As we covered in a post back in February, the 10th issue of DC Comics’ Swamp Thing marked the end of the award-winning collaboration on the title of writer Len Wein, artist Bernie Wrightson, and editor Joe Orlando, as Wrightson chose to leave the book after that installment. But of course, that didn’t mean the end of Swamp Thing itself.
According to an interview with Orlando published in Amazing World of DC Comics #6 (May-Jun., 1975), among the artists who were considered to replace the muck-monster’s co-creator on the series were a young and mostly untried illustrator named Arthur Suydam, as well as the veteran Filipino artist Alex Niño. In the end, however, it was another well-seasoned komiks creator from the Philippines, Nestor Redondo, who got the nod.
The transition from Wrightson to Redondo involved more than just a shift from one talented artist to another; it also necessitated a major change in how Swamp Thing was produced on an issue-to-issue basis. Up to this point, the creative process for each story had begun with Len Wein coming up with a basic plot, which was then fleshed out with the help of Wrightson and Orlando in sessions held in the editor’s office. Wrightson would make sketches and perhaps even draw some rough page breakdowns during these sessions, after which he’d return home to draw the story in full; only after the pencils were finished would Wein write a finished script. This variation of the “Marvel method” would not simply be impractical to continue with the addition of Redondo to the creative team; rather, with the artist residing in the Philippines, more than 8,000 miles away, it would be functionally impossible. Henceforth, Wein would be writing complete scripts which would then be mailed to Redondo to illustrate; this was, of course, the way most books were done at DC, and was unremarkable on its face; still, it would inevitably make for a different Swamp Thing for reasons beyond the obvious difference in art styles between Wrightson and Redondo.
The first Wrightson-less issue of Swamp Thing, #11, arrived on stands in April, 1974 with a cover by Luis Dominguez, but with all interior art both pencilled and inked by Nestor Redondo. Wein’s script for “The Conqueror Worms” opened with our protagonist right where we readers had seen him last, moping about the Louisiana swamp where the accident that turned scientist Alec Holland into the Swamp Thing back in issue #1 had taken place. Meanwhile, he was still being pursued by federal agent Matt Cable — who at least had finally realized (though only after having his and his companion Abigail Arcane’s lives saved by Swampy umpty-ump times, of course) that his quarry wasn’t the murderous menace he’d long believed him to be.
While searching the bayou for the Swamp Thing, Matt and Abby were suddenly (if unsurprisingly) beset by a strange creature that appeared to be half-alligator, half-human…
After dispensing with the ‘gator-thing, Swampy shambled away back into the swampy waters, ignoring Cable’s entreaties for him to stay. But, naturally, when he heard Abby suddenly scream, he had no choice but to turn around to see what had gone wrong now…
Readers had gotten a glimpse of the Worms in a next-issue tease at the end of Swamp Thing #10 — but there they’d been drawn by Bernie Wrightson, and they had a distinctly different design. Presumably, Wrightson and Redondo were both independently working off the same basic idea of Len Wein’s; in any event, I’d say they both did a fine job visualizing the beasties.
Unfortunately, the Swamp Thing was quickly laid low by the Worms, who knocked him out cold with a telepathic energy blast. Matt and Abby, also unconscious by this time, were then dragged away, eventually awakening to find themselves prisoners — and they weren’t the only ones, either…
Luke informed Matt that of course they’d tried to escape, several times, but all that accomplished was getting Sheriff Kain brain-blasted by the worms, which had left him permanently impaired. Soon thereafter, Matt and Abby were taken to meet the apparent master of the Worms — Dr. Zachary Nail, a brilliant but mentally unstable scientist determined to save a remnant of humankind from the ravages of pollution, whether they wanted to be saved or not. Vail had actually appeared once before, in a Len Wein-written “Dr. 13” backup tale that ran in Phantom Stranger #14 (Jul.-Aug., 1971); at the conclusion of that story, his domed, self-sufficient “community” of New Eden had sunk to the bottom of the swamp, evidently killing Vail in the process. As it turned out, however, he ‘d been rescued by the mysterious Worms, who’d proceeded to make him their leader…
The defiant Matt and Abby were returned to their cell, at which point they began to devise an escape plan. Meanwhile, the Swamp Thing had revived and was slowly advancing on New Eden, following the trail left by the Worms’ passage.
