and am happy to read one of his stories, even if it was more a miss than a hit. Thanks, Alan!
As a kid from the Illinois side of the St. Louis region, I was thrilled when the Son of Satan relocated to the Lou – even though enough comic creators hailed from the region that some have called it “the Second City of Comics” (after NYC), it had never been a setting for very many comics. So it was very cool seeing actual St. Louis locales turn up in Son of Satan, and in fact it was an issue of the series that informed my 10-year-old self that the most well-to-do suburb of the StL is Ladue.
The Arch had a rough 1974/75, though. A chunk of it got shot off during Hellstrom’s fight with Baphomet in Spotlight #15, then around a year later, I think the Hulk and the Thing put a crack in it in Fantastic Four. The city probably breathed a sigh of relief when its brief tenure as a comic locale after a year or so. (Not sure if they would’ve been excited or mortified if homeboy Gerber had settled on St. Louis as the most ridiculous setting he could think of for Howard the Duck around the same time, but I guess in the mid-70s Cleveland had an even worse reputation than St. Louis did.)
I missed Gerber’s entire run on M.S. Son of Satan, but then I only got one issue starring Daimon, SoS #5. Apparently, the series’ concept didn’t appeal to my younger self enough, although I did like the Exorcist film and had read the book. If I’d been a few years older and had more cash on hand, I might have picked up on the series but such wasn’t the case. Funny that in a few months after this issue came out, Gerber would have Daimon join the Defenders in their struggle against the Sons of the Serpent. I got hooked on the Defenders during Englehart’s run, but became even more of a fan of that series during Gerber’s run.
Also interesting to me how Gerber mixed in his own variation of sword & sorcery both in this series and in Man-Thing. Doing a bit of mixing and mashing of varying genres. Must admit, I found the use of the biblical Adam in this story a bit ridiculous although I might have thought it somewhat more profound 50 years ago even if it didn’t exactly fit the biblical version. But then, Marvel’s version of Thor and his fellow Asgardian’s didn’t quite match the old Nordic lore either.
Non Latine, quare?
The Ein Sof might have been a bit outside the (I assume, Irish Catholic, he was a Treasure Chest contributor) Mr. Mooney’s cultural background. But you can see the influence.
“Ever since then, I’ve wondered where Steve Gerber “got” this material from; and while I can’t claim to have done an exhaustive search of all possible resources, as far as I’ve been able to determine as of June, 2024, he made it all up. “
Although Gerber was not religious nor observant and he did not come from a religious family. I wonder if it is derived from a Talmudic or Kabbalistic source (or a mindreading of one)? Especially give the use of the Ein Sof as a motif? It seems less likely to come from Jim Mooney, the Treasure Chest contributor.
This might bear of the question . . . .
I almost brought up “Adam Kadmon” in the post, John, but ultimately decided not to since there’s really not much similarity between that concept and Gerber’s “Spyros”, outside of the possible Kabbalistic connection. (At least, none that I can see.)
As you may recall, Steve Englehart made specific use of AK in a later Doctor Strange storyline, so we’ll have a chance to get further into it when those issues come up on the blog timeline. 😉
Englehart really went “all in” on Dr, Strange.
Hi, Alan,
Fell quite a bit behind on commenting, but I wanted to throw in my two cents.
I didn’t love Son of Satan, but I enjoyed it well enough.. I followed it as a Gerber fan (See – Englehart wasn’t the ONLY Steve I was obsessed with in the 1970s). I appreciated what Gerber was trying to do here – threading the needle of superheroes and horror. It worked a bit better here than in the sister series, Ghost Rider, but it was still an odd fit.
Though I liked this two-parter and its links to Man-Thing and Sub-Mariner, the story from this series that really sticks with me is the Tarot arc, which featured one of the head-trips that Gerber did so well. I’m hoping that will be the subject of a future column.
Thanks for the memories, Alan!