Before Swampy could arrive on the scene, Cable and the others acted upon their plan, which centered on the agent playing dead long enough to fool their slithery guards. It worked, at least long enough for them to rush Dr. Vail’s command chamber and overcome him with their makeshift weapons…
The Worms proceeded to explain that they had cooperated with Nail because they, too, wanted to save humanity, if not for exactly the same reasons as the mad doctor: “You wished… to preserve… Man’s knowledge… his spirit… We… wished to preserve… Man’s body… for food…” Yikes!
At this point, the Swamp Thing showed up, and his joining the fight helped turn the tide in the prisoners’ favor. It appeared that escape was imminent; but while Cable was determined to bring Nail with them, the scientist himself had other plans…
Swampy was able to lead his charges to safety in the swamp, just before a massive explosion destroyed New Eden forever…
But tracking the Swamp Thing down again was going to prove a challenge, at least in the short term, as, in the closing panels of “The Conqueror Worms!”, Swampy stumbled upon a giant, glowing gemstone, which, when he touched it, somehow transported him back through time to the age of dinosaurs.
Naturally, this was a setup for the next issue’s story, “The Eternity Man”. Behind Redondo’s first cover for the series, Swamp Thing #12 told a rather confusing yarn that found our hero traveling from one past epoch to another, always encountering not only the mysterious gemstone, but an equally mysterious human male who seems to be linked to it. As the story’s events had no real bearing on what followed, we’re not going to offer a detailed synopsis, but will simply note that Swampy ultimately made it back home safe and (relatively) sound; we will, however, take a few moments to peruse four “interludes” that Wein and Redondo dropped in over the course of the story, as they continued the process of introducing the book’s new supporting cast member, Bolt:
I can understand why, after twelve issues, Wein might have thought it was time to update Swamp Thing‘s supporting cast. And having greater diversity of representation in that cast was hardly a bad idea. That said, when looking at these issues from the perspective of half a century on, it’s hard not to wish that the author could have worked a little harder to make Bolt more than the walking trope of a “seething young black man” (to borrow Wein’s own phrase) that he comes off as, at least in his early appearances.
But, in any event, this establishes the book’s new status quo as we at last arrive at the ostensible main topic of today’s blog post, turning past another fine Redondo cover to arrive at Swamp Thing #13’s opening page:
Writing in Comic Book Artist, Vol. 2, #4 (Sep., 2004), David A. Roach described Nestor Redondo’s work on both Swamp Thing and the other DC series he was drawing at this same time, Rima, the Jungle Girl, as “some of the most beautiful comics ever drawn, displaying exquisite drawing and finely nuanced, rococo brush strokes.” And it would be difficult to argue that Swampy’s Louisiana bayou had, or would, ever look more lush and lovely than when rendered by Redondo… even with all the monsters.
Wein’s captions in the panel above are a pretty obvious reference to the revelations regarding covert surveillance activities by government operatives that had emerged over the course of the still-ongoing Watergate scandal. (For historical context, Swamp Thing #13 was released on August 6, 1974; Richard Nixon’s resignation as President would follow exactly two days later.)
“…a man called John Zero, who is also far more than he seems…” Yeah, I’d say it’s a pretty good bet that if you go to the trouble to give a character a cool surname like “Zero”, you don’t intend for him to be just some nondescript government administrator-type. And Commander Zero would emerge as “more“, though that shoe would take another year or two to drop… but we’ll have more to say about that later in the post.
After Matt and Abby leave, an unflustered Professor Degréz returns to making observations for “Project — code name: Leviathan“. The scientist is interested, but not particularly concerned, when Swampy starts examining the walls of his prison, apparently looking for a weakness; he’s not even alarmed when our hero, evidently having found what he seeks, starts hammering away at one spot. That is to say, he’s not alarmed at first…
By the following morning, the Swamp Thing is back in his cage — the security of which has been enhanced by a fence of laser beams. As Zero explains to Cable: “If the creature attempts a second escape, it will never attempt a third!”
I remember this feeling like a huge moment in the development of the Swamp Thing series when I first read it as a seventeen-year-old in 1974; fifty years later, it still feels big, despite the fact that when I re-read this scene today, I’m well aware that, per Alan Moore’s 1984 retcon in “The Anatomy Lesson”, Swampy isn’t “really” Alec Holland; rather, he’s “a plant that thought it was Alec Holland.”
“Alec”‘s response is efficiently presented as a two-tier, five-panel flashback to the origin sequence in Swamp Thing #1. We’ll skip ahead to the conclusion of Swampy and Matt’s conversation…
Seen in the montage panel above, in addition to Matt Cable, are renderings of several old foes from the Wein-Wrightson days — all recognizably the same characters as those designed by Wrightson, but all also drawn in a manner consistent with Nestor Redondo’s own individual style.
Bernie Wrightson had his own amusing take on Redondo’s versions of his characters, especially the latter’s Matt Cable. As he related in a 2004 interview eventually published in Comic Book Creator #6 (Winter, 2014):
I liked Nestor Redondo’s work a lot. I thought it was uncanny that he drew all those characters I was doing and being so much better than I at drawing it, you know? And his getting them dead-on, the likenesses and everything. Nestor was a very realistic artist, I thought, like Alex Raymond, and I was a bit more cartoony. Such as when I drew Matt Cable, he’s got that huge chin, right? That’s just how I thought he looked. But when a realistic artist like Nestor draws him exactly the same way, only in his style, it’s kind of alarming to see. When Nestor did it, the guy really looked funny. It was, no, his chin shouldn’t be that big. And he kept my proportions! …He got the really long waist and these short little stumpy legs, right? And it’s like, “No, I drew it that way because I didn’t know any better!” I drew everyone with their waist too long and their legs too short, you know? I’ve always had a problem with that, but Nestor picked that up. Still, I thought he did a great job. It was brilliant work and I was delighted he followed me on the book. I loved his stuff.
Personally, I don’t think the chin on Redondo’s Cable looks all that weird; and while I can see how our favorite fed has perhaps a bit longer waist and shorter legs than the average comic-book man-of-action, I’m sure I never would have noticed it if it hadn’t been pointed out. But, hey, Bernie Wrightson saw these images with the eye of a brilliant artist; and whatever else your humble blogger may be, a brilliant artist he most definitely ain’t.
As they trade blows, Bolt explains that he figured Cable would try something like this, which is how he happens to be here with a gun. Suddenly, “Alec” is there, getting in between the combatants as he croaks out the single word, “Enough…!!” Stunned, Bolt stands down; and then, after securing the Swamp Thing’s permission to do so (a nice touch), Matt tells Bolt the whole sad story, just as he recently heard it for the first time himself…
While he can’t quite keep the smirk completely off his face, Matt at least manages to avoid breaking out into a full grin as the coffin of Prof. Degréz is lowered into his grave, and then as earth is shoveled on top of it…
Although no official announcement would be made until issue #14’s letters column, two months later, “The Leviathan Conspiracy” was the last Swamp Thing story that Len Wein would write. Some thirty years later, in an interview published in Back Issue #6 (Sep., 2004), the writer recalled the circumstances surrounding his decision to follow Bernie Wrightson off the book:
When Bernie left, [DC] wanted to continue the title. Nestor Redondo was as good a choice to replace Bernie as anybody could be. Nestor’s a terrific artist. And I figured, “Well, I’ll stick with the book, it’s a character I love, I’ll go along with it.” And I realized, as I continued, that this wasn’t fun anymore. I actually had plans far beyond issue #13—if you go back and read #13, I was in the middle of the issue when I suddenly went, “You know, I’m just not enjoying this.” Without Bernie, it wasn’t the fun book it was before, it was a completely different experience. Not that Nestor was doing anything bad, he was a brilliant artist. But part of the fun of the book was us sitting in the room together and working up stories and doing all the things we did… And if you get down to the end of #13, you read it, you’ll realize it really sort of ends very abruptly. I called up Joe, and he wasn’t thrilled because the book was still very successful, but he understood. So I did that very abrupt ending where I kind of recapped the last panel of the original short story and I was gone.
By “the original short story”, Wein is of course referring to “Swamp Thing” — the classic eight-page standalone tale by Wrightson and himself which was published in House of Secrets #92 (Jun.-Jul., 1971), and which went on to inspire the ongoing Swamp Thing series. For anyone who might need a reminder, here’s how that story ends:
Wein may have thought that his reprise of this sequence at the end of issue made for an abrupt ending, but I would disagree; I think it’s a very effective conclusion to his run, bringing the writer’s association with the Swamp Thing full circle as he bids his co-creation farewell.
Naturally, Len Wein’s departure from Swamp Thing meant that his “plans far beyond issue #13” either would have to be abandoned, or would need to be dealt with by others. At least two specific seeds for future storylines can be discerned within the pages of #13 itself — the first of which, involving the strange ongoing mutations of various fauna in Swampy’s bayou, would be attended to by the series’ incoming writer, David Michelinie, in the very next issue. Via #14’s “The Tomorrow Children”, we readers learned that the leaked contents of a canister of radioactive waste that had been dumped in the swamp had interacted with Alec Holland’s bio-restorative formula to create not only the Swamp Thing himself, but also the man-alligator and other bizarre creatures that we’d seen in recent issues. Our hero briefly hoped that by retrieving the canister and analyzing its contents, he might be able to reverse the process that had brought him into being; but, alas, though Swampy was indeed able to locate the canister, his success came too late, as all of its contents had leaked away by this time.
The second unresolved bit of story from Len Wein’s final issue — the secret of Commander John Zero, whom, you’ll recall, is somehow “far more than he seems” — would also find resolution, though not for another nine issues. By that time, David Micheline had moved on as well, so it was Gerry Conway (who’d also scripted a couple of issues, #19 and #20, that fell in the middle of Micheline’s run) who’d eventually reveal, in Swamp Thing #23, that Zero had been fired following Swamp Thing’s escape from military custody (Cable’s graveyard scam having been subsequently exposed); he’d also lost his right hand at some point. Blaming Swampy for his misfortunes, he’d replaced his lost hand with a bladed weapon, donned a blue-and-red spandex ensemble, and begun a new career as a super-villain named Sabre. (Somehow, I doubt that this development lined up with Wein’s original plan for the character… but, hey I could be wrong.)
Swamp Thing #23 was the last issue illustrated by Nestor Redondo; the following installment, which continued (but didn’t complete) the “Sabre” storyline, was pencilled by Ernie Chan, who also drew the covers for both #23 and #24. As it happened, that issue also rang down the curtain on this volume of Swamp Thing; while a 25th issue was scripted and at least partially drawn, it — and its promised guest appearance by Hawkman — never made it to spinner racks. Perhaps Joe Orlando’s decision to steer the title into more superheroic waters might have paid off in the long run, but for my own part, it’s hard not to see the book’s cancellation in May, 1976 as something of a mercy killing.
By the time the metaphorical woodsman’s axe fell upon our vegetative protagonist, however, my younger self had long since departed the series. My last issue bought off the stands was #15 — five issues after Wrightson’s exit, and two after Wein’s. While I don’t recall my precise reasons for dropping the title all these years later, I’m pretty sure that the loss of Wrightson as artist was the single biggest cause. Swamp Thing had pretty much always been a book where the artwork was the biggest draw, at least for me. And though Nestor Redondo’s lush, hyper-real renderings of Swampy and his world were undeniably lovely, there was a certain dark and macabre atmosphere that the younger American artist, with his more expressionistic (or, as he might have said, “cartoony”) style brought to the stories that the Filipino veteran simply couldn’t match.
And so it was that I wouldn’t learn for several years how things had ultimately worked out with the efforts of Matt Cable, Abby Arcane, and Jefferson Bolt to assist the Swamp Thing in his quest to restore his humanity. Just in case you, too, lost track back in the day (or were never keeping up in the first place) — in Swamp Thing #20 (Dec., 1975-Jan., 1976). the trio witnessed the utter destruction of Swamp Thing… or so they thought. In actuality, it was Swampy’s evil twin that got blown up real good; but, not knowing this, Matt, Abby, and Jeff gave up their pursuit — and, simultaneously, gave up their roles in the series’ supporting cast. Considering the huge genre-swerve the book was about to take, right before the bitter end, one might say that they got out just in the nick of time.
To the best of my knowledge, Jefferson Bolt was never seen again after this issue, and so may never have learned that “Alec Holland” had in fact survived. But, of course, Matthew and Abigail Arcane Cable would eventually learn the truth, as they were destined to come back into the Swamp Thing’s life in a big way… though that wouldn’t be for another seven years or so. (Assuming we’re all still around in 2033, we can discuss the matter further then. )
Enjoyed your rundown on the post-Wrightson era of Swamp Thing. I concur that of the original series, Wrightson’s art was the main highlight. Redondo’s art is very fine, but it would have been difficult for any artist to replace the sort of eerie, dramatic playfulness Wrightson brought to the mag and I can understand why Wein felt it wasn’t as much fun for him to write anymore. At least he hung around long enough to finally have Swampy reveal to Matt that he (as far as Swampy himself knew at the time)) was Alec Holland, the very man Matt had been so certain for so long that the Swamp Thing had murdered. Matt’s recriminations show that deep inside he suspected as much all along but couldn’t bring himself to admit it. I couldn’t help but think, “well, duh!” More astute detective work of the scene of the crime and other available evidence would have resolved the riddle long before! But then, Len & Bernie wouldn’t have been able to play with the cat & mouse game of Matt hounding Swampy for a crime he didn’t commit.
Although I’ve read most of the Wein/Wrightson run, mostly through reprints and a few back issues I obtained in the 1980s, of the later issues I’ve only seen excerpts online and haven’t felt a great need to fill that hole in my collection. As a Marvel junkie 50 years ago, I had missed out on the original classic run, but in expanding my tastes in my early adulthood going into the ’80s, I latched onto the revived Swamp Thing early into Moore’s celebrated run and really loved what he and his primary collaborators Bissette & Totleben did on the series. Of course, none of that would have happened if not for Wein & Wrightson planting that first little seed in what was meant to be a one-off little horror tale.
The soul of this book definitely resided with the way it was created each month by the three original creators and after #10 the book just loses something. I know I’ve never ‘oh’d and ah’d’ over trees and vegetation before or since, Wrightson’s reputation is well deserved for those 10 issues.
I’ve had the other dozen odd issues in my hands at various times and I’ll always flick through but I find myself grumbling like an old man ‘it’s just not the same!’
grumble, grumble
“Fenwick Military Academy.” Gee, a Senior Military College in Virginia, known by a three letter crypto gram with Guards walking posts . . . . gee there can’t be something analogous in the real world . . . .
Back in the Winter of 1982, when I was a Third Classman at VMI, I saw the Swamp Thing movie and told one of my Brother Rats that the Swamp Thing comic might have (very indirectly) led me to do undergraduate school there.
The novelist John Ferris also used a fictional version of VMI in his 1979 Southern Gothic horror novel, All Heads Turn When the Hunt Goes By.
As for me, being a Rat and later Cadre was horrifying enough.
Even though I was a DC guy from the get-go, my aversion to horror comics kept me away from Swampy until the Moore/Bissette run later on. That said, I’ve managed to see most, if not all, of Wein and Wrightson’s ten issue run on the book, and though I think the subject matter writes itself into a corner early on; a corner that proves to be very difficult to get out of, I have been able to enjoy it, despite a recognition that it was never really my thing. Redondo’s work on the book, which I may be seeing here for the first time, is lovely. I’m an old-school Wrightson fan, but what Nestor was able to do here in the wake of Wrightson’s exit was really special and he deserves a lot more credit for it. It’s a shame Wein couldn’t find a way to appreciate his partnership with Nestor in the same way he did with Bernie. I imagine they’d have done some great things with Swamp Thing.
As for the overall story arc, a couple of things. One, can Cable please get his mouth washed out with soap for the “crock of crud” comment in that third interlude of #12? He ought to be ashamed of himself. Not for being profane, but for not being better at expressing it. If Bolt is the angry young black man, then Cable is his old white counterpart and anyone who spends that much of his time pissed off should have a better repertoire of salty comebacks at his disposal.
Speaking of Cable, I realize hindsight is a wonderful thing, but if Alec “could” have spoken and made Matt realize who he was (or who he thought he was), why the hell didn’t he? Was he not aware at how much grief it could save him? Wein didn’t really make it look like Swamp Thing’s ability to speak was anything new or special; he just hadn’t chosen to do it before. That doesn’t make sense to me, but maybe I’m missing something. Also, the old trope of the antagonist that tries for ages to capture the good guy and then regrets it the second he sees what’s going to happen to our hero after he’s captured, gets a real work out here, as Cable regrets his decision to imprison Swampy in that lab almost the second they close the door. If Swamp Thing had spoken to Cable earlier, could he have avoided this fate? Yep. Probably.
Finally, do you think, in a world filled with super-heroes and villains, that stores just stock those matching catsuits like the ones Cable and Abby wore to break Swamp Thing out just as a matter of course? Are there lined catsuits for cold weather and special linen summer suits for that tropical heist on the go? You could easily say they were just wearing black turtlenecks and pants, but the orange boots and belts are definitely giving off a “costume” vibe.
Anyway, now that I’m older and more egalitarian in my reading choices, it’s nice to go back and gain a new appreciation for some of the stuff I missed as a young punk of 17. Thanks, Alan!
“…if Alec “could” have spoken and made Matt realize who he was (or who he thought he was), why the hell didn’t he? Was he not aware at how much grief it could save him? Wein didn’t really make it look like Swamp Thing’s ability to speak was anything new or special; he just hadn’t chosen to do it before.”
Just for the record, Swampy’s ability to speak (albeit with great difficulty) had been established as far back as issue #2. But, yeah, the rationale that he offers here for not having told Matt and Abby his true identity before this (“the secret of the bio-restorative formula… is too dangerous for anyone else to learn…!”) is pretty damn flimsy.
Also, even if Swampy couldn’t speak at all, he still had the capacity to write, however clumsily it might have come out. He could have found some means to explain the situation to Matt all along. I think overall, Wein wanted to play with that particular trope as long as he could and it’s notable that he finally brought that aspect of the series to a conclusion just before leaving the title. Over at Marvel, Bruce Banner being the alter ego of the Hulk was kept a secret for a much longer time – about 4 years – and was also rather ridiculous. General Ross had to have been an idiot to not figure it out from the get go, being that the Hulk just coincidentally appears the night after Banner had been exposed to gamma radiation and Banner just happens to never be anywhere to be found whenever the Hulk is out and about. And year after year, neither Ross nor any other member of the cast, aside from Rick who knew all along, was able to figure it out from simple logic. In their world, they already knew from the prior example of the Fantastic Four, that radiation could cause bizarre mutations. Heck, Reed Richards should have figured out the truth just from studying the aspects of the Hulk’s known history and being aware of Banner’s exposure. But again, a trope had to be maintained, at least until Stan the Man apparently finally realized it was too ridiculous to keep it up any longer.
Amusing that the live action tv version of the Hulk used pretty much the same set up as the Wein/Wrightson Swamp Thing, with the Hulk believed to have murdered Banner and chasing after the Hulk to avenge Banner’s “death”.
The only one who suspected was Maj Glenn Talbot, who was presented as not being the sharpest knife in the drawer for being an Air Force Counterintelligence guy.
Not to self-aware on Stan & Steve’s part . . . . .
He didn’t suspect Banner was the Hulk as much as his mysterious disappearances might indicate a connection, or that he was doing espionage for the reds. All of which was possibly influenced by him falling for Betty Ross and knowing if Bruce was out of the way, he’d have a shot. Talbot was meant to add complexity to the strip (Bruce thinks at one point they could have been friends if not for the Hulk) but he should have removed himself from the investigation ASAP, given his bias.
The final reveal of Bruce’s secret was terribly done. The military zap Hulk with Bruce’s secret weapon the T-gun — so secret nobody else knows what it does — and he disappears. Rick, shaken, confesses they’ve killed Bruce too. Then it turns out it was a time gun that hurled Hulk into the future (where the Executioner is leading an army of aliens to attack Earth). Eventually Bruce returns and discovers his secret is out.
“. . . . but he should have removed himself from the investigation ASAP, given his bias.”
I was not a Counter-Intelligence guy, (Tactical Intelligence/Signals Intelligence during my time in MI Branch) so this is second hand, but as a lawyer, that is spot on.
Lt. Gen Ross did not seem well served by his Staff, generally . . . .
I blogged about his introduction and that era of Hulk at Atomic Junk Shop a while back: https://atomicjunkshop.com/is-he-superhero-or-monster-or-is-he-both/
Well, Cable is some kind of Special Agent (or even Special Agent in Charge) for some kind of Federal LEO outfit. The gear may be old things he was issued.
I thought you were going to point out how John Zero (who looks like a 40-something John Dean) got his duds when he became a bad guy. I guess he made a trip to the Gambi Brothers . . . .
Also . . . . f your last name is “Zero,” and you have any kind of code name. nick name or nom-de-guerre, why wouldn’t you use it?
He could’ve been Zero the Hero! At least in his own demented mind.
I’m probably not in the majority. but I liked the Marty Pasko stories that came after the book was revived after the movie came out. He clearly had a Steve Gerber’s Man-Thing influence, but I think it was solid precursor to what Moore did and the rest of Vertigo.
As much as I enjoyed Redondo as Wrightson’s replacement on the book, it’s fun to speculate how it would have looked under Nino. That artist never really had the opportunity to settle into a longer running series, as opposed to anthology shorts. He did Space Explorers in Rima, Captain Fear in Adventure, and Korak in Tarzan Family, but those were all very limited in duration and page count.
Love Redondo’s work. No Wrightson, but nobody could be. The alien worms Wrightson drew in his teaser panel were far more monstrous than the ones we got.
A good dramatic issue, though you’re spot on about Swampy not trying to talk to Matt sooner. I enjoyed Michelenie’s run, happy the Kraft run died so quickly (the Holland brother he introduced vanished as completely as any character ever has).
I don’t know why they needed to add radioactive waste rather than blame it all on the biorestorative formula being spread through the swamp by the original explosion.
I’m a huge Berni fan, due largely to his Swamp Thing work. But I came in a bit late — my first issue was #7 — so for me the Wrightson era came and went in the blink of eye. I missed Berni greatly, but quickly became a Redondo fan — so much so that I followed him to Rima the Jungle Girl and shelled out a few extra quarters for his Bible tabloid, two books that held little interest for me beyond the art.
Was also sad to see Len go but thought this was a nice wrap-up to his tenure. Of course, Len’s story and Cable’s rescue plan are both full of holes. How did he expect to get away with it? No one thought to ask the gassed security guards for a description of the perps (“Some guy with wavy grayish hair and a shapely platinum blonde — kind of like Cable and his girlfriend”)? A 7-foot tall, 350 lb. swamp monster hid inside the lab guy’s coffin without anyone noticing the extra bulk and weight? And no one investigated the giant hole in the grave? Apparently Zero is also John’s IQ.
But all of that is forgivable because it serves to set up the last 3 panels on page 19 — the heart-breaking moment when ST stumbles across his wife’s grave. Don’t recall how this scene struck me in 1974, but it hits like a ton of bricks today